#and after they leave she scowls at a puddle and the puddle starts to boil

[pyreshe]

smth abt livvy's st.ranger th.ings verse which i think SO MUCH about; she and el do not really interact at all during s1. they get close a bunch of times- livvy pounding on the wheeler's door demanding to be told what they know and el scrambling to hide, her coming around and mike taking el somewhere else. the party doesn't trust livvy enough with the knowledge of eleven. even when el comes to the middle school, livvy and her do not interact- they just manage to miss each other.

finally, livvy follows them into the school that last night and after the lab sends its armed agents, livvy reacts before she can think; she conjures a wall of flame that reduces most of them to ash and leaves their half-melted weapons to clatter uselessly to the floor. lucas is the one who catches livvy before she can hit the ground, her expression dazed and blood dribbling from her nose down to her chin, but el is the one who looks at her with something like reverence, who brushes the curls from livvy's face and softly declares; "sister."

[damienthepious]

tuesday vibes are Cuddle Sleepily

To Be Inside Your Arms

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Post-Episode: s02e36-41 Second Citadel - The Battle at World's End, (literally directly post. so like. yeah), Early Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Awkwardness, (they're trying), Literal Sleeping Together

Summary: They went somewhere to talk, but that talk is honestly going to have to wait until they aren't so completely drained.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, to the point where I tried to start it like... five different times. I literally have like Five different half-paragraph openings for this exact pseudo-conversation, and this one FINALLY stuck. They're all... very new at this. Also? Yes, I know we just finished s3 and here I am writing DIRECTLY post s2 content, but consider: I Want To.Title from the song Parallels by Big Thief.

~

Lord Arum brings them somewhere safe, after their duel, after their song. It is a small structure, nearly impossible to distinguish from the plants surrounding it until Arum points it out, pressing on one particular knot in the wall of thick, woven-together vines and prompting a hidden door to swing open for them and reveal a small, cozy sort of space.

Rilla helps Damien out of his armor after they close the door of the little bark-walled hut behind them, and they clean off the worst of the grime, the tears, the mud, the blood. Rilla sets Damien's arm properly, and the lizard pretends not to keep a concerned eye on them as he starts a fire in the clay hearth, putting water to boil for tea. Rilla splints her poor ankle as well, batting Damien's hands away when he tries to help, and when she finishes she sighs with such weariness that it cuts through to Damien's heart.

Arum frowns, then, watching Rilla's face, the purpling shadows beneath her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, and then the monster extinguishes the fire before the water comes to a proper boil.

There is a pause before Rilla notices, which is even more damning evidence of her exhaustion than anything else.

"What, change your mind?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I did, in fact," Arum rumbles, looking away. "We won't be needing the tea to accompany our conversation. There is no productive conversation to be had while the both of you are in such sorry states."

"S-sorry?" Damien manages, his voice going high, and the monster's frown deepens, the frill at his neck raising just slightly, in anger or whatever else Damien does not know.

"You are both injured, and you are both clearly well past exhausted. I would rather hold a conversation with creatures more lucid than the both of you will currently be."

Damien blinks, entirely uncertain what Arum's sharp, uncomfortable tone and his deeply deliberate avoidance of eye contact indicate, but Rilla folds her arms over her chest with something like a smile ghosting across her lips.

"If that's your way of saying that you're worried about us, that's very sweet of you."

Arum growls, still looking away as he pokes at the hearth to ensure that the logs aren't going to reignite. "Don't be absurd," he says quickly, and something in Damien's chest skips at the transparency of the denial.

"Okay," Rilla says soothingly, smiling a little wider. "Right. Entirely selfish reasons, then."

"Entirely," the monster says, still looking away.

"I imagine that you are rather exhausted yourself, Lord Arum," Damien offers.

"Yes, well," Arum straightens, huffing in a way that reminds Damien of a bird ruffling its feathers. "Any day during which one nearly dies or averts an extinction event is bound to be somewhat draining, and each of us have experienced at least one of those two since the sun rose today."

Rilla snorts a laugh, and then- another expression crosses her face, far more serious.

"Thank you, by the way," she says, and Arum immediately winces. "I don't… I don't know that we would've made it out of there, if you didn't tell me... just, thank you." He turns towards her with a rising snarl, but Rilla's smile is awkward and uncertain, and the sight of it makes the angry rattle in Arum's throat stutter off.

He swallows, and then looks away again, his tail flicking. "Don't... don't thank me for- for giving you a chance to clean up the mess that I made, Amaryllis," he mutters, and then he shakes his head as she opens her mouth to retort. "And this is- precisely what I meant. We can argue over culpability and injury and morality in the morning, if you have not changed your minds by then, takatakataka."

Rilla scowls more deeply as Damien considers Arum's phrasing, noting that the lizard only suggested that they might change their minds. Apparently, Arum does not imagine that his own feelings are in danger of any such shift.

"Fine," Rilla relents, "fine, fine. Okay. Sleep, then. Is there a bedroom tucked in here or are we just gonna pile up on the floor?"

Arum turns with a grumble, presses a hand against a wide leaf that Damien assumed was simply part of the wall, and the flora swings aside, showing another smaller room.

Rilla grabs Damien's uninjured arm as she passes him, pulling them both along together to follow the lizard.

"Okay?" she murmurs, her eyes cautious, and Damien's heart aches again with fondness, with appreciation, and he squeezes her hand in return.

Arum pretends not to hear them, reaching to light a small lantern with a flick of the wrist (Damien is unsure, precisely, if the monster is using some magic, or if he is simply deft with some small tool Damien cannot see) and then turning to frown in the vague direction of their clasped hands.

"I suppose this will have to do, for the moment," he says, and Damien struggles to bury a smile.

The bed is- not exactly a bed. It appears to be as much grown as the rest of the structure, low to the ground, woven from soft living leaves, with a silk sheet puddled unceremoniously across the bottom half. Damien sags at the sight regardless, his body preemptively relieved at the mere idea of rest, and beside him Rilla exhales an entire lungful of exhaustion herself.

Arum's lip twitches, almost a smile, and then he gestures towards the bed. "I suppose I should... leave you to it, then." He pauses, flicks his tongue in the air as two of his hands brush at his cape and the other two fold stiffly behind his back. "Sleep... sleep well."

Damien's heart twists, sinks, and when Arum glances back towards him again he realizes that he must have made some small, unhappy noise. Rilla squeezes his hand again, more gently.

"Unless you would prefer I stay," the monster says quickly, and then he glances away. "This part of the swamp is not particularly dangerous, but of course I would understand if you should require a- a show of good faith, or-"

"I'd just rather have you here," Rilla says, and the monster snaps his mouth shut.

"I... yes," Damien agrees, his voice feeling small. "I know it has been rather too full a day to finish with a... a negotiation of our positions, together, but- but at the very least, I think, we have agreed that we- we would like to try. To try to- to be, together. If it would not trouble you to-"

"I did not wish to press past your own comfort." Arum winces, makes a rumbling noise in his chest with his frill fluttering, and then he takes another step closer. "That's all. If this... if you do not mind my presence-"

"Oh for Saints' sake," Rilla mutters, and then she simply turns and tips herself over like a falling tree, bouncing to land on the bed with a heavy sigh. "C'mon, already," she says, her eyes already closed as she scrabbles with a hand to snatch the sheet and pull it closer. "Whole point is that we're fucking exhausted, and I'm too tired to pretend that I don't want the both of you where I can reach you, even if we haven't put words on it yet."

Damien's heart swells, Rilla's breathy, lazy, slipping-towards-sleep voice so familiar and safe, even in such a strange place. Arum takes another step closer with a small laugh, his frill settling and his own eyes full of something that Damien recognizes after a moment as fondness. Damien bites his lip, as if that will do anything at all to stifle the size of his emotions, and then he reaches a hand out to help Rilla untangle the sheet.

She grabs his wrist and pulls, though, and Damien doesn't have the presence of mind (or the inclination, truly) to resist, and he stumbles sideways to collapse beside Rilla, yelping as he goes. Rilla mutters wordlessly, tugging Damien closer with one hand and pressing her head into his shoulder, and Damien could not suppress his smile for the whole of the world as he curls his arms around her, settling helplessly against the softness of the bed.

He glances up, over Rilla's shoulder, and Arum-

The amount of desire in Arum's vivid, violet eyes knocks the breath from Damien's lungs. He stares down at them, his hands still fisted tight in the fabric of his cape, his frame held so carefully still, and then as Damien catches his gaze he exhales a breath, his tongue flicking in the air.

Rilla makes another grumbling noise, stretching her other arm - the one not clinging to Damien's back - out across the bed, in the vague direction of Lord Arum, though her eyes do not open again. Damien laughs lightly, and then he meets Arum's eyes again.

Arum hesitates, frill fluttering again, but then Rilla makes another, slightly angrier noise, and Damien draws his hands soothingly down her back with another breath of laughter.

"I very much doubt she will let either of us rest, Lord Arum, unless you come join us," he says, keeping his tone teasing and light, and Arum laughs as well.

"She is... rather stubborn," the monster mutters, fond again, and Rilla finally cracks an eye open to glare at him. "Alright," he shakes his head, "alright."

He follows the grasping direction of Rilla's other hand, slipping onto the bed on the side opposite Damien and letting her draw her palm down his bicep, down his forearm before she grips his scaled hand and squeezes with a contented sigh, finally settling against the softness beneath them.

"Better?" Damien murmurs, his lips close beside Rilla's temple, and she sighs again, nodding slightly.

"Stubborn," Arum murmurs again, draping himself out on the bed beside Rilla, but when he leaves a careful degree of space between them, Rilla rolls closer. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, then tugs his hand to settle over her heart with an impatient huff. "Amaryllis-"

"Shush. We're sleeping. Want you closer. Manage feelings in the morning."

Arum glances over her head with a raised eyebrow, and Damien smiles helplessly, and then he- he decides that Rilla is right. He shifts closer as well, folding himself along Rilla's back and wrapping an arm around her so he may do as he wishes, and curl his hand around Rilla and Arum's own, clasped by her collarbone.

Arum exhales, shaky with a hint of a rattle at the back of his throat. "Ridiculous," he mutters unconvincingly, and then with his free hand he reaches and tugs up the sheet, arranging it to rest properly over all three of them before he settles.

It feels... easy, Damien realizes with some surprise. The complication, the tangled web woven between all of them, the friction and lack of understanding and the fear (or worry, at the very least); it will all return with the morning, Damien suspects.

Right now, though. Right now, in this moment, in the haze of exhaustion but with the assurance that they are all three of them together, whole, and safe, finally safe- that they are willing to look each other in the eye and speak their hearts, that they may rest upon each other, may tangle their hands between them-

It feels easy, to brush his thumb across Rilla and Arum's knuckles, twined together. It feels easy to let the weariness carry him deeper, closer to slumber, tucked warm beside his forever-flower and Lord Arum.

With time, Damien thinks, and with patience, perhaps they might make all of the troubles between them feel easy, as well.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 45: Grim Defeat

For once, Sirius' shock was so much he didn't even notice the change of scenery, including the sleets of icy water now poring down on him. He just stood there, quaking in one spot, gasping again and again, "I, I'm sorry, I-"

"Sirius!" James finally broke into his line of sight by shaking him, honestly it was a miracle he could see where he was going. His hazel eyes weren't even visible behind the rain smeared glasses, his unruly hair was plastered to his face. "Padfoot, come on mate! Let's get below the stands at least for some cover!"

When Sirius didn't respond, James grabbed his elbow and began physically pulling him along. Sirius stumbled and nearly fell down below, James twirled on the spot and caught him before he could. He kept his hands in place until he was sure Sirius wasn't going to fall over, than caught an even stronger grip on him. Sirius stalled him for only a moment, bending down and picking up what he'd slipped on, nearly lost in the pounding torrent, the purple book. James nodded in understanding, the two now galloping down and underneath the stands where Remus and Peter were waiting, bouncing uneasily on their toes and huddling close under their robes for whatever warmth they could.

"Pads, you okay?" Remus still had to speak a bit louder than normal to be heard, especially as thunder rolled not to far in the distance. "We saw you just standing up there for a whole minute."

"Yeah, we know you're sorry, alright," James clapped him on the shoulder, his face looked scrunched and almost painful between the chattering teeth and his eyes squinting to focus on anything. Sirius just blinked, he hadn't realized he'd still been saying it.

"Really mate, there's ah, there must be some logical explanation for this," Peter tried to reassure.

Sirius couldn't think of anything to say to that. He hadn't even bothered to shake his hair out of his face, it looked like a shaggy mess dripping down all around him.

"Oh, I spot Regulus!" Peter suddenly yelped as a distraction. He was nearly falling down the steps, eyes scanning for some way to slip beneath the bleachers. Peter darted out this time to snag him and tow him inside. He was ghastly pale and looked like a drowned victim, but at least his black eyes were alert.

"Thanks," he panted, taking in their surroundings. "This must be some kind of sick joke," he sighed, turning back to look just as a flash of lighting captured the sky. "We finally get put into the Quidditch stadium, and this madness is happening!"

"Guess we'll have to wait a little longer to get back in the air," James sighed in agreed disappointment.

"Seen the other three about?" Peter asked, trying not to poke his head too far out into the icy rain to scan for them.

"Yeah, opposite end of the field, they were ducking out of this just fine," Remus reassured, finally dragging his eyes away from Sirius, but going right back to eyeing him as he still said nothing.

"Sirius, you're scaring us," James finally whispered.

There was still water leaking down from overhead, steady drops dripping and plopping on exposed skin, trickling down their collars and leaving them just as shivering and miserable. The four of them kept swiping at themselves every few moments, shivering to try and keep themselves warm, bundled close to each other, except him.

"We can't pretend this isn't real anymore," he finally managed in a croaky, unfamiliar voice. They would all swear he'd been standing in that rain for years, his face gaunt, eyes focused on nothing. "I, I did something. I, I tried to-" he turned wretched eyes to his best friend. "Prongs, I'm sorry."

James could swear his breath was misting around him, but he didn't even notice as he returned as calmly as if this were still about the weather. "There's nothing to be sorry for Sirius. You haven't done anything, nor will you. Not while I'm here for you."

There was a spark, like a light suddenly got turned back on inside his gray lit eyes. Then he blinked and it was as if nothing had ever happened. It was as simple as that, he shared a smile with him and nodded, clutching the book with new life. "Right then, let's get out of this mess shall we?" He cracked the book open and began reading like it was any other, despite the black words smearing slightly, though his brows ruffled and a slightly unpleasant smile returned as he got out the chapter title.

"Grim Defeat? Blimey, must be Harry's first loss in this mess," Remus shivered, still sidled up as close to Sirius as he could, fighting the urge to stuff his hands in Sirius' pockets for warmth, they weren't doing him any good chasing away the goosebumps.

"If one person on that team gives him grief for it, I hope Harry pulverizes them," James scowled. "This will be a nightmare of a game."

"I hate Quidditch!" Even shouting at the top of her lungs, Lily was barely heard in the sharp sounds of the pattering water. She pushed her sopping wet hair out of her face, which looked nearly black hanging around her.

"Normally I'd like to say otherwise," Alice tried to say between chattering teeth, wrapped in Frank's arms and still shivering as hard as anyone. "On this particular occasion though, I feel compelled to comply."

"Still wanting to try out for the team next year love?" He managed to ask in her ear.

"Let me get back to you on that," she managed a genuine laugh. Lily couldn't help but smile at the two, the temperature just a few degrees warmer she was sure just for the air between them.

The three heard quite clearly the school being corralled into the Great Hall while a search for Black went down.

"Did you see his face?" Alice knew it was pointless to whisper in this downpour, but she couldn't help it. She had to clear her throat twice before trying again in a more stable voice. "Just before we got sent here, when he realized it was him who'd done it."

Frank and Lily both had stoic expressions, but she swore she saw the unease plain in their eyes.

"I think we're being too harsh on him," Alice insisted, trying to bring their hesitation further out. "He hasn't done this yet, and this future's clearly getting to him."

"I just don't know Alice," Frank sighed, brushing her dark hair away from her face repeatedly in the gale winds. "I can't feel safe in a room with him now because of all this, I can't get it out of my head. I'll take this," he needlessly gestured to the ink black sky and another roll of thunder crashing in, nearly shaking them out of their boots, "than be stuck in an enclosed space with no way out."

"It would help if he'd show a little remorse," Lily sniffed, purposefully this time, as she kept sniffling just to make sure her nose was still attached instead of frozen on the ground. "Instead, he just gets this look on his face, like he's daring us to tell him to do it or something."

"We've hardly been around him since we found out, and I still remember his face when we first heard," Alice tried to insist. "Come on Lily, I know you've got bad blood for him and his lot, but-" she broke off as a fork of lightning looked as if it was going to tear the sky in half, and she shivered harder than ever for the bone deep cold around them all.

For the whole of Sirius running through the kids discussion of the events, Sirius felt almost normal about it all. Yeah, this would be exactly what he and his friends would be doing during that time, making up wild theories! He effectively pushed this bizarre behavior of some future of his as far away as he could for now. It's not as if he'd done anything...surely his friends were still right and there was a huge misunderstanding...well until then, he had Quidditch to focus on!

Wood was being a maniac about the whole thing, which was entirely understandable. Sirius looked up and around to mock James for this, he just knew his best mate was going to be just as bad when he made captain!

Then he spotted Peter and Regulus, pacing back and forth to keep warm and chatting quietly, snickering even.

He put up with it as long as he could, but then his frustration boiled over when they found out Moony was skipping one of his lessons, and Snape was taking over! He snapped the book shut and decided he needed a break, leaving James and Remus to mutter quietly to each other with worry as he stormed over to the pair for a distraction.

"So what are you two on about? Regulus, if you're trying to sweet talk Peter into giving away our Quidditch secrets, it's going to take a lot more sweets than this," he smirked.

Regulus gave him a look of pure disdain and marched off, Sirius swore he even stomped in a few puddles as he went around a bend and vanished into the gloom.

Sirius stood there for several moments, glaring after him. That hadn't exactly been his goal, though he should be happy, now they could worry about what Snape was doing in private. He couldn't help it though, he turned to Peter with a look of absolute bafflement. "How do you keep-" he waved vaguely to where his friend and his kid brother had been laughing of all things. He couldn't ever remember making Regulus laugh, and he was the funniest person that little shit knew.

"Sirius, you've been ignoring him long before all this started, it's not my fault I'm actually enjoying making someone laugh." Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Peter cut to the throat and said what he knew was really bothering him, "it's not as if you've been the best influence. I figured I'd try while I could to show him not all Gryffindors are terrible."

"You're being a terrible mate right now!"

"For, telling the truth?"

"Yes, no, wait...dammit Peter, just say something to make me feel better or I'll go find James or Remus."

Peter shook his head in disbelief at his dense friend as he spelled it out for him while keeping an eye on where Regulus had vanished. "Try being nice to him."

"I did," Sirius protested.

"Yeah, sporadically! Great job there Pads," Peter rolled his eyes. "You just insulted his Quidditch ability, like you two are on good terms, which you're clearly not. I know you were joking," he quickly tacked in for the flush of color managing to come in to his frozen face, "but I'm honestly not sure he did. You could have followed him just now and we would have joined you. You could have congratulated him on helping me prank you instead of continuing to ignore him. You've had an abundant opportunities and you still seem far more invested hanging around Moony now you've got him back than bothering to try connecting with your brother."

Sirius toed the weeping ground without looking at him now, stuffing his hands in his pockets and amazingly not having a response for that.

"Why do you suddenly care anyways?" Peter asked with surprise, in all the years he'd known Sirius, he hadn't even mentioned he'd had a brother until the day he was sorted. Sirius hated talking about anyone who shared his last name, so this sudden interest in him was quite odd.

"I, he," Sirius blustered for a moment. "At least before when I could ignore him in a whole castle I could pretend I didn't know what he was turning into, now it's in my face! I, I mean, it won't kill me to try and fix him while I've got the chance."

"Fix him?" Peter demanded. "Well you aren't starting off well mate, thinking you can turn him into you. What do you even want from him? If he never laughs at a word you don't like again, will you go back to ignoring him?"

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth again without response.

Peter just nodded, his point made, and sauntered over to the tense conversation between the last two Marauders.

"-but he might!" Remus' voice sounded like the shriek of the wind, his dark green eyes wild with panic. "Who's to say Dumbledore didn't tell all the staff! Merlin, we already know he knows thanks to Sirius-" Who winced and muttered another apology for that recent slip, but for the first time since it happened, that wasn't what Remus was focused on. "I can't believe I even got this job, he's probably told the whole world by now!"

"Relax Moony," Sirius threw his arm around Remus at once, letting his hand rest protectively on his neck. "Doesn't matter what Snape does for an hour in your class," he emphasized the last two words. "Those kids love you, Harry's made that clear, and they're a bunch of teenagers who already hate Snape. No matter how many snide comments he makes, no one's going to think twice about it."

"Yeah mate, just got to treat it like another day, except instead of sitting in the back with us, you're teaching the class," Peter said eagerly. "Brush it off, laugh, pretend you have no idea what's going on, or all of the above."

"Dumbledore didn't spill your secret now, he's not going to do it then," James agreed at once, picking up his earlier point. "If some like McGonagall still know, than those are the only people who will know! Not that it matters," he finished with a hard smile. The protective flare for both of his friends, simmering just below the surface constantly lately for how attacked they felt, was reaching its boiling point.

Remus swallowed uncomfortably still, but finally nodded. There was nothing for it, they had to get through this to get out of this blasted weather. Sirius had to release him and put both hands back on the book, and he instantly missed the warmth, his confidence wavering again at once. He swore he could still hear the echoes of the screams from his youth playing on a loop in his head, his father shouting, his mother screaming, the pain from that bite the most vivid, all because Snape had to fill in his role as teacher for the day.

At first Sirius seemed to be right though, despite his snide comments, none of it was particularly new to any of them. They seemed to get through half the class with just his crude critiques before he declared today's lesson. The four of them went very still, hatred for what that slimeball was doing leaving them breathless.

"Come on Lily, you've got to admit it's kind of harsh," Frank insisted to her defense. "He is skipping around a lesson plan I have confidence Lupin would have set up."

"So he's pushing them a bit, some like Hermione have surely studied ahead. I'm sure he, ah, does it in his own class all the time," she crossed her arms and hopped in place, though this did nothing to help either her understanding of more brutal tactics by him or the still declining temperature.

"I don't particularly care for his teaching methods to be put in other classes," Alice returned coldly, words even icier than the little icicles hanging beneath the stands now.

Lily grimaced and muttered a soft apology as she remembered all that had been done to Neville, then she blinked back tears and repeated herself in a stronger voice. "I am, so incredibly sorry for him, for how awful he is to your son-"

"You haven't done anything," Frank politely cut across her. "You've been apologizing for him for the past year Evans, if not longer, how long are you going to keep doing it?"

Lily brushed across her face, trying to make it look like she was batting more hair away than the hot tears before they froze in place. She had no answer for him, though she needed one, soon. If she didn't get some sort of explanation for Sev's behavior through this, she didn't know what she was going to do.

"I can't just, judge him because of this future!" She pleaded with them to understand. "He's still my friend in that castle!"

"Yet you seem to find it inevitable this is Black's future," Alice said pointedly.

Lily deflated and shuffled back from them a few feet, the flash of shame at her own hypocrisy finally causing her to give in to the sob bursting from her throat.

Regulus listened to the story progress alone now, mostly tuning out the petty drama Snape was causing in the class, but suddenly very interested in Ron sticking up for Hermione. It wasn't an unheard of thing, Slytherin's had to stick up for each other all the time against the rest of the school it seemed, they all had to band tightly together or be picked off. The difference was, these were Gryffindors, who had plenty of options.

Honestly, Harry's friends baffled him, they had plenty of opportunities to go be friends with others and Harry seemed their only unity. Yet here the pureblood was, sticking up for that know it all Muggleborn despite constantly berating her everywhere else. He would have liked to put it down to the Weasley's and their blood traitor status just wanting to make some ghastly scene like he'd been taught, but there seemed no motive. Ron in fact got a detention for his little show and didn't even seem angry at Hermione for it. He suddenly wondered if he was missing something between Harry's friends.

They finally got to the pumped up Quidditch match, and Sirius put as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could while reading of this. It didn't much work at first, Harry wasn't having much luck in this game. Thankfully Hermione stepped in and gave them all some interesting insight into a new spell, James's face looked positively gleeful at the idea.

"Prongs, hold off on trying that please!" Peter suddenly said, snatching his wrist as he began twirling his wand in his face. "Remember the last time you tried a spell that you'd just heard of? It took Madam Pomfrey three hours to get your face to flip back right side up."

"Oh, fine," he pouted, finally taking his glasses off and tucking them inside his robes. "They weren't doing me any good anyways," he grumbled. "I'm demanding your robes to clean them off with though in the next place."

"Fair enough," Peter looked highly pleased with himself for getting Prongs to listen and continued with, "hell, I'll give you my whole shirt."

The other three all laughed at him, but then stopped quickly in surprise at another, possible, Sirius sighting.

Of course, they had no proof this black dog being up in the stands watching Harry play Quidditch was Sirius, it could just be another figment of Harry's mind what with that Grim Trelawney told him about being on his mind, but the odds! All four of them were convinced Sirius was indeed hanging around this castle for something...and hanging around to watch Harry play Quidditch was frankly the best option available.

They dared not breathe a word of this, already on tenterhooks about Moony's secret so recently being brought up, their own didn't need anymore whispers. It didn't stop them from sharing smiles with each other as Sirius casually kept going now, feeling absolutely elated at this mention of him.

That was ruined, of course, not a few moments later by the arrival of dementors. Not just one, of course not, it seemed every foul creature that was supposedly guarding this school was suddenly in attendance far above, and the four of them shrunk into each other protectively.

"Why, why haven't they arrived yet," Peter hissed, fighting back the urge to poke his head through the stands and check to make sure they weren't hovering right above them now.

"I, I think they are," Remus stuttered, abandoning any pretenses and finally burying his face into Sirius' shoulder. "I, I've been hearing screaming, in, in my head for awhile now. I, thought it was just," he swallowed painfully, "but apparently, th-they, they're up-"

"Up in the air, where Harry would be after the Snitch," James finished in a diminished voice, hands trembling anyways.

"A good fifty feet away, yeah, let's keep it that way," Peter moaned, the effects of those monsters still lingering on them all the way down here.

Sirius adjusted himself comfortably so Moony didn't have to move, but felt like a detached soul himself as he tried to finish as fast as possible. Whatever magic was keeping them away from those below the stands may not last after all...and things only got worse as they were forced to hear Harry's experience, yet again.

Lily's knees buckled as it all sank in around her, a cascade of water went up around as she lost her fight and sunk to the flooding ground right along with Harry.

"Lily, oh you poor thing," Alice crooned softly, tearing out of Frank's arms and wrapping herself tight around the other girl. The two clung to each other, Lily even sank into the embrace for a moment as she couldn't fight this feeling of isolation anymore, not alone. A stronger pair of arms was suddenly on her other side, and it took her a moment to realize it was Frank. For just a moment, she'd half expected Potter, to pop up in her life like he always did when she least expected it.

They weren't even halfway through this chapter in Harry's life yet, and somehow it all kept growing worse as Harry woke up in the hospital wing and was told the news of what they'd all grasped. Now his broom was gone as well, and as Sirius finished, none of them could imagine how it could get worse than this.

[horrorslashergirl]

A takeback on a raven. A Shadow Story

Authors Note: History is always interesting and everyone has one. Shall we take a glimpse at the infamous Boston Serial Killer?

Warning: 18+ because of sexual assault, abusive behaviour perhaps and some uestionable themes. Just putting the warning in case.

Words: 1.9k

It was autumn in Boston and the rain just stopped as the preteenagers exited the school, all glad for the ending of the program, looking forward to getting home for the weekend. Everything was peaceful until a little boy was pushed into a puddle from the rain, all his clothes getting wet and leaves sticking to his face.

He looked up at the group of boys laughing and smirking at his form, the books from his satchel fell out into the dirty ground, destroying the pristine white pages.

"Looks like the ugly raven fell off the tree." one of the boys, probably the leader mocked, kicking at the books and throwing them all around the ground covered by the amber leaves of autumn.

The little boy didn't say anything, but he avoided looking up at the aggressors, only for one of them to take his book from the ground and hit him upside the head with it.

"We are talking with you, crow. Hey! What's this?" he asked, opening the destroyed book and looking at the content inside, the group accompanying him and checking what the pages held.

They all began to laugh and the boy felt a heavy force on his head from the obnoxious and obscene sounds the group was making.

"Check this out, guys! Naked women!" the leader said, snorting at the images.

It was actually an anatomy book, very much detailed and nothing improper at all; it was educative, but the low-brains were too blind to actually see, probably couldn't even read the title of the book anyway.

Before they could throw any more insults, the teacher came by them, scolding the group and promising them that she will have a very nice discussion with their parents. The pre-teenagers scowled and looked down at the boy on the ground, rolling their eyes and starting to walk away.

"See you on Monday, pervert!" The leader yelled before stalking away after his group.

"I told you that you should away conflicts, especially with Henry." The female teacher told the boy, getting his books from the ground and handing them to the black-haired boy.

"I-I tried." he whispered, putting his belongings back in his leather satchel.

"Lucas, if you indeed tried you wouldn't have been here. Now, go home. You wouldn't want to be late for dinner." she quickly told him, then walked away, leaving Lucas alone, who slowly got up, whipping the dirt and leaves from his pale cheeks, which had a slight rosy tint.

He walked to the bus station, waiting for the next one since he missed the principal one. At last, this one wasn't crowded with his classmates and bullies, so he could sit in silence until he arrived home. On the long drive, he pulled out his books so that he could inspect them; indeed destroyed, but not completely, although he will have to get all the unwanted mess off and dry them.

He really hated this school, but not because he didn't want to learn or because of homework. The classmates and pretty much every kid was a Buffon, ignorant over the edge and it made him always wonder why he was learning among a wave of monkeys who couldn't distinguish tendons from bones.

"Last stop! We are here." the driver announced, getting off from the seat and exiting the vehicle to be met with the imposing view of his house that looked like something from a Tim Burton art book.

He opened the large gate to enter, stepping on the brick sidewalk and on the stairs to the large mahogany double doors, his tiny hand wrapping around the door handle and pushing the door open, only to be met with the face of his aunt, younger sister of his mother.

"You're late and oh my! You look horrible!" Aunt Mia said, her brown eyes widening and she grimaced at the dirty and disheveled look Lucas was sporting, not like he wanted to.

"Your mother is in the living room, having tea with the ladies of her literature club. If she sees you like this, she will go bonkers." Mia whispered to Lucas, narrowing her eyes at the boy.

"Get your clothes off right now. I just whipped the floorboards and cleaned the carpets. I don't want to see one spot of mud on them." Mia said with finality, moving with the tray of tea tools to the kitchen to refill them.

Lucas sighed, putting his satchel down and tugging on the black vest off, the white button-down came next, a shiver running down his spine at the coldness. He put his shoes neatly on the doormat and unbuckling the belt, tugging his khaki slacks down when he heard a scream.

His amber eyes looked up to see his older sister at the top of the main staircase, looking at him like she saw something repulsive.

"Mother!" Amelia yelled, making Lucas's eyes widen, knowing that this won't turn out to be good.

In a few seconds, not enough time for him to get his clothes and run upstairs to his room, his mother exited the livingroom stopping once her amber eyes laid on him, the other ladies peeking their heads from the living-room, curious and also hungry for something to gossip about later.

Everything happened in a flash of his mother's long black dress and a slap echoed in the gigantic victorian style house.

"You pervert! This is how you present yourself in front of so many ladies?!" Evelyn's booming voice meets Luca's ears, his cheek stinging from the slap, his tiny hand holding the red spot of skin.

He wasn't one to cry, he never cried, just looking down in shame as he heard his older sister snicker and his mother's friends whispering all kinds of things that he blocked from understanding; probably very judgemental comments.

Evelyn looked down at her son with a viper like glare, her amber eyes matching Lucas. He looked up and felt his legs tremble, so as quickly as possible he got his wet and dirty clothes off the floor and dashed upstairs to his room, avoiding his sister's smirking face at the embarrassing moment.

After cleaning himself up and getting dry clothes from his closet, Lucas looked into the mirror of his bedroom, making sure he was presentable, his raven black hair slicked back.

He grimaced at the color; the reason for why he was labeled as the raven or crow.

A knock at his door made him glance to see his aunt, Mia with her lips pulled into a thin line.

"You missed dinner, young man. Also tomorrow you have waltz classes, piano lessons and let's not forget about your homework and also Evelyn told me that tomorrow you will clean the attic. A reminder to never pull a stunt like that again. I saved you some dinner, but don't expect this to be a normal occurrence. You know how important punctuality is." Mia rambled and all Lucas did was listen, because what else was he supposed to do when you're surrounded by women.

He was the only male inside the house; Evelyn, his mother who reminded him of a witch from the fairytales, then his older sister Amelia who looked a lot like Evelyn and Mia, his aunt and younger sister of Evelyn who was responsible for cooking and cleaning, since she hasn't married a rich man like his father.

All Lucas know about his father was that he was rich as his mother stated and he was very fond of literature, one of the reasons the library of the house was mostly used by Lucas. Amelia was too busy following after Evelyn to actually open a book and read, at last, a paragraph.

Lucas followed Mia to the kitchen, sitting down at the table and eating the leftover boiled vegetables and cold steak of beef. He heard Evelyn and Mia talk outside the kitchen into the front entrance of the house.

After he was finished, he washed the dishes and was ready to head back to his bedroom or perhaps the library to find a book to take his mind of the events today.

He was meet with his mother and aunt, all put together, dresses perfectly without a wrinkle, make-up was neatly done to hide the aging and the hair? Not even a rebel lock out of place.

"Mother?" Lucas asked, making the women look at him.

"We're going out tonight, Lucas. There is an important event in town about new investors for the new hotel. We've got invitations." Evelyn said, fixing her fur coat and lipstick in the mirror by the front door.

Of course, they were out hunting new fresh meat or better said a new wallet to get their manicured hands onto.

"I'm no longer with Mr. Gladstone to tie me down so we don't have to worry about anything." Evelyn muttered and Lucas fought the urge to grimace and say something.

Mr. Gladstone as in his father; Evelyn's former husband, now deceased and a loving father as much as Lucas could remember.

The two ladies exited the house and closed the door behind them, not even saying goodbye to the little boy, leaving him in the darkness, save for the faint light coming from the chandelier above.

He sighed and decided to went straight to bed, not even in the mood to read anything. He was tired and not in the mood to do anything at all. He marched upstairs and sadly he had to pass his sisters' door that was wide open, more feminine voices coming from inside.

Amelia was with her friends, probably having a sleepover or just a gathering for doing make-up and their hair.

He tried to be discreet and quickly pass the door, so he won't be observed.

"Hey!"

No such luck.

He looked over his shoulder and saw one of Amelia's friends, long curly hair in a golden color following down her shoulder and mischievous sky blue eyes looked at him.

"You're Amelia's little brother, right?" she asked, making him slowly nod.

Amelia turned from her friends and grimaced once she saw Lucas.

"You again? Stop creeping out of the corners like that, pervert!" she yelled, bopping his nose pretty roughly and making it sting; a normal habit of hers.

"I'm going downstairs to get some snacks. It might take a while." Amelia said and walked out of her bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen.

Lucas was ready to bolt to his bedroom, but he was pushed inside his sister's room by the blonde; his amber eyes looking at the older girls who smirked or whispered to each other.

Lucas was only 10, while his sister was 17 as were the females in front of him.

"Umm...I need to go...My curfew is...." he shuttered, trying to excuse himself, but then he felt the blonde move behind him.

"Awww why in such a hurry? You're too big for a curfew." the girl whispered in his ear, making him blush and gulp down.

Before he could say anything else, he was pushed forward, two girls holding his arms and his eyes widened as he looked at the blonde, who snorted.

"Yell and we will tell that you tried to come upon us." the way she spoke, made the boy shake in fear, not used to what was happening. Sure, he was slapped and beaten up over his hands with a wooden spoon by his mother, but not this.

The blonde started to work on the belt that held his slacks; the gesture finally hitting on what they were planning. Lucas wasn't obvious to this kind of activity; he was very educated, but never indulged in them.

Another girl, a redhead closed and locked the door, giggling at Lucas's scared expression.

"This will stay between us all." the blonde whispered against Lucas's lips.

[serararku]

Dancing in the Sand Finale

The top of Valhaas Barrow boasted one of the best views in all of Thanalan. The clouds had followed the sun to the west, leaving naught but a gorgeous desert sky. The wind was soft and chilly, but steady, flowing across the territory to scrub this place clean of heat. Even though the sun was long gone, the moon and its countless twinkling servants showered Thanalan with a soothing grey light. It was the perfect place and time to reflect on what was, and what will never be. But Era wasn’t up here to think about the what-ifs and have-nots, no -- she was up here to lay a man to rest; everything else could wait.

She cradled Tage’s urn in her hands. He was cremated last year when her heart was still heavy for him before she was close with Zevi, when all she wanted was revenge against the strangers who took him from her. Her numbing confusion had boiled into blistering hatred, but now it had come full circle again; she still wanted revenge, true, but what she wanted most was answers. Killing him just a few days before his rescue meant someone knew she was -- no. She wouldn't go back down that road again.

Era’s gaze fell to his grey ashes when she lifted off the lid. There were no words to be said that weren’t said a hundred times before. She raised the urn out in front of her and waited for the whistling wind to change direction, and then she tipped the ceramic jar over. Tage slipped free from his mortal remains and drifted through the night sky -- ushered to eternity by the wind. She felt nothing for this stranger now, as uncomfortable as that realization came; he was the catalyst for everything that had happened to her in the last half-decade, all starting with that fateful encounter when he defeated her father, and all ending right here. A part of her wished she hadn’t seen Denoh tainting his supper the day before his challenge… but then she would likely be raising his child, confined to a life of breeding; she wouldn’t have left the tribe in search for a defeated Nunh, which means she wouldn’t have rescued Thalen from the brink of death, learned how to use the katana, and meet Zevi. There was a ping of regret for all the suffering she’s both endured and caused… but in the end it was all worth it for nothing else but the Tia in her dreams. Once the urn was empty, Era swung her arm with it for three full rotations before launching it into the air. She was so far up high she didn’t hear it shatter in the desert below, but she didn’t care; Tage was gone for good, and she had shed her final tears for him moons ago.

It was a mess in Valhaas Barrow. Bottles were emptied out and strewn all over the place, with the strong aroma of soap and mint filling every chamber and tunnel. Era descended the great labyrinth to find Mizuna asleep in the corner, her horns adorned in bone jewelry, her face covered in drawings, and halfway buried in a pile of purring kittens. Even in a deep slumber the woman was all smiles -- her fingers occasionally stroking the soft ears of children nuzzling against her palms. Era wanted to wake her up so they could get out of here, eager to reunite with Zevi to hear how his conversation with her mother went, but she couldn’t bring herself to stir Mizuna from her blissful sleep; she would simply have to wait until she woke up on her own.

Then it slowly dawned on her. "Where is Thalen…?" He was supposed to keep watch and help translate for her while she cured the kittens, but he wasn't here. Era briskly walked through the quiet barrow in search of him, but all she found were drowsy tribewives and empty chambers; a twinge of panic bit the back of her neck when her mind raced with the possibilities. "Oh no… did Vahli-?!"

She stumbled into his chambers to find him and her sister Umi entangled beneath their blankets, with a handful of candles clinging to life as they were reduced to puddles along the window. Given the scene and scents in this chamber, it was obvious they enjoyed their fateful evening; but Thalen wasn't here, so away she went.

"Wait." Vahli whispered, moving to pull himself away from his exhausted tribewife. Era froze mid-step and watched him approach, but she kept her eyes above his waist. “I wanted to thank you for doing so much for our tribe. I’ve talked with a few of my wives, and… they seem content with the scaleborn woman's medicines. Without your help… saving our children would be up to Azeyma -- and Azeyma alone. Thank you.”

Era gave him a gentle smile. “I told you I won’t abandon my family. Our tribe is suffering. I know how much you don’t trust outsiders… but if we don’t start trading with foreigners, we’re going to starve to death. You shouldn’t thank me for saving our kittens… and the scaleborn woman has a name. Mizuna Kusakari.”

He thought about trying to pronounce that mouthful of a name, but decided against it. “You’re right. I think with some time I can warm up to the idea of strangers on our lands. Maybe.” He took in a deep breath before glancing back at Umi, who was still sound asleep. “You have been teaching her how to be a better mate. Why?”

“Why?” Era repeated without thinking. “She wants to be the Favored Wife.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he reached up to caress her chin. “You are my favorite.” Era flattened her ears out of reflex and stiffened from his touch, provoking a frown to flash across his lips as he regarded her. “You disapprove?”

“I’ve grown a taste for violence.” She whispered, briefly looking away from him. “I don’t have the temperament to sit around and raise a child all day. The thrill of combat… that rush when I carve my enemies into pieces… it’s the warrior’s way. My place is in battle, not in bed.”

Vahli pursed his lips as he let his hand drop from her. “That’s why you’re so alluring. A wife who can slaughter my enemies by day and pleasure me by night sounds too good to be true.” Slowly he pushed her against the wall, as his hands began to wander. “To fight side by side with a woman like you would be… amazing.”

Era clenched her jaw as she stared at his chest. “We had a deal…” Slapping his hands away from her body would be a terrible idea, but she had nowhere to go; he had her trapped in the corner of his chamber. “You agreed not to touch me…”

A hunger flashed in his gaze when he lifted her chin with one hand. “I agreed not to get you pregnant…” Era closed her eyes when their lips met, her tail twitching rapidly behind her back when he pressed himself against her figure; despite his escapades with Umi he was hardening at an alarming rate -- she had to think of a good enough excuse to leave, but her mind was addled and she ran out of time a while ago. “Come on…” He whispered after breaking their kiss, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to ease her to her knees. “Do that thing I like with your mouth…”

“Stop it…!” Era held her breath and vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Vahli coughing and confused.

He took a step back and blinked at the evanescent cloud. "Era…? What trickery is this…?" He reached out to touch her again, but all he felt was warm air and the stone wall. "An illusion…? Or a dream?" Defeatedly he turned to stir Umi awake to take care of him, but she was already sitting up, with a grim scowl plastered across her face. As soon as they made eye contact she shot up to her feet and stormed toward the exit without a single word.

"Wait! It's not like that-!" He called out, reaching for her arm; with a low hiss she ripped away from his grasp, and through her tears she briefly turned to glare hurtfully at Vahli before disappearing around the corner. He was alone now, with only his thoughts and ruminations keeping him company.

Era was panting by the time she ran to the mouth of the barrow. The last thing she wanted to do was use anything that could be labeled 'magick' to her people, but what choice did she have? She hurt Zevi once by laying with her Nunh, she wasn't about to hurt him again. Not if she could help it. Now all she wanted to do was grab Thalen and Mizuna and put some distance between her and Vahli. "He's still in heat, which means Thalen isn't laying face up in the sand somewhere…" Era thought to herself, looking around for any trace of him. "He's not in the barrow… so he's not risking his life with a tribewife, and he's not dead. That means he has to be with…?"

Phalo narrowed his eyes when he saw a stranger limping up the path. The boys were fast asleep and sore from today's drills, so he was free to leave them here in his domain if he chose to. He was in no condition to defend the Tia, but he grasped his spear anyway, and descended down the rope ladder to stop this outsider from getting any closer. "What do you want?!" He shouted, hobbling over to stand between the stranger and his clowder of boys.

Thalen noticed a flat boulder nearby and promptly approached it. "To talk. Sit with me, will you? And go easy with the yelling… my head feels ready to burst."

"I have no business with you, outsider!" Phalo snarled, bristling to make himself appear as big as he could; but the aging Miqo'te was a shell of his former self, which wasn't that impressive to begin with.

"Outsider?" Thalen repeated, wincing when he slowly descended onto the rock. "All Tia are outsiders in their tribe's eyes. I'll make you a deal, old man." He lifted his hand to reveal that Black Galleon whiskey -- or what was left of it. "Humor me for a few minutes of your time, and I'll let you finish this off. I promise this stuff is leagues better than the rotting milk you normally drink."

His eyes fixated on that bottle, and he licked his dry lips; he couldn't handle fermented milk like he used to. Every time he wanted to get drunk to take the edge off, it meant his stomach would punish him for days by turning his feces into liquid. It had been ages since he was able to get his hands on alcohol from beyond the borders without the warriors, huntresses, or Nunh taking it all for themselves. Unable to resist the allure of a foreigner's poison, Phalo cautiously sat down beside the stranger. "What do you want…?"

Thalen passed the bottle to him and gazed up at the stars above. "Answers. I've never seen a fellow Miqo'te as old as you. Well, not a male, I mean. How have you lived so long without your Nunh killing you over the years?"

Phalo popped off the weathered cork and took the first swig of many; the potion burned like fire down his throat, and filled him with that old familiar warmth. Yet it was almost as smooth as spring water, and easily the best drink he's ever had -- it certainly loosened him up and put him in the mood for conversation. "I was born with a twisted leg. My mother begged my father to spare my life… told him I could serve the tribe well. I could never become a Nunh myself… everyone knew that." His ears pinned to his head and his gaze fell to the sand. "There are ways to rid oneself of… temptation. Between that and a low death in the wilderness, it was an easy choice."

"Fuck…" Thalen took the bottle from him and took a small swig of his own. This man was dealt a terrible hand right out of the gate, but he played with the cards all the same. It was admirable, of course, to devote a lifetime doing his best to make sure all the Tia that came after him had the best chance they could get at survival, but if Thalen was given the same choice -- he wouldn't even hesitate; without his vices he wouldn't make it.

"The Tia deserve better than short lives filled with fear and misery. I can’t give them much… but a little is still better than nothing." Phalo winced when he took another gulp, the black liquor running down his silver beard. "Is that all you wanted?"

Thalen shifted uncomfortably on the rock, wishing he had a soft warm bed to help cope with this tingling ache. "I'm from the Hipparion Tribe. We uh… don't have someone like you looking out for the boys. No Tia Keeper at all, actually. When we get a new Nunh, all the Tia from the previous one are kicked out into the wilderness. Some are still infants… left to die alone and afraid." Slowly he turned to meet the old man's gaze. "I was in my sixth summer when my father was slain. If it weren't for my older brother taking me under his wing, I wouldn't have lasted till morning."

"Tia are forbidden from working together…" Phalo noted, hardening his gaze.

"All these years sending kids out into the desert wastes and you still don't know much about us, huh?" Thalen couldn't hide his smile; this old man didn't know a damn thing about the world beyond his tribe's territory. "There's strength in numbers. Tia know it's wrong but they don’t care -- they just want to live. Like you. Like us." He didn't know what to say. He simply twisted in his seat to glance up at the makeshift hut that housed seven sleeping Tia. "My brother's name was Nolas. Bravest bastard I've ever known, with a heart as grand as the sun. He… Rarku butchered him right in front of me, in the sands not too far from here. Twenty summers past."

"I'm sorry." Phalo flattened his ragged ears as he stared at him, the bottle now with only a few more gulps left. "He was… cruel.”

“I came here with Era to retrieve his bones and weapons.” The younger man admitted. “I’m told you would have them.”

"Your brother’s bones are gone. I’ve been cremating the remains of fallen Tia for sixty summers so their souls can return to Azeyma. He is with the Warden if he challenged Rarku.” explained Phalo. Thalen wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the Goddess, and hadn't been for many summers; he survived this long without her guidance and favor, what's a few more decades? “But I may have his weapons. What did he carry in his final moments?"

"He used a simple iron sword he found when we were still in the Shroud. It had a red bandana wrapped around the hilt. And a wooden shield, split down the center from that glaive." Just talking about it made Thalen feel nauseous -- one of his only regrets was not returning to this terrible place to kill Rarku himself.

The old Miqo'te rose from the boulder and turned toward his hut. "Wait here." He commanded, hobbling back to his domain to leave Thalen alone with his thoughts.

Only anger and regret swam in circles in his head. Yet the man who took the only family he had left from him was long dead. His only reprieve was knowing that sadistic monster was powerless to stop him when he bent his beloved daughter over every piece of furniture in his apartment, and now he had a taste of his Favored Wife too. "Hope you enjoyed the show, asshole." If only Tage was still alive -- he would buy that man a drink any day of the week for putting the Black Butcher into the ground. Even still, Thalen wished he was the one to finish him for good; he must have spent a few hundred bells replaying that scenario in his head to practice what he would tell Rarku. Before he filled him with holes, of course.

Thalen perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. His heart skipped a beat when his gaze fell upon his brother's old weapons. The blade was so worn down it would be a wonder if it could even cut butter, and the once crimson bandana had faded to pink from too much exposure to the sun. The shield was smaller than he remembered, but then again, it was a practice shield designed for Hyuran squires; the cleave halfway down the middle had been patched together with some spare lumber and nails, but the integrity of the shield remained compromised. "I used these to train Tia over the years… I hope you don't mind."

"Wasn't planning on using them to fight." He tried to hide it, but his flat ears and trembling voice gave it away; he missed his brother more than anything else in this world.

"You can cry here." Phalo assured him as he offered the shield and sword. "I won’t judge you."

Through sheer willpower alone Thalen managed to swallow back down his sorrow. "I'll cry when I'm dead." He slowly draped the shield over his back and tucked the sword into the leather sheath he brought along with him. "Thank you for keeping his things. I'm K’thalen, by the way."

"S'phalo." The old man bowed as gracefully as he could. "Find peace and happiness. Any Tia that survives as long as you have deserves nothing less."

"I know you're not supposed to do this, but…" Thalen paused before turning his back to the Tia Keeper. "If you want any of the boys to survive long enough to experience true happiness, send them my way. It goes against Her laws, and yaddah yaddah, but you know what awaits them once they're sent out into the wilderness." He didn't bother waiting for a retort -- he already knew what the old man would say. "Keep the bottle. I need to get rid of the evidence anyway." With a slight wave the Tia descended down the path, half-expecting Vahli to be waiting there to cleave him in half for touching one of his wives. Yet when he reached the barrow, neither the brute nor the harlot was around. "Seems a tribewife really can keep her word."

"There you are!" A familiar voice from a familiar woman barked at him. "Where have you… wha-? What happened to you?!"

"Damn you're loud, darlin'." Thalen retorted in Eorzean, and just like that, his thick drawl and accent returned. "Can a feller drink in peace without all this shoutin'?"

Era ushered a half-awake Mizuna onto the wagon and handed her the reins, but she turned back around to judge him. Loudly. "You look like you were attacked. Did you wander too close to the zu nests?"

Thalen ignored her at first to climb up alongside Mizuna. "Decided to spar with a few Tia." He lied as easily as he breathed. "Last time I go easy on some kids… knocked me on my ass, they did."

Satisfied with that answer, she climbed up to sit down beside him. "Did… did you talk to my brothers? How are they doing…?"

"Better than I was at their age." He rubbed the back of his neck before stretching out to drape his arms around their shoulders. Once everyone was settled in, Mizuna flicked the reins and the wagon began its slow return to Ul'dah -- but for the two Miqo'te, 'as soon as possible' would still not be soon enough. "How're your nights goin'? Good I hope?"

"I released S'tage's ashes, argued with Vahli for a few bells because you stepped up to him…" Era looked up at him with a disapproving side glance. "You could have been killed. You know that, right?"

"What was I supposed to do? Tuck my tail between my legs and grovel?" He scoffed, shrugging. "If that big bastard wants to dance, I say we play some music and get this party started."

"Ugh… if I bring you back, that just might happen…"

"Imagine it… S'thalen Nunh." He chortled. "Then you'd be answerin' to me, lass." The thought of sitting around in that sandbox all day was shockingly amusing, or maybe it was from the Black Galleon Whiskey in his system; when he glanced over to see her roll her eyes at him, she was instead staring at him intensely.

"That… would solve a lot of my problems…" Era hummed, drumming her fingers on the guard railing. "With you as my Nunh, I'd be able to come and go as I please…"

Thalen loudly cleared his throat before turning to glance down at Mizuna. "Anyroad… how were the kittens, Doc? Cute?"

"Cute?" She repeated, blinking slowly. "They were so soft, and warm, and cuddly." The brightest smile she's worn in over twenty six summers lit up her face, almost as if she was as tipsy as the Tia. "We sang songs for bells. I got them to dance with me. Then I told them some stories once everyone was tired… they didn't understand a word I said, but I think they just liked watching me talk. Cute? Yes, K'thalen… yes they were very cute."

"Well… glad two of us had a good time." He smiled, kicking his feet up. "Just a few more bells and we can rent some rooms in Lil'Ala Mhigo before we get ba-"

"When are you and R'zevi going to have a child of your own?" Mizuna asked, leaning forward so she could look at her. "You're both young and in love. What is taking so long?"

"D-doctor Kusakari! Nooo…!" Era began turning strawberry red while Thalen threw his head back and belly laughed.

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​

[writinginthedarkwood]

Oni! Katsuki Bakugo x Reader: More than Meets the Eye.

You shouldn’t be walking around in his territory... the Oni of the mountains has a lesson for you. 

Another edition to my yokai au! All parts are listed in my masterlist which you can find here, if you enjoy this part and want similar content! -> Master List

Warning: NSFW

You took a deep breath and smiled. The air up here is so crisp and clean, the scent of flowers hit your nostrils as you sat down, you noticed you can see where the river disappears into the forest from up here. The tree’s look like one big bush, you thought to yourself and smiled. This was always worth the hike, just to get away for awhile.

“Off to waste your time up in the mountains again are you?” Fathers wife had hissed over her shoulder, not even turning from the vegetables she was chopping. You stood awkwardly for a few moments before stepping towards the door again. “Such an air head of a girl...” She muttered. “What kind of wife would you make, wasting time in the outdoors like a young boy?” She smirked, tossing the cut vegetables into a pot of boiling water. “I’ll tell you what kind of wife. A bad one.” She stirred the hot liquid with a large wooden spoon.

“Yes Madam Mirabelle.” I silently slipped my shoes on. My hand reached behind me for the door knob. “Are you giving me attitude little wench?” She whipped around, you flung the door open and quickly shut it behind you, hearing the thud of the spoon hit the back of the thick door just in time. She was yelling, rattling the window.

You let your feet carry you down the stone pathway out of your little village. By sun down, your father should be home from the market and a false sense of peace will blanket over the house again. You tell yourself you don’t mind, she makes father happy. She even speaks differently when he’s home, her voice a completely different tone.

The breeze brushed your hair over the blush on your cheeks, the sun kissing the exposed skin on my legs. The grass tickled your wrists, the long blades wrapping around your hands as you leaned back on them.

In the distance a beautiful red crowned crane preened it’s feathers by the bank of the river, just down the hill. It’s a bit far, but you pull the leather bound journal from your rucksack and start to sketch the details of it. “I wonder if I could find red ink in the next town overs market, it shouldn’t be too long of a walk...” You spoke softly to yourself, almost humming a little tune.

The beautiful bird spread its wings, taking off suddenly, along with smaller song birds scrambling from the trees. The leaves trembled, and a large oak suddenly toppled over. You quickly stood up to get a better look at what’s causing all the commotion.

A terrible sound, a sound louder than the boom that followed after a tree on your fathers property was struck by lightning. The crashing sound echoed through the entire valley.

 It sounds like an army, how can something be so loud? More tree’s fell, whatever it is, it’s coming this way. Your heart slammed against your rib cage and your flight instincts kick in.

The muscles in your legs stung as the incline steepened, the mountain terrain is getting quite a bit more difficult to navigate the further you run up.

I need somewhere to hide, now!

The cliff ahead had an opening under the overhang, like an entrance to a cave? It doesn’t look like it goes back very far, but it should have a place for you to crouch down and try to hide. You dodged large puddles of mud and used your hands to help sturdy yourself on the ground, practically crawling on all fours. It’s taking every bit of your strength to pull yourself over the lip of the rock and onto the flat surface at the mouth of the cave. Your scurried inside the cool damp space and hid behind a boulder. 

You heard another terrible sound, the crashing thunder before two feet hit the ground with a loud smack, followed by a deep snarl. Whatever it was, it was dragging something large behind it, a sickening dragging sound across the wet rocks. You sat completely frozen, a sharp part of the stone was digging into your back, you didn’t dare move away. 

You heard the light clinking of two flint stones coming together with a small spark, after what felt like an eternity the moving of a pile of wood into a pit, quickly followed by the smell of smoke.

You’d heard stories of great warriors living way up in the hills, their battle cries able to freeze the bravest of soldiers. They posses immense strength, and have a dangerous temper, but nobody really lived up here, wouldn’t we have heard from them before? 

Your legs felt tired from holding your position so long, if whoever is in here is building a fire, surely they would be distracted now, you could slip away.

You shifted your feet just a bit and moved as slowly as possible, working your way to the edge of your hiding place. With a sudden rush of bravery you peered around the edge quickly, only to be met with a pair of blazing red eyes. You screamed and fell onto your back, staring up at a fuming, peculiar looking man with crossed arms. His hair was very vibrant, almost white and stuck out in a lot of directions. His face was angular, and his jaw jut out in a vicious under-bite, his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth curled up into a mischievous smirk.

“So you think you can hide in my territory and hit me with a surprise attack?” The man rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You would never stand a chance, just look at your puny arms! And where is your weapon human? Stand up and fight me like a man!” He shouted, his voice bouncing off of the cave walls. 

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, you quickly covered your mouth with wide eyes. “You dare laugh at me?!” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to your feet. “I’m the greatest Oni to ever walk this disgusting Earth and you will respect me!” 

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “You don’t seem very scary... and you’re burning your deer meat by not rotating it.” You pointed to the carcass he had placed over the fire. It was sizzling on one side, the other completely raw. You pushed past the angry man and turned the deer on the spit, keeping the meat from being burnt. “Hey I know how to cook just fine! You distracted me!” He was yelling still, the echo of his voice in the cave run in your ears. “Well YOU scared me! I was having a pleasant afternoon before you tore through the forest!” You sat down by the warm fire and brush the wrinkles out of your skirt. He stomped over to you and stared daggers into the top of your head. “It’s MY forest and I can tear through it whenever I want!” 

He leaned down and sniffed you, taking a deep breath. He narrowed his eyes and leaned down to look you in the eye. “You smell like the lillies in the river, but I can also smell something...” He scowled. “Disgusting.” 

Your jaw dropped open and you looked away from him. “How rude!” He sat down beside you and you turned your face away from him. “What kind of fowl monster do you live with?” He covered his nose after taking another deep breath. Your face paled, the blood draining from your cheeks. You didn’t move your mouth, or even begin to speak but the Oni knew.

He stood up again and crossed his arms, this time his face was just slightly softer. He didn’t shout but his voice was commanding. “Your trespassing can’t go unpunished, but I do see now that your not a threat, just look at you! Covered in bruises.” He stuck out a hand and set it on top of your head. “I could use another warrior, I’m looking to expand my clan further into the north.” He smirked. “You’d have to stay here and train with me. I’d expect nothing but complete loyalty to your leader!” 

“You want me to fight for you?” You raised an eyebrow at him with a smile. You looked down at your dress and soft hands. Women aren’t supposed to fight, they’re supposed to bare children for their husbands and take care of the home. “But I’m a girl.” You said softly. 

“Some of my finest warriors are females! That means nothing to me.” 

You smiled and nodded, standing to look at him. “Yes sir!”

“Close your eyes. Tell me what you hear, Lilly.” His voice was low and raspy in your ear. Your new name always came as a pleasant surprise when you heard it, almost like you were expecting him to call you by your birth name, but he always refused. The cold winter air was frigid against your cheeks, the sensation of being freezing was almost clouding your thoughts, but you took a deep breath and listened to his instructions. 

“I hear the water under the ice, it’s moving quickly.”

He said nothing, you continued. “Something is trying to cross... It’s too heavy... I can hear the ice cracking.” 

“Good, what is it Lilly? Can you smell it?” You took a deep breath through your nose, the air burned as it traveled through your head. “No I just smell...” He growled, not pleased. 

“Wait it’s... the smell of a deer?” 

You opened your eyes and looked around the tree. A beautiful buck tapped tentatively on the frozen rivers edge, looking unsure of itself. “Should we shoot it?” You reached for the arrow in it’s quiver. Bakugo covered your hand and pushed the arrow back down. “No, this buck taught you a lesson. Out of respect we’ll leave him be.” You nodded in agreement. You caught his eye, the two of you sharing a brief moment of intimacy, just to quickly look away.

That’s how it always was, the touch of your hands brushing against each other when reaching for the same thing, your breath catching in your chest with a simple catch of his gaze. 

But it always sparked for only a moment, then back to normal.

“Are you hungry Katsuki?” You were the only one who could call him that. The rest of the clan hardly dared to call him anything but sir. “I brought bread and cheese along with us. We could take a break for supper.” He leaned against the tree trunk and took a swig from his canteen. The liquid dripped messily down his chin. “I suppose we could just head back to camp, I don’t want to travel without the sun.” The daylight is so short this time of year. The Oni could travel with limited clothing covering them, they’re built much better to withstand the cold. Bakugo never said it, but he never took you hunting at night to keep you from freezing. He didn’t have too, you knew he treated you different than the others. 

You are different, so very different.  

You walked in comfortable silence, taking your time walking toward the line of smoke that signaled you home. The forest felt very sleepy, no birds chirping, no bugs singing. Just the occasional rabbit running through the leafless brambles. “Could you tell me a story about your village Lilly?” Bakugo asked with his stern voice. “Of course Katsuki, what do you want to hear about?” He thought for a moment and stopped walking, turning to you with a familiar grin. “Tell me about that place with the drinks and the music again!” You turned to him with your own smile and a small laugh. “The pub?” He nodded jumping on a snowy rock and crossing his legs. The wolf fur around his shoulders slipped slightly, and he pulled the snout of the animal over his head like a hood, fixing it. This was the Katsuki you knew better than everyone else. A selfish, terrible fighter with countless deaths on his hands.

And a curious and often sweet yokai. 

“Well during the day, you could walk to the pub and order home cooked food for pieces of silver. A beautiful woman would bring it to your table, and you could eat with your friends.” You paced back and forth, telling your story with long drawn out words, the way he liked to hear it. “And then at night, they would light a fire in lamps to keep the building lit, and musicians would play the lute and drums for you to dance too.” You twirled around, your layers of fur spun with your body, your feet gliding across the frozen ground. “Won’t you join me for a dance Katsuki?” You bowed to him, sticking out your hand. The Oni’s cheeks blushed profusely, he shook his head and grunted. “A-absolutely not! I don’t dance!” He twisted his face in irritation. “Oh come on! It’s just the two of us. Don’t you want to pretend you’re in a pub?”

“I have you tell me about the human world so that I can laugh! Not because I would ever want to go there.” He muttered and you rolled your eyes. “Fine I guess I’ll just dance by myself!” You hummed a tune and spun on your heels, you held your arms out like you were dancing with a partner and smiled. Katsuki gazed at you dreamily, your beauty always warming him. He watched you without you knowing, your eyes closed enjoying your fantasy. He longed to rush to you, grabbing you in his strong arms and holding you tightly, but he could never.

To love a human is to die, Bakugo thought. Such fragile, breakable creatures. One push and they could break their bones, some wake up with ailments nobody can explain and they perish within days. To be a human is to be at the bottom of the food chain he thought.

But you, every part of you was hypnotizing to him. Your gorgeous eyes, your bravery. Your wonderful and gentle heart. You were to always sleep in his tent because it was the warmest, you never were sent on raids, he would rather cut off his own leg and beat his enemies with it than ever truly use you as a weapon. But you are strong in your own ways, in just a few short months you’ve turned to the way of the Oni. Traveling with him across the lands, learning to use a bow and gaining skills other humans could never achieve by just spending time with the yokai. 

Bakugo couldn’t just be in love with you, you consume him. Every breath he takes he breathes for you.

You laughed, a sound like twinkling bells, but your giggle cut short with a yelp as you lost your footing on a patch of snow. 

Katsuki burst from his seat, a small explosion rocketing him to you in a flash. He caught you in both arms around the waist, pulling you to him before you could hit the ground. Your body pressed against his chest, your faces just a small space apart. “K-katsuki...” You whispered close to his jaw. 

The Oni panicked and dropped you on your bottom to the ground. You hit the ground with a clumsy thud and you groaned. “Hey what did you do that for!” 

“You need to learn to watch your step! You could have cracked open that tiny skull!” He shouted as he stuck out his hand to help you up. “You still didn’t have to drop me! You can be a real bastard you know.” You rejected his hand and helped yourself to your feet, brushing the snow off of your clothes. “Being a bastard has gotten me far in life! I’m the chief of my own clan, I have plenty of gold and mead. I have everything I want and it’s all thanks to being a cold monster.” He stepped ahead of you, tired of wasting daylight and trudging on. You stepped after him, jogging to stay close to his side. “You can say all that you want that you’re some kind of wicked and evil commander but I know the truth Katsuki!” You teased. He growled and balled his fists, walking faster. “You’re really a big sweet heart!” You poked his arm with a grin. He stopped in his tracks again. “It’s Chief Bakugo.” He said quietly.

“What?” You asked confused. He didn’t look you in the eye, but spoke louder. “I said it’s Chief Bakugo! I’ve been soft on you too long!” He was yelling. You stepped away from him and put a hand to your chest. Not used to him lashing out at you. You’d seen him treat the others that way, but never you. “What are you saying?” You asked quietly, the shock overwhelming your emotions. “I’m saying you need to toughen up! You’re practically useless to the clan at this point and I can’t take it anymore!” 

If someone was there in that small patch of forest, they would have heard both of your hearts shattering like broken glass.

You were silent for a moment. Your brain rushed a thousand scenario's in your head, playing each one out quickly. You could run, use your knew skills to find a new town, never looking back. You could scream in his face, telling him that you wish you had never met him. Bakugo waited for you to do one of these things, he hoped you would, but you chose to do nothing of the sort. 

“What is this really about, Katsuki?” You spoke softly and put your hand on his stiff shoulder. Subconsciously he eased at your touch, your loving hand shooting warmth through his entire body. 

Bakugo felt the anger boil up inside of him and then disappear, he could be angry for days, but something about you pulled out all of his irrational thoughts. He spoke to you honestly. 

“Why do you have to be a human?” His voice cracked. “A tiny, fragile mortal!” He spoke frantically, his voice laced with something you had never heard from him before.

Fear.

“If something ever happened to you, beautiful Lilly.” He touched your hand. It was soft and warm. “I would die.” His eyes glistened with the hint of tears. You smiled softly and touched his face, kissing him gently on his cheek. “You love me Katsuki, don’t you?” His face eased, he closed his eyes and relaxed into your touch. “With every bone in my body, I love you Lilly.” He smirked. “It’s annoying.”

You burst into a fit of laughter and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you too, and if you love me as much as you say, I know you will never let something happen to me.” 

The drum circle played loud and energetically. For one night, the Oni danced with glee under the stars. The warriors had held their weapons to the sky with guttural cries just a few short hours ago, cheering at the ceremony of a life time. Their chief had taken a wife under the full moon, the wolves howling a mile away on the cliff sides in respect. For one of the most feared yokai to ever life, a true master of battle was retiring from war to start a family. 

You sat happily adorned in red paint, and shells strung on fishing line as jewelry around your neck. You were sitting by your new husband, watching your clan mates dance proudly with drinks in their hand. “Who is that over their, Katsuki?” You pointed to a different kind of yokai, one you had never seen before. He wasn’t dancing, rather smiling proudly while displaying his muscles for a few pretty sprites who had joined the party. You were used to the Oni, but so many new magical beings had been appearing lately. “Ah, an old friend of mine. It’s rare he leaves his shrine.” The man had long red hair, it stuck out of his head in a point, and flowed down his back. He had sharp teeth like a dog, or maybe a lion. “Is he Oni?” 

“No my love, he’s a guardian. A Koma Inu.” He tilted his head in the red haired yokai’s direction. “A Lion Dog.” The Koma Inu smiled brightly at him with a wave.

As the night dwindled away, the Oni showed no signs of stopping their dance. 

You yawned as you saw the peak of the sunrise, and leaned your head against Bakugo’s shoulder. He enveloped you in his arms and picked you up, cradling you to his chest. He carried you away from the noise, to a familiar place.

The cave where you first met, just a few short minutes away from camp. He set you at the entrance and you took his hand, walking inside. It was warm in here, a fire already started. He guided you to a plush looking pile of furs, it looked much more comfortable than the straw piles you’ve been sleeping in while camping. You laid down and closed your eyes nestling deep into the pile with a smile. You waited nervously for him to lay down beside you, picturing the deep and passionate kiss you were about to receive.

Your eyes shot open as you heard Katsuki’s steps start to walk away. “Hey! Where are you going?” You asked with a frown. “Aren’t you tired?” He asked with a straight face. “Yes but...” You tried to choose your next words carefully. “It’s our... wedding night...?” You pushed your hair back exposing your collar bones and batting your eyelashes. “Is something in your eye?” He asked. 

You sighed and laid back down, rolling away from him. “What’s wrong?” He touched your back with his foot, giving you a light push. “You’re supposed to join me! We’re married now?” You looked up at him, his face burning crimson. You sat up and giggled, pulling his hands down so he would sit with you. “Katsuki have you ever... I mean, are you nervous?” 

“I don’t get nervous!” He started to spit out, before you pushed him down by his chest. The two of you hit the soft furs with a light thud, your lips crashing down onto his. You tangled your fingers into his hair and he gasped into your mouth. His hands ran along your body, removing pieces of clothing with tearing fever. The shells around your neck were ripped off, scattering across the cave floor. Your breath caught in your throat as he let out a growl into your mouth, his excitement growing and grinding against you. He flipped you onto your back, dragging his teeth across your skin, his sharpened canines trailing a small amount of blood in little nicks on your sensitive neck. You cried out, he gripped your hips harshly and pulled you into the position he wanted. You clawed at his shoulders, egging him on. He was happy to oblige by pushing his length inside of you without a lot of warning. You couldn’t help but moan in shock, your body adjusting to the sudden intrusion. He gave you a moment to breathe, just moving himself slightly, feeling your walls loosen and slick, you relaxed and took a deep breath, blowing the air out in a small o shape. He softly kissed your forehead and began picking up pace. He leaned on his elbow while looking down at you. You held his shoulders and your eyes rolled back into your head as he thrust into your hips hard, pulling himself out of your body almost completely before slamming back into you over and over again. You couldn’t do anything but catch your breath, gasping and moaning in his ear. Bakugo let out small groans, he tried to muffle them by clamping his mouth shut. He started to move faster, his movements becoming unhinged and wild. Your moaning encouraged him. Your climax built, you felt it burning inside of you. With his left hand Bakugo gripped your chin, holding you by your throat lightly. He grinned as your walls tightened around him, he felt your orgasm boil over and explode with a few more pumps. You clawed down his body, squirming and crying out. His mouth slacked and he let out a quiet groan as he finished ropes inside of you, still moving harshly against your throbbing slit. 

The cave was very dark when you woke up, the morning light not quite reaching this end of the cave and the fire had burned to nothing but cinders. You rolled over and happily placed a hand over your soul mates face, he was sleeping soundly, his breath whistling through his bottom teeth. He sleepily threw an arm around you, pulling you close to him and beckoning you back to sleep. You snuggled deep into his chest and thought for just a moment about your old life?

“What kind of wife would you make, wasting time in the outdoors like a young boy?”

A perfect one for an Oni, you suppose.

Did you catch who’s going to be added next to this AU?? He made a guest appearance... I hope enjoyed another fantasy fic! This one has been half done in my drafts for ages... -Bambi

[queenbirbs]

on vengeful seas | Edward Mortemer x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x Elena McTavish

Summary: Another way the night on the Admiral’s ship could have gone. 

Word count: 7.1k+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence, violence against women, mentions of blood, mild (?) torture, sexual harassment, suggestive themes

Note: PB writes the admiral as “the Admiral” when referencing him, which is why I’ve chosen to keep up with that style here. 

+

+

+

Elena wonders how she’s going to explain all of this to Edward. 

She’s sure this wasn’t what he meant by ‘being careful,’ if the glower on the Admiral’s face is anything to go off. It’s hard to keep a straight face, though, what with the wine still dripping from his stupid fucking hat. If he’s such a stickler for etiquette as Oliver claims, why didn’t he take it off when dining with a lady? How disappointed Emily Post would be with him. 

“A display like that, Miss McTavish, warrants a night in the brig.” Picking up a handkerchief, he wipes at his face. A smirk appears when he lowers the cloth. “But we can’t have you and your captain consorting more than you already have. Don’t think we missed that poignant scene between the two of you earlier.”

Her breath feels trapped in her chest. Had he heard their plans? “Take her to the deck.”

Two officers lead her up and out onto the ship. This early in the evening, a few soldiers are still about, adjusting the rigging and sharing a drink. Edward is no longer there, having been returned to the brig while she was mapping out the compass’s location. She can only hope that the Admiral kept his word about having the surgeon look after him. 

“Oi!” one of the officer’s shouts from near the helm. “That’s my wife’s dress!” 

Elena bristles at the shout and searches the deck for Oliver -- who hovers near the group of soldiers, a grimace on his face. 

Liar, she mouths at him, and watches the grimace fold into a sheepish frown. 

“Why’s this pirate scum wearin’ it?”  

“Miss McTavish,” the Admiral croons from behind her, “please return Office Robinson’s present for his lovely wife.” 

“I’ll need my clothes, then,” she tells him. 

“Of course! Lieutenant, fetch her things.”

“Aye, Admiral.” 

Oliver disappears below deck, leaving Elena without even a semi-friendly face. The merriment turns to interest as the men all watch the Admiral circle her like a vulture. He drags his gaze up her form, slow and calculated. Klaxon bells sound in her head. 

“The dress does look lovely on you. I can see how Edward fell for you. It’s a shame, really, your beauty being wasted on a lowlife such as him.” 

He reaches out and runs a hand through her hair, grinning when she slaps him away. 

“You have no right to touch me.”

“You’re a pirate, girl -- you have no rights!” he declares with a boisterous laugh. 

The soldiers and officers join in, shouting lewd comments at her. Footsteps on the stairs signal Oliver’s return, her clothes draped over his arm. He glances around in confusion at the leering grins as he approaches. 

“You can change in the first--”

“She’ll change here,” the Admiral declares. “Robinson can’t afford her ruining the dress any further, can he?”

Elena blanches at the order. So does Oliver, whose eyes grow wide under the choppy strands of his blonde hair. 

“But, sir--”

“Fuck you,” she spits at the Admiral. “I’m not live entertainment for you and your--”

“Do I need to bring poor Edward up from the brig and flog him for your disobedience?”

“You promised to leave him--”

“Ah, but not until I had retrieved the compass. Until then, his health and well-being rely on you.”

Her gaze darts from his smarmy grin to the circle of approaching officers to Oliver’s pained expression. The realization, when it comes, is cold. The only person who would stand up for her is locked down below. There is no way out. 

Steadying her trembling jaw, she lifts her chin and sucks in a breath. 

“Fine.” 

Stepping forward, she feigns to take the clothes from Oliver’s arm and instead pulls his sword from its holster. With a flick of the wrist, she runs the blade up along the dress’s bodice. The silk parts like butter; the golden embroidery tears and the seams rend apart. Tossing the sword at Oliver’s feet, she steps out of the puddle of fabric and kicks it towards the Admiral. “Here’s your dress back, you fucking perverts.”

The men bellow and cheer, whistling at the sight of her near state of undress. She’s thankful she had the foresight to keep her bra and pants on under the dress, if in need of a quick getaway. Swimming in that tent would’ve been a death sentence.  

Elena snatches her shirt and waistcoat from Oliver, but the sharp edge of a blade at her neck makes her freeze in place. 

“You are going to learn rather quickly, Miss McTavish, that your actions have consequences.” The Admiral’s other hand clenches tight around her shoulder. “Tie her to the mast!”

“Wait -- Admiral, please--” Oliver tries to protest as two officers yank her arms behind her back and drag her towards the main mast.

“This is my ship, Lieutenant, and I will run it how I see fit!” the Admiral barks. “See that you return to your own.” 

Elena locks desperate eyes with Oliver, silently begging him to intervene. Whatever small sliver of trust she held with him, though, dissipates when she watches him turn his back and walk away. Despite her struggling attempts, the two officers keep their hold on her as they slam her back against the mast. Forcing her to her knees, they secure her arms back around the pole and tie her wrists together with a length of rope. She wrestles forward, testing her bonds, but they hold tight. 

“You should appreciate that I’m not flogging you. Instead, I think a night out on deck will suffice.” 

Picking up her clothes, the Admiral stops a few feet in front of her and drops them onto the deck. She has an idea, now, of who put the bucket outside of Edward’s cell. “Do try to get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Rot in hell,” she seethes, but he’s already moving away towards Officer Robinson, who’s come down to watch the spectacle. 

“Do you smell a storm approaching, Robinson?”

“Aye, sir, I do.”

“A shame for those caught out in the elements, then.”

Though she expects them to stick around and rough her up a bit more, they thankfully walk away and disappear below deck. The soldiers return to their posts, only interacting with her when they pass by with taunts and rude gestures. Despite the three-hundred some-odd years between now and her time, it’s all comments she’s heard since the age of ten. Nothing new under the sun, and all that. 

She keeps quiet, though, even as rage boils inside of her. Years of experience tell her that it’s her best shot to get them to leave her alone. The rain does a lot of the work for her. 

It starts a half-hour later, driving away some of the soldiers back down to their bunks. Elena shifts to sit on her ass with her head bent, trying to shield herself with the sails and rigging. 

Usually a brief respite from the humid climate, the rain is cold on the bare skin of her shoulders and torso. With the strong winds this far out at sea, the rain is sharp, pricking her like needles. Her body shivers in protest. She tries to use her long hair as a makeshift shawl, but the blonde strands are soon soaked through, acting as nothing more than a damp weight on her chilled skin.  

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watches the soldiers. Watches them point and laugh at her for the first hour, until they assume her asleep. Watches them move about the ship, carrying down what supplies they can with the slippery deck.

They chatter about wiping the sea clean of a few more pirates, of glory to His Majesty, of breaking out the good rum when they watch Captain Mortemer get what’s coming to him. They argue over a barrel of gunpowder, eventually deciding not to bother moving it downstairs, and tuck it away near the starboard side.

The storm continues up until dawn. The sky turns from that deepest blue to a hazy gray, muddled here and there with streaks of pink as the rain finally moves on to the north. Elena knows because she stays awake the entire night, fighting the pull of unconsciousness, unable to sleep with the enemy so close. Her body had stopped shivering hours ago, too tired to try and warm itself up. If she hadn’t kept track of the men all night, she would’ve thought they’d chopped off her hands at some point -- she can no longer feel them, and isn’t even sure that her fingers are moving when she tries flexing them.

Sometime after the sun has breached the horizon, there is the sound of boots on the deck nearby. 

“Up and at ‘em, hedge whore.” 

A sharp kick to her ribs ruins her attempt to play possum. Her moan of pain is lost under her coughing fit, which jostles her sore body. She curls forward, trying to avoid another kick. Officer Robinson smirks down at her from where he looms above her, a mug in his hand. “Admiral says to give you your breakfast.”

Panic seizes her. Before she can move to protect herself, he tips the mug over. 

Hot coffee splashes down onto her. A scream tears free as fire scorches down her back, raking its claws along her skin. She can feel her vocal chords burning and her mouth moving, but she can’t hear herself; there is only the rush of blood in her ears, blocking out all other sounds. Officer Robinson’s mouth parts to laugh at her. Nearby soldiers join in.

Minutes pass, though they feel like hours, and the searing pain becomes a throbbing ache. The coffee feels like a brand, burnt into her skin. Despite cursing it all night, she pleads for the rain to come back. The cold, morning winds are her only source of relief.

“Where is she? What have you bastards done with her!?” Edward’s voice booms across the deck.

Elena’s head snaps up. A group of officers surround him, making it difficult for her to get his attention from her bound position. She doesn’t have to try very hard, though -- because the men begin to move out of the way, letting him get a good look at her. His scowl disappears in an instant; his jaw drops, abject horror paling his face. 

“Elena!” he shouts, struggling to free himself. “You vile, savage -- if you’ve hurt her, I swear--”

“You’ll do what? Let us put another hole in yer side?” one of the soldiers taunts. The rest of them erupt into laughter. 

“She gave us a good show, your lass!” a man shouts from the helm. 

“We didn’t do nuthin’, boy,” the officer holding him scoffs. “Go on, see for yerself.” 

They shove him forward. Edward crosses the deck in two strides; dropping to his knees in front of her, he cups her cheek and brushes the mangled curtain of her hair over her shoulder. His gaze sweeps over her, but it’s nothing like before, down in the brig. The heat in his eyes is stoked only by fury. 

“Your back,” he hisses. “What did they do to--”

“It’s not important right now. Edward, listen to me--”

“They harmed you. There is nothing more important.” 

“Officers,” comes Oliver’s voice from behind them, “what is the meaning of this?”

The comradery ceases. The crew stands at attention, trying to hide their choked laughter behind coughs. 

“Cut her loose,” Edward demands.  

Footsteps sound across the planks, coming closer and closer, before a hand grabs both of hers and tugs. Elena jerks away in surprise and the rope digs deeper into her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Oliver murmurs from behind her. “To cut this, I have to…” he trails off, the words lost under the sound of sawing. 

The rope gives way and falls to the deck. Vicious, stabbing pain shoots up her arms and along her back as her abused muscles move and stretch for the first time in hours. Tears spill from her eyes, but before she can figure out how to hide them, Edward’s thumb brushes them away. 

“Here.” He picks up her blouse and helps her slip into it, mindful of the burns on her back and the lacerations around her wrists. 

“I think I’ll… pass on the corset,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat.

Oliver crosses to the group of soldiers to berate them on her condition. Elena waits until he’s out of earshot to speak again. “Edward, listen to me. There is no prisoner transfer. The Admiral plans on sinking the Revenge. They’re sailing right into a trap. You have to warn the crew.”

Edward’s hands, which had been running gently up and down her arms to warm her back up, freeze. 

“Damnation,” he spits, shaking his head. “Aye, I will. But you, you’re in no shape to fight your way--”

“I didn’t say we.” Her downcast eyes flicker up, briefly, to catch his before returning to her injured wrists. “I said you.”

“I will not leave you behind.”

“We have no other choice. I’ll distract them--”

His hand cups her jaw and tilts her head up to meet his determined gaze. “Banish the thought, Miss McTavish. I won’t hear--”

She reaches up and yanks his hand from her face, squeezing his fingers to silence him. 

“Stop interrupting and listen to me. There’s gunpowder over there, near the starboard beam. They made a big fuss about keeping it out of the rain. It’s the small barrell, with--”

“Aye, I know what a powder keg looks like.”

“And I’ve watched too many BBC documentaries to know that they put it too close to the ship’s center. If it goes off, the explosion just might reach the lower levels.”

It’s a sign of how much time he’s spent with her that he doesn’t even question the odd reference she makes. 

“I imagine you have some idea of how I’m to set it off in the first place.”

“I’ll get Oliver close enough for you to grab his pistol.” 

Edward grimaces, but clenches his jaw and nods. There’s the captain she needs right now. Stretching up to feign another look at her back, he scans the deck and spots their escape. 

“I want you in the jolly boat when that keg goes up, hear me?” He tucks her hair back so she can see the boat hanging from the port’s davits, ready for launch. 

“Only if you’re in it with me.”

“Officers,” the Admiral bellows from behind them, “why is our prisoner not restrained?”

The men scramble forward and seize Edward, ignoring his growled threats as he fights to get loose. Coming to stand beside Elena, the Admiral casts an eye over her ragged frame. A slow smirk slithers across his face; she suppresses the shiver that wants to crawl up her spine, knowing without a doubt that his plans with her aren’t finished. He clamps a hand around her arm and hauls her to her feet, ignoring her yelp of pain as the stiff muscles are forced to work.  

“What’s the status of our merry band of misfits?”  

“They’re due east, sir!” the man from the crow’s nest calls down. “‘Bout fifteen minutes out.” 

With the morning sun blazing white-hot behind it, the Revenge is a black dot on the horizon. 

“Good!” The Admiral turns his wicked grin to Edward. “That gives me just enough time to let you in on my little secret. You see, I’ve no intention of handing you back. You’re going to watch as I turn your ship into nothing more than splinters. After that, I’ll have the distinct pleasure of cutting off your head and sticking it on the bowsprit, as a warning to your kind.”

“Get on with it, then,” Edward snaps. “Tell your officers to stand down and let us duel, man-to-man.” 

“Oh, we’ll get there, have no fear. But I think you’ll be begging me to end your sorry excuse of a life. Because before I do that, I’ll see to it that Miss McTavish here gets to experience the true pirate treatment.” He runs a hand over her hair as if petting an animal, and chuckles when she squirms away from his touch. “She’ll be bound and gagged, her legs wrapped with chain shot. Then she’ll be tossed overboard to join the rest of your crew at the bottom of the sea.” 

“Your fight is with me, Cochrane, not with her.” Edward’s glare burns hot against the rising sun. “Leave her be.”

“And what say you, Miss McTavish?” the Admiral hums, a sick delight brightening his face as hers flushes red with rage.  

“I’d like to see you try,” she snarls. 

Oliver, having had enough of waiting in the wings, finally steps forward. “Admiral, sir, the Revenge -- she’s got a child aboard.”

“A pirate’s a pirate, no matter the age!” shouts one of the officers. 

“If we don’t exterminate them now, we’ll just have to do it once they grow up, Lieutenant.”

“You fucking bastard--” Elena keens at the agonizing sensation of the Admiral’s fingers digging into her back. 

“I forgot to ask.” He dips his head to drag his lips against her ear. “Did you enjoy breakfast, Miss McTavish?” 

“Go fuck yourself.” She curls forward and then throws her head back. Victory sweeps through her at the tell-tale crunch of cartilage, urging her on.  

“Insolent--”

She turns and spits in his face, now bloodied from his broken nose. He sweeps a hand out and captures her by the throat. Slamming her back against the mast, he growls out a curse and tightens his grip. Elena claws at his face, managing to draw in enough air to scream.

“Oliver!” she cries out, putting as much emotion as she can behind it. 

There’s a flash of blue and blonde and then suddenly, the Admiral is ripped away and thrown to the deck.   

“Elena, are you--” 

She slams a fist across Oliver’s jaw. He stumbles and she snags his pistol from his belt, tossing it to Edward. Spinning on her heel, she sprints towards the jolly boat as Edward takes aim and fires. 

The powder keg explodes, blasting a hole through the deck. Wooden shards fly across the ship and embed into the officers. A chain of explosions echoes up from below. The ship groans, listing to the starboard as water rushes into the hull.

“Abandon ship!” Oliver roars. 

Soldiers slide and tumble across the tilting deck, trying to reach the jolly boats stacked for launch. One man snags Elena’s blouse and yanks her back, his sword raised to strike her down. Using the momentum, she slams her shoulder into his chest and knocks him back into a crate. “Elena!” 

She jerks her head up to see a runaway train of supplies rushing towards her. Before she can jump out of the way, a strong arm wraps around her waist and hoists her up onto the railing. 

“Cheater,” she mutters. 

Edward lets go of the rope and shakes his head at her. She doesn’t miss the pained wince he makes as he holds his injured shoulder.     

“I told you to be in the boat,” he chides.

“I would have a smartass remark if I weren’t so terrified of going down with the ship.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

He helps her over the railing net and into the jolly boat before swinging himself over. The ship quakes as water floods the lower levels; the hull gives way to the sea with a loud crack. Soldiers race to the bow to leap off, avoiding the downward surge of water near the ship’s center. Elena grapples with the davit to launch the boat down while Edward fends off the desperate men looking for a safer way off.  

“Anytime now, Miss McTavish!” he shouts, hauling a particularly determined man over the netting just to toss him down into the water. 

“I’m trying! I just can’t get the damn thing to--”

The Admiral surges over the netting and swings his sword through one of the davit’s ropes. The boat drops, suspended on one end by a single rope. Elena grabs hold of a thwart and hangs there, searching below for Edward. 

His left hand clenches tight along the bow. The breath of relief catches in her chest when he looks up to meet her gaze, desperation warring with the agony of his injured shoulder. Elena pries one hand loose and offers it to him. Her fingertips barely brush the tops of his knuckles. 

“Give me your other hand!” she cries. 

“Elena--” he bares his teeth, “I cannot--”

His fingers slip from their hold and he falls. The sea closes over him like a watery shroud. 

Elena screams his name, frantically scanning the surface for him, when a fist wraps around her hair. The Admiral drags her back onto the ship, trapping her from escape with a boot on her chest. 

“Alack, Miss McTavish, you should’ve let go when you had the chance!” the Admiral shouts above the din of his men’s cries. Blood covers his chin and neck from his ruined nose, coating his teeth where he grins. The ship lurches again and water roars as it gushes up onto the deck. “My sword will not be so kind to--”

Elena cocks her arm back and slams a fist into his crotch. Blood sprays over her in a mist as he coughs, choking on his own spittle. His hands go to cup his manhood; she grabs his sword as it falls.  

“That’s for Edward.” 

Rolling out from under his weakened hold, she springs up and steadies herself by wrapping one hand around the netting. The other adjusts her hold on the sword’s grip. 

She lunges. 

The blade drives into his shoulder, spearing through flesh and sinew. The Admiral howls, collapsing onto the deck. With a jerk of her arm, she twists the blade for good measure. “And that’s for all the innocent people you had murdered. Hell is too good a place for you, but enjoy it all the same.” 

With a sharp tug, the sword slides free from him. Uselessly grabbing at the wound, he manages to clench his jaw and open his mouth to speak. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a last word, Elena brings her knee up and knocks him backward across the deck. The blood and brine slicken the planks, making it impossible for him to stop his descent as the rushing water drags him under. 

Tucking the bloodied sword away, Elena scrambles over the railing and dives off the ship. The water is cold, though not as cold as the last time she leapt into it of her own volition. Kicking her legs, she swims up towards the sunlight and breaks the surface. 

“Edward!” she screams, trying to be heard above the men in the water. 

Swimming away from the sinking vessel, she heads towards the sun. If she can make it past the flurry of men all headed west, towards Oliver’s ship, she might be able to find him. Surely he didn’t pick a fight with anyone in the water, right? She rolled her eyes as she dipped underneath a wave to avoid another cluster of officers. Of course he would. 

But she had faith he would win, at the very least. 

“Edward!” she tries again when she breaks the surface. 

The Admiral’s ship groans as it finally relents to the sea; the masts snap apart like twigs as they hit the water. 

“Miss -- Miss McTavish!” Edward’s voice echoes from somewhere beyond her sight.

Elena paddles in a circle and keeps her head above the waves, scanning for that flash of red shirt amongst the sea of blue. Then: a lone arm, waving a sword back and forth as if it were a flag. She surges forward, riding the current as it pulls her farther out to sea and closer to her captain. 

He appears just over the next wave, clinging to a chunk of wood and heaving a sigh of relief. 

“You have no idea how pleased I am to see you safe, Miss McTavish.”

“Really?” she sputters. “We just blew up a navy ship and nearly drowned and you’re keeping up your pretenses?” 

“You’ve been living amongst pirates for some weeks now, haven’t you learned? There’s always time for etiquette.”

Matching grins spread across their faces. They both burst into laughter at the horrible joke, adrenaline singing in their veins. Edward motions her to come closer and helps her up onto the wood. When he starts to slide off, she grabs his coat sleeve. 

“Oh, no you don’t. I’ve seen this movie. Get up here with me, there’s plenty of room.”

“I do not think--”

“Get your ass back up here, Captain.”

Edward heaves out a sigh, but relents to her demands and hauls himself back onto their makeshift flotation device. “There we go,” she says. “See, now I don’t have to watch you freeze to death, or throw a ten-thousand dollar necklace into the ocean.”

“I’m going to blame our current predicament on the nonsense yer spouting.”

Elena shifts to get more comfortable and shrugs. “That’s fine.”

They both watch the Admiral’s ship disappear beneath the waves, the floating debris the only proof it was ever there at all. In the distance, men are being brought aboard Oliver’s ship. “Should we worry about them?”

“Nay, I think not.” Edward’s mouth dips down to one side. “At least, not right now. They won’t want to risk us pulling the same stunt on their ship, I imagine.”

“Good. But what about Henry?”

“We’ll get him back, don’t badge. The Admiral may not have been the reasoning sort, but the lieutenant seems to be. Especially when it comes to you.” 

Within twenty minutes, the ship weighs anchor and releases the sails. Soon enough, the Revenge -- having been circling about on the horizon -- starts towards them.

“I owe you an apology.”

Elena tears her gaze from the Revenge to him. He won’t look at her, though. Instead, he feigns interest in watching Oliver’s ship disappear to the north. 

“What for?” she asks.

“For promising you safety from the Admiral and letting him put his hands on you anyway.”

“You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen. I could’ve played along and not stirred the pot, but I didn’t.”

“That is no reason for him to--”

“I know it’s not.” 

She reaches across to put her hand on top of his. Elena’s breath empties out of her with a sigh when he turns his palm up and laces his fingers through hers and squeezes tight. “Well, you can be rest assured that he won’t be putting his hands on me, or you, or anybody else ever again.”

A noise of surprise sounds from his throat. 

“He’s dead?”

“I punched him in the dick and stole his sword and stabbed him. So, yeah, I guess. And if I didn’t, then the blood loss or water in his lungs would’ve finished the job.”

“And you are…”

“Freaking out a little about it, yeah,” she admits, angry at the way her hands have started to shake. “I put on a brave face and sent him off with a real Indiana Jones-worthy one-liner and… and I know you don’t know what that is but--”

“Elena--”

Shaking her head at him, she continues: “--but, and I mean, I know how horrible of a person he was, and all the people he had killed, and the countless others like you he took advantage of, but I still…”

“...killed a man,” he finishes for her.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t lie to you. It is never easy. But if some part of you did not feel this way, then that would be far more worrisome.”

Tears fall from her eyes, but he’s too far to wipe them away this time. He settles for turning her hand over and pressing kisses to her palm, mindful of the rope burn around her wrists.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I know it’s rather odd to thank you for… something like that. But I am grateful to you, as well, for saving me. I owe you my life.”

“Yeah,” she says, lifting her head up to grin at him, “you kinda do.”

Edward chuckles and enjoys seeing her nose wrinkle with her own laughter. “You can pay me back by giving me a proper kiss.”

“Here?” he asks.

“Well, yeah. Unless there’s another floating hunk of wood you think would be a better--”

Pulling himself up, he crosses the distance between them and pays his debt. Her lips are dry and rough, evidence of their captivity, and tasting of saltwater and some delicious flavor that could only be her. When she parts for air, he takes his own and then returns for another kiss. She whines, sweet and high, when he parts her lips for a better taste. Her fingers curl around the wet strands of his dark hair and tug, urging him on and on. 

“You two need anotha minute or are you ready to come aboard?” Charlie’s voice echoes down to them. 

They ease apart and share a heated glance before slipping off their raft. The crew leans down over the railing, hollering their relief at finding them alive and in one piece. Jonas releases the rope ladder and Edward grabs the first rung, motioning for Elena to go first. Ginny hangs off Ax’s arm, jumping up and down as she waves to them 

“We saw the ship explode!” she calls down.

“Aye, that was Miss McTavish’s idea.” 

“Brilliant!” Ginny declares with a beaming smile.

“Isn’t she, though?” 

“Oi, where’s Henry? He didn’t…” Maggie trails off, frowning out towards the open water where the Admiral’s ship went down.

Jonas and Charlie help Elena over and onto the deck, both of them catching her stifled cry when her back brushes against the railing.

“No, no, he’s on the lieutenant’s ship,” Edward explains as he throws a leg over onto his ship. “We’ll fetch him back, have no fear.”

“He’ll be spittin’ mad that he missed all the action,” Jonas declares.

“He’ll be dancin’ the hempen jig once we rescue him and I punish him for such a stunt.”

“We were watchin’ you through the spyglass!” Ginny exclaims, still bouncing from foot to foot with joy. Ada rushes over with blankets and when Jonas moves to help distribute the supplies among the two, Ginny darts in and throws her arms around Elena’s waist. “I’m so glad you guys are okay!” 

Biting down on her cheek to distract herself from the pain, Elena’s lungs stutter against the familiar burning sensation along her back. With the rush of adrenaline long gone, Ginny’s thin arms feel like hot, metal bands. 

“Step back, Ginny,” Edward orders, then, in a softer tone, adds, “Please. Miss McTavish has some… injuries.”

She leaps back, her brown eyes filling with tears. Elena’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the guilty expression on her face. 

“I’m sorry -- I didn’t -- I’m sorry, Elena, I--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she assures, crouching down to meet Ginny at her level. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. Besides, a hug from you is the world’s best medicine.”

Ginny wipes away the unshed tears in her eyes. 

“Yer just sayin’ that.”

“Only because it’s true,” she counters. “Now, can I give you a hug back?”

She nods; Elena gathers her into her arms and squeezes her tight, ignoring the prickle of her injured skin. There’s movement behind her: Charlie, gently plucking the collar of her shirt back to have a look. 

“Oh, love,” Charlie breathes out, “what’d they--”

“I have some salve from when we went to the apothecary,” Elena not-so-subtly interrupts. “Could you get it for me, please? And Edward, he needs--”

“The ship’s surgeon looked after me,” he says. 

“Yeah, like half a day ago,” she scoffs.

Charlie and Ada disappear down below before returning with her salve and the meager medical supplies. What Elena wouldn’t give for clean gauze and basic antibiotic ointment. And tampons, which she’d lamented to Charlie on more than one occasion. 

“C’mon,” Elena tucks her arm through his, “I’ll play Hawkeye.”

Gathering her against his side, he heads for the privacy of his cabin to tend to their wounds.

“Are these references of yours ever going to pertain to the current day?” he wonders aloud.

“Don’t hold your breath, Major Houlihan.”

Inside the cabin, he guides her to his bed and sits her down. 

“Ah, ah -- gentlemen first this time.”

“As I stated before, I was tended to--”

“Stop arguing and start stripping,” she orders, wishing that crossing her arms didn’t pull at the taut skin of her back. 

With a disgruntled sigh, Edward tosses off his coat and unbuttons his shirt. Despite their dip in the ocean, the bandages somehow look cleaner than before. She focuses on that, and wonders if the surgeon did more than a quick look-see. She does not focus on the fact that she’s alone with shirtless Edward in his cabin (and boy, how her late-night fantasies didn’t hold a candle to the sight of him now). 

“There’s that wrinkle again,” he murmurs, reaching between them to run a fingertip across her forehead. “Are ye thinking of home?”

“No.” 

She’s surprised by her own honesty, but finds that it’s true -- she isn’t thinking of home. In fact, she realizes with a gnawing sensation in her chest, she hasn’t thought about home all day. Every minute of her night out on the deck was spent planning revenge and worrying about Edward and worrying about the crew and listening for soldiers getting too close -- and then there was no time to think at all. “No, I was… thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Aye,” she mimics, “you.” Before she can manage to embarrass herself by showing all of her cards, Elena clears her throat. “I was thinking about what horrors I was going to find when I peeked under that bandage.”

Snorting at the dramatics, he tugs the dressing aside and makes his own noise of surprise. The stitching is neat, and the skin around it -- while ugly and bruised -- doesn’t show any sign of infection.  

“Looks like I won’t be needin’ that hook then after all.” 

“You’re an ass.” 

The grin he shoots her does something funny to her train of thought; she forgets what the next sentence out of her mouth should be. Fortunately, he steers her back on track by checking under the bandage on his side and makes a show of turning so she can see the perfect line of stitches. 

“I’m surprised the Admiral kept up his end of the bargain.”

“Ah, it was… actually the lieutenant. He came down and insisted the surgeon see me.” 

She’s not sure how to process that. For all his faults, Oliver did seem to be earnest in his attempts to help. 

The image of him walking away as the Admiral and his men restrained her, though, feels burnt into her retinas. “As such,” Edward continues, “the bandages will hold for a good while. I would like to -- err… I think it more beneficial to check on the status of your injuries… if I may, o’course.” 

Before he can stumble his way through asking for her to take her shirt off, she reaches down and tugs it over her head. Moving to stand behind her, Edward gets a full view of her injury. She winces at the pained noise he makes. 

“Any bleeding or open wounds?” she asks. 

“Nay, but -- Elena, this… it looks as if someone poured hot coals down yer back.”

“That’s… a good guess.” At his deafening silence, she relents. “It was coffee. He told me it was my breakfast.” 

“Who?” the single word sounds like it’s being squeezed from his throat. 

“Officer Robinson.” 

“I will gut him like a pig and string him off the bowsprit for harming you.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she murmurs. 

“Who says that?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

Taking the salve from her, he urges her to lie down on her stomach. Sinking onto the thin mattress, she rests her head on his pillow. The linen smells of sun and salt and sweat; she nestles closer, inhaling in the comforting scent she’s come to associate with him. 

The bed dips with his weight as he sits beside her, his thigh pressed alongside her hip. He collects the damp wave of her hair and lays it across the pillow. His fingers make gentle sweeps across her skin with the honey-and-herb smelling lotion. After his fifth apology for nudging the band of her bra, Elena reaches behind her, unhooks it, and tosses it to the floor. 

“Was this… retribution for my stealing the compass?” he asks, his touch stuttering across her lower back. 

“No.” She closes her eyes against the memory of all those men leering at her, waiting for her to give them a show. In the nightmare she’ll have tonight, she imagines they’ll appear as wolves, starving and hungry, ready to tear her limb-from-limb. “I didn’t tell him where the compass was. I mean -- I did, but I gave him a fake location. That group of islands we fought that cargo ship. I figured it would give us enough time to work out another plan, before he keelhauled us or cut off our heads.”

“I would tell ye that I would’ve never let such a thing happen, but I wasn’t able to stop him from… this.” 

Craning her neck to look at him, her throat tightens at the devastated expression he wears.

“Hey,” she says, dragging his attention away from her marred skin. “We’re not playing the blame game. This isn’t your fault, and -- although I could have played nice and things might have turned out different -- it isn’t mine, either.” 

A ragged breath escapes him; the line of his shoulders softens under her assurance. She watches him set aside the pot and lean over her. The kiss he presses to the nape of her neck is so soft, she would’ve missed it -- if not for the second one he places just to the right of the first. A hum rolls along the back of her throat; he reads her obvious encouragement and trails his mouth along the top of her shoulder. 

“Kiss me.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing, Miss McTavish.” 

Just the side of his face is visible, but it’s enough for her to see the hint of a smile. Refusing to deal with his teasing, she pushes herself up to her knees and turns to face him. His dark eyes rove over her, burning bright with the afternoon sun pouring in through the window. She reaches for him and he comes easily into her embrace. With her breasts flush against his naked chest, his heart races against her skin. 

Cradling her face between his hands, he pours every ounce of himself into the kiss. If their moment down in the brig was the dam breaking, then this is the aftermath: a strong, steady current of his mouth moving against hers. He takes only what she gives and no more, letting her explore as she likes. 

Retreating in the name of oxygen, Edward tips his forehead against hers. 

“I felt powerless when you did not return. I was sure… I thought of every horrible thing I knew him to be capable of, and they plagued me the entire night. I shouldn’t’ve put you in such a position, Elena. I promised to protect you and I failed.” His voice works around the emotions clogging his throat. “And I will be damned sure I will never do so again.”

Sitting back to catch his eye, she runs a hand through his hair and shushes him. It does little to ease him. “I would have rather bled to death in that cell than to see you tied to the mast, in your undergarments no less, in pain like this--”

“Edward.” She leans forward and presses her lips to the bandage wrapped over his heart. “What have I told you since day one?” she asks him, lightening her tone to pull him out of the hole he’s dug himself. 

He’s a smart man; he catches on. 

“A great deal about something called Amazon, which I believe is a land to the west and not--”

“Edward.”

“As well as the wonders of indoor plumbing, which you curse at every available opportunity--”

“I’m going to kick your ass out of your own bed.”

“--and for me to stop underestimating you.”

“Exactly,” she nods, smiling when he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

Gathering her close once more, he tangles a hand in her hair where she settles against his chest. He runs his blunt nails along her scalp, enjoying the little sighs she makes. 

“How could I forget when you’re reminding me every blessed moment?” 

Unable to resist, Edward drops a kiss onto the crown of her head. The cabin grows quiet, filled only with their shallow breaths and the distant murmurs of the crew. Feeling the day’s weight upon his eyelids, he shakes himself out of the comfortable stupor to find Elena nearly half-asleep. He coaxes her to lay down and helps her out of her damp trousers. Tugging the sheet up to her hips, he turns to check on his crew and see about tracking down the lieutenant’s ship when a hand reaches out for him. 

“Edward.”

“Aye?”

“What if I… screwed up?”

The term is unfamiliar, but he’s grown used to her unusual lexicon. 

“In what way?” 

She shifts on the pillow to face him, though her gaze remains somewhere on the floor. 

“By killing the Admiral. I’m -- this trip, it was supposed to be temporary. I was going to try to avoid talking about the internet or reality television or vaccines and find a way back home and now I’ve gone and...” she trails off, biting at her lip.  

Kneeling beside the bed, Edward brushes a lock of hair from her face and tips his head in thought. 

“Have you considered that this was meant to be? That you coming here to this time... it was already written in your fate.”

Elena clenches her eyes shut and groans. 

“Ugh. That makes my head hurt. I’m a time traveler and thinking about that makes my head hurt.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and returns to his feet.  

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you with food.”

“Mmm… you know exactly what to say to please a woman.”

“It is one of my hidden talents.”

“What are the others?”

“In due time, Miss McTavish.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

+

+

+

References and other what-have-yous: 

“Chivalry is dead” being a coined phrase is most attributed to Lord Byron, who in 1823 blamed it’s passing on Don Quixote. What a goodreads review that would’ve been. But in 1793, Edmund Burke, after Marie Antoinette’s beheading, remarked that the age of chivalry was dead. So, he gets whatever the equivalent of brownie points were back then.  

Hawkeye and Major Houlihan are from the TV show MASH, where they’re the chief surgeon and head nurse. An extremely topical, 1970s sitcom reference. 

Badge was slang for ‘worry’ in the 18th cent, per an Essex Dialect Dictionary published in 1920.

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 7

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist 

How to Keep Meeting Your Beloved Stalker

"I'm coming," Nat hollered from the kitchen, turning down the heat of her stove. She walked towards the door and opened it to find Steve standing, a sopping wet mess.  

His clothes were drenched from the rain. His hair a disheveled mess and face flushed as if he'd been crying. He had a bouquet of soggy red roses hanging in his hand with water dripping off the petals, making a puddle on her carpet.  

"Stevie, what the hell?" Nat asked. "Are you okay?" 

Without a word, Steve slammed into Nat almost knocking the wind out of her. His wet coat arms wrapped tightly around her and he sniffles in her shoulder. 

"She left, Nat," his voice dripping with pain. "Peggy left me in the rain," he choked out.  

 "Oh, Stevie," was all she could say as she rubbed his back, not even caring about getting wet. 

 "She told me that she'd never leave but she did,"  he said. "I loved her, Nat. I really loved her." 

 His words stung her heart and even the hardened black widow couldn't help but shed a tear. She had never seen him so broken. 

 He pulls away and digs his hand into his pocket. He takes out a velvet box and opens it to reveal a shining diamond ring. 

Her lips parted in shock. "Steve…" 

 "I was gonna ask her to marry me," he sniffled. "But she told me that she'd never marry a devil like me." 

 Nat's lips twisted into a scowl. Her hands cup his cold face. A sort of warm respite for him.  

 "You're not a devil, you hear me?" Nat stated. "And she's a damn fool for leaving you."

 She pulls him into another hug and it's quiet besides the slow humming of a steaming pot. With a slowly boiling anger within her, all she could think of was how much she'd love to beat the shit out of that bitch.

His eyes held a gaze more fearsome than a tiger.  A thin paper cigarette hung from his bottom lip, a small trail of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth and dancing upwards towards the ceiling. The air around him was majestic like a king on a throne. But he was far from his kingdom. 

 "So," Steve started, getting comfortable in a leather tufted seat. "A little bird told me you guys have been sneaking behind my back," Steve stated, looking up at the two brothers in front of him. 

The tan-skinned brunette smiles at him puzzled, but the way he shifted in his office chair uncomfortably was enough to answer Steve's conjecture.  

"Don't know what you're talkin' about," Lucky shakes his head.  

Lucky Gambino. Age 32. Italian. Head of the Gambino Crime Family presiding over Staten Island. 

"C'mon Rogers," his younger brother Sunny drawled. "You think we'd be sneaking behind your back?" 

"I've got eyes everywhere, Sunny," Steve stated calmly, setting a sinister air to the room. "Hard for anything to pass by me." 

Sunny chuckles with his hands in his pockets and leaning against his brother's desk. The room was dimly lit despite it being well into the afternoon. Sunbeams filtered through the half-lidded blinds, acting as a sort of spotlight for the fumes that escaped their cigarettes. 

"Stevie, y' know us well," Lucky spoke with his hands. It's just an Italian thing. "We went to Saint Anselm's together. Played ball in that rundown field between Gino's Pizza. You remember those days?" 

Steve nods with a small smile. "Yeah, I do." 

"Our pop's worked with yours' for years. We've got a bond. You're like family, man," Sunny said. 

Steve smirked. Good thing he wasn't so sentimental when it came to the business. 

"Then what's this news about you and Hydra working together?" 

"Hydra?" Lucky guffawed. "You think we'd be working with those no-names?"Sunny laughed along. 

"We aren't the Brooklyn Mob, but we're sure as hell not some third-rate gang like Hydra. We're the Gambinos, we'd never stoop that low." 

Steve chuckled along. "Right," Steve said while getting up. "I guess there's nothing I need to worry about here." 

"Not a damn thing," Sunny assured. "We're on your side, big boss." 

Steve chortles as he turns to leave. He gives them a nod as he exits the room. 

"Have a good day, Mr. Rogers," the receptionist said with a smile as he walked by. 

"You too, Miss Hill," he grinned with the corners of his eyes and a wave of his hand. He pressed the button of the elevator and entered it, listening to something rustling behind him. 

He turns to see Maria getting up from her desk, her heels clicking as she walked towards the office. A gun complete with silencer resting snug between her fingers. 

"Maria," he called and she turned to look at him. 

"Don't make a mess," he gave her a half-smile. 

She snorts with a sly smirk as the doors of the elevator begin to close. 

"You know I never do." 

Nat plopped herself on top of Bucky's desk. 

Bucky smiles at her, slightly peeved by the way she carelessly sits on the manifest for the next delivery. 

"May I help you?" 

"In fact, you can," she replied devilishly. 

Bucky sits back in his chair as she hooks her leg over the other giving him a nice view of the outline of her salacious legs in a tight-fitting pencil skirt.  

If he was any other man he would've been drooling a river by now, but after years of working together, Nat was just one of the guys. Nothing she did ever fazed him. Not like she was trying to or anything. 

"How can I help you, Miss Romanoff?"  

She bites her lip and he can tell something was bothering. "I'm worried."

"About?"  

"About Steve," she said.  

"I second that," Sam piped up from the other side of the room. "He's been kinda out of it, lately." 

"It's because of the girl," Nat informed. 

Bucky groaned while sinking in his chair. "I know." 

"So what're we gonna do about it?" Sam asked. 

"I don't know," Bucky shrugged. "Just let him be. He'll get over it." 

"It's been a week," Nat pointed out.  

"And your point is?"  

"Steve's made thirteen horrible decisions in the past week and he went to see the Gambinos today and I know for a fucking fact that it didn't end well." She sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm just worried about him," she confessed. "I mean after Peggy he's never really been the same and this girl just made it worse."  

The two fell silent at the mention of Peggy. She was just one of those people that they didn't talk about, especially when Steve was around.  

"I know that you are," Bucky said. "We all are, but you know Steve. He doesn't want help until he asks for it." 

"We can't just sit here and ignore it!" Nat bent forwards and into him. He shrinks underneath her. "If he keeps this up, he's gonna die!"  

"Don't you think that's a bit dramatic," Sam stated. 

"Okay maybe not die but the direction he's going in it's only going to get worse," Nat said. "He still remembers her," Bucky's eyes shot up to look at her. "He still has that ring," she told them in a hushed voice. 

She looks down to her hands in her lap. Her emotions were not easily hidden. She could've been the toughest in the mob but Bucky knew she was a softie at heart. Her worry was evident in the crease of her lovely brows and the down-curve of her full lips. 

"Hey," Bucky called softly, placing his hand on top of hers. She looks up at him through red locks to find him smiling sweetly.  

"It's gonna be fine, okay?"  

"How do you know?" Nat question with a pout.  

"Cause this is Stevie we're talking about," Bucky said. "No matter how far he falls, he always gets back on top."  

One look into his steel-blue eyes, gleaming with a hidden affection, was all Nat needed to know that maybe everything really was going to be okay. 

He glided along the white floors of the museum. Walking past bundles of children led by their teachers and casual visitors like a specter. 

Steve had been to the Metropolitan more times than he could count on both hands. Art was his faithful lover and the galleries filled with masterpieces were his solace. But today, he didn't pay attention to the swirling brushstrokes of Van Gogh or the painstakingly pointillistic style of Seurat. 

Today was a day for his thoughts. A day to reflect on his past. How was it that just a thought could bring back long-buried emotions and stir what was settled? Maybe that was why his mother said to leave things be, to not go walking into the past so blindly.  

But what else is there to do when the way forward is the way back?  

He finds himself in front of the old painting where he first met her. It could have been over three hundred years but Marie's lively youthfulness was eternal. He observes her, the way she teased him with her coy smile, hiding her letter from his eyes while sitting at her desk. 

For some reason, he feels like she's taunting him.  

You fool, you overdid it. You fall too fast. 

"Yeah, I know," he huffed. 

He hears your dull voice in his ears. 

It's just an average painting. 

He chuckled. He didn't understand how you took the everlasting masterpieces that were lauded through time so lightly. How you didn't see them the way he did. 

Maybe, you were more different from him than he had initially thought. Maybe it was never meant to be. 

He clicks his tongue at himself. Meant to be? He hardly even knew you. 

"Steve, you fucking meatball," he groaned at himself, rubbing his face and gaining strange looks from others. "I hate my life," he moaned. 

He peeks through his fingers to find Marie still smiling at him as if she had nothing else to do. 

"Don't look at me like that," he pointed at her. "Yeah, I screwed up. I know I'm stupid. Don't rub it in my face."  

"Are you okay?" He turned to find an old lady giving him a judging smile. 

"Yeah," he chuckles sheepishly. "I-uh. I have to go. Sorry about that," he dashed. 

He groans with a sigh. What was it with women and torturing him? Inanimate or animate. They just loved to hate him. 

His shoulders drooped as he walked. He kept his eyes strictly on the ground to mask his embarrassment. So mortified by his own stupidity, he didn't dare to look anywhere but at the ground. A rather foolish thing to do when in public.  

Oddly enough, you walked down the same hall, tasked with yet another horrible project. With your nose stuck in a map, you walked without caution and right onto the wet floor. Your foot slipped and the next thing you knew, your arms were in the air and a small yelp escaped you.  

Steve caught you right before you fell. His big hands covered the small of your back with your arms wrapped around his neck.  

Heat rushes to your cheeks and so does his as he keeps you suspended in his arms. For a moment in time, the world stills and all that's left is you and him. 

His heartbeat was off its pacemaker, his breathing was heavy and deep as he looked into your eyes. They twinkled like the stars. His eyes traveled down towards plump red lips, parted slightly, inches away from his.

dammit dammit dammit 

Just like him, you're caught in a daze. Lost in the ocean blue of his eyes. You never knew a pair of eyes could be this soft. And just like that day in the cafe you're trapped under him again. There was just something about his gaze that you'd never find in another person. Only in him. Even if you wanted to let go, you just couldn't find it in yourself to part from him.  

Not too far off, Madame Boucher gazes at the two with her mischievous smile, still hiding the secret message in the letter from her lover.  

In all the world, there isn't another like you, or me for that matter. We are two souls who feel like once upon a reality we were soulmates, eternal flames. 

[madatobiweek2019-2021]

Submission From PeacefulDiscord

And I Preferred To Fall

The first time he met the arrogant angel— an outcast even among his own kind— with what seemed to every religious doctrine shoved far up where the sun didn’t shine, Madara knew he was in love. With hair as white as the downy feathers curved around his shoulders and eyes as red as the very flames of Hell, Madara was drawn like a tortured soul to respite. Now, most would say the endeavor was hopeless— Madara was a Prince of Hell, next in line to take the throne as the new Satan and this angel, this good-hearted, sharp-tongued snowflake who the very thought of eased the burn of flames under Madara’s skin, would surely not have any interest in a being as deviant as Madara. But Madara could see it— interest, desire, it simmered in those eyes. Madara only had to bring those feelings to a boil, stoke the flames until they overflowed and that—

Well that was easier than he thought it’d be. The angel wasn’t like the rest of his kind, wary of evil certainly and with many more horns in hand, but he didn’t let the mentality he’d been entrenched in to deter him from making and passing judgement on his own. Like playing a fiddle, Madara was able to pluck the angel’s strings in a melody no one else could follow, pulling him deeper and deeper into the darkness of Madara’s depths, that bright halo of light growing dimmer until it outed completely. Until the angel was his and only his, no thrum of propriety and godliness in those once innocent bones—

“Madara, what are you telling the children?”

Madara glanced up from where he lay on a pile of plush pillows, grinning lazily and baring his fangs. “The story of how we got together, obviously.”

Tobirama gave him a flat look, long-suffering and far too used to Madara’s antics. He settled down in the blanket fort beside their kids, letting little Saiyuri cuddle close and covering her with his wing. The other four children leaned closer, Kagami grinning mischievously.

“I bet Papa did play you like a fiddle, Dad,” Kagami drawled, smile stretching wider. “Seeing he doesn’t know how to play at all.”

“Oy!” Madara protested over his family’s sudden outburst of laughter, tugging gently the young boy’s curls. “So mean Kagami-chan.”

“But true?” Kimiko smirked. “I bet Daddy just had to smile at you and you turned into a puddle.”

Tobirama grinned, that same crooked smile their daughter Mitsuki had somehow adopted, the one that the kids dubbed as “un-evil” unlike Madara’s and kissed Madara’s cheek, nuzzling against him for a moment. “I most definitely did.”

Madara winced, hiding the shudder that threatened to wrack his frame. That had been terrible.

“Wait, really?” Sora sat upright, eyes darting between his parents. “You turned Papa into a puddle, Daddy?”

“Well—”

———————————-

It was an unpleasant day, the air clouded with sand and ash, the scent of blood only shadowed by the grief washing around them. Tobirama felt sick to the stomach. War, no matter how good he was with strategizing and winning, never settled well in his gut. The constant battle of good and evil, right and wrong, disgusted him. And this demon, bloody Prince of Hell— he didn’t look happy either, torn between enjoying the battle display, lights flashing and noise reaching ear-splitting levels, and curling close to the injured people on the ground, wings spread as if to shield them— but Tobirama didn’t care. People were hurt. And that, that made him hurt. With a snarl, he yanked the demon away, only for the man to twist them about, dropping Tobirama beside the injured family and standing over them, a wall of black shooting up to counter the bullets raining down on them.

Tobirama watched wide-eyed as mines exploded beside the gunmen, as their weapons locked and would not shoot anymore, and could only follow along as Madara led him and the wounded people to a safer area, hidden by high and sturdy walls.

It was later, when the gun fighting had finally stopped that Tobirama had a chance to let himself process what in God’s thousand names had happened, mind racing as he waved a hand and caused a fighter jet aiming for a nearby hospital to explode. And the demon was still there, getting in the way.

“You know, something like this wouldn’t be a bad date. Just you and me protecting the helpless, blowing things up in the process—”

Tobirama huffed. “Is now really the time to be flirting, demon?”

Madara stared at him, confused. “Yes? Is there a specific time set for you angels to do that? I know you guys are uptight but..”

“Oh for the love of—” Tobirama scrunched his nose, flicking his hand carelessly. Madara yelped, plopping to the ground in a puddle of liquid. “You’ll return to normal soon enough but not soon enough to keep bothering me. I’ve people to heal and bring peace to.”

———————————-

Saiyuri pouted. “Papa no puddle?”

Tobirama laughed, a quiet breath of a thing like a sprinkle of peaceful happiness, and pulled the girl into a hug. “No. Papa is not a puddle anymore.”

“But I want puddle Papa,” she said softly, fluttering her cute little eyes at Madara, knowing full well in all three of her years of life since they found her abandoned in a ramshackle mess of a home that he had not, could not, say no to her.

“Umm well—?” Madara shifted uncomfortably. He really hated being a puddle. But he looked at the little girl staring up at him and heaved a breath, full and ready to melt to goo on his favorite blankets

“….I’m not sure if I should say no to you or Saiyuri,” Tobirama arched a brow. “Honestly Madara. Stop spoiling her so much. Sai, you’re Papa can’t turn into a puddle just because you want him to. Uh uh, no pouting, you know better. Let’s listen to the rest of the story.”

Thank you father, Satan. God actually since Tobi saved me? One of you.

Madara deflated with relief, pinching the tip his daughter’s nose gently and making her laugh. “Right. Onto the story. Um where were we?”

“Dad turned you into a puddle because you have inappropriate timing,” Mitsuki laughed, eyes sparkling with mirth at Madara’s pain.

Honestly Madara wasn’t so sure he adopted his children. They were too much like he and Tobirama to not be of their DNA.

Wait, angels and demons didn’t really have DNA. Tobirama probably brainwashed them. The good side excelled in propaganda.

“You’re so lucky you’re cute,” Madara grumped to his kids’ snickering. “Anyways, right so after that…”

——————————

Madara was aggravated. The couple in front of him just would not stop blabbering on and on about sin and God’s will or whatever. Even angels, not even the one he called to join him, didn’t oft make assumptions like that. The nerve of these people.

“God will hate you!” The mother shrilled, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Mom, mom please..” the girl begged, sobbing. “Dad?”

Tobirama stood in the corner silently, emotionless mask in place. He met Madara’s eyes and disappeared.

“No daughter of mine—,” the man shook his head, turning away and pulling his wife inside and shutting the door. The girl wailed, grabbing at the knob only to hear the lock click in place.

“No mom, mom. Dad, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She sobbed, falling to her knees against the door. “Let me in please!”

“Sweetheart?” An older lady seemed to appear from thin air on the sidewalk. She walked a little closer, casting her salwar and Om pendant in light, a man wearing a traditional thobe and another woman with a cross hanging around her neck following behind her. “Are you alright?”

“My parents— my parents hate me,” the girl choked out between her sobs. The lady that spoke frowned, dropping onto the porch and pulling the girl into a hug.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” she said, stroking the girl’s hair soothingly. “They won’t let you in?”

The girl shook her head, clinging tighter to the woman.

“Alright, alright. It’s okay. Easy does it. We’re with the Interfaith Peace Association. We help youth and young adults in the community who are going through difficult times. We’re here. We’ll help you.”

Tobirama appeared beside him. “Perhaps we should give them some privacy.”

Madara nodded his agreement, catching Tobirama’s wrist and whisking them away to his favorite cafe. As they settled into the booth, Madara snapped his fingers, willing a waiter with drinks and pie to them rather than the couple who’d ordered it. Tobirama scowled.

“What?” Madara said. “It’s easier this way! And I love the cider and key lime pie here.”

Tobirama just snapped his own fingers, the waiter hastily going back to the couple with their food. Another swept through the kitchen door with Madara’s order.

“Fine. Ruin my fun,” Madara pouted.

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you wait,” Tobirama said, already scooping pie into his mouth. “And you’re leaving the tip.”

Madara’s eyes lit up with glee. “3 cents!” He tucked his fork into the pie. “They’ll hate it!”

Tobirama snatched away Madara’s plate. “Try again.”

“What? No!” Madara whined, reaching for his plate.

Tobirama tilted the plate towards the floor.

“30 cents!” Madara said desperately. The whipped cream was starting to slide off. “30% of the bill!”

The angel righted the plate, handing it to Madara to held it to himself protectively. “Good job, demon. Very kind.”

“For all the things we agree on,” Madara huffed. “You take exception with my humor.”

“You’re not funny,” Tobirama drawled, sipping his cider.

———————————

“Ooooh burn!” Kimiko and Sora laughed.

Kagami nodded. “Your humor does leave a lot to desire, Papa.”

“Can I just tell this story without you guys giving me a hard time?” Madara crossed his arms, playfully glaring at each of his kids in turn.

“…..”

They glanced at each other for a moment, turning back to him.

“Nope!”

——————————-

Valentine’s Day was an awful day, a day when angels and demons got too comfy sharing the same realm they were meant to try and steal from each other. People were falling in love, people were breaking, people were being born and others were dying— all in the name of love. It was rather sickening.

Tobirama sighed. The last time he’d been forced onto Earth on this godforsaken holiday, he had yet to learn how to shield himself properly and fit in with the humans. The amount of propositions he received….he shuddered. It was awful enough to have lived through once. He needn’t remind himself of it.

Still, sometimes he did wonder the appeal of a holiday as equally delightful as it was wretched. Wondered what it’d be like to be a recipient of a kinder fate where princes rode in on horses bearing gifts and declarations of love. Where roses would come without thorns.

Where the demon he’d grown achingly fond off was not so different from him.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. They were two very different people in very different walks of life. He shouldn’t get these human hopes up. He watched the sunset from the bridge station he’d been post at— so many people were walking off the damn thing than across it today and it was necessary to remind each and every one of them that yes, they most definitely were loved, so they’d remember themselves and cross the bridge correctly— and melting of bright colors into darkness, like the glow of his halo against Madara’s horns and froze.

He needed to stop thinking these things. Madara didn’t like him, not a little bit, not at all. The demon did not—

“Oy, angel! Happy Valentine’s!”

Madara landed beside him, skeletal pegasus clomping silently down onto the walkway. “I spent all day looking for you!”

The demon swung off his steed, sauntering to Tobirama with poorly constructed confidence— his nervousness was almost palpable— and carefully held out a bouquet of roses.

Gemstone roses with smooth ivory stems, soft leaves and vines twined about them to hold the flowers together. The gems felt soft, like real petals, but glittered under the rising moon, alive in a way even real flowers seemed to lack. There weren’t any thorns.

Tobirama looked at Madara in shock, pulling the flowers closer to his chest. “Madara—”

The demon grinned. “Had to get you something that’d last as long as us, angel. Anyways, see you around. The old man’s got a list for me to see to.”

“Wait!” Tobirama, cursing his pessimism and himself for not thinking ahead, reached back and pulled a single silvery feather from his wing. Shoving it into Madara’s hands— and it was so significant. No angel would just casually give up the wings of their feathers, not when the magic properties in them made them so very precious— he nodded, somewhat satisfied with his gift to the other. “Now you can go.”

—————————————-

“That’s where—! Oh wow, that’s so sweet!” Sora cheered. The boy glanced at the bouquet that sat atop the counter, that had always sat atop the counter since the day they moved into the house, the gems glittering under the artificial light.

“I want someone to love me like that,” he whispered.

Mitsuki hugged the younger boy with a reassuring smile before turning to her Papa with a snort. “I can’t believe dad keeps getting the last word.”

“Give me a break already.”

————————————

Madara bowed his head nervously, shivering in the ice cold air of the throne room, the frozen tiles locking his knees in place.

“Father—”

“Silence!” Tajima, now Satan, roared. “I don’t, I don’t want to hear another word, Madara!”

The older man paced back and forth across the throne room, wringing his hands through his hair. Flames followed his steps, licking and melting the tile. All the demons had gathered to bear witness to Madara’s trial, excitement and worry meshing in every pump of blood in their veins. Their lord was of poor temperament at the best of times. Flirting with treason— there was no greater crime.

He could be killed for this, torn asunder and left to rot on the torture fields until he was nothing but leftover dust in the air. Madara could only be thankful that Tobirama was faring better than he was— his God smiling softly, albeit sadly, and let him go with a hug. The last thing Madara saw before his father dragged him through the cracks of earth, molten lava rising up to flood over his eyes and mouth, was pyrope eyes shining bright with unfettered joy and a crooked grin he didn’t think he could love so much.

“Do you love him?” Izuna stepped into the light, flames drawing deep shadows across his face. The black-blue of his wings and horns seemed to blend him into the shadows, every shade of grief coloring in his lines.

“Izuna!" Tajima snarled, spinning onto his heel to glare at his younger son.

"Do you love the angel, Aniki?” Izuna stepped forward urgently to grab Madara’s hands. There were tears in his eyes. “Do you, Aniki?”

Madara swallowed roughly. His father was fuming behind Izuna, black flames licking along his body. He didn’t want his little brother to get in trouble, not for his transgressions. “Izuna…”

“Tell me, Aniki! Because if the answer’s no, he’ll be killed. The demons caught him when dad got you.”

“What?" Madara surged against the chains, wincing as they burnt deeper into his flesh but paying it no mind. "Dad—”

“Answer the question, Aniki!”

“Yes, damn it! What does that change?” Madara screamed.

“Not much,” Izuna drawled. “But we can start the wedding.”

His brother grinned, gesturing behind him. The demons parted, revealing Tobirama standing behind them, white angel robes lined with hellfire red. The man rose an eyebrow, a tired smile on his lips.

“Apparently fake kidnapping was a tradition started by Hades?” Tobirama looked exasperated but he moved to crouch in front of Madara. From his pocket he pulled a gold gilded key attached to a chain and slot it into the cuffs on Madara’s wrists and ankles. “Keys rather than rings though, that’s a nice touch. Not so nice having to make the locks and key but I prefer the symbolism.”

The moment the cuffs fell away, Madara cupped Tobirama’s head and pulled him into a long kiss, hands brushing through the soft white strands reverently. “So we’re married then?” He whispered.

“Well um…Aniki. You can’t exactly have your wings if you marry out of Hell,” Izuna said sheepishly, twirling his finger in his hair.

“Neither can I,” Tobirama sighed. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Would you want that? We would have to figure out how to live as humans and we’ll die. You won’t be able to help anyone—” Madara stroked along the marks on Tobirama’s cheeks. “I don’t want to take that from you. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“You won’t,” Tobirama said firmly, curling closer to Madara. “And we could, if you wanted. We could do all of that. I wouldn’t mind. I can still help people as a human, it’d just be more work—"  

"I’d give up the world for you,” Madara breathed. “Wings, immortality, they’re nothing.”

————————————-

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kagami interrupted. “But you didn’t lose your wings! So—”

“Let your Papa finish the story, Kagami,” Tobirama smiled kindly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “It’s almost done.”

———————————-

“I rather not lose my Prince though,” Tajima huffed. “It’ll be really inconvenient.”

“Maybe he could be an honorary Prince,” Tobirama spun around. “We keep our wings but live out a life as humans. By then,” and he looked to Madara as he spoke, “ by then Izuna would be ready to stand in Madara’s place.”

Tajima hummed and thought for a minute. “Yeah, I guess that works. Very well, onto the preparations! I need to go laugh in Butsuma’s face, if you’d excuse me. I saw his son’s proposal. He’ll be so jealous.”

———————————-

“And, ta-da! That’s it. Butsuma was jealous. We got married in front of all the demons and angels, adopted you little brats, and lived happily ever after,” Madara finished, doing jazz hands.

“Well that was lame,” Kimiko pouted, snuggling into her blanket. “I wanted more action, more hi-yah!”

Sora cuddled close to Madara. “I think it was cute. I want to fall in love like that too.”

“Me too!” Saiyuri said, playing with her teddy bear and making it dance along Tobirama’s leg. “Love, love, love!”

Mitsuki glanced at the flowers on the counter almost wistfully. “Maybe without all that drama.”

When the kids had long settled into the blankets, the two men curled up by the fireplace.

“I can’t believe it has only been ten years since,” Tobirama murmured.

“Well, we did court for almost an entire human lifespan,” Madara grinned.

“It’s hardly courting if I spent a good decade just rejecting you, Madara.”

“Well I count it, okay? It was flirting. Let me be happy.”

Tobirama laughed, pressing a soft kiss to Madara’s pout. “If that helps you sleep, koibito.”

[bambamsgotjams]

NCT Mafia AU || Mark’s Backstory

I finally got around to start writing the backstories for each of the members. I’m hoping to start having regular updates this summer for this series. I’m so greatful to all of you for continuing to support me throughout my hiatus. I hope you guys enjoy and if you are slightly confused be sure to read the member’s bios first!

My life had never been easy. Ever since I was a child I had never had the best relationship with my father. The main reason was because he was never around to be there to help support my mother and I. Growing up it had mainly been just me and her. I rarely saw my father unless it was late at night when my mother would allow me to stay up with her to watch those black and white movies on the Hallmark channel. Even then it was only for a few minutes and most often he was drunk so he’d stumble in through the door, walk to the fridge to find a bottle of water, and then mutter a good night before finding his way to the bedroom. My mother would always roll her eyes and made me promise I wouldn’t end up like my father.

When I was a young teen my father had finally opened up to me about being the leader of a mafia gang. I didn’t quite understand what a mafia was. The only time I had ever head it mentioned was on the news. I knew they were criminals, but I didn’t realize how bad it was. My father took pride in his job although my mother claimed he wasn’t very good at it and was notorious for making the worst decision possible. 

My father had always wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Being his son, I technically was next in line to be the leader. I didn’t really want to be involved, but being the son of a leader didn’t really give me a choice. I was already involved just by being born. My mother had always told me that she regrets not running away with me when she had the chance so she could keep me from being involved with this. She had experienced it first hand when she started dating my father not knowing he was in the gang. Unfortunately she was trapped in a relationship she couldn’t escape from. I have seen the way my father treats my mother. He makes it obvious she was forced into this marriage and he clearly doesn’t treat her right at all. As a thirteen year old I had made it my duty to always protect my mother. My father did do his part on protecting the family, even thought he wasn’t exactly good at it, it was enough to keep us from getting killed.

As I grew older my father grew more and more distant from the family. He claimed that it was because he was planning something big for the benefit of his gang. Unfortunately that didn’t go as planned. By the time I was eighteen my father had come clean to my mother and I about planning an ambush EXO. EXO at the time was good at gambling and they were pretty good at getting what they wanted. My father had told us he wanted to ambush them and rob them of their money and kill the gang off. That made both my mother and I nervous. Although I claimed to never have had a good relationship with my father, he still was my father and I couldn’t help but become nervous for him. My father wanted me to join him on his ambush but I refused telling him that someone had to stay behind to protect my mother in case the gang found out and targeted his family. It was a bullshit excuse and to my surprise my father allowed me to saying I would become a good leader because I cared for my family. That was the first time my father had ever said something to me that was remotely like a compliment. 

The next morning the news had broken out that my father’s gang failed the ambush leaving the result to be fatal. It was said my father fled from the scene never to be seen again. I’m not going to lie, it still hurts me to this day that my father left my mother and I in a vulnerable position. Even though the gang no longer existed, my mother and I are still involved by association and other gangs know about our existence and that both of us know about where things are hidden and secrets of the gang. I was furious at my father. He was foolish, a coward I could even say. I wanted nothing more than to get revenge on him. I wanted to show him what it felt like to feel betrayed and left alone. The worst part is, he didn’t have any remorse for the price he left on both my mother’s and my back.

Later that year, the worst that I could imagine had happened. I always had a fear of leaving my mother alone every day when I had to attend school. Being eighteen I was still in my last year of high school and in order to promise my mom to live a successful life I had to get an education. I didn’t want to leave her every day, but she always reassured me that she would be okay. I remember coming home from school one day a few months before my graduation to the empty apartment. It was unusual because my mother usually would leave a note if she was headed somewhere. Typically she wouldn’t leave the apartment unless there was some sort of emergency. With that in mind I began to worry. I rampaged around the apartment in search of any clues as to where she had left. My mother was a cook, she always had a huge love for cooking and baking just about anything eatable. I remember walking into the kitchen to the stove beeping like crazy and black smoke filing out of the closed door to the oven. I coughed as I turned it off and opened the oven to burnt cookies that were definately way too black to eat. Being a perfectionist with her food I knew something was wrong. 

I cursed as I caught myself from almost slipping in a puddle. I looked to the ground and noticed that not only my white converse, but the floor below me was covered in not drops, but puddles of red crimson blood. Weeks and weeks had past before I got any sign as to where my mother was. I couldn’t sleep at all during those days in fear that my mother was gone. Something in me told me that she was still alive, even if it was just barely, but that itself was enough to give me hope that I would find her.

I had received a text from an unknown number stating that they had my mother and sent me the location. I felt my blood boiling as I grabbed a jacket and a knife from the drawer before heading to the location. Angry tears were pooling out of my eyes as I ran to the address. It was a large abandoned building. The doors were made of heavy steel and locked by a security scan. I surprisingly found a scan card sitting just below the scanner and laughed at how unsafe it was. I scanned the card and spent what felt like hours running around the building until I found a dimly lit light coming from out of a door in the basement. I mentally cursed to myself for being stupid enough not to check the basement first. Everything bad happens in the basement. 

I quickly ripped open the door and saw my mother tied to a chair in the center of the room, her hair matted and greasy with bits of dried blood stuck in the tangles. Her entire body for that matter was covered in blood making my entire body boil with rage. I ran to her and kneeled down in front of her.

“Mom,” I had spoken quietly as I looked at her. She looked absolutely misrable. Her eyes were bloodshot red, she had gashes all over her body and three of her fingers were missing. To my surprise, her gashes were all healing rather than becoming infected and where her fingers used to be were small wrap bandages. My mother looked at me and started crying happy tears and spilled out everything that had happened. To save the long story that I could barely sit through myself, she basically had been captured by one of my father’s rival gangs and she told me that a man had saved her.

As if on cue, footsteps were heard from behind us. I turned my head to face a tall man with his hair dyed red. He had an emotionless expression on his face and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets as he walked up to us. I stood up to face him, gripping the kitchen knife tightly in my jacket pocket.

“There’s no need for that,” He spoke as if he knew I was holding onto a weapon. The man took a gun and a few knives out of his belt and set them on the ground, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to put my own weapon down. I turned to face my mom and she gave me a small nod as if she was telling me to trust him. I don’t know why I did, but i took the knife out of my pocket and placed it on the ground immediately standing defensively in front of my mother.

“Mark,” I heard her quiet voice speak up, “He saved me.”

I looked to the tall man who was basically hovering over me at this point. I relaxed my body and placed a hand on my mother’s shoulder.

“You saved my mother, but that doesn’t mean I trust you,” I spoke harshly at him.

“That’s a shame. I’ve been watching you for a while Mark Lee,” He spoke my fully name causing me to wince in anger, “You’re a strong man and I definately could use someone like you on my team.”

“I vowed to myself I wouldn’t join a gang, not after what happened with my father.”

I moved to untie my mother’s wrists and helped her up. The man looked down at my pathetic weapon and then back up at me. 

“I could help you better protect your mother,” My head perked up at his statment. I looked at him once more before scowling.

“I’m perfectly fine protecting her on my own thank you.”

“From the looks of it, you didn’t do a good job this time and lucky for you, I found her before they killed her.”

I looked back to my mother who nodded her head. 

“This choice is all yours Mark. I just want you happy. You don’t always need to be there to protect me. You already are twice the man your father ever was.”

I knew I was going to regret this decision until the day I died, but I felt like I didn’t have any other choice. I did owe him one and he knew I would do anything to keep my mother alive, so I agreed.

Now, here I am as the underboss for Lee Taeyong

[greatshell-rider]

day twenty-four of quARTine: parent (prompt list)

Jerry missed peanut butter. He missed a lot of things from Earth, but after visiting dozens of planets and browsing through dozens more betwixt markets, he’d found suitable replacements for most stuff—a lot of it cooler, truthfully, with magics or technologies from thousands of ’scapes woven into every fabric and material.

But he had yet to find a foodstuff even sort of close to peanut butter. And he missed it.

Jerry shoved his hands in his hoodie pouch, the shopping bag dangling from his elbow as he wandered through the aisles of the store. A scrunched-up paper in his hand got steadily sweatier, each item on the list of requests from Lani and Cindy scratched off. The bag on his arm was full. He had no reason to stay at Stuff? Food? You Decide! any longer.

He paused by a shelf stocked with jars of “sliknut spread”. The containers were clear, revealing the creamy golden-brown spread inside, and each had a patterned bow tied around its lid. He reached for a pink-bowed one, but hesitated. Then shook his head and headed for the clerk’s counter. He paid with a handful of fingernail-sized crystals left over from the last ’scape.

The clerk eyed them skeptically. “Jastners?” they asked in Wide.

Jerry shrugged. “Think so.”

“Eh.” They dropped the crystals in the tin. “Thank you for shopping at Stuff? Food? You Decide! on Vaspin’s. Tell your friends about us, and have a nice day.”

“You too,” Jerry said, but the clerk was already shifting on their stool to greet the next customer. He grabbed his sword from the bin—leaving behind a small mace and bandolier of smoke bombs—and switched the grocery bag to his other arm as he left the shop. The enchanted wooden gecko engraven over the door yawped his departure, just as it had when he’d entered.

It was raining still, so Jerry put up his hood and drudged down the street, not caring that he splashed through muddy puddles or that rainwater dripped onto the unprotected groceries. Not many people were out, and he soon left the town, so it was quiet but for the sound of rain as he walked. The scenery was pretty enough—the road was bordered by a white picket fence, separating it from gentle rolling hills blanketed with turquoise coral-like plants—but Jerry felt his mood darkening the longer he walked. Earth’s rain didn’t react aggressively against his skin, leaving nasty green boils wherever a drop hit. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much this planet sucked.

You suck, he thought at it, kicking a pebble of the same turquoise from the fields down the road.

He could imagine Lani’s smug retort. Salty you don’t align to its magic, aren’t you? Which, of course, she could say, since she aligned perfectly and could send large objects flying with just her mind. Typical.

By the time he reached the two-storied cottage with roof tiles made of that weird turquoise-coral whatever, Jerry had mud streaked up to his knees and a minor headache—another of this ’scape’s fun little side effects it gave him; something to do with the particle composition in the atmosphere’s lower layers or some crap, according to Lani—and would’ve rathered to brawl a Nellio in one of their lava pits than deal with anyone. Unfortunately, Lani was sitting at the table when he came in, building a house out of cards with her newly-learned telekinesis. House was inaccurate, really. His sister started on a third tower of her castle as he kicked off his boots.

“Is it raining again?” she asked, too innocently, though the patter of raindrops could clearly be heard and seen on the windows.

Jerry said nothing, dropping the groceries on the tabletop.

A mistake. At his silence, Lani turned in her chair to face him, a smile spreading across her face as she set her elbow on the backrest and rested her cheek against her fist. “Did someone have a hard time in town today?” she lamented in a babyish tone. “No one told you how cool your sword is?”

Jerry stomped up the stairs.

“Oh no, now I’ve upset him too—Hey, don’t forget you’re also making dinner!”

He reached the door and slammed it shut behind him harder than necessary. The room was empty, and there he let out a tight, angry breath. That left him feeling drained, his headache even worse now, and he dropped wearily onto his cot of the three, setting his sword down beside him. Maybe he would just sleep the rest of the day away, try to forget, since he’d already failed at not remembering.

But as he bent to pull off his socks, he saw his small pile of belongings by the foot of the cot, and laying atop his change of clothes, a flower. It had yellow petals and a brown disk, very similar to an Earth sunflower. When he picked it up, however, the petals shifted to a lavender hue and the disk a sickly white. Jerry scowled, crushing the flower in his fist and throwing it aside. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fists clenching and unclenching as he breathed in and out, in and out. His headache pounded. Even after counting to fifty, then back down to zero, he nearly went down the stairs to confront Lani about that thing. It had to have been her. It had to. Who else? Who else, after all these years, after all they’d been through, who else—

A rap on the window. Jerry looked up. Cindy’s face stared back on the other side of the glass. Ze beckoned him over, then motioned for him to open the window. He did so, expecting zir to clamber in, but ze instead turned and walked down the slanted roof of the cowshed without a word, probably thinking he would follow.

“Cindy,” he called zir, “I don’t have shoes.” The rain didn’t react strangely to zir skin, so ze was free to go as barefoot as ze wanted, but Jerry less so.

“You’re already wet.” Ze crouched and, gripping the edge of the roof, swung zirself down to the ground before Jerry could reply. Ze stepped into the shed and out of view.

Jerry wavered, looking over his shoulder at the door leading downstairs. A part of him wanted to stay stubbornly inside the room, to curl up on his cot and refuse to move or speak until Lani came up and apologized. . . . Well, she would never do that, except to mock him. But he could make her make her own dinner. It would serve her right. Today of all days . . .

But Jerry couldn’t stay in this room for a second longer. Not upstairs. With his socks still on, he balled his fists in the hoodie’s long sleeves and hopped through the window. It didn’t matter if his clothes got soaked and got his skin damp. For some reason, only falling raindrops caused the boils. So, though his socks got unpleasantly soggy, Jerry was able to carefully slide down the tiles to the edge of the roof and copy Cindy’s move, swinging himself down. He padded into the cowshed, which was really just a second, shorter roof protruding from the back of the cottage propped up on stilts. Currently it only sheltered a single scrawny goat, the only animal they’d found for sell in town. In theory she gave milk, but so far had only eaten absurd amounts of hay that beguiled her skinny frame. Right now, she was nibbling on grain cupped in Cindy’s palm, and gave Jerry a distrustful stare with a single dark eye as he walked in.

He ignored her, putting his back to a post and sliding down until he was sitting. Though the roof blocked the rain, he kept his hood up.

For a while, Cindy said nothing. When the goat finished off the grain, ze grabbed a brush and sat cross-legged. The goat settled right down and laid her head in zir lap, eyes drifting half-shut as Cindy moved the brush down her back in long, steady strokes. Jerry rested his chin on his drawn-up knees, watching the strangely hypnotic scene, listening to the rain beat against the turquoise-tile roof. He sniffled quietly and crossed his arms over his knees, burying his nose into the sleeves of his hoodie. The specific garment was surprisingly common across the ’scapes, so Jerry had frequent access to them, but he had yet to find one exactly like Earth’s. Something about the fabric, the dye or material or design, just wasn’t right. He ran his thumb idly down a seam. Maybe it was just the scent. Nothing like mass-produced Walmart brands, right?

Cindy hummed, and Jerry realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just . . . Just feeling nostalgic I guess.” But that wasn’t right. This mix of sadness and anger, of guilt, of despair, of pain, it wasn’t something as whimsical as nostalgia. Jerry didn’t know if it could be defined with one word.

He fidgeted, picking at a ball of fuzz on the sleeve. “It’s just.” He huffed. Tried again. “Shopping today, surrounded by stuff, by foods that are familiar, but not the same, I just—” He cut himself off. There was a long pause. Jerry buried his face completely into his sleeves, hands sliding up underneath his hood to grip his hair.

“I miss it,” he said, voice muffled. “I miss it so bad, Cindy.”

He thought he was too angry for tears. But there they were, burning at his eyes. At least his hoodie was already wet, right? No one could tell. No one knew.

“It’s your home,” Cindy said.

“It is,” Jerry said angrily, swiping his arm across his face then scrubbing his knuckles at his eyes. “It’s not perfect, of course it isn’t. Yes there’s loads of planets and ’scapes without corrupt governments or decade-long wars or, or, or climate change, but it’s still mine! It’s had everything I’ve ever wanted.” He sighed, because that wasn’t true either. That’s why he and Lani had started the whole thing, wasn’t it? They’d wanted more. And in the process, they’d lost everything.

Jerry dropped his head into his hands. He pressed his fingers hard against his closed eyes, though it made his head hurt more. “Do you know what day it is?” he asked Cindy, his voice croaky.

In zir silence, he imagined zir shaking zir head.

“My mom’s birthday.” He swallowed, his mouth and throat dry. “And the anniversary.”

That made him laugh, a harsh, bitter bark. “Anniversary,” he sneered. “Like it’s something to celebrate.” His hands dropped to dangle over his knees, and he stared sightlessly at the straw-strayed dirt. “Maybe for the slavers.”

He swallowed again, knowing he had to say it and hating himself for it. “It’s my fault, you know,” he said. It came out in a hoarse whisper. He tried to clear his throat, but it didn’t do any good. “My fault. Partly, sure. Lani and I both did it. But it is. My—”

He hadn’t noticed Cindy moving until ze was suddenly next to him, extending an arm across his shoulders. Ze said nothing, but pulled him close in a hug. At first Jerry resisted, going stiff in zir embrace, and Cindy started to loosen zir grip and pull away. That shot a spike of panic through Jerry’s heart and he slumped, burying his face into zir shoulder. He started crying again, quietly, as he’d learned to do in the trench, and Cindy held his shaking body tight.

“I miss her,” he sobbed, “and it’s my fault.”

He thought ze would say something, some trite phrase that was supposed to be comforting, supposed to resemble her, but ze didn’t. Ze rested zir chin atop his head and began to sing. A soft, lilting melody, haunting in the rainshower’s murmur. Jerry had heard the song before. Once, Cindy had told him it was the lullaby her parents had sung together when ze was a toddler, to help zir fall asleep. It was the same song they’d whispered into zir ear before sending zir away.

The rain continued to drizzle.

[daedraax]

Candyboy- Ep. 1

I awaken to the shrill screeching of my alarm clock at precisely 5:58 in the morning and, in sync with its ungodly singing, I groan. Today is the day I sell my soul to Sweet Amoris High School. I get out of bed groggily, stretch and get dressed for the day. I tried not to look in the mirror at myself too much; I wouldn’t want my eyes burning out of my sockets at how hideous the creature staring back at me was. It brings back memories, and those memories were boiling like something wretched in my stomach already. I mess with my hair a bit as I walk downstairs into the kitchen. I caught my mom’s matching yellow eye and she smiled. 

“Breakfast is on the table, dear.”

I take another step towards the door and tucked in the corner of my vision, I could see her gaze soften and the warmth of her smile decreasing as the corners of her lips pull into a frown.

“Oh, Theo…”

A phrase I heard all too often. I step outside and inhale the crisp, frigid winter air, my feet crunching in the thin layer of snow left behind from the light sprinkling last night. It was cold and damp, but my curiosity blurred out the feelings of dread brought about by the harsh wind blowing in my face. My mind had wandered off the entire trip to some kind of faraway obscurity, my brain had become a void with claws grasping at filling thoughts as my brain tried to put together exactly what I was trying to think about.

I finally arrived at Sweet Amoris by 6:10; A comfortably early time. Few cars sat in their respective lots, but I saw the girl with the blonde rings once again, glowing softly in the pinkish hue of the rising sun. My cheeks flushed and I quickly rushed through the doors of the school, afraid of meeting her gaze. Quickly I came to a stop;  I felt my body bump into a much taller, fleshier one. I met the boy's eyes but only for a second; golden and wide, staring into mine. He looked just like the girl. I backed away, signing an ‘I’m sorry’. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and I sighed deeply. After scrambling through my bag, I pull out a whiteboard and Expo marker and write it out for him. 

It took him not even a millisecond to understand. He nodded and smiled warmly at me, and I could feel my heart beat faster as a jolt of affection shot up my spine to my chest, making it flutter. My stomach felt as if it violently leaped against my tissue, causing dread to fill me once again; the affection died.

“It's okay.” A laugh, soft and delightfully genuine, emerged from his lips as he held out his hand. “I'm Nathaniel. You must be the new kid.” I nod slowly and shake his hand, a toothy grin stretching across my face to hide how truly awkward I felt. Handshakes that last forever make me nervous though, so I quickly pulled my dominant hand away and reach for my marker again.

I like your name. I'm Theodore but you can call me Theo if you want

“Um… alright. Nice to meet you.” Nathaniel frowned. “I remember the principal telling me something about your registration form. I don't think you've finished it yet…”

I tilt my head, about half a head of black hair moving with me. ‘What do I need to finish’ I wrote, ‘I checked all of it myself and I thought I had everything’

Nathaniel’s features lit up a little and, though I can't put my finger on the reason, it made me like him a tiny bit more. “You still need your photo I.D,” He said, “And after that, your registration should be finished.” I nodded and flashed him a faint wisp of a grin before putting my stuff back in my bag and waving goodbye as I left, breaking into a brisk strut down the hallway. I don't want to use this as an excuse to miss any class time, I have to get everything done as soon as possible…

“Theo?”

A familiar voice filled my ears and I let out a sigh of relief; for right there in front of me was my best and only friend, Ken. I offered him a kind grin and waved as I kept on walking, determined to make it to class. He chattered on about something I wasn’t paying attention to and I nodded along. I liked Ken because when he talked, it drowned out all the other sickening thoughts in my head that were threatening to beat against the walls of my cranium. He didn’t seem to mind my Not Caring Too Much as we crossed through the courtyard, and I ran into something solid that smelled of Hot Topic cologne and earth. I pull away and come face-to-face with a chest covered by a shirt for some kind of rock band, and the head attached to it had a handsome face contorted into a scowl. I’ve gotta stop meeting people like this, I thought to myself.

“Watch it.” His voice went through my ears and, like a bunch of syringes, stabbed at my mind and injected it with fear. I nodded, but the movement of my head must’ve been too quick for his tastes because that only seemed to make him angrier. My mind kept on going back to his scent, for some odd reason, and I wanted to smell more of it. Theodore oh my God, stop being creepy for like 5 seconds and leave this guy alone. Interrupting my thoughts, his gruff voice spoke once again;

“Go away now, you’re bothering me.”

I quickly nodded and scrambled past him. I could feel his stone grey eyes following me and a deep, quiet chuckle rip through the tense and silent air. Ken rested his hand on my shoulder; an action that was wordless but kind nonetheless. I couldn’t help but pull my lips into a smile, the fear of the mysterious, brash redhead melting into fondness towards the dork holding my arm. 

Color rushed to his cheeks as he stared at me not-so-subtly. To put it bluntly, his crush on me was like a deck to the mouth; hard and blatant. I’ve known about this crush on me since approximately the beginning of the year and it had never failed to amuse me; the blush of his cheeks, the stutter that occasionally makes his voice waver… it’s adorable. He started talking the second we were out of the courtyard and on our own again, slowly but surely making our way to the dollar shop to get my photo taken. 

By the time we arrived, my ears had grown weary of the one-sided conversation and my brain numb to Kentin’s squeaky voice. I made the process of taking my photo swift because though the old man running the store was nice enough, it was hard to carry out a conversation when you talk. Once I acquired the picture, I walked back to school. Kentin, this time, broke the awkward silence with a question.

“I have some cookies, did you want some?”

My mouth watered at the thought of food but despite that, I shook my head. My organs moaned in protest, but... I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I could feel Ken shoot me a concerned look as he opened up his bag of chips. He offered me one and with a labored sigh, I took a cookie and bit into it. I was hungry after all... and it remained like that for the rest of the walk; we ate cookies and somewhere along the line started to hold hands. The temperature was cold and our slow pace had only made the bitter chill hit our skin with more intensity, but neither of us seemed to mind. The silence was peaceful and the only commotion seemed to arise from our feet falling on the slushy snow, squishing it down into small puddles with a wet crunch.

There was a bit of finality in that sound moment… but if you think that's where the day ended, you'd be terribly mistaken.

(originally posted on Wattpad. 1384 words.)

[nyalapeno]

Salt in the Sea - chapter 1

To celebrate Ei-chan’s birthday! <3 He’s my eternal fave character so I wanted to write something for him. 

So here it is - my Eijun-centric Miyusawa fic :) I’ve posted it on Ao3 as well - here it is. [Salt in the Sea]

I hope someone out there will smile reading it~

Chapter 1 ~ I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation~

She... she wasn't listening. At all. His protests went ignored. Gramps had slapped him, but that was still a reaction, if negative - she wasn't reacting, just saying whatever she wanted. Was she purposefully ignoring everything that didn’t fit in with her plans because she was even more bullheaded than an average Sawamura? Or was she deaf? Did she need hearing aids? Was she old enough to need hearing aids?

"Do you nee--" SLAP!

Thus interrupted, Eijun winced and rubbed his cheek to get rid of the stinging feeling. His Gramps couldn't read minds but having known him for fifteen years he could certainly make a fine impression of it. In this case the slap was a preemptive measure as he'd been about to indirectly make a comment about the recruiter's age, and age and calories were risky topics at times.

But it would've been fine! It wasn't like she was listening in the first place.

And now she was tapping on her phone while sharing a table with her hosts. Rude! His mom, instead of telling her off, was watching the proceedings with interest.

"I can reserve the tickets for tomorrow, will that be alright?"

"Certainly!" his mom agreed. "I'll inform Ei-chan's teachers. It's not every day an opportunity like this comes along so I'm sure they'll understand!"

"What," Eijun deadpanned as he listened to his immediate future being planned out without his say so.

"Don't you 'what' me!" Eitoku scolded him. "A recruiter from that Seidou comes here personally to invite you and this is how you react? You should be thanking her on your knees!" Eijun huffed. He already said exactly what he thought about schools like 'that Seidou', not that anyone’d paid him any mind. Wasn't he allowed to have an unpopular opinion?

The recruiter, with his family's full support and encouragement, reserved tickets for Eijun. The travel plan sounded complicated as he’d apparently have to change trains a few times. Tomorrow morning he was going to be visiting the place and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, in theory Eijun could ignore the summons and not go unless Takashima came back in person and dragged him to Tokyo by his hair - when he was younger he used to try such tactics. But they'd just gotten him slapped every time, and besides it was a waste of daylight. So yeah, in theory only. In practice he was stuck.

Honestly, half of the reason he was protesting so much was the woman's total dismissal of his objections. No one liked being seen as an opinionless doll to be dragged around the country willy-nilly. Maybe he was exaggerating but sitting here and being ignored was unpleasant. He'd even rather she yell at him or tell him he was an idiot for not wanting to go. And his family still wondered why he wasn't jumping on the Seidou bandwagon. Were all students treated like air, or was it reserved for prospective students like him? Great advertising. Exactly who did it attract? Masochists?

"...Blech!" Eijun made a face as his imagination ran away with him. His dad lightly smacked the back of his head. Probably decided it already took enough abuse today. Speaking of, the recruiter had been impressed with his slapping skills and in fact appeared to approve of him starting a brawl after the match. He was really beginning to wonder about this super fancy baseball school. Masochists and brawlers... was this real-life Deimon High? Did they maybe have Hiruma Youichi the second? If he went there and met a violent student a year his senior who was called Youichi he would scream, Sena style.

He already felt like screaming to be honest. What the hell was this situation?

The scout was already saying her goodbyes, apparently having finished up with the ticket thing. Everyone was bowing and spewing niceties with not a thought spared for basic human rights while Eijun folded his arms across his chest and scowled at everything, unaware that his attempt looked more like a pout. His verbal protests had been ignored so maybe a visual one...?

"Sawamura-kun," the recruiter said, turning to him. She paused, took in his Rebellious Teenager PoseTM, then smirked. What the-- "I've reserved tickets for you, your mother has the details. Make sure to not be late for the train."

"As if I would be!" Eijun snapped, his offense at the situation temporarily transforming into offense at the insinuation. He was never late! Unless it was on purpose.

"Very good," the lady smirked at him again. Eijun's mouth fell open and he stared, bamboozled. She pretended not to hear the stuff that didn’t fit with her plans but responded to stuff that did? How convenient! "Then I won't be imposing on you any longer. Sawamura-kun, I'll be waiting for you at the first interchange station so you don't get lost." with this parting shot she left, leaving Eijun spluttering as he was insulted for the nth time in one conversation.

"I won't get lost!!" he bellowed after her.

Slap!

"Shut up!" Eitoku shushed him. Like Eijun with scowling, he had his own unique version of shushing.

"Don't complain, Eijun," his dad scolded. "It was thoughtful of Takashima-san to offer, the metro system in Tokyo is confusing. If you really were to get lost you'd be in Big Trouble," he shuddered, as though remembering something unpleasant from his past. Eijun blinked.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked, curiosity overriding offense. He hadn't seen much of the metro during his time in Tokyo so he had no clue.

"Even natives have trouble navigating it," Eishi said gravely. "It's better now, with all the apps they made for passengers, but it's still too complicated for comfort. I'd feel better if you had a guide."

"And I'd feel better if I wasn't going at all," Eijun muttered crossly.

"You ungrateful grandson!" Eitoku shook a fist at him but didn't slap. Maybe his hand was tired? "People make the effort to organize transport for you and you don't have to pay and you still complain?"

"Aaargh, I'm not complaining about free transport! I just don't want to visit this school in the first place, like I keep saying from the beginning! But everyone turns deaf when I speak! What is wrong with this world? Nobody’s listening! Nobody understands me!" he dramatized. Eitoku side-eyed him.

"Well, if you can go on like this then clearly you're just fine," he commented.

"Everyone," Chieko called out before anything else could be said. "I think this calls for a family discussion so why don't we get back to the table? I'll make more tea."

"I'll help!" Eijun yelled then bolted into the kitchen before anyone could stop him or talk some more nonsense. His mom followed while Eishi and Eitoku sat down at the table. Eijun collected the necessities while Chieko put the kettle on. The water was soon ready because they used an electric kettle and not a tetsubin. They did own a tetsubin, but it was being used as a decorative flowerpot instead. Which was just fine with Eijun who didn’t want to boil water on the stove. Not that he boiled water by himself very often.

"Mom, can I have hot chocolate instead?" Eijun asked, hesitating over the fourth teacup. He wasn’t really in the mood for tea.

"Of course, Ei-chan. Just try not to spill milk everywhere again." The kettle clicked as Eijun pulled out his usual mug and the can of instant cocoa.

"Mom! That time it was a new carton, it couldn't be helped!" he defended and went to fetch the milk.

"It could if you poured more slowly."

"Urgh… fine," Eijun waited for his mom to pour the water, then added cocoa powder and milk, making sure to handle the carton carefully. Full cartons could be tricky. "Ha!" he beamed at his success when nothing was spilled. Happy, he stirred the contents of the mug energetically, which resulted in some of the liquid flying out and forming a chocolatey puddle on the counter. "..."

"It's all right, Ei-chan, just clean it up," his mom didn't even seem fazed anymore.

"Uh, yeah, cleaning up now! Sorry!" Eijun wiped up the counter. Somehow, Chieko managed to prepare the tea and snacks in the time it took him to prepare his own drink. Respect. Together, they carried everything to the table.

"All right, Ei-chan," Chieko asked once everyone was sitting down. "Out with it. Why are you so reluctant about giving Seidou a chance?"

Eijun glanced at all his family members one by one. Unlike when Takashima-san was still around this time they looked ready to listen to what he had to say, if a bit skeptical (Eitoku).

"Because..." he took a deep breath. "Because look at how that lady acted! She totally ignored my opinion and just did her own thing, and she's someone who takes care of kids at this fancy boarding school! What if everyone's treated like that all the time? That's really bad especially because they live there! And she told us how she always looks at matches to find and pick the best players for her school like players were flowers or something, and that's so impersonal! Is this a school or a bouquet?  And it sounds like they're all about results and winning and I just don't like it at all! When playing baseball you should enjoy it, not feel like a soldier who'll get killed if he doesn't succeed! And I already promised everyone we'll all go to Miyoshi and recreate our team there so that we can have fun playing together as long as we can and I can't just go back on that because I got scouted somewhere! It's just all bad! And-- and--” he stuttered, hesitant to mention the last reason in front of his Dad and Gramps who’d likely laugh in his face... or slap it. “And the place is probably stuffy and sucky and full of snobs! " With this crowning argument Eijun broke off, huffing. Face having grown hot from his rant, he placed his hands on his cheeks to cool it.

"All I'm hearing is that you're assuming a lot of things about this school you've never seen before, because of what one woman told you," Eitoku commented. "You know what they say about assuming, right?"

"Gramps!" Eijun made a face at the lame comment.

"Hmph," Eitoku scoffed but didn't dwell on the subject.

"Why don't you just go there tomorrow and see if you're right or not?" Eishi suggested. "One visit doesn't equal to signing a pact. You can use that chance to see the place and decide what to do."

"So long as it's an informed decision and not one you made based only on prejudices, we'll all accept it," Chieko added.

"That's right."

"But..." they'd missed the most important part! "But I already said I'll go to Miyoshi with everyone!"

"And I suppose you think that if something comes up that will make you want to change that decision, your friends will get so offended they'll shun you forever?"

"Whu-- huh?" Eijun spluttered, thought process derailing like a faulty train. The depressing vision was unpleasant to consider and made his chest clench, but it was also unimaginable. He just couldn't see such a thing happening. His friends... they weren't like that!

"Is that how little you think of your friends and the bond you share?" Eitoku thundered, probably sensing weakness and decided to strike while the train was derailed. "Is your friendship something so flimsy and shallow it'll break because of distance?"

"No!" Eijun protested, because he didn't think so. "But we made a promise! That matters, okay?"

"Rather than a promise, I think you've been making plans together," Eishi corrected. "Unless you summoned spirits of warriors from ages past and took a blood oath under the moon?"

"We-- what?" Eijun gaped. Where did his dad even get that from? And people said Eijun was weird. "There was no blood oath, what the--"

"Then you were making plans. And plans can change sometimes, which is something I'm sure your friends understand."

"But WHY should I even change those plans?" It was so exasperating. That woman turning deaf to his protests was in its own realm of irritating but this was something else. This was his family telling him that they valued a stranger’s opinion over his. And sometimes the family had a point but it was still grating. The one going to whatever high school he ended up in would be Eijun, not his parents or his Gramps or that recruiter. Didn't he have the right to decide by himself? Whether it was Seidou or Miyoshi or something completely different...

Oh.

"Yes, Ei-chan," Chieko apparently noticed the dawning realization. "We just want you to consider all your options properly, not get fixated on one and reject all others due to lack of information and your defiant, irreverent, bull-headed personality." The adjectives were like anvils falling upon his head and Eijun's elbows slipped, face meeting the table.

"Urgh," he groaned into its shiny surface. He knew he could be bull-headed – hello, his zodiac sign was Taurus the bull – and had no qualms admitting it, but having it pointed out by someone else was a bit... And what was wrong with being irreverent? Japanese were too reverent, someone had to break the mold--

"Ei-chan."

"Yes!" he jumped up like a startled cat. "I understand! I'll... give Seidou a chance..." he trailed off, grimacing. Now that his family was discussing things with him properly his earlier ire had dulled, but he didn't like going behind his friends' backs like this. When he failed to show up to school tomorrow and they asked around and found out he was visiting some snobby school in Tokyo, what would they think?

"What's the problem this time?" Eitoku got to the heart of the matter.

"It just feels like I'm going behind my friends' backs, not telling them about this."

"Then tell them! It's the 21st century, don't you have phones and emails and those liana accounts you use? Why do I have to tell you this?" Eijun felt his jaw drop from sheer disbelief.

"L-- liana account? Wha-- Gramps, you have a LINE account! You talk to me on it! You send stickers! I know you know what it's called!"

"Don't you sass me, young man!"

"Now, now," Chieko mitigated the bickering duo, unable to hold back a smile.

"I'm the one who plays the fool in this house," Eijun grumbled.

"We know," three voices answered in unison, flustering him.

"All things aside," Chieko fixed Eijun with her  ‘I’m onto you’ look. Had she figured out he’d omitted something earlier? Probably. His mom was smart like that. “I think you should consider challenging yourself more, and this is a great opportunity to do that."

"You're never challenged anywhere, are you?” Eishi picked up the line of thought. “Definitely not in baseball, because you're the one who's challenging your friends. And every child your age should test their mettle at some point or they'll never grow. Your mother is right, Seidou might just turn out to be good for you."

"Will it really? How am I supposed to know if it's for me?" Eijun was understandably skeptical.

"You can't know until you find out yourself. By going there if you have to," Eishi paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Did I ever tell you? At one point in my life I wanted to be a musician." Eijun blinked.

"No, you didn't!" He definitely would've remembered that.

"I thought it was what I wanted to do in life, so I set off for Tokyo," Eishi smiled ruefully. "It took me three months to find out that it actually wasn't for me, and then I came back home--"

"Crying to me how 'Tokyo was so scary!'" Eitoku mocked him. They started a minor brawl which was broken up by Chieko before it could escalate. Eijun watched it all and grinned. A random visitor might think Eitoku was in charge of everything going by his personality, but Eijun knew who really wore the pants around here.

"My point," Eishi continued once he settled down, "is that it's fine to decide on something and then realize it was a wrong decision. Making such mistakes is a part of growing up. If you decide to go to Seidou and it won't work out for you, you can always transfer to Miyoshi, or just go back and help out with the farm. No one will blame you for it or laugh at you."

Okay, Eijun took back every complaint he made about his family today. They were the best.

"Speak for yourself, I'd definitely laugh at him," said Eitoku right after Eijun thought that, making him facefault.

"This is supposed to be encouragement?! I take back what I just took back! Ha! See? I'm not that stubborn if I can change my mind twice in under a minute!" he announced triumphantly, causing confused blinking as the others couldn't read his mind and thus had no idea what he was talking about.

"...Back to the subject," Eishi attempted to move on from the weird exchange. "Now that you've been offered an opportunity to attend a school like Seidou I think you should take it, if only to try it out. Even if you're not convinced, being scouted by a school of such renown has to be at least a little flattering, right?" He gave Eijun a questioning glance. Eijun flushed and turned away, grumbling to himself. It was, but hell if he was going to admit that. The pleasure and happiness that bubbled up in his chest when he realized that someone thought he had potential as a pitcher just didn't fit with the rest of his emotions, so he'd made sure to push it to the back of his mind. The feeling was still there but he could ignore it... until his dad's comment right now.

"Right," Eishi nodded after getting a good look at Eijun's reaction. "Whatever you may think now I can assure you, this feeling won't go away. If you don't take the chance it may die down for a while, but then it'll come back when you least expect it and you'll end up wondering what could've been. But by then it'll probably already be too late."

Too late. Eijun flinched as he realized his dad was speaking of regrets. His least favorite flavor was bitter and regrets basically personified it. If he chose to not even see the school, would he end up regretting it? Forever wondering what the place was like and if he could’ve fit in there if he'd given it a chance? He… had no idea. He’d been so stuck on going to Miyoshi with his friends that he hadn’t considered anything else.  Now the possibility his dad evoked made him feel vaguely ill, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. Remembering his hot chocolate he sipped at it to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. The sweetness on his tongue washed away the bitter taste the thoughts left and the liquid settled warmly in his stomach, warming him up from the inside and slowly loosening the knot of nerves.

Now that he was trying to be less bull-headed about the issue (what, he could admit his faults if only to himself), he realized he was curious to see what the snobby school looked like. The recruiter’s stories didn’t count as she was expected to show her school in the best light, and besides he hadn’t been too impressed with what he’d heard. So he should probably go there and form his own opinion. Like his dad said, the visit had no strings attached so there should be no problem. Well, as long as no one expected him to pretend to be impressed if he wasn’t.

A slurping sound cut through his thoughts. Eijun blinked, coming back to himself as he realized he’d finished his drink and was now trying to drink from an empty mug. Snorting, he set it down.

"Right," he shook his head to clear it. "I want to talk to my friends about this first, but tomorrow I'll keep an open mind."

"That's the spirit!" Eitoku said, nodding grandly in approval as though this was a state meeting.

"That’s settled then. Crackers, anyone?" Chieko offered, moving the bowl to the middle of the table. One third of its contents was mysteriously missing. Caught off guard, the men (and boy) stared at the different types of crackers like they've never seen any before. Chieko rolled her eyes.

"Alright, more for me."

"You're gonna eat the whole bowl?" Eitoku wondered. "That's probably a lot of--" SLAP!

"Go ahead, dear," Eishi sweated nervously, hand still covering his father's mouth after the strategic slap. As previously stated, age and calories were risky topics.

"Are there any spicy ones?" Ignoring the byplay Eijun peered into the bowl.

"The triangles," Chieko pushed it towards him.

"Yay!" Eijun grabbed a triangle and happily stuffed it in his mouth. He loved spicy food... Wait a second. "Eeeh? These aren't spicy at all!"

"Not for you, maybe," Chieko corrected him. Out of curiosity Eishi tried a supposedly spicy cracker and frowned in thought.

"It is spicy."

"What? No it isn't!"

"Sorry Ei-chan, you're outvoted."

"Let me try," Eitoku also grabbed a cracker. "Hah? It's not that spicy, what’re you talking about?"

"Ha! Two for two! It's a tie now!" Eijun waved his hands in a mini victory dance.

"Your opinion shouldn't count in the first place, Eijun; you once put a whole habanero pepper in curry."

"Hey! I ate it later, didn't I?"

"Because no one else would touch it. Not even dad."

"Excuse you, I'm perfectly capable of eating real man's food! ...But that time he overdid it."

"I don't want to hear that from someone who later made jalapeno ramen!” Eijun protested. “Which I also had to eat, by the way!"

"Of course you had to eat it, no normal person would eat such a thing." What a hypocrite!

"Then why even make it in the first place?" Eijun yelled in exasperation.

"Now, now," Chieko soothed them. "Ei-chan, it's getting late. If you want to talk to your friends you should do it soon. There's no way to tell how long you'll take, and you should also make sure to pack something for the road. It's three hours from here to Tokyo, even if you take the shinkansen."

"Right! I'll just make a group chat, I guess," Eijun thought out loud. Eitoku rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

“But first please help with the dishes,” Chieko said with a pleasant smile. Somehow Eijun didn't think this was about the dishes - well, not only. But it couldn't hurt to have an additional talk with his mom.

He went.

Then he had to go back for the mugs.

[spacedriftingqueen]

Requested by: @katiekittybones “FemxReader heads out to hunt big animals, Arthur worries and stalks her. He soon realises that she can handle herself and goes to leave by she sneaks up on him”

AN: I kinda changed things up a little cause I lost train of thought while watching TV

Warnings: Language *blows kiss*

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: Just under 3K!!!

“Where you goin?”

Arthur asked as he walked, well ran over to your horse. You turned back and he had a look of worry on his features. “Micah kicked me out.” His features changed from worried to ‘where is he and let me kill him.’ “I’ll be damned before that happens.” He moved to begin taking your stuff from your horse when you yelled for him to stop. “Arthur-“ he took hold of your rifle from its holster. “Arth- I was, am messing with you.” You snatched it from his hands before he went and shot the stupid man. He turned his head slightly to the right, as if he couldn’t hear you properly. “Then where you going? Why’s all your shit on the horse? You leaving us?” He fired out a bunch of questions that exasperated you. You liked Arthur but just sometimes he got a little worked up and worried over the slightest thing when it came to the girls and you. He often did secret runs into town to get new clothes and cotton for the women when it came to bleeding, it embarrassed him endlessly but he did it.

“Hear the locals talking bout some big animals in the woods and then I saw you walk into camp with that stupid bear hat and all that meat and the stories from Hosea about a giant bear, that you killed.” You poked his chest nearly breaking your finger, he’s harder than a rock. “I want piece of the action. Charles has been teaching me how t’hunt for weeks now-“ Arthur went to open his mouth, to protest no doubt. “You ain’t been around to notice so don’t start telling me that ‘am a woman and I can’t handle it’ cause right now, I’d rather be chasing some animal than stuck in camp.” You placed your hand on his jawline, he really needed another shave. “Don’t look worried, god. You wear that look so much am starting to think it’s permanent.” Arthur sank into your hand for only a moment then straightened back up letting you hand fall from his face. “What if something goes wrong?” He questioned quietly, very uncertain about you leaving.

“Then burk will come back to camp without me and you’ll find my rotten body in the woods.” You smiled but Arthur frowned. “Naw girl, that ain’t funny. Just cause Charles taught ya’ how to follow a rabbit doesn’t mean you are ready for chasing the big dogs up in the wilderness. If the weather don’t get you, the animals will. If the animals don’t get you then a trap will or, huh whatever. It’s doesn’t matter cause you ain’t going.” You scowled at Arthur, I mean really scowled and he tried to walk backwards away from you before he got a broken nose. “We’ll excuse me sir but the lil’ woman of camp wants to play with the big boys. Move out ma way Morgan and don’t wait up for me getting back.” You stormed away from him and climb up on burk and took hold of the reins, “Don’t go fretting none. Don’t go following me, I’ll be alright and back in a few days.” And you left, taking the trail on the right before he could even think about stopping.

A few minutes had went by, Arthur had his hands on his hips and nose tipped to the sky as he counting to himself while tapping his foot. “Don’t do it man.” John warned walking past carrying some chopped logs. “Don’t follow or you might end up being the target.” Arthur scoffed at John, “What do you know bout it lunch meat?” This time John scoffed. “Screw off Morgan. I may be lunch meat but least I ain’t a chicken, scared and shit to let a girl out my sight.” The men both scoffed back and forth at one another, a few eyerolls. “Imma just check on her, that’s alright. I can follow her for a few then head back.” John chucked the logs to side and wiped his hands down. “Why though? Just leave her be. She’s grown.” Arthur went to grab John just as Dutch stepped in.

“Woah boys. What-“ he laughed, “What are we doing here?” Arthur let go of John coat, shoving him back. “Arthur won’t let (y/n) breathe.” Dutch looked about for you and frowned. “Where is she?” He is confused, what was this argument even about? “She told me that Charles had been taken her hunting’ and she wanted to find a big animal like the bear Hosea and me saw.” Arthur tapped on his chest, waving his arm out as he spoke. Dutch didn’t laugh, he didn’t chuckle, he scowled deeply. “Charles has been here less that you have Arthur my boy, I don’t see how he’s been teaching her.”

He felt stupid, stupid that he let you fool him and lie straight to his face. He was not impressed, “Arthur, you get that girl and you bring her back. She could get hurt or worse.” He didn’t need telling twice, heading for the hitching post he climbed on his horse listening to John bitching about how you are a big girl that can handle herself, she wasn’t going to be impressed about Arthur coming to the rescue but you are so stubborn that you can’t see you need rescuing.

_________________________________________

It didn’t take him long to track you down, he followed you through strawberry and right into the hills of West Elizabeth, it felt like he had been following you for days, he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t impressed by the way you chase after a damn baby boar, he had let out a laugh when he saw you failing to use the bow and threw it away and dived into the bushes for the little beast, it made entertaining viewing, he hid back in the trees as you made a stop and tried to lead your horse to the water, Arthur pulled out his map and found you are at Owanjila lake. He urged to do a spot of fishing but held back, “stupid fool.” He muttered to himself, ‘you can lead a horse t’water but you can’t make it drink it.’ pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up as you had a conversation with Burk like you expected him to talk back. Something had spooked some birds in a nearby bush, sending them flying and squawking into the air. One puff of the cigarette and he tossed it away into a muggy puddle, it hissed quietly. “There boy.” He patted his horse as it got a little antsy and banged its hoof into the dirt. Pulling out his rifle, he had you covered from a distance looking to see what disturbed the birds from nesting.

Arthur hopped it wasn’t a bear, or worse. A cougar. He’d had many run ins with them over this end of the country, spooking his horse like silent devils until they ponce and try and take you down. He couldn’t see anything from the scoop nor his naked eye, he licked his lips and took another look, again he saw nothing. He watched from afar as you pulled your blade out, stalking through the tall grass, you saw something that he didn’t. He hopped off his horse, taking the rifle. Just in case, as he creeped far behind you hiding behind a large boulder that covered his large frame, Burk sensed him and made a noise which caused (y/n) to look back. Arthur sucked in a breath, trying to make himself as small as he could, he felt ridiculous for hiding from a girl, he felt even worse for spying on the girl. Peeking from behind the stone, he frowned as to where you had gone.

He stood up and tipped his hat a little while scanning the area. He really didn’t want to chase about after you no more, he had over 10 years on you and he was tired. Arthur had to admit it to himself, you are okay out here and can handle things so far so he figured he’d go back home and tell Dutch a lie about how he couldn’t find you. “Why don’t you drop the weapon sweetheart, you’ll only get hurt.” Arthur went tight and stiff as the barrel of a gun was push up against the bottom of his skull. He smirked, holding his hands up to the height of his shoulders.

“You sure bout this? Seems like a mistake.” He slid his rifle from His shoulders and tossed it gently to the ground so it didn’t go off. “A mistake on your behalf.” He all but growled, the barrel is dug harder into his skin making him move forward only so slightly but he wasn’t scared. The barrel was removed from his head and pushed into his lower back, “any sudden movements and ill blow a hole in you. Ya’ hear?” Arthur nodded as he went along with this, a hand wrapped around his body, first it went for his knife then his revolver. Both weapons tossed beside the rifle “What you got for me beautiful?” The voice asked, hand stifling into his pockets and rustling around. “You think am beautiful?” He played. The gun was pushed harder into his spine, he felt it through his coat. He smiled to himself, catching you out.

The hand disappeared from his body, along with the barrel to his back. “You carry such shit around Morgan.” He finally let his arm drop and turned around, you popped a sweetie from his pocket into your mouth and sucked on the hard boiled candy. “Well hello to you too darlin’ if I knew I was gonna be robbed I would have left a nugget for your hard work.” You hit him in the arm with the butt of your rifle, hard. “What was that for?!” He took the gun from your hands pulling you forward only to knock you back while hitting you in the arm with it making you winch and hold it. “Jeez Arthur, you hit the bone. Least I ain’t being all stalker and following you bout like some dog. Fuck off, go on.” You took the rifle back, “git gone.” You cocked it and held it up to your eyeline, aiming for right in between his eyes.

Arthur put his hands up, again but walked forward just as a small drop of rain landed on his nose. The barrel pointed between his eyebrows, right against his temple and he showed no fear. “Do it sweetheart.” The heavens had opened, one large cloud had formed and rain began pelting down. “C’mon (y/n) do it. I followed you out here cause a though you were just a weak girl so do it.” enraged about just being ‘a girl’ you are more than that, you aren’t a pot washing for Pearson, a grab at thing for Bill or Micah, a storyteller for jack, a cleaner for John, a sweetheart for Dutch or an ear hole for the women. You are you, a fearless woman. Pulling back the rigger, it clicked loudly making you jump. Arthur smiled a large grin showing off his teeth for once, he opened up his left hand that he held in the air as the rifles cartridges fell to the ground.

“You.” You looked at the gun. “You took my ammo. How- you son of a whore.” Arthur raised his hand back, you flinched and turned your head expecting a slap. He just laughed as he put it down, spitting out water than landed in his mouth. “If you wanna be seen as more than just a girl, don’t flinch. Stand strong.” You spat rain water back at him and stormed off, he followed of course. “Why are you here Arthur? To make me look like a fool? To run back to Dutch to say that I failed and died.” The last part wasn’t a question but more of a statement, he wanted to see you fail. He wanted to go back and laugh about.

You headed back to Burk. Arthur didn’t bother to pick up his weapons, he was more focused on you right now and how great you looked soaking wet, he knew you are angry, he could see the steam coming from your skin in the cold rain. “Naw so just hold up little woman.” His whole hand wrapped around your forearm, yanking you to a stop. “I came to make sure you didn’t die, since you became a fucking liar. Why lie bout’ Charles teaching you to hunt when he didn’t? I saw ya’ tackle that boar, it was a lil’ skinny but that’s ok cause you are too. These bigger animals you after?” Arthur pushed his chest against yours, the alpha male he became as he puffed out. “They feral, dangerous.” He stripped off his coat, wrapping it around your wet frame. Holding you down from its heavy weight.

Arthur put his hand around the back of your neck, fingers moving to hold your head back to look up at him. “People only take you for guaranteed if you let them, folk at the camp? You need to stand your ground with them. Show them that you aren’t a girl, but a strong young lady.” It’s true, you had to man up well woman up and be tougher like the rest. “We going home now?” Arthur didn’t let go off you, he shook his head. Droplets falling on your face as he did this. “No, not yet. You really want to hunt something big?” You nodded your head, blinking rapidly to get the water out your eyes as rain fell directly on your face. Arthur’s hand slipped from your neck, running down your arm and to your hand as he clasped it with his. “Let’s rest up a while until the rains off. You bring a tent?” You thought for a moment and then nodded. “Of course, didn’t you?” Arthur shook his head this time, tugging at your hand. “I left in such a rush I didn’t pack it.”

“Well wasn’t that stupid?” You let his hand go so he could go get his discarded weapons on the grass as you headed to Burk for the tent before the rain got any worse.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Your name: submit What is this?

Words: 2,405 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: none reaaaally A/N: SURPRISE IT'S HEEEERE! This is the fourth part of a series! Read Part 1 2 and 3 first!

You looked down at the crumpled pile on the floor in front of you in disgust and casually lifted a boot. You dragged your knife along the sole, scraping the semi-congealed blood onto the rubber edge and planting your foot back firmly on the floor, smiling a little at the thought of how goddamn confusing that one bloody shoeprint was going to be for the cops.

No forced entry. Doors and windows all locked from the inside. No fingerprints.

Just a dead rapist and one bloody partial shoeprint.

You cast a final glance at the body in the middle of the floor.

He hadn’t even seen it coming. How could he? And you never got sick of the look on their faces when you finally showed yourself to them… after you had a little fun first of course.

Your targets were are a special kind of sick and you afforded them the same thought and mercy which they gave their victims; exactly none.

You materialized by the nearest wall and thrust the knife you had used for the dirty work into the ugly wood paneling.

The cops could have the murder weapon. It wouldn’t matter. You left no traces, except for that little bit of sulfur you didn’t bother to get rid of. It would be a red herring for them. By the time they’d even confirmed what is was you would have gone across the country and possibly circled back around again.

In the next instant you were outside in the alley, pulling your hood up to obscure yourself better as you moved through the shadows, carelessly splashing through puddles, rinsing the last bit of blood off your boots.

You headed for your newest haunt, though this would probably be your last night in the establishment. You needed to keep on the move. There were plenty more scumbags you needed to visit...

Somewhere in the back of your mind you acknowledged that you were leaving behind a trail of bodies, and sooner or later, someone would catch up to you by following that trail. You hadn’t yet decided who it was most likely to be, but you know it would be someone.

_ _ _ _ _ _

By the time Cas and Sam pulled up in front of the building, cops were already removing a body in a body bag from a garden level apartment.

The two exchanged a look with each other. Cas grabbed a couple badges from a box hidden underneath his seat and handed one to Sam.

The dark circles beneath Sam’s eyes had diminished somewhat in recent weeks, but they never disappeared completely. He was looking stronger though, and steadier, Cas was happy to note. He had a sense of purpose. They both did. They had something to keep them occupied, and something to strive for. And that was bringing you and Dean home.

”Okay,” Sam said to Cas as they strode across the lawn. “Just remember to—“

”Follow your, lead. Yes, Sam. I think I’ve got it by now.” Cas looked up toward the apartment building. It was nicely landscaped and many of the balconies above had flowering plants and patio sets arranged on them. “Nicer apartments than our last few cases,” the angel said.

Sam sighed heavily and his jaw clenched. “Well, rapists come from all backgrounds. They’re not just some sicko from the bad part of town,” he said. “Sometimes people refuse to believe that,” he added sadly. “Money is power, you know.”

Cas’s face clouded over. “You think that’s why he avoided a conviction?”

“I read his case file. I know it is. His lawyer, the best money could buy, got the DNA evidence thrown out.” Sam flagged a nearby detective down.

“Excuse me. We’re with the local FBI field office. You mind if we take a look at the scene?” Sam asked, flashing his badge. “We’ve been sitting on this guy for a while and—“

“Oh, yeah. Your co-worker is inside already. Knock yourselves out. They just took the body out but my partner can tell you how we found him.”

Sam and Cas exchanged a tense expression, thanked the detective, and started toward the sliding glass door. “Co-worker?” Just as Sam was swallowing the lump in his throat, the detective called out to get their attention. “Hey! Good luck! You’re gonna need it,” he scoffed, turning and heading toward his car.

Cas let out a doubtful sigh. “Great…”

Sam flashed a badge again to an officer as they neared the open patio door and he pointed them straight in to the living room. Rounding the doorframe their eyes immediately fell on none other than Crowley.

Sam’s jaw clenched and he was sure his gaze turned cold. But Crowley merely nodded and said, “Agents.”

Cas and Sam begrudgingly walked over and surveyed the scene. Once the detective inside had talked them through everything he left the three alone to go oversee further evidence collection.

”FBI? Really, Crowley? What kind of FBI agent dresses like a funeral home director?” Sam said, gesturing at the King of Hell’s all black suit and dark tie.

Crowley glanced down at his suit. “This is an Armani suit, Moose. Not that I would expect you to know, based on your Walmart ensemble.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Crowley added sarcastically.

Cas’s voice came out in a growl. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

”What do you think I’m doing? The same thing you two nimrods are. Following the bodies. Purgatory is filling up with monsters and hell is filling up with sinners. Our numbers haven’t been this good since the Black Plague struck Europe,” he finished with a snarky smile.

”If business is so good, then why are you bothering following up on whoever is doing it?” Sam pressed.

Crowley merely shifted his weight and didn’t respond, eyeing the bloody knife still sticking out of the wall.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the demon. “You felt it too,” he said.

Crowley looked over at Cas, and although he tried to scowl there was some doubt in his eyes that the angel could see. “Please, I’m a demon. I don’t feel anything.”

”The change in power. You felt it,” Cas said again.

Sam was glancing between the two of them, trying to read Crowley’s expression, and becoming very uncomfortable about all the officers moving in and out of the room. “Alright, we can’t talk about this here. Let’s go. We’ll go someplace we don’t have to worry about being overheard.”

A short time later, the three of them were sequestered in a dingy bar, and despite the fact that there was only Budweiser and Bud Light on tap, Crowley still asked for some fruity monstrosity of a cocktail, which Sam was pretty sure was going to get them thrown out or punched.

Sam was having a hard time looking at Crowley without feeling anger boil in his chest. He wanted to punch him square across the face, but at the moment he also wanted to know what Crowley thought about what Cas insisted he had felt.

“So, what do you think it is?” Sam asked.

Crowley took a deep drink out of his fruity cocktail through the straw, obviously prolonging it to maximize Sam and Cas’s annoyance. “What do you think it is?”

”Come on, Crowley. You’re lucky I didn’t try and gut you with an angel blade the minute we saw you,” Sam spat. “If you’d like to keep things that way, I suggest you help. This whole mess is your fault anyway!”

Crowley cocked his head at Sam and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a bar napkin. “Not very friendly, are we, Moose?”

Sam was about to retort but Cas interrupted and attempted to run interference. “It’s Y/N. Isn’t it?” he prodded.

The same discomfort they had seen back at the crime scene was evident on Crowley’s face. Cas took it as an affirmative response.

”Perhaps,” Crowley said. “I may have heard something about it.”

Suddenly, Cas snapped. He seized Crowley by the front of his suit and was inches from his face. “Listen, you little insect. We wouldn’t have lost Dean OR Y/N if it weren’t for you, so if you know something I suggest that you tell us, otherwise I will personally see to rearranging your face.” Cas’s voice came out through clenched teeth as a growl.

Sam noticed that the bartender just turned his back and walked away, apparently unconcerned, and Sam put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Cas—“

Just then, Sam’s cell phone rang. All three of them froze, and Sam dug into his pocket and pulled it out. Unlisted caller.

Sam glanced up at Cas, who immediately released Crowley. Crowley watched with interest as he straightened his suit coat and tie. After gulping down the tightness in his throat the best he could, Sam answered the call. “Hello?” He could hear the hesitation in his own voice.

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” came the voice from the other end.

”Dean.” Cas’s eyes widened and his gaze intensified. Crowley leaned in a little closer.

”How’s it hanging, little brother?”

Sam didn’t know how to respond. “Dean, we’ve been trying to get in touch with you since—“

“--since forever. Yeah, I know. But you know what they say, moss doesn’t grow on a rolling rock or some shit,” Dean replied carelessly. “Listen… I know you and Cas are on the trail of this killing machine and I think there’s something you should know about it.”

“What about it?” Sam asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

Dean slammed back a shot of tequila and cleared his throat. “It ain’t me,” he said.

Sam let a silence stretch for a moment. “…is that it?”

”Yeah, kind of.” Sam could almost see the shrug he guessed Dean was making and he felt anger welling up in his chest again.

”Dean, Y/N is missing, maybe dead, or God-only-knows what and all you can say is—“

Dean interrupted. “Yeah, Y/N is definitely not dead,” he said.

”What?” Sam retorted.

”Who the hell do you think is leaving the Hansel and Gretel trail? But, you know, bodies instead of bread crumbs,” he said. “I’m ahead of you on this thing.”

”What’s he saying?” Crowley whispered, but Sam just waved him off.

”We thought it was but--are you sure it’s Y/N?” Sam asked.

”Positive,” Dean said. “Absolutely positive. She’s gone totally scorched earth!” He almost sounded amused and it was grating Sam’s nerves.

Crowley suddenly grabbed the phone from Sam and put it on speakerphone. “Dean! Pleasure to hear from you as always. Never available when needed but buzzing around like a fly when--”

”Crowley! Well, I should have guessed… The gang is all there,” Dean said carelessly.

”Dean,” Cas said. His voice was cold and steely. “Where are you?”

Dean only laughed. “Ahead of you, chuckles, but I’m not about to tell you where. You three are in Indiana? Well there are three more bodies waiting for you down the line.”

“Dean, what exactly is—“ Cas wasn’t sure how to ask the question. “Have you seen Y/N?”

”No, but I’m close. Closer than you three amigos anyway.” They heard the clink of glassware in the background. Dean changed gears. “Crowley, there are some crazy rumors flying around about your domain. Shouldn’t you be reining those in?”

Sam and Cas’s eyes flew to Crowley’s face, immediately trying to read his reaction.

”I’m not sure what you’re referr—“ Crowley started, but Dean quickly interrupted.

”You know goddamn well what I’m referring to,” Dean countered. “A bunch of your minions are losing their shit because they think Y/N has gone nuclear. Some are saying she’s going to be taking over,” he scoffed. “Can you imagine that? Y/N taking over hell? I mean, I know she’s gone vigilante but Y/N? Taking over Hell? A little unbelievable. I’m sure even as she is she probably is full of annoying principles,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Based on the earful she gave me last time I saw her…” Though he was talking about the fight you had had with him in the hotel during the rendezvous Crowley had arranged, a sudden surge pushed the image of you pale and dead on that slab into his mind unbidden and he winced and squinted his eyes shut, trying to force it out of mind.

But on the other end of the line Cas and Sam were still scrutinizing Crowley, who was no longer able to hide his concern and anxiety. He tried to distract from it. “Full of principles until some hunter wanders into her path, maybe,” Crowley said.

Dean was about to respond but Cas quickly hung up the call and Sam and the angel let their angry glares bore into the demon. “I knew that you knew something,” Cas growled.

Sam sidled up beside him and soon had an angel blade pressed against his ribs. “Now, Crowley. This is Y/N we are talking about. It’s not a game.”

It seemed that the ‘King of Hell’ didn’t have any options. “Alright, Moose. Put the pig sticker away, it’s making me itch,” he said. He sighed heavily as Sam backed off. Cas’s cobalt eyes were fixed on him.

“What Flutters here picked up on, his so-called ‘change in power’ was Y/N coming back to—well not back to life exactly, but into being in her new form,” Crowley said.

”As a demon,” Sam said. No surprise there.

”Bravo, Moose,” Crowley quipped. “But it’s more than that. It seems that for some unknown reason Y/N came back as—” he hesitated.

”As?” Cas urged, his deep voice thick with foreboding. The air felt electric around them. Cas knew they were on the edge of some new information that was going to change everything.

”A Knight of Hell,” Crowley said, averting his eyes to the floor. “So, you see we are in a bit of a predicament.”

Sam fell back heavily onto the nearest barstool, his face dumbstruck. Cas’s blue eyes were glaring at Crowley and his anger resurfaced.

”A Knight of Hell,” he repeated. “What have you done, Crowley?”

And this time the demon didn’t have a snappy comeback. All he could do was stare at his polished dress shoes and wait for what was to come.

[angelharryyyy]

It’s hard when we argue / H.S

Part one

It’s been bothering Y/N all night.

Seeing Harry around his friends, acting like nothing has happened, while Y/N was left brewing on the couch, trying to distract herself with the straw that she was swirling in her half-empty plastic cup full of alcohol (which she has topped up 4 times already)

His head was tilted back and his hand was resting on his stomach as he let out a bellowed laugh - and it was all Y/N could hear. She couldn’t understand how he could laugh like that after the events that took place earlier on. She could still hear his voice and how he raised it more than he ever has before. It didn’t scare her, it just startled her a little. Especially because it was over Camille, who was in the same room as him, laughing along at whatever he was saying.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

Y/N’s head perked at the sound of her name, turning her head towards the doorframe leading into the hall. Her eyes were met with Mitch’s.

“You’ve been sat in here for a while, just wanting to check up on you.” His head was poked around the door, and Y/N couldn’t help but let a small smile spread on her lips. Appreciating the concern, but it was soon wiped away as she realised she had been sitting here alone.

Maybe it was time to go. She thought, feeling a little out of place. Which was an odd feeling for her because usually wherever Harry was it felt like home. But being here, drinking away her sorrows while watching Harry chat to his ex just didn’t sit right with her.

“You need to stop acting like you own me, we’re not even together!”

His sharp words replayed in her mind, breaking her heart over and over as she replayed the events in her mind. She couldn’t sit here anymore, she knew that with every passing second her mind would torture her with made up scenarios and her chest would soon explode if she saw Camille lean into him again, whispering into his ear words that only they knew of. And his laugh - oh man, if she heard his heavenly laugh once more she knew that it would leave her in a puddle of her own tears, knowing that it wasn’t her that was causing it.

She stood onto her feet, stumbling a little as the alcohol rushed to her head. She let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, ‘m just fine.” She replied to Mitch with an sliver of sarcasm dripping from her lips. Mitch just looked at her in concern. He had never seen her drunk - only ever seen her tipsy a few times, along with Harry. But he knew something was up because every time Y/N was brought into the conversation Harry would be dead silent.

“I’m gonna go, I think. Starting to get a bit of a sore head.” Y/N felt her limbs wobble as she walked towards the door leading into the hallway. Mitch approached her before pausing, watching her tardily put her coat on with a giggle.

“I’m fine, honestly. I’m gonna call a my friend. He’s just around the corner. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” Y/N spoke, her back facing Mitch, unable to turn his way in case he saw the tears that was brimming her eyes.

She pulled her hair from underneath her coat before buttoning it up, a tear falling down her cheek.

“Um, okay. I - Uh, I’ll see you later, yeah? It was nice seeing you.” Mitch spoke hesitantly to which Y/N nodded. He stood there momentarily before turning on his heels, returning to the kitchen to where everyone was.

Y/N let out a long breath, one that she didn’t even know she was holding as she heard him leave the room. She closed her eyes momentarily before pulling her handbag over her shoulder. She felt slightly unsteady as she hurriedly approached the front door. Taking one more glance behind her as her hand held onto the handle. She got the confirmation she needed when she heard the rumble of laughter flood from the kitchen.

She felt the air hit her face, causing a stream of goosebumps to form on her skin. It felt nice.

After she shut the front door, she walked towards the road, her eyes scanning the empty stretches of tar that led to the city. She stood there for a moment. The street was lit up by the almost yellow tinted street lights that were scattered along the road, making the atmosphere slightly eerie. She didn’t mind it though, the music that spilled from the house behind her comforted her slightly, along with the distant lights from the city, which made her think of home. She wanted to go home.

Snapping herself from her trance, her hand slipped into her pockets in search of her mobile. It then became panicked as it was no where to be felt, her breathing picking up slightly as she couldn’t remember if she even took it to the party. The last memory was throwing it half way across the room in a fit of anger. She let out a long sigh, her head dropping back. This can’t be happening.

She was startled when she heard a very familiar voice from behind her, sending a shiver down her body. She didn’t turn to face him, not wanting to see her in this state. She knew that her cheeks was stained with tears and her voice would surely be broken. She didn’t want him to see her drunk either, she knew it would upset him because of the circumstances.

“Where are you going?” He spoke, his words slow and torturous. He stared at her, his eyebrows pulled together causing a crease to form inbetween.

“I’m going home.” She replied simply.

“‘n how are you getting home?” He questioned, slightly irritated that she would leave without telling him. He couldn’t really blame her though, when he thought about it. He knew he went too far, but so did she - both saying things that they didn’t mean.

“I’m calling Jack.” She stared down at her hands, which she was fumbling with. Twirling the ring around her index finger nervously.

“With what phone?” He replied with sarcasm dripping from his words. Y/N turned her head immediately, seeing Harry hold her phone in his hand.

He stood only a few feet away, looking at her with no emotion. It made her skin crawl. He hated her, she knew he did. But he had no right to be angry at her considering the things he said.

But the moment he saw her tear stained skin his expression softened. His lips parting slightly as he took in the sight of the girl in front of him, usually beaming and pouring with energy, now standing timid with her eyes brimming with tears while her chin dimpled and wobbled. It made his heart ache, knowing it was because of him.

“Give it to me.” She scowled, stepping forward with her hand held out.

“You’re not calling him.” Harry replied, unable to imagine Jack pulling up and taking his Y/N away from him.

He knew Jack was nothing but a friend to Y/N, but he saw the way his eyes watched her with such content every time she laughed. The same way he did. It made his blood boil at the thought.

“Give me my fucking phone, Harry.” Y/N snarled, wanting nothing but to go home and go straight to bed (secretly hoping to wake up with Harry wrapped around her, like what happened most mornings) but she knew that wasn’t the case this time.

Harry narrowed his eyes, watching as she stumbled slightly as she approached him.

“Wait, are you drunk?” He questioned.

“I don’t want to argue anymore, Harry. I just want to go-“

“How much have you had?” He interrupted.

Y/N stared at him in confusion, shaking her head.

“Why does it matter?” She asked, a small hiccup escaping her lips.

She watched as he took in a long breath before exhaling. He stepped towards her, his long legs bringing him only inches in front of her.

“You’re coming back in-“ he grabbed her arm.

“Fuck you! Let go of me,” She tried to squirm out his grip, but his fingers were wrapped tightly around her arm as he dragged her towards the door.

“You don’t fucking own me, Harry. Remember? Stop trying to act like my boyfriend!” She snarled, her words slicing through Harry as he paused, his grip loosening on Y/N as he let her words sink in. The same words he said to her.

He turned to face her again but before he could react she snatched her phone from his grasp, turning away from him instantly.

“If you call him, I swear to god-“ Harry begun, but was soon cut short when he watched her press her phone to her ear.

“Stop.” He warned. His voice underlined with desperation. He didn’t want her to go, that was the last thing he wanted. Even if they weren’t together, he still wanted her more than anything. She was his.

“Y/N, please-“

“Jack! Hi - sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. Uh - yeah. I need a-“

Harry couldn’t take it.

He marched over to her, snatching the phone from her hand before ending the call, making Y/N gasp.

“What the fuck-“

“You’re coming home with me, alright? I don’t want to hear another fuckin’ word.” Harry told Y/N with the same assertiveness that startled her earlier that day. Y/N stayed silent, peering up at him with her glossy doe eyes.

“Harry-“

“I fucking love you, Y/N.” Harry interrupted yet again, but this time his words completely took Y/N by surprise. Her jaw slackening slightly as she stared up at him in confusion. Unsure if he actually said what he just said.

“You’re mine, Y/N. I’m not gonna let you go home with anyone but me, okay?” His voice was a bit softer, but still just as assertive.

“That’s rich.” Was all Y/N could say, her head dropping slightly as his words. “Minutes ago you were all over her, and now you say you love me?”

“Bullshit.”

Despite everything she hated that he managed to give her butterflies. She didn’t know for sure if it was the alcohol or Harry’s words that made her knees weak, but she couldn’t let herself crumble in front of him. In a way she didn’t believe his words, thinking that it was a way to just shut her up.

“Are you serious?” He gaped down at her, unable to comprehend her words after he spilt his feelings for her.

“I’m not going through this again. Stop being stubborn.” He replied, reaching his hand out towards her.

“I’m gonna say goodbye to everyone first, then we will go home, okay? Just - please. Come in with me.” He pleaded, his hand slightly shaking as he held it out to her. He just wished that he could feel the softness of her hand slip into his. Even more so, feel her embrace and smell her vanilla scent, which he knew was probably mixed with the smell of alcohol. He just wanted to feel her, to know that she’s still there. To taste her heavenly lips that tasted like the cherry chapstick that she used all the time, just like before.

Y/N stared at his hand, contemplating whether she should give in or not.

“You seriously can’t be this stubborn, babe.”

And with the sound of the pet name she simply gave in. Taking tiny steps towards him before taking his hand is her own. He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Good girl.” He cooed, his hand raising to cup Y/N’s face, which still supported a scowl.

His fingers wrapped around her chin, making her lips pout. He couldn’t help but let that lopsided grin form on his face, the same grin that makes Y/N’s thighs squeeze tighter together.

“I’m still mad at you.” She managed to say, hating the amount of control he had over her.

“Oh, angel. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with that, he pressed his lips against hers, his fingers still wrapped around her jaw as he pulled her face closer to his. She could simply drown in his touch. The feeling of his warm, slightly chapped (only because of his habit of licking them) lips was unreal. He was unreal.

The kiss was short and sweet, with Harry being the first to pull away. Y/N felt like one of her limbs were removed when she felt the loss of his lips on hers. He hummed in amusement.

“No but seriously,” Harry began, “are you actually drunk?”

Y/N groaned, pulling away from Harry as he let out a chuckle before pushing his chest. She could feel herself almost fully sobered up after the altercation with Harry, but her vision was still a little blurry.

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed, the sound like melting honey. He pulled her back to his body.

“Let’s go back in, love. Say goodbye before we go home.”

—

A/N

ummmm idk

It’s 2 am and I got kinda sloppy at the end I’m sorry

If you want a part two just let me know !

Thank you

Susan x