#also even with side effects of getting more tired with age he’s still looking forward to his 30s.. admirable

[hyunpic]

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 2:

Acting On Your Best Behaviour Ch 12:

Summary:

They'd seen it in their fellow orphans often enough to recognise the pattern and were now forced to admit, despite their hopes to the contrary, that Isidora had likely suffered similar side effects.

No… they'd always known she had. The Keeper had just wanted the power that Ranrok had, enough to convince themselves that they would be able to handle it better than that naive woman.

With the start of the Keeper’s sixth-year in Hogwarts, comes a whole slew of headache-inducing challenges from the most unexpected of places. Between insignificant pests throwing wrenches into their plans and tedious teenage drama, that the Keeper is entirely unprepared for, they wonder if they'll make it to their NEWTs without losing their sanity.

Or worse, Ominis or Sebastian.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

"I've been thinking." Sebastian hummed.

Warnings: More fluff!

Just some more sweetness before things get rocky again x3

I've been so busy the last few months, ah, tired. It's nice writing this though, I'm well aware that this isn't even 20% through the story I've got planned but it's nice to be writing regularly again, even if it's tiring x')

I hope that the few people still reading this are truly enjoying it, and I'm beyond grateful for the continued patience and support ♡

If even one person enjoys this long journey and finds it meaningful, then I'm happy to have worked hard on it all the way, and I look forward to seeing ya'll at the last chapter of the series when the day comes!

"Now, there's a surprise." Ominis quipped with a small smile.

"Well, he has been doing that more often these days." The Keeper chuckled as the three of them strolled across the castle battlements, enjoying the view from the top of the walls, and getting a feel for the layout.

"True." Ominis nodded concedingly, following the Keeper through the gatehouse door and sighing in relief at being out of the cold.

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the teasing as he closed the door behind them. "Dìon isn't as big as Hogwarts but it still takes ages to get around. I was thinking it'd probably be useful to have portraits scattered around the castle for quick communication."

The Keeper raised their eyebrows. "That's a good idea, since portrait subjects can move from one frame to another in seconds."

Ominis nodded as well, leaning against a wall, and folding his arms. "We could train the portrait subjects to carry messages and keep a lookout. Good thinking, Sebastian."

"Why thank you." Sebastian grinned, dipping into a deep bow, before straightening when the Keeper snorted. "I suppose we just need to think of who we'd want portraits of."

"I'd probably want a portrait of Professor Fig, if the two of you don't mind." The Keeper hummed thoughtfully. "I can ask Professor Sharp if Fig had one that I could request a duplicate of."

"Of course, we wouldn't mind at all." Ominis smiled. "I was thinking of my aunt Noctua actually. I believe my family had a portrait of her commissioned, I'll see if I can get a copy from my father when I graduate."

"Don't forget to unlink your copy from your parents'. Wouldn't want her to move off Dìon grounds." Sebastian bumped shoulders with him companionably. "I have some photos of my parents, I'd probably want to commission a portrait of them too."

"I know an artist who specialises in painting from photographs, Malfoy mentioned her once, I'll owl her and make some enquiries." Ominis offered.

"Thank you." Sebastian leaned over to place a light kiss on Ominis' cheek and the Keeper smiled at the sight of his fair skin turning rosy.

"I'll probably move the Elder Keepers' portraits here as well, though I doubt they'll be very pleased with what I've decided to do with the Repository." The Keeper chuckled sardonically after a moment's thought.

Sebastian shrugged. "It's not like they were doing a very good job of it. If you hadn't come along when you did, their defences would have been ripped down by Ranrok."

"And Hogwarts would have been destroyed, probably with all of us still in it." Ominis nodded.

The Keeper shook their head. "I wonder why people keep hiding dangerous things in a bloody school. The mountains of forbidden books in the Restricted Section, the Repository-"

"Salazar's Scriptorium." Ominis added.

"And who knows what else." Sebastian finished.

"Honestly, you'd think it was a secret Gringotts' branch." The Keeper rolled their eyes. "Then again, I suppose it could be because the Elder Keepers were professors and a headmaster, and Slytherin was a Founder."

"Wonder if it's just Hogwarts attracting oddballs then." Sebastian mused. "To be fair, we've benefited a lot from all that forbidden knowledge in Hogwarts."

"Even so, it's a bit negligent of all these adults to put dangerous things in a building full of children." The Keeper rolled their eyes, and Ominis nodded in agreement, a grimace of consternation on his features.

"Well, at least that's not a problem for our castle." Sebastian shrugged.

"What do you mean? There's a child in this castle too." The Keeper smirked at Sebastian.

"Oh, come on." Sebastian sighed exaggeratedly while Ominis laughed lightly behind him.

"Alright, I think this section should be ready." Sebastian called out over his shoulder, as he held his wand over the wall of frozen soil before him, carefully spreading a steady stream of heat over it and encouraging it to soften.

"Careful with the temperature, Sebastian. We don't want to burn the soil." Ominis cautioned as the Keeper entered the underground development site through the elves’ room, digging through their satchel as they walked.

"Why are you worrying about me? They're the one about to carve out half a Quidditch pitch worth of earth." Sebastian frowned as he lowered his wand.

"No need to exaggerate, Sebastian. We'll be lucky if I manage a quarter." The Keeper chuckled as they withdrew an all too familiar jar and unstopped it.

"Well, I never said I wasn't worried about them." Ominis shot back with a raised eyebrow, before frowning as he heard the Keeper's shaky inhale. "...I am actually worried, please don't overexert yourself. Especially with…"

Ominis trailed off and Sebastian’s eyes gravitated to the unspoken source of Ominis' anxiety, as the Keeper inhaled red swirls of energy from the jar. The Keeper's iris began to glow, as though that angry crimson essence were bleeding from their eyes.

Sebastian swallowed, yeap, that sight was definitely doing something to him, he just wasn't sure he wanted to acknowledge it. So not the right time, he mentally scolded himself.

"Don't worry about me." The Keeper gave a low chuckle and gestured for Sebastian to move out of the way.

Which he obeyed immediately, and that had absolutely nothing to do with how sensual their raspy chuckle had sounded to his stupid horny brain.

The moment he was clear, the Keeper drew their wand, drawing their magic to themselves and coaxing the now red-tainted ancient magic within them to swell into a raging hurricane. It was a struggle just to hold the precise mental blueprint in their head, to keep it from drowning in the eye of the storm.

Sweat beaded on their brow at the surges of ancient magic swirling and bubbling around them, begging to be released. To run freely and wildly across anything it touched, ripping everything around them to shreds.

But, the Keeper wouldn't let their magic master them. No, they were the master here.

Envisioning the exact shape and size they needed, the Keeper threw their magic into the earthen wall before them in two diverging streams of pure cleaving force, cracking the bedrock, digging through the packed dirt and its dense frozen moisture. Their initial cut made easier by Sebastian softening the soil at the entry point, bending the magic to their will, and surrounding the entire block of land.

Just a bit further… they could feel their magic straining, protesting the vast distance it had been stretched and spread across. A troll was one thing, an entire field was another, but they persisted, their wand arm trembling from the strain of holding it steady.

The more they carved out today, the faster construction would progress. Forcing their magic just a few more meters, the Keeper finally closed the loop, connecting the twin streams of magic at the other side of the block.

With their magic outlining the region they wanted to change, the Keeper turned that magic inwards with a grunt of effort, disintegrating the entire mass of earth with a loud rumble, and reducing it to a cloud of smoke.

The Keeper gasped as they felt their remaining magic return to them, falling forwards from the rush of adrenaline and exhaustion from their magical exertion. Their fall was halted however, by Sebastian's timely embrace.

"And that's what we were worried about." Sebastian sighed as the Keeper panted heavily in his arms. "Easy there, there we go."

Sebastian carefully maneuvered the Keeper to sit down on a bench that they'd placed by the elves' temporary residence, Ominis following immediately as well.

"...'m fine." The Keeper’s chest heaved as they rest their head back against the wall, closing their eyes as they gasped for breath. The previously enclosed underground was now exposed to the open air, and they eagerly pulled the fresh cold breeze into their lungs.

"You most certainly do not sound fine, not by any measure of the word!" Ominis scolded exasperatedly as he folded his arms beside them.

"I said, I am fine. Just needed to catch my breath." The Keeper repeated firmly, opening their eyes, and pinning Ominis with a narrowed gaze.

Ominis frowned at the Keeper’s tone and opened his mouth to retort, when-

"Hello Fine, I'm Sebastian."

The Keeper and Ominis stared at Sebastian incredulously. The unexpected and unrelated statement causing both their thoughts to grind to a bewildered halt.

Sebastian grinned and shrugged. "What? Sounded like the two of you were about to get into a row over something as silly as a word's definition. So, I thought I'd do something about that."

The Keeper snorted and shook their head, while Ominis sighed concedingly. "Fair enough, I suppose Sebastian wouldn't be able to joke around if you didn’t look well."

"And I appreciate the concern, but I do hope you'd have more faith in my respect for your feelings." The Keeper smiled, taking Ominis by the hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.

"Smooth." Sebastian chuckled as Ominis flushed at the gesture.

"Oh, hush you, it's the cold I say." Ominis cleared his throat, before blinking in surprise when something colder touched his cheek. "Oh."

"Well, what do you know?" Sebastian grinned as he looked up. "A lovely day for snow indeed. Must have started while we were working."

The Keeper hummed as they looked up at the falling snow as well, not particularly concerned with the weather. Winter was always hard, and cold. Impartial, the only time where the bodies of dead were treated equally, from homeless adults to starving children. All blanketed in a coat of beautiful, pure white snow.

But they were warm now, with Sebastian and Ominis by their side, they needed nothing els-

The fine hairs on the Keeper's neck raised and they automatically flicked their wand, conjuring a shield with Protego. Only for a small white snowball to shatter into powder against the magical barrier, the protective field flickering out almost immediately due to their low magic levels.

"Aw, I thought I'd manage it this time, you were so far away." Sebastian laughed as he scooped up another handful of snow to replenish his ammunition, only for a snowball to slam into his face, knocking him backwards and onto his arse. "Gah!"

"Never let an opportunity to catch your enemy off guard slip by." Ominis chuckled as he waved his wand fluidly, three snowballs rotating in the air before him.

The Keeper shook their head with a smile. "I will agree with you there."

"Enemies, are we? Very well then, prepare yourself!" Sebastian grinned as he flung a snowball at Ominis, the white powder scattering as it smashed into one of the rotating orbs floating before him.

The Keeper laughed as Ominis shot another snowball at Sebastian with his wand and began to arm themselves as well. Digging their hands into the freshly fallen snow that was piling up on the bedrock they'd just unearthed.

A perfect battlefield, free of insects and roots, the bedrock untouched by nature, an empty arena carved into the face of the hilltop. The Keeper considered their options on this level playing field and hastened to the other side of the arena, placing their back against the wall as their snowballs trailed after them through the air.

Hearing the Keeper's movements, Ominis spun around, flinging two snowballs at them with his wand. The Keeper dodged, reaching behind them for a snowball and chucking it at Ominis' leg, causing him to stumble as he chased them.

"Aha! Chance!" Sebastian cackled. As Ominis regained his balance, Sebastian took the opportunity to fire at the Keeper and they rolled quickly, before tossing one at him as well.

The Keeper found themselves laughing when Ominis' snowball hit Sebastian as he tried to dodge their own, the sound he made as he went down reminding them of their first duel.

"This can't be your first snow fight!" Sebastian let out a groan from under the thin layer of snow that was starting to pile on top of him.

"Let's just say I'm a quick learner." The Keeper smirked as they twisted to dodge a shot from Ominis.

“Well then, I suppose class is in session today.” Ominis grinned as he fired another two snowballs in rapid succession.

“Think you've got something to teach me?” The Keeper chuckled as they dug their ancient magic into the ground under their feet again, this time displacing a chunk of earth and pulling it upwards into a short makeshift barricade to duck behind.

Ominis took the opportunity to make several more snowballs, knowing that the Keeper was likely doing the same on the other side.

"Indeed, your first lesson, is to give your opponent no chance to recover their arms, for snow lays about aplenty!" Ominis braced a hand on the barricade, using the leverage to sling a barrage of snowballs over it and upon the Keeper.

To his surprise however, the Keeper was not behind the barrier, having slipped around the side, taking the chance to pin Ominis against the barricade from behind.

"I think you might have mistaken this teacher for a student." The Keeper purred in his ear, feeling him shiver from more than the cold.

Ominis huffed a shaky breath with a smile. "Oh, whatever shall I do?"

The Keeper made to reply, when suddenly the snow pile beside them erupted in a shower of white powder, and the Keeper, as well as Ominis, were tackled to the floor by Sebastian.

The three landed in a soft snowy cloud of flakes and Sebastian lifted his head with a wide grin, as his two partners lay under his arms, enjoying the rare, startled expression on the Keeper's face.

"Aha!" Sebastian laughed jubilantly, his cheeks flushed from the cold. "And that's lesson two, never underestimate the element of surprise!"

The Keeper chortled while Ominis shook his head, placing a hand on Sebastian's cheek. "Merlin’s beard, you're freezing, you nutter!"

Sebastian merely snuggled closer with an unrepentant grin, his hair damp from the melted snow and clinging to his freckled forehead as he winked. "Can't freeze with partners this hot."

Ominis promptly shovelled a handful of snow over Sebastian's head. "That's it. You need to cool your head off!"

"Aw come on, that was a good one!" Sebastian protested, rolling to the side to hide behind the Keeper.

The Keeper shook their head at the two's antics, allowing themselves to relax into the snow and catch their breath. They'd never felt quite so carefree before, and they savoured the new sensation.

Ominis huffed in mock annoyance before following their lead and lounging on his side, propping his head up with an arm, while Sebastian rested his head on the Keeper's shoulder.

Sebastian sighed contentedly, unbothered by the cold as he basked in that nearly forgotten joy of play fighting in snow with family.

Family…

Without much thought, Sebastian spoke the feelings that weighed on his heart. "We used to play in the snow, our parents, Anne and I."

Ominis wore a sad smile as Sebastian continued. "After our parents… Anne and I hadn't the heart to play for some years. Till we became friends with Ominis, then it was the three of us."

"I didn't know how to snow fight either." Ominis chuckled nostalgically.

Sebastian grinned fondly. "We had to find a way for Ominis to make snowballs with his wand so he could see while firing."

The Keeper nodded in understanding, running a hand through Sebastian's now frosty hair, combing the icy flakes from it. "That's quite a skill, Ominis."

"Why, thank you." Ominis hummed, trailing a finger thoughtfully through the snow.

"Things were simpler then." Sebastian murmured, his tone becoming melancholic. "Anne was simpler then…"

The Keeper craned their head downwards to place a kiss on the top of Sebastian's head, gripping his shoulder comfortingly in silent support. There was nothing they could say, nor did the Keeper feel like they had any place to.

Ominis remained silent too for a few moments, before hesitantly suggesting. "Would it help? To have that Anne back."

Sebastian lifted his head to look at Ominis, tipping it to the side in confusion. "That Anne?"

"Yes… the version of Anne before the curse." Ominis shifted uneasily. "I was thinking that, perhaps we could have a portrait made of her when she was younger. We could feed it our memories of Anne from before."

The Keeper's eyes widened. "Train it to imitate that youthful and innocent Anne."

Ominis nodded nervously, waiting anxiously for Sebastian to speak and grant him an idea of what effect his suggestion'd had.

Sebastian remained silent from shock for a few more seconds.

"I-" Sebastian's jaw flailed. "I never thought of doing something like that."

Ominis nodded mutely and the Keeper simply watched Sebastian's face, trying to read his reaction.

"I- I suppose, well, I'm not sure." Sebastian stammered for a moment before a hopeful smile began to spread across his face. "But… I think it’s worth a try."

With his agreement, Ominis relaxed with a quiet sigh and the Keeper nodded. "I think that's a fine idea."

Ominis' eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I thought you might disapprove."

The Keeper shrugged. "I have nought against Anne, I don't necessarily like her after what she's done, but anything that keeps either of you happy is agreeable to me."

"Then, we should look through our photos and pick some good ones for the artist." Sebastian’s face lit up with excitement. "Ominis, do you remember that one I took of her when we were making snow angels?"

"Snow angels?" The Keeper tipped their head to the side in confusion.

"Wait, you don't know what snow angels are!?" Sebastian exclaimed with a scandalised gasp.

"Oh my." Ominis giggled lightly as Sebastian dragged the Keeper to their feet. Using his wand to glance around, Ominis swished it, summoning a gust of wind to push the coat of snow that covered the ground, piling them together.

Sebastian grinned at his quick thinking and dragged the Keeper over to a pile of snow that looked sufficiently thick enough for a snow angel.

"This is absolutely unacceptable, we must postpone our snow fight lesson to enlighten you." Sebastian stood before the snow pile, cleared his throat, and sternly raised a finger. "Now, the most important step is the first, observe carefully. Tradition requires that we begin like so!"

Sebastian then spread his arms to the side and flopped down backwards into the snow. The Keeper watched in amusement as Sebastian's weight dropped him several inches into the layers of soft fluffy powder, where he lay grinning up at them like a loon and as though he'd accomplished some great feat.

"The next step is to move your arms to create wings for your snow angel, as well as your legs to illustrate their robes!" Sebastian continued, beginning to move as described, creating the silhouette of an angel in the snow.

"I see." The Keeper chuckled, finding his theatrics rather adorable and glanced over at Ominis who was still lounging on the soft snow comfortably. "I assume you also took this class?"

"Indeed, and I will have you know that I passed my finals with flying colours." Ominis raised his chin proudly and the Keeper laughed at how seriously their partners were taking this.

"That he did, and now!" Sebastian sprung up from the spot, waving at the immaculate snow angel on the ground. "It's your turn!"

The Keeper snorted, they couldn't believe they were doing this, but his enthusiasm was infectious, and they didn't want to spoil the moment. So, they cast their eyes over the ground, spotting a suitable mound just off to the left and stood with their back to it.

"Well, I suppose I can fall for you again." The Keeper smirked, relishing the delight on Sebastian's face at their terrible joke.

"Oh Merlin, not you too!" Ominis groaned.

The Keeper smiled, spread their arms, closed their eyes, and with the sound of air rushing past their ears, allowed this inexplicable force of nature, these terrifying yet exhilarating feelings to guide their path.

They really had fallen indeed.

"Master looks happy!" Tibsy squeaked cheerfully as she peeked, over the parchment of blueprints in her hands, at the three teenagers playing in the snow.

"Yes…" Tynx agreed absently, staring in disbelief at the large and perfectly cut, gaping hole that the Keeper had carved out of the earth in a split second.

That they still had the energy to sprint around and play fight, was absolutely ridiculous. Their master had done in one second, a job that would have taken the two elves at least a week to accomplish with such precision, and they were still a human child!

Sure, the elves could probably dig such a large crater in a day, but it wouldn't have been nearly so clean and square. It was almost smooth enough on the sides and corners to be walled up immediately.

Tynx swallowed nervously.

What sort of monster were he and Tibsy bound to!?

Notes:

The word 'square' means 'right-angled' in engineering speak, and a quarter of a Quidditch pitch is roughly around 513 square metres. Which is actually pretty darn big, I'm a bit worried that I made it too impressive but to be fair, Sebastian made an army of Inferi all by his lonesome with one tiny relic.

The Keeper's literally taking magic steroids xD Also, magical portraits apparently work more similarly to Artificial Intelligence like Character AI or ChatGPT, than having any actual connection to the painting's subject, unlike ghosts.

As such, Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistress would basically have their portrait painted when they took up the post, and then spend their tenure in the position training their portrait to behave and think like them, so as to impart their wisdom to future Headmasters/mistresses.

I thought that this was fascinating. So, I'm going to play so hard with this concept in this fic. Our kids have pensives so they can reasonably train the portraits from Sebastian's memories.

Though, of course, memories are pretty subjective, so who knows if painting!Anne would end up being similar to the original at all...

We don't have much else in way of information on magical paintings, so I'll be making up stuff like I did with the Underage restriction and Gringotts, hopefully the ideas I have will feel cool xD

[attackonbangtanfics]

┆彡 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ┆彡

type : jimin x yoongi, yoonmin synopsis : what happens when these two soulmates find one another on the stage? status : ongoing. rating : pg-13. a/n : this was just supposed to be an imagine, but a few people expressed wanting me to make it an actual story. so, here it is... chapter two! this has also been posted on my ao3, if you'd like to see it on there, as well.

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. ˎˊ˗

TRIGGER WARNINGS : there’s really nothing to worry about in this chapter, aside from some cute moments.

"Yoongi, please get out of bed. Remember that you're supposed to meet up with Park Jimin today for your first rehearsal together in about… twenty minutes."

A loud groan escaped from beneath the pile of blankets that the male was cuddled up under, hands placed between his legs while lying in the fetal position - his most comfortable way to sleep.

"I know that you're my manager and all, but can you please loosen the reins just a little, Sejin hyung?"

"You know I can't do this. Now, come on. This is your job, remember? This is how you make money and provide for yourself."

Yoongi finally sat up in his bed with hair askew and stared at his manager with a look of irritation, but he still loved him endlessly. The man had been there for him for years and he was so glad that he had him by his side; trusting him with everything he had. "Okay, fine. But is money really worth it if I can't even take enough of a rest to enjoy it?"

"You can sleep after this project."

With a grumble, the resident grumpy pianist forced his tired body out of the large bed and slid his feet into the slippers on the floor so that he could hurry to the shower. Getting the male through his morning regimen and out the door with an iced coffee in hand only took about ten minutes, so there was still plenty of time to spare for him to make it to his destination - the practice room. He hadn't been in one of those in years, so it would be interesting to find out just how well a piano, or keyboard in his case, would sound with the echo.

Once they arrived, Manager Sejin came to his door and opened it for him so that he could "make his entrance" the right way. Not that it really mattered here… It wasn't a red carpet, after all. Despite that, he still decided to look as stylish as possible, because he had heard that the man that he was supposed to be working with was fairly handsome and fashion-forward. Yoongi lowered his glasses further down his nose and looked around once he had walked inside to an empty room, raising an eyebrow as his eyes locked onto the small keyboard in the corner. He clicked his tongue and glanced over his shoulder to Sejin (who was now standing off to the side to give room that they would need) for a moment, before giving the keyboard his attention again.

"I feel disrespected. The corner? What am I, in trouble?" He mumbled under his breath and then heard a giggle that sounded akin to a twinkle of a star that you'd hear in cartoons. What the hell was that?

He turned around curiously, pouty lips on full display so that he could face whoever had laughed at him. When their eyes locked, Yoongi felt like he had just been punched in the gut with how quickly he lost control of his breathing. Was this… the Park Jimin? This gorgeous creature?

"Don't worry, Min Yoongi-ssi. I just pushed it off to the side while I was practicing. I got here early, so I decided to get a little more work in… I'm sorry about making you wait. Had to refill my water." He lifted his bottle up now and shook it for extra effect, giving a small smirk.

The difference in drinks that the both of them had was almost comical, but Yoongi's name was synonymous with a black iced coffee; it was a part of his identity, so he couldn't turn back now.

"You must be Park Jimin. Nice to meet you."

He responded and bowed slightly in his spot, trying to at least be respectful - even if he didn't know the age of the other. Once it was returned to him, he cleared his throat and sipped a little more from his straw to enjoy the wonderful effects of the caffeine running through his veins. It was going to be much needed in the months to come and he wasn't sure whether he would ultimately end up dreading it or loving every moment spent with his partner - his member.

An hour had passed, and it had been completely filled with music, timing, dancing and repeating the same sequence over and over again. It was mentally taxing for Yoongi - not to mention it felt like his fingers were about to fall off - and physically exhausting for Jimin. The man hadn't stopped since he arrived, and he had to give him his props for it.

"Do you mind if we take a break for a bit? I feel like I'm going to pass out, if I don't." Jimin said softly and then went over to grab his water bottle, nearly collapsing onto his butt on the floor while he panted heavily. Yoongi hummed in response and looked down to his music sheet for the next song that they'd be working on before leaving for the night.

Glancing up slowly to take in the other male, Yoongi's eyes drifted from his head all the way down to his feet. How was he literally perfect everywhere? He was 100% sure that the same could be said for the parts of his body that were hidden beneath his clothes, but he instantly shook his head the moment his mind went there. What a pervert, Yoongi. Pay attention to your music and keep it in your pants.

"If you need to stop for the night, we can. We're almost done anyway, and we don't need you getting hurt or sick because of this. We have plenty of days and nights that we can work on it." Yoongi said and crossed his arms across his chest, glancing at the iced coffee cup that had sat there empty for a while now.

Jimin seemed to be a bit of a hard-headed individual, because when given the opportunity to go home and rest, he took it upon himself to get up from his spot on the floor so that he could pick up right back where they had left off. "Come on. No one needs to rest until our allotted time."

And so, another hour or so crept by and the both of them managed to finish up the last song, both ready to pass out in their own right. But not before eating a good meal. Luckily, as they were both packing up to go, Manager Sejin had returned from his little outing and got the both of them some Korean food from up the street. The two drooled at the sight and smell while it was being laid out for them on the floor and then grabbed their chopsticks, clicking them together in a "cheers" fashion so they could dig in.

"Thank you for the food, Yoongi-ssi… I will eat well." Jimin said with a bow of his head and then shoved some meat into his mouth almost immediately. Yoongi really wanted to chuckle at him, but he wasn't to the point of showing any full emotions to him quite yet. It always seemed to take him more time than others to warm up to someone, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he supposed. He was slow to trust and that just meant that once he finally did, it made their friendship worth it in the end.

Once all of the food had been devoured and plenty of small talk ensued, they both stood and threw their trash away. It was now that point in time where they had to deal with awkward goodbyes, even though it didn't really seem that way to Yoongi.

"Well, I guess this is it… You did a really good job tonight, Jimin-ssi. Same time tomorrow or do we want to adjust our schedule a bit?" Yoongi asked softly, sounding a bit like a father instead of a colleague.

"Same time. I think today worked out well! If… That's okay with you, I mean." Jimin was so soft-spoken, and it was really interesting to him because he was actually the exact same way. They seemed to have a bit in common, it seemed.

"No, that's alright with me. Let's keep the time the same unless something comes up last minute." He nodded and then shoved his hands in his pocket, feeling a bit weird because Manager Sejin was just standing behind the both of them while waiting for Yoongi at the door to get him back inside of the car. "Do you need a drive home?"

Jimin's head shook a little, his small hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair and Yoongi just about passed away when the other's forehead was revealed to him. He couldn't believe that the gods had a favorite and he happened to be right in front of him. "No, I'll be just fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Jimin-ssi."

[explosionshark]

3x014 Bad Girls that's the tweet. Bad Girls has been the next epsiode I've had to watch for ages and I was looking forward to it so much cause even I know Bad Girls is the iconic episode but there has not been a good time to watch but now I finally had the chance so here's the midseries update.

But before I get there I wanna say Beauty and the Beasts is a really interesting episode, not necessarily for the episode itself but that you can read the entirety of the Angel/Buffy relationship that I've seen so far in Series 3 cause you can read them in both sides of the abusive relationship (I forget their names this was pre me writing notes) imo, Angel's obvious he's textually a metaphor for the abusive boyfriend who changed after sleeping with Buffy, it's directly textually said in this episode and a bunch back in series 2, but also Buffy did kill Angel immediately after getting his soul back (absolutely justifiably yeah) before he even knew what was going on and he gets sent to the hell dimension for 100 years but is still instinctively protecting Buffy like the girl who protected the boyfriend who hurt her. And so they've been locked in a death spiral of breaking up and getting together ever since which is in theory neat but also admittedly it is starting to get tiring since its starting to feel like just a holding pattern until we can move on and Angel gets sent away for his spin off (the extremely meleodramatic one we see in The Zeppo was incredible though)

Speaking of Zeppo RIP Cordy's screentime but I do enjoy her existing now entirely to hunt Xander for sport it's what she deserves. Didn't even get to star in The Wish which was her mirrorverse episode, I remember being surprised how quickly she figured it out and then she died immediately. Also shout out to my boy the Master coming back for the runback against all odds getting a 2:1 record against Buffy, 1:1 was already an absurd record that I didn't see ever being matched but surely 2:1 cannot be touched.

Anyway I spent too long here not talking about Faith, love her, one of my favourite notes from Bad Girls '♡ "Hey girlfriend" What could she mean by this?' I also have from Revelations 'Faith is all alone and has no friends :(' and she's also very fun to watch so you got the triple threat of barely disguised innuendo, sad and greatly charismatic on screen so always fun to watch. I really enjoyed by the way in Revelations the way that Gwendolyne Post loved walking around with her arms not in her sleeves and behind her back and then she gets beaten by cutting her arm off. And the way the episode ends with Faith incorporating the little lesson from Gwendolyne into her world view about only needing Spartan Quarters is a nice tiny set up for future heel turn. Also the start of the recurring thread of her wanting to spend some time with Buffy but she has to blow her off for Angel issues, oh I just saw in my notes for that episode 'Angel Buffy trapped in cycles, in same scene its explained once the glove is attached it cannot be removed. Metaphor'

Helpless was great as a more horror focused episode, I got distracted part way through by a random Watcher who I was sure I recognised, it turns out he's in Star Trek Enterprise, a show I've not watched but the only one I recognised on the list so I guess it was that, I just think it could've been more effective if even with his last minute change of heart Buffy still had a bit of a rift with Giles from the whole poisoning her deal

I do admittedly have a couple of notes of "Why does Oz exist? Because outside of some good lines in Amends I never really get much out of him, I don't always like Xander but he's got that good recurring roll of acting out whatever's Buffy's dealing with but in miniature but Oz just kinda feels like he's just there.

Amends incidently such a good episode, amazing character episode for Angel, "It's not the demon in me that needs killing, it's the man," I have that line written down with the note of 'Sick'. I also love that despite being called amends few actual amends were made and it more had the idea rather you need to continue to live and make your amends as a process rather than as a singular act. Also it's Christmas and he gets visited by ghosts of past, present and future so y'know its fun

I love the Mayor as a Big Bad, I think he's my favourite so far its just such a demenour y'know, Angelus is incredible as a character like a more personal nemesis and I had great fun with the Master but the Mayor is really doing it for me. I loved the gag in Band Candy where he points out the sewer really needs more maintanence while they're delivering the babies to the snake and then that's actually a set up for Buffy to grab the gas pipe to set it on fire.

Anyway Bad Girls. First appearance of my friend Wesley he is so different to he was when I watched Angel its incredible how buttoned up and how much of a loser he is, I love him. And so much incredible Faith/Buffy content, which is fitting for this to be her approaching Heel Turn to mirror with Angel to Angelus back in S2. From my notes '"You don't get it you killed a man," "You don't get it, I don't care" she says as she cares deeply' The last thing I wrote down for Bad Girls is 'I want to eat this episode'. Also I dunno if its anything but I also noted down Faith and Buffy really hit it off next level style this episode after Buffy got drowned and her getting her drowned back in 1x12 is what created the branch Slayer line that got to Faith, its neat even if its nothing.

I've written too much I need to send these more regularly if this is how much I'm going to put down, great stuff great stuff.

Well! Glad you're enjoying S3!!!!

Beauty and the Beasts is another example of the kind of Buffy episode that's just some character's current conflict acted out by the MOTW. Gets m every time.

Gwen Post was great because it shows the first deep fissure in Buffy and Faith's relationship and reintroduces Angel to the rest of the crew in a spectacularly disastrous and dramatic fashion. Also love how it sets up Faith's recurring S3 weakness of "literally any adult who's nice to her" which is funny/sad given the fact that the character trait she is most obviously trying to manifest for herself is 'badass rebel loner.' How's that traumatic childhood and almost complete lack of support system working out for you, Faith? Pretty good it doesn't seem.

Oz is a much loved character (including by me!). I think he's sweet and funny and I enjoy him showing up - but aside from when he's actively wolfing out or being cheated on for Willow's character development he is pretty extraneous. Finally, a male sexy lamp.

Agreed re: Helpless, The Mayor, Faith having no friends, Buffy and Angel's whole mess winding down . Interesting point about the drowning too! Hadn't thought about that before. Huh.

I'm glad you're having a good time! Can't wait for your Bad Girls thoughts!

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝐺𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑅𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings: NSFW content including somnophilia (obviously consensual), lactating kink. Illusions to infidelity (which I do not condone nor encourage). Read at your own discretion. Older/Aged up Ateez but age differences are still within legal boundaries.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Opening his eyes, Hongjoong let out a tired smile as he looked at your peacefully sleeping figure. He was glad that both of you had a good night's rest and the baby in the next room didn't wake you up. Caressing your cheek, he blushed as he remembered the previous night with you.

Getting up, he picked up his discarded sweatpants and quickly slipped them on before going over to the window. Opening up the blinds just a tiny bit to let in a little light, he looked back over when he heard you moan in your sleep.

"Hongjoong..." You whimpered unconsciously.

By the way you shifted inside the blankets, Hongjoong knew you were more than likely rubbing your thighs together. It might have been a little early, but if you needed him, how was he supposed to deny you especially when you called out so cutely for him.

You fluttered your eyes open when you felt kisses being pressed against your jaw that soon traveled to your neck, hips involuntarily bucking up when you felt your lover's hard on rub against your clit.

"Morning babygirl. Did you miss me that much already?" He teased you, a light chuckle emanating from his lips as he began inserting himself into you.

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

It was still the early hours of dawn yet Seonghwa was fully awake. His hand was tenderly caressing your hip as he continued to admire your body. Although he had done a lot of that the night before, it still wasn't enough for him. Every mark on your body that detailed the pregnancy you went through was absolutely beautiful for him.

Unable to bear it any longer, he slowly crawled his way underneath the blanket where he positioned himself right in between your thighs. He started off by peppering kisses along your stretch marks, his tongue occasionally poking out every now and then. When he finally reached your mound he didn't hesitate to start licking tenderly and slowly at your folds, trying not to abruptly wake you up.

You thought you were in a lucid dream until you opened your eyes and saw someone shuffling under the covers. Pulling some of the blanket to the side, your head rested back on the pillow as you let out a moan when you saw Seonghwa's head buried deep between your legs.

"Morning gorgeous." He greeted you as he smiled against your clit before giving it a suckle that made you want to squirm away from him, but his hands on your thighs prevented you from moving.

"Just stay down and get comfortable beautiful. I'm not coming out of here for a while."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

"I don't wanna get up just yet." You let out a croaked whine as you nestled closer against your equally half tired half awake husband.

"We don't have to, it's still pretty early." He told you as the arm that was wrapped around you lightly tapped on the side of your hip.

You tried to wrap one leg over Yunho's but your face grimaced as you felt the dull sting of his thrusts from the night before. Noticing your reaction, Yunho chuckled.

"Did I accidentally go too rough on you? Did I break you yet again?" He cooed mockingly at you as he pinched your nose, which made you irritated.

"N-no! I'm fine actually. In fact I'm so fine that I could probably ride you with no issues at all." You proudly boasted.

"Oh yeah? Prove it then baby." He taunted you, not actually expecting you to follow through but you surprised him when you got up and pulled his shirt off you and climbed on top of him, albeit with a little difficulty but you did. Yunho watched you with a smirk as you began pumping him in your hand.

"Do you still have energy left to go for another round though?" You teased him as you gave him a tight squeeze.

"Trust me doll, I never run out of energy if it means fucking your tight pussy."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"What are you doing?" You sleepily asked when you awoke to find Yeosang staring right at you.

"Admiring you before I have to go." He answered with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

You both looked over at the clock, knowing that soon the house and its occupants would soon be bustling and it would be best if Yeosang snuck back into his room.

"I don't wanna leave. I wanna stay here with you." He huffed as he layed back down on the bed with you.

You swore he acted more like a child than his daughter did, confirmed by how now you tried to get him out of your bed, which he was very reluctant about.

"You'll see me later tonight anyways, it'll only be for a few hours." You reminded him as you helped him gather his clothes that had been scattered about on the floor.

"I'll miss you so much." He pouted at you.

You were about to roll your eyes but then you got an idea. Stopping him before he threw his shirt on, you sunk down to your knees and took hold back his cock which instantly got hard at your touch.

"Then let me leave you with something so you don't miss me too much.."

Yeosang shuddered when your lips kissed his head, your tongue dipping into his slit.

"And so you have something to look forward to tonight."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

Head thrown back against the softness and the pillow as lewd moans spewed out of your mouth, your fingers were tangled in the back of San's hair as he continued to swallow and suck at your nipples, his hands pressing hard against your squishy skin so he'd be able to gulp down more of your milk.

"Sannie...please." You whimpered out, yet he made no answers nor did he move from where he was. Calling out to him once more and even tugging his hair harshly, you finally got a response from him.

"Hmm?" He hummed quietly yet went back to his previous task of breastfeeding from you.

"Stop being selfish, that milk is also for our daughter." You reminded him as you tried to move him from your chest, which resulted in him latching into your nipple with more intensity.

"You were mine before you were her mom, I think I deserve to get my fair share of enjoying your body as I want. Don't get me wrong I love our princess and I don't regret having her, but last night was the first time in a while that I finally get you all to myself and I'm going to take advantage of it."

Dipping his tongue back in between your breasts, San let out a soft chuckle as he kneaded your mounds.

"Besides you produce more than enough milk baby mama. Got your shirts getting wet patches from all the milk pouring out of your tits."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

You were awoken when you felt Mingi, who was still nestled inside of you, slightly pull in and out of you. You weren't too fazed by this, you guys often tried cockwarming, especially if the night before you guys were being a little naughty. There was just something heartwarming about having him stay inside you after he fucked you sore.

"Still wanna go?" Mingi asked. Even though you had explicitly told him to fuck you awake, he still wanted to make sure you'd still be up for it.

You didn't even respond, you simply pushed yourself back onto him after he had pulled out of you. Getting the hint, Mingi helped you onto all fours, which automatically excited you. Soon he was pulling moan after moan out of your mouth as his hips slammed into you from behind, one hand reaching over to stimulate you further by rubbing your clit.

"You gotta be quiet love." He teased as his other hand came over to cup over your mouth, effectively muffling all the loud noises coming out of it.

"Our angel is sleeping in the other room and if she hears us, she'll wake up."

He purposefully made it harder for you as he jolted his hips up, further ramming himself in you.

"So let's try to not get caught."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"She's going to wake up any second now." Although you tried to reason with Wooyoung, you made absolutely no attempt to get him off you. Instead you simply melted into his kisses and caresses, still high from the blissful night you two shared just a few hours ago.

"No she won't. She's been sleeping a lot more recently." He assured you as he raked his teeth along your shoulder blades, threatening to leave marks plastered on you.

"Yes but- oh fine. But we have to be quick about it..just in case." You told him.

"Quick you say? Ok then."

You let out a squeak when Wooyoung flipped over and pulled you on top of him with no warning. At first you were confused when he started shifting you around, but after he began turning you, you understood what he was aiming for. You let him guide you so your ass was right on top of his face, your dripping pussy inches away from his mouth. Bending over, you brought your mouth over to his cock, licking his shaft which made him jitter under you.

"Fuck! Oh shit." Not wanting to let you get away with teasing, Wooyoung layed his tongue flat on your lips before curling it upwards so it could flick at your clit, eliciting a response from your body.

"Remember, we gotta be quick about it. So start sucking baby."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho looked up amusedly, sleep still in his eyes, at your tantalizing figure that was now rutting itself against one of his thighs.

"I'm up." You simply stated while continuing to grind on him.

"I can see that very well my little vixen. And now I'm up." You both laughed quietly at his double sensed joke.

Effortlessly picking you up with his hands, Jongho settled you down on his cock, now making you grind your slick folds along his thick length that was hardening even more now.

"This horny this early love?" He raised an eyebrow at you yet never stopped moving you.

"Can't help it. You left me wanting more after last night." You shyly admitted.

"Oh? Is that so? You want more. I'll give you more."

Aligning himself on your entrance, Jongho and you simultaneously hissed, you from the stretch he gave you and he from the way your walls hugged around his shaft.

"Baby, hold onto the headboard." He instructed you and you promptly obeyed with no hesitation.

"Because I'm not going easy on you. I'm starting my morning off by fucking you dumb."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery

- Chapter 10 (ao3) -

tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude), part 9

-

In Lan Wangji’s view, the best part about the upcoming visit by Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen wasn’t the excuse to drag a tetchy and reluctant Jiang Cheng night-hunting, nor the chance to meet such interesting and swiftly famous cultivators, or even the vanishingly rare opportunity to learn more about Wei Wuxian by exploring his heritage on his mother’s side.

No – it was definitely the way the mere concept transformed Jiang Cheng into a stuttering teenaged admirer about to see their revered idol for the first time.

“You remember that they are both nearly ten years your junior?” he asked as Jiang Cheng fussed around, alternating between worrying himself sick for not being prepared to receive guests (for all that the Jiang sect had been receiving honored guests for years at this point) and bragging about the exploits of their soon-arriving guests to the fascinated flock of children dogging his heels.

“No more than seven or eight at most,” Jiang Cheng objected, and Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Look at how accomplished they both are! When I was that age, I hadn’t done anything!”

Lan Wangji didn’t think that was entirely right. When Jiang Cheng had been the age Xiao Xingcheng and Song Zichen were now, he’d endured the loss of his sect and rebuilt it from nothing, acting more or less singlehandedly while still finding time to fight the Wen sect shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Great Sects and also search for the missing Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji.

He opted not to mention it.

Let Jiang Cheng keep his illusions and ignore the steady encroachment of time.

“You’re calling me old in your head,” Jiang Cheng said accusingly, and Lan Wangji pasted an innocent expression on his face as confirmation. “You are, you bastard! You know you’re older than me, right?”

Lan Wangji could get a great deal of out of an admission like that.

“That’s not what I meant! We’re peers, you…!” Jiang Cheng huffed. “Listen, you’d better be on your best behavior around our guests, all right? I don’t want them to be scared off just because it looks like you’re glowering whenever you think –”

“I’ll follow your example, then, and simply not think at all.”

“Go jump off a pier!”

The children all giggled.

“You’re all going to be on best behavior too,” Jiang Cheng told them, fierce as a hissing domestic cat and just as adorably toothless. “You hear me? All of you! A-Yuan, A-Ling, that means you’re going to be cute but not spoiled, while A-Yu can – actually, just do the same as them in an age-appropriate way, you’re cute enough –”

Mo Xuanyu beamed.

“Still, we don’t know what they’re like. Start by being a little reserved – not too loud –”

Lan Sizhui waved for attention as if they were in a classroom.

“…yes?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking vaguely resigned and grumpy in a way that was clearly meant to conceal how unbearably charming he found the gesture.

“Can I be called Sizhui this time?” Lan Sizhui asked eagerly. “I’m old enough!”

Jiang Cheng frowned a bit, and Lan Wangji understood. The Jiang sect generally didn’t use courtesy names until the child in question had mastered a full sword routine, usually age eight or nine, and close family almost never made the switch in full; from what Lan Wangji knew, Jiang Yanli had called Jiang Cheng ‘A-Cheng’ right up until the end of her life, not to mention referring routinely to Wei Wuxian, who she’d only met when he was already old enough to use his courtesy name, as ‘A-Xian’. The Lan sect, in contrast, started using courtesy names almost exclusively once a child was old enough to leave his parents, typically age three or four – Lan Wangji had been calling Lan Sizhui by name for years already, and had been needling Jiang Cheng to pick it up as well without success.

“I’ll introduce you,” Lan Wangji offered, saving Jiang Cheng the awkwardness of having to explain or decline or, worst of all for someone like Jiang Cheng, accidentally slip up and say something sappy like you’ll always be A-Yuan to me.

Lan Sizhui nodded, satisfied, and next to him, Jin Ling frowned. “What about me?” he asked. “Am I going to be Rulan?”

“The Jin sect is the last of the Great Sects in using courtesy names,” Jiang Cheng said, finally on more solid ground. “Not until you get your sword, and that’s not until you’re eleven. Or twelve!”

“But I already have a sword…”

“The age you would be if you were getting your own,” Lan Wangji interjected. “To make it fair to all the rest.”

That seemed to reassure Jin Ling, who nodded. “Good,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna be Rulan, anyway…jiujiu, when did you say these guests would be arriving?”

That, of course, sent Jiang Cheng back into a flurry of activity, and Lan Wangji shook his head, long-suffering. “You’ve hosted entire discussion conferences,” he pointed out to Jiang Cheng. “There are only two cultivators this time. It is far easier.”

“Is it?” Jiang Cheng shot back. “Is it really?”

In contrast to the expectation and build up leading up to it, the actual arrival of Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen was rather unremarkable. They arrived just as the sun was setting, two young men, one beautiful and the other handsome, both valiant heroes with faces that shone with kindness and righteousness. Xiao Xingchen’s face was curved in a gentle smile, Song Zichen set in a neutral expression. Both seemed sincere and respectful when they bowed deeply in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure and honor to host such heroes,” Jiang Cheng said, nodding his head regally in return. He really had at some point learned how to fake being a competent and confident sect leader, and it might have even had the effect he was going for if it wasn’t for the small gaggle of children very eagerly stealing peeks from next to him – but Lan Wangji wasn’t going to be the one to tell on them. “I’ve heard many stories of your adventures, and I have long looked forward to meeting you in person. My Lotus Pier is open to you for as long as you require.”

“Sect Leader Jiang is upright and straightforward, well known for his righteousness,” Xiao Xingchen said, and perhaps only Lan Wangji knew precisely why Jiang Cheng flushed with such pleasure at a compliment more commonly applied to Nie Mingjue. “We are happy to be here as your guests.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, still a little stiff and wooden. “You have traveled quite a distance. Are you tired or hungry..?”

They shook their heads in refusal.

Jiang Cheng darted a glance at Lan Wangji, then turned back to them, finally relaxing out of the excess formality that suited Jin Guangshan far more than it did Jian Cheng. “In that case,” he said, his voice a little dry. “Upon the suggestion of certain of my advisors, would you prefer to cut the boring small talk and go out on a night-hunt instead?”

Xiao Xingchen’s face split into a genuine smile, and even Song Zichen’s severity seemed a little eased.

“What an excellent idea, Sect Leader Jiang,” Xiao Xingchen said warmly. “We’d be happy to. I was just telling Song Zichen not long ago that it seemed as though we hadn’t been on a proper hunt in far too long.”

“You think you have problems, try being a sect leader,” Jiang Cheng replied impulsively, then turned red when he realized how rude he’d just been. “That is, I mean – well, there’s not nearly as much free time, that’s all.”

Xiao Xingchen laughed. It gave Lan Wangji a good impression of him: light-hearted and lively, his demeanor kind and good-humored. Despite the lack of blood relation, Lan Wangji was reminded of Wei Wuxian – although perhaps that was just his wistful thinking.

“Well, there’s a reason Zichen and I haven’t started our own just yet,” he said mischievously. “There’s time for that later, after all. Youth is when you make a name for yourself! And speaking of which, I’ve heard plenty about your own prowess, Sandu Shengshou. I admit I’m looking forward to seeing Zidian in action.”

Jiang Cheng looked unbearably pleased at the compliment, clearly sincerely meant, and something in Lan Wangji’s heart that he hadn’t even known was tense finally eased.

He hadn’t realized that he himself was nervous about this meeting – less for his own sake, although he burned with curiosity to learn everything he could about Wei Wuxian, than for Jiang Cheng, who had longed for this meeting so much, cared so much. Lan Wangji found to his bemusement that he had even been a little afraid: afraid that the two strangers would be cold or arrogant, afraid that they’d reject Jiang Cheng tentative overtures of friendship – that Jiang Cheng would be disappointed.

Lan Wangji might enjoy teasing Jiang Cheng into a frenzy, but that was his prerogative. In fact, one could argue that it was only what he was due for having lived with and put up with the man for so long. He’d been the one who’d been there all this time, the one who’d put in so much effort to help rebuild him back into the man he could be rather than the wreck he had been; he’d earned the right to mock him.  

No one else was entitled to so much as touch the hem of his robes.

“I have heard much of your matchless skill as well, Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said, his voice unexpectedly deep, and Lan Wangji’s attention came back to him as he returned the man’s salute. They both had reputations for being closed-mouthed ice-blocks, and it seemed to Lan Wangji that Song Zichen was probably just reserved, like him, rather than truly standoffish.

“You’re in for a treat, then,” Jiang Cheng said with a faint smirk. “Whether in sword or music, few can match Hanguang-jun’s talents, and he never stints on displaying them.”

To the untried ear, perhaps Jiang Cheng sounded bitter or jealous, and given his competitive mania he probably was, a little, but to Lan Wangji he sounded more smug than anything else, as proud as if he were the one being praised.

With everything settled, they headed off at once.

The subject of the night-hunt was nothing terribly exciting – a troop of fierce corpses ravaging the countryside that someone had finally managed to divine the location of, with the only interesting aspect about them being that they were unusually fast-moving – so there was plenty of time for them to talk as they followed the trail.

Lan Wangji expected Jiang Cheng to start asking questions about the immortal mountain and Wei Wuxian’s mother at once – Jiang Cheng might be prideful and thin-faced, prone to shame and overthinking, but he’d been raised along Wei Wuxian, who was second to none in shamelessness, and Lan Wangji was well aware of how much he hungered for that knowledge.

Of course, probably as a direct result of Lan Wangji’s expectations, Jiang Cheng went for a completely different target.

“It’s said that we live in an age of young heroes,” he remarked, seemingly casual. “Of course, for most of us, that was simply the inevitable result of war – crisis demands the best from people, regardless of age. Without such necessity to spur us onwards, most of us probably would’ve been still kicking our heels even now, whereas you two became heroes as soon as you arrived…how old are you now, again?”

“We are both twenty-one,” Song Zichen said, and Lan Wangji used the moment to glare over at Jiang Cheng when he mouthed six years at him – was this really the time to quibble over something as pointless as the exact age gap between them, which he’d clearly inquired about for no other purpose than to prove Lan Wangji’s earlier assumption wrong? This was Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle here! They should be getting all the information out of him that they could!

(Lan Wangji had long ago decided that when it came to feuding over minor matters with Jiang Cheng, he would be as gracious in defeat as his opponent…which was to say, not at all.)

Jiang Cheng smirked at him, knowing what he was thinking, but then – finally – turned the subject onto the immortal mountain, or more specifically its former disciples.

This time it was Song Zichen’s turn to relax minutely, Lan Wangji noticed. A moment’s thought revealed the reason: they’d probably feared cultivators asking questions that were far more pointed than what they were getting from them – cultivators greedy for the secrets of immortality. No wonder they so assiduously avoided being hosted by the Great Sects, and had done so even before Lanling Jin had gotten in the way of their heroism.

Well, luckily for them, the interest Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji had was a little more…down to earth.

“Cangse Sanren was a talent to shake the ages,” Xiao Xingchen said, his eyes bright and expression enthusiastic. “It was as if anything she turned her mind to, she excelled at, and she turned her mind to all sorts of things without discrimination – painting, poetry, swordsmanship…” He paused, then firmed his shoulders. “I heard that her son was much the same..?”

Lan Wangji felt a smile want to come up to his lips.

It seemed that Xiao Xingchen was just as interested in finding out more about his martial nephew as they were in finding out more about Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle.

Jiang Cheng glanced over at Lan Wangji, who nodded very shallowly, indicating his approval. In his judgment, both of them seemed safe enough: trustworthy, and not like people who would spread gossip.

They could talk about Wei Wuxian.

Talk truly about him, praising his good points and speaking fondly of his faults…these two, Lan Wangji thought, wouldn’t judge them harshly for failing to condemn him, and they wouldn’t tell anyone else, either.

Later, after they’d finished dispatching the ghouls – and the Wei Wuxian portion of the conversation, for which Jiang Cheng had taken the lead and which a listening Lan Wangji had enjoyed tremendously, largely on account of Xiao Xingchen’s genuine enthusiasm for learning everything he could about the martial nephew he had only just barely missed meeting, fearsome Yiling Patriarch or not – Jiang Cheng finally and regretfully brought them back to the original subject.

“I heard that you two are collecting allies to go after Xue Yang,” he said, and pretended (just as Lan Wangji did) to ignore the way Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen suddenly glanced at each other. “I’ll support that, of course. From everything I’ve heard, he’s become a mad dog, trying to bite anyone he sees. Hasn’t he been launching all sorts of raids on sects left and right these past few years?”

They nodded.

“Rather pointless ones,” Song Zichen said, a deep frown on his face. “He runs in and causes chaos, then flees into the night – he barely even stops to kill people, and almost never steals treasures. At most he goes to make trouble by defacing the walls of some of the ancestral tombs…we can see no sense in it. The only explanation is that his demonic cultivation has in fact driven him mad.”

Demonic cultivation didn’t necessarily drive a person mad. That was something Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng had painfully learned over the years, much to Jiang Cheng’s distress. However, it certainly didn’t help maintain calmness or peace of mind; there was every chance that a delinquent like Xue Yang had had his temperament worsened by demonic cultivation, leading to his present circumstances.

“Indeed,” Jiang Cheng said noncommittally. “I really have only question for you, then.”

Knowing where this was going, Lan Wangji turned his gaze on their guests’ expression.

“Haven’t you been chasing him on your own for all these years now, trying to get him to go to trial for his crimes, refusing any offers of help?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice suddenly pointed. “Why the sudden change in favor of asking for help now?”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen shared another long look between them.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat. “In truth,” he said, “we spread that rumor as a smokescreen. We’re not looking for allies, generally speaking…we really only wanted a reason to ask for your help.”

Jiang Cheng stopped and stared, visibly surprised. Lan Wangji kept his expression more neutral, but privately he was just as taken aback; when they’d discussed this earlier, planning out this conversation in advance, that wasn’t even remotely one of the possibilities they’d considered.

“My help?” Jiang Cheng asked cautiously. “Or…?”

“Yours and Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said. “We weren’t sure who else to turn to.”

“What’s the issue?” Jiang Cheng asked, waving a hand to halt their forward progress. A good idea, in Lan Wangji’s view: it was the middle of the night, and they were in the middle of the forest in the back hills near the Lotus Pier, with no one around for a good distance except for trusted Jiang sect disciples – if there needed to be privacy for this discussion, this was the best place for it.

Another shared glance.

Lan Wangji slanted a glance of his own to Jiang Cheng, who returned it: they’d been right, there really was something unusual with this visit.

They stood in silence for a while.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen yielded. “Very well,” he said, and met Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Sect Leader Jiang…can you tell us what you know about the Ghost General?”

Jiang Cheng stiffened, his fists clenching.

Lan Wangji’s heart felt just as stiff. He stepped forward.

“There are many people who can tell you about Wen Ning,” he said neutrally, watching them carefully. “Assuming that what you wish to know is how he fought or his transformation into a conscious fierce corpse. Is your concern that Xue Yang has replicated the technique and created his own ghost general?”

He didn’t think it would be that. As he’d said, everyone knew what Wen Ning had done once he’d become the Ghost General – the Jin sect would know far better than either of them how fearsome he was, since it was at Jinlin Tower that he had erupted in his final massacre. If they wanted to know about fierce corpses in general, they could go there.

To come here, to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji – the only two people who were known to have gone up to the Yiling Burial Mounds while Wei Wuxian lived there with Wen Ning at his side, the only living people who knew what the Ghost General was like when he wasn’t being a weapon, to know what Wen Ning was like as a person – suggested something different.

Something impossible.

Xiao Xingchen met his eyes. “It is not.”

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice tight and unsteady. “He murdered my brother-in-law, my nephew’s father, and when Lanling Jin demanded his head as retribution, he and his sister went to them under pretense of surrender and murdered even more of them before they were taken down. He was destroyed.”

They said nothing.

“The former Sect Leader Jin was very interested in demonic cultivation,” Lan Wangji said slowly. “While Wei Wuxian lived, he sought to claim the Stygian Tiger Seal. When he died…”

He glanced at Jiang Cheng a second time. They had not discussed the subject of the Siege of the Burial Mounds in any detail, as it inevitably put Jiang Cheng into a terrible frame of mind, and Lan Wangji remembered with a shudder the state they had both been in at that fateful meeting – he didn’t want to remember it himself, much less bring back bad memories for Jiang Cheng.

They certainly hadn’t discussed the subject of spoils. The only thing that had ever brought it to mind was the silent presence of Chenqing lying in place of pride in the Jiang sect’s memorial hall as the substitute for the memorial tablet they could not afford to raise for Wei Wuxian.

It hadn’t seemed relevant.

It was now.

“Sect Leader Jin took it,” Jiang Cheng confirmed, his voice shaking a little. “The Stygian Tiger Seal was broken in two, and Wei Wuxian destroyed one of the halves – the Jin sect claimed the other, saying that they were going to destroy it. I think they took more than that, too…I know they took Suibian, but they also took all the papers that’d been left in the cave. I always suspected that that was why they were so protective of Xue Yang, who was a demonic cultivator himself – that Jin Guangshan wanted to squeeze him for information, or maybe even use him to figure out some of Wei Wuxian’s notes…”

His voice trailed off, and he shook his head furiously.

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” he insisted. “The Jin sect scattered his ashes! They – they…”

“They lied,” Song Zichen said.

Lan Wangji pressed his lips together. He had no particularly warm feelings towards Wen Ning, who had been Wei Wuxian’s shadow in that last year or so of life when Wei Wuxian had turned his back on the world – a position Lan Wangji would have given his left arm to have, and over which he had had all sorts of inappropriate feelings of envy and stifled, unjustified possessiveness – but Jiang Cheng took the man’s existence far more personally.

In Jiang Cheng’s view, it had been for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had stolen the Wen sect remnants, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had abjured his relationship with the Jiang sect and Jiang Cheng himself, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had given up everything, and yet simultaneously it had also been Wen Ning that had pushed him to the very brink and over. Wen Ning who had murdered Jin Zixuan – Wen Ning who Wei Wuxian had so brutally avenged in the massacre at the Nightless City, at which Jiang Yanli had died.

Wen Ning, who they thought had been destroyed.

“We believe that the former Sect Leader Jin hid Wen Ning away instead of destroying him, then gave Xue Yang access to him, just as he did with the Tiger Seal and Wei Wuxian’s notes,” Xiao Xingchen said, his face solemn. “We also believe that Xue Yang took Wen Ning away with him when he escaped Jinlin Tower once the former sect leader died and the current sect leader took over. We believe that he has been controlling him through demonic cultivation, using him as something of an – accomplice, or something of the sort.”

“Controlling him how?” Jiang Cheng asked. They paused, and he continued, “I’m not stupid. You’re very sure that Wen Ning’s not gone, which means you located him and saw something that made you think so. What was it?”

Lan Wangji nodded shallowly, approving of Jiang Cheng’s deduction – and of the self-mastery he was demonstrating in not exploding in rage on the spot.

“He had nails in his head,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He…the Ghost General was mindless and unthinking, but strong. Very strong. He…”

He trailed off, and shook his head, seeming a bit sad.

“What help do you require from us?” Lan Wangji said, suddenly sick of the tension, and he saw Jiang Cheng throw him a look full of relief for having raised the question.

“Hanguang-jun is right,” Jiang Cheng said, backing him up at once. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you need us for? You two are heroes, and half the cultivation world would sell their firstborn child for a chance to bring down the Ghost General to increase their fame – there’s no way you came here just to get our help in bringing him down. If that’s what you wanted, it wouldn’t have needed to be us, and there wouldn’t have needed to be a smokescreen. What do you want?”

“We want to heal him,” Xiao Xingchen said solemnly. “To bring back his consciousness and return his sanity. But we don’t know what he was like, before Xue Yang. The only ones that do are the two of you.”

“You do remember that he killed my brother-in-law?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice sharp.

“At Wei Wuxian’s order,” Song Zichen responded, equally sharp. “You do not blame the sword for the men it kills.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes briefly, in pain at the reminder. He took a breath, steadying himself, and then another.

He opened his eyes.

“We will help,” he said, and ignored the betrayed look Jiang Cheng shot his way. They would talk about it later, and he would help Jiang Cheng see that this was what they had to do, no matter how painful. “And we will not betray the secret of his existence.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen said, and saluted deeply; Song Zichen did as well. “And yet, we have more we would ask of you.”

“Spit it out, then,” Jiang Cheng growled.

“Finding Wen Ning had shown us that Xue Yang’s actions have gone truly beyond the pale, beyond redemption,” Song Zichen said, and his voice was fierce. That wasn’t surprising: it had been his childhood home, his master and fellow disciples, that Xue Yang had attacked. “He is, as you said, a mad dog, biting all that he can – I believe that Wen Ning was his only companion as he fled, chased by the whole cultivation world these past few years. I fear what Xue Yang will do now that his last connection to humanity is gone. He is capable of anything.”

“We must find him,” Xiao Xingchen agreed. “We must find Xue Yang, and we must stop him from doing – whatever it is that he will do next. I cannot even begin to imagine the atrocities he might perpetrate. And so we must ask…”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng said, and they both looked at him, surprised. “We’ll help you heal Wen Ning, and we’ll even help you hunt down Xue Yang. But this time, no excuses, no dragging your feet, no waiting for a proper trial, nothing like that. He dies, you hear me? Xue Yang is to be killed on sight!”

“I agree,” Lan Wangji said, folding his hands together behind his back. He had helped Jiang Cheng in pursuing and judging demonic cultivators before – there were those that could be granted mercy, and those for whom the only just answer was death; time and too many second chances had made inescapably clear that Xue Yang was the latter. “Each time you have sought to bring him to trial, he has taken advantage of your devotion to justice to escape.”

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Zichen, who nodded firmly; a moment later, Xiao Xingchen sighed and nodded himself. “Agreed,” he said. “You will help us?”

“We will,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and Lan Wangji nodded in full support. “It would be a pleasure to wipe that trash off the face of this earth.”

-

The town was full of mist and fog, choking the throat and making it hard to breathe or see; the feng shui of the entire valley was as bad as could be, and there was more miasma than there was air.

“You there, drunkard, what are you doing!” someone shouted at a figure lying halfway in the door of a house that was filled to the brim with coffins. “Don’t mock our livelihood! Just because it’s a coffin house doesn’t make it a good place to play dead!”

The figure stirred.

But I’m not playing dead, he thought, rubbing his aching head with one hand, noticing that he seemed to be missing his little finger. I actually was dead, wasn’t I?

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes.

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

@bee55​

@royalsqueeze​

@rowaelin-cressworth​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@ladyfireheart-and-buzzard​

@wordsxstars​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@courtofjurdan​

@emmiesbook​

@killian-me-slowly​

@miserablemusings​

@aelinchocolatelover​

@booksbqueen​

@flamingveritas​

@tomtenadia​

@fromthelibraryofemilyj​

@loudphantomdragon​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@superspiritfestival​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@charlizeed​

@nish247

@vasudharaghavan

@maybekindasortaace

@mariamuses

@frosted-crackers

@foughtconquered

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[hermannsthumb]

you should totally do something with ksci janitor’s vamp newt it’s so just so good

i sure will! in a vampire mood this weekend. @k-sci-janitor's vampire newt found here. warnings for quick mention of drinking, allusions to sexy stuff, and also the different kind of drinking you'd expect from a vampire fic (tho on the vague side)

-------------------

The circumstances that led Newt down the unwitting path of immortality and general un-dead-ness are, in hindsight, honestly kind of embarrassing. It'd be one thing if he could say it happened in the pursuit of, like, knowledge, like the fierce jellyfish sting scar on his wrist leftover from a research expedition when he was twenty-two or the equally fierce one on his knee received in response to his question (at the age of five) of what would happen if I jumped out of this very tall tree?, or even something unrelated to his extensive biology career, something impressive, y'know, Van Helsing style, something like tracking down some vampire king and barely escaping with his life (un-life?)—not what really happened, which was little more than a bad date. And not even the worst date that Newt's been on, if you can believe it.

Newt was young and stupid then. He still is young and stupid, technically, though the former by appearance only. (Eternally pushing thirty. If he could've picked, he would've done twenty-eight, just before his handful of grey hairs started cropping up. Newt's had almost forty-five years of staring in the mirror at those four fucking grey hairs. He gave up dyeing them around the nineties. Not worth it. Still annoying.) He liked to do what young and stupid people did, like get stupid tattoos, and have a stupid haircut, and get drunk at stupid punk shows and not stumble home until he'd had at least one regrettable hook-up with a stranger and maybe lost his wallet. (The two were often related.) That particular thing was what did him in that night. It was a different time back then, man—if a dude showed even the slightest inkling that he ran in Newt's sort of circle, if you caught his drift, Newt fucking jumped at the chance.

(The band was on their second set of the evening and Newt had already screamed himself hoarse with singing along. He'd ducked outside in a back alleyway for only a second to get some fresh air, the club suddenly too hot and smokey for him to handle, and was just about to go back inside and close out his tab for the night when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone—he was sure—lurking in the shadows a few feet away. He could hear breathing. He could see—eyes, maybe, in the dim neon light of the bar sign overhead. "Hello?" he'd called.

"Have a light?" the person called back.

They emerged from the shadows, and Newt felt himself relax at once. It was some spooky-looking guy he remembered seeing in the club, leather jacket, boots heavier than Newt's, dark hair and eyeliner. Tall. Newt remembered him, firstly, because he thought he was hot, and secondly, because he swore he caught the guy staring at him at least three times, and to Newt, that was as good as any pick-up line. He was wagging an unlit cigarette at Newt now. He was taller than Newt thought he was back in the bar—much taller, at least a full head on Newt. His eyes were a golden-brown, almost yellow, like a cat's, and Newt found himself unable to tear his own away from them. "L—light?" Newt echoed.

The guy stuck the cigarette in his mouth and arched a perfect eyebrow. Newt didn't smoke, but he did keep a lighter on him for occasions like this. He fumbled through his pockets for it while the guy stepped closer. "I was watching you," he told Newt, while Newt raised the lighter to the cigarette, "in there."

The flame danced and glinted against his eyes. Newt swallowed. "Uh-huh?" he said.

He flicked the lighter shut, leaving them both bathed in nothing but pink neon. A hand slid up against the wall next to Newt's right shoulder. Another plucked at the left lapel of his jacket. Newt was still staring at those eyes. "What's your name?" the guy said, in a puff of cigarette smoke.

"Um." Newt's leather jacket was being pushed off his shoulders. He felt his long hair being tucked to the side of his neck. All at once something seemed in snap in Newt—some reminder of where he was, and what he came here hoping for in the first place. Some hot dude was eyeing Newt up all night long, and now he was actually coming onto Newt, and Newt was about to get laid. He grinned. "Newt," he said. "Just call me that. You were watching me, huh?"

"All night," the guy said.

Newt's jacket hit the ground with a soft thump. A knee was being pushed between his. Newt felt his cheeks heat up a little—he wasn't used to people being this forward with him, and especially not in a semi-public place like this. Usually they at least made a show of offering up their apartment first. "What, um, what for?" he said.

They were kissing. Newt was clinging to the back of his jacket. And then he was kissing Newt's neck, and then he was—

"That kinda hurts," Newt mumbled. "Um, dude, I think your—your fuckin', tongue piercing cut me, or something. It's—"

It was hard to keep his eyes open. His neck felt weird. The guy was into biting, apparently, biting really hard, and yikes, that was going to leave a super embarrassing hickey that Newt would have to explain to his students somehow on Monday, but it also felt really good, like, Newt was maybe getting off kinda good, and Newt thought, dizzily, that he should at least return the favor before he finished up and collapsed in a happy heap on the ground. So he did.

The guy pulled back with a hiss. "Ow. What—?"

Newt tasted something coppery in his mouth, and he panicked and swallowed on instinct. "Oh, shit, dude, I'm sorry," he slurred. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away. "I was trying to be—sexy. Um." There was blood on the guy's chin. He was staring at Newt in something akin to horror. Dark circles were spotting Newt's vision. "I think you cut your lip," he said, and then he passed out.

Newt was alone when he woke up. It was still dark, too. He walked the two miles home, collapsing in bed, fully-clothed, just before dawn, and he didn't wake up again until sunset. He forgot his jacket, but at least he remembered his wallet this time.)

So, anyway, Newt thinks he can be forgiven if he...embellishes stuff a little when, for the first time in his whole long life, he finally spills the details to someone. Also, no way is he admitting the truth to Hermann of all people.

"There were a bunch of murders in the area at the time," he says, while Hermann, angled on his side next to him in bed, watches him raptly. It's kind of weird pillow talk, but their pillow talk rarely isn't weird. Usually Hermann will launch into a critique of Newt's latest pet theory before Newt's even caught his breath. At least he very courteously waited for Newt get a glass of water from the bathroom first this time. "Really brutal ones. Like, throats torn out, blood drained. Really nasty shit. Everyone was saying they were some kinda bizarre wolf pack attacks, but I knew better."

"Of course you did," Hermann says, running his hand down Newt's chest, and Newt can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. (He has a feeling he is.)

"You bet," Newt says. "It took me months of, um, super hard research. Finally I hunted him down to this—" Newt debates the coolest lair possible of a vampire, and then remembers Lost Boys, which, even though he resents it slightly for totally stealing the vampire vibes he was going for, is still a kick-ass movie. "—this weird cave, where he lived. The king of the vampires. I won, obviously, but he fought back, and he managed to infect me just before I hammered the, um, the wooden stake into his heart."

"So courageous," Hermann says. He reaches up and tucks a piece of Newt's long hair back. Hermann being totally cool with the whole vampire thing, and maybe even possibly into the whole vampire thing, is probably the last thing in the world Newt expected from him. They're no strangers to hooking up during long late nights of science, but Newt swears it's gotten more frequent. "You must've been terrified."

"Nah," Newt says, though he remembers the glint of the flame off those yellow eyes, and he shivers. Hermann notices; his eyes, not yellow, but a warm shade of brown that makes Newt feel like he's being wrapped in a blanket, soften. If Newt could still blush, he would. "I'm—um—I'm pretty brave."

Newt hadn't exactly been planning on telling Hermann about the whole thing, but (last week) he had the very unfortunate timing of beginning a late-night dinner just as an oblivious Hermann strolled back into the lab to pick up his forgotten pair of glasses. To his credit, he only freaked out a little when he saw Newt draining a blood bag like a fucking Capri-Sun, and even then (after what felt like ten years of horrible, horrible silence) all he said was "You're the one who's been stealing those from medical?"

Look. Newt hasn't drank from a human being the entirety of his un-life, and he doesn't plan on it any time soon. He's...a vegetarian. Effectively. It's sort of the reason he picked up a medical degree along the way once he got tired of breaking into blood banks. Even if it's still a little ethically dubious to steal blood like that, at least he's not swooping around on unsuspecting people like that—goth asshole who swooped in on him did. (Newt's never managed to find out who he was—he suspects he was some sort of vampire drifter in town that night just to find a victim. And Newt just had to think with his dick at the worst possible time.)

Hermann tucks another strand of Newt's hair back. Newt also did not expect how fast Hermann became cool with the whole thing, but on the other hand, giant aliens are clawing their way out of the ocean on a bi-monthly basis these days. It's hard to be skeptical about most things. ("Well, it does make logical sense," Hermann had said with an eyeroll. "When you consider some of your rather more bizarre quirks, I mean. I ought to have guessed it ages ago. I suppose that's why you have that awful haircut," and that stung, because yeah, Newt hasn't felt like changing it up since the seventies, and why should he, it kinda rules? but he just laughed it off and said, "You're one to fucking talk, dude!") "Newton," Hermann says now, gently, "what actually happened?"

Newt sighs. Hermann always knows when he's lying about shit. "I was making out with a vampire in an alleyway and then he bit me. And—um—I kinda didn't notice at first, 'cause it felt... good."

"Mm," Hermann says. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "That's more along the lines of what I expected. That, or you were hounding him for details like a proper biologist and he got tired of answering your inane questions."

"Very funny," Newt says. "Ha."

Hermann rolls away from him and stretches his arms above his head. Newt watches his throat work as he yawns, swallowing down a sudden lump in his own, and he feels a surge of something hot and—alien—in the pit of his stomach. "Over forty years," Hermann says. He picks up Newt's discarded sweatshirt from the floor and tugs it down over his head. "You must get terrifically lonely."

Newt half-shrugs. "I guess. I'm kinda used to it by now." His dad (who never brought up how Newt's aging seemed to be at a standstill when they saw each other, not once) is long-gone. Newt's tried dating, but no one's ever seemed to be into it as much as he is—and besides, it's not like he could ever do the actual til death do us part thing unless he went against every ethical bone in his body and made someone like him. When the internet became a thing, he considered making a forum or something to find more of his kind, but the thought everyone just being like the guy who accidentally turned him in the first place terrified him and he killed the page before it even left infancy. So, without any better ideas, Newt forged some paperwork and leaned pretty hard into the world of academia to fill up his sad little hole of a heart, resigned himself to casual flings with anyone who seemed interested, and it mostly worked. Mostly. And then the kaiju came along, and then so did... "You make it a little bit better," he confesses.

Hermann lays back down next to him. "I do?" he says.

Newt thinks he sees something like that hot, hungry feeling he felt in his stomach flash behind Hermann's eyes. He nods.

Hermann suddenly kisses Newt, pulling him down on top of him, and then tugs the collar of Newt's stolen sweatshirt down below his collarbone. He drags Newt's hand up to press against his throat. Newt feels the erratic beat of Hermann's pulse beneath his fingertips, his heart pounding against his ribcage (pressed up against Newt's silent one), and he almost moans. "Have you ever...?" Hermann murmurs, gazing up at Newt through his dark eyelashes.

"N—never," Newt stammers. "I told you."

"Do you want to?" Hermann says. Newt tries not to gape. "Just a bit at a time, whenever you need. You wouldn't have to steal those silly blood bags anymore. And—" He hesitates. "I admit I am curious. About the sensation."

"Um," Newt says. "I—"

He feels something sharp poking his lower lip. Fangs. His fangs. Oh, shit, he's never had that happen before. He forces himself off of Hermann before he does something stupid.

"Maybe, um, maybe later?" he squeaks, while Hermann just smiles at him.

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Same Old Mistakes

Summary: Lee Bodecker is jealous of your new relationship with Arvin Russell

Pairings: Modern Day! Arvin Russell x reader, Modern Day! Lee Bodecker x reader

Warnings: manipulation, age gap (reader is in college 20), cheating , dub con, unprotected sex, degrading language, dark themes, please don’t read if you’re not 18+ or these warnings make you uncomfortable.

Author’s note: this is kind of a sequel to my other one shot Party Favors from my old account. You don’t really have to read it though to understand. Anyways, someone commented the reader should fuck Arvin & well I put my own twist on it because I love Lee way too much.

It’s been a month since Sheriff Bodecker was called to stop your party. You wished you could erase the memories from the night. Lee always had a soft spot for you but you took his kindness for granted.

In exchange for not getting turned in for your noise complaint, you had to get on your knees for the Sheriff. To think the sheriff would even care about you or even your pleasures was a silly idea. He cares about one thing and one thing only. Controlling everyone in the town. But, that was a month ago. You stayed clear from misconduct, you didn’t want to see his face ever again.

Now, you were somewhat happy. You were finally interested in someone around your age. His name was Arvin Russell. Everyday after class, he waited for you in his old beat up truck. Arvin didn’t go to college but you didn’t mind. He had small jobs here and there where he would even save some of his money to buy you small things. It was his way of showing that he really liked you. Maybe, you could see yourself falling for him...

“Got your s’ favorite” Arvin announced in his Southern accent that you loved. He had a cheeky smile as he took out a sandwich from his metal lunchbox. A new meal was always waiting for you after class.

You smiled brightly, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Arvin pouted softly as he pointed to his lips and you chuckled giving him a kiss on the lips which he rightly deserved.

“You’re the best, Arvin!” you pressed another kiss to his nose. A tint of red started to cover his ears. He truly was one of the sweetest boys you met in town. You cherished it.

But, he wasn’t just sweet. He also knew how to woo a girl in bed...

“Holy fuck—!” You moaned, your eyes rolled back as Arvin pounded into you. The headboard colliding with the wall with every thrust. Arvin had a smirk plastered on his face. This was his favorite thing to do. Pleasure you.

“atta girl... doing so good for me...” he mumbled against your lips, his thumb swiping against your clit as his hips rutted into you. He grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders creating a even more pleasurable experience.

“You close, my pretty girl—? Gunna cum for me, yeah?” Your hands pulled onto his locks and your mouth widened without a sound signaling your release as Arvin grunted heavily. With a few more thrusts, he emptied himself in the condom and pulled out of you, collapsing onto the bed. The condom thrown into the nearby trash can.

He pulled your sweaty body onto his, he watched as you panted against his chest. His heart swelled from the effect you had on him.

“I want you to be my girl for real...” he finally whispered softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. You looked up at him.

“Like— your girlfriend?”

“Mmhm—“ he mumbled and you smiled brightly, leaning forward and kissing him deeply.

As Lee Bodecker parked his car at the gas station, he saw a couple in a car not too far from where he was. The two shadows talked for a moment before they kissed each other on the nose. He couldn’t quite make out who they were but he figured it was young love. He rolled his eyes, until he noticed something. His eyes squinted and he moved his seat up, until his belly pressed against the wheel. It was you.

“Here, get yourself something. We still got a few hours left.” Arvin insisted handing you money.

“Baby... I can buy it on my own, it’s fine” you protested pushing his hand away slightly. He shook his head.

“Please. I don’t mind... how about you order us two hot sandwiches, so then you don’t feel so bad” you sighed heavily, looking down at the money in his hand.

“Fine but this is the last time, babe.”

Arvin hushed you softly, settling the money in your palm. He kissed the bridge of your nose and then your lips. The act itself warming you from within.

“I gotta pump the gas and fill the tires which is going take a while. See you in 15. Now go on.” You nodded and settled out of the car, walking into the convenient store.

You looked around the store. Arvin did say you would be on the road for some time. Everything looked good but you really didn’t want to waste all of his money. As you continued to look, the store doorbell rung signaling a new costumer had arrived.

Lee Bodecker walked into the store with a new sense of confidence. The girl who had been ignoring him for weeks had finally crossed paths with him again. He tilted his hat at the store manager before he walked towards you.

He found himself sliding into the same aisle where you were in. You were two busy bending down and looking at different flavors of chips to notice his presence behind you. His eyes roamed your backside and he bit his lip at the curve of your ass. If only he could push himself right against it.

You turned around to head into the next aisle but you collided into a taller figure. The chips in your hand fell onto the ground. You quickly scrambled to pick them up but a hand stopped you.

“No need Y/N... the pleasure is mine” you could recognize the accent from miles away.

Your heart practically stopped as you stood up to meet eyes with Lee who casually winked at you. That was the problem with the sheriff. He sweet talked you, then used you, and then did it all over again.

“I haven’t seen you in forever. Seems like you are doing everything in your power to not get into trouble...” he chuckled darkly, his eyes stayed on yours.

“Uh- yeah. I guess you can say that. Trouble is just not my thing anymore” you shrugged, looking around the store trying your best to ignore him.

Other customers continued to shop. They didn’t mind the presence of the sheriff.

“I bet.” Lee continued.

“You know... we never talked about that night between us.” You stopped in your tracks as Lee said those words. Memories from a month ago rushing back.

“Shit, you move on quick. Already sucking another man’s cock, huh?” He bended slightly to whisper in your ear just enough for you to hear. His lips grazed against your ear ever so slightly which made you shudder.

You quickly stepped away from him. Your relationship with Arvin was fairly new. He couldn’t have possibly known.

“What are you talking about?!”

“I saw you and Arvin in the car just now” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Congratulations... but he’s uh- a handful” Lee joked, his jaw clenching. You turned on your heel but Lee grabbed your arm tightly. Almost to the point of a potential bruise.

“Lee, stop. You’re hurting me...” you sneered through your teeth. He looked around the store before he grabbed you to the back and pulled you into the store’s bathroom, quickly locking the two of you in there.

“Lee-! You can’t just-! I have to go to back to Arvin!” You pushed his slightly protruding belly, trying to make your way to the door but he pulled you back.

“First off, it’s sheriff to you now. And second of all you don’t leave until I’m done talking to you. Or we can have a repeat from the party. You hear me?” He threatened, his eyes much darker from when he first greeted you.

You gulped lightly, throwing your hands to the side. Protesting wouldn’t get you anywhere. Just let him talk and you’ll be within Arvin’s arms in a few.

“Did you tell him about us?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“What? No. Why would I do that?” Lee laughed softly, taking off his sheriff’s hat and running his fingers through his hands.

There was nothing to tell Arvin. But, Lee thought otherwise. He pushed you back against the wall, as you stared up at him.

“Because if I was him, I would want to know that my girl goes around sucking the sheriff’s dick and then begs him to fuck her”

“T-that was one time... and it was the p-past...” his words hit you one after the other. He was shaming you for an act he manipulated you into doing. Tears started to prickle at the corner of your eyes.

You were a good person. You deserved Arvin. Lee just loved playing the role of the knight in shining armor who pretended to fix your bad behavior every single time.

“Just the past” he repeated with an uncertainty in his voice. His thumb pressed against your lips like old times but you turned your head.

He rolled his eyes at your actions.

“You were such a bad girl. But, who always left you off with a warning? Hmmm? Any other sheriff would have thrown you in the back of the cop car, while you wait for mommy and daddy to pick you up!”

His hands roamed your body as he continued to speak.

“You avoided me for a whole month because you knew you wanted me and you were afraid” he sighed heavily, glaring at you.

Maybe. He was right. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet at least.

“Arvin... really, Y/N?” Lee sighed, pushing away from you in disbelief.

“I like him, Sheriff. He’s a good person. He treats me right. He actually likes me and takes care of me!” You pleaded as your eyes followed him as he paced along the small bathroom.

A tear slipped against your cheek. The doorknob was so close, you could make a run if you were fast enough.

“Do you love him?” He questioned, a hint of jealousy present in his tone.

“I-I don’t know...” Lee turned around and placed himself back on you.

“I can make you feel so much better than he can...” his nose pressed against your neck, as his hands grabbed your waist.

The attraction you had for Lee was still here. It almost made you feel sick inside. If he really cared for you, he wouldn’t do this. But, his words were messing with you. A voice in your head even tried to convince you to listen to him.

“Y/N, let me show what I should have done on the night of the Halloween party” his lips ghosted over yours and pressed onto you softly. He deepened the kiss and you allowed it at first.

Lee Bodecker was finally kissing you. Something you craved for the longest. But, it felt wrong. You struggled and pushed him away.

“Stop—!” You were out of breath as you took a beeline towards the door but Lee grabbed your hair and yanked you back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” He barked, and you winced in pain at his grip. When he heard your whine, he reluctantly let go but kept his arm around your body.

“I’m in a r-relationship, sheriff!” You stammered, scared to even look him in the eyes. Lee tilted your chin up, his eyes now softer. He had to think of his next actions carefully.

He was playing his favorite game on you.

“God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I got carried away” his arms cradled you in his embrace. His lips kissed your temple. His manners switched instantly. He knew playing the role of the bad wolf wouldn’t win you over.

“I care for you so much, darlin’ and Arvin... he’s not the one for you. He’s done a lot of bad things” Lee said softly, his thumb wiped your tears and cupped your face. If you were going to believe anything, you’d believe Lee & his job.

You raised an eyebrow. Arvin never expressed his wrongdoings. Yeah, he beat up a few bullies from school but they deserved it. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so uncomfortable in Lee’s embrace. Lee noticed this as your posture softened.

This was his chance.

“Really? Like what?”

“Oh, darlin’ if I tell ya— you’ll be scared of the poor boy. I don’t want that.” He informed, his lips pressed against your forehead again.

He was reeling you in with every word. This time you actually felt butterflies in your stomach.

If Arvin was a bad man, as the sheriff explained, then maybe Lee was actually protecting you.

“Please, sheriff... Please, tell me—” His eyes widened at your pleas. Something in him awakened. His cock stirred in his pants, a hard on soon to form. You sounded like an angel to him. He wished you would beg some more.

“You really wanna know—“ he teased, his hands falling to your sides, down your back, and right before your ass. You nodded, pushing into him some more. He bit his lip, his cock straining against his trousers.

“Well, he’s good with his Luger pistol, I’ll tell you that—“ he half joked. Lee tested the waters and suddenly put his hands on your ass. To his surprise, you didn’t move away. It’s not like you didn’t feel his hands either. You were just too busy, caught up in wanting to know more. But, it also did feel good, which you didn’t dare to admit.

He wanted to just bend you over the bathroom sink and have his way already. Just a few more lines and he’d be there.

“Remember that pastor in town who passed away a while ago—“

You nodded recollecting the only town’s gossip. You never went to church, but you remembered hearing the death on the television. It was one of the only major events that happened in Knockemstiff. Lee’s hands squeezed your ass softly and then wandered up your shirt.

“W-what does the pastor have to with a-anything?” You mumbled, holding in your moans at Lee’s actions. His hands cupped your covered breasts and began to grope them. In one swift movement, your bra was off and Lee was pinching your nipples. You gasped, arching yourself towards him.

“Shhh... getting to the best part. Just listen.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses against your neck and you finally moaned. Victory. Lee even started to get carried away and grinded against you.

You knew how wrong this was. It was overwhelming. If Arvin ever found out what was taking place, he’d leave you. This had to stay a secret.

“You’re taking too long!” you whined, feeling the sheriff’s hands and body engulf you. Although it was turning you on, you had to get back to Arvin.

“What did I just say? Don’t rush me” he bellowed, as he shoved two fingers in your mouth. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. He’s done this before at the night of the party. You played along with him and swirled your tongue around his digits.

You just needed to know what Arvin did. You had to see if he was worth it. But, you were surely testing Lee’s patience. He needed your pussy now.

“Turns out your precious boyfriend was a part of the murder...” he popped his fingers out your mouth, already undoing your jeans and pushing them down. He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed your clit with his soaked fingers. You bit your lip, throwing your head back and Lee chuckled at your body’s response. He turned your body around, the two of you now looking into the mirror.

“What?”

“Your little boyfriend killed the pastor.” Lee’s eyes studied yours as they widened through mirror. He nodded, moving your hair away from your neck. His fingers danced against the skin, goosebumps forming.

“T-that can’t be true-“ you murmured, as Lee began to place sloppy wet kisses over your exposed skin.

Arvin Russell was a good man. If he killed someone, there had to be a good reason.

One thing Lee was good at was creating his own version of the truth.

Your thoughts were clouded from Lee’s actions. It was all too much, but you couldn’t push away from Lee even if you wanted to.

“Well, start believing darlin’— you need a real man. Someone who is gunna take care of ya— That boy just gunna mess with your damn head...” The next thing you heard was the sound of the sheriff’s belt being unbuckled and his pants dropping. You sucked in a breath, already knowing what would happen next. There was no need to turn around.

“You’re not gunna run away now, are you?” He teased, as his cock ran through your folds, collecting your wetness. You gasped lightly biting down on your lip, shaking your head.

“That’s a good girl. Now, hold on, sheriff’s gunna make you feel real good.” He smirked motioning you to hold onto the sink as he slowly entered you. Your hands tightened around the sink as you moaned at how thick he was.

“Fuck!” You both announced as Lee fully bottomed out holding onto your hips. His thrusts quickly falling into a steady pace, as he pulled your hair back.

“So tight and wet-! Whose this pussy belong to huh?” His hand fell onto your right cheek, and then your left, until it made a type of red shade. It was the right amount of pain and pleasure.

You wanted to say his name but your mind kept drifting to Arvin. He was probably worried sick. 15 minutes definitely had already passed.

Lee scoffed as if he somehow could read your thoughts. His thrusts became deeper and rougher, his hand wrapping around your throat.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!” Lee spat, his voice was deeper, almost animalistic.

“My cock is in this dirty cunt—! Not him!” Before you could reply he slapped your ass with a stronger force.

“It belongs to you!” you whimpered, tears falling from your eyes. He groaned, his lips sucking and licking against your neck. He was close but he wanted you to cum with him. His fingers once again giving your clit attention which was a little too harsh.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, slowly but surely the only one on your mind was Lee and how good his cock felt around you.

“God, I’m going to make you my little whore. Your pretty face and cunt stuffed with my cock whenever I like, say yes” He grunted, his fingers digging into your hips and to his surprise you wiggled your ass against him. Even clenched around him. You were too lost in the ecstasy. He’s got you now.

“Yes—! Yes, I’ll be your whore!” you practically begged, humiliated by your words but it felt too good.

“Going to fill this cunt up now— and tomorrow and the day after that. You’ll love it.“ he grunted through his teeth.

“Please—!” You moaned, the only sounds consisted of heavy panting and his cock pounding in and out of you. The mirror already fogged.

“Cum with me!” He groaned, his final thrust helping you reach your orgasm. Moments later, Lee was stilling inside you and painting your walls which felt like forever, some of his cum seeping down your thighs.

He leaned over and wiped down the mirror. Your appearance was much messier from when you got there. Tear stained cheeks, make up ruined, & messy hair. You looked horrible but to Lee you looked like a doll. The sight already making his cock hard again.

He turned you around and lifted you up on the sink. “Mine” he observed, the coldness from the sink made you wince. Lee propped your mouth open and spat inside.

“Swallow.” And you gladly did as he pulled you into a forceful kiss, teeth and tongue clashing. His hands played with your breasts as the two of you moaned in pleasure.

He officially ruined you... and claimed you.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked one final time as he broke the sloppy kiss, saliva disconnecting from yours and his mouth.

“You... sheriff.” He nodded proudly, grabbing his boxers and trousers from the floor, and dressed himself. He picked up your panties and stuffed them into his pocket. You began to protest but he hushed you.

“You’ll get these back after you leave him... Don’t keep me waiting, honey.” Lee announced sternly, kissing you again and then leaving you alone in the bathroom.

Your propped yourself off the sink, your legs shakily going over to grab your jeans to put them on quickly. You splashed some water on your face but it didn’t change anything. Your hair covered your new forming hickies but it couldn’t take away your post sex look.

You nervously opened the bathroom door and walked back into the main area of the store. The store was quiet and the sheriff was already gone.

“Baby—! There you are—“ Arvin’s voice startled you from behind as he hurried over to you and pulled you into his arms. His hands cupping your face. “What happened?” He questioned, concern written all over his face.

“I was in the bathroom I-uh- have a really bad stomach ache. I don’t know. It came out of nowhere...” you mumbled, holding onto your stomach. Somehow trying to convince him that was the reason for your horrible appearance. He signed in relief, rocking your body back and forth.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home...”

Arvin was oblivious. Maybe, he was too in love and just believed anything that came out of your mouth. You were thankful for that. His hands interlaced with yours, as you both walked out the store, a limp in your step.

The sheriff’s car was parked in the front just like he said he would. He told you in the bathroom he would wait for you.

Most importantly, To leave Arvin.

The two of you locked eyes. The sight in front of him filled him up with jealousy. He saw the way you were limping. Proudly, caused by him. But here you were laced hand in hand with Arvin.

If you weren’t going to leave him, then Lee would take matters into his own hands. The sheriff stepped out his car, stopping you & Arvin. His hands on his hips as he tilted his hat up.

“Something wrong, Sheriff?” Arvin asked, holding you close.

“Just need to have a few words with Miss Y/N at my office. Something about her family came up. Won’t be too long and nothing for you to worry about. I’ll take her home to you— later” he drawled out the last words, his eyes filled with anger and his jaw clenched, you were in for it.

[chihomichannel]

of candy wrappers and unprecedented endings

| pairing: choso x reader | genre: angst & fluff | warnings: mention of death; sad things blended with happy things | word count: 2330 words | a/n: hi! this is clem! this is the 3rd and final part of “bittersweet lollipops” so read the first two parts before this but it can also be read as is. this wasn’t my first plan for the 3rd part and i had actually written a lot when i realized that i don’t want it to be the 3rd part lol. so i rewritten this today and here it is! hope you guys like it!

◄ previous |

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Time has always been the limit for humans. We were born and raised, thrown into the world and built our lives only for everything you’ve worked hard for to be left behind once death came right by your door. And for sorcerers like you, death has always been just a step behind, ready to take you once it was your time. But in your case, you miraculously lived long enough to know you would die with no regrets.

Feeling the hand clung onto yours, your eyes woke from its slumber. Your eyes were met with the bright sunshine that illuminated the whole room, the white of the ceiling shining brighter than ever. Your head turned to your side to see Choso sitting asleep by your bed, his hand on top of yours while the other held your family scrapbook. The page was open, showing a picture of your family at its early stages. It was you and Choso both holding onto your newborn with your friends by your sides. You remembered it was your first born’s first birthday and you smiled at the vivid memory that crossed your mind.

You thought back to that day when everyone was present, celebrating and just pure happiness. You remembered Megumi tackling Yuuji when he was about to feed your baby he didn’t know your daughter could not eat. You remembered Panda with your baby lying on its stomach and Inumaki shoving toys to your daughter to amuse it. You remember Gojo arriving late with a bag full of sweets to which Choso took eagerly. You remembered Nobara continuously flaunting her outfit. You remembered Maki and Nanami just being there. And you remembered looking at everyone, just taking in that moment and storing it inside your treasured memories. You remembered the atmosphere, the calm and the chaos in the house. The hot rays of the sun shielded by the window pane. You remembered that moment and longed to return to that day.

Blinking, you were snapped back to reality. You took note that the atmosphere was the same as that day. You smiled, eyes tired even though you only just woke up. You glanced at Choso’s hands that clung onto yours, it was tight but he held you as if you were fragile glass. You knew he’s worried and so you moved your hand and intertwined it with his. Choso stirred awake, licking his dried lips as he leaned up from his position “Hey” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He looked tired, the look in his eyes told you they’ve lived for so long. They’ve seen so much yet his face was still the same. His body looked the same, everything looked the same. His youthful face hid the hundreds of years he’s lived.

He smiled- oh his smile. His smile is something you never got over. When you first knew Choso, you would have never guessed that he could be so expressive. With his indifferent mien, even at the start of your relationship, you would always be so surprised to see another expression on his face. You loved it especially when he has this confused, wondering face. You always found it so cute. You found everything he does cute. It scared you just how much you’re in love him. But you could never imagine nor wish for a better life because the life you have with Choso by your side is a life you would never bargain anything for. You are content and you are in love. You didn’t even realize it but Choso became your life. The little world and family you’ve built with him, it’s yours and his. No life was better than this.

“Morning” Choso scooted his seat closer to your bed, he had his elbows on the soft mattress, taking your hand to his lips. “It’s afternoon, silly” You weakly told him, softly chuckling. You felt him smile in your hands and you gazed at him adoringly “I see you’ve been looking at the scrapbook again”

“Yeah” Choso pulled away from your hands and flipped the scrapbook to the next page “I guess I fell asleep while doing so” He mused. He stopped and you looked at the page to see a picture of you and him decades ago. It was a selfie when you two eloped that one fateful night. The two of you never planned for a wedding nor did you think you would ever get married. It was never a thought in your mind but during that night, Choso looked so beautiful. Even with his mouthful of tacos you grabbed on the way to Panda’s birthday, something about the night with the streetlights and the swarm of people highlighted Choso in your eyes. And at the bus stop, just as you were about to get on it, you pulled Choso into a halt and waited until the crowd got on the bus before you spoke “Will you marry me?”

You both skipped on Panda’s birthday and got married. It was a decisive decision but no doubt the best you’ve ever made. A year later after that, your daughter was born and you swore, Choso had never glowed brighter. Your heart felt soft whenever you see your daughter and husband bonding. And the sight of your daughter cuddled up against Choso made you feel so thankful that these beautiful people are part of your life. Because of them, life was so much brighter.

You and Choso bore four more children after that. To say that life is noisy is an understandment but the noise made you happy anyway (albeit stressed). You stopped at baby number 5, with your eldest being 15 at the time. As expected, your daughter became a sorcerer, proving to be much stronger than either of you with a cursed technique she invented on her own. Your second didn’t follow onto the jujutsu society and made a life of his own outside the dangers of your reality. Your third inherited Choso’s blood manipulation and was almost bought by the Kamo clan but of course, you and Choso shielded your child away from the mess that is clan families. Your fourth also became a jujutsu sorcerer and your youngest inherited your cursed technique. All in all, your children now had lives of their own with all of them being fully fledged adults.

With a sigh, you yawned, reaching out for the scrapbook and putting it on your lap. You flipped to the next page and a grin etched on your face. You giggled, motioning to Choso the scrapbook. It was you and Choso all those years ago before you were married. It was that day out when Choso kissed you on the ferris wheel. It was when you two were sitting on the sea wall when he secretly snapped a picture of you looking the other way. A glint flashed through Choso’s eyes, his lips mirroring your grin. Choso traced the design by the photo, it was a bunch of lollipop wrappers you two had been eating when you were designing this specific page. He remembered you chastising him for almost emptying the packet of lollipops. Chuckling, he turned to look at you to see you looking at him so lovingly “I love you” you told him and Choso felt his chest tighten. It was a wonder how you still had so much effect on him when you had literally spend your lifetime together “And I love you”

Choso examined the wrinkles in your eyes when you smiled. Your once smooth skin was now wrinkled out of old age. Your once vibrant hair is now a dull white. Both your eyes now have a cataract that clouded your sight. And your lips remain chapped no matter how many times you apply a lip balm. But even with all these things you’ve obtained as you aged, you still looked so darn beautiful. It was no secret that his never changing youth made you insecure. You wished he could age up with you but realized that was selfish and so you brushed off these thoughts. What you didn’t know is that Choso also wished the same. He wished he could grow old with you and get wrinkly together.

It was cruel how he couldn’t age with you. If you thought about it, he’s actually more than a century older than you yet here you are, minutes away from letting go. Choso clutched your hands, his eyes shaking as you breathed frailly. He breathed out your name, tears brimming in his eyes. He let out a whimper when you called his name, hiding in the cold of your hands “Choso” You repeated, feeling a pang on your chest. You leaned forward to embrace him, trapping him in your arms resulting in Choso to lean on your shoulder, letting out a quiet cry.

You cooed, kissing his temple before hiding your face in his hair, his locks drying the tears that fell on your cheeks. “Don’t go” He cried, his voice muffled “Not you too” His voice cracked causing your arms to tighten around him “Choso, Choso” With that, Choso looked you in the eyes.

“Please never be alone-” You paused, composing yourself. Choso held your cheeks as you continued “-find someone-” “I could never love someone else other than you” Choso said committedly. You gave him a look before you continued “-please, please don’t blame yourself” You held his cheeks, giving him a soft smile as you plead “And please don’t be sad”

You broke, Choso catching your tears with his mouth. Planting kisses on your face, Choso savored you in. The both of you could feel it. It was the worst feeling ever. But thinking back to your life, it was never short of happiness. Choso was the pill that gave you the energy to live your fullest. He was the reason you found a purpose in life and became a mother of five. He was the reason you ever felt true happiness. And thinking back to all those memories, you can confidently say that you left this world with no regrets.

 ๋࣭     ࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪ ٬     ุ๋ ⸱ ๋࣭     ࣪ ˖        ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ˖ ࣪  ๋࣭

A snowflake fell on Choso’s nose causing it to twitch at the contact. It was cold and Choso stood in the midst of the crowd, unmoving as stone. He sighed, a cloud forming in front of his mouth. Yuuji had called him to meet him in the plaza in front of the huge clock that stood tall in the middle of the park. Choso scanned his surroundings and took note of the large crowd that flocked together at night. It was the night before Christmas eve and Choso was alone. His children all had their own families to tend to. The original plan was to celebrate at his home but plans tend to change and Choso ended up alone. If not for Yuuji, he would probably be asleep by now.

“Choso!” Hearing someone call out his name, Choso turned to see his brother and his friend, Megumi, heading his way. Yuuji’s pink hair is now white, his smile now has wrinkles on them. It was the same with Megumi and Choso remembered he couldn’t age. It made him sigh, wanting nothing but age together with the people he cares about. It bothered him so much, especially with his eldest child looking much older than him. It was unfair, Choso wailed to the gods.

Choso let them pull him wherever, going along with the flow. But even with the boisterous laughs of his brother and the chatter that filled his ears, he felt alone. He was surrounded by people yet he felt so cold. Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Choso going along wherever his companions went.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Yuuji. He was worried about his brother which is why he called him in the first place. His legs hurt from old age but if it means his brother would feel better, he would go out in the cold to walk with him. Megumi already went home and Yuuji is walking Choso home. He noted the faraway look Choso held. Yuuji felt sad at the sight. He remembered how Choso shined when you were still alive. But the Choso walking beside him now was nothing but the shell left of his body. His eyes held no soul, that is until Choso’s eyes landed on the ferris wheel.

It was the same ferris wheel as back then. Like before, it flickered in different lights, switching its color as it rotated. Choso held a cry, feeling a lump in his throat. You. Oh, you. He is so in love with you still. He saw that yellow pod, though unsure if it was the one, his heart ached at the memory of you. His heart always aches every second of the day. You, he thought of you. He felt the linger of your touch on his skin, your breath as you laughed against him. He felt your kisses and the love you felt for him. The clutch of your fingers as you held onto him. He felt you.

He breathed in the cold air, taking his eyes off the ferris wheel into the night sky. The jet black sky was painted with the white of the snowflakes that fell. One dropped on his cheek and rolled down the same time a tear fell down from his hollow eyes. A breath left his throat, a smoke coming out of his mouth. He will find you, he is determined to find you. No matter how long it takes. No matter what millennia he meets you again. He will be there and you would be in his arms again. He will tell you the stories he’s lived and live another lifetime with you. No matter how many lifetimes, what matters is he’s with you.

Another set of tears run down his cheeks. He misses you but he will live on. He will live on.

He will live on.

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[not-your-damsel]

Craving You

Word Count :: 4,994

A/N :: Go easy on me, my sweeties. This is my first full fic in the hottest of minutes.

This is just some soft, tender, Husband! Hitoshi Shinsou x Pregnant Fem! Reader missing each other dearly. We’re sticking with Keiid’s adult version of Toshi because that version of him has me absolutely fuckin’ weak 🥴

CW :: Minors DNI, NSFW, 🔞, Smut, Tender Loving Hours, Slight Choking. Pretty much it, I wanna say.

You will 100% be blocked if you’re a minor liking/re-blogging this work, or if your age isn’t in your bio and you’re liking/re-blogging this work. Simple as that!

You woke with a start, small hand darting out to feel for your husband only to feel his side of the bed not only empty, but cold. You sighed and attempted to sit up, holding your rounded stomach, feeling as your body ached. “Toshi?” You called out, silence answering back before sniffing for any hint of coffee in the air that he so loved to brew, strong enough to wake the dead. Nothing. Had he even been home at all last night? Being pregnant had done some weird things to not only your body, but your senses and sleeping habits. You noticed you’d sleep deeper than usual, something you hated. You wanted to be able to know when Hitoshi got home, when he hit the bed, anything. You wanted to be able to help should he need it. Take the other night for example. On his way home from being out on patrol he stumbled on a man who was robbing the local convenience store and though he caught the robber, he hadn’t escaped the ordeal without the guy putting up a surprisingly good fight. Toshi came home that night beaten to hell and you’d spent the better part of the evening with him on the toilet while you cleaned and patched him up. He didn’t want the help, wanted you to rest with your swollen ankles raised but you wouldn’t hear of it. When you were done, you carded your fingers through his short wild indigo locks, kissing his forehead while he caressed your stomach before wrapping his arms around you. You slipped your black cat slippers on, waddling from the loft down to the kitchen to grab a cup of black tea. Once you finished there, you made your way to the bathroom, turning shower on to your desired temperature. Your back was hurting and you wanted nothing more than to have hot water splashing against the painful spot as hot as you could bear. Carrying a whole other human inside you was hard work. You couldn’t wait to get back to work, kicking ass alongside your husband, the Shinsou’s back at it being a top hero power couple. You felt so out of shape and bloated and your breasts hurt when they were too full of milk, back and ankles on fire and swollen... you just seemed to be in perpetual pain these last 2 months. Not only that, you and Hitoshi’s sexual activities had to be put on hold and that was getting to you both and you knew it. You didn’t have to ask Toshi to know how much he was aching for you to the point of it making him at least a little crazy. As reserved as he was, gentle in his demeanor with you, and calm as a still lake, he was a human and he had needs. He’d never tell you, but he had to keep himself on more than one occasion from ripping your clothing off and bending you over the nearest surface to fuck you silly. Your dom and sub roles in the bedroom had to also be put on hold because Hitoshi could be a particularly rough man when it came to that, never truly knowing the full extent of his strength. He’d been absolutely terrified out of his wits of being rough once you started to show.

Great. Now you were sorely in pain and horny. “Stupid, stupid woman.” You seethed at yourself. You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed the door to the shower open. It wasn’t until you felt the cool air hit your back that you felt a large set of hands slide from your hips to cradle around your stomach, your body tensing ever so briefly before relaxing. “Hitoshi, you scared the shit out of me.” You breathed, your shoulders relaxing. “I’m sorry, kitten. Are you ok?” He asked, hearing his voice was more gruff than usual had you turning to look at him. The normal bags under his eyes now looked like a set of luggage. He’d taken on more hours over the past several weeks to help build up some parental leave for when his daughter was due, he was busy doing so much and you felt bad. You cupped his cheeks before stepping forward on the balls of your feet with your lips poised for a kiss. He lent the rest of the way down to meet you, the water hitting his short wild tresses in the process, wetting it. “Toshi, thank you. You’re doing a lot and it shows. I wish you could rest already, we appreciate it and you so much.” You held the back of his neck, your thumbs rubbing lovingly along the sides behind his ears. He gave a tired, crooked grin, pecking your forehead then your nose before pulling away and looking at you with love, “It’s all for you guys, I love you with everything I am and I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He joked with a chuckle.

Before you had a chance to protest, moving to swat him at his choice of words, he grabbed your wrist and held it to his chest, dipping again to kiss you passionately, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip for permission, but you were already opening for him to invade your wet cavern with his muscle. Hitoshi’s kiss was hungry, conveying all the pent up want and need he had for you, his wife. His large hands roamed down your back, thick fingers skimming the curve of your spine before they landed at your hips giving them a loving squeeze only to then rest on each cheek of your behind where he pulled you against him, allowing you feel how hard he was for you. Gasping in his mouth before continuing the kiss, you threaded your fingers through his hair again, tugging and earning you a groan of pleasure from deep within his chest. With your hand still held against his chest, you dragged your nails across the neat indigo chest hairs that lay there before sliding over to graze over his nipple, hardening it. Toshi was breathing harder through his nose now, his hips rolling of their own accord before pulling away. You whined, eyes lidded and drunk off his searing kiss. He grinned before looking around your spacious rainfall shower to the built in bench. “Do you trust me, kitten?” Hitoshi asked. You shook your head in confusion. “What kind of... you know I do, with my life.”

Hitoshi guided you to the bench to sit for a moment before he stepped out of the shower to grab a couple of things. “I-I’ll be right back,” he said with his hands held up, nonverbally telling you to stay put, where you smiled and nodded as he stepped out of the bathroom. You’d heard him faintly talking to himself before a loud bang sounded out followed by him swearing under his breath loudly. “Toshi? Are you alright?” You called, tilting your head from where you sat with a hand on your stomach rubbing it. “I’m ok, my love!” He called before turning up at the door a moment later with a couple things in hand, namely a towel and his hero weapon, the capture cloth. You were puzzled to say the least. “What are you doing, sweetie?” You asked him with your brow cocked and lips parted in wonder. “Well, I know we haven’t been able to get as intimate as we’d normally like due to me being so busy at work and you being... being... so pregnant,” ‘Nice choice of words, Hitoshi.’ He mentally slapped himself, “So I had an idea while I was on my way home. Care to try?” He asked you, purple tried eyes looking at you so hopeful it ached you to see. You’d nodded and began the monumental task of trying to stand until he stopped you. “No, no, let me set it up, ok?” Toshi nodded as he helped you to sit back down again.

You guys’ shower was rigged in a such a way that there were bare decorative pipes that were hanging from the ceiling with holes drilled in them that assisted in providing the rainfall effect. Toshi rigged his capture cloth expertly through those pipes and used the towel, folded, against a portion of it. Before you knew it, you were looking at a rigged swing made out of the two items. The towel was placed as a little padding for a seat of sorts and Hitoshi stood back to survey his handy work. He nodded, happy with the look of it before looking back at you with a lopsided grin. “What do you think, kitten?” He asked, reaching his hands out to help you up from the bench. “I think it’s really smart... and I think you’ve been thinking about this for much longer than on your way home.” You poked at his side with your nails, causing him to jump a little before he grabbed the back of his neck, rubbing it. “Ok, ok. I’ve been thinking of what to do for a couple of weeks now, you got me.” Hitoshi admitted, pulling you close into his side. “I just... I just really, really miss you.” He said lowly. You looked into his beautiful, tired eyes, noting that they were lust blown. His purple orbs almost drowned out by dark, black pupils resembling voids. Drinking you in, full of want and need, his hand roamed your back, squeezing in a massaging manner that had your own eyes slipping shut. He felt how tight and knotted various places of your back were, frowning to himself. “I miss you so much, kitten. So fucking much.” Hitoshi was now pressed against the side of your face, gruff voice in one ear as he kneaded the skin of your sore back. “Toshi, I miss you so much too, I wish I can know about your safety the way I used to.” You were now pressed against his body, your arms around his neck while on your tippy toes to reach him better.

Hitoshi’s hands abandoned your back to glide down your hips, further below to start squeezing the backs of plush thighs as he lent down to kiss you passionately, his tongue in your mouth again, exploring every inch of it trying to memorize it even after all these years together. “I missed the way you feel against me. I absolutely crave the way you taste to the point that it’s all I think about, getting in the way of my work, do you know that, little kitten?” Toshi said against your neck before he bit down on your pulse point. Moaning, your fingers dipping into his hair where your nails grazed his scalp. “Tosh- ah!” You squeaked, Hitoshi lifting you off the shower floor as your legs and arms immediately wrapped around your hulking husband for support, swollen, large belly pressed against his chiseled abs suddenly had you feeling some type of way as you stared down at where you both pressed together. “I love you.” You said, looking up to him to find that he was already staring down at you, watching as you took in the roundness of your stomach, holding his and your baby inside you. Your eyes brimmed with tears as he walked both of you to his little set up. “I love you, too. Baby? Baby what’s wrong?” Hitoshi asked, unsure if this was something that had to do with pregnancy hormones or something he possibly did. You hugged him, warm tears falling onto his shoulder. He held his capture cloth in place as he set you down, perching you on a few bands he’d lined up to make a makeshift seat that was plush from the towel he set there. He backed up cautiously in case you’d tip in any single direction and he needed to grab at you. You went to wipe your eyes but Hitoshi was already doing it. His large hands cupping either side of your face, large enough to eclipse your delicate face easily. It would’ve looked comical in any other circumstance, but he loved the way you fit perfectly in his hands.

“Talk to me, baby girl.” He said, squatting down to be able to look at you better. His hands now at your thighs, rubbing soothingly up and down them while occasionally rubbing your belly. “I’m happy is all. I just... as a pain in the ass as it can be sometimes, I couldn’t be happier carrying our baby.” you said, another round of fat tears spilling from your face. “I’m sorry, I’m all over the place and I missed you, I’m so stupid an-“ “Hey.” Hitoshi’s tone was stern, shivers instantly running down your arms and legs so strongly that even he felt the goosebumps break out across the skin of your soft thighs. “I don’t want my kitty cat talking about herself that way,” his hands now skimmed over the tops of your thighs, slipping in between them and parting them. “I take offense when my wife is talked about in any sort of negative capacity,” he leaned in closer, you were so enraptured by what he was saying, having not been spoken to like that for what felt like forever that you weren’t even paying attention to his actions. “Even if it’s from my wife.” He licked a fat stripe up your core, able to cover more ground with his tongue flattened, a hiss of a gasp being drawn in as your feet swung from the sensation. “Toshi!” You threaded your fingers through his hair and balled your hand into a fist, pulling his hair, spurring him on as he licked more forcefully, tongue delving into your hole as he nudged himself deeper into your wetness. His hands closed around your hips and pulled you closer, the stubble of his beard rubbing against your skin deliciously as he worked like a man starved.

Toshi was giving all he had then, moaning into you, as he slurped and sucked, tasting what he longed for for weeks. His hand closed around your thigh, propping it up over his shoulder to delve deeper. Even with the shower running you could see the pre leaking from Hitoshi’s tip. Wiggling a little and masking it as movements to his actions, you take your free foot and gently rub it against his length causing him to pull away with a hiss before looking up at you through purple lashes. His eyes became lidded, grabbing that same leg and throwing it over his other shoulder before diving back in and licking with fervor. “Ah, fuck!!” You yelped, feeling as though you’d fall backwards but Hitoshi’s hands wrapped around your back and pulled you closer, anchoring you in place, assuring your safety. It was then that he started to tongue fuck you, his wet muscle delving in and out while intermittently swiping up to pay attention to your clit when his nose wasn’t bumping into it. Your moans got louder, soft thighs shaking around his head as you felt your first orgasm approaching fast.

Hitoshi wrapped one arm around your back as sturdily as he could so he could bring a free hand into the mix. Two thick fingers slid into your core, replacing his tongue as he began pumping at a brutal pace, crooking them just right. “Oh, oh God...” Your voice shook, one hand in his wet hair and the other latched onto his shoulder, nails leaving crescent moon indents into his flesh now that your legs were free. Toshi’s breathing was ragged, his mind on one goal and one only, the one thing he’d been envisioning his fingers do for the last 4 nights at the agency while he filed reports into the early morning hours. Your walls began to flutter, his lidded purple orbs flitting to yours as he came up for air, watching his wife get overtaken with pleasure. “I love you... I love you...!” Toshi panted into your pussy before you threw yourself back from the force of your orgasm, liquid gushing forward and coating his arm and then his face as he dove in to lap up what he could, instantly wrapping his arms around you again for stability so you wouldn’t fall backwards. He went from vigorous licks to kitten licks which melted into soft kisses. Kisses leading from your drenched core to your thighs and then your stomach as he rubbed loving circles into it with his thumbs, getting up from his position on the floor of the large shower, kissing the top of your head when he reached his full height. “You did so good for me, my beautiful kitten, you always do. I love you, sweetheart.” He cooed. “I love you, too.” You panted out.

He tipped your worn out, blushing face upwards to look at him, still catching your breath but not caring as you leaned forward to reach for Hitoshi’s cock before he grabbed your hands softly. “Baby, no need... w-wait till we’re done here, I’ll be raring to go again.” He smirked. In your post orgasmic haze, you didn’t even realize that from the sheer visuals and moans alone that you’d provided was enough to make him come, the water having washed away his mess. Toshi gathered both of your wash items, placing them closer on the bench in the shower before helping you down off the makeshift swing to stand before himself. He deposited some shampoo in his palm before massaging it in your scalp, washing your hair before running his hands through it to rinse it. He did the same with the conditioner, only leaving it in your hair as he washed your body lovingly. Admiring every curve and dip, no sexual drive behind his actions, just pure love before rinsing you off. When he was done, you gently guided him down on the bench so you could reach his head properly. Hitoshi stood at a whopping 6’ 1”. He was always on the taller side out of the many students at UA, coming in at 5’ 9” when you two met but as the years went on, he just kept sprouting. You were smaller compared to him, standing shorter in stature, you just reached above his shoulder when you and him stood side by side and you loved it. You loved climbing him like he was a mountain, latching onto him, your smaller frame melting and melding into his larger one, and it was one of your most favorite things in the world when he was spooning you.

A large palm came to rest against your stomach as you worked the lather in his hair, pulling you from your thoughts. “What are you thinking about, kitten?” Hitoshi asked, feeling as his unborn baby would push against wherever he’d touch. “You.” You hummed to yourself as you rinsed his hair free of the conditioner, bending to pour some body wash on his washcloth. No loofahs for Hitoshi Shinsou in your house, ‘Too damned girly’ was how he’d put it and you giggled at the thought. “What’s so funny, hm?” He grinned lopsidedly, bending to kiss your stomach with his eyes closed, lips brushing across your skin. It was moments like this that you wanted to snapshot and put away forever for you to cherish, observing the endless beauty he never seemed to know he has. At least until the silent admiration was interrupted by him pulling away and holding his chin exaggeratedly. You laughed, as you rubbed the cloth over his neck muscles to loosen him up. “She’s gonna pack a wallop, huh?” He joked, rubbing his jaw as you nodded with a smile. Hitoshi sighed as you kept working the washcloth over his upper body, his back, pressing as hard as you could which earned you some relieved of grunts. “Up, sweetie.” You stepped back a bit as Toshi stood, willing the jelly feeling you’d imparted on him out of his body. Bringing the washcloth to his abs, you rubbed, the scent of his body wash filling your senses as you got drunk off it. Your husband always smelled so nice, so warm and comforting. Like a cozy cabin tucked away in the woods on a cold winter night, it brought you comfort and safety. He watched you work, noting how you’d pause every now and again to deeply inhale his scent and with every open of your eyes, the more they lidded. When you got to his member, it was semi erect. You looked up at him and he smiled with a wink, “I told you. Gimme that, I think we’re done here.” He said as he finished up the rest of his body in record time, you giggling at his quickness as you put the items away before he tossed the washcloth back in its spot, and swooped you into his arms.

You squealed out with a laugh, Toshi minding where your stomach landed, his broad shoulders between your breasts and stomach, pushing the door open and draping a large towel over your body before bringing the both of you to your bedroom where he gently plopped you onto your large bed. He hovered over your laughing frame, watching as water dripped down from his hair onto the bed above your own head. Your laughing slowed as you noticed his silence, smiling at him and bringing a hand to his scruffy cheek to thumb gently at a scar he had over the left side of his lips leading into his chin. He turned his head and kissed inside your palm, his hand wrapped around your delicate wrist as he held it against his lips. “Turn around, kitten.” He gruffed. Hitoshi was helping you maneuver, perching onto the bed himself as he molded the front of himself to your back, his fully hardened cock prodding at your ass cheek leaving a smear of pre along your skin. Kissing along your neck and shoulders, Toshi ran a large hand from your stomach to your thigh, grabbing and propping it against his own leg which he used to open you up. Your breathing was already uneven, knowing what was coming yet not getting to you fast enough, your hips already rocking back into him for stimulation only he could provide. Hitoshi chuckled against your ear, “Does my kitty want it that bad?” He teased, reaching his hand between the two of you to pump his cock in his fist, teasing your already wet entrance. “God, you’re already soaked, baby, fuck.” He gritted out. “Toshi, stop acting like you’re not dying too and make love to me already,” you whined. “You’re always so coc- HAH!!” Your hand flung upward to latch onto the back of Hitoshi’s head which was buried in the crook of your neck and shoulder, biting into the soft skin that lay there as he jutted his hips forward and sheathed into you in one fluid movement. He gave you time to adjust, running his hand up your body, softly squeezing your breasts and lovingly rubbing your belly as he pressed more kisses into your shoulder and neck, sucking hard enough at your pulse point to leave an immediate blooming bruise.

“To- Toshi please. Please, please I need you...” You begged him as he pressed more kisses into your damp hair, his hips starting to move to create that hot friction you both craved. It seemed he was panting like a dog within seconds, thick fingers pinching your nipples as gently as he could, breast milk dribbling down the tips as he rolled them between his tips. “Fuck, kitten!” Toshi was now snapping his hips faster into you, the bed creaking with each brutal thrust. The second the headboard hit the wall for the first time, it acted as fuel for Hitoshi to go even faster. Hips rutting into you from behind so hard it hurt in the best way. He could already feel your gummy walls twitch and clamp down on him, knowing that you were getting closer with each thrust. “Fuck, baby, the way you’re taking me so -shit!- so greedily, so fuckin’ well, you really missed my cock, huh? Answer me!” He almost barked out, feeling you clamp down on him particularly hard when he did. “Fuck your cock, I missed y-you, Hitoshi!” You moaned, your nails digging into his neck. He groaned lowly, breathily whispering out, “Oh my fucking God!” before his hand came down on the swell of your ass, the sharp sting causing you to clamp down on him again a little harder. The slap didn’t pack the usual punch it did with Hitoshi’s heavy hands, but it was enough and you both noticed.

You rolled your hips into him, meeting his thrusts with your own as that wonderful feeling of a taut invisible string began to fray inside your stomach. “So good, so -y-yeah!- s-so fucking good, Toshi I- I, Godfuckinghell!! Ugh, missed you, I missed you, I-“ a broken moan tore from your throat at the feel of Hitoshi rubbing circles against your clit, his thrusts reaching inside you deeper, the prominent vein that ran along his cock sliding against your walls. His breath was coming out in puffs against your neck and cheek, groans and moans sounding out from him just the way you loved. “Mmm, kitty cat, fuck, you’re gonna cum! C’mon now, c’mon, I wanna feel you cream all over this cock, your cock, this cock belongs to you, all yours...” he reached his other hand around, gripping your throat, getting lost in the pleasure as he railed into you, watching your face for any changes in discomfort, keeping mind of the baby. Once your eyebrows slightly furrowed, he loosened his hold, allowing you to catch your breath for a few beats before starting the process again. “Cum, cum because I fucking can’t hold on much longer you’re sucking me in so goddamn good!” Toshi growled in your ear, his hand abandoning your clit for a moment to spit on his fingers just to go back to rubbing it faster than before. As your smaller hand gripped his forearm for dear life, you came undone. “Toshi, fuck!!” Hitoshi felt his thrusting cock get wetter, slipperier, as he slowed his rubbing fingers through your orgasm having released your throat long ago.

Now he began driving into you with reckless abandon, seeking his own release which wasn’t far behind in the first place. The hand that was at your throat now wrapped around your shoulder, while the one that left your clit reached up to grab at your free hand, threading his large fingers through your own. “O-oh my God, oh my God I’m gonna cum, kitten, fuck, I’m gonna cum...” sloppy hips faltered even more before he gave one last strong thrust, stilling inside you spilling his warmth in thick spurts, giving 2 more soft slow thrusts before coming to a stop. The both of you were breathing heavily, Toshi’s head dropped onto your own before he bent down a bit to kiss your shoulder, his stubble scratching at the softness of your cheek. His hair was now dry, being short, it drooped down onto his forehead. There was a fresh sheen of sweat over both of your bodies, especially on his chest and your back. “I love you.” You said, your breaths coming out fast but not as harsh as before. Hitoshi wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into his almost too warm body, nuzzling in your semi damp hair inhaling deeply, “I love you, too. So fucking much, don’t ever forget it. I’m sorry I’ve been away so much, I just...” You shook your head, opening your eyes halfway. “No. I know why you do it. I can’t ever convey how much it means to me that you’re working your ass off for proper time with me and little Anzu once she gets here. Do I miss you? Of course I miss you, I miss you terribly. I also miss working with you. I never realized how spoiled I truly am until it came time for me to stay home from work. Getting to see you every single day, work alongside you, be out in the public eye with you... I never realized that I spend every moment with you. And now that I can’t, it has me a bit out of sorts I guess you could say.” You confessed, your eyes heavily lidded with sleepiness, voice soft and gentle.

The bed suddenly shifted, Hitoshi launching himself over your body and plopping next to you to face you causing you to squeak out in shock. He cupped your cheeks and brought you in for a slow, passionate kiss. Your smaller hands planted against his chest, fingers rubbing lovingly before scooting closer to him where he wrapped his arms around you instinctively. “I’m almost done, sweetheart. Just one more week, maybe even sooner if Anzu comes before then. And hey, if you want, I can help you train up again my agile, telekinetic kitten. Would you like that?” He asked into your hair at the top of your head. You hummed softly and he looked down having felt your hand slip off his chest and go limp, joining your other arm pressed against him and the bed. You were fast asleep, your breathing slow and deep as Toshi took a moment to look at you, large hand caressing from your head to your shoulder, only to glide down your back where he grabbed the blanket and draped it over the both of you, snuggling your body closer to his. “And I thought I was the one who got into people’s minds. I don’t deserve you, baby girl.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the side of your mouth before perching his head atop yours and falling asleep just as quick. You woke with a start, small hand darting out to feel for your husband only to feel his hand grasp yours and pull it to his lips, “I’m here, baby. I’m still here.” Hitoshi said as he cradled it in his own, pressed against his chest, a small smile gracing your lips before slipping back into the warmth of his embrace.

[ravenousramblings]

This got long so...

My world has become very small of late. Really the past two years. Yeah the pandemic had that isolating effect on everybody, but really my struggles with isolation started just before that and continue still. I haven't worked since January 2020. I was actually perfectly poised to work through the pandemic, my position had just changed at a call center, our location was closing and we were transitioning to wfh before the pandemic even started. However I had been struggling in my position already for some time trying to juggle intense trauma therapy and a shitty call center job with all the side effects. WFH looked like it was going to be a great option for me, but I did not handle the transition to the new line of business well at all. The minimal training before being thrown to the wolves really pushed me over the edge and my panic and anxiety symptoms were getting even worse so I had to quit that job. I just couldn't handle it. Then everything shut down.

During that time I was attending therapy twice a week, doing a lot of EMDR, having LOTS of flashbacks. I really wasn't functioning very well. This is also when I discovered I have DID and had a couple of inpatient stays. After the inpatient stays we refocused the EMDR therapy to more present day stuff because the intensive trauma focused stuff was destabilizing me too much. And that's where we've been in therapy for some time now. Mostly working on trying to use weed less to cope with getting through the day. And really most days I'm just fine. I'm doing fine. I'm not having the bad flashbacks I was, I'm not experiencing as much SI or SH urges. I'm fine, but not in any fulfilled sort of way. I'm in this place where I desperately want to move forward and continue healing but there's a part that's not sure he's ready to move on from here. He's relatively comfortable in his day-to-day, not necessarily happy or fulfilled, but comfortable. And he's not looking forward to all the discomfort and hard work we are going to have to do to keep healing. And like it or not he and I are apparently the main fronters so it's going to take both of us continuing to work together to get better.

My therapist has been encouraging me to try out this clubhouse for people who struggle with mental illness in our town. I did the paperwork for it ages ago but have never attended. Anytime it gets brought up all I hear from inside is "no no no, don't want to, don't want to". But somehow we need to find some way to build more of a social support system. Luckily through it all we've had my dear partner @calonyndraig, but xe can't be or do everything for us. No one person can do that. Every time I try to think about ways to engage socially, the panic from that part rises up and seizes me and I can't make any actual progress or changes because of it. I'm tired of being so isolated, I recognize I and other parts are lonely. But since I don't work we're broke as hell and can't afford to do anything anyway, and then add in the panic when we even consider doing anything... I just don't know how to get past this. It's not gonna work if we can't get over that panic. It's not gonna work if he doesn't get on board. I just don't know. It's all so hard and confusing. I have hope that one day we'll get there, right now we just feel very stuck.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 8

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1   Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

“From today, you shall have your own rooms.”

“But why?” Remus wails “it’s not fair!” Remus looks up at him, his small faced scrunched and red, tears threatening to fall, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I-“ Roman frowns. He feels too big. Shouldn’t he be the same size as Remus?

“You’re the future king, Remus” their father rumbles, “Your training needs to begin - without distractions.”

“Don’t cry.” Their mother tells him as Remus’ tantrum echoes through the room. She runs a cool hand over Roman’s forehead soothingly.

“I wasn’t.” Roman murmurs.

His mother’s hand turns cruel, pushing his head back, another hand gripping his chin.

“You need to drink, c’mon Roman drink this down for me, please?”

Roman chokes, twisting away. Hot liquid scalds his throat and drips down his chin. There’s a hand in his hair again, stroking gently until it grips tight, forcing his head back “He doesn’t look much like the Prince.” Marcus grunts.

“The mad Prince – Remus of Notaleveale!”

“But.” Roman whimpers, “that’s not-“

“Is he awake?”

“Your father is sick.” Julius tells him. The practice room is high in the north tower, always just too cool to be comfortable, but Roman feels hot. For some reason, water is rushing down the walls. Droplets splash onto his skin and sizzle where they land.

“We’re going to find a way to fix this my Prince, I promise.” Julius smiles at him, his eyes kind and unlined by age.

“What if you can’t.” Romulus whispers, voice breaking. He is the right size now he thinks. He had to tilt his head to look up at Julius who hesitantly pulls him close, letting the boy muffle his dry sobs on his shoulder.

“Then…we will find a way to help you live with it – and I’ll always be here to help you.”

He pulls back to smile at him again, but it’s not kind anymore. The skin flaking away reveals the rictus grin of the skull beneath, and Roman howls, trying to twist away whilst large hands hold him down -

“It’s okay! Roman, it’s okay!”

- he feels something cool on his eyelids, a strong scent of mint mingling with the rot of Julius body-

“Sleep.” a voice murmurs.

When Roman wakes, it’s somewhere he doesn’t recognise. Scratchy sheets pin him down to a bed as effectively as chains. A pale man with violet eyes is pulling at his arm, his arm which hurts. Roman whines, trying to tug the limb out of the pale man’s grip, but his body feels too heavy to obey.

The pale man is trying to talk to him but nothing he says makes sense to Romulus, it’s like listening to a foreign language.

“<My dad’s dead.>” he tells the pale man, because that seems important.

“Roman? Are you awake?”

There’s a hand on his forehead, the voice is saying something about water but Roman ignores it, trying to chase the thought.

If their father was dead, then why was he still Prince Remus?

The next time Roman woke up it was dark. The pale man had disappeared, but there was another figure lying in the bed next to him. The man’s bulk caused the mattress to dip towards him and his snores were so loud they made the whole bedframe vibrate with each exhale.

Turning his head carefully, Roman found himself looking at a face full of scars and freckles. A pale shaft of moonlight from the open window illuminated the man’s ripped ear and a nose that had obviously been broken at some point in the past. Even in sleep, he looked fearsome.

‘Patton’ Roman’s tired mind supplied, and he felt a relieved smile twitch over his face. It pulled at the cut Niki left him, making him bite back a whimper of pain.

He let his head fall back against the pillow. Everything felt heavy, even the air. The room seemed to melt at the edges. But if Patton was sleeping then they must be somewhere safe.

He dozed for a time, listening to the comforting rumble of Patton’s snores, until a withered pair of hands reached for him. The lady of the house began to gently wipe the sweat from his face with a cool cloth.

“<Am I dying>?” he asked her in their own language.

“<You can try.>” She told him dryly, “<Those three will probably end up chasing you down to the underworld too.>”

The lady brought some extra cushions and stacked them behind him, helping him to sit up. From his new vantage point he could see Logan on the floor, one giant book open on his lap and three more stacked beside him. He looked like he had fallen asleep mid study session, his head tilted back against the wall with a thin string of drool hanging from his open mouth.

Roman thought of the last time he had seen him, pinned to Lucius' chest, his eyes wide and frightened behind his glasses, and had to close his eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose until his panic subsided and glanced at Logan again.

He was so relieved to see him whole that might even forgo teasing him about the drool.

The lady brought him a pewter mug filled with something warm that smelt pleasantly of honey and helped him to lift it to his lips when his hands began to shake.

“<When I invited you for tea, this isn’t what I pictured.>” she teased him with a smile.

Roman didn’t smile back, eyes still roaming the room.

“<Where->“

“<Your elf is fine>” she told him, sounding amused “<I sent him on an errand. He would have worn a hole in my best rug if he stood here pacing much longer.>”

Roman did smile then, grip loosening on the mug which she deftly caught before it hit the blankets.

“<I lost my brother.>” he told her, eyes growing heavy again.

“<That was careless of you.>” she said, “<What are you going to do about it?>”

Roman didn’t answer, falling back asleep with the honey still coating his tongue.

The next time Roman woke up, daylight was streaming trough the open window and the last tendrils of fever seemed to have left him. Whilst he still felt tired, the unnatural heaviness was less and his mind was clear.

Unfortunately, his clear mind immediately occupied itself by cataloguing every single way his body was in pain.

His cheek throbbed, the small cut from Niki having been split wider by the force of the hit from Julius’s walking stick. His back and shoulders we’re equally bruised, and protested every tiny movement he made as he tried to resettle himself against the pillows. By far the worst was his hand, which felt like it was still burning.

Choking down any whimpers of pain he focused instead on the strange pressure on his chest.

Opening his eyes revealed the culprit. A grey cat with snow white paws was sitting primly on his sternum. Mittens looked deeply put out by Roman’s attempt to get comfortable and gave him an unsatisfied meow of protest when he continued to move.

“Good morning” Roman whispered, giving him a conciliatory head rub with his good hand, “Did you happen to count how many horses ran me over?”

“Roman!” The bard looked beyond Mittens to see Patton perched on the end of the bed, beaming so wide it almost distracted from the redness of his nose.

“You’re -ah-achoo – you’re awake!”

“Yeah.” He smiled, attempting to rearrange the pillows one handed. “Hey Pat’.”

“Guys!” Patton called, “Ro – achoo – Ro -acHOO – he’s awake!”

There was a thundering of footsteps on stairs and then Virgil all but exploded into the room, eyes wide “How awake is he? – does he recognise you? Patton I told you to put the damm cat outside!”

“Aww but it’s his hou -ah -ah -house,” Patton pouted.

“He recognises you.” Roman added, giving Virgil a half-hearted wave “Also his voice works.”

“Shame.” Virgil snarked but the grin on his face was too wide to hide his relief.

“You. Go bother the pigeons’” he shooed the cat as he came to sit on the edge of Romans bed. Mittens gave him a pointed meow before slinking out of the room, pausing only to rub against Logan’s ankles as it passed him in the doorway.

“How’s your head?” Virgil asked - he reached over to a small beside table and picked up a glass of water, holding it up for Roman to sip.

“Fine.” Roman whispered hoarsely, taking the water from him and drinking greedily.

“What about your hand?” Patton asked, kneeling on his other side, “I’ll ask Mama Tay to brew you some more willow tea, for the pain.”

“Great.”- Roman handed the glass back to Virgil shrank against the pillows as they both peered at him – “but I’m fine, honestly don’t worry yourselves-“

“Fine?” Virgil rolled his eyes, “You look like you went three rounds with a centaur and lost. Badly.”

“Okay, well, that’s rude.” Roman rolled his eyes right back, lifting one arm to try and bat Virgil’s hands away as they reached for him “Get off, Virge I’m fi-“

“Roman.” Logan was the only one who hadn’t come forward to paw at him. He stood in the doorway, most of his face obscured by the shadow. “Let Virgil check your injuries.”

Roman sighed, the fight going out of him. Obediently, he dropped his arms and tilted his head towards the half-elf.

“Oh sure,” Virgil murmured, running skilful fingers over the cut on Romans cheek and the surrounding swelling “you’ll listen when Logan tells you.”

“It’s the glasses,” Roman joked, his voice tired, “gives him authority.”

Once Virgil had finished his inspection of Roman’s face, he insisted at poking and prodding at every inch of him see how his other injuries were healing. Roman sighed but put up with his fussing with as much grace as he could. Virgil removed the bandages on his hand, packing fresh herbs next to the skin and rewrapping it gently with new cloth. The bruises and welts on his back and shoulders had begun to heal, turning from purple and blue to a sickly looking yellow. Virgil smeared something that smelt horrendous on the few welts that hadn’t scabbed over before stepping back, declaring the injuries extensive but, for the most part, superficial.

“Like your lyrics.” he added slyly, which got a squawk of protest from Roman and a giggle from Patton.

His hand was the most concerning. Virgil had him gently flex his fingers -causing Roman to hiss with pain despite his best efforts – before helping him into a sling and giving him strict instructions to hold it still until the herbs had done their work.

As Virgil worked, Patton kept up a running dialogue; happily filling Roman in on the day to day running’s of Mama Tay’s house. How she’d let him use her kitchen to cook for all of them and let Logan take over her small library (although the scholar was still only permitted to call her Mother Octavia). He giggled his way through a story about Mittens’ on going attempt to court the tabby cat who lived across the street – apparently he had attempted to show off by taking on street rat twice his size and spent the rest of the day sulking in the pantry after being summarily chased off.

Between Virgil’s gentle ministrations and the soothing sound of Patton’s voice, Roman found himself slowly relaxing.

Remus wasn’t in the city. His friends had come for him. They’d beaten the bad guy and got away.

He knew he couldn’t just ignore everything that had happened. His friends were eventually going to want some sort of explanation. The thing that had worn Julius face had been able to find him once – he didn’t know how, or how to stop I happening again.

Most importantly, he was no longer sure that Remus was safe.

But for a little while at least, he was with his family. He was safe. Things could start to go back to normal.

“Roman.” Logan said. He was leaning back against the closed door, a look on his face Roman couldn’t quite decipher. “Stand up.”

“Slowly,” Virgil added as Roman rose to his feet. The healer cast a glance back at Logan, confused, “what’re you-“

“Roman.” Logan cut him off. “Stand on one foot.”

Romans whole world seemed to narrow down to the glint of light reflecting off Logan’s glasses.

The rush of blood in his ears sounded very much like the rush of water in the pipe room.

Julius looked at him coldly, ready to categorise each whimper of pain as his leg began to shake, muscles cramping -

Patton’s hand suddenly griped his elbow as he wobbled, breaking the illusion.

Mama Tay’s bedroom was far more cluttered with blankets and knickknacks than Julius practice room. Logan was the one in front of him – face full of gleeful satisfaction as his theory was confirmed.

“I’m right aren’t I.” he breathed, looking dazed – “You can’t diso-“

Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about your curse. Put as much distance between you as you can.

Roman attempted to fling himself towards the door- immediately realised that this was a bad decision as he still only had one foot on the ground – and pitched forward towards the floor, free arm pinwheeling crazily.

Patton dived to catch him, one big hand grabbing his injured shoulder casing Roman to yell out in pain, which in turn caused Patton to instinctively release him. He found himself falling again, this time crashing into Virgil, who had come running to help. His injured arm exploded in pain as he fell against the other man’s chest.

“Roman! What the hell- Logan?”

“I’m sorry!” Logan’s delight at being proved right had quickly turned into alarm “Stand properly – I mean, stand however you think you should. Um-“

“Roman are you okay?” That was Patton, gently easing him off Virgil “Oh gosh I think you’ve opened your stitches again!”

Roman groaned.

A few moments later Roman was, once again, propped up on the bed. Patton sat next to him, holding his good hand loosely whilst Virgil smeared more of the horrifying smelling salve over the reopened cut on his cheek.

Logan, hands firmly clasped in front of him like a guilty school boy, was filling them in on what he thought he knew.

“Roman cannot disobey a direct order – when Lucius Amata met us on the stairs he was able to compel him not to move.”

“Who?”

“The Marquis of Orenlla!” Logan huffed, exasperated – “The kidnapper!”

“De.” Roman muttered.

“What?”

“Marquis de Orenlla.”

“Hmm,” rather than start an argument of etymology, Logan simply pulled a square slip of card from his waistcoat pocket and started crossing something out with his quill.

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, exasperated “Flashcards?” He twisted the lid back onto the salve pot with rather more force than was necessary “Logan, you didn’t even believe in magic until yesterday and now you’re saying – what exactly are you saying?”

He glanced at Roman, almost fearfully ‘That he’s -that he’s under a spell or cursed or- what?”

“Roman,” Patton’s voice was gentle. “Is that true?”

Roman met his eyes. Patton’s face was as kind as ever. For now.

Never tell anyone about your curse.

But they’d never set rules stopping him discussing what people already knew.

Even so, he braced himself for pain before he nodded.

Patton looked like he might cry.

“So –what?” Demanded Virgil, who had started pacing back and forth down the short length of the bed. “He did that? This Lucius guy?”

“How do we stop it? Do we….kill him?”

“Patton!”

“Well I don’t know!”

“It wasn’t Lucius.” Roman muttered.

He risked a glance at Virgil who was nodding fervently, shaking both hands out in front of himself as he tried to process everything, “No. He – you had it before right? That’s how he was able to get you to go with him.”

Slowly, Roman nodded.

“Was it before we got to the city?” Logan asked. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, a thoughtful frown on his face as he gently rotated the flashcards in his hands.

“The forest!” Vigil yelped before Roman had a chance to respond. “When you disappeared right? I knew you were out of it that night! That’s when it happened?”

“Oh, Roman.” Patton gasped, “You poor thing. Has this has been going on for days?”

Roman couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. Drawing his knees to his chest he hunched over them, his shoulders shaking. “No.” he managed to gasp out. “No, not the forest.”

“So…when did it happen?” Patton asked uncertainty. Roman could easily picture the three of them glancing at each other, trying to put the pieces together. He kept his eyes firmly on his knees. He didn’t want to see the moment of realisation.

“Before the forest?” Virgil asked hesitantly. Roman nodded without looking up.

“When I met you…” Virgil continued after a moments silence, “you wouldn’t come back into the tavern with me – you said you didn’t want the innkeeper to tell you to play another night.”

“I remember that.” Logan said “You met us on the road. I thought that was odd at the time. I assumed you were going to lie in wait to rob us.”

Roman could hear the understanding seeping into their voices. He’d been cursed since they met him. He’d been a liability since they met him – they’d hired someone to protect them who could be ordered to throw his sword down by any foe who happened to try. They were going to feel so betrayed. They were going to be so angry with him.

How could he have not told them?

“Oh, Roman – how could we have not noticed?”

Romans head shot up. “What?” he croaked.

Now Patton really did look like he was going to cry, his eyes suspiciously watery. “You’ve been dealing with this all by yourself for – for years?”

“So- “ now Virgil was the one shaking – “So any time I’ve told you to ‘shut up’ you-“

“If you don’t give a timeframe it doesn’t matter much.” Roman blurted quickly, wanting to remove the look of horror from Virgil’s face – “I mean when I was younger it maybe would have but, but I’ve learned work around it so –“

“Younger?” his rambling did not seem to be soothing Virgil’s panic. “How young?”

“Er. Well.” He glanced between the two of them “From when I was a baby. I mean, I don’t remember not being like this.” Patton and Virgil were staring at him with identical slack jawed expressions. Roman wished the bed would swallow him up and spit him out onto he street. “But hey – I was apparently a very agreeable baby – stopped crying so soon as you asked!” he grinned awkwardly, give them a thumbs up with his undamaged hand.

They did not look reassured.

“So, have we ever –“ Patton started,”-have we ever made you do something you didn’t want to-“

“NO! No, Pat - you’re always so polite and if, if it’s not an order it doesn’t count so-“

“I’m not polite.” Virgil muttered.

“You don’t order though.” Roman said quickly, “You’re too-“ he tried to find a nice way to say ‘too riddled with anxiety to give directives’ – “awkward.” he finished sheepishly.

Virgil bristled. “I told you to get lost.” He snarled. “In the forest.”

There was a silence. Roman found himself staring at his knees again and forced his head up to meet Vigils gaze.

“Well. That was unfortunate. But it was fine – you’re both good trackers, you found me easily enough so-“

“But what if we hadn’t!?” Virgil all but yelled, “What if you’d just been lost in the woods till you starved to death or-“

“Virgil.” Patton soothed, “Calm down, he’s fine.”

“He’s not! He’s not safe with us! How many times have we done something to, to-”

“It’s fine.” Roman announced calmly, cutting Virgil off before he could work himself up any further. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“What doe that mean?”

“It means – I won’t travel with you anymore. You don’t have to worry about protecting me I’ll just-“

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Roman no!”

“Are you going to order me to stay?” He snapped.

That shut everyone up.

He glared at the pair of them. “Well?”

“No.” Patton said calmly “Of course not. It’s just that-”

“What happens if you disobey an order?” Logan interrupted, causing the other three to jump.

The scholar had been standing so still, gazing off into the distance whilst the argument went on around him, that Roman had almost forgotten he was there.

“I cant.” He answered eventually, trying not to feel resentful of Logan for causing this whole mess.

“But what if you try?” Logan said, “If I told you to raise your hand and you tried to keep it down – “

“It would hurt.” Roman gritted out.

“Hurt how? Can you describe it?” Logan tucked his flashcards away and pulled out a notebook, quill at the ready. Roman gaped at him.

“Logan.” Patton interrupted, “I think maybe Roman needs a break from questions right now-“

“But if we don’t know the parameters of his condition then how are we supposed to fix it?” Logan argued.

“I’ve tried. To fix it.” Roman growled out.

“But you were by yourself before.” Logan said dismissively “Now you have me, well, all of us, working on the problem. I’m sure we will be able to –“

“I wasn’t by myself.” Roman said coldly.

Logan really did remind him of Julius sometimes. They had the same stubborn determination to get the answers they were seeking. But Roman was not going to be anyone’s pet experiment again.

“I am Prince Romulus of Notaleveale.” he announced grandly, as If he was reclining on a throne instead of uncomfortable bed. “I have had the finest minds of the fae and human worlds look into my curse, I hardly think a failed apprentice and a couple of backwater deserters are going to have more success.”

He swept an imperious gaze over all three of them, amused to find they had finally been shocked into silence.

“I will be returning to my kingdom. Your services will no longer be required.”

Part 9

[zaneaquaman]

How Death Changed Me

This was written a while ago but oh well, enjoy...

I remember the first time I saw the movie “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince”. My parents had made a rule that I couldn’t watch any Harry Potter movie until I had read the book, so I knew what was coming. I wasn’t surprised when Snape killed Dumbledore. However, I was still in tears when it happened. I tried to hide it from my mom since she didn’t seem to be shedding tears. I used a pillow as a shield and tried to control my breathing. Apparently, my methods weren’t very effective.

“Since you’re already crying,” my mom started, “You should know why your dad wasn’t able to make it to your play today.”

I hadn’t even realized he wasn’t there. I was too anxious to notice. I pushed aside that thought, choosing to listen to what she had to say.

“Grandma Sue, she had a heart attack…”

Even at a young age, I knew where this was going. I started crying harder, curling up into a ball. This was my first time losing a family member. Grandma Sue was someone I was incredibly close to too. She’s the woman who showed me how amazing creatures, including bugs, are and that it’s good to get your hands dirty and dig in the mud. My love of nature and animals stemmed from her. She was the person I looked forward to seeing most when we traveled to stay with my other relatives and her in Manteca. Losing her was like losing a central part of my life. Who else was going to understand me and show me how to love the world? I cried on that couch for what felt like forever, while my mother tried to console me, although she was starting to fall apart too. I thought the world was ending. How was I supposed to live when she wasn’t there?

Until last year, I had never watched “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” since then. I couldn’t imagine watching it and reliving the experience of being told she was dead all over again.

A few years after Grandma Sue died, my mom had to once again bring me more sad news. This time, it was my great-grandmother, who we called Granny. She was Grandma Sue’s mother and had also lived in Manteca.

When my mother told me, I had an odd reaction that was completely different from when I heard Sue died. I must have been in shock, for I stood there for a long while, not saying anything. I knew I should’ve felt sad to hear the news, but I didn’t. I felt fine. Not happy, not depressed. I was simply fine. At that moment, I don’t think I fully understood what she was saying. Of course, I had lost my grandmother before, so I knew what death was and how final it all is, but for some reason this time it felt different. I didn’t burst into tears. I didn’t feel an overwhelming sadness. I was just speechless for a moment. But when those few minutes passed, I went on with my day like normal. It was as if nothing had happened.

Later that night, as I was preparing to take a shower, I found myself staring at the bathroom mirror. I’m not sure exactly what made me fall apart. Maybe it was knowing the repetitive sound of water falling and hitting the floor would cover up my cries, or the fact that I was alone in a locked room with no windows and no eyes watching. Either way, that feeling of shock vanished. Tears started falling down my face as I gripped the side of the sink. I began sobbing. I watched my face in the mirror as my eyes grew red and got so watery that I could hardly see. All I could think of was the fact that I was never going to see her again.

Granny used to buy this ice cream called MooseTracks when we’d come to visit. She knew how much I loved it, and when she scooped the ice cream for me she would always pick out the best bits full of peanut butter cups and chocolate ribbons. Even after our long tiring car ride from Los Angeles to Manteca, I’d be so excited as we pulled up into her driveway. When I entered the house, I instantly felt at home. In her home, there were several stuffed animals for us, but my favorite was this baby sheep. When I was very little, I always wanted it with me when I went to sleep. She had two trucks, one a fire truck and another an ambulance, which my cousin and I had covered in stickers one time when we played with them.

She had display cases full of things. In one, there was a large white porcelain cat with bright blue eyes and a pink ribbon around its neck. In another, there were some fragile Native American figurines, one a father standing beside a wolf, and another a mother holding a child. I don’t know how accurate or possibly insulting these figurines were, but as a kid, I always thought they looked kind. Part of me wanted to live with them when I was younger. I had fallen in love with the idea of living out in the forest, with nothing but wildlife and animals. I looked at this artwork in one of the halls, of a painting done on a stretched-out animal skin. In the painting, there was a river, trees, a fire, a tepee, and the beautiful sight of a sun rising behind it all. That’s where I wanted to be. I looked at this image and the figurines, and I wanted to live with them. I dreamed of wearing their clothing and following their cultures. All I knew at the time was that they appreciated nature, saw all the beautiful life out there, and treated it with respect. I wanted to live in a society with values such as that.

Years ago, when Granny was still alive, my mother and I went shopping to find Christmas gifts for Granny. I remember us walking into a row full of Christmas tree toppers. We looked at most of the angels, but only one stuck out to me. It was, in my eyes, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The angel wore a bright red dress with the edges covered in white fluff. She held a wreath in one hand, and she had the prettiest smile on her face. I pointed out how I liked the angel to my mom, and I wanted to keep her. But instead, to my disappointment, my mom insisted that we give the angel to Granny instead. I felt like my heart was breaking when we handed over the angel to her. But I kept my mouth shut because I thought it would be selfish of me to keep the angel for myself rather than to give it to Granny.

But Granny would always smile when she saw my brothers and me. She used to call me a little mouse because I’d be able to enter rooms without making a sound, startling her and making her laugh. We’d both wake up early in the mornings, while everyone else stayed sleeping, and she’d turn on the television while I helped her make breakfast. She’d used to wave my dad, my brothers, and me out as we walked across the street and over a grassy hill to this little park that hardly anyone went to. It had slides, a climbing wall, and a spider-web-like thing made of rope, which was my favorite. Every Thanksgiving we’d go up to Manteca and stay at Granny’s house. They’d prepare a feast all day long, with turkey, mashed potatoes, pie, and more. Even though Granny had lost her husband years ago and was staying alone at her house all the time, she never struck me as lonely or sad. She was a strong woman in my life who taught me to be kind to everybody, and she showed me how everyone is beautiful in their own ways.

And now, she’s gone. I’m never going to hear her laugh or see her loving smile. I’m never going to step into her house anymore. When I search through my memories, trying to recall what her house even looked like inside, I find myself walking through a deserted home, missing the life that was once in it. I’m never going to see her again. But, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten her, or Grandma Sue. That little stuffed sheep from Granny’s house is sitting on my desk. On my dresser, I have that blue-eyed cat with the pink ribbon that stands by several smaller cat figurines from Grandma Sue. The animal skin painting is hanging on my back wall, and the Native American figurines are right below it. I also have the beautiful angel that we gifted Granny. I keep parts of her with me so that I never forget her.

[helpinghanikan]

Hot Date

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Sum:  It shouldn't have to be said that SHIELD researchers aren't allowed to date their wards. But that doesn't stop the romantic tension from forming between you. The real question is, whose feelings will be most affected when the tension finally boils over?

Anomalous weapons supervisor was typed out on your paychecks, but babysitter would be a better description. Diplomas, experience and more resulted in your butt on bleachers. Watching the important people play around with powers few in this world understood.

Whoever designed this area probably didn’t know who exactly would be using it. It had the basics; a track for running, mats for sparring and weights for lifting. With more off the wall items thrown in that might be useful to the superpowered individuals using it. Like the massive metal balls being lifted and lowered by the red magic of your charge. Or one of your charges at least.

‘Wanda seems to have complete control of her powers. Whether these powers are coming from her mind or some sort of muscle in her hands has yet to be known.’ You type out just intime to get a guest sitting to your right.

“Can I get an autograph when your book is finished?” Pietro has been working on his accent, so had Wanda. As much pride as the two had they were still looking to adapt. But there were still hints of it on certain words. Especially when he’s this close not really trying.

“Only if I get to sign those tits.” Obviously, a joke, but you still had to take a quick glance to the camera. Just in case you get dragged into a meeting and this comes back up about your unprofessional comments. Not that it would stop your work.

“I can live without the signature,” Wanda’s voice, although distant, echoed in the wide space. “You’ve spelt many things wrong anyhow.”

Few people could say they were as close to the Maximoff twins as yourself. Even after the discovery of an alien/god, of the defrosting of a super-solider and the destruction from a billionaire people were wary of the twins.

It was through simple respect that Wanda had warmed up to you. You hadn’t talked to her with artificial kindness, didn’t look to the guards when her voiced raised even the slightest. No, you had asked how she was (the room was too hot for her), if she needed anything (just wanted to know how much longer she was going to be questioned), if she liked coffee or tea (tea is preferred), and how she was doing, really doing (she was tired, you all were).

It was another story for Pietro. Only trusting you after Wanda obviously saw you as a friend. Taking his own time to warm up after getting the same genuine experience you offered rather the blunt questions and stupid statements. It was the dinner you invited them to that sealed the deal. Nothing brings people together more than a lot of meat, the warm feeling of alcohol and a quiet afternoon with a food coma.

“What have you written?” Pietro asks, your laptop now in his hands.

There’s no point in trying to stop him when he snatches things. A child who had to move fast for food and safety makes petty theft a hard habit to beat. Not to mention Wanda already knew everything that went into your daily reports with a blink of her eye, it was seemingly only fair that Pietro got to know to.

“Same stuff I was doing yesterday, and the day before and the day before that and the-.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” Pietro says, used to the child like taunts and knowing to stop you early.

With nothing of interest on said laptop he turned it back over to you. Taking his place leaning against your shoulder as you begin to work once more. Only speaking up to ensure you add in the correct description of his improvement.

These reports were supposed to be done without the twins knowledge. You were supposed to be a spy on the side of the government. Although it was blamed on Wanda’s mindreading in reality you had never tried to hide them. These friendships were genuine, resulting with the man practically putting himself in your lap to try and keep your attention.

"How much longer do we have to do this ‘training’?” Although a grown man Pietro could act like a little boy sometimes. When he’s done, he’s done. Taking whatever actions needed to get through his current situation and move on.

“For as long as the door is closed, Pietro.” Wanda has set the metal down. Taking slow steps to reach her brother and friend. “She would likely go faster without you hanging on her.”

There is no smooth way to say this; Pietro is a big spoon. Any chance he gets a hug or to hold someone results in being overwhelmed in lean muscle. Pietro was the only warmth during those impossible cold nights as newly orphaned children. His legs and arms creating a shelter that protected his chosen from any harm from ever happening. You were one of chosen now, which explained the face made at having to get up.

“Alright kids, let’s head home.” You say, slapping the laptop closed for effect.

You were one of several who kept an eye on the twins throughout the day. Wanda and Pietro pretended not to notice how certain employees just happened to always be in the hallway when walking through. Or the little cameras that were hidden in plain sight among the decorations in their quarters. And that’s not including all the mom aged agents “just checking in” at random times, complete with the sing song voice and overuse of the word “sweetie”.

On any other day you would have followed them into their quarters. Give them a recommendation for the TV and even stay awhile to watch it with them. A chime from your phone changing the day’s proceedings. It’s only a second-long hesitation that announces this change to the twins.

Pietro says your name in a tone different than the one earlier. It’s a tone of concern that snaps your head up at him. Wanda hanging around the quarter’s entryway, staying close enough to be apart of the conversation.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, now with your attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, I just got a…you know, a hot date.” You turn your phone to face him. Not long enough for him to read the entire message but enough to know that you weren’t completely hiding anything “I’ll see you guys later. Brush your teeth before going to bed, I’ll know if you don’t.”

Before Pietro or Wanda could give a retort the door slid shut.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asked the only other person in the room.

Wanda didn’t answer. Rather tilting her head towards her brother. Rolling her eyes when he asked “what? Wanda, what?”

-

Although officially a desk agent there were times the field required someone of your talents. When this happened, all other duties had to be dropped in exchange for an outfit change and a fancy car shared with your accompanying field agent. Natasha has been your designated agent since the first field mission and could now be considered a friend.

It would seem the babysitter had become the baby. Including having your clothes laid and being helped into them before reaching the car.  

“You’re an heiress looking for some expensive decorations and I am your lovely assistant and translator for the evening.” Natasha says, holding the under-suit’s legs open for you to slip into. “We’ll show up fashionably late. You are incredibly rich and important and better than all of them. So, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and try not to say anything, they’re below you.”

Unlike fulltime field agents you weren’t trained enough to go without serious protection. Not just in the form of an accompanying agent but also in a (jokingly called) bullet proof onesie. So, fitting it was essentially a bullet-proof wetsuit that stopped at the knees and elbows. Making the clothes to wear over it something with long sleeves, past the ankles and covers the neck. Sunday school appropriate for this event.

“Can I fake an accent? Like, German?” It was a dumb question for you to ask, but the ride to the gallery was already taking longer than it should.

“Hmm, Let’s hear it.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her phone but still sounded interested.

“Vell-,”

“Stop.”

Very special pieces were being auctioned off tonight. Invite only without any advertisements to say what’s up for grabs to outsiders. Although the windows were blacked out and authorities were paid off (but obviously not enough) supposedly nothing for sale was illegal. But if that were true you wouldn’t have found a seat in the front row.

The language of the night was deeply European. One or two words you could maybe guess what they meant but there was no way you could name it. Nat knew it though; it kept her ears perked to the room and her mouth right next to your ear for most of the night.

First items up were the typical rich people arty stuff; vases and paintings that probably represented something to someone if you squinted. Those went for a year’s paycheck in minutes. It was after the third portrait of some lady now long dead that Nat placed a hand on your back, just below the neck.

“Next up is ours,” she whispered. “you’re doing good and you’re doing great.”

The entire night was spent with better manners than an office setting could ever be. Back straight, eyes forward, and no one is allowed to make eye-contact. It’s only when the target was wheeled in that your mask was starting to slide.

Genuine HYDRA blueprints for a titanium prosthetic. White ink on blue paper with decades old coffee stains and tiny tears, spread up and out under protective glass like a butterfly. Although Mr. Barnes had a serious upgrade with the Vibranium he now used. But these blueprints showed just how advance the original was for the time.

Sitting forward as it’s wheeled by wasn’t enough to authenticate the prints. Something you easily communicated to Agent Romanoff with just a look.

It was a bad idea, it called why too much attention, but Agent Romanoff whipped her head towards one of the several employees of the auction. Curling her finger at them to get them over and in her speaking line.

She speaks quickly, and with an edge to her voice, to the employee. With only a few words back that same employee returned to his post and spoke to the next man in charge.

“They going to invite a few of us up to inspect the piece,” Agent Romanoff whispers, “You’re going to have to be fast, we’re going on stage.”

Others in the audience made their way onto the stage when invited. Agent Romanoff ensures that you are somewhere in the middle of it. Heels and heavy shoes making creating white noise for your work to be done.

In all HYDRA’s documents, blue-prints and almost everything else their symbol was hidden throughout it. A little game of where’s the octopus in two places. A large, but translucent, icon covering the center. And a smaller one in the bottom right-hand corner, hidden behind the creator’s signature. Reproductions never had the smaller symbol, but the stains and fingerprints ensured you were right.

Later, during the debrief, you would be lectured about the importance of subtlety and espionage. But how was the look you gave Agent Romanoff any different than how others were looking at their people?

After that (completely natural and not at all suspicious) nod Natasha’s arm was around your back. This was part you were suddenly feeling ill. This was the part your assistant/translator/arm-candy would escort you out with just enough urgency and demands for the bathroom that you’d be gone before everyone was in their seats. Apparently this was also the part a sudden security guard fires twice into your chest.

“Watch your head.” Although not yelling Agent Romanoff’s voice was firm.

It's hard to say which was scarier; the bullets aiming firing for your death or how calm and professional Agent Romanoff was about it all. Although, few rounds were actually fired inside the auction hall.

Agent Romanoff shot an arm out to the first security. Pushing his gun up and inward quick enough to catch his jaw and take him out of the game. Agent Romanoff keeping the downed man’s sidearm for herself.

That was really the only bit of action you clearly saw that night. When things go wrong in the field it’s the agents job to remove their ward from the situation with minimal injuries. As the researcher your job was much simpler; don’t die. “Keep your head down, use your arms to protect yourself and trust your agent.” Was hammered in during field training. With this mantra running over and over you weren’t in the position to watch the mess happening all around.

“Someone, call the police!” It takes a second to realize it’s Agent Romanoff yelling this. In a panicked, almost shrill, voice that practically screamed ‘we’re being victimized!’

With all the guests now properly riled up it was easier to exit the building. Allowing the oncoming mod to carry the two of you out of the building without much more fuss from security. Trying to kill an agent was one thing but killing a rich connected person (or worse their spouses) would be on an entirely new issue.

Someone stepped on your foot. Another put an elbow in your rib harder than the bullets. And a third open hand pushed you, and your agent, right out the door and onto the street. It was only through the strength of Agent Romanoff, and your handling of flats, that this mission could be considered successful.

The blueprints were already being tracked and followed by the time you’re stripped down to underwear. The pretty clothes had to be taken removed, the makeup wiped off, hair undone, and the bullet proof onesie had to be taken away. Simple tank-tops, shorts and a coat were worn on the journey home. By the time it’s all off, and you’re finally walking into the apartment, it shouldn’t be surprising how you looked to others.

“Have a good time?” It takes a second to realize it’s just the roommate asking the question.  

It’s expected that any roommate a SHIELD employee takes on would also be with SHIELD. The two of you weren’t in the same division or even security level part of why living together worked out so well. She was in the know enough to hear you complain but enough in the dark to keep any secrets from getting out.

“Yep, had a real banger of a night.” Although a friend and technical coworker you couldn’t disclose too much about the missions. At least not until the green light is given by the higher ups. Instead, you can only give the people something to speculate about. “Can’t wait to see what the bruises are going to look like tomorrow.”

-

Spoiler alert: the bruises looked like hickeys. Something noticed by Roommate but keeping quiet about it in exchange to heading out early. Ready with the latest thing to share with the office mates.

Just like any working environment gossip is always somewhere underfoot. After being dragged in by someone who couldn’t leave it at home it’s then latching onto everyone who came close enough to hear it. Most ignore it, others listen then forget and others drag carry it further into the workplace. Until researchers leaning against the wall talk too loudly and Pietro catches a few too many words.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asks once the housing area’s door shut. Quickly clearing things up with the use of your name.

“I’ve haven’t seen them yet.” Wanda doesn’t care enough to close her book but does enough to look up.

“No, yesterday. Before they left, someone messaged them. Who was it?”

Wanda shrugs and returns to her book, but there’s a smile there.

“You know who it is,” He says, now on beside her. “Tell me.”

“I can’t say for sure,” She’s smiling again. Only a slight glance at Pietro. “but I think he may be very handsome.”

The siblings argued as siblings do. With Wanda teasing as sisters do. All of this could be heard before you even made it to the door. Standing at its threshold to listen as the two go at it.

“Natasha will tell you the same, Pietro.” Wanda says, probably aware that you were in hearing distance. “And she says he can do more than simply be handsome.”

Although you say nothing Wanda grins at you.

The gossip overheard is just words without evidence. Just enough to get Pietro thinking but not enough to create any serious emotions. But the “evidence” to create those emotions was now standing in the room. Small marks darker than your natural skin was peaking out from the lower neckline.

To you, they were simple bruises, nothing worth trying to hide, even something to brag about to the other desk workers. To Pietro it was marks of another person, something that pursed his lips and marched away from. Doing so slowly, to be sure that both you and Wanda were aware of how upset he was.

“I missed something.” You say, setting everything down on the counter.

Wanda has a habit of sneaking into other people’s minds. The mission, the shots and the everything was slowly being filed through in the back of your head. A pressure at the base of your neck screaming that there was an intruder.

“Stop it.” You snapped, but Wanda only smiles back.

 “How was your ‘hot date’?” She finally asks.

“Is that what he’s…sonofabitch. Pietro!” There are only three rooms in this section of the compound. One being Wanda’s, another Vision’s and the third Pietro. Making it easy enough to find the pouting grown man.

“What?” He asks upon your entering.

There isn’t a response on your part for moment or two. Spending that time going to the room’s corner. Standing on tiptoes to find that switch that definitely doesn’t exist on the camera. Shutting it down for the time being before turning to start your explanation.

“You can turn that back on.” He says from his place on the bed. “There’s nothing bad we need to talk about.”

“So, you don’t wanna hear about how I was shot in the tit?”

Manners were out the window at this point. Pietro openly looking towards your chest. Back up to your face, and back down to your chest. “You were shot? They look more like…”

“They’re not hickeys, I was shot a few time through a suit.” Frustration was starting to build up. It was overflowing when you finished with “You really should know about being shot.”

The hurt on his face screamed. He didn’t look away but stayed staring forward right at you. “Pietro, I’m so…I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It hurts,” He says. “Being shot, it really hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Even as you walk around to sit beside him Pietro stares at where you were. Listening to your apology but not saying much else. Until he dares to lean against you. Something more than cuddling with a friend this time around. “I get it, I get you’re scared and all that. And I really like you, Pietro, I like you more than I am allowed to.”

It’s hard to say who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. It was happening, and it was so much more than a something between friends.

“When that camera comes back on this didn’t happen.” You say in a moment of separation for air.

“What happens when the camera goes off again?” He asks, thumb rubbing over the bruise.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (1)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

Inspired by Unforeseen Mayhem by Aerugonian 

Here is their tumblr (all their work is so good)

(NEXT)

...

Kakashi thinks he might have died. He remembers the flash of steel and Obito’s face or maybe it had been Madara. His memory of the events leading up to the attack are hazy after receiving one too many hits to the head. What he does remember is the slowly spinning, hypnotic red of a Sharingan, and the quick build-up then explosion of chakra.

Then there was excruciating pain in his left eye and…darkness…

…

Kakashi opens his remaining, usable eye to gaze up at tall angled structures that stretch into a grey overcast sky. He can’t feel the left side of his face, his limbs are numb and unresponsive, and there is the damp of blood soaking through his hair. The bone-deep ache of chakra exhaustion is so all-encompassing that he can barely lift his hand let alone stop the bleeding. Around him, there are several people yelling in shock and surprise. Civilians he vaguely notes as he clings to consciousness. There is no sign of Madera, Obito or any of Kakashi’s allies for that matter.

When his vision dims for a second time he thinks that this, this would be his last breath. Alone, severely injured, in a foreign location and with only civilians as help? It was a death sentence.

He is wrong in the end.

…

Kakashi wakes up in a strange hospital bed surrounded by the strangest people he has ever seen. He also wakes up covered in bandages, his more serious injures either treated or in various stages of recovery.

The air is dry with a distinct lack of chakra. It is something he would usually only see in a prison cell made to contain dangerous shinobi in which chakra draining fuinjutsu arrays were applied to the walls and floor. There are no fuinjutsu arrays here. This is not a prison cell. For one, there is a large window. Secondly, there is a constant stream of doctors, nurses and other patients moving in, out and around the building. Finally, the door to the room is not locked. It doesn’t even have a lock.

After memorising the comings and goings of the people working in the strange hospital, he takes some time to scout. Even while injured and drained of chakra, he has enough skill and experience to avoid the workers and other sickly people he shares his room with.

 The world outside his window is one of cement, concrete and brick, with tall imposing structures covered in reflective glass standing higher than any building he has seen before. The closest point of comparison he has are the buildings in the Hidden-Rain and Stone villages but even those are a loose approximation. The hospital is both similar to Konoha’s main hospital, abet a lot bigger and full of strange equipment and technology. The people, despite their lack of chakra, display odd and inconstant abilities, techniques and physical deformities. One of the doctors has a lizard tail and he catches a glimpse of a man with a wooden block for a head. He sees a woman heal a cut with a simple hand wave. Either he is in an unusually elaborate and detailed genjutsu or he is very far away from Kohoha.

Everything is so odd and strange that he is well and truly stumped, leaving him with nothing else to do but quickly return to his hospital room. At least the weird chakra-less people are non-hostiles and willing to provide much needed medical attention. Though he is, as of yet, uncertain about the purpose or motive behind said medical attention seeing as he was a complete unknown to them.

After some consideration, Kakashi decides to wait. He has no idea how he ended up in the place aside from a loose theory that involved his still healing Kamui Sharingan. Additionally, there was no use trying to get back home with stab wounds, his leg broken, his ribs cracked, his shoulder muscles torn and his chakra levels so pathetically low that he’d probably kill himself if he tried.

He takes solace in the fact that his presence, while probably missed to some extent- he likes to think so anyway- wouldn’t impact the outcome of any major conflict. With Naruto’s stubbornness and Sakura’s tenacity, home would be waiting for him, even if he took a bit of time getting there.

…

After a week of information gathering -ie pretending to be unconscious and listening to conversations- Kakashi concludes that the people operating the hospital are relatively harmless. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that Kakashi is a citizen of their village and thus automatically entitled to medical attention. This is despite his lack of identification or history with the place. Such a thing would never happen in Konoha as even civilians were carefully monitored and tracked. Without identification or relatives/friends to vouch for them, a civilian would more likely be thrown out of the village than given what was surely resource-consuming medical treatment. It is lucky for him that there are apparently so many civilians in this village that their shinobi-equivalent forces couldn’t properly keep track of them all. Another point in favour of it not being any sort of hidden-village or any place he was familiar with.

 “Oh, thank goodness!” Says the greying, middle-aged man in a white coat as he approaches Kakashi's bed, “You’re finally awake. How do you feel.”

“Ah…a bit tired,” Kakashi plasters on a confused smile, raising his undamaged hand to rub the back of his head, hunching his shoulders for good measure. The perfect image of a disoriented patient.

 “What happened? Where am I?”

There was only so much he could achieve be pretending to be unconscious and snooping around at night. It was time to get a real feel for residents of this strange place and figure out his next move. This meant integrating into the local culture.  

“No need to worry. You’re in Hosu General Hospital and you’re well on your way to recovery,” A nod and the doctor moves forward to stand beside his bed, “A little drowsiness is a normal side effect of the pain medication we have you on. Now, if I may have your name?”

“Kakashi.” If they hadn’t recognised the Sharingan when they had bandaged it up, then they most likely wouldn’t recognise his name either.

“Well, Kakashi,” The man says with no hint of acknowledgement, “My name is Wada Yasutoki and I’m here to make sure you are recovering properly. Can you tell me if you are feeling any discomfort or pain at the moment?”

“Hmmm…my arm and leg?”

“Would you be able to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10?”

Kakashi thinks for a second and shrugs, “3.” Honestly, he only notices the pain when he’s consciously paying attention.

Another nod and Doctor Wada fusses about, examining the bandages around his shoulder and then his leg, “Well, they seem to be healing as well as any broken limb, maybe even a bit faster. And the stab wound near your chest is almost completely gone.” A thoughtful hum follows the statement. “If not for your left eye I would say you had a healing or regeneration quirk…hmmm…maybe a passive healing factor linked to your quirk…?” Wada looks to him, waiting for confirmation and Kakashi shrugs. From his nightly snooping he knows that ‘quirk’ is the term for the bloodline ability things the people here had.

The Doctor doesn’t press the matter instead asking, “Is there any discomfort in the left side of your face?”

“No.” Kakashi doesn’t want the people here touching his eye any more than necessary. The fact that it is draining charka at its usual sluggish rate was a sign that it was, at least, somewhat functional and that’s good enough for him. He guesses he should be thankful for landing in a place with medicine advanced enough to save it.

“You had us concerned when you didn’t wake after we saw to all your injuries,” The Doctor continues, “Your left eye took quite a bit of damage and we were worried that there might have been some sort of brain injury. If you feel dizzy, lightheaded or confused please, do not hesitate to call a nurse.”

The man shakes his head and sighs, “Now, I understand if you want a bit of space after going through such a traumatic event but if you could provide any details concerning the predicament that ended with you so badly injured it would be a great help to the investigation.”

Kakashi gives a faked confused hum and smiles apologetically, “Sorry Doctor Wada. I'm having trouble remembering much of anything really.”

“Nothing? No details about the potential assailant at all. What they look like? Their quirk?”

“No. Where is Hosu General Hospital by the way?”

His bland expression obviously causes his doctor some concern as he is subjected to a penlight being shone in his uncovered eye.

 “It is located in Hosu City, a ward of Tokyo. Where is the last place you remember being?”

The names mean nothing to him.  Kakashi schools his features into one of complete confusion, “I don’t remember.” 

It’s not even a lie this time. 

After the admission,  Doctor Wada only grows more concerned and Kakashi is subjected to many reassurances that it is completely normal to forget a few things after a brain injury and that he shouldn’t worry himself too much. The level of comforting and reassuring is a bit much if he is being honest. Never before has he longed for the cold frowns of  Konoha’s medic-nin.

“I’ll have to schedule you in for an MRI. If you’re having trouble recalling basic facts alongside your long-term memories, then there might a serious problem.” The older man finally concludes, having run through an extensive list of questions regarding Kakashi’s history all of which he answers with vague half-truths.  Where did he grow up? Somewhere with a lot of trees. Did he have any close relatives? He thinks they might have died when he was little. What does he do for a living? Commission work. Did he have any colleagues? He doesn’t know where they are. So on and so forth.

“It’s a shame your ID and phone were missing when they found you. Stolen by the bastard who put you in this situation no doubt,” the Doctor sighs again, “We might have been able to track down your records. Oh well, we’ll do our best with what we have.”

Kakashi doesn’t speak, pretending to be deep in thought. Mentally, he pats himself on the back for an infiltration gone surprisingly well considering his lack of preparation and the flakiness of the ‘sorry I don’t remember my backstory’ excuse.

“I don’t suppose you remember anything about your quirk,” the doctor asks, “Ocular quirks can have odd effects on brain activity and ability to process information. It might give us a place to start.”

From what he had seen, ‘quirks’ tended to have a specific function but he is still trying to figure out their limits. All he knew for sure was that none of them used chakra.

“It’s called the Sharingan.” He offers to see what the doctor does with the information, “I don’t remember much else about it.”

“Hmmm, ‘copy wheel eye’…it’s a descriptive name at least. Maybe a quirk that deals with memorisation or information recall. I will see if I can find it on the Quirk Registry. Hopefully, that will be enough. ”

Kakashi nods loosely in agreement, filing away the fact that there was a Quirk Registry for later contemplation. 

(NEXT)