#and feels like her idleness led to a lot more deaths than it could have prevented

[mazthoril]

character arc: nenniah

redemption arc

your story had a pretty rough start and you did some things you're not proud of, but you made the choice to change. i won't go through how important it is to accept responsibility and keep striving to improve or whatever because you know that already. what i think you should know is that your fuel does not need to be shame. you don’t need to stand over the bathroom sink with your blood in your hands until you can no longer make out your reflection. you will look at your face and you will see the person you used to be, but that person no longer exists. today, you are looking, and that makes all the difference.

quiz

tagging @asharinhun​ @dardillien-ward​ @saltsparkle​ @silver-by-the-sea​ @saidelia-draconis​ @renardsnoir​ @drust-apologist​ @newsnerd-ooc​ @whitedawn-wra​ @minstrelofmyths

[hausofmamadas]

For Those That Seek the Jungle's Forgiveness | Part 2

(formerly "Gone. Like That." Catch up with -> Part 1)

⁂

Pairing: Mika Camarena & Connie Murphy and Mika Camarena x Javi Peña

Word count: ≈ 5.2K

TWs: Canon-typical violence, major character death, grief/mourning, loss of significant other, discussion of guns

This was an argument she'd had a long time ago with men in fancy suits that held prestigious, official-sounding titles and had absolutely no intention of actually listening. Mika almost accidentally manslaughters Javi when he sneaks up on her on dark street at night, and then she proceeds to roast him for pulling some trick-ass shit, not keeping in contact with Connie while he’s been looking into Steve’s disappearance. Eventually, he accepts that Mika’s 40x smarter and wiser than him and bends the knee to the real comandante of this operation and comes one step closer to realizing he’s lowkey in love with her.

⁂

Mika glanced at her watch. Almost exactly half past eleven. She pulled up and idled in front of Connie and Steve’s place, staring at the front steps and metal railing that led to the black, geometric, lattice work on the front door.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. By who? No clue. But with every tick of her watch, she jumped, confusing it with the phantom sound of a camera snapping. She could already see what the picture might look like: her station wagon parked conspicuously in front of the building, bathed in the warm, sallow glow of the street lights. 

Hand on the wheel, she leaned forward, surveying the street with an outstretched index finger before making a U-turn and parking on the other side of the street. The engine was already off by the time she noticed it in the rear view mirror, a familiar boxy silhouette, two cars back, jacked up on all four wheels, that giant hood covering the back. Shit. It was Javi’s. She’d recognize that jalopy anywhere. So much for keeping the information contained between just her and Connie. So much for keeping the DEA out of it.

Oh well, she’d just have to find a way to convince Javi to go it alone with them. That would probably take some doing. She’d have to call Laura, see if she could look after Kikito and Danny for a few more hours. She hated to be more of a burden but they couldn’t risk Javi getting a bunch of agencies involved that would only eat the clock fighting over jurisdiction, paperwork, money. Plus, Danny loved when Laura showed him all the new additions to their huge fish tank.

Still, it was strange. Didn’t Connie say on the phone that Javi went back embassy? He did live downstairs, though. He might've just stopped at home. But Connie made it sound like he’d left in a rush. Maybe he forgot to tell her something important. That’d make a lot more sense than him being home. Hell, chasing a man they didn’t know and would probably never meet, these guys always found reasons not to come home. Chasing a partner gone MIA? Fucking forget it. So sure, maybe he’d got some news. Maybe he’d booked it back in a hurry because the news was bad. Mika shook her head. No, no, don’t go there. Not yet.

Reaching over, she popped the glove box. The door fell open to reveal the barrel of a Glock that Kiki had given her years ago, shining in the low light of the car. Was she really going to walk around with this now? Was it even necessary? Of course it was. Steve was missing and this place was a war zone. She tucked it into her bag, keeping her hand inside around the grip but off the trigger just like Kiki showed her. This sense of certainty had been almost unthinkable back when he had first suggested he teach her how to use a gun. 

It had been right after the DFS shot Víctor in that cafe and the Guadalajara cartel put a hit out on Roger. A vision of the Knapps’ front yard and driveway, littered with sheets of broken glass, struck her. Goosebumps erupted, traveling up the back of her neck as the memory replayed.

Kiki had been gently rubbing her back while they were watching Roger and Rita frantically jam suitcases in the trunk of their car, the same glass crunching beneath each frenzied step they took. She distinctly remembered, as she took in the scene, being afflicted with an almost inappropriate sense of relief that Rita wouldn’t have had to clean all of that up herself.

Looking from the driveway back to her, Kiki declared almost out of the blue, 'See if Clarice can watch Danny and Kikito sometime this week. I’m gonna take you to the range.’

He was startled when she’d started laughing, beside herself because the whole thing was absurd, right? Except, the look of unwelcome assurance in his eyes, an ominous forecast of what was to come, reminded her that it wasn’t. And that itself was absurd. 

‘Baby, c’mon I’m serious.’ She could make out the ridge of his jaw bone under the skin, tensed to keep his voice low as he shook his head. ‘No. We can’t count on them coming after just me anymore. And I won’t leave you alone without knowing you can at least protect yourself, protect the boys. I’m tryin’ to end this, you know I can’t be with you all the time.’

She took a deep breath to quiet the anxious laughter. A flat look of resignation had passed over her face as she breathed out, ‘No, you’re right. You’re right.’

He put his arm around her and pulled her in so she could rest her head on his shoulder, lips dusting her forehead with a quick kiss.

‘No, I’m sorry. And I know, I know, I know. You don’t even have to say it, okay? As soon as I get this motherfucker Félix, we can start looking for places in San Diego. But right now, I need to know you can take care of business. I mean, look, okay?’ he threw his hand up, waving it around in the direction of the house. ‘Look– I mean, fuckin’ Roger was makin’ fuckin’ pancakes for his kids when they started shooting up the place!’

Mika mumbled something in agreement. 

‘And anyway, you’ll feel better knowing you can kick some ass,’ he looked down and gave her a wink, ‘y’know, the Calexico way.’

The warmth of the smile in his voice got her to crack one too. 

And the thing was, he had been right. She had felt better after that. Taking Kikito to school, baseball practice, doctor’s appointments, going for lunch with Ana and Ronnie, thinking about what guys who pulled her over - like that greaseball with the slicked back hair and sunglasses - would do if she flashed a gun when she reached for her license instead of cash. It might not have changed the outcome much. But at least they wouldn’t have been so smug, knowing she wasn’t going to make things easy for them. The naive part of her that had been stuck back in Calexico knew how insane that was. But the part of her there, in Guadalajara, had understood that’s simply how things needed to be. Such was their life.

Or, her life. Now.

And would you look at that? Steve gone, it was all hell breaking loose, all over again. Except whatever optimism she might’ve clung to back then like a deflating life raft went to the grave with Kiki. So, these days, she had no problem admitting she felt better with a gun. Kiki put it as, ‘knowing she could kick some ass.’ Today, she thought of it as more, in the likely event that she didn’t survive, she could make whoever decided to fuck with her regret choosing her to fuck with.

She steeled herself with a breath before opening the car door, then pulled the handle and swung it open. Kicking one leg out and whipping her head around to check the street, she felt like a periscope rising out of the sea, slowly standing up. Clear. Good. And with more self-assurance than she felt, she shut the car door, locked it, and made a beeline for the concrete stairs of the building entrance, fighting every step of the way not to give over to the mental image of being tracked by crosshairs, to not think about a little red dot on her back right where her heart would be. 

Halfway to the other side of the street, a voice rang out from the dark behind her. “Hey stranger.”

She stopped cold, heart pounding so fiercely, she wondered if maybe she hadn’t been right about the crosshairs and this was what being shot was like. Relief nearly knocked her on her ass when, glancing down to make sure she was still in one piece, she realized there was nothing. Hand still gripping the gun in her bag, she whipped around faster than she could think, nearly clocking Javi in the jaw with the barrel. Just barely dodging the blow, his hands went up in a gesture of armistice, and froze like that in the middle of the street, laughing awkwardly. 

“Oh my god, you scared the shit outta me. Enserio, cabrón? Has vuelto loco? Sneaking up behind a woman on a dark street? In one of the most dangerous cities in the world? Do you have a death wish?”

“Er, sorry. Yeah, I guess I sorta forgot living in a place as, uh–”

“Lawless? Insane as Medellin?”

”I was gonna say uh, unpredictable— but yeah, of course this isn’t really be new to you, is it? Pero,” he slowly brought one of his hands down and pushed the gun barrel to the side with his index finger to inspect it, “pues tengo que admitir que no esperaba que sí estuvieras tan preparada.”

He put his hand back up but something in looking at the gun made him drop his shoulders and relax into that familiar, annoying, Saturday-afternoon, Javier-‘The Man’-Peña posture he assumed when he was especially pleased with himself. 

“What?” Mika’s eyebrows shot up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Man, I don’t know how to tell you this exactly,” he said, scratching his forehead. “But at the risk of er— taking a bullet to the face when I do, I— well, you should probably know that, uh … well, your safety’s on.” 

From the position marked with a tiny, engraved letter “S,” the safety switch mocked Mika as much as the upturned sides of Javi’s mustache. He kept his hands up as if to reassure her that she was still in control but doing a piss-poor job because he couldn’t seem to hide that shit eating smirk on his face. 

“Well,” she narrowed her eyes and shrugged, trying to play it off, “maybe I’m not out to get anyone killed. Maybe I just wanna scare them. You think anyone who matters is really gonna notice?” 

He cocked his head like a curious puppy, smiling even more, “I did.” 

“But do you, Agent Peña?” 

“Do I what?” 

“Really matter?” Mika shot back, voice laden with sarcasm but enough good humor to show she didn’t mean it.

They stared at each other for a moment and the combination of the half-wounded expression on his face and the way the street lights lit it orange like a fake tan made her want to laugh. 

“Ah shit,” she glanced down the barrel of the gun, tipping it slightly to the side, “that is such a Soccer Mom move. But y’wanna know what’s worse?” 

A touch of curiosity came to keep Javi’s smirk company, the desire to hear her answer punctuated by his silence.  

Mika shrugged. “My kids don’t even play soccer.”

Javi looked down, shoulders shaking as he tried to direct his laughter into the pavement instead of at her. It didn’t matter though because she was laughing too. Standing in the middle of the street, they dropped their hands and busted up together so synchronously, it looked almost rehearsed.

Once their little fit subsided, Javi was the first to come up for air. “So, what’s a rogue lady of the DEA wives’ club doing on an empty street in Bogotá this late at night? Besides trying to murder me with— what is–? Hold on, is that an MHS?” Javi grabbed her hand to get a better look at the piece. “Man, where’d you manage to get one of these?” 

Perplexed, Mika’s eyes darted down to the gun because for all she knew about firearms, it might as well have been a potato that she was holding. “Uhhh, it was a gift from Kiki’s partner. So, I could learn how to use one. Obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “you can see how well that went.”

“Man,” he said, letting it go with such fondness, “I didn’t even know they still made those things.” Which again, made as much sense as if he were marveling at a potato she was holding. “Y’know those are one of the only kinds of Glocks they made with slide mounted safety.”

She kept switching focus from Javi to the gun, trying to figure out what was so special about it, before realizing she didn’t actually care, “Alright, nerd,” and dropped her arm at her side.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway,” Javi said, back to reality, “I think you were about to explain the reasons for my brush with death?”

“What? Before you got sidetracked, being all nerdy and shit?” 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Well, what? You can’t guess?” Mika looked up at Connie’s window on the second floor and then back at Javi, whistling. “Man, you boys at the DEA must be losing your touch. They’ll hire anyone these days.” 

Javi rolled his eyes, “Ha ha ha” finally letting his hands drop, palms smacking his hips on the way down. “C’mon, put yourself in my position. Sure, that wild look of biblical hellfire in your eyes is gone, but you’ve still got that,”  he gestured at her side, “in your hand? So, y’know– thought it best to keep the conversation light.” 

“Whoops,” Mika said, chuckling and checking that the safety was still on before putting the gun back in her purse. 

Glancing at the empty street around them, Mika realized this might be a good opportunity to needle Javi for more info while she had him alone. Before he could clam up in front of Connie. “So, any news about Steve? I’m guessing that’s why you came back here, and not for a night cap and a bedtime story.” 

Javi regarded her, amused but not without suspicion, brows cinched as he caught his tongue between his teeth. Another mannerism of his Mika had picked up on in the few years she’d known him. Historically, she’d found it kinda cute when he wasn’t being evasive and annoying. When he was, she found herself hoping he’d slip and bite down a little too hard. 

Right now, he was being evasive and annoying. 

“Please, Javi. Don’t make me go there.”

”Sorry?” 

She eyed him with a measure of regret, acutely aware that his foot had just hit the metal plate of the conversational trap she’d just set and the mechanical jaws were about to clamp shut. “You’re not gonna make me invoke my dead husband’s name to shame you into telling me, are you?” There they went. 

His hands flew to his hips as he cocked one out to the side, face morphing from suspicious to pained and almost pleading. But still, nothing. 

With that, all regret evaporated and Mika just rolled her eyes, turning on her heels and headed for the door of the apartment building.  She made it to the other side of the street and up the steps but paused, fingertips on the handle, when she realized he wasn’t following her. 

“Cmon Agent Peña, just tell the truth.” Turning around, she shifted the weight of her bag on her shoulder so she could grab the spare key from one of its pockets. “Look, I know it’s not something that comes naturally to you boys in blue, but just think of it as practice. You know, for when you talk to Connie.”

Javi’s eyes darted from her, to the window of Connie and Steve’s apartment on the second floor, then back at her, then back down at the ground. Weighing his options, it seemed, he stood like that for what felt like ages before rubbing his face, grumbling into his palms, “Ah, fine. Fuck it.” 

Mika turned back to the door, taking a mental victory lap - gotcha - as she swung it open. 

And in a few long strides over to and up the stairs, skipping every other step, Javi was slipping in the door right behind her. He followed her down the hallway, both of them walking in silence, past his apartment, up the first flight of stairs, until, when turning to climb the next flight, he was seemingly unable to contain himself. “Hey. What’d you mean back there?” 

Mika kept pace about to start up the next set of stairs, paying him no mind.

He raised his voice to a kind of whisper-yell, grabbing her hand before she could get too far up the stairs, “Mika!” 

She turned around and walked back down stopping a step above him.

“Not something that comes naturally?" He let her hand slid out of his almost reluctantly before crossing his arms. "You wanna explain what that’s supposed to mean, exactly?”

There was more vulnerability in this than anger, the words of a boy on the playground whose feelings were hurt because someone kicked over his sandcastle.

She almost felt sorry for him but Connie’s words, thick with tears rang in her ears. Javi left before I could ask him anything. All he said was that he thinks Steve’s alive, but that just means he’s not sure he’s dead.

And all of a sudden, the long since dormant bitterness and fury that had made its home deep in the pit of her stomach when Kiki died came back to collect. With interest. It burned in her chest so tangibly, it felt like some toxic, poisonous gas all these years had been incubating in her body for all of these years that she was about to unleash with the steady stream of a flamethrower. Poor Javi. He was in for it.

The tragic part, the part she’d feel guilty about later, was that none of this was his fault. It was some bureaucrat’s, some bored old bastard, way up the chain of command, tucked away in some embassy office, sat behind a titanic mahogany desk so expensive it could cover the down payment on her house, even though he did nothing but shuffle papers around, shake hands, kiss babies, make phone calls to grieving wives and mothers to give them that familiar speech: Why yes, everything is under control, ma’am. We’re doing all that we can, ma’am. Well hey now, there’s no reason to raise your voice, ma’am. You just need to understand these things take time. Now, please take a seat over there so I can pretend like you’re not wasting mine, ma'am.

Unfortunately for Javi, he was the one in front of her. And there was nowhere else for it to go. He’d looked like he’d taken a few on the chin in his day, but she couldn’t be sure he could bounce back from this one. Not that it mattered. This was an argument she’d had a long time ago with men in fancy suits that held prestigious, official-sounding titles and had absolutely no intention of actually listening. If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

Christ, was this going to be any different? 

“Look,” Mika sighed, “Connie already told me everything you’ve shared with her.” 

Looking like he was frozen in time, Javi stood there, forehead pinched in a moment of calculation. As much as he seemed unsure of what to expect, at the same time, he was aware enough not to insult her by playing completely dumb. 

“And to be honest?” she continued, crossing her arms. “So far, that ‘everything’ sounds like a whole lotta nothing.” 

Javi winced but managed to sputter out, “I don’t know what you’re talk—“ 

“Please. Don’t patronize me with all that,” Mika’s fingers came up to make air quotes, “‘What on earth could you mean?’ bullshit” and then ended the bit, dropping her hands at her hips. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime?” 

Eyes wide, mouth open, Javi looked stunned, the inevitable ‘What are you talking about?’ stuck in his throat, leaving him with nothing to say or do but wait for her to elaborate. 

“You wanna know what I’m talk—? Fine, fine. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m talking about.” With a clipped breath, she steadied herself. “You think you’re protecting Connie by keeping her in the dark. Gone for hours, not answering her calls, not checking in, not telling her where you’ve been, who you’ve talked to, where you’re going.” 

Her eyes pinned Javi in place, right there in the middle of the stairway. Perhaps trying not buckle under the weight of decades of forfeited accountability, in an effort to cope, he shrank back trying to become one with the wall. But Mika wasn’t done. 

“She’s not some precious fucking flower who’ll wilt at any mention of the truth. And she’s not an idiot. She deserves the facts and your honest assessment about well,” she waved her hands, “whatever is going on. And that includes what you think Steve’s chances are.” 

“His chances?” 

“Of being alive, Javi.” 

His jaw tightened hard, lips pursed like he was sucking on a lemon, and he paused for a long time before launching into the same good-ole-boy schpiel she’d heard a thousand times. With Javi though, there was a well-veiled but desperate sincerity with which he delivered it that reminded her of Jaime. “With all due respect Mika, I can’t— I don’t know if you understand the moving pieces at play here. How rigged the system is. How— well, how beyond fucked up it all is.”

Mika’s head sank, chin nearly touching her chest. However sincere, it wasn’t enough. 

“Y’know,” she spoke down at the ground, through a cruel, thin laugh, “I don’t bring this up often because it doesn’t make for great dinner conversation, certainly not an ice breaker. But since you’re such a man, I bet you can handle it,” and then looked back up to him with a smile that came nowhere close to her eyes. “When I arrived at the ME’s office to identify Kiki’s body, do you know what they were picking out of the gaping wounds on his head?” 

The look on Javi’s face said he wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. He didn’t need to.

“Chunks of rebar and wood. Along with pieces of his skull.” 

A war waged in Javi’s eyes between heartbreak and indignation but he was smart enough to know that now was not the time to give voice to either. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, maybe I’m mistaken. But were you there, Agent Peña? Were you the one to survey all the wounds he had? Did you read the coroner’s report– the one with that stupid, generic outline of a body that cataloged each and every injury? Did you see how riddled his body was? With bruises? Cuts? Welts? Burns?” She shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it. “Actual holes?”

His face conveyed nothing but heartbreak now. No matter that these were all rhetorical questions, it was the right answer. 

“So, I think a better question is, do you know how fucked up it all is?”

Eyes cast off to the side, Javi was quiet for a long time, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek, likely trying to decide what, if anything, to say, until he was reanimated by a moment of epiphany. He stood up straight, no longer resembling a shriveled barnacle, stuck to the wall. And it all came out, practically in one breath. 

“Alright, alright. Fine. You want the truth? The truth is, I have no idea. I have” he threw up his hands with the frustration of a man whose luck had run out, finally folding at the poker table, “not a fucking clue who took him. Nothing. No leads. No evidence. Except my colleague’s contacts in the military haven’t caught wind of anything about a DEA being taken by Escobar’s people, so it’s probably not him and I’ve just been trying to keep things quiet so th—“ 

“So you don’t get him killed by spooking the kidnappers because you turned law enforcement onto a big search. That’s a song and dance I remember.” 

“Right,” Javi carried on without missing a beat. “Which means I’ve got no help from the embassy, no help from my own agency, no help from the military. And I sure as fuck don’t want help from any of those shady fucks in the CIA. So yeah,” he;d been talking so fast, he was nearly gasping now, “I think— since it’s not Escobar, I think he might— well, might be—” 

“Dead.”

He exhaled a defeated, “Yeeup.”

After her little speech, Mika wasn’t sure what Javi would come back with but she didn’t expect him to fold quite so easily. He was an even easier nut to crack than Jaime had been when he came to give her the news that he’d found Kiki’s car. To be fair, she did have more leverage now, what with Kiki already being dead. Everyone already got their crash course, a ‘How-To’ in ‘What-Not-To-Do’ when a DEA agent goes missing. Still, she expected more resistance, more half-truths couched in platitudes, more bullshit. But he didn’t do that to her. 

She looked him up and down, sizing him up like she hadn’t gotten it right the first time and decided, in that moment, she respected him infinitely more than she had just minutes ago. 

“Okay,“ she began, breaking the silence. “Besides Escobar, who else would take him? Could it be someone in the government? Maybe loyal to the cartel but, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “operating without Escobar’s say-so?” 

Javi shook his head, “We have most of the financials of his operation, who takes his bribes, who’s on his payroll. Shit, half of them are bribed by us to look the other way when it’s convenient,” and looked wearily off to the side, grumbling, “The fuckin’ good guys, right.”

“Yeah, it seems like, no matter where you go, these ‘company’ men don’t have any real loyalty. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s some kind of professional code that the rest of us don’t know about.” 

Mika thought of Heath and the dozens of others in the DEA, Homeland Security, Defense Department, men in the same gray suits offering the same recycled condolences and half baked apologies in the months after Kiki died. She didn’t bother to wipe the stray tear that escaped down her cheek.

Javi shoved his hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Alright,” Mika said, with a knowing smile. “Well. There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it.”

“Oh sure, yeah, real piece of cake,” he scoffed. 

They were both quiet, staring at each other until Javi piped up, “Y’know actually, I hear there are some teaching positions open at that uh,” he snapped his fingers, “whatsit, the School of the Americas? Yeah, they could learn a thing or two from you. Call it Emotional Blackmail and Interrogation Techniques 101. You should look into that. Might be your calling. I hear the pay’s nothing earth shattering. But the health benefits— tsk great.” 

Mika looked down at the floor, chuckling. 

“Although, I gotta say, that biblical hellfire look? That is— phew,” he waved his hand in front of her face and she giggled, “that is raw talent. Can’t teach that. So alright, what's next, patrona, Ms. Inquisition? What do we do now?” 

“Well,” Mika’s nose scrunched, giving way to real laughter this time which helped her to break the news gently, “for starters, you’re gonna tell Connie everything you just told me.” 

Javi opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Look, if nothing in the last five minutes told you I’m not here for bullshit, maybe this will: as his wife, she deserves the truth.”

He crossed his arms again, quietly defensive.

“And as his wife, you might be able to leverage her, in case the higher ups try to play games, drag their feet on this.”

“Sorry,” he leaned forward like he didn’t hear her right, “leverage?”

“You said it yourself, you have no leads. It’s time to take this up the ladder, and there’s more than one of those, yes?” 

Javi groaned. 

“Look, when Kiki went missing, no one did anything at first. His boss Jaime was the only one looking. There was more traction when I got involved. But really,” she shook her head in awe,  like she still couldn’t believe it, “it’s not ‘till I lost my shit on one of the deputy directors in Mexico City that things started happening.” 

Get off your ass and start helping the other agents. Go find my fuckin’ husband! 

“It makes sense now, chain-of-command and all that, but if I’d known direct worked better than diplomacy, I would’ve started off yelling.” 

Javi raked his hands over his face. 

“So now, you need to figure out which ladder to take this up to.” 

“Yeah, okay,” his palms were nearly in his eye sockets now, “so when I figure that out, you want me to what—“ then dropped them from his face with a sigh. “Parade Connie, the distraught maybe-widow in front of whatever executive leadership and hope that’ll force them to act?” 

“Jesus Javi, it’s not like you’re a stage parent forcing your kid do pageants.” 

“Might as well be.”

“Don’t trivialize this, okay? This could work. Connie’s more than someone’s wife. She’s a person. And she’s smart. Articulate. Not only that, she’s a blonde-haired, blue-eyed nurse for god’s sake. America’s sweetheart. And frankly, she can be convincing to whatever executive leadership in a way that you can’t. I mean, let’s face it, all your police-radio jargon, letter-of-the-law, doublespeak nonsense, none of you law enforcement guys know how to properly emote.”

Javi laughed at that such fullness and depth, Mika realized that every time she’d heard him laugh before had been nothing but a pitiful shadow, a cheap imitation of the real thing. They'd known each other for a two years. How long could it have been since he'd laughed like that?

“Okay, Press Secretary Camarena. Point taken.”

“Plus, you have a trump card this time. Something Jaime and I didn’t have.” 

“Oh yeah. What’s that?” 

“The myth, the legend, the man himself, Kiki Camarena. Or really, the stain on the squeaky clean record of the DoD. The death of the myth, the legend, the man.” 

Javi chewed on that in silence, along with the inside of his cheek.

“Believe me, that’s a level of public scrutiny they don’t ever want to see again. They’ll avoid it at all costs. Especially if the government wants to keep selling weapons to anti-communist guerrillas. Undisturbed.” 

“Jesus Mika,” Javi kicked back off the wall, eyes wide with admiration, and she could practically see the lightbulb above his head, “You really have thought this whole thing through.” 

She bit back the tears welling in her eyes, an inexplicable wave of self-consciousness sweeping over her, and all she could think to do was shrug. “When someone dies, like how Kiki died, you always hear people talk about the hours they spent agonizing over it. Not sleeping for weeks, months— because you can’t help it. It’s involuntary. You think about things, replay every moment, every interaction– what could I have possibly said, done differently? What didn’t I see before it was too late?”

She swiped the tears off her cheeks and swallowed hard. He looked at her, touched by the peculiar sorrow that can only accompany surrogate grief. 

“Not many people get a chance to see the ‘what-ifs’ through. Me? I’ve had seven years to think about it. What I’d do differently. And now, I can use that to protect someone I love? Shit, this?” she smiled, making a gun gesture at Javi and pulling the trigger, “pschew. This is my shot.”

Javi just looked at her, dumbstruck. 

“Whatever happens,  god forbid, if Steve dies, however this plays out, it sure as hell won’t be because I wasted my shot.” 

With that, she turned, and walked up the stairs to the second floor. 

⥈

taglist: @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @ladygoatee, @ashlingiswriting, @ashlingnarcos, @kesskirata @artemiseamoon, @cositapreciosa, @rerorero-my-cherry

[theladyismyshepard]

I love your characterizations of the daughters and all of your imagines they are fantastic! i was wondering would it be okay to request an imagine where the reader says to the daughters like during an argument or something,“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!” and they all react to her in different ways? plz take ur time with the imagines and don’t feel pressured/rushed as ik writing should be something that is fun and not feel like a chore, thank you for all the content you have written so far :)

@frustratinglyinquisitive also maybe this could double as your #28 prompt? 🥺👉👈

Why Does Everyone Wanna Kiss Me So Bad?

The sunset was shining bright enough to sting and obscure eyesight, but that didn’t stop you from staring up into the pink and orange hues. Every time you blinked, the phantom flash of the sun still danced along your eyelids, leaving a glare across your vision. You weren’t even bothered by it, not when this numbness had clung itself to you, leaving you idle and just there. You flexed your fingers, and it rattled the chains locked around your wrists, bringing you back to where you were.

The boxed confinement you were trapped in felt more of a cage rather than the carriage bumping along the rocky trail that led you to your new prison — yes, Castle Dimitrescu sounded to be just another form of punishment, though you were uncertain as to why you were to be moved from Heisenberg’s watch to Lady Dimitrescu’s estate. You could hardly call it a step up from the twisted games he forced you to play within his factory.

You were sure you were on borrowed time and it was nearly time to collect, and you were certain that time had come when the four Lords surrounded you with Mother Miranda playing the head of the beast, leaving you cowering on the floor. The familiar iron hammer and the stench of billowing cigar smoke was on your right.

Standing next to him was quite possibly one of the ugliest... things you’d ever seen. A cloak hid a majority of his body, but you had the suspicion that the misshaped person next to Heisenberg wasn’t entirely human... you got that vibe from everyone in the room. Especially the weird doll that couldn’t seem to reign in its excitement as it bounced in the veiled woman’s lap seated next to Mother Miranda.

There was nothing human about the golden eyes that peered into yours from under the brim of a wide hat. They seemed calculating, curious, if not a tad bit confused as they surveyed your weak form. You looked away, unable to handle the weight of the woman’s gaze, and that was how you caught Mother Miranda’s bright eyes cutting into you from behind her bird-like mask.

“Oh, how I have been waiting to meet you, little one.” her voice demanded respect, but all you could do was gawk. “You are a stubborn thing, I’ve heard.”

Her gaze slowly crept over to Heisenberg as she said it, and you couldn’t help but feel a tremor of fright at his angered snarl, his arms crossed petulantly. It was true, you had endured many weeks at the hands of the leather-clad man, and while he did his worst, you refused to succumb to his torture, though for how much longer, you couldn’t say.

“I cannot fathom what keeps you here, but there is nothing special about the common human.” said Mother Miranda, and the mounting irritation was crystal clear. “You might have one looking like a dog chasing its own tail, but let us see how you fare in Castle Dimitrescu.”

You could immediately tell who dwelled there with the way the woman wearing white was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. She was completely predatory and was feeding off of Heisenberg’s disgrace and fury, and between the two, you weren’t sure who the best option was, not when her eyes turned to you and she looked like she knew exactly what she wanted to do with you.

“Do not worry, Mother Miranda,” the woman promised, already moving to stand, and the way she towered over you had your neck craned straight upward. “It’s been some time since my daughters had a plaything.”

That comment alone had the other occupants of the room guffawing and whistling. Everyone seemed to thoroughly enjoy the prospect of her daughters getting their hands on you, even Heisenberg had his eyebrows arched in surprise. Who the hell are these girls? Mother Miranda seemed to know and that was all that mattered.

“You are about to see what real monsters are.”

And that was how you found yourself roughly chained up inside the carriage that guided you to Castle Dimitrescu. You weren’t entirely sure why it was such a slap in the face to Heisenberg, but he seemed rather indignant as he loaded you up, spitting insults through the whole process.

You couldn’t say for sure how long you had been traveling, but it was enough to have all of your joints achey and your ass numb by the time it was all said and done. Hell, it was long enough to feel the temperature drop as you trekked back around the mountains that stood between the factory and the castle. Though that wasn’t to say that you were in any big rush to get there. In fact, your heart dropped when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Panic gripped at your heart, and it felt as though fingers squeezed tightly around it. It left you motionless where you sat, wide eyes glued to the door that you were shoved in through. You could hear Heisenberg muttering and rustling as he approached, but aside from that, you couldn’t hear the distinct clanking of his iron hammer. He had such little faith in your survival skills that he didn’t even bother with arming himself to release you. Not that he needed to... You’ve seen what he can become, and you’ve seen what he houses in his factory. He’d kill you dead in a few seconds flat if you tried anything.

But at this point, what did you have to lose? Mother Miranda made it very clear that you were to be eliminated at the hands of these daughters, so did it really matter if you died at the doorstep or in the dungeon? You might have accepted death, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a last fight out of pure stubbornness. So that was how you had every intention of kicking forcefully at the door once it began creeping open to have him stumble back, possibly cracking him straight in the nose in the process, but that didn’t go as planned right off the bat.

Not when the door was nearly ripped right off the hinges in the haste to open, leaving you jarred, mouth hanging. The sunlight was now faded and replaced by the beams of the moon, but it was a bright night, leaving you capable of seeing that this was definitely not Heisenberg. And neither was she... or her. Uh oh.

“Mother! She’s here!” squealed the redheaded girl closest to you, clapping happily.

“Thank you for the gift, Mother,” said the brunette, her smirk not reaching her dead eyes.

“We will not disappoint you.” promised the blonde, her eyes observing your every move like a hawk.

“Have fun, daughters, but do remember that this one comes special from Mother Miranda, so do not forget to thank her.” their mother instructed, as if you weren’t there.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” all three said in unison before three different pairs of hands grabbed whichever part of you that they could.

Heisenberg clicked his tongue from where he leaned against the side of the carriage. He had an arm crossed while the other brought a cigar nestled between two fingers to his lips. You couldn’t read his eyes from behind his circular sunglasses, but you could read the entertainment in his toothy smile before he took a drag. When he blew it out into your direction, his satisfied grin spread again.

“Now, you have fun now, too, ya hear?” He mocked, chuckling as he turned on his heel, mounted the carriage, and prompted the horses to carry him off into the night.

“We’re gonna have lots of fun.” giggled the redhead, her smile the widest of the daughters as she tugged at your arm, dragging you along the pathway towards the castle.

“Not if I get to her first,” the brunette chimed in, her own grip on your other wrist tightening and pulling, almost like she was trying you get you away from the other.

“Who said either of you get the first turn?” the blonde interrupted, frown etched into her face as she tangled her fingers into the collar of your shirt.

“Enough,” drawled Lady Dimitrescu, voice barely more than a bored mumble, but it still had the daughters zipping their lips. “Bela, you are the oldest, and less likely to break her before your other sisters get a turn, so you may have the first turn.”

The blonde grinned brightly while the other two scowled but saying nothing in front of their mother. Your eyes couldn’t decide where to stay as you glanced between all four women as they finally led you through the entrance of the castle. You noticed that the temperature didn’t really increase from taking shelter, the walls giving off their own chill to substitute for the lack of outside wind.

You didn’t even have time to marvel at the interior before Bela was tugging at you with renewed eagerness. You caught the slight growl from the brunette’s direction, but one glare from the Lady and it ceased. What the hell was really going on here? You never had time to process anything before sister after sister said something that left you reeling.

“Aww, her heart’s racing!” announced the redhead, her eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at your chest. “Please let me-”

“Daniela, no,” snapped Lady Dimitrescu sternly, her frown lines on display. “You will be last, and that’s that.”

Daniela’s face twitched in her attempt to bite her tongue to prevent her argument from bursting forth. It didn’t stop her from turning and giving the brunette a glare however. You gasped when her body dissolved into a swarm of bugs before your very eyes. They dispersed and flew this way and that, and you honestly don’t know why it still shocked you when the brunette followed the same exit style. A nose pressed against the side of your neck and you jolted so hard that you nearly broke free of the hand that was now caressing your shoulder.

“Such a jittery, little thing,” whispered Bela so quietly that her following inhale was louder. “Though I hardly smell the sweet scent of terror... Is this one broken, mother?”

You couldn’t help it, you had to chuckle at the complete honesty in Bela’s question. Your lack of fright baffled this girl almost as much as she baffled you altogether, and suddenly you were staring each other down. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously as she cut her gaze up and down your body. Even Lady Dimitrescu arched a finely sculpted brow at you, seeming more interested now than she did among the other Lords.

“Mother Miranda assures there is nothing special about this one.” said Lady Dimitrescu.

“Why do you not fear me?” demanded Bela, almost sounding offended, her grip on your shoulder tightening. “Your heart is pounding but you aren’t oozing that smell that I like!”

“It’s kinda hard to fear death when you don’t even care about living anymore.” You deadpanned without much feeling, your eyes finding the ground more interesting. “Heisenberg rid me of everything that made me who I used to be.”

“And just who were you before my dear uncle dug his claws into you?” pressed Bela, and you refrained yourself from showing any outward reaction to their connection. You swallowed as you looked her dead in the eye now.

“Someone who would have the common sense to know just how dangerous you are.” You answered, and her brow furrowed.

“Who are you now?” She questioned quietly, her eyes softening a bit under the chandelier light. All you could do was shrug, you had no concrete answer for her, yet you knew you had to supply something.

“Someone who thinks that being abducted by three beautiful women isn’t exactly the worst case scenario,” you chuckled mirthlessly, the bitter smile on your face cutting into your cheeks almost painfully.

Bela stared at you almost dumbfounded before she had to look at her mother, almost as if to double check that she indeed heard correctly before she burst into a fit of giggles. Lady Dimitrescu didn’t even meet her eye, she was too busy staring into your soul. Only when your eyes fell to your feet did you hear her heels clicking away up the winding staircase.

“Remember what she’s here for, dear,” she drawled, never turning back, and leaving you alone with Bela.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just get it over with.” You spat, attempting to sound brave rather than defeated.

Bela’s smile was almost animalistic with the way blood smeared across her lips and stained her teeth, and you couldn’t help but to feel like the prey when she took slow, deliberate steps around you.

“Oh, no, where is the fun in that?” Bela countered, reaching out to graze over whatever part she could touch as she continued to stalk around you in circles, taking you all in. “You are my pet now.”

“I thought I was a plaything.” You couldn’t help but throw back into her face, and you were surprised when Bela merely cocked her head instead of getting angered by your outburst.

“Mother Miranda might not find anything special about you, but call me fascinated.” said Bela, stopping in front of you, her fingertips caressing your throat. “You belong to me now.”

“Us,” corrected a sudden voice behind you, and the haze that was settling over you in Bela’s presence was lifted when you jerked forward.

You tried to whirl around on your heel out of reflex to back away, but Bela’s fingers dipped from your throat to grip at the collar of your shirt to keep you still and facing her. You flinched away from the sudden hand that tangled in the bottom of your hair, pulling your head back until it was resting against a shoulder. Brown hair cascaded down into your eyes.

“Mother Miranda gave her to all of us.” corrected the brunette, the edge in her voice making it like steel.

“Cassandra’s right,” sang Daniela in a sing song voice, and it had a shiver running down your spine, which prompted a round of wild giggling. “Did you like that, pet?”

“If we’re being technical,” Bela piped up with an eye roll, trying to pull you closer and failing when both Daniela and Cassandra tightened their own grips on you. “Mother Miranda gave her to us to tear apart, so she wasn’t meant for anyone.”

“Buuuuuuut?” You interrupted, hoping to add a touch of humor to your case.

Daniela giggled and Bela shook her head in mild amusement, but you found that Cassandra was the more difficult one to crack. She didn’t offer a single facial expression as her eyes surveyed every inch of your body, and you couldn’t tell if she was appreciating the view or if she was sizing up which part of you she wanted to rip off and take for herself.

These three women spoke so callously and so nonchalant right in front of you. These three women were what Mother Miranda referred to as “monsters” compared to the actual beasts you had seen lurking within Heisenberg’s factory. These three women were spattered in blood that you somehow knew wasn’t theirs, and they wouldn’t stop touching you. Hm.

“Aren’t you funny,” Cassandra said nearly monotonous, but her smirk was on full display, and you cursed the light, fluttering feel of your chest.

“I try,” you whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would be taken as a threat to these crazed women, but you did look her in the eye to gauge her reaction.

“Can we keep this one, Bela, please?” whined Daniela, pouting at the blonde.

“I don’t think mother would allow it though.” Bela worried, finally releasing her hold on your shirt, and that had Cassandra and Daniela pulling you closer (and almost apart).

“She is ours to do as we please, we’d kill her if she tried anything.” snapped Cassandra, looking like the whole situation was stupid to her.

“Obviously she will not try to escape!” insisted Daniela, nodding her head furiously towards who you were guessing was the older sister, before turning to you. “Right?”

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were all looking at you expectantly, and you couldn’t help but feel warm under the spotlight. You could practically see the thoughts flicking through Bela’s calculating eyes. Cassandra was cool and reserved as her eyes gave nothing away, but her wicked smirk showed she wanted something from you, whatever that might be. Daniela’s eyes were intense as they bored into you, and her smile was almost unhinged, and honestly who were you to break it?

“I could never say no to three pretty girls.” You flirted, wagging your eyebrow to each sister, and the response was immediate.

Bela’s mouth parted in a silent gasp before she latched onto the front of your shirt again and started giggling. Cassandra looked entirely predatory now as her eyes flashed and her smirk showed all of her teeth, her own chuckles slipping out. Daniela, who was curled around your arm the whole time, had stars in her eyes at your answer and she smiled widely, throwing her own cackling into the mix, and suddenly it was a symphony.

“I want her first,” pleaded Daniela, eyes never leaving you.

“Mother said it’s my turn with the pet!” said Bela, tugging at you again.

“Why should we get her after she’s been used?” Cassandra argued, her arm now wrapped around you from behind.

“I won’t break her!” snapped Bela, her pulling useless when it was a deadlock between three pairs of hands.

“I don’t care!” cried Daniela, one arm curled around yours and her other hand reaching up to grab your opposite shoulder, locking you in. “I want her!”

You swallowed past your suddenly dry throat. The three sisters were not only talking about a possibility of keeping you around, but it sounded as though they were fighting over you. Your cheeks were aflame as you averted your eyes.

“Look who’s bashful all of a sudden,” jested Cassandra, both her hands falling to your hips. “Where’s all that talk now?”

“I can smell you blushing.” Daniela interjected, sniffing aloud and moaning. “You smell so good... we need to make you blush often.”

“Are we sure we can hide this from mother?” Bela asked one last time, almost like she was seeking permission from her younger sisters now. Daniela and Cassandra shrugged.

“We’ll just have to find out, now won’t we?” You pressed, looking to solidify your place among them... you’d take the position of “pet” over the one of “food” any day.

“Brave little thing,” Cassandra cooed, her fingers rubbing circles on your hips. “I need you with me.”

“Dammit I said it’s my turn!” snarled Bela, finally poking and prying at her sisters fingers locked around you.

“Just because you’re the oldest-!”

“You’re damn right I’m the oldest, and I-”

“You look so stupid,” spat Cassandra petulantly, having enough with going nowhere in the argument, and you could see that this was about to get old quick if you didn’t ease some of the tension.

“You all wanna kiss me so bad it makes you all look stupid.” You sucked your teeth between your lips when it grew deadly silent.

Bela had a crease between her brow as she stared at you in shock, uncertain if she heard you right. Cassandra was a blank slate as she absorbed you taking her insult and turning it back around on her as well. Daniela was wide eyed as she gaped at you for a full five seconds before she snorted and her megawatt smile lit up her entire face.

“I won’t let them get rid of you.” Daniela promised, and you couldn’t recall the last time that she blinked.

“Okay, okay,” sighed Bela, glaring at her sister. “We’re all going to keep her.”

“I hope I don’t break you.” chuckled Cassandra, and coupled with her breath so close to your ear, it had warmth flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t get bashful on me, now,” you smirked back, relishing in the giggles that surrounded you.

“Come along, plaything,” quipped Bela, winking at you as she dragged you along, the sisters following along with her this time. “We’ve got to show you your new home.”

Wild giggling echoed throughout the castle, and it was becoming your new favorite tune.

[shepherds-of-haven]

I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint! 

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

[tomfoolies]

opportunities

words: 1295

a/n: so. uh. i started this when stranger things s4 volume 1 was out and liv @canongf started talking about eddie... i just really wanted to write a scene with our s/is having a little chat hehe >:) about a certain hellfire member, and also include some of my own s/i’s lore/personality into it. this took me a good while but i had so much fun writing this! i reeeeally hope i didn’t butcher you here liv! :PP

--

nobody told them the end of the world could include so much downtime.

the sky is dark, the air around them heavy from the tension, ominous. it’s something they’ve all gotten quite accustomed to, though, so it’s just background noise at the moment. all they have left now is the waiting until the rest of their little (or not so little, it’s really gotten quite big after the people returned from russia and other side of the states) team returns. sonja isn’t familiar with the others as well as she’s with the people with her right now. but they seem nice enough, and she doesn’t exactly have the luxury of not trusting them. 

everyone looks casual, or if they’re frightened, sonja can’t tell. she has learned that most of them have been through this more than once, so she wonders if you can actually get used to otherworldly threats and demons from what is basically the equivalent of hell on earth - or under it, actually. liv, steve, eddie and dustin are going through the plan. max and lucas are talking quietly together, in a world of their own. sonja heard they were together before high school, and from her perspective, it makes sense. it looks natural. it makes her wish they’ll all have more time. afterwards. 

idle, her hands wander to her purse where the familiar tin that holds her deck always is. it’s a comfort she’s been relying to a lot lately, even if she probably should feel haunted by it – in the end, it was the cards that got her into all this trouble, more or less starting the chainreaction that led to her learning about upside down. but… looking at these people, her new friends, as cliche as it sounds, it feels like worth the trouble. besides, she’d rather be painfully aware and obvious about the end of the world, instead of blindly staring into the unknown, not knowing what to be afraid of. 

she takes the tin and opens it. the cards have seen better days, but she likes the patina in them. they feel familiar in her hands as she shuffles them, not really expecting anything until the tower falls out, into her lap. 

“of course,” she sighs to herself, half-amused. not too unlike the present moment, the skies in the card are dark, thunder between the clouds. two people falling out of the crumbling tower, the destruction of what once was. that doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance for something new to begin; usually she would see this as a positive sign, that this tumultuous part of life will have closure and there’s an opportunity to move on. but… just like with the death card incident, sometimes things are exactly what they look like.

lost in the inevitable sense of doom, she doesn’t notice liv coming up and sitting next to her until she speaks.

”what are the cards telling you?” she asks, genuinely curious. 

it’s something she’s been getting used to, the honest, casual interest about something she doesn’t share with many people. but when you’ve got monsters and things from other dimensions you thought were just spirits playing tricks on you, a little divination doesn’t seem crazy anymore. 

”nothing new, honestly,” sonja replies. she holds the tower for liv to look at. ”but the general vibe isn’t too good, as you can see.”

“oh, yeah,” she says, wincing. “fun evening coming up for us.”

“that’s exactly what i was thinking.”

there’s silence, but not the awkward kind. she’s never felt too bothered by it, but when it feels as easy as it does with her, with all her new friends, it’s even more special. how much there is to be said, anyways? she’s never been the sentimental kind, not out loud at least, so just being with them is more than enough. after all the chaos of running around, escaping, hiding, it feels good to have a moment of quiet. even if it comes with the feeling of terror in the distance that seems to be only getting closer. 

“could you… see what’s coming up for me? besides the obvious.” 

“sure,” she says, already shuffling the cards, secretly happy she asked, even if it’s just out of boredom; doing readings just for herself has gotten really boring. seeing things from someone else’s perspective is always refreshing. “i’ll just wait for a while and see if anything particular pops up.”

liv nods, and for a moment sonja focuses solely on her, how she must be feeling, what they’ve been through lately. then she doesn’t really think about anything, just seeking out with her intuition. when she feels it, she stops, then takes the first two cards on top of the deck. a smile forms on her face.

“so. this one,” she starts, showing liv the two of cups, “is about connection, uniting with someone. usually in a romantic manner. the feelings are mutual, harmonious and balanced.”

she doesn’t miss the realization on liv’s face when she picks up the sun next, relishes in the bright, hopeful energy of it. “this one’s really positive, too. it’s basically just saying ‘you’ve got good things coming up, you just wait’. i like it a lot. i’d say you’d just got some of the best cards from the whole bunch, if i’m honest.”

liv’s still reeling about the information; sonja sees in on her face. hopeful in a way she knows people to be when love is on their mind, just a little bit bashful as she spares a glance to the object of her affection. eddie’s looking semi-charming as ever, flashing that smile of his when he notices liv watching him and yeah, sonja can see why she likes him. 

“so… what do you think it means?” liv asks, voice calm, hiding the things she doesn’t dare to say out loud yet.. 

“well, nothing’s ever set in stone, not even these things,” sonja starts. “i don’t really believe in fate, but rather in opportunities the universe gives us, you know? we can choose to take them or set our sights on something else. life always finds ways to work its way around the decisions we make.”

it feels a bit too casual to think like that right now. will she believe in her words tomorrow, a few hours from now? will they have any more opportunities to choose? what kind of decisions they’re going to have to make?

”and as for those opportunities…” she decides to continue, “eddie definitely isn’t the worst one to choose. and i’m sure he’d choose you, too. i don’t even need the cards to tell you that.”

her face lights up. “yeah?”

“yeah! the way he looks at you when you’re not looking? phew. i can guarantee you he’s just waiting for you to say something.” 

they share a look, and a moment of laughter. relief from liv and genuine, albeit mischievous, vicarious happiness from sonja. 

“it’s true!” she continues, voice excited but hushed just in case the others hear them. “he’s got it sooooo bad.”

“c’mon, don’t torture me!” liv whispers back, party joking, partly serious. she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment. “i do want to tell him. but i just haven’t found a good moment yet.”

“well, we have time now. maybe you need to make that moment yourself.”

first, liv hesitates, thinks it over, all the ways it could go south. then, determination flares up in her eyes, in her posture. she spares a look at the cards. maybe they don’t mean a thing, maybe they tell her the exact state of things. it doesn’t matter; sonja watches liv choose the opportunity with boldness she can only hope to have someday.

the world might be ending. but sometimes, good things can come out of that.

[dongofthewolf]

A Heart’s a Heavy Burden

Abby Anderson x GN! Reader

After arriving on Catalina Island, Abby is afraid to let her guard down. She lives with this constant crushing weight on her chest that she fears will never leave her. It’s not until she meets the reader that things begin to change.

Warnings: Copious amounts of fluff, swearing, basically just a lot of cute shit lol

Anon requested one where the reader goes on a hike with Abby and Lev, I hope you guys enjoy (especially if you requested it) <3 it’s been really nice getting back into writing and this request was so adorable aaaa.

A/N: I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted and for that I apologize. In the meantime, I hope this will suffice. Also peep the Howl’s Moving Castle quote I used for the title lol

After the death of her father and that night in the theatre, Abby has come to the realization that pain and suffering is nothing if not inevitable. There has never been a point in time in which an instance of joy or peace is not soon followed by the truest forms of human depravity. When Abby and Lev arrived in Santa Barbara she thought things would be different. She was filled with this brand new feeling of optimism that she thought was long forgotten, and for the first time in forever she had hope.

Then—almost as if some higher being was mocking her for finally letting her guard down—the Rattlers happened, and it all came crashing down. As easily as a sandcastle is destroyed by the tide, that newfound happiness was gone in an instant and that feeling of despair returned once again. She had almost become accustomed to the suffering and heartache that accompanied those short increments of happiness. 

So when Abby and Lev arrived on Catalina Island, naturally Abby was incredibly grateful, but she was also fucking terrified. The moment that she stepped onto the shore, Abby vowed to never let her guard down again. She never wanted to see Lev hurt again, especially after everything he’d already been through.

It’s easy to imagine how difficult life can be when every happy moment is squandered by the fear of something inevitably terrible happening. It’s been months on Catalina Island and that normalcy Abby has missed so much was beginning to return, yet she is still afraid. A large part of Abby knows that being captured by the Rattlers isn’t her fault, but nevertheless she still feels this tremendous weight on her chest. Bearing down on her, compressing her into something small. 

There is something different about Catalina Island though. Something that makes Abby feel as though—despite everything that has already happened—things will be different here. It’s you.

You were one of the first faces Abby saw when her and Lev arrived on the shore. She had sustained multiple injuries and was suffering from severe starvation and dehydration, Lev the same. You however were in the infirmary for a fractured ankle, and due to the shortage of space she was placed in the bed next to yours. 

There was something you noticed about Abby the moment she sat down next to you. You couldn’t quite place it at the time but thinking back, it was definitely her eyes. There was so much pain behind them. You didn’t know why or how you knew, but it was there. Maybe it was because you had seen that same pain in the mirror that sits idle in the darkness of your room, the one covered by a tattered white sheet. It didn’t matter though, because all you knew was that the pain was there, and you wanted nothing more than to show her that life can be okay.

You woke up early today, laying in bed and trying to shake the sleep from your body, you counted the dust particles that floated in the small beam of sunlight that peeked through your window. While you lay basking in the warmth and stillness of your bedroom, you heard a quiet knock on your door. A small voice followed, it was Lev.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” 

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” You carefully rolled out of bed before slipping on a hoodie and answering the door. 

When you opened the door Lev had a huge smile on his face. “Hi Y/N!” 

That was something you really admired about him. Even after everything him and Abby had been through, he was just full of this giddy optimism that continued to wonder you every day. 

“Hey Lev, what’s up?” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to come on a hike with Abby and I? Apparently there’s something she wants to show you.” 

“Of course, I’d love to! Just let me get ready and I’ll head down in a bit.” Just as the words slipped out Lev embraced you tightly. You giggled as he leapt into your arms. 

“Awesome! I’ll go let Abby know.” Lev released you from his grip before hurriedly running downstairs.

When you found the two waiting outside your room, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Abby and her adorable freckles. She looked so much happier now, having grown her hair out a bit and built up some of the muscle mass she had lost. 

“You ready to go?” Abby had her hands hooked in the straps of her backpack as she took a small step closer to you. 

“You bet your ass I am.” 

As Abby led you and Lev along the shoreline you noticed how her skin was almost glowing. You figured it was most likely a product of all the time she spent helping out in the California sun. 

Rather than resting like any normal person would’ve, as soon as Abby was back on her feet, she was desperate to help out as much as she could. Whether it was patrolling the beaches or running the farms, she didn’t care. She just wanted to help. 

It seemed like it was a way for her to somehow compensate for being rescued off of the coast, and you wished you could tell her that she didn’t owe anyone anything—that after everything she went through to get here, there was nothing to repay. Of course though, it’s difficult to console someone when they haven’t exactly told you what was troubling them.

The shoreline bordered between an abundance of rocky cliffs and the tide, and the area was littered with lush greenery. Lev walked ahead of the two of you, jumping from rock to rock with surprising ease.

“Be careful Lev! There are sharks in that water you know.” Abby yelled at Lev to no avail. It was sweet how protective she was over him, even though she knew he wouldn’t fall.

You lightly nudged Abby’s shoulder with yours, the warmth of her skin against yours was comforting. You gave her a small reassuring smile. “He’ll be fine Abs, you know he can handle himself.” 

Abby sighed, looking down for a brief moment before continuing. “You’re right… I just worry you know.” 

“Yeah, I get it. You know, you’re actually pretty cute when you get all protective.” You said it teasingly, but you’d be lying if there wasn’t a small ounce of truth to the words.

Abby smiled, blushing at the comment, but it was difficult to tell in the sunlight. She was grateful the sun had already made her cheeks a light shade of pink. “Shut up.” 

It was nice with Abby and Lev. You spent the day burying Abby in the sand on the beach and chasing the crabs that hid under the rocks with Lev. Abby had packed a whole bunch of food in her bag, and the three of you quickly devoured it all. 

While Lev was building a shark out of sand, you and Abby laid side by side as you basked in the warm sun. After a bit you felt a shift next to you as Abby rolled on her side, leaning on her arm while she looked down towards you. 

“Hey.” Her voice was quiet, soft, similar to Lev’s when he woke you up this morning.

You opened your eyes and nearly melted at the sight before you. Abby was completely shielding the sun from your face which created a halo effect that outlined her entire head. The small strands of hair that stuck out of her ponytail glowed like threads of gold, and you could see clearly now the freckles that danced across her face all the way down to her arms. 

You replied with a soft smile on your face as you laid there admiring all the little details of her face. “Hey.”

“Can I show you something?” 

You gave her a small nod. “Do you want me to get Lev?” As you began sitting up Abby put her hand on your arm to stop you.

“Actually, I was kind of hoping it could just be us. Is that okay?” There was a small hint of nervousness in her voice and you weren’t sure if it was due to the thought of leaving Lev alone, or if it was from something else. 

“I would love that.” The corner of Abby’s mouth curled into a small smile at your answer. 

The both of you stood up from the sand, brushing the excess off of your pants. Abby jogged over to Lev and whispered something quietly before quickly returning to you. 

When you and Abby began walking away from the beach you heard Lev’s voice in the distance. “Have Y/N back by ten o’clock young man, I have a hunting rifle and I know how to use it!” 

Abby rolled her eyes as she yelled back in response. “Yeah, yeah.”

You looked at Abby with a confused face. “He has a hunting rifle?” 

“Nah, I think he got it from a movie. I need to stop showing him those old rom-coms.” Abby chuckled as she responded and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as well. It’s almost annoying how infectious her laughter was.

Eventually, the two of you reached a long stream of rushing water. It wasn’t too deep, but if you were to fall in, the current was definitely strong enough to swiftly sweep you away.

There was a tiny path of rocks that travelled in a crooked line across the stream, and it was obvious it hadn’t been used in a long time. “Please tell me we aren’t going this way.”

“Come on Y/N, I got you. You trust me right?” Abby didn’t wait for a response as she grabbed your hand and led you across the mossy rocks. 

As you reached the last rock, you let out a breath of relief. All you had to do was prop yourself over the log in front of you and you were home free. Carefully, as you reached your arms up to grip onto the ridges of the bark with your fingertips, you somehow lost your footing and slipped. You yelped and nearly fell face first into the jagged rocks below you, but luckily before you could, you felt a strong arm grab your waist. Abby almost on instinct quickly hoisted you up and onto the log just before you fell to your death. 

While you laid your body down on the dirty log in an attempt to calm the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins. Abby nonchalantly stood up next to you with a huge grin, acting as if you didn't just see your life flash before your eyes two seconds ago. “See? I got you. Now let’s go.” 

You groaned. “Can I get a second? I nearly just died back there.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic Y/N, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” Abby grabbed your hand and dragged you over the log. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

She wasn’t wrong about it not being far (and for that you were extremely grateful). It only took a couple more minutes until you finally reached your destination, and the moment you saw it, you were speechless. 

Before you was a small clearing that had a view of the entire island. There were two large trees with ripe oranges hanging from it’s branches, and an abundance of wildflowers that danced in the wind like small fairies. The sunlight that shone through the leaves on the trees reminded you of the small beam of light that you were admiring this morning, except this was a thousand times more beautiful.

“Holy shit Abs.” It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, and to get to see it with Abby was seriously a dream come true.

“You know, if you don’t like it we can always head back.” Abby teased.

“Oh shut up.” You plopped down onto the soft grass beneath you, breathing in the warm air and letting the blades encompass your body. You noticed Abby was still standing and quickly patted the grass beside you “Lay down with me, you gotta experience it from here.” 

Abby lowered herself tentatively beside you, and although she tried to hide it, you could tell out of the corner of your eye that her gaze was fixed on you. 

Things between you and Abby have always been pretty platonic; sure you guys flirted every once in a while but it never extended beyond that. And as much as you’d like for the two of you to be more, you never wanted to overstep your bounds. You didn’t want to burden Abby with your feelings especially if she didn’t share them, and you definitely didn’t want to ruin your friendship. It was hard sometimes trying to ignore the longing in your heart—trying to ignore the urge to jump into her arms and kiss her whenever she gave you that adorable freckled smile, but you knew it was for the best.

However, with her gaze fixed upon you, and your fingers just inches away, something in you couldn’t help but move your pinkie just slightly in search of hers. It was a small touch. So small it could almost be accidental, but something in both of you knew it wasn’t.

You heard Abby’s breath hitch quietly and nearly pulled your hand back, but then you felt hers move towards yours. Slowly, Abby’s fingertips traced lines against your hand before lacing them together with yours. The gesture was so sweet you nearly melted.

When you turned your head to face her, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes squinted closed like she was waiting for a bomb to go off. It was in that moment that you realized she felt the same longing that you did—that she knew of the ache that occupied your heart, and everything just clicked. 

You tightened your grip on her hand as you brought her fist to your lips, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles. The act softened her expression and she opened her eyes to look at you with that damned smile on her face. 

Abby propped herself up the same way she had at the beach, looking down at you with those beautiful blue eyes. The wind blew loose strands of hair across her face, and you reached up to brush them behind her ear. But instead of retracting your hand, you rested your palm lightly against her cheek, tracing small circles with your thumb. 

Leaning closer, Abby finally broke the silence. “Hey Y/N?”

Your voice was quiet and raspy as you responded with a small. “Yeah?”

She was closer now, her nose against yours and her warm breath fanning across your face. “Can I kiss you?” 

You didn’t respond. Instead you closed the small gap with your lips, kissing Abby tenderly. It was the kind of kiss you couldn’t ever explain to anyone, like a dream you couldn’t quite recall but knew was good. It was perfect.

You could feel her smiling against your mouth as she ran her fingers through your hair and down to your chin.

When Abby pulled away she had this stupid grin on her face, and it was easily the cutest thing you had ever seen. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.” Abby laid back down next to you as she let out a sigh of relief.

As you rolled over to rest your head on her chest, Abby’s arm moved to hold you closer. “You’re kidding, right?” She looked at you, urging you to continue. “Abby, I’ve been waiting to do that ever since you gave me that seashell in the infirmary.”

Your heart swelled as you recalled how nervous she was—how she didn’t say a word to you the entire time there, until that day when she shakily introduced herself. It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone had ever done for you, and you’ve adored her ever since.

Abby blushed when you brought up the seashell. She remembers that day clearly; you were leaving the infirmary because your ankle had finally healed, and she saw her opportunity to meet you begin to narrow. Abby initially wasn’t going to go up to you because she was way too afraid, but Lev had seen the way Abby looked at you and forced her to go over and introduce herself. 

He is pretty much the entire reason you and Abby were here in the first place, having given Abby that small purple seashell so she could give it to you.

As you lay there listening to the sound of Abby’s heartbeat you heard a rustle in the bushes nearby and nearly jumped out of your skin. Abby quickly stood up, the both of you backing away from the noise. Reaching for the closest thing to you, you grabbed a stick and pointed it towards the source of the rustling. “Who’s there?”

Relief flooded through you as Lev jumped out with his hands up, screaming sarcastically. “Oh no! Please don’t murder me with that tiny stick.” 

While Lev giggled hysterically, both you and Abby groaned. 

“So did you guys finally kiss or did all my work go to waste?” 

Abby rolled her eyes as she reached out to nudge Lev. “You’re such a goober.” 

Lev looked at the two of you suspiciously as he crossed his arms. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

Abby gave him an amused face as she reached for you without warning, picking you up bridal style. And you couldn’t help but giggle as she leaned in and planted a short kiss on your lips. Abby then pulled away and placed you back on your feet, looking at Lev as she spoke “Did that answer your question?” 

Lev excitedly embraced the both of you with a gigantic smile of his face. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” 

You and Abby looked at each other happily as you answered in unison. “Trust me, we know.”

The three of you spent the rest of the evening in that small clearing. Abby held Lev on her shoulders as he picked ripe oranges from the trees, and when the sun began to set you lay in Abby’s arms as you watched the cascading pinks and oranges in the clouds paint the sky.

While you lay in Abby’s arms she looked at you with a sense of contentment that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Time had healed the wounds that decorated Abby’s arms, and though the emotional baggage still weighed heavy on her heart, life was brighter here with the Fireflies—with Y/N.

She knew in that moment that it didn’t matter if things came crashing down as it almost always did. The pain and suffering of life was worth enduring because Abby no longer feared the inevitable. She had found something to fight for here and as long as she had you and she had Lev, Abby would continue to fight regardless of the obstacles that stood in her way.

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations 

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

        Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

        A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

        There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around. 

        You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

        He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

        “What are we here for?”

        He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

        “You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

        “Then why bring me?”

        “Because you need to see it.”

        You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

        You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

        Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

        He always was so careless.

        He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

        Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission. 

        How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

        A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

        “Are you alright?”

        For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

        “That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

        Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

        “Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

        “Have I ever been?”

        You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough. 

        Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

        Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

        “I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

        “Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.” 

        “Could I?”

        You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

        “If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

        He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

        “For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

        “So I’ve noticed.”

        You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

        It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers. 

        A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

        “Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

        He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

        “You don’t recognize him?”

        Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

        “You know I do.”

        Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm. 

        Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

        “Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

        Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

        “It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

        “Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

        “I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

        “But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

        You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

        “I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

        That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

        “I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

        “Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly. 

        You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now. 

         He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale. 

         He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life. 

         But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

         He was tired of wishing for death.

         Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance. 

         You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

         “I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

         “Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

         “You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?” 

         “I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.” 

         He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

         “That’s not…I have something else for you.”

         He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

         This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

         He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

         At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

         He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

         Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

         Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

         He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again. 

         “Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

         Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything. 

         This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it. 

         “These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.” 

         You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

         He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake. 

         You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

         He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

         Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

         There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

         This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

         “I fucking knew it.”

         He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

         “Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

         He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

         “What. Did. You. Do?” 

         Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

         “What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

         “There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

         “There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers. 

         You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

         You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

         And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

         Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

         But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

         “Tell me why.”

         Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

         When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

         “He overheard us—”

         “Overheard what?”

         You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

         “Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

         “That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

         One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

         “He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

         You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

         Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

         “Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much. 

         “Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

         “I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

         He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

         “Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

         “You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

         You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

         His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again. 

         “Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

         But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

         “We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

         He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

         Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you. 

         With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

         “Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

         You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

         It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too. 

         You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

         You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

         “I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

         “I know.”

         “And I’ll never forgive you.”

         It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

         “Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

         His lips met yours with a bruising fervor. 

         The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

         Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation. 

         His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm. 

         It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

         When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

         There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

         His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

         “I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

          “I know.”

Next Chapter

[yespolkadotkitty]

Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything. 

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust. 

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn  - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday. 

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully. 

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length. 

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches. 

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him. 

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on. 

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface​ for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog​ @spacegayofficial​  @tiffdawg​ and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @just-the-hiddles​ @littlemissthistle​ @palaiasaurus64​ @adorkabeezle​ @myoxisbroken​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ please ask to be added or released!

[azulirawrites]

Favors of A. Blight ch 3

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,927 (2,910 excluding parentheticals)

Contains: Description of Panic attack and associated thoughts, starting in the second paragraph, mention of death

Edric awoke suddenly, with nothing but a sharp intake of breath. He let his eyes remain closed and relaxed his breathing as he strained his ears. Closest to him, he could hear Emira, still asleep, and took comfort in her presence. Then, just beyond Emira, he could hear Amity’s light snoring. He was half-tempted to summon his scroll so he could record it, and finally prove to her that she did indeed snore, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Then, he heard someone he didn’t recognize, mumbling sleepily. He dared to open eyes, and his breath caught in his throat.

(Warning, depiction of a panic attack in the next six paragraphs)

This wasn’t his room. This wasn’t the manor. Judging by the noises from outside, they weren’t even in Bonesborough, or any city, for that matter. His thoughts began to race, imagining any number of scenarios that could be going. He clenched his eyes shut, and tried to will his breathing to calm. But it wouldn’t, and he could feel his breath escaping in bursts. His eyes hurt, even as he squeezed them shut even tighter, and his ears were ringing and his throat hurt because he couldn’t control his breath. He couldn’t breathe, even though he knew he had to be breathing because he could hear it, he could feel it in his throat but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t breathe and he was going to pass out, or possibly-

“Edric,” a voice. He recognized the voice. It was Emira. She was close. He reached out to her and grabbed. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, and he was sure Emira could too. His face flushed; ashamed. Here they were in an unfamiliar building, and he was useless. Just like mother warned him. He was useless and he couldn’t even do anything to protect his sisters and they were gonna- “Edric, breathe!” Emira said.

“I’m trying!” he wanted to yell, but what came out was more of a mangled gasp. Couldn’t she tell he was doing his best! Even though his best wasn’t good enough, he was trying! He felt something warm running down his face.He couldn’t even fake being alright? Emira was still talking, but he couldn’t hear the words, even though she was right there. She was drowned out by his ragged breathing and the ringing in his ears!

Suddenly, there was someone else at his side; he refused to open his eyes, but he could feel their presence there. He gripped Emira tighter. There was a hand on his shoulder. He clenched his fists, and he swung. And a pained grunt broke through the ringing in his ears and his ragged breathing. He chanced to open his eyes, and saw… Luz? They got Luz too? And she was holding her arm over her stomach? He’d hit Luz? He hadn’t meant to. Luz was nice, he didn’t want to hurt her. More tears slipped down his face.

“Edric,” Luz’s voice managed to cut through, and she was looking at him. “Can you see me?” Of course he could see her! He nodded. “Good. What’s something else you can see?” He looked around, and his eyes landed on Emira. He lifted the arm he was grasping. “Good. Can you focus on Emira while I look through my stuff for something?” He nodded, and turned to look more fully towards his twin, seeing the worry in her eyes. He felt the shame rise in his cheeks. She was worried about him because he couldn’t handle himself. What kind of brother was he? He gripped her tighter as he tried again to get his breathing under control.It was still ragged, but it didn’t hurt as much as it had.

Luz returned, and placed something in his hand, “It’s a fidget cube,” Luz explains, and Edric turns his attention to it. It’s… certainly cube shaped, for the most part. He regards it wearily, moving his thumb on a circular pad on one of the faces, noting that it moved with his thumb. “Can you focus on it for me? See what it does?” He nodded, and focused on the cube as best he could, using his thumb and fingers to manipulate the various sides.

(Descriptions relating to panic attack over)

A few moments later, he realized he wasn’t breathing as hard, and his ears weren’t ringing. His throat and eyes still hurt, and there were still a few tears washing down his face, but he could breathe. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Emira and Luz both hugged him, “Edric what was that?” his sister asked, “Are you okay? You’ve never done that before.”

“I don’t know,” he says, even though he wants to tell her that he’s never had something that bad before.

“I think you had a panic attack?” Luz said, and he turned to her. Emira did too, judging by how she suddenly looked between the two, “It’s a thing, in the Human Realm. My mom gets them sometimes. She says having something physical to focus on and work with helps her with them, and sometimes that’s ADHD toys, or a stress ball, and she also has a mantra that helps. But I happened to find that in some of the junk Eda’s been collecting from trash slugs.” With an exaggerated gag, Edric dropped the toy, causing Luz and Emira to laugh. “Don’t worry,” Luz said, “I made sure to scrub it totally clean! I think I might have used more soap on it than on Hooty last month.”

“That just makes me worry about how clean Hooty is,” Emira joked.

“We try, but,” Luz shuddered, and changed the subject, “Anyway, getting some food and drink will also help, Ed.  So let me wake Amity-”

“I’m awake,” the girl in the blanket burrito said, “but somebody,” Edric knew that if Amity were facing them, she’d be glaring at him and Emira,  “trapped me.”

“Right,” Luz said, “I’ll help with that, and then we’ll go see about breakfast.”

Luz was able to unwrap Amity, and managed to keep her from much more than glaring at the twins as they all got ready to head downstairs. A cursory glance in the living room revealed only King, curled up on the couch, and Hooty missing from the door. Edric was curious about that, but noticed Luz shuddered at the hole and turned away. Better not to ask, he assumed.

Instead, Luz led them to the kitchen, where the group discovered Eda tiredly mixing something in a cauldron. “Morning kids,” she greeted with a yawn.

"Morning Eda!" Luz beamed, "Where did Lilith and Hooty go?"

Eda was silent for a moment, mixing her potion, before she responded, "I'm thinking about expanding the Owl House, so I sent Hooty out with Lilith a few hours ago so he could shop around at the construction coven. Because for SOME reason he doesn't trust me to make the expansions any more."

"Expansions? I thought the Owl House was just… like this?" Luz questioned.

"House demons don't usually take to expansions well," Edric commented, "Is Hooty different?"

"I'd need more hands if I was gonna list how Hooty's different," Eda commented, "but you're right that house demons don't usually like expansions. But it's not because they prefer growing naturally or anything. It's because most witches only care for what they want, not what the house demon wants. Design, functionality, floor plans, even what materials are used. That ends up choking the house demon until they decide to just tear down the offending bit."

"That's," Luz commented, "kind of sad."

"Yeah. It's why house demons are a lot less popular now. Most witches don't know anything about compromise. All you have to do is work with and trust your house demon, and they'll be more than happy to let you expand them."

"Most house demons also can't remove themselves from the house without dying?" Edric questioned curiously. Eda gestured towards the living room, the hole in the door clearly visible. "I mean, how is it Hooty can just leave, when most house demons can't?"

"Hooty has experience and I have know-how," Eda commented, "There's a reason they call me the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles.How come you know so much about house demons anyway?"

Edric felt his face heat up as he mumbled his answer, “I’ve been looking at them for when I get my own place.”

“Huh,” Eda commented, “Didn’t expect that. Well, tell you what, if Hooty ends up meeting a nice shack, I’ll tell you where they leave the egg.” Eda laughed, and Edric cracked a small smile at the offer

(Line Break)

Lilith was tired. Well, that wasn’t exactly true; she and Eda had each whipped up an invigorating potion to make up for the night of lost sleep, so she was more than awake. She was just processing. There was… a lot to process. Hooty seemed to recognize this; he’d draped himself over her shoulders, and seemed to be doing his best to comfort her. She patted his head, and decided to make idle conversation, “What kind of rooms are you thinking about getting, Hootsifer?”

“At least four bedrooms, and a bathroom. And a library! Luz and the angry one like books, and I’ve always wanted to be a smart, sophisticated house! Or I could play up my fun loving nature and get a rec room! Or an indoor pool!”

“Those all sound quite lovely,” she placed her hand on his hand and patted him gently, “but an outdoor pool would attract more bugs, don’t you think?”

Hooty gasped, “You’re so smart Lulu! It would be like a stew and I could drink it whenever!” She laughed, and continued to pet her friend for a while, until they arrived at a shop operated by the Construction Coven.

“What can I do you for?” Asked the burly witch behind the counter.

“Good morning ma’am,” Lilith greeted, “My sister is looking to expand her home. Have you by chance heard of the Owl House?”

“Heard of it?” The witch guffawed, “The place is a legend in the Construction Coven! No one knows who built it, or how they managed to get one of the most violent house demons known to witch kind to cooperate!”

“I’m not that violent!” Hooty complained, causing the witch, who likely hadn’t realized Hooty was more than an accessory, to scream. “I’m a caring and gentle soul!”

“You’re the Owl House house demon?” the witch seemed afraid, and was backing away from them.

“Yep! I’m Hooty! And this,” he took a moment to wrap Lilith in a hug, “is my best friend, Lulu!”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the witch managed to stutter out, “but it's a coven policy we don’t do work on house demons.” The witch let out a nervous laugh, “Sorry about that.”

“Ah, but I thought you guys wanted to know all about me!” Hooty complained, drooping.

“Yes,” Lilith said, hiding a smirk as an idea presented itself, “It really is a shame they’ll never learn the secret to working on house demons. Especially ones that want at least six new rooms, and a pool. It’s a shame to think we’ll have to keep all that knowledge, and money, to ourselves. I imagine all that could put someone in line for coven head.”

“I know you’re playing me,” the witch acknowledged, timidly, “but you’re right.” The witch, reluctantly, began to guide them around the story. They spent, by Lilith’s count, at least two hours in the store, talking about different woods and stones, with a promise that the witch would come by that afternoon to begin the actual project.

In another hour, following a quick stop at one of the new chain-restaurants that had been popping up recently,  they returned to the Owl House, the mid-morning sun shining brightly. “Could you get the door?” Lilith asked, gesturing with her head, as her arms were occupied by a number of sacks, and at least one box. She hoped she had gotten enough food for breakfast. Hooty obliged, opening the door, before grabbing a number of sacks from her with his beak, extending towards the kitchen.

Carefully, she sat down what she still carried, and removed the backpack Hooty resided in, setting it on the floor. She picked up what she still had to carry, and made her way to the kitchen as Hooty returned. She did her best to ignore the sounds behind her, closing the door to the living room once she made it through.

She was greeted by everyone’s faces, as she entered, save Eda who was focused intently on downing her apple blood.’Good morning,” she greeted.

“Yeah yeah, it’s morning. Are we going to eat already?” King responded before anyone else, and Lilith sighed.

“Of course, King,” Lilith said, placing the box on the table and opening it to reveal a large assortment of pastries, most of which had a notable yellow filling.

“Oooh!” called King, “Slitherbeast claws!” as he scampered across the table to grab two of the paw shaped treats.He held them up in either hand, and let out a roar. Lilith noted, as did King judging by his “Weh?” that everyone else at the table blanched. Thankfully, after a moment, Luz let out a small laugh, which seemed to satisfy the young demon.

When King had made his way back to his seat, Emira spoke, “We aren’t normally allowed sweets for breakfast.”

“Since when has that stopped us?” Edric asked, having already absconded with a number of tarts.

“Since it’s being allowed,” she said, looking carefully at Lillith. Edric, for what it was worth, put down the tart he had just been about to bite into, though kept it in front of him.

“Emira’s right,” Amity said, making a quick show of disgust at the words, “Our parents would never allow this.”

“That’s what makes this sweeter,” Edric replied, before Lilith could get a word in. He took a bite, adding, “Besides, it’s thornberry!”

“Doesn’t this strike you as a little odd?” Emira almost pleaded with her brother.

“Yeah,” he answered, “Dad sent us out in the middle of a boiling rain storm, to have us stay overnight, at the house of two of the formerly most wanted-”

“Hey!” Eda attempted to interrupt, though didn’t manage to stop Edric’s speech.

“-individuals in the Boiling Isles, with not so much as a message from Mom since yesterday morning. So yeah, it’s a little odd.” There was a small bite to Edric’s voice, and it was apparently unusual, judging by how both Emira and Amity reacted to it, “So let’s just enjoy some pastries before the other shoe drops. Please.”

“Is Edric right?” Emira asked, turning to Lilith, who weighed her two choices in her mind. Either say yes, and risk freaking out Emira, Amity, and possibly Luz, or saying no, and making it hurt more later.

“Yeah, mostly.” Eda made the decision for her, “Except I’m still topping the wanted charts.” Lilith noted Emira looking to Edric, and then Amity, with concern, before wordlessly grabbing a few pastries for herself. Amity followed her siblings’ lead, and then so did Luz, leaving Eda and Lilith to split the rest, as Lilith took her own seat at the table.

The breakfast passed slowly in the silence, and there was an unmistakable tension in the room. King finished first, and Lilith noted that he was exceptionally quick to leave the room. Luz finished next, followed by Eda, and then Edric, Emira and Amity. Lilith set down her remaining pastry. “There has been some… upsetting news.” When the children all remained silent, even Luz. “Luz, could you go make sure King isn’t getting into anything?”

“No,” Amity refused, quickly grabbing Luz by the arm as she tried to stand, “Please, stay.” Wordlessly, Luz sat back down, gripping Amity’s hand in an attempt to comfort her.

“Very well,” Lilith said, “Right… Last night, your father sent you to us, even though it was a rather brutal rain storm. “ Emira was the first one to nod in acknowledgement, followed by Edric. “And there was a reason for that.”

After a moment of silence, Eda spoke, “Odalia saw that there was going to be an attack at the manor yesterday.” Lilith almost spoke up, but Eda continued after giving the children a second to digest the news, “She didn’t think you guys were gonna get hurt, but she didn’t want to risk it, so she had Alador send you kids somewhere no one would think to look for you.”

“Oh,” the twins managed to chorus, and Lilith noted Amity squeezing Luz’s hand tightly as she tried to keep her expression neutral.

Lilith picked up the silence, “This morning, I passed the manor. The wards had been undone, and… there were already guards and members of the Oracle coven investigating.” It was silent, as the children stared at her with the almost blank looks that Lilith knew meant ‘Please don’t say what you’re going to say.’ But it was too late now. “Your father…. Wasn’t found in the building’s remains.” What went unspoken, but very clearly heard, was that their mother had been.

“Excuse me,” Amity said, her voice barely holding together, before she got up from the table and ran back to the room she and her twins had spent the previous night in. The twins followed suit, leaving only Lilith, Eda, and Luz at the table. After a small eternity, Luz said, “I’m going to go check on them.”

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (5)

*Fluff. It is just pure fluff*

~~~

Time was so strange to think about in a realm where time stood still. A lifetime could have passed around me and I wouldn’t have noticed. The only way I was sure the days were even going by was the rising and setting of the sun. Little memories, echoes of a time long forgotten, reminding me that I had not always lived on Neverland. The clothes I wore were altered but significantly different from the Lost Boys. A stark reminder that once we were on opposing sides. For what reason I could no longer remember.

The only thing I remembered with clarity was the pain. The anger in my soul wouldn’t let me forget. I never forgot the way a redheaded pirate had hurt me and scared me so thoroughly. Sometimes I would wake with his voice in my ear and cry. I never forgot that I had a mother at one point. I reckoned I looked a lot like her and I know that I loved her. Then she had died and a part of me had gone with her.

All of that pain paled in comparison to the eternal flame of resentment I held towards the man I had called father. His face was hard to remember. At odd times I would remember the way he smiled or a whisper of his voice barking orders or singing a tune. One of his hands was replaced with a hook. I loved him just as I had loved my mother. Trusted him. Then he betrayed me. He sold me. He traded me away without regret.

I hated him.

That’s all I needed to know. All I needed to remember.

I hated my father.

Life is strange though. I was kicked out of one family and given another. Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. It felt like I had known them all my life. We laughed, fought, hunted, and played games. We were always having fun. I couldn’t imagine a life without them.

While I got along great with all the boys I couldn’t say that I was particularly close to any single one of them. Besides Pan that is. I don’t know what it was but Pan and I just got along better than we ever did with anyone else. He was, without a doubt, my best friend.

I sat at my own little camp one morning soaking in the breeze off the ocean. Pan had offered me a place back at his camp but I liked having my own space out here on the beach. I wanted to be near the ocean. I could only fall asleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. I don’t understand why. It was comforting. Familiar.

I was cooking a fish I had caught over my fire for some breakfast when I felt the chill that let me know someone was watching me. Without looking from my task I called to the onlooker. “You know you can’t sneak up on me. So how about you come take a seat.”

“Nothing ever gets past you, swordfish,” Pan came and sat down next to me. “I come bearing presents.”

“Do you?” I gave the fish another turn on the spit. I looked at Pan, “May I enquire as to the occasion?”

“Today is a special day. Do you know why?”

“If I knew I wouldn’t have to ask you.”

“Today marks the one year anniversary of when you became a Lost Girl.”

“One year?” I asked, “It feels like it’s been so much longer than that. Are you sure?”

“As sure as anything. This day one year ago, you officially joined me and the boys as our first ever Lost Girl. Doesn’t that call for celebration?”

“I suppose it does.” I inched closer, “So where is this present you got me?”

“It’s not here. I have to take you to it.”

“Can I have my breakfast first?”

“Yes. You’ll need your energy.”

We made idle talk as I quickly scarfed down my breakfast and stood to follow Pan to my present. He tied a blindfold around my eyes and led me into the jungle with his hand holding tight to mine. I laughed as I stumbled to whatever spot Pan was taking me. I tried making guesses but he was resolute in his decision to keep it a secret up until the very last second.

“Are we almost there?” I asked after several minutes of walking.

“Just a little farther.” Pan pulled me forward. “Alright, you can take the blindfold off now.”

I reached behind my head and undid the knot. The fabric fell away and I stumbled back when I realized we were at the top of a cliff. “Careful,” Pan righted me, “Don’t want you to go falling off the edge yet.”

“Yet?! What do you mean yet?!” Fear coursed through my veins as I tried to get away from the ledge.

“Calm down, spitfire. It’s not what you think,” He chuckled, “You trust me, right?”

“Slowly losing trust the longer you keep me up here.”

“Look at me,” He turned my face to his, “You’ll be safe. I promise.”

“Had better or else I swear I will come back and haunt you after I die.” I inched a little closer and peered down the cliff face. “Not that the view isn’t good but what does this have to do with my present?”

“It’s a good jumping point,” he pulled a vial out of his pocket and handed it to me. The contents inside glittered and glowed a bright green. “Know what it is?”

“Pixie dust,” I shook the dust around sending more swirls of sparkling magic dancing in the glass. I had heard the boys talking about it. It only was found in the topmost of some trees and could be quite difficult to find. It had a number of abilities such as changing one’s appearance, uniting someone with their true love, healing wounds, and even--

“Can I fly!” I jumped clasping the vial tighter. “Is this my present?”

“It is, spitfire. I was going to let you have the dust for whatever you wanted but I had a feeling you’d want to fly.”

“This is great! Thank you so much!” I wrapped him in a hug. He grew stiff in my arms and I pulled away from him just as quick. “Sorry, I was just so excited! This is an amazing gift.”

“Yes, you’re welcome,” Pan looked away and gestured for the vial back. He uncorked it and held it up above me. “I trust you know how this works.”

“I do,” My body was tingling with anticipation. He started to tip it and my hand shot out to stop him.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

“What if it doesn’t work for me? I don’t want to jump to my death.”

“Do you really think I’d let my Lost Girl do something as stupid as jump to her death?” Pan laughed, “Besides, I’ll be flying with you so if you do start falling I’ll be right there to catch you.”

“Oh my hero,” I scoffed with a smile, “I trust you though.” I dropped my hand back to my side and nodded for him to continue.

The dust came spilling out and sprinkled around us. There was a strange feeling all around me. As if I was much lighter than I had ever been. I looked down and saw that I was floating a few inches off the ground. It’s happening! I’m flying!

Pan was still in front of my lazily floating in the space next to me as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You ready?”

Without answering I pushed myself over the edge of the cliff and let myself fall down, down, down towards the crashing waves. I let out a loud and wild laugh as I pulled up just before hitting the waves and glided out over the ocean. I reached out and touched my hand to the water leaving ripples behind as I flew. This was so exhilarating!

“You’re a natural,” Pan came flying by next to me, “You didn’t even need me.”

“Are you so surprised?” I took a turn around Skull Rock, “You should know by now that I can do anything better than you, Pan.”

“Cocky aren’t we?” Pan reached out and shoved me sending me wobbling as I almost crashed into a boulder poking out from the waves. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that!”

“Only if you can catch me, spitfire!” Pan took off ahead of me.

I followed after him and was keeping stride with him pretty well despite his experience in the matter. The only reason I couldn’t catch him was because he dove down into the jungle and while I was able to keep him in sight he wove in and out of the trees so smoothly it almost felt like they were parting for him. They might have been seeing as how he could shape the island however he wanted. I was not as skilled as him and had a good many near misses of colliding with a tree as I chased him.

He entered into a cave and I went in after him. When I came out the otherside he had disappeared. “Pan, you cheater!” I shouted, “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

“Boo!” A pair of hands grabbed me from behind. I couldn’t help they yelp that escaped me. Pan was holding tight to me and flew us both higher up into the air. While I never did have much a fear of heights I was finding myself dizzy the higher up we got. The island was getting so small.

“Pan! Get us back down there! We’re too high up!” I shouted at him.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he cackled, “Don’t tell me my Lost Girl is scared of heights.”

“I’m not! But this is too high! What if the pixie dust wears off? We’re sure as dead!” My fingernails dug into his arm, too scared to let go.

“Calm down, here, have a seat,” he gestured to a cloud.

“Is this some sort of trick?” I snarled, “I’m not an idiot. I know a cloud is just a vaporous formation of water. I’ll sink right through as if it was nothing.”

“No imagination,” Pan sighed and pushed me off him. I let out a short scream as I fell back. My landing was cushioned by the cloud though.

“How--”

“Magic, remember?” Pan sat down next to me. “So little trust, swordfish. I can make anything I want in this realm.”

“Right…” I relaxed a bit and sunk down into the could, “It’s so soft.”

I noticed Pan was staring at me and I turned over to face him fully. “Thank you, Pan. This was so much fun.”

“You’re welcome, Lost Girl.” He smiled. I looked over the edge of the cloud at the island far below. It was so small from up here. I had to stop staring as the vertigo set in.

Pan was still watching me, a wistful smile on his face. “What?” I asked.

“You know you only ever call me Pan.” He said.

“I wouldn’t say that’s all I call you.” I pulled my knees to my chest, “I call you jerk, cheater, codfish, blight on my life--”

“You never call me Peter though.”

“Cause everyone refers to you as Pan.”

“They’ve called me Peter at least once. They just choose Pan. Sometimes I would like to hear my first name.” He shrugged.

“Then why don’t you ask them to call you by your first name?”

“I guess I just don’t like the way it sounds coming from them.”

“You want to be called by your first name yet you don’t like the way anyone says it. I believe that you are contradicting yourself.” I teased.

“Or maybe I’m waiting for someone to say it in a way that I like. Care to give it a go?”

“Okay,” I rolled my eyes, “Do you like how I say your name, Peter?”

His smile grew and crinkled his eyes. “I believe I do.”

“You know, if you wanted me to call you by your first name you could have just asked. You didn’t have to go about it in such a roundabout way.”

“I have no idea what you could mean. I simply haven’t liked the way anyone has said my name until now. Of course, as sweet as it sounds from your lips I think there is room for improvement still.”

“Is that so? And how else am I supposed to say it?”

“I’ll let you know another time.” He answered with a wink, “For now, say it again as you just did.”

“You are so strange...Peter.”

He grinned in that way that made me forget I had ever called him anything else. “Perfect.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

[sirensmojo]

“Remember The Missing” - Ivar The Boneless x Reader x Ubbe

Summary: You're sent to Kattegat by your uncle for settling a deal with King Ragnar. No need to mention as soon as your feet touch the dry ground, it's the Ragnarsons' eyes you caught.

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Reader x Ubbe (but All the Ragnarsons make an appearance)

Warnings: fluff, light smut, angst at the end

Word Count: 3,394

*Masterlist*

The brothers didn't have the same taste when it comes to women. Whenas Ivar and Sigurd fell for thralls, Hvitserk for simple woman, Ubbe for athletic shieldmaiden, when you dropped off the boat, their mouth surely dropped too. That's the first thing that caught your eyes, four tall men, dressed in fur, clean and braided hair with eyes as blue as the sky. Those piercing eyes were pointed right at you, although you were quite used to being stared at. From your tamed hair falling perfectly around your face shape, highlighting your complexion to your reddened cheeks from the cold that underlined Y/C eyes, making your pupils scintillate, every detail seemed to mesmerize them.

Once out of the boat, you readjusted your large and dark cloak that didn't allow the Vikings to check up on your body features but they'd bet their life everything about it was perfect. Your eyes sweep the areas without dawdling on things, as you found out what you looked for. You started to walk towards them, each of your step arousing their desire deep into their core, and stopped in front of them.

"King Ragnar, I surmise," your soothing voice purred in their ears like honey. You held your hand to the man and instead of shaking it, he pecks your fingers.  You slightly raised your brows but didn't make any comments.

You soon noticed the stares still on you and glanced at the men standing beside the King, tilting your head to the side in curiosity, the rumors were true. Men of the North were, indeed, handsome. Their features, the care accorded to their looks, even your nostrils betrayed you, as they curled up a little, their spicy wooded smell fondling your nose. "Here are my sons, from right to left: Ivar The Boneless, Hvitserk, Sigurd Snake In The Eye, and Ubbe." The bearded men spoke, lifting the veil on the identity of your seemingly new fans. You didn't miss how the four pairs of eyes have been devouring you but chose to ignore it for the sake of the alliance. Thus your clenched jaws indicated your displeasure.You had quite a temper, that was the exact reason why you were the one sent by your uncle. He tried many times to tame your ways... In vain. Although you promised him this time, you'll behave on behalf of everything he has done for you since the death of your late mother.

"I'm Y/n Of Stilfhel, pleasure is mine." You quickly bowed, gripping onto your dress for it not to meet the soil. The ragnarsons remained silent, not that you expected something else from them, seeing how focused they were to ogle you. You knew better. Everywhere you walked, people would stare at you, In your own kingdom it was because of your status, or so you'd like to believe. In foreign countries, you accepted it was because, for some reason, men found you pleasurable to look at. No need to mention that whenever you'd open your mouth, they would instantly lose interest in you, for you sounded nothing like a princess. When it wasn't you cursing, the problem was the topics on which you conversed. War, fights, battles, swords, economics, trading.

No men of your homeland needed or wanted a woman that had an opinion of everything.

But you were no princess, indeed, your uncle took you as his own daughter at the request of your mother back on her deathbed. This was her last wish, and your uncle being a good man led to you living in the palace without having the weight of duties on your shoulders. Maybe you grew too comfortable, thought your uncle at first, but he soon enough found out it was only you being you.

***

Once installed in the Great Hall, you take off your cloak and give it to the thrall waiting for it, exposing a beautiful azure dress made out of thick fabric. A single thin leather belt tightened it at your waist, revealing your curved hips and generous chest. Your sober dress didn't need any jewels or extravagance as your own body was already doing the job. An abnormal cut departing from your thighs down to your ankles betrayed your cover of "naive princess". If only they knew under that dress was hidden tones of small weapons, that thought making you smile. The man sat right in front of you did not miss any of your lips curling up as you brushed down your hands on the side of your dress, trying to hide the cut you made.

Traveling in that get-up was far from comfortable, you had to do something, right?

You thank the thrall with a small smile and finally sat down. "Is everything alright?" Asked Ragnar at the sight of your grimace. You forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah, of course. Everything's fine, my King" you succeed at answering. Glancing quickly around the table you slide your hands under your dress and straightens both your legs, trying to grab the hilt of your swords that buried itself into your ribs. When Hvitserk and Ivar abruptly turned their head towards you, both confused and satisfied, you firstly ignore them, but as your fingers finally grip onto your sword, their stare only grew more ravenous. At this exact instant, you understood what was happening, you were playing footsie with both of them. Your left foot caressing the inside thigh of Hvitserk whereas your right one got dangerously close of Ivar's core. A nervous rictus drew on your lips as you thought of something to get out this situation. You completely slump on the table to bridge the gap between your palm and the handle of your sword. Once you got it, you slowly push it out the piece of leather holding it and slide her against your bare skin before placing her on the ground. You fold your feet back to their initial position. Ivar was still looking at you, lips slightly parted with astonishment and desire twinkling in his eyes whereas Hvitserk's look was less shy in demonstration of what was going on in his mind.

"I've heard tones of stories about you Y/n," Ragnar let out as he motioned to a thrall to fill your cup with ale. Your eyes dawdled on the cup, as you kept your bottom lips in between your teeth. "Of me?" You faint not to know what he was talking about. "How so?" You added, your eyes still fixed on the liquid purring down in the container. If you start drinking now, you'll still be there in the morning, completely drunk but still wanting more ale. You will not be able to control yourself anymore, and the pretty princess will be gone."That you'd never been beaten by ale," The king continues with a defying tone. "Oh yeah? You're sure it's about me?" You raised a brow at him, glancing at the people around the table. You'd be ready to receive ugly stares by now, but they didn't come, to your surprise. Usually, as soon as someone used to put that subject on the table when with your uncle, grimaces could be seen on the surrounding faces while murmurs could be heard. 

Here, stares were fixed on you, but without any grimaces nor disgusted sounds. The men around the table were quite intrigued, maybe they didn't know what their father spoke about. You grabbed the cup hungrily, some of its content escaping the cup to drop on the oak table. You sipped a mouthful of liquor, squinting your eyes at the feelings of the liquid spreading into your body.

"Y/n Of Stilfhel, there's only one, isn't it?" Ragnar bantered as you finished your cup sooner said than done. You glanced at the thrall standing near the doors and motioned her to come. Once she presented herself before you, you carefully took off her hands the carafe and spill some more liquid into your cup. "So you heard about my superpower," you nonchalantly replied. "You must've traveled a lot to have found out. I've never put my feet on that ground before." You pointed the spot with your cup. "I have, but let's not dawdle on my idle stories, please tell us more about your presence here." "It is said, the agreement you share with my uncle must be sealed someway," Hearing your words, the heart of the men surrounding you fluttered. The first thing they thought about when hearing "sealing"  was marriage. Of course, it was. Why else letting a princess journey by herself to a foreign country?

They glanced at their father, then at you. Soon their eyes flickered from on to another's face. It was to who will seduce you first. You were a challenge atop of being a mystery. 

***

Ubbe leaned in your ear and murmured a joke about Sigurd, which make you choked on your drink. You glanced at the poor target of the man sitting beside you and shook your head both sides giggling. He instantly scowled at his brother, wondering what he could've said. Minutes passed before Hvitserk dared to approach you, he tried to be subtle but, hard luck for him, you weren't that naive. He fainted to join your side of the table to serve himself some more ale, glancing at you here and there. This whole scene made you laugh but you tried to muffle it, as you didn't want to lose all the fun. "Is the ale good?" He tried. "I don't know, you tell me," you raised your brows, as he neared his cups to his lips. He chuckled as he sips some of his drink. "How is that you're never drunk?" "Gods, believe me, I am, most of the time, but I can stand still, even play strategic games!" You heartedly let out as you leaned toward him. "Yeah? We should test that then, I'll wait right in my seat for you to come when you'll be very drunk," he winces at you as he got up from the chair beside you. "Count on it," you flirted back with a soft voice. You attentively followed his moves until some lips encountered your ear. Ubbe, this man really wasn't afraid of anything, his extreme proximity surprisingly warmed you up. Even if wasn't winter yet, the nights were cold, your skin being very sensitive did not help.

"I bet a night with you he'll be sleepy drunk in exactly 4 more cups," the man mutters in your neck, as a shiver spread from your back to your arms. Gods only know how, but he noticed it, looking down and grabbing your hands in his. "Bet held," you exhaled, trying to get away from his grip, but he didn't let go. Your eyes go to both his hands squeezing yours to his face. You didn't realize how close he was, only few inches away. If he turned his head to you at this precise moment, your lips would practically touch. The warmth emanating from his fondles spread to both your arm before dangerously nearing your guts, the center of your aroused desire. Now that he was so close, you noticed the straightness of his jaw, the plumpness of his lips, and how soft his skin seemed to be. When he turned his face, you managed to slip your hands out his grip and move your head backward, a nervous laugh escaping your gritted teeth. He was more than enticing, no doubt.

But you didn't come for that...

Speaking of your duty, your brows knitted as your eyes were searching the place for Ragnar. He wasn't there anymore. "Told you," Ubbe chuckled pointing out his little brother Hvitserk, face down to the table. "Yeah, he seems a bit dead, but I guess he's okay. At least, I hope," you grimaced, tilting your head. You needed to get some fresh air, some hours ago you were in a boat, almost alone, only with a few guards that your uncle forced you to bring and now you were surrendered by a bunch of handsome men. You excused yourself to Ubbe and walk perfectly fine to the doors. The man slid his head to the side, his mouth forming an "o", as he watched you walk away. He was more looking at your body than anything, your curves bouncing from a foot to the other. Once out, you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes a few seconds. "A bit overwhelmed?" you heard a voice, knocking you out the bubble you were in. "I'm not going to lie," you admitted, looking down. "I see you can stand as straight as if no ale oozed in your system. So it was what my father was talking about," "I know you can do better than that." You cut him off, making Ivar turns his head to yours, while you were looking faraway before you. "Huh?" He pondered, still gazing at you. "I love to talk about battles and war. Not about me being okay with drinking ten dozens of cups of ale," you confessed. "Than I wondered what you were talking about with my brother," he bluntly let out, shrugging. "He's got some move" you tried to convince him. He perfectly understood you were talking about Ubbe's ability to seduce women and riposted as soon as your words left your throat. He certainly knew what he was talking about. "Oh, I don't doubt that. I only thought you wouldn't let yourself be trapped in it," "I'm not," "So why you got out?" "I--I..." you stuttered, without being able to invent anything. Perhaps the ale was starting to get to your head.

"My name's Ivar, not 'I--I'," he mimicked your pout and voice. You hassled to chuckle and nudged him. "Stilfhel is an interesting name," Ivar let out, loudly breathing out. "As interesting as Y/n?" You gauge his reaction with a small smile at the corner of your lips. "See, you are flirty with me now,"

"Arrrgh, you're too quick for me," you faked being offended. "I bet you knew the way of sealing the alliance between both our lands have nothing to do with marriage." He nodded to himself, slowly understanding your games. "True, but I couldn't restrain myself to play a little with the minds of your brothers..." You paused, closely looking at the Viking. A genuine smile brightened your face, your eyes crinkled. "I'm glad it didn't get on you,"

"Sigurd didn't try anything,"

"Because he saw Hvisterk kind off failing," You tilted your head to him, only to encounter his eyes. They were as blue as your dress. You soon drown into them as he didn't move his stare. "Ivar The Boneless, right?" "Hmm," he agreed, clearing his throat. "I'll remember it," you mutter for yourself.

***

You tried to remember the words of the thrall when you asked her about the chamber of the Prince. You were drunk, the ale was deeply rooted in your system, but that doesn't stop you from walking through the corridors before you opened a door. "Y/n? Wha--t" "Shhh", you responded as you got closer the bed. You finally crawled into it, dangerously getting nearer the man. As you approached, Ubbe leaned his back on his pillows, intently watching your gestures. You finally got on top of him, leaning onto his chest, your lips dropping feverish kisses on his lower belly. His eyes didn't leave yours, he was concentrated in the twinkle in your eyes as if he looked away, you'll vanish in a cloud of smoke. You slowly started to kiss your way up to his neck, which you bite before playing with his skin in between your teeth. His silent groans directly reached your ears making your desire for him grew stronger each time his hoarse voice resonated in your head.  When you straddled him, after benching up your dress to your hips, he exhaled deeply, relieved the space between you has been filled. His hands ceased your hips, slowly sliding to your ass as he nuzzled his way to your face, making you look at him. Your mouth was open, your eyes getting lost together. "You're so beautiful," he slurred, incapable of letting go of your stare. "You're even more," you offered him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.  He swiftly crashed his lips on yours, making moan. He kneaded your skin with so much strength, you were sure to found bruises wherever he touched later.  You ground down on him, feeling his growing bump right in between your tighs, where you were already ready for him.

***

After you make out, Ubbe directly fell asleep, you didn't know if it was because of your little sport session or the alcohol. Whatever, you weren't asleep, unlike you. It wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more than sex. You planned on going back to your room, but instead, you stopped before another door, his door. You remember the blue of his eyes, his expression when you were face to face around the table earlier, and the way he articulated your name: with such harmony and softness. You pushed open the door, entering a total black room, "Ivar?" you ask loudly, making sure the door was closed behind you before asking for him.  At first, you were welcomed by a silence, but as your eyes got used to the darkness, you could glimpse of two light sparkles turned right at you. "I--hum..." you couldn't find the right words, how did you find yourself so nervous when not even an hour ago you were entering Ubbe's chamber so confidently? "Can I stay with you?" your voice echoed in the room as if it was empty. Still no response. You moved forward the bed, aiming at the opposite side of where you glimpsed the scintillating eyes. "I take that as a yes," you continued to talk, even if he didn't want you or even talk to you, you couldn't help but feel the need to be in his company again. "I'm coming under the furs, alright? Welcome me there." you encouraged him. "You lied," he finally spoke. You were shifting your body inside of the shits, under the furs when you stopped in track. Did he recognize you? "Earlier you said you never put a foot down this soil, you lied," he finished, quite bluntly.

You wanted to speak but the saliva in your mouth was too thick, even making it hard to swallow. You gave-up your chance to give him an explanation. 

"I knew I already saw your face before, not too long ago actually. You left me waiting for something that would've never happened," his tone was firm but not angry. "Why?" His voice broke to silence. "I knew I wasn't staying for long, I didn't want you to wait for me. You were supposed to forget me, Ivar..." You murmured, without trying to justify yourself. "How could I forget what I gave you, what we shared?" "I don't know," you allowed."Me neither, but still you lied to me back then, about your name, your status, everything!"

"I didn't lie when I came sneaking close to your body every night. I didn't lie when we were meeting in secret in the woods to look at the sunsets and lying on our back watching the forms of the clouds," you lowly let out as you got closer to his chest. Your palm patted his torso before going up to his cheek. Now you're holding his face so his eyes stick with yours, unable to escape from your hold, just like you used to two years ago. "When my uncle asked for a messenger I volunteered," you started to be swoon. His ablaze stare would kill you right now if they could. Instead, Ivar lifted his rough and huge hand to your face, wiping away the few tears that have filled up your eyes. "I wanted to see you again, feel you again..." you added as he pulled your head toward his bare chest. Your eyes closed, and your mind eased in less than a minute, soothed by the rhythm of the Viking's heartbeats. 

"Don't leave," he managed to articulate despite the nervousness inhabiting him at this instant. His arms closed around your weak body as he held you tightly against him, to your greatest pleasure.

Ivar Permanent Tag: @youbloodymadgenius​

[writingsbychlo]

runaways | mafia!void

word count; 12,365

summary; mob-boss Stiles Stilinski owns the neighbourhood, and the city, and he knows it. but, someone new moves in across the street to his building, and flips his world upside down, with her own secrets to hide.

notes; oddly romantic for void, but still definitely a lot darker than normal stiles would be. 

warnings; violence, death, injury, gore, drug dealing, torture, murder, reference to abuse, reference to animal abuse.

With a frantic breath, nails digging into his chest as he jumped awake, Stiles tried to focus on where he was. There was clammy sweat covering his palms, fists clenched tightly with marks from his nails on the skin, and his forehead was shining and wet too. He felt uneasy, crawling in his own skin as he adjusted in the uncomfortable chair, blinking himself back to consciousness.

He didn’t feel at all well-rested, or relaxed, but he only seemed more on edge. The flashes of your injury were playing like a loop in his mind, the sounds of your screams, the horrid images of your blood staining the wool in handprints and the pool of it you’d been lying in when he found you. It all felt like slow-motion, reliving the events in his mind.

In his nightmare, though, he’d been slower. Feeling like he was moving through tar as he’d tried to get to you, every second dragging out in a painfully long time that made every second feel like hours, like he’d never reach you in time to save you. As he settled down, his heart rate calmed, no longer threatening to beat so hard that it would burst right from his chest, and he lifted the hand closest to him in both of his own.

Smoothing his thumbs over the back of your skin, he let out a ragged cry. Shuffling the chair loser to your bedside, he gave a weak attempt at comforting himself, pressing your palm over his cheek in a way you had done so many times to him before. Your hand was limp this time, though, and cooler, and he hated that tears were lining his eyes.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he acted or behaved, and he hated himself for it. Part of him hated that he’d ever let you in at all. Falling for the woman who had run away, seeking shade in his shadow that would hide you from the world, all the trouble it had caused him, but he didn’t regret even a second of it.

If there was one thing that Stiles was absolutely positive, it was that he loved you with everything he had. You’d stepped into his life, angering him at first as you moved into the building across the street, buying up property he wished to own. Quickly, though, you’d won him over. Every hello as you passed on the street, every sweet with a smile that had made something within him clench, every flirty comment and skim of your hand when you touched him that made him feel like he was on fire.

When he needed you most, you’d walked into his life and changed everything. You’d accepted him for who he was, a lifestyle you were no stranger to, but your innocence remained. Every blush and shy stutter he drew from you made him feel empowered, every time you’d squeal a little when he swept you off of your feet, and every shocked look you’d give him when he’d let his hand fall low rough to your ass in public.

Somehow, at a time he couldn't place, he’d let go of his ‘never sleep over’ rule. The morning when he’d wake up beside you, whoever’s side of the street it was that you stayed on, were the best mornings of all. The sleepy smiles you’d give him, the way you were just a little more clingy before your morning coffee. Your hands would smooth down his front, always waking up later than he did and finding him in the kitchen or working. Your arms wrapping around him from behind, a kiss placed between his bare shoulder blades, tracing his moles with soft lips until he let out the kind of breathy laugh he’d never let anyone else hear from him.

This was all wrong. Your hair didn’t flutter around you on the pillow like it did when you were at home. There was almost a frown on your face, wrinkles formed around it instead of the tranquil look you held when it was just the two of you. Your skin was colder, your hands never reached out lazily to find him when he sat close to you, and there were no giggles that told him you were awake when he leaned over to kiss your cheek.

The constant and droning beep of the heart machine was steady beside the bed. Stiles had one hand squeezing your own, the other lifting up to his mouth, and he chewed on the nail of his thumb as he looked over you. Letting out a ragged sigh, he stood from the chair again, unable to even keep still. Brushing stray hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear carefully, he let out a low sigh, hand trembling as he ran the backs of his fingers along your cheek.

The blip of the machine didn’t falter in the slightest, and he pulled the chair back up behind himself, collapsing down into the seat. He wasn’t sure how he got here, how he got in this state, but he was still covered in your dried blood, his clothes ruined and hair messy from having a hand constantly running through it.

“Baby, I know I said some things, but I need you to wake up and yell at me for them now, okay?” His voice trembled as he spoke, the sound of his own angry voice in his head making him wince. He could barely even remember now why he’d been so angry, because, in retrospect, it wasn’t all that big of a surprise. He’d done a background check on you, and nothing about the lifestyle you led had been normal. Long before he’d fallen in love with you, Stiles had realised that you were no stranger to a gang lifestyle. “Please, darling. I don’t care if you hate me, if you scream and yell, I don’t even care if you never want to see me again. I just need to see those pretty eyes again, and know that you’re gonna’ be alright.”

He blamed himself. Every second of it was like torment in his mind, like scars on his body that would never properly heal. The surprise of finding out just who you’d been on the run from, all that time ago when you’d originally sought freedom within his territory, and it had sent him into a full-blown rage. Red vision blacked out of his feelings, he’d said things he didn’t mean, and the idea of never getting to apologise to you now was eating him alive.

“I’ll make it up to you, baby, I promise.” He didn’t know how he was going to keep that promise, but he was determined to. He’d do whatever it took, he would protect you, or avenge you, or set you free somewhere that he knew you’d be safer than by his side, but no matter what, he knew that he would never let you get hurt like this again.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open, nor the sound of it clicking shut, and he jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

He gripped it at the wrist, spinning around with a scowl and bracing himself as he prepared for a fight, and Scott stood before him, wide eyes and a panicked look on his face. Lowering down the fist he had on the offensive, he released Scott, and his tanned best friend took a step closer, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder once again.

“I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“S’ not your fault.” He whispered, voice hoarse from his screaming and shouting the night before, demanding the best doctors and medical care for you as he watched you be rushed away into surgery, hands still smeared with blood.

“It is. It was my ID that was used to get in, if I had jus-”

“Dude, how were you supposed to know? I’m the one that let a fucking traitor into the building, into our lives. If it’s on anyone, it’s on me.” His friend fixed him with a pitiful look, the pair falling into silence, and he made his way across the room, pouring himself a cup of freshly filtered water, a smirk of vague satisfaction flicked at his lips as he looked around the private room that you had been set up in. Clearly, his idle threats and aggressive shouting in the waiting room had achieved something.

He wandered back across the room, collapsing into his seat and sipping the water, his foot tapping agitatedly against the floor, twice as fast as the rhythmic beating of the heart monitor beside your bed. He took up a glare at the machine once again, the same glare he’d had all night. It wasn’t long before the cup was empty, and he shook his head, fingers tightening around the plastic cup as it crumpled and cracked in his hand.

He did the best he could to fend off a yawn, but it wasn’t working, the exhaustion of having been up all night watching over you was finally catching up to him, and he shook himself down, blinking rapidly as he did his best to stay awake.

“You should go home.”

“And leave her here alone?” Stiles scoffed at his best friend, rolling his eyes at the suggestion and the tanned boy chose to ignore the snappy attitude of his best friend. “Yeah, because that went so well the last time.” He laughed emptily, but tears were lining his eyes, the tapping of his foot only getting faster, and he reached for your hand again. Your fingertips were a little cold, the lack of movement meaning your circulation had reduced, and he folded your fingers under to be able to press a timid kiss to your knuckles.

“She won’t be alone, I’ll stay. You should go home and shower, you look like you committed a murder.” The two shared a small chuckle at the irony, and sat up to pull the shirt away from himself, the pale blue material ruined with deep stains of your blood. He’d washed them since, but there was still blood up on his forearms, and in all honesty, he was utterly exhausted. “If she wakes up, I’ll call you. Go and get some rest, and I’ll stay and watch over. Nothing will happen to her.”

“Everything already did happen, Scott.”

“Nothing else will happen to her.” Scott fixed him with a stern glare, and Stiles caved, getting up from the seat and rubbing a hand over his face. Picking up Scott’s discarded jacket, he pulled it over his shoulders, zipping it up securely around his own body.

“I’m taking this.”

His friend merely waved him off, and he made his way down to the front desk after a lingering look at you over his shoulder, making sure that everything had been taken care of. He signed his name at the bottom of the statements, getting a copy of all of his receipts, before fishing for his keys in his back pocket. It was with a deep sigh that he realised he hadn't driven here, he’d gotten in the ambulance with you when the paramedics had arrived. He was about three seconds away from breaking down, when he caught sight of a familiar head of curly hair and a ridiculous scarf, despite the heat.

“Need a ride?”

Stiles shook his head fondly, wandering over to his friend and watching as he shifted from leaning on the car to the driver’s seat, and Stiles fastened himself into the passenger seat, his head lolling onto the comfortable leather. The drive felt shorter than it had been last night, but perhaps that was because every second that Stiles had watched on helplessly, it had felt like an hour, and so he didn’t have any real grasp on how long the trip had been.

He didn’t normally estimate the trip to the hospital. When he hurt someone, they were always dead before paramedics even arrived, just how he wanted it. This time, though, he’d been grateful that hadn't been the case.

When the car finally came to a stop, Stiles peered up at the tall building he owned, swallowing thickly and purposefully avoiding looking at your own across the street, but dragging himself from the car on tired limbs instead. Making their way inside, Isaac pressed the button for both his floor and Stiles’. The numbers clicked up, Stiles’ hand gripping the edge of the elevator to steady himself, and wishing his friend well as he stepped out on his floor. He yawned again, the stress of keeping his eyes open and his body upright was beginning to show, but his mind was still wired.

He needed coffee.

He needed food.

He needed a hot shower.

He needed you.

It was a painful reminder when he stepped into his apartment of just what had happened. His laptop was still open, blinking with the low-power warning and he trudged over to it, toeing off the pair of old trainers he’d pulled on in the race to find you after watching the shot go off. He could still see the flash in his mind, still hear your cries of pain each time he pressed down on the wound, could still feel the weak press of your hand over his as you tried to hold onto your consciousness.

Closing the laptop lid and plugging it in to charge, his phone following as it had long since run out of battery. It had died somewhere around 3am, when he’d been instructing Kira and Allison onto a manhunt for Malia and Theo, to track them down, Derek going with them as Lydia stayed behind.

The redhead had spent the entire night instructing a team to clean up your apartment. She’d sent him pictures to confirm once the blood was scrubbed from the floors, the sheets on the bed swapped out, and the broken door taken down from its hinges. Placing an espresso mug under the spout of the sleek coffee machine he had never before been so grateful for, the familiar clicking of heels on the hardwood floors of the penthouse suite he called home echoed out.

“Lydia?”

“The one and only.” She sighed, appearing around the wall with a dazzling grin, looking far better after an entire night of being awake than he did, and he cocked a brow at her. Pushing the green ‘go’ button on the machine as he set it off, the dull churning sound of beans and the drip of string coffee started up. “Her place is clean, the door is totalled, a real joiner or carpenter will have to fix that.”

“Not to be ungrateful, because I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done tonight, but why are you here?”

He couldn't hide the slightly snippy tone to his voice, and the woman before him cocked a brow, but smirked knowingly at him anyway as she sauntered on past to take her coat from the hook she had put them on. He felt almost stupid for not noticing it when he’d stumbled through the door. “I was unpacking, of course.”

“Unpacking what, exactly?”

She looked at him like he was some kind of idiot, pulling her perfect curls loose from under the collar as she pulled on her coat, tying the belt around her waist a second later. “Some of your girl’s belongings. I assumed you’d want her within your sights when she was discharged, I wasn’t thinking you’d want her going home to a place with no front door and the fresh memories of almost being murdered in her sleep?”

He winced at how bluntly she spoke of the accident, but nodded his head. He hadn't even thought about that, he was so preoccupied with just making sure you were alive that he hadn't even processed what would happen after you got out. She teetered over to him on very tall heels, leaning up enough to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders loosely, pressing a kiss to her temple in return as he hugged her. “You’re an angel, Lydia. Thank you.”

“Hey, what can I say? Just make sure I get a decent payout on our next job.” She winked at him cheekily, and he rolled his eyes, knowing she was already up in the highest figures he gave out. She was soon leaving, pulling her phone from her pocket and immediately texting, never looking up as she stepped into the elevator and disappeared. The beep from the little device beside him broke his reverie from staring at the closed silver doors, and he picked up the little porcelain mug. Sipping the bitter liquid within and cringing at the heat, he choked it all down in a single mouthful, nonetheless.

A sound of satisfaction left him, and he trudged through to his bedroom, his lips flicking up at the sight of two pairs of pyjamas sitting out on his bed, rather than only his own. Little things that didn't belong to him but matched surprisingly well with his decor were scattered around.

A hairbrush on his dresser, makeup brushes and a makeup bag, a suitcase tucked away in the corner of the room from where Lydia had brought over your belongings, and he stripped himself down, dumping his clothes in the laundry hamper and wandering through to the bathroom.

The hot water had never felt so relieving, and he let out a deep sigh, tipping his head down and bracing himself with an arm against the wall, watching as bloodied water ran away into the drain. He reached around blindly for the soap and sponge, scrubbing at his skin until it was red, raw and stinging, but clean.

Blood had never bothered him before, especially not in his lifestyle, but this felt different. It was your blood staining his skin. It didn’t bother him when it was someone else’s life in his hands, when he got to make the decision on whether they lived or died, but he didn’t get to choose with you. With you, he had been powerless. Every title, every kill, every notch on his belt and dollar in his bank hadn't mattered, because when you’d been dying in his arms, even with all of his power, he’d not been able to do a single thing to help you. To save you.

His fist swung back, an angry cry leaving him as he powered his hand at the tile before him, his knuckles letting out a sick crack and his skin tearing as he punched at the wall. Despite the pain, he did it again and again, until blood was dripping along his wrist and the only thing he could picture would be your face as you looked at him, telling him to stop before offering to patch him up.

His hands were already battered and bruised, this time yesterday he’d been spattering his crisp white shirt with the blood of a dealer who hadn't yet paid up, a life he had control over, and had ended without remorse. He’d been in a bad mood, having lost a lot of money as well as a reputable dealer when. His hands had been stinging, head pounding from where the boy had tried to make a run for it after hitting him across the back of the head, and he blamed himself for everything that had happened afterwards.

The cuts on his hand made him hiss from pain when hot water and the suds of shampoo washed through them, but he deserved that, it was his fault for letting his temper get out of control. He closed his eyes, head tipping up toward where the spray of water was coming from, letting the water wash over his body and soothing the tension he held.

It melted away, skin flaring at the heat and turning bright red, the steam getting thicker and thicker in the room until it was hard to even breathe, and he finally stepped out from the water. He was swaying, the warm water having cleared his mind, and now that his thoughts were no longer rattling his brain, tiredness was beginning to crash in. Ruffling his hair with a fluffy towel, he merely let it fall away to the floor, tugging a pair of boxers onto his legs and collapsing face-first into his pillow as soon as his knees met the edge of his bed.

Your pyjamas were sitting out on the pillow beside him, his fingers reaching out, pads running over the soft and silky material of the pale purple night set you wore. His eyes were closing, and instead of letting the guilt sweep away at him once more, he chose instead to let his mind drift, to imagine you were laying by his side instead. He hugged the pillow with your sleepwear on closer to his chest, nose dipping to bury in the silk top, and the smell of you comforted him more than anything else had yet.

Stiles awoke with a jerky startle, his back aching from the hospital seat he was sitting in, and he rubbed his eyes with a groan. It was nothing new. That first night of good sleep he had gained sleeping beside the smell of you had quickly passed. Now, that fading smell of flowers and spices had become haunting, reminding him every night through painful nights of fitful and paralysing nightmares of his failures. 

The week you’d been in the hospital had been much the same. Sleeping by your bedside in the hospital when he’d visit, only ever getting the chance to relax when he could rest his head beside your hand on the itchy blankets of the hospital bed.

On the second night alone is when his nightmares started. That night, Stiles saw your first date. He could taste the ice cream on his tongue, the flavour you’d chosen for him when you’d let him come with you to see one of the small businesses you used as a cover, he could still feel the chill of the brain freeze he’d gotten that day. It started out as it truly had, his hand wrapped in yours, slightly pink cheeks when you introduced him to the older woman behind the counter as ‘the man trying to win your heart’, and the feel of wrinkled leather on the booth you both sat in. Except, in this version of his dream, it didn’t end with kisses that tasted of cherry sorbet and vanilla ice cream. This time, it ended with your eyes lifeless as he tried to save your life, windows shattered and glass in your sternum from a robbery gone wrong that had never happened. 

He woke up clutching his shoulder that time, feeling along his skin for the ghosts of wounds that were never real. 

The third night he was alone, he saw a twisted ending to the first time you’d stayed at his place, and on the fourth night, he was shaking when he forced himself out of his dreams, a conjuring of your death once again in his mind, another date gone wrong, another treasured memory ruined. Some dreams came to repeat themselves as the days plodded on, and some days just brought the torture of reliving the nightmares that made him wake up in tears. 

Last night, he dreamt of your first meeting. It was comforting at first, and he eased himself through a morning shower to wash away his tears and sweat by thinking of the real events. In his nightmare, it had ended by his own hand, your sweet face flashing behind his eyes, his mind screaming at himself as he watched a vision of himself take your life. He woke up in a shock of screaming cries, reaching out to your side of the bed only to remember that he was alone. Tears on his face, voice hoarse, and the chilling aftershock of what his mind had conjured up with his guilt left him trembling and unsteady. 

He’d been too scared by that vision to even try going back to sleep. Rather, he’d showered down, ice-cold water stinging as it beat down against his skin, waking him up enough to shake off the pain of it. He’d pulled on some clothes, his car keys and his phone being all he needed, working on autopilot as he had driven to the hospital. Stars were still in the sky, visiting hours were far from opening for the morning as the sun hadn't even risen, but he knew there was a nurse that was taking pity on him behind the desk. 

Or perhaps, it was fear? 

No matter what made her do it, she always opened up your room for him, guiding him through the halls on a path he knew well, until he could slump down by your side. His breakfast continued whatever he could fish out of the vending machines, spare change from his pockets or the card from his wallet. He was certain that at this point, they were refilling the machines just for him. 

The last decent meal he’d had was the night before your argument. Happy, full of life, a recipe you’d learned when you were young as you shared it with him. Now, it was just whatever he could fish out of his freezer to point in the microwave, when Scott, Isaac or even Derek had forced him to go home and rest, as if that was even an option. The only decent sleep he got was in naps, when he got home after driving the city for hours or busying himself with business, only to get a few hours of solace in his unconsciousness with a dead sleep that contained no dreams. 

It was during one of these times that he got the call from his best friend, your tenth day in hospital recovery that you woke back up. He’d been showering at the time, having just missed the call as he’d stepped under the water. Emerging from the spray thirty minutes later and finding a series of missed calls from the hospital, Stiles felt like his heart may actually have stopped in his chest with fear. 

It had taken only two rings for Scott to pick up, and Stiles was already pulling shoes onto his feet as he fished around for his car keys, insisting he was on his way back, when his friend told him to stay home.

“Dude, relax, she’s totally fine.”

“She was shot, Scott.” He couldn't help the bitter tone in his voice, his friend laughing down the line, shuffling as his voice faded for a second. He was talking to someone on the other end, and Stiles could make out the many different voices of nurses, doctors and patients around him. There was the scratching of a pen on paper, and a gentle ‘thank you’ from his friend, and Stiles was waiting anxiously for the whole time. “Scott, what is going on? I’m freaking the fuck out over here. You know what, I’m coming to the hospital-”

“She woke up. About forty-five minutes ago.”

“She did? Holy shit.” He let out a breathless chuckle, wiping a hand over his face as his shoulders sagged, tension leaving his body like a sudden rush of bliss, just hearing that you were awake.

“Yeah. She’s good, she had some water, my mom’s checking her over, I just signed her discharge papers. I’m going to bring her home, alright? She’s a little bit groggy, and quite grumpy.” 

His friend was teasing you, and Stiles didn’t even have it in him to argue, instead, Stiles looked around, making a mental note of everything that he needed to tidy up and clean before you got here.

“We’ll be there in about half an hour, alright? Try to contain yourself between now and then.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, I can sense your shaking with anticipation through the phone, buddy. See you soon.” 

He scowled as his friend hung up on him, but his hands were shaking, he couldn't deny that. Rather than thinking too hard about it, he chose to toe-off his unlaced shoes, placing them neatly on the rack and rubbing sweaty palms on the sides of his sweats, glancing around at the room.

That half an hour passed him by quicker than he would’ve liked. He had put away all the crap that was filling the room, tucking away every wire, and on a few occasions he’d almost felt like he was baby-proofing his apartment, but he wasn’t willing to let anything else hurt you. He’d moved everything from the highest and lowest shelves up to a middle level, easily reachable, and pushed the furniture slightly further apart to make sure you had plenty of room to move around.

Your pyjamas were laid out neatly on the bed, waiting for you for when you arrived, ready to change out of the dingy hospital gown you had been in for the last ten days since your accident. He’d laid out a skin sensitive, wound friendly soap and shampoo set on the edge of the bath, ones that he’d had to dig out from the back of the cabinet, assuming you’d want to soak, or at least have a shower.

He felt almost nauseous with worry when the elevator opened up, silence filling the room as Scott pushed the rented wheelchair along, a pair of crutches balanced across your lap and held loosely by your hand. Before he could drop to his knees to see you, Scott was holding a hand out, a lopsided smirk on his face as he shook his head.

“She fell asleep on the ride over here, she’s out cold.”

He laughed weakly, kneeling beside you quietly and brushing your hair back behind your ears, delicate breaths leaving you as your head tipped to the side. “She fell asleep? She was unconscious for ten days! Somehow, that seems completely on brand, though..” It was spoken fondly, one of his palms brushing gently over your hair as he smoothed it across the back of your head. 

“She was in some pain when she woke up. My mom gave her some pretty heavy painkillers, she got a bit loopy, and then crashed.” Stiles stood to his full height, nodding as he took in the information, before taking the crutches and standing them in the corner beside the coat hooks. A large paper bag of instructions and different medicines was handed over to him, and he glanced inside quickly at the various medications. “Different ones, for any discomfort she gets, some to fight off infections, all that. Mom wrote a list of instructions for you, so you can read those.”

“Thank you, Scott.” Scott shrugged, brushing off the gesture, but Stiles didn’t want that. “No, man, I mean it. Thank you. I would have gone insane without you there to boss me around.”

“Well, someone had to do it, since the normal owner of that position was out cold.” Scott teased, rubbing a hand over your shoulder as you slumped in the wheelchair, and Stiles glanced back to you fondly. “She should wake up in an hour or so, be ready, she may be moody still.” 

His best friend shot him a smile, the two sharing a quick hug, heavy pats on the backs and a quick squeeze before parting. The tanned male was soon disappearing into the elevator, leaving him alone with you once again.

Wheeling you through to the bedroom, he lifted you from the chair, the robe he’d left for you being a struggle to get off, and he undid the ties on the loose hospital gown, before trying to ease you into a soft set of pyjamas, fresh from the ones he’d spent the week sleeping beside. He left you above the covers, the heat of the mid-day hour undesirable to be tucked away, your hair fanned out around you as he let you lie down, adjusting you and propping a pillow up under your feet.

Pushing the wheelchair into the corner, he couldn’t help the relief that was filling him as he finally had you back, safe in his arms where he could properly protect you. Sitting beside you on the bed, he pushed up the edge of your shirt just enough to reveal the bandages on your torso, regret and guilt filling him as the pads of his fingers brushed over the wrapping.

“I’m so sorry I let this happen to you, baby.”

His words fell on deaf ears, but he’d been waiting too long to apologise, and he needed to speak the words to you, now that he had you home and within his grasp once again, the place where you should always be. His lips pressed to your forehead, a lingering kiss placed there before he swiped his thumb over the skin. He stayed a moment longer, before hauling himself to his feet and heading for the exit of the room. As he went, he flicked the lights out and drew the curtains, darkness filling the room as he left you to sleep, pulling the door shut but leaving it open enough to be able to hear you if you were to need him.

His first call was to sort through all your medicines. Unstacking each bottle methodically and reading over them, he checked them against the notes Melissa had left for him, reading up on each one before tucking them all into the first drawer on the island in the centre of the kitchen. Alongside them were the instructions, in case he forgot any, or you wanted to check yourself. He then took his laptop to the couch, collapsing across the plush leather seats and balancing the device half on his lap, half on his stomach, propped up with his head laying on the armrest.

He had been doing his best to keep your businesses in order for you, he’d kept up with any work he knew of that you did, and he’d made a conscious effort to visit each and every store during those ten days, to check that everything was going well with them. Despite it all, over these past few days, he had become progressively more impressed with your ability to contain them all. Never did a full thirty minutes go by without someone from somewhere needing something from you, emails and concerns regarding the businesses, and trying to keep track of all of the figures was dizzying. 

There was a reason he had Lydia running the books.

“Do you have eggs and bacon?” He’d been so caught up in sending a passive-aggressive email to the boss running your Brooklyn coffee shop, that when your voice came, it had shocked him so thoroughly that he almost fell from the couch.

“You’re not allowed!” His words had only confused you, and he jumped up from his seat, placing his laptop down on the kitchen counter as he made his way over to you. You shuffled further into the room as he watched, leaning against the wall for support as you went. His feet slipped and skidded on the floors to get to you, his hands hovering over your hips as you raised your brows at him.

“I’m not allowed eggs and bacon?”

“You’re not allowed to be out of bed!” He retorted, hands on your forearms as you grasped him in the same way, and he tried to make you walk back to the room, but you held your ground. Walking him backwards and into the open plan kitchen, he let out a sigh as he gave in to what you wanted. “Please go back to bed, I’ll make you any food you want, if you just go and rest.”

“I’ve been resting for a week and a half, I want something to eat.” You grouched, and he sighed reluctantly at your stubbornness, scooping you up underneath your legs and placing you into one of the tall seats at the kitchen island. 

He pulled eggs and bacon from the fridge, alongside everything else he needed to make you a breakfast fry-up, a small smile pulling on his lips, back turned to you. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you tugged his laptop toward you, fingers swiftly typing in the password as the black screen lit up, and he didn’t even bother questioning or trying to stop you. Your eyes were moving quickly over the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you contemplated his email draft. He waited for your response, heating oil in the pan and waiting for it to begin sizzling, while he prepared a tray of food for the oven in silence. 

“You’ve been managing my businesses while I was out?”

“Of course.” His back was still turned to you, and you closed down the draft, only humming in reply, but choosing to log into your account and checking through the notifications there. Your stomach rumbled loudly as the smell of food drifted into the air, plates clattering and eggs sizzling as he cracked them on the edge of the pan, tipping them into the hot oil. “I did most of the paperwork, too. You’ll probably want to check over it, but I did the best I could.”

“I’m sure you did fine. It’s all good.”

Silence fell between you both again, something that was tense and uncomfortable on his end because he had no idea how to interpret it. 

It felt like he was choking on the air, the sounds of your fingers on the keyboard, the occasional sizzle or pop from the food as he worked breaking the quiet. He turned, pushing a plate of steaming food toward you as soon as it was ready, and you gasped happily.  Taking it from him, Stiles pulled out the seat opposite to you, poking at his meal as you dug in quickly. 

You had finished half of your food before you broke the silence again, clearing your throat and forcing him to look up to you.

“Why are you pouting so much?”

“I’m not pouting. I don’t pout.” He scoffed, and you simply watched him, his body deflating under your stare. He scooped up a mouthful of food onto his fork, chewing it and letting his eyes leave yours for a second, swallowing audibly and looking back at you. “It’s my fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

Your voice was light and chirpy, and you happily sliced off another large chunk of bacon and hash-brown, his head shaking as he twirled his knife between two fingers, the tip of the cutlery pressed to the plate. “That you got shot.”

Your cutlery clattered against the plate, and he jumped at the sound, his eyes snapping to you. You were scowling at him, somehow still managing to look sympathetic and sweet as you watched him, but there was anger laced underneath. “That is such bullshit!”

“No, it’s not.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you shifted in your seat, rubbing your fingers over your stomach gently as you waited for him to try and find his words. “I care about you, so much. I was so angry that I left you there, and I’m the one who told Malia I wasn’t going back, when I saw her in the elevator, and now she’s gone. I told her you would be all alone, I left you after shouting at you. I shouldn’t have.. have-”

“Have what, Stiles?” You reached out across the table, and he choked back his feelings as you placed your hand over the top of his, tips of your fingers tracing each knuckle and veins on his hand. The simple touch was calming him more than he would care to admit, simply because it was you. “She would have just come back another day, when I was alone. This was a planned attack, and you can’t blame yourself. She would have just waited, they would have just waited. I don’t blame you, and I forgive you for what you said that night.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. How could I not?” You glanced down at yourself, a ghost of amusement beginning to manifest on your face, tempting him into the same. “You put me in my favourite pyjamas, and made me breakfast even though it’s mid-afternoon.” You gave a wry smile, and he shook his head, but the expression was soon dropping as he watched your face curl into a frown.

“What, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He was up from his seat in seconds, the half-eaten meal left abandoned as he rounded the marble countertop to get to your side, and you shook your head, anger stitched onto your features, instead.

“Nothing, it’s just that.. I’m pretty sure Theo stole my cat.”

“What?”

“Scott said Lydia told him that he was nowhere to be seen when she got there. I think he stole my cat.” You mumbled, finishing up your food, and running a hand through your hair, cringing when you pulled it away from your greasy tresses, all while he stared at you incredulously. “What are you staring at?”

“You know, he probably just ran away.”

“My cat isn’t the runaway type, okay? I’m absolutely sure he took him.” You were insisting, trying to hop down from the seat. Stiles leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before scooping you up into his arms delicately, ignoring your protest about his actions. You gave in, your arms wrapping around his neck, the plates abandoned on the island to be cleared away later, your head falling to rest on his shoulder. “I want a bath, or in the very least a shower. I feel gross.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Shut up, I’m greasy.” You growled, but he laughed at your words, trying to keep you steady in his arms as he made his way toward the bathroom. Placing you down on the counter, he ran the taps for you, plugging the bottom of the tub, before turning back to you once the water was gathering. 

You lifted your shirt up and over your head, wincing as it fell free and stretched out your core just enough for you to feel the pinch at the hole on your side. You lifted your hips, getting to the floor and wiggling your shorts free from your body, before turning to the mirror. 

“You have spare bandages and wrapping, right?”

“I get shot at for a living, of course, I do.”

“Right, ‘course.” You muttered, peeling back the tape holding the patch over your stomach and dropping the slightly bloody pack into the bin, before examining your wound in the mirror. Red flesh was surrounding it, your veins standing out, and you twisted to get a better look at the injury. It was somewhat scabbed over, the patch dark red and purple, and you ran your fingers delicately around the area. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

He stood behind you, letting you lean back into him for support as he wrapped an arm around your hips, hand resting on your side as he avoided going near the spot. “It’s going to leave a badass scar. I think it’ll be pretty sexy.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, smirking when he heard you chuckle, before he was pulling away, swirling his hand in the water to test the temperature as the tub filled quickly with several inches of water. “We need to try and keep it dry, okay? So, I’ll tip water over you, and you can cover it with your hand, alright?”

You didn’t respond, simply turning around in his arms, and his hands moved to sit against your lower back instead. His eyes were wide on yours, a sweet gaze that made your heart flutter. Leaning in, you cupped his cheeks in your hands, pulling his face up until you could brush your nose with his. His lips puckered, barely brushing your own as he groaned needily under his breath when you snapped away suddenly.

“Why be such a tease, doll?”

“I wanted to kiss you.” You mumbled, breaking free from his hold to root through the cupboards, picking up your toothbrush from the sink, a huff leaving him as you soaked the end of your toothbrush.

“And yet, you didn’t.”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth in almost two weeks.” You muttered, sticking the brush into your mouth, relishing in the minty taste that covered your senses, and scrubbing at your teeth as he chuckled.

“I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I wou’ haf’.” Your words were distorted as you spoke, and you continued to clean until you finally felt satisfied. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth out, you rinsed off your brush and placed it back in the stand beside his. When you turned again, he was standing behind you, towering over you once again as his hands cupped your face, brows raised.

“Now?”

“Now.”

His lips descended onto your own, a moan leaving his lips as your smooth lips worked against his chapped ones, dragging together in a sweet gesture that he had missed so much since the last time he’d had the chance to kiss you. He pressed further into you, pulling you closer softly, your front meeting his as he tried not to push against your wound. A gasp left you when his hands slipped down from your face to wrap around your waist, and he took the chance, his tongue dipping into your mouth to find your own.

The muscles tangled together, your hands bunching the material of his shirt under your palms as he took control of the kiss, and your body loosened under his touch. Your heads were tipping to the sides, breathy moans leaving the both of you, and he dominated the kiss, every part of him covering every part of you. It was different from other kisses, it was slow and passionate but there was something more. Something that tasted like love on your tongue as he worked your mouths together, your nails digging into his chest.

It was full of lust and need, but also want and care and everything within you melted. The scruffy stubble on his jaw that had gone unshaven was scratching at your skin in the most delicious way, his fingers spreading out over your back and tips digging into your body as he tried to pull you impossibly closer. The two of you were trying to wrap yourselves up in one another, for all you were worth, until the burn for oxygen was just too much for you to handle.

When you pulled back, he ran a finger over your lips, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes still closed as the two of you panted for breath. “I missed the taste of your mouth. God, I missed you so much. Ten days of pure fucking torture.”

You grinned, tipping your head enough to press a scattering of small kisses to his cheek and jaw, burying your face in his neck. “You’ve never kissed me like that before.” He pulled back, grinning at you, before sweeping you off of your feet as he lifted you up and over the edge of the tub. Your toes tingled as warm water lapped over your feet, up to the bottom of your calves.

The water only went up to just over your thighs when you sat down, and he tugged his shirt off over his head, kneeling on the floor beside you as you took a sponge and soap. Lathering yourself up and dipping it under the water, his larger hand closing over your own as he took it from you, cleaning your skin as you covered your bullet wound. 

He helped you wash your hair, and your face, pressing another short kiss to your lips every time he had the chance to do so, before he was lifting you out of the tub, standing you up and patting you dry with a fluffy towel.

Once you were redressed, he situated you on the couch. The small argument you both shared as he once again tried to convince you to go back to bed and rest was short-lived, your lips on his cutting him off and he quickly gave in. walking you slowly to the couch, making sure your legs were propped up on a cushion to reduce the swelling, and that you were wrapped up comfortably in a blanket.

Before he could settle beside you, though, his phone was ringing, and he searched around for it. It was located on the table nearby, and he swiped it up, answering it quickly while walking a few steps away from you. You watched as his jaw hardened, his eyes narrowing and body stiffening, flicking to you for a split second as he hummed. You watched on curiously, before moving your attention to finding the TV remotes when the line went silent as he listened to the half of the conversation that you couldn't hear. You found them at the other end of the coffee table, rolling yourself awkwardly toward them, shuffling down the couch until you could reach them, clasping them in your hands, and an arm under your waist was lifting you back up to a sitting position.

He rolled his eyes at you, his lips flicking up at the edges as you waved the devices at him, His free hand came to sit on your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he stood back to his full height, and continued to take in the information he was getting. When he had finished, he pulled away, staring down at the device in his hands for a good minute after hanging up, before turning to you.

“They found Theo?”

“You’re awfully intuitive.” He mumbled, nodding, a deep sigh on his lips as he turned to face you. “I have to go now. I’m going to rip his fucking throat out. I want to make sure he feels every ounce of your pain and every bit of mine, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, because the last time I left you went so well.” He poked a finger to your ribs through the blankets, and you barely felt it, but you slapped his hand away anyway with a small scowl, turning on the television. He paced away from you, disappearing into his bedroom to gather himself.

You had found a film by the time he had returned, and you heard him clattering about in the kitchen, before he reappeared in front of you. A pint of ice cream with a label you recognised was in his hand, a spoon too, and he held them out to you. Taking them quickly, you peeled the lid back, pushing the spoon into the top to retrieve a mouthful, you gave out a small moan as the icy flavours hit your tongue. You took in his appearance, black skinny jeans clad on his legs, a pair of dirty trainers and a black henley, rolled up on his forearms messily; a look you definitely approved of.

“I picked that up a few days ago when I went to check on your store in Manhattan.” You beamed at him, taking another spoonful of it and offering it out to him. He leaned down, taking the bite of the cold treat you offered him, before he was moving past the spoon, and leaving a long kiss on your lips. Your hand smoothed down his back, brushing the gun that was tucked into the back of his pants, a grin on your lips as you slapped his ass lightly as he pulled away. “I’ll be back soon.”

Your lips pressed to his again, and he sounded something between a grunt and a moan, one of his knees resting on the edge of the couch beside your legs, mumbling indiscernible nonsense into your mouth.

“I really have to go. We can definitely do more of that when I get back, though.”

He parted from you, finally, storming his way across the room to the elevator, and you watched him go. A smirk rose on his lips as his eyes connected with yours before the doors closed, leaving you alone in a silent room.

Stiles’ foot tapped agitatedly against the floor of the elevator as he watched the numbers overhead count down to the bottom floor, his team already assembled as they waited for him. Isaac was chewing gum, standing protectively by Allison's side as she sharpened her favourite knives while lounging in a chair. Lydia was avidly setting up comms with them all, passing them around as Derek and Scott fussed over one another’s vests, checking the straps and harnesses, and Kira, was quietly mumbling small prayers to herself, and spinning the first set of car keys on her finger. Isaac held the other set, and Stiles didn’t bother to speak to any of them as he swiped his protective vest from the side, pulling it over his head as he went.

The car he found himself in was being driven by the same man who drove him home for the hospital, sitting beside him upfront as Kira climbed into the back, a large bag of guns on her side.

Scott, Derek and Allison took the other, Lydia’s voice crackling in his ears as she tested all of their comm systems, and he rolled his shoulders, settling into his seat as stretching his legs out before him as he relaxed into the leather. There was nothing about this assignment he had to be nervous about, nothing he was worrying over, because there were no debates in this scenario. There were no ‘maybes’ and possibilities.

He was going to kill Theo Raeken, the man’s fate already set in stone.

He cranked up the radio as soon as the car hit the freeway, tapping his fingers against his leg to the tune, and he heard the sharpening of Kira’s sword in the backseat pause, Isaac’s gaze flicking over to him. He tipped his head to the side to face his friend, a grin on his lips.

“We’re listening to music on the way to a job now?”

“Yes, we are. Because today is a good day.” He mumbled, kicking his feet up on the dashboard and leaning even further into his chair, making Kira huff as she shuffled to it in the middle seat instead. Isaac squirmed in his seat, thoroughly unsettled by how calm and casual he was about what they were about to do. “Do you know why today is a good day, Isaac?”

“Because we’re going for Theo?”

“Correct! We are going to kill him, and it’s going to feel fantastic.” Stiles sighed, the journey seeming to melt away around them. The classic jazz coming from the station helped the journey to pass by, urban city scenes passing by in blurs as they turned to green trees. The other cars were left behind, the smooth tarmac pathways becoming dirt and gravel, bumpy as the car rolled across them, and Stiles at up further.

The car came rolling to a stop outside of a collection of large, recently redesigned warehouses, on the outskirts of Westhampton. “Is this it?”

“This is it.” Lydia’s voice rang in his ears, and he hummed, peering up at it.

“Lydia, I want to buy it once we’re finished here. He’s already done the buildings up, all nice for me, how considerate.” Getting out of the car, he stretched himself out, the second vehicle rolling up beside them as multiple doors slammed. Lydia was talking in his ear about their best approach, the intel she’d gathered online and from the camera’s internally that she had hacked, in order to guide them through the building best. Stiles was antsy, and he was already on his way up to the door.

Rapping his knuckles against the thick wood, he leaned on the wall, hand tucked into the back of his pants casually as he waited, and he could hear the rest of the team panicking as they tried to work out what to do. When the door finally opened, he was met with a face he didn’t recognise, a scar across their cheek as they sneered at him, demanding to know what he wanted, and his head tipped to the side with a chilling grin.

Pulling the gun from its place hidden in the back of his jeans, he pressed it up to his forehead, pulling the safety before his opposition even had a chance to react, the bullet cracking through his skull and straight through the other side. Chunks of skull, muscle and greymatter splattering against the walls inside, his body crumpling, and Stiles stepped out of the way as he fell to the floor. 

Stepping over his body, he moved past the blood-stained walls and further inside, dull music echoing from the higher floors as he looked around. Lydia was grumbling into his ear as he ruined her inconspicuous plan, the others flocking around him.

“Spread out, kill everyone you see, I don’t give a shit. But Theo’s mine.” He heard everyone leave, and he wandered towards the bottom of a set of stairs, peering at the level above. Climbing the metal stairs slowly, the sounds of pained screams came from below the balcony and down the corridors he couldn't see, boots running against grated metal floors and gunshots going off.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out where Theo was, hearing the music of the top floor switching off, muffled shouting taking over and he headed in that direction, searching for the next set of stairs. 

Nothing but sick anticipation filled his system as he caught sight of the blonde rushing down the stairs towards him, unaware of his presence at the bottom. He swerved to the side, covered by the shadows, and as she took off in a run, he gripped her by the neck. Her feet leaving the floor as he tossed her backwards with ease, her back and head slamming into the ground. Kneeling by her side as she blinked her vision clear, hand coming up to grip at her head, Stiles’ hand tightened around her neck, knees shifting to press into her bicep on each side and keeping her pinned to the floor. A cry left her loudly, agonising pain as the muscles twisted under his leg.

“Hello again, Malia.”

Her eyes widened, and she flexed under his hold, his eyes and face going red as she struggled; thrashing legs, body jolting, but the movements were of no use.

“Struggling to breathe there, Mal? That’s a real shame.” He tutted, tightening his fingers around her throat as the raspy gasps for breath were cut off altogether, her face turning almost purple. “Do you know who else struggled to breathe, Malia? The answer is; the girl I love, as she choked on her own blood after you shot her. Do you remember that?”

She nodded as best she could, and he loosened his hold, letting her suck in frantic breaths, spluttering and coughing for air as she heaved. Tears were in her eyes, leaking out onto the floor as she writhed, desperately. Just before she could catch her breath, he was tightening his hand once again, glaring down at her, his jaw clenching. His knee pushed down on her arms even more harshly, and she screamed out in pain, the veins in her neck and forehead bulging from the pressure.

“How does it feel? I can bring you to the verge of death, and then let you go, only to bring you right back. Tell me, Malia, was it worth it? Was betraying me worth your life? Because that is what it’s going to cost you.” He reached for the nearest rope, wrapping it tightly around her ankles, securing it there as she tried to regain her breath, red marks on the skin around her neck, slipping in and out of focus. “Luckily for you, your life isn’t my call to make. There is one person whom you betrayed even more deeply than me, and so he can choose your fate. There’s only one person on my personal hit-list tonight.”

He dragged her across to the edge of the platform, tying the other end of the rope to the metal barricades, her eyes wide as she looked up at him and he waggled his fingers in a wave, smiling falsely before using his foot to kick her over the edge. The rope quickly diminished, the sickening pop of a joint coming out of place sounding out and he smiled in satisfaction, continuing his way on to the place he wanted to be.

“Everyone meets at the office on the top floor. And, Scott? There’s a little present for you hanging out on the second level. Do with it as you will.”

He could already see the man storming about on the other side of a glass door. Nudging the door open with his foot, Stiles leaned on the doorframe, waiting to be seen. 

Upon being noticed, Theo scoffed, lunging for the gun on his desk. Stiles sighed, firing off a single round, the bullet bouncing off of the desk and deterring his foe from reaching for the weapon once again.

“Hi there, Theo. Heard a lot about you.”

“Stilinski. Do you know what you’ve started by coming here?” His words were growled out, and Stiles only shook his head, standing to his full height as he clicked his tongue.

“I didn’t start anything, I’m simply finishing what you started.” He hooked his foot around the wheels of a desk chair, kicking it towards the man as he picked up the other gun, tucking it into his belt securely and spinning his own around his finger, before using it to point to the seat; “Why don’t you sit down, hm?”

“I don’t want to sit.” Stiles’ eyebrows rose, and his lips formed a silent ‘oh’, and he grinned, tightening his fist and smashing it forward into Theo’s face. The man's head flew back, a mixture of spit and blood flying from his mouth, and he brought a hand up to clutch at his face, eyes wide as the first physical blow between the two was thrown. “What the fuck do you want?”

Blood was running down his face, and Stiles shrugged, pacing slightly as he pulled the chair back to himself, sitting down in it and spreading his legs out before himself. “I want you to feel every bit of the pain you caused.”

“What? You’re angry because I shot the bitch who ran away?” Theo offered a smirk with bloody teeth, trying to stand his ground. “You should be thanking me. Don’t tell me you were attached to the sloppy seconds who came crawling to you?” Theo licked over his lower lip as he considered his words. “Oh, you were? Such a shame, she was rather good in bed. Did you get a chance to fuck her, before I killed her?”

“Oh, you think you killed her? How sweet.” He stood, eye to eye with the man before him, stepping into his space, so close he could smell the coppery scent of the blood trickling from his broken nose. He moved, the weapon between them, the barrel of the edge of his gun pressing to Theo’s stomach. “Would you like to know how it felt when you tried to take her life?”

Before Theo could react, Stiles had pulled the trigger, a bullet tearing through his skin and into his guts, and Theo screamed out as he fell to his hands and knees. One hand came up to clutch as his middle, and Stiles pressed a foot to his shoulder, kicking him over onto his back, before crouching beside the blond man. Scratching at his jaw, he stared off into the distance, contemplating his words.

“Does it hurt, Theo?” He only received a grunt in response, blood pouring and staining the pale t-shirt his nemesis had been wearing, and Stiles’ hand curled into a fist, one finger sticking up. “She tried to get to her gun, she hit the floor harder than you did, she was alone. That probably felt more like this.”

He pushed his finger into the hole, blood spurting out as Theo squirmed and screamed, choked sounds of pain leaving him as he jerked under Stiles’ touch. Pulling his finger back, he wiped it clean of blood on Theo’s shirt, standing enough to retract the flip-knife from his pocket. The blade popped out, and he ran the tip of his finger over the sharp edge.

“Now you know how she felt, but would you like to know how I felt?” Theo sputtered, coughing on his blood and mumbling aggressive curses under his breath, all of which went ignored by Stiles. He waved his hand, flipping the knife in his hand and forming a fist around it as he gripped it firmly. Placing it over the man's heart, he pressed it down just enough to break the skin over the left side of his chest, tipping Theo’s face to look at him, ensuring that Stiles’ face would be the last thing he saw. Pulling his hand back, he plunged the knife straight in, twisting it roughly as he tore apart his heart from the inside, leaving the blade wedged in his body. “It felt like that.”

The life faded from his eyes, and once he was satisfied with the dead man before himself, Stiles removed the knife, wiping it on his pants before putting the blade away and tucking it into his pocket again. He could hear multiple sets of footsteps falling on their journey toward his location. The loud sounds of anarchy in the building had fallen silent, and he smirked, before looking down when he felt something bump solidly against his leg, shoving at his ankles.

A furry little skull head-butted his leg, a tail wrapping around his calf as a small cat weaved between his legs, and he let out a disbelieving laugh at the sight. “Son of a bitch. He took the fucking cat.” Leaning down, Stiles scooped up the animal into his arms, flipping him over to hold him delicately. He was lighter than he had been, fur not as glossy and body skinnier, but it was definitely the same animal, his paws curling around Stiles’ hand as he held the cat tenderly, claws digging into his hand. “Don’t fucking claw me. I’m saving your life. I could leave you here.”

The cat only meow-ed at him, somehow managing to sound snarky, as though calling his bluff, and Stiles rolled his eyes. Fishing around the room, he wrapped the trembling creature in the soft material, his team gathering in the doorway. He didn’t bother to explain the cat to them, he didn’t bother to ask Scott about what he’d chosen to do with Malia, he didn’t care for any of it. All he cared about was getting home, to where he belonged, with you.

The credits of your movie were just beginning to roll on the screen, and you kicked the blanket away from your legs carefully, trying to push yourself up from the couch, using the armrest for support as not to strain yourself. Grabbing the empty carton of ice cream, you took the spoon too, moving through to the attached kitchen to clear up after yourself.

Pulling open the dishwasher, you used your foot to lower it to the ground, pulling out the racks and clearing away the plates from your earlier meal too, trying not to over-exert yourself as you felt the slight stinging in your abdomen beginning to start. Once it was set off with cleaning the dishes, you searched through the drawers and cupboards for medications, knowing a bag had been sent home with you, handed over to Scott before you’d passed out in the car on the way home.

You finally found them, shakily filling a glass of water and reading over the instructions, not wanting to take something that would make you sleepy, you wanted to be awake when Stiles came home. Popping the correct dosage of pills, you swallowed them down, followed by a few sips of water, letting out a sigh as you waited for the pain to ease.

Only a few minutes later, the achy throbbing had dulled back to numb bliss, and you let out a happy sigh, just as the shrill tone of the elevator opening sounded out. Cracking your eyes open, you watched as a slightly sweaty, dirty, and fairly tired Stiles walked in, a bundle of cloth clutched in his arms.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was hoarse and tired, and you smiled, padding across the floors towards him. “I have a surprise for you.”

You lifted a finger, tugging down the edge of the blanket to reveal what lay inside, and a gasp left you at the squirming ball of fur within. A loud meow sounded out, and Stiles moved the blanket, holding the cat for you so that you could pet him, knowing that you wouldn't be able to support the weight. Your eyes lining with tears as you were reunited with the pet you so deeply adored. Scratching behind its ears, he let out a soft purr, and you leaned down closer to his face. “You’re so thin! What did he do to you, little guy?”

You sounded broken-hearted, watching as Stiles’ jaw clenched. He’d never gotten along with your cat, the two seemed to have some kind of unspoken tension that had always made you giggle, but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t love him. There had been days when you’d woken up, finding Stiles making breakfast in your kitchen and feeding tuna to the cat, or sitting with him on your couch and waiting for you to shower. Sometimes, Stiles would even show up with a bag of treats for the fur-ball. “I’ll take him to the vets tomorrow, he’ll be happy and healthy again in no time, I promise.”

He put the animal down, watching as it scampered away to begin sniffling about the home, exploring all of the rooms,  and disappearing from sight down the corridor as you watched it go. When you turned back to Stiles, he was already looking at you, watching you dutifully. You lifted your hands, cupping his face as you let out a watery laugh of sheer joy. “I love you so much.”

He didn’t have a chance to reply, you pulled his face down until you could press your lips to his, and he hummed happily against you. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest and holding you close as he returned the kiss eagerly. One of his hands trailed down up to your cheek, fingers weaving into your hair as yours came down to hold around his torso, hooked under his arms to hold him close. Parting your lips, the kiss became messier, the smacking of your wet lips sounding out, noses bumping as your heads tipped in opposite ways to get deeper into one another's mouths, and his tongue poked out to tangle with your own.

The wet articles had barely met before he was pulling back, panting slightly and licking over his swollen lips, before leaning in to press his forehead to yours, grinning madly.

“Did you just say you love me?”

“Yeah. Problem?” You were still breathless, equally panting against his mouth and leaning up, stealing another kiss from his lips, and he returned it happily.

“God, no. I love you too.” He dipped down, kissing along your jaw and up to your temple, before leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much.”

“How’s your pain?” Stiles mumbled, his arms smoothing round you a little further until he was tugging you into his chest. Clearly seeking comfort, as his nose buried in the hair at the top of your head, and he let out a sigh.

“Fine, I took some of my meds earlier.” 

“And how does the wound feel? Did you do much while I was out?” He hugged you closer, tightening the hug when your arms came up to wrap around him, and you realised you were seeking just as much comfort from him as he was searching for from you, right now.

“I watched my movie, and I put away the dishes from earlier. That’s it.”

His fingers tangled in your hair, brushing through the clean but tangled locks, his lips brushing your forehead. Your heart was thumping steadily, pressed up to him as he held you close, and you snuggled into his shoulder.

“You know, I’m going to have to go home at some point. There’s no litter tray here. I’m pretty sure you don’t want the cat to pee on your fancy suits.” You both felt and heard the groan he let out, his cheek still pressed to the top of your head but he eventually pulled back from the embrace.

“You are home. I’ll send someone to fetch the litter tray.” His words were spoken tiredly, suppressing a yawn, and you reached up to brush stray hair out of his eyes, a smirk forming on your lips.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I kind of already did move you in, I’d be pretty put out if you said no.” He joked, and you rolled your eyes at him, but the smile you wore only grew fonder. “Is that a yes?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer as your cat came running in, a loud meow being made as he charged at the couches. You watched him go, jumping up onto the plush leather, and moving around in circles before he settled down against a cushion. His claws flexed, kneading the sift filling and his eyes closed, a loud purr taking over. “I think that’s a yes from us both.”

The cat let out another small mew, and you giggled in response. Stiles’ hands dropped down to your own, lifting them up to his face so that he could press a kiss to each of your knuckles, eyes mixed on yours as he waited for your answer. “Okay, I’ll move in, but you have to change the litter trays half of the time.”

“Deal.”

[tribus-mantodea]

[ Lingering attachments. ]

Right! I’m sure there’s an AU about this somewhere already that I haven’t found but you know what, I’ll have my take on it regardless.

This post is just some considerations on the AU where the Traitor Lord lives once more through lifeblood shenanigans. (Awkwardly dubbed as “Lastlifeborn AU” because... it’s the Lastborn’s last life. Yeah, I know.)

I also have no idea how to interpret lifeblood so I’ll put that matter aside.

It would be a bit fun to entertain the idea of the dream-ghosts of Cloth and Traitor “speaking” after their due battle just before she finished savoring the moment. While he does hold some implacable resentment (embrace the infection to become stronger and yet for what? being unable to better protect his kin like he had intended? what was it that put these silly-meaningless thoughts in his head, his heart?), he does hold respect for Cloth and the Ghost first and foremost for beating him in an impromptu duel.

“I’m glad to have fought a mighty warrior like you.” “...” (But he wasn’t one. Unlike the other Lords, he had cheated and lost his way.) “For one outside of my tribe, you battled well.” There’s a lot of awkward pauses and general recollection, the Traitor trying to sort out what had just occurred and what had happened before all this.

Maybe the Ghost comes back in time to not both of them, but at least the Traitor staring at both his victor’s and his own’s bodies. It would seem to remember something—pulling out the Mark of Pride charm and showing it to him. See conflict cross his features, how he nodded as if he then understood something it didn’t.

And the Ghost is quite the mender of a bug itself. It’s compelled to try and resolve something that seems rather unresolvable; it breaks cocoons and cradles all these wiggling lifeseeds in arms and forcibly attempts to get the Traitor’s husk moving again. Said dream-ghost Traitor at first regarding the situation dismissively before growing into a strained panic and worry of “Cease your actions! What compels you to desecrate my corpse—?...” “Just how many did you manage to bring with your small stature...?” (It would’ve been more deserved if his body were to be broken into segments much like the others. His mind feels hazier as if overcome with fatigued the longer it tries, and...)

What. Why is this little bug back in his view and why does he feel so. Tired. Oh. The Traitor... does not deserve this, no, unless this was his punishment to burden the weight of his own sins, but it’s ultimately uncomfortable—he died twice already in removing his title and in true battle. (His body felt wrong before for different reasons, but it felt even worse now that he’s reminded of the air and his other senses.)

And the Ghost does its best to try and point him in a direction it wants him to go. Incessantly tries. But he shook his head, clicked, said aloud that he’d resolved to return to the village and accept the sentence that should have been given when he was deposed. (Imprisonment. Death.) It’s only then does the Ghost no longer tries to point him in a direction (and how strange; was this the same way it pointed its nail?) and accompanies him the... the entire way...

It’s not that long of a trek, no, though his mind is clouded with all sorts of thoughts and regrets. He’d seen his Daughter’s grave for the last time. (The little warrior seemed to insist on giving him a flower, but even when he did finally accept if only to appease it, he’d merely set it back by the grave.) He’d seen his reflection in the pools of acid, the glow of an unnatural cerulean he does not remember seeing unlike the festerous cloud of orange. And... the occasional husks of what had been the split of his tribe.

The village is far quieter than his memories. It is a complicated feeling to see the mantids that watch with both confusion and hissing resentment, those that knew of him formerly and those that did not. Perhaps it must look like a show? To observe how the honored outsider escorts the depose Lord, a beast thought mindless returning in its newly sickening form with not the sweet-sickly orange, but a dim blue glow of what they vaguely remember other bugs considering as taboo (how funny of them to worship and pray to begin with). His thoughts grew louder; he wondered if he could ever make amends. He figures it all in vain. That’s fine, really.

...One thing led to another. The summary is that he does not die, and is “punished” to live with his decisions after it is thoroughly seen he is remorseful (to an extent). It does take a long while for this family to sort out their issues properly though.

Bonus side-note is that the Ghost can be treated as part of said family (but not really, but also hey look its horns are notched twice just like the Traitor’s and—)

Bonus reactions to said return:

The First just wants to know why it happened, so she can reflect and see where the both of them (mostly herself) had went wrong. Her own regrets she’d shouldered still smolder long after all the initial anger and confusion. Considering there’s only so many of them left, she just wants to hear him out (and oh, how strange-wrong it is to hear the difference in his voice now, to see him taller but with the lack of pride from before). In the end, she’s... relieved, almost, to see him the way he is now considering how she longed to revisit old things. Not that they could still return to them. But, well, new interactions to unfold, lots of baggage to pack.

The Second’s the one who’s most expressively upset. Frustrated that she cannot take her pains out on him as when she’d forced his claws to a duel, it was more than clear that his heart wasn’t in it (how disrespectful; how dare he seem so inclined to let the end of her nail-lance sink deep and through). She’d always known him to be a great fighter, so the reasoning behind him embracing the infection was more than just insulting as a betrayal. She despises the more passive behavior (this wasn’t the brother she remembered, what had happened to the hint of deserving arrogance he once bore?) and most of all, resents herself for not having done something more given the more responsibility their eldest took on.

The Third is uncharacteristically quiet, unsure and sorting out her emotions just like before (but managing to unintentionally, somehow, be the coldest towards him). She’s always been aware that while he did seek counsel, most often asking the eldest, he also disliked relying on anyone else and she never minded that, no. She felt as if she knew why he’d left. But in knowing what happened to her niece and the other, closer followers that had looked up to him, it was difficult for her to figure out how to respond to him in knowing the losses sustained. It’s... she eventually decides, though, to accept with resignation. He’s dealt with their other sisters and the disdain of the village and would continue to do so (probably). She’s just happy to have him back even despite the changes. She can at least... try, to not make the transition jarring by having even herself different in behavior. Sort of.

-

Redacted consideration was that he’d lose most if not all of the memories during his time of being infected because while it’d be fun for him to think that nothing more than him waking up in a random location happened and then seeing the husks of his tribe(?) along with “Whose grave is this?” and returning to the village almost as if nothing happened, the sisters would have a Horrendous Time alongside the Traitor if he by chance was then told of what happened.

anyways my AUs are to be self-indulgent, not to combust spontaneously :D I probably amplified the inferiority issue a bit too much here but Welp

alright bonus-bonusnonsense below:

little ghost does crimes. shoves lifeseeds into husk (in which some lifeseeds happily run away into said husk to get away from the chance of dying by tiny bug)

bug tries to slap mark of pride charm onto the former traitor lord

aand this:

It watches as he idles a moment longer, bowing his head towards the marked grave of his late Child. Quietly it comes closer, hesitantly, and reaches out—rests its hand onto his side and gently curls its fingers into his cloak. He does not move. So the vessel tilts its head, sits. Decides to wait for him—and rest. (aka it’d be quite nice, you know, to imagine the trek back where the Ghost doesn’t forcibly try to understand the dude, but is a sort of comfort... or maybe... just... a reaper, escorting him to his death. but then jokes on you big man it’s a friend!!)

[sunshinejihyun]

Enamored || Lucien

Author’s Note: So! This is my first time writing for Lucien, and I’m only on chapter 11 of the game so I apologize if he seems out of character for him later in the game, this is just how I find him right now.

Summary: Lucien finds love in a place he never expected: the orphanage he volunteered at

Warnings: Brief mentions of familial death, mutual pining, kinda a slow burn?

Word Count: 2568

Masterlist

On your 15th birthday, your present from the world was your parents passing in a terrible accident, leaving you to live on your own. Not too long after your family left you, you got taken in by an orphanage with a kind man as an owner who raised you as he would his own child. Now, at age 22, you were doing all you could to give back to the man who helped raise you, that included continuing to live at the orphanage and donating all your extra time to giving love and attention to all the wonderful children living there now.

As you groaned from being awoken by a soft kick to your stomach, you shoved your head into the thin mattress you were sharing with a child who had taken a particular liking to you. Peony was a sweet little girl with a kind smile, but she was a restless sleeper and you always ended with various bruises from her knocking into you during the night. Taking a deep breath, you rolled out of the bed, going over to the window that overlooked the large gate that kept all of the intruders who wanted to exploit the children out. As long as you remembered, you were completely intrigued with the volunteers who showed up early in the morning on weekends and spent their time reading, teaching, or just talking to the children. Every morning that there were volunteers there, you would wake up early as well and watch as the first group of early rising children ran out to greet the people they’d grown fond of, an endearing grin adorning your face.

This morning was different though; there was a new man in line. His clothes were cleanly pressed and his calculating eyes had a smile within them that you could see from far away. You watched as he bent down in front of a little boy and said something, a soft smile on his face, before the boy jumped up and shouted before throwing his chubby arms around the tall man in a tight hug.

Anxiety bubbled in your chest as the door to the sleeping area slammed open causing you to startle and you turned away from the window, grabbing a book and trying to make yourself look busy. “Is it possible you can start waking up the rest of the kids? They’re going to be sad if they miss visiting hours today..” One of the workers grabbed a broom from the corner of the room and smiled at you as you nodded your head. “Thanks, we’ve set aside some breakfast for you in the kitchen.”

When the worker left the room, you hurriedly went around and tried to wake them up so you could catch another glimpse of the new volunteer who looked so out of place in this environment. And when you did peek out of the window, you swore that the man was looking back at you.

The glances went on for days. Every weekend he would show up bright and early, and you would watch out the window as he greeted the kids before following them inside a room. By then, you also knew that it wasn’t just your imagination. The dark haired man was looking for you -  at you -  and watching, and that brought a flutter to your heart. You knew nothing about this person; you only knew his name from the children who came back chattering excitedly about the newest science experiment he taught them.

When the weather’s a little nicer, everyone would welcome opening a window or two and maybe then you could catch some of the soft words he spoke, but only if he was close enough to a window for the wind to pick up the sound and carry it to you. Until then, you just had to watch and wonder.

The owner of the orphanage silently watched as you curiously snuck around the orphanage, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who intrigued you so and he couldn’t help but smile as he whispered in that man’s ear that there was someone inside that day, looking for someone to help make lunch to feed the children.

You also watched the owner in horror as he whispered in Lucien’s ear before he made eye contact with you through the window, nodded, and started making his way towards the entrance near where you were currently located.

“The owner said you needed some help with lunch today?” His voice came out softer than you’d heard before and your heartbeat sped up. Lucien, noting your flushed cheeks, raised his eyebrows at you before gesturing in the general way to the kitchen.

As you chopped the apples for the children, Lucien started making the sandwiches and you both made idle conversation. You learned that he was a scientist who gave lectures and was researching a top secret project. You told him about how you got taken in here at the orphanage when you had no one and now you wanted to stay and help, to pay back the owner for the years he helped raise you. The conversation never died, it was never awkward with Lucien. One thing you’d say would lead him into talking about something else and vice versa. It was easy with him.

Before you knew it, you'd both worked your way through all the meals for the children and had no reason to continue chatting in the kitchen, so Lucien left to go back to his lab, but not before leaving without your phone number, so he can receive updates on the kids while he’s away, of course.

Late one night a few weeks later, you were awoken by your phone ringing, and you quickly grabbed it to silence it before it could wake the sleeping children. Peony only had just fallen asleep and you’d curse the person on the other end if they were the reason for her awakening.

“Hello?” Your voice came out in a soft whisper and the person on the other end laughed. You knew that laugh anywhere.

“I’m in a bit of a debacle and was wondering if you would be willing to help me out?” Lucien, the always cool and composed Lucien, sounded a bit panicked on the other end.

“Anything,” you responded before facepalming. You always seemed to make a fool of yourself when it came to Lucien and you only wished he didn’t think of you as someone who was silly and immature. “How can I help?”

“I’m actually outside the gates. Any way you can let me in and we can talk face to face?” Without responding, you threw back the covers on your legs and slipped your shoes on before quietly making your way out to where Lucien was waiting.

Sure enough, there he was, looking as dark and handsome as ever and you were thankful it was dark enough outside so he wouldn’t be able to see the flush across your cheeks and neck when you approached. “Are you okay?”

Lucien sighed and as you studied his face closer in the moonlight, you noticed the dark purples under his eyes, only barely concealed by the dark rimmed glasses he was wearing. “I’ve suddenly ran into trouble and can no longer stay at my apartment.” Glancing down at you, his mouth quirked into a small smile. “Do you think you guys have room for one more orphan for a few days? Just until I get back on my feet?”

“I’m sure we can make that work.” You replied before quietly leading the professor inside.

Lucien didn’t sleep at night and you woke up earlier than the rest of the kids in the orphanage, that much you two had figured out quickly. Once Lucien arrived, you had managed to swap beds with a few kids to get two beds next to each other so you both could stay up talking into the early morning. Peony was still right next to you, of course. Between hushed whispers in the early morning, you managed to learn a lot about him and vise versa.

Lucien told you about his hopes and dreams, to become a world renowned scientist and how all he wanted to do was research to make the world a better place. Lucien told you that he had plans to make his way around the world eventually and start a new life in a new place where he could research their lifestyle and help people in need.

What he didn’t tell you was that Lucien noticed every time you would sneak a glance out the window and your face would fall. He knew you didn’t want to stay in the orphanage forever, but felt obligated to the owner. He didn’t bring it up for the first few days but after he felt more comfortable with you, his curiosity got the best of him.

“If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?” Lucien asked, his voice coming out slurred and his arm extended towards you and goosebumps rose up your arm as his long fingers brushed against your shoulder. He had closed his eyes for a few minutes after he asked you, soft snores pouring out, and when he awoke again, you weren’t next to him; you were perched on the low window, looking out longingly. You opened your mouth to protest his questioning glance and he quieted you with a look that could command an entire room. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not looking for something, I’ve seen that wistful look across your face everytime you look out that window.”

You sighed, looking out the window once more before hopping down and crawling in the covers next to Peony before turning to face Lucien. “There’s just something about the outside. From the day I saw you, I was intrigued. Just a glance at you could send my mind racing and think of the possible life I could have led. And sometimes, it feels like that life is looking for me too.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien’s eyebrows were furrowed and you grabbed his hand and held it as close to you as you could..

“I don’t know how to explain,” you replied and you shut your eyes, moving closer to Peony for warmth. Lucien had so many questions, that much was obvious. But he knew you didn’t sleep much, so he dropped them for now, before turning over and hugging himself, his eyes closing as well.

A few weeks after your conversation with Lucien, you decided it was time to go off on your own, ready to live the life you longed for. The one that laid dormant until you met someone who made you want to live.

“Where are you going to go?”

You smiled softly, adjusting Lucien’s jacket so you didn’t have to make eye contact with him. “I’ll be around. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Lucien gently grabbed your hands, forcing you to look back up at him. “I’m thinking about trying to find a new place to go, a place where I can do the type of research I want without being watched all the time. It’s not a life of luxury but....” He trailed off and you could almost hear him finish his sentence. It’s not much, but it’s better than being by yourself. Lucien twisted his mouth into a teasing smile. “I know my life is better with you around.”

And with that sentence, you found yourself agreeing before you could even think to stop yourself. You wanted to go with Lucien, continue to help people as much as possible and just be free enough to live the life you’ve only read about in books. You’d miss the children and the owner of the orphanage, of course, but you could always visit. Come back to tell stories of your adventures with Mr. Lucien. So with one last goodbye to the place you called home, you grasped Lucien’s hand and began on your new adventure together.

Three months after you left the orphanage, you couldn’t be happier. You made quick friends with the new children in the place that you and Lucien ended up in and ended up taunting them much like an older sibling would. Lucien would watch as he worked with a fond smile and every time you felt his eyes on you, you gazed back before you shared an intimate smile with the other.

Everyone who knew you also knew about your crush on the dark haired man. All the women whose children you watched as they worked liked to sit you down and beg you to ‘just tell him, MC.’ But things were going good the way they were, you and Lucien were friends and you were happy with your new lifestyle, you didn’t want to ruin that by saying something he might find stupid.

There was a quiet air about your professor one day after you two finished work for the day, walking silently back to your shared apartment. “Lucien, are you okay?”

Lucien nodded his head and you sent him a disbelieving look. “I think so. I just, uh. Some of the ladies pulled me aside today.”

Your heartbeat picked up and your mouth went dry. “Really,”

Lucien grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. After months of knowing him, that soft touch could still turn your knees to jelly. “They told me something,” you looked at him, encouraging him to continue. “It was about you. They told me you have, y’know, a crush on me.”

You dropped your hand from his. Taking a deep breath, you looked him in his violet eyes and felt a slight bit calmer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to find out. It’s just like I watched you for a while and was intrigued and then when we became friends it just grew into more of a crush and-”

Lucien cut you off by putting a hand over your mouth. “Can you let me finish please?” When you nodded, he dropped his arm and grabbed your hands again. “I’m glad they told me. Do you know why?” You shook your head no and Lucien smiled at you. “Ask me why.”

You sighed, just wanting to get this over with so that you could go home and hide in your bedroom forever. “Why are you glad they told you?”

Without responding, Lucien leaned in and before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, he looked at you for visual confirmation that it was okay. Once you nodded, his slightly chapped lips met yours and before you could even relish in the taste of him, he pulled away. “It’s because I like you too.”

You felt a smile tug on your lips and Lucien’s mouth was almost mirroring yours. “Well that’s an interesting development.”

“I know a good word for how I felt the first time I saw you from the window.” Lucien said and then leaned in to kiss you once more. “Ask me what it is.”

“What was the word, Lucien?” You two probably looked like fools, standing in the middle of the street, both your hands joined with wide smiles that neither of you could wipe off your faces.

“Enamored,” Lucien responded, bringing your right hand up to his lips and kissing the top of it. “Being filled with complete love for something.”

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter One: Caliah (Lore)" in the Bastet breedbook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse"

Once there was a cat who dreamed he was a man.

Like the morning mist, she appeared from nowhere, or so it seemed.

The winds have spoken of your dilemma and I have come to show you the way home.

Why do you call me brother?

We are family.

We have different parents but share the same blood.

You need to meet your people

You are my sister

I have no other family. Don’t leave me!

We all have family

What are the dreams of a cat?

Let us welcome each other and speak of hidden things.

If they come in peace, we welcome them.

I’m just a mutt.

Listen up and listen close, ‘cause this isn’t stuff you’ll hear from any old place.

I’ve got friends with friends, if y’know what I mean, and this is good stuff.

They don’t get along, y’know.

A good lorespeaker tells different stories every time, and she makes ‘em as cool as possible.

Sound like anyone we know? Nah! Couldn’t be!

So how do you trade secrets, anyway? After all, isn’t a secret shared a secret lost?

If you don’t play the game, you don’t learn a thing.

Each element of the message becomes a metaphor, and the message becomes a story.

Florid? Hell yeah! But ya gotta admit it’s more graceful — and exposes a hell of a lot less — than blurting out the truth.

You might say, “I heard a story about so-and-so” but you’d never say “I did so-and-so.” If your audience has a clue, they’ll catch on.

Everything’s told in metaphors.

A good obtuse metaphor makes you look imaginative if someone gets it, really stupid otherwise.

Everything is larger than life. People don’t just cry, they “explode in showers like the sea.” Folks don’t just get mad, they “turn into coals that burn through the floor.”

If what you’re saying is important, bigger is better.

Simple? Not if you don’t get the lingo.

A wounded cat can surrender without disgrace.

Not enough to go around.

Hey, don’t let on you know what I told you, huh?

It was a time before life, a longing when the dream of birth was yet to be.

This marked the end of peace and the beginning of struggle.

Such promises are soon broken.

Why does even the skin of my daughter flee from my hands?

Why must I always be alone?

Master, what would you have of us?

Nothing exists for him but annihilation.

Go across the world

Let that which is pure stand whole, but erode that which is impure from within.

He tells many tales, but all of them are lies. He is rage made manifest, and he coils within us all.

There was no want, no war, no anguish, and all living things gave of themselves to help others exist.

Until some cataclysm happened, everything lived in peace and plenty.

Life has ever been a struggle, my brothers and sisters. Life has always meant that some may die for others’ pleasure.

That pleasure may be as necessary as hunger or as frivolous as sport, but it has always been fatal and always will be.

Only through struggle can we progress.

Only through sacrifice can we succeed.

We were born from conflict and we grow through adversity. Our ancestors are predators, great cats and human hunters who rose above their surroundings and mastered them.

We know our place in the Great Order, and it is not passive.

Like the moon, our world waxes and wanes.

Each era glows brightly, then fades into night before rising again as some new age.

As creatures of light, dark and twilight all, we are not moved much by the vagaries of fortune.

Each tribe has its creation story, and they differ in many ways.

I have my own ideas.

We are a breed eternally apart, and we are rare.

Water runs silent, yet crushes with the power of an elephant.

Its depths hold secrets that only the brave can find.

The first of our kind were nearly the last.

Those it caught were devoured.

Let this be your legacy

My tears, shed for you, will boil in your veins.

All people will fear you, and all animals, too.

Begone and tend the flocks that need killing.

I banish you from sight!

They still live on in us, and we carry their curse to this day.

As the humans prospered, they grew quickly out of hand.

It was a bloody, useless time, and we fractured as a people.

Secrets became the only thing to bind us.

It’s hard to forgive these raging bastards.

Very territorial, and I know how that feels.

There are enough horrors in the night already.

Corruption has a million voices; sometimes they drown out the song of the moon and lead us over cliffs.

That song wails from nightclubs, boom boxes and televisions every day.

Stop up your ears, my friend and listen to the wind.

Those secrets led the wolves to our door — literally.

Gods damn the dogs for that!

Their misbegotten crusade killed hundreds of our Kind and Kin.

She mated with serpents, wolves and great cats in an effort to become like them, but gave birth to monsters instead.

Some legends portray her as one of our kind, but we know this isn’t so.

If the tales I’ve heard are any measure, they have no pity for us at all.

We are where we are born.

I think our unique insights show us that humanity is a mixed blessing — especially where the earth and the wild are concerned.

Men are the cleverest monkeys, no doubt, but they don’t have much sense of self-preservation.

Our forebears fought to let humanity prosper.

We have an amazing world at our fingertips, but it’s filled with poisons and lies.

Honor seems to be a fading dream in lands where the rich starve their people and the poor kill each other.

We hold magic within ourselves, within our hearts and minds and spirits. To dishonor ourselves is to disperse that magic and scatter our souls.

It’s acceptable to lie to other creatures; they’re not of our blood and not bound by our laws.

We will flee to survive a fight, but will not run when others depend on our strength.

We must make restitution to those we deceive, in deeds, trade or money.

We may be exiled or branded.

Our weapons are many — secrets, claws, teeth and allies — and we will not hesitate to employ them for our world’s

survival.

Our people have walked too close to extinction for us to take such matters lightly.

We will not ally ourselves with shadow powers or drink corrupted wisdom.

We do not fail our Earth and mother. That path leads to death.

We are the keepers of secrets, and our fates depend on silence.

Each of us bears the hidden doom of our own people, and we know the cost of betraying that trust.

We also know that we have what others want — or what they think they want — and it amuses us to make them squirm.

Our knowledge is our concern.

We will not share it unless we wish to.

We will hide ourselves from outsiders; they will think they know us, but we will delude them.

We will wrap our lore in riddles and tales; let the clever ones puzzle out their meaning.

We will act as if we know even more than we do, for it keeps outsiders guessing.

Let them wonder at our insight; they value us more highly when they do.

We will cover our tracks with misdirection, pretend to be other than what we are, fill the air with idle rumors and hide messages in code.

There is no forgiveness for this crime.

Well, let’s just say I know what I’ve seen. And I’ve seen a lot.

His eyes were so filled with pain that I decided to help out.

I’d swear he was grinning as the semi ran him down.

That felt good.

Guess they’ve gotta live here, too.

I say they’re not as smart as they might think.

Maybe I’m the one who’s being fooled.

I could tell you stories all night, all week, all month and more.

As the temples rose and the hordes crossed through, our parents sat on the sidelines of history and observed the passing of kings.

The cultures we witnessed shaped our own ways.

Cities rose, each with secrets too tempting to ignore.

For a long time — 4,000 years — there was all the room in the world for us, and no lack of secrets to keep us entertained.

We should have seen the signs in the Classical Age, when armies swept across the land in the names of gods, kings and conquerors.

We should have met en masse when trade and crusades brought East and West together.

I will not belabor the point. We know what happened.

Explorers, slavers and great white hunters bounded into the wilderness and cast a chain around our kind.

Suddenly, we went from having all space to having little.

I can’t say I don’t share the sentiment just a bit.

We didn’t stop until a greater evil forced us to align, but that’s another story.

It’s a wonder anyone survived.

We studied their secrets, but could learn nothing from them.

We have no one to blame but ourselves.

For all our vaunted sight, we’re blind. For all our gathered lore, we’re stupid.

The world is falling apart.

I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but we are living in interesting times!

We must pool our secrets, combine our efforts, and bring the world’s secrets to light.

We must act on what we discover and disperse what we learn.

Do I lose my cool?

The modern age is the greatest puzzle we could want endless streams of secrets, enigmas, wonders and dazzles, wrapped up in an explosive package that could blow us all to hell.

Anywhere, at any time, the whole ride could fly off the rails.

Those who ignore the warning feed the vultures the next morning.

I’ll simply say the tigers are not where you’d expect.

People have begun to open their eyes, but they still need your counsel to see the cliff’s edge before falling off

Those stories are true — violently true — and they add up to an appalling picture if you string them all together.

They get an idea, work on it a bit, and try to rule the world. Typical. We’ve seen their kind before.

Look around you if you doubt it.

Surely the secrets you’ve uncovered have given you the idea that maybe, just maybe, something’s going on, something bigger than another plunder, another invasion, another city that falls to ruin in a century.

Discover what you can, but bury your tracks well.

We’re strangers to each other for most of our lives, and we like it that way — a few careful gatherings are all we

can stand.

The moon is our patron, but the shadows are our father too, and they call to us at our weaker moments.

Most of us dance on the edge, though, and that’s where we like to be!

Despite our pains, we’re spirited and wild, inquisitive yet careful, sensual yet refined.

Our beauty is our greatest pride, and our wits are second to none.

We know what we are.

To hell with them all!

Still, we cannot let pride blind us to the facts.

The morning it foretells is up to us.

We must come together, yet retain our pride.

We are the keepers of secrets.

Perhaps it’s time those secrets were revealed.

[umbry-fic]

A Palette Full of You (2)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 6 Word Count: 4212 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/06/2021

Chapter Title: Save the Children!

Chapter Summary: Lloyd and Colette take a break from studying and decide to play a video game. Colette starts to ruminate a little on how she's different from the rest of her classmates...

(Colloyd Week Day 2: Sidequest)

Notes+Warnings: Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter Colloyd week fic! Colette and Lloyd play a bunch of Kameo: Elements of Power. Lloyd is bisexual. This chapter might have a bit of internalised acephobia so beware.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

12-years-old

"There! Over there!" Colette shouted, dropping the Xbox controller onto her lap and gesturing frantically towards a corner of the television screen. In her frantic excitement, she completely forgot that Lloyd was sitting right next to her on the sofa, her elbow banging straight into Lloyd's arm.

Lloyd, startled, pitched to the side and pushed the joystick on his Xbox controller in the same direction.

Major Ruin, who Lloyd had been controlling to charge up a Bolder Rush, executed the move at this exact moment as Lloyd let go of the right trigger.

And so Major Ruin careened right off the edge of the platform, as per the directions Lloyd had just inputted into the game. The tragic end to a glorious adventure. Kameo would never rescue her father from her sister’s evil clutches, for she had fallen to her death from a high height... by complete accident. Or maybe it would be better to class this as incompetence?

Oops.

"Oh, no," they both muttered at the same time, staring with their mouths open in horror. Colette reached out uselessly towards the TV, as if she could reach into the game and stop Major Ruin’s fall.

As if.

The armadillo look-alike Earth elemental (except a lot spikier) continued to fall while flailing their stubby limbs uselessly, eventually hitting the ground with the familiar and resonant "thud", accompanied with the dreaded snapping sound that had populated much of their playtime in the Snow-top Village. The thin and winding ice paths throughout that area had led to many a death from fall damage as they had tried to get their hands on the elemental fruits hidden away among various corners. Now that they were in the Ancient Tower, with its dark, foreboding, narrow stone corridors lit only by the sparest of torches sitting in sconces, where there was only one path forward and they were caged in by walls, Colette thought their falling episodes would be over. It was a bit claustrophobic, really.

It appeared that was not the case. Fall damage was eternal, and it would haunt them always, following them everywhere and showing its face at the most inopportune of moments.

Major Ruin morphed back into Kameo's petite, winged form, collapsing to the ground with a pained groan. Lloyd's side of the screen faded to black before he respawned at the last checkpoint, erasing a full 20 minutes of progress. The Kameo that Colette controlled was now completely alone in the chamber, performing her idle animations as Colette’s controller went untouched. Lloyd dropped his Xbox controller into his lap as well, leaning back against the sofa as he let out a groan of his own.

There was no sound apart from the whirring coming from the Xbox under the TV, the game music, and the "whup-whup" of the blades of the ancient standing fan in the corner of the living room, struggling in its job to blow "cool" air at them and combat the viciously hot weather.

Lloyd had every right to be frustrated with her; she had a tendency to kill him in-game. It wasn't murder, just manslaughter: knocking him off the cliff, setting both of them on fire, or startling him in general. It wasn't just in Kameo. Her clumsiness and butterfingers translated to every genre. No matter the game - Mario, Minecraft, Maplestory - she always found some way to cause a game over.

But he'd never directed any frustration or anger towards her. These are just silly games, he said every time. Much easier to laugh over the mirthful consequences together than get mad. Whenever they had the time to play video games together, the air was filled with nothing but laughter, a few frustrated grumbles from when they were struggling at a particular level, and the occasional rib from Lloyd’s end when she messed up. That's what made it incredibly fun. What the two of them had termed "game-time" never failed to put a smile on their faces.

And it was an effective destresser! It was a great relief to be able to channel all the stress from studying for PSLE into beating up trolls in Kameo. That appeared to be Lloyd's favourite part of the game - racking up combos with his favourite character Pummel Weed. Though she had to say her favourite part of the game so far was watching the cutscenes that played after rescuing the baby elementals from the prisons created by the nefarious shadow trolls. The wacky transformation from adorable blob to full-fledged elemental, complete with the blob sprouting arms and growing claws or shells, was… interesting to witness.

"Sorry," she sheepishly said, still feeling the need to apologise as she patted his hand. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I found the last child!"

"Oh, really? Where?” Lloyd asked eagerly, attention turning back to the TV. “I couldn't see anything. It's all so dark."

"Over there." More calmly this time, Colette pointed out the child encased in a translucent ice crystal, tucked away in a corner of the platform hidden in shadow. She’d forgotten the name of this species, and could only describe them as cuttlefish that had taken human form. What were they were doing so far from the Mountain Falls? Weren't they native to that location? "We need to free them quickly! This is the last child."

“The last - you’ve been keeping count?!” Lloyd asked, voice rising in volume and shock written clearly across his face.

“Yeah! The mother said there were three, and we’ve rescued two. She must have been really worried, or she wouldn’t have begged us to save her children. I want to reunite them as soon as possible!”

"Alright. Ice, huh? It'd be similar to the other crystals we got rid of in the snow area. So just turn into Ash!" Lloyd suggested.

"Oh, you're right! Thanks for the reminder!" Colette opened the transformation wheel with a quick press of a button and proceeded to fumble with the joystick for a full minute while Lloyd slowly crawled his way back up the tower. She kept pushing too far to the right and overshooting Ash's dragon head on the wheel to land on Thermite, before overcorrecting to the left and landing on 40 Below. Frustration slowly piled up until she groaned, burying her head in her lap. This was embarrassing. She couldn't even navigate a simple menu like this, even after months of playing this game. Butterfingers, once again.

"Lloyd, can you open the main menu? I'll just pick Ash from there."

"Nah, we don't need to open Wotnot. Let's give Ortho a break for now," Lloyd replied. She knew that wasn't the real reason. Lloyd just didn’t want to hear from the eccentric wizard trapped within the paperback book that doubled as the main menu. "Here, let me help. But you need to get up first!" She straightened up, still sulking as he smiled at her, looking like he was holding back laughter at her predicament.

Lloyd stretched out his hand and placed his index finger over her thumb, gently guiding her thumb on the joystick so that the selection square landed right on Ash's head. Colette watched as Kameo hunched over and transformed into the red, clawed, scaly dragon that was the fire elemental Ash, tail slowly swaying from side-to-side as his wings flapped.

"You're so good at this..." she muttered, glancing down at her controller where Lloyd's hand was still placed over hers. They were only 12, but his hands were already slightly bigger than hers. He'd gotten his growth spurt in the earlier part of this year and shot up in height; now half a head taller than her. It was a slightly startling change after being the same height for the six years they'd known each other. He would likely only grow taller as time went on. As for herself... Maybe she'd gain another 5 centimetres by the time she was 18, if she was lucky. Given the actual state of her luck, she'd probably stagnate at her current height. Tallness was just not in the cards for her.

Not that she minded. The added height made him rather comfortable to lie on. If he gained just a few more centimetres, his shoulder would be the perfect height to rest her head on… That would make movie nights all the more comfortable.

Plus, the height change was just that. A physical change. Inside, Lloyd was still the same person - the boy who loved playing with Noishe but hated doing his homework, and would do everything in the world to avoid it. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit.

"Don’t sweat it. There are so many things you’re good at too! If it weren’t for your keen eye, I would’ve missed the kid entirely… So don’t be too bothered!” Lloyd gave her hand one squeeze before removing his hand, returning to his quest of returning to Colette's location. "Now, melt the ice!”

Colette did exactly that, leading the lumbering Ash over to the entrapped child and unleashing his fire breath. She watched with bated breath as the ice slowly melted, causing more of the child to be exposed to the air. They had previously used this exact same technique to unearth elemental fruits in the icy caverns filled with those icky bugs that exploded when defeated and obscured the screen with blue juice. It had been exciting then, to stumble upon secrets because of their penchant for exploration. But watching the child slowly be freed, watching their tentacles slowly start to move as they came into contact with warm air, was an entirely different experience, one that filled her with joy.

When was the last time the two of them completed a side objective like this, one that had direct effects on a citizen of this magical world? Casting her mind back informed her that that would be the starting town, when they returned to water the farmer’s crops with Deep Blue.

Now that the last child had been fully freed, all the children went running back to their worried mother, who proceeded to pull them into a giant group hug. Colette dropped her controller, clapping her hands together at such a sweet sight. Lloyd did laugh, then, a chuckle that she could feel rumble through her as well from where their shoulders touched. "What are you so excited about?" he asked.

"We did it! We saved all the children!" she exclaimed, watching the mother pull out one of the large elemental fruit in thanks. "Doesn't that make you happy? That we were able to help someone... That's what makes these side objectives fulfilling, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's just like you to get like this over a video game,” Lloyd replied, watching Kameo hoist the elemental fruit into the air, where it magically shrunk in size to fit in her bag. Colette wondered how Kameo’s bag even worked - how did it store Wotnot and dozens of elemental fruits? It was like a black hole. Just like Noishe's stomach.

“Though..." Lloyd frowned, staring up at the clock that hung on the wall, whose hands indicated that it was 2 pm. "Time’s up. We should get back to revising before Mom gets home from the vet with Noishe."

"Oh, you're right..." That was a downer. Time had flown so fast; their 20 minutes were up already!

The moment had come to return to the dining table and the assessment books that sat open on it. Studying was never fun, but it just had to be math today, and the chapter just had to be nets. Her most hated subject, combined with the topic she hated most. It was a headache all around.

But Lloyd was surprisingly good at nets, and he'd been a great help the whole day. Even if he still hated math with a passion and always got stuck on algebra questions, where it was her turn to assist him. That was why studying together was effective! They could fill in the gaps for each other, and motivate each other to keep going. Just three months left to go until it was all over! They could do this, and they would get through it. Together, just as they would every predicament that came to pass in the future.

"Um, and before you go home today, could you help me with something else?"

"What is it?" Colette asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Lloyd was staring at the carpet, his hand absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of his singlet, separating the fabric from sweaty skin.

“Ellum’s birthday present,” Lloyd muttered, his voice getting softer with each word he spoke, until she could barely make out the words. “His birthday is in two weeks, and I…”

Ohhh.

They had a habit of telling each other almost everything, for any secret was always safe with the other. So she knew why Lloyd was clamming up. Ellum was his current crush, after all.

“Say no more. Of course I’ll help you! We can do whatever you want!” she replied with enthusiasm. She'd be happy to help.

"Thank you," Lloyd replied, meeting her gaze again with a tiny smile lighting up his face. "Now, let's get back to studying."

They made the short walk to the dining table, taking their seats across from each other. Lloyd's face was already starting to twist into a grimace, resigning himself to another few hours of torture at the hands of the twisted people who made their livelihood setting math questions.

Clearing away the Kit Kat wrappers on her assessment book, she glanced down at a question about nets she'd been working on before the break. Yet not a single word on the page was being absorbed. They were all running away from her.

The downside of Lloyd confiding in her for all of his crushes was that it was a stark reminder that she hadn't had her first one yet. And then, inevitably, her mind would drift further to all the little ways she stood out from her classmates.

It was like everyone around her had changed drastically overnight at some unknown point in time. The jokesters of the class had just started making dirty jokes one day, prompting scandalised glares from the rest of the class but also prompting snickers. She herself didn't get the joke half the time, just laughed to go along with everyone else.

Then there was the shift in daily conversation. Instead of discussing their favourite Pokémon, more often than not the other girls would now discuss in hushed voices while giggling which celebrity was the most attractive. She herself would sit quietly, trying to melt into the wall as she observed without interjecting, half fascinated and half horrified. Weren't they all too young for this?

Things got even more awkward when she was forcibly pulled into the conversation when someone directed a question at her. She had no idea what to say whenever someone showed her a picture of a celebrity and asked her to rate them. The only thing she ever managed to stutter out was that their eyes were a nice colour, and so was their hair. That... was how you judged a person on how attractive they were, right? Everyone else, though, seemed to think she was weird. But how was she supposed to be feeling? No one had ever taught her. It felt like everyone was keeping a secret from her on how these things were supposed to work, then making fun of her for not getting it.

She only got more confused every time something like that happened. All she wanted to do was go back to talking about her favourite cartoons, but that didn't seem to be an option. Lloyd wasn't in the same class as her, so she couldn't even sit with him and ignore everyone else. The only time she could meet up with him during school hours was at recess. She didn't know what Lloyd talked about with the rest of his friends. Maybe the same stuff. But she didn't really care, because, with him, she could just be herself. There was no need for tiring pretence.

All she could do when the girls were in a mood to discuss celebrities again was sit a little outside of their circle, counting down the seconds remaining for class to start while she tried to look as occupied as possible. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time the topic of conversation turned back to something a little easier to understand, like video games.

But surely, someday, she would understand.

She was waiting. For that day. For her to finally catch up to everyone else in the race she hadn’t even known she’d entered until everyone had left her in the dust, still standing with her mouth agape at the starting line. To finally be like everyone else, to be able to fit in seamlessly. But there was no use getting down about it!

She just had to meet The One. Then everything would change, everything would fix itself. That's what happened in all the stories, the shows, the movies, after all.

Because everyone, in the end, learned to feel the same way, right?

~~~

19-years-old

"Right! I think that’s enough for now.” Colette’s voice shattered the serenity of her room from where she was sitting on the bed with her laptop balanced in her lap, cutting through the sleepy fog that was starting to fill Lloyd’s head. The peaceful Ghibli tunes that had been filling the room cut off abruptly as she shut her laptop screen, reaching a hand up to undo her messy hair bun.

Lloyd yawned, rubbing his eyes and hoping that would make his eyelids feel less heavy. Pushing himself up from his belly-down position on the bed, he caught one last glance of the back of Colette's neck before her hair covered it again. Doing prep for uni was not the most exciting way to pass the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't normal fare for a date. But it had to be done, so they might as well do it together, as they did all things.

Though he'd gotten distracted and started scrolling through YouTube about an hour ago.

"Are you going to change out of pyjamas?” Lloyd asked, stretching, his shirt hiking up slightly. He’d taken the lift down the three floors that separated his apartment and hers in the old HDB block that they’d stayed in all their lives, rang the doorbell while staring at the Chinese New Year decorations that were still hung up despite the month now being April, and waited for Colette to open the door… Only to be met with the sight of Colette in her favourite doggie pyjamas, the baby blue button-up ones that covered every inch of her skin. She'd shrugged and said it was cold from the non-stop rain, but he knew the real reason was the lazy post-A-levels haze, that affected him as well. These days, sleeping in until noon was the norm. Or sleeping in until one of his parents came into his bedroom to knock him awake.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing a towel and a few articles of clothing from the open wardrobe and heading towards the doorway.

“Alright.”

Lloyd closed his laptop slowly, not wanting a repeat of the time in Secondary 3 he’d shattered the screen because Zelos had sneaked up on him and caught him unawares. He rolled off the bed, making the small trip of barely a few steps to the study table, passing the various objects Colette had up on the walls - the Disney posters she’d gotten ages ago, and the random stickers she’d amassed over the years from school club sales and donations - and the bay window filled to the brim with cute and huggable soft toys, a familiar Siberian Husky that showed the signs of being well-loved sitting atop the pile.

Lying on the study table was Colette’s Nintendo Switch, plugged into a socket to charge. Right next to it was a jar holding paintbrushes of all sizes, all of them as clean of paint as possible, for he knew Colette took extremely good care of her art supplies. The sketchbook no one was allowed to peek into was sticking out of the table’s drawer, half-used pads of foolscap and sheets of paper with pencils rolling in them visible within. Files that he’d nearly kicked, containing lecture notes and worksheets, were shoved into messy piles under the table, unneeded after the conclusion of examinations but having no convenient place to be stored. The tiny shelf sitting on the table still had her Junior College badge housed on one of the layers, silver in colour and reflecting the light from the windows, despite her having no use for it ever since they had graduated in November. (Perhaps she liked looking at it? She was something of a magpie sometimes.) He could spot a familiar conch shell, placed among other knick-knacks, mostly birthday presents.

Picking up the handheld (with its lime green and cyan JoyCons firmly attached), he unplugged the charger and watched the screen light up - and frowned at what it showed him.

"Hey, Colette!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hoped he could catch her before she entered the bathroom. Uncle Frank was working in the master bedroom no more than five metres away and had been nothing less than incredibly nice, as he always was, providing tons of refreshments and snacks. Lloyd would like to prevent a shouting relay if possible.

If Colette had been walking, she shouldn't have reached the bathroom yet...

The fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the floor informed him that he was right. "What is it, Lloyd?" Colette's head poked its way into the doorframe, her golden hair reaching down towards the floor, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You left Animal Crossing on," he answered, waving the Switch in the air.

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You know what to do, right?"

Control the playable character and put her to sleep, then save the game. He'd done it before.

"Yeah, but, I was thinking... I haven't taken a walk on your island since last year. How about I take another tour while you're in the bathroom? If you're okay with it, of course."

"Oh, sure! I trust you." Colette smiled sweetly, turning to leave before pausing and turning back. "But remember -"

"- remember not to step on the flowers." Lloyd finished her sentence easily, stating that fact very seriously. He knew about Colette's concerns about her precious flowers, which she’d spent hours arranging around her little island until they were in just the right spot - fields of rainbows to welcome any guests and guide them around. He hadn't known that the stems of the flowers could break from being trampled multiple times when he first explored her quaint world - the fictional flowers were just as fragile as their real-life counterparts. He’d kept that in mind ever since, adding it to the many rules to follow to ensure no harm came to all the hard work Colette had put in to make her island perfect.

"Yep. Um…” Colette wrung her hands together, bowing her head so her hair formed a veil over her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“No, nothing’s wrong!” Colette hurriedly replied, lifting her head again. She screwed her eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. “I - uh, just wanted to say… I love you!”

The last three words came out in a shout, so quick that he almost didn’t catch them.

Lloyd froze, trying to process what he’d just heard - and before he could reply, Colette was already gone, having fled down the corridor and out of sight.

He slowly shut his mouth, which he hadn’t even realised was open.

This was the first time she’d said those coveted three words since they'd started dating. Her voice had been dripping with uncertainty, her posture betraying her shyness, but no matter how contradictory, she’d said it with sincerity, with all her heart. And even though he didn't need to hear them from her to know she loved him, for it was actions that counted, and certainly didn't need to hear them from her for him to love her, it still made him smile, his whole soul filled with a light warmth.

They’d travelled such a long way from all the checkpoints in life that they'd passed together. They still had a long way to go, but they’d do it together. As they always had.

"I love you too, silly," he said into empty space, knowing Colette couldn't hear him but wanting to say it anyway.

Lloyd unlocked the Switch screen, staring down at Colette's intricate creation. Flowers filled the screen, black, grey, white, purple, that he found familiar but couldn't put a name to. Oh, well. He would just tour the island and check out any new changes while he walked to the living room and waited for Colette to come back. Maybe he'd visit the town centre as well.

The most vital question to be answered was... Had Colette gotten those froggy chairs that she wanted for the townspeople?

~~~

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