#That as a thing that mysteriously gets slapped everywhere on here makes me narrow my eyes

[venacoeurva]

...I know people in this day and age think any collaborative effort can fix things, often despite reality (ex. the MULTIPLE tumblr blackout protests over the last like 10 years across different owners of tumblr that didn’t change shit),

but I think going out of your way to buy things from tumblr en masse as a “well then they’ll be profitable and won’t have to change things to resemble profitable sites!” as if the CEO/higher ups are personally going to see this and not AT MOST just go “oh we made money, sick, Anyway.” is just. the most naive and frankly 5-year-old level of problem solving unrealistic idea if you think about it for more than 5 seconds. People are just so blinded by naive optimism it’s painful.

Staff isn’t going to see your purchases and go on a full redemption arc and restore porn in spite of payment systems’ massive stigma against it or Apple’s restrictions and never ever try to mimic Twitter or TikTok again, or whatever the fuck you’re expecting, they’ll keep focusing on shit tweaks that resemble other sites because those are what keep investors who think they know tech and user wants hooked and they think new people from other sites will come over for that instead of the fact these people are typically escaping those kinds of features.

Staff isn’t your friend, their vying for support like they’re your buddy who is hitting hard times and has been here holding your hand all these years is deliberate corporate marketing, they’re an arm of a corporation that spits in the face of LGBTQ+ people and especially black people for daring to post about themselves while touting themselves as The Queer Site! A diverse site! Look at this AMA we’re doing with someone about Black History Month! and you’re doing nobody a service when you’re unintentionally rewarding a service for getting worse because they will not know nor care about your motives, they just care that they got money and will continue making it worse regardless of you. They’re a corporation, not a small business ran by 10 people who are trying their best. People throwing money at Staff already encourages them, let alone when you buy into the weird parasocial shit they try with us which will continue as they see success with that method.

Like the mere idea of everyone buying the crabs to gift to make the site profitable is just unrealistic (especially in this economy with such terrible inflation and in NA there are issues with the weather and fires, on a site that mostly consists of groups of people who are typically low income or unable to work???), it feels very much like the gofundme pages people set up to raise money for celebrities who have debts who will be fine regardless and definitely don’t need your help. Corporations and CEOs are not your friends, they never will be. They do not care about you and they’re not some poor uwu victim of circumstance.

TL;DR half-assed blackouts aimed at companies that don’t care (that I have seen over and over) and “cr*b day” type efforts are incredibly dumb and will change nothing, and they will not change anything, just encourage them since they see they’re making money during their current marketing schemes, if they notice at all. You pitying them like they’re a poor innocent person is exactly what the corporation wants.

If you want to make a difference give that money to an artist or lgbtq+ people who basically get flagged as mature for Existing, or people who get their posts flagged for criticizing the site, or something, someone who gets screwed over by this site on the regular. It will do far more good than that whackadoo type pipe dream and sit down and think for a second, please.

[littlefreya]

Nasty

Summary: August is going to hell and he is dragging you down with him. Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person Pov)

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Serious smut, GRAPHIC depictions of sexual intercourse, auto-voyeurism (Is that a thing?)   

A/N: @luclittlepond made this request! I obliged. Honestly, I feel like it’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written and I want to thank @agniavateira for being my beta and @wondersofdreaming for giving me feedback since it was not an easy write for some reason.

 Please leave feedback  💖🥺 and more importantly, enjoy.

Title: Nasty

“Unlock the door, my balls are freezing,” August urges while his hands survey the plains of your body possessively. A sharp, languid hiss caresses the sensitive skin of your neck, his deep voice chanting sweet profanities as he grinds himself against you for the sake of heat and lust-filled friction. 

The temperature at the narrow corridor must be 10 degrees below zero, quite ordinary for January at St. Petersburg, Russia. Another successful mission came to end; the target was eliminated and sweep-up had been ordered. Now, all August wants to do after a triumphant assassination is to fuck like a deranged animal. 

You never doubted the idea that murder gets him hard.

Breathing in fumes, you try to twist the key inside the lock, motoric functions reduced to jitters and tremors as August shoves a finger between your legs, rough and invasive, he journeys from your mound to your ass and presses it crudely. His rock-hard erection nudges at your lower back, reducing your concentration to scattered specks of dust.

“Don’t make me fuck you right here in the hallway,” he warns and slides down to his knees with his talons lifting both your heavy coat and skirt, exposing the round curve of your behind. Teeth as sharp as blades pierce the ample flesh of your cheek and you give out a high-pitched yip of pain which echoes through the entire hallway. 

Crying for him to stop would do no good. August doesn’t give an inch. The cold man lacks any sense of tenderness and he has a thing for leaving his marks all over your body, just the way he would brand his livestock. The agent stretches to stand up, shoving himself against your ass while his hands hike the thick hem of your skirt all the way up to your torso.

“If you keep doing that I won’t be able to get it open!” You complain angrily and then finally manage to twist the key inside. The moment the rusty cylinder spins, August whirls the both of you into the apartment and kicks the door shut with his foot. 

The small rental smells like wet newspaper and mould. The dusty air becomes saturated with the humidity of sweat and heated pants. Stumbling further inside, you kiss furiously and claw at each other’s throats like two hungry vultures. Your coats fall to the floor, the tight skirt gathers around your abdomen and August’s hand reaches to cup the heat between your legs with the elegance of a raging bull.

Pathetic puny whimpers disappear into the hot cavern of his mouth, impassioned, you writhe against his almost-aggressive intrusion, letting his thumb graze over your covered clit. August Walker’s treatment is borderline degrading, making you feel dirty, baptized in the black bathwater of sin. 

You would never let any other manhandle you like this; a tender woman such as yourself requires a gentle hand, not whatever twisted games August wants to play with your body. And still, he brings you closer to heaven than you’d ever wish to admit and those little moments of rapture are worth every bit of shame.   

Taking your shoulders in his grip, August pulls you down, knees hitting the stone-cold floor. He follows below, his tongue violating your mouth within moments, low hums singing into your throat while his fingers make quick work at the buttons of your blouse. His breath still tastes of the wine he had earlier, inhaling him is enough to reach intoxication. Tugging his shirt from his trousers, you try to undress him. Buttons fly everywhere as you rip it open with extreme force.

August breaks the kiss with a quick bite on your lip, enough to cause a sharp sting at the soft plush of flesh. Wringing your shoulder, he turns you around and rests a hand on the snake of your spine to bend you over at his will.

“Bitch,” he grunts, shuffling to stand on his knees and fumbling with his belt. Tendrils of shivers coarse through your nerves spiralling cold and eclectic as the distinguished click of metal and husky brush of leather rustle from behind. 

“That was my favourite shirt.”  

“They all look the same,” you mock him and turn your head back, staring at the focused expression on his face. His brows knit together, a deep scowl forming long creases on his forehead. August gawks at the wet patch in your underwear with dark fascination, his tongue flaking over his lips before his hand reaches to peel them down and collect the arousal that drips between your thighs with long ardent fingers.

A desperate moan escapes the trenches of your throat. His fingers ascending to pry between your folds, pushing inside to test the mysteries of your heat. The callous pads of his fingers stroke the damp, plump flesh, making room for his odious inspection. 

“Look at you,” he mocks, corrupting and stretching your desire, pumping in and out until his knuckles glisten with the juices of arousal. “You want my cock badly, don’t you sweetheart?” He murmurs, snapping his fingers to engulf at his thick, endowed erection. 

Short spasms of tremoring delights shudder through every cell as he grabs his shaft and slaps it against your swollen lips, grinding rough and vulgar while you buck with harrowing need against the ridges of his cock. He paints himself in your sweet nectar, teasing both your womanhood and the puckered hole that clenches in fear from his monstrous girth.

This fearful reaction never ceases to make him laugh with malice. “Don’t worry, pet, I'm not going in there tonight unless you really want to...”   

“Fuck you, Walker,” you spit out, squirming back and forth as August tames your body into submission. 

“Oh I’m about to…” he murmurs, dipping the tip of his erection inside you, eliciting powerless mewls as a violent throb gushes through your centre. “I wish you could see how beautiful your pussy looks with my cock entering you.” 

Bracing yourself on your arms and knees, you take a deep breath. August indulges what he sees in front of him, taking his time, teasing, torturing and savouring the small hisses that kick out of your chest with every single provoking touch. 

“Jesus August, take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Letting out a guttural growl, August pauses his ministrations and you hear a soft ruffle behind you as he seeks for something in his coat which are thrown next to him on the floor. Peering over your shoulder, you indeed see him holding his phone in his hand.

“Are you really taking pictures again?! Walker, just fuck me already!” 

“Take your phone and answer,” he commands, ignoring your demand.

Naturally, they mean nothing to him.

You glare at him puzzled when the soft hum of your phone buzzing cuts into your attention. The pale blue light dances on the wooden floor beneath the wool jacket and you reach a hand for it. 

Incoming video call from August.

“August wha….?”

“Answer, so I can fuck you already,” he chides, hovering his phone right above your behind with eyes that sparkle with a dark impulse. 

Holding the device in front of you, you accept the call. A shiver ticks at your muscles, your limbs shake at the sight of your dripping cunt as it appears on the bright screen. The sensation is vaguely obscene yet August growls with pure excitement, holding his heavy cock in front of the glassy lense. He lines himself against your wanting entrance, making you see through his eyes how he pushes inside, inch by inch, slowly spreading your petals with the width of his velvet pistol and claiming what belongs to him.

The luscious symphony of your moans unearths melodically into the musty atmosphere as the wet friction of your union strikes madness through your bodies. The oxygen gradually drains from your squeezing lungs, mouth agape at the spectacle of August driving large and long through your narrow crevice with an unusually sluggish pace.

Your memories wander for a split second, falling back to the first time you have discovered porn as a teenager and had the same fury burn between your thighs. Only that you didn’t have August to fill that needy void inside your body. 

And damn if he doesn’t fill you just right, plunging into your warm lake of Eden, his girth suffocating between your lush cavern, forcing your walls to expand and make room for his huge, pulsating cock. 

“See how tight you are?” August asks breathlessly and gives your ass a sharp smack while he bursts into cold, arrogant laughter, amused at the way your cheeks ripple from the might of his slap. “Look at yourself, so small yet taking me like a needy little slut.”

You swallow a gasp, the device dropping from your sweaty palm and landing flat on the ground. Leaning on your elbows you watch with sick fascination at the way August sinks deeper and deeper, delving through your taut cave until his balls press against your clit with an appeased hum that losses from his lips. Your entire body is attacked by spasms of ecstasy, the heights of your desire brought to unearthly plains as August plays with each of your senses.

“Arch your back,” he demands, razing a hand over your spine to force you to a position which serves him a better path. Obediently, you stick your ass higher, head falling between your shoulder-blades with eyes that never dare to shut, too mesmerized by the forbidden image of him sheathed in your depth.  

Enthralled by the vision on the screen, you lean with fist clenched tightly, unable to sustain the pathetic little whimpers. Greedy fingers dig into your hip, leaving a parade of purple bruises for August to later be proud, his possessive legacy. He positions your ass on display, his nimble fingers running over the curve with appreciation, squeezing roughly and groaning. Something inside you clicks, as if playing a role in a film, you stir for him, swaying yourself to the eye of the camera and watching the succulent honeyed flower between your legs as it’s pierced raw by August’s hefty cock. It glistens with filth as it exits your body at an agonizing speed.

“August…. Please,” the moans that roll on your tongue are downright pathetic, making August croon at you patronizingly and tick his tongue as if you’ve been misbehaving. Gripping your waist, he restrains you and pulls himself out until nothing but the arrowhead of his cock rests between your folds, he lingers, breath heavy and firm, chest puffing with power as he sinks all the way in with an alarming change of pace until his balls slap rigid against your wetness.

“Do you like watching yourself, being fucked?” he demands to know, beginning to rails you, snarling at the way you are clenching around his shaft, your silken walls welcome him, calling to his body like a siren drawing a sailor to the abyss. And with vamping passion he complies, finding that hidden spot that no one has ever sought inside you, the one that makes you howl out in ecstasy.

“Yes!!! Fuck!” You cry out with shock, knowing you will definitely not last having to witness every dirty act and details in the vista of your eyes. This is August’s doing, forcing pleasure on you in the vilest way possible, overstimulating both body and mind. He is a man free of boundaries, unchained, but he sure as hell shackles you to the darkness that thrives inside him. 

He pushes into you raw and steady, grunting low, as he moves with long-lasting thrusts that serve a point of showing you just how fucked you are. Every now and then he pulls nearly completely out and slams painfully back in, just for the sake of entertainment.

Lewd squelching and blunt sounds of skin slapping against skin take over the acoustic of the room, accompanied by the clattering sound of his belt that dangles from his trousers. His pace turns into punishing rhythm, his testicles brushing briefly with your clit, causing you to haul against him with desperate screams. Begging, a whimpering mess, your muscles give in, shuddering and convulsing until your cunt finally tightens around him firmly and the fire engulfs you from within, spreading through you like a burning field as you climax with astonishment.

“Keep your eyes open,” August rasps, watching how you collapse in front of him, trembling and jolting on your knees meekly with tears blurring your eyes while you sob. He ignores your body’s defiance, grunting like a bull as he jackhammers you, going at an impossible speed. 

His cock is but a quick smudge as he rails in yet the swelling of his erection and the thick tendons that runs from the base through his length are undoubtfully clear. You see him and feel his thickness between your convulsing walls, your womb welcoming the hot surge that sprouts inside you while August cries out with divine ecstasy.

He continues to pound inside you even after he comes, letting his thick, white juice coat his length and trickle milky drops from your seam down your inner thigh until he is completely drained.

Panting heavily, he collapses on top of your spine, the stubble of his cheek grazing your supple skin while basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. His mobile device drops from his hand, landing with a soft thud as August fights to catch his breath. 

“Enjoyed the show, pet?” He asks, kissing the salty sweat off your skin.

You answer with a deep sigh, too ashamed to admit you just had the most intense orgasm you ever experienced.

Lazy fingers trail up to grasp your neck, squeezing it lightly and kneading the strained muscles. He gathers your hair to one side and leans to nibble at your ear with a devious hum.

“So, are you willing to reconsider making a sex tape now?”

___________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible. 

DM me if you want to be removed or add <3 

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

What Fun! The Apocalypse (PART 6)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: my already poor health has been particularly bad and I lost a few thousands brain cells so probably this part could have been better. But I kind of like it as it is. I could, too, have been less cruel to Wilhemina, but I hate stories that are like, “it took exactly 2 seconds and a half for this character to overcome their trauma welcome to rainbow land”. This part may be the last part, or I may write more, idk yet. Thank you for your kind feeback and thank your for reading, lovelies. x

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4  // PART 5

Word count: ~ 7 000

Warnings: physical violence, self-harm (kind of?), ongoing battle btw me and English prepositions

You awoke, opened your eyes, and remembered. Today was the Apocalypse.

Everyone from Kineros Robotics who had been chosen to survive gathered in the lunch room at 8am, and waited there to board their respective planes. Most of the outposts were a long flight from California, so you and Wilhemina were to leave the place last. You had packed a small suitcase with a few of your belongings, objects you could not get rid of. You ignored the disapproving glare from Wilhemina. She was flying with nothing but her cane and a stock of painkillers for her back.

Wilhemina scanned the faces in the room. Everyone here was a longtime employee at Kineros, deemed worthy and clever enough to build and rule a new world. Pathetic, all of them. Wilhemina tapped her cane threateningly on the floor as a tall woman walked past her too close for comfort; the woman turned her head at the sound, slowly ran her eyes down and up Wilhemina’s figure, and smiled condescendingly.

Eyes were Wilhemina’s least favourite part of the human face. They were dull, and only reflected the stupidity of the brain. Eyes had stared at her and sneered and derided. Eyes had crinkled with mocking laughter and narrowed with disgust or judgment. They pried and pitied and wondered as they wonder at rare, exotic zoo animals. Other people’s eyes were only acceptable (safe) when lowered in fear or respect.  

But your eyes were different. Your eyes were kind. They were loving and caring. She could get lost in them and know she was safe.

The plane to Outpost 4 departed at 10am. The one to Outpost 2 departed at 10:30. By noon, Wilhemina and you were the only one left in the room. The mysterious Ms Mead had driven to Outpost 3 the day before, to make sure everything was ready. Wilhemina had met her and decided she was trustworthy. A robot. Her mind programmed to obey her. Her heart had jumped with excitement at the thought.

The plane to Outpost 3 was to leave at exactly 2:40pm, five minutes before a ballistic missile would hit the nearest city. At 2:20 you jumped down from the table you were sitting on and ran to the nearest bathroom. An employee, who was to stay and die and did not even have the slightest idea of what was about to happen, walked past the lunch room and shot Wilhemina a curious glance. She gave him her coldest, most condescending smile in return. Another man walked past, quickly and with his shoulders bent. Wilhemina caught a glimpse of his face. Her heart did something weird in her chest.

Now, that was simply impossible, her brain told her. His plane had left hours ago. Her eyes had tricked her mind, excitement and anticipation made her see things that were not real.

You hurried back into the room, your hands fidgeting anxiously, completely unable to stand still. “Let’s go,” you said quickly, “let’s go board our plane.”

“Wait,” Wilhemina said without thinking.

You stopped in front of her.

“Wilhemina it’s 2:25 we have to –“

Here it was again, the impossible shape, hovering on one side of the door. Something in Wilhemina’s mind whispered a warning. Her eyes shifted to your face. Protect her, urged the whisper.  

“I forgot an important file on my desk,” Wilhemina lied in a very calm voice.

“Are you kidding me?!” you exclaimed.

The shape moved and disappeared.

“It has all the names and information on the people who will stay with us at the outpost,” Wilhemina went on. “Go and get it. You walk faster than I do.”

“For God’s sake you must be kidding me,” you growled.  

“Go,” she ordered you. “You’re wasting time.”

You scowled at her, but stormed out of the room. She listened as your footsteps faded away. Then she straightened up, pulling her shoulders back, and her right hand clenched around the knob of her cane.

“Hello, hunchback.

Rory leaned against the door, his arms folded across his chest, a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Anger rose in Wilhemina’s throat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she snapped.

Rory’s smirk widened and he started walking towards her.

“Thought I should come and say hi. Long time no see. Honestly, I’m surprised you remember me. You didn’t seem to care much about my person last time we talked.”  He stopped a few inches away from Wilhemina, looking down on her, his eyes full of a triumphant, predatory light. “Last time we talked,” he repeated slowly in his drawling voice, “and you so rudely fired me. Now, I think that surely you have regrets. I think that surely you regret treating me so badly.” He raised a hand to caress her cheek, but she slapped it away.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Wilhemina hissed.

He was too close, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but she would be damned before she took a step back.

“Now, that’s not how one expresses regret,” Rory said.

Without warning, he kicked her cane over and sent it rolling on the floor and under a table. Wilhemina stumbled, regained her balance with a wince.

Rory grabbed her arm and leaned in. “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear, “can you bend low enough to blow me or will I have to break your back?”

“Go to Hell,” Wilhemina hissed, and spat on his face.

Rory’s knee came up and slammed into her stomach. Wilhemina crumpled to the floor, winded, and let out a cry as Rory kicked her side.

“Good news, hunchback!” he cried excitedly. “It’s the fucking Apocalypse! D’you know what it means?” Another kick. “It means –“ another kick, “there’ll be no police –“ another kick, “which means I can do whatever the fuck –“  another kick, ”I want to you.”

Wilhemina let him hit her. She had no way of fighting back, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she would have. Every kick awakened the sneering voice in her head that reminded her just how monstrous her body was. How it was only fair she should hurt. How she deserved the pain he was causing her, and so much more of it. The pain she was feeling was the pain she had wanted to inflict on herself for so long, a punishment for being such a hideous, such a deformed monstrosity and now she could feel joy, there was joy in her heart and she was laughing –

“What the hell?!” came a voice, loud and angry and threatening like the growl of a storm. Rory’s kicking stopped and Wilhemina almost raised her head to beg him to continue, not to stop until he’d broken every single rotten bone.

“What. The. Fucking hell Rory!” you roared, flinging yourself at him and slapping him violently in the face. “How dare you, you fucking fuck!”

Rory stumbled away from you, his hand covering his cheek where you had hit him, too stunned to speak. His back touched the wall.

“Get out!” you roared. “Get out or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

You watched him scurry away, then you ran to where Wilhemina lay curled up on the floor.

Laughing. She was laughing. Loud, painful laughs that shook her chest and tore their way out of her throat like shards of glass.

“Wilhemina? Oh God.” Your hands were shaking. “Oh God. Wilhemina, can you hear me?”

You grabbed her hand, but she jerked it free and moved it to cover her face. Her laughter still came out through her palm.

You stared at her, at a loss for what to do. Your heart was hammering in your ears but couldn’t drown out the terrible sound of her laughter. And above it all, like a red blaring light, rose a terrifying sense of urgency.

“Wilhemina,” you called, as bitter tears pooled in your eyes. This was all your fault. You had ignored Muff’s warning and put Wilhemina in danger because of your goddamn pride. You had thought you knew better than everyone else. Thought people were books, thought you could predict exactly how everyone would behave - thought that nothing harmful could come in the way of two people in love.

“Wilhemina, baby,” you pleaded through your tears, ”please, can you hear me?”

Hurry, hurry, hurry, blared the light in your head.

Something in your voice must have gotten to Wilhemina, for her laughter slowly died out. She nodded. You reached out for the hand that was covering her face, tentatively slipping your fingers between hers.

“Wilhemina, tell me where he hurt you? Can you stand up? Baby, I’m so sorry, we have to move, we have to catch that plane, we have to –“

Your voice broke. You dropped your head, sobbing out an “Oh God” as Wilhemina’s fingers tightened around yours.

She was already trying to sit up, wincing in pain and coughing out blood, so brave, so strong in the face of it all. You wrapped your arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet, and she cried out in pain.

“I’m so sorry baby,” you cried, over and over again, “I’m so sorry, we have to go, we have to catch that plane.”

She pointed to her cane and you hastily grabbed it, pressed it into her hand, slipped your arm higher up her waist to support her as you hobbled out of the lunch room and oh God, Wilhemina coughed out blood again. Tears and sweat rolled down her face as she pushed on, hurrying as fast as she could along too many corridors, the place endless, it was spreading endlessly everywhere and expanding by the second and you would never make it.  

Wilhemina’s knees buckled. She collapsed on the ground with a cry.

“Go,” she croaked between her teeth. “Just go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you growled. You heaved her to her feet. “Lean on me, sweetie, just lean on me. I know you can do it.” You pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, you fool.”

A tiny part of you screamed in rebellion. Death terrified you. Run, screamed a frantic voice in your head, just run for your life, who cares about her you will both die. You shook your head violently, tightened your grip around Wilhemina. Uttered words of encouragement to her. Shut the fuck up, you barked at the voice in your head. The voice roared. You roared louder.

There was a loud, distant explosion. The walls shook all around you, and the lights flickered. Wilhemina groaned, but did not stop.  

You turned a corner, slammed your shoulder into a door and stumbled outside. There was something wrong with the light, a sick quality to it, it was too orange and too misty, but you barely paid attention to it, your eyes falling on the beautiful, shining small plane waiting for you just a few feet away. The pilot was standing in the narrow door, waving his arms at you and calling out.

“Come on, baby, almost there,” you growled, your heart beating madly in your chest.  Wilhemina’s arm spasmed. You gripped onto her tighter.

And then your brain took over. On auto-pilot you hobbled the short distance to the plane, half carried Wilhemina up the airstair, past the man as he hurriedly closed the door and shut out the light that was too orange, too misty, the light that was so hideously sick. You collapsed on the floor with Wilhemina in your arms, crying and laughing, and peppered her face with wet kisses. When you finally pulled away for air her face was very pale, blood drying on her lower lip and chin, but she offered you a small smile.

“You made it, honeybunch,” you panted, and burst into a laugh.  

**

The plane took off. You made Wilhemina lie down on a row of seats, then ran to the bathroom and dampened a hand towel. Your hands were shaking, your breathing was quick and shallow. Now that the exhilaration of victory and the rush of adrenaline were subsiding, something dark was settling in your chest like lead. You shook your head, scowled at your reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, you ordered yourself. Your eyes in the mirror were wide with fear and guilt.

Wilhemina had sat up while you were gone, but you made her lie down again and gently wiped the blood off her face with the wet towel. She was way too pale, her body too rigid, her jaw clenched tight against the pain. Your fault. Your goddamn fault for being such a fucking brag who thought she had some sort of superpower and could guess everything about everyone. You shook your head again, gulped back tears, and focused on Wilhemina.

“I don’t need this, Y/N,” Wilhemina said as you gently swiped the towel across her forehead - her voice was low and gravelly and her diction was weird, every word perfectly enunciated but coming out thick and heavy. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you retorted, your voice breaking. “Wilhemina, let me – you’ve just been beaten up let me take care of –“

Your hand gently caressed her cheek; Wilhemina flinched, her neck tensing and curving away from you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, immediately withdrawing your hand. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered, almost a snap. It wasn’t fear that was vibrating through her, she wasn’t afraid of your touch, - it was something entirely different you couldn’t quite understand yet. She was glaring at the ceiling, her body incredibly tense, her eyes glassy and angry.

“Can I touch you?” you asked softly.

Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to you, then back to the ceiling. One of her arms wrapped around her stomach and squeezed, hard.

“I need to make sure you’re not bleeding anywhere,” you explained.

“I’m not bleeding.”

“Where does it hurt the most? Wilhemina if there’s any wound we need to make sure and clean it bef –“

“There’s no wound,” she snapped. “A few bruises at worst.”

You paused, swallowing down your fear.

“Alright,” you said, raising both hands in the air – they were visibly shaking, so you quickly lowered them -, “alright. Just let me get you some water.”

She was still glaring at the ceiling when you came back, but you weren’t sure she was seeing it. Her eyes were burning with a kind of anger that had something terribly sad about it, something that made your heart ache for her. You unscrewed the bottle of water and offered it to her.

She took exactly one sip and handed the bottle back to you.

“Stop being so stubborn,” you said. “Drink some more –“

“I am being stubborn? Stop acting so stupid.“

“I’m not stupid, I’m worried about you.“

Automatically your hand landed on her ankle and your thumb stroked her skin. Again, she flinched, and her leg gave a kick.

“Stop it!” she snapped, her voice too high, her eyes meeting yours, desperate and angry, as her arm squeezed harder still around her stomach, her elbow digging into her ribs. “Leave me alone! I don’t deserve –”

She cut herself off, her jaw twitching once, her face hard and cold, that terrible, terrible feeling in her eyes expanding and expanding until it submerged her whole body. Her head fell back on the seat and her nails dug into her arm.

“You don’t deserve what, Mina?” you asked. Your throat closed up.

She had been laughing, when you had found her. Rory was kicking her with a crazed look on his face and she had been laughing.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, your voice too thin.

“Why would I want to talk to you?” she snapped contemptuously, her voice laced with poison, but you could see right through her act.

This was an attempt to make you leave, because she could not stand tenderness and care right now. Every fiber in her body was rebelling against love and crying out for pain. She needed to open the gates and let the self-loathing engulf her, for she couldn’t win against it - as one has to dive headfirst into a wave that is so high and so terrifying and cannot be avoided. Sometimes, the only way out is through.    

“Alright,” your voice wavered, “alright, I’ll just sit here next to you, ok? I’m here if you need me.”

It was torture. Staying still as she hurt, and hurt herself, as you waited for her to come back to you, as the whole plane filled up with her pain and anger and it was a miracle it could still fly. You made small talk with her, anything to try and distract her. Your voice wavered again, three, four times. You had lowered the blind on the window nearest you to block out the sick orange light. Wilhemina kept glaring unseeingly at the ceiling. You talked, and talked, and talked, trying to drown out the sound of her loathing that you could hear like the scraping of stormy waves on a shingle beach. And on top of it all was that gnawing feeling of guilt. For you had caused this. Stupid, stupid you, blinded by your own pride.

Slowly, Wilhemina’s body started to relax. Her nails withdrew from her arm. You tentatively offered her the bottle of water again. She scowled at you, but she took the bottle and drank half of it.

The pilot’s voice came out through the intercom, telling you to prepare for landing.

Wilhemina sat up with a wince and fastened her seatbelt. She smoothed her hair and her clothes. You glanced at her, blinking back tears, your mouth too dry.

“Are you ok?” you asked. It was a stupid question, but it flew out of your mouth desperate and urgent before you could stop it.

Her eyes met yours, dark and completely unreadable.

“Of course,” she said.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it with the back of your hand, nodded.

“I want to address everyone at the Outpost as soon as we arrive,” Wilhemina went on.

You sniffed, offered her a broken smile.

“Ok.”

“They need to be perfectly apprised of the house rules.”

“Alright, you’re right.”

Another tear rolled down your cheek, which you quickly swiped away.

“Please don’t cry,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

“I - sorry,” you said quickly, wiping yet another tear. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

As if your heart wasn’t breaking for her, as if you could ever forget the look in her eyes as she lay still with her nails digging deep into her skin.

There was a short pause, and then Wilhemina took your hand.

“I love you,” she said, as one says ‘it’s okay, I’ll be okay’.

You tried to offer her a smile, but it looked like a grimace, your mouth twisting as if it were full of shards of glass. You squeezed her hand, then raised it to your lips and pressed a long kiss on one of her knuckles.

“I love you, too,” you said, your voice shaking. You breathed in to add “I’m so sorry”, but breathed out wordlessly.

You squeezed Wilhemina’s hand again, swallowing down your guilt. You couldn’t bother her with it now that she was about to take on responsibility for the survival of the human race; you had to be a strong rock she could lean on, not a burden.

You sat on the seat next to Wilhemina’s and fastened your seat belt. Wilhemina raised the blind to peer outside. You turned your head away.

The plane landed, and the pilot came out of the cockpit. He was a tall, stout man with a kind face. You reached out to help Wilhemina get up her seat but she refused your help, shooting you a glance of warning. She stood up straight and proud without so much as a wince of pain, and walked up to the pilot.

He gave Wilhemina a smile and extended his right hand as if to shake to hers. He wore a thin, gold ring on his middle finger that looked very expensive.

“You’ll have to take that off,” Wilhemina said sternly. “Greys are not allowed to wear jewelry.”

“What are Greys?” you and the pilot asked at the exact same time. Wilhemina had not told you anything about the rules at Oupost 3. You had asked, more than once, but she had never answered you, and pretended not to hear you after the third or fourth time.

Wilhemina winked at you. “Our worker hands. “ She glared at the pilot, nodding in your direction. “Your job will be to serve her and the rest of the elite.”

The kindness faded from the pilot’s face.

“I’m not sure I like that,” he muttered.

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor.

“Are you stupid?” she said, in a very slow, threatening voice. “You’re alive. Look around you. The world is no longer. Tell me, what exactly have you done to deserve surviving it?”

“I flew you here, lady,” the pilot grumbled. “You’d be dead without me.”

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor again, louder.

“I’m making the rules here. You can either know your place and follow them, or take your chances, alone, in the nuclear winter.”

The pilot glanced desperately at you. You almost defended him. Part of you wasn’t sure this whole Grey thing was fair. But you could hardly imagine the devastating consequences of your challenging Wilhemina now, when she was finally in a position of power, when she trusted you to back her up. You had hurt her enough for the day.

“You better listen to her,” you said, forcing your voice to sound commanding. The colour drained from the man’s face.

You followed Wilhemina out of the plane – a thick fog was slowly swallowing the world, replacing the sick orange light with a pale grey that looked sicker somehow – and into the outpost. The place was no longer lit by electrical light but by hundreds of candles and every fireplace was alive with huge, crackling fires. You kept your eyes on Wilhemina, alert for signs of pain. There wasn’t any. As you passed a fireplace, the warmth from the fire briefly engulfed you, an unhoped-for comfort, a temporary balm to your heart.

Wilhemina turned left, and suddenly stopped. A small, stout woman with cropped black hair stood in the corridor, her hands crossed in front of her, her eyes two piercing lights ringed with black make-up. She bowed her head respectfully as she saw Wilhemina. Unconsciously you straightened your shoulders. A feeling, not exactly of authority, but of ruthless order oozed out from this woman. If you had to invent her a past, you would say quite confidently that she had spent years in the army as a high-ranked commanding officer.

Wilhemina introduced her as Ms Mead. The woman’s eyes slid to your face and she bowed her head to you, too, a quick, mechanical bending of the neck. She informed Wilhemina everything had been made ready as requested.

“It is so refreshing to work with someone who knows how to take orders and how to be efficient,” Wilhemina told her with an appreciative smile. She gestured towards the nearest door, a bathroom. “I’ll be a minute.”

Tap, tap, tap, went her cane, a cold, sharp sound; in the candlelight her hair was a deep red.

The bathroom door closed behind her. You counted five seconds before you turned to Ms Mead.

“Where’s the doctor?” you whispered urgently. You knew a doctor had been sent to every outpost, to make sure the survivors stayed safe and healthy.

Ms Mead shot you a glance that expressed absolutely nothing.

“Not here,” she answered in a robotic, toneless voice.

“What do you mean, not here?” you insisted, tiny sparks of fear flying up into your chest. Your throat tightened.

“He was supposed to arrive at 3, but he never did.” Ms Mead shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to do without him.”

More sparks, too many sparks. You almost screamed at her.

“My best guess is,” Ms Mead went on, entirely unaware of the frantic storm rising in you, “he decided to stay behind with his family. To die a useless death among his loved ones instead of taking on the honorable duty of caring for the survivors.”

“Some people are incredibly selfish,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

You jumped, turning around sharply as Wilhemina’s proud figure loomed up on your left side. “Ms Mead, gather everyone in the music room,” she ordered. “We’ll join them shortly.”

Ms Mead nodded and walked off. You glanced up nervously at Wilhemina.

“For the hundredth time, Y/N, I’m fine,” Wilhemina scolded.

You glanced up at her, scanned her face for any trace of pain, but it was completely blank. You glanced down at her hands. They rested on top of each other on the knob of her cane.

You glanced up at her face again. You figured she had no broken ribs, since she could move, and she was breathing just fine so probably nothing had damaged or punctured her lungs, but what if she were hemorrhaging, or what if she had broken something and was being very good at hiding it? That seemed to you very likely.

“Y/N?”

“What?” Your voice shot out too nervous, too aggressive.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. Tap, threatened her cane.

“We have no doctor,” you started. Your throat was so tight with fear it was a miracle your voice could get through.

“So I heard.”

“Wilhemina, someone needs to make sure you’re okay. And what will we do without a doctor? Oh God, Mina, and what about your back and what if –“

“None of that,” Wilhemina cut you off sharply. “Y/N, you need to calm down. I am fine.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “We survived the Apocalypse, Y/N. Now I need you to calm down, get a grip on yourself, and go and join the others in the music room. “

You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths. I’m sorry, said your heart to hers, praying, praying it would hear, I’m so sorry.  

You walked into the music room in a haze, barely registering the hum of worried voices and the few “Hello”s that were thrown your way. You collapsed on an armchair in a corner and buried your face in your hands. Tried to focus on your breathing. Images and sounds flashed in your mind; Wilhemina’s laugh as Rory kicked her, that terrible look in her eyes, her nails digging into her skin. Your eyes flew open as one wakes from a nightmare.

A young, fashionable man wearing sunglasses with purple-tinted lenses was staring at you. He didn’t look particularly worried, just interested.

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked in a mellow voice.

“Never better,” you growled.

“Aw,” the man said, “I know how it feels. I was supposed to fucking die in L.A.. It’s a stroke of luck I’m here, a stroke of luck. That, and my friend Coco’s crocodile wallet.” The man sat down on a chair next to you. His musky, minty perfume tickled your nose – it was so out-of-place, this smell, reminded you of lavishness and exuberance and self-confidence. If Outpost 3 had a smell, it would be that of the smoke of a candle that has just fizzled out.

The man, who introduced himself as a hairdresser, kept on talking, but you stopped listening. Your eyes scanned the people in the room, one face after the other, features blurring into each other, your brain unable to register details and to make observations. Your hands were sweaty. Your eyes fell on the familiar face of the pilot. Before you knew it you had abruptly stood up and walked to him, the hairdresser’s mouth falling open in consternation, his eyes glaring at your back through his purple-tinted sunglasses.

“Hey,” you said to the pilot. He had watched you approach with weary eyes, his lips a thin, tight, angry line. He acknowledged your presence with a stiff nod. “I wanted to thank you,” you went on, forcing your mouth into a smile. “For waiting for us. You didn’t have to.”

The pilot pursed his lips. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, but there was no hostility in his voice. His fingers started playing with a loose thread on his coat. “I guess I’m just too kind for my own good.”

“Um,” you pretended to consider his words. “I think the world would have fared better if there had been more kind people in it. You know, people who take the trouble to wait those extra five minutes to help others, instead of running for their lives.” You tried for another smile, and this time it came more easily.

The pilot glanced up at you suspiciously, but the kindness was returning to his face. “What’s going to happen, now?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t really know.”

“The man who boarded the plane just before you did said such improper, rude things about the redhead, and even though she didn’t give me any reason to like her, I don’t think folks should –“

“Excuse me,” you cut the pilot off, your heart suddenly freezing in your chest, “what man?”

“Young fellow, the one sitting over there. He appeared out of nowhere saying he’d missed his transportation to Outpost 2 and he begged me to let him in, I couldn’t just leave him to his death.”

There was not a single drop of blood left in your veins. Your heart was steadily pumping ice, biting, burning ice that froze every thought and every emotion in your brain except anger – and the anger spread. It spread everywhere, sprang from your body and crashed against the ceiling and the walls where it crystallized into sharp, fang-like icicles.

Rory had not seen you yet. He was comforting a crying young woman when you reached him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and half jerked him up on his feet. His eyes met yours in surprise as you growled into his face, “Boarding this plane was the worst mistake you ever made.” Rory tried to draw away but you tightened your grip on him and leaned in closer still, your breath ghosting his lips. “I swear to God, Rory, I’m going to turn your pathetic life into a nightmare and there will be blood.”

A loud tap cut you off. Both Rory and you jumped. Wilhemina had just entered the room, standing proud and dominating, her complexion warm in the candlelight, her eyes very dark. She had changed into a black Victorian-esque dress that brushed regally over the floor, with a high collar of intricate white lacework hugging her graceful, long neck. Her hair no longer was in her signature high ponytail but wrapped up into a perfectly centered, sophisticated bun. She looked so strong, so imposing, so perfectly in control of everything down to the dust that danced in the candlelight, that your fingers loosened their grip on Rory’s collar. You stepped away from him. Not in fear, not in defeat, but rather as a young predator respectfully makes way for the alpha that silently crawls through the grass towards the defenseless prey grazing in the shade.

Wilhemina’s gaze fell on Rory. Her eyes were as bottomless and terrifying as the inside of a cave sunlight never reaches. For Rory it meant there would be no peace, no warmth,   no salvation. Another tap of her cane, and Rory flinched. Actually took a step towards you for protection.

Wilhemina walked up to him, her upper body gracefully swaying from side to side as it always did, her gait as nonchalant and powerful as a big cat’s. She stopped a few inches away from Rory and rested both hands on the knob of her cane.

“Welcome,” she breathed in his face, “to Outpost 3.”

You grinned. In the dark building with devastation outside the doors and despair within you grinned, warmth like that of a fire in a cold winter night spreading down your body and wrapping soothingly around your heart. Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to yours. Oh, she would be alright. You lowered your head, staring down at the ugly floor to hide the pride and relief that painted themselves all across your face and twinkled in your eyes. Caught in the eye of a tornado this woman would be alright and with the flick of her fingers bend the howling winds to her command.

Rory’s body looked like it had lost several inches and pounds. Probably part of him had fled in fear. He gulped, tried to maintain eye contact with Wilhemina, failed, stared down at his feet as heat flooded his face.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re not on my list,” Wilhemina went on. Her voice was melodic, as if she were about to break into a song. “Take him to the cell,” she ordered a giant of a woman who stood in the doorway. The woman grabbed Rory and dragged him out of the room. His eyes shot a frightened look your way before he disappeared, the darkness swallowing his pale and quivering form.

A hush had fallen upon the room. Everyone stood rigid with their eyes lowered respectfully or inspecting a piece of furniture or the ceiling or their own fingers. You saw the hairdresser glance up at Wilhemina, curious and intimidated, his gaze lingering no more than a second on her face before focusing back on the cuff of his right sleeve.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the floor and briefly introduced herself in a firm, authoritative voice. Her eyes coldly scanned the room as she talked, explaining what the Cooperative was, how hard they had worked to save the human race, how grateful the survivors should be, how humbled. Before explaining the house rules she reminded everyone that survival required order and strict obedience. She would be ruthless, she assured them sternly. Anyone who broke the rules would be kicked out of the building or immediately shot.

You frowned at that. Death seemed too extreme a punishment. Just as the thought crossed your mind, an old woman voiced it in consternation. Wilhemina’s gaze fell on her and a cold, condescending smile grazed her lips.

“It would be too extreme in the world we used to know,” she said very slowly. “But here, we are the last vestige of the human race. Error and insubordination simply cannot be tolerated, not when they could result in the complete eradication of our species.”

Hierarchy is the key, Wilhemina went on. In Outpost 3, everyone would know their place. Here she paused to unfold a piece of paper and slowly read out the names of “the Elite” and of “those who would serve them”, the Purples and the Greys respectively. You nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Hushed whispers were exchanged before another sharp tap of Wilhemina’s cane commanded silence.

There would be no leaving the building. Greys and Purples alike would be on a strict timetable. Each Purple would be attributed a Grey to serve and obey them. Here a few voices rose in protest, but quickly died down. Good manners and proper dressing should be observed, for appearances did wonders on one’s morale. There should be no indulging in improper activities, and no unauthorized copulation.

Your jaw dropped open at that.

“Excuse me?” the hairdresser exclaimed, his voice louder and clearer than all the others which chimed in angry protest. “It’s already Hell down here, no need to make it worse!“

“Now that’s bullshit,” you heard yourself growl.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours. “I said,” she enunciated, “no unauthorized copulation.”

Oh. Your shoulders relaxed. You bit down on a smirk. You swore, Wilhemina’s mouth twitched just so, as if she, too, were holding back a smug smile.

After that, Ms Mead was ordered to show everyone to their rooms. You lingered behind as the others crowded to the door, voices grumbling and shoulders bending in defeat, like a pack of children gathering for class after recess. Wilhemina watched them leave, and then she turned on her heel and disappeared in the corridor.

You followed her, assuming a nonchalant expression, sticking your hands into your pockets. Wilhemina walked into the bedroom she had chosen for herself and you on your first visit of the Outpost. You glanced right and left, then followed her inside.

As soon as you closed the door, Wilhemina sat heavily on the bed, her shoulders sagging, and closed her eyes. You kneeled in front of her, peering up worriedly at her.

“Are you okay? Are you hurting? Wilhemina, are you okay?” you inquired urgently, your hands coming up to cup her face.

A soft smile slowly spread over her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. “I’m fine, Y/N,” she answered, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

You scrambled up to your feet and sat on the bed next to her, pressing your shoulder to hers, reaching for her hand.

“You should lie down,” you urged, ”have some rest. You did so much, Mina you did so good.”

She closed her eyes again, and shook her head.

“I don’t have time to rest, Y/N. I need to make sure everyone is settling in properly.”

“Let me do it,” you offered, pushing your palm to hers and lacing your fingers together. “I can do it. You lie down and I’ll see to everything.”

She let out a sigh and rested her head on your shoulder.

“I’m grateful for the offer, Y/N, but you have no idea how this place is to be run. Besides, it’s not your job.”

Her head was pressing more and more heavily on your shoulder. She looked so exhausted, so vulnerable in contrast to her earlier show of strength and power that you felt fear clench at your throat once more.

You wrapped one arm around her shoulders to support her and she let her body sag against your side. She buried her face in the crook of your neck and let out one shaky breath that tickled your skin.

“Where did he hurt you?” you asked in a whisper, nuzzling into her hair.

Something wet rolled down your neck. There was silence, broken by a sniffle and then Wilhemina’s voice, barely audible, “My stomach and ribs feel like they’re broken into pieces.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathed out angrily through your nose and gently stroked your thumb over her shoulder, back and forth.

“Let me have a look?” you tried softly.

She shook her head. “It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted, the words leaving your mouth confident and strong.

Wilhemina pulled herself away from you as if she meant to stand, but she stayed on the bed, making no effort to straighten her shoulders. She sighed, lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I really do have to go,” she said. She opened one eye to look at you. “You can play the doctor tonight when my day is done.”

You watched her as she stood up and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her left hand over her dress, tilting her head on one side then the other, tugging at her right sleeve that rode up her arm.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered, so low you thought she could not hear you, but her eyes met yours in the mirror. The next words left your mouth coated with such sadness and so heavy with guilt it was a miracle they made it all the way to Wilhemina. “I’m so sorry I didn’t take Mutt’s warning seriously. I was wrong about Rory, and I put you in danger, and I can’t -” Your voice trailed off. You closed your eyes, unable to hold Wilhemina’s gaze, and gulped back tears.

For a few, agonizingly long seconds, there was only silence. Stupid, you scolded yourself, not for the first time today. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had sworn to yourself you would not burden Wilhemina with your useless feelings of guilt, sworn you would keep them to yourself. You kept putting her in uncomfortable, dangerous situations and you –

There was the sound of Wilhemina’s cane, the rustle of her dress, and then you felt warmth on your cheeks as her hands cupped your face.

“It wasn’t your fault, Y/N,” you heard her voice, soft and loving. You opened your eyes. Wilhemina’s brow was slightly pushed up, her eyes were big and very brown and God, how you loved her eyes. You leaned in, as if to dive into them. “Please don’t hold yourself responsible for anything that happened today.”

You were about to protest, but you closed your mouth at the last second and kept the words captive. No burdening her, you reminded yourself sharply. She already had so much to carry. So you gave her a smile instead, hoping it looked convincing; it must have, for Wilhemina let go of your face and drew away.  

You watched her walk slowly to the door, pressed your lips tightly closed as another apology violently slammed against them, desperate for a way out. No burdening her. Wilhemina stopped in front of the door, straightened her back and shoulders, and took a deep breath. She stood as regal and powerful as you had ever seen her, the candlelight dancing in awe on her hair.

She put one hand on the door handle, offered you a smile like a bouquet of flowers, opened the door, and walked off.

[thrillridesz]

all i want for christmas | eric

in part of the deobi secret santa project and dedicated as a gift to @channiewoo​ ✨ ( i hope you like it >< i tried my best! )

➳ pairing: college student!eric x reader ( ft juyeon, kevin, chanhee and sangyeon with jacob mentions! )

➳ genre: fluff, fantasy, time travel!au, time loop!au, christmas!au, university!au, love triangle!au ( ish? )

➳ warnings: n/a (PG13)

➳ word count: 4.6k

➳ inspo: lotus inn by why don’t we

➳ fic playlist: all i want for christmas - big time rush ft miranda cosgrove | lotus inn - why don’t we | christmassy! - the boyz | you belong with me - taylor swift | crush - david archuleta

a/n : this is my christmas secret santa gift to eri @channiewoo​  ^^ also hi, i’m your theb secret santa! thank you for being such a sweet person to talk to throughout this month and honestly you really made my first secret santa here on tumblr pretty memorable! i know we’ve just exchanged a few asks here and there but i genuinely did like talking to you though im not the most frequent secret santa anon out there >< i sincerely hope you can forgive me for that. but anyways, i hope you like your gift!!

+ also unedited for now because i really wanted to post this on christmas day... and tags are still not working but i don’t want to delay this any longer

The Christmas spirit could be felt in all corners of the house that night as the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies and crackling log fire from the fireplace wafted in the air while party guests swayed to the upbeat  Christmas music playing on the stereo and chatted merrily amongst themselves. Outside, fine white snow was falling and against the black canvas of the night sky, it made the streets seem almost serene and even beautiful. Looking out, one could easily feel the Christmas mood as neighbours held their own christmas parties and family gatherings. Everywhere they looked, they would see beautifully decorated houses adorned with Christmas wreaths and intricate fairy lights. Sometimes, one would even see the occasional snowmans displayed out in the neighbours’ yards, covered in scarves and hats with the ever familiar carrot nose. From a distance a few doors down, one could also hear singing - a telltale sign of the local group of Christmas carolers making their rounds in the neighbourhood like they did every year.

This was what Christmas is all about - enjoying good food with loved ones, receiving amazing gifts, going door to door caroling and feeling at home with the people you appreciate and cherish while the winter snow falls outside. Yet, Eric felt anything but. In fact, his heart was pounding against his chest as he sipped nervously at his mug of hot apple cider. Around him, the party guests were mingling and laughing at the college Christmas party as they shared funny stories from the year they had, feeling particularly merry. Normally, it would have been easy for him to get in the mood but not this time.

“I don’t get what you’re so nervous about.” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her?”

“I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. What if I mess up?” He replied despondently, his eyes softening as he glanced at you from across the room.

There you were - decked out in a cute Christmas outfit just standing by the fireplace, your hair falling around your face and framing it, looking more beautiful than he had remembered. The smile on your face made his heart flutter ever so slightly and he could feel his face grow warmer despite having a huge mug of apple cider just in front of him. The santa hat you wore added just that little touch of sweetness and adorableness to you and Eric couldn’t help but feel his heart start to pound in his chest. If you weren’t already stunning to him, you were breathtakingly beautiful to him now. Every little smile or shy glance made his heart beat just a little faster and he reached up to clutch softly as his chest.

“It’s better than not trying at all, Eric.” Kevin pointed out, taking a bite out of his gingerbread cookie. “You ought to have a little bit more faith in yourself.”

Eric sighed in resignation. “It’s so much easier talking about it than actually doing it. Everytime I think about doing it, I chicken out. I just can’t seem to stop fearing about possibly screwing it up, Kev.”

Kevin regarded him with a sympathetic look before patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I understand. Look man, if you don’t feel ready then you don’t have to force yourself to talk to her.”

“I promised myself that today would be the day.”

“Yeah, I know you did but still, you don’t have to force yourself. Your face is turning pale from the anxiety.” The latter said, concerned.

“It is?” Eric asked, alarmed as he quickly turned to the window beside him, checking out his reflection. He narrowed his eyes as he reached up to ruffle his hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat better though all it did was make it seem more tousled.

Kevin watched him, chuckling softly. Men in love are truly a different breed.

“Hey, Kev! I nearly forgot, do you want to listen to my newly curated Christmas playlist? I’ve been meaning to ask but I couldn’t find you.” Sangyeon suddenly appeared from behind the duo, with a joyous grin on his face. Kevin gave Eric a questioning look which he waved away.

“I’ll be fine.” He smiled.

“Alright… If you need anything, just call me!” Kevin said, casting him a last fleeting glance as he walked away with Sangyeon.

Holding the mug of hot apple cider close to his chest, Eric leaned against the cold glass panel of the window, staring out listlessly despite the steady pounding of his heart. He shot a furtive glance in your direction and quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening. At this rate, it would not be long before he turned as red as Rudolph’s nose.

“Get a grip, Eric. Why are you being such a wimp?” He chided himself. Looking around, Eric couldn’t help but observe his surroundings wistfully.

Everyone was seemingly in their element - snacking on Christmas snacks, dancing and just having fun. By the boombox, he watched as Hyunjae engaged in conversation with a girl who he did not recognise. The way they were laughing and the way she so flirtatiously slapped him on the shoulder, giggling at something Hyunjae said made Eric feel so deeply envious. Even from where he was, the smitten look on her face was undeniable and he wondered why he couldn’t have been more of a ladies’ man like Hyunjae was. Things would have been so much easier for him. Why is it that whenever it came to you he was suddenly the most awkward person to grace the face of this earth? It just didn’t make sense to him.

Sighing, he took another sip of his hot apple cider, feeling the liquid burn at the back of his throat. Suddenly, he frowned, his eyes narrowing. Who was that?

He had one of the most attractive faces Eric had ever seen - with soft, fine dark hair, a strong build and a warm smile that simply lit up the room. There he was, talking to you and you sliding your hand over his shoulder, not in a seductive or flirtatious way but in a friendly way though it was still enough to spark jealousy in Eric’s heart. He watched intently as you leaned in to whisper something in his year, his smile growing wider at your words.

Eric longed to know what the two of you were talking about, his grip on his mug growing tighter and firmer.

“Lost your chance, buddy.”

Swivelling around, Eric nearly spilled his apple cider as he turned to face a pink haired boy with an upturned nose. He didn’t remember seeing him around but there was something odd about him that Eric couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not to mention, that statement really did rub him off the wrong way.

“Excuse me?” His tone was slightly icy as he furrowed his brows together, frowning at the stranger in front of him.

“Didn’t you want to talk to her?” The boy asked, taking a swig of his hot chocolate, seemingly not noticing the confused look Eric was shooting him.

“Do I know you?”

“Oh right! I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. How rude of me… I’m Chanhee but you can call me New. Everyone does,” he smiled warmly, “you’re Eric?”

Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Yes? How do you know my name?”

“I just do. I know everyone,” He waved away his question nonchalantly, “I see you have a Christmas sweetheart.”

He tipped his mug in your direction and Eric felt his face grow hotter, annoyance setting in at the same time.

“How is that any of your business?” He snapped, his tone indignant and confrontational.

“I am here to help so watch your tone around me.” New rolled his eyes, looking at him in disdain though there was a twinkle in his eyes as he continued, “I can help you get the girl.”

Eric cast you a sideway glance before turning back to New with a skeptical expression. Whoever this guy was, he was weird, odd. Yet, the proposal he had proposed was a tempting one and despite himself, he felt inclined to listen. Watching you from afar, Eric’s heart sank just a little deeper as the guy you were talking to suddenly reached up to brush your hair away from your face, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes as he did. The irritation and jealousy he felt came back stronger than ever and before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth before he even knew it.

“How can you help?”

At his words, New grinned, drawing a small crystal vial from his pocket. The vial was filled with a mysterious sparkly, glowy pink liquid and smelled distinctively of roasted chestnuts though Eric was almost a thousand percent sure the liquid was not made of any kind of roasted chestnuts in any shape or form. As New popped open the cap, the scent grew even stronger and Eric shot him an alarmed look.

“What is that? A drug?!” Looking around frantically, it felt like nobody was paying the two of them any attention, being too preoccupied with their own conversations. How is nobody noticing this?

“Calm down and don’t get your panties in a twist.” New scoffed, “It’s a time travel potion. Or a time loop potion if you will.”

This guy is actually crazy. Eric almost wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all but barely managed to suppress it.

“Okay…?”

“Yup, I made it myself. Took me like half a year to brew it to perfection but it should work now. I followed each step really closely so there should be no problems.”

“Yeah, sure man. Thanks for wasting my time. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving. Thanks for the false hope.” Eric grumbled, taking his leave and not even bothering to consider the chagrined look on New’s face. Mayhaps Christmas is not his time either. He wondered how long this would drag on. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, he chickened out and said ‘next time’. When Halloween rolled around, he chickened out yet again and promised to make a move by Thanksgiving yet when Thanksgiving rolled around, he settled for Christmas. Now…

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Maybe I’m just too much of a coward.” He whispered to himself, pushing his way through the crowd of people. As he took yet another sip of his hot apple cider, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on you. The way you were now looping your arms over the guy’s neck and the way he had his large hands on your waist made Eric want to leave the party. If only he had a little bit more faith…

“What time is it anyways?” He murmured to himself, wanting more than anything to leave.

9:04pm. Damn. It wouldn’t be until two hours later for the party to end. Sure, he could always leave early but he would hate to be seen as disrespectful to everyone else especially Jacob, the host of this lovely party.

He stared at the mug of hot apple cider he had in his hand, scrunching up his nose at the taste of it.

Was it just him or did it taste slightly… Off?

Eric gazed at it for a moment before he shook his head. I’m overthinking everything, he thought. However as he stood over the snack table, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. It was like having someone slap him at his head before his vision turned blurry. His limbs were beginning to go soft and his mouth dry. What was happening? He blinked rapidly but to no avail. It felt like he was falling in a deep pit…

When he opened his eyes again, everything felt fine. Patting himself lightly on the face, he looked around his surroundings in confusion. Just what was that? Did he imagine all of that? The mug of hot apple cider was still in his hands and the reindeer horns band was still on his head. He was wearing the same clothes and everything had become clear, there were no more blurry visions. The pounding in his head had stopped and it felt like whatever happened earlier was merely a figment of his own imagination.

“Eric…? Eric!”

The voice shook him from his stupor and with a start, he lifted his head to see Kevin regarding him with a questioning look on his face.

“You okay? You zoned out for a minute and I mean, really zoned out.”

“Y-Yeah… Aren’t you supposed to go listen to Sangyeon’s playlist or something?”

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“What playlist?”

Eric frowned. “Didn’t Sangyeon ask you to listen to his Christmas playlist?”

“Um… No? Even if he has one, he hasn’t asked me yet.”

Eric looked at Kevin with confusion in his eyes. What was going on? Last he remembered, that was exactly what happened. Swivelling around, the confusion got even stronger when he saw you standing all alone at the other corner of the house. Were you not with that guy?

Instantly, he remembered what New had said. “Time travel potion…” He mumbled under his breath, his eyes widening when the realisation dawned upon. No way…

Whipping out his phone, it felt like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest when he saw the time. His throat felt dry and tight as he stared, unable to believe his eyes.

8:46pm.

Eric suddenly recalled the weird taste he had gotten in his cider and instinctively, his hand reached up to cover his mouth. There was no other explanation for this other than the fact that one, that New or was it Kyu guy had not been lying when he spoke of a time travel potion and two, he had slipped him the potion on purpose when he wasn’t looking. He could feel the anger bubble up within him - the nerve of that guy! With pure, unadulterated fury in his eyes, his gaze swept across the room, looking for him. Kevin looked on, thoroughly puzzled.

“...Eric? Are you okay? You’ve got a weird look on your face.” He asked, concerned. “Eric?”

All anger had just dissipated from his being as his sights finally landed on you. There you were, standing all alone at the fireplace with a drink in your hand while your friend danced. The look on your face was one of loneliness and even from a mile away, anyone could tell you looked extremely awkward at having been left alone while she swayed up against Haknyeon, a guy he recognised from his Medieval History module.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the same dark haired guy he had seen approach you ‘earlier’. Following his gaze, Eric could feel his stomach drop as he realised that they were on you. From his body language, it was clear that he was about to make his way over and take his chances with you.

Just then, a voice at the back of his mind whispered softly.

“What are you waiting for?”

Taking a deep breath, Eric squared his shoulders and hurriedly straightened the jacket he was wearing. This is it. This is actually it. He was going to do it. His legs were moving now, one step after another in large strides towards you. The sound of his heart pounding was practically deafening to his ears and he could feel his legs turning into lead, each footstep heavier than the next. Squeezing past the crowd, another voice - this time insistent and panicky - suddenly cried out.

“No, don’t do this! What if you embarrass yourself and make yourself out to be a fool?”

Eric’s face paled. No, this is a mistake. What was he doing?

“Hello?”

Shaking out of his thoughts, Eric almost jumped back in shock at the sight of you just right in front of him. Before he even realised it, he had made his way over. It is now too late to back out. Had he been standing there like an idiot this whole time?

“I-I… Hey!” He squeaked out, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

“You’re Eric right? Eric Sohn from Professor Kim’s introduction to accounting class?” You asked kindly.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the guy from ‘earlier’ approaching, pushing past the crowd and judging from his demeanour… It seemed like the competition was still in the game.

He needed to pull this off.

“Yeah, I am. Y/n right? It’s a pretty cool party, isn’t it?”

“Mhm! Pretty great so far! My friend is over there dancing but I’m not much of a party dancer so here I am,” you smiled and Eric almost forgot what he was about to say.

“I-”

“Hey, how are you guys enjoying the party?”

Eric looked up and his brows furrowed into an annoyed and anxious ‘v’. The dark haired competition merely grinned back at him though there was a certain glint in his eyes which made Eric clench his jaw tightly. It was the sort of gaze that was long enough to send a goading message - game on.

He smiled and extended a hand towards you, completely ignoring Eric. “I’m Juyeon, roommate of Jacob’s. I saw you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

You shook his hand, oblivious to the tension between the two guys. “I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

Juyeon briefly lifted his gaze to Eric and without anyone’s notice but his, he winked slyly.

“Revolting.” Eric thought angrily.

“I heard they have some really cool peppermint treats at the candy table, wanna come?” Juyeon asked and quickly Eric said, “I heard they have a great log cake at the snack bar though. I’ve heard people raving about it!”

You looked at the both of them, seemingly a little disconcerted. “Uh… I…” Juyeon shot Eric a scathing look which he returned with a smug smile.

“Who doesn’t love a good old log cake?” He asked, to which Juyeon rolled his eyes at.

“I mean… I do love peppermint…” You trailed off and Eric turned to you with wide eyes as big as saucers and Juyeon’s lips lifted into a smug smile.

“Excellent choice! I hear they have so many varieties…” Juyeon chattered on, placing his arm over your shoulder, leaving poor Eric speechless and red faced, watching helplessly as the two of you walked away from him. Turning behind you, you had an apologetic look on your face but said nothing.

“That’s too bad. I was rooting for you, you know?”

Eric swivelled around to find New standing behind him yet again, this time chewing on a piece of toffee. The time on his watch was clear as day as the red, glowing digits stared right back at him - 9:04pm. It had come full circle. He had the chance to turn things around but he had failed. Somehow, the nonchalant look in New’s face irritated him but he tried to remain calm. His gaze drifted down to the bulge in the man’s jacket pocket, tracing the faint outline of the tiny vial that contained the potion from earlier.

“At least we know now that I’m legit, right?” He winked at Eric, smirking as he did though it dropped when he saw the look on the latter’s face.

“Why are you-”

“Please, give me one more chance. Please just let me turn back time this one more time.” He pleaded. Eric was not one to plead but this time, he was feeling particularly desperate.

New looked at him like he had just sprouted an extra head before he burst out laughing.

“How’s that for a turn of the tables, Mr ‘thank you for wasting my time’?” He asked, still giggling. Clearly, he was taking much joy in this new dynamic - something Eric didn’t look too pleased about though he was not about to act on it. After all, it was New’s potion that allowed him this one more chance which he had quite unspectacularly let slip from his grasp.

“Alright, I suppose I could let you try this one more time though I’ll definitely be charging for your next usage.” New sighed, whipping out the vial. “I did want you to succeed after all.”

As Eric gulped down his drink, the familiar feeling of dizziness washed over him yet again, along with the looseness in his limbs and before he knew it, he found himself standing right where he was with you standing where you were previously.

This time, Eric squared his shoulders and ran a hand nervously through his hair. There you were yet again, standing by the fireplace with that drink in your hand.

“No hesitation this time,” he whispered to himself before he made his way over. He barely even paid attention to Juyeon coming in from the side as he struck up a conversation.

“Hey, y/n from professor Kim’s introduction to accounting right?”

You turned to him, looking a little surprised before you smiled warmly at him.

“Yeah! Eric, is it? It’s nice to see you here.”

“How’s things going so far at the party?” He asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. His nervousness was getting to him quickly but the thought of messing up yet again reined him back in and his smile stayed on.

You wrinkled your nose as if considering his question before you replied, “Well, it’s going alright so far. I’m not really a party sort of person but I thought I’d make an exception since you know, Jacob’s my friend.”

“I see! I don’t usually mind parties but I do like…” He paused as he saw Juyeon approaching, the gears in his head whirring away and you looked at him curiously.

“Eric…?”

“How about we go get some peppermint? I hear they have a variety here.” He suggested quickly, his eyes darting towards Juyeon’s direction.

You stared at him, looking a little perturbed but then grinned and nodded. “Sure, I love peppermints.”

Before Juyeon could even make his way over, the two of you had walked away, squeezing past the dancing crowd. The bass beat of the music was so resounding throughout the house that it almost seemed as if the walls were vibrating as well. The glitter and lights all around all looked stunning but perhaps a little too stunning as Eric made his way through the crowd with you just right by him. From all sides, people were accidentally bumping into each other and more than once, he almost lost his balance.

As the two of you neared the candy table, Eric realised too late that perhaps pushing past the crowd had been a bad idea and that a smarter way would be to stay out of the dance floor when he felt himself fall forward. Someone’s foot had been there and without looking, he had tripped over and landed with a huge thud on the floor, flat on his belly. His chin collided with the ground and if he had hit it just a little harder, had the impact been just a tad stronger, he might have suffered a serious injury.

Since you were just trailing behind him, his unexpected fall had sent you falling as well. As the both of you crashed against the ground, some members of the crowd audibly gasped as people shuffled out of the way. Though it may have hurt when he fell, Eric’s heart ached much more than the bruise he would no doubt sport on his knees tomorrow. Seeing you sprawled next to him and knowing all of this happened only because of him, he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole right there and then and leap right in.

A few partygoers reached out to help him up and right next to him, Juyeon appeared in front of you, extending a hand with a look of concern. Eric watched as the two of you looked into each other’s eyes and like in a fairytale princess bedtime story, you reached out tentatively to hold onto Juyeon’s hand as his heart fell to the ground with a messy splat.

“Y/n-”

“Are you guys okay?” Juyeon asked though it seemed as if he was only asking you in general.

“Yeah, we’re alright. Thank you.” You said softly, still seemingly a little frazzled.

“Come, let us go get you seated somewhere.”

Eric couldn’t help but simply stand there and look helplessly as the both of you wandered away, his heart feeling like it was about to shatter into pieces. A second chance he was given and he screwed it up and if that wasn’t enough, he was offered yet another shot which went worse than his first. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe no matter how many times he tried, tonight was just not the night. Or perhaps nothing was ever destined to happen between you two. The jolly christmas music was still playing but he no longer was in the Christmassy spirit anymore.

All he wanted for Christmas was you but it seemed that that didn’t seem so possible anymore, if not impossible.

As the partygoers resumed their dancing, all he could do was plop himself down on the nearby couch and do nothing except nurse not just his fallen pride but also his feelings which never had the chance to express themselves before it got completely shut down.

Grabbing a bottle of ginger ale from a nearby pack, he took a swig and felt the ale burn as it ran down his throat. Usually, he would have loved it but tonight, it just left a bitter taste in his mouth. Keeping his head down, Eric exhaled deeply. He ought to just give up completely.

“Hey, Eric.”

At the sound of your voice, his head snapped up and he gazed up at you with wide eyes. There you were, standing before him and looking down at him as he wallowed in his own feelings. How long have you been standing there? Why were you here?

“Y-y/n?”

You gave him a bashful glance as you sat yourself next to him. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I… I… “ He simply stared at you, his mouth gaping like a fish and looking absolutely flummoxed. “Didn’t Juyeon-”

“I couldn’t possibly leave you alone.” You hurried to say and when he didn’t reply, you continued. “Do you… Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

It took Eric a second for it to register in his mind what you had just asked of him before he grew flustered just as the joy in him began to spark.

“Do I mind? No! Of course not! You’re welcomed here! Please, sit with me!”

As he chattered on nervously, you couldn’t help but admire the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked and how charming his smile was. He was in the habit of moving his hands around a lot which though some might find annoying, you only found to be endearing. You could feel your heart beating quickly which always happened whenever you were near him, saw him around class or even just at the mere mention of his name.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself clench on tightly to the couch, the excitement in you simply immeasurable. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt the weight of the vial in your pocket. A worthy bargain indeed from the mysterious pink haired boy.

This was all you wanted for Christmas.

[formenis]

Score of zero: Love (”Gym” pt.2)

@ everybodyhatesluh asked: “I need part 2 of "gym"! Plss! Where the reader tells her love for L! And then her dad askes her who is her boyfriend! I would Love! Luh~💫💛🦋" 

Tennis references~

I like putting L in a difficult position, ehehe~

pairing: L x Yagami!fem!reader

warning: fluff I guess?

requested: yes

Remember English is not my first language (and it’s a bit late here) so I’m sorry about the mistakes in my stories.

«"Chocolate Covered Strawberry Brownies"? No, I don't have the mould»

Flip.

«"Heart-Shaped Cake"? Too obvious»

Flip.

«"Strawberry Shortcake Fudge"? It's too pink»

Y/N closed the book and groaned. «Ugh! I can't get my head round this! The fact that he loves all sweets bothers me…»

It was late afternoon at Yagami house. Orange sunbeams lighted up the kitchen and the living room creating a relaxing atmosphere, all despite the narrow space of the house. Y/N was alone in that moment: Light was somewhere with Soichiro, Sachiko was visiting one of her friends and Sayu was at school for some project.

Y/N took advantage of the situation to bake something for Hideki on the occasion of Valentine's Day. However, she sensed that Hideki would never reciprocate her feelings: he gave her the impression to be out of her reach.

«Come on! I'm a Yagami, after all! At least I have to try» Y/N leafed again through the cookery book when she heard the front door open.

«I'm home!»

It was Sayu, she came back earlier from school. Y/N quickly tried to hide the cookbook but Sayu entered the kitchen in a rush. «Y/N~ What are you doing?»

«Me? I wanted to bake something…»

«Really? For who?~» Sayu asked with a strange smirk.

«For myself I guess?» Y/N lied hoping Sayu would go away. But her little sister's smirk just grew wider.

«I don’t believe you~» the two sisters stared at each other for entire minutes. They were secretly hoping the other would give in.

Y/N sighed. «Fine, it's for a boy…» she admitted after a while, Y/N couldn’t lie at her cute sister.

Sayu, on the other hand, was squealing like a fangirl. «I knew it! I knew it! My sis has a crush!»

«Sayu please! Don’t yell…and don’t tell dad!»

Once again, the youngest Yagami smirked mischievously. «I will be as silent as the grave…at one condition»

Y/N sighed again. «What condition…»

«You have to help me with homework for a month»

Y/N complained loudly but if it was the price for Sayu's silence, she had to accept it. So Y/N agreed with her sister and together they started to choose a good sweet to give to this mysterious boy. Y/N told her about how they met and how she became infatuated by him despite most people would define him as "weird".

«Since you played tennis with him, why don’t you do something that recalls a tennis match?» Sayu said casually while browsing through the cookbook bored. At first Y/N didn’t pay attention to what she said but then, after a long reasoning, she hugged Sayu very tightly.

«Sayu, you're a genius!»

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

Something in L's plan went wrong. Impossible, nothing planned by him went wrong…but what happened?

Originally, his intention was to get closer to Y/N Yagami in order to find some evidence about his involvement in the Kira case. More in particular, a proof that Y/N's older brother was, indeed, Kira himself. L would appear in the right places at the right moments, he would always say the right things and he would always be a great listener. Of course he already knew everything about the Yagami family so every confidence Y/N would do to him, the greatest detective L was already informed about it. But he acted as if he never heard anything.

Initially, it went well. Y/N was getting closer and closer to him, her confidences became more intimate and she opened more to him. L was even touched when he heard from her –during the period of surveillance- that she was in love with him, he found her cute. In this exact moment everything fell for him. And L fell too…yes, he fell in love with Y/N Yagami.

In this situation we shouldn’t forget about Soichiro. He, being Y/N's father, was more than bothered by what he heard from the cameras in his house. But not because he didn’t trust his Y/N but mostly because he didn’t trust this "boy" she talked about.

«Uhm Chief…are you sure about this?»

«Matsuda, we have to investigate. This boy could be Kira!»

«But Chief…I think your daughter would never date a potential Kira» Aizawa replied looking at his superior with shock.

«Aizawa is right, Yagami-san. Please, focus your energies on the Kira case and not on your daughter's romantic life»

Soichiro snorted, not fully convinced, but Ryuzaki was his superior co-worker and he had to obey. At least for now.

.

.

.

.

«Casual or formal attire?»

«Casual of course. It's not a date…yet»

«Sayu!»

The two sister, together in Y/N's room, were deciding the outfit for Y/N's love confession. Now she understood her classmates' nervousness about Valentine's day.

«Dress or not dress?» Y/N asked unsure in front of the mirror with two cute dresses in her hands.

«Y/N, wear whatever makes you comfortable…even your school uniform if you want»

She nodded at Sayu and chose F/C shirt / blouse / sweatshirt / hoodie paired with F/C pants / skirt / shorts and favourite shoes. In her bag / small backpack she put all her belongings and the cake she baked for Hideki. Y/N applied a little bit of makeup and brushed her H/C hair in a cute hairstyle.

«How do I look?»

«Gorgeous sis~»

Y/N smiled at Sayu and thanked her for all the advices. Shortly afterwards she would confess her feelings for a boy met at the gym.

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

And then, the day came. 14th February. Y/N decided to meet Hideki after one of his tennis matches at the To-Oh University. She was so nervous, she could sense how sweaty the hands were and how the heart was beating fast.

She was going to come back home and to postpone everything when she saw Hideki at the door of the gym.

«Y/N-chan, hello» Hideki walked closed, slouched as always with his tennis racket in one hand. He hadn’t no sweat on him despite the other athletes behind him were tired.

«H-Hideki-kun! Hi…how was the training today?» Y/N wanted to slap herself for the stutter when she greeted him.

«Quite boring, the others were not skilled as you or your brother» he smiled at her clearly moved by that sudden shyness from the second-born Yagami.

«Would you…would you go to the nearby cafeteria? I heard there's a special menu today»

«Gladly Y/N-chan»

And together they went to this new cafeteria near the To-Oh. However, the too much mushy aspect of the place made Y/N regret the offer she made to Hideki.

«Ah today is Valentine's Day…» Hideki said once inside the cafeteria, looking curiously around like a child inside a toy store: pink and red hearts everywhere –even sweets and candies had that shape-, a strawberry scent filled the air and on TV there was a famous musical.

The waiter asked if Y/N and Hideki were a couple and Y/N quickly said they were only friends. With a fast look, Y/N noticed that Hideki didn’t flinch at that statement. Maybe he really didn’t fell anything for her. A wave of sadness and disappointment hit her like a train and suddenly she started to hate that day.

Hideki and Y/N, once the waiter showed them a table, sat down they talked about many things: sport, University, school and about Kira too.

«What do you think of Kira, Y/N-chan?»

«Well…» she thought for a bit before answering. «It doesn’t matter how noble their ideals are, killing people is always a crime. So I hope this L will catch them»

«Yes, I hope it too»

The two of them were so much focused on their conversation that they didn’t notice someone recognised them from the shop window.

«Matsu look! Isn't that Ryuzaki?» Misa was looking at the shop window searching for something to buy for Light when she spotted a familiar black haired boy who was crouched on the chair instead of sitting.

Matsuda, who was with her according to L's orders, spied inside the cafeteria and he recognised not only Ryuzaki but Chief Yagami's daughter too. «That's Light's sister! So the famous "boy met at the gym" is Ryuzaki! I have to tell the Chief»

In that moment, Y/N grew nervous when she remembered the cake in her bag / small backpack. And Hideki must have noticed it.

«Are you alright, Y/N-chan?»  his monotone voice distracted the young girl from her nervous thoughts.

«Well…actually no»

«Is something bothering you?»

«I…have something to tell you, Hideki» she shifted anxiously in the chair.

«What is it?» again, Hideki's emotionless voice didn’t suggest her what he was feeling. Had she to continue? Or was it better to end the "date" there?

Her shaking hands curled into fists, determination was clear in her E/C eyes. «If I tell you I… You know… Care about you… Would you laugh at me? I never felt so good around someone…for once I was not Light Yagami's sister or Chief Yagami's daughter. With you I can be just Y/N, a girl who clearly cannot even choose a proper place to confess, eh!» she chuckled at the last part, maybe her attempt to wash away her current nervous state.  

Then she took a cute pastel purple box from the bag / small backpack and placed it on the table. «I made this…for you» she didn’t dare to look up at him, scared of his reaction.

Y/N heard he took the box and slowly he was opening it. Its contents were chocolate-covered cake balls that recalled tiny tennis balls. «Since I first saw you after a tennis match, I thought it would be nice doing something in memory of that day» she added shortly after, her gaze was still focused on her lap.

On the other hand, despite from outside he would appear calm and composed, L was panicking inside. He knew Y/N was going to confess, he knew what day was…so why that confession, those simple words hit him so hard?

"Internal check: sweaty hands, dry mouth, quickened heartbeat and…warm face. Wait…warm face?" L thought while observing the tiny cakes in front of him.

Yes, L was blushing and his brain was in tilt. Too many thoughts, too many emotions so suddenly. It floored him.

«But it seems…I imagined everything» Y/N broke the embarrassing silence that filled the air between them. Her voice cracked showing how much hurt she was. «Thank you for your time, Hideki-kun…and sorry» she stood up and bowed at him.

She was going to leave the cafeteria when a strong grip at her wrist stopped her. She turned and a tint of pink painted her cheeks, in front of her one of the cutest sight: a tomato-red Hideki who was looking away embarrassed.

«Excuse me, Y/N-chan, I have to say something against what you said earlier…»

«Uh?»

«I apologise if I didn’t reply to you but…hm…I don’t know the protocol for this kind of situations. Few moments ago I had so many thoughts in my mind but my mouth wasn’t able to formulate a proper phrase» L started to say, now it was his turn to be embarrassed, something so rare for him. «And about what you said before…I accept them. Your feelings, I mean. People like you are rare and precious…and since I always want the best, I want you by my side» he moved his dark eyes on her noticing she was even redder than him.

Y/N was staring at him in disbelief. Did she hear it right? He said…he accepted her feelings. She wasn’t dreaming, right?

«So…would you eat those sweets with me?» Hideki asked her and she nodded with a bright smile on her face.

At the same time, at the HQ, Matsuda informed Soichiro about what he saw at the cafeteria. At those words, Soichiro became gloomy and baffled.

«Ryuzaki is my daughter's boyfriend and my superior co-worker…this is even worse than I imagined»

Aizawa and Mogi were looking at him concerned. «Matsuda…you owe me 30.000¥» (A/N: something like 275$ USD with the actual exchange rate).

The young detective sighed defeated and gave the money to Aizawa.

«I knew I was right all along»

[mamichigo]

Title: at the bottom (where the eyes can't see)

Pairing: Kokichi/Shuichi

Rating: G

Word count: 2,1k

Tags: Hope's Peak AU, Post Hope's Peak, Bittersweet, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Aged-up characters

Summary: "Because, one year ago, Kokichi disappeared without a trace before he could even attend the graduation ceremony."

Shuichi meets Kokichi again.

Notes: Gift for participant #32 in the @kokichigiftexchange

*

"Ouma-kun?"

It's too early in the morning to encounter anyone; the only sound at the beach is the quiet murmur of the waves. A lone person stands where the waves come to lap at their bare feet, and the person shivers in what he can only presume is freezing water. Shuichi is compelled to attribute it to a Christmas phantom, a hallucination born out of wishful thinking.

But he recognizes that messy head of hair, the diminutive stature. Kokichi Ouma looks like he hasn't changed at all, just like he stepped out of one of Shuichi's restless dreams.

His feet crunch on the sand, and it's that rather than the whispered name that alerts Kokichi to his presence. He turns with eyes narrowed, but suspicion melts into recognition when he spots Shuichi. To his surprise, that look morphs into horror almost immediately. Kokichi takes a step back and looks around.

"You don't need to run away," Shuichi hurries to reassure him. "If you don't want to talk, that's… That's okay."

It isn't. Just insinuating it is makes him nauseous. Kokichi smiles in a cynic way that tells him he's still just as good at spotting lies. But, right now, as long as he can make Kokichi stay, Shuichi will tell as many white lies as necessary.

Because, one year ago, Kokichi disappeared without a trace before he could even attend the graduation ceremony.

"It's been awhile," Shuichi whispered.

Kokichi's shoulders hunch. Shuichi is sure that if he could, Kokichi would be putting up a physical barrier between the two of them. In the absence of that, he keeps his body language closed off, not even bothering to fully face Shuichi.

"It would've been much longer if I had my way," Kokichi snaps back. There's none of the joking, childish tone that used to always be in his voice.

"Your plan was to never see any of us again, wasn't it?" Shuichi muses to himself. He watches Kokichi's tense form. "Then, why are you here?"

Kokichi scoffs. "It's a big city, as if I ever planned to just accidentally bump into you. Or anyone, for that matter."

"No, but why would you still be in the city at all? It's not what you'd do, if you wanted to disappear."

Kokichi raises his eyebrows at him in challenge. Shuichi tries to tell himself he isn't trembling as well.

"I'd know. I looked for you."

Kokichi's eyes widen, and just for a moment, there's a crack in his mask. He bites at his bottom lip and a pained twitch appears at the corners of his eyes. Kokichi turns his head down and away, staring at something. Shuichi only now realizes Kokichi is clutching something in his hands.

"I wouldn't expect any less from the Ultimate Detective! Ah, you must be an active detective now, so I'm sure you have all kinds of resources at your disposal now. It wouldn't be hard to look for little ol' me, right?" Kokichi swirls to look at him. The smile on his face looks like it hurts his cheeks. "That's what it means to be an Ultimate, right?"

Shuichi shifts his weight, and realizes he has nothing to say to that. Kokichi was right. It was frighteningly easy to look into Kokichi's whereabouts, and even more terrifying to realize even then he couldn't find his missing ex-classmate.

Everywhere he goes, he sees his other classmates, even the ones he is no longer in contact with. On TV, billboards, online forums, on the news. Every single one of them, except Kokichi.

"What have you been up to all this time?" Shuichi asks, like he has done so many times to the silent copy of Kokichi that appears to him whenever he closes his eyes.

"This," Kokichi deadpans. "But that's not really the question you want to ask, is it, Saihara-chan?"

Shuichi looks to Kokichi's shoes, lying on the sand. To his clenched toes, dipped in water. To his fingers, almost purple at the tips where they clutch some mysterious box. Finally, he looks into Kokichi's eyes, and finds nothing but guarded apathy. Shuichi has gotten no better at reading Kokichi than he used to be when they were both attending Hope's Peak.

"What question do you think I want to ask?"

"Oh, please." Kokichi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "I'm not in the mood for the charades."

"That used to be all you were in the mood for."

"But we're not at Hope's Peak anymore, are we?"

Shuichi opens and closes his mouth a few times, but can't settle on an answer. Shuichi swallows.

"But you're still you."

"Don't act like you know me."

"Ouma-kun…"

Shuichi tries to touch his arm, if only for the comfort of knowing this Kokichi is not an illusion, but Kokichi knocks his hand away before he can get close enough to do it. Kokichi pins him with an angry look.

"Is it just me, or have you gotten bolder, Saihara-chan? Assertive, even!" Every word drips with sarcasm. "My sincere congratulations!"

Shuichi presses his lips into a straight line. He looks away for a moment, and is reminded of how cold it truly is when a gust of wind makes goosebumps raise on his flesh. Shuichi watches Kokichi's still trembling figure.

"What are you doing here, Ouma-kun?" Shuichi asks again, dread at the back of his throat.

Kokichi hums in thought. He kicks at the water half-heartedly and winces when droplets of it fall on himself. He shakes the box in his hand, and it rattles.

"To dispose of useless things," Kokichi says.

"On a Christmas morning, in the middle of Winter?"

"What can I say, it's a little symbolic this way."

"What's inside the box?"

They look at each other for a moment that's a few eternities too long. Slowly, slowly, a smile tugs at Kokichi's lips. It's small and secretive; it's the same smile Kokichi had given him the last time they talked, framed by pouring rain and dark clouds. Shuichi's breath catches in his throat.

"Nothing worth remembering."

Perhaps it's the shock of the sudden memory that makes him stand there and watch as Kokichi raises his hands above his head and throws the box into the ocean. Kokichi turns like he means to leave, and the box falls into the water with a wet plop. Shuichi looks from one to the other, and chases after the sinking box.

He manages to see Kokichi whip his head back to look at him, but he doesn't have the time to think about that.

"Saihara-chan!" Kokichi yells when his body hits the water.

Shuichi takes a deep breath and dives. The freezing cold shocks him into almost inhaling the water, but Shuichi slaps a hand to his mouth and swallows the urge to gasp for breath. The seawater stings at his open eyes, but he has enough visibility to see the dark polish of the wooden box. Shuichi grabs for it and resurfaces with a gasp.

He doesn't get out of the water immediately, floating there and breathing with his eyes closed. His fingers are slippery, but he cradles the box to his chest and doesn't let go.

"Saihara-chan!" Kokichi yells again. 

Shuichi raises his head slowly. Numbly, he waves to Kokichi. It takes some effort to drag himself out the water with his clothes weighing him down, but Shuichi manages to get back to shore. 

Shuichi never imagined he'd spend his morning diving into the ocean, with a fuming Kokichi glaring at him. He almost laughs. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kokichi hisses. He gets into Shuichi's personal space, raised to the tip of his toes to grab Shuichi by the lapels of his coat. The seawater in his hair drips onto Kokichi's cheeks. "I know you can be stupid, but this is a new low!"

Shuichi nods numbly. "A-At least…" His teeth chatter. "At least I got it. The box."

Kokichi stares incredulously at the wooden box. Shuichi can nearly see it when the thread that holds him together snaps.

"You think I care?! I was here to throw that away, you idiot! This was supposed to be the last of— Of all this!" Kokichi shook him roughly.

"Wait, Ouma-kun, that hurts—"

"That stupid school, this city, this useless thing they called a talent. I'm getting rid of all of it."

Kokichi continues his barrage, and Shuichi has to step back when Kokichi gets too close. In the frenzy, they end up tangled in each other's feet, and they both fall painfully. Shuichi winces, but Kokichi isn't deterred. If anything, he looks all the more furious.

"You can't stop me from doing it, Saihara-chan," Kokichi says in a fervent whisper.

"You were trying to say goodbye," Shuichi realizes.

For a tense moment, neither of them speak. Kokichi is still furious above him, expression twisted. Shuichi has a feeling that, if he was capable of doing it sincerely, Kokichi would be crying. Shuichi wants to hug him.

He chuckles quietly.

"What are you laughing about?"

"That's the first time you've ever been this sincere with me," Shuichi says with a smile he knows is too soft.

Kokichi sighs exasperatedly and hangs his head. He ends up with his forehead to Shuichi's collarbone. He's still clutching Shuichi's coat tightly.

"I hate you," Kokichi says.

"I missed you," Shuichi answers.

He dares lay a hand on Kokichi's head, and though he flinches, he doesn't say anything about it. Shuichi runs his fingers from his scalp to the tip of his hair. He gently plays with the tips like he so starkly remembers Kokichi doing whenever he was focused on whatever thoughts were on his mind. Shuichi can see it, in his mind's eyes: Kokichi sitting on the table, legs crossed, grinning as he lies through his teeth about one thing or another.

He doesn't have the time to dwell on the memory, as Kokichi grows antsy in the prolonged contact. He pushes himself away and sits on the sand next to Shuichi. He's still within arm's reach, Shuichi notes as he sits up as well.

Kokichi forces him to remove his outer layer and offers his own coat in exchange.

"Thank you."

"Whatever."

Kokichi rests his cheek on his knee and doesn't bother looking at Shuichi again. Shuichi frowns, just a little bit, but concedes that at least Kokichi has yet to leave.

"Why did you disappear?" Shuichi asks.

"There it is, the million dollar question," Kokichi deadpans with a huff. He draws on the sand with his finger, and Shuichi can see he's pouting too. "Does it really matter?"

"I spent the last year searching for any clues of what might have happened to you." Shuichi allows for just a hint of steel to appear in his voice. "It matters."

Kokichi pauses for a moment. Then, he's right back to doodling. Shuichi can identify what looks like the hat he used to wear.

"There's only so much time you can spend on a farce. Every game has an ending. That's part of the fun too. You could say I got bored."

Shuichi observes him. He wonders if taking Kokichi's coat was a good idea, as he's shaking now more than ever. What he can see of his face is pale, with the exception of the underside of his eyes. He looks shockingly smaller. Shuichi realizes it's because his personality is so muted, a stark difference to how he presented himself so loudly before, impossible to ignore.

"Rather than bored, you just sound tired," Shuichi gently says.

"Thanks, Mr. Detective."

There is more to it than Kokichi is saying, but this is already more personal information than Kokichi would ever reveal about himself. They have time, enough for Shuichi to prod at his motivation, to peel the layers of what happened to Kokichi. He can only hope that's true.

"What are you going to do now?" 

"Same thing I've been doing. Which is to say, nothing." Kokichi seems to remember something. He shifts a little to point at the box Shuichi is holding. "Ah, you can keep that. You went through the trouble of throwing yourself into the ocean for it, so you win."

"I didn't know we were playing," Shuichi jokes.

"Aren't we always."

Carefully, Shuichi undoes the clasp that holds the lid closed. Inside the box, they are a number of little trinkets that he doesn't recognize, and a few he does. He sees a star pin he had won for Kokichi in a festival.

At the bottom of it all, there are a couple of pictures. The one at the top had his own face smiling up at him, with a laughing Kokichi clinging to him by the neck, half raised off the floor.

Shuichi turns a fond smile at Kokichi, but he's still resolutely avoiding eye contact. Shuichi keeps that secret to himself, and reaches for his friend's hand instead. Just a touch of his pinky to Kokichi's. Kokichi twitches, but his hand stays right where it is. 

"I'm glad I didn't let you throw it away."

[reinepadova]

To Be Seen

[←Previous]  | Chapter 7 |  [ Next → ]

To see once is preferable compared to hearing a hundred times – I wonder. Will you accept my truth as you see it?

“So. A consultant,” Stella stated mildly after a period of silence, a gentle breeze brushing back her hair, and rolling clouds made her glance at the horizon. She felt the chill of the stone beneath her contrast with the warmth of her hand – her fingers smoothed over the intricate carvings at its edges.

“That is correct,” came the calm reply, a careful distance away from her left.

Stella hummed. “Is this your true form then?” She specified, minutely looked over at the seated man before looking away.

“I adapt to many forms,” he clarified, voice vibrating in a soothing timbre. “But I am not born from a mortal life.”

Stella saw in her periphery the gentleman angling his shoulders to face her, and narrow eyes observing her form. She closed her eyes, trying to keep still and polite, but the urge to slap him to make him look away crossed her mind several times. Why won't he stop? It's one thing to enter a staring contest with a little snake creature – which in some ways resemble an exotic, cuddly pet – but its another thing to hold gazes with this structure. This... man.

She's still undecided on how to settle her feelings about it.

“I see,” she replied, eyes turning to follow the reflection of the moon on the moving water. “And, you work with a funeral parlor? Isn't that an ironic occupation for a not-mortal?”

“Perhaps. I see it as fitting – for the times,” he hummed in low gravitas, expression turning distant. “In Liyue, there is a saying, 'the best time to plant a tree, was twenty years ago. The second best time, is today. I wish to honor they whom made this land prosperous – no matter how great or small the contribution.”

Stella glanced at the hand near her on the bench, the gleam of the amber stone shone dully in the night. 'This' land? Does he mean the harbor? Or...Liyue in general?

But that means –

“You're not just a little guardian in Qingce Village, are you? Why would you be here, if you were its sole protector? Why did we have to say good bye then, at the edge of the harbor? And you, in this form? A job? For a... spirit? Entity? I just – I don't – this world is so – ” Stella cut-off her words with a muffled sigh, head bowed into her hands. She belatedly realized what she almost blurted out.

If this keeps up, I'll be exposed as even more of a foreigner.

But... this is Mr. Guardian. Will it be bad to tell him?

There was a beat of surprise before he answered, sounding oddly apologetic. “I should have placed more consideration on your insight. It was not my intent to distress you, but I shall not justify my shortcomings. Know that I am still he who found you at the rockface,” he reassured gently, his presence growing closer at her bent form.

Found me... Yes. I suppose he did.

Like a stray, aren't I?

Stella remained quiet, lowering her hands to trace her life lines as she thought.

Wasn't that her intention awhile ago? To find a stray to be her companion? When the nights grow cold and Mei tucked safely in bed. When memories come to haunt her in the dark – of things she could not control – of things she wished she could control – while choking on her screams to prevent disturbing anyo –

“What is this?” A warm presence was suddenly before her, fingers brushing against her cheek. The man pulled away to show them stained in shining red.

“Oh,” she noted dully, mechanically drawing a cloth from a pocket to wipe quickly at her face. She then gingerly took the man's hand and dabbed at them next. “I'm sorry for dirtying them. I'll have them replaced. It's not good to use only one pair in a matched set.”

He stared, brows low, before slowly shaking his head – Stella idly noted the lighter hues of brown at the tips of his hair – his composed expression turning serious. She could feel the burn of his gaze trying to check around her face while she stubbornly tried to avoid meeting them. “That does not matter. Where is your injury?”

“I have no injury,” Stella uttered reflexively, accustomed to such inquiries.

This is so awkward. Why did he have to kneel down? Why does he have to be pushy even in this form?

At the feel of burning in her eyes again, Stella twisted her upper body, and dabbed at the inner corner of her eyes as discreetly as she could. Unfortunately, he picked up on the implication right away. “Why does your lifeblood flow so?” he whispered, sounding unusually disconcerted. His fingers rested on the edge of the bench next to her hip – a thin streak of red left on it.

Even after three days, she knew him enough to know he never not knows anything – if his long tales of the giant vase at the lounge, the history of tea, or the gossip about his expertise was any indication. Even Ferrylady defers to him when he speaks with a sureness of someone with a quick understanding of any matter put before him – even a topic as mundane as the hair used in a writing brush.

Surely such an all-knowing person – being – is unsettled with the unknown – despite being shrouded in mystery himself – and not because she crying... like this.

But she couldn't refute, or comfort him. Not right now. Not when she couldn't speak properly – her feelings, a jumbled mess. This was the most out of control she's felt after dropping to this world –

Stella gritted her teeth, waiting for her running emotions to pass – willing them all to sink back into the deep.

She was inattentive of the figure quietly watching the transparent changes to her face, a concern slant to his brow.

When thunder rumbled, and darker clouds moved to cover the moon, she uttered her words in an even tone – a clarity and nonchalance she wished she had at the beginning of this conversation.

“Because I have no tears left to shed.”

Eerie silence followed her statement, the most uncomfortable she felt with the unnatural gentleman yet. Determined to salvage what's left of her dignity, Stella stood and dusted her skirt excessively. She moved to swerve around the bench to leave.

Even at the risk of being seen as rude, it's for the best she leave. She should get back to Mei's anyway and take shelter from the rain.

As she sped pass the stone bench, she heard long strides catching up to her easily. She slowed at the soft plea in his tone when he next spoke.

“Let me accompany you to your residence. Take it as an exchange for holding you back from doing so at an earlier hour.”

Pursing her lips – mostly out of guilt – Stella turned back to face him, with arms crossed.

Exchange? Figures. He would think that way. Liyue, the Land of Contracts indeed.

I just thought that was only for business...

“No, you did no wrong. It's alright. I can walk myself just fine. I would not obligate you to do this. You really don't have – w-what?” she sputtered, surprised at his nearing figure, before a large parasol shielded her from a sudden downpour. At the faint glow in the dark, she instinctly looked up, catching sight of his composed, amber eyes – like a moth to a lantern's light.

Their proximity in the umbrella was left unnoticed.

“Where on Liyue did this come from?” Stella asked, bewildered, gesturing to the canopy of their shelter. She didn't remember him carrying anything when they went out. He wouldn't have gotten a parasol from inside the parlor in such a short amount of time –

...can he?

She furrowed her brows when the corner of his eyes slowly wrinkled in amusement, despite the continued stoicism of his face. He adjusted his grip on the handle, which directed her gaze at the glowing cracks on the shaft, with angular shapes carved into its surface.

That...doesn't look like wood.

“Have you need of one yourself? I know of a reliable merchant down at the port who produces umbrellas from carefully sourced bamboo. They come in a variety of designs to choose from, depending on the occasion, or whim. I recommend a customization, and order at least four, to match each season of Liyue,” he suggested, a pleased smile growing on his face.

“I'll... keep that in mind,” she deadpanned, wondering if he has any idea how expensive customization is on anything.

Do spirits even understand the concept of money management?

When she huffed and started walking, heedless of the rain, he strode effortlessly to match her step, his elbow brushing her arm occasionally.

Curse his long legs. Why did he have to adapt to a form this tall?

She felt tiny compared to him – the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. In her irritation, she ignored the subtle movement of his arm – an offering to take it for her to rest on – and focused on her destination, not wanting to catch a cold.

“For the grandmother's memorial plaque, what design did you have in mind for it?” he asked out of the blue.

Startled, Stella answered without thought, “A Qingxin flower. Maybe three or five, grouped together.”

“Mm. None of the blooms at Yujing Terrace caught your eye?”

Having a new focus, her emotions calmed – the delicate thrum of water on stone centering her attention. She hummed in disagreement after a thought. “That would be typical, wouldn't it? The source of Liyue's famous silk, the go-to perfumes for women everywhere. The Lilies are nice too, when they don't shy away. But they don't seem... enough? They don't hold much meaning to me. To me personally.”

As Stella went deeper into her thoughts, she unconsciously walked closer to her companion, as if entrusting him to guide her path. The thought made his eyes soften, but otherwise, he stared straight ahead. She continued.

“But, more than a week ago, I saw in a book at Wanwen Bookhouse what the Qingxin flower looked like. A translucent white, found high up in the mountains, and blossoming in groups of four at a time. It's looks the most similar to – ah, from a place I... know? where I grew up. Yeah, that's it.”

“A flower from home?” he suggested graciously, the low tones enveloping her within the intimate space. Stella blinked, surprised at how stiff her shoulders were as she dragged them down, before looking up at gold orbs that glanced at encouragement.

Stella wonders why it puts her at ease.

“Yes. They're a very old species – or so I was taught. What it looks like today, is what it would have looked centuries ago. Like how Glaze Lilies are? How their form seems unchanged? So, the flowers I grew up seeing have different colors, and each have different meaning. The white one is said to be a perfect symbol for loyalty and strength and womanly beau – ”

When Stella became a little more animated, gesturing for emphasis, the gentleman leaned in, lowering his elbow enough for a stray hand to fall right into. She went on without skipping a beat, absentmindedly moving closer to the new source of warmth as a cold breeze sweeped through their coats.

“ – Mei's grandmother was very kind to take me in. And before I arrived, she single-handedly raised Mei when her parents passed. The Qingxin reminds me of how steadfast she was. How dedicated.”

She stopped walking, a stray thought crossing her mind. The gentleman turned to face her in a slow pivot – careful to not let her fingers fall as he waited.

“Mei reminds me of someone I knew.  There were many things I regret. Mei – she's my second chance. I want to do better for her. But there are just some days I wish I could do more,” Stella sighed, absently rubbing at her eyes before she strode forward again, pulling slightly at his arm to direct their way.

-{-}-

Morax stared with deep sympathy, understanding perfectly how heavy the weight of responsibility feels.

But. A wish...

“What do you desire for Young Meilin?” he probed – a proposal on the tip of his tongue, his eyes shone in a split second.

I may be off-duty but... for only this time...

She hummed and thought, before shrugging her shoulders. “Just for her to be happy. That's all,” the lady said simply, eyes shutting for a moment. “I want her to keep smiling. Its the only thing I wanted for myself growing up. She deserved the childhood I never had...” Her words trailed as her head pitched forward, shaking it briefly when her neck ached.

Morax could only watch for cues on where to go, following her lead as he contemplated. The rain poured harder in their wake.

To keep smiling... For myself...

To be happy...

What I deserve...

I am... content, of Liyue's prosperity. Of how far it grew since it's infancy.

It's what I've endeavored for many years. For the common folk to cease suffering from an age where gods and monsters rein in their conflict. Of war and infestations dominated the earth.

But...

Am I happy?

As they approached a quaint building of old wood and stone, Morax observed the nondescript door before him, taking note of the faint glow from the window next to it before it swiftly went out. He hummed, pleasantly diverted from his thoughts.

Seems like the little one has been vigilant in her wait.

He was about to announce their arrival but stopped at the feel of a weight on his side. He looked down and saw the charming sight of the lady dozing on his arm, hair falling artfully to frame her face.

It took him but a moment to etch this scene to his memory, but he selfishly waited for a few minutes before waking her with a light touch to her cheek. She woke in an instant.

“Well, this is me,” the lady declared, quickly pulling away when she realized their proximity. She glared at her hand as if it betrayed her.

“May I sleep with you tonight?” he asked, resting his parasol under the overhang of the apartment to let it dry.

The lady turned wide eyes at him, mouth opened in disbelief. She then scanned their surroundings, like weasel thief being hunted. Morax blinked at her unusual behavior.

At the sight of his confused face, she asked, “Do you not realize what you just said? Out loud?” Vexation colored her tone, brows furrowed low.

To sleep is to rest, is it not?

Let's see, 'sleeping' in this century mean –

Oh.

“Pardon my poor choice of words,” he chuckled quietly, a fist reaching up to cover his mouth. “But, you have not disagreed when I asked if you have not been resting well after we parted ways, yes?”

“Well, I suppose – ”

“Then if my presence has helped you sleep soundly, then I would like to aid you again.”

The lady stared at him for a long moment before frowning. “Please, don't speak of what you don't mean.”

“I beg your pardon?” Morax tilted his head, noting how defensive her posture is again.

“I appreciate your intention, Mr. Guardian. I really do. But my struggles are not yours to bear.”

“Zhongli.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, a lost look to her expression.

“As precious as I find your appellation to be. In this form, I am called Zhongli.”

“...precious? I don't – Ugh. Fine. Zhongli.” He smiled.

“And just as you do not feel obligated to care for Young Meilin,” he continued, eyes narrowing in earnest. “I too do not feel so. With you.”

Before Morax could understand the stir of emotion that swell in her gaze, the lady consented, with only a little bit of reluctance. “Okay. Alright. You won't give up until I agreed anyway.  But, answer me honestly please. It's the only thing still bothering me.”

“Yes?”

The lady took a deep breath, before gazing at him just as earnestly. “How do you benefit from you helping me?”

“Why must you think I want something in return?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I am not naive. This place, this region – I am aware that people here are very fond of contracts. Of an equal exchange. Its expected.

So. What do you want? And don't answer my question with another question.”

The burn of a proposal was still at the tip of Morax' tongue. But right now –

“Nothing. Just knowing you are able to rest, is enough for me.”

– he resisted it strongly.

The lady widened her eyes before closing them, realizing the echo of her previous words.

Morax stood still, waiting for her to acknowledge his sincerity.

Eventually, her shoulders sagged in acceptance before she turned to unlock the door. She let him in first with a careless wave, offering to hang his coat as she went. When she walked over to the garment hanger after he conceded, his sharp senses heard a scamper of little feet approach.

“Lala? You're la – Oh. Who you, mister?”

Morax smiled at the girl, who took a few seconds to study his clothes before looking up into his eyes. She gasped at their glow.

“Bìxià!”

“We meet again, little one,” he greeted with a subdued smile after eyeing her white dress.

To have the strength to be cheerful despite the odds...

Stopping to lean forward around the privacy screen to check on her guardian – who was smoothing his coat at the hangar – the little girl ran excitedly to his side, the rain barely hiding the sound. She tugged at his vest, and bounced on her toes. She looked pointedly at his height. He chuckled, getting the message. He rested on one knee before her.

“Bìxià, Lala no sleep after you went away. Will you stay now? Please? I cook you super yummy, extra sauce-y food! And, and, I'll pick the shiniest berry in the garden. Or you like chili better? Do you want other stuff? Please tell me!” She uttered boldly, determination shining brightly in the dark. He patted her head warmly, amused at how much guardian and ward think alike – their care for each other is admirable.

“I have no need for an offering, sweet one. It is also my wish to help your... Lala... rest as well. But if you would still like to prepare a meal, I will be happy to accept.”

Biting her lips to keep from squealing, she hopped on the spot instead. “Thank you, thank you, Bìxià! Gran-gran was right. You're the best!”

But hearing the soft thud of approaching feet, she hurried to say, “I'll cook the best noodle dish ever! Uuhh – for lunch! Tomorrow! Please look forward to it. I'm going to bed now. I'm really sleepy. Niiiight!” She bid cheerfully after bowing low, beaming at him afterward. He indulged her with a nod before she scampered off, the pitter-patter of her feet did little to hide her presence as the lady drew close.

“Oh. Was that Mei? I should check up on her,” she said, moving to enter the sleeping quarters. She stopped as he shook his head.

“That would not be necessary. She is in want of sleep, she says, now that you're back safe,” Morax assured. He stood to take off his shoes before joining her at the doorway.

“Mm? If you say so,” she conceded, but she drew a brow as their gaze met. “By the way, she couldn't explain to me well the word she keeps calling you. Is it a title?”

“Ah. Its a respectful term in Liyue. It goes to show she is a well-mannered child.”

She chuckled, looking proud – a rare sight to behold.

“Yes. She really is. I'm glad she's not too mature for her age. She still gets to be carefee. I –”

When she brought a hand up to delicately cover a yawn, he intervened. “Shall we then?”

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[←Previous]  | Chapter 7 |  [ Next → ]

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A/N: I had to cut it. This chapter was getting too long.

If you’re curious, I thought Qingxin sort of look like Magnolia. It smells really good as a lotion.

I made a modified Almond Tofu for Xiao’s banner, but I don’t think I have the know-how, nor the ingredients for the Slow-cooked Bamboo Soup.

I offer this fic instead uwu

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Follower Tag:  @meladollsims

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 23

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because I want to know Amri’s plan!

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unite all the Gelfling against the Skeksis. They’ve succeeded with the Sifa of Cera-Na and the Dousan of the Wellspring but learn that All-Maudra Mayrin was killed by the Skeksis while they were avoiding ever going to Ha’rar. Mayrin’s eldest daughter and Skeksis loyalist Seladon has been named new All-Maudra. Fearing that the Vapra won’t rise up in resistance, the group is lost for solutions until Amri dreams he falls into the ocean and has a cryptic conversation with the urRu Swimmer.

Chapter 23

Team Naia climb a mountain but find a mysterious tower

They planned to leave that evening, when they could move under the cover of the night. Until then, Amri found a corner of the cabin and crawled under a pile of pillows, blocking out the daylight. He dreamed of the stone tree in the belly of Grot. He stood before it as it died, limbs like roots, or roots like limbs. Knowing that if he could be breathed in by the ancient thing, flow into its veins and up its trunk, when he emerged on the other side, he would be a pink blossom on the slender boughs of the Sanctuary Tree.

He heard whispers. A thousand voices, all as one. The shadows moved with infinite limbs. When he woke, it took everything he had not to slap away the spider tapping the back of his hand.

The protags are probably used to it at this point but oh no I would freak out. I do not like crawlies crawling on me.

Anyway, aside from waking up Amri for The Plan, Tavra also has a favor to ask Amri.

“In case anything should happen to me tonight. Someday, when the fires are lit. When it’s safe. Would you find my sister Brea and tell her what happened? I want her to know that I didn’t abandon her.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get to tell her yourself.”

Has anyone in fiction ever answered otherwise?

It feels like that kind of thing only comes up so the other person can go ‘no you’re totally going to survive so you can tell her yourself’ or ‘we’ll tell her together’ or something.

Protagonists try to be optimistic about their chances, I guess.

I think I’ve seen maybe one example where a more world-weary character just instantly agreed to a request like that, recognizing the asker wanted reassurance that things would be taken care of if the worst happened.

Anyway.

Naia brings a cloak for Amri to wear when they go out and climb up a snowy mountain. Its in Silverling white and silver which Amri feels weird about since the Gelfling tribes like to color code just like people from Avatar. But he recognizes its better for the mountains so puts it on.

“Do I look like a Silverling?” he asked, pulling his hair out from inside the cloak collar.

Naia’s ears turned pink. She looked away and mumbled, “Not a bit.”

Shiiiiiiiiiiip teeeeeeeeeease.

If they hold hands at this rate, they’re going to explode.

Tae comes in and tells them its time to go, the Vapra are gathering at the citadel but neither the Skeksis nor Seladon have shown yet. And even with the Waystar trees, its going to be getting very dark on the mountain.

While the team is climbing the mountain to do the Plan with the Waystar trees, Onica is basically going to be the getaway driver. She’s staying on the boat ready to go. If anything goes wrong, they can fly off the mountain to the boat and sail away to fight another day.

This vague the Plan has multiple angles figured out. Its a good the Plan.

Onica also tells them that she believes in them. Aww. Onica encouragement is truly precious.

I’m so glad that we’ve gotten so much Onica material in this book. She’s great.

Team Naia leave the boat and the wharf (Amri looking back to see if the Swimmer shows but she does not) and hurry through the city.

As Tae had said, the Vapra of Ha’rar were already gathering near the steps that led up to the citadel. Huddled in their silver cloaks, whispering quietly among themselves. Amri heard the consistent sound of fear, and apprehension. He heard Seladon’s name, and Tavra’s. The sibilant sounds of the Skeksis Lords’ names. skekUng, skekZok. skekSil, the Chamberlain. skekSo, the Emperor.

I wonder if all of them are showing up. That’s a big gathering of Skeksises.

But the team keeps going to where Ha’rar meets the mountain and then up a narrow winding stairway.

There’s more buildings of Ha’rar even built into the mountain but the stairway becomes a steep footpath and then nothing. Just trudging through deep snow in a mountain side forest. In the dark. It’s evening. For everyone that’s not Amri or Tavra, the footing becomes really uncertain.

“I can’t see a thing. Is this what it’s been like for you, traveling in the day?” Naia asked as they reached a rocky ledge too high to step over. He made short work of it and crouched on the top, grabbing Naia’s hand and pulling her up and over. She didn’t wait for him to say yes before she added, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Not everywhere in Thra is caves and rocks.” Though night and ice is close enough, he thought. Or at least he hoped it would be.

They stop to look at Ha’rar, which is described as looking like a painting at this distance. Maybe a matte painting. I miss matte paintings. They were so cool.

The team has reached a point where Tavra can’t guide them anymore because the wind changes the landscape too often so she tells them to follow the Waystars’ light but be careful of hidden crags.

Tae says

“Our path is up to you now, Amri.”

Something he’d longed to hear, but now that he had, it felt heavy on his shoulders. It was up to him to guide them -- and protect them from danger. He knelt and touched the freezing stones. Under the deep snow, the mountain path still existed. He could feel its sturdiness.

That rock sense thing sure is helpful.

Super helpful.

Amri even senses a building up ahead.

Not any building Tavra is familiar with but as she says not many people travel up here so if someone were to build something, not many people would know or care.

“It would be a nice way to live if you wanted to be alone,” Naia remarked.

“And if you didn’t mind freezing,” Kylan added, teeth chattering.

Hah! Good ol’ best boy Kylan.

He’s so quiet that he doesn’t feel as present as some of the other characters but he remains relevant to the plot and delightful.

Amri leads the group towards the mysterious building, which is a simple stone and ice tower. It looks abandoned from the outside and the place doesn’t seem too occupied or furnished on the inside but Kylan can tell that the hearth has been lit within the past couple days.

So its not abandoned, just austere.

They can’t stay long without losing their opportunity to reach the Gelfling of Ha’rar before the Skeksis do but they can stay long enough to warm up with a fire and hey, there’s a hearth right there.

While Kylan started the fire, Amri touched the parchments that were strewn across the stone worktable. The soft, cold paper was thick and fibrous, covered in ink-drawn maps and charts. He recognized the coastline of the Silver Sea, from Kylan’s book, meticulous and fine-detailed, every landform and eddy and bay lovingly titled and detailed. Cera-Na and her fingerlike headlands, even the sand river they’d taken into the desert. The Caves of Grot, the Claw Mountains. The long tail of the Black River, the lifeline of the Skarith Basin.

There were other charts, too, but they were not of the land. Amri recognized stars and the Sisters, the patterns of the wind drawn across the sky where it intersected with the path of the Brothers. The pictures of the seasons and the ninets, how the phases of the moons changed course as Thra moved through time and space.

Hmmm. And the maps are drawn in ink, too, and not dream-etched.

So I have my theory about whose house this might be. I’m a bit surprised that it is where it is but I have my theory.

I mean, its got to be an urRu, right? Not a Gelfling because its ink and not BURNING WITH YOUR MIND POWERS. Probably not a Skeksis because there’s one Skeksis who could live in such simple digs without succumbing to the unfathomable urge to bedazzle everything in sight.

And would we be so lucky to get a second urRu when there’s only a few chapters left? No, no. This is clearly the oddly mountain located house of urSan the Swimmer. All the way up on a mountain, the further place from the sea.

I like that the map including the desert implies that she just swam the sand rivers too. That’s commitment to your monomania.

Amri arranges the maps on the table to they form a jumbo map of the Skarith Land and is in awe at seeing his whole world (or at least the only important continent of it apparently) all at once like this and at how much of it he has personally seen since starting his journey with the group.

But there’s work to be done so he asks Tavra if she knows what she’s going to say for the Plan.

“Yes,” the Silverling spider replied. “I don’t know if it will be enough, but it is all I have. I can only hope that my words can move the Vapra to believe that there is hope... even without my mother and Seladon to guide them.”

“They still have you,” Naia assured her. “Even if your voice is small. If Amri’s right, and if Kylan can do what he did with the Sanctuary Tree, then...”

I like that their plans are always building up off their previous plans.

But before Naia can finish explaining the Plan there’s a crunching on the snow outside and the door is slammed open by an old familiar unexpected individual.

SHE! Her. skekSa the Mariner, who is just as confused to see the Gelflings here as they are to see here.

Its a small world after all, I guess.

Her menacing eyes fell upon Amri and his friends, then the star charts and sea maps. Amri found his hand on the hilt of Tavra’s sword. skekSa reached back and slammed the door, throwing the latch so there was no escape. She leveled the room with her gaze, hot breath steaming from her nostrils.

“Tell me, and I will let you live,” she growled. “Where is urSan the Swimmer?”

Dun dun dun?

[zayray030]

5 times Jason surprised the Titans and 1 time they surprised him.

Chapter Title: He can Sing!?

Chapter: 2/6

Summary: The voice of an angel can be heard all around the tower but no one knows where it's coming from. Coincidentally, Jason is stuck in his room thinking about his mother with his guitar.

“What is that sound?” asked Donna for the fifth time in this hour.

“I. Don't. Know.” answered Dick through gritted teeth for the fifth time this hour.

“What noise?” The two elder titans turned around to see Rachel, Gar and Rose approaching them with Dawn, Kori and Hank flanking their backs.

“Can't you hear it? It sounds so…” Donna trailed off, trying to find something to describe the noise that she had been hearing an hour prior before their return.

“Angelic?” continued Kori for her.

“Exactly!”

“It's probably nothing.” Dick tried saying. Before Donna had started pestering he had been writing a report about Jason to send to Bruce and he really needed to send it to him.

“I don't know, Dick . It sounds soothing.” said Rachel when she had caught the sound of the music. It truly did sound like the voice of an angel.

“And what do you suspect we do, kid? Go on a treasure quest to see what's going on?” asked Hank sarcastically before Kori slapped him over the head. He squawked in indignation but she just glared at him.

“Caw we? It'll be so so fun!” asked Gar excitedly. Everyone shot him a fond look. Even Hank’s eye's softened.

“Nerd.” Rose snorted but there wasn't any real heat to it. She walked over to the kitchen part of the open-plan and took out three cans of soda and threw two at Gar and Rachel. They both accepted it happily.

“I think that's a good idea. It'll be nice to bond like a team.” said Dawn, grinning happily. Suddenly she frowned and started looking around. “Hey, where's Jason? He could join us.”

“I, um, grounded him.” said Dick awkwardly, scratching the back on his neck.

“What did he do?” asked Kory, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Just the usual.” said Donna dismissively, waving her hand away at Kory’s concern.

“What didn't he do is the real question.” muttered Hank under his breath but Kory still heard him and slapped him again.

“Jason might ruin the fun anyway. Plus, I doubt he'd be interested.” Rachel said scathingly.

“Okay, guys. Be nice.” chastised Dawn. Everyone looked down except for Kory. “Well if we're sure Jason doesn't want to join let's go.”

“Sorry I still need to-”

“Please Dick. It's been forever since we've hung out.” whined Rachel, pouting at him slightly, sending puppy eyes. When it looked like Duck was going to protest again Gar joined her and they could all see his resolve crumble. Gar suddenly grinned and turned into a dog approaching Dick and let out a whimper.

“You guys are evil.” moaned Dick standing up. He'd finish the report later. Who knows, maybe he'd be in a better mood to write the report and be nicer to Jason in it.

“Yes!” yelled Rachel. She held her hand out for a high five and Gar quickly jumped up and doggy fived her.

“Clothes are in the cupboard.” said Kory, smirking slightly.

After Gar had gotten changed they all quickly started looking around but they couldn't find where that mysterious, angelic sound was coming from.

“I give up!” exclaimed Rose as she flopped on the couch. They had been searching for the past 2 hours for the sound and they still couldn't find shit and the sun was starting to set.

“Come on, Rose.” Dawn tried but everyone could tell that she was nearly about to give up as well.

“We've checked everywhere! Where the fuck is it coming from?!” snapped Hank, grouchy and hostile.

“Not everywhere.” pointed out Kory.

“Where else, Princess. I know this place like the back of my hand and we still can't find him.” snapped Donna.

“Jason's room.”

A beat. Two beats. Then the room burst out into laughter.

“Good one, Kory.” Rachel got out in between giggles. Everyone slightly trailed off when Kory just looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you're serious. The nerd's normal voice is enough to want to make me want to tear my ears out.” muttered Rose, shooting Kory a poorly hidden bewildered look.

“Yes I'm being serious. You guys barely even give him the time of day! How do you know what he likes to do?” snapped Kory, turning to shoot everyone a glare.

“Listen, Kory. The kid can't sing. I would know if he did. Son of the World's Greatest Detective.”

Before anyone could tear into Dick at that comment the singing started and it sounded so broken and sad.

“Fine. How about this. If it is Jason singing, you have to do whatever the hell he wants for a week. And if it isn't Jason I prepare you coffee for a week. Deal?”

“I like my coffee dark with 2 sugars and cream, Kory.” said Dick, already standing up to head into Jason's room.

“Let's go!” exclaimed Gar excitedly.

“Quietly.”

~Jason's room~

‘Fuck Dick. Fuck Dick and the Titans. Fuck Dick, the Titans and their stupid rules.” thought Jason as tears fell out of his eyes. He hadn't even done anything bad. He had just told Dick that he had been a real dick lately to the others and maybe he should spend more time with them but the Great Boy Wonder had gotten his feathers ruffled at the remark.

And now because of that Jason had been sent to his room. He wanted his mother. She would sing to him whenever he was sad and she had such a beautiful, angelic voice that could soothe all his nightmares.

Jason suddenly remembered a song that she had sang to him when he had been a kid and he couldn't help but feel more tears come down. Tht song had been a song that his mother sang constantly, no matter what happened.

Jason quickly readied his guitar and began, unaware of the audience looking into him from the slight crack on the door.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine~ You make me happy when skies are grey~”

~Titans POV~

“Jeus fuck, don't we feel like the biggest assholes on earth.” muttered Hank as he witnessed another tear fall down Jason's face.

“Oh my God. Diana would disown me if she found out I made a literal baby cry.” muttered Donna. Everyone could see the hurt and regret in her eyes as she turned to face them.

“You get disowned. Bruce is going to break his no kill rule when he finds out I made his son cry.” hissed Dick but everyone could see the regret in his eyes.

“I never knew he could sing.” muttered Rachel bashfully.

“Yeah, because all of you saw an image and decided to stick with it instead of trying to talk to Jason about what he liked or didn't. I admit I'm guilty about it as well but I at least suggested that we visit Jason.” snapped Kory, narrowing her eyes at everyone.

“Think we can make a karaoke night out of this?” asked Gar, he had a slightly hopeful look but guilt was still swimming around.

“Absolutely.” said Dawn.

“His voice is actually the only pleasant thing here right now.” muttered Rose. No one tried to contradict her because it was true.

“So what have we learnt today?” asked Kory.

“Jason is an amazing singer and we're all jerks for hurting him.” piped up Rachel.

“Exactly. Now Grayson. Better get ready. You need to service your little brother for a week.” said Kory evilly, turning to smirk at Dick.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[clockworkgraystairs]

I just went a read all your pregnant Jurdan hcs and my gosh, they were so amazing!! If you want and can, could you write one where Jude and Cardan tells the court of shadow crew personally about her being pregnant. I feel like they are her second family tbh.

Hi there!! Sorry it took me a long to write this, but it’s finally finished!!

You’re totally right, they are like a second family to her and deserve all the love and respect! 🧡

Also, thank you so so much for your lovely comment!

Scheming great schemes masterlist

Read on AO3 here!

Tags: @thesirenwashere

If I was supposed to tag somebody else PLEASE forgive me and let me know! (it’s like 2 am and I’m not thinking straight rn) 

SCHEMING GREAT SCHEMES:

The Court of Shadows finds out Jude’s pregnant

(aka Cardan is being overprotective again)

Three weeks had passed since Jude learned she was pregnant. Still, they chose not to make the official announcement until the Full Moon festivities, which lasted almost a week. 

Cardan’s wish was to shout it from their balcony the same day his wife had told him, and then throw a revel for two full weeks. But Jude had convinced him to wait, not wanting to make more fuss than the strictly necessary, which being honest, was going to be a lot. 

At the moment, only three people besides her and Cardan knew about it: Vivi, Taryn and Heather. Even if Jude was dying to see Asha’s incredulous face she’d decided to make her wait until the official announcement. Telling her before would make her feel important. Jude was decided to show her the exact opposite. 

Still, she could feel Asha’s eyes following her everywhere, always calculating. Almost suspicious. Could she know something already? And if she did, why staying silent?

Jude inhaled deeply and lifted her hand to her belly, she needed to stop being so paranoid. 

Her mind kept thinking about it while she entered the Court of Shadows hideout. Jude usually went there when she wanted to train or work without being bothered. It was calm and quiet and-

She stopped in her tracks as she realized the place was not empty. In fact, one could say it was quite crowded.

The Ghost, Roach and the Bomb stood in the middle of the room, and to Jude’s surprise, Cardan was in front of them. They were serious enough that she could almost believe there was a war approaching. She rushed to them with furrowed eyebrows.

“This is top priorit-” Cardan paused, noticing her. “Jude.”

The others turned and nodded, welcoming her. Still, something alarmed in their eyes that made Jude’s shoulders tensed immediately.  

“What’s wrong?” She asked. 

She reached Cardan, her fingers itched to take his, but this was a serious meeting. Maybe later. His expression was unreadable, one that he usually had when his mind was solely focused on a single issue.

“I meant to talk to you later but, I guess now is a good moment as any. From now on, Jude, the Court of Shadows will be your personal guard.” Her what?! She stared at her husband wide eyed. “They shall accompany you on every step and make sure nothing will-” 

“Personal guard?” What on earth was going on? She gazed back to the others, looking for a reasonable explanation. “Did I miss something?”

The Bomb stepped forward and gave a slight bow. “You have my word Your Highness, that no harm will come to the High Queen, no matter the threat.” 

She looked at Jude solemnly, frowning a bit. 

Ok she’d definitely missed something. 

“Can someone please explain why am I to be protected?” Jude crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Cardan.

He cleared his throat, looking back to their friends. “Your safety has always been important to me, wife.” 

She didn’t buy it, he wasn’t even making eye-contact with her. Suddenly, something clicked inside her brain. 

That idiot.

“Cardan.” 

“Roach and Ghost, you will be with her at all hours. On council meetings, one of you will be inside with her and the other one outside guarding the door. When she retires to sleep, one will be outside the room and the other may go to rest. You-”

“Cardan” She repeated louder this time. He didn’t answer.

“...will report to me of every suspicious movement around her, no matter where it comes from.” He turned to Bomb. “Lilliver, you will be in charge of the perimeter, you are the best at it. Also when Jude needs to bathe or something, l trust you to be with her and assist if she-”

“Oh my god, stop!” Her fists were now tightened at her sides. She wasn’t sure of who to punch first. 

“Jude” The Bomb started, her voice soothing. “It is ok, whatever threat is coming we will not let it reach you.”

“Is there an actual threat upon me, my King?” The way she was glaring at him could make dozens run for their lives, but he just returned her look with strange adoration. She wanted to slap him so hard. 

“Come on Queeny, you can let us protect you for once.” Roach teased, standing next to the Bomb. “It will not make you look less terrifying than usual, no offense.” 

“No one will dare to question that.” Cardan concealed, with that irritating and charming smile of his.

“I am not saying…” She sighed. “I do not need any protection. Whatever nonsense Cardan told you please just forget it.”

“They shall not.” 

Cardan’s voice was back to that autoritary tone. When she get to be alone with him…

At some point the Bomb had approached her and took her hand. “If something is frightening you Jude, we can start investigating it immediately.” 

“I am not scared!” Jude jerked back her hand. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she groaned deeply. “I’m… gods… I’m pregnant ok?”

Raising her gaze again she found the three of the Court frozen in their places. Roach and the Bomb mouth-opened. The Ghost with an eyebrow raised. All of them wide eyed. All of them turning to Cardan in a single motion. Jude found herself biting down a laugh from their incredulous faces. 

Cardan shrugged as if it didn’t change anything. Still, the intensity of his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. 

After a couple of seconds in complete silence, something finally exploded. The Bomb let out a sharp squeal that startled even Roach before throwing herself at Jude in a tight hug, which she answered a little clumsy at the beginning, unused to such displays of affection from her. 

Roach laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh I see now. I knew there was something odd about all of this but…” He swore, still cackling. “Congratulations you both!”

On the other hand, the Ghost looked as if he’d just solved a big mystery. “Ah, I noticed Taryn was keeping some sort of secret from me, got me worried for a while.” He sighed and smiled at the couple, congratulating them as well. 

In all of that time, the Bomb hadn’t let go of Jude, murmuring surprise words and happy nonsense about teaching their baby how to hide and be a spy. Jude didn’t know if being delighted or terrified, but couldn’t contain her smile at her friend’s joy. 

At some point, the Ghost, who Jude never noticed leaving, came back to the room with food, wine and juice. That last one probably for her. They sat on the cushions and carpets and talked, teased and laughed, Jude telling them the story of how she’d found out she was pregnant.

Cardan, who had already came down from his ‘King mode’, joined their happiness and jokes, thanking them for their words. He reach for Jude, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. Watching her with something between love and wariness. “I hope you all have a better understanding now of why her security is priority from now on.”

Jude rolled her eyes, and took his hand. “I get your motives, but you’re really exaggerating, I do not need… well, all of that!”

“Oh no no, stop right there Jude.” Roach said. “Not even a cold breeze is going to touch that belly of yours, I am telling you.”

The other two nodded in agreement. The Bomb suggesting something about not letting anyone even approach Jude without proper previous inspection. 

She stared at them wide eyed. Those traitors. Cardan flashed her a triumphant grin.

Roach noticed Jude’s betrayed glare and shrugged. “Sorry lass, but even if we were not given royal commands to protect you, we would anyway. It may seem like you do not need it now but… it is not of public knowledge yet.” 

“Once it is,” The Bomb continued. “It will be impossible to guess the reactions among the folk. Better to be prepared for anything.”

“Thank you both, my wife is a little stubborn. But I will not take any risks.” Cardan’s grip on her hand tighten a bit. His voice so soft and full of gratitude it made Jude’s chest shrink. 

She sighed, knowing any further excuse would lead nowhere. She really understood, still, being guarded the whole time felt strange. Could she deal with it?

Unless...

“Don’t you think that making Lil stay with me while I bathe is a little too much?” She asked, taking a casual sip from her cup.   

Cardan pulled her closer and laid his chin on her head. “When it comes to you, my love, there is no such thing as ‘too much.’” 

Jude nodded. Raising her hand she started caressing his jaw, trailing her movements down to his neck, slower every inch. She muttered “I just thought you would be a better companion for me on that moment, that’s all. You could keep me close and... well observed the whole time.”

She practically heard his heart skip a beat. He swallowed, and made a low growling sound intended only for her. 

Someone cleared his throat, making them look back at their companions. 

The Roach was trying so hard not to laugh while watching the Bomb. She’d stopped chewing her food and stared at nothing, dramatically uncomfortable. The Ghost kept eating as if he didn’t hear anything, a mocking little smirk on his lips.

Heat climbed up Jude’s cheeks, she hadn’t realized they were being that obvious. Then again, it wasn’t like Cardan didn’t enjoy the attention. 

He chuckled, probably knowing what she was thinking, and raised his cup. “To you, my friends. For everything you have done for us, and what you are still willing to do. I will never find a way to show you how thankful I am.”

Jude mimicked him, her cup filled with grape juice. “You are family to us too, please never forget that.”

Glasses were raised, a couple of tears spilled and more hugs were given. This was one of those moments when Jude didn’t feel like the world was folding over her. She could breathe easily, and laugh in that little bubble of trust and love. Worries like ruling a kingdom, the former Court of Teeth, Lady Asha, nothing mattered now. Just this, just them.

Soft lips pressed to the base of her neck, startling her. She turned to Cardan as his arms surrounded her. “You look happy.” He mumbled. It was not a question. 

Jude cupped his cheek and grazed his mouth. Behind her, the Bomb said something like: “They just keep doing that in front of me, gods why?” 

They ignored her. Cardan chuckled, his chest shaking against hers. 

“I am.” She answered, finally pressing their lips together.

[ruewrites]

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 5: Getting Creative

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 4332

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

The walk back was much better with Solomon at his side. Even if he was nervous and a little frustrated at the thought of his Secret not staying in the circle he wanted them to, Solomon talking about his latest research project was nice. His eyes lit up in the cutest of ways when he was talking about something he was passionate about. So what Asmo was indulging his crush a little bit? Who wouldn’t think Solomon was attractive, a bit odd at times, but still attractive. And he could pull off the mystery man act really well, even if he was a huge nerd deep down.

However, the closer they got to his humble abode, the more apprehension built within Asmo. “Do you think it’s too late to run away from home now?” he asked, turning to look at Solomon. He was mostly kidding.

Solomon seemed to think it over for a minute as they stopped in front of the Morningstar residence. “I mean, you could. But you don’t have any of your things, so there’s that, along with the fact that you wouldn’t get very far,” he said.

“Because my car’s in the shop?”

“I was going to say because of Lucifer, but that too.”

Asmo couldn’t help but snort. Solomon did have a point. If any one of them went missing under any circumstance, Lucifer would raise hell. He knew him, and he knew he’d do anything, spend any amount of money to get them back. In other words running away to avoid embarrassment was definitely out of the picture.

With a little apprehensiveness Asmo opened the door, preparing himself for the worst. However, he was met with a strange silence, one he couldn’t quite find comfort in. As he listened closer, he could hear voices coming from the living room.

“You had to just go and blabber to him.”

“You were the one that blabbered to me first! Why would you get told and not me?”

“Because Mammon wasn’t supposed to know,” Asmo huffed, arms crossed. Said brother jumped to face Asmo. Asmo’s arms were crossed, and a frown etched itself into his smooth skin. Solomon poked his head from around the corner and peered over Asmo’s shoulder. Unlike Asmo, he seemed almost indifferent to the scene before him. Eyes moving from Levi, to Mammon, back to Asmo. It took him a few moments before he noticed two more figures sitting on one of the chairs in one of the corners of the room.

Levi held up his phone and frowned, “Asmo you never answered my texts! Why did Mammon get to know about this and not me?”

“Because Mammon went snooping through my room, I wasn’t going to tell any of you,” Asmo frowned, brows furrowing and arms tightening around himself. He couldn’t believe his brothers. Why did they always want to be in his business when he didn’t want them to be?

He felt Solomon move behind him to his other side as he leaned against the open doorway. “Well you did tell Satan and me.”

“You don’t count.”

Mammon narrowed his eyes at Asmo and put his hands on his hips. “Oh. So Satan can know but the rest of us can’t? What? You think we’re all gonna go ‘n snitch to Lucifer?” he huffed. Asmo really couldn't believe that Mammon was trying to call him out right now. Mammon, who already told one of their other brothers about his precious Secret in less than twenty-four hours. And he was wondering why he only wanted to tell Satan.

“Well Satan wasn’t the one that went and told Levi was he?”

“Or us.”

Asmo whipped his head to the corner of the room where the twins sat nestles comfortably on the couch. Beel and Belphie were both focused on a pink sheet of paper in Belphie’s hands and didn’t bother to look up. “Sorry, we heard them going back and forth and got curious when we saw this in the mailbox,” Belphie said, a smirk starting to appear on his face, “Whoever they are, you really have their attention. Wonder how often you’re on their mind.”

“Give me that before one of you gets grease on it!” Asmo’s face was a bright pink, as he went to grab the letter only to have it snatched away by another hand. “Levi!”

“I want to be able to read some of their writing too! Afterall, I’m an expert in this field!”

“Expert?” Asmo highly doubted that.

Levi ignored him and started scanning over the words on the paper. “Well duh. Do you realize how much media utilizes the Secret Admirer trope? It’s practically everywhere, especially in fanfiction,” he rambled, “And- oh they like your laugh.”

“Oi read faster!”

“My letters aren’t for you to read!” Why was it that they didn’t want to hear about his partners any other time, but now they wanted to read all about his personal life? He didn’t have much time to think as a hand slipped onto his shoulder.

“I thought I was the only one in the family that knew.” He hadn’t even noticed Satan slip into the room. He was still in his work uniform and the scent of coffee followed him. “I was wondering what had you so worked up in here,” he said, “So, did Lucifer find out?”

“He hasn’t been home yet,” Beel said, munching down on a bag of chips, “I think he said something about taking Cerberus out on a walk with Diavolo and Barbatos. Is Lucifer not supposed to know?”

Asmo let out a sigh of relief. Good. He didn’t have to cross that bridge yet. He wouldn’t have to try and justify himself to Lucifer. “No. Not yet,” he said, “Now if you would please -”

“Levi! Didn’t you have new news to tell me about that show we were watching?”  Solomon had managed to weasel his way between Levi and Mammon. Asmo knew that Solomon shared interests with some of his brothers, but this was hardly the time to bring that up! Whose side was he on? “I think it was something about-”

“A stakeout! Yes!” Levi grinned, completely shifting his focus, “You know how everything was left on a cliffhanger? Well it was a little off, but they were all in Henry’s car with some you pretty advanced tech! And you really have to catch up  because I don’t want to spoil who they caught. But you absolutely won’t believe who it was! It was almost too obvious, so no one suspected them.”

Then something seemed to click within Levi and a giant grin spread across his face, “Oh! That’s what we should do!” Levi quickly turned to Asmo and gripped his shoulders, “We need a stakeout.”

“Come again?”

“A stakeout,” he repeated, “Just like in issue number twelve of My Secret Crush Affair. While Volume seven isn’t canon, it was still good.”

“That’s not a bad plan ya got there.”

Asmo turned to look at Mammon and rolled his eyes, “Ah yes, because this won’t be suspicious, and Lucifer totally won’t figure us out.”

“You just leave ol’ Luci to me,” Mammon grinned, slapping Asmo’s back, “Your big  brother Mammon is gonna make sure we get you with your lil admirer.”

His brothers were going to assure that Asmo would die single.

Suddenly, Solomon clapped his hands together, bringing all eyes back to him. “Well, this entire situation has been fun, but unfortunately I need to steal Asmodeus away, we still have things we need to get done,” he smiled, somehow managing to free Asmodeus from his brothers and encourage him towards the door. “We’ll leave the plotting to the rest of you, have fun!”

Asmo shook Solomon’s hands off of him as soon as they were out of sight. “What was that about? Do you enjoy the pain my brothers put me through?” he huffed, making his way upstairs, Solomon following quickly behind him, “We don’t even have any more work to do!” Or rather Asmo didn’t feel like being productive anymore. Once they left Solomon’s, he’d lost any motivation to do anything outside of his designs.

“It didn’t seem that bad to me.”

“You don’t understand, you don’t have to live with them. I love them all dearly, but I can’t.” Asmo opened the door to his room and flopped over onto his bed, “And they still have my letter, and they read it before me! The nerve.”

He felt the bed shift a bit and Solomon place something on his chest, “Oh? Are you so sure about that?”

His letter .

“Oh Solomon I love you and your little nerdy tricks!” Asmo squealed, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing tight, “Thank you thank you thank you !” Oh he could go on and on about how much he adored Solomon in this moment. Well, more than normal. It was also possible that just maybe Solomon’s little magic tricks had more uses than just for showing off at parties.

Solomon’s hand rubbed against his shoulder, “I know how much they mean to you.” Asmo could feel Solomon’s eyes on him as he let go, fingers dancing along the edge of the paper. Solomon always knew what was important to Asmo, but that’s just how friends were right?  After all, Asmo knew what was important to Solomon. Sometimes he wouldn’t see him for weeks because he became so buried within his studies or a new book he found interesting. Then he would get paragraphs of text messages or hour long phone conversations if they couldn’t meet in person. He liked hearing about it,even if he didn’t understand what Solomon was talking about. He was passionate about his fascinations, and Asmo liked that.

“Are you going to read it?”

Asmo let out a soft hum in contemplation before setting the letter down. “Later. I like to read them when I’m alone. Reading someone else’s words of affection is a very intimate thing,” he said, “But of course you can expect me to tell you all about it later.”  He wished he could have kept the first read for his eyes only, but it couldn’t be helped now. Maybe Secret would be a little more secret next time. Or at least they could be a little more careful when it came to their placement of the letters. What if they wrote something meant for his eyes only? Or what if his brothers interpreted something wrong? Or what if Lucifer found them?

“I can tell you what we can do though,” he smiled, getting up off of the bed, and towards his closet. Hanging up nice and neat in plastic wrap was his class project. “I finished the adjustments, and since you’re here-” He skipped back over and pushed it towards Solomon expectantly. “Try it on? Just to make sure I have it right?”

Of course he did it right. This wasn’t the first project he’d done with Solomon.

Nonetheless, Solomon would still amuse him, and damn did he look good.

The only thing that Asmo couldn’t take his eyes off of was the flower. The silk yellow petals were still closed tightly. Nimble fingers gently peeled them back, making them open up ever so slightly. It reminded him of a starburst unfolding against the night sky. Overall, the slight bloom to the flower added to the design. “Does everything feel alright? Nothing too tight?”

“I think we’re good to go. What are you going to do with it when your project is done?”

“Well, I was thinking I could use it as an example of my work, if you don’t mind me taking pictures of you in it. You are my perfect model after all!”

Solomon leaned against him, eyes shifting towards the corner of the ceiling, a drawn out hum starting to leave his mouth. Asmo snorted and shoved Solomon half heartedly.

“ And my most absolutely, positively, wonderful, bestest friend in the entire world whom I adore.”

Just as Asmo was about to invite Solomon to stay for dinner, his phone buzzed. Solomon unlocked it, eyes scanning over the words before slumping against the counter. “I forgot that meeting was tonight…” he sighed, setting the phone down while carefully unbuttoning the jacket.  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to tell me all about your letter, Asmodeus.”

Even if Solomon wasn’t serious, how could he forget?

******

“Come on Lucifer, come out, just for one night.”

“I can’t, and unfortunately my answer will remain so no matter how many times you ask.”

Asmo was coming down the stairs when Lucifer walked through the door. Currently he was kneeling on the ground, undoing the leash of a very wiggly Cerberus. Diavolo was next to him, trying to make eye contact, but Lucifer’s eyes were fixed on the dog.  As soon as Cerberus was free, he took off down the hallway and then back towards the door before sitting and wagging the weapon that Lucifer called a tail.

“Cerberus, sit ,” Lucifer commanded, before standing and looking down at Diavolo, “It’s my turn to cook tonight. It would be nothing short of irresponsible to  back out last minute, not to mention unfair to the others.”

Diavolo’s frown deepened and Asmo swore his eyes got a little. It was only then that he noticed Barbatos, who stepped in between the two. “Perhaps another time Sir. I can schedule you a time next Thursday? I believe I could shift some things around,” he said, snapping open a calendar from his person. Asmo could only hope he had a secretary as good as Barbatos, whenever he made it big.

“Tonight would be just as swell,” Diavolo insisted, “Besides, things have been busy, incredibly busy. Surely you can take a break just this once! Let me take you out. It’s my treat.”

“You really don’t need to. You’ve already done more than enough for me.”

“Just let me Lucifer, please, let yourself relax.”

Asmo leaned against the banister as he listened with amusement. Sure Diavolo had known Lucifer for a while, but Asmo had known his big brother since he’d been born. Hell would freeze over before Lucifer gave into anything that caused him to deviate from a plan or schedule. Well, anything he considered minor, if it was serious he’d do whatever he could. He liked watching the man try to win his brother over though. He’d asked Lucifer before if there was anything more serious going on between the two of them, but he was only met with a sharp glare that screamed ‘none of your business’. Well maybe it was none of his business, but he still liked to know. Lucifer had always made sure all of his brothers were on their best behavior whenever Diavolo was over. He could still remember how he nervously paced the halls the first time he invited him over and introduced him to his tiny family. Asmo remembered liking Diavolo because he let him put one of his bows in his hair. It was only an issue when his brothers invaded his privacy, but everyone else was fair game.

Usually these little back and forths lasted for a while, and most of the time Diavolo would head home with that puppy dog head of his hanging and Barbatos penciling in a quick four o’ clock for dinner after work. It was always amusing even if he was watching reruns most of the time. Lucifer was just about to win the battle once again when a new voice interrupted him.

“Go on ahead Luci, take the night off fo’ yo’self.”

All heads turned to Mammon, who was standing a little farther down the hallway. Asmo wondered what he could possibly be playing at, or what he had done that might get him in trouble with Lucifer. Then it clicked. He was actually going to make an attempt to throw Levi’s hand into action. No way.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed and his entire body seemed to become stiffer. He looked like a snake ready to strike. “Mammon-”

“Nah, I mean it. I’ll take the rest of the boys out somewhere else. When’s the last time you’ve had a break huh? Let Dia treat you.”

Diavolo lit up and turned from Mammon back to Lucifer, “See? It looks like you’ll have dinner covered! Come on Lucifer, I’ll even let you pick where we go out to!” Even from where he was Asmo could see the twitch in Lucifer’s eye.

“Mammon. If I even get word or discover that you are up to something-”

“Hey! Hey! Relax! I ain’t plottin nothin!” Mammon said, looking rather offended, “Is it so suspicious that I wanna do something nice for my little brothers and give our biggest dearest brother a night off?”

“He’s being nice Lucifer,” Diavolo said, sneaking one of his hands up to Lucifer’s shoulder, “Come. Have dinner. Enjoy a night off. You’ve been working so hard.”

The tension emitting from Lucifer could have cut the silence of the room like a knife. But his will was cracking. Between Mammon’s offer and Diavolo’s insistence it was hard to say no. Lucifer let out a slow breath, Asmo leaned over the banister a little more.

“Asmodeus.”

Asmo let out a squeak and stumbled back a bit as Lucifer’s eyes turned up towards him.

“Come here. If you’re done with your eavesdropping that is.” It wasn’t a request. Asmo made his way down the stairs and stood in front of his brother. “You and the others will make sure Mammon does as he says-”

Mammon let out a scoff.

“-and let me know if something happens otherwise.”

Diavolo’s eyes lit up and a blinding grin plastered itself across his face. Asmo couldn’t help but notice how happy his brother made Diavolo, or how (even if Lucifer wouldn’t say so himself to their family) Lucifer seemed in better spirits after spending time with Diavolo.  It was sweet. Maybe one day Diavolo could get Lucifer to loosen up.

“Asmodeus?”

“Of course brother dearest.”

Mammon mumbled under his breath, “ Kiss up .”

Lucifer nodded, somewhat satisfied, but still a little apprehensive. He turned to Diavolo and nodded, “Shall we then?”

Asmo had never seen anyone nod faster as Diavolo took his brother’s arm, “ Yes . Don’t worry, I’ll make sure tonight is nothing but relaxing for you! You won’t regret a thing I promise!”

Lucifer turned his head one last time. Be safe .

He cared, he really did. Then they were gone, Barbatos swiftly following behind and Cerberus watching even after the door closed.

“I believe you owe me a thank you now,” Mammon said, slinging his arm around Asmo’s shoulder.

“ Thank you ?”

“You’re welcome!”

Asmo groaned. It was going to be an incredibly long night.

*******

“I can’t think of anything more appropriate than takeout.”

“Mammon.”

“Y’know why?”

“ Mammon I swear to g- ”

“Stakeout Takeout!”

“ Mammon .”

This night was going to be worse than long. It was an absolute nightmare that Asmo couldn’t wait to wake up from. Currently Asmo was in the back seat with three of his other brothers, with Mammon and Levi in the front. If they got arrested because they had too many people in the car Lucifer would kill them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find out who Secret was, he just didn’t want to find out like this. Not with his brothers surrounding him.

“I thought stakeouts had steaks,” Beel said, through mouthfuls of food, “You know, kind of like a cookout.”

“I also thought that we were supposed to be in more than one location,” Belphie grumbled, slumped against, Beel’s shoulder. While this was true, currently they only had one functioning car and Lucifer’s was off limits.

Asmo was moving his food across the little styrofoam container. His appetite had abandoned him. How could he eat in a situation like this? It was unthinkable! Besides, even if the chances of catching Secret were slim, they were still there. They hadn’t even really planned how to do this. Mammon just shoved everyone in his car and then sped off down the road.

“Aren’t you going to eat Asmo?”

“Huh?” At first Asmo wondered if Beel was just looking at his food, then he noticed the concern. He quickly looked away and back down at his plate, “I dunno, I’m just not really hungry. You can have it if you want.”

Beel shook his head, the concern not leaving his eyes, “Are you alright?”

Asmo didn’t answer. What if he would be disappointed when he finally met Secret? In all honesty he needed to stop comparing them to Solomon. Solomon was Solomn, and no one else would be like him, and Solomon wasn’t into him. It hurt, but it was the truth. He needed to stop thinking it was him, he would only get hurt when the inevitable occurred.

….

But then again-

It could be him .

Wouldn’t that be the perfect romance?  His best friend, who he adored, falling in love with him. But it didn’t make sense. The handwriting was too neat to be Solomon’s, the curves were too perfect. But it still could be .

“Alright!” Mammon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Welcome to our official first stakeout to find out who’s been havin the eyes for our little Asmo.” He leaned back in his chair looking back at all of them as Levi remained focused on some sort of software program on his laptop. “Objective number one, come up with a plan of action.”

“Is this because you drove us all the way out to this alley and then realized we had no way of tracking this person down?” Satan didn’t even bother looking up from his book as he spoke. He seemed bored. Satan was more of a neutral participant in the whole thing. Asmo was at least grateful he wasn’t encouraging any of this.

“‘Ey shut it,” Mammon hissed, making Satan smirk. He knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “Anyways, Levi is working on something that should be able to help us out with this whole thing, right Levi?”

“Uh… Maybe?”

“Good enough for me!”

“In any case,” Levi took over, “In order to have a successful stakeout, and catch out perp-”

“They’re not a criminal ,” Asmo interjected. Honestly, Asmo might cry if they were. He really needed positivity coming his way when it came to this… Why couldn’t his Secret just stayed his secret?

“-We’ll need bait,” Levi finished, pretending that Asmo  hadn’t just interrupted him.

Mammon grinned and lowered his glasses, looking directly at Asmo, “And that’s where you come in our darling little brother.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your little Romeo’s only ever left stuff in your bag or in our mailbox. So it’s natural to assume that they know ya pretty well,” Mammon said lying back even further. Asmo would admit, his wording made it sound a little creepy, and he could feel both Satan and Beel’s concerned eyes glancing towards him. “So, reason stands that they would have to be near you at some point in the day!”

Mammon was practically beaming, like he’d just cracked some sort of major mystery. However, Asmo wasn’t too impressed. There was a glaring problem with Mammon’s oh so obvious point .

“Mammon. I am on a college campus. I am constantly surrounded by people.”

Mammon snorted, “Well, we’ll just have someone keep an eye out! Like Beel and Belphie!”

Belphie was already fast asleep on Beel’s shoulder, and Beel had stopped paying attention to Mammon’s plan and was digging into the takeout. However, Beel did glance up for just a moment, looking apologetic as a noodle disappeared into his mouth.

“I’m sorry…. Was I supposed to be listening? If you say it again I promise I’ll listen this time.”

Mammon’s head fell onto the horn of his car.

*******

Your smile lights up my days

Even in the darkest of nights

I know that you would always guide me home

Your laughter dances over my thoughts

Possessing my entire being.

I adore adore you

Everything about you

Everything you are

Has anyone ever told you you’re intelligent?

That you’re so incredibly creative?

You could create a new world if you wanted to

An entire universe.

I would follow you there

Because any world created by your hands would be paradise.

Any being living there would be blessed,

Because you’re kind

And loving

And perfect.

I would follow you anywhere if you asked

And I would give up everything in order to do so.

Think of me,

Your Secret

Saving this letter til after he had got home from this disaster of a night had been a wonderful idea. Asmo could feel a warmth spreading throughout his entire body. Secret cared about more than just his looks. Of course Asmo knew he was attractive, he’d always known. In fact, he’d had partners be with him solely for his looks, like a past girlfriend, who’d said all of their pictures would be beautiful. He hadn’t matched exactly the way she’d wanted for one once, and that was it. Or how another partner had brought him to a party his freshman year of college, only to be shown off to various people he didn’t know. He left back home alone that night, it was all too uncomfortable. But Secret cared . Secret paid attention to him. Secret wrote like there was more to him.

He had to stop the tears from dripping onto the parchment.

Now wonder his brothers were determined to find them.

Even though it was late, Asmo couldn’t sleep. He’d been tired before, when he first got home from their first (and according to Mammon and Levi it wasn’t their last) failed attempt at a stakeout. He’d wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. But now… Now as he laid there with wet eyes, all he could think about was how it would feel to have his Secret whisper those words to him in the dark.

[tw-anchor]

14. Isaac’s First Full Moon

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 2x02; Shape Shifted

Word Count: 7,167

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, blood

Author’s Note: We get to see more of what’s happening to Olivia in this chapter, in between the bickering she does with Stiles. I hope you enjoy! Reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

Olivia stared at Isaac, shocked at his recap of what happened to his dad the night before. According to the new werewolf, his dad had gone on a rampage and when he saw a cut on Isaac's face heal, Isaac ran away.

His dad followed him through the city and when Isaac abandoned his bike and hid in an alley, he watched his dad get killed by some type of creature. He didn't get a good look at it, but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn't human.

She turned to Derek, giving her older cousin a heavy scowl. "Why'd you bring me into this?" she asked grumpily, referring to the fact that he woke her up an hour earlier than she usually did for school and brought her to the abandoned train station where he was currently living. "I don't know what this has to do with me."

"I told you," Derek sighed, knowing that he already explained this to her. "You're part of the pack so you're included in this."

"Okay," Olivia sighed heavily. "So, not only do we have more crazy Argents in town that are declaring war, but we have this mystery creature murdering people, too."

Derek pressed his lips together. "Yep."

Olivia looked over at Isaac and saw that he was ducking his head. "So, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing for right now," Derek stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's the full moon today. Isaac is going to have to be chained up and I want to keep an eye on you, too, Ollie."

"Me?" Olivia raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Just because your wound didn't heal, doesn't mean we can't take precautions," Derek reasoned with her. "I want both of you here early, right after school."

"Are you sure that Isaac should be going to school?" Olivia asked before looking over at Isaac. "I mean, no offense, but this is your first full moon and you're like a newborn baby."

"Ollie, shut up," Derek sighed shaking his head. "Just look out for him, okay? Look out for each other. You're pack now, get used to it."

Olivia's phone buzzed against her jean-clad thigh; she sighed and saw that it was a message from Stiles.

Stiles: I need to talk to you when you get here

Stiles: I have practice before school, so before then would be good

Stiles: Please 😊

Livvy: Sure, I'll be there soon

"Okay, we'll look after each other, right Isaac?" she looked at Isaac for confirmation; he nodded in agreement. "we have to get going, though, because I need to talk to Stiles."

Derek rolled his eyes at the mention of the spastic teen he thought was too annoying for his own good. "What do you need to talk about?"

"He didn't say," Olivia replied, standing up and throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"Don't tell him about the pack," Derek warned her, the three of them leaving the station so Derek could drop them off at school. "We don't need him and Scott interfering."

"I won't tell him anything, Der, relax," Olivia rolled her eyes. "Besides, I want to be there for Lydia when she gets to school."

Derek nodded and fifteen minutes later, they were pulling up to the school. Derek dropped them off toward the back of the parking lot because he didn't want Stiles to figure out that Isaac was a part of his pack yet. What he didn't think about, though, was the fact that Olivia and Isaac had never been friends—at most, they were acquaintances that spoke only in class—and they didn't normally walk into school together.

As Olivia walked with Isaac up to the sidewalk where Stiles was waiting for her, she could immediately see the suspicion in his eyes. His eyes narrowed immediately when he saw the tall blonde next to her and he really didn't look happy.

Olivia said a quiet goodbye to Isaac, telling him to text her if he needed help with control, and then approached Stiles.

"Hey," she greeted him carefully. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Why were you with Isaac Lahey?" Stiles blurted without greeting her back.

"Um," Olivia shook her head, trying to come up with a lie. "He was dropped off next to me. He said hello and I said hello back."

"He was dropped off next to you?" Stiles raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes," Olivia said, gritting her teeth. She didn't like that he was questioning her, especially when it wasn't any of his business. If she wanted to walk with someone, she would. It had nothing to do with him. "What did you want to talk about?"

"How do you even know Isaac?"

"Are you serious, Stiles?" she complained, now irritated.

"I'm just saying, you don't really know him—"

"It's not really any of your business what I—"

"—and really, he's not your type, is he—"

"—how on Earth would you know what my type is—"

"—I know that he's not it—"

"—you don't know anything, Stiles—"

"—I know that—"

"Stiles, this isn't any of your business!" Olivia finally snapped, knowing that they were just going to keep talking over each other. "So, if you're not going to tell me what you wanted to talk about, I'm leaving."

"Fine!" Stiles exclaimed, equally angry. His jealousy was fueling his anger, though, and the more he thought about her and Isaac, his blood boiled. "Are you guys...?"

"That's it," Olivia scoffed and went to walk away from him.

Stiles quickly caught up with her, reminded of the question he intended to ask before jealousy got a hold of him. "Wait, wait," he gently grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop only for his hand to be slapped away. "Ouch! What the hell, Livvy?"

"Don't manhandle me," Olivia scowled.

"I wasn't manhandling you!" Stiles glared down at her and then shook his head. "Look, it's the full moon tonight."

"Okay, and...?"

"And," he gave her an annoyed look. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. Do you need help tonight? I know you said your bite didn't heal but I just want to make sure..."

Olivia pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the warmth blossoming in her chest. It was sweet that Stiles was checking on her but her anger at him overpowered that feeling. "I'll be fine," she said sharply. "Just focus on Scott."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Olivia stomped up to the school, leaving an angry Stiles behind.

-

-

"...and she walked in with Isaac Lahey," Stiles finished wrapping up his story, venting to Scott about his earlier argument with Olivia. "so, then we argued and she stomped away."

Scott furrowed his eyebrows. "Isaac Lahey?" he asked doubtfully; never had he seen Isaac and Olivia together. "As in, our teammate Isaac Lahey?"

"Yep," Stiles muttered bitterly. "And she said she didn't want help tonight, so I'm free to help you out."

"I think I'll be fine tonight," Scott told him as they turned down the hallway that led to the boys' locker room.

Stiles scoffed. "Yeah right."

Scott said that the last night of the full moon and he ended up breaking out of his handcuffs and almost killing Allison and Jackson. He knew that Scott's control was good, but he didn't trust it enough yet.

"I'm serious," Scott insisted. "It's not like the last full moon. I don't feel the same."

"Oh, does that include the urge to maim and kill people?" Stiles snarked back at him. "Like me?"

"I swear I don't have the urge to maim and kill you," Scott promised as they entered the locker room.

"You know, you say that now but then the full moon goes up and out come the fangs and the claws and there's a lot of howling and screaming and running everywhere, okay?" Stiles ranted, walking to his locker. "And it's very stressful on me, so yes, I'm still locking you up."

"Okay, fine," Scott conceded. "but I do think I'm more in control now. Especially since things are good with Allison."

Stiles immediately glared at him, already having heard—against his will—numerous stories about what sex with Allison was like. It was more information than he ever wanted to know about his best friend and his girlfriend.

"Okay, I'm aware of how good things are with Allison."

Scott grinned dreamily. "They're really good."

"I—thank you, I know."

"I mean, like, really good."

"All right, I get it," Stiles snapped at him. "Just please shut the fuck up before I have the urge to maim and kill myself."

Scott snickered, amused by Stiles' irritation. "All right, did you get something better than handcuffs this time?"

Finally, a grin lit up Stiles' face. "Yeah, much better."

He slipped off his backpack and opened his locker; immediately, the long length of chain he put on his shelf the day before started falling out and hitting the floor loud enough to get everyone's attention. If a chain falling out of his locker wasn't embarrassing enough, there was also the fact that it seemed to go on forever.

Stiles sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as Coach walked up to him, eyeing the rapidly falling chain.

Thankfully, the chain finally ended. Stiles' embarrassment didn't end, though.

"Part of me wants to ask," Coach spoke up, looking down at the chain on the floor. "The other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine. So, I'm gonna walk away."

"That's good," Stiles pointed at Coach as he backed away. "That's a wise choice, Coach."

Everyone else turned away, too, now that the spectacle was finished. Stiles and Scott exchanged awkward smiles and crouched down, gathering up the chain.

When Scott's hands stopped moving, Stiles looked at him to see why he had stopped. Scott's eyes were gold for a brief second before changing back to his normal brown. He was looking around the room, a serious yet alarmed look on his face.

"You okay?" Stiles asked; Scott didn't answer. "Scott."

Scott looked around again before lowering his voice. "There's another," he told Stiles. "In here, right now."

Stiles cocked his head slightly. "Another what?"

"Another werewolf."

-

-

Isaac: Scott knows I'm a werewolf

Isaac: Well, he doesn't know it's me

Isaac: But he knows that someone is

Olivia sighed as she read the messages Isaac sent her. Her day had already gone from bad to worse and she didn't think that was possible after her argument with Stiles. If Scott knew that someone around him was a werewolf, it was only a matter of time until he figured out that it was Isaac.

Olivia: Don't do anything rash. I'm on my way

"You really don't remember anything?" Allison asked Lydia, taking Olivia's attention away from her phone.

Olivia and Allison had decided to be by Lydia's side as she came back to school, to support her. The people who used to worship the ground that Lydia walked on had turned their backs on her as soon as they found out that she was the girl who had gone on a naked hike in twenty-degree weather.

The gossip was not kind to Lydia but at least what they were saying about her was nicer than what they said about Allison.

"They called it a fugue state," Lydia casually informed Allison. "which is basically a way of saying, 'We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days.' But personally, I don't care," she grinned. "I lost nine pounds."

Olivia snickered at Lydia's comment and playfully nudged her arm.

Allison grinned. "Are you ready for this?"

"Please," Lydia rolled her eyes. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer."

As Lydia opened the door and walked into the school, Olivia noticed Allison's frown. She squeezed her arm comfortingly and gave her a quick smile before walking in behind Lydia, who had stopped when she saw all eyes on her.

Lydia was taken aback by the attention and Olivia could tell she was mentally freaking out.

"Maybe it's the nine pounds," she suggested to her cousin, making Allison nod in agreement.

Lydia pressed her lips together and fixed her hair; pulling herself together, she strutted away from Olivia and Allison, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed her.

"Can you keep an eye on her?" Olivia asked Allison. "I have to go take care of something."

Allison agreed and Olivia thanked her before making her way to the practice lacrosse field. The team was already out on the field when she arrived but she quietly took a seat on the bleachers and looked around for Isaac.

She saw Scott and Stiles seated on the player's bench a few feet in front of her, quietly talking about something, and assumed they were trying to figure out who the werewolf was. She found Isaac soon after she looked away from Stiles and Scott, standing by himself on the edge of the field.

Olivia caught his eye and waved; he waved back, looking relieved.

Down on the player's bench, Scott was telling Stiles how he could tell there was a werewolf on their team.

"It was kind of like a scent," he said, playing with his net as he kept his eyes on his teammates. "but I couldn't tell who it was."

Stiles adjusted his elbow pads. "What if you can get him one-on-one?" he asked, coming up with an idea. "Would that help?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay," Stiles tapped Scott's chest. "I think I got an idea."

Stiles ran over to Coach and tried to convince him to let Scott play goal for just this practice. Convincing Coach wasn't hard since Danny had overheard Stiles' request and agreed with switching positions with Scott for the day.

Stiles took the goalie's net and ran back over to Scott, handing it to him. "I told Coach you wanted to switch with Danny for the day."

Scott looked at the net, bewildered. "But I hate playing goal."

Stiles pressed his lips together and gave him an exasperated look. "Remember when I said I had an idea?" he reminded him. "This is the idea."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Stiles rolled his eyes. "There we go."

"What's the idea?"

Stiles sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes."

Coach blew his whistle to start practice and Stiles plopped his helmet on, joining the rest of the team in line for the first practice drill. As he took his spot toward the middle, he discovered—much to his irritation—that he was right behind Isaac Lahey.

Isaac didn't pay him any attention; he was looking out toward the bleachers. Stiles followed his gaze and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw that Isaac was staring at Olivia, who had nodded at Isaac.

Something else is going on, he thought, she wasn't even friends with Isaac.

Coach blew his whistle again and Stiles focused on the drill, trying to remind himself that they needed to find out who the other werewolf on the team was.

Coach tossed the ball to the first player in line and the player caught it and took off toward the goal. Scott started running out of the goalie's boundaries and met the guy in the middle, tackling him to the ground.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut when he saw Scott very obviously sniff the guy he just tackled. Scott must have been satisfied that he wasn't a werewolf because he helped him to his feet.

"McCall!" Coach yelled. "Usually the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal."

Scott nodded and ran back to the goal. "Yes, Coach."

"Let's try it again," Coach ordered and tossed the ball to the next person in line, which happened to be Matt Daehler. Matt was on second line with Stiles but Stiles didn't like him at all; there was something weird about him.

Matt ran toward the goal and Scott sprinted toward him, tackling him just a few feet away from where he started. Matt flew through the air and landed on his back, allowing Scott to sniff him.

Matt glared at him. "What the hell, man?"

Scott muttered something back to him that Stiles couldn't make out and Coach stomped over to him.

"McCall! The position's goalkeeper," he reminded Scott. "Not goal abandoner."

"Sorry, Coach," Scott apologized, making his way back to the goal.

The same thing happened again; Scott ran out of the goal and tackled the player, sniffing him obviously.

Coach marched over to Stiles and pulled on his mask. "Stilinski," he said angrily. "what the hell is wrong with your friend?"

"Uh," Stiles drawled awkwardly. "he's failing two classes, he's a little socially awkward, and if you look close enough, his jawline is kinda uneven."

Coach let go of his mask. "That's interesting," he gave Scott a thoughtful look before blowing his whistle again. "Let's fire it up!"

Back at the bleachers, Olivia winced as Danny was tackled by Scott. She couldn't believe that Scott was being so stupid to sniff down every single player in line. As if it wasn't weird that their goalie was tackling them out of bounds and sniffing them.

Yeah, that was something a normal human being would do.

If he really needed to find out who the other werewolf was, there were less obvious ways. If it was Olivia, she would have high-fived all the players after practice and used that opportunity to find out then.

When Jackson excused himself out of the drill, it was Isaac's turn. Olivia perked up nervously and bit the inside of her cheek as Isaac's shoulder heaved up and down.

"Isaac, calm down," she whispered, hoping that he'd hear her over his anger.

Isaac caught the ball from Coach and ran toward Scott, who was coming out of the goal again. They collided in the middle and flipped around each other before landing on their hands and knees facing one another.

Olivia was up on her feet and walking down the bleachers as soon as they hit the ground. Coach blew his whistle and that was when she noticed the three police officers walking onto the field.

No, no, no, she thought. Oh, shit.

Olivia pulled out her phone while practice was put on hold so the police could question Isaac. She texted Derek, giving him a frantic, yet short run-down on what was happening with Isaac.

Once Olivia got a confirmation text from Derek, she walked over to Scott and Stiles.

"What's happening?" she announced her arrival, ignoring the way that Stiles bristled at the sight of her. She kept her eyes on Isaac and the police—which included Sheriff Stilinski.

"His father's dead," Scott told her quietly. "They think he was murdered."

Olivia already knew Isaac's dad was dead, but from what Isaac told her, his dad was shredded apart. Did the police really think a meek teenage boy could do that?

Apparently, they did; Sheriff Stilinski ushered Isaac off the field with his deputies.

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asked, looking at Scott nervously.

"I'm not sure."

"Why?" Olivia crossed her arms over her chest as she looked to Stiles for an answer.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. "Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours."

"Like overnight?" Scott said quietly.

Olivia felt her chest tighten at the realization that Isaac was probably going to be at the police station for his first full moon. "During the full moon."

Scott and Stiles looked over at her, startled by her statement. They hadn't known that she knew that Isaac was a werewolf.

"Wait," Scott shook his head. "How did you—"

Olivia interrupted him and asked Stiles, "How good are those holding cells at actually holding people?"

"People? Good," Stiles shook his head. "Werewolves? Probably not that good."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. "Shit."

"Stiles," Scott looked back at Isaac, watching as Isaac peeked over at them. "remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah."

"He does."

"It's because it's his first full moon," Olivia pointed out to them. "Didn't you have that same urge, Scott?"

"Well, yeah, but," Scott shook his head to focus. "No, how did you know that Isaac was a werewolf?"

"Oh, come on, Scott," Stiles scoffed, giving Olivia a dirty look. "it's obvious. Derek bit Isaac and told her."

"Yeah," Olivia confirmed; she didn't understand why Stiles was giving her a look that told her she should be ashamed by that. "He was bit the other day after the Argents declared war."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Scott asked her, shocked that she seemed to know everything.

Olivia looked at him, confused. "I didn't know I had to?"

Stiles made a noise of disbelief. "You didn't know you had to?" he repeated. "Are you serious?"

"Well, it's pack business," Olivia shrugged uncomfortably under their hard stares. She understood that Stiles was already angry with her, but she didn't exactly do anything wrong. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Pack business?!" Stiles flailed his arms angrily. "Are you saying you're part of Derek's pack?"

"...He's my cousin..."

"Well," Stiles huffed and sent her a glare. "That's just great, Olivia. Some friend you are."

Olivia raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm confused," she admitted honestly. She didn't see why Stiles and Scott were making this a choice between them and Derek. Couldn't they all just work together? "I don't know why you're angry."

Scott didn't seem as angry as Stiles, just a little hurt, and that confused her. Stiles was so angry and she was trying to figure out why. Why did it bother him so much that she was part of Derek's pack?

"Of course you don't know," Stiles grabbed Scott's practice jersey and started pulling him away.

Olivia stared after them, wondering what just happened.

-

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Scott, who had taken Olivia's usual seat next to Stiles in chemistry class, whispered as Mr. Harris took notes on the board.

"Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you, it could kill you," Stiles said thoughtfully, though it wasn't necessarily true. Olivia and Lydia were bitten and they weren't dead or a werewolf. "Maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving."

"Doesn't being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?" Scott questioned, turning in his seat to look at Stiles.

"Well, not unless they have solid evidence or a witness..." Stiles winced, noting that Jackson had been approached by a police officer outside of the locker room. "Wait."

He turned around in his seat, facing Danny and Olivia, who had taken Jackson's empty seat. He only looked at the petite brunette for a second—he saw that she was engrossed in her notes and looking between whatever she wrote down in her notebook and what the textbook said—because he knew his anger with her would dissipate if she looked at him again with those confused blue eyes.

"Danny," he whispered, getting both of their attention; Danny looked at him expectantly. "Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office talking to your dad," Danny told him.

"What?" Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac."

Stiles pressed his lips together and turned back around, exchanging a knowing look with Scott.

"Witness," Scott took the word out of his mouth.

Stiles nodded. "We gotta get to the principal's office."

"How?"

Stiles clicked his tongue as he thought of a way to get sent to the principal's office; provoking Mr. Harris would probably be the best bet. He gave Scott a be-quiet look and tore off some paper from his notebook, crinkling it up into a ball.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy-three," Mr. Harris announced and Stiles sent the paper ball flying into the back of his head. Some students laughed as Harris angrily whipped around. "Who in the hell did that?"

Stiles and Scott lifted their hands, pointing at one another. They were promptly sent to the principal's office and told to wait outside by the flustered secretary.

They waited patiently, hearing Jackson and Noah speak through the thin wall they sat against. For an investigation, they were talking pretty loud which wasn't good for the police but good for Stiles and Scott.

"Wait, so you're telling me that you knew Isaac's father was hitting him?" Noah asked Jackson, his voice tense.

"Hitting him?" Jackson scoffed. "He was kicking the crap out of him."

God, Stiles shook his head, what a dick.

"Did you ever say anything to anyone?" Noah seemed flustered by Jackson's nonchalant attitude. "A teacher, parents, anyone?"

"Nope, it's not my problem."

"No, no, of course not," Noah said, disgusted. "You know, it's funny that the kids getting beaten up are always the ones who least deserve it."

"Yeah," Jackson replied absentmindedly. "Wait, what?"

"I think we're done here."

The door opened and Stiles quickly reached for a nearby magazine, holding it up over his face so that his dad couldn't recognize him. He waited behind it patiently as Noah paused right in front of him.

"Hi, Scott," Noah greeted his best friend.

Scott breathed back a greeting and there was an awkward silence before Stiles heard two sets of footsteps walk away from them. He lowered the magazine, thankful that his dad hadn't noticed him.

Scott rolled his eyes at him but Stiles just shrugged innocently.

"Boys," a new voice greeted them. "Come on in."

Stiles and Scott followed the voice, both of them gaping when they saw who it belonged to. Gerard Argent, who they had seen at Kate's funeral and had declared war on the werewolves in Beacon Hills, stood in front of them, smiling politely.

Stiles and Scott slowly stood up and exchanged frantic looks as they followed Gerard into his office. They quietly sat down while their new principal pulled their files, keeping their eyes toward the floor.

Stiles was kind of amazed and scared about the fact that the Argents had somehow gotten rid of their old principal and replaced him with Gerard in the matter of a few days. Who even knew where their old principal was—probably buried in some ditch somewhere.

"Scott McCall," Gerard drawled, reading Scott's file. "Academically not the most accomplished but I see you have become quite the star athlete."

Scott grimaced and Gerard picked up Stiles' file.

"Mr. Stilinski," Gerard looked at Stiles, who nodded. "Oh, perfect grades but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse."

"Oh, actually, I'm already—"

"Hold on, McCall," Gerard interrupted Stiles thoughtfully, his eyes turning back to Scott. "You're the Scott that was dating my granddaughter."

"We were dating but not anymore," Scott said nervously. "Not dating, not seeing any of each other, or doing anything with each other at all."

"Relax, Scott," Gerard narrowed his eyes, though his voice was kind. "you look like you're about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth."

What an odd reference, Stiles thought, rolling his eyes.

Scott shrugged sheepishly. "Just a hard break-up."

"Oh, that's too bad," Gerard said sympathetically. "You seem like a pretty nice kid to me."

Stiles and Scott gave each other knowing looks.

"Now, listen, guys," he went on. "Yes, I am the principal but I really don't want you to think of me as the enemy."

Stiles scoffed. "Huh, is that so?"

Gerard ignored him, as if he hadn't spoken. "However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers. So, unfortunately, someone is going to have to take the fall and stay behind for detention."

Stiles looked down, fiddling with the lower buttons of his plaid shirt and only looked up when there were a few seconds of silence. He saw both Scott and Gerard looking at him pointedly and he sighed heavily.

Another detention for him.

-

-

"Tell me what's going on."

Olivia looked away from her phone, where she had messaged Lydia that she was leaving school early with Derek, and sighed, "The police came for Isaac and I guess he's a suspect in his dad's murder. Jackson was called to give his statement to Sheriff Stilinski because he lives across the street from Isaac. Scott and Stiles went to the principal's office to check things out, I guess."

"Anything else?"

"They know Isaac and I are part of your pack," Olivia finished, leaning forward to pop her head between the front seats of Derek's Camaro. In front of them, she saw Sheriff Stilinski leading Isaac to his police cruiser, handcuffs around his wrists. "and I guess they're taking him in as a suspect."

"Damn it," Derek muttered bitterly.

Isaac was carefully placed into the back of the cruiser and then drove away. Derek waited patiently and when Scott appeared outside of the school, he drove up to him and lowered his window.

"Get in," Derek ordered him.

Scott scoffed and stomped over to the car. "Are you serious?" he asked angrily. "You did that. That's your fault."

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"I know that," Derek admitted. "Now get in the car and help me."

"No, I've got a better idea," Scott argued. "I'm gonna call a lawyer because a lawyer might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon goes up."

"Not when they do a real search of the house," Derek raised his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in the house is worse," Derek explained impatiently. "A lot worse."

Olivia leaned forward in her seat so that Scott could see her. "Scott, get in," she told him. "We're trying to help Isaac."

Scott hesitated for a second, obviously thinking about what he should do, and then sighed heavily. He opened the door and slid in, letting Derek peal out of the parking lot.

-

Olivia moved her flashlight around the room, illuminating a mess of glass and shattered plates on the floor of the kitchen. Isaac's house was dark and empty but the police hadn't been there yet, so nothing was cataloged.

She walked slightly behind Scott and Derek as she studied the walls. There were pictures of an older boy and Isaac and some of a woman that she assumed was his mother. There were also pictures of the family together, looking happy.

It was amazing what people could hide behind a mask.

"If Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" Scott asked quietly as they continued through the house.

"I don't know yet."

"Then how do you know he's telling the truth?" Scott raised a skeptical eyebrow at Derek.

"Because I trust my senses," Derek answered simply. "And it's a combination of them, not just your sense of smell."

Scott stopped walking and looked back at Derek, embarrassed. "Did Olivia tell you about the lacrosse thing today?"

"Yes, I did," Olivia spoke up, shaking her head in amusement.

Now that Scott was done being an idiot, it was kind of funny.

"Did it look that bad?" Scott glanced between her and Derek.

Derek clapped his hand on Scott's shoulder. "Yeah," he confirmed. "Come on..."

Derek led Olivia and Scott over to a door just off the kitchen. "You wanna learn?" he asked Scott as he opened the door. "Let's start now."

Scott pointed his flashlight down the stairs, lighting up the concrete floor of the basement. "What's down there?"

"Motive," Derek followed down the stairs after Scott, Olivia right after him.

When the two beams of light from their torches flashed over the basement, they saw that it was filled with random stuff. There was an old bike, some stools, a few creepy dolls, and a large freezer.

"And what am I looking for?"

"Follow your senses," Derek instructed.

Scott closed his eyes and waited for his senses to come alive and help him out. Olivia stepped toward the freezer absentmindedly, seeing that there was a padlock on the outside of it.

"What happened down here?" Scott asked, feeling heavy fear and anxiety. He made his way over to the freezer and stopped next to Olivia.

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression," Derek stood behind Olivia but kept his eyes on Scott. "Open it."

Scott shakily pulled the padlock off the freezer and opened the lid; Olivia gasped when she saw what was in it. Bloody marks were scratched into the walls and inside of the lid and the whole bottom was stained brown, presumably from dried blood.

Olivia felt tears well up in her eyes as she thought about what must have happened; Isaac was locked in this freezer and by the many nail marks, it was often. She couldn't believe how badly Isaac had been treated.

She decided then and there that she'd protect Isaac with her life.

"God," she whimpered, backing away from the freezer. She could practically feel the desperation and fear coming from the carvings from Isaac's nails. It broke her heart that Isaac had to go through this.

Scott looked over at Derek, his eyes wide. "This is why he said yes to you?"

Derek nodded. "Everyone wants power."

"If we help you, then you have to stop," Scott told Derek as if he had any authority over him. "You can't just go around turning people into werewolves."

"I can if they're willing," Derek stated while Olivia rolled her eyes at the younger werewolf.

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents?" Scott asked pointedly. "About being hunted?"

"Yes," Derek nodded. "and he still asked."

"Then he's an idiot."

"Look around, Scott," Olivia spoke up, pointing at the bloody freezer. "Do you think Isaac was any safer in this house with his father?"

Scott looked back at the freezer and dropped his gaze, seeming a little ashamed of his remark.

"Besides," Derek added. "You're the idiot dating Argent's daughter."

Scott whipped his head to Olivia and glared at her, but she shook her head, trying to tell him that she didn't tell Derek. She wouldn't do that, especially if Scott's life was at stake.

"Yeah, I know your little secret and Olivia didn't tell me, either," Derek confirmed. "And if I know, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find out?"

Scott bowed his head and gulped anxiously.

"You saw what happens to an omega," Derek reminded him, referring to the omega werewolf that came into town and was cut in half by Gerard. "With me, you learn how to use all of your senses. With me, you learn control," he grabbed Scott's hand and held it up, pointing out his growing claws. "even on a full moon."

Scott ripped his hand from Derek's grasp. "If I'm with you, I lose her."

"You're gonna lose her anyway," Derek said flatly. "You know that."

Derek closed the freezer and motioned for Olivia to follow him out of the basement. They were at the bottom of the stairs when Scott stopped them.

"Wait," he called, walking over to them. "I'm not part of your pack but I want him out. He's my responsibility too."

"Why?" Derek raised his eyebrows. "Because he's one of us?"

Scott shook his head. "Because he's innocent."

"One thing," Olivia spoke up, making Scott and Derek look over at her. "How are we gonna break Isaac out of a holding cell?"

Scott gave her a pointed look that had her rolling her eyes.

-

Stiles picked Olivia and Derek up outside of Isaac's house twenty minutes later.

Scott was going to be staying at Isaac's house to wait out the full moon and Allison was going to join him as soon as possible. Olivia, Derek, and Stiles were tasked to getting to the police station and breaking Isaac out of his cell before he could feel the moon's effects.

Stiles didn't look pleased to see Olivia or Derek but he managed not to say any negative or sarcastic comments as they drove to the station.

Olivia gasped softly as her body started to tingle. Isaac's name popped into her head, followed closely by Scott's and it filled her with a sense of urgency.

"Hurry," she urged Stiles; she had a feeling that Isaac was already starting to turn.

Stiles huffed and sped up; they pulled up to the station five minutes later.

"Okay," Stiles said as he parked the Jeep and looked toward Olivia and Derek. "Now, the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk."

Derek looked through the window by the reception area, seeing that it was a woman manning the desk. "I'll distract her."

He went to open his door but Stiles reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Woah, woah, you? You're not going in there," he said firmly. He faltered when Derek's glare settled on the hand still on his shoulder. "I'm taking my hand off."

Stiles quickly pulled his hand away from Derek.

"Stiles," Olivia sighed. "Derek was exonerated."

"He's still a person of interest," Stiles argued.

"An innocent person," Derek spoke up.

"Ha, you?" Stiles scoffed but deflated when two sets of annoyed glares landed on his face. "I don't like you two gaining up on me," he grumbled. "Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

Derek gave him an obvious look. "To distract her."

"Uh-huh, how?" Stiles asked, annoyed. "By punching her in the face?"

Derek laughed sarcastically. "By talking to her."

"Okay, all right, give me a sample. What are you going to open with?" Stiles requested, making Olivia shake her head in amusement. Derek just glared at him, causing him to sigh. "Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

"I'm thinking about punching you in the face."

"All right," Olivia spoke up sternly, intervening before Derek could get violent or Stiles lost his temper. "Derek just distract her while Stiles and I get the keys, okay? Is that fine with you two or are you guys gonna argue like fifth graders until Isaac destroys everything in his path?"

Stiles and Derek grumbled their replies and the three of them got out of the Jeep. Olivia and Stiles hid in the breezeway while Derek walked straight up to the reception desk, getting the deputy's attention.

"Good evening, how can I help—" the deputy saw Derek and practically melted. "you?"

Derek grinned at her. "Hi."

Stiles rolled his eyes, annoyed, and Olivia bit the inside of her cheek to stop her laughter. Derek smiling wasn't something you saw often but it always amused her when he did flash a grin here and there.

"Hi."

"Um, sorry," Derek shook his head as if he was dazed. "I'm a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone—"

"Like me?" the deputy guessed.

"Oh, I was gonna say so incredibly beautiful but I guess that'd be the same thing," Derek flirted, leaning up against the desk.

While the deputy was distracted by Derek, Stiles and Olivia silently walked through the lobby. Stiles was dramatic about it, twisting and turning in a very spy-movie way, but they got to his dad's office without being caught, so it didn't really matter.

Stiles pulled out his keychain and picked out a key, slipping it into Sheriff Stilinski's door. It opened without any trouble and Stiles led Olivia over to the opposite wall where there was a lockbox against the wall with a keypad next to it.

He went to press the code into the keypad but nothing happened; no lights came on and there was no beeping sound. Stiles jiggled the keypad and cursed when it fell off the wall completely.

"Fuck."

"That's not good, is it?" Olivia asked him quietly.

"No, it's not," Stiles rubbed his hand over his head. "Okay, come on."

They walked out of the office and down the hallway to where Stiles said the holding cells were located. Turning into another hall, they came face-to-face with a deputy.

"Oh, uh, we're just looking—"

That was when Olivia and Stiles realized that there was something wrong about the man. He was limping, there was a trail of blood following behind him, and an arrow sticking out of his injured leg.

He also happened to be holding a syringe of wolfsbane.

"Oh, fuck," Stiles cursed again as he and Olivia turned to run.

The man—who they both correctly assumed was the hunter going after Isaac that Allison had tried to slow down—grabbed Stiles and pulled him back, dragging him forcefully down the hallway.

Olivia whipped around when she noticed that Stiles wasn't next to her and saw the hunter trying to take down a struggling Stiles.

"Stiles!" she yelled, rushing toward him. She pulled the fire alarm and went to punch the hunter but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her arm and dragged her, along with Stiles, into the holding cell area.

The alarm started ringing throughout the station and red lights began to flicker on and off through in the hallways. The hunter threw Olivia and Stiles to the ground and went to tend to Isaac but the three of them saw that all the holding cells were empty.

And then the hunter was thrown against a wall as Isaac lunged at him. Olivia and Stiles watched, dumbfounded, as Isaac broke the hunter's arm that held the wolfsbane and growled in his face. Knocking out the hunter, Isaac slammed his head into the wall.

With the hunter taken care of, Isaac abruptly turned around to face Stiles and Olivia. He growled and ran toward them but Olivia pushed Stiles out of the line of fire and grabbed Isaac's arms.

"Isaac, no!" she said loudly, trying to break through to him. "Control yourself."

Isaac's golden eyes widened and the snarl on his lips faded as he seemed to settle down. He was instantly back on alert as Derek walked into the room and stepped on the syringe of wolfsbane.

Isaac growled at him but Derek roared back, flashing his alpha-red eyes at his new beta. Isaac reared back and whimpered, covering his head as he tried to hide against the wall.

It was quiet except for the fire alarm as Isaac changed back to his human form. He warily looked up at Derek and Olivia made her way toward him, patting his back comfortingly.

"How did you do that?" Stiles spoke up, looking over at Derek and Olivia.

Derek smirked at him. "I'm the alpha."

Stiles could except that reasoning but he wasn't really asking Derek. When Olivia had tried to comfort Isaac before Derek even stepped into the room, she did something.

Her eyes had turned bright purple when she held onto Isaac and calmed him down.

(Gif is not mine)

[gothamdetected-a]

an idiots guide to gotham.

sim, i hear you say, what the hell are you doing? it’s gotham. everyone knows gotham. batman’s hometown. arkham asylum. what more is there to know?

surprisingly, a lot. 

for example, did you know that the it has been described as "Manhattan below Fourteenth Street at eleven minutes past midnight on the coldest night in November." which i think is one of the coolest descriptions of an aesthetic ever. thanks dennis. anyway, there’s a lot more to this city and it’s mad confusing history than first meets the eye, so in true sim fashion, i’m here to whoop dc into shape and attempt to make sense of it all. in the immortal words of coldplay “oh take me back to the start.”

as a geography nerd, i’d like to begin way way back. like continent forming era. star wars’ a long long time ago has got nothing on this. because really, why is gotham so plagued with crime and corruption? why is it perpetually cloudy and gloomy and dark? why is this tiny patch of american coastline continually the stage for insane events while everywhere else around it seems perfectly fine and chilling. 

it’s because of cthulu. 

well, kind of. seriously. apparently trapped beneath the actual earth of gotham is a lovecraftian-esque being who’s been chilling for 40,000 years. yeah, bet you didn’t know that. it even takes to calling itself “doctor gotham” after long enough, but that might just be a writer taking the piss out of dr manhattan, which honestly, im here for. so there’s some ancient slumbering god just poisoning what will become gotham, with it’s “evil essence” or whatever. there is a native american tribe who lives in the area - the miagani. in a croatoan-like fashion, they mysteriously disappear one day: no one knows exactly what happened to them, but there’s speculation of black magic and an insane shaman who goes all caesar on them and tries to develop a tyrannical rule, but they seal him in a cave and flee only to be slaughtered by a neighbouring tribe/a mysterious natural disaster. already this place is giving off the Not Good Vibes.    

some time later a bunch of colonists arrive, one of whom is named hiriam arkham. he tries to build a chapel, but it ends up being the site of a murder and so that idea is abandoned. the colonists later accidentally open the cave and release Deacon Blackfire (nasty shaman man), who is fairly immortal, definitely a shithead, and also becomes a batman adversary and a black lantern corp member/zombie in a few hundred years. fun. the colonists are never seen again. wonder what happened there.   

so the ground keeps being corrupted and drawing the nasties to it. one of these nasties is a norwegian mercenary, captain jon logerquist, who lands there circa 1635 with his crew, feels the heeby jeebies vibe and goes ah yes. this is where i shall settle. utter weirdo. so suddenly we have a city being formed - you guessed it, gotham city, also known simply as gotham. and everything is fairly chill for a while. the city is known to be a hideout for ruffians and smugglers, has a fairly higher proportion of stabbings and burglaries, but other than it being a bit of a lawless wasteland, it’s not, you know, any stranger than other pre-civil war american towns. at some point war for independence ( 1775–1783 ) rolls through, and there’s a fairly large battle that is long and bloody and doesn’t look like is going to be won so the founding fathers decide to do something extra stupid, and summon a bat-demon. yes, literally, a bat-demon. that they think will help them turn the tides of the battle. instead they realise it can’t be controlled, panic a bit, and end up trapping it beneath gotham, nice and snuggled next to fucking cthulu’s cousin. so gotham is now especially Cursed, and also starts gathering a large number of bat colonies in it’s underground cave system, because they’re all coming to worship this demon thing or w/e. 

next step is the civil war ( 1861-1865 ), and this is the first time we get a cobblepot in town - colonel nathan cobblepot to be precise. a couple of generations happen, and the town is growing into a city - at this point five of the families truly “found” gotham as a metropolitan and industrial hub, building bridges to connect the islands and forging the path to gotham as it is today. these five families are the cobblepots, the elliots, the crownes, the kanes and the waynes. these eventually become known as gotham’s oldest lineages, and it’s wealthiest, forming the future of gotham high society. however the cobblepots eventually end with penguin, and thomas elliot gets salty and becomes hush ,and the kanes and waynes decide to start dressing up as bats so it’s more like a cautionary tale than anything. 

around this time (1870), ra’s al ghul builds wonder city beneath gotham’s old town, and around a naturally occurring lazarus pit under the city. wonder tower becomes a spectacle of the gotham skyline, their equivalent to the empire state or big ben. eventually the project is abandoned, especially after mysterious disappearances, rumours of madness and strange sounds of rioting emerging from the nearly completed project. also occurring in this decade is the conversion of arkham manor into the elizabeth arkham sanatorium (which would later become arkham asylum) under the then heir, amadeus arkham. elizabeth commits suicide, a serial killer murders the rest of the family, save amadeus, who then goes mad and begins dabbling in the occult and experimenting on patients, eventually becoming one himself. despite all this, arkham asylum remains open, setting the scene for this to be one of the most tragic and fucked up buildings in america. 

another generation goes by and the wayne family produces solomon wayne, who will eventually become an incredibly important figure to gotham, partly because he is a judge and has a courthouse named after him and all that, but mostly because solomon wayne is the man who hires cyrus pinkney. who? you ask. literally the man responsible for gotham’s fucked up architecture. solomon wayne commissions him to create what he calls “gotham style” around 1890, and pinkney, heavily influenced by both cubist/surrealist design and the gothic revival, is the bastard who ensures everything has a gargoyle slapped on it and that gotham cathedral could literally be home to dracula. every inch of the city is covered in hidden meanings and mysticism, because, if you haven’t already guessed, pinkney was a bit nuts, but solomon wayne seems mighty pleased by this and it does actually boost gotham’s industry and cause people to relocate to it from the surrounding area. pinkney’s final piece de resistance is the statue the lady of gotham (officially named Justice opens her eyes to the world ) in the gotham harbour, yet another new york parallel. 

however as a result of booming capitalism and continued gentrification, gotham develops extreme poverty, with several areas of the city, specifically around the docks, the bowery and the narrows, becoming slums. crime levels continue to rise, and many writers take inspiration from chicago and new york mobs in the 30′s and 40′s, drawing parallels and creating organised crime, mafias and gangs. families like the maronis, falcones and thornes begin to take over the city, shaking down businesses for “protection” developing protsitution and drug running rings, importing weapons etc. gotham becomes seen nationally as a dark foreboding metropolis, where the ultra-rich one percenters drink champagne in their ivory towers while the poor of the city suffer and die. city planners also take this opportunity to go absolutely nuts, and build bomb shelters, underground highways, crazy sewer systems, you name it. after all, no one cares right? it’s gotham. by the time the cold war comes to a head, the city is literally riddled with layers of alleys and tunnels and walkways, all over burdened by the watchful eyes of giant bronze statues and stone grotesques.

then, thomas and martha wayne appear, and really start trying to change the city. they develop philantrophic interests, help to create the monorail, encourage the other wealthy elite of the city to care about the rotting corpse of gotham. change is slow, but it happens. the city starts to brighten up, vaguely, and the waynes become heralded as gotham’s saviours, becoming more than a household name. of course, they get shot, in an alleyway, by joe chill, and that same night batman is born. it takes him like 20 years to actually appear in the city, but boy when he does appear, he goes ham. this isn’t a batman meta tho, so i’ll keep it light on his backstory and involvement. 

batman tackles corruption in the city, purging the gcpd, bringing criminals to justice etc, all while bruce wayne makes his lauded return and begins trying to change things in the same way that his parents did - investing in the city, creating public services, developing grass roots projects in the worst affected areas of gotham. however, this city is quite literally Cursed and it all goes very wrong very quickly. 

first, ra’s al ghul unleashes the clench (also known as Ebola Gulf A virus) into gotham high society, and through the contagion storyline, a LOT of gothamites die. i think it’s like 40% but don’t quote me on that. the whole city is quarantined, but batman manages to save the day! hooray! wrong. the second disaster happens in the cataclysm arc - a 7.6 richter earthquake (although in my professional opinion this should probably be measured using the mercalli scale because you have to take into account the density of population etc in the area, but whatever, dc don’t study earthquakes like i do :/). as a result of these two events happening literally within months of each other, the entire city is declared a “no man’s land” by the US government. most civilians are evacuated, it is cut off from the mainland by destroying bridges and creating a military blockade and left to literally rot. no central government is applicable, no services are available, and very quickly gangs take over, carving up the city between them. imagine the purge but never ending. that’s gotham. huntress and oracle and the remaining scraps of the gcpd try to keep some kind of order, while bruce fucks off to petition the government into not being dicks and fixing the city rather than abandoning it.  eventually, he comes back, batman battles a lot of people, luthor donates enough money to save the city and gotham is rebuilt and repatriated as part of the us. 

then the next big events include: 

• henri ducard as ra’s al ghul tries to cover the city in fear toxin after teaming up with scarecrow. the narrows is especially targeted. 

• steph accidentally starts a gang war after going through batman’s stuff unsupervised. for a while black mask rules gotham.

• hugo strange convinces the gotham city council to let him have old gotham, which he converts into arkham city. eventually wonder tower explodes and the “city” is shut down, cut off from the rest of gotham. 

• scarecrow successfully releases his fear toxin over gotham via the cloudburst system. most civilians have already been evacuated, but the city is thrown into ruin and chaos.   

these are just the biggest points though, and the ones which help to tie film, comics and games together. my favourite part of gotham i haven’t even talked about yet. but i’m gonna. here we go. 

gotham is chronologically removed. 

obviously time progresses there, but there is a immense sense of timelessness. gotham does not move on with the rest of the world. there’s a huge mash of different eras and styles. there are airships in the sky and maglev monorails on the ground, people use typewriters alongside touch screen laptops, buildings are either twisted gothic nightmares or glistening modern skyscrapers. the time frame that should be obvious from the setting is completely ambiguous. and it’s brilliant, because really it means that the time is not important. it could be set anywhere, anywhen. gotham looks almost the same in the 40s as it does in 2020, and it means that batman and these events can be slotted into pretty much any decade. batman can be born in 1939 or 1969 or 1999 and it still all works. it’s a mash up of modern expressionism and constructivism and art deco and gothic revival and surrealism and space-age futurism and industrialism and honest to god i could literally talk about this all day. but i mustnt so i shall stop now.  

basically the tldr here is that i have a fetish for urban decay, gotham was fucked from day 1 due to some bullshit evil god beneath it, and literally house prices must be so low, because who the hell would want to live there. 

[fullmetalscullyy]

a conspiracy theory - chapter 7

co-written by @snowdog49 and @jeanhaavoc

summary:  Detective Roy takes on a challenging task… To find Olivier Armstrong’s sword. However, he has a beautiful woman to distract him along the way. Will he, Jean, and Ed be able to find the sword in time, or will they succumb to the conspiracy?

warning: graphic depictions of violence

tags: conspiracy, pining, unresolved sexual tension, private detective au, royai, havolina, mystery, violence, modern au, coffee shops

rated: m | words: 5420

read on ao3

Roy left most of the lights off in the office as he sat at his desk. He could barely concentrate, but he was going to still be there when his co-workers returned. He put the radio on to fill the background and he answered a few emails. The printer fire case was still open, and he was almost ready to send the information to the client, but his arm itched to send Ed to the East and have him get some things down in that area. He would’ve normally gone, but Ed could take Winry and he could basically give them a night away. Roy couldn’t step out now. Olivier had called a few days prior and was asking the status of the case. It was urgent, she insisted. It had been going on for too long. He might have gotten it done sooner too if Riza wasn’t always on his mind. 

Roy turned in his seat and blinked at the pictures on the wall. He couldn’t just go up to one of them and accuse them, especially with who they all were. Because Olivier had chosen to not go to the police, that did place some significance on the item as well. But the question still begged to be answered: Why? With proper motive, Roy could narrow anything down. Stolen cars? Cheating spouses? Even blazing printers, the question always had been “why?” Who benefits from an old sword? 

Ling would have it as a trophy, however, he was cleared rather easily. When asked about the sword again, Olivier gave the same description, telling him to “use your eyes and look at the damn picture” in what he realized was her traditional short-tempered tone. Her patience was running thin before, he didn’t want to imagine her in another two weeks. He needed to focus on this and get it taken care of in the next two weeks. It was a stolen sword! How hard did this have to be? 

He might as well have taken down the wall of suspects. None of them had any reason at all for a sword. Bradley was a wealthy businessman in the mining industry. It wasn’t even a status symbol for him, let alone something he’d put on his mantle. He’d just have one made out of the gold he mined. Senator Raven was mostly caught in his lies, but again, what use would a sword be to him, let alone an Armstrong sword? Senator Marcoh was at the party. As innocent as he looked, he had to be taken into consideration. He teetered his head side to side as he looked at Governor Kremlin’s picture. He was a shady fellow, and when Ed called him, his staff basically told Ed that it was a waste of his time and hung up. Roy squinted at that photo. Ambassador Fu… He couldn’t forget State Representative Shou Tucker. Roy bit his lip looking at him. Not only was he completely dismissive, but he was also hard to get a hold of. There still was no clear reason behind it. Roy nodded slowly. Yoki owned one of the more prominent real estate businesses. Last he heard, Yoki’s business was having trouble with a few bad investments, and his office was full of weird antiques. Roy pointed to Yoki’s picture, tapping on it. He’d have to go back and check his office again to see if anything else seemed off about it, or better yet, have Jean have a go with him. 

Then there were also the other hundred people on his desk spreadsheet. Ed had called most of them just requesting simple information but there was nothing suspicious. Even the head of security, who only went by Scar, had not seen anything suspicious. Roy grumped. If he were a good detective, he’d find Scar’s real name. Maybe he’d do that as a side project once this was done. He was tempted to go walk around the Bradley property. Olivier probably got drunk and lost it in a bush. 

The front door creaked open and Roy turned in his chair. It was nearly 1 am. “Have fun?” 

Jean walked in with a cigarette hanging from his lips, sighing heavily. Rebecca behind him reached for the smoking stick between his lips and tossed it outside. Both looked beat. Jean’s tie was already loosened, and Rebecca slouched in her dress.

“They know how to party,” she groaned. 

“Was there a lot of dancing?” Roy joked. 

“No,” Jean shook his head. “The food was good, and the drinks were great, but once we started talking around… it was just a lot.” 

Roy leaned his hip against his desk. “Please tell me something that will make my Sunday morning one I will want to remember.” 

“Don’t tell me your date wasn’t good,” Rebecca pouted for him. 

“It went really well, but she cut it short.” 

“Uh…” Jean grimaced. “Sorry man, it’s not in your cards.” 

“She said she had to go take care of her dog.” 

“Ouch.” 

Rebecca shoved her boyfriend. 

“We did almost kiss,” Roy added as he lifted a finger with a slight grin. “Then some fucker had to come along and bump us.” 

“Bump into each other?” 

“No,” Rebecca slapped Jean with the back of her hand to his shoulder. “Almost kissed. That means they didn’t.” 

Roy shrugged with a heavy sigh. “But she said she looked forward to seeing me Wednesday morning for coffee, so I didn’t blow it, right?” 

Rebecca reached down to take her heels off. “I think you’re onto something,” she giggled. “Don’t give up hope quite yet.” 

Jean shrugged as he reached into his jacket pocket for another cigarette. “We did get some interesting details though. You’ll want to hear this.” He placed the cigarette between his lips, patting his chest for a lighter. 

“Jean!” Rebecca grabbed it from him and tossed it in the trash. 

“Damn it, Woman! I haven’t been able to smoke all night!” 

“It was just interesting,” Rebecca added. “Politicians sure have ambitions.” 

“They all stink,” Jean grumped. “They’re all damn rotten bastards.” He leaned against Rebecca’s desk. “Making my girl stand all night while they go on about selling themselves.” 

Roy raised his eyebrow at the two of them. 

Rebecca collapsed in her desk chair and spun it to face Roy. She ran her fingers through her hair. “And they talk. Talk about gossip!” 

*           *           *

Jean smirked at the doorman as they approached. The man was in a full outfit, better dressed than Jean himself, with a bow tie and a tailcoat and bright white waistcoat. It looked like it was straight out of a period piece and Jean expected nothing less from a social gathering of this caliber.

They had to look the part, so Jean ensured his suit would be acceptable. His jacket and pants were all black, but his shirt was a baby blue color. His navy silk tie complimented the shirt nicely, and also matched the colour of Rebecca’s dress.

Sneaking another glance at his girlfriend, Jean admired how stunning she was, and watched as she fished the tickets out from her purse as they continued forward. One of her hands was on his arm, so he gripped it a little tighter and gave it a squeeze to give her some more stability as she looked in her purse.

“Invitations, please,” the man requested. His tone wasn’t bored, but he also didn’t sound particularly thrilled to be there either. From what Jean could see and hear, the party was already in full swing inside. Music from a string quartet wafted their way through the open door, accompanied by the sound of conversation. It wasn’t too loud, but the murmur indicated there were a lot of people inside. If he’d been stuck on door duty when the action was inside, Jean reckoned he’d be a bit miffed too.

Rebecca lifted her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder and smiled at the greeter. Jean’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her. The dress she was wearing was a deep navy blue, clinging to all the right places. It stopped mid-calf, showing off her toned legs as she stood in her heels - a blue that matched her dress. The skirt swayed gently as she moved and it was hypnotizing. Just like her. He hadn’t been permitted to see what she was wearing before tonight, she’d just sent him a picture of the tie he would be wearing and told him to find a suit to match it. And boy, was he knocked off his feet as soon as he set eyes upon her. He was still trying to recover.

The man stamped their tickets and wished them a good night, already waving to usher the couple behind them forward.

Sharing a look, Jean and Rebecca stepped inside the lion’s den.

The main room was beautifully decorated. There was a noticeably clear theme tonight, and that was gold. All decorations had a hint of gold to them. The countless vases of flowers that were spread out everywhere were full of white and gold hydrangeas. Even the white flowers had flecks of gold glitter sprinkled over them. There were four ice sculptures designed in the shape of man, one in each corner of the room, each wearing a golden sash across their torso. Jean seriously hoped they weren’t modelled after their host. He wouldn’t put it past King Bradley to go as flashy with something like this.

“Over here.” Rebecca tugged on his arm and guided him over to the bar. Getting a drink right away sounded like a good idea. Looking around the room, Jean thought he would need some alcohol to get through a night dealing with these people. Rebecca ordered a strawberry daiquiri while Jean went with a rum and coke. There was no beer here, to his dismay. He had to blend in anyway and hard alcohol would loosen him up. 

“Oh boy,” Jean muttered over the top of the glass, immediately taking a sip. He glanced around the room one last time, already mentally preparing himself for trying to mingle with these people. While he would absolutely love to treat Rebecca to a fancy date like this, perhaps he would reconsider that idea. A night where he and Rebecca lay on a picnic blanket somewhere quiet with some beer and good food was a lot more appealing than this song and dance.

“I know, right?” Rebecca snickered. “This will be interesting.”

“I’m just excited to do some snooping,” he grinned. “People watching will be fun tonight.”

“I agree. Work first, then we can have some fun later,” she whispered in his ear with a suggestive look as she walked away from him. Jean followed behind like a lost puppy.

Confidently, Rebecca strode towards a group of ladies all talking together. Jean watched as she boldly introduced herself. She turned and introduced him too, causing him to close the distance between them as quickly and gracefully as he could. Rebecca was a natural in a situation like this. She sounded as fake as the ladies before them, but they ate it up. Jean knew she liked to gossip and was sometimes how he and Roy got some of their information for cases. She was an expert at finding out the word on the street. Rebecca Catalina had a way of getting words out of people so easily that it could be frightening.

Jean plastered a fake smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s shoulders. He’d spied some men making eyes at her out the corner of his eye and didn’t like it. It reminded him of his own job and kissed her cheek to part ways, whispering a promise of meeting up with her again later.

Meandering around the room, Jean spotted a familiar face he could easily talk to. Representative Falman. He’d worked with him before and Jean had a lot of respect for the man. All his work was done by the book and to the letter, with the best interests of the people in mind. Plus, he was always friendly.

“Mr. Havoc,” he greeted. It wasn’t unfriendly by any means. His tone was dry as one corner of his mouth lifted up into a smirk. And Jean appreciated the fact Falman had left out his work title. “It’s good to see you again.” Holding out his hand, Jean shook it firmly.

“Likewise, Mr. Falman.”

He waved his hand in the air. “Just Vato or Falman tonight, please,” he replied. “It’s bad enough my presence is required here.” His voice was quiet, so no one overheard him, but it caused Jean to laugh. “Let’s just drop the pretences.”

“Not a problem.”

“You’re behaving yourself I hope?” he inquired.

“I always do,” Jean quipped. “When do I not?”

Falman snorted, but it just made Jean grin. 

“I’ve got my lady here with me tonight.” Jean glanced over towards the group she was still talking to. If the ladies’ animated and excited expressions were anything to go by, Rebecca was excelling in her work tonight. “So she’s keeping me right.”

He hummed to himself. “I sure hope so.” A pointed look was shot Jean’s way.

In response, Jean lifted his hands up in surrender. “Of course. All of my motivations are completely innocent. I’m just here to mingle with Central’s best.”

Falman shook his head with an amused smile. “Central’s best?”

Jean cocked his head in thought. “Elite, then. That’s probably a better word choice.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure, they certainly know how to throw the most extravagant parties,” Falman mused.

“Definitely,” he agreed. Jean cast his eyes around the room. “Everything is very… gold. It makes me wonder where they get the money for such fancy decorations.”

“Careful where you cast that thought, Havoc,” Falman warned. He took another sip of his drink, looking subtly around him.

Jean just shrugged. “I’m just thinking out loud. There’s no harm in that.”

“True. Bradley has more than enough money,” the Representative murmured. “Although…” Falman trailed off, glancing around once more. “If he didn’t send so much money to a particular Senator, maybe he wouldn’t need a fundraiser for this program and for his other projects out in the west.” Another pointed look was shot Jean’s way as Falman took a sip of his drink.

“Oh?” Jean asked innocently. If there was some kind of strong connection between Bradley and this Senator, this could be useful information for their case. It may not be, but if Falman was willing to part with it this easily, Jean wasn’t going to turn it down.

However, someone called for the room’s attention, ending their conversation for now. The strings stopped playing and a sea of heads turned to face the source of the interruption. A man who was dressed like a butler announced from the opposite end of the room that dinner was about to be served in the dining room and asked if all guests could make their way through there.

“It was a pleasure to speak to you again, Havoc,” Falman stated. He held out his hand for Havoc to shake, which he did so as he hid his disappointment. The announcement had come at such an inopportune time. 

“Likewise, Falman. I hope to speak to you soon.”

He hummed in reply. “A little bird tells me we may cross paths in the future.” With one last pointed glance at Havoc, Falman moved away from him, heading towards the dining area.

Bird… Senator Raven. It could be a stretch, but from Falman’s clues, Bradley could be contributing towards Raven’s campaign or his other special interests. The information about the west must be important. If it was, judging by his hushed revelation and quick exit, Representative Falman was taking a risk with a comment like that. Jean noted it and shelved it for later. He knew better than to press further than what Falman would freely give him. 

Mulling over this new information and what it could mean, Jean walked over towards Rebecca. She was still talking to the same group of women.

“Oh, you must come and find us after dinner,” Jean heard as one lady gushed. “I would love to speak to you some more!”

“Of course,” Rebecca replied brightly. Jean tried not to laugh at her fake smile. “I can’t wait!”

Despite her more common way of speaking, the ladies weren’t phased. They smiled and dispersed, going off to find their significant others so they could be seated.

“You got them wrapped around your finger? That’s impressive,” Jean commented.

“They’re probably bitching about me behind my back already,” she snickered. “I purposefully didn’t play up the snooty attitude or accent. They were sympathetic because of it.”

“Yeah?” Jean asked as he scoured the board in front of him to see where they should sit. He didn’t see their names anywhere.

“There,” Rebecca pointed out softly, seeing the kid’s surname, Yao, by two seats. “And yeah. I clearly wasn’t born into money if I’ve got a more common way of speaking, so they take pity on me. They let their guard down,” she shrugged.

Jean just stared at her as she walked ahead.

“Have I mentioned how incredible you are,” he murmured lowly in her ear. He caught back up and reached for her hand, gripping it tightly.

Rebecca giggled next to him. “Not recently, but I won’t be opposed to hearing it again,” she teased with a twinkle in her eye.

“Just wait until later then. I’ll show you,” he almost growled.

Rebecca laughed quietly to herself. “Later? At the office?”

Jean simpered. Roy was going to be at the office. He’d have to wait even later than that. 

The rest of the seats at their table began to fill up quickly, the guests eager for their dinner. Rebecca sat to Jean’s left, while six other people began filling in the spaces around. The centrepieces of the circular table were just as beautiful as the ones outside in the main room. However, these flowers were white, sprinkled with gold flakes. Little golden beads covered the table as a decoration, adding a splash of colour to the plain white cloth beneath it. While simple in looks, it felt rich to the touch. The silky texture ran through Jean’s fingers easily.

Once everyone was seated, the same butler from moments ago called the attention of the room to him.  “Ladies and Gentleman, King Bradley.”

Bradley rose from his chair as people applauded. Jean and Rebecca shot each other a look, then quickly joined in. King Bradley was a formidable-looking man. He was tall and stood straight. His posture made him look taller than he actually was. He commanded complete attention, and the majority of the people in the room were eager to give it. With one eye covered by an eyepatch, his gaze was hard as he looked around the room, noting with interest all the faces he saw. He didn’t so much as glance in Jean’s direction, or towards their table.

“Thank you everyone for coming tonight. With this dinner, we aim to fundraise enough money for an engineering exchange program with Aerugo, so we may send some of our brightest minds to the country in return for some of theirs. This is a project dear to my heart, as well as my company’s.”

Jean resisted the urge to snort derisively. Bradley had more than enough money to donate to this cause and still make a hell of a profit by the end of it. He’d done a little digging beforehand and discovered that all the engineering students being sent were from his own company. So, he was getting his friends and other government officials to pay for only his company to benefit from the rewards. Still, rich people love a philanthropist, even a pretend one like Bradley tonight.

“With this program, we will be furthering our engineering capabilities within the country and after this test run, we may be able to open it up to other students from around the country.” He unclasped his hands from behind his back and reached for his glass. “I humbly ask if you could give generously tonight to support the next generation of engineers.” Lifting his glass, people began to clap again animatedly. “Enjoy dinner!”

Dinner itself was exquisitely presented. The portions were small, but the food was so rich that by the end of the five-course meal, Jean had eaten enough. He took a drink of the free water provided in a pitcher to wash it all down with. The water was cool on his throat, infused with a hint of lemon.

“Jean, this is Senator Marcoh,” Rebecca introduced after dinner, her eyes widening only slightly as she tried to convey that this was important. She’d been conversing with him throughout dinner, while Jean spoke to the gentleman beside him. “Did you know he’s spearheading a campaign to try and protect our green spaces?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Jean replied. He settled in his chair comfortably so he could give the Senator his full attention. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Havoc. And yes, I am,” Marcoh replied.

“Jean is in the agricultural business,” Rebecca lied smoothly. “We’re based in the west. And… your campaign concerns the west, doesn’t it?” she enquired.

“It does,” Marcoh confirmed. “I just want to protect our environment, that’s all.”

“That’s very admirable, Senator Marcoh,” Jean told him sincerely. “And it’s much appreciated by people like myself. Agriculture cannot thrive with no land for it.”

“Exactly,” Marcoh replied. He leaned forward eagerly. “The east is well known for its farmland, and rightly so, however it's the silty soil from our border with Creta that makes the west more bountiful for a harvest. People tend to forget that. That’s why so many factories are set up in the west.” He dropped his gaze, looking slightly crestfallen. Despite their goal here tonight, Jean could clearly see that this man was deeply passionate about his job and his cause. 

“Well, you have our support, Senator,” Rebecca replied.

“Absolutely,” Jean chipped in. And he meant that sincerely.

Rebecca excused herself to go to the bathroom. So did Marcoh, so he could go and mingle with other guests. While alone, Jean looked around the room, observing people. The majority had left their seats and were moving between the other tables. Some had formed crowds and were standing in free spaces, laughing, and drinking with one another. In the far end of the room, by the door they’d entered through, he spotted Falman and Marcoh leaving together.

Bradley was still sitting at the main table. He was deep in conversation with Senator Raven. The other men at the table were all listening intently, but not joining in on their conversation. Jean narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing them. Governor Kremlin was there, with Shao Tucker and Yoki on either side of him. Those were the only people he recognized. There was no one from the Armstrong family though.

He caught movement out the corner of his eye, seeing Rebecca walking towards him. He’d been prepared to turn away, continuing his observations, but his breath caught in his throat. From the angle he was sitting at, Jean noticed how the light of the room made her hair shimmer, almost turning it copper. The simple silver necklace caught the light as she turned to her side, placing something back in her purse. As she looked back up, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her face softened when her eyes settled upon Jean. A silly grin spread across his face.

“Like what you see?” she purred after sitting down. It didn’t help his situation that she’d leaned in close with a hand resting high up on his thigh, whispering in his ear.

“Very much so,” he beamed.

“Maybe there will be time for a later,” she mused, leaning back, and giving him a once over with her eyes. She’d praised how well he’d scrubbed up earlier, but it was still nice to be so clearly appreciated. He’d made an extra effort just for her.

“Shirking work duties?” he teased.

“I meant after going back to the office.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and Jean couldn’t wait.

He laughed, making her giggle too. “I love you,” he murmured.

Rebecca beamed and leaned in close, giving him a quick kiss.

“Hear anything exciting while I was gone?”

Jean shook his head. “Nothing. Just did some lookin’ around.”

She made a show of her shoulders slumping as she pouted. Then, she straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back. “Ready for showtime?”

Jean nodded. “You did it?”

“I ‘dropped’ it just over there,” she muttered, angling her head away from the room so no one could see what she was saying. “I was ‘fixing’ my purse and left it on that table.”

Cocking his head, Jean pretended he was considering what she’d said, but in reality, he was looking past her. The bracelet was sitting there, next to a vase of gold flowers. It was in plain view, so he made sure to always keep that table in his line of vision.

Not even ten minutes later, a young man approached the table.

“We might have a bite,” he murmured. Leaning forward in his chair, Jean felt himself coiled like a spring. He was ready to stand and move if that bracelet disappeared.

The man took it.

“Hooked. Black hair. Glasses. Black suit. Dressed a bit like a penguin.”

Rebecca stood from her chair gracefully and turned. Her head turned towards the young man who slipped the bracelet into his pocket. He looked around, looking a little unsure of himself, then began to walk towards the entrance. Rebecca began to walk as Jean slowly got to his feet, casually pretending he was going to follow after her at his own pace.

The young man walked through a service door and Rebecca followed close behind.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she called. The guy got a fright, turning in place. Jean noted just how young he looked as he walked through the door. “You’ve got something of mine.”

“Oh, no, I -”

“The bracelet,” Rebecca challenged, holding her hand out to receive it as her other crossed her chest. She didn’t look impressed as she stared him down. “You took it.”

“No, I didn’t -” he stammered.

“You did,” Jean interrupted. His command left no room for argument. 

“Sorry!” He scrambled for his pants pocket. “I didn’t try to steal it, I promise,” he stuttered. “I saw it lying around and picked it up to put it in our lost property. I work here.”

“Sure you do,” Jean challenged, not believing him.

“Look, here’s your bracelet.” With shaking hands, the man dropped it into Rebecca’s waiting hand. She took it back and placed it inside her purse. “And I promise, I do work here. Look.” He handed over his ID.

Jean glanced at it, noting that he did in fact work there. Kain Fuery. It might be worth looking into him, just to be sure this wasn’t a fake ID.

“I always like to keep a log of lost items,” Kain explained further. “Many of them don’t seem to be missed, but still, it would be a shame for someone to lose a piece of jewelry, so I was on my way to log it.”

Jean just narrowed his eyes at him.

“Thank you,” Rebecca cut in. “So, you work for Bradley?”

He nodded. “Yes Ma’am. I’m part of the Events Team, drafted in whenever there’s a dinner or a fundraiser.”

“Were you at Selim Bradley’s birthday party a few weeks ago?”

Kain nodded. “I was. I was working the floor as a waiter that night.”

“Seeing as you're the man to see about missing items, I don’t suppose you noticed a sword passing by, did you? Or did you pick it up and log that too?”

“A sword?” he echoed. “I… I don’t ever remember seeing a sword lying around. Ms. Olivier Armstrong carries a sword on her though, perhaps you could ask her?”

“If you saw a sword like that, would you go through the same process of logging it as you would with a bracelet?” Jean asked.

He nodded. “I would. It would be recorded, but I would probably recognize it as hers anyway. There’s no one else I know who carries a sword on their person.”

“Havoc.”

Turning sharply, he and Rebecca noticed Falman standing at the doorway they’d followed Kain through. He didn’t look impressed.

“Time to go,” he stated. His tone left no room for argument.

“Give us a call if you hear about a sword,” Jean told Kain. He pressed his card into the young man’s unresisting hands and turned to leave.

“I told you to behave,” Falman warned once they were outside. The area was quiet. No one was about.

“I am,” Jean shrugged.

“You’re just lucky I saw you and no one else did,” he replied, putting emphasis on the end of his statement. Meaning Bradley didn’t see Jean and Rebecca questioning his staff.

“We were claiming a lost item,” Jean retorted, gesturing towards Rebecca who was gliding the bracelet back onto her wrist. “Kain graciously picked it up for us.”

Falman sighed. “The party is that way,” he reminded them, gesturing to his right. His arm remained outstretched, expecting them to move to rejoin the fundraiser.

Grasping Rebecca’s hand tightly, they both rejoined the party.

“He seemed genuine,” she murmured.

“I agree. He didn’t seem the type to steal a sword, let alone a sword from the Armstrongs. Too young and innocent.”

“A ruse…?” Rebecca ventured, then shook her head. “No, he didn’t look like he’d have it in him to face the wrath of Olivier Armstrong. He was shaking like a leaf.”

He purposefully steered them over to the bar. He needed another drink.

“Another one?” Rebecca commented. “We’re working, remember?”

“I know, but there’s been a lot of information overload tonight, and maybe I want to relax and spend the rest of a lovely evening with you,” he smiled tiredly. His brain was on the way to becoming fried, and he just wanted to unwind for a little while before diving headfirst back into the shark infested waters. Jean leaned his elbows on the bar and rubbed his face in exhaustion.

“It has been a lot.” She bit her lip. “And we’ve got a long way to go yet…”

The barman asked for their order, and Rebecca got herself another daiquiri and Jean a rum with coke.

“Seeing as you can’t smoke in here,” she winked, handing over his double measure of rum. “We’ll get there,” she added, her voice firm. Her hand rubbed his back, in between his shoulder blades. “You guys are good. Really good! You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Jean shot her a grateful smile.

“Case first though,” she replied. “We’ll report back what we overheard and saw tonight and we’ll all go through it together. We’ll work it out.”

“And… later?” Jean asked, voice hopeful.

Rebecca smirked at him over the top of her cocktail glass. The sultry look in her eyes made his stomach flutter.

“Oh yes, there will definitely be a later.”

“Maybe,” Jean whispered, moving to stand so close he could whisper in her ear. He grinned when it made her shiver. “Later… We could...” He paused at her intake of breath and his grin turned wolfish.

*           *           *

Roy tipped forward on the seat hurriedly. “I do not need to hear any more of what you said to Rebecca,” he interjected.

The two of them just laughed.

“Back to this Kain Fuery, I think we should go back and talk to him. What do you want to bet that he knows but couldn’t remember at the time?” 

“He was pretty scared,” Rebecca argued. “I honestly think he was too freaked out that he got caught. He seemed earnest and innocent enough.” 

Jean nodded in agreement. “I hate to say it Roy, but I got chills when I noticed none of the Armstrongs were there. I got bigger chills when Falman was so adamant about telling me that Bradley was funding Raven. It was very hush hush.” Jean bit his lip. “I think… this could turn into something a little bit more than just a sword.”

“I was afraid of that,” Roy replied, his tone grim.

[katymacsupernatural]

Legendary

Dean Winchester x Reader

1400 Words

Written For: @heavenandhellbingo , @spndarkbingo , @spnkinkbingo​

Square Filled: First Blade(Heaven) Ancient Relic (Dark), Rough Sex(Kink)

Summary: Raised in the Hunter life, Y/N has turned to collecting ancient and unique items. When she gets wind of the First Blade, she knows she will do anything to get her hands on it. 

A/N: This story will be pretty dark. Each Chapter will have the appropriate warnings. After all, it is Mark of Cain Dean. 

Your house was filled to the brim with the most unique collection of items. Pieces that had only been whispered about. Most of them you sold, some for even millions of dollars. Others, you kept, decorating your home with talisman’s that brought you luck, or good fortune. A select few you kept close to you, giving you comfort that if things came after you, you were safe.

But there was one item that you had never been able to get your hand on. It had been nothing more than a myth, stories passed down for centuries. Of a wicked looking blade that killed any sort of mythical being, including Knights of Hell. It had never been seen, not since it had been in the hand of Cain himself, and it was the one item that you had always wanted to find. Who knew how much someone would pay for that if you could force yourself to part with it. If you could ever get your hands on the ancient relic.

You had almost given up hope until a couple of weeks ago. After almost getting trapped in a cave for an ancient Celtic protection charm, you had been ready to head to the Bahama’s for some rest and relaxation. You had made quite a bit of money off of that last find. Enough that you could spend the next couple of months doing whatever you wanted.

And at first, nothing had sounded better than sun, beaches and pina coladas. But once you had heard of the first blade making its first appearance in centuries, it was all you could think about. You wanted it. No needed it for your collection. You already had the perfect spot for it, secure enough that no one would ever be able to lay a hand on it.

It was frustrating. Knowing it was out there, but not knowing exactly where it was. You had to stay patient, researching. You dreamed about it, seeing it in the hands of this man. His grip was tight, his shoulders strong as he easily sliced and killed with the powerful blade. His eyes were a brilliant green, his features strong and handsome. He was almost as mesmerizing as the blade in his hand, and you wanted to know more about this mystery man. Who he was, how he was capable of wielding the most powerful weapon in the world.

With little else to go on, you began searching through newspaper articles for bloody, horrific deaths. You knew the blade controlled those wielding it, making them do horrific things. It didn’t take long before you began to find a pattern of bloody deaths in the midwest. Never a mention of your mystery man. But you had it narrowed down to a small part of the country, mainly around Kansas.

Packing up your suitcase with wigs, weapons, and spells, you slid behind the wheel of your sleek, cherry red Porsche, pointing it west, settling in for a long car ride.

As the night sky blurred above you, your phone dinged, another notification of the first blade’s destruction, you realized you were only an hour away from the bloodbath. With the speed of your Porsche, you could probably make it in half an hour and maybe even find the guy from your dreams. If he existed. You hoped he did because you couldn't wait to meet the man who could wield such power. And the collector part of you wished that maybe he could become part of your collection as well.

While you wanted to head to the crime scene right away, you had to keep your priorities straight. Stopping at the only five-star restaurant in the small city, you booked the suite. Touching up your makeup, you changed your jeans for a black pencil skirt. A white blouse and black blazer completed the look, along with your fake FBI badge. Hunters weren’t the only ones who dabbled with false ID’s.

The crime scene was mostly clear. A cop car was leaving just as you pulled up, but another car was still parked in front. A long, black classic muscle car. Running your manicured fingers along the gleaming paint, your heels clicked as you walked up the sidewalk.

Without knocking, you stepped into the shabby apartment, immediately getting taken back by the mess in front of you. Sure, you weren’t a hunter, but you had been raised by one. You had seen many things in your life, but this might be the bloodiest. Bodies lay everywhere, covered blood and things you didn’t even want to try to name. Dark red blood covered everything. The walls, the floor, the windows. There was five, no six bodies in the main room, carved up by a wicked blade. A blade you had dreamt about for so long. Your hands just itched to wrap around it. You were so close, you could feel it. The power of it.

“Can we help you?” A deep, rumbling voice called out, pulling you out of your daydreaming. “This is closed scene.”

You pulled your badge out of your pocket, flashing it in annoyance. “I’m Agent Larsen. I’ve been called to this case.”

“Hmm, so have we,” the voice growled low in his throat, and you finally glanced up. Freezing as the vibrant green eyes from your dreams stared down at you.

“You’re…,” you stuttered. It was rare that you were speechless, but you had never expected this man to be real. He was even more handsome than you had dreamed. You were rarely caught speechless, but this man had done it with only a glance.

“Do I know you?” He asked, his voice as strong as steel, a cold glint to his eyes. A normal person would have taken a step back, instantly cowering under the hint of violence in his tone. But you stayed in place, tilting your head back to stare up at him. “No, you don’t. I was just mistaken for a moment. It looks like you’re done here. How about we meet sometime tonight and go over your notes?”

“Not going to check it out for yourself?” He sneered, but you could sense a hint of despair in his voice. It didn’t surprise you. Sure, he had been strong enough to wield the blade, but it had to be eating him from the inside out. All of that power didn’t come without consequences.

“Oh, I will,” you assured him. “But I also want to hear what you two other agents have to say as well.”

By this time he had been joined by another man. Taller and lankier, your instincts told you these men were brothers or had worked together for quite some time. Definitely hunters.

“Dean, it wouldn’t hurt,” the new man suggested, giving you a name to go with the face.

Dean shook his head, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. “We don’t need any help. This case is cut and dried. You can just head back to your little office job and leave the field work to us.”

With your hands on your hips, it was your turn to narrow your eyes up at him. “Excuse me?”

Dean took a step closer to you, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You heard me. You are not needed here, so why didn’t you get your designer suit out of here.”

You wanted to slap him, but you forced yourself to control your temper. You needed him, needed to get close enough to him to find the First Blade. No matter how much you wanted to slap that smug smile from his face. “You don’t know who you’re messing with,” he muttered before turning on his heel and heading outside.

“Is he always like that?” You asked the other man, hoping he was a little nicer than his partner.

He shrugged, his shaggy hair flopping in the movement. “He’s been a little on edge lately. But don’t take it to heart. I’m Sam by the way.”

“Y/N. Listen, I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries, but…,”

“Are you really an Agent?” He blurted out. “Because anyone can make fake ID’s anymore.”

“You mean like hunters?”

His hazel eyes widened, his lips opening up to answer you when Dean called out from the car, his voice even grumpier.

“Listen, I’ve got to go before he…,” Sam started. “But we’ll be at the local bar, probably around eight tonight. Meet us there and we can talk.”

Read Part 2

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @brindz30 @colette2537   @deansgirl215   @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk   @ria132love @ruprecht0420     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 

Legendary Tags: @maddiepants  @anathewierdo

Forever Tags: @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl   @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek   @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

[alicedopey]

A Gift for Daddy Chapter I: The English Surprise

banner edited by my love @naaladareia

Genre: Romance

Pairings: Harald x Reader / Harald x Magnus (Father and son)

Rating: PG 13(for the bad words lol)

Warnings: none....for the moment

Words: 1846

A/N: So, this will be a multi-part story although I don’t know where I’m going yet. And I blame @honestsycrets entirely for this.

Their little journey was supposed to go smoothly. Bjorn was possessed by this strong need to discover new lands again and of course, Magnus had expressed the will the go with him. Harald didn't feel like he was tired. The last battle for Kattegat had drenched him. So, he put Magnus between Bjorn's hands with no worries in the world. He would take good care of him. Besides, Magnus was prepared since he had taught him everything he knew.

The boy needed some guidance and as for himself, he needed some....someone, something, anything. Magnus was the son he had always been longing for, even though he was a Ragnarsson...or so he said. So, he gladly gave him that guidance and was now eagerly waiting for him at the shore like a proud father, ready to listen to his offspring's tales. The wait had been long enough.

A smile stretched his lips as the ships got closer and he spotted Magnus waving energetically. He was acting like a little boy. He was a little boy at heart, really.

The way he ran out of the boat and embraced him proved it. Harald hugged him back. Leaning backwards, he observed him closely.

“You look more than fine. So, did you discover new interesting lands with your brother ?”

“I sure did.” Magnus nodded enthusiastically. “I have so many things to tell you. We could have stayed longer but Bjorn was in a hurry to go back to his pregnant shield maiden.”

Of course. “Why did it take so long, then ?”

“Oh....Let's just say I took a little detour to England.” He smiled mysteriously.

“A detour ? By yourself ?” That was a little bit too much.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “A big part your men were with me. Plus, I know how to fight now. I had to go there and get your surprise.”

That caught his attention. What was in England that could please him ?

A commotion could be heard among the crowd and people drew aside to let a bunch of soldiers through. Soldiers who were circling a princess, a very familiar princess. Oh no, he didn't.

Your eyes were gleaming with anger and hatred. No words were needed to get what you were thinking of him even if you could not talk since you were gagged...and chained. The journey might have not been pleasant for his men and Harald was not surprised. From what he could remember, Princess Y/N had some temper. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

He called some thralls that had followed him. “Get her settled in the other bedchamber, feed and bathe her...and have her room guarded, she might try to escape.”

The thralls bowed respectfully and went away with the princess, still escorted by some soldiers.

“Magnus, a word. Right now.”

The young boy seemed to lose some of his excitement and pride when he heard Harald's tone.

The King led him to the Great Hall where thralls were already preparing the feast to celebrate his return. Harald dismissed them and turned to look at Magnus severely.

“Where did you get the idea to kidnap this girl ?”

“You wanted her. And when a Viking wants something, a Viking takes it.”

Harald could have slapped himself for teaching the boy that idea.

“And what in the Gods am I supposed to do with a furious princess, ready to kill me?”

“Marry her. That's what you did with Astrid.” Magnus offered naively.

And look how well it turned out. “Good idea, she will probably stab me in my sleep.” He replied sarcastically.

A deep frown appeared on Magnus's face. “I'm sorry. I thought you would like my gift. Isn't it what a Viking would do ?”

Harald heaved a deep sigh when he saw Magnus's sad face. He was watching his father-like figure as if he had deceived him.

“Probably....you do realize that we will soon face a Saxon attack after that. Her father will certainly not like the affront.”

Marcus's face surprisingly lit up at his words. “There will be no such things. Her father passed away and her uncle is reigning over the kingdom now. Trust me when I say he couldn't care less about her.”

Harald remembered how spoiled you were by your father and how your fiery temper did not appease anything. No wonder your uncle wanted to get rid of you !

“Is that so ?” Harald sat on his throne and casually leaned on it. “I'll deal with her, then. Thank you Magnus.

The boy squealed in delight, glad he was able to please the King after all. Harald let out a laugh and dismissed him.

He would definitely deal with the princess. The question was; how ?

Several hours later, he still hadn't found the answer. The feast was going off around him. Magnus was awkwardly wooing a shield maiden and many soldiers were already passed out under the tables. Ale was beginning to cloud his mind as well. He had to confront you somehow even though it scared him a little.

Women. His biggest weakness. Truth to be told, he would rather fight an army by himself than confront this woman. Your first encounter was still vividly in his mind.

His stay in England had not been pleasant. He could have fought just like last time but an alliance seemed more interesting. He asked for an audience with the King. He wanted you...his daughter. The first time your eyes met, he knew he had to have you. He knew he could. So, he came into the court with confidence, even more so when the English King eyed him up and down, almost scared.

“King Harald. You wished to see me ?”

“Yes.” Harald grinned. “I have an offer to make.”

The King encouraged him to go on.

“An alliance between us. What would you say about that ?”

You were glaring at him, clearly not impressed. The King's eyes narrowed.

“What do you want from this alliance ?”

Harald smiled inwardly. The King appeared to be scared but he was no fool, he could give him that.

“A marriage would be nice.” Harald suggested lightly.

“With my daugther, I presume ?”

Harald grinned again, his fingers softly tapping his beard. “You presume well.”

The King was considering it, he could tell....and so could you. You furiously rose and looked at your father, outraged.

“I would never let this heathen touch me, he is worse than filth.” You shrieked indignantly. “I can't even  believe you are considering his offer. This is a real disgrace.”

“Y/N, be reasonable. For the people...” It was not difficult to see who had the upper hand here. He would not get you this way.

“That's quite alright.” Harald interrupted your little argument. “We, barbarians, do not force our daughters to marry anyone.” He looked at you mockingly. “Battle it will be, then.”

He had left the court, obviously disappointed but he could not take you against your will. He had tried this way and it had never worked. But maybe.... maybe he could coerce you to marry him. Daddy was not here anymore.

He finished his cup of ale with one gulp, slammed it down on the table and staggered to your chamber.

The guards looked at their master warily as he came near the room. He heard some crashing and smiled wickedly. You were furious.

He opened the door and saw the mess that had become the room he had you settled in; broken things everywhere, shredded dresses, furs thrown on the floor....

“I take it you don't feel better.”

You turned your head and glared at him. Feverish eyes, blushing cheeks, disheveled hair; a real turn on. You threw the pot you were holding in his direction and he ducked just in time. The object went crashing against the door.

“You !” You pointed a trembling hand at him. “Release me at once ! Filthy heathen !”

“And where would you go, hm ? I heard your father is no more and it appears your uncle wouldn't mind if you were never to return.”

He could see the tears welling up in your eyes at the mention of your father. He almost....almost regretted his words.

“You don't know anything.”

“The King of filth.” You threw a pitcher at him.... and missed him, again.

Harald rolled his eyes. “You can break everything here but you know you'll only tire yourself. I think we should talk about this.”

“About what ? You taking me against my will ?” You screamed, out of breath.

“I personally think you would make a wonderful queen. Fierce, strong....but so emotional.”

He was obviously mocking you. “I said it before and I'll say it again. I will never, ever let you touch me. I will never be your Queen.”

“I could give you everything you have ever wished for.”

Her upper lip curled up in disgust. “You could never....don't come any closer !”

Harald raised his hands to show you he was not a threat. “Look, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

“Leave me alone !” He took another few steps towards near you. “I said, don't come near me...” You frantically looked around you but there was nothing left to throw at him. Desperately, you bent over and took off your shoe to brandish it above your head.

Harald bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing, aware that it would anger you even more.  But you looked so cute. So, he did not pay attention to your words and kept walking.

Your shoe flew by his cheek and noisily landed against the wall. Frustrated, you bent over to take the other shoe. You looked at him defiantly and threw your projectile, only this time it reached its target, hitting Harald in the face. You let out a laugh as Harald groaned and stumbled backwards.

He inhaled. “You are not ready to talk, I see. I'll come again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow will be the same.” You sneered.

To your utter surprise, Harald smiled. “If you say so...” He picked up the two shoes, before turning around to look at you. “I take those since you don't seem to need them.”

He was waiting for any reaction: a cry, a scream, a complaint but nothing came. He knew you were angry but too proud to say anything.

“We agree, then.” He smiled, then he walked to door and opened it. “Good night...Princess.”

You glared at him one last time before he disappeared. He had just closed the door when he heard an indignant shout and smiled. You would be fun to court.

Tagging: @naaladareia @therealcalicali @tephi101 @ilooklikeididyesterday @peaceisadirtyword @mblaqgi @ivarswickedqueen @ivarslittlebadgirl @akamaiden @thevikingsheaux

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