#a bit of a departure from all the previous chapters. just as a break for us and Stan. bc he desperately needs it lmao

[whumble-beeee]

Into the Woods and Out of the Woods

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 9

Content: mentioned past capture, angst, mentioned (potential) character death, child in distress (only for a second there tho)

* * * * * * * *

“In this life, you need to do everything in your power to survive and thrive. Supers aren’t allowed to thrive in this world. We're forced to hide, we're forced to serve, we're taken advantage of. If we don't comply, then we're dangerous, we’re feared, then we're subjugated, imprisoned, or killed. Just look at what they did to me because of my power, weak as it is [...] [They] made an example out of me, knowing I couldn't fight back, and time and time again it has been shown that I am not the only one. The current system needs to be dismantled and started anew. And if– when– ‘The Man’ says no? Then he must be taken down too.”

– Supervillain Aurelias “Elias” Byrne, codename “Alias"

**Note: Danger Level Five: Any sightings of this individual should be reported to the police immediately. DO NOT INTERACT.

* * * * * * * *

[~Not long before Stan McKellen’s recapture (the events of Ch. 1)~]

"My legs hurt!" a high voice groaned from just behind Stan. He sighed deeply and simply continued walking, arms and legs burning for rest from the nonstop exertion.

"Yeah I know, mine too. But we're almost there. And you're not the one with a bad knee, you can make it."

"But you have a magic cane to help you! I just have my stupid normal legs!" Chloe stomped on the ground with each syllable to illustrate her point.

"I'm not using my magic right now, so the cane is just a cane and my leg still hurts just as much as usual,” Stan countered. “More actually. Not to mention my wrist is killing me because I didn't have time to grab my crutch. So that's just gone now, I guess."

"You should use your power to make it easier, like you do when you’re fighting. And use it on me too! Just make my legs walk for me!"

"Not happening, I don’t wanna pass out and die from exhaustion on this hill using my powers because your legs got tired."

"But I'm about to pass out and die on this hill from exhaustion because my legs got tired. You should teach me how to use my powers, then I could just do it myself.”

“Squeaks, I don't know if you noticed, but we're basically being hunted for sport because of those exact powers.”

"Chloe, you wanna ride on my back?" Marcus chimed in, exhausted from listening to his beloved fiancé and said fiancé's equally as beloved younger sister bicker back and forth. Nonstop. For the entire trip.

"Marcus, don't encourage her. We're literally almost there," Stan groaned. He actually had no idea how far they were from the 'campsite'. But Chloe didn't need to know that.

“It's fine Stan, she's tired, she's a kid, we've been walking a long time. I get it.”

“Nuh-uh!” Chloe said in an obnoxiously nasally voice.

“Nuh-uh?” Marcus questioned, at the same time Stan reflexively cracked out a “Yuh-huh!” without even knowing what the hell he was “yuh-huh"-ing.

“Nuh-uh, I'm not a kid!”

“You're thirteen actually, so you're a kid,” Marcus laughed.

“Nuh-uh, nope! Thirteen. ThirTEEN! Teen! Teenager! I'm a teenager! Not a kid!”

“You're not a teenager until you're sixteen, actually,” Stan stated, amused smile pulling lightly at the corners of his mouth.

“Sixteen is basically an adult already, you can't be basically an adult and also barely a teenager, Stan,” Chloe said matter-of-factly.

But at least she wasn't complaining about being tired anymore.

“And I am a teenager, or else why would it be thirTEEN!?”

“Well, only kids get to ride on my back,” Marcus retorted with ridiculously heightened haughtiness, nose raised and all. “So no riding on my back for you then, big teenager.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “Fine, I didn't want to ride on your back anyw–!”

“AND we're here!” Stan announced cheerfully, cutting them off with a mighty huff.

And all fell silent.

Wind whistled through the branches overhead, swishing through leaves with a gentle rustle as the crunching of dirt underfoot came to a grinding halt. The chirps of birds in the distance became audible in their tentative silence, whistles and cheeps and squawks filling the air with a cheerfully chaotic melody. The smell of wet dirt and decaying leaves wafted through the cool air. 

Chloe, of course, was the first to point out the obvious. “Uh. What do you mean?… There's nothing here…”

“Except for the beautiful sounds and sights of nature!” Marcus proclaimed, spreading his arms out and spinning around as if surrounded by the beautiful rolling hills of Austria instead of… Well, the same trees they’d been passing by unheeded for the last hour.

Stan pointed at a dinky circle of rocks on the ground, a slight char to the earth scorching the center of the ring. “Fire pit. This is it.”

“Oh okay, my bad, I guess,” Chloe sarcastically raised her arms in surrender. “Didn't know that a pile of rocks passes for a campsite now.”

“Well, it's what we've got.” Stan plopped his full-to-bursting backpack into the barely-packed dirt. “Hard to be picky when you're on the run from a buncha psycho government crazies trying to torture us or whatever.”

Chloe raised her brow and tilted her head at her brother, arms crossed in that know-it-all sort of way. “Stan. Just because you got a shattered knee doesn’t mean you need to break my back by making me sleep on the best choice owl bones and sharp rocks.”

“Chloe!” Marcus' voice nearly cracked with how high it went, appalled.

“No, no, it’s fine Marcus, she didn't mean it like that,” Stan said. She was just frustrated. “Look, it’s what we got for now. I’ll try to figure out something better for tomorrow. And hey, at least it's not under a bridge or something.”

“Or some mad scientist's lab,” Marcus pointed out.

Chloe shrugged. “I'm just saying, generally it's good to find a place where you don't have to wonder if someone might’ve been burned at the stake.”

Stan had to admit, he felt that same hopeless pit in his stomach that his sister must've been feeling. This was not how he had been hoping to spend his day. Or week, month, year. In fact, he had been hoping he would never have to flee again. Sadly, sometimes it's just not written in the stars that certain people get their way. Ever, apparently.

“... hey Chlo?” Stan called. “How you holding up?” 

She pelted a rock she'd found somewhere into the endless void of the forest. “I'm fine. Wish we had like…” she gestured around, arms wide before throwing them back down to her sides.  “Walls. Or like a roof, or something.”

Ditto.

“Stan?” Marcus called from behind him. Stan quickly made his way over to his fiancé so they could talk in private, as private as you could talk in the woods when the person you're talking about is a 3-second jog away.

“What is it? What's wrong?” Stan whispered quickly.

Marcus grinned conspiratorially at him, eyes flicking around the clearing as if searching for ninjas eavesdropping to learn of his dastardly plans.

“I think it's time–” he whispered dramatically, “for Plan 'Brother-sister-bonding-by-teaching-her-how-to-use-her-powers-and-get-her-out-of-the-mood-she’s-in’.”

Stan scoffed, failing to not let an amused shine crack through features at Marcus’ ridiculousness even as a very real worry took root in his chest. “I guess it probably is time she learned. It’s just hard for her, you know how complicated her feelings are about the powers. But I suppose if no one's around out here to see it, plenty of space…”

“And hopefully it'll help her out of that funk. I can't even begin to think what must be going through her head right now…”

“I can.”

Will I ever see my friends again?

What important things did I leave behind?

Where are we gonna sleep tonight?

When is the next time I'll get the chance to eat?

What if my brother is caught?

What if we're both caught?

Will I finally get to see what mom and dad and Stan had to go through?

I thought we were finally safe.

“It's… it's bad.”

Marcus just nodded sympathetically. The silence was excruciating. 

“... but she's a tough kid, she'll make it through.” Stan finally managed to choke out. “We all will.” 

Marcus pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. “How about this: you both go train, and while you're gone, I'll go back to that convenience store we saw a couple miles back and get some supplies. Y’know, the essentials, marshmallows, some chocolate, graham crackers…”

Stan lit up like the northern lights, eyes full of stars. “S'mores night!”

“Yeah! We can use that crappy little firepit you found!”

“Oh, she would love that!” Stan whisper-shouted, nearly jumping up and down, vibrating with excitement.

Marcus’ eyes glinted. His teasing smile nearly made Stan blush. 

“She's not the only one, huh?”  He poked Stan in the stomach, and Stan nearly squealed as he jumped back out of the way, even almost managing to avenge himself by thrusting the tip of his cane into Marcus’ chest. But Marcus grabbed the cane and yanked it forward, pulling a screech from Stan before he felt Marcus’ strong body pin his arms to his sides in a tight embrace before he fell flat on his face.

“Caught you,” he teased in a sing-songy voice. “Whatcha gonna do now?”

“Oh get off it Silva!” Stan yelled as he halfheartedly shoved to try and get away, secretly wishing he could stay here forever.

Marcus let Stan go, instead grabbing his fiancé's hands in his own and squeezing them tight, looking lovingly into each other's eyes.

"We'll have a nice night tonight,” he reassured. “I know things are horrible right now… but things always get worse before they get better. And hell, they could always be worse.”

Slight flashbacks so kindly reminded Stan of the horrors. Every day away from that hellscape was another better day. 

“Things could definitely be worse.” Stan tossed his arms over Marcus’ shoulders with a cheeky grin. “ Like for example… I could be anywhere else in the world, and then I wouldn’t be with you.”

He pulled Marcus down into a soft kiss, one hand on the back of his head to gently guide him and feeling the warmth of skin against skin, Marcus’ body against his own, supporting him wholly. And in that moment, where the world was just the two of them, he let himself imagine that everything truly was okay. That they weren't being hunted down, that they hadn't just had to flee from their home again, that he wasn't alone in this world. Because he had Chloe, and he had Marcus, and he would always have them forever.

He pulled away just as he heard Chloe shout out an over-exaggerated “Ewwwww! Get a room!” From behind them. Stan rolled his eyes and pushed off of his fiancé, who was now practically giggling.

“You better get going if you want to get back before dark. Meet up in, say, three hours?” 

Marcus gave a goofy grin and started on his way back up the trail with a big thumbs up. “Will do! Be back with yummy treats soon!”

“I'll see you in a bit! I love you!”

“Love you more!”

“Are you done eating each other's faces?” Chloe yelled. “Where's he going? What's happening, what are you planning?”

Then Marcus was gone. That small pang in his heart that came around when he couldn't see those who he loved most returned again. He'd gotten used to it, but it never stung any less.

Stan ignored the questioning as he made his way over to his little sister, who was now balancing with her arms out swinging wildly, stepping around and around from rock to rock of the small ‘fire pit’.

“Hey, Chloe?”

Her gaze shot up to his, sea-foam blue eyes peering into turquoise-green. His breath caught in his throat. The words died on his tongue for a moment as he remembered all that he had done for her. To keep her safe. To try and keep her happy. The times he clutched her in his hold, held her hand, shoved her behind him, shielded her from anything that could harm her in favor of harming himself instead.

And he would keep doing that, every single time. But that didn’t mean he would always succeed, and they needed to prepare for that.

It was finally time, huh?

Chloe tilted her head at him. “Uh… Stan? Why are you looking at me like a serial killer?”

Stan startled. “Ah, right! Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go train your powers some.”

Chloe’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Really!?” 

She jumped up as high as she could off the rocks and scrambled over to Stan. “I thought you said I couldn’t learn them because they’re dangerous!”

“I never said that!” Stan protested. “We just haven't had the chance to do it because other people want to hurt us over them. That’s why they’re dangerous. Not the power itself. Well, the power itself also can be dangerous... But you need to know it. To defend yourself. In case.”

“...in case?” Her eyebrows creased slightly.

“Uh… well, yeah, in case–”

“Boring! Let's go! I wanna learn!” Chloe interrupted a bit too quickly, grabbing Stan by the wrist and damn near tripping him flat on his face when she started to drag him toward… she didn’t even know, really. To learning powers!

“Augh! Chloe! Stop, I’m gonna trip and die and it'll be your fault!” Stan’s heart jumped into his throat and he struggled to keep his balance.

“Use your magic to fly or something,” she said giddily, though she did let up slightly on the pulling. “It's like a warm-up so you can teach me better! I bet I'll be even better at it than you!”

“Ha! In your dreams you'll be better than me!”

* * * * * * * *

Chloe was unusually quiet on their trek to find a spot to practice. Stan would say something, and then she'd brighten up for a moment, bantering and hollering as usual. But then her jaw would clench, her brows knit together. Staring into the middle distance as they walked, looking at nothing in particular. Thinking. She even ignored various cool-looking rocks and tree formations, never once trying to climb the haphazard structures.

She might be worse off than he originally thought. 

They came upon a clearing in the brush.  Flat ground, no trees or rocks in the way. 

Perfect.

“Alright, Chloe,” Stan started, startling Chloe out of her walk as he took a ready position, feet apart and grounded for a steady base, cane at the ready. No going back now. “Now I've seen you trying to use your powers without permission before and honestly, you did pretty good.”

“Nuh-uh!” She interrupted obnoxiously. 

“Yuh-huh! I've seen it!” Stan bit back without missing a beat. 

“Nuh-uh!!”

“Yuh-HUH!”

“NUH-UH!” she shouted, and Stan barely managed to block when she jumped up and tried to bap him on the top of the head.

“What are you even ‘nuh uh’-ing here?” Stan cried, accompanied by a small screech as he ducked away.

“I thought you were about to say I shouldn't have done that. But then you said something else,” Chloe shrugged.

“So you doubled down?”

A pause.

“Yesssss...”

Stan rolled his eyes. 

“You really shouldn't have used your powers, to be fair…” he considered, tapping his finger on his cane. “Especially since you know what would happen if the wrong people found out. You remember. The– the uh…”

The running.

The raids.

The people in the armored vests.

The guns.

The murder.

Our magic killing just as easily as it lifts a mug into the air.

My disappearance, the experiments I won’t talk about.

Our parents.

Stan cleared his throat. That was all in the past now. 

Chloe’s eyes were downcast, holding her arms close in a self-hug. 

Yeah. 

She remembered. 

“But uh– But I did the same when I was your age, so I can't judge. You did pretty good from… from what I saw. So I want you to show me what you've got so far.” 

Stan lifted himself off the ground in a light float, the bottom of his good leg and his hands glowing a harsh bright blue as they lifted him away from the earth. “Then I can show you how it's really done.”

Chloe’s eyes raised, a tired smile forcing its way to her lips. “Show off.”

“Well, maybe once you learn, you can also get a big head about it.”

Chloe gave a small huff in acknowledgment, her smile slowly falling from her face as she stared blankly at the ground.

Stan carefully lowered to the ground. This wasn't something they could just ignore and hope would go away, was it? 

He crept up to Chloe, the wind rustling the trees overhead creating an almost deafening cacophony in the silent spell that had befallen them like a thick blanket.

“Chlo?...” 

She wouldn't meet his eyes. 

“Talk to me, Squeaks, you’ve been off all day. What’s wrong?”

She took a sharp breath in, face scrunching up, eyes edged red.

“What do you think?” she whispered, hissed, practically. “I hate our powers. This is stupid, they’re stupid, I wish we never had magic. I don't wanna learn, I wanna– I just wa-anna be normal.”

Ah. Yeah.

Stan knew the feeling all too well.

He tried to find something encouraging to say to help lift her back up to normal, to tell her that everything would be okay and that she was perfect the way she was, powers and all. But he found that he really didn't have any words to say to make this better. Nothing that was true anyway. She wasn't wrong.

“... Chloe,” he finally started. “I need you to learn this for me, kid. I need you to be able to… to-to defend yourself in case… In case I can’t.”

Chloe’s body lurched with a held-back sob. “I don’t want to learn! I hate our magic! It’s not fair! I wish we never had powers, then I could still have a normal family. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you not being able to protect me! I wouldn’t have to protect myself, I wouldn’t have to be strong, I don’t want to be strong! I wish Mom and Dad were still here! I just want my mo-mommy and daddy-y-y!”

She cried freely now, breathing shallow and fast as she tried to catch her breath over the shuddering and the tears, muscles clenched as she hugged herself in some small attempt at security, face scrunched and small and pained as she finally let out all that she’d been holding in the entire trip. For who even knew how long.

He gazed at her with glassy eyes; his sister weeping before him. She’d been through so much. His wonderful, amazing, annoying sister who he’d been through hell to protect. 

She didn't deserve this.

They both didn't deserve this.

He pursed his lips. Tears burned at his eyes now too, threatening to wet his cheeks just as they were doing to Chloe.

He pulled her in close to his chest, heartbeat thrumming against her as he held her tight. A hug she didn’t reciprocate, didn’t need to.

“I know. Me too,” he whispered.

It was unfair. It was incredibly, heart-wrenchingly unfair. Just knowing everyone and everything they ever loved could be so easily ripped away from their desperate grasp as easily as wind blows leaves across the ground. 

“But…”

Stan had screamed and cried about it for many a night and day, mourning the loss of the person he could have been if anything else was different.

“That’s not the hand we’ve been dealt,” Stan murmured into his sister's nappy hair, clutching her even closer as she trembled. “It's unfair, it's so, so unfair. But that's just…”

Screaming.

Crying.

Begging.

Running.

Wishing for something different.

“That's just how it is.”

And that’s why I need you to learn.

She let out a sob into his shoulder. They sat like that for a long while; Listening to the sounds of nature which never ceased around them. The whistle of the wind through trees, the birds chirping all around them. The continuously quieter weeping as the girl in the center of it all tired herself out.

“Those ho-orrible people, Chloe?” he breathed. “They want to capture you. They want to capture me. They did capture me. Tortured me. It’s a… It’s a miracle I escaped, honestly. They captured Mom, Da-ad. And–... and they would do it to you too, if-if given the chance.”

Teary wetness started to soak through the shoulder of Stan’s shirt.

He squeezed her shoulders, breath shaking. “I need you to… I need to know you can defend yourself, okay? A-and as much of a curse as our powers are, they’re strong. So strong, just like you. You can learn how to use them to defend yourself, right? In case I can’t anymore, in case–”

“DON’T SAY THAT!!” Chloe cried out, angry, desperate azure eyes flashing angrily up at her brother as she pushed away from him. “Say that you’ll always be here for me! Always! You can’t get caught again! I need you! Marcus needs you! You’re gonna stay with me and we’re gonna find Mom and Dad and you’re never going anywhere ever again, and neither am I! And neither is Marcus, or Mom, or Dad, and if anyone tries to hurt them again then I'll kill them and then we can all stay together! An’-- an’ I'll get the guys who tortured you too and I'll make them pay.”

Stan felt a melancholy smile overtake his face through the running tears. Maybe not the exact right motivations, wanting to kill anyone who ever tried to hurt them. 

But it was a start. 

He knew he couldn’t promise that he would always be here to protect her. His parents had promised the same thing. And yet…

“Don't worry, Squeaks, I’m–... I’m not going anywhere. Nev-never plan to,” He sniffled. “Also, uh… maybe don't kill them… that wouldn't make you much uh, much better than them, would it?” He winked. “Maybe just maim them a bit.

Chloe nodded slightly, jaw set as she took a deep, shaking breath and a similar smile Stan's started invading her features as well. “Yeah… Jus’-just broken bones. Thr-throw them into the ceiling like you do a little. Pay them back for your knee...”

Stan snickered. “I would love to pay back the person who crapped up my knee…” and he couldn't help the welling pride in his chest as he raised his gaze to look his sister in the eye once more. It almost caused the tears to start pouring all over again.

“And if you were the one to get them, Squeaks? Maybe you let me get in on the action too? God, I would let you lord that over me forever.”

Chloe burst into a little laugh, still marked with the haunting ghosts of sobs. “I would never let you forget it.”

“So… you're on board then?” he asked tentatively. “Gonna learn your powers and defeat the bad guys for me? Marcus is bringing some treats back to camp for when we’re done too, though you’ll get them either way, we all need a bit of a pick me up.”

“Treats?” She looked up at him like an astounded little puppy dog. Stan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah! So you wanna work the magic a bit? Or you just wanna head back and be lazy?

“I…” She was still shaking. “I… I think… magic. But uh, but… You-you can fight your own bad guys. I’ll be too busy floating around you to help you not get your ass kicked.” 

Her eyes widened slightly when Stan raised his eyebrow at her.

“I mean… Butt.”

Stan scoffed. “Yeah, okay potty mouth–”

“Potty mouth? Are you five years old?”

“Am I five years old? You’re the one who can't say ‘ass’.” 

“That's because you're my brother!”

“Well,” Stan theatrically cracked his knuckles and drew some power up through his cane as he grinned at her smugly. “You know any five-year-olds that can do this?”

He swiped with a grand flourish at the nearest tree across the clearing, a full sweep through air in front of him with all the force he could muster up, bathing the now sunset orange-red ring of trees in a blast of eerie aqua blue. A deafening crackle-pop came from deep within the trunk, as if the wood itself was screaming out in protest, in agony, as cracks started to explode outward, shining through with bright blue light bursts. The side of the tree exploded with a thunderous roaring creak, gnarled and deep and sharp and twisting as it showered bark and wood pulp down on the two siblings as the both screamed in what was terrified joy and dove to duck and cover.

Stan immediately realized his error with a playful screech, jumping in front of Chloe and pulling her in close to shield her from the flying wooden shrapnel machine that the tree had so unwittingly become.

Then once again, the clearing was safe, wooden rain finishing its downpour, a few stray splinters tip tapping into the ground. The only sound to be heard now was the breathless laughter of two siblings as they took in the full breadth of what just happened.

Stan had just exploded a tree.

It looked like a cannonball had been shot through it! But surprisingly, it was still standing. Tilting, sure. But standing.

Stan cleared his throat, blinking against the wood dust. Chloe now stared openmouthed and wide-eyed at the mighty tree, a deep eternal gash scarring to the very heart of the wood.

“I uh–...” Stan coughed with a curt laugh. He had to pant to get enough air into his system “I didn’t expect it to explode that much.”

Chloe’s gaze shifted back to her brother, open mouth and all.

“That. Was. AWESOME!!” She cried, jumping up and down like a child on a trampoline. “I mean, you basically killed that tree… but that was so cool! I didn’t know we could explode things!!”

“Well I mean, I didn’t really explode it, I just kinda hit it hard enough that it exploded. Kinda surprised it's still standing.”

“Show me!” Chloe exclaimed, bouncing over to the tree to examine the damage more closely. “Show me show me show me! Show me how to do that, I wanna hit that hard!”

“Careful, you’ll get splinters!” 

“Shoulda thought of that before you exploded a tree!”

Stan hurried after her as fast as he could go without winding himself even more. He leaned extra hard on his cane as he walked, movements just a bit more sluggish. That had taken so much more energy than he had thought it would, even with the cane helping him along and aiding the power. But hey, at least Chloe was excited again. Happy. For now.

That’s all Stan could ever ask for.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything |

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (IV)

summary: a proposal

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, past suicide, misogyny, allusions to murder, dark themes, canon typical violence, smut in future chapters

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

“The spitting image of your mother,” you hear more than once. Anger radiates from your father every time, yet he says nothing. He cannot in front of so many. How could he explain that the ghost of your mother fills him with such rage?

It’s a day spent in a stadium watching physical feats. It’s not all that entertaining in itself, but the guests are plied with drinks and food enough to not care. They place bets amongst themselves and you’re sure a few of them will end their visit here without a solari to their name. You want nothing more than to steal Irulan for the day, but duty kept her bound to the subjects who desired her attention. 

You weave through the crowd and let yourself be distracted by conversation with the lower houses. He watches. You can feel the weight of his gaze every time you smile or laugh or speak or breathe. 

“Looks like you’ve got someone’s attention,” one of the daughters giggles loudly. Others turn their heads. You brush it off and continue the conversation you’d been having about the next day's entertainment—an ancient play written before the Jihad.

The whispers of his attention follow you like his eyes. When it becomes overbearing you avoid it all and focus on the events in the arena. Men striking the ground with long poles to launch themselves over raised bars to see how far they land. The tightness in your shoulders eases when Feyd-Rautha finally breaks from the shadows. His looming figure shields you from the rays of the setting sun and the sight of intruding eyes as he stands beside you. “What uses would such a skill have?” he ponders. 

“Perhaps none,” you say. “But the strength they must build is noteworthy. These men train with swords and spears just as much as their poles.”

He hums in response as one of the men clears the bar. He lands the furthest you’ve seen, but his footing is poor. He doesn’t shout, though from his limp as walks away it’s evident the attempt injured him. “Perhaps they should train more on how they land.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, perhaps.”

Together you watch in silence as the event rolls into the next.

“I must admit my surprise at your appearance today, my lady. I had thought you preferred a more subdued look.”

A man runs with a spear in hand. Inches from a line they’d drawn in the grass he throws it. “That is my father’s preference.” The tip embeds itself in the ground yards away. “Is it yours as well?”

He does not answer. He cannot. Paul invades the space between you. “Giedi Prime is a desolate place, my lady. Color and beauty do not survive under their black sun.” He is wrong. Beauty raised under that sun stands beside him. “You would be at place in Caladan. The sunset would envy your beauty.” That has nothing to do with what you had asked.

“I had not realized you were a poet,” Feyd-Rautha taunts and a smile nearly bends your lips.

“How could one not be in the presence of such a divine creature?”

“You are too kind.” You step away from him, wishing he’d have kept his distance. Had his stares not been enough? Would he not get the opportunity to humiliate you once again in a few hours? “If you’ll excuse me.” That’s all you leave them with. You can bear him no longer.

Fandral keeps a better eye on you. You’re barely down a flight of stairs before he is at your side. It’s a silent return to the castle. He has something to say, you see it in the way his mouth twitches every so often as he sits across from you in the vehicle, but he lets you enjoy the peace for a bit longer.

You have no choice in your evening attire. A dress that’s a sister to the ones the other women will wear. Makeup that will be seen from afar. It’s the only thing you don’t mind for the performance.

Despite your early departure, you’re late to the small room off the Great Hall. Fandral doesn’t question the delay. You suspect he knows the reason well enough now. Disapproval colors his cheeks. 

Your tardiness is unnecessary. Paul has not arrived yet. Still, the swordmaster reprimands you for it. You tune it out until you’re free. It’s a small comfort to see the woman with your swords again. She offers encouragement with them before retreating with the others. Enviously you watch. How you wish Irulan were here with you.

Paul arrives only minutes before your set to perform. He doesn’t receive the same scolding you had. He only has time to don his own swords while you and the others begin to file out. A small blessing.

You let your eyes unfocus as you step into the crowded hall. It’s better to not see the faces. Or his. Each pluck of a string and swirl of a skirt brings you closer to the end. As the clang echos when your swords meet for the first time, you think of how easy it would be to stab at his skin. The blade is dull, but with enough speed and force it wouldn’t be of much consequence. He didn’t have his shield.  

The thought ends as the sword once more slips out of your hand. His hand locks around yours and pulls. His chest presses against your back in a mockery of an embrace. Your eyes burn as they come back in focus. Or perhaps it’s the green fire in his as they bore into you from above.

The music wans and the applause rises. You try to escape his arms, but he holds firm. It’s a quick dip of his gaze that signals his intent. Your face moves an inch in time for his lips to brush against your cheek. Whistles echo in the deafening noise.

Feyd-Rautha watches from his seat at the head table. He’s too far to make out his face, but he’s impossible to not recognize. The degradation weighs heavy in your throat. A day ago he’d seen you as a worthy opponent. How must he see you now?

You’re freed from the cage of his arms. You bow with the others but do not stay. You cannot soak in the humiliation a moment longer.

Paul calls for you. You do not stop. Your name bounces off the walls of the corridor as you hope he’ll end his pursuit. But he does not allow such a reprieve. A hand grips your upper arm.

“Let me go,” you hiss, trying to pull free. He does not.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He rounds on you, confusion written in the lines of his face. “I was caught up in the moment. I’m sorry.” He means it. You do not care. “Return with me, please. It’s your celebration.”

“I cannot. I must return to my room.”

“Please. Irulan wishes to see you.”

Disgust sours your tongue. How poorly his father had raised him. “I am sure the princess would prefer you to return to her alone. She has had enough humiliation tonight, I think.”

His hand falls away. “Humiliation?” 

You scoff. “I understand it may be hard for you to understand, but no woman wants to see her future husband kiss another. Especially not in front of so many people.”

The bastard laughs. When he sees the unimpressed look on your face, he asks, “Have I not made my intentions obvious?” He smiles. “The dance is an old engagement tradition on Caladan.” He chuckles, shakes his head, and adds, “Well a condensed version. The old one was much longer.”

Time. That is what you tell him you need. And it is. To reverse it. To retract the knowledge of his impending proposal. To revoke the invitation extended to the Atreides. To undo his very conception. Time is all you need.

He misunderstands your shock for one of pleasure and allows you to return to your room unaccompanied. Fandral waits by the closed door. "Did you know?"

"The young lord mentioned his desire for a marriage yesterday. He asked I not tell you."

"And since when did you serve House Atreides?"

"It is a good match, my lady. You would be safe under his protection."

You push the door open. "You may return to your normal post, Fandral. I require a personal guard no longer."

Sleep comes only briefly. The wake in the dark, the image of an achromatic silhouette contrasted against the warm hues of sunrise embedded in your vision. You dress quickly and slip through the corridors. The sounds of the party still linger. It's too easy to go unnoticed and begin the hour-long hike. Every step springs forward a new emotion. Frustration. Despair. Disgust. Terror. Fury.

Solace as you hear a rock skitter across the path behind you. You continue on without looking back or calling to him. He knows you know. Nothing more needs to be said yet. You reach the same spot you'd picniced days before in that blissful silence. Only when the sky begins to color does he finally speak. "The sunrise on Geidi Prime is not so colorful."

"Like its people."

He grins that wide, black grin. "Yes, like its people."

The sun begins to crest over the horizon when you guide him to the canoe still tied to the end of the dock. He does not question as the oars break through the still surface. Even as the overgrown and greying marble pavilion comes into view. He eases the canoe onto the shore and gives his hand to help you disembark. How wonderful it is to touch him again. How dreadful to let it go again.

“My father had this built for my mother when they married.” You take the steps up the once grand gift. “He was so infatuated with her in the beginning. At least that’s what she told me.” You rest your hands against the railings and stare over the water. The marble is cool and coated with a layer of damp. “And then she gave birth to me.”

His warmth soaks into your back, hands resting on the rails beside yours. “He’d been promised a son.”

“One who would marry the emperor’s first born daughter and one day ascend the throne.”

His breath fans across your ear. “Your father was displeased.”

“He drove my mother to try again and again. But nothing. It drove her into madness. Tied rocks to her feet and walked into the water.” She hadn’t tied them well. They found her floating only a day after she went missing. “All for nothing. My father is the one incapable. All he has and will ever have is me.”

“More than he deserves.”

You turn in the small space he’s left between him and the railing. There is no more than an inch that separates your chests. The warmth of the sun makes you sweat. Or perhaps that is from his closeness. It would be a simple thing. A small tilt of your head, a gentle push forward. Lips pressing together. Your heart skips at the thought. The wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and breaks the trance.

"Paul Atriedes is going to ask for my hand."

"And it displeases you."

"Has he not taken enough? And now he wants to tie me to him for the remainder of my days? To submit to him and birth his own heir? How could that not displease me?"

"Deny him."

"My father will not allow that."

"Perhaps we needn’t worry what your father thinks. He enjoys his drink, yes? It is rather miraculous he has not had an accident yet."

Your smile, bright and wide, reflects on his face. How easy he is to manipulate. You hadn’t needed to suggest anything, the violence embedded in his blood coming to the conclusion on its own. “He does indeed. I fear his luck may not last much longer.”

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[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part nine (chapter 25) previous part • my masterlist

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: none!

Lily

Paige and the team left early yesterday morning for their game at Minnesota today. Travelling for game days, unfortunately, wasn't part of my job so Kayla, Madison, Hannah, Kelsey and I were all lounging on the couch, each tucked under a blanket, excitedly waiting for tip off.

After agreeing to go home with Paige for Thanksgiving, it was decided that I would travel there after classes finished tomorrow and Paige would pick me up from the airport. After Thanksgiving, Paige had to fly directly to the Cayman Islands for a tournament so I'd be flying back to campus alone.

Now the season had started, I had to get used to Paige being away more often, I didn't like it but it was inevitable and it just means that the time we do spend together is even more special.

"Are you all packed for Minnesota, Lils?" Madison asks me from her place at the end of the couch.

"Pretty much, just need to add the last few bits but I'll do that before I leave in the morning." I tell my roommate.

"I can't believe you're going home with your girlfriend for Thanksgiving break! Who would have thought it?" Kelsey says from beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder, "Single Sisters was extremely short lived." She laughs referring to the pact we made when we first met.

"I know! It feels weird but also right at the same time." I say thinking about my relationship with Paige and how it was never my intention to have a girlfriend again so soon but life and love works in mysterious ways and I'm so glad it worked out like this.

The conversation faded out as the game between UConn and Minnesota started and all of our attention was fully focused on the TV as familiar faces in white jerseys moved about the court.

Kayla had kindly offered to drive me to the airport to catch my flight and we had just arrived.

"Thank you for dropping me, K." I say as she pulls into departures parking.

"No worries, have a safe flight and enjoy Minnesota." She smiles her signature smile and I hug her over the console before getting out of the car.

After leaving Kayla, I immediately put my headphones on and shuffle my playlist. Controversially, I really like airports. I would always arrive earlier than necessary to ensure I didn't need to rush. I enjoyed picking out snacks for the journey and most of all, I loved knowing that I could be in my own world, listening to music, staring out of the window for the entirety of the upcoming flight.

After passing through security and buying my favourite snacks, Jolly Ranchers and Gold Fish, I just sat and patiently waited at my gate for boarding to begin.

hi pretty girl

have a safe flight, cant wait to see you

love you

hi p

boarding is just about to start

ive missed you so much

see you soon, i love you

I smiled at the text conversation between Paige and me. I felt extremely grateful for how my life had done a complete one eighty spin from a few months ago. I was happy, I had a beautiful girlfriend who loved me without reservations, I had genuine friends that supported me, I had a job that I adored and I wanted to be alive and stay alive. If I could go back at tell past Lily that, I know for a fact, she'd call bullshit.

The flight was quick, less than three hours and once we were up in the air it felt like we began our descent almost immediately.

I had collected my luggage, it wasn't big as I was only here for a few days, and was making my way through arrivals where Paige said she would be waiting.

"Oh my god." I say under my breath as Paige finally comes into view. She's stood a few feet away from me, looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair is down, tucked behind both ears and from the slight wave in it, I can tell it's been recently washed and left to dry naturally. She's dressed casually, in a grey tracksuit and Air Max 95s but it's the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand that has my jaw on the floor.

It takes a moment for Paige to register that I'm walking towards her but when she does, her face breaks out into a big grin and she takes the few strides needed to close the gap between us.

"Hi babe." I say melting into my girlfriends hug, taking in her scent that I've been deprived of the last few days.

"Hi my pretty girl. How was the flight?" Paige asks with me still in her arms.

"Super quick but I'm tired." I respond. Admittedly I'd not slept well the past few days, sleeping alone, without Paige wasn't something I was used to, so her being gone definitely felt foreign.

"You can sleep in the car. Oh and these are for you, obviously." She says handing me the bunch of flowers. They were a mix of pink and white dahlias with the odd stem of leaves, they were beautiful.

One thing about Paige, she was the best flower giver. She knew the perfect time to get them and every bouquet I've received from her and has been filled with the most pretty flowers.

Paige took my bags and I carried the flowers as I followed her to her car. She opened the passenger door for me before loading my bags into her trunk. I reached into the back seats and carefully placed my flowers down.

"Here." Paige said getting into the driver's seat handing me a blanket. Her blanket. Her favourite blanket that she slept with every night in Connecticut.

"Thank you." I say covering myself over and resting my head on the window. The blanket smelt like Paige and even though she wasn't, it felt like she was hugging me, it was comforting.

One of Paiges hands rests on my leg as the other steered the car as we began driving to her family home. My eyes fluttered shut, feeling safe and content and most of all loved beyond belief.

Paige

Having Lily here in the house I grew up in felt natural as soon as we stepped inside. My heart warmed watching her interact with my family, especially Drew.

They were currently stood side by side at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up to their elbows as they took it in turns pouring in various ingredients and mixing together the cake batter.

I kept my distance and just observed as the two most important people in my life bonded and got to know each other.

"Paigey actually ruined Thanksgiving last year." My little brother tells Lily and she laughs.

"Really? What did she do?"

"She said she was going to make the best cake ever and nobody was allowed to help and I didn't eat any candy all day because she said her cake was so good." Drew reminisced on last year, "And then we tried it and it was actually the worse cake ever! I had to spit it in the trash."

"Hey, it's not my fault I confused the sugar with salt." I interject, poking my brother in the side causing him to giggle and in turn fling his arms up to protect himself,  but as he does a dollop of cake batter flies off the spoon and lands on Lilys face.

Once Drew realises what he's done he quickly apologises to Lily but I can't hold back my laughter.

"It's OK Drew, no harm done." Lily says with a sweet smile but when her eyes flick to me, she's glaring intensely. "Funny, Bueckers?" She asks raising her brows.

"Just a bit, yeah." I say still giggling.

"Oh OK, so you won't mind if I just," she dips her hand into the batter mixture and before I can register what she's about to do, she smears it across my cheek, "do that."

As quick as my giggles stop, Lilys and Drews start and I'm too busy focused on Lily to notice Drew also dipping his hand into the mixture before wiping in down my arm.

"Oh I get it. It's two against one." I say slightly offended my own brother would choose Lily over me but at the same time loving it because them having a good relationship means a whole lot to me.

"Drew, I think we should run." Lily says being able to read my facial expression perfectly and both of them set off running away from me but I grab the full bowl and go after them.

"I'm literally an athlete, I'm going to catch you guys." I say as I follow them.

Drew is running at full speed whilst screaming and dodging pieces of furniture so he doesn't trip and Lily isn't far behind him, also dodging furniture but laughing so much it's slowing her down.

I change my tatic and go back on myself knowing that Drew and Lily will walk or...run into me and I'm right.

"Ha! Got you!" I triumph as Drew unknowingly runs right into my path and I scoop him up with one swift movement and with my hand already covered in cake mix, I swipe it across his face.

"Lily, save me!" Drew shouts in my arms and he kicks and wriggles his body trying to get me to release him.

Lily's by our side seconds later, "Don't worry, I've got you!" She reassures and lunges for the bowl picking up the spoon and flicking it in my direction, sending mixture straight into my face.

"OK that's it!" I say adjusting Drew so he's over my shoulder and I run full speed at Lily.

She lets out a screech but she can't move fast enough so I manage to hook my free arm around her waist, "Now everyone say Paige is the best." I say gripping onto both of them.

"Paige is the best." They both mummble knowing they've been beaten.

"And Paige always wins, she never loses." I try my luck.

"OK, that's pushing it P." Lily says and she manages to wriggle out of my grasp so I place Drew down too.

"Truce?" Lily asks out stretching her hand, "Truce." I reply shaking her hand and then my brothers.

We salvage what's left of the cake batter and pour it into a tin before it goes into the oven to bake.

"OK, go clean yourself up buddy." I say to Drew and point him in the direction of the bathroom before Lily and I start to tidy the kitchen.

"He really likes you, you know?" I say to Lily as she washes dishes at the sink and I wipe down the surfaces.

"I love him." Lily says and my heart bursts, "Being an only child, I feel like I missed out on something. I wish I had siblings to have these moments with."

"You can have these moments with us. My family is your family, Lils." I say going over and standing behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head on her shoulder, "Thank you, P. I love you." She says spinning around so we're face to face.

“I love you." I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, "Although, you're slightly sticky." I say as I pull away.

I pick up a cloth, "Come here." I motion for Lily to come over to the kitchen island, she does and I lift her up onto the counter.

I gently wipe away any left over batter residue on Lilys face and from my place inbetween her legs, I'm taken back to the night in my bathroom after the frat party.

I think about how much Lily and I have been through since then and how much my love for her has grown and I can only hope it continues that way.

"What are you thinking about beautiful?" Lily asks cupping my face with her hands.

"You. Me. Us. How much I love you and want you in my life forever."

"You've got me Paige. In everyway." She says pulling me closer and crashing her lips to mine. My hands instinctively rest on her thighs and slowly make their way up to her waist. I feel her groan into my mouth at my touch so I deepen the kiss, making it needier, sloppier. Lily's legs are around my waist and her hands are in my hair and it's a feeling I want to bottle and save for later because I know my little brother will be back in the room at any moment.

I reluctantly pull away, "Drew will be back any second." I say and right on cue the boy walks back into the kitchen.

He looks at Lily and me and the way we're positioned, Lily still perched on the counter top and me inbetween her legs, hands on her thighs and his head tilts to one side and I know he's about to say something.

"Paigey, are you going to marry Lily and have babies?" He asks full of innocence but Lily and I almost choke.

"We're still really young right now buddy." I try and answer as diplomatically as possible.

"What about when you're bigger, like mom and dad?" He continues to push the topic.

"Well, don't tell anyone," Drew nods rapidly in agreement as I speak, "but if Lily will have me, I'll happily put a ring on it and make her a mommy." I say cheekily squeezing Lilys thigh, earning a shove from her.

"Your sister is one of a kind, you know that Drew?" Lily ask jumping off the counter.

"Uh huh." Drew agrees and I smile as we all make our way into the living room to inevitably watch another cheesy holiday movie.

Lily

Paiges dad and stepmom had filled the table with the most delicious looking and smelling food I'd even seen. Thanksgiving dinner was not like this back home in Boston, in fact if my mom could avoid cooking all together, she would. I spent a lot of Thanksgivings at Emmas house and Christmases too, as a family we weren't very festive but the Bueckers were the complete opposite.

Paige was sat inbetween Drew and me with their parents opposite us, we each had a small glass of wine - Drew excluded and Paiges dad, Bob raised his glass, "It's tradition that we say something we're thankful for before dinner. Lily, as our guest, would you like to start?"

I look to Paige, slightly put on the spot but I don't know why because I know what I'm thankful for. It's easy, I don't even need to think about it. Paige sends me a small smile and a quick nod and I pick up my glass, "I'm thankful for my life right now and everyone in it. A few months ago things were very different and it was hard for me to see an end to that but going to Connecticut, changed everything. It saved my life. I wanted a fresh start and I got that. I'm thankful for all of the beautiful friends I've made, I'm thankful for the opportunities I get everyday to learn and grow and I'm especially thankful to be sat here. I'm thankful for being welcomed in your family and home as if I've always been a part of it. It truly means the world to me."

Under the table, Paiges hand squeezes my thigh in support and she leans over pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"I think that deserves a toast," Paiges stepmom says and everyone raises their glass of wine, even Drew picks up his juice, "to Lilys fresh start. May she continue to grow and blossom."

We all clink our glasses together and I have to fight back tears.

"And let it be known," Bob says, "anyone who makes my daughter as happy as you is always welcome in this family."

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 4: Promises

(gif credit to: huangrenjuns)

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: your time at university is coming to an end, but Haechan isn't going anywhere, and neither is your long-standing crush on him

length: 13,144

tags: voyeurism, exhibitionism, slowburn, friends to lovers, masturbation, general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter  (Coming Soon)

As time passes, your graduation date growing closer and closer, you try to spend more time with your friends. Sure, you’re looking for a job and all that stuff too, hoping to jump right into a career after graduation, but also you’re not ready to let go of all of this just yet – your friends and this somewhat carefree life. 

You take every moment.

You cherish the lunch breaks with your friends, hanging out between classes or after work, going bowling together with some of them on a Saturday night. You take photos and videos, keepsake memories with all of them.

You want to remember it all. To remember way it feels to be surrounded with friends, to laugh with Jaemin and Shotaro in the sunny courtyard outside the sciences building, to eat a gourmet feast Xiaojun made for his culinary cornerstone class.

You enjoy the excitement when you run with Haechan to the cafe in the break during your three-hour lecture to grab a caffeine-punch in a cup — the way he laughs at you as you try not to spill your drink while you jog back to class, the silly way he smiles when you laugh at him for having smudged the pile of whipped cream on top of his drink onto his face. 

You spend plenty of time with all of your friends over those final few weeks after midterms, but surprisingly, you spend quite a bit of time with Renjun too. Despite his awkward departure that night after you messed around during the movie, things were going perfectly smooth. 

It probably helped that neither of you mentioned it for quite a while after that. 

You’ve always been on good terms with Renjun, but over those final weeks of your final semester, you actually become quite close with him in a purely friendly way. You study together, hang out together, grab coffee and lunch and dinner. You talk about stuff, about the impending ominously dark cloud of your futures that looms ahead of you. You talk about many things, yet you both ignore the events of that movie night, not talking about it at all until weeks later. 

On a late Saturday morning, you meet Renjun to grab coffee before you go shopping together. It’s at a little place just a few blocks away from your apartment, and unfortunately, too close to the apartment of a guy you’d attempted to hook up with just a couple weeks ago. 

It’s truly unfortunate when the guy walks in while you’re standing there with Renjun. 

“Oh, shit!” You hiss, tucking yourself into Renjun’s shadow. 

Renjun freezes, barely even moving his mouth when he asks, “What? What’s wrong?”

Quickly you sum up the story for him, whispering it in his ear, and Renjun just smirks and shakes his head. He lets you keep hiding behind him until your drinks are ready, until you’ve snuck out of the shop without being noticed by the guy.

Once you’re outside, Renjun begins laughing. “I guess I should be glad you don’t treat me like that.” 

You take a sip of your drink and look sideways at him. “Honestly, I’m the one who was worried you were going to start avoiding me. After that night.”

Renjun clears his throat, and for about half a block, the two of you walk in silence tinged with awkwardness — the subject hovers right there between you, unable to be avoided now that it’s been mentioned. 

“Look,” Renjun sighs when you reach a crosswalk. Cars whip by, stirring up a breeze. “About that night….”

“Renjun, it’s fine! You don’t —“

“No, listen.” He takes your hand, and you turn to look at him. Renjun clears his throat. “What we did that night, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m kinda seeing someone, and it’s been a tentative thing for a while now.” He doesn’t meet your gaze as he says, “It’s this older guy at the place where I’m interning, so it’s not like we’ve been able to be upfront about it.”

Well, shit. There’s someone else? Did you pressure him into it that night? And, also, on top of that, you didn’t know Renjun was even interested in men. 

As if he can read the look of mild panic on your face, Renjun quickly says, “I’m bisexual, which I’ve never really said out loud before. So it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it. I did. It was a sexy situation, and you were very tempting.”

The light changes, and Renjun starts walking away, his hand still wrapped around yours. He starts talking again as you draw level with him, side by side. “The reason I just walked away that night after everything was finished is because I suddenly remembered him, and like, I’ve got this thing with him, and I really like him. So I thought I’d fucked up, and I panicked a little bit. He and I aren’t exclusive at the moment, but I still didn’t want to mess things up.”

You understand. That night is in the past, though now what little awkwardness about it remained has faded. 

You’re happy that Renjun feels comfortable enough with you to be open and honest with you, as he’d said, he’s never told anyone he’s bisexual before. And you’re just happy for him as he begins telling you about the guy he’s kinda seeing. 

Since you’re the only one of your friends that knows about this secret not-relationship going on, Renjun starts telling you, over the following days and weeks, all about the guy. He shows you pictures of him, tells you cute stories, and he even introduces you to him once when you have to swing by the guy’s apartment to pick Renjun up on your way to class. 

It’s a nice building. Nice enough that it has a doorman who gives you a strange look when you pull up to the curb and sit there waiting. You sit there, idling for a moment, and that’s when Renjun emerges. 

The guy walking beside him is wearing a cozy looking sweatshirt, a pair of basketball shorts, sandals, a backwards cap, and sunglasses. He doesn’t look like the supremely wealthy man you would typically imagine living here, nor does he totally match with the professional shots Renjun has shown you from their company’s website or his own social media. 

To your total surprise, as Renjun opens the door and slides into the passenger seat of your car, he rolls down the window and waves his not-boyfriend over. The man leans at the window with his arms folded on the edge of the car door, grinning in at Renjun before he looks over at you. 

“Hi,” he greets you. “I’m Jaehyun.”

He extends a hand, and you take it. He has a firm businessman grip, a strong handshake, a contrastingly cherubic smile. He’s tall and handsome, built like the type of man you’d see in a magazine. 

“Nice to meet you,” he tells you as he withdraws from the car a moment later. And to Renjun, he says, “I’ll see you later at the office.”

Renjun smiles and nods, his eyes softening when he looks at Jaehyun. “See you later, hyung.”

As soon as Renjun has rolled the window up, as soon as you’re pulling away, you exclaim, “I can see why you’ve been keeping him all to yourself. He’s even hotter in person, Renjun.”

To that, he just laughs. “I want to show him off. But we can’t go public since I’m an intern and he’s technically my boss right now. He’s, uh, a little bit like you. Doesn’t mind getting a little handsy in public.”

You blush as you drive. 

Renjun doesn’t even know half of it. You haven’t told him everything about the interests you’ve taken. All he knows is the way you’d not shied away from his wandering hands during the movie night, how you’d reciprocated without hesitation. 

He doesn’t know that lately you’ve been venturing out to explore your exhibitionist hungers somewhat regularly too. But you feel a little too wary about doing anything by yourself completely in public, fearing the negative consequences of getting caught, so you mostly just keep it in your car. Masturbating in your car in the parking lot on campus or while you’re driving. But there’s a missing thrill when you do that because there’s no one to really see you, which is a little contradictory to why you won’t do it properly out in public. 

Luckily, Renjun changes the subject, steering things away from your sex life or his. And for the most part, you don’t talk about it again until a few days later. 

The end of the semester is rapidly approaching, days filled with studying for finals, working on final projects, spending every waking moment working towards the finale of your time in school. That’s when the subject of Jaehyun finally comes up again. You’d just asked how things were going, Renjun had answered simply, and after a few moments of silence, he spoke up again. 

“I told Jae that I hooked up with you once,” Renjun admits.  

You’re sitting together on the floor of his bedroom, studying for different classes, but you decided to do it together. Haechan and Jaemin had been here earlier too, but Jaemin left for the gym with Jeno, and Haechan had finally left because he had to go to work at the restaurant. So now it’s just the two of you. 

You look over at him. 

“Jae said he thinks we must’ve looked good together, and I told him that no one was watching so I wouldn’t know how good we looked together. That we really just swapped a handjob and me fingering you beneath the blankets, so it wasn’t much to look at.” Renjun taps the end of his pen against his notebook, and he’s studying you, looking along the length of you stretched out on your belly on his floor. “He said he still would’ve loved to have seen.”

Yeah, well, you’d like to see him and Jaehyun together too. Renjun is so pretty and Jaehyun is so handsome. You’ve seen his hard muscles in some of the photos Renjun has shown you, plus the day that you picked Renjun up, Jaehyun was wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed off arms so beautiful they could have been marble sculpted by an old-world artist. Renjun has shared a few details about their sex life, enough that  you’re intrigued. You’re sure he and Jaehyun make a pretty picture too. 

Renjun looks away from you, staring down at his pen tapping on the page. His cheeks are a little pink when he says, “He’s given me permission to have sex with you again, if you’re down for it. But he wants to see. If it happens, he wants me to film it.”

A bolt of heat shoots down to your core, spreading fast through you as you sit up to properly look Renjun in the eye. “Are you serious?”

Renjun nods, nervously avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. It’s weird, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about it, but you were into the like exhibitionism of that night, so I thought maybe you could be into this too? But, I get it’s weird so if it’s too weird or if you just don’t want to do it at all, I understand and we can forget all about this.”

But you do want it. It’s exactly what you’ve kinda been wanting. To have someone watch without the risk of it becoming a problem. And you like Renjun; it’s not like the thought of doing anything more sexual with him hadn’t crossed your mind since that first time. 

“Ok. Can I make one request?” You ask, already closing your textbook and pushing your notes away. 

Renjun nods. 

“Can we do it in my car?”

So the next day, you and Renjun are in your car. You’re parked in the back of a parking lot on campus, far away from anyone else, facing a border of trees. Renjun, while he’d agreed to the car thing, didn’t actually want anyone to be able to see, so you’d drawn up this happy medium. 

He props his phone up on your dashboard, and you climb into his lap. The day is warm enough that without the AC on in the car, you’re already sweating, especially when your bare thighs rest against Renjun’s. He’s shimmied his shorts down to his ankles, sitting in the passenger seat of your car in just his underwear. 

“We do look good,” Renjun comments as he looks over and readjusts the angle of the phone. 

You pull the sundress you’re wearing over your head, dropping it back into the driver’s seat. Now you sit nude on Renjun’s lap, sunlight pouring in through the windows over your skin. You put your fingertips just beneath Renjun’s chin, tipping his face up until his gaze meets yours. “Let’s show ourselves off to your man.”

He touches you, running his hands over your thighs, hips, your belly, your chest. You didn’t discuss it beforehand, but Renjun curls his hand against the back of your neck and brings you in for a kiss. His mouth is soft, his breath sweet. Renjun is gentle with you as you both get to know each other a little better, as he softens you up and as he slips his hand down to open you up with his fingers. You don’t hold yourself back, not in the sounds you make or the way you grind onto his fingers. You don’t care that the windows are cracked to allow in a breeze, that your moans might carry across the parking lot. 

After a few minutes, Renjun loses the stiffness brought on by uncertainty. He loses a bit of that softness when he grabs both of your hips and drags you a little higher in his lap. He lifts a hand to your throat, holding on as he brings his lips to your ear and tells you, “Want you to ride my cock like a good slut. Yeah?”

A swift smack to your ass with one hand gets you moving. 

You push at Renjun’s shoulders, pinning him back into the seat. “Why don’t you just sit back and enjoy, huh?”

Renjun does just that, relaxing back into the seat. He slides the hand down from your throat, to your shoulder, down your arm. His fingertips trace the rounded curve of your breast, down your side, over your hip and your thigh, down to your knee where it bends beside his hip. 

You squeal with surprise when suddenly the seat moves, falling nearly horizontal. 

Renjun laughs, lifting his hand from where it had fallen to the lever beside the seat, the one he’d used to make the sudden move. “Now,” Renjun says, “Now, ride me, beautiful.”

So you do exactly that. 

You fuck Renjun, riding him on that small seat in your car, both of you baking under the heat until sweat pools in all the small places, until your skin sticks to his disgustingly. Your car rocks as you ride him, and the phone filming all of this slips from its perch on the dashboard a few times until Renjun finally picks it up and holds it himself, focusing it where he disappears inside you, aiming it at your tits when he puts a hand on one, speaking to you, and capturing your moans and wordless replies. He films every part of you but your face, which had been another request of yours. 

Renjun pushes you off his cock just seconds before his orgasm mounts, and he releases across his belly, gasping and groaning. 

“Don’t move,” he groans as you begin to climb off him into the driver’s seat again. “You didn’t finish. Let me.”

It takes some careful rearrangement, but after a moment you’re the one reclining in the seat. Renjun has pushed the seat as far back from the dashboard as allowed, and he’s carefully squeezed himself down onto the floor, kneeling there with your legs draped over his shoulders as he dips in to lick you out. 

It’s great. It’s fun. 

You’re leaned far enough back that you can’t see the rest of the parking lot beyond the windows, only the sky above. But you can still hear, and you hear as a few people pass nearby the car, as Renjun does a certain thing that makes you let out a completely inappropriate sound. You hear the conversation of those outside pause, but you don’t even mind, in fact it perhaps excites you even more as Renjun carries you straight over the edge of your orgasm. 

That time is not the only time. Apparently Jaehyun likes seeing you and Renjun together. 

Jaehyun never wants to physically be present to witness it, just wants to see videos and pictures, and once he does call so he can listen and direct Renjun from a distance. 

It’s just sex. Great sex. Fun sex, sometimes in public but sometimes in Renjun’s room at the rental house. 

You keep it secret between you two. No one needs to know about the confusing nature of whatever is happening between you. They don’t have to know that while you’re all over hanging out at the rented house that you’re wondering about the likelihood of dragging Renjun into the laundry room for a quickie, or you’re wishing that you could just be riding him on the swing on the back porch with each of you wearing an AirPod with Jaehyun connected through a phone call like you’ve done before. None of them have to know at all, not that they’d notice. 

No, instead they’re all typically busy focusing on games or whatever movie or drama someone puts on. Or, such as on this particular night, a karaoke machine. 

Jaemin brought one home from the rec center on campus because it was outdated and they were going to trash it. So he’s brought it home for some fun tonight, and pretty much everyone has been having fun with it, and paying no attention to anything else, fully distracted. Even Renjun who keeps missing the way you’re trying to catch his eye. 

Your mind has been preoccupied with those thoughts about being bent over the washing machine in the laundry room, but it’s clear as you fail to catch Renjun’s eye for the fifth time tonight that it’s not going to happen. 

So you decide to give in to just having regular non-sexual fun tonight. To just enjoy the company of your friends, to pick up the mic and sing karaoke along with the rest. You’ll do anything for the prize of the cheap ass gold trophy one of the guys bought as a joke during your freshman year, the one that gets passed around any time there’s a contest. 

Haechan, tragically, is just getting over a cold and his voice is still a bit hoarse, so he’s had to sit out on the karaoke fun. He’d pouted for a while earlier when Jaemin brought the machine out, but once Mark had suggested that Haechan be the karaoke maestro for the evening, his mood improved. 

Therefore, Haechan is the one holding the control for the karaoke machine when you jump to your feet, ready for your chance. He grins at you, and you get this silly, starry-eyed feeling, bunnies jumping around in your belly. You pinch the inside of your elbow, trying to chase the thoughts away. You need to get over your crush on him. It’s been long enough. 

“What’ll it be? Anything in particular?” Haechan rasps, lifting his eyebrows as he scrolls through the selection. “Or dealer’s choice?”

“Don’t do it,” Chenle warns from where he’s sunken into a beanbag chair, arms folded and his eyebrows set in a deep frown. Just moments ago he failed disastrously after the song Haechan had chosen for him proved to be surprisingly too difficult. 

Haechan blinks up at you, fluttering his eyelashes with a sweet smile, the face of innocence.  

“Yeah, absolutely not,” you laugh. “I know what I want. ‘You In My Arms’ by Yoo Jae Ha, please, Haechan.”

It’s a slow ballad song, but it’s one you like. You’d heard it once and immediately fallen in love with the old song. It’s certainly the oldest choice of all the songs that have been sung so far tonight. 

“That one?” Haechan asks, a tone of surprise weaving through the scratch of his voice. 

“Yes.” You straighten up, turning to face the screen fully, trying to put Haechan out of your line of sight. 

You put your heart and soul into the performance. A few of the others sing along in the background, and even if you’re not the best singer in the room, you’re not the worst. You sink down into your spot on the floor, pretty pleased with yourself honestly, although Xiaojun ends the night in possession of the trophy, vowing that he’ll take good care of it. 

It’s only when someone points out that he might be the one to end up with possession of the trophy permanently with graduation coming up that the mood of the night sours. The end of the semester is quickly approaching, and many of you are graduating, and things will be different. There won’t be nights of congregating in the rented house just off campus, no more pointless competitions for the sake of the trophy. 

It’s coming to an end. 

Someone has the idea, on that bittersweet note, for all of you to take a group picture together because for the first time in forever, your entire close-knit group is all in attendance. And it would be nice to have a group photo to remember everyone by. 

“God damn, we’re not dying,” Haechan says. The words are rough, grating out of his throat and grating along sensitive nerves among the group. One of the girls starts crying, dragging everyone she can reach together into a half-hug, half-pose for the photo. 

Renjun sets his phone up, sets a timer, and everyone clusters together. Shoulders, knees, elbows knock as everyone scrambles to fit into the frame. Someone steps on someone else’s hand. There’s an elbow digging into someone’s thigh. A hand brushes your back, slipping over your shoulder as they lean on you a bit. 

The unexpected weight throws you off balance, and you almost fall forward until the hand on your shoulder drops to your waist, holding you steady, holding you up. 

“Smile everyone!” Someone says. 

The camera flashes bright. You hear the snap of the iPhone’s camera. 

The group disintegrates, people moving immediately. The hand on your waist falls away. 

You turn around to see who it was. 

Renjun smiles brightly right there. Mark is there too, laughing and swatting Renjun and Haechan on the shoulders. Haechan smiles too, silently laughing along with Mark. None of the three of them look at you. 

Renjun promises he’ll send the picture out to everyone, but then someone breaks out a couple bottles of wine. Glasses are poured, toasts are made, memories remembered. The night passes, tasting bittersweet on everyone’s tongues. 

“Let’s take a trip,” someone suggests before the night ends. “Let’s all go away somewhere after graduation. One last trip with all of us!”

Haechan is the one to suggest, “We could go overseas to somewhere warm with a beach and get drunk to celebrate.” He’d looked around at your friends, a light glimmering in his eyes, a touch of his insatiable voyeuristic hunger residing in that look. “How about Thailand?”

No official plans are set in stone that night. There’s been too much drinking already, people get sucked back into the lure of the karaoke machine, and others start to head home. You should go home too. Tomorrow you have an interview for a job that starts after graduation. You need to get some rest. 

But Haechan offers you another turn on the karaoke machine, any song, your choice. You can turn that down. As you slide down onto the sofa beside him, your shoulder brushes his, fingers sliding against the back of his hand while you use the controller to select the song you want. 

And maybe it’s your imagination, just wishful thinking brought on by your crush, but you think he leans into you, that he sighs a little when you touch his hand. 

Regardless of the truth of your experience, you cradle the warm feeling brought on by Haechan’s potential reaction, carrying it with you all the way home later that night.

It is a total relief, a weight lifted off of your shoulders, to be walking out into a beautiful, sunny, temperate day knowing that you have just received a job offer from the company you wanted to work at. 

The Moon Corporation is a business created by an alumni of your school, Moon Taeil. He’s hired many people who’ve also attended your school, so you felt like your odds at getting hired were pretty good. Especially since you’ve been there at the top of pretty much every class, top grades and performance. 

So today, after your interview, you walk out of the building with a nice job offer that you’re absolutely going to accept. 

“Well, how did it go?” A voice from behind you. A burst of cool air as the doors of the building are opened again. 

You turn around.

Haechan saunters forward, hands tucked in the pockets of his tailored black pants. His shirt is tucked in and crisp. His hair is styled instead of the fluffy mess it had been just last night during all the karaoke-ing. He’s wearing glasses again and an open smile. 

You forgot that he was here too. You’d seen him sitting there waiting when you were called in for your interview, but in all the excitement of how well the interview had gone and then receiving the offer, you’d miraculously forgotten about Haechan. That has rarely ever happened when he’s in your vicinity. 

“I got the job!” You lift your hands to your face, cool palms against your warm cheeks. You’re still surprised and elated, your face flushed with happiness. “What about you?”

The Moon Corporation was hiring multiple positions as the company was looking to finally expand a bit more. 

Haechan grins, and as he comes up beside you, he throws his arm over your shoulders. “I got it too, of course. You already know I could charm my way into anything.” He says it smugly and teasingly, offering you a wink that makes your heart beat a little faster. 

You push him away a little, half heartedly because you don’t actually want him to pull his arm away from your shoulders. Luckily he leaves it there as you start walking towards where you’ve parked your car. You ask, “So I’m stuck with you even after graduation?”

“Oh, dear,” Haechan laughs, “Yeah, I think we might be stuck with each other for a long time. It’s a good thing you enjoy my company.”

His arm slides away from your shoulders and he steps away, but you find yourself drifting closer to his side. “We’ve got to have each other’s backs, got it?” You tell him. “We’re in this together. Friends and coworkers, teammates.” 

Haechan nods seriously, holding his hand out to you, pinky finger extended. “I promise.”

You loop your pinky finger with his, holding his gaze as you make this pinky promise. An unbreakable vow. “I promise.”

The day of graduation comes too quickly. Final exams pass in a series of successes, final projects are submitted without a hitch. Your contract with the Moon Corporation is signed and submitted, and your orientation is scheduled to begin in two weeks.

But first, before all of that, before the entirety of the rest of your life stretches out before you, there’s the trip to Thailand planned with your friends. Before life, first there is the promise of fun and relaxation, adventure and alcohol as you all fly to Thailand, and cram a dozen of you into one house for a week. 

Everyone comes, which is kind of hectic to plan and organize, especially when some of your friends don’t even jump onto the trip until rather last minute. 

You don’t know if it’s the heat or something else, but something about those days spent in Thailand has everyone horny. 

In between the adventures — trips to historic and religious sites, a trip to a busy market in the city, a few hikes — and just simply relaxing on the beach, it seems that everyone is sneaking around and having sex. 

You hear sounds from the rooms the others are in. Echoing moans from the bathroom. You know the outdoor shower certainly gets more use than just for showering – you catch Jaemin walking in there once and moments later soft moans echoed out. You were pretty certain you spotted YangYang getting handsy on the beach with a European tourist he met at one of the bars in town. 

You are no exception. The heat just gets under your skin and drives you wild as you lounge on a float in the pool, watching Haechan swim laps, watching Renjun wrestling YangYang in the shallows. You watch both of them closely for the first day, unable to pull your gaze away from Haechan because he’s the object of your list and affection, but Renjun as well. Because you know that if you approach him, it’ll be so easy. 

It only takes a few hours for you to snap, to drag Renjun away from your friends and tell him that you need to get off. That leads to the pair of you sneaking around the house and on the beach, having sex at every opportunity over the next few days. You also use that outdoor shower for non-showering activities. 

You try to get it all out of your system, just wanting to not feel horny. All you want is to enjoy a day trip to a beautiful ancient temple, but your mind can only focus on Haechan standing beside you in a loose white tank top that doesn’t hide the way the muscles in his arms flex. And since when does he have toned arms? Has he been working out? You can only watch his hands as he gently brushes his fingers over objects in the market. You can only stare as his swim trunks rise up around his thighs when he sits down across from you under the pergola behind the house you’re all staying at, his hand fisted around a water bottle held between his thighs — your mind immediately turns to filthy thoughts of his hand around his cock, his golden thighs on display and his head thrown back with a moan instead of just laughter at a joke that Jeno is telling. 

That night you drag Renjun out to the beach when no one is paying attention, and you beg him to please let you do whatever you want with him to just get these urges out of your system. He lets you, and he doesn’t have to know that when your eyes are closed it’s because you’re thinking of Haechan. Although, to be fair, when you’re kneeling in the sand, sucking his cock with his fingers threaded through your hair, he could just as easily be imagining you as Jaehyun as you’re imagining he’s Haechan. 

That night is certainly not the only time that week. 

You know that you and Renjun aren’t alone in all of this horniness. Everyone is getting action either from among your friend group or from locals or other tourists in the area. 

Everyone except Haechan.

You try not to notice, but obviously you can’t help it. Everyone pairs off, even if they’re swapping pairs like YangYang keeps doing when he trades out the tourist for a local girl and that local girl for Giselle in your friend group, and then Giselle for another tourist. 

But Haechan is always alone, though he seems entertained by everything going on around him even if he’s not directly involved in any action.

On your final night in Thailand, several of the guys decide to cook for everyone. Xiaojun has just graduated with a culinary degree, Haechan just enjoys cooking, and after a recent trip abroad Chenle is now possibly considering switching his major to culinary arts. The three of them prepare dinner for everyone, serving it out by the pool with many drinks to be had by everyone. The drinking lasts a lot longer than the food, going until late in the night when drunken toasts are being shouted out left and right to celebrate everything from the big victories and accomplishments to the small and ridiculous things. 

“To those of us who’ve already got jobs lined up!” Renjun cheers, lifting his glass.

Several of the others glare, but you lift your glass to tap it against his. Haechan too, both of you with your office jobs lined up with the Moon Corporation. Haechan’s knuckles bump against the back of your hand as he joins you in the toast, and you glance his way. 

Haechan isn’t truly paying any attention to you, but rather he’s looking at Renjun.

Haechan’s eyes flash as he says, “I still don’t get how you got a full-time position with full benefits, Renjun. Getting promoted from an unpaid intern to having full benefits and everything at your company. You skipped right over being a part-timer. Sheesh,” Haechan whistles, knocks his drink back like it’s a shot, and then asks, “Whose cock did you have to suck for that?”

It’s just a phrase, but still, it holds a little ring of truth to Renjun’s situation. 

Renjun sits his glass down heavily onto the table. 

Not that Haechan could possibly know it, but that’s something Renjun has expressed concern to you about. That it’s Jaehyun that got Renjun his position. You know it can’t be true; Renjun deserves the job he’s got, and maybe Jaehyun helped fast-track the promotion, but Renjun certainly would have gotten himself there all on his own. 

You know that there’s no way that Haechan could know about that. None of your friends probably do. Most of them don’t even know that Renjun is bisexual. 

Renjun doesn’t take another drink from his glass or say another word. He simply leaves the table.

“Damn,” Haechan whistles, “I think I touched a nerve.” And then he looks at you, a smile beginning to form, and then he opens his mouth, ready to say something to you, too.

“Don’t even dare to suggest that I did something like sleeping my way into our company, Lee Donghyuck,” you warn him off before he can say anything like that.

He just smirks. “The full government name? What did I do wrong?” He steals Renjun’s abandoned drink and tosses it back without flinching. “And besides, angel, you know I don’t think you could do anything as naughty as fucking your way into a job. You’re too much of a good girl for that.”

Heat flares beneath your skin due both to anger – why is he so determined to think that you are the perfect picture of innocence? – and arousal in hearing him call you a good girl. The way that his voice curls around the words, softening them, turning them into a praise rather than just a tease. You cross your legs beneath the table. 

“I wouldn’t accuse you of something like that. I’m not dumb enough to piss you off when we’re about to be working together. And I know you’ve worked hard. You’re brilliant.” Haechan drapes his arm over the back of your seat, and it takes a lot of your willpower to not lean into his gravity. He smells like summer with a little hint of the spices he’d used to prepare dinner. It’s so tempting to lean in, to breathe the smell of him in, to have your nose tracing the path of moles on his throat, to let your tongue take over and taste his sweat….

Just like Renjun, you leave the table without another word. But yours is less to do with being upset, and everything to do with the way that you’re about to throw yourself at him. 

Haechan just laughs, and when you take a last glance over your shoulder at him, he’s already turned to a conversation with Shotaro.

You find Renjun upstairs in the group bedroom, or the overflow room where a variety of people who there weren’t enough bedrooms for had been sleeping all week. He’s sitting at the far end of the room on the pallet of blankets that you and he had claimed the first night. He’s on the phone, talking quietly with someone you can only assume is Jaehyun. 

Renjun only glances at you as you walk around to sit down on your blankets. You can make out the low timbre of Jaehyun’s voice on the other end of the line, and you quickly determine that Haechan’s little jab at Renjun had certainly touched a nerve as he’s now seeking reassurance from Jaehyun that he didn’t earn his job just because of the relationship that they have.

You find the answer when Renjun spits out, “What the fuck, Jaehyun?” 

He promptly ends the call, tossing his phone over into his suitcase. He cries, frustrated, angry, sad. And you sit up there with him and comfort him for a good long while until his irritation with Jaehyun — who had in fact fast-tracked Renjun’s promotion from intern to full-time employee — shifts back to being his irritation with Haechan. 

“Haechan can be such an asshole sometimes!” Renjun complains. “You know the other day when I left my phone down by the pool? I saw him looking through it before he returned it to me, like what a nosy asshole.”

“And what do you think he was looking at in your phone?” You rest your cheek on your hand, tilting your head to look at Renjun. 

Renjun shrugs. “My photos app is full of nudes and videos, so he probably saw some of that. That’s probably why he thinks I fucked my way out of being an intern.” He shakes his head. 

“I’m pretty sure he was about to make some comment about me too,” you say, “But I stopped him before he could.”

Renjun sits up quickly, staring down at you. “Are you fucking kidding? What the hell is his problem tonight? Accusing both you and I of sleeping our way into our jobs?” He scoffs and looks like he’s about to get up, to go hunt Haechan down. 

You take his hand, tugging to get him to stay down there on the floor with you. “He never actually said anything implying that I’m a slut. Actually, on the contrary, he told me again that he thinks I’m too innocent to do anything like that.” You roll your eyes a little bit. “I’m halfway convinced Haechan still thinks I’m a blushing virgin.”

“If he only knew.” Renjun slumps back down beside you. “I’ve never met anyone else who wanted to have sex in public as much as you.  No one else who would eagerly agree to fuck on video just so I can send it to my… my boyfriend?” His eyebrows furrow. “I don’t know if that’s what Jaehyun is or not. We haven’t called it anything officially. But if that’s not what we are, why would he give me such a good position at work? Like, he obviously wants me around, right? Fuck, Haechan has me questioning everything now. And I had to put a passcode on my phone because of him.”

You smile at him softly. “You probably should’ve done that a while ago if you have so much sensitive stuff in your phone.”

Renjun makes a face, but you know that he knows that you’re right. He sighs, “I’m just ready to go home. I’m tired of being crammed in this house with so many people, most of all him. He’s just right there beneath my skin, you know?”

You do and you don’t. As much as Haechan irritates you sometimes, you also can absolutely not deny that you still like Haechan. Quite a lot. And Renjun mentioning Haechan potentially looking through the camera roll doesn’t help the problem you were trying to escape from by coming up here. A low heat simmers in your belly as you think about gross voyeur Haechan scrolling through Renjun’s phone. 

“I’m getting my own place when we get home. With my salary, I’ll be able to afford a decent place.” Renjun stares up at the ceiling, his gaze distant, his thoughts probably miles away from where yours are. “Our lease on the house is up at the end of the month, and most of the rest of them already have their next place lined up. I was hesitating, hoping Jae would ask me to move in with him. Maybe I’ll see if Xiaojun still wants a roommate. But he lives next door to YangYang and Haechan. Do I really want to deal with them?”

As if YangYang isn’t Renjun’s best friend other than you? You know he would love to have him as a next door neighbor. Haechan too. Even though he’s on Renjun’s nerves right now, they generally do get along quite well. 

It’s already late, and when someone stumbles into the room a few minutes later, crashing and stumbling down onto the blankets at the other end of the room, your conversation with Renjun tapers off. It’s late, your flight back home is in the morning, and even if the others want to drink until you all leave for the airport, you’re going to sleep. 

Renjun follows your lead, getting undressed to fall asleep in the humidity of the room. 

You doze off, sleeping lightly. 

You hear every creak and groan of the house, each footstep climbing the stairs. Every flush of the toilet. The quiet conversations as people say goodnight and close themselves into their rooms. You hear a distant moaning and thumping of a headboard against a wall. You hear the room fill around you, snores and breathing and the ever-increasing heat as more of your friends pack into the room. 

The ceiling fan overhead doesn’t seem to do much at all, and even when you get up to crack the window in the hope of tempting in a breeze, it only helps slightly. But when you lie back down, you do manage to drop right back into sleep. You fall all the way down to a place where you can dream. 

And you do dream.

A sweet summer fantasy of relaxing on the sand of the beach just outside this house, entirely nude beneath the sun. There’s a soft pair of lips and a set of rough hands, a clever tongue flicking against your clit, quick fingers pressing inside you. Even in your dream you know it’s wrong to be doing this out in the open, but you love it so much, knowing that anyone could see how your partner is making you feel. 

You lift your head and look down your bare body to the head of the person settled between your legs. All you can see is his hair — dark and fluffy, curling in the humidity. And then he moves, tilting his head in just a way that you can at last see his eyes. 

“Haechan,” you sigh.

Your eyes open, heart pounding in the quiet of that room. The humid air clings to your skin even though all you’re wearing is your panties and a tshirt. You’ve already kicked your blanket off in your sleep, so what little air is circulating in the room moves over your bare skin, but it does very little to help anything, especially with the heat of a different sort simmering beneath your surface. 

And of course, nothing is helped by what you see as soon as you’ve opened your eyes. 

The man in your dreams is right in front of you. 

Haechan is stretched out on his back right beside you. And he’s awake, his gaze fixed first on your ass only to slowly trail back up to your face. 

And that’s when you realize that you’d spoken his name aloud. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, making some excuse about how YangYang had locked him out. 

You don’t care about what he’s saying. All you can think about is how you’d just been having a very nice dream about him, and now here he is. What are the odds? 

Haechan moves a little, and you realize that you can smell him — all sunscreen and spice, and much like earlier in the night, you have to fight that urge to smell him. It would be so easy right now to just roll closer to him, to snuggle into that spot between his shoulder and his neck, to excuse it in the morning as not having been fully awake. Maybe you’d been able to smell him in your sleep, and that’s why he’d taken up that role in your fantasy. 

Haechan finishes his excuse, and you just close your eyes again, and tell him, “Don't care. Just stop staring at my ass. I’m trying to sleep.” You hide your face in your pillow, hoping that he couldn’t tell that you were flushed in the face, hoping he won’t notice that you don’t fall back asleep because your heart is pounding and your body is craving to be touched. 

He doesn’t say another word, but after a moment of silence, he does suddenly fling his blanket off only for it to land over your feet. Even that much is too warm, plus it stirs up the scent of him that just riles you up even more. You feel like an animal, getting so turned on just by a smell, so you back away, scooting back towards Renjun to try to get a little distance from Haechan. You turn onto your side instead of the less comfortable position of lying on your belly, and as you do so, you accidentally bump into Renjun. 

He jolts, startled awake by the contact. You can tell he’s awake because he wraps an arm around your waist, he presses up against your back. He drops a kiss to the sensitive spot right behind your ear that’s exposed at this angle. 

You shiver against him, and without either of you acknowledging it, Renjun starts moving. 

You’ve mentioned this before, this idea of being touched in the room with all of your friends. A scenario similar to the first sexual encounter between you and Renjun. Even earlier this week, you’d mentioned something quite similar to this about messing around with each other in this room while your friends slept around you. 

You think that’s what Renjun is playing off of right now as he slides the hand resting on your waist down along the band of your panties. 

In front of you, Haechan’s face has relaxed, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep that quickly. Maybe the heat, instead of suffocating him, has lulled him into a comforting sleep. Part of you wishes it had worked that easily for you. 

You slowly slide down to lie on your back as Renjun moves too, lifting himself up on his side to look down at you. His fingers graze your clit, dipping a little lower and finding you already soaking wet with arousal, and an involuntary noise leaves your lips. Renjun grins, lifting his free hand up to his lips, signaling that you need to keep quiet, but with the other hand, he keeps touching you. Slowly he circles his fingers on your clit. You want more, need more, crave to be touched everywhere. 

And somewhere at the other end of the room, someone coughs in their sleep. 

Renjun freezes. 

He’d better not stop. He can’t stop. You’re too worked up at this point to not be allowed to cum, even if that means that you wake every single person in this room. 

But the room settles into quiet again, and Renjun’s fingers move on your clit again. A sigh spills from your lips. 

You bring your own hands up to your chest, slowly moving your hands up over your shirt which is already ridden up over your ribs, and you try to keep it covering your tits just a little to preserve a tiny bit of your modesty. Your nipples are hard, and you pinch them between your fingers, massaging your tits just the way you like as Renjun keeps touching you. And you know there are involuntary little sounds that keep escaping you, but they’re so quiet there’s no way that they’re loud enough for anyone else other than you and Renjun to really hear. 

Until Renjun decides to touch you deeper. His fingers dip down to your entrance, sliding inside you in a way that makes your breath catch, makes your legs fall apart to allow him better access. 

This time, Renjun clears his throat, just a small coughing sound, but it’s enough to draw your attention up to his face. He flicks his gaze over toward your other side. 

Your knee is touching Haechan’s leg. Renjun looks at it, looks back at you. But you don’t care, you just want Renjun to keep touching you. You shrug a little, and that’s enough for Renjun. 

As his fingers stroke your inner walls, your control really starts to slip. Whimpers, sighs, all these little noises that are going to get you caught. Which, really, is that the worst thing that could happen?

For Renjun, the answer might be yes. 

He covers your mouth with the hand that’s not busy at work between your thighs. You can’t help making sounds, you feel so good, and you’re really enjoying this situation and the possibilities. It’s your ideal exhibitionist scenario playing out in real time. 

Renjun holds your gaze, a silent command in his eyes for you to be a little more quiet. 

But then his fingers press right against that certain spot inside you, and this time you whimper his name, the sound muffled against the palm of his hand. 

A moment passes in which Renjun stops touching you, and then his hand moves as if he’s going to pull his hand away. Immediately you reach down, closing your hand around his wrist, keeping his fingers inside your panties. His threat is clear in that alone, but still Renjun whispers, “Quiet, beautiful.”

“Renjun, please,” you beg, trying your best to keep your voice quiet too. You move, rolling your hips up, trying to get Renjun to resume touching you. He looks into your eyes and you tell him, “Someone is going to hear.” And by that you mean: someone is going to hear, it’s inevitable, but you don’t care. He knows you get off on stuff like this, so why is he suddenly wanting you to be quiet and sneaky about it?

“Then be quiet. You said you wanted this,” his fingers stroke slowly over your clit. “Do you still? Or should I actually stop?”

His threat is clear. His rules are plain. 

Either you keep quiet while he fingers you in this room full of your friends, or he’s going to stop and leave you horny. He won’t finish giving you what you want. He doesn’t mind the threat of being discovered, but he doesn’t actually want to be discovered. The noisier you get, the higher the likelihood of you actually being caught. 

He slides a finger back down to your entrance, pressing it deep into your tight heat. It’s a test to see if you’ll keep quiet. 

Your thighs close, and you roll towards Renjun, rolling your hips to get him to move, hoping he’ll fuck you on his fingers until you’ve made a mess of your panties. He gives you a little, but he’s still holding back, so you clutch at his shirt, press your forehead to his chest, and you plead, “Keep going.”

Fuck.

You wish you were alone with him right now, and that alone is a rare enough feeling to be fucking around with Renjun and wishing that you were entirely alone and in private. You wish that he could properly fuck you right now and that you didn’t have to be quiet. You’re just desperate for it, and you can’t get what you really want here in this room of all of your friends. But this is something that you want too. It’s hot to be getting touched like this right now. 

Renjun just smiles and caresses your jaw, your throat, and he touches his fingers lightly just beneath your chin until your tip your head back just enough that it only takes a slight tilt of his face downward to kiss you. You moan softly from the smooth way he kisses you and the way that he finally really starts moving his fingers, fucking you with them.

You slide your legs apart, wanting him to get deeper, to touch you everywhere. You roll your body forward, riding his fingers as well as you can, and you can’t help the sounds you’re making. You know you’re being louder than you probably should, even though you’re actually being quite quiet as compared to normal. You can hear the rasp of the blankets beneath you as you’re moving your hips to meet each thrust of Renjun’s fingers. You can hear your wetness lubricating the way for Renjun, and it only serves to turn you on even more. Knowing that these noises are happening regardless of your attempts to muffle your moans and whimpers (unsuccessfully).

Renjun has three fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing circles at your clit. Your heart is beating everywhere all at once – in your throat, pounding in your chest, pulsing in your pussy, fluttering in your belly. You can feel it in your toes as they curl in the building heat tickling through your veins. Your hands clutch at Renjun’s shirt, and he smiles when he bends his fingers just-so, his thumb working tight circles against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You gasp and whimper as you cum. You bite at Renjun’s shoulder, pulling him closer even as you try to push him away to get his hand away from where you’re quickly growing sensitive as you soak your panties. You ride it out, still feeling your heart beating in every part of you as you do pull yourself away from Renjun, flopping onto your back to stare up at that ceiling fan revolving slowly overhead. 

You’re sweating. 

You feel sticky and gross, and you’ve only got a moment to rejoice in the slight respite of the air stirred up by the fan. Then Renjun is there stretching over top of you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. 

And Renjun is the one all over you right now, but you’re only thinking of Haechan. Thinking of his “good girl” from earlier tonight, wishing it was his voice that was whispering that in your ear, that it was his fingers inside your panties, his body too hot against yours in this already too stuffy room. Which, you do still have that one burning hot point of contact with Haechan where your knee rests against his. 

It’s not enough. 

Your body craves more of that. 

But instead you have Renjun. He’s a cuddler, that’s one thing you’ve learned since this started, and you usually don’t mind. But tonight is too hot.

“Fuck off,” you whine, squirming in a half-assed effort to dislodge him. It’s too hot, but you’ve also completely run out of the energy to actually get him to move. Renjun just lies there halfway on top of you, his arm stretched out on your other side. You wonder if he’s going to tell Jaehyun all about what you and he have done on this trip. You haven’t filmed any of your encounters on this trip, and after his argument over the phone with Jaehyun earlier, you wonder if it even matters. 

Haechan suddenly switches sleeping positions, breaking that singular point of contact, and he rolls over in his sleep so his back is to you. He twitches and shivers a little, which seems like it should be impossible given the heat, but after a moment, he relaxes again. He’s shirtless, and in the faint light coming in through the cracked open window, you can see that he’s sweating too. Beads of sweat glisten along his arm and the length of his spine. 

You smile a little to yourself as you look at his sleeping figure.

He’s so blissfully unaware that you and Renjun just did this right beside him. You could almost laugh. Would he have watched you two if he’d known? Would he have sat there like he’d done with Shotaro and his girlfriend, watching and getting off?

You fall asleep thinking about that, and in the morning you find yourself looking over at him as you wake. He’s still asleep, now flat on his back again. He looks so peaceful in sleep, his hand resting low on his belly right above the band of his black boxer-briefs. Perhaps you stare a moment too long, but as soon as you feel Renjun stirring behind you, you look away. You get up and leave the room, deciding you definitely need a cool shower before you finish packing up to head to the airport for home. 

Life settles into a boring routine once you return from Thailand. Half of your friends move away, the other half is almost always so busy working now that you hardly see each any of your friends.

Except Haechan.

With both of you working at the Moon Corporation, you see him every single day. Plus, YangYang is the only one of your friends still in the city who isn’t pursuing a proper professional lifestyle, so he made an open invitation for any of your friends to come over pretty much at any time. You take him up on that offer pretty often, honestly, but considering that he’s Haechan’s roommate, you still see a significant amount of Haechan.

Not that you’re complaining. 

You still have a dumb fucking crush on him even though you know that it’s probably just time for you to completely let it go and move on. It’s been almost five years that you’ve known Haechan, and the relationship between you has never developed beyond friendship, so maybe it’s just time that you give up.

But that history is part of the reason it’s so difficult to just move on. 

It also doesn’t help that you’re quite horny like all the time, so seeing the object of many of your fantasies all the time has put you in a rough spot. 

After your return from Thailand, Renjun and Jaehyun made up for their little fight, and they created new rules and boundaries, which meant cutting you out of the relationship altogether. You understand, of course. It was really just sex after all. You didn’t have feelings for Renjun, and you don’t want to ruin his happiness with Jaehyun. Renjun gets his own place, though Jaehyun’s over there so often that it might as well be their place. Renjun is swept up in his official relationship and his professional job, so you see less of him than you would like.

Xiaojun gets an apartment right next door to Haechan and YangYang, meaning that it should have been more convenient to get to see him too, and when you receive the invitation to his housewarming party you consider the possibility of rekindling your friends with benefits relationship with him. But at the party you learn that he’s got a new girl he’s seeing, and that it’s only been a few dates but he really likes her. 

So, instead of spending that time with your friends (except Haechan), you start spending time with your seniors at the Moon Corporation. Many of your coworkers there are men, though there are a few women too, but for the most part it’s a male-dominated company, though Mr. Moon Taeil had reassured you that as his company grows and he has a larger applicant pool to pull from, he is hoping to bridge that gender gap. For the moment, you don’t mind too much. With less women in the company, it means when you search for private company among your coworkers, there’s less competition.

You select Jungwoo, a nice guy. Funny and carefree. He’s fun for a little while, a couple hook ups in those first few weeks, but soon you both agree that you’re not truly compatible in the long run. Plus he claims that you seem distracted, like you want something else or someone else. Which is bullshit because you’re using Jungwoo to try to forget about Haechan. 

Next, you hook up with Yuta – he’s one of the biggest gossips in the company – after a night out having celebratory drinks. It’s just a one-time thing because you realize that the two of you are better off as coworkers or friends. 

No one else really catches your eye. You sometimes hang out with Yuta, WinWin, and Ten on your lunch breaks, which is when you learn all the gossip. Particularly everyone’s favorite rumor (or favorite bet) about if Taeil is in fact secretly hooking up with his secretary.

She’s gorgeous, of course, so you can understand why all the guys who have been rejected by her wonder if she’s sleeping with their boss. It’s surely some way of them coping with the rejection. But she is also really close with Taeil, so you can sort of see why they might assume she’s sleeping with him. You consider yourself a pretty decent judge of character and reader of body language, so you can tell by the way Taeil’s secretary and him interact that there’s not anything going on between them.

Romance is surprisingly a hot topic of gossip among your coworkers. But you try not to pay too much attention to it all. 

Not until the company retreat in October, a little over five months after you started at the Moon Corporation. 

On the way there, you’d been squeezed into the back of one of the transit vans that Mr. Moon had rented. One of the women was sitting beside you, and on the drive she’d chattered to you about everything that she could think of. That included, at one point, her discussing with you her ranking of your male coworkers, which was all fun and games until she reached Haechan.

“A ten. For sure. He just seems like he’d be a fun time, you know?” She says, twirling her hair around her finger as she stares at the back of Haechan’s head a couple rows up from you. “I can’t even lie that it’s kinda my goal to get him during this weekend. I want the full, fun experience of a retreat.” 

The woman on your other side giggles at that, but you just sink into a funk. 

You haven’t known anyone Haechan’s hooked up with since probably Halloween, which has been nearly a year ago. You don’t want to know that he’s having sex with anyone honestly. And as the two women continue laughing together about it for the next several miles of the trip, whispering about it while you sit there stuck between them, you just want to melt into your seat.

Instead, you decide to drink yourself numb as soon as you arrive at the retreat. Just in case you somehow play witness to your coworker’s seduction of Haechan, maybe you won’t remember it in the morning. Luckily, your first night of the retreat consists of everyone getting drunk together, so it’s not like your actions totally stand out. It’s actually just meant to be everyone drinking together, not necessarily getting drunk. 

You, Taeil, and the secretary are probably the three worst drinkers in attendance.

You only have vague recollections of that night. You remember blurrily Haechan coming over to you, stopping you from drinking any more. You remember seeing the other woman watching you with jealousy in her eyes while Haechan talked to you, as he pushed a bottle of water into your hands.

You remember sitting there, looking into his eyes and wondering if maybe you should just confess everything to him. But even with as much alcohol as you’d consumed, it wasn’t enough to loosen your lips and let everything flow out. 

You remember him asking to walk you back to your tent, and how your mind had immediately shot to the only possibility that your forever-attracted-to-him brain could think of in delight, while the rational part of your brain was shouting that you couldn’t have sex with Haechan when you were drunk. Of course, that’s not what he was trying to say. He was just trying to be a gentleman and walk you back to your tent since you were staggeringly drunk.

You vaguely recall him calling you angel, him putting his arms around you to help you walk. You barely remember the walk there, only the cool material of your sleeping bag against your bare legs as you crawl in, as you flop down and twist around to look at Haechan. You remember wanting him to stay, but also wanting him to leave because you don’t want him seeing you like this. And then everything fades away completely.

But then you’re awake and it’s not yet morning.

The tent is dark with only the shadows of branches stretching across the canvas ceiling. Bugs chirp and buzz outside the tent flap. Something woke you, though you’re not sure what exactly. You consider rolling back over and falling asleep, but that’s when you realize that the spot beside you in the tent is empty. The spot where Mr. Moon’s secretary was meant to be sleeping tonight. 

There’s no way that you’re sober enough to be getting up and wandering around the retreat site in the dark, but you’re also not sober enough to realize how that might be a bad option. So you get up, you pull on a hoodie and slip on your shoes, and you step out into the dark morning. 

The grass is damp with dew. The stars are visible overhead. All of your coworkers are asleep in their tents, but the lights are on back up at the guesthouse where the bathrooms and the kitchenette are, and you realize maybe she’s just gone to pee. You can’t blame her for that; as a matter of fact, you could probably use the toilet too. So you make your way in that direction, but before you can quite reach it you notice something odd.

Through the uncovered window, you can see Miss Secretary straddling Mr. Moon's lap while they make out.

Damn, Yuta was right about them, is all you can think as you watch her running her fingers through Mr. Moon’s hair, rubbing herself in his lap.

Then something else shifts in the darkness.

A shadowy figure shifts in front of the scene, standing outside one of the windows in the bushes. 

And in the next instant you realize that the shadowy figure is none other than Haechan. And he’s definitely jerking off. You can see his arm moving.

You’re sure he thinks no one could possibly be watching him. But you are. The watcher is being watched, and you can feel yourself growing a little warm and wet from the sight of Haechan highlighted by the glow from the window. 

You can’t properly see him from this angle, can’t see the way that his fingers wrap around his cock, but you can definitely tell what he’s doing. The way he strokes himself to the sight of them in front of him. God, he’s gross, but you love it. Heat pools between your legs, watching him like this.

You don’t even notice that Taeil and the secretary have left the scene until you notice Haechan shuddering, a quiet moan breaking the otherwise silent night. You can just barely see in the light that comes through the window, the way that there is a splatter of cum on the window. 

Damn. You feel warm, craving to be touched. 

You don’t hang around and wait for Haechan to find you, you flee back to your tent. The other woman you’re sharing your tent with is passed out completely. She hadn’t been drinking tonight, but she had taken a sleeping pill, so she is well and truly out when you slide back into your sleeping bag, when you wiggle around to get your hand inside your panties, when you plunge your fingers inside yourself, thumb swirling against your clit as you imagine a scenario where you were there in those bushes with Haechan, him fucking you while you watched the beautiful secretary ride Taeil at the table. 

You cum quietly without the other woman in the tent even stirring. And a few minutes later, as your racing heart settles, the secretary quietly returns to the tent, smelling like a masculine body wash as she tucks herself back into the sleeping bag beside yours. 

You level your breath, hold still, and soon you fall back asleep again, and in the morning you’ve pretty much forgotten everything from the night before, including the encounter between the boss and the secretary, as well as you witnessing Haechan succumbing to his perversion.

You essentially forget all about it until a few weeks later when Ten excitedly tells you and Haechan that he swears he almost walked in on Taeil and the secretary in the break room. But it just sounds like they were both standing in there when he walked in, though that little tidbit is enough to jumpstart your memory and that early morning comes back to you.

It’s a few days later when the topic returns while you’re out for dinner and drinks with several of your coworkers.

Ten is once again excitedly talking about Taeil and his secretary, insistently asking everyone else, “Don’t you think something is going on?” and “I know we don’t have proof, but I really think….” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for everyone at your table to know he means that he’s pretty sure they’re fucking.

You look over at Haechan. 

He has proof. So do you. You’ve both witnessed it with your own eyes, although you’ve not mentioned it to him since you remembered it a few days ago. That’s in part because you don’t know how to bring it up to him without admitting that you also saw him jerking off while watching them. 

Haechan looks at you. A knowing look as if he could possibly know what you’re thinking about right now.

He doesn’t admit to anything then, not in front of your coworkers, and it makes you wonder why he’s keeping the secret to himself. He didn’t hide the secret of Shotaro and his girlfriend hooking up before outing them at that camping trip your friends had taken about a year ago. You’re curious about why he’s hiding it, and you’re curious about what his knowing look had meant.

There’s no way that he knows that you also know.

Later that night as you all start to head home from the pub, you head in the opposite direction from where everyone else seems to have parked. You’re headed for the bus stop since your roommate has borrowed your car for the night. 

You don't make it far from the door before someone calls out behind you.

“Can I walk with you?” He asks, jogging a little to catch up with you. “Don’t look at me like that. I just want to make sure you get there safely.”

You immediately wipe away your expression of surprise at his offer. “Yeah, you can walk with me. Thank you, Haechan.”

He just nods, and for a minute the two of you walk in companionable silence. But then you ask, “Well, what do you think? Think they’re fucking?”

That seems to catch him off-guard. A startled laugh tears out of him. “Yeah, they absolutely are.”

Is he going to elaborate on that?

You bump your shoulder against his, hoping if you just make all of this seem like friendly inquiry based off of that earlier conversation that he’ll be more likely to open up. For some reason you really want to hear him say it. You want to finally hear Haechan admit to you that he’s a perverted voyeur who has watched your friends and now your boss while they have sex. “You sound so certain, Haechan. Why?”

“I have my reasons.” He shrugs a little, his lips tilting up on the one side in a smirk. 

God. You want to kiss him.

You want him, and the combination of the cool air and the alcohol warm in your veins leads you to pull yourself closer to him. You wrap your hands around his arm, snuggling up against him, and you catch a whiff of that warm summery scent of him like spice, citrus, and something else distinctly Haechan. He doesn’t flinch or say a single thing as you basically hug his arm. As a matter of fact, his fingers flex a little, stretching out minimally to brush against your hip before he closes his fingers in a fist.

You wish he wouldn’t keep this a secret. Maybe if he would just admit to you how he knows, if he confessed to you the truth of his reasons, maybe you would tell him too that he might be a voyeur but you’re an exhibitionist, and something about those two truths could work out between you.

But he doesn’t say that. He actually falls silent as you come to stand beside the bus stop. There are others waiting there too, but your eyes are only on Haechan. 

You pretend not to notice when he finally looks over at you. You pretend not to see the way that he’s studying you. You pretend that you don’t notice when Haechan inhales a little sharply, turning his face away to look across the street. He just keeps silent, keeps still as he seems to stare at nothing, deep in thought.

You decide to speak since he won’t.

“I feel like you see a lot of things that other people don’t, Haechan. I think you keep a lot of secrets.” Again, you feel his hand flex, and this time when his fingers stretch out, they rest against your hip and don’t pull away. You’re not even sure he’s aware of it. You continue, “You can share secrets sometimes. I have secrets too. We could trade.”

You want him to know that even though he’s a pervert, you’re a bit of a pervert too. 

You lean your head to rest it on his shoulder, and he looks at you again. Your eyes meet. 

“Can’t you just share the secret of how you know with absolute certainty that Taeil and his secretary are fucking?” Your fingernails dig into his jacket sleeve, a whine in your voice as you gaze at Haechan’s face. You notice the way his throat bobs as he stares down at you. 

“I don’t think you want to know my secrets,” he says, looking away from you. His voice shakes a little bit, and you wonder if he’s truly that nervous about you learning about his creepy habit. You swear you can hear his heart pounding beneath the ear that you have against his shoulder. “You wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The sound that comes out of you then is not a nice one. A snort of laughter. But you’re amused. He must think you’d think of him as some gross weirdo, but it’s really quite the opposite. Ever since that first night you caught him watching Shotaro and his girlfriend in the hot tub, you’ve actually found it surprisingly hot to think of him being a voyeur. 

“I don’t know about that, Haechan. Maybe I have secrets that would make you look at me differently.” You tilt your face so you can better see his. He looks down at you with such a look of doubt, that it almost pulls another laugh from you. He really doesn’t believe that you could ever do anything naughty. “Maybe I could tell you a thing or two that would make you finally see me as less than a perfect angel,” you say, and you put a tiny bit of challenge into your voice.

Haechan straightens up. His fingers withdraw from where he’s been absentmindedly touching that little sliver of skin bared between your shirt and the waistband of your pants. Haechan shrugs until you’re dislodged from his shoulder, but he’s relaxed as he stands there beside you and says, “Alright. Not tonight, though. Let’s keep our secrets just a little while longer.”

The squeal of brakes alerts you to your bus pulling up.

Before you walk away, you want to hear him promise you that he’s not just saying this tonight, that it will actually happen. 

“Promise?” You hold your pinky finger up to him, daring him to make the promise. 

Haechan hesitates for half a second, but then his pinky loops around yours, squeezing tight. “I promise, angel. We’ll trade secrets and truths someday soon.”

Your heart lights up with Haechan’s promise. A trade of secrets someday soon. That’s good enough for you. Before you can think about it too much, you smack a kiss to the back of Haechan’s hand, and then you walk away quickly.

Unable to resist, you turn to look at him over your shoulder. Haechan is still standing there, looking after you with an amused and bemused expression. You smile and watch the way his smile rises as well.

“Text me when you make it home!” He shouts behind you as you climb aboard the bus. You wave in acknowledgement.

You feel giddy, excited. You’d think it’s a date you’ve just planned given how excited you are, but really it’s just going to be a trade of secrets at an undisclosed date. A trade of secrets, a trade of truths. 

As you sit down, you look out the window one more time.

Haechan is still standing there, looking right at you. You don’t know what that look on his face means. But he smiles a little, offering you a small wave that you return, and before your bus can even pull away, he turns on his heel and walks away back up the street.

previous chapter || next chapter  (Coming Soon)

a/n: part of this was of course inspired by a scene in workplace (mis)conduct the taeil and y/n workplace romance kinktober drabble

And I know that it seems like there's a whole lot more Renjun action in this fic than Haechan, but I promise !!!! there's a lot more of the good Haechan stuff that this story is meant to have coming soon! Like... next chapter? maybe? You'll have to keep reading to see!

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 10

The Snap

Series masterlist

Previous Part: Doomsday Next Part: Courage

Word Count: 5,678

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of loss, grief, anxiety and depression.

Time and reality felt a bit unreal as you navigated the new situation you were in. One where you had to pretend to be strong on the outside all the while completely melting and distorting into someone you didn't even recognize on the inside.

So much had happened since Steve's departure from Greenwood and arrival back into the public eye in his full long haired and bearded glory.

The battle at hand against Thanos was now anyone had the capacity to talk about, and rightfully so. Everyone was terrified- so scared that stopping the flow of day to day life and staying glued to the front of their televisions with a phone in hand and social media on their screens for the fastest source of breaking news seemed to be the only way anyone knew how to cope.

Unfortunately for you, your love was at the forefront. And when the news broke that Steve Rogers was out of hiding and back into the world of avenging, the mass of Greenwood's population immediately recognized that handsome man as their neighbor, and the perfectly shy and respectful resident who just so happened to be best friends with the girl he lived next door to.

Gossip spread like wildfire through a boring, scanty place like this. You knew speculations involving you and your emotions the night he left was at the forefront of mouths of the people around you.

You could tell that was happening as you tried your best to cope with all the fear everyone else was feeling with the added layer of heartbreak and anxiety waiting for federal officers to come knock at your door and take you away.

Sometimes you just needed a breath of fresh air or anything to occupy your brain other than all of this. So you'd sit on your porch steps and stare at the lawns of your neighbors, each one was perfect groomed. Yours could use a little work, but hey, you had a lot going on right now, and the flowers growing on the bushes in front of Steve's house were such a pretty pink color, it was a shame he wasn't around to enjoy them.

Occasionally, someone on their own mission to clear their minds and get some air would walk passed you and shoot you a sympathetic look, or even worse, a friendly face would walk by and avoid looking at you as if you were the plague itself. After a few of those experiences, you decided to just go for a run on the trail.

You still hadn't gotten any better at running that five mile loop that you and Steve had tackled that one day in the summer. But the pain the running caused you still wasn't any greater than the pain of hearing your neighbors whispering about you as you jogged passed them in the opposite direction.

Being outside was too difficult, and being inside surrounded by news broadcasts and reminders of Steve scattered around your house was too painful, so you tried waiting your life away at the bakery.

It was the only place nobody could bother you. The doors remained locked at all hours of the day as to not force your employees to work, and logistically, nobody wanted to leave their houses when it felt like the world was about to end due to a purple dictator, so you hid away there.

Admittedly, with every order cancelled and no in store customers, there was nothing to do. So you just sat in all the cozy nooks and crannies you had created in the lobby with your own two hands and just enjoyed them for the first time ever. You watched movies, read books, kept the blinds drawn with the closed sign flashing in bright pink neon on the front door, and pretty much only went home to shower and sleep.

The stupid glass front door, the only part of the bakery that was visible from the outside looking in with all the blinds drawn. The stupid stupid front door Georgia could see you from when she peeped in and knocked.

You were angry she had disrupted your little corner of peace in a world that was on fire, and you knew you had no option but to get up and open the door to let her in.

Not a word was said as you reluctantly held the door open for her to enter, then allowing it to close on its own accord as you sat down cross legged in your favorite floor seating nook. You kept your eyes to the cushion in front of you as she sat and settled next to you, her stare felt judgmental but you knew this wasn't your best look.

Sweatpants and a hoodie, Steve's hoodie, but you weren't ready to talk about that yet. Your hair was very obviously air dried and thrown up into a claw clip at the back of your head, not a single lick of makeup on your face, your sneakers were left by the front door but at least your socks matched today. That was one small win you could account for on your daily highs and lows chart.

You gained the courage to look at her, and in true Georgia fashion, she looked great. But you knew her, she wasn't the type to leave her house unless her face was perfectly covered in the same makeup she wore every day and her hair was perfectly styled with not a strand out of place. Her shoes were always squeaky clean and her clothes existed in a whole different realm in which wrinkles and pet fur never existed.

"I haven't seen you around in a while, Sweet Pea, I've been worried about you." She stared, same sympathetic tone everyone had been using around you even in passing that you had quickly grown to resent.

You were now the naïve girl that fell for the magic tricks that Captain America pulled out of his cowl. Well, at least that's what everyone thought, and that's what you would allow them to think. If you had to lie straight to Georgia's face, so be it. But you would never say a single bad thing about Steve, she would never get that gratification she came to seek.

"Yeah, well" You shrugged, struggling to find the words. "I've been busy."

Georgia looked around, the bakery a dimly lit ghost town "With what? Romcoms and a bag of Spicy Doritos?"

"Easy to watch, always have a happy ending" You agreed. "Most of them don't take place in the middle of a universal war... and spicy is better than the original, so"

"I knew that boy was bad for you, I've never seen you so down in the dumps." She started earning a nasty glare from you. "Stop trying to kill me with your eyes."

"If you're here to say I told you so, I'm only going to try harder." You warned, no sprinkle of remorse in your tone.

"That's only half of why i'm here." She shook her head. "Just because I said I wasn't going to stick around to watch him break your heart didn't mean I wasn't going to be here to help you put the pieces back together."

"Who said I needed help?" You questioned, emotional regulation had completely flown out of the window. "You don't get to pick and choose when you get to be a friend to me. It's all or nothing."

"I was wrong for what I did." Georgia admitted. "I take full accountability for that, Sugar. But I'm worried about you, really really worried."

"Didn't seem too worried before we knew who he really was" You spat. "If this is a whole trap to try and get me to speak poorly of the one person on this planet you genuinely hate, well then I'm definitely not sorry to tell you it's not going to work."

"He hurt you, baby." Georgia persisted. "He was so manipulative you didn't even notice 90% of his life story right in front of your face. You said it to me before, there was something weird about him and now we know what it was. Captain America living in our neighborhood and coming into your home and your heart and you had no idea."

"Oh just me huh? I was the only clueless one in this entire rotten washed up town?" You questioned right back. "Sure, he had a secret but he was always kind to me. He was nothing but gentle and caring, so I don't want to hear anything about how he hurt me. I don't want a single peep of this narrative everyone in Greenwood has about him or me, or what our time together was like."

"If he was so gentle, why were you crying so hard outside of his house a few nights ago?" She questioned

"That was a few nights ago?" You rhetorically questioned.

"How long ago did you think that was?"

"Not important" You shook your head. "I was crying because he had to leave."

"Really? That's all? That's the only reason?" She continued to press.

"Was the news a lot to process? Absolutely." You confirmed. "But I was really fucking sad that someone I love so dearly was leaving to be thrown into a very dangerous situation. Wouldn't that make you sad too?"

"Again with the mouth, sweet cheeks, you're going to give me a heart attack"

"Again, I'm a grown woman, not a child."

"You did not love that man." She scolded.

That immediately put a sour taste in your mouth. "I'm sorry?"

"You we're attracted to him because he was handsome, and you liked him because he gave you time and attention. That's not love, darlin', that's not even a romance. That was a fling."

"Why do you keep trying to minimize my relationship with him?" Anger furrowed your brows and squinted your eyes.

"Because you love too much. Too fast, to hard. I'm being realistic." She insisted. "That was a criminal in your home taking advantage of your love."

"So was it a fling or was it my love being taken advantage of? You're being condescending. How could he take advantage of my love if I never loved him in the first place?" You called her out.

"Dare I remind you he's the number one most wanted criminal in the world?" She completely disregarded your question.

"And who are you relying on keeping you safe right now?" You asked.

Georgia sat in silence, too unwilling to put her pride aside to even come close to answering that.

"That's what I thought." You grumbled. "So let me ask you one last question. Are you here because you were worried about me, or are you here because you wanted me to hate him as much as you do?"

More silence, she wasn't budging.

"Get out of my bakery." You shook your head.

She gracefully stood up and made it all the way to  the door, and as far as pushing the handle in before she stopped. "At what point does this get better?"

"When you stop putting words in my mouth and speaking on situations you don't know anything about." You told her the cold, hard truth. "Especially situations you could know all about but don't because you pushed me away over the opinion of someone you didn't even give a chance to."

And with one swift push to the door, she was gone faster than she came knocking, and you pressed play on your romcom again.

That night you went home and took a long, hot bath. Relaxing music playing quietly, your favorite candle lit, and the lights turned off. Just existing at a time like this took everything out of you, so all you could do was put yourself in relaxing, non stressful circumstances to help keep yourself stable.

Although you managed to clear your head for a bit, your mind never stopped thinking of Steve. All you could do was wonder where he is and what he was up to. You hoped he was safe, and unharmed, you hoped he was doing okay, and feeling okay.

For his sake and everyone else's, you hoped that the group of Avengers would figure it out soon. But for your sake, you hoped it would all be done and over with so maybe you could just hear his voice over the phone, you would even be okay with a letter in your mailbox or an email from a decoy account. Just anything, really anything at all to know he was alright.

Just when you started to feel a little better about the whole thing, the blip happened.

You'd never forget the chill deep in your bones the moment it happened, the rumble in the sky that rattled the ground. For a moment, your windows shook. Then, you heard chaos from outside. Crashing, honking car horns, shouting, screams of terror, sobbing.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you bolted out of the front door, completely missing the way the news anchors turned to dust on the TV as you ran off your porch and into your driveway.

It looked to be just as chaotic as it sounded, a car crashed into a street lamp with nobody the driver's seat, neighbors all frantically asking if they've seen other neighbors that have seem to have gone missing, screams for help coming from people running inside. Then you saw it with your own eyes, Andy from two doors down running up to you, quickly as he could.

"Andy, Andy what's going on?" You asked, eyes bulging out of your head, hands shaking, your legs threatening to buckle underneath you. You had never been this scared in your entire life.

"Phoebe and Willow" He explained frantically, both his hands reached out and grabbed onto your shoulders. You recognized the name of his wife and infant daughter. "They were here just a second ago I swear, I was holding her she was giggling then they just disappeared, dissolved"

"What- what do you mean? Dissolved?" You questioned frantically, he couldn't pull himself together, and that scared you even more.

"I don't want that to happen to me. I'm scared, they just, went away."

"Okay, okay" You nodded, grabbing onto his forearms. "What's happening? Do you know anything about this?"

"No, no, I'm scared. Everyone is dying, they're gone. I don't want it to happen to me"

"It's okay, you're okay" You tried to calm him down regardless of your own internal terror. You looked around to try and find any solution, any ounce of comfort.

Then you noticed people drifting away with your own eyes, bodies slowly turning to dust that would flutter to the floor and blow away in a gust of wind.

"I feel so weird" Andy said, you looked back at him while tightening your grip on his arms.

"It'll be okay" You nodded, trying to convince yourself of that too.

Then, his face and body completely relaxed and the arms that were once in your hands vanished before your eyes leaving nothing but air in its presence.

That's when you started running. Jogging at first, then sprinting. House to house, person to person, helping where you could. There were people with injuries all around due to people fading away in dangerous situations.

You ran up to and turned off a lawnmower that was once being operated by a person who vanished, you helped an older lady up off the floor who was very gently struk by the car before it it the street lamp, then you ran into Andy and Pheobe's house to make sure that their stove was off, and things like hair straighteners and candles were off and not hazardous. You looked out for newly stray dogs and cats, maybe even kids looking for their parents.

All the while you were terrified of vanishing yourself, but in a moment like that it was imperative to help until you couldn't anymore.

It wasn't until a full 24 hours later that you were sure you weren't going to go anywhere, that's when the news started reporting more reliable information about what had really happened.

Although no accurate or official census had been taken in such short notice, they predicted half the population of earth had been blipped. Just completely turned to dust at the hands of Thanos. Then two days later footage had been released of the Avengers and the moments leading up to the blip.

It was incredibly hard to watch the footage, it came with every warning under the sun before they played it on any screen, or any platform.

They all tried with all of their might, and in the footage they all seemed exhausted. Wanda trying her hardest to destroy the mind stone in visions head while everyone else tried to keep Thanos away from it.

The hulk went straight through him, T'challa tried but he was no match, War Machine was thrown way far off to the side, Bucky came shooting but he was also tossed off, Natasha, Groot, then Steve slid in on his knees.

You wanted to look away, you wanted to cover your eyes, you knew you shouldn't watch it anymore, but the moment you saw him you just couldn't stop peaking between your fingers.

There was a large gash on his forehead, his skin was littered with dirt and little shields on each of his arms with what looked like claws coming out of the bottom. He got close enough of stab him in the leg with the claws, then upper cut his jaw with his fist in that splitting moment of pain. You were rooting for him as he caught the Gauntlet in his two hands and tried pulling it off with all of his might, then came the part you wish you never saw.

Thanos punched him right in the face, so hard that Steve immediately fell face down to the floor and didn't move a single muscle. You felt like you were going to throw up as Wanda kept him at bay with one hand, and destroyed the stone with the other. Then, Thanos reversed time, got the stone, and snapped before the footage cut out.

You almost screamed at the screen for more, you just needed some proof that Steve was alive because he looked pretty lifeless after getting sucker punched by a titan. You watched him fall to the floor over and over and over again trying to find any movement of his body, any teeny sliver of hope that he was alive and out there somewhere.

Then came the google searches, you searched his name every few minutes to see if there was any news of his status of being. Alive or dead, you needed to see proof. But it never came.

That's when you hit your lowest point, for weeks you were glued to your laptop just trying to find any ounce of hope. For Steve's life, and for the world in general. But this time you were less apologetic about your state of being, this was the greatest tragedy of history and your love might've been dead.

So yes, you were going to cry over a bowl of ice cream in bed... for a week in a row... with no pants on.

When you thought things couldn't get worse, they did. After not being able to get into contact with your Mom since the blip, one of her friends reached out to you on Facebook and confirmed she was one of the dusted. Half of your employees were gone, and you loved them all with your whole heart.

Eventually the world around you started to get back on its feet a bit more every day. Businesses rebuilt, fires were put out, people found strength and comfort in community.

At some point you felt the same way as well. You'd leave you house a bit more each day, and escaped in trying your hardest to reopen the bakery. It still wasn't the most practical time to open the doors and start the ovens again, but you just really, really missed it. Baking had been your outlet for stress relief and control for most of your life, and this was the first time you didn't immediately turn to it the second things went bad.

So, instead of tying your apron on and preheating an oven, you preheated the business instead. You completely overhauled and gave the website a facelift. Spent hours searching for and writing new recipes that you'd eventually test bake. You overhauled the business model, took a head count of you employees that were still around and had long conversations about their willingness and readiness to work again.

Everyday you tried to sit on your porch for a bit of sunshine, but even with the sun out a chill never left your bones. You spent most mornings on the chair tucked away in the corner, angled away from Steve's house because every time you looked at it, it was nothing but a painful reminder of his unaccounted status of being.

It didn't help that someone hung a sign on the front of his garage door. It read The Greenwood home of the great Captain America. A big star painted right below the words. Residents would come by and leave notes around it, some on pages of loose leaf notebook paper, some on brightly colored neon construction paper. Pooled on the ground in front of the garage and below the sign was what looked like a vigil. Bouquets of flowers laid amongst plastic toy shields, family photos in matching Captain America shirts and kids dressed in costumes, candles, and teddy bears.

You didn't know what the notes said or if any of those flowers were even alive anymore, but you did know that every time you had worked yourself up to even go look at what anyone in Greenwood or neighboring towns had to say to your sweet Steve, your legs would lock up before you could even make it up the driveway.

A lump would form in your throat, panic would spread from your heart all throughout your body, leaving red splotches all over your chest. Your mind couldn't get passed the fact that it looked like a memorial. If you didn't know any better, you would've believed that news sources all around the world had confirmed his death and all the folks around here were paying their respects.

You could see a few letters from the sidewalk in front of his house. Some of them read thank you in big, bold letters. So that's what you were trying to convince yourself of. Steve was simply being thanked for his service.

Although the mental block of Steve's busy driveway remained, you found that you could go into his house as you promised you would if you just kept your eyes to the floor while approaching the front door and didn't look up until you had unlocked it.

You tried your absolute best to keep his house in good shape, even his front lawn that was frequented by fans of his from whenever they were traveling from. Everyone's lawns were now a big haphazard. You could tell exactly which homes were unoccupied now, the grass was tall and the weeds were taller. Again, yours could use some work but a few wildly wispy rose bushes were the least of your concern.

Another bowl of cookies and cream, more googling, more staring at the framed picture on your wall, another night of the same devastation.

You looked at that painting every single night, the grass field was so beautiful, he captured it so perfectly. At the time, sitting there with him was so simple and now it seemed as though there would never be enjoyment in anything again.

An unusual thought occurred to you as you admired it that night, for some reason you just wanted to touch his name sighed on the back. Maybe you just wanted to feel close to him when it felt like he was no longer even in the same world as you, maybe you had finally lost your mind.

You crawled across your bed and reached for it on the wall. Taking it off the hook and popping open the back of the beautiful frame, to your surprise when the back panel was removed there was a note shoved between the canvas and the frame.

Frantically, your fingers unfolded it as fast as they could to reveal Steve's adorable handwriting.

Sunflower,

If you're reading this, that means I've probably been gone from Greenwood for awhile. I'm writing this on your kitchen island the day I have to leave, you're at work right now so I'm sorry I snuck in. The second I'm done writing this, I'm going to hide it for you to find hopefully when you need it the most.

Did I have the courage to tell you that I love you in person before I left? If not, I'm sorry. Also, surprise! Loving and knowing you was one of the most privileged experiences I've ever been given the opportunity for, and I cherished every moment you were by my side. You made a colossal impact on some of the most painful, yet malleable years of my life. I'm not quite sure I'll ever be able to string together the proper words to express my gratitude, but I am incredibly grateful to have ever been yours.

I hope you're doing well, and I hope we did everything we could to keep you safe. Sometimes things get touchy, distance makes our minds wander and fill with doubt, but please know that no matter what happens, I'll never stop thinking of you. You're always on my mind, and that's something I'm in no rush to ever change.

You have forever friends in the Avengers, and the moment this all settles I promise you'll reap the benefits. Your kindness will come back around, you deserve nothing but the best, my love.

But in the meantime, if you need us. If you need me. If you need anything, I'll be there.

All my heart,

Steven G Rogers.

(678)-136-7092

(Ps; I don't care how long it's been, call me when you can. This phone line is just for you, sweet girl. If I don't pick up, I'll call back the second I can.)

You cried as you clutched that note to your chest and determined your mind had officially been lost. If you had found this just a few days ago, your phone would've been flying towards your hand as if it was the strongest magnet in the world, your fingers would type in the number and it would be ringing faster than you could've even read the note.

But that was not the case, because you had found it today. Today when you let the thoughts of his possible demise sit in your head just a little too long and allowed it to sink in as a real possibility. So now, if you called the number and there was nothing but a ringtone and being asked to leave a voicemail, you'd have your answer as to what happened to him.

You weren't ready for that yet. Every waking moment of every dragged out day felt like nothing but survival. At this stage in trying to get back up on your feet, anyone really needed to do their best to protect their hearts from more loss and more pain. So, you folded that paper back up and tucked it between the painting and the frame and hung it back up on the wall.

The very thought of calling him remained on the forefront of your mind and the center of your heart for almost one full month before you had a particularly good day.

A few of your employees expressed that they missed you and the bakery, so you opened the doors for them. You all spent hours baking with each other and finally decided it was time to reopen the doors for good. So you sat down and made the plan, wrote up a schedule, posted an opening date. You felt hopeful for the first time in a while, so you decided you'd call Steve once the reopening happened.

The week in between posting the reopening date and the actual opening day, major news outlets started reporting on Nice to be Kneaded, because Captain Americas favorite bakery is opening back up for business.

Turns out everyone wanted a bite of Steve's favorite sweets, and on opening day there was a line wrapped around the building and the parking lot was completely full before you even got there at 4 in the morning.

It was hectic therefore after. With only half the staff and an infinite line of customers, and news press constantly harassing you on the daily to try and interview you about your time with the Avenger, you found yourself exhausted constantly.

You baked overnights and all morning long to try and keep up with the demand, but not even a 50 to 60 hour workweek was enough to keep up with it all, it was just simply too overwhelming.

Understanding that you needed some time for yourself as to not burn out too fast, you took a night off. The night you were going to call Steve. 

You planned on it, you even got the note out, held your phone in your shaky hands for a while. You turned on your comfort show, sat on the couch and stared at the screen. You thought of that night when Steve came over and fell asleep on you, the first time you cuddled. You thought of maybe cleaning up a bit first, there were some dishes in the sink and your coasters were scattered along the table.

But after some pacing and mind work, you just had to do it.

You typed in the numbers one by one, took in a big shaky breath, then pressed call.

Each ringtone felt like a stab to your gut, and each one felt longer than the previous. Every second was like a big footstep through heavy mud, guiding you towards the answer you desperately needed.

Just as one ring stopped and another one about to sound, there was heavy pounding on your door. It made you fly up and out of your spot on the couch in absolute panic, phone landing on the rug below the couch.

You didn't even have time to make it to your front door to even answer the damn thing before it was busted open, and what felt like an entire army of big men in tact suits came rushing at you with weapons drawn.

Of course you knew what you did, you understood the crime you committed, but you also knew this was too much.

If the time ever came you were expecting a few cop cars, maybe even the FBI. But this? It was so terrifying and sudden that you fell straight to the floor. As they shouted out you to comply, all you could do was cover your ears and cry.

If there's one lasting impression your last partner made in your life, it was the fear of men. Especially big men shouting angrily and reaching for you.

Two men in unmarked black tact suits pulled you up by your arms while one watched, the other 6 surrounding with fully loaded weapons leaving red laser dots all over your body. The moment you were lifted onto your feet, the backs of your knees were kicked in, forcing a harsh landing onto the fronts of your knee caps into a kneel.

They all shouted so loudly and all over each other that you couldn't make out the words of any one individual in the room, nor could you hear them reading your rights to tell you they were going to hand cuff you.

Once your hands were cuffed behind your back, you were aggressively yanked up once more, than they all went silent except for who you assumed was the leader of whoever these people were.

He shouted at you to stop crying, and as they pushed and pulled you out of your house and towards an black unmarked van, he shouted at you to stop tripping over yourself. But the funny part was when you asked who these people were with, or where you were going and what they we're going to do with you, he was oddly silent.

As you stumbled over your own two feet with the barrel of a gun pressed into your spine and pushing you forward, you could feel an extra pair of eyes on you. So you looked up and across the way.

None other than Georgia, leaning over the railing of her front porch, mug of tea in her hand. She sipped it slowly like this was a form of entertainment. When your crying eyes met hers, she almost seemed happy to see you that way. 

You could tell she was the one who called to report you, you could see it in her small sinister smirk. All you could think of while they quite literally pushed you into the back of the van was that it was a shame that would be the last familiar face you'd see for a while.

The van doors were slammed shut, a guard in full scale armor and a helmet sat in the corner with a gun ready to go, and the lead guy pounded on the doors twice to signal it was ready to leave.

The only thing scarier than the arrest itself was feeling the van pull off the driveway, and knowing that somewhere inside your home was the result of a phone call you never got to know.

But the biggest shame of all? A voice you completely missed amidst the chaos echoing from where your phone fell below the couch.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Sunflower, are you there?"

"What's happening?"

Next Part: Courage

Tag List: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @Avid-fic-reader-05 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama

Have any thoughts or theories? Head cannons or scenarios you want me to write of nomad Steve and baker reader? Submit them to my inbox! I’ll add them to the more fun stuff masterlist here!

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter six.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: Day 121 - Also known as the day you officially leave the cadets and join the Scouts.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Eventual Romance, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Flashbacks, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Nonbinary Hange Zoe, Touch Starved Idiots

( Read on AO3 )

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER SIX.

“Are you ready to head out?”

A perky voice breaks you from your fixated attempt at dragging the remaining pesky leather straps up your left thigh. You’d been rearranging your uniform for what feels like hours — taking it off, putting it back on, staring at your wavering reflection in a bucket of fresh water in the barracks to see if maybe you look out of place.

You certainly feel like you are, as the cadet that joined for three-something weeks only to disappear, plucked up by the Scouts at a moment's notice. An anomaly.

What you're wearing isn’t your old uniform, not exactly — that one’s cut up, bloodied and destroyed in a pile of ashes with all the other discarded jackets and trousers — so you’ll have to get used to the one they’ve given you.

At least the Wings of Freedom reside once more between your shoulder blades.

(A gift from Commander Erwin, who could not attend this momentous departure from the training camps to the real deal.)

“Hey, Petra,” you call back to her, dropping a boot onto the wooden floor. She watches you with budding excitement. “Are we leaving now?”

“Just about!” she exclaims. “Eld is finalizing supplies, but we’re ready when you are.”

“Great.” You hold both arms out as you walk to the doorway. “So?”

It takes her a minute, but her eyes finally connect with the white and blue emblem. “Oh, finally, you got your jacket back!”

“Erwin apparently sent a new one over with Hange,” you tell her as you follow her leisurely pace towards the front of the cadet training camp.

“Are you feeling good about this?”

“About coming back to the Scouts?” you ask. She nods in confirmation. “I’m a little nervous but yeah, I feel good.”

“Don’t be nervous. We’re like a little family.” Petra pauses, making a face at the sight in the near distance: a man with dark hair waves his hand beside worn wooden wagon, where several people and horses wait their departure. “...a bit of a weird family but a family nonetheless.”

“Oi! Is that her?” the man shouts across the way, standing on his toes to wave harder — like Petra doesn’t see him.

“Yep!” Petra calls, murmuring low to add, “That’s Gunther Schultz. You always kicked his ass in spars. He's never not been bitter about it.” She chirps again to him in her sweet, peppy voice. “It’s her!”

“A-ha! Alright, awesome!” Gunther replies, dropping his hands to his hips.

From here you can see the silhouette of a tall person with a high ponytail sitting at a spot at the head of the wagon, body facing you — Hange. On their left sits a man on a horse with a mop of dirty blond hair — probably Moblit — holding two additional reigns. A smaller, black-haired person sits to the right edge of the wagon with his arms stretched along the back, his one leg folded over the other. You immediately recognize that it's Captain Levi.

At the mouth of the wagon, two other people await your arrival. Petra gives you the quiet catch-up as you walk together: the man with long blonde hair is Eld Jinn, the squad’s second-in-command (she’s quick to divulge that you pull rank, in technicality) and last is the disinterested looking individual with curly hair and an undercut — Oluo Bozado, a skilled asset to the squad who won’t hesitate to brag about his high titan kill count at any chance he gets.

So this was it.

These were the people you spent your life with.

“She doesn’t look injured,” greets Oluo as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Memory loss doesn’t look like anything, Oluo,” Gunther hisses, before perking up at your arrival. “Hey, Lieutenant. How’s it going?”

“Fine, I think,” you greet pleasantly enough, reaching to shake his outstretched hand. “Thanks for letting me come back.”

“The decision was unanimous,” Eld tells you, hopping into the wagon. He spins on a heel to help Petra up first, and she takes her spot across from Captain Levi. Then he holds his hand out to you, smile vacant but there for comradery’s sake.

You accept his help, pulling up to the wagon to sit beside Petra. Gunther rounds the cart to take the right-hand side horse. From your peripheral, you can feel Levi and Hange watching your interactions with the remainder of the team.

“That’s good to hear," you reply. "Petra went through the roll call, but if you wanna introduce yourselves…”

“We heard you remembered Moblit on sight,” Oluo interrupts gruffly, hopping into the wagon once Eld is settled at the head of the group with his hands on the reins. He plops beside Levi, taking up a corner seat.

“Ha, she totally did,” Hange beams with a grin, and you can see Moblit sigh under his breath. “It was kind of crazy to witness in person. She remembered some things with me, too.”

"She did?" Petra asks, awed.

Eld whistles sharply, and the wagon jerks.

You’re leaving.

Sharply you turn to watch the camp grow smaller, its gates closing shut once the Scouts are out of range.

(You’re actually doing this.)

You blink away from it to look ahead. Immediately your eyes connect with Levi's as he stares directly at you.

Your face grows hot at the unspoken energy settling at your boots.

Hange continues, addressing the group. “Our hypothesis will really come into play once we reach the old headquarters. Our objective is to regroup, train with James so she can refamiliarize herself with Commander Erwin’s strategy before the next expedition. Once we're certain she's caught up, then we'll plan to make our way towards the northeast quadrant of Wall Maria. We've yet to explore that part of the walls, and we're certain we can capture new titans for experiments."

"Capturing more?" Petra asks with the smallest of squeaks. "The last two weren't enough?"

"Yes, but that's only part two of the overall plan. Right now, we're focused on rehabilitation James.” They fix their glasses between a pinched thumb and index finger. “The more we spend time with her, the better her memory will get. The better her memory gets, the easier our expeditions will become.”

“As if I want her to remember all the damn dirt she used to have on me,” sours Gunther, laced with a hint of amusement as he rides alongside the cart.

You look over at him, running your tongue against the seam of your lips. “What? Like when I used to kick your ass all the time?”

Gunther gasps, causing Oluo to break out into a surprised laugh.

“Petra told you about that!” Gunther protests.

You shrug a casual shoulder. “Did she?”

You blink back to Levi, who has his head bowed.

(You swear you see the corner of his lip lifted.)

“Oh — c’mon, you didn’t give her any shit about the rest of them? Petra!”

“What?! It felt like pertinent information,” Petra argues back with a giggle. “She just spent a couple of weeks fighting all of the new hopefuls.”

“And how’d that go?” Oluo asks, shifting his weight in his seat to mirror Levi’s casual body language in the cart — he reaches back, draping his arms over the edge of the wagon.

“Yeah, how did you do with combat training, James?” Eld Jinn asks from the front perch.

You shrug. “Well enough, why?”

The blonde snorts, turning his chin over his shoulder. “Because I’d kill to see if you can still go toe-to-toe with the Captain like you used to.”

“Eld,” Petra warns under her breath.

“What?” he squawks.

One by one, you see the remaining pairs of eyes in the cart turn to the conversation to focus on what may come next. Petra’s ginger hair bobs when she leans forward to chastise him.

“That’s inappropriate to request,” Petra argues.

“How’s it inappropriate?” Eld retorts, raising an elbow as he makes the horses turn out onto a main dirt road. “That’s all they did back in the day was fight. It’s been months!” 

“We’re not about to haze her.” 

“Why not?”

“I could.”

Hange’s eyebrows fly up their forehead, transparent in surprise at the sound of Levi finally speaking up since the wagon’s departure from camp.

You turn your chin to look his way. The captain’s brow raises a tick as his eyes connect with yours.

The wagon goes silent. The only sounds surrounding the Special Ops squad are grunts of horses and the light dips of the wheels against rogue pebbles in the dirt road.

Unable to look away from Levi, a slow smile creeps up your lips. “Is that something we used to do?”

“All the time,” Gunther confirms to the side of the cart while Petra shushes him.

“He’s right,” Levi agrees. “We did.”

Warm spreads through your chest and makes your heart soar. Levi not shutting down Eld’s idea is… good. Great, even. It’s a step in the right direction — right?

Levi said he wouldn’t spell things out for you, but he didn’t discourage others doing it for him. A loophole. You can’t help but widen your smile.

“I’ve spent so much time fighting kids who don’t even know how to hold a proper fist,” you tell him, dropping your hands into your lap to squeeze them together. “Captain: would you be interested, then, to spar when we reach the castle? Be my first real fight.”

A first, even when it’s anything but.

Levi keeps a neutral expression in front of your anticipated comrades.

All eyes shift in tandem from your face to the captain.

“Couldn’t hurt to welcome you properly,” he replies, legs still crossed and arms draped, chest straps on display under his stretched jacket.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Gunther breathes under his breath with a grin. “The Special Ops are back.”

.

.

.

.

The trek to the castle takes a few hours, but you spend it occupied enough. Between Gunther and Oluo’s constant questions (What was the next group of cadets like? How does memory loss feel? Do you remember when we—?) and Petra’s combative defensiveness to keep you protected from overexertion, the wagon ride back is promising.

Exciting.

Your blood is buzzing with the very real possibility of fighting Levi Ackerman once the group is settled at headquarters.

Anxiety should be hitting you once you reach the familiar sight of the run-down castle, but all you can feel is exhilaration. Anticipation. Like you finally have a worthy opponent who may give little mercy despite your situation.

Hopping off the wagon without the help of Oluo’s hand, you shrug off your Scout jacket and hand it to him to hold instead. He makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, tossing the item of clothing over his shoulder.

Levi hops out without help, light on his feet and graceful as he steps around the wagon to walk with you.

“We doing this right now?” he asks, tone bored, offering a sidelong glance to you.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you sure about sparring so soon?” he asks, lower this time.

(If you didn’t know any better, then you would believe his question hits a note of concerned.)

“What, are you afraid I’m going to beat your ass in front of the squad?”

“No,” he answers, matter of fact. “The opposite.”

Eld whistles low when you turn on a heel, walking backwards to grin at Levi. Levi doesn’t return the same excitement nor does he remove his jacket or cravat, but he doesn’t let you out of his sight.

He stalks you to a clearing right in front of the castle, a lopsided circle patch of dirt and weeds.

“Don’t cream your pants,” Levi crudely quips about your growing smile, his fists rising to rest in a defensive stance at his face. “I don't plan to go easy on you.”

“Oh fuck off,” you reply with equal-parts unprofessionalism, prepping your own fists to your face as your right boot shifting, forming the start of a semi-circle in the dirt. “If you did, I’d be mad at you.”

"Hmm."

Your other boot follows, stalking to find your opening.

Where you can strike.

“You got this, James!” Petra chirps from the sidelines where the Special Operations squad awaits, breath baited and muscles tense.

You do.

You’ll take him and show everyone you’re only just a couple steps behind.

You send a sharp right punch to see where it can land, but Levi juts his chin back at a supernatural speed to avoid it.

He could take a counterstrike, but he holds back.

(He’s lying. He’s going easy on you.)

Petra gasps from the sidelines when you throw a combination of a jab and left hook, but Levi ducks and recovers fast. He throws a fist at your gut, but you manage to slide away before his fist can land. There is a gleam of acknowledgement in his eye as you glide past one another. He throws another, but you lean back and avoid the blow.

It’s a dance choreographed and rehearsed so many times that your brain must have lost count, but your body holds its memory in a vice grip.

In truth, you know — know exactly where he’s going to step next, or the exact direction he favors to dip, and the knowledge delights you. Excites you, even, that this feels so…

Natural.

Like you’ve dissected Levi Ackerman until his movements are your own, mirrored and fluid.

Except you get so caught up in the revelation that he manages to land a sharp jab to your arm. You abruptly dip from the painful hit, teeth grit, but you’re light on your feet and quickly avoid additional attacks. You both strike, arms entangling and locking, to the point where you're mere centimeters from the other's face.

“C’mon, James,” he growls under his breath, and you can’t help but smile.

"Banking on an easy win?" you quip, pushing him away with force and ducking a counterattack.

"This isn't a challenge," he assures, stepping around the invisible circle for a reset.

"You sure?" you ask, catching your breath. Your hands flex before curling back into fists. "Pretty sure I see sweat."

"Little shit." He huffs. “If you say so.”

He strikes, but you counter with precision and manage an uppercut straight to his jaw. Levi’s head snaps back, boots faltering on the ground for a brief second.

You feel it: the whites of your eyes alight with pride.

The hit landed.

You can keep up with Captain Levi.

“I do say so,” you coo belatedly, and Levi rubs his jaw.

“Huh,” he hums. “Lucky shot.”

“Are you giving up that ea— shit!”

If he was holding back earlier, then he isn’t doing so now. Levi comes at you with a flurry of limbs, forcing you to expend all your energy to block his advancements. He is lightning fast, focused on you and you alone, and punches with the intent to land.

To win.

Less cocky than before, you dodge his incoming punches and duck at his swings, holding him back but not enough to land hits of your own.

Shit.

He’s going to win.

If you just keep his arms at bay and—

Wait.

From the corner of your eye, you see it: the smirk on his face when he knows he has you wide open at the legs, and when your mouth opens to gasp, he switches technique and sweeps your legs out from under you.

Suddenly you lose balance and become airborne.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

Right in front of your eyes, the sun turns black. 

Your back connects with the ground, and it’s as though you’re transported to another world: one that’s dark, devoid of the warmth of the sun.

Overhead you see Levi smirking down at you, but his Scout uniform is nowhere to be found. He greets you with a billowing white shirt cinched at his torso in a burnt orange vest, hair just as floppy but eyes less vacant.

They’re… warm. Amused.

The lines of his war-worn face are all but gone. His eyes still have dark circles, but they’re less prominent. If you didn’t know any better, then you’d call it a near-youthful glow.

(As much as one can get from being a child of the Underground.)

“Gonna stay down there forever?” he asks you, his translucent hand leaving his side to hold a lifeline for you to take.

All it takes is for your hands to connect for the world to shift, transform, and everything echoes.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

“Up there?” It’s Levi’s voice. 

He sits in the dirt beside you, dropping unceremoniously to your side with a grunt of discomfort. You're lying in the dirt, wearing an unassuming maroon long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. You sit up to meet him, stretching your legs out to cross them at the ankles. Without a rhythm, your boots sway. 

“You’re worried about going up there?” Levi adds.

“Who isn’t?” you ask him, dropping your chin to your shoulder as you regard him from the side. Scents of damp Earth and leaking cobblestone invade your nostrils. “You can’t really want to spend the rest of your life down here, right?”

"It's a pipe dream, James."

"So? Dream with me for a second."

"You're starting to sound like Isa."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you inquiry. "She wants a chance on the surface as much as the rest of us. Hell, she's been to the staircase. That's further than I've ever gotten."

“They’ll call us freaks,” he bluntly tells you, hooking his skinny wrist between the loop of his thumb and index finger when he drags his knees to his chest. “I’m not exactly keen on going.”

“But we’d eat a lot of amazing food and get a lot of sun — maybe even a tan.” You gasp childishly, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. Levi stays put, immobilized by your words. “Imagine us with sunburn? How crazy would that be?”

“So your dream... is to become a tomato?” he flatly asks.

You grin, holding off on a laugh until you can’t stand it. It starts breathy and low so as not to alert the chatter in the cobblestone house behind you, but it bubbles and breaks the seal to a full-blown giggle.

Levi shakes his head, the floppy hair in his face following a delayed second.

“Fucking ridiculous.”

You grin towards him. “What?”

“You. You’re fucking ridiculous,” he interrupts, but something miraculous happens:

His eyes crinkle. His lips curve to a smile.

Suddenly the dream of the sun doesn’t feel as beautiful when you’re looking at him.

“James.”

Levi Ackerman dissolves at your side, and you feel weightless all over again.

Darkness; you want to reach towards the sunlight, but a billowing cloud rushes towards you and knocks you back to the dirt once again.

You cough at the dust clouds around your head, disoriented and confused, until a nonchalant boot digs into your side.

“Get up.”

“But I was just up,” you mumble in protest.

“No, you weren’t.”

When you blink up, you’re met again with the sight of Levi hovering over you. He still wears the same loose white shirt and vest, legs covered in dark trousers and boots, but he looks… even younger than before.

Whereas he could pass as a young adult in his early twenties just a short few minutes ago, he now looks as youthful as a teenager.

You grit your teeth, counting down the seconds. “Actually, I kinda dig it down here.”

“Seriously—?”

You get an idea. A bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

The question that trails in disbelief earns you enough time to reset your approach to fighting him, your hand quick to wrap around his ankle. Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg so that Ackerman goes airborne. 

When his body hits the ground in a nasty thud, you hurry to scramble over him. The bone of your forearm presses into the boy’s neck, causing Levi to grunt with discomfort.

You grin above him as he grimaces.

“Dirty trick,” he spits, but he doesn’t fight it.

In fact, he doesn’t try to escape at all.

You shrug a shoulder, pressing harder onto his windpipe. He sputters, but his face remains just as neutral as ever. 

“What’s got you so pissy today?”

“What?” Levi asks from beneath you. His hands curl around your elbow and fist, but he doesn’t push your forearm away just yet.

“You’re moody.” The correction has you laughing gently under your breath, and the sight beneath you? It’s one to behold. 

His dark hair frames his face messily, splayed across dirt and gravel. His teeth continue to grind, growl bubbling in his chest, but when he decides to push against your arm, all you do is push harder into his throat. He coughs with a curse.

“I’m — fuck — not.”

“Are too.”

He narrows his eyes. “And I’m letting you win.”

“Are not.”

“Wanna bet?”

Easing up on his windpipe, you crawl off of him and extend a hand to help pull him up to a seated position. Levi begrudgingly takes it, hoisting himself up on the flat of his palm. He angles closer to you, voice low with a feigned warning.

“Thought we didn’t do draws,” he states.

Your forehead drops to his shoulder, lost in a belly laugh when all you want to say is—

“James!”

When you come back to the world, the sun is blocked by a face. Levi barks your name with an intensity that frightens you out of your dreams of the Underground and into the reality of the old headquarters.

Hange hovers over his shoulder. Their glasses are pushed into their hairline where concern etches over every line of their curious face. The uncertain murmurs of the rest of the squad are somewhere behind your head where they observe from a distance.

"Are you alright?" Levi asks with less fervor.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, rolling your neck to look up at Hange.

“Are you? Because you disappeared on us for a second, kid,” Hange tells you, but something squeezes your arm to the point of hurting.

You blink down to the source — Levi white-knuckles a hand around your forearm, holding it steady to the ground. When you meet his eyes once more, he lets go like your body is the temperature of a steaming titan.

"We're not doing that again," he decides for the both of you.

"Wait."

Sitting up on your forearms, the warmth of the sun brings unbridled joy back into your stomach.

"We have to."

"Excuse me?" Levi snaps, eyes narrowing for a split second until it hits — his expression releases built-up tension. "...did you...?"

At first you can only grin, delirious and overjoyed. "...dream of becoming a tomato, one day?"

His face slacks with dumbfounded surprise.

"Is that an inside joke?" Hange whispers in a hiss over his head. "Is tomato code for something?"

"In a way," you reply, but your attention isn't on Hange. You're too busy beaming over at a crouching Levi, who looks at you in way you've never seen before.

He's warworn and childlike, an oxymoron of your own muddled mind, but he knows.

You know he knows, too.

Because you might have finally figured out a plan to — quite literally — knock some sense into you.

Author's Note: Gosh, your theories have been so fun to read! And we only get brief moments with the Scouts, so I sort of took some liberties with their personalities. Your likes, comments, & reblogs have been wonderful! My inbox is open anytime xo

tag list: @lazylizzy3

[karatekels]

Mediation - Chapter 7 - TIGmas Day #9

Welcome to the continuation of the transition from "I don't know karatekels, this may be a bit farfetched" to "oh, this is obviously just crack fiction to get two TIG characters to bone the same woman".

And YES, I've accepted that and I hope you all enjoy this very convenient, likely unrealistic plot. Or maybe I'm crazy and you think it works? Let me know!

Previous Parts: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

---

Mediation

Chapter 7: Reconciliation

---

Cash’s POV:

The uncomfortable silence brought on by your departure stretches on, neither man willing to be the first to break it. Terry’s body is still somewhat turned towards him, but he stubbornly refuses to look Cash in the eye.

Cash, meanwhile, is still reeling from the new information that has come to light in the past hour or so. Learning that Terry’s adamant refusal to hear him out over the years wasn’t because he hated Cash himself, but because the betrayal had shaken him to his core has Cash lamenting the other man’s stubbornness. All this time, Cash thought that Terry had been angry with him, but in reality he was mainly angry with himself, at the changes that the hurt Cash had caused had drawn out of him. Knowing that the younger man had resorted to excessive force – and to the point that cases had been dismissed because of his mishandling of suspects – after years of being a compassionate cop by his side was particularly disturbing. That wasn’t the Terry McCain he’d known, the one close enough to be a brother to him.

And then there was you.

Cash knows that you aren’t in love with him the way you are with Terry. He isn’t overly bothered by it; your relationship was still far too new for either of you to be in love with one another. But to hear from your own pretty mouth that you felt enough for him that you were unable to choose between him and Terry, that you needed them both in your life…

Well, that has him happier than he can remember being since before he went to prison.

Sure, it may have complicated things between the three of you even more than their already twisted dynamic, but for the first time in over half a decade, someone firmly wanted him in their life. Of course, the sex had been amazing, but there were plenty of other avenues he could go down to scratch that particular itch if he had to. Being genuinely cared for, despite all the things he’s done, was far more priceless to him. And you all but insisting that Terry had to make peace with him if he wanted you to remain in his life was just icing on the cake.

“So, is she right?” he asks, in a far better mood and more than willing to break the silence now that he’s had a moment to reflect on everything that today has given him.

“About what?” Terry asks stubbornly, still looking at the floor. Cash’s gaze softens as he looks at the pained expression visible in the younger man’s profile. He had been happy to show the new kid the ropes when he’d first joined the force as a rookie, but they’d connected as friends so quickly that Cash had assumed that the mentor/mentee dynamic had disappeared shortly into their time together as partners. Apparently, the same had not held true for Terry.

“Do you actually hate me, or do you just hate what happened, and how it went against the way you used to see me?” he presses, trying to be gentle. Trying to rile the man up was a viable strategy when he’d thought that Terry was angry, but the depth of his hurt required a different, more delicate approach.

“How many different ways can I say I don’t want to have this discussion?” Terry snaps, turning his body away from Cash. He tries to ease the tension by incorporating the man’s one known weak spot: you. He privately hopes that you won’t be mad at him for it, should you ever find out the specifics of this conversation.

“Look, I could be way off base – you’ve known Y/N much longer than I have – but she seems like the type to swallow that key over letting us free before we’ve done what she wants.”

“…No, you aren’t wrong about that,” Terry reluctantly admits after a moment of silence, chuckling to himself. Cash smiles but says nothing; if the past few years had taught him anything, it was the importance and value of patience.

“So, she knows what you want to tell me, huh?” Terry finally asks him, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Cash stays still, not wanting to spook his friend into putting up his walls again.

“Yeah, she knows,” Cash says quietly, staring at his hands, twirling his ring around his finger. “Had to prove to her that I wasn’t lying about last night when she came in here guns a-blazing.”

“Oh. Oh.” Terry says, and Cash assumes he’s thinking back to last night, judging by the way the man’s dark brows furrow. “So she didn’t know about this until today? That’s probably why she…”

“Jumped into bed with you so willingly? Yeah, probably,” Cash jokes with a snort. Hoping that the other man isn’t too offended by his cavalier reference to the night before, he tries to soften the blow. “I shouldn’t have slept with her. It wasn’t right,” he adds with a frown.

He doesn’t regret the decision to have you – you both needed it, at least once – but he does wish it hadn’t caused Terry so much pain, that he hadn’t had to see it with his own eyes.

“When have you ever made a decision based on what was right?” Terry sneers, and Cash sighs, staring over at the other man until he looks him in the eye.

“Do you really discount every good decision I’ve ever made based on one mistake, Terry?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“One mistake? Please. You lied to me for a year. We were partners, we were best friends; I trusted you with my life, Cash, and I had to watch you throw yours away.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Cash snarls, standing and turning to look down at Terry. Much like the younger man, he didn’t want anyone’s pity either. “Do you think I don’t know that I fucked up my life for good, that I didn’t screw you over in the process? I know, Terry! I’ve had five years to sit with my regret; some days I can’t think of anything else.”

“So then why did you do it?!” Terry explodes, springing up off the couch and shoving Cash in the chest, nevermind that the cuffs made him follow right after as he stumbles back. “We were good, we were solid, we did the job right! We were on the same page about everything!”

“Look at how you ended up reacting, Terry! I had to keep it from you.”

“But why do it in the first place, Cash?” Terry presses, a clear note of vulnerability and desperation ringing in his voice.

“I needed the money,” he replies, bracing himself to tell the man the reason he’d done all this in the first place. Running his hand through his short grey hair, he idly wonders if it will be enough to make Terry reconsider his attitude towards him.

“And you thought going against everything you’ve ever stood for was worth making a few bucks?” Terry scoffs dismissively, trying to cross his arms across his chest defensively until the cuffs jingle, reminding him of their presence.

“I didn’t have much choice! I didn’t have time!”

“Why?! What wasn’t there time for?!”

“My Ma,” Cash breathes, his eyes closed.

He feels Terry still next to him. He can’t even hear the sound of the man’s breathing, and presumes he’s stopped.

 “I’d forgotten when she died,” Terry murmurs apologetically after a moment. “It was a beautiful service.”

“Yeah well, glad you got to see it,” Cash hisses, his heart filled with vitriol as he recalls memories of being denied day parole, both to visit his dying mother and to attend her funeral. Devlin still had enough sway with some of the people working in the prison to ensure his misery, even after his death.

“I’m sorry, Cash.”

There is a prolonged silence as they each take a moment for their grief.

“The doctors told me that there was a new experimental treatment for her type of lymphoma, but it was expensive. And it was taking her so fast…” Cash explains through gritted teeth, trying to keep his tears at bay. He hadn’t cried about his mother outside of a therapist’s office before, not once, not even when she’d died.

“You could’ve come to me!”

“And what could you have done, Ter? I wasn’t gonna put that on you.”

“You at least could have told me – I could’ve talked you out of being an idiot.”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t. Look, I’m not proud of what I did. I regret it like you wouldn’t believe. It lost me my job, kept me from spending the last bit of time I had with Ma, from saying goodbye… it lost me you.”

Terry looks over to Cash’s face at this last confession, his eyes vulnerable and yet untrusting, and Cash forces himself to hold his gaze. Terry had to see that having to keep the truth from him, to lie and steal and go against everything that had brought them together had been torture for him as well.

“When everything went down the way it did… I assumed I had lost you long before,” Terry confesses in a broken voice, sitting down on the couch again and taking Cash with him. “I felt like I didn’t know who you were anymore, and I didn’t know how long that had been the case for.”

“For what it’s worth, I was very careful about what jobs I took on – nothing that would risk innocent civilians getting hurt. I know that doesn’t make it okay, but hopefully you see it as a little less evil.”

“Did… did you know about Devlin? How deep into it he was?” Terry asks, and Cash has no problem telling him the truth. It’s all he’s wanted to do for years, after all.

“I didn’t know much, just that he was willing to give me work in exchange for a cut. I knew he pinned some of his crimes on me to extend my sentence, but I didn’t find out about how deep it went until afterwards.”

“Why didn’t you try to fight those charges? The ones you knew were Devlin?” Terry asks, still frustrated and with his sense of abandonment on full display.

“Mostly because I didn’t think anyone would believe me, and I didn’t have the money for a good enough attorney to prove it.”

“Why else?” Terry presses, picking up on a second reason.

“I didn’t want Devlin or any of the other guys to take it out on you.”

Terry stiffens. “What?”

“He visited me in prison once, in ’93, a month before he was officially announced as the next Chief, to brag and gloat, mostly. Said he had to make sure his reputation stayed squeaky clean, and suggested some ways to make sure I kept my mouth shut.”

“Devlin was planning to kill me? Even before all that shit with DiMarco went down?”

“He was at least willing to threaten me with the possibility. Knowing what I know now, he probably would’ve done it. If you were getting a reputation as a violent cop, it would’ve been easy for him to make it look like a mob hit.”

Terry grimaces, privately processing this new bit of information, and Cash allows him a moment or two. He’s more grateful than ever that he hadn’t pushed Devlin to see whether or not he was bluffing; if he had, Terry would most assuredly be dead – maybe taking you out too.

“I don’t like who I became when you went away,” Terry admits with a frustrated sigh. “I was just so angry that you’d willingly turned against everything we stood for. I took it out on any lowlife fucker I came across, I had no mercy; I didn’t care. I couldn’t take it out on you, so I took it out on anyone I could before they were behind bars along with you.”

“Did you ever come close to giving me the chance to explain? I know you got my letters.”

“No,” Terry says, spitting the word out forcefully. “I couldn’t bring himself to see you behind bars, to see what you truly were, or what I thought you were at the time. Y/N was probably right – I wasn’t scared of facing what you’d done, I was scared of what I’d done.”

“What do you mean?” Cash asks, confused.

“I mean that you accepted that what you did was wrong and moved on. You got rehabilitated, you got therapy, you worked on yourself… I haven’t. I got so caught up in this weird vendetta against crime in this city that I just… I couldn’t bring myself to think about what I was doing, or why. I just got worse. Y/N helped keep me from really crossing a line, but only just.”

“Ah, our little beacon of morality on the path to reconciliation,” Cash says fondly. The weight that’s been lifted off of his shoulders – off of his soul – is immense, and he thinks he sees a similar change in Terry as well. Finally, everything was out in the open between them.

“She jumped at the chance to help me with the scrap metal take down the second I said it might give you reason to hear me out, you know,” he adds, hoping they can perhaps bond over the well-meaning complication that you presented.

“She was talking you up way before that,” Terry corrects him, giving an affectionate smile at the thought. Cash isn’t naïve enough to think that the smile is for him, but he’s hopeful that one day it might be.

“Wait, what?” he asks, having just processed what Terry had said.

“She’s been trying to get me to see reason since the day she met you, maybe even before that.”

“How? Why?”

“It’s just who she is. She sees something hurting someone she cares about and she tries her best to fix it, regardless of what anyone else has to say about it.” They both chuckle, thinking back to their memories with you and your tenacity as you tried to force them to confront their situation.

“Before we get off-topic… are we good?” Cash asks hesitantly. He tries not to get his hopes up; all he had wanted from Terry all this time was for him to listen, and now he had. Forgiveness was a separate matter altogether.

“No.”

The word rings out clearly, and this time the rejection hits Cash full on. But he braces himself, focusing on his breathing until the tightness in his chest abates somewhat. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

“I mean… not yet.”

Cash forces his gaze over to the other man, wanting to confirm the meaning behind Terry’s addendum, and the man is giving him a soft smile.

“I – really?” he asks in disbelief, and Terry barks out a laugh.

“Alright, fine; we’re not good, and never will be,” Terry jokes, and Cash rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Piss off,” Cash snaps with a scowl that doesn’t reach his eyes. Inside, his heart feels like it could be coming back to life. “You just bounce back awfully quick for someone who’s held a grudge for the better part of a decade.”

Terry shrugs nonchalantly in response, the movement tugging at Cash’s wrist. You weren’t due to be back quite yet, but he’s looking forward to getting out of these cuffs.

“Ter, I… thanks,” Cash says sheepishly, uncomfortable with being vulnerable for so long. The two men awkwardly clap each other on the back with their free hands, and an awkward silence resumes once more.

“Y/N is probably going to take every second of the hour we agreed to,” Terry points out off-handedly, though a wicked grin is starting to steal across his face. “That’s not for another twenty minutes. Plenty of time to give her a nice surprise to come back to – as a thank you for all of her meddling. Whaddaya say?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cash says with enthusiasm. The two immediately set to work, and a warmth blooms through his chest as they work together again for the first time in ages, even just for something as juvenile as a prank.

“Speaking of Y/N… what are we going to do about her?” Terry asks as they continue setting up their prank. Cash sighs, pausing to run his hand through his hair. It wasn’t the ideal solution, but he doesn’t think there is one unless they can find a way to clone you.

“I’ll step aside,” he offers, and he means it sincerely even though it hurts. “She wants both of us in her life or neither of us, and the two of you have had more time to develop a relationship. She cares about you enough to push you to finally hear me out; it’s the least I can do for the two of you.”

“Cash…” Terry says, pausing a moment to keep his resolve. “I was an asshole. I’ve been an asshole for years. You deserve someone that gets you and is willing to fight for you, and… if something was meant to happen between the two of us, it probably would have by now,” he admits reluctantly.

“Ter, you just started tolerating being in the same room as me again less than ten minutes ago. I’m not doing anything that might jeopardize that.”

“It won’t,” Terry insists, but he hesitates at the look Cash gives him. “Even if it does, maybe it’s my turn to sacrifice. You’ve been through enough.”

The two men bicker back and forth as they continue their work, an eye on the clock telling them that you were due back within a few minutes now.

“She might not want either one of us,” Terry muses pensively as they crouch behind the kitchen counter, getting into position. “She’s stubborn, and probably not willing to choose if she’s scared the other one will walk away.”

“I think her killing us both because of this is a more likely option,” Cash retorts with a low chuckle that he immediately cuts off at the sound of a car door slamming shut outside. You have returned.

“So we let her decide who she wants, and the other will accept it?” Cash confirms, whispering now as they listen for your approach.

“I don’t think she’d let it happen any other way,” Terry hisses under his breath, right before you open the front door.

“Am I about to walk into a bloodbath?” you call from down the hall.

Maniacal grins steal across both of their faces.

Reader’s POV:

“How the fuck was I meant to react to this, you idiots?!” you snarl at both men sitting on the couch before you, and you can tell that they’re just barely keeping up their guilty routine, their shoulders shaking as they try not to burst into laughter.

You scowl at both of them, contemplating clunking their heads together.

The house had been ominously silent upon your return, and as soon as you’d rounded the corner, the pizza boxes that you were carrying dropped to the ground (though they thankfully remained closed).

The living room was a wreck.

The sofa and chairs in the living room had been overturned, the blinds were crooked, and various objects had been knocked over. Your heart had sunk down to the aching pit in your stomach – you didn’t see any blood, but there was no sight or sound coming from either man that you could detect. A surge of adrenaline accompanied the panic and dread growing inside you, and you’d screamed out for both men, frantically running deeper into the house to search for them.

Nothing else in the house had been disturbed, so you had sprinted back to the front door to throw your shoes back on to go look for them. How could you have been stupid enough to leave them alone? If either of them was seriously hurt, you’d never forgive yourself!

“Going somewhere?”

You’d frozen halfway through lacing up one boot at the sound of Terry’s voice, a sense of dread threatening to overwhelm you. If he was the one here and talking in Cash’s house, that meant…

“T-Terry?” you had called out in a weak voice, still unable to bring yourself to turn around, afraid of what you would see.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” came his answer in a soft purr, the darkly flirtatious tone startling you enough that you’d turned around to face him, seeing him leaning up against the wall in the hallway leading back to the living room and kitchen. Forcing your body to breathe somewhat regularly, you had tried to give him a closer look. He didn’t seem to show any signs of a struggle on his body, but he seemed far too relaxed, except for his eyes, which were almost feverishly bright as they’d stared over at you.

“Where… where’s Cash?” you asked in a high, squeaky pitch, uncertain if you even wanted the answer. Terry’s devious smile only confirmed your fears.

“Don’t worry, doll. I took care of him.”

You had stumbled back slightly at his words, not able to do more than gasp for breath, and Terry made no move to come after you.

There was a tense silence between the two of you, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself, with Terry, with any of this.

The silence was then broken by a disembodied yet oddly familiar snort.

“You can’t tell me she actually bought that.”

Terry’s shoulders sagged, the vicious expression dropping off of his face.

“Well now we’ll never know,” he’d huffed with a scowl, turning to speak to someone around the corner.

“I – what?” you had babbled, your heart stopping when Cash came into view, unharmed and still cuffed to the wrist that Terry had hidden from your view.

They’d both given you nearly identical amused looks that were quickly wiped off their faces at your screech of absolute fury. You’d charged at them, then, spending the next few minutes cursing them out and trying to swing at them, but they had been frustratingly agile in evading your movements, even joined together as they were.

Men were absolute monsters, you’d decided then, growling at them and shoving them back to the couch which had been returned to its proper state.

It seems that the distraught expression that had stolen across your face as you reflected on the past few minutes is too much for either man, both unable to keep their laughter under wraps any longer, going to pieces until you literally hiss at them, feeling so angry you could spit poison.

“You two are absolutely unbelievable,” you snarl, and both men have the grace to at least look mildly sheepish. “You almost gave me a heart attack! Why would you do something like this?!”

“We thought it would be funny,” Terry mumbles, averting your gaze and reaching his free hand up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

“What’s the big deal? I would’ve thought you’d be happy to see us working together!” Cash adds cheekily, utterly unabashed once more. You shoot him a nasty glare, but it only makes his smile grow.

“I left for one hour to give you the chance to grow the fuck up and actually listen to one another. Did you even bother to do that? Or did you just decide on this temporary truce so you could fuck with me?”

Your hands are on your hips as you sneer down at them, still absolutely furious. You’re vaguely aware that beneath the seemingly bottomless well of anger, you’re relieved to see that neither man is hurt.

“Oh please, the setup only took fifteen minutes,” Cash scoffs, and Terry visibly winces, likely anticipating an explosion from you.

“Cash, shut up,” Terry suggests firmly, though his eyes are locked on yours with a pleading expression. “We talked things out, Y/N, I swear,” he says softly. Something about him seems lighter somehow, you notice distantly, and you know that he’s telling the truth.

“So what, I’m supposed to believe that six years of grudges just disappeared within the span of an hour, and you’re both in cahoots again?” you ask skeptically, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Of course not,” Cash says with a roll of his eyes. “But we came to enough of an understanding to put our differences aside and get our revenge on you for being so damn pushy.”

“Excuse me?” you hiss venomously at the older man, but he merely smiles broadly at you, so you turn your gaze over to Terry. “Is that true, Terry?”

Terry clears his throat nervously, refusing to look at either you or Cash.

“We’re very grateful that you didn’t give up on either of us, Y/N,” he says carefully, clearly wary of setting you off further. “We just thought that this might help us breeze past the awkwardness, lighten the mood, show you that we can be in the same room without killing each other, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes at both men, still suspicious.

“So that’s it then? You’ve done it? Kissed and made up and all that?” you ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Before you can register the movement, both men have tugged you down so that they can plant kisses to your cheeks like they’d rehearsed it a hundred times.

“Now we have!” Cash informs you cheerily, nimbly dodging your slaps and laughing.

“Not me, you morons!” You exclaim, your face heated as your body responds to being sandwiched between both men. If they’re telling the truth and are trying to take steps to repair their friendship, you’re going to have to learn to not blush every time they touch you. Especially touching you together like that; it was enough to nearly make you moan.

“Well we sure as shit aren’t kissing each other,” jokes Terry, helping Cash secure your wrists when you show no sign of stopping your attack. You wrench yourself out of their grip, still flustered as you look at them from across the room, throwing yourself into an armchair with a huff.

“Well I’m glad you two are all chummy again; you’ll have each other at least, because I’m never talking to either of you again,” you snap.

“Not a chance,” Cash says dismissively, immediately calling your bluff. “There’s no way in hell you’ll stay away after putting all this work in.”

“Come back over here,” Terry adds, giving you a pleading expression.

“Why should I?” you grumble, angry that you’re the one on the receiving end of all of this nonsense.

“To take our cuffs off, for one.”

You don’t even blink, retrieving the key from your pocket and throwing it across the room to them. “Done.”

“Don’t be grumpy just because you weren’t part of the plan for once,” Cash says teasingly.

“That is not why I’m grumpy!” you protest, regretting the words as they leave your lips, watching the predatory look spread across the older man’s face. “I’m not grumpy!” you amend, glaring at Cash.

“Sweetheart –” Terry tries to interject, but Cash cuts him off.

“Going to miss your alone time with us?” he goads you, and Terry smacks him in the chest with his newly freed hand.

“Knock it off, Cash,” he warns the older man. “I’m not trading her out for you, so stop pissing her off.”

“You’re no fun,” Cash huffs, looking back at you to give you a wink.

Your brain doesn’t know what to make of any of this. The two of them were acting so… comfortable with one another, even after everything. If you could barely fathom a world in which they managed to make amends and both stay in your life, imagining a world where they were able to joke and flirt with you was an impossibility.

“I – I don’t understand what’s happening here,” you admit rather helplessly, looking from one man to the other.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? For us to all be together?” Cash asks innocently, pointedly ignoring Terry giving him a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think that you’d get over things so quickly, joking about… you know,” you trail off, blushing furiously.

“I never said anything to suggest I wouldn’t bring this up at every opportunity,” Cash leers, and Terry chuckles, sending you for another loop.

“I believe I told you this morning I would be talking about it with you regardless of if we went anywhere,” Terry adds, and is this all part of their dumb prank too? Were they trying to drive you insane?

“Yeah but… together? In front of each other?” you challenge. “Terry?” you press the younger man, knowing that he had the deepest feelings of the three of you. He gives you a gentle smile in response.

“You’re stuck with both of us, Y/N,” he says simply, as though all of this could have a straightforward solution. “Just like you wanted.”

“And because you’re likely too stubborn or loyal or whatever you want to call it, you won’t want to choose between us,” Cash chimes in with a casual shrug. “At least not right away, which means we both get to bug you about this whenever we want.”

“Or, I could leave right now, and hate you both!” you return cheerfully, but they immediately see through the ruse, and you scowl.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Terry agrees condescendingly. “Whatever you say.”

“So what, you expect me to endure you both being annoying just for the privilege of your presence?”

“Yeah, pretty much!” Cash confirms, clapping his hands together loudly. “Glad we’ve worked all that out." You huff dismissively as they both give you wide, smug smiles.

“I give it two weeks before one of us backs out or maims the others.”

---

 Epilogue

---

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Breaking Bonds Ch. 7

Synopsis: The Bene Gesserit have their ways to make one obey. Warnings: Angst, noncon, injury, blood, probably more...not proofread. A/N: I've been very hesistant to write this. But I have some terrible days behind me and if I have to suffer then so do you.

"The bear loved the deer, it was obvious. It ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection."

[Previous Chapter]

⚠️ Dead Dove - Do Not Eat ⚠️

Time sure flies when you're enjoying yourself, so it was no wonder that your departure neared faster than you wanted. Well, in all honesty, you never wanted to leave again - but duty needed your husband elsewhere.

You watched as the servants carried several heavy loads into the ships - furniture and other things from your culture, random purchases to make you feel more at home on Giedi Prime.

"My Countess?" a hand on your shoulder demanded your attention, and when you turned around you were met with the same worried face your mother had not once dropped ever since the day of your arrival. "I told you to keep calling me Y/N."

She nodded hesistantly, both of you watching the Harkonnens prepare for your travel. It did not go past her how your eyes lit up ever so slightly, a smile tugging at the edge of your lips when Rabban came into your field of view, ordering the soldiers around.

"Men like these are more common than one would think" she explained, sorrow lacing her tone. "Most might not be as influental as your husband, but they are all addicted to implement power over others to mask what they lack."

Not wanting to overshadow your goodbye with an argument, you bite back the words lying on your tongue. "Stay wary" was her last warning, "Harkonnen are evil by default."

"Mother, I-" She stopped you right there, raising her hands in a placating manner. "I know, I know. And I wish deeply that his tenderness towards you is genuine. I'm just afraid it won't preserve, that he'll revert back."

"Mother, really, he is not hurting me-"

"Yet" she emphasized, earning an eye-roll from your side. Damn her.

There's not really use to talk this topic to the ground, since at the bottom line she was right - however good he may treat you, it doesn't even remotely outweight the sins he's committed.

Surely, the tightrope between logic and the feelings you held for Rabban was a thin and painful thread. It went beyond all logic, demanded you to put a blind eye to the circumstances outside of your marriage...

...and still, whenever it was just the two of you, whenever you could be your true selves despite past and politics, you felt hopeful that this would all be worth it in the end.

Yes, whatever the future would have in stock for you and Rabban, together you would be able to face it.

"Damn it woman, it's freezing!" You wince as a heavy piece of whale-fur was suddenly draped over your shoulders by the man that had suddenly appeared behind you. "You really have no sense of self-preservation."

You smiled as you clutched the fabric, chuckling at your husband's gruff way of showing affection. His favour was not the only thing making you feel warm and fuzzy inside and out. "Thank you, my Count."

"The servants need your expertise on the market, to buy some supplies for our return" he spoke flatly, pointing towards two maids carrying several baskets. "Treat yourself."

You look up to the man, tilting an eyebrow at the obvious distraction. "Well then, I'll be off" you declare cheekily, holding your mother's hands another time. "We'll bid each other farewell later, mother."

Rabban watched you leave, a tiny bit woeful since he didn't get to spend much time with you those past few days.

"You've raised a remarkable woman" he noted nonchalantly, arms crossed defensive in front of his chest - a subconscious mechanism to protect himself, while appearing so unusual emotionally vulnerable at the same time.

"Indeed" she agrees, yet still spiteful after your folk's history with the Harkonnens and their well-known way to treat their female counterparts. "But with all due respect, I highly doubt you're able to see her true worth...besides carnal pleasure and whatever it is you're trying to achieve with this marriage."

"...she's an innocent soul" he spoke from the heart for a change, despite his struggle to find the right words. "But not the naive kind of way. Y/N knows the cruel way this world operates, and still chooses to do as much good as possible. That takes another kind of strenght, I guess."

Your mother was shocked at this most unexpected depht of his soul, having thought your husband to be just as shallow as both his appearance and attitude might suggest.

Knowing that no answer would suffice to form a bond after decades of war, she chose to dwell in this pleasant revelation in silence - a precursor to the start of something greater.

Lankiveil - the time he had spent here with you made him see not only the planet itself in a whole different light. He was finally able to become fully aware of his feelings for you, and also gained clearance about many other things concerning his life.

Remorse for his deeds, maybe? Never. And yet when it came to you, a sense of honor had been planted inside of him, together with the wish to become different - better - for your sake. A man you could love truly, without shame.

"I'll take good care of her, I promise."

Immediately after the sun had set your spaceship started, though it felt like forever until your husband would finally join you at the special secluded part of the ship.

The creases on his forehead immediately dissolved when he went for a bear hug, lifting you up and twirling you around as both your laughter filled the room.

"Finally I don't have to share you anymore" Rabban grinned mischievously - but the comment hit a nerve, your eyes becoming glossy in an instant at the thought of once again leaving your family behind. "Ah stop being all whiny" his face then contorted in a mixture of helplessness and guilt, "You know I'm not suit for consoling anyone."

Your husband would pull you as close as humanly possible, caughing your lips in a long-awaited kiss. "I'll make sure you meet them again soon" he whispers, the side of his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek...

...just for you to recapture his lips, deepening the former kiss. A gluttural noise of approval left the Beast's throat, increasingly more excited the longer you dragged it out.

"Now let us make sure that we'll soon get our heir..."

____

Much to your discomfort, the person assigned to await you at the main spaceport of Giedi Prime was no one else than Feyd-Rautha.

You had silenced your voice of reason thus far, but seeing this lunatic again painfully reminded you that the domestic times you and Rabban shared have now officially ended.

"Our uncle wants to see you" your in-law urged him, no warm words of welcome or even a remotely polite manner spared for his brother. "Immediately."

"Not now" Rabban waved him off, and for some reason Feyd's lack of violent response was even more confusing and unsettling. "My wife is fatigued. I'll bring her to our quarters first."

Feyd clenched his jaw, motioning his head in an unnatural manner until the bones in his vertebrae started to crack. "Suit yourself" he then surprisingly calmly accepted this outcome, his floating cape making for a grand pose when he rushed off...

...yet not forgetting to taunt you at the first opportunity, at one second when your husband's attention lied elsewhere:

"You had your chance - now you're going down together with him."

No matter the meaning, his words alone made your blood run cold. At first you were contemplating to tell Rabban, but that would most likely end bloody on both ends, which you wanted to avoid if possible.

In the end you chose to stay quiet, waiting in the security of your quarters for your husband's return.

After all, you believed in your husband's promise that no harm would come over you as long as he breathed.

____

"The marriage was not consummated."

It was the Bene Gesserit Gaius Helen Moiham itself who spoke first, as always disrespecting the Harkonnen custom of letting a man lead the trial.

Rabban blinked in confusion at the accusation, unbelieving this was the reason he was called here - especially since you were given a deadline still three months from now. "Beg your pardon?"

"Your..." There was a long pause of disregard until the Baron continued. "'Wife', if we may still call her this way, visited our prime physician last month, due to trouble with finding sleep. He confided to us just now, apparently sympathy has weakened his spirit."

Wladimir sighed deeply, as he once again realized his words ignited no spark in his nephew's brain. If it wasn't for him raging himself out on that very same doctor beforehand just after receiving the information, he wouldn't be able to appear this calm right now - at least on the outside he was.

"Boy, I've long since grew tired of your incompetence. Do not make me explain every triviality to you. The abilities of Suk Doctors are well known."

Mentally calculating when you first shared a bed, the dots finally connected: They can read a human bodies like an open book, and during his examination he must've noticed that you were still untouched back then.

"That bastard..." Rabban rumbled between gritted teeth, almost unable to remain within his subservient posture as a new kind of rage - a protective one - was flowing through his veins.

"A disappointment ever since his birth" the Holy Mother jabs at his parenthood, and his uncle joins right in. "I thought this easy task even an imbecile like you could not mess up. By all means, I thought this was the only thing you're good for."

"L-Let me explain!" the Beast utters the words before thinking them through, as if bargaining for your currently uncertain future. "I have...destructive tendencies. Hard to control, and unpredictable. It took me some time to resort to more harmless ways of affinity, so I wouldn't break her. But we have started trying for your heir, and will continue to do so. If you will only-"

"Silence!" The Bene Gesserit did not even need to use her ability to cut Rabban off, and fearing for your life he instantly flinched back to face the ground. "No more excuses and delays. There's only a 50% chance that you'll give us the girl we need, and shall you fall during the imminent war on Arrakis, you only have this one try."

Oh, so this is why they are in such a hurry. He almost felt insulted at their lack of trust in his fighting - and other -skills.

It had always been the plan to revive Lankiveil's Bene Gesserit bloodline through preserving both his and his brother's genes - that's probably the same intention as to why he spotted Feyd with one of the witches just after his celebration the other day.

But the Duke's troops are clearly outnumbered, and unprepared at that. As long as his death was not part of their schemes, there's no way he'd fail to return.

But then again-

"Did he even listen to my words?" Impatient, she now turned to the Baron again, after Rabban had dissociated through the absurdity of this whole scenario. "Probably not, there's never been much thought behind those eyes."

"That could be an advantage, for a change: A weak mind is easier to dominate."

"Wait, wha-" The echo of the Holy Mother's voice was invading Rabban's mind before he could even finish his sentence, let alone try to find a way out of the threat. It was a simple command, to be performed instantly.

"Go to your wife and do what you have to do, no matter what or how long it takes, to make her fall with child."

____

Each person that had been affected by 'the voice' describes it differently - for your husband it was as simple as his mind worked in general: a tunnel view on his vision.

He felt as if his brain was shut down, senses and sanity only able to make out anything required to complete this task. Other than that he was on autopilot, incapable of stopping whatever would happen from now on.

The Beast returned to your chambers right away, practically breaking in the door as wild eyes searched for his dear wife. Ironically you noticed him first, approaching the menacing man blissfully unaware.

"My love, you're back" you cheered, smiling widely as you tiptoed in his direction. "What did your uncle want to talk to you about?"

He turned around, expression undecipherable and soon your curiosity was replaced with dread. Much to add to your confusion, the bulge you saw forming in his pants at this unfit timing made you taken aback. "Rabban? What's wro-"

Without a warning he balled a fist in your hair, practically dragging you to the bed before you were even able to process the pain or what was happening. You yelped as he harshly threw you onto the mattress, eagerly ripping the thin fabric from your body without leaving you a chance to defend yourself.

No words escaped your throat except for both shocked and terrified noises, and you quickly realized that fighting it was to no avail, since your husband was skilled in getting what he wanted.

...yes, you always knew what your husband was capable of yet chose to ignore it, shove it back into your head so you could continue this illusion of a blissful marriage.

Maybe that was karma, revenge from the afterlife and all his former victims.

Punishment for loving an unloveable abomination.

Rabban could only helplessly watch, a mere bystander in his own body as he saw himself doing the same thing to you he did to so many other undeserving women.

Before he got to know - no, got to love you.

The time he had spent with you was short compared to decades of madness and cruelty, but it felt like his life had started only after you stepped into it.

You had teached him how to become human, made him realize things he never knew: About himself, about his place in this universe and dreams and aspirations he never allowed himself to be aware of.

It all was meaningless now - with his reason to live literally being crushed in his own hands.

Breaking you apart, physically as well as mentally.

You were helplessly lying on your stomach as he straddled your lower body, his erection pressing to your behind and your arms meanly contorted behind your back. He was so painfully heavy that you lost feeling in your legs while he almost calmly ripped the remaining underclothing to shreds.

Afraid as you knew what to anticipate you started begging, shamelessly pitiful words pouring from your lips until your husband pressed your head into the pillow, dampening the sound.

Truly weird, how Rabban's instinct told him that he might be able to snap out of it if your pleas would dring through to his conscience - so naturally, he'd do anything to shut it out.

You were spun around to lie on your back now, his tight grip on your wrists making you double over in pain. No words would leave his lips except for animalistic grunts, his movements static and robotic. When he'd touch the inside of your thigh, his fingers left a purple mark as he forcefully opened your legs while you tried pressing them together with all your might.

One last "Please, no..." came over your lips as he aligned himself with your entrance, balling a fist in the sheets as he entered you without preparation despite your begs.

You yelped, arching your back to no avail as his full lenght rammed inside, stretching your insides and hitting your cervix. Rabban groaned deeply, his eyes rolling in the back of his head at the familiar sensation.

As he continued your body would begin doing it's natural deed, shame washing over you when you realized the hotness you felt was in fact not burning hate but most likely an orgasm building up. You clawed at his back, tried to push his face and chest away from you, but it was no use - he was simply too strong.

Rabban had always been so gentle before, it broke your heart just to think about how badly you wanted this most careful touch on your skin until now.

Why now, after all this time?

All those blissful, intimate moments only to now being used like a toy to lett of some steam? Was that really all you were to him?!

He's waited so long until he'd share your bed, it didn't make any sense - no, it made perfect sense.

A cruel, sadistic Harkonnen joke. Obtaining your trust and even affection through putting up this human facade, just to enjoy your world scatter once again when he revealed his true colors.

That was it: Glossu Rabban Harkonnen was going to kill you, for sure this time.

"I hate you" you finally, ultimatively spoke, scattered and full of overwhelming sadness. "I hate you so, so much. I hate-" Your husband pressed his large, calloused hand onto your face to effectively shut you up - his fingers covering your nose as well, making it difficult to breathe.

But no matter how hard it was to keep focus, your eyes stayed locked on his - piercing him with fear, hate and disgust where he once hoped to find the slightest bit of adoration.

The Beast pulled your legs over your shoulder to thrust even deeper, grabbing your hip bones and mercilessly ramming inside until his pelvic met yours.

Your muffled screams filled the room as he drove you over the edge, but much to your horror it was not the end as you felt him get hard again, his cock still inside of you as he continued.

Only once he would still for a second - when after hours his peripher vision made out blood mixing with other bodily fluids - yet it wasn't enough to break him out of his trance.

The night was excruciatingly long, exhaustion overcoming your body way sooner than he was done with his deed...

...and then, suddenly, after his mind decided it was enough, he stopped.

Your husband's memories of the past hours washed over him in a tide of guilt, horrified to see your limp and abused self next to him. He wanted to console you, cradle you in his arms like he did so many times before - but just when he reached out your eyes snapped open and you quickly shuffled back into the nearest corner.

"P-Please, Rabban, not again..." you stuttered, eyes swollen and voice sore from crying. "I'm ble-eding, I can't-"

In your shock you were unable to make out the shift in his behavior, the awareness he had regained. All you could make up in this man anymore was the face of the enmy - you were back to ground zero.

"Y/N, my love-" The nickname died in his mind, knowing he was undeserving of calling you that title after all the harm he's done. Even from this distance he could make out a bruise shaped like a perfect handprint of his, right on your clavicula. "Let me take you to a healer, at least."

His call for assistance was audible in all hallways of the whole complex, and soon a hoard of servants came to assess the situation. You were sobbing on the bed in a fetal curl, catatonic and unresponsive to the maidens. Just a short while ago they had locked the door from the outside, ignoring your pleas for help as you hammered onto the wooden surface.

Of course it was due to the Baron's order, but you felt betrayed either way...

...by them, your husband, fate, the universe - your own goddamn heart.

Rabban couldn't bear to look at you as they carried your battered self away, knowing he would break down if he saw the aftermath of his weakness.

Nothing he could say or do would make up for even a fraction of what he had done to you with that very body that he had sworn to sacrifice for your protection. He looked down at his own hands, tainted with the first blood that ever made him sick, balling his fists as he grabbed a random servant, crushing his skull with the impact.

"They'll pay a thousandfold for hurting my dear wife."

What a farce those words were, for he knew his place. Amongst the military, which was all he knew. With his family, where he had accepted his part a long time ago.

And in the rest of the known universe, he was aware of his insignificance. He could want revenge all the way, but he won't be getting it against such an all-powerful foe with a way higher social status.

"Several broken ribs and a bruised hipbone" Piter would later report, not that someone asked him. He was just tired of having to clean up behind Rabban's messes.

The words drang to his ears, but the Beast remained mute ever since you were dragged away from him, the images of that fateful event eating him alive.

But he deserved to know about the extent of the only crime he ever truly regretted.

"As for the internal injuries...most likely incapable of conceiving, after" he gestured around, eyeing your husband with discontent, "All this."

If it wasn't for you becoming barren, no one would've bat an eye. It was the most normal thing in the world for them, probably one of their tamest pleasures even - but unlike Rabban, they were able to hold back when required.

The Baron listened carefully to Piter's elaboration, gladly this time without the Bene Gesserit, for she had already parted ways from Giedi Prime. After a while of burying his greasy forehead into his hands, he declared stoic:

"Kill her."

No answer, just pure shock visible on Rabban's face, his mouth agape but his mind simulataneously wwiped blank from any solution.

"You heard me, get rid of her" Wladimir repeated before his nephew could object. "If we send her back to Lankiveil in this state, they'll find out what happened and accuse us of ill intentions from the start of this alliance. They shall never even lay eyes on her corpse, otherwise they'll declare war. We tell them it was an accident, that her corpse cannot be retrieved. Without proof they cannot gain the other House's goodwill for an alliance."

"But uncle, can't we- I mean I keep her?" He gulped, dreading the answer he already knew.

"What for? Without being able to give you a heir, she's only a waste of space, a threat if her peers would find out." His tone was almost disgusted, now that you did not serve a purpose anymore. "And as far as I've heard, she was bad influence on you either way."

Rabban expected his uncle's rage to be directed at him. Screams, lectures, physical punishment even - but much to his surprise, all he got was a reaffirming speech.

"We've all been young any blinded by primal emotions once, boy. Distract yourself, focus on your work and find yourself another plaything. People are replacable - but your destiny isn't, Nu-Baron."

Lies. Lies over lies over lies, encoated in fancy words and false flattery.

Where he had once idolatrously admired his uncle, his newfound awareness reduced this sentiment to nothing but pure, corrupting hatred.

But in the end, one particular thing held some truth: Neither Rabban nor you could escape this fate, after all that had happened...

...and the more he thought about it, your equally disturbed husband was about to fall astray from the path you had led him on, letting doubt and cowardice spit dark thoughts into his mind.

What if his uncle was right after all?

There was no other way around this, no way of sparing your life. As hard as it was to admit, it was crystal clear that someone like Rabban could never outwit the likes of his uncle and the Bene Gesserit.

Their wish was law.

"I can kill her whenever I please" he tried to convince himself, following a trail to the almost empty infarmy as he gathered courage for the impossible. "Yes, I don't need her. Never have. I'm done playing house. I'll make it quick and then continue my old - no, real life."

That pathetic attempt to convince himself was abruptly disturbed when he noticed a different voice than yours coming out of your chambers - a male one.

"I've always wondered how you did it" the baritone voice laughed evily, in between your weak pleas. "Taming the Beast like that, I mean. Might as well try it myself!"

Rabban's steps turned into the fastest run he was capable of, slamming the doors open only to see one of his own henchmen lying on top of you in the sickbed.

"Sorry, boss" the soldier spoke way too relaxed, not understanding the severity of his situation as he slammed your thorso down onto the mattress again. "I wanted to do you a favor and get rid of her...just wanted to have some fun first-"

Rabban's fist hit the chin of his former ally before the latter could chose some wiser last words, sending him flying through the room.

You hid under the sheets again, unsucessfully trying to dampen the noise of a cracking skull and other obscenities with a pillow as Rabban turned his threats into practice. He killed the man with his bare hands, gutting him alive all while screaming like he had lost even the last bit of his sanity.

A violent tremor ran through your body, wanting to intervene and telling him to stop violating the already unrecognizeable corpse, yet just when you opened your mouth his wild eyes fell on you.

"Are you alright?" he panted heavily, the bloodied Beast rushing to your side, unwillingly making you cower in fear. Tears dwelled in your eyes, the memory of what he had done to you still so fresh and now mixed with having witnessed this brutality you always knew he was capable of for the first time.

"W-Why?" you whimmer as the dam broke, seeing the Beast fall to his knees on your bedside. "Why would you go out of your way to save me, after- after you almost killed me yourself last night?"

"Y/N..I-" He looked so forlorn, it made no sense whatsoever. You were traumatized, tired, every bone in your body was aching after the ordeal he had put you through...

...and yet, seeing him like this - tears you never thought he was able to cry before now streaming over his jaw - made you feel sorry for this wretch.

"The Bene Gesserit, they used their voice on me, they-" His vocal cords betrayed him several times, shaky hands hovering over your fragile, broken body in an attempt to not give in to the need of your closeness. "Still, it's my fault alone. My mind twisted their order into...this, I don't know why, I-I'm just so, so sorry..."

The thought to even do so much as to lay a finger on you never even crossed his mind, and yet...

"I failed you" he roars painfully, desperate. Fear and violence was all he ever knew to resolve conflict - but right here, right now with you it was worth nothing.

Yes, his Uncle was right: He's worthless. You were better off without him. He was dangerous, unable to live a normal life - one filled with the happiness and security you deserved.

"Rabban..."

The Beast's teary eyes looked at you unbelieving when he felt your hand on his scalp, bottom lip trembling as your words cut through any hope he had left:

"...you need to kill me."

He does nothing but gulp at your words, dry lips burning from the salt of his own tears.

All emotions seem have dissipated within you. You were calm, too calm to be precize, considering your inescapable situation...

...maybe that was what they'd call acceptance of fate.

"It's true what your subordinate said, isn't it?" Looking at the ceiling lamp, you woefully realize there's no way to ever see the sun again. "...I'm afraid so."

Of course it is. Your immunity had always been tied to your fertility. And now that it's most likely gone, as the doctors have informed you...

"...your people will not grant me a quick death. They'll-" Chosing to not finish explaining the nightmarish possibilities popping up in your mind, you shake your head in exasperation. "Rabban, you will be merciful, I know it. It has to be you, I beg you!"

"Please, Y/N..." You hesistantly cover his hands with yours, both of you feel the other trembling. "Don't make me do this. Anything but this..."

A sole tear escaped your eye, even after you had already shed more than enough for this lifetime. You lean towards your husband, foreheads touching as his palms start to caress your cheekbones.

"You can do it, my love..." you whisper, slowly leading his shaky hands down to your throat. "I love you, Rabban."

You smiled.

Even in the face of doom you chose kindness.

"I should've said it sooner...I love you too, Y/N. More and way longer than you could ever imagine."

_____

"Didn't think to find you here of all places."

Feyd had been sent to look for his brother, and while initially being in no rush, his frustration grew when even after a whole day had passed, his men were unable to find him.

Rabban did not turn towards the voice behind his back, standing there far at the outskirts of the slave pits, staring down the huge cliff dividing it from Harkonnen civilization.

Secretly, a small part of Glossu was hoping his brother would seize the opportunity to push him...

...but Feyd merely came closer, warily staring down the sheer bottomless pit they used to dump all of the slave's corpses.

"What are you doing?" The Beast wouldn't stop looking downwards, tone melancholic as he wrung out the words. "Biding my wife a last goodbye, I guess."

"...heh, not bad." his brother retorted unfazed, amused even. "But what if-"

"Even if they did find her body" Rabban harshly asserted his dominance. "Not even her mother would be able to recognize her. Got it?"

This answer earned another approving chuckle from the sadistic sociopath."I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you, to be honest."

In all honesty, Feyd had contemplated getting rid of you instead, as an act of brotherly assistance if one may call it that way. More or less at last, mainly to get back at you for refusing the opportunity to poison Rabban back then.

Who could've thought you were stupid enough to fall for someone like Rabban, after all? Well, it seems like that backfired either way.

"It's good to have you return to your senses, brother" Feyd declared, a single pat on his shoulder underlining the sincerity of his reassurance.

One last look before Rabban was finally able to tear his eyes away from the black pit beneath him, and towards his family - his old life.

"Yeah, it's good to be back..."

____

A/N: NONONO DON'T CRY THIS ISN'T THE END I'M SORRY

[Next Chapter]

[violetlunette]

Runaway Chapter 11: Changing tactics

Summary: Lilia attempts to catch Silver's Phantom while Malleus decides his next move.

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

“Silver… blotted over?” The words tumbled from pale, disbelieving lips. Sebek’s head dropped as his hands curled to try and stop them from quivering.

After Lilia’s conversation with Idia, Sebek made sure to inform his lord. He knew that—despite everything—Malleus would want to know.

“I-I’m afraid so,” The knight said, though it appeared to take great effort to speak. He bit his lip to stop himself from crying. The thought of Silver—of all people—overblotting and becoming a monster. What Silver must have gone through to become that—the thought tore at his soul.

Malleus lowered his own head, scowling as his grip tightened on his arms, folded across his chest.

He felt that there must have been a mistake. The amount of magic he would need aside, Silver was too emotionally strong to ever blot over. The world could be breaking in half, and Silver would still be standing tall, ready to defend and fight. He didn’t fall apart or fall into despair.

Then Malleus recalled the memory of the eve of Lilia’s departure. Silver sobbing at the idea of losing Lilia came to mind, and Malleus felt his heart ache despite everything.

‘But even then, when I cast my spell, Silver was the one who saved everyone.’ Including him, Malleus reasoned. Silver falling apart to the point where he could overblot—it didn’t make sense.

“Lord Malleus?” The hesitant voice broke through his thoughts and returned the prince to reality. “What should we do?” Malleus looked at the half-fae. Sebek stood tall, looking like the soldier he trained to be. It was a far cry from the child who used to stare at him puppy-eyed when Malleus would visit Lilia’s cottage. Sebek continued, his tone firm despite the way his eyes glistened.

“As strong and skilled as he is, Master Lilia can’t take on a Phantom alone now that his magic’s all gone,” he stated logically. “And on top of that, it’s Silver… We can’t just do nothing.”

Malleus didn’t respond. Instead, he looked at the drawer where his gao-gao was.

He tried to diligently care for it as always, but after Lilia left, Malleus couldn’t look at it anymore, so he threw it in the drawer. Gao-Gao was probably dead by now.

Above it was a statue that Silver had given him, looking exactly like the one Sebek had gifted him. As talented as the human was in combat, he lacked creativity.

His thin jaw clenched. Malleus wanted to remain stubborn and say that Lilia would be fine. That he could handle his human son on his own. However, even as the bitter thought formed, crafted by his feeling of betrayal, the dragon knew otherwise.

A phantom was a powerful beast that most mages struggled against on the rare occasions they appeared. As Sebek stated, without his magic, Lilia would be severely disadvantaged. The man couldn’t even conjure a simple attack spell or a defense charm anymore. There was also the fact that the overblot in question was Silver.

‘Can Lilia fight his son?’ Malleus’ frown deepened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Why should I do anything?” Sebek's expression grew with surprise.

“Lord Malleus?” Malleus narrowed his eyes at him as they glowed with a green flame.

“The human is the child of my family’s enemy—our kingdom’s enemy,” he coldly reminded the other. “They stole everything from our people. Our land, our resources—” His mother. Blood rushed to his ears as his anger grew.

He stood from his seat and walked over to the boy, looming over him despite their closeness in height.

“Silver carries the blood of those people,” Malleus continued hotly. “Lilia knew this and yet still betrayed my—betrayed our kingdom.” All for the sake of that boy.

Sebek was shocked by his master’s words.

“You can’t believe that,” he mumbled in disbelief, stumbling back as if struck. Malleus scoffed, his lips curling upward.

“Can’t I?” he sneered. They deserved this. As karma for their crimes, they deserved to suffer. Lilia for his deceit and Silver for the sins of his fathers. Why should Malleus get involved? He was the victim; why should he be their savior? What did he owe them?

Except his life?

Malleus averted his gaze sharply, turning his head to the side. Fire burned in his throat as he stepped away, his words barely a bitter mutter.

“Lilia started this whole mess,” he stated. “Let him deal with his son.”

“Lord Malleus--” But Malleus had disappeared in a blast of green flame.

~*~

Haff, haff…

Lilia was getting old. How often had he told himself that? The fae could recall how he used to be able to go on for days without breaking even a single sweat. Now, Lilia felt like his lungs had turned into knives that were trying to cut his throat.

His search hadn’t been easy. To be fair, the bat-fae was literally tracking a ghost. Therefore, there were no tracks or scents to follow after she vanished, taking his boy with her.

Lilia groaned. His legs had ached until numbness overtook the pain. As such, they wobbled, nearly pulling him to his knees.

‘I must have still had some magic inside of me,’ he mused as he stumbled onward. The fae couldn’t see any other way he could still be standing other than the pure stubbornness that Malenore would have scoffed at.

Even so, he never stopped his search. He couldn’t. Not when a clock was ticking in his head. A clock that, with every tick and tock, brought his son closer to the grave.

The insane part was that he did find the phantom multiple times. He would find her and his son just a few feet away, and then...

She would vanish. Just like now.

“Wait--!!” Lilia threw himself forward but only caught mist before sprawling out on the ground. There, he pounded his fists like a child about to throw a tantrum.

“Arrrgh! Fuck!!” Every time! Every. Fucking. Time! He was so close! So fucking close! He was inches away, and--

Lilia swallowed his frustration back, trying to quench the emotion as it burned through him.

‘Calm yourself,’ he ordered himself. ‘Getting worked up won’t help.’ But then, what would?

Lilia flipped himself on his back and rubbed his eyes, heavy with exhaustion as shown by the dark bags under them and thick with tears.

‘I need a way to hold it,’ he thought, doing his best to think rationally. All this time, he had just been running blind, hoping that he could just catch the phantom like a rabbit or deer. Obviously, that wasn’t working out for him. ‘Maybe if I use a spell...’ Lilia grimaced, remembering that magic was out of the question for him. He sensed that he had a little in his reserves, but not enough to do anything useful.

Traps were an idea, but Lilia had a feeling that normal traps wouldn’t work. If they did, a secret organization wouldn’t be needed to deal with them. Speaking of which--

‘Should I just wait for STYX to arrive?' Lilia shot the thought down immediately. While that course of action may have more success, Lilia was worried that they would destroy Silver. They would take the teen away to the STYX headquarters and lock him away with the rest of the phantoms. Either way, Lilia would lose his son forever.

The old fae growled, covering his face with an arm.

“Fuck.” If only he still had his magic. If he did so, none of this would be happening. They would still be a happy family. Now Lilia wondered if they would ever be a family again.

His heart sank in his chest, but even so, Lilia forced himself to his feet.

He couldn’t let such thoughts weigh him down. If he did, then Silver would be lost to grief forever. And Lilia wasn’t going to let that happen.

He wouldn’t let Silver disappear due to a mistake from the past that wasn’t even his. He wouldn’t let Silver suffer for the mistakes of others.

He wouldn’t let Silver die.

But in order to save Silver, he had to catch him first. Was that even possible without being able to conjure--A bulb lit in his head.

‘What about potions?’ While some potions required magic, not all of them did. Lilia was well versed on concoctions, more so than most due to his years of experience.

‘It’s an idea at least. And it’s better than running like a dog chasing his tail.’ But what kind of potion could he use?

‘Most of all, will it work?’ He hoped so.

Otherwise...

~*~

It was an awful feeling—the desire to run but having nowhere to go. Usually, Malleus would go to Ramshackle; however, now that it had a resident, it didn’t feel proper. However, what Malleus hated more was that he wanted to run. He was a dragon and a prince, yet here he was acting like a child. To be honest, he felt like one.

Eventually, he decided to visit the garden. However, if he wanted to be alone, then perhaps the garden wasn’t the best place to go.

“Ah. Young Spade,” he observed aloud when he saw the young brunet. The boy jumped as soon as Malleus spoke, blue eyes wide.

“Draconia-senpai!” he exclaimed, almost as loud as Sebek. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” Malleus sighed, eyes closed. Usually the reaction would have amused him, but as of late...

“If anyone is disturbing anyone, it is me, as you were here first,” he said humbly, waving toward the other, who seemed to be in the middle of gardening. The boy stiffened at the thought—or rather at the thought of what Malleus would do if he thought that.

“Not at all!” he “assured” the other, swinging his arms about. “I—I was just gathering some of the dawnweed I was growing.” Deuce showed Malleus a handful of the plant.

“Oh? You found some? Impressive.” The compliment flustered the boy.

“Ah, not really.” The boy was modest. Dawnweed was a rare herb for a reason, as it was hard to grow. Even in the wild, it was nearly impossible to find.

‘Yet Silver used it all the time,’ Malleus recalled without warning. After Jamil taught Silver how to make a wake-up potion, the human would make it all the time, using his animal friends to help collect herbs. Unfortunately, they discovered that there was a severe drawback to overtaking it. When Silver did eventually fall asleep, he would fall into a deeper slumber than ever, one that was nearly impossible to wake from. It was hours before Lilia was able to coax his child from the dream realm, after which he forbade the boy from ever touching the concoction again.

‘Once again, I’m thinking about them.’ There was a rumble in his throat as his expression pinched.

“Dra—Draconia-senpai?” Malleus reopened his eyes to see Deuce looking extremely nervous, as if he worried he had upset the other.

“Ah, my apologies. I was lost in thought,” Malleus explained. Deuce softened his tense stance, and his expression turned sympathetic.

“Ah, I understand. You must be under a lot of stress with Silver missing and Lilia gone.” Malleus’ jaw clenched. The boy had no idea.”

“I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” he admitted, folding his arms across his chest, his gaze on the ground. “I understand that Lilia and Silver may need me, but there are too many things to take into consideration due to my status.” And much more. “And even if I do go to them, what then?”

The confusion in his mind was unbearable. It was like he was trapped in a tornado being flung around. The spinning made him feel ill and more.

“Uh… I have no idea what’s going on exactly, but it sounds like you may be thinking too much,” the boy said after a minus. Deuce did his best to stand tall and look as reassuring as possible. ���It’s a cliche—and a sappy one, at that—but sometimes you just gotta shut off your brain and follow your instincts. Then you can deal with what happens afterward.” As he said this, Deuce pounded a fist over his heart. Malleus closed his eyes as he thought over these words.

“My instincts...”

~*~

By this point, Lilia had figured out a trick to finding the phantom. It was simple enough: follow the thorns. The more flowers, the closer he was to his boy. Then Lilia just had to listen for the singing. Speaking of:

“Ahh, aha, ahhhh~”

The song drifted to his ears as Lilia hacked through the briar patch with his blade. Once the mist appeared, the general knew that the phantom would soon be in sight. He took a breath.

‘Show time.’ He hoped this worked. No, scratch that. It HAD to work. Otherwise--

He spotted the phantom.

As usual, she sat in the center of a glade, staring down at Silver, who was pinned to her like a butterfly to a board. The sight would have looked tender if not for the ink pooling from Silver like blood from an open wound.

‘Will Silver still have that wound when he’s no longer blotted over?’ Lilia would find out, she supposed. He took a step forward.

Snap!

‘Damn!’ A branch broke beneath his foot, and an eyeless gaze flinched towards him.

The Phantom rose from the spot where she rested and moved like a startled maiden, pulling Silver to her like a small baby or toy. Around her, red petals flew as wind and fog swirled around her.

“Not this time!” Lilia reached toward his belt and retrieved a vial of blue liquid. Using his teeth to uncork it, he threw it with all his might.

Krrshhh!!

The glass shattered, and there was a burst of ice magic that froze the air around the Phantom.

Rahhhahhh!!

The specter's scream filled the sky and rumbled the branches. Even so, she could not run. Seeing this, a grin crossed the fae’s dry lips.

“Yes!” Lilia charged forward, his success giving him a burst of energy. However, the man had celebrated too soon.

As Lilia got closer, the specter shrieked before slashing upward with her hand. As she did so, several black threads undid themselves from her fingers. They shot towards Lilia.

“What?! No!” The threads ensnared the bat-fae like a fly in a web, wrapping around his body. With a curse, Lilia fell forward, his entire body tightly bound.

“Ngh! Come on, come on—fuck!” There was always something, wasn’t there?! He thrashed violently, kicking his legs up and down as he fought to free himself.

Ksshh!

“What?!” As Lilia struggled, the Phantom’s dress shattered like ice on a lake before being replaced with a new one. Freed, she floated into the air.

“No!” Lilia pulled at his limbs harder, cutting his skin on the threads as the black mist swirled, ready to take his child from him once more. “Silver--”

Raaawr!!

A shadow fell over the fae and the phantom. Lilia looked up in startled shock, his jaw dropping open.

“Malleus?!”

--

Next chapter

A/N:

*Boo-yah! DiaFam is back together!

*Yes, I am aware that I made a story error and pulled the potion concept out of no where. But that kind of thing happens when you’re writing on the fly. And it’s fanfiction, so I get leeway.

Aurora Phantom:

*Speaking of leeway, I’m pretty sure that the Phantoms don’t have solid forms, but for the sake of the next chapter let’s casually ignore that.

**However, if you want an in-verse reason, let’s say that she’s drained enough life from Silver that she’s taking on corporal form.

*Fun Fact: The song she’s singing is “I wonder” as it’s a song longing about a connection and being found by someone to love the singer, hinting at Silver’s desire to be found despite his actions.

Malleus:

*I’m sure everyone wanted Yuu to be the one to talk to Malleus but Yuu’s personality changes on the writer so to I’d have to write my OC version of them and I’d rather they have their own story. And, honestly, I like the interactions between Malleus and Deuce better. I think they’re cute and that the relationship is more developed.

[420thewritersroom]

Deadly Sakura (Part 2)

*trips onto this blog with this* hey ya'll how you doing :D

It's been a minute and I finally feel confident enough to bring this out! This has been sitting in my drafts for a LONG ASS while, like goddamn. I'm been slowly working on this and I feel like this is complete enough where I'm comfortable sharing the next half of this story. It will take another while before the next chapter is shown because one, I've been getting real acquainted with an old game from my childhoood and got the inspiration to write about it, and two, I just really need to take my time.

I realized that I made a mistake jumping onto this and making this into a series because I don't have a concrete blueprint of where I want to take this story. I hyped myself up, being pretty new to this fandom and making fanwork for an establish fandom got me a bit anxious. I found myself feeling guilty for not being able to pump out more chapters and I want to get out of that mindset. That's why I've been working on another, personal, project that I can't wait to show you guys sometime soon. I've been telling myself that it's ok if you loose interest for a while, the inspiration will come back to you as long as you keep the drafts.

But enough about me, here's the part 2 of Deadly Sakura! I'll post this on AO3 tomorrow because I'm lazy.

~Try as Liu Kang might, some circumstances are inevitable. Kung Lao has perished under the hands of Earthrealms enemies, leaving everyone to mourn the loss of his untimely departure. And some took his death harder than most. Raiden nearly became the very thing Liu Kang feared he would become, and out of wounded grief, opted to remove his memories and leave Earthrealm partially unprotected as he disbanded his warriors. Yet, something darker is rearing its head, and soon, Earthrealm and the realms beyond will need the help of Liu Kang's champions and some unexpected heroes. Especially when an old friend (and foe) comes back to say hello~

Characters: Kenshi, Johnny Cage, Jax, Raiden, Kung Lao, Fuji

Word Count: 9,652

Ships: Kenshi/Johnny Cage & Raiden/Kung Lao

Previous // Next

Wilted Cherry Blossoms, Dark Thunderstorms, Burning Hopes: Remastered

Kenshi bursts through the fire exit door, leading him and Johnny to the back alleyway and away from public notice. Kenshi quickly dials Jax's number, muttering to himself for his partner to pick up the phone (and doing his best to ignore Johnny's constant questioning).

Finally, the familiar voice of Briggs on the other line gives Kenshi a sliver of hope that they might be able to escape this soon.

"Kenshi! Where the hell are you? I told you we'd meet 5 minutes ago; what's holding you up?"

"Jackson, we got company and need to get to China. How long for you to get to my location?" Kenshi hurriedly says as he pulls Johnny with him down the alleyway.

"Company? What kind of 'company'?"

"The kind that looks pale and dead."

"And breaks into other peoples' private property!" Johnny unceremoniously chimes in, getting a hissing scold from Kenshi in response.

"Hold up, do you have someone with you, Kenshi?"

"I don't have time to explain! Just meet me at the garage near the Starbucks on 114th Street!" Kenshi then disconnects the call, not wanting Johnny or Jax to further interact; even though it's going to become inevitable soon.

"Whoa there, You still gotta tell me what this is all about too!" Johnny insisted as he caught up with Kenshi. "Who was that guy, and what's going on?"

"Once we randevu with my associate, then we'll talk."

"And this 'associate' fellow is?"

"I'm more concerned about getting out of here than answering questions right now, Johnny."

Kenshi feels Johnny grab his wrist and force the swordsman to face him. "Johnathan now's not-"

"Then make time, Kenshi! At least give me the SparkNotes version of what's going on!" Johnny growls as he tightens his grip around Kenshi's wrist.

Kenshi feels his spine tingle, hearing Johnny growl his name. While he does make a mental note of that (for later), he readjusts his thinking back to the matter at hand. Kenshi never really came forward with his line of work with Johnny; he wasn't sure if he could trust the Hollywood actor to keep his mouth shut and not brag about dating an FBI agent.

The swordsman sighs, finally relenting to Johnny's request, "A month ago, when I was in Japan, I was tracking down a notorious gang known as the Jeido taigā bando, Jade Tiger Band in English. I was helping my associate track them down because he suspected that they were associated with…A far more dangerous crime organization."

"Let me guess, you pissed off the wrong guy, and now they're sending their goons to come after you, right?" Johnny huffs, acting as though he's heard this story before.

"Not really. To keep the story short, what I found when I discovered their base of operations was individuals who I can only classify as…Undead…And they're planning on expanding their ranks by digging up more bodies or adding to the body count for them to raise."

Johnny gives Kenshi a look, letting go of his wrist and crossing his arms. "Ok, so we're dealing with some Night of the Living Dead invasion-type shit? Does Bruce Kang know about this?"

"Not yet. Contacting Liu Kang gets difficult every day that passes, even with Geras serving as his line operator. I was going to report my findings to my associate-"

"It's ok, you can call him Jackson." Johnny was already getting slightly annoyed by the avoidance of names here.

If Kenshi still had eyes, he'd roll them to the back of his skull, "I need to get to him and report what I discovered. Afterwards, I'm going to Liu Kang personally."

"Why not go to Liu right now? A possible zombie invasion sounds like something that should be brought to his attention as soon as possible."

"I still have my obligations to my work, Johnny." Kenshi sighs.

"Work that you still haven't explained to me, Kenshi."

"Later. Let's just meet Jackson before that body catches up with us."

"A little late for that," Johnny looks down the alleyway in the direction of the fire exit they escaped from.

Standing at the far end of the alleyway, the undead creature they fought earlier and sent 200 ft back to the lobby glares their red eyes at the pair.

"Fuck me," Kenshi says, exasperated.

Almost on cue, the undead creature rushes at the duo, Johnny and Kenshi getting into a fighting stance. Once the creature was halfway to their position, Johnny was the first to meet them and threw a punch at them. Kenshi draws out Sento and helps Johnny, partaking in the back and forth between them and the monster.

The creature manages to grab at Johnny, clutching his throat in a death grip, before throwing him at Kenshi. Had they been the rivals they were before, Kenshi would've let Johnny fall. And perhaps he should've let Johnny fall, for his attempt to catch Johnny stumbles him in return. The undead creature lunges for Kenshi, their sharp claws countered thanks to Sento's protection. Kenshi quickly gets Johnny back on his feet and grabs the floating hilt of his sword, reengaging with the monster as he puts distance between them and Johnny, giving the actor a moment to recover.

The sounds of steel and hardened claws clashing together fill the air as Kenshi fights off the undead creature. Kenshi misses the monster feinting him, screaming when he feels its claws dig deep into his skin as it slashes him across his midsection. Johnny comes up behind the undead creature, round house kicking them in the head and sending them to the ground.

"Kenshi!" Johnny attempts to help the wounded Kenshi, only to feel an arm wrap around their neck, stopping him in his tracks.

Johnny grunts as he tries to prevent the undead creature from choking him out-or worse-snapping his neck. The creature's breath can be felt on the side of his face as they darkly chuckle, "You can join your crippled friend with our family if you're that desperate to join him."

Johnny can feel his consciousness slipping, the bastard's grip on him too powerful for him to overcome. Before going under, Johnny's ears ring as he hears the creature holler in pain. In his peripherals, Johnny can see the mystical blade of Sento breaching through the monster's head, right where their left eyeball resided. Johnny uses this time to escape, coughing as he recovers.

Kenshi removes Sento from the creature's head, leaving a slitted hole where the katana once resided. Gathering his strength and swift movements, Kenshi goes for the head again, scalping the creature before jabbing Sento into its brain, the steel running through the organ and the rest of its body before settling within the undead monstrosity's ribcage. Finally, their current nightmare ends as the creature goes limp once again. Removing Sento, Kenshi lets the body flop to the ground, stepping his foot on their neck and ready to behead the monster if it so much as moved another inch.

…It doesn't move.

Kenshi hisses as his still bleeding wound catches up with him, the adrenaline coming down. He leans against the stonewalls that make up the alleyway, breathing heavily as he continues to lose blood.

"Kenshi. Whoa, easy there, I got ya!" Johnny steps to Kenshi's side, holding him up and allowing Kenshi to put his weight on him. Johnny makes a hissing whistle sound as he helps Kenshi trudge through the alleyway, "They cut ya up pretty good. You think you'll make it to that Starbucks?"

"I'll be," Kenshi huffs between words, "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, you sound 'fine,'" Johnny half-heartedly jests as they get closer to reaching the main streets. Which only worries Johnny further. With an injured Kenshi, his stardom, and it's still light outside, there will be eyes on them, whether they like it or not. "Ok, Kenshi, Imma need you to pick up your feet once we get out there. The sooner we get to your associate, the better."

Getting into the crowd, the pair make their way through the moving bodies, trying to give as little reason for anyone to take notice of them. Every wayward glance gave Johnny a spike of anxiety as he prayed and hoped that no one would immediately recognize him, even with his rise to popularity as a director. Before they both knew it, they reached their destination. Johnny glanced around, looking for anyone who might be expecting someone.

"Come on, where are they? Hey, Kenshi, what does this Jackson guy look like?"

"Don't need to look far, Mr. Cage."

Johnny twists his head, only to be faced by a tall, perhaps a couple cm off Johnny), dark-skinned individual. "You must be Jackson, right?"

"Right. What happened to him?" Jackson nodded over to Kenshi as he guided them to his vehicle. "Place him in the back; I got a first aid kit he can use."

"We had some company slow us down," Johnny opens the back car door, helping Kenshi into the car before helping himself to riding shotgun.

Kenshi didn't need to ask where Jackson kept his first aid kit, always in a hidden compartment inside the middle seat. He takes out all the necessary items to thread himself back together, though the work was slightly sloppy thanks to the moving vehicle.

"So, when were you going to tell me you were close to a Hollywood star?"

"What? So that you can pester me for an autograph?" Kenshi hisses as he runs the needle and thread through his skin.

"Aw, Kenshi. To deprive a fan of mine a chance to have a personal trinket with my name on it from yours truly is the most heinous thing of you to do," Johnny voiced.

"And I'm certain there's a special place in Hell for me for that." Kenshi jests back with Johnny before adjusting his mind to the reason he needed to speak with Jackson to begin with. "I found the Jade Tiger Band. They were all dead when I discovered where they were headquartered."

"Dead? All of them?" Jackson's eyebrows raise as he occasionally glances at Kenshi's reflection in the rearview mirror.

"All that remained of them was bodies. But…There are more concerning things about this situation. I saw the cargo with the Black Dragon's symbol printed on them, so they were in legion with the organization. How deep, I don't know. But while there, when I discovered the bodies, the building was almost repurposed in a…cult-like fashion. I saw, firsthand, bodies being given life, under the control of some puppet master."

If it wasn't for the fact that Jackson not only worked for the FBI but also the OIA, Kenshi's certain that everything that he just said would have him laughed out of the vehicle or into a mental institute. There's a moment of silence as Jackson takes a moment to process what Kenshi relayed.

"This job just gets stranger and stranger. Do you think the Black Dragon is behind these…Bodies coming back from the dead?"

"I don't think so, Jax. The attire these individuals wore was not Black Dragon material. Then again, the Black Dragons are not known for being uniformed. But the many times we tailed them, sorcery was never on their resume." Kenshi groans his final sentence as he starts wrapping himself up in cloth and medical alcohol.

"Do you think that sorcerer fella might be involved?" Jax questions.

"Shang Tsung?" Johnny chimes in.

"You know him?" Jax gives Johnny a quick look.

"Oh, not only do I know him, but Kenshi and I beat that bastard into prison and saved the world from a universe collapse. How else do you think I got the inspiration for MORTAL KOMBAT: CHAMPIONS OF TIME?"

Thanks to the fact that they stopped at a long red light, Jackson couldn't help but look at Johnny & Kenshi in disbelief. This isn't the first time Jax has had this revelation given to him, how else would the Outworld Investigation Agency exist if not for him?

"You know, if it weren't for Kenshi breaking the news to me before about your involvement in this whole…Circus fuckery, I wouldn't have believed that YOU, Mr. Cage, experienced this crazy shit first hand."

"Please, you can call me Johnny. No need for formalities."

"Back to the matter at hand," Kenshi interjects. "I believe that Shang Tsung might be behind this entire operation. I don't think he's working closely with the Black Dragon, but I wouldn't be surprised if they somehow got into contact with one another."

"And what makes you think that Shang Tsung might be involved?" Johnny takes his turn to look in the backseat where Kenshi sat.

"The magic used to bring these creatures back looked similar to how Shang utilizes his own sorcery. That, and it was green. And aside from Quan Chi, I don't know anyone else whose magic gives off a green color." Kenshi explains.

"Wait, who's Quan-"

"I'll tell you about him later, Jax." Kenshi interrupts. "Right now, there's a possible chance that Shang Tsung is causing dead people to come back from the grave, and the Black Dragon is possibly involved."

"Well, we can't work on chances and possibilities. If they're truly operating together, we're going to need concrete proof. People coming back from the dead might not be enough to get the higher-ups to look deeper into this, especially since they're still wrapping their heads around what is and is not possible with these supernatural occurrences." said Jax.

At this point, they arrived at a discreet enough motel, Jax pulling the vehicle into an available parking space under a shaded tree.

"I know, But maybe this will be enough to prove my suspicions. The Jeido Taigā may have been compromised and most of their members dead, but I was able to pinpoint where their next point of operation may be. Got it off a dying Taigā and convinced them I was one of them. They're right in our front yard, hoping to make a transaction somewhere in San Jose."

"Well, what a coincidence, because our inside gal reported to us not too long ago about a trade happening in San Jose, right in an abandoned warehouse," Jax smirks as he trains his eyes back at Kenshi through the rearview mirror.

"Great! Then all we gotta do is bust the bad guys, kick Shang Tsungs ass, and the day is saved!" Johnny rubs his hands in anticipation.

“Um, I’m sorry, ‘we’?” Jax gives Johnny a look.

“Johnny, can we talk for a minute?” Kenshi gives Johnny’s shoulder a firm squeeze before exiting the car, hissing in pain as his freshly patched-up wounds send signals of pain to him.

“Oh, boy, here we go,” Johnny mumbles, exiting the car with Kenshi.

Jax follows suit, closing the driver's door. “I already got us a room, when you need to sit it out for a minute,” Jax gestures to Kenshi and where his wound was, “We’re in room 118.”

Kenshi nods as he walks closer to the tree that provided them shade from the beaming sun above. He crosses his arms, looking directly in the direction where Johnny is.

“Ok, what did I do?”

“Nothing, Johnny.”

“Ok, but you’re giving me your ‘serious Kenshi’ face. You look like this, right now,” in which Johnny gives Kenshi an overly exaggerated pouty look.

Unfortunately, for Johnny, Kenshi wasn’t in the mood to entertain the actor. “You’re not coming with us.”

“What? Why not? Didn’t you just say that Shang Tsung could be behind this weird Undead invasion thing? That silver-tongued bastard is my business too, Kenshi.”

“I said no, Johnny.”

“Is this because I renounced my standing as one of Earthrealm's protectors?”

“No, Johnny, I-”

“Because if it is, I now renounce my renouncement as one of Earthrealm's protectors. I can help Kenshi, anything involving Shang Tsung is bad news, and I’d be damned if-”

“This isn’t about that, it’s something completely different.” Kenshi can already feel his annoyance with Cage brewing.

“How different is this? Didn’t Liu Kang set you up with this job?”

“No, he didn’t. Why do you think I need to get to China?”

“Wait, then what’s this all about if Liu Kang doesn’t know about this?” Johnny looks at Kenshi confused.

At this point, Kenshi just had enough. He prays to whoever would listen that Johnny wouldn’t make such a fuss about this and pulls his boyfriend closer. Then and there, Kenshi finally came forward about his association with the FBI and OIA (Outer World Investigation Agency) to Johnny. He still left some details out, only giving the essentials of what his job entailed. Johnny looks at Kenshi amazed before a huge smile crosses his face.

“Well, I’ll be damned! I didn’t know I had 007 as a boyfriend as well.”

“Johnathan, this is serious!”

“Kenshi, don’t worry! I’m not going to tell, I’m not that irresponsible. Even I have secrets I prefer others didn’t know too. Plus, I’m an actor, my secrets are all I have now.” Johnny gives Kenshi a reassuring peck on the cheek to prove his loyalty.

“I mean it, Cage.” Kenshi huffs, though the bubbling tension does soothe inside him.

“Cross my heart, hope to die, you can stick Sento in my eye if I so much as even BREATHE about you being FBI.” Johnny places one final reassuring kiss, this time on Kenshi’s temple, before squeezing the swordsman closer to him.

As stern as Kenshi tries to make himself look, he can’t help but twitch a smile here and there. Johnny always knew how to break his tough guy visage.

“So, now that the beans have been spilled, that means I can help, ri-”

Immediately, Kenshi frowns again, “No.”

“Wha-come on!” Johnny complains, his tone a bit too loud.

“Even if I wanted to bring you along, your face will get us into trouble. You’re an actor for crying out loud, and a recognizable one too. And I can’t just thrust you into my job. By all standards, you’re a civilian and not authorized to meddle in FBI business, doesn’t matter if you fought creatures from Outworld or in Orderrealm. I can’t just bring you along, Johnathan.”

Johnny opens and closes his mouth as if to protest further, but he can only groan. “Ok, fine, but if Shang Tsung is really behind this, hell, a possible zombie apocalypse should be enough to warrant Liu Kang’s attention.”

“I know, Cage. That’s why I’m-”

“No, no, no. That’s why I’M going to China.”

It was now Kenshi’s turn to be speechless. “Johnny…No, no, I don’t want you involved.”

“Kenshi, I’m gonna level with you now. This is me leveling with you. I can handle myself. We went through hell and back, fighting impossible creatures and beating up scary bad guys. You KNOW I can fight. You KNOW I can handle this. If you’re truly some secret agent, then you need to be with your people. The longer Liu Kang is out of the loop, the less prepared our other allies will be. Not only that, but your insight will prove useful to these peeps who know next to nothing about that cunty sorcerer. Let me go in your place, I’ll let Liu Kang know.”

Kenshi wants to argue, but a part of himself can’t really dispute Johnny’s claims. Kenshi can’t be in two places at once, and if Johnny is going to be this persistent in helping, he might as well let him run as a messenger boy…The message, however, Kenshi is unsure if he wants to share it.

Kenshi gives Johnny the silent treatment, not responding to Johnny trying to get a word out of the swordsman. Kenshi rummages through his head about how he can break the news to Johnny, and how much he’s willing to give up to the actor. Before long, Kenshi ultimately decides that the truth is a better alternative. Because, eventually, they’re all going to know.

“Ok…Go to China, find the Academy, and tell Liu Kang what you know.”

Johnny nods, heavily resisting the urge to fist-pump the air in victory like a child. “I will. I can book a flight as soon as today and get a ticket to Shanghai-”

“You’ll need a ticket to Guangzhou,” Kenshi corrected.

“Right, Guangzhou. I’ll get the ticket, fly out of here, and I’ll get Liu Kang to get off his ass and help us out. Who knows, this might be another bastard from another timeline trying to conquer ours for all we care.”

“…I don’t think that’s the case,” Kenshi mumbled, but Johnny still heard what he said.

“Why do you say that?”

“…Because I saw Kung Lao…Our Kung Lao.”

If Johnny wasn’t serious then, the revelation about Kung Lao silences Johnny. He keeps searching Kenshi’s face as if to see if the blind swordsman was joking or pulling some cruel prank. And it frightens him that he finds none in Kenshi.

“What do you mean you saw Kung Lao? Like, you saw his body just walking about?”

“Yes.”

“Yes!?! That’s all you have to say about that?” Johnny couldn’t hold in his frustration and fear.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to say about that! Kung Lao’s body is walking around somewhere out there. That’s why I wanted to reach Liu Kang after reporting back to Jax.”

“I mean,” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose as he paces in place, “Did you at least check his grave? You know, to see if it was tampered with?”

“I can’t. And you know why I can’t”

When Liu Kang returned Raiden back to Fengjian, while he didn’t explicitly say that they were forbidden from seeing their amnesiac friend, it was an unspoken rule amongst those who knew what happened that they shouldn’t meet with Raiden anymore. Liu Kang clearly wanted Raiden disassociated from everything that they were, and continued association could rip open old wounds best left to the natural healing forces of time.

Johnny nods in mutual understanding before letting out a shaky sigh. "Ok, then this is big time urgent. I'll get to Liu as fast as possible."

"I'll drive you to the nearest airport once you have your ticket," Kenshi says. "...And don't bother Raiden, Johnny."

"I know...I know," Johnny mutters, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess this is the part where we..."

"Yeah...I actually need someplace to lay down anyways," Kenshi purposefully leans against Johnny, forcing the actor to support his weight as they walk toward their motel room.

In the secrecy of their motel room, Kenshi further briefed Jax on what he learned tracking down the Jade Tiger Band while Johnny booked his flight. Of course, because he was trying to leave TODAY, the moment Johnny got a ticket, they had to rush to get him to the airport. Navigating the building was a nightmare; it was filled to the brim with an overly anxious crowd trying to get their flight and woefully understaffed. In a small way, it made Kenshi somewhat appreciative that Johnny decided to take his place to inform Liu Kang rather than going himself.

As they both wait at the gate, Kenshi digs in his pocket and hands Johnny a keychain in the shape of a Japanese symbol, "Here. Got this for you while I was away." In all honesty, Kenshi had gotten the item a year ago, but he had completely forgotten that he still had it in his pants. Better now than never, he supposes.

Johnny gasps as he takes the trinket, fiddling with it around his fingers, "Sick!" Johnny examines the keychain further, the gears turning in his head for a moment. "運...That means Luck, right?"

Kenshi couldn't help but smile, "You've been paying attention, I see."

"Aw, don't be too proud of me yet, babe. I've been lacking on my Japanese, thanks to the meetings I've been going to about my next upcoming movie. Which is going to be put on a definite hold if this is as bad as you make it out to be." Johnny leans closer to the swordsman, resting his head on his shoulder.

"How about this, try saying a full sentence in Japanese for me," Kenshi shifts his head to lightly rest on Johnny's while giving an inkling of a teasing message to him.

The actor is quiet for a moment before responding to Kenshi's subtle dare. "At least I'll have a good idea of what you are saying while you're fucking my brains out against the headboard."

Kenshi chokes on nothing as he looked at Johnny embarrassed. "Johnathan!"

"Pretty good, huh?" Johnny snickers.

"W-well, at least you can make out perfect sentences, I suppose."

"Like I said, don't go congratulating me just yet. Second I have another vay-cay in Japan, I'll still be acting like a fish out of water. Best I can do is read the language now."

"That's still an improvement. I'm proud of you nonetheless," Kenshi gives Johnny a kiss on the head.

The moment is ruined when Johnny takes a peek at his watch and curses under his breath. "My flight is going to take off in a moment." Johnny stands to his feet, leaning down to take any luggage, only to remember that he barely packed anything with him; just the clothes off his back. It's not like they could go back to the apartment after what happened with that Undead guy.

"I'll, um, text or call ya once I'm in China." Johnny gives Kenshi a reassuring glance.

Kenshi stands with Johnny and gives him a firm grip on his shoulder, "Be careful out there."

Johnny would've quipped about how others should be careful around HIM, but with the startling news about Kung Lao's return and the whole Undead business, Johnny holds his tongue. Instead, he softly takes Kenshi's gripping hand and squeezes it. "I will."

The pair part ways, Kenshi watching Johnny board his plane and taking off before heading out of the airport. Now to see if Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are truly shaking hands & making friends.

-

~A Week Later~

He's going insane.

Ever since he left Kung Lao's house, Raiden could not shake the unnerving feeling that he was being watched. Everywhere he went, Raiden felt that there were eyes on him, even in the safety of his own home. Raiden had become more restless; he could barely keep his eyes open as he sat at the family dinner table. He doesn't even hear his mother calling for him until she finally touches his shoulder.

Raiden nearly jumped out of his skin as he snapped his head toward his mother, "Y-yes?"

His mother doesn't say anything, the concern on her face clearly apparent of what she wants to say. Raiden tries to resist the urge to rub his eyes, instead opting to just blinking his tiredness away. "Um, was-was there something you needed, mom?"

"...You need rest, dear..."

Any other day, Raiden would downplay those concerns. No, he's not tired. No, he's just fine. No, he's feeling alright. But Raiden doesn't argue this point with his mother. A pang of building guilt fills Raiden as he simply nods, removing himself from the table and walking back to his room. Raiden shuts the door behind him as he just sits on his bed, face in his palms as he wallows in his self-pity.

Ever since he left Kung Lao's house, Raiden has been getting worse. He wasn't getting sleep, he felt as though someone was watching him, he'd been hearing voices, his dreams had been waking him up in the middle of the night, frightened and sweating, and he was losing further grip on his powers. It's almost as if he's been cursed after entering Kung Lao's house. And while Raiden doesn't want to entertain that idea, he can't shake the feeling that he is. Every shadow Raiden was weary of. A soft breeze sends shivers down his spine as his mind believes someone was talking to him. The thunder wielder dreaded the comfort of his own bed, for he would have to anticipate a horribly realistic nightmare or stay awake, watching every dark corner and staring out his window; waiting for something or someone to come for him, until his body finally forces him to sleep.

Raiden slides his hands off his tired face as he glances at his bedroom window. It was early in the morning, too early for anyone to still be asleep, lest they intend to sleep in. Raiden knows he should rest his fatigued body; going to work or doing anything while in this state will be a detriment to everyone and himself. But his pride in contributing to his community nagged at him at his very core. He shouldn't be wasting his time in bed, regardless of how tired he was. In a huff, Raiden readjusted himself, getting ready to leave the house. But he stops when he reaches for his bedroom door. His parents and sister won't let him vacate the house in the condition he's in.

Raiden never had to sneak out of the house in his life, ever. That was always a Kung Lao thing. He remembers his best friend often knocking on his window to be let in like a misplaced puppy. Raiden almost wants to smile as he remembers how every time Lao would come around unannounced, it would always give Raiden a heart attack. Raiden backs away from his bedroom door, inching toward his window and opening it up so that he may exit through there. Raiden's careful to avoid the various other openings of his house that could expose him before making his way over to the Farm so that he may put in some work for the day. Of course, after he picks up an energy drink from the closest convenience store.

But even with a boost in vigor, it would not stop the ongoing protest Raiden's body would give him about his waning spirit. All throughout the day, Raiden was getting slower and slower, and he was constantly shaken awake by his co-workers. Raiden was able to make it through the morning and mid-afternoon of working, and the second he had that moment of brevity, he found the nearest tree to rest his head and knocked himself out.

By the time Raiden had woken up, it was already late in the evening. Raiden curses under his breath, pulling out his phone as he realizes that the alarm he set for himself failed to wake him up. It was already inching dangerously close to 6 at night, and his family most likely knew that he was out of the house by now. Raiden quickly gathered himself, hoping to make it home before they attempted to knock on his door to call him down for dinner.

The nightlife of Fengjian is usually quiet, save for the few who decide to have a night out drinking to celebrate small pleasures, but there are few places to drink lest you are doing so at one's residency or at the teahouse. Yet despite this, tonight was exceptionally quiet aside from the buzzing and chirping sounds of nocturnal insects. Raiden power walked through the empty streets, only to slow down considerably. Raiden slowly turns his head, trying to seemingly appear as though he’s just taking in his surroundings or deciding his next step. He cranes his head just enough to get the peripheral sighting of the roofs, and he feels his spine shiver; someone was watching him from above. He couldn’t see WHO or WHAT, but he saw a shadowed figure.

Raiden continues his walk, but he makes the conscious choice to go in the opposite direction of his house. He’s careful to not give away that he’s aware he’s being followed, attuning his ears sharply to the subtle movements of his stalker. Raiden searched his mind rapidly as he sought for a quick getaway. Because his stalker is watching him from above, anywhere he went, they would see. Raiden hesitated at the idea of having to lash out at the one trailing him, not wanting to place permanent harm or, better yet, accidentally killing them. But then again, as insane as stalking someone may be, no one would be crazy enough to tail behind someone via rooftops.

Fengjian wasn’t busy once night fell, everyone was in their homes enjoying the final moments of the day. Raiden couldn’t blend into a crowd or seek someone out in hopes of asking for their protection. Ultimately, Raiden decides that utilizing his powers would be the better alternative. Raiden stops in his tracks, playing off the illusion that he’s determining where he should go. Raiden notices a puddle spill that reflected the night sky above and the gibbous moon that shone in the heavens. Closely examining it with his eyes, he was able to get a slightly good look at where his stalker was positioned.

In one swift movement, Raiden spins on his heels and unleashes a rope of lightning toward his stalker. The individual seemed to have anticipated that Raiden would attempt an attack, but they were not fast enough to dodge his attack, quickly getting stunned by the lightning that wrapped itself around their waist. Mustering all the strength Raiden had, he pulled the person off the roof, crashing onto the ground while being electrocuted. Raiden releases his hold on this person and books it in the other direction, not taking a second more to interrogate or even get the face of the stalker. He dashes through tight alleyways, jumping over fences, and taking routes that would get him back on track to reaching home, before slamming himself against the side of a building. Raiden takes a moment to breathe, hoping that he had outran his stalker. Raiden almost wanted to slide off the wall and sit on the dirt below, but his blood ran cold when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps rapidly approaching him.

Without even thinking, Raiden hoofs it. Ducking into alleyways, hopping from fence to fence, taking shortcuts and passageways that he was highly familiar with, anything to get away from whoever was chasing him. However, Fengjian is no city or large town, and there weren't many opportunities for Raiden to shake this person off him. He considered flying away but flying required that he use his lightning to elevate him, which could cause unneeded damage and attention. Just like before, Raiden finds himself in a situation where he will have to throw fists.

Raiden purposefully "traps" himself, placing himself in a "tight space" but just enough opportunity for Raiden to fly or teleport away should he need to. He turns on his heels, facing whoever's chasing him as electricity encompasses him. "Come any closer, and I will use lethal force!" Raiden threatens, his eyes and hair glowing white.

The person following him was shrouded in shadows, the distance and darkness of the night concealing their appearance from Raiden. They stop in their tracks at the other end of the open passageway, blocking Raiden's "only" escape. All Raiden could ascertain about his stalker was that they had…Glowing red eyes…That's not natural. Even more unsettling are the dimly lit cracks in this individual's visible skin; their arms lined with red scars. The person stares at Raiden before walking closer to the thunder wielder. Raiden empowers himself with the energies of the amulet infused to his person, static filling the air as he creates an aura of electricity.

"I said, stay back!" Raiden growls, his hair and eyes now glowing brighter than before.

"You really don't remember me, Raiden?"

…That voice…

Raiden's face softens a little, his defensive stance faltering. He examines the person approaching him, still unable to fully discern who it was that was talking to him. But that voice, it sounds eerily familiar. Raiden watched as the individual stepped closer to him. And as they approached, Raiden was able to pick off distinct features about them. The heart-shaped face, the hat, the dimples as they smile…The piercings…

The static bouncing around Raiden provides a little extra light, along with the shining moon above. And when this person stops their gait in front of Raiden (a safe distance from his electrifying aura), it's almost as if the world had stopped around them. Raiden loses the stance he had before, standing straight, and his expression changes into a state of unbelievable shock. The static slowly disperses as Raiden loses the need to fight.

"…Lao…"

That's all Raiden could utter.

Kung Lao's smile wides upon Raiden's soft comment, his skin crawling as he hears his boyfriend's lips speak his name. "Hello, Raiden. Missed me?"

His smug grin, his cocky mannerisms, his voice…Raiden almost wants to believe that he's still dreaming. "…You…They-I…They told me you were-"

"Dead?" Kung Lao interrupts Raiden, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"…Yes…" Once again, all Raiden could say were simple words and maybe scattered sentences if his brain could cooperate with him.

Kung Lao laughs, but it's strained, as though he has a terribly sore throat. "Well, do I look dead to you?"

"…They told me…" Raiden mutters to himself.

Kung Lao dares to step closer, and Raiden backs away from his returned friend, pinning himself against the wall behind him. Kung Lao notices this, his face growing sinister while still keeping that smile plastered on his face.

"Come now, Raiden. No hug? A welcome home kiss?"

Raiden remains stuck with his back against the wall, like a deer in headlights. This shouldn't be possible. They said Kung Lao was dead! He visited his gravestone! His fucking gravestone!! His house was abandoned! Everyone in Fengjian KNOWS that Kung Lao was deceased! Every fiber of his being was screaming how something wasn't right with this scenario. That he should be running or fighting this imposter. His mind flips through every excuse in the book on how this isn't Kung Lao. That someone was impersonating Kung Lao just to antagonize him. Or that he was truly hallucinating, somehow seeing ghosts. As Raiden's brain continued to fry, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water, Kung Lao was now face to face with his friend.

Lao frowns as though disappointed that Raiden hasn't done some expected action. "…Do you not remember me, Ray?" A hint of fear is sprinkled in his surprisingly saddened tone. Kung Lao lifts his hand slowly, reaching for Raiden's face until he was cupping his cheek.

Kung Lao was dead. He visited his grave-his abandoned house. His family told him how Kung Lao died-they have no reason to lie to him. Yet, when Lao touched him, when Raiden got to feel his…Cold hand…Gracing his face, Raiden melted under his touch. All his confusion and shock burned away. As though he finally found the missing piece to this jigsaw puzzle of a predicament. Raiden's eyes flutter shut, leaning into Kung Lao's hand. It felt right, even though Raiden couldn't fully place why that was the case.

"So you do remember," Kung Lao's smile slowly returns, his thumb rubbing Raiden's cheek.

Raiden opens his eyes, looking into Kung Lao's…They're red…His eyes were never red. His skin was deadly pale compared to the sun-beaten tan that he once had. The many angry cracks on his person warranted Raiden's attention as he brushed his fingers over the red lacerations and scars. His mind wonders of their origin. They were…Supposedly…Martial arts teachers. What could've possibly happened that would have caused these wounds? It was now Kung Lao's turn to lean into Raiden's touch, making subtle hums with each curious touch Raiden graced him. This probably would've been enough to recenter Raiden, but what grabs his attention is Kung Lao's neck. A glaring (and glowing) scar indicating that he was slashed in that area. His family has told him the cause of Lao's death; a clean cut to his neck due to an accident with some equipment that malfunctioned. Yet, when Raiden touches the old wound, when he stares at Lao's neck, Raiden cannot help but feel there is a hidden truth hiding behind the scar.

"…Raiden…"

The thunder wielder shoots his eyes up, looking at Kung Lao. Did he say something? From the looks of it, Kung Lao was still enraptured by Raiden's touch, continuously leaning into him like a touch-starved cat. The voice surely didn't sound like Lao either. Another mystery for another day, it seems.

Kung Lao draws a hum from his damaged throat as he flutters his eyes open, "I've missed this. We've been separated for so long, I've forgotten how good it feels to be near you again. To feel you again."

The pair meet eye to eye again, lost in each other as foreign feelings resurface again. Raiden has always viewed their relationship as just platonic. That's how its always been. They grew up together, fought together, teased and jested for as long as he could remember. Raiden likes to believe that Kung Lao may have felt the same, that there was nothing more to their friendship than that.

Yet, when he looks at Kung Lao, his heart skips a beat. He can feel his skin tingle, the innate desire to be closer to Kung Lao than they were right now. He wanted to hug him until their bodies melded into one, to run his hands through his half-buzzed hair until it was in complete disrepair. Raiden wanted to intertwine his hands into Lao's, clutching him tight so that they may never be separated again; his eyes would never leave Lao's being if he could help it. And a part of Raiden wanted to explain these feelings away as just being ecstatic seeing Lao again, someone he has long believed was dead. Yet, Raiden knew deep down there was something more to this than shared amity.

And Lao would be the first to confirm this fact to Raiden. Kung Lao's eyes kept glancing at Raiden's lips, still soft and plump despite the horrors they both experienced. He slowly closed the (albeit already small) gap that separated them, planting a tender kiss on Raiden. Under any other circumstances, Raiden would've made a startled noise. This is the first time in Raiden's known memory that Kung Lao kissed him with such care and passion. Yet, whether or not this was their first kiss was irrelevant to Raiden. This felt familiar, standard, as if he should've already known to accept such an exchange from Kung Lao. Raiden finds himself giving into the motions, his hands snaking over Kung Lao's shoulders as he uses him to keep himself up and to further lock them in this moment.

Raiden isn't sure what spurred Kung Lao on, but a muffled growl was heard from the other man, and Raiden finally emits that startled noise when he feels Lao's hands move from his waist to his ass. The pair separate, Kung Lao being the one out of breath despite the kiss not being that deep or filthy (for lack of better words). However, Kung Lao wasn't as red in the cheeks as Raiden was. He whimpers as Kung Lao's grip tightens, and he presses his body closer to the thunder wielder.

"L-Lao-mph!"

Raiden didn't get a chance to say anything else, for Kung Lao was back on his lips again, eagerly assaulting his lips, trying to breach into Raiden's mouth. Raiden tries to keep up with Lao, reciprocating as much as he could with his limited experience. Yet, when Kung Lao started sucking and biting his lower lips, that's where Raiden left himself vulnerable.

"L-Lao!" Raiden gasped, clinging onto Kung Lao as his friend grew increasingly ravenous.

The moment Raiden opened his mouth, Kung Lao deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue into Raiden's mouth; familiar territory for the Shaolin Monk, new grounds for the thunder wielder. Raiden moans into the kiss, his body feeling weighted down and his vision going blurry from the new sensation. The feeling of Kung Lao exploring his mouth, battling his submissive tongue with his own, his hands now possessively grabbing at his ass. Raiden gave into Kung Lao's ministrations, his body slowly growing limp as he allowed his friend to do whatever he pleased. He was being consumed, almost fitting considering that his friend did come back from the dead. He was the first body that Kung Lao found upon his resurface, and he was going to devour Raiden, body and soul. And Raiden would let him if Kung Lao demanded it.

Raiden was increasingly losing air, having become breathless from Kung Lao's need to keep his lips on Raidens'. Slowly, Raiden was falling out of Kung Lao's spell on him, his desire to breathe becoming more of a voice of reason. Raiden starts pulling on Lao's clothes, which were surprisingly more like armor than typical clothing. He actually had to grasp at Kung Lao's hair and rip him off, a trail of saliva bridged between them. Raiden was now the one breathless, cheeks still red as cherries, eyes needing a moment to refocus. Hell, he actually had to rewire his brain so that he could focus on the matter at hand. Kung Lao makes another growl upon being separated from Raiden, though this one was more…Angry than lustful. Kung Lao tries to go in for another kiss, his hands now gripping at Raiden's clothes, as if wanting to remove them, or tear them off for that matter.

"Lao, Lao, wait, stop!" Raiden prevents Kung Lao from placing another suffocating kiss on him, making his tone clear that he wanted no more (for now, that is). Raiden would have to make his point even more clear as he firmly separates himself from Kung Lao, stopping Lao from even tearing off his clothes.

"How are you alive? You're supposed to be dead. They told me you died," Raiden quickly puts his concerns out there for Kung Lao to process.

This actually seems to have centered Kung Lao. His eyes, dark with anger, lust, and intent, dissolve into realization, and his features soften just a little. "…Right…What did 'they' tell you, hm? How did my death go down in history?"

Quite bold of him to phrase it like that. Then again, Raiden always knew that Kung Lao had an ego about him. Raiden ponders how he should break the news to him, unsure how much he can tell Kung Lao, before finally deciding that the truth would be better than concealing any information.

"You…You died because some equipment back in the U.S. malfunctioned…It got you in…" Raiden does his best to not look at Kung Lao's neck, keeping his eyes straight at Lao's eyes. "…The cause of death was a deep laceration to the neck…You died before you could make it to the hospital…That's…That's what my folks told me."

Kung Lao looked at Raiden in a subtle display of shock. If there was a chair, Raiden was sure Kung Lao would need it. Kung Lao's eyes slowly darted this way and that as if he were in deep thought, processing what he had learned.

Then he started…Smiling…Then he started laughing.

"So that hellish witch was right after all," Kung Lao quietly seethed, his hands balling into tight fists.

Raiden wasn't able to hear him, but he could imagine that this was…Much for Lao. "…Lao, I…This is probably a lot to take in, but there was a tombstone and funeral for you. Everyone in Fengjian thought you were dead. I thought you were-"

"Of course, you believed me dead! You were there to see it!" Kung Lao snaps at Raiden, his eyes glowing an angry red. "I died in your arms! The last thing I felt was you shaking my body while I was bleeding out on the dirt! AND YOU DID NOTHING! NOTHING BUT CRY LIKE THE WEAK COCKSUCKER YOU ARE!"

The last phrase caught Raiden off guard. Understandably, Kung Lao is confused and upset; this is a lot for him to take in. But that final line…That was…Unnecessary. Raiden pushes it to the side, building his sympathy as he responds calmly.

"I…I don't remember exactly what happened, Lao. It…It probably happened so fast. But, you're here now, and we can…We can help each other. My parents and Fuji would be happy to see you again. You can come with me back-"

"SHUT UP!"

Suddenly, Kung Lao's fist slams against the walled surface behind Raiden, dangerously close to Raiden's skull, as the wall behind Raiden makes a fist-sized crater from the force of Lao's punch. At this point, this truly scared Raiden, silencing the thunder wielder as he felt a pocket of uneasiness build within.

"I don't want your sympathy OR your useless offerings! Not when you left me to die because you were too weak-willed to save me! AFTER ALL I SACRIFICED FOR YOU! AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, I REMAINED IN YOUR SHADOW, 'CHAMPION OF EARTHREALM'! I PLAYED MY PART, I SUPPORTED YOU, AND WHAT DID I GET IN RETURN? A BIG, FUCK-OFF HORNED BASTARD SLASHING MY NECK, AND YOU DOING NOTHING TO SAVE ME IN RETURN! YOU DIDN'T EVEN KILL THAT MOTHERFUCKER WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!! NO, YOU WANTED TO KEEP TO YOUR FOOLISH MORALS AND PLAY THE GOODY-TWO-SHOED ROLE! OR, BETTER YET, YOU WERE PROBABLY GLAD YOU WERE FINALLY RID OF ME! I GUESS SECOND BEST WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, HUH?"

Each sentence was further pronounced as Kung Lao kept making violent movements, hitting the walled surfaces around them. Never hitting Raiden, but the intent was there. And each swing forced a flinch from the thunder wielder as he expected Kung Lao to lash out at him. Under any other circumstance, IF Kung Lao were to attempt to hit him, Raiden would be able to block a punch or kick. But…But this felt different. This wasn't the usual friendly sparring the pair once indulged in; these throws, should Kung Lao decide to, could seriously injure Raiden…Kill him even…

"Oh, yes, I bet you were soo happy that I was finally out of the picture, Mr. Champion," Kung Lao jeered venomously. "I bet you felt relief knowing you didn't have to play pretend just to keep me happy. No longer had to play the annoyingly humble Raiden part once I was gone now that you had Liu Kang's undivided attention. And I can tell, don't try lying to me. That kiss was half-assed, even by your standards. You kissed me as if you didn't even know me!"

"L-Lao-"

"Or maybe you already moved on, didn't you? Who's the 'lucky guy,' hm? Is it Johnny? Kenshi? Heaven forbid Kitana! But I bet you like those types, huh? You like being a submissive bitch to someone who's way out of your league? I bet you sucked that Fire God off to get the title of Champion! He would've picked you regardless if you won or lost! I always saw the way he looked at you. He wanted you, no one else. Maybe that's why he paid such close attention to you than anyone else. He was playing favorites!"

"Lao-"

"No, you shut the fuck up! You think you can wise-man your ass out of this, but no, not this time, not ever. You never deserved it, ANY OF IT! I was ALWAYS better than you, ALWAYS! I'M THE ONE WHO KNOCKED THE TEETH OUT OF YOUR SKULL, I DID! EVERYONE HAS ALWAYS TOLD ME THAT I WAS THE BETTER FIGHTER. THAT I'M FASTER THAN YOU, STRONGER THAN YOU, EVEN NOW! BUT NOOO! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS FLASH A SMILE AND SNIFF EVERYONE'S ASS AND, SUDDENLY, EVERYONE IS ALL OVER YOU!"

The more Kung Lao angrily rambled to Raiden, the more the thunder wielder felt his chest tighten. He's speechless, has Lao always felt this way? Raiden has always known that Kung Lao was a better fighter than him (he was considered Madam Bo's favorite student for a reason). Since they were children, Kung Lao fought harder and was faster due to, what Raiden assumed, was his rough upbringing. Raiden has always looked up to Lao, exemplified him even. But he didn't know…He didn't know Kung Lao felt like…This.

The more Kung Lao poked at Raiden's expense, the more Raiden felt himself tearing apart at the seams. Raiden doesn't consider himself someone who would allow anyone to walk all over him, even if he has the demeanor of someone who would. Even with his humility and kindness, Raiden has and will clap back should anyone talk shit to him. The difference between him and Kung Lao (at least back then), Raiden knew how to kill people with kindness. But to hear such hatred from Kung Lao, hearing him degrade him for events that he doesn't even remember or believe have happened to them. The confusion, the agony, the anger, it was consuming Raiden all at once.

"I'm…Sorry…"

It was all Raiden could muster, his voice quivering as he tried to maintain his composure while also breaking under Lao's sudden anger. There were many things Raiden wished he could say in response to Kung Lao's accusations. He wanted to reassure Kung Lao that he was seeing things that weren't there, that he had never thought of Kung Lao as lesser than or ever desired to be rid of him. But there was a part of himself that wished to chastise him. If Kung Lao would hear him out, he'd know that he lost a good chunk of his memories, and it wasn't fair of Lao to start spitting out occurrences that supposedly happened between them that vexed him. If Kung Lao was of his right mind, instead of immediately blowing up in Raiden's face, he would know that Raiden has NEVER felt this way about their relationship. They were childhood friends! Why didn't he tell him this before? Why wait until after he had DIED and then came back to life? How long did Lao let this fester in this state?

"I'm…Sorry…" Raiden says again, quietly whimpering with his head facing the ground. Trying his best to further obscure the tears running down his face.

There's a moment of silence before Raiden feels Kung Lao's hand touch his cheek. Raiden flinches but allows Kung Lao to caress him, wanting to believe that there's still some measure of trust between them that hasn't been lost. He doesn't say it, Lao doesn't have to, but Raiden meets Kung Lao's eyes. It was almost as though Lao's outburst was a terrible hallucination, a figment of his seemingly broken mind. Kung Lao appeared remorseful, wiping away the tears Raiden shed with care, his lips tight with guilt as if he realized what he had done.

"No. I should be sorry for you, Raiden. He took so much from you, and it pains me that she-" Kung Lao stops himself, as though needing to correct himself on the spot, "It pains me that there's so much…Lost time between us."

So…He does know? Raiden did try to explain his condition to Kung Lao earlier, but the way he said what he did makes it seem as though he already knew. But Raiden's brain was practically fried from the emotional rollercoaster he was on since he met Kung Lao. And it doesn't help that Kung Lao occasionally kissed his round cheeks, causing the thunder wielder to blush and melt into Lao once again. He never knew that his best friend would have such an effect on him…And he kinda likes it, honestly.

"It's-it's getting late, Lao. My folks are probably wondering where I'm at." Raiden says in a hushed tone. "You should come with me. They would be so happy to see you again. Everyone missed you."

Kung Lao smiles, "I'd love to. But not now. I have other business to attend to."

"You just came back from the dead," Raiden chuckles. "What other 'business' must you attend to?"

Kung Lao doesn't answer him directly, instead, he giggles himself and thumbs at Raiden's cheek. "I'll come by another time. Don't tell them yet, keep it a secret. It'll be a surprise." Kung Lao winks.

Raiden nodded, and for a moment, he wanted to lean into Kung Lao, wishing for a final kiss. But, to Raiden's surprise, Kung Lao just disappeared. Right in front of him in a quick flash of light and small, wilted cherry blossom petals floated around him before descending to the ground.

"RAIDEN!"

Fuck. It was Fuji.

Raiden follows her voice, revealing himself to his younger sister. "Fuji, hi, um." Raiden honestly didn't think too far ahead when it came to actually coming forward to his sister.

"Raiden! Where the hell were you! You were supposed to be in bed, at home!" Fuji rushes towards her brother, pulling at his ear as if she were his mother.

"Agh, ow, ow, Fuji, stop!" Raiden strains in pain as he pulls her off him. "I'm sorry that I worried you-"

"Fucking hell, Raiden, you gave us all a heart attack! We thought the worst!"

Fuji continues to scold Raiden, and he quietly lets his sister air out her worries. Raiden reassuringly pats her head, smiling apologetically, "I'm sorry I snuck out of the house. I just-I didn't feel…I missed too many days of work; I didn't want to skip another day."

Fuji sighs, "I get that, but you have to take care of yourself first. You haven't been getting sleep, your night terrors have been increasing, you've been acting paranoid. We're getting worried and…We thought you went and…Did something stupid."

"It won't happen again, promise."

This seemed to finally settle Fuji as she motions for Raiden to follow her back home. "You can win me over easy, brother. Mom & Dad will be talking your ear out all night, so I hope leaving the house was worth it."

In a small way…Yeah, it was worth it.

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

Reflecting - Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Well before the road which led to Casares’ estate, the two cars separated. Ryan and Micki driving towards the wooded hills which bordered the rear of the property, Johnny and his reluctant driver heading straight on towards the driveway entrance to the mansion.

The plan was simple: Johnny would arrive with Casares’ man out front, creating enough of a disturbance that attention would be drawn away from the back of the house, giving Micki and Ryan time to get inside and find Jack. It wasn’t the best plan ever, but their worry for Jack increased by the hour. They needed to act, to end this, once and for all.

The gate to the mansion stood open and no guards were posted on watch. As the BMW drove slowly down the drive, Johnny divided his attention between the driver and the oncoming house, alert for any of Casares other goons. No one appeared to stop their arrival.

As the car came to a stop at the far end of the circular drive directly in front of the front doors, Johnny ordered the man to leave the car running, then glanced at his watch. Micki and Ryan should just about be in place now. He told the driver to press on the horn a few times to make sure everyone inside was made aware of their presence. Johnny then motioned for the man to step out of the car, sliding across the seat and following him out onto the gravel-covered drive.

Johnny led the man towards the back of the car and away, putting a bit of distance between the vehicle and themselves. Then they waited for the inevitable welcoming committee.

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

Ryan and Micki had parked the Mercedes in the small lot, used by hikers and campers for their vehicles, and continued on foot through the woods, taking the same path Micki had followed with the others in their previous attempt to rescue Ryan and his mother. This trip was made easier by the daylight available, as dusk was at least an hour away. The group had counted on this as a way to facilitate an easy arrival and, hopefully, a departure with shadows to aid their escape.

The pair didn’t speak much as they made their way through the brush and rocky terrain. Their conversation in the car, and their subsequent kiss, had been enough for the present. There was so much more they wanted to say, to do, to feel - but it would have to wait. Jack was their focus now. All their energy and attention was aimed on the goal of getting him out and home, with no one being hurt in the process.

“Ryan, we have to consider the mirror, too.” Micki said as they neared the final leg of the journey, the edge of the estate slowly coming into view between the trees. “How are we going to get it back through these woods in a hurry?”

Ryan thought about it and came to the same conclusion they had earlier. “We have to think about Jack first. If we can get the mirror, fine. Otherwise, we’ll just get back to the store and figure out some other way of getting it.”

Micki didn’t answer. She couldn’t imagine them making a third attempt at getting into Casares’ home. She wasn’t even sure the plan she had come up with for this mission was all that great. But they had agreed on it, and it was too late to back out. Johnny was risking his life to make it possible for them to get inside. They had to take advantage of that. She looked at her watch. Johnny would be getting close now, and she hoped, once he had done his part, that he made it away from here and back to the store safely.

Ryan stopped at the property border, an old, stone wall barely visible due to time and neglect. The mansion loomed off across the grounds. No one guarded the yard or home that lay before them.

A car horn sounded in the distance, breaking the silence that had filled the air.

“It’s now or never.” Ryan said to Micki as she stepped close to him. “Let’s go!”

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

Raphael Casares stood next to the old man. He wanted to hit him, hurt him, make him see how important it was for him to do what was demanded. But the man just sat there, holding his old, useless book in his hands, his head down.

“Enough. I have had enough.” Casares said. “No more excuses, no more stalling. Can you free her from this damned thing or not?”

Jack sighed, and attempted to stand, but was forced back into his seat by the hand of the bald man who stood next to him, the man Casares had referred to as Carlos.

“Answer me, old man. My patience has reached it’s limit.” Raphael said, grabbing the book out of Jack’s hand.

“As I said, I may find the answer in one of the books I asked for.” Jack said, his voice a mixture of resentment and resignation. There was only so long he would be able to bait this man, only so long he could keep pretending to search for an answer. Not only was Casares short on patience, he appeared to be rapidly losing his rationality.

“Maybe some persuasion is in order, hmm?” Casares sneered. “Maybe Carlos here can help you find the motivation you need to do as I ask?”

Carlos took the hint and applied his considerable strength into the grip he had on Jack’s shoulder, instantly bringing a cry of pain from the already beaten and bruised man.

Movement next to the three men came from someone who was in the room, yet not. Catherine had come up quickly to the glass on her side of the mirror and stood now, very close to them. The words coming out of her mouth were soundless, the mirror maintaining the silence between her side and this, but her meaning was clear. She wanted them to leave Jack alone, to stop hurting him.

Casares raised his hand to the cool glass. “Well, it seems that you have accomplished something, after all, Marshak. You have made a friend of my beloved. Look how concerned she is for your well-being. How touching.” He looked at Catherine, into her eyes. “Don’t worry, my dear.”

Waving his hand at Carlos, he silently ordered him to release his grip on Jack‘s shoulder. Raphael then smiled at Catherine. “See? I bend to your will. Your wish is my command.”

Catherine stood, her hands by her side. She was silent, but her expression, her eyes, were filled with the hate she felt for her captor. It was all she could do to restrain herself from hitting his reflection on her side of the glass.

Casares, however, was oblivious to her true emotions. He only saw her as his possession, his prize. A toy he desperately wanted to play with but as yet had been denied the pleasure.

He drew his hand away from the glass and placed it onto Jack’s shoulder. “I mean you no harm, my friend, as long as you do as you have been asked. Your books should be here at any moment. Once you have them, I expect results. Do not disappoint me. I would hate to have to hurt someone who has become a friend to my princess, my beauty in the looking glass.”

The look on his face brought a shiver to Catherine’s spine.

A car horn sound just then, repeatedly.

“What is that?” Casares asked, looking straight at Carlos, as if the man would immediately have the answer.

Carlos turned to investigate, then stopped, looking at Jack. “What about him?” he asked his boss.

Raphael Casares looked down at Jack. “He’ll stay put, he has work to do.”

Casares followed Carlos out of the room, locking the door as they exited.

Their abrupt departure left Catherine confused, since no car horn sounded on her side of the mirror. She looked questioningly at the man left behind.

Having no answer for her, Jack shrugged, wincing as he did, the pain in his shoulder still fresh.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Other Evans Girl [Part Thirty]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauder’s Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character, Sirius Black x Daisy Evans, James Potter x Lily Evans

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, Daisy Evans, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, Walburga Black, Orion Black, Jasper Thicknesse, Barty Crouch Jr, Mulciber, Walden McNair

Word Count: 1957

Rating: Teen

Summary: Hogwarts is a safe haven, a home for many, but it’s often a place where heartache, love and complex emotions dwell and none know that better than the Marauders. Lily Evans just wants to make it out as a successful witch though the oncoming war and the ongoing advances of James Potter threaten that. Daisy Evans, her twin, has other goals. Join the Evans sisters as they make their way through Hogwarts, prepare for war and eventually find love.

Tags/ Warnings: Hogwarts, Friends, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Marauder’s Era, Teenage Angst, Babies, Weddings, Dating, Crying, Loss of Virginity, First Wizarding War, Love, Kissing, Teenagers, James Potter is a bit of a dick, Hogsmeade, 1970s, Fighting, Loss of Parents, Grief, Babies, Injuries, Gore, Harm, Christmas,  The Potter’s Mansion // Daisy’s Dress // NYE Lily’s Dress // NYE Daisy’s Dress // Lily’s Ring // Daisy’s Ring

Notes: Okay so I’ve been working on updating this and I’ve finally gone through all the chapters already written before I start writing more. It’s changed a lot so I’ve decided it’s just better to completely re-upload it.  

If you want tagging let me know

LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST // LINK TO ALL PARTS

The next few days passed by in a blur for Daisy and although the boys and Lily had bolstered Daisy’s spirits for the most part she did have moments when her sadness engulfed her. At times like these she felt like she wanted to let it overwhelm her, to consume her soul, but she couldn’t. Her friends were trying so hard to make her feel better that she couldn’t let her feelings get the better of her. So she pretended, pushing her feelings deep down inside her and trying harder than ever to convince them she was alright. Of course whether they bought it or not was another story.

Currently, she was sitting on her bed, packing up her school things and trying to picture how she was going to tell Marlene and Alice what had happened over Christmas break. Though it had barely been two weeks it felt like a lifetime since she had seen them and she worried she wouldn’t even know where to start, if anything, she was rather hoping Lily would give them all the details and she wouldn’t have to rehash it all again. Just as she was throwing the last couple of things into her suitcase there was a knock at the door which opened before she could beckon whoever it was inside. A second later James strode with a smile on his handsome features as he flopped down next to her. Daisy rolled her eyes.

‘All ready?’ James asked, his eyes scanning over her still open suitcase, compared to her sister’s that was already neatly stored in the corner, ready for departure. ‘Nearly,’ Daisy said, folding her pyjamas from the previous night up and throwing them on top of everything. ‘Good, because dad said that the car will be arriving in the next twenty minutes or so,’ James said watching her from where he was lounging, his elbows propping him up as he lay on the bed. ‘I’ll be ready for then,’ she said, looking over her shoulder at him and offering him a smile. James smiled too but then his face changed, as if he’d realised something, and he dropped his gaze self-consciously. Daisy frowned and said, ‘unless there’s something else?’

James didn’t speak for a second as if he was going over what he wanted to say in his head first. Then he pushed himself up until he was sitting, taking a deep breath as he said, ‘there is actually.’ ‘Okay,’ Daisy said, ‘should I be worried?’ ‘No,’ James said sheepishly, ‘well at least I hope not.’ ‘Okay you’re making me nervous,’ Daisy said ‘It’s nothing bad at least I hope it’s not but even so, I wanted to talk to you about it first because I know that maybe,’ James rambled and suddenly the tension she had melted away. She knew him well enough to know that even though he may be serious, for once in his life, it wasn’t anything bad, which was all she could hope for. ‘Prongs, breathe,’ Daisy grinned, making him smile embarrassedly, ‘whatever it is just come out with it.’ ‘I want to ask Lily out,’ he admitted. ‘What else is new,’ she said, rolling her eyes but he stayed quiet, his nerves making it impossible for him to even joke about it this time. Daisy noticed his lack of mirth and said, ‘you’re serious.’ ‘I mean it,’ he replied firmly, ‘I want to ask her out. Not as some love-sick puppy or some macho idiot but as someone who genuinely wants to date her because I really like her Dais…and I think she likes me too.’ ‘She does,’ Daisy said, cutting him off. ‘She does?’ James said the hope blatantly obvious in his voice. ‘Yeah,’ Daisy said, a twinge of guilt running through her as she realised she’d betrayed her sister’s confidence but with the look on James’ face she couldn’t help herself adding, ‘and if I’m being honest I think she’d say yes.’ ‘Oh thank god,’ James said, heaving a sigh of relief, ‘I mean I still have to ask her yet but now you’ve said that it’s not as scary.’ ‘I mean I’m almost certain she does but I can speak for her entirely,’ Daisy said, her guilt increasing tenfold as she pictured Lily turning him down, her admittance to liking him being a whim that no longer stood and she just hadn’t gotten around to informing her sister she was back to hating his guts. And though he was beaming ear to ear James provided some relief to her worries as he said, ‘yeah, I know that and don’t worry I’m under no illusion that your sister might reject me outright but I knew if I talked to you that either way you’d tell me straight. I mean the lads have told me to go for it and I appreciate them but it’s sort of their job to hype me up, right?’ ‘Right,’ Daisy smiled before saying, ‘well anyway we best be getting on right?’ ‘Yeah you’re right,’ James said.

Fortunately for Daisy James was so giddy he didn’t protest as he helped her carry hers and Lily’s belongings to the main foyer, his excitement even staying as they said goodbye to his parents, though Daisy noted he toned it down once Lily appeared. Luckily for him Euphemia was enough of a distraction as the conversation quickly diverted to her fretting over every single one of them as they stood in front of her, luggage awaiting to be taken to the car, sharing their last goodbyes with James leading the charge. Yet as Daisy watched him, pulling out of her reach as she tried to smooth down his unruly hair, she felt a pang of grief hit. It was a feeling that was all too familiar these days and yet it still made her want to scream, to yell at him not to take for granted how lucky he was to still have her, how even her fussing over the small things was a blessing, but she couldn’t.

‘Yes mum I promise I’ll write as soon as we get there,’ James grumbled, attempting to pull away for the fortieth time though she kept a tight hold of him, her grip only tight on his waist. ‘Well make sure you do,’ Euphemia chastised. ‘Come on Fi let the boy breathe,’ Fleamont chuckled as he headed outside, earning an eye roll from his wife though she listened anyway and allowed James to pull away where he grabbed his luggage as quickly as he could so he had an excuse to flee to the car. Daisy watched him, pushing her jealousy down as Euphemia spoke to them again, ‘Now then, I don’t expect letters from the rest of you but please try and have a good term, keep one another out of trouble and what not.’ ‘I try my best,’ Remus chuckled, leaning in to give her a quick hug, ‘thanks for having us Euphemia.’ ‘Oh it’s no bother,’ she said, dwarfed in his lanky frame for a moment before he headed out the door followed by Peter who seemed less adept at parental flattery and said, ‘yeah thanks for having us Mrs Potter,’ before following Remus out into the nippy winter’s air.

Once they were gone Euphemia turned and looked at Daisy, Lily, and Sirius, who were still standing before her, all reluctant to leave without their own motherly dismissal. Fortunately Euphemia was more than happy to lend herself to it, placing her hands on the girls shoulders, Sirius squashed in the middle of them as she said, ‘now if you three need anything at all whilst you’re at school do not hesitate to send me an owl okay?’

A chorus of lacklustre agreements rang out in the now-empty entrance hall making her frown as she sighed and said, ‘now the fact I’ve had to wear earplugs for the last two weeks would suggest you can all do that better than that. So, promise me again?’ ‘We promise,’ came an echo of replies. ‘That’s better,’ Euphemia smiled, her gaze turning to just the girls as she said, ‘and I don’t want you to worry about anything on this end. Monty has already sent a letter to your sister and she’s agreed to let us buy the house.’ ‘So, the house is going to be yours? Petunia agreed?’ Lily interrupted. ‘Yes, she’s agreed,’ Euphemia said, ‘of course, there’s a few legal proceedings to take care of but nothing for you to worry about.’ ‘Wow,’ Daisy said, ‘thanks Euphemia.’ ‘Oh it’s not a bother,’ she said waving her off, ‘now, I’ve already written to Minerva to keep myself and Monty in the loop if you need anything. I know your sister is your guardian and I don’t want to push her out but I figured we might be more equipped if you need help what with her being…’ ‘Annoying,’ Daisy grumbled, which earned her an elbow in the side from Lily. ‘Non-magical,’ Euphemia corrected, her admonishing stare rivalling Minerva’s herself, ‘and besides if I didn’t ask all I would do is fret and at least this way I know you’re okay. You too Sirius.’ ‘Thanks Euphemia,’ Sirius smiled weakly. ‘And well, lastly, I want you all to know that our home is your home whenever you need it. Of course, we understand if you girls would rather go home on the holidays or stay at the castle but you are always welcome here,’ she said. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Lily said, her voice thicker than expected as she added, ‘really you’ve done too much already.’ ‘Well it’s a little price to pay for you lot keeping James on the straight and narrow,’ she said, ignoring Sirius’ snort as her eyes got wistful, her voice matching Lily’s timbre as she said, ‘besides I’m very aware how lucky he is to have you all so if I can help, well, why wouldn’t I.’ ‘Well we can’t thank you enough right Dais?’ Lily said. ‘Right,’ Daisy nodded. Euphemia seemed to pause at the praise, unaccustomed to adoration though she doled it out in spoonful’s. ‘No thanks necessary. I’m just glad my son has such fine young wizards and witches as friends. Especially with all this blood mania and uncouth talk going around,’ she said, appearing as though she had a lot more to say on the matter but before she could Fleamont appeared at the door and hurried them on, forcing them to clamber into the car where James, Remus and Peter were already waiting.

As they settled into the refashioned back seats the car took off at speed and Euphemia and Fleamont’s waving figures got smaller and smaller until eventually, they disappeared altogether. Daisy rested her head back against the cold leather, gazing out as hills and fields rolled past her quicker than she could take them in. She didn’t pay much attention to what was going on, the conversations around her not enough to pull her from the depths of her own thoughts. Whether the others noticed she didn’t know because they left her to them, allowing her to mull over reuniting with friends, the sale of the house and all that had happened over Christmas. She wondered what it was going to be like now. She wondered if her house would feel different without her parents in it, if she’d be able to feel it had different owners. She wondered if Marlene and Alice would treat her any differently or if they’d try to make her feel better, like the others did. And as she watched Lily, laughing away at something James had said she wondered how it would feel to be on her own. Sure she had her friends and the Potters but she couldn’t deny she felt more alone than ever.

SIRIUS BLACK/SERIES TAGS

@maeisafangirl @mysteriouslydelicateface @caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy

[uncleasad]

Sunday night status update

As Rod Stewart was fond of saying, “It’s late September and I really should be back at school…”

Here at Uncle Asad in Fandomland, that means it’s time for the annual “some night status update” checking in on all the unpublished words and works. (OK, the 2022 update was in May, dunno why, that was…18 months ago, and you expect me to remember? 😂 Oh! It was because of the announcement of the cancellation of Legacies, which felt to me a little bit like a non-event in the wake of Kaylee’s departure the previous fall/winter.)

Back in 2021, nearing the end of my summer writing hiatus, I tallied up all the words in my unpublished, in-progress fics—7 works and nearly 107K words then; in 2022, it was 10 works and nearly 135K words.

Sad to say that although I’ve published 8 new stories since then, all 10 of the in-progress works are still unfinished (8 with no new words), and I’ve added 6 more in-progress stories, too!

The list, with word-counts and estimates of percent complete:

Josie returns to a derelict and overgrown Salvatore School after 10 years away (aka After Ten Long Years) (25,213 words in 5 distinct sections, +60 words, ~75% complete)

Hope meets the Saltzmans in the post-Civil War upper midwest (aka Old West Hosie) (11,340 words, ~25% complete)

Alternate realities bleed over into the lives of Hope and Josie (21,040 words, ~50% complete)

Part 3 of The Model and the Painter (1,265 words)

Hope investigates the disappearance of crime boss Josie (2,778 words, 1+ chapters complete)

Crime heiress Hope meets an enchanting woman who may be her moll (aka runaway Josie) (36,053 words, ~25% complete)

Newly-divorced Hope takes a job teaching art at Whitmore College (aka divorcée Hope) (14,376 words, 8+ chapters complete)

Hope, Josie, Lizzie, and others struggle with their lot in life in the brutal Geminid Empire (aka Hosie dystopia) (16,313 words, ~10% complete???)

A sequel to the surprisingly-popular You Couldn’t Even Bother To Check On Me? (3,140 words)

No-Humanity Hope goes on a rampage across North America, hunting her enemies and extracting revenge (aka Dark Hope on a rampage) (4,708 words, +358 words, ~60% complete)

In the olden days, Alaric sells Josie (aka Selling Josie) (608 words, ~10% complete???)

Ten years after leaving Mystic Falls to try to save Hope, Josie is summoned home by a mysterious letter from her father (aka Stepmother Alyssa Chang) (11,328 words plus an 831-word excerpt scene; ~60% complete)

A disaster of a fic I shouldn’t write and which may never see the light of day (aka The best ones always break my heart twice) (16,260 words, ~75% complete)

Hope Mikaelson is sitting at the bar when Josie Saltzman walks in (aka Josie walks into a bar) (2,211 words, ~50% complete)

Something something Hosie Santa Claus (aka Hosie Santa Claus) (962 words, ~10% complete???)

An intersection of the lives of Hope and Josie just before the fire (aka Hosie half-shot) (1,239 words, ~50% complete)

That’s now almost 170K words of unfinished stories! 😳🤯 (Across 16 works; 32,608 words in 6 new in-progress fics.)

I did finish/publish more works than I added new unfinished ones since the last check-in, however; thank goodness for small favors, however minuscule! 😂

I don’t have a great strategy for whittling this down; as many of you may have noticed, I’ve been in a bit of a slump since spring—and I haven’t written a word since July 1 😢 I feel like, aside from the late summer writing sabbatical of 2021, the summer writing decline usually happens to some degree, and with the coming of fall and winter, I have more time, but that may all be wishful thinking. Still, fingers crossed. At some point, though, I’ll find an hour or so to finish writing the Hosie half-shot and go from there….

Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with me this long and read my fics along the way, and I’m sorry I don’t have a more upbeat outlook right now.

[andreafmn]

Speak - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3K

Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to @yuki254 @purplegardenwhispers and @zheezs14 for answering my last post. It's a bit heartbreaking but I rather do like angst and hurt/no comfort 😅 Paul will get his happy ending some day.

Also, if you're a recurring reader and your name is crossed off the tag list it's because you're ACC doesn't allow tagging and you won't get the notification. Make sure you check your settings!

If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories. You can request at any time any story or one-shot you desire. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 4

It was one thing to hear about the imprint bond and how strong it could be, but it was another to experience it. Hot-headed Paul always thought himself too good to have the universe choose who would be eternally connected to him through a supernatural bond – he’d simply choose who he’d spend the rest of his life with. It was his life and he would decide what to do with it.

It never crossed his mind that he’d see his imprint so soon, or that it would be the sister of a bloodsucker sympathizer.

That night he had been with the pack, like every night before, enjoying another bonfire in celebration of the departure of the Cullens. The only difference was that there was Christmas food and decoration. Other than that, it was a normal night.

Then, from afar, he picked up Jacob Black’s scent as well as an intriguing mysterious one. He could smell her, hear her, but he did not turn to look at her. Not yet. Jared and Paul remained throwing a football back and forth, ignoring the newcomer.

But it didn’t last long. 

As he ran around the sand, laughing with his friends, he could feel eyes burning into his back. He did not want to give in to temptation. He did not want to turn his head.

Alas, he did.

The feeling was instant, and he recognized it immediately. As their gazes connected, he felt the way everything shifted. Every atom that made up his being screamed to get closer to her, every cell in his body yearned for her warmth, there was nothing in his body that was not calling for her. He understood what Sam had told him. The whole gravitational pull spiel and the priority shift, he understood. As much as he wanted to break their stare, he simply couldn’t. He wanted to stare into her eyes for eternity.

Jacob noticed that, and Paul could smell the jealousy from where he stood. She, (Y/N) he heard, was asking about him and Jake didn’t like it. Still, he had something over Paul. He was already close to her.

“It happened, didn’t it?” Jared questioned his friend with a knowing grin on his face. “Can’t believe it’s (Y/N) Swan. I mean, the sister of a vampire lover. That’s hilarious!”

“Shut up, Jared.”

“Ooh, and look at Jake,” he continued. “He’s got his arm on your girl. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“She’s not my girl,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “And there’s nothing I can do. I don’t even know her. So, leave it alone.”

“Now, look, they’re leaving. Together,” Jared continued to tease, though everyone could tell Paul’s wick was burning short. “Can’t believe Jacob Black is stealing your girl.”

“SHE’S NOT MY GIRL!” Paul finally exploded before he sauntered off.

“Let him go,” Sam whispered to Jared. “He just needs some time to cool off.”

Paul had no idea where he was going, but his legs were taking him further and further from the beach. The smell of ash and the ocean were soon replaced with the smell of the pine trees that surrounded him. And suddenly, the smell of car oil hit his nose.

Somehow, he had made his way to the Black residence, and he heard that sweet sound he had just witnessed a mere two hours before. But the words that were coming out of her mouth only worked to infuriate him.

“If you’re gonna do something, Jake,” (Y/N) teased. “Then do it.” 

The wolf saw from far away how Jacob leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Paul could see as the other boy devoured (Y/N) like he was claiming her as his. And as he saw their hands roam, he couldn’t help the anger and jealousy that was bubbling under the surface. He wanted to walk up to them and rip the boy off her, but he knew that it would be absolutely psychotic. She didn’t know him and that would not be the right first impression.

He couldn’t stop the rippling he felt in his body. The anger only grew as he stared at the scene unfolding. He had no right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. Paul ran into the shadow of the woods letting his body transform into what it wanted. His body ripped as he allowed the shift to take over him.

Paul wanted to feel something other than anger. He wanted to feel the cold air of autumn nip at his lungs, the wind prickling at his eyes, the burn of exhaustion in his legs. He wanted to feel everything – anything but the call to her.

Sam had told them how the imprint bond felt. That those days he spent apart from Emily had torn his heart into two, always searching for its missing piece. He said it was an imaginable pain, and it simply got worse when she asked him to stay away and hurt her. Paul had always thought that he was stronger than any supernatural bong, but as he felt the ache in his chest, he knew this type of pain was not meant to be survivable.

So, he ran.

He ran until his legs felt almost numb, until his lungs were screaming at the cold air they were taking in, until the trees around him were simply a blur in his eyes. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be tied to another person, at least not like this. Paul always thought his love life was something he’d at least be able to control. Just that little aspect of his life he wanted to be able to make a choice for himself.

Paul ignored the calls from the other pack members, emptying his mind of any thoughts. Still, (Y/N) Swan still managed to sneak her way into his head. He could see her (Y/H/C) hair flowing in the wind, her curious (Y/E/C) eyes staring back at him, and her nose turning red in the cold weather of December. He could remember her scent, a sweet mix of almond vanilla with the signature pine smell of Forks.

Everything inside him was telling him to turn around. To go to her and explain everything, bringing her into the nonsensical world of vampires and werewolves and all in between. He wanted to simply feel her warmth close to him – he’d be satisfied with just that little. But he wouldn’t allow himself to. He kept running until he collapsed from exhaustion.  

When his eyes fluttered open, morning had come and his body had turned back to human form. Beside him neatly folded clothes were placed and he knew Jared had found his wolf at some point last night. Paul didn’t feel like talking about what happened. He was sure they both already knew.

He couldn’t fathom the power (Y/N) already had over him. She had overtaken every thought in his head. Even if he only knew her name and what she looked like, he missed her.

As he dressed, an angry scowl had cemented itself on his face. Paul did not want the control the imprint bond brought. If he was going to be tied to someone, it was because he chose to, not because of a supernatural link. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

Once more, his legs were taking him somewhere and he failed to know where. That was until his fist was knocking against the front door of the Black residence. Before his head had caught up to what he was doing, the white door was opening.

“Paul?” Jacob questioned. “What are you doing here?”

And he wasn’t completely sure, but apparently, his voice was. “You need to stay away from (Y/N),” he stated with unwarranted confidence — and maybe a tinge of anger.

“And why exactly is that? Last time I checked, she’s nothing to you.”

“Look, man, it’s a complicated thing. But just stay away from her,” he grumbled. “She deserves better than you.”

“And, what, that’s you?” Jacob scoffed. There was an offense to his tone. Who was Paul to come to his house and say he wasn’t man enough for (Y/N)? “You don’t even know her, Paul.”

“Jacob, you really don’t wanna cross me. So do yourself a favor and keep your distance. Got that?”

“Let me tell you how this is gonna go, Pauly,” Jake teased. “I’m gonna ask (Y/N) to be my girlfriend; she’s gonna say yes; and you’re gonna be in that weird gang with Jared and Sam, far from us. You got that?”

Paul found himself breathing heavily once again in front of the red barn house. Jacob had the upper hand here. He was close friends with (Y/N) and her sister. He knew their father. And he could tell that (Y/N) liked him. Even if he kept telling himself that he didn’t care for the link, every fiber inside him was already getting overprotective over her.

“Anything else?” At Paul’s lack of response, a cocky smile grew on Jake’s face. “Well, thanks for coming by. I’m actually getting ready to go see (Y/N) soon.”

Anger shook within Paul’s body as the door closed on his face. He could feel the wolf wanting to jump out and wreak havoc on the house, but no one really was to blame. He was no one to (Y/N), and he would continue to be no one if he didn’t do something about it. Still, all he could see now was red.

Jacob had known just the right words to send him into a spiral. He knew that Paul had no ground to stand on. (Y/N) knew nothing of him or why he wanted to be close to her. And he wasn’t thinking of changing that too soon.

“Let’s take a walk, Paul,” Sam’s voice boomed from behind the shaking boy. “You need to calm down.”

The pair walked in silence at first. With Paul practicing breathing techniques to calm himself down, and Sam was simply quiet. Even the world around them had seemed to quiet down. The soft whistling of the wind, the chirp of the birds, and the rustling of the trees had all died down.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Sam started.

“About?”

“We all know that you imprinted on the younger Swan last night, Paul. Maybe we should start there?”

Paul could only sigh. He knew exactly what the conversation would be about, but he simply didn’t want to face it. “There’s nothing for me to do,” Paul stated. “She’s with Jake. That’s that.”

“You know both of you will find it hard to resist the pull. As every day passes it’ll get harder and harder to stay away,” the older shifter explained. “There will come a point where you will have no other choice than to tell her everything that is happening — from who we are to why we are this way. You can try to avoid it for as long as you can, but sooner or later it will become unbearable.”

“I don’t see the point,” he chuckled dryly. “Why would I bring an innocent person into this world if she doesn’t need to be? You’ve told us we become whatever our imprint needs from us. She needs me to stay away.”

“That’s not for you to decide, Paul, and you know it. She needs to decide that for herself.”

“Well, it’s not like you can force me to tell her anything. This is my decision.”

“What’s gonna happen when she keeps coming here?” Sam retorted. “What’re you gonna do when she finds herself looking for you for answers? Are you gonna keep pushing her away?”

“If it’s what’s best for her, then yes.”

“Paul..”

“Look, Sam, I understand that you wanna help. But I didn’t t ask for this. I don’t want this,” Paul exclaimed. “(Y/N) Swan is complicated, and my life is complicated enough as it is. I made my decision. And that’s that. Now, can we just drop this?”

“Alright, Paul. But if  you ever change your mind, know that you can always talk to me about it.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Paul didn’t want to change his mind. That much he knew at that point. But with his thoughts consumed by the image of her, he didn’t know how long that would last.

There was an independence he was used to. Paul had never been tied down by anything or anyone. He’d come from a broken home, where nothing lasted forever. Not even love. He’d known of heartache from a young age and it was something he knew he did not want to experience again. Least of all because his supernatural genes decided it to be so.

As he lay in bed that night, he remembered her on the beach. Her beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes gleamed under the moonlight, her pale skin warmed by the shine of the fire, her (Y/H/C) hair blowing in the wind of the night. She had been a vision to him. The most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Beautiful and untouchable.

Drifting to sleep, (Y/N) Swan was the last thing omg his mind. And suddenly, everything shifted.

He was standing in a clearing, looking over a still river. He was dressed in white linen shorts and his feet and chest were bare. Paul breathed in the fresh air, listened to the low hum of the wind and the babbling of the brook, and felt the tickling of the grass on his feet. The sun felt warm against his skin, warmer than his body temperature, beckoning a smile to his face.

And Paul wasn’t by himself either.

“You look beautiful, darling,” he told her.  “Absolutely radiant.”

“Thank you, Paul. And you look as handsome as ever,” (Y/N) giggled. “Come here.”

He walked slowly to her, a playful grin propped on his face. His arms circled her waist and wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around. As he slid her back to the ground, he placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb running through her cheek. (Y/N) closed her eyes and enjoyed the touch, his warmth feeling better than the one the sun provided. 

He felt different than his usual self with her. The fire that normally burned inside him and made him feel like a ticking bomb wasted away. She made him feel calm, grounded. There was a homely feeling to having her in his arms. Like he had found a missing piece. She fit perfectly between his arms, like she was made to be there.

(Y/N) allowed him to pull her toward the water, sinking into the comfortable river. She gave him a smile and shrieked happily as the coldness seeped through her bones. Her white dress quickly soaked and his shorts darkened.

“This water is freezing, Paul,” she whispered to him. He kept her close, his arms wrapped around her. “Don’t you dare let go.”

“I would never, beautiful,” he grinned. Paul was close to her, so close he could see his breath moving the water droplets on her face. “I’ve got you now, and I’m never planning on letting you go.”

“Is that a threat?” she joked, copying the smile on his face.

“It’s a promise, darling,” Paul said. “It’s a promise.”

He closed the space between them and pressed their lips together. (Y/N) felt sparks running through her body, the feeling of belonging washing over her. This is where she was meant to be. He was who she was meant to be with.

There was a feeling rippling inside him that he’d never felt before. Sure he had a couple of girlfriends, and some flings here and there. But never this feeling. This sentiment was foreign and it took over his whole being. It flowed through his veins and settled in his heart. It was an emotion he had heard of time and time again but he never had a reason to feel it.

So he spoke of it.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

And she said it back.

“I love you more, Paul.”

Paul felt he would startle awake from the dream. But he wanted to witness more. He wanted to feel this feeling for as long as he could. Because he knew once he woke it would all disappear. All in the blink of an eye.

So, he shut his eyes harder and he kept dreaming.

And she was still there. In his dream, she was still there. Looking at her with so much love and joy that he was okay if he never woke. Here he was happy, unencumbered by his responsibilities as a shifter. Here he wasn’t part of a pack, he didn’t have to protect the people around him from the vampires that loomed or keep any treaty. Here he could simply be. And be with her by his side.

“What’re you thinking of in there?” (Y/N) smiled at him with so much warmth he could feel it inside him. Her lips kissed his forehead with a tender touch. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking of you,” he said. “I’m always thinking of you.”

“All good things I hope.”

“The best,” he chuckled. “There’s nothing bad I could ever think of you.”

“Tell me then,” she giggled. “Tell me one of the things you think of.”

“How I am the luckiest person alive because you chose to be with me. I’m still not very sure why you would choose me.”

“Because you chose me,” she smiled. Her hand traced his face like she was committing every line to her memory. “The universe really knew what it was doing by bringing us together, huh?”

“It seems so. Remind me again why it took this long?”

“We all know it was your stubbornness,” she laughed. “But never mind all that. This. This is all worth it. It’s all a dream.”

“A dream I never want to wake from.”

But a dream it all was. And a dream it would remain for Paul for the time being. He would stay away from her as much as he could — at least until his heart could take it. But he knew he could always see her in his dreams. A place where no one would speak of what he should or shouldn’t do with his life.

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101@zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @sunflowerleii @DyslexicCatterpillar @Blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx @minhaimaginacao @bluebirbnamedJay @sirenheadenby@andreiaafaria@bluetreecloud20 @valejewel @nogitsune-the @user0ur0mom @skyesthebomb @swidkid @avis15 @honeylovemoon @wonieeee @edwardssugarmommy @nyenye @sugajar @lovel-blog @witchofhawkins @Six-Call @then-worship-at-my-altar @ems-alexandra @blueshoelacess @Nyctophilia710 @rosalie-whitlock @nocturnalherb16 @this-is-a-bad-idea @esposadomd @locokoca @volturiwolf @spookyqueen

[geminigirl0298]

The Course Of True Love

Relationship: Loki Odinson x Original Female Character

Summary: Loki Odinson never expected to see his mother hurrying down a hall with a smart-mouthed, soot-covered figure who was supposedly the princess of Vanaheim. He never expected her to stay more than a week, much less an entire century, and he surely did not expect their initial animosity to morph into the fluttering, tickling feeling he got in his stomach every time she was near.

Word Count: 4.2 k

Warnings: Smut, 18+, loss of virginity, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cursing, inappropriate language

Previous Chapter Masterlist

CHAPTER 17

Silence ensued between the two brothers for what seemed like an eternity. It was an uncomfortable non-verbal period, with neither man knowing how to proceed. The usual route following a long time apart would be an embrace between the two brothers followed by a week straight of mead and merriment. Part of Loki wanted to do just that. The other part, that was filled with shame at his birth heritage, kept him rooted to the spot.

“Well,” said Thor, breaking the awkward tension, “I know my being here is a surprise, but I was expecting some delight.” Loki almost laughed— almost. Instead, he dismounted the horse and helped Sigrid off. She squeezed his hand in comfort before going to Thor. Loki did not complain when she embraced the blond man in a tight hug.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Thor.” Sigrid pulled back, accepting a kiss the older man dropped on her head. “Although, you’re a day late. You missed my birthday, you know?”

A storm entered Thor’s eyes—so quick that Loki would have missed it had he not been so observant—and disappeared in a flash. His brother’s face slipped back into the trademark, brilliant smile he wore most of the time. “I have been busy at home. But,” he reached into his pocket and produced a little white paper bag, “I come bearing gifts.”

Sigrid snatched the bag up and peered in. “Krumkaker!” she squealed, head snapping up to give Loki an excited smile. “Loki, Thor got me Krumkaker!”

“That’s wonderful, love.” He had meant to call her ‘darling’, but the new pet name barraged past his lips before he could stop them. Thor quirked a brow in silence. Loki sighed. His brother had already caught them kissing. Nothing he did now could be more revealing than that.

“Yes, yes.” Thor clapped his hands together. “I would have gotten you something else had my trip not been so last minute.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you all that you don’t have to get me anything for my birthday. Yet, year after year, you always manage.”

“Well, I only have one sister.” Loki could not help himself. He scoffed. Sigrid shot him a warning glare. “So,” Thor swung his arms at his sides. His hammer lay on the floor at his feet. “You are both together now. That’s wonderful!”

Sigrid bit her lip. “Thank you.”

“I always knew you two would—”

“Thor, why are you here?” Loki snapped. “I’m sure it’s not to discuss my personal life.” Thor’s visage dropped.

“Loki!” Sigrid’s face was stern. The side of her mouth turned down in disapproval. She had warned him just that day that Thor was not at fault for Odin’s choices, and here Loki was taking his repressed anger out on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean it like that.”

Thor was quick to brush him off. “It’s quite alright. The circumstances of your departure were harrowing and I know the effects will not yet leave you. I just…” Thor paused, seeming to contemplate his words. His large feet brought him right in front of Loki, who looked at him in astonishment when a large hand came down on his shoulder. “I am sorry for all that has happened. I wish there was some way I could have shielded you from it all. You are my little brother and I failed to protect you when you needed it most.”

The sound of a sharp slap echoed in Loki’s mind. Phantom pain bloomed in his left cheek. His lip, which was now healed, filled with the oddest stinging sensation.

Loki had been hurt way worse in battle before. With his long history of broken bones, stabbed intestines and fiery burns, a slap should have been nothing. It was the humiliation that stuck with him. The embarrassment of being struck by the man who had raised him in front of his nearest and dearest. In front of his Sigrid.

“I have to go.” Loki’s voice was strangled. “We’ve been out all day. I need a bath. “

“Loki.” Sigrid’s voice was right next to him. He looked down at her when she slid her hand into his. Loki had not even noticed when she had moved over to him. “Loki?”

“I’m fine.” He turned his back on them then, so they would not see his tears. It was by a stroke of luck that Sigrid had decided to pick some of the golden pears from the tree at the lake. Loki busied himself detaching the bag from the saddle. He hoped that Thor would take the hint and go away.

“Thor, the guards outside will escort you to a room,” he heard Sigrid say. “We planned on skipping dinner, but I can—”

“No no!” Thor was quick to interject. “Don’t let me dissuade your plans. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow? Both of you?” His voice lifted with hope on the last three words.

“I will definitely be there.” As he knew she would, Sigrid did not promise his presence. Only her own.

Once Thor’s footsteps receded, he felt warm hands on his back. He turned to see a distressed Sigrid looking up at him. “Are you okay, my dear?”

“No.” Loki engulfed her in a crushing hug. She squeaked in surprise. “No, I am notokay. I don’t want him here. I told you I was not ready to see him.”

“I know.” Sigrid’s hand came up to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. It was a calming gesture, sending goosebumps throughout his body. “I know. I can’t possibly tell you why he’s here—”

“Something’s wrong on Asgard.”

Sigrid pulled back. Her chocolate eyes were widened in alarm. “Are you certain?” Loki gave a nod.

“I saw his face when you told him he missed your birthday. He’s hiding something.”

Sigrid rubbed her palms over his chest. “Do you want to ask him?”

“No.” Loki’s voice was sharp. “The affairs of Asgard are no longer my responsibility. If Thor wishes to speak to me about a matter he can do so. It’s not my job to pry it out of him. “

“Okay, okay.” Sigrid brought both his hands up to her mouth. “It’s okay. You’re right. You don’t have to pry anything out of him. If the matter is serious enough, he’ll come talk to you.”

“Thank you.” Sigrid tip toed to peck his chin.

“Now come. I do believe there is a tub in my bedroom with both our names on it.”

ooOOoo

One warm bubble bath later found Loki wrapped up with Sigrid in her bed. He was propped on some pillows, and Sigrid lay on his chest. Both his arms were around her waist to hold her close against him. The bath had done wonders for his mood, especially with his new partner, and the tiredness from the day was beginning to settle in. Yet, he could not let himself be pulled under until he asked the question on his mind.

“Darling, would you be upset if I did not join you and Thor at breakfast tomorrow?”

Sigrid rose off his chest. She wore just a nightgown, and the sleeve slipped off her shoulder as she bent her arm at the elbow to prop her head. Loki reached out to fix it back in place. “Of course not. Why would I be?” Her palm flattened against his face, stroking the skin on his cheek.

“No reason.” He was silent again for a few seconds, then asked, “Can I ask you another question?” She nodded. “Do you think I should forgive them?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

Loki clutched her waist tighter. “What you think always matters to me.” It was a rare occurrence for Loki to ask anyone’s advice on a personal decision, even less so for him to care about the answer. There were only a handful of people in his life who he had decided were astute enough to help guide him.

Sigrid bit her cheek in thought. He knew she was thinking along the same lines as he, and how she was one of the few people whose opinion mattered to him. Her fingers stroked through his hair as he awaited her answer. “I think there are things you need to say to them—that you need to get off your chest. Emotions were running high when you found out. You didn’t really have the words to explain what you felt so you lashed out—”

“I think I had the right to do so considering the circumstances.”

“Shh.” Sigrid placed a finger over his lips. “No one blames you for how you reacted. Your entire world was turned upside down, it was warranted.” Loki quieted. “I’m saying don’t write them off before you get a chance to say your piece. I don’t want you to bottle it up and regret not saying it.”

“But what if they react badly? What if Odin just makes more excuses?” The insecurity in his own voice scared him. Then Sigrid’s soft, sweet voice was in his ear again, chasing away his fears.

“Loki, you cannot control how anyone will react. All you can do is say what you have to say. If they react badly so be it.” She brushed some hair away from his face. “Either way, it’s your decision. And I’ll support you in whatever you choose to do.” Loki felt his heart crack wide open.

“You’re so gracious with me.” He kissed the inside of her palm, placing his own over the back of her hand. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Nothing in this life, probably,” she teased. Loki chuckled. “You’re more deserving of good things than you give yourself credit for, Lokes. I wish you would see that.” Sigrid kissed his cheek, then laid her head back in the crook of his neck. Her hand remained running over his face. Loki closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair. It was only a second later that he opened them again.

“Sigrid, did you take the contraceptive I gave you?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Good.” Loki snuggled her closer. “As much as your father wants grandchildren from us, I don’t think he’ll be too keen on that happening before we are wed.” He felt Sigrid smile against his neck. “Plus, there’s the other issue…”

“What other issue?” Loki hesitated. He knew Sigrid would not be pleased with what he was about to say. “Loki?”

“The issue of my parentage, love.” Sigrid gave him a blank stare. “They would also be frost giants.”

“Oh,” said Sigrid. “I know that. It’s fine with me.”

“I—What?” When they had broached the topic of children earlier that day it had been influenced by their pillow talk. Now, hours after and one uninvited brother later, Loki’s sense had caught up to him. “Sigrid, does this really not bother you?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Her face remained steady. “Why would it? Between my Vanir blood and your seidrI’m sure it won’t be an issue to disguise them if need be. I would so love to see a day when we become tolerant of Jotuns but I’m afraid I many sooner see my grave.” Loki’s lips parted. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re amazing,” Loki breathed. “Your ability to face anything with the utmost acceptance and optimism is astounding. How do you do it?”

Sigrid shrugged. “Papa says I get it from mama.“If optimism is not your forte, you should have thought about that before begging my father to marry me.”

“I would hardly say it was begging—”

“That’s not what he said,” she sang. A wicked smirk graced her lips, which she pressed against his in a chaste kiss. “Although, I’m glad you did. I just wish mama was here. There are so many Vanir traditions surrounding matrimony but I wish I knew more about the ones on Midgard.” Sigrid yawned. “I wonder how proposals are done. Do they go through parents first or does someone just ask?”

“Either I believe.” Loki tangled his fingers in her hair, parting the curls with precise movements. “There is an old Asgardian one practiced amongst royal families. It hasn’t happened since Odin and mo—Frigga’s wedding, though.”

Sigrid made herself more comfortable on his chest. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with drowsiness. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s simple, really. If the suitor is approved of by both monarchs, the queen gives her son her engagement ring as a favour to bestow on his potential bride. Supposedly it brings the couple good luck.”

“I love Frigga’s engagement ring,” Sigrid murmured. “It’s beautiful. Was that Odin’s mother’s?”

“Yes.” An image of the sparkling ring popped into Loki’s head. “Let’s hope Thor’s bride is favourable.”

“Thor?” Sigrid questioned. “You don’t think it’ll go to you?”

“Well, I’m not really their son, am I?” Sigrid said nothing, although Loki could tell she wanted too. “Besides, Thor needs it more than I. You bring me all the good luck I could ever need.” That drew a smile from the woman on his chest.

“So what if the only heir was a girl? Then what?”

“Then the man has to create the ring himself. The luck comes from how impressed the monarchs are.” Sigrid wrinkled her nose.

“That sounds difficult,” she complained. “What if the person is horrible at craft? Would they not be able to marry should they fail to design a suitable ring?”

Loki pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m not sure. There hasn’t been a female heir in Asgard for millennia. Either way, I’d just use magic.”

“Of course you would.” Sigrid yawned again, longer and deeper than before. “Thank you for the date today. I had a wonderful time.”

“You’re very welcome, sleepyhead.”

“Can we do it again sometime?” she asked.

“I’ll take you on as many dates as you want,” Loki promised. “Now get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. “Can I have a kiss first?” Loki obliged. “You’re very good at that, you know. Not at all the bumbling mess Fjor says.”

Loki blinked. “Excuse me? Fjor said what?”

“Don’t be mad.” Sigrid’s plea melted away his defensiveness. “It was a long time ago when you first started dating. You’re much better now.” She patted his face.

Loki hid his face in her shoulder. Fjor would be getting a swift kick in the shin the next time he saw him. “Fjor needs to talk less.” Sigrid made a noise. “Always trying to embarrass me. I should tell his wife how annoying he is.” Loki shook his head. “No, I’m sure she already knows. Norns, I can only imagine how insufferable he’ll be when he finds out about us. He already acted with such innuendo before. And Ingrid! Oh, young Ingrid. How delighted she will be, huh darling?” No answer. “Darling?”

Looking down, Loki found her fast asleep.

ooOOoo

By the time Sigrid joined Thor at breakfast the next morning, he already had a bevy of ladies around him. Many were servants, others hopeful young nobles of the court. All were vying for the attentions of the golden prince and Thor, as he was wont to do, filled their cups in a bountiful manner.

“Sigrid!” He shouted her name as he noticed her enter, waving her over with one large arm like he wasn’t in herrealm in her private breakfast room. Sigrid gave a loose chuckle. It was nice to see him enjoying himself despite the awkwardness of his return. “Come sit! We are having—Ergh, what is it again?”

“Smørrebrød,” supplied Annika, the strawberry-haired servant at his side. She leaned over to pour more of a mulberry-coloured liquid into the prince’s cup.

Thor gave a brilliant grin. “Yes! Smørrebrød! Have you had it?”

“I have.” Sigrid took her seat at the head of the table. It was small—only six seats available— and Thor was one chair over to her right. “Do you like it?”

“Not as much as the suksessterte from back home but very much so!” He looked behind her to the door then, almost as though he were expecting someone else. “Will Loki not be joining us? Does he not wish to see me?”

“It’s not like that,” she assured him. “He was still asleep when I left the room. Now that he’s technically on a holiday, he’s taken to sleeping in.” Sigrid hoped her voice, nor her face betrayed her lie, for Loki was very much awake when she left for breakfast.

Thor’s face fell. “Oh.” Sigrid placed her hand on his.

“Do not be disheartened. Loki has been having a hard time adjusting to the news. This has nothing to do with you.”

The corner of Thor’s mouth lifted in melancholy. “He seemed happy in the moments leading up to him noticing my arrival. Although, I can scarcely remember a moment in his entire life when your presence did not lift his spirits.”

“Ah, yes.” There were many moments of recent when Loki was none too keen on bumping into Sigrid. For the purposes of the conversation, though, she decided to keep that information to herself. “We haven’t yet told anyone about us. It only just happened.”

“I don’t think there is anyone who would be shocked,” Thor told her. “The entire realm has been under the assumption for years that there was something more between you two. I am just glad my brother finally made a move.”

Titters and whispers broke out from the servants against the far wall. They had moved there when Sigrid had arrived, and the noble ladies had bowed with respect and left. Now there seemed to be a commotion amongst them. It was only when Sigrid turned her head over her shoulder did she notice why.

Loki strode in through the parlour in all his glory. He wore no helmet, and a toned-down version of his usual oytfot. Sigrid rolled her eyes at the servant girls’ behaviour, though she could not quite blame them. Where they liked Thor, the women of court were enamoured with Loki. His quick tongue, sharp wit and cold beauty were akin to a rare delicacy, and everyone on Vanaheim seemed to want a bite.

“Princess!” And there was Ingrid, clad in a light purple dress that lit up a wonderful contrast with her hair. She was on Loki’s arm when he entered, but soon let go of him to skip over to Sigrid. “And Prince Thor! How are you?”

“I am well, Lady Ingrid.” He pulled out the chair for her to Sigrid’s immediate right. Ingrid took a seat and turned to Thor.

“How come you’re here, my prince? Is everything well at home? Are the King and Queen alright?” It was the first time for the morning that his parents were mentioned. Sigrid saw then what Loki had seen the day before in Thor’s reaction.

His back straightened, and the easy smile on his face faltered. He dipped his head to take a swig of his drink and answered in a clipped tone, “Yes, everything is fine. I’m just here on a visit.”

If Ingrid noticed the prince’s tone, she did not comment. Instead, she turned her attentions to Sigrid. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the party!”

“Loki and I were out yesterday.” Sigrid was astonished to find herself bursting at the seams to tell the girl about her and Loki’s relationship developments. On a normal day, Ingrid’s incessant needling about the two was an annoyance. Secretly, though, Sigrid had looked forward to the girl’s chattering. It was nice to have such a steadfast supporter of her and Loki’s potential coming together.

“Where did you go?”

“I took her riding. There’s a lake a little way from here that she told me about a long time ago.” Loki’s voice was by her ear, then a kiss was pressed to her temple. “Hello, darling.” He pitched his voice low so Ingrid would not hear, then said louder. “Good morning, brother.”

“M-morning.” Thor recovered from the shock of Loki’s cordial greeting well. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m well, and you?” Sigrid felt a hand on her thigh beneath the table. Without looking down, she slid her own hand in Loki’s for support.

“I’m well, too.”

“Why are you both acting so stiff?” questioned Ingrid. She had already poured herself a large glass of juice and was reaching for a ripe pear. “Shouldn’t you be embracing each other and getting drunk like you usually do when you haven’t seen each other in a while?” Both brothers shifted in discomfort.

“Ingrid, look! Smørrebrød!” Siggred lobbed half of the four mounted slices of bread from her plate onto Ingrid’s. “You love it!”

Ingrid picked up a slice. “I know this is your way of telling me to be quiet but seeing as food is involved, I shall oblige.”

“So, brother,” Thor began, mood noticeably lifted, “I believe congratulations are in order! It’s about time this happened?”

“About time what happened?” asked Ingrid around a bite of bread. Loki and Sigrid shared a look. A silent conversation passed between the two, ending with Loki lifting a shoulder in a careless shrug. The realm would soon know of their union. It would not be detrimental to tell Ingrid before that.

Sigrid brought her and Loki’s intertwined hands onto the table. Ingrid continued chewing her breakfast, still wondering what was going on. It only took a split second for her to figure it out. Her eyes travelled to Sigrid and Loki’s combined hands, then to Sigrid, who gave the girl a slight nod.

“Eeeee!!” Ingrid’s squeal seemed to hit the ceiling and echo through every crevice of the room. Sigrid winced at the high pitched noise. “This is amazing! You two are finally together and—Wait.” Ingrid narrowed her eyes. She wagged one finger at Loki. “You disappeared at the party.”

“How do you know that?” Loki’s voice was incredulous. Ingrid waved a hand.

“Some of the women of the court wanted to dance with you. They came to me asking if I knew your whereabouts. You’re quite the catch around here, you know?”

“So I’ve noticed,” muttered Sigrid.

“Anyways, when I could not find you I went to find the princess, and guess what?”

“What?” asked Thor, who had leaned in during the story. He wore an expression of the utmost interest.

“I was told she left as well! And you were not in your room that night nor the next morning when your father came calling so that can only mean one thing!” Ingrid brought her hands together with a clap.

“Child—” Loki’s tone was a warning.

“You had sex!”

“Ingrid!” Sigrid admonished. Her face had heated to a high degree. Thor, who was just interested in the story, was now leaning back with a grimace. It must be strange for him to hear about his brother’s sex life, especially with someone whom he viewed as a sister. “Would you please—”

Ingrid rose from her seat. “We’re all adults here. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” She plopped into Sigrid’s lap and gave her a big hug. “This is so exciting! Does your father know? Are you getting married? Will there be children. Can I— Hmmpph!”

A sparkle of green erupted at Ingrid’s lips. They stuck together as though with glue, and the girl’s chatter ceased.

“I ought to leave you like that for the rest of the day,” threatened Loki. “You talk entirely too much.” Ingrid placed her hands on her hips. She turned pleading, hazel eyes on Sigrid, who commanded Loki to release her.

“My dear, do remove your magic.” With a sigh, Loki waved his hand. Ingrid took a huge, purposeful breath.

“I’m just excited, my prince. There was no need to make an attempt on my life.”

Loki’s dark brow rose into his hairline. “An attempt on your life?” The amusement in his voice was palpable. “Ingrid, I do not make attempts when I want someone dead. Just ask Thor.”

Thor came to Loki’s immediate defense. “It’s true. Hardly has there been an enemy my brother swore to vanquish that he has not.”

“Did he do so by putting a frog in their beds?” Ingrid retorted. “Oh no! Maybe he cut their hair!” Thor let out a whoop of laughter. Sigrid tugged on Ingrid’s ear.

“Do not antagonize him.”

Ingrid folded her arms, chin set stubbornly. “He began it.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” Ingrid said. “You did. You—”. Sigrid was sure she had an earful to give Loki, and she probably would have if her entire body had not jerked so suddenly.

“Ingrid, are you alright?” A bead of blood slid down from Ingrid’s left nostril. Sigrid watched in terror as she brought her hand up to wipe the blood away, only for more to start pouring from her ears. “Ingrid!”

“I—” Ingrid opened her mouth to speak. A mouthful of blood came tumbling out of the orifice. It splashed onto Sigrid’s dress with a sickening splat. She was frozen to the spot as Ingrid’s body jerked once again, then stilled.

It was only when the bloody head fell limp onto her shoulder did Sigrid let out an ear-splitting scream.

Chapter 18

Taglist: @sharris8 @howdidurhammergrowchris @delightfulheartdream @queen-of-mischief @thelittlepoetprincess @cosplayingwitch @itsmeempar @theiamischief @huntress-artemiss @janetsnakehole02 @mischief2sarawr @speedy-object-dream @thedistractedagglomeration @trickster-maiden @immersed-in-mischief

[hahahahahangst]

We don’t talk about Bruno (Be The Young 1)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

We don’t talk about Bruno Sam

Give the truth and the whole truth, Bruno.

23rd of October 2002: 

When Emily was a kid, her mother sometimes called her “her miracle”. She had always thought it was warm, comforting. 

Emily always planned on getting it tattooed once she graduated college. She imagined herself, in her doctor vest, talking with her patients about how cute the story behind her tattoo was. And as she grew up, she realized it was a bit of a silly image. You don’t usually talk about your private tattoos with your patients, she knew that, but she held the tattoo idea in her heart.

Someone knocked on her door. Emily lifted her eyes off her computer. She was drafting an acceptance letter to Stanford. “Hey mom!” She smiled as her mother opened the door. 

“Are you busy honey? I made pizza for dinner.” The woman smiled. 

Emily closed her book and stretched her arms out. “I’m starving actually!” She stood up. 

When she arrived downstairs, Alex was in his crib, kicking and fisting the little toys that were dangling over his head. As Emily sat down, her mother served her some pizza. 

All was well. It had always been.

Until it wasn’t.

Halloween, 2005.

Dean parked in front of the apartment complex. For the standard Emily had gotten used to in the previous two years, it was almost a decent place. At least it didn’t have any weird men waiting on the hooker they had booked. “Alright, wait me here, okay little bitch?” Said Dean. Emily scoffed. She would have never ever dreamt of helping Dean convince their prodigal brother to come hunting with them. She had met enough Winchesters as it was. There was no need for a third one. 

In fact, she had been reluctant on the idea of even traveling to Stanford. 

John and Dean had told her the story of Sam a couple of times through the years. Emily understood why he had chosen to leave: living with the Winchester was a pain in the ass. That was enough of a reason.

However, she felt a hint of jealousy. He had a choice. He was able to get out. Her only alternative to living with Dean and John was to go live in foster families or under a bridge. 

When she first met him, John was incredibly upset about Sam’s departure. He barely spoke about him. Dean, instead, would speak about him. Possibly too much, but never getting into any emotional details. 

“Sam would have know how to do that.”

“Don’t touch that, it’s Sam’s.”

“My god, you sound like Sam, stop it!”

Dean didn’t like chick flicks, he made it very clear from the very beginning. 

So, who was Sam Winchester, based on how John and Dean had described him? 

Sam Winchester was Dean Winchester’s brother. Three years prior, he decided to leave his family and the hunting life behind, to study law. He was two years older than Emily and lived in Stanford. 

Emily looked at the building they were parked in front of and scoffed internally: she was supposed to leave there. She was supposed to be in Stanford medical school. 

And instead, she was stuck in the back of John Winchester’s crap car. 

Dean stared at the building for what felt like hours. Emily, annoyed, eventually stood out of the car to smoke a cigarette and started nervously clicking the hair tie she had on her wrist.

When Dean came back, a tall figure was next to him. Emily could only assume it was Sam: He had short, dark hair and was a few inches taller than Dean. He was not at all like she had imagined him. John didn’t have any recent pictures of him, which wasn’t surprising. The Winchesters sure weren’t the “make memories together” kind of family. 

Sam had a different light in his eyes, compared to Dean. He didn’t look as cocky. He did, however, look pissed. Very much so. 

When Sam opened the car door, he almost jumped back out of it, startled, alarmed by Emily’s presence. 

“Get in the back.” Ordered Dean from behind his brother, cold. Emily looked at him, raising her eyebrows. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“But I was here first!” She complained. “Can’t he sit in the back?!”

“Wrong, he was here first.” He pointed to Sam. “You just fell into my lap and refused to leave.” 

“I didn’t- You know what? Nevermind, I’ll just move in the back.” She climbed out of the car and almost bumped into Sam. “I’m sorry-” She said, sarcastically showing him the fakest smile possible before pulling the lever on the side of the car seat and folding it, hitting Dean’s back and promptly ignoring his complaints. “Stupid piece of crap car- Couldn’t get a normal, modern, five door, could you?” 

Dean scowled at her as she settled in the back seat and ignored the taunt. Sam finally sat down. 

“Dean, want to introduce me to your friend?” He asked, putting a weird emphasis on the last word. 

Dean tried to answer, but Emily was quicker. “I know what you’re thinking, but no, I am not Dean’s last hookup.” She rolled her eyes and started rummaging through her bag. 

“I’m your sister.” She exhaled. “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.”

“Wait.” Said Sam, taken aback. “Did you just say-” 

“Sister? Yeah, you heard me right. Dad’s a slut.” 

“Emily, come on.” Scolded Dean, starting the car. Then, he explained how she ended up with the Winchesters.

The same year Sam had left for college, Emily’s life had also changed irreparably. One night, while she was sleeping, a fire started in Alex’s room. Alex was her six month old brother. When she went to try and help him, she burned both her hands, which were permanently scarred. She was, however, able to bring her baby brother out of her nursery and into the street, just as the house began collapsing, eaten away by fire. She never saw her mother again. 

Emily spent several weeks alone in the hospital, even after she was well herself, to stay with her brother, but he was soon gone too.

Too young to get a job, she crashed on people’s couches for a while, and just as she was about to run out of options, the police finally gave her access to her house back. Not that there was much left, but she was able to retrieve some clothes from her room and some money that had survived the fire by being in the family safe. Together with the money, Emily found a weird envelope with her name on it.

Emily, if you read this, I am very sorry about how things went down. You might think my death was an accident, but I want you to know it is not. 

Just know that I have loved you and Alex my whole life, but I have made some bad decisions long before you were born and that has led us here. 

I know life might be hard right now, but you have someone you can turn to. 

After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. You will find his number in the back, alongside the name of other people you can call if you can’t get a hold of him immediately. 

He’s your real father. 

You’ve always wondered about him, now it’s time to meet him and for you to know the truth about what I used to do before you were born. He will explain that way better than I can by letter. 

He’s very dear to my heart and we shared a kind of bond I never found in anybody else. 

He will take you and Alex with him. He promised long ago.

About Alex, please take care of him. He deserves better than the life that expects you, but he does not deserve to be bounced around families and structures all his life. Keep him safe.

Love, 

mom.

Just for a brief moment, as she read John WInchester’s name, she thought she had another chance. 

College, a normal life, everything back to how it was. 

Sure, it was going to be hard, but she had never been the giving up type.

However, she soon realized her life was never going to be the same. That her hopes and dreams were long gone.

Her plan of becoming a surgeon, the career she had studied all her life for, became just a distant memory. She had little money, no more couches to crash on, just a name, John Winchester.

She reluctantly called him, asking herself what good could a stranger do. 

John agreed on taking her in. However, he was far from being a dad. He more like a sergeant. John never talked about Emily’s mother or how they met, how it happened that they had a baby. Usually, whenever Emily brought it up, John would silence her. 

That was how she ended up traveling with the Winchesters, who were supposed to be her family but behaved more like she was one of the monsters they were hunting. 

Monsters. 

That was a big thing her mother forgot to mention in the letter. Or ever, really.

What she did before Emily was born was hunt monsters. That was how she died. While she did not know precisely what and how, she was soon acquainted with the fact that whatever killed her mother, also killed Dean's mother, and that that something was a supernatural being.That, John Winchester was sure of. 

She found out about the “family business” pretty much immediately after meeting John and Dean. It was hard to miss, it was all they talked about.

Sergeant John Winchester, as Emily called him between her and herself, had made sure she was safe for the first few weeks, and then announced she had to start training if she wanted to live with them. That was it. Not many alternatives.

Saying that he was having trouble adjusting was an euphemism: she was used to her mother hugging her on a daily basis, asking how school was. But with the Winchesters, she had found herself in a pit of distance and emotional unavailability. She found out that the description her mother had always given Emily when she asked about her real dad was exaggerated to say the least. 

Emily’s mother had talked about a stern man that actually hid a lot of good. 

If the good was still there, Emily was struggling to find it.

Emily saw clearly how neither Dean or John weren’t on board with having a third person around and that her father had let her stay just to honor the pact he made with her mom. The terms of this pact were not ever mentioned. It was one of the many things John Winchester did not speak about.

Despite all that, Emily’s relationship with John was overall peaceful. He let her be as long as she didn’t mess up or put them in danger, and she didn’t complain about how he spoke to her or how he ordered her around during hunts. After all, she thought, he was her father, even if he showed that in very uncommon manners.

Dean and Emily, on the other hand, were unable to keep from going at each other’s throat for more than a day at times. 

He had always treated her distantly, barely speaking to her and not really giving her any chances of bonding. Emily tried. She tried several times. But it never really worked. He would dismiss her with a “none of your business.” or a joke about how it was “grown up stuff”. With time, most of the occasions they spoke, it was to fight. Whether they were real problems or small problems didn’t really matter. Regrettable words would be said and tv remotes would be thrown. 

And John never bothered to calm them down. 

He said they had to “learn to like each other”. So, it didn't matter if it was a hunt gone wrong or if they forgot something from the dinner order, the chances of them yelling at each other was very high.

Naturally, since John had left with no notice the previous week, their days were mostly silent. He had actually left the same night Emily and Dean had a fight which involved Dean calling his sister a “childish, bitter bitch” after she dared to remind him it did not matter how long they took to fight whatever killed their mothers, because they would both still be dead by then. 

She was actually very grateful John had not heard that line. 

Dean’s version of her story, however, was pretty much boiled down to “The thing that killed mom also killed her family”. Just as usual, Dean Winchester showed no regards towards her. Her story wasn’t worth telling to Sam.