#and his brothers and sisters more or less beat the pin into his chest; causing his uniform and the pin to be stained with his blood

[instantartific]

Neon thoughts today.

He had the honor of getting his badges blood pinned while in the Navy, and he still wears those scars from them with so much pride.

Nearly twenty years later, the proof of his loyalty and the things he's earned are still right there, etched into his breast.

The process hurt like a bitch, though. Would not do it again. Kind of a one-and-done experience for each pin.

[roscgcld]

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || onii-chan

note: this was a few ideas given to me by my beloved 🌸Anon - a bunch of new gojotwins!au headcanons c: this one is a little different compared to my other story, so this is a stand alone one. might turn it into a series if it gets enough love, but we’ll see~ you can read the original ask here!

pronouns: she/her

note: mentions of blood and death and spoilers for volume 8 & 9 of the manga. SUPER LONG by the way lol

gojotwins!au masterlist

twins have always been viewed as a bad omen for the parents - there are high chances of both twins developing no Cursed Technique at all, or have a Cursed Technique that is not desirable. So there had been no hope when one of the wives from the main family of the gojo clan was pregnant, and from what they can tell with twins at that

so it was a huge surprise to not only the elders but the entire jujutsu world when not one, but both of the twins were born with the coveted Six Eyes - something that had never happened in the history of the gojo clan. it was a moment to be celebrated!

if only they knew just what was lies ahead

much to the delight of the elders, the older one of the twins was the boy, satoru, while the girl was born 20 minutes after - it wouldn’t have mattered if it was the other way around, but just having the young boy being the one born first was definitely the icing on the cake

both of you were an absolute headache to deal with, causing so much chaos and mayhem that the elders had wondered if they should have celebrated at the idea of having two Six Eyes users under the same house was a good thing

the both of you trained together throughout your younger years, with satoru becoming super overprotective even though you were twins - he understood from a young age that the both of you were starting at different levels of footing because of your gender

yes, you are a girl - but at 7 years old you had exorcise a Grade-Two Curse by yourself with no more than an annoyed click of your tongue and a snap of your fingers, walking away whilst whining about how it got your favourite dress dirty

with that being said though, he loves to tease you are still the younger one between the both of you, and had teased you about how you should refer to him as ‘onii-chan’ instead of his first name

“come on, Y/N~ it’s a sign of respect~”

“i am going to spend you to outer space one of these days.”

the two of you were already known about the jujutsu world way before you even became old enough to enroll in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College - you two were even allowed to enter without an interview with the then principal of the school

who would want to waste their time interviewing two highly over qualified teenagers anyway?

the first time you met geto and shoko, they were both intimidated by your sheer presence. the both of them have heard talks about the gojo twins entering their year as a pair

so when they had first met you, standing there in your uniform with your bright blue eyes hiding behind a pair of blacked out sunglasses and an indifferent look on your face - they definitely felt a shiver go through their bodies

however, when they saw your twin brother appearing behind you with the biggest grin, hugging you from behind whilst you scowled and tried to push his head away - they were definitely less intimidated now

“now, now, Y/N-chan, stop being so scary~”

“nii-chan, i am giving you three seconds to let go of me.”

the two of you quite the duo, especially when you two are always pinned against one another with more difficult and more challenging missions compared to when you were under the care of the gojo clan 

geto felt less pressure to match up to his friend, since satoru and Y/N are always at each other’s throat - wanting to outmatch the other and one up the other with silly things like Curse head counts and how difficult its level is

with that being said, satoru is very protective of you - if any so much as speaks poorly of you, he would not hesitate to put them in their place

“oya? what makes you think you can speak of my baby sister like that?” satoru had hummed towards the small group of men, who were commenting on how beautiful the young woman was followed by a lot of unsavoury comments. 

satoru still sported his casual smile, yet there was a certain air around him that made them shut their mouths up real fast. “mind repeating that? just want to make sure that i have a good enough reason to put your lazy asses six feet underground..”

after that specific incident by the way, satoru had you and your friends out on a little excursion around tokyo - where they just did a bunch of stupid things together to calm down

you can read him like the back of a book though, so when both of your friends went away to browse through some shelves in a video game store, you just wrapped your arms around your brother with a smile. “you know, nii-chan, you don’t need to go about protect my honour. i’m a big girl now.”

he’d just blink down at you before giving you a soft but genuine smile, petting the top of your head with one of his hand while the other was resting inside of his pocket. “if i don’t protect you, who am i going to protect?”

that statement was proven during your second year - a cursed user had overpowered you and shoko and had taken the both of you hostage. the curse user had practically beaten you into a pulp, knowing that you were the stronger one between the two

shoko had been tied up and beaten as well, but you were definitely taking the brunt of his anger - along with being forced to listen about how he was going to sell you to some low life family that had been trying to get you to marry their sorry excuse of a son. 

you don’t even remember meeting the father of the boy, who had claimed to visit the gojo clan home a few times now

“you gonna be a good girl for me?” the man had gripped as he gripped your hair in his hands, giving you a smirk whilst you scowled over at him in annoyance, blinking the blood out of your eyes from the wound on the top of your head. 

before you can give another snarky answer in reply that will get you another beating, the sound of someone kicking the door in. before either one of you can move, the man suddenly let go of your hair with a pained gasp as someone grabbed his hair and forced his head back, looking up into a pair of glowing blue eyes

“get your filthy hands off my baby sister.”

geto was in charge of taking care of the both of you, leaving the room with a simple reminder to satoru that they needed to bring the man back alive

both of you spending most of your time trying to unlock the many secrets of the Limitless, and how to control it better

during the entire star plasma vessel fiasco, you had stayed by geto’s side. and while you didn’t manage to save rika from being murdered, you had, like gojo, managed to touch the core of cursed energy

toji had ‘killed you’ before he went after geto, yet like satoru, he did not decapitate your head; so you had slowly started to use the reverse curse technique to heal your wounds

so you couldn’t believe satoru’s belief when he found you using reverse cursed technique to heal geto, wrapping you up in his arms while you just smile and hold him as well

the three of you plus shoko had turned to one another for comfort, because along the way you four have grown close to the young girl, and her death really affected all of you

but if there is something bright that came out from this, is that you and your brother had really elevated yourselves to become the strongest duo of the new generation - both pretty much an entire chest above the current active sorcerers

after satoru had calmed down, he had told you about what toji had said to him before his death - about how he has a son that he had planned to sell of to the zen’ins

the two of you went to visit the young boy, discovering that he had an older sister as well; and without hesitation you had taken the both of them under your wing, pulling a few strings behind the scenes while also trying to provide him with as normal as a life as you two could

megumi had viewed you as a mother figure, someone who looked out for him and tsumiki, teaching the two of them life skills like sewing and cooking, making sure they always have warm meals. 

you never miss their birthdays either - always making sure to get them either a cake or a small cupcake with a candle on the top to blow out just for the sake of tradition

sure, satoru loves to spoil them too, but he acted more like their chilled older brother - he definitely relies on you more as a parental figure he had lacked for quite a huge part of his childhood

he had remembered how once, when you had made him his favourite curry and rice after a long week, he just sighed and said, “thanks mum,” before he started to eat his meal 

at first you froze in shock, and  megumi did too - but before the blushing teen can apologise, you had already wrapped him up in your arms as you just cried your heart out

satoru had teasingly asked him if megumi can call him ‘dad’, to which megumi just scowled and sent his divine dogs after your brother

satoru loves to introduce you two as the ‘strongest duo’ by the way - which makes you super awkward and you hate it with a passion. he wasn’t wrong, but it’s still awkward

“we’re the Gojos - the strongest duo out there.”

“please stop calling us that.”

feel like because you’re there, geto might still be on the path to the light lmao - like mans will be a teacher in school and you three will be dub the ‘idiot trinity’ or some bullshit nickname lol - the three biggest troublemakers in the jujutsu world

yet the three most capable ones as well - absolutely drive the higher ups of the jujutsu world insane

with that being said though - the three of you definitely hashed a plan to change the jujutsu world together. even shoko agrees that there should be some change to the old ways of the jujutsu world; so the four of you decided to sign up to work as teachers at Jujutsu High 

the first group of students you took under your wing was the then first years - maki, toge, panda, and eventually yuta when he joined your little class

you are the mother for the students while geto is the responsible dad; satoru is the crazy uncle that is not allowed to supervise the students alone, and shoko is the cool aunt who lets you skip class in her office if you want

all the students have, at one point, just referred to you as ‘mum’ and you had always just accepted that with a soft smile and a pat on the top of their head

even if they are taller than you, they will willingly bend down to your height so you can pet them on the head - even megumi lets you get away with it

when itadori and nobara came into the picture, you had taken them un as your own as well - but you did spend a good 5 minutes laughing with geto at the idea that yuji manages to control sukuna like he is just an annoying imaginary friend in the back of his head that refuses to shut up

you had tried to give them some form of normality and comforts as teenagers, even if many times they were forced into very uncomfortable situations

all in all - it was utter chaos the moment both you and satoru were born. yet it was a miracle nonetheless. many times you prove to the world that your bond is stronger than people think it is, and that you two will go through anything to make sure the other is safe. 

you are the younger one, but the more responsible one too. the motherly figure that everyone turned to, even your friends and brother, who needs comfort and a warm meal. yet if provoked, you can become deadly and kill with no hesitation. it’s because of this, both you and your brother are considered as quite the deadly duo; the strongest ones around. 

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[shorkbrian]

Fuck the context and the way you portrayed shinso in your brother fic of him was so hot. Can’t wait for him to become unhinged and not even care what his parents would think/if they’re home and just defile you whenever he wants bc he’s just that desperate

Prelude -  gonna call this mess “FaMiLy BoNdInG” and bruh trust me it’s a mess but I tried so enjoy k gbye

Pairing - Aizawa X Reader X Shinsou

Prompt - at the top and combined with these two!

Warnings - psuedo-incest, NSFW, non con, dubcon, all the cons. Step dad Aizawa and step bro Shinsou are a force to be reckoned with. Mentions of DP at the end.

Music - I listened to https://open.spotify.com/track/1xFfbxmfenEpn4WawGWXiA?si=OUFp4ANsSR-6V_H187Eblw while writing even though it has NO relation to the fic spsosfnjsdhgsslfdn dead

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

You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking soda and scrolling mindlessly on your phone when your stepbrother had come up behind you, looping his arms over your shoulders as he leaned down.

“Hey girlie, what’re you doing?”

“Nothin’.” You shifted, moving so his mouth was away from your ear, squirming uncomfortably. 

There was a beat of silence, before Shinsou stood, his presence looming behind you like a harbinger of evil. “Come up to my room? I’m tired, wanna hold you.” You sighed, hunching your shoulders and curling in upon yourself. You knew it wasn’t a question, wasn’t a request that you could ignore or refuse. He was just giving you the illusion of having a choice. Well,  you did have a choice;  go with your brother willingly, or get dragged, risk him getting angry if you said you were feeling sick, get into a fight with the man that could pin you to the ground without breaking a sweat.

“Shinsou…. “

“C’mon.” He didn’t wait for you to figure out how to beg for him to leave you be, grabbing your arm and hauling you to your feet with ease. You went limp, what else could you do?

The purple-haired man reached under your skirt, a modest, knee-length thing, wrenching your panties down with one hand.  You squeezed your eyes shut when his hand brushed against your hip, when he eyed the panties clutched in his fist.

“Cute.”

Gross. 

Then he was tugging you along, headed towards his room. 

You were so tired.

Mind almost shutting down, you stumbled when the audible clanking of the garage door beginning to open could be heard.

Dad was home.

Wide eyed, you caught Shinsou’s equally-surprised gaze, the man in front of you tightening his grip on your arm. Without another word, his pace was quickened.  Aizawa wasn’t supposed to get home until midnight, was supposed to be working late at the office. 

Shinsou tugged you into his room, slammed the door shut,  pushed you onto the bed. He had a sense of urgency; he was stressed, thrown off by the sudden and unexpected arrival of your father. “Gotta be quiet now, don’t want dad to hear us, right?”

You nodded, dazed, exhausted. Nothing had happened yet and you were already retreating inside your mind, resigning yourself to whatever your older brother was going to do today. He had said he wanted to cuddle, but that usually meant lazy sex while he hugged you, kissing your neck and falling asleep after making the both of you cum.

Without any preamble, the man climbed onto the bed, putting a hand on your shoulder to gently guide you to lay back. Then he was scrabbling at your shirt, pulling it over your head and leaving you in nothing but your bralette and skirt. He kneeled between your legs, pulling your skirt up to mid thigh to give him more room to maneuver.

“Shinsou please don’t, dad’s-“

“Shhhh, just do what I say and you’ll be fine.”

Shinsou spat into his palm, the sound making you cringe as you thumbed at the soft blankets underneath you. He was unbuttoning his pants, shoving at his underwear until he could get his cock free. The man went quicker than usual as he slicked up his length with his spit, very much aware of the presence of someone else in the house. 

At this point, Shinsou really didn’t care.

He had been fucking you for so long, pulling you aside for a quickie when your parents ran to the store, taking his time when they went away for a weekend,  fucked you on the couch when they went out for date-night. Feeling particularly bold today, he barely thought to pause when your father had gotten home. Right now, he wanted to lay down with his little sister, fuck you until you fell asleep, and then cuddle with your pliant body. Dad home or not, he was determined.

Your skirt was pushed even further up your body, the material bunching at your waist so your stepbrother had unfettered access to your bare pussy. Clenching your eyes shut, you turned your head away as you felt Shinsou pull your hips into his lap so he could rub his cock against your folds. He hissed at the sensation, spitting into his hand again before reaching around his cock to smear his saliva onto your puffy slit, too impatient and hurried to properly prep you.

It was odd to see the purple haired man like this; usually he was very laid-back, slow and gathered in his movements. Right now he was rushing, pushing the tip of his cock slowly into your entrance when usually he would still be making you cry on his fingers. The stretch was immediate, almost burning, and your lungs tightened.

A hand reached up to cover your mouth, Shinsou’s thumb massaging your cheek as he hushed you. You grabbed onto his arm, not to pull him away (it would be useless, he was so much stronger than you), but to ground yourself,  able to do nothing but hold onto the man causing you pain.

The sound of dishes clattering down in the kitchen had Shinsou’s hips bucking forward suddenly, filling you up, pressing too far, too soon. He swore lowly, hand tightening around your mouth as you let out a pained noise.

His hips stilled, the hand not at your mouth petting soothingly at your hip in an imitation of comfort. Funny, you thought - you wouldn’t need comfort if your stupid step brother could manage to keep his dick in his pants.

As the seconds passed, both of you aware of Aizawa down in the kitchen, your muscles slowly relaxed. The stretch burned less, felt more manageable. Still, you were entirely unprepared when Shinsou drew his hips back before rutting into you.

You screeched, the sound muffled by his hand but undeniably loud.  Shinsou leaned over you, unwittingly pushing himself deeper as he tried to soothe you with his quiet “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

If you were able, you would scream that you weren’t. You weren’t okay, nothing was okay. Everything about this was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. The way his hips were twitching into you, the way he kissed your cheeks and thumbed away your tears. The pleasure that was sparking in your core, the fact that it was your stepbrother getting ready to pound you into the mattress.

He was thrusting smoothly now, cock drilling into you a a steady pace. You were getting wet, the slide easier and less painful, pleasure slowly filtering in. When Shinsou plucked at your clit, you squirmed, hips shamefully moving to meet his own. He started increasing the pace, breathing heavily as the two of you rocked together on the bed. Occasionally his bed creaked, the wood rubbing at the joints and squeaking. 

On one hand, you hoped dad didn’t hear. On the other, you wished he would -  that he’d come save you from his son.

You got a mockery of your wish.

“Kids?”  Aizawa was walking up the stairs, the third step that always creaked whenever someone tread on it announcing his ascent.

“Shit.” Shinsou breathed, pulling out of you, manhandling you quickly. He threw back the covers of his bed, shoved you down, settled behind you. He didn’t have to tell you to be good - the taboo, disgustingly wrong nature of what he had been doing was too embarrassing for you to reveal to your stepfather. Accusing his biological son of assaulting you? Raping you? Would dad even believe you? You didn’t want him to see you like this, you couldn’t.

Dad knocked as Shinsou pulled the covers up, covering your state of undress. You knew your bralette straps were still visible, and Shinsou still had his shirt on. It would probably just look like the two of you had been napping, but then again, it would still seem odd. Whenever your parents were home you stayed as far away from your brother as possible - you weren’t one to just go cuddle with him.

The door creaked open, and your dad peered in. You were so embarrassed, half-naked and utterly humiliated underneath the covers. You didn’t know what to feel or what to do, frozen in fear and indecision. 

“Hey dad, need something?” Shinsou rumbled from behind you, voice steady and monotoned.

Light eyes scanned the room, before settling on you and your brother. Aizawa gave you a confused glance, obviously not expecting you to be in here, before his eyes shifted to the man behind you. “Wanted to let you know I’m home. Mom won’t be back until late, do you two have any specific requests for dinner?”

Shinsou shifted closer to you, so close that you could feel his rapidly beating heart through the warm flesh of his chest.

“Nah, we’re fine with whatever.”

Aizawa nodded, giving you one more confused glance. Maybe he could tell something was up? You felt like you couldn’t breathe. As the dark-haired man turned, obviously moving to shut the door and head back down to the kitchen, Shinsou was pushing his cock into you, his heart trying to beat out of his chest against your back.

Before you could stop yourself, you were whimpering.

“Dad….”

Shinsou froze as Aizawa turned back, stepping further into the room. You were quiet, tears budding at the corners of your eyes.  You couldn’t make yourself utter another word, completely unsettled at the situation. What were you supposed to do? You wanted him to save you, but you didn’t know how to ask. Your stepfather was studying you, was waiting for you to say something more. His gaze was flickering between you tearful eyes, your bralette straps visible above the blanket, the position you and Shinsou were in. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

All three of you were silent, the moment seeming to stretch on forever. 

You were so tired.

Breaking the stillness, Aizawa took another step into the room, brows slowly drawing down as the realization dawned upon him.

“Shinsou.” HIs voice was low, he rolled his son’s name in his mouth quietly, almost hesitantly. “What the fuck is going on.”

Your brother’s cock was still inside you.

“I was tired. (Y/N)’s cuddling with me, she was telling me about a dog she saw-“ Aizawa snorted, arms crossing as he took another step towards the bed. “Nice try. Don’t lie to me. Tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

Shinsou was silent behind you, his heart beating loud and fast against your back.  

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” His voice was softer as he asked you, throaty still - but softer.  The tears clouding your vision finally flooded, streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. 

“Please… I....” You couldn’t formulate the words, mortification surrounding your body, Shinsou’s hand squeezing bruises into your hip. It was too much. You wished you had never existed,  that none of this had happened.

Unable to get an answer out of either of you, Aizawa strode forward, grabbed the covers, ripped them off the bed and dumped them in a heap.

You sobbed.

Both men were silent as you cried fat tears, embarrassed at being revealed, gratification at dad finally discovering the awfulness you had been subjected to these past few months.

Shinsou thrust his hips further into your warmth.

You choked, eyes snapping up to Aizawa. Shinsou was supposed to stop the second the two of were caught. He wasn’t supposed to keep going. Why wasn’t dad saying anything? Telling Shinsou to get off of you, get out of the house? Why wasn’t he calling the police? Why wasn’t he pulling your skirt down, trying to preserve your modesty?

The man was staring at the mess between your legs, Shinsou’s cock sliding in and out of you as you sobbed. Aizawa was breathing a bit heavier, his face, stance, demeanor no longer angry.

Dread filled your bones, settled like hot glue.

“Can you see how wet she is? She’s dripping.” Shinsou prodded, Aizawa frozen in place, mouth dry as he watched. “She’s always so warm inside, feels so nice.“

He was egging Aizawa on, seizing the moment and capturing his dad’s hesitance, manipulating it. You let out a whine as Shinsou’s pace picked up, cock beginning to hammer into your pussy. The purple haired man looped an arm underneath your thigh, hefting it into the air to allow Aizawa a better view.

“Doesn’t she sound so sweet? She tastes just as good, feels even better.” He was breathing heavily now, as he rutted into your warmth. Dropping your thigh, Shinsou reached for your clit, trapping the nub between his fingers and flicking at it. You cried out, your own hips squirming in indecisiveness , unable to choose between puling away or pushing back into the delicious sensation. It didn’t take much more to have you cumming.

Shinsou grunted as your walls squeezed around his cock, giving a few more frantic thrusts before he shot his load deep within your cunt, hips twitching as he worked through his own orgasm

You watched Aizawa sit down on the bed, close to your knees.

“How long?” He sounded strained. Shinsou shrugged, still panting.

Aizawa’s rough hand rested on your knee, his flat eyes closing as he paused. “Get up.”

The command wasn’t directed at you, but at your brother. Somehow, you didn’t think it would end up with your stepdad kicking his son out of the house.

Shinsou seemed to think the same as he pulled out, uncaring to the way you flinched as his cock dragged against your sensitive walls. He was silent as he shuffled to the end of the bed, tucking his dick back into his pants. 

Aizawa grabbed your ankle and in one smooth move, dragged you to him. You squeaked at the sudden movement, eyes wide as you watched Aizawa look you up and down. The front of his slacks were tented.

He pulled you into his lap, your back to his chest, turning so the both of you faced Shinsou who still stood at the foot of the bed.

“Does he make you feel good?” The older man’s stubble was scratchy against your cheek. You didn’t know where this was going, felt so lost and bad and sick.

  “Sometimes…”

It was impossible to lie. You knew if you did, Shinsou would cut in, tell his father how he made you cum everytime. How most of the time, you were screaming in pleasure before he would even take his pants off. 

Looking at the floor, you missed the look between father and son.

“He touch you here?” You gasped as a large hand grasped at your chest through your bralette. Aizawa’s hands were bigger than his son’s, rougher and more confident in their touch.

“Yes.”

“What about-“ tears streamed down your face as the hand slid further, over your tummy, over the fabric of your skit, down to your abused, sensitive cunt. “-Here?”

“Please stop, please.”

Aizawa didn’t answer, let his hand rest over the top of your pussy, feel his son’s cum slowly leaking out. “Shinsou, come here.”

The purple-haired man obeyed, stepping closer, falling to his knees at the edge of the bed when Aizawa motioned for him to do so.

“Clean up your sister.”

You weren’t too surprised. It shouldn’t have been hard to see where Shinsou had learned his nasty little tricks from. Still, it hurt your heart, struggling in your step-dad’s lap as he held you in place. 

Shinsou was smiling, leaning forward to shove his face in-between your thighs, chuckling when you yelped as he tongued over your hole. You used your hands to shove at his head, pull at his hair, but he caught them in his grip. They were pulled down by your sides, where Shinsou held them still.

“No, no! Stop! You can’t, no—dad!!” You were sobbing, pleading as Shinsou continued his assault on your cunt, licking out his own cum from your insides. Aizawa was holding your legs, keeping you spread-eagled and open.

“I’m not a good guy (Y/N), neither of us are.” His hardness was rubbing up against your back as you squirmed. “And from now on, you call me daddy.” “No! I won’t, let me go!” You thrashed, putting all your energy into loosing the iron grip holding your legs. Shinsou pulled back, licking his lips as he glanced up at his father.

“She was like this when I first had her. Mouthy little thing, still hasn’t learned proper manners.” He didn’t wait for Aizawa to respond, leaning back forward to continue slurping at your swollen lips.

“That’s alright, she’ll learn… I am a teacher after all.”

You wanted to vomit. You went limp, sobbing raggedly in Aizawa’s arms - completely demoralized and humiliated. There was no use fighting when Shinsou had been hurting you.  Now with two fully grown men focused on you? Forget about it.

Aizawa was quiet as Shinsou worked you up to an orgasm, the only sound besides your crying the wet, squishy lapping of Shinsou’s tongue suckling at your pussy. When he switched his focus to your clit, you wheezed, jolting in place as his tongue started laving over the little bud rapidly, quickly throwing you higher and higher and-

You wailed through your second orgasm, almost unable to breathe. 

Moments passed before you were able to calm yourself, ugly-crying and begging the two men to please, please leave you alone. Please leave, don’t touch you.

If you weren’t numb from your orgasm, you would feel sick.

“Shinsou, where’s your lube?”

Purple hair bounced as your brother cocked his head, still kneeling between your legs. “She doesn’t need lube, she’s soaking wet.”

“She’s gonna need it if we’re both going to fit.”

Neither man seemed to be able to hear your panicked pleas, too excited about prepping you to take both of them together.

What an awful attempt at family bonding.

[oohnoniall]

The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter One (Anastasia)

WARNINGS: cursing.

       The Grisha were puppets. She could tell that from the way her father had them paraded before him. No one should be treated the way they were and yet, it was the safest they had ever been. She had not grown up in a time before the Darkling. She had only ever known him to reside over the Little Palace. He kept the Grisha safe.

       That didn't stop them from having to perform great feats at the winter fete every year. She had been in attendance every year since she was six.

       She still remembered that first one clearly. It had been the first time she had been presented to the court. Her mother had actually come to her room, getting her ready to be shown off like a prized horse. It was the first time she had been allowed to wear a tiara.

       Nikolai had teased her for it the entire night. He still teased her for it.

       "Annie," a voice hissed to her right. Her eldest brother looked proud in his jacket, his medals pinned to his chest. They showed that he had claimed something in his year of service. Even if she was certain that it was not a brain. "Get your head out of the clouds."

       Vasily had never exactly been close to Anastasia. He had always been more focused on learning how to run Ravka, how to be the king that their country deserved. He had never paid much attention to her as Nikolai had. He hadn't paid Nikolai much attention either. Vasily was less their brother and more an acquaintance.

       Yet he was all that she had.

       Nikolai had left three years before to study and to serve in the military. Anastasia had written him daily letters for the first year, weekly the second. Now, she was lucky if she wrote him monthly. He didn't answer the letters. Too busy with his studies, with forgetting all about the life he had lived back home.

       Forgetting Anastasia.

       "My head is never in the clouds, Vasie," she huffed as she straightened her spine. She found it somewhat hard to breathe in her gown. Her corset was too tight, her mother had said her waist needed to be smaller and her maids had apparently agreed. Despite the lack of oxygen, there was no denying that the gown was beautiful. It was a shade of cream that matched Vasily's jacket perfectly with sky blue lace detailing on the bodice and matching blue flowers embroidered along the hemline.

       It was not the prettiest gown she owned, but it was one of her favorites. If only because she liked that she stood out just a bit from her family. Her mother's gown would be plain, letting everyone focus instead on the Lantsov emerald that would rest on her left hand. Her father and brother would both be sporting their military jackets, the pins and medals gleaming in the light. If Nikolai had been there, he would have at least been the one to escort Anastasia.

       Instead, her arm was linked with Vasily's. A bored smile crossed her features, taking away the seventeen-year-old's normal vibrancy. She despised the winter fete. The past three years had all been more disappointing than the last.

       It had nothing to do with the Grisha. But it had everything to do with the fact that she had no one to speak with. No one to confide in or giggle with when the night grew boring. Life without her brother had become stale, boring even.

       She sighed softly, trying to push out all those negative feelings as Vasily began to gently pull her out of the small antechamber. Her heart pounded in her chest. A four-eighths rhythm that seemed to skip the second beat. She wondered what it would sound like as an aria.

       "Presenting His Highness Crown Prince Vasily Lantsov and Her Highness Princess Anastasia Lantsov," a booming voice announced to the waiting crowd of nobles and rich merchants that surrounded Os Alta.

       A small smattering of applause greeted them, as it did every year. They were not the show though. They were merely just important guests, visitors to the show of something amazing. Something that none of them were entirely prepared for. At least, not yet.

       "Mingle," Vasily murmured in her ear, not bothering to bend. The two were only mere inches apart. A fact that Vasily hated and Nikolai had found humorous. "Just don't wander far from my sight."

       "And if I don't?" She did not move to raise a brow or do anything that might cause alarm. She barely moved her lips as she spoke. Speaking with Vasily just meant keeping it quiet and not allowing anyone to hear.

       "Then you'll never make a friend that isn't Nikolai." Despite their lack of a relationship, he did care for his younger sister. He cared for his brother as well. Although that relationship was far more strained. Not even Vasily could ignore the rumors surrounding his siblings. Anastasia, however, would never be a threat to him getting the throne upon their father's death.

       She gave a very slight nod of her head. If one happened to see it, they would merely assume she had just shifted her stance or something of that nature. They'd never realize that she had agreed to do something for him. Even if it was as simple as mingle with those who gathered with them in celebration of the second army.

       Her brother released her arm, allowing her to slip free from him and into the crowd. She would not leave the room. She knew better than to cause Vasily a heart attack. Had Nikolai been there, she wouldn't have had to worry about any of it. She would have been able to do as pleased. He'd just follow after her, his charisma hiding the fact that he was threatening people or watching over the sister he'd never asked for.

       Soft laughter, low tenors mixed with high sopranos, filled the air with a gentle melody. One that Anastasia could feel tingling in her bones and in her heart. The melodies of life in Ravka had always seemed to flow through the princess. She just hadn't said a word about it to anyone. Her mother had only ever been told she excelled in music lessons.

       She had strived to excel in everything though. Anything to avoid being sent off like her brother.

       "Princess," a tall young man stepped in front of her, blocking her from moving forward. He bowed at the waist to her, his left arm going behind his back in a sign of respect. His dark, blue-black hair fell into his face in the softest of waves. Briefly, she thought about reaching out to run her fingers through them. "I was certain we wouldn't be graced with your presence this evening."

       "And why exactly is that?" Her tone was soft, lilting and pretty. If she added a bit more breath it would sound more like a song.

       "There's a rumor that your parents sent you to Fjerda a week ago," he admitted as he straightened his spine. His eyes were bright, only a few shades darker than the Lantsov emerald. She wondered how many women he had enchanted with his eyes alone.

       Anastasia forced a gentle laugh to leave her lips as she looked at the man. "I'm afraid I will not see Fjerda for a few more years. Although, my departure date is not to be common knowledge." Her eyes glinted in the light, matching the sky blue detailing on her dress.

       "Of course, your highness," the man nodded his hand once. "Might I have this dance with you?"

       She considered it for a moment. A dance didn't mean they'd be courting. Nor did it mean she would be respected. Everything was so political nowadays. If she did not do the right thing, she would create a scandal. However, most of the time it felt as though if she breathed wrong she would cause a scandal or trouble of some sort. It was all quite exhausting if she were being honest.

       Slowly, Anastasia took the man's outstretched hand. "Of course."

       He led her towards the small dance floor. The winter fete was not a place for dancing. But her mother had thought that it would be nice to have a bit of a dance. She was certain that it had only been in case Nikolai or Vasily had caught sight of a woman that might one day become a queen. Or at the very least it made for a good chessboard.

       "What is your name?" She asked as he placed on hand on her waist. She could feel eyes on them. She was certain his family was watching closely, certain that her brother was preparing to protect her honor.

       "Dima Antonov," he said as the music began to swell. He led her through an intricate waltz. One that she had danced a million times. It was practically drilled into her feet.

       The music spoke to her in a way that nothing ever had before. She loved the way it made her feel as though she were floating on air. Every rest was like holding her breath, the crescendo was the beating of her heart as Dima twirled her across the floor. Her gown floating around them as though there was nothing holding her onto this plane of existence. She could fly away, farther than any bird.

       "You're an incredible dancer," his voice brought her back down to the earth. Gravity pulling against her limbs and her hopes.

       "Oh?" An amused smile crossed her features. "You're not so bad yourself."

       A glint of something was in his eyes. She could not tell if it was amusement or something darker. She prayed to the Saints that she would not have to deal with a pining lordling with dreams of becoming king. It wasn't as though the throne would ever fall to her. Yet, some of these lordlings seemed to believe that they would inherit the throne upon marrying her. Her betrothal didn't seem to matter to any of them either.

       Why would she marry a backward Fjerdan when she could have a good, honest Ravakan? Honestly, the whole thing was rather dull.

       There was nothing that could be done about her marriage. Contracts had been signed long ago. Although, the Fjerdans were not holding up their end of the bargain particularly well. It seemed as if they assumed they could do whatever they wanted to the Grisha and get away with it. It seemed as though all they cared about was getting another country to trade with them. Something that her parents also wanted.

       "Thank you, your highness," Dima broke her out of her thoughts as he dipped her in time with the music. Her long flowing hair nearly touched the floor as strands began to fall from the mess of braids that her maids had put it up in. Her heart skipped another beat as she stared up into his eyes.

       Love was such a trivial matter to her and yet, she found it hard to not be wooed by bright eyes and a dazzling smile. She was just a girl after all. A girl with hopes, dreams, ambitions.

       Dima's dazzling smile just happened to be distracting enough to keep her mind off of her ambitions.

       "I've heard that the Princess of Ravka was a sight to behold, but I didn't expect the rumors to be true." He admitted as he gently pulled her back up. She found that she was pressed rather closely to the young man.

       "I take it that this is your first winter fete?" One of her eyebrows rose just a fraction of a centimeter, barely enough for anyone but the man standing in front of her to notice.

       "I've been spending my time with the First Army. My father is a general," he admitted as he stepped back enough to make their dance proper once more. "I've finally been allowed leave and thought I would spend my time is Os Alta."

       "And this has nothing to do with our new Sun Summoner, does it?"

       "Nothing at all," Dima's lips quirked in a handsome smirk. One that sent heat racing to Anastasia's cheeks. She fought down her blush, not wanting a soul to know her feelings.

       Her mother had once told her that she was an open book. Her emotions were easy to read and easy to figure out. Her mother had made sure that she knew it was not a good thing. Beauty was what mattered. At least, until she had done what she needed to. Then she could worry about falling in love and being in love. Until then, she had to focus on the Fjerdan prince and providing an heir when the time came.

       Anastasia's life was nothing more than a game of chess. She just didn't know if she was the pawn or the queen.

       The music slowed to a stop, her heart still kept the steady beat of the waltz. If only to keep it inside of her for a few hours more. Dima stepped away from her, bowing his head politely.

       "Thank you for the dance, your highness," he took her hand in his and raised it to his knuckles. He brushed his lips against it once, before he slipped away, disappearing into the crowd and out of her life.

       She knew better than anyone that it was easier to dance with royalty than actually spend time with them. It was one of the reasons why Nikolai had been her only friend for so long.

       Anastasia did not allow for this to keep her sedated for long. Instead, she slipped away into the crowd. Her eyes searched out Vasily, who was drinking something that was not water while flirting with a lord's daughter. One that he had been speaking with for nearly a year now. She was expecting a courting announcement any day now.

       Vasily being preoccupied was a blessing to her. She could escape from his supposedly watchful gaze and find something to do that was not fawn over the Grisha and what they could do. It wasn't like she hated the Grisha. She just thought that they didn't need to be put on parade. There was no reason for them to be a sort of sideshow.

       Anastasia slipped out of the throne room of the little palace. The noise of the music and the endless chatter allowed for her to be silent, despite the harsh clicking noise of her heels on the tiled floors.

       She could not lose herself completely in the crowd. Others moved out of the way for her, occasional bows were thrown her way while others tried to speak with her about some piece of political jargon that she didn't particularly care about. She was certain that they were only speaking to her because they thought she had her father's ear. It would be quite a shock to them when they realized that she didn't. She had no say in anything political. She was not allowed in council meetings.

       All she was was the pretty princess. The one they could trade for marriage and gain political allies through. It was quite aggravating if anyone were to ask for her opinion. Which they more than likely wouldn't. No one ever did.

       She kept her head held high, her chin pointed just slightly to show she knew who she was and what power she held, as she walked down the hallways and through the crowds. She rounded a corner, her brow furrowing as she noticed something out of the ordinary.

       A man in a guard's uniform. A man that she did not recognize.

       Anastasia knew every guard in the palaces. She had trained with much of them under Nikolai's orders. They had treated her with respect and constantly allowed her to win while also ignoring her horrid aim. Seeing someone new at the winter fete? That was quite unlikely.

       "Excuse me," her voice was soft, barely carrying above the noise of the music and idle chatter. Yet, anyone who knew the royal family would have stopped at her voice. The man kept walking for two steps before realizing his mistake.

       Something was very wrong in the Little Palace. None of the guards should have continued walking. Not even the freshest of faces would have made that mistake.

       She could tell that the man was cursing his mistake as he turned on his heel. There was a look in his eye. A glint of rage, of anxiety even. She would never wish to be the one that rage was directed against. His blue eyes seemed to stare into her soul, drowning her as though it were the depths of the sea or the Fold. His cheekbones were high, sharp enough that they might cut her if she were to touch them.

       She ignored the thundering in her chest, her four-eighths time had become a sixteenth. Fast, quick, ready to jump into her throat.

       The fact that his rage soon melted into the look of one of a new recruit did not help. His features still made him deadly, despite the innocence that he had schooled into his features. Anastasia was someone who wore a mask every day of her life. She had gotten rather good at figuring out who was faking things. She had found different ways to discern who wore a mask and who wore their true face. It was normally in the eyes, in the quirk of their lips, the slightest motion of the eyebrows. There was always a tell.

       It didn't matter who wore the mask.

       "Your Highness," he bowed somewhat awkwardly. It was almost as though there was something wrong with him. Like he had been hurt before or like he found it difficult to bow before anyone. Perhaps he thought himself a king in his own right. "May I help you?"

       His Ravakan was somewhat harsh, the syllables not coming out as easily as they would for a native speaker. She didn't think that was a warning sign. If they had needed more guards, they would have looked to recent immigrants. They'd be too happy to work for the palace and send money back to their families. She just wondered where exactly he was from. The accent didn't seem to be anywhere she could place.

       It was too prim for Kerch and too gentle for Fjerda. Maybe he was from Novi Zem, but he didn't have the air. She figured she would find out later. Now was not the time to question anything as simple as where his accent stemmed from. That would be a conversation for later.

       "You're new," she said as she stepped forward. She did not step close enough to be within his personal bubble, just enough so that he could hear her without straining himself. "I haven't seen you on the grounds before." She had not sparred with him before. It was just improper for her to say so with the entirety of the court present.

       He cleared his throat once, as though he was unsure how to approach her. Or maybe just the topic at hand.

       ”They’ve had me preparing for tonight for the last few weeks,” he said it casually, as though it were nothing but the truth. It should have been. No one would have been fool enough to break into the palaces on the one night when everyone was on high alert.

       At least, that’s what they had all been led to believe.  There was no telling if this was the truth or not. No telling if they were actually safe or if they were all just pawns in someone’s chess game.

       Anastasia was prone to believing one over the other.

       ”I see,” her eyes blazed as she looked at him, not daring to back down from his soulful gaze. “Well, in any case, I like to be well acquainted with my guards, Mr?”

       ”Vanzin,” he said quickly. He no longer looked nervous, the name fell smoothly from his lips. “Nikolai Vanzin.”

       ”Nikolai?”

       ”My mother thought it would be lucky to name me after a prince,” his cheeks heated slightly, enough to make her believe the excuse.

       ”Very well then, Mr. Vanzin. I will see you later then.”

       “I’ll be here all night, Your Highness.”

       A small smile crossed Anastasia’s lips at that, a gleam in her eye that had nothing to do with mischief and everything to do with the new handsome guard. “I expect to see you on the training field tomorrow.” She did not wait for his answer as she turned away.

       Anastasia did not notice the scowl that crossed Vanzin’s face, nor did she notice as he slipped unnoticed into the crowd. Vanzin soon becoming nothing more than a ghost.

       A ghost who went by the name of Kaz Brekker.

[spookyheaad]

Haphephobia talk

BIG TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions of rape/coercion, mentions of suicidal ideation, self harm, physical and mental abuse, as well as dehumanization. This one is kinda heavy.

.

.

.

Hi again! Currently horizontal on my couch because I have full body aches from the second covid shot and my head is killing me, but I expected this to happen as it’s normal for the second vaccine to knock you out for a day or two.

Anyway, I had a realization earlier that I write both Gild Tesoro of “One Piece”, as well as Death from “Darksiders” with Haphephobia - which is “a fear of touching or being touched”. While I write them with this phobia, it manifests within them differently, and I figured I would share some differences, and headcanons for both characters (it’s been so long since I’ve talked about my sassy depressed Nephilim husband; I miss you, Death ❤️❤️). Also with Death, I ship him with an OC I created, named Zemira. I don’t think I’ve shared a lot about her on tumblr, but I’ll be making a whole post about her another time; just know I’ll be mentioning her occasionally.

So I’ll be talking about Death’s haphephobia first, it’s a little more heavy (deadass trigger warning here for the brief mentions of rape. Skip this part if you need to):

.

.

.

So I must start out with the obligatory mentioning of that accursed chapter from The Abomination Vault:

Death and War have to seek out Lilith and gain information from her. Death is viciously adamant for War to stay outside & away from that woman, but war protests and wishes to come in with him. Death, nearly resorting to beating his brother into submission, demands him to stay outside, and War finally relents.

When the eldest Horseman goes in to see Lilith, one of the first things she says to him is something along the lines of “this isn’t a social call, is it?”. I truly forget what else is mentioned, but there are a few times where Lilith tries to mention things of a (supposed) sexual nature towards Death, and he abruptly and angrily cuts her off. The one thing I remember Lilith saying to Death was her saying that Death was always a “sensitive boy” which makes my stomach fucking churn.

What is heavily implied in this scene, to me, is that Death and Lilith at some point in the past, had sexual encounters with one another that Death is very much extremely embarrassed and ashamed of, and with Lilith’s ability to seduce any being regardless if they want to partake or not, it’s safe to say that Death could have possibly been coerced into said sexual activity. Lilith’s ability to seduce is described almost like a date-rape drug to me, it causes people to fall under some kind of spell or go into a trance; what is a big uh-oh to me is when Death describes that War would be weak to Lilith’s wiles, or her tricks. So she is definitely capable of coercing people in any way to get what she wants. Also fucking keep in mind that Lilith refers to Death as her SON, which adds a whole new level of “what the fuck” to that situation; it’s just icky.

I feel that Death, because of this run in (or run-ins) with Lilith, developed a massive fear of being touched, which is backed up in canon in Darksiders 2. He does not allow anyone to physically touch him under any circumstance; when Death arrived in the Makers’ realm, Eideard touched his chest where the amulet pieces are embedded. Death recoils quickly and with a venomous growl, states: “Don’t touch me!”

Then of course when he goes to visit Lilith, she touches his chest as well, and he physically pushes her hand away from his body. She also refers to herself as Death’s mother, and Death angrily states: “You are not my mother!” Also from the moment Death sets foot in Lilith’s domain, he is not thrilled to be there, and acts very different towards her; more defensive, more on guard it seems.

So this headcanon stems from all of that; he will not let anyone touch him, it’s just that severe. Where my OC comes in, I actually have a story on AO3 titled “Haphephobia” and it shows how Death & Zemira try to get past this aversion to touch, so 1.) Zemira can give him affection and 2.) Death can allow himself to be loved. I’ll link it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860320/chapters/73476759

Death cannot even bring himself to hold her hand in the very beginning. So Zemira started there, holding his hand, physical closeness, and very slowly, started working to larger forms of touch. Obviously this gave Death massive amounts of anxiety, so this is why the process is extremely slow. It makes it even more important to go slow because Death tries to hide any weak emotions, so the physical and mental stress he puts himself under is tenfold.

I think that’s all for Death. His Haphephobia is extremely severe, from the specific traumas he has experienced, possibly being forced into sexual activity with his god damn “”mother””, as well as hiding his sensitivity and kindness (my headcanons for why he does that is a whole other post waiting to be written) and just not believing he is deserving of such love and care.

Ok, now for Tesoro (specific Trigger warnings here for mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, physical/mental abuse)

.

.

.

So I just recently realized that I wrote Tesoro with symptoms of Haphephobia; also compared to Death, it isn’t as severe or debilitating, but no less harmful to the person going through it.

For Tesoro I think it was sparked by a mix of guilt and insecurity, obviously as well as his past abuse from both his mother and the Celestial Dragons. But in Film Gold it’s obvious that he doesn’t have an issue with being touched, I’m referencing the scene with the pool girls. I think in canon, he’s on high alert when someone goes to touch him, especially if it’s someone he is not familiar with, or does not like. It’s more of an automatic thing that he learned to suppress over time, especially because he absolutely craves attention and affection, and his fear of touch gets in the way of that.

So in a way, he did learn how to work through it, but it wasn’t proper or healthy, and because of that it’s still there in the back of his mind. I also believe that he doesn’t like people pinning him by the wrists/hands/arms or holding him down in any way, or being bound (sexual or non sexual, he does not like it). It triggers severe panic and flashbacks, so, it’s a big no.

In terms of if he were to be around Stella, it becomes heightened. It’s not that he’s afraid of her; he knows her well. He is afraid for her sake, that he would hurt her in some way simply by allowing her to touch him. All through his life, Tesoro was made to feel like he wasn’t worth the space he took up in his existence. His mother did not love him, the one person that could have given him some form of gentle gesture. She instead hurt him, screamed at him, made him feel worthless. Then we all know about the celestial dragons; they didn’t even see Tesoro as a human, and that mixed with the beatings from both the celestial dragons and his mother, he is weary to allow others to get close.

After Stella died, In his heart of hearts Tesoro genuinely thought that he was unloveable, mainly because of his mother. The one woman who brought him into this world didn’t care about his dreams or his well-being, so then how can anyone else? Then, when he found the single person that cared about him, she was whisked away from him without a second thought. Tesoro feels doomed to observe yet never experience the love and kindness that the world had to offer.

That mixed with Haphephobia makes him very cautious of others, and in the case of Stella, vehemently afraid. He loves her, and she loves him in return; Tesoro knows this full well, (we’re headed to the “if Stella survived” AU) after they reunite he is so afraid to touch her and it’s painful to him when she touches his body. It’s another source of frustration and anger because he knows that he is still in love with her, but his own body is trying to push her away. He would tear open his body for the apprehension to leave, to finally feel the comfort he yearned for within Stella’s embrace. No more fear, no more being brought to tears because he felt he didn’t deserve her kindness, no more guilt.

Both he & Death feel unloveable but for different reasons:

Death feels unloveable because of the atrocities he has committed, specifically the Nephilim Genocide & the creation of the Grand Abominations. He feels knee-crushing amounts of guilt for taking part in such events, and he puts up a facade of being an uncaring monster, when he is very much the opposite. He has kindness to give, yet is afraid to show it because of that idea that he is to be seen as nothing but an attack dog for the Charred Council. But this is also the same Nephilim who was so tired of making things that took life, and chose to make something that gave life instead, and gifted said item to his sister, Fury. This is the same Nephilim who took his own life to prove that his youngest brother War did not start the apocalypse. He cares so deeply, has insurmountable love to give, yet feels incapable of doing so.

Tesoro thinks he is unloveable because the world conditioned him to view himself as such. The extreme abuse he suffered told him that he is trash; an afterthought whose only use is as a punching bag or a wasted body to rend flesh from. Ants had more worth in this world than he, and Tesoro knew it. All it took was Stella, one person, for him to see that he is worthy of such a thing, that nothing that went on in their pasts was his fault, and that he does deserve to be given gentle touches, soft reassuring hugs, feather-light kisses, and that he is able to be loved.

[honeypirate]

HIIIIIIIIII!!!! I hope your okay and safe

But I was hoping to request a Aone x reader where the reader is Futakuchi twin sister and she has the mega crush on Aone. And the way they find out that she likes Aone is when they walk in on her singing “Bestfriend Brother by The victorious cast “

(I’ve been binging Victorious like a 10 year old again and it’s been on repeat hope you have a great day<3)

I hope youre doing well! Thanks for being patient with me writing.

I never really got into Victorious because it was like at the end of my childhood, I only ever watched a few episodes 😂 but I remember really liking the mean girl. I thought she was so cool.

Anyway I hope you like this! I didn’t know how to end it so I just... ended it.

Aone Takanobu x Fem!Reader who is Futa’s twin

Your palms were sweating as you walked to the volleyball gym, butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face, you’ve been the manager for a year now but every day it’s the same since you developed a major crush on a certain tall white haired boy. “You’re late little sis!” Futakuchi says, ruining your good mood. You sigh and send him a death glare before smiling sweetly “I can’t believe i’m so blessed to have you as a Twin, Kenji” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm, before turning to the rest of the team “sorry i’m late!” you bow “no worries y/n” a few boys say with a chuckle.

As you settle on the bench with your notebook you finally let yourself look at the real reason you wanted to become a manager, Aone Takanobu, part of the infamous wall, quiet, shy, so cute and sweet. You blush when he looks over at you, catching you staring. He thought it was pretty adorable the way you blushed when he looked at you, and the way you looked down to your notebook in your lap, scribbling away. You were really scribbling down any words you could think of so you looked busy, just until your cheeks cooled off at least.

You should be more confident around him, he comes over often to hang out with your brother and his friends, you can have small conversations with him and feel comfortable around him at home but for some reason when he catches you looking at him while he plays volleyball you can’t help but blush, like you were caught ogling him or something.

When you felt relaxed again you pulled out your phone to text your best friends group chat, it consisted of Karasuno’s Yachi and Kiyoko, as well as Yukie and Kaori from Fukurodani.

“Ughghsadkj he looks so good date tech wall is RIGHT” you send with several drooling emojis

“Maybe you should talk to him instead of just blushing and looking away” Kiyoko sends back and you pout “no fair you know i’m working on it”

“She is working on it, give her time, we all know she’s a late bloomer” Kaori says and you feel grateful until she quickly adds “plus im trying to convince her to serenade him with her ukulele LMAO”

“I’m leaving this chat” you send and then shove your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the next couple buzzes.

You weren't mad, you thought they were funny, but you also thought they were right. You needed to step up and open up communication so you can talk to him normally and if that goes well maybe you can ask him out. You can’t keep pinning here forever! Time for action! You’d call them later and explain everything. You turn your attention back to the practice, actually doing your job now so the coach doesn’t yell at you.

As your usual Friday night, you walk home with the team to eat dinner, where you usually go to your room and study after, the team heading to the living room to study themselves or play video games.

After you are done studying you open a video chat room on your computer on your desk, calling Kiyoko who is hanging out with Yachi and who adds in Kaori and Yukie, you video chat every night for a little while it’s basically tradition, feels weird to not call them every night after seven.

“How’s Karasuno doing? How’s that quick attack?” Yukie asks Kiyoko, they’ve been talking for a few minutes while you stand on top of your bed, ukulele in your hands as you pluck through a familiar song, lost in your thoughts, your music playing in the background.

“Really y/n? You have Victorious on your music playlist?” You pop out of your thoughts and toss your ukulele on your pillows as you use your phone to turn up the music and start singing along to the second verse, dancing on your bed while facing the camera, their laughter coming through the speakers “I kinda think that I might be his type, 'Cause when you're not around, he's not acting too shy, Sometimes I feel like he might make a move, Is this all in my head? I don't know what to do” you’re doing made up dance moves on the spot, making the crazy notion around your head, doing little kicks as you bounce on your bed, pointing at the camera, a smile on your lips as you really get into the music “I know it's strange I don't know what he's thinking. But it is wrong if I see him this weekend? I really hope I can get him alone I just don't, don't want her to know Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah My best friend's brother is the one for me”

you hear Kaori through the computer speakers saying “this is the song you should sing to Aone when you confess” they have knowing smiles on their lips but you don’t realize. You don’t realize that they can see the boys standing in your doorway behind you.

You stop and smile, panting from your dancing “that wouldn’t make sense though, he’s not my best friends brother he’s my brother’s best friend” you start to sing again “'Cause I just can't get him out of my mind, and Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” but before you can sing anymore you hear “pffffffttttt” from your doorway and you panic, your foot landing on the back edge of your bed and slipping, effectively throwing yourself from your bed and to the ground.

It feels like you’re frozen in this moment of panic, looking up at your brother and his team, Aone standing right next to him, as your brother laughs hysterically, holding his stomach doubled over “this is amazing. This is the best thing that could have ever happened to me!” Futakuchi is struggling to catch his breath and the rest of the team is chuckling and starting to move away from the door leaving just Aone and Futa.

You scramble from your spot on your back on the floor and pop up to your feet, running your fingers through your hair “uhh how long were you…?” “THE WHOLE TIME” Futa says with peals of laughter. Aone frowns, his ears and cheeks pink and he shoves Futa down the hallway to the stairs before coming back to you, gesturing to your room, asking permission to come in.

“Oh! Yeah of course. Come on in” you say with a nervous laugh, it feels like your stomach has twisted, acid in the back of your throat as you step back into your room. Aone comes into your room and closes it in the face of your twin, who groans outside of the door but doesn’t cause any more problems, surprisingly. You look back at your computer in time to see the girls wave before they disconnect the call.

“So uh.. yeah.. I don’t know what to say to make this any better and less embarrassing” you avoid looking at him, focusing your vision on the edge of your shirt, a thread from the hem you were wrapping around the end of your first finger.

“You… like me?” He asks and you feel your face get warmer, a small smile uncontrollably on the edge of your mouth. You clear your throat and decide that if you were to confess you’d do it confidently. You look up into his eyes and gasp, your heart skipping at the sight of the big guy smiling sweetly at you, his cheeks flushed and his ears red, he looked shy and sweet and oh my god he made your heart skip along like it was made to beat for him “yes” you say and then more confidently add “I like you very much”

You didn’t think he could look cuter but you were wrong, the light that came to his eyes once you admitted it, the way he reached out towards you, had you without hesitation crossing the room and closing the distance. he took your hands in his, his calloused palms rough against yours.

Your eyes were glued to his, the sweet energy reciprocated and smiles matching as he said as a matter of factly “I like you too” you laugh once, in shock, before throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight “really?!” You ask and he laughs into your neck as he hugs you back, his voice muffled against your skin “yes. I like you so much” you pull back and kiss his cheek “thank you” he quirks his brows “for liking you back?” He questions and you laugh “yeah kinda. but mostly for not laughing at my singing and when I fell” he smiles and shakes his head “I like your singing” you blush and hug him again “thank you, Takanobu” he hums, a low and happy sound from his chest that reverberates into you

“are you done studying?” You ask when you pull away from the embrace, your hands still in his. He nods “do you wanna hang out here? With me? Until you have to go home?” He smiles and nods “yes I’d love that”

[mourntheantagonist]

Steve and Billy going camping with Max n the Party and all Billy wants to do is get in a tent with Steve

Hey I’m here thirty years later!

I had a lot of fun with this one so I hope this is kind of in the realm of what you wanted!!!

read on ao3

How a gaggle of fourteen year olds managed to convince Steve to take them all on a weekend camping trip was beyond him. Okay maybe it wasn’t. All it took was El’s signature pout and Steve was as good as gone. The real shocker however, is how they managed to convince Billy Hargrove of all people to tag along as well.

He’d heard from Max that their relationship had been slowly improving ever since that night at the Byers, and he’d have to agree with Max that Billy had truly become less hostile as the months passed. But this was the first time he’s ever seen Billy acting so brotherly.

Steve had driven the male party members out into the woods, while Billy, Max, and El had driven separately. The three were late, of course. But Steve’s not quite sure he can exactly pin that on Billy. El is definitely poor when it comes to punctuality. 

They couldn’t actually set up shop until the others arrived, seeing as they were supposed to select the chosen spot together. But as he watched the seconds tick by on his watch he grew more and more impatient he was close to saying fuck it and making it a boys only trip. That was until, seemingly on cue, the familiar roar of the Camaro echoed through the trees.

Watching Billy step out from the driver's seat was the first reminder that he hadn’t actually seen Billy in a while. Because so much had changed. His hair was less disheveled and chaotic as he remembered. But way curlier. It was slightly lighter too. The arrival of summer brought out the natural highlights in his hair. But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. Instead of exiting the car with the slam of his foot, the flick of a cigarette, and a predatory look… he was laughing. Laughing along with El and Max about something entirely unknown, and when asked, wasn’t revealed.

If Steve hadn’t let himself grow increasingly annoyed over the past fifteen minutes he stood there waiting, he might’ve cared to know. But the sun was beating down, he’d had to listen to Mike and Dustin argue about some Star Trek nonsense for the duration of the drive along with the time spent waiting, and he was starving. 

“You’re late.” Steve said dryly.

“That’s my fault,” Billy replied with some residual laughter from whatever was so funny. “I forgot to counter in Hopper’s 20 minute ‘protect my kid’ speech when I went to pick up El.”

“Well I’m starving. So let’s find a spot, and let’s find it quickly.” Steve probably should’ve tried at least a little to tone down his irritation.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Max says under her breath, causing El to break out into another fit of giggles.

The gang decided not to test their luck against a hungry Steve Harrington. Especially not one wielding a baseball bat coated in rusty nails. So they piled all their camping supplies onto their backs and hauled ass through the woods.

After only ten minutes of searching, they stumbled across a nice clearing just 50 feet off the lake with a picnic table and fire pit already set up for them. Perfect.

The guys started by setting up their tents, while El and Max worked on gathering twigs for the fire. Dustin has meticulously established the sleeping arrangements. Five small tents. Eleven with Max, Dustin with Will, Lucas with Mike, and Billy and Steve alone in their own separate tents. It’s the perfect set up so long as Lucas doesn’t bring up any conversation regarding Empire Strikes Back being anything lower than number one out of the entire trilogy. Because then there would be chaos.

But when is Mike not the problem?

After getting set up, they finally got to break out some delicious ham and swiss sandwiches (courtesy of Claudia Henderson), and Steve was finally entering into a better mood.

He couldn’t entirely credit the sandwich however, because something about this new and improved Billy warmed something inside of him. He was less abrasive and more relaxed. He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone and instead was allowing himself to have a good time. Teasing his sister rather than tormenting her. Tossing knowing looks towards Lucas rather than threatening ones. Okay scratch that. They were definitely threatening. But more playful. The typical older brother spiel. The ‘you hurt her, I’ll rip your throat out through your ears’ kind of thing. And he was actually trying to make conversation with him. Only slightly poking fun at him every now and then. Not for the purposes of taunting, instead just his typical charm showing through.

“So what you been up to this summer? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

“I’ve been working at Scoops Ahoy in the new mall. Not much else really.”

Billy took another bite of his sandwich and nodded. “I recently got hired on at the pool. Teaching lessons and life guarding. Saving up for when I go out to college in the fall.” He didn’t swallow the bite before speaking. New and improved Billy didn’t have table manners he guesses.

“Oh really? Where you headed to?”

“Full ride at USC.” Billy let out a hollow laugh. “Dad’s pissed I’m not enlisting.”

Steve picked up on the way Billy’s smile faltered at the mention of his Dad. He’d remembered Max mentioning once or twice about how her step-father was an asshole. For fucks sake Billy got a full ride to a prestigious university and his Dad is upset about that? He couldn’t even get into Tech. 

“I think it’s awesome.” Steve finally said. “I didn’t get accepted anywhere so I’m probably going to end up going to work for my Dad at his company.”

Apparently Steve let his disappointment show in the last statement. 

“Shit that sucks man. Dads are shit.”

Steve lets his mouth twitch upward into a smile. He looks back down at his almost finished sandwich and lets out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. Dads are shit.”

- : -

After they all finished up their late lunches, the kids decided to move the party away from the table and into the lake. They walked along the lake shore for maybe a quarter of a mile before finding an abandoned rope swing attached to a tree directly next to deep waters. Steve and Billy both notice as Max gets this fire in her eye and neither adult bothers stopping her before pushing an unexpecting Lucas into the water. The whole group bursts into laughter as he makes the splash, well everyone except of course for Lucas.

But quickly the rest of them joined him in the water. All of them swinging in by the rope. Surprisingly the most timid out of all of them was Steve himself, who in a moment of desperation had to have Billy give him a push. 

Billy followed him in with a much larger splash than he had previously achieved. But it wasn’t a competition or anything.

Billy emerged from the water like a fucking mermaid. Graceful. His hair was completely saturated in water yet his curls still managed to pack a punch. He glistened under the rays of the sun and with the reflection of the water beneath him. Steve felt chills up and down his entire body as he watched him float away on his back. Watching as his chiseled chest rose and fell with every breath and the light from the sun reflected off of the water droplets on his sun kissed skin. He would just excuse it for the cool temperature of lake water.

But it wasn’t that cold to be completely honest. It’s June. One of the hottest months of the year and the weather is peaking at nearly 100 degrees. The water feels perfect in actuality. 

Steve swims around for a bit with the boys, plays a couple rounds of Marco Polo, and then excuses himself to lie out on the shore. He watches as they all have a blast. Lucas and Max are basically trying to drown Mike. Will and Dustin are competing to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest. Will has been cheating the entire time and Dustin has absolutely no clue. Billy and El are off in the corner. He’s picking her up and tossing her into the water. They both appear to be having a really good time. Billy is surprisingly really good with El. He’s actually pretty good with all of the kids all things considered. Something must’ve happened when he wasn’t looking because he seemed to be the only one to bat an eye at the mentioning that Billy Hargrove would be joining them on the trip. 

Steve inspected the time and decided to give the kids their 15 minute warning. Sun set was inching closer and they still had other preparations. He watched as Max swam over to where El and Billy were and after watching them exchange a couple sentences, Billy swam away and towards where Steve sat on the shore. 

Billy pushed himself out of the water and dried himself off with a towel. He wrung out his hair and secured the wet mess of curls up with a purple scrunchie. He threw his sweatshirt on, zipper remaining undone showing off his exposed chest, and he plopped down next to Steve. 

Oh boy. Steve hopes Billy didn’t notice the fact that he was staring at him that entire time.

“So what’s the plan for the rest of tonight Stevie?”

Steve feigned annoyance at the nickname (though it secretly made him embarrassingly giddy). “Well we’re going to roast some hot dogs and make some s’mores and hang around the fire before bed.”

“Sounds like a plan Harrington.”

An uncomfortable silence grows from there. The two of them sitting side by side looking out at the lake in front of them. Nothing but the sounds of splashing water and giggling teenagers. Billy is picking at the grass. Thinking. Steve might say he even looks nervous.

“I’m sorry about last November.” Billy doesn’t look up from where it’s pointing towards the overgrown blades of dead grass. 

It’s not the snarky and forced apology he was expecting. To be completely honest he never did expect one. Seven months had passed since it happened and not a single word from Billy. He just left him alone like his sister demanded.

“I’ve wanted to apologize before. But I wasn’t in a great place and didn’t want to screw it up. I probably already did by taking so long.” He took a deep breath and finally looked up. Eyes focused on the lake and avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I needed to make sure I was apologizing for the right reasons. Not just to get my sister off my back or to somehow make myself feel better about what I did to your face. I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

 Billy finally looks over at Steve who has been staring at Billy with wide eyes. It’s weird, because when Steve thinks about it, he kind of forgave him a long time ago. Because yeah, what Billy did was shitty, but not completely unfounded. He’s been underneath someone like that, barreling into him without care, more than once. It would have been easy to say Billy and his interaction was nothing like what he had with Jonathan Byers. Billy was actually a bad guy. 

But that’s the thing. He really wasn’t. Not after everything happened. 

He wasn’t outwardly kind. But he didn’t start shit. He minded his own business and moved through high school the same way everyone else did. And after hearing Max and Dustin and El vouch for him to come on this trip, well that sort of just sealed the deal. He forgave him before he even apologized.

But here he was. Apologizing. And for some reason Steve was rethinking ever forgiving him. It made no sense. But somehow actually knowing and believing Billy was actually sorry made forgiveness harder. Like in his mind it was easier because Billy didn’t get to know that he was forgiven. He was scared by telling Billy that he would be justifying what he did. 

So Steve doesn’t respond. And he can tell that Billy’s upset about it. It’s only been ten minutes but he decides to call the kids out of the water anyway.

- : -

The sun was setting and everyone had gathered around the campfire to roast marshmallows. Things had been ever so tense between Steve and Billy ever since their conversation at the lake. No one else seemed to notice though. 

It was easy to distract himself from Billy’s saddened state by watching as Dustin set his marshmallow on fire. Every time without fail. Max wasn’t roasting hers, just eating the marshmallows straight out of the bag because she doesn’t like graham crackers. Billy was intently making the most golden brown marshmallow for El because she didn’t know how to properly roast her own. It was really sweet. Billy seemed happy to do it but at the same time he had that lingering gloomy look on his face that would come in and out of existence.

Steve felt a little bad because he did that. Yeah, it’s the guy who nearly killed him, but he didn’t want to make him sad. 

He brightened up a little bit when the bickering began between Dustin and Mike. This was the reason they couldn’t share a tent. Max, El, and Billy moved into their own conversation out of earshot while Steve tried to calm down an overly enthusiastic Dustin.

When the argument ended Billy was looking to be in a much better mood than before. It was a little odd. They noticed the fire starting to dim so Max and El quickly excused themselves to go gather some more twigs from the forest. 

Billy was poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive (masking a developing smirk on his face).

“Hey Steve!!” Max’s voice echoes. “There’s a gaping hole in your tent!” 

El is stifling a laugh. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

Steve rushes over to inspect the damage and yeah, it’s a gaping hole alright. His entire body could fit through it. How did he not notice it earlier?

“Goddamnit!” Steve curses the air.

“I’m sure Billy wouldn’t mind sharing!” El says, albeit, a little too excitedly.

Steve looks over to Billy who is still poking at the fire. “Yeah. I got room, I don’t mind.” 

And now Steve can’t just say no. He’d have to give a reason and well… he’s kind of strapped for an alternative so, Billy’s tent it is.

- : -

They stay by the campfire until the sun has completely set and the fire has gone out on its own. They broke out a couple of Beers and after several minutes of constant begging Steve caved and let the party have a small amount of beer each, poured into a red solo cup.

“This tastes like shit.” Dustin made a ridiculous face.

“Still better than New Coke.” Mike chimed in.

Billy helped Steve carry his things over to Billy’s tent. It was extremely awkward. Billy hadn’t really said a word to Steve the entire time and now they were supposed to sleep side by side in a pretty compact space? This should be fun.

An over dramatic yawn released by Max was their signal to head to sleep. The stars were clear above them and they had a pretty eventful day. Steve made sure everything was good while the rest of them piled into their own tents. Once he’s sure the food is secured and everyone is where they’re supposed to be, he sucks in a sharp breath and makes his way over to Billy in his tent.

Billy is already in his sleeping bag. He’s got a book in one hand and a flashlight in his other. Steve quickly discards his shoes and jeans and covers himself in his own sleeping bag. 

They’re both facing away from each other. It isn’t until Steve hears the click of the flashlight and the illumination in the tent disappears that he realizes neither of them have spoken. 

Steve has been thinking about the apology all night. He planned to just leave it be. Maybe thank him for apologizing but leave it at that. But seeing how much he’s changed and seeing how sincere he was being told him maybe Billy deserved to be forgiven. He also looked like he needed to be forgiven, despite what he said before at the lake. 

“I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

“I forgive you Billy.”

“Hmm?”

“I said I forgive you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it back at the lake.” Steve took in a deep breath and continued. “I wasn’t sure if it would be the right thing. But you’re clearly not the same person you were that night. I just didn’t really see it at first. I’m going to have to get used to this new and improved version of Billy Hargrove.”

Billy smiled to himself. 

“Thanks.”

Steve smiled too. 

The tent grew silent again after that. But it was slightly less tense than it was before.

“Can I say something stupid?” Billy asks.

Steve turns over to face Billy. He laughs. “Yeah. It’d be nice hearing it come from someone else for a change.”

Billy doesn’t turn to face Steve, but he can tell that he’s nervous because it’s quiet enough to hear his breathing quicken.

“I like you. Like… in that way. Sorry if that’s weird.”

Steve is quick to respond.

“Hey, it’s not weird. Don’t apologize for that.” He’s thinking a lot about Will. He and Dustin had talked about it before. How they’d be sure to make sure that Will knew it was okay whenever he chose to tell them. He doesn’t see why that should be any different for anyone else. Including Billy Hargrove.

But he guesses this is kind of different. It’s not just a confession of being into guys. It’s a confession of being into a specific guy. The specific guy in question being Steve.

It would also be pretty hypocritical of Steve to be weirded out. Not two hours ago he was fully objectifying Billy’s shirtless body. He might not like Billy. But dammit he was definitely attracted to him.

“If you’re uncomfortable I can hike back to the Camaro and sleep there. It’s not a problem.”

Billy had already begun unzipping the sleeping bag. Steve instinctively put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Billy it’s seriously alright. Look at me.”

Billy hesitated before rolling over. Their eyes met and due to the compact nature of their current sleeping arrangement, their faces lie mere inches away from each other. Steve had planned something to say, but he instantly forgot when he looked into Billy’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes belonging to an egregious asshole. They were the eyes belonging to a scared kid that maybe, given the time, Steve could grow to like. 

He could try blaming it on the beer. But Billy and himself both knew he didn’t even finish the one. But still, Steve inched closer and kissed him. It was soft and gentle. Steve moved a hand up to caress Billy’s cheek. Billy gently grabbed Steve’s wrist and deepened the kiss. 

Steve could feel Billy’s smile on his lips. 

He slithered his other hand underneath Billy and pulled him in closer. Their bodies were completely pressed against each other at every point, save for the thickness of not one but two sleeping bags separating skin from skin. 

Still they could feel each other’s heartbeats increase as their pace did the same. The kiss turned from gentle to one filled with need. 

Billy began working at the zipper of his sleeping bag with his other hand and was able to break free. He rolled Steve over onto his back and situated one leg on either side of Steve’s hips. Their lips didn’t come unattached. Steve moved both hands to the back of Billy’s head and he took fists full of hair and tugged gently, causing Billy to quietly moan into his mouth.

It was complete euphoria.

Billy was in just his boxers. Meanwhile Steve was still beneath the thick material of his sleeping bag. Billy unzipped it quickly for Steve and immediately tossed it off of him. Billy snaked a hand underneath Steve’s shirt. Moving up and down the full length of his chest. Appreciating his minimal chest hair. On the trip back down Billy’s hand palmed Steve’s crotch where he was quickly becoming hard from all of the friction. Steve let out a gasp as he made contact. 

“We can’t. The kids’ll hear us.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet pretty-boy.”

Billy waited for Steve to give indication that it was okay to continue. Steve laughed and pulled him back down to meet his lips. Billy hiked up his shirt and they shortly separated to pull it over his head. Billy moved back in to Steve’s neck and sucked harshly on several spots before peppering kisses all along the length of his torso until he reached his navel. Billy stuck his thumbs underneath the waistband of Steve’s briefs and slowly rolled them down.

Billy moves so that he’s in between Steve’s legs and lowers his head into his groin. Steve feels as the tension builds in the pit of his stomach from the delicate touch of Billy’s tongue. Even under the chill from the night air he’s warm all over.

“Feels so good Billy, Fuck!” He quickly puts a hand over his mouth when he realizes he said that a little too loudly.

Steve is just lying there, experiencing the utter bliss that is Billy Hargroves mouth wrapped around his cock making him feel every sensation all at once. 

“I’m close.” He whispers. God he really hopes the kids are asleep.

“Come for me pretty-boy.”

And boy does he. Just the way he said it was enough for Steve. He was a goner at the mere drop of the words ‘pretty boy’.

Billy wiped away at his mouth and crawled back up to lay down next to him. Steve immediately pulls him into another kiss. He’s not quite ready to come down from the high he was currently in. Billy’s mouth on his was a fucking drug. 

It’s weird to thank people after sex right?

Steve settles for something else when they finally part.

“It’s my turn.”

- : -

The two of them wake up in a single sleeping bag. Steve has his arms wrapped around Billy’s wasted and his head tucked into the crook of his neck. Steve is sweating because Billy’s is a goddamn space heater.

He can hear the rustling of the tents outside and quickly wakes up Billy so they can get out of their current suggestive position.

Billy in his sleepy state gives Steve a quick kiss on the lips. He’s quickly woken up by Dustin screaming at everyone to wake up from outside the tent. 

“We’ll talk about this later?” Steve says with a laugh.

Billy nods and gives him another quick kiss before getting up and tossing on a new pair of clothes. 

Once dressed they both exit the tent to see everyone making their way to the picnic table. 

They pull out several boxes of cereal and some milk from the cooler and begin eating their breakfast. Billy is sitting across from Steve, gently kicking at his feet. 

“Hey Steve what happened to your neck?” Dustin asks.

Steve’s eyes go wide and he quickly comes up with a cover.

“Oh uh, there were a lot of mosquitoes last night. Wouldn’t leave me alone.”

They all seem to accept the response and go back to their breakfasts.

Billy smirks at him from across the table and Steve stomps on his foot.

- : -

Max, Billy and El say their goodbyes and head off in the Camaro. 

Once the Engine is running and they’ve started driving away they all burst into laughter.

“I can’t believe you actually took a knife to Steve’s tent.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked Steve!”

[ali-kitkat]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night? Obsessed Chats and Realizations.

Chapter 1        AO3

Marinette wasn’t a stranger to Gotham, she’d been back and forth between the “City of the Damned” and the “City of Lights” her whole life due to Nonna, her grandmother and a native Gothamite. Nonna demanded to spend time with her and her parents were all too eager to send her away, so Christmas breaks and summer vacations were spent overseas with her grandmother.  

She’d met the Wayne family when she was ten, when Nonna recognized Jason as a Wayne and challenged him to a street race. Jason readily accepted as Dick, who had been with his brother at the time, commiserated with her over their relative’s penchant for troublemaking. She and Dick had exploded into peals of laughter at Jason, he had lost the race and in the same breadth claimed her as a little sister. Almost immediately dubbing her ‘Pixie Pop.’ Citing that she was too small to be anything else, earning himself a few bruises on his shins. 

Somehow it was brought up that they had a brother her age and that they should meet. Dick and Jason seemed apprehensive in the moment but after meeting Damian she understood why. He was rude and abrasive, he didn’t care about anyone but himself. Though according to Dick he was actually tamer now than when he first came to live with them.

Suddenly she was a family friend to the Wayne family much to her’s and Damian’s chagrin, but they bonded over animals and she grew to care for him even with his prickly personality. 

Bruce helped get her class to Gotham for their final year trip. It was supposed to be fun; one final hurrah before final goodbyes and their graduation. Marinette supposed it was a fun bonding experience for the rest of the class, they weren’t ostracized like she was. They ignored her, usually, unless Lila wanted to cause unnecessary strife but that wasn’t the case during the trip. Marinette stayed out of the way, she ignored Lila and vice versa except Adrien had taken to badgering her. He was showering her in all kinds of attention and Lila was growing irritated with it. 

It wasn’t like she wanted his attention; it was the opposite. She wanted him to stay far away from her. He invaded her personal space, he didn’t take no for an answer, and he followed her practically everywhere. She was afraid. Adrien was standing in the middle of her hotel room. She had no idea how he got in; she certainly didn’t give him the key. She was rooming alone, so she was the only one with a keycard to the room. 

His eyes scanned her body, and she was revolted. Bile rose in her throat. She steadied herself before forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Get out.” 

“Not until we talk.”

“No.” She snarled. “Leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until we talk, Princess.” He crooned. Marinette recognized that nickname and she hated it; it made her shudder. Chat Noir the Parisian hero was Adrien Agreste. A hero he called himself. He wasn’t a hero. He was a boy with powers that he abused to stalk her. Well, now she knew how he got in her room. She let out a wry laugh. Where was Coccinelle when you needed her?

He was in front of her, towering over her before she even blinked. His lips were pulled back in a sneer and he was glaring down at her. 

Before she even noticed, he pulled her forwards to him by the front of her dress and she stumbled to the floor. Her knees hit the ground sharply, she winced and let out a yelp. He then picked her up by the collar of her dress, tearing the fabric in the process. 

“I know that you’re chasing other boys, like that tour guide at Wayne Tower. Damian, was it? Was that his name?” He asked. “Really Princess, that just won’t do. I’ll show you that I’m all you need.” 

She clawed at his hands, digging her nails into his wrists as deeply and sharply as she could. Soon enough her hands were slipping and losing their grip from the blood covering them, but Adrien dropped her. She landed on the floor, on her knees again. A sharper pain accompanied the thud this time and she felt blood drip down her knees. 

She was almost back on her feet when Adrien’s fist threw her back on the floor. She couldn’t move, she was dazed from the strike and he was atop her in an instant, pinning her beneath him. She felt him lean back and run his hand up and down her right leg, from her knee down to her ankle and back up to her knee. His fingertips skimmed along the runs of her tights before tearing the hole on the knee wider, slipping his hand under the tear and stroking her leg. 

Adrien’s face hovered over hers for a moment before leaning down and nuzzling her ear. “You’re mine, and I will enjoy you.” He hummed. She thrashed under his weight, attempting to throw him off her. He growled and in a show of dominance grabbed her face, squishing her cheeks in one hand and pressed his lips against hers. She felt the bile rise and her anger spike as his hand slipped further up her leg. She kneed him in the groin, hard. 

He fell forwards trapping her underneath him and his hand tightly grabbed her leg as he bit down on her lip. He lifted his head up and glared at her. She headbutted him, her head connecting with his nose and knocking him off balance just enough for her to free a hand from under his leg. Jabbing him in the side with her free hand, she threw him off her. 

“I am not yours.” She spat, jumping to her feet. She rushed to the door only to be intercepted by Adrien dragging her to him, pulling her flush against his chest. She howled in pain as he dug his fingers into her side. 

“Where do you think you’re going? You need to be punished, Princess.” He growled, his lips flush against her ear again. Making her shudder. Suddenly his grip loosened, and he spun her around to face him. His left hand was covered in leather, sharp claws glinting in blood. He had transformed, that’s what had dug into her side causing her pain. Adrien raised his hand in the air quickly and before she could move, he backhanded her across the face. His hand connecting with her cheek, knocking her off balance. 

She had almost fallen, almost landed on the ground again. Except for the fact that Adrien grabbed her by the hand and roughly twisted her arm behind her back, popping it out of place. She cried out and he dropped her on the ground. She landed on her side, more precisely the side into which he dug his claws. 

She attempted to stand but Adrien kicked her back down before she even got onto her feet. There was a weight on her leg. When she looked down to see what pinned her, she saw his foot resting on her leg, then the pressure increased until something snapped, and she screamed. 

Adrien bent over her and backhanded her across the cheek again, then covered her mouth with his hand, sneering down at her. She glared up at him and kicked him as hard as she could with her good leg. Sending him back while knocking the air out of his lungs. She stumbled as she rose, her leg burned in pain, but she rose and so did he. 

She grimaced as she struck him in the throat before he could move, he stumbled backwards. The room was quiet, save for Adrien’s gasps as he tried to catch his breath. She couldn’t leave the ring with Adrien, he’d just come after her again. 

“Princess.” He rasped out, freezing her in place. All adrenaline and fight left her body. Her breath caught in her throat and her vision went black. She couldn’t care less about the ring, all she wanted was to get away from him, anywhere but the hotel. She wanted to be safe. Suddenly there was a light and she was standing in front of Wayne Manor. 

Then Damian was there with rage in his eyes and in his voice, and all she could see was Adrien and she wanted to get away again. Something must have shown that and Damian softened. He pulled her close so she wouldn’t stumble and wiped her blood from her face. He pleaded and his voice cracked and she answered, Adrien did this to her and then she was breaking down. 

She couldn’t hold herself up any longer, she was tired and in pain, and she wanted to rest. She stumbled forwards and Damian caught her. He held her gently while carrying her inside as she whimpered in pain. She curled up in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder, listening to his heart beat and his whispered  reassurances

“He won’t get away with this.”  

“You’ll be okay.” 

“I won’t let you go.” 

She believed him and she trusted him. 

[anotheronechicagobog]

The Crackship Sails To Molly’s - Jay Halstead x Ethan Choi

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

A/N: Homophobia, the Catholic church, Catholic guilt, mention of canon-compliant violence, mention of two men having sex, it’s all pretty mild but I wanted to make sure it was all in the warnings, also I don’t like Doris and it shows

A/N 2: What do you guys think their ship name would be? Choistead? Haloi? 

A/N 3: If you have a problem with LGBTQ people please go fuck yourself

They ran into each other at the last place they thought they would. Since Jay and Ethan had both been in the military, though in different factions, they figured they might run into each other at military events, they already had. But literally bumping into each other at an LGBTQ+ military personnel picnic? That shocked both of them. Ethan took notice of Jay’s pansexual flag pin and Jay looked at Ethan’s bisexual one. After the initial shock wore off, Ethan smiled, he was happy to know that he wasn’t alone in his social circle. Sure, Leslie Shay was a loud and proud lesbian, but they didn’t have anything in common and just made sure to say ‘hi’ whenever they ran into each other and buy each other nachos whenever they ran into each other at pride events (don’t ask, it just became their thing). Ethan went to give him a ‘dude hug’, as Leslie had dubbed them, when he noticed the fear etched onto Jay’s face. “Halstead, are you okay?” Honestly, he looked like he was about to burst into tears. “Jus- uhh” Jay hiccuped and Ethan was now justifiably worried. “Don’t tell Will.” And then Jay ran away from Ethan and the gentle arm he’d had on his shoulder like a bat out of hell. Jay could still feel the warmth of Ethan’s hand on his right shoulder as he drove away.

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

Ethan didn’t tell Will. He didn’t give any indication that he knew something Will didn’t. He understood how important it was for him to keep quiet, but at the same time, it was so hard. Ethan wanted nothing more than to march up to the redhead and beat some sense into him. Will had obviously made to Jay that he wouldn’t be accepted if he came out. And he didn’t care, quite frankly. He had absolutely no sympathy for homophobes, he was done giving kindness and sympathy to people who wished that others wouldn’t exist because it deviated out of what they considered ‘normal’. So he’d gone back to being impassive and straight-faced. He pushed all of his feelings down because if he allowed himself to feel anything it would be complete and utter rage.

The next time he saw Jay was when he’d come into the ED to interview an assault victim. Apparently, there was a group of men catfishing and then assaulting LGBTQ+ men. Ethan’s heart ached just thinking about the case, all of the injured, betrayed victims. And Jay. Ethan didn’t want to know what was going through his mind, he probably viewed this as another reason not to come out.

The eye contact between them was brief, but Jay showed him vulnerability, and then thanks when Ethan gave him a sympathetic smile. Just trying to untangibley reach out and connect with his aching soul. And then suddenly it was gone, the grace that had bound the two of them temporarily, and Ethan had to watch with a sinking heart as Jay emotionally shrunk in on himself. “How’s our victim doing, Choi?”

“Not great, I’m afraid. He’ll live, but there’s going to be long lasting health problems for him.” 

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it is.”

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

Two days later, after the catfishing homophobes were caught, Ethan ran into Jay outside of Molly’s. His eyes were dark, broad shoulders were slumped, and he moved like his mind possessed all the strength his body just couldn’t muster. “Hey Choi- uh, Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we go somewhere to talk? Maybe get a drink?”

“Well, we are standing outside of a bar.”

“Somewhere that’s not packed to the seams with nosey people who know who I... Don’t want to hear what I want to talk... About. Y’know what? This was stupid-”

“How about Osso’s? Over on Folger street? It’s not a bar, but I’m starving and their booths have curtains.”

“Yeah, that sounds great, actually, thanks.”

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

“I figured out that I was bi when I was fourteen. I was watching The Mummy for the first time and I couldn’t stop thinking about how hot Brendan Fraser was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Rachel Weisz was hot too, but Brendan really got my attention. When the movie was over, uh, well let’s just say that my Catholic guilt took hold. My mom knew, I told her when I was seventeen, and she kept trying to set me up with her friends’ daughters. She didn’t care, just told me that she loved me and that there was nothing wrong with me, but that I shouldn’t tell my dad or Will. She didn’t sugarcoat anything, she took me to this secluded spot on the pier and told me about homophobia and how bad it was, not just morally, but that it ran rampant, and that my father and brother were two heavy believers in an institution who made it their mission to oppress as many people as possible. Looking back, I think my dad knew, don’t know how or if he actually does, it’s just more of a gut feeling. My brother is still incredibly Catholic, he’s become more accepting over time, but it’s clear that while he’s okay with strangers being LGBTQ+, he’s not okay with anyone he’s close to being anything other than straight. The, uh, my first time I was nineteen and it was during my rangers training, with one of my now best friends, who I dated during that time for a while. Everything kinda fell apart when we got discharged. Mouse or-”

“Greg Gerwitz. I remember him.”

“Yeah, we broke up after we were discharged. Well, he broke up with me. Neither of us were handling being back well but he was handling it worse. It hurt like he;;, I missed him so much. After I started in Intelligence I brought him in as a CI. I just wanted to know he was okay, be near him again. But he was not the same man I’d fallen in love with. He was an addict, had a record, a small one, but still. I broke my heart almost as much as our breakup did. A little later I got him a job as our tech guy. It was good having him around, especially cause he was coming back, y’know? He’d quit his habits, became a law-abiding citizen. It was great. Then, he asked me out, asked me to take him back, and I did. Without a second of hesitation. Being together again felt amazing, but then he got his record expunged, dumped me, again, and went back to the rangers. It completely tore me to pieces, I got time off and didn’t get out of bed for two weeks after he deployed. Uh, wow, sorry to unload all of that on you. And that was probably a lot of information you didn’t want to hear-”

“No, no, Jay. It’s actually nice to talk about this, even though I’m out and open, I don’t actually get the chance to talk about it all that much. I’d actually like to share if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

“I was twenty-one when I figured it out. I was on brief leave in the navy, just a couple of days without duties while we were docked in Puerto Rico. I got pretty drunk, a guy I was dancing near was pretty drunk too, he kissed me, I kissed him back, and one thing lead to another. When I got back to port the next day, my friends all asked where I’d gone off to. I told them I got laid. It didn’t really hit me until the following night when I was in my bunk, lying awake because I couldn’t forget the feeling of his lips, or the callouses on his hands, or... Other quite honestly filthy details I probably shouldn’t share in a public place. I couldn’t sleep properly for two weeks, I come from a traditional Korean family. All I could think about was how they’d react. What would they do if they found out? I found out when I was twenty-nine. My sister, Emily, had somehow found out, and when she burst through the door, drunk off her ass, at the first Thanksgiving I’d been able to attend in five years, she announced it to everyone when I tried to calm her down and get her up to bed. The look, on my parents’ faces, I couldn’t even look at my grandparents. I just said sorry and ran out. I crashed at a fling’s place for a week. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone or to go see them. I felt like someone had put my chest through a trash compactor, I couldn’t stop crying. I had lost my entire family in less than ten seconds. You know that subtle, back of the mind dread you feel when you’re boarding a plane for your next deployment? Normally, you push it away, accept it’s a possibility but try not to think about it. I welcomed it. I hoped I’d get killed, that I wouldn’t make it home. But then... My grandparents were at my gate. Their faces just lit up and they welcomed me with open arms. They both hugged me and made me promise to come home, not to be a hero. They gave me hope. They loved and supported me, went toe-to-toe with the rest of my family for me. I’ll never be able to thank them enough.”

“They sound really great, I’m glad that you have them.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Suddenly the heavy curtain closing off their booth from the rest of the world was pushed to the side. “Gentlemen, your food is ready. Who ordered the grilled salmon?”

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

Ethan and Jay had grown much closer, having bi-weekly dinners. Sometimes at Osso’s, sometimes at Bartoli's, sometimes at their own apartments. They’d become close, close friends. But because drama followed them around like a moth to a flame because it felt like they lived in an overly dramatic tv show sometimes, it couldn’t stay that way.

Jay started to watch Ethan when he licked his lips after he took a sip of a drink, when the muscles in his arms lengthened themselves when he reached for something, that twinkle he got in his eyes whenever he got cocky. Jay knew what was happening from the first moment he found himself looking at Ethan’s lips for more than a millisecond. He was falling in love. And all that he could do was loathe himself for boarding a vessel with impending doom.

Reasons I Can’t Fall In Love With Ethan

Will doesn’t know I’m bi 

Ethan works with Will

Ethan is in the reserves and Mouse left me to go back to a warzone, it would kill me if it happened a second time

His ex, April, is currently trying to get back together with him

April also works with Ethan and Will

Ethan doesn’t love me so I’d just be ruining our friendship

Jay looked down at his list and recited it in his head, over and over again. He needed to memorize it, live by it. If he didn’t his entire world, which he just finally found comfort in again, would crumble to the ground.

Jay didn’t distance himself from Ethan, his heart wouldn’t let him, but it got harder and harder to ignore his ever-growing feelings. But he couldn’t tell Ethan, he couldn’t be with Ethan, he knew that far too well. So the next time Ethan confided in Jay that April had made a move on him Jay did something incredibly, fabulously, thoroughly idiotic. “You should ask April out, man. I think that you guys would be great together.”

Yup. 

He actually did that.

Sigh.

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

“Alright, who is she?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on Jay, I’m your brother. I know you. The last time you looked like this and were drinking vodka, of all things, was when Erin left. You only drink vodka when you’re experiencing troubles of the heart.”

“I drank vodka when Mouse went back to the rangers.” 

“After he’d broken up with you to go back to the same warzone he’d almost died in.”

Jay choked on his drink and felt his heart plummet out of his body and onto the floor. Burning tears blurred his vision and Jay felt more afraid than he’d ever felt in his life. He’d been shot at, blown up, shot at again, taken hostage, tortured, and he never felt this scared, this small. “Jay? Oh my god, Jay are you okay? Breathe, man.” But he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was his chest so tight? Why couldn’t he move? Suddenly he was yanked off of his couch and onto the floor, his head shoved between his bent knees. “Deep breaths, Jay. Just take slow deep breaths, in and out, just like me... Okay... Good, name five things you can feel, four things you can see, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.”

“Uh... floor, couch leg, carpet, coffee table... you... Um, I, uh, I see...”

“Four things you can see.”

“Jeans, scrubs, crumbs, Kim’s wine stain... Hear, u-uh, Netflix, heating system, the Needlers arguing again...”

“Your neighbours sure do fight a lot, but you’re doing great. Keep going. Two things you can smell.”

“... Pizza and your terrible cologne...”

“Ignoring that, one thing you can taste.”

“Your terrible cologne. Seriously, Will, your supposed to spritz it, not douse yourself in it.”

“Well you’re feeling better, but you’re still shaking. You feel a bit cold, get back on the couch I’m gonna grab you a blanket.” Will was right, he was still shaking, and he felt cold to the bone. His heart was pounding so hard it was terrifying and his chest was still tight... But he was feeling better. Panic attack. He’d gotten them before, along with anxiety attacks, night terrors, and paranoia. All connected to his PTSD. He’d just never had a panic attack about his sexuality before, only about the action he’d gotten overseas and in Chicago. When Will returned with a thick fluffy blanket he’d gotten from Kim for secret Santa, the same night she’d made that wine stain on his carpet, Jay was on the couch and gripping his knees tightly, trying to get a grip on himself. Will had also brought Jay’s first aid kit and was checking him over, after he’d been wrapped up like a traumatized child, and Jay released a shaky breath, unable to look his brother in the eye before speaking at the same volume as a mouse. “How long have you known?”

Will stopped what he was doing and regarded his brother. Jay was older and had always been Will’s hero growing up but right now... He just looked like he needed a hug. “I’ve known since you were nineteen. You brought Mouse back to visit with you while you guys had leave and when mom and dad had work and I had school, you guys had the place to yourselves. I realized when I was a couple of minutes away from the house that I’d forgotten my lunch, so I went back to get it. When I walked in you guys were making out on the couch. You were really... into each other, you didn’t even notice me. I was gonna bolt to the kitchen and back... But then you took off each other’s shirts and started reaching for belts so I bolted. I love you, Jay, and I don’t care who you have sex with, but I never want to actually see it.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry we must have traumatized you.”

“No you didn’t, I would’ve reacted the same way if I saw you with a girl... Which we both know is true cause you and Erin had a very bad habit of not closing your bedroom door.”

“Sorry about that... If you’ve known all this time, why have you never said anything? I mean you used to make these weird comments about being related to gay people, but...”

“I thought that you needed to be the one to tell me. It was your closet to exit, I thought it would’ve been rude to force it. And about those comments, I don’t know, it’s just you never told me. More and more time passed, and from the letters you were sending mom I could tell you and Mouse were still together but you never said anything. I was trying to give you hints that I don’t care, your sexuality doesn’t matter to me. I love you no matter what. The only reason that I brought up any of this now, forced you out of the closet... I’ve never seen you like this. It rivals when you came back. You are hurting and I want to be there for you, but I can’t if you won’t talk to me, if you won’t let me in.”

“But I’m sinning. You’ve always been more devout than me.”

Will scoffed. “Have you been reading the news? The Catholic church really can’t decide what’s right and wrong considering all they’ve done and covered up. Plus, did you really think I was going to make all my life choices based on the teachings given to me by men who forced us to wear plaid suit jackets for elementary and high school? Really, I can’t wear plaid anymore, I don’t understand how you can tolerate it, I swear I’ve got plaid PTSD.”

“Well, maybe it’s cause I actually have PTSD and there are far worse things to go through than having to wear plaid to school every day.”

“That was a bad comment, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright... So you’re really okay that I’m bi?”

“As long as you're happy, I’m happy.”

“You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that and mean it.”

Jay was tearing up again, but this time they were happy tears. Will just wrapped his big brother in a hug and relished ina feeling of closeness that he hadn’t felt since they were kids.

“Okay, now seriously Jay, who’s giving your heart trouble?”

“I don’t know, Will...”

“As long as it’s not Connor Rhodes I don’t care.”

“Well...”

“Oh no-”

“Ha! Just kidding! Your face, seriously, what did that guy ever do to you?”

“We’re not talking about the man who thinks he’s smarter than me. C’mon, tell me who it is. Is it someone I work with?”

“It’s Ethan Choi...”

“You guys have been spending a lot of time together over the past year, so I can see that. And he’s pan, right? Yeah, I think that you guys would be cute together and I think he’s got a thing for you, honestly. Why don’t you ask him out?”

Jay fell back and groaned. “I told him to ask out April the next time she hits on him.”

Will just blinked and stared at his masochistic and self-sacrificing moron of an older brother. “Why would you say that?! You clearly like him! You idiot!”

“... I’m gonna need the vodka back if we’re gonna keep talking about this.”

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

Jay felt like the weight he’d had on his shoulders was traded for another. He wasn’t worried about Will despising his existence anymore, but now he had to watch Ethan date April. And on top of all that, Will was always on his case about his miserably non-existent love life. So yeah, he wasn’t really enjoying his life at the moment. He was currently sitting up at the bar at Molly’s, avoiding ‘chexton’. He could hear April’s giggles and Doris squawking “you’re so perfect for each other!”, “I’m so glad you got back together!”, and “I call maid of honour!” over and over and over again. He knocked back the last of his beer when his phone buzzed.

Mouse: Hey Jay, I’m back on leave for a couple of days, just got off the plane. Want to meet up?

Jay: Sure, you up for a beer at Molly’s? I’m here right now.

Mouse: Actually I was thinking of a different kind of meet up. Your place? Just the two of us?

Jay: Sounds like a plan.

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

Jay and Mouse spent the two days he was home screwing each others’ brains out. That really was the best way to put it. Their time together was hot, heavy, and passionate. They wouldn’t get back together, no, but there was a bond there that would always remain. They’d both had tension that needed to be released and release it they did. Jay dropped Mouse off at O’Hare early on the third day. “Hey, thanks for this weekend. It was nice, it was good to see you again, Jay.”

“Yeah, you too. Stay safe Greg.”

“It’s Greg now?”

“You’ll always be important to me. You were the first man I loved, but you’ve left me twice. I need to move on.”

“It sounds like you already have. I’m happy for you, you deserve nothing but happiness, Jay. But, uh, should you have just spent an entire weekend naked with me if you’re with someone?”

“He doesn’t love me back.”

“Is he straight?”

“No, but he’s pan and got a girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry Jay. For your situation and everything else.”

“I know. Stay safe.”

“I will.”

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

Jay turned on his phone for the first time since he told Mouse to come over. He was met with an abundance of texts and missed calls. The texts were mostly from his colleagues, asking if he was going to be at Molly’s. A couple were from Will, asking if he wanted to get together to watch a game. The person who’d sent him the most texts and had made most of the missed calls was Ethan. Jay didn’t bother going through them all, he just sent his brother and Hailey quick text messages letting them know he was alive and would be at work on time, he’d just spent the weekend with a friend. He called Ethan as he made his way through the city. “Jay? Are you okay? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried, I called your brother and Hailey and none of them could tell me anything.”

“I was okay, I was at home the whole time.”

“But I went by your place, I knocked on your door, no one answered.”

“Oh, that was you? I thought it was Karen from down the hall. I was a little... Busy.”

“All weekend? Alone in your apartment? With no assigned case or old case that’s been bothering you?”

“Well, I wasn’t alone, actually.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Mouse was on leave for the weekend so he came over.”

“... You were alone with your ex-boyfriend for an entire weekend... Doing what?”

“Each other.”

“Damnit, Jay.”

“Eth-” And then Ethan hung up. Jay was confused and distressed, but he’d arrived at the district so his relationship with Ethan would have to wait. Well, friendship, not relationship.

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

When Voight needed someone to go collect a statement from an accomplice at MED Jay’s reaction rivalled that of Katniss Everdeen. He was given a couple of odd looks, but he and Hailey made their way to the hospital, Hailey side-eying him the whole way. “Do you need to talk to Ethan?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“He hounded me for two days because you weren’t texting him back. He was really worried, Jay. What’s going on with you two? I mean, he was acting like...”

“Like what?”

“Like a worried boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating Hailey. Why would you think that?”

“Because you two look at each other the way Trudy and Mouch look at each other. Like you’ve hung the moon and the stars for each other. I don’t judge, Jay... You’re always really happy around him. I think you’d be good together.”

“He’s dating April.”

Hailey scoffed and rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled with them. “No, they’re not dating. She was acting like it, and Doris was yapping away about it on Friday at Molly’s, but Ethan was just quietly sitting there the whole night, he looked really uncomfortable honestly. A couple hours after you left he asked April if they could speak in private. It didn’t stay that way for long. Ethan had tried to tell her that he didn’t want to get back together and didn’t love her anymore, and she was upset, obviously. But it seemed like she understood. She hugged him and went to sit back at the nurses, but I guess she told them and Doris blew up, screamed at him, made a huge scene. April had to actually take her home. Ethan immediately came up to me and asked where you were.”

“Oh.”

“So you volunteered us to talk to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

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

“Hey Ethan.”

“Can we talk, Jay?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“The doctor’s lounge is free, we can talk in there.” They entered the darkened gray room together, both feeling the tension between them. It felt strange to just stand there, in the middle of the room, and Ethan wasn’t meeting his gaze. So Jay sat down, hoping that Ethan would follow his lead. He did. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

“Don’t apologize, I should actually be apologizing to you. You didn’t owe me an explanation, we don’t have the kind of... Relationship that warrants you letting me know when you’re going to disappear for a weekend with your ex. We’re just- We’re just friends.” Jay was silent for several moments, trying to think of what to say. How to phrase what he was feeling. There didn’t seem to be an eloquent way to phrase it, so he decided to just jump in and hope he didn’t get hurt. “I don’t want to be friends with you Ethan. I want to be more than that, I love you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but- I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’ve been trying to distract myself, with Mouse most recently, but it didn’t work. It doesn’t change that I really want to kiss and date and be loved by you. Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Yes, there is quite literally nothing else I’d rather do. How about tonight, because I don’t think I can wait any longer. And I love you too.”

“I know that the wall behind us is basically just a window but I really want to kiss you-” Thankfully Ethan didn’t care about that, and gave Jay a kiss so incredible, he saw stars.

... And missed Hailey and Will high-fiving behind him.

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

After informing the accomplice that he was being arrested for armed robbery, obstruction of justice, and public urination, Jay and his partner left MED. Jay was so happy he was practically vibrating as he skipped out of the hospital. His, highly amused, partner got into the passenger side of his truck and thumped his shoulder. “See? I told you that he likes you.”

“How did you figure out I’m not straight, anyway? I’ve... Played that pretty close to the vest. I only told Will a week ago.”

“You know Nico’s Diner over in Greektown?”

“Yeah.”

“My family owns it. I started working there when I was nine, I think? I worked there through high school and college. And I go there once a month to catch up with my brothers. You used to go there all the time with this guy and you’d hold hands and kiss him quite a bit, so I figured you were more than friends. I recognized you when I walked onto that robbery scene a couple years ago.”

“So you knew, this entire time, that I was bisexual and you didn’t say anything to anyone? Why not?”

“It wasn’t my place to tell Jay, besides, I didn’t know that you were bisexual, just that you liked men. I just spoke up now because you were really hurting Jay, it was so obvious, and it was obvious that Ethan was hurting too. I really hope that you guys are happy together.”

“Thanks, me too.”

“Soooo... Where are you gonna take Ethan on your big date?”

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Good Things Come to Those Who Talk

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, but the muse visited this week, so here is a fluffy and smutty Captain Swan one shot. I’m sure this trope has been written one millions ways, here is one million and one. Hope you like it. Although I am not around as much as I used to be, CS still remains my OTP and always will. 

ao3          ffnet          rated M          8.9K

Summary:  Emma Swan is so over her brother, he warns every cop he knows to stay away from her. She's pined for so long though, she wants Killian Jones, it's just double bad luck that he's a cop and he happens to be David's partner. She decides her brother's wrath is worth the risk to find out if there's something more for her and Killian. Now all she needs is a new dress and a plan.

“Emma Swan, you little slut! What has gotten into you?” Ruby screeched as Emma pulled the door to her home open.

“Is it too much?” Emma asked with just a touch of hysteria coloring her voice. She hurried back to her bedroom to give herself the once over… again. Running her hands down the newly purchased, skin tight, black mini dress, she followed each and every curve that was on full display.

“Girl, I would do you if I didn’t already have a girlfriend.”

“Not helping, Ruby!” 

“Emma, you look fucking hot, there is not a man on earth that could turn you down in that.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she mumbled under her breath. Tonight was the night. She’d danced around the longing and heat between her and Killian Jones for long enough. She’d been pining for this man for longer than she could remember, half the time they spent together felt like they were a couple anyway. She already knew her stupid brother, David, had warned Killian Jones to stay away from her, but there was nothing stopping her from putting the moves on Killian Jones. She just hoped Ruby was right, that no man would be able to resist her, including the one who’d been threatened with death if he so much as laid one finger on her. Emma was undeniably hoping for far more than one finger. A shiver jolted through her and she was brought back to the present.

“Someone’s got it baaaad,” Ruby teased. “You gonna make your move tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Emma said as she grabbed her knee length black leather jacket and tied it closed. She pulled her flowing, golden tresses from the jacket and tossed them over her shoulders. 

“Well then let’s get this party started!” With that, Ruby grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her back to the front of the house and out the door. 

The Rabbit Hole was their favorite local pub, and the only place to celebrate the hot shot detectives who’d made the biggest bust this city had ever seen. Of course it was the hot shot team of Detectives Nolan and Jones to bring down the infamous Robert “The Deal Maker” Gold and his outfit of miscreants. Earlier this morning, both men had received the Medal of Valor, for extraordinary acts of bravery and heroism, performed in the line of duty at extreme life-threatening, personal risk, their Captain had said. 

Emma remembered that day three weeks ago, when she’d received the call from her sister-in-law. The baby had been wailing in the background as Mary Margaret had tried to tell Emma, through choked sobs that David was in the hospital. No doubt the little guy had been so upset because his mama was having a justified meltdown. 

When Emma had arrived, Killian was in the waiting room, a little bloodied, bruised, and banged up, but he’d insisted on waiting for her before letting the doctors examine him. He’d wanted to let her know that David was in surgery, but he’d be okay, and Mary Margaret had just left to drop her two year old off at Belle’s so he didn’t have to wait in the ER. It wasn’t until Killian’s body had slumped against hers that Emma realized he wasn’t doing as well as he’d pretended. She’d found out later, Killian had been hit by Gold’s car as the fiend had tried to make a run for it. 

Emma doesn’t like to think about the panic she’d felt as he was hauled behind the swinging doors of the ER. She doesn’t like to remember the tears that had fallen when the thought that she’d never gotten to tell him how she felt for him, crossed her mind. She especially doesn’t like to think about how he’d been out of the hospital for three weeks now, and she’d still been too chicken shit to even ask him out on a date, let alone tell him that she’s crazy about him. 

Once Killian’s internal bleeding had stopped and he was cleared to go home, she’d helped him convalesce through a dislocated shoulder and severely bruised ribs. He’d gotten remarkably lucky considering he was hit by a car. Hours of flirting and bantering, movies on his couch, meals together, and she hadn’t scraped together the courage to tell him how she felt. She’d picked him up and attended the medal pinning with him today, and still she couldn’t find any words to tell him how she felt. When he’d come down off the stage, walked toward her and scooped her up into a bear hug, all she’d come up with was how proud she was of him. Even though it was true, there was so much more she wanted to say. And she’d known long before any of this had happened, she’d just never considered moving past her fear of rejection or risking their friendship for a chance at something more until she’d felt like she might lose him. 

That thought made her feel pretty shitty. But that’s when she’d decided a few things. Emma Swan was shit with words. Actions speak louder than words. Tonight was the night. And she needed a new dress. 

Taking a deep breath as the car pulled into the parking lot, to center her thoughts, fortify her determination, and get her collective shit together, Emma stepped out of Ruby’s car with something akin to hope.   

Upon entering the noisy bar, she searched for the woman who’d be lending her an assist tonight. Regina and her husband Robin, a retired police officer, now owned this bar. They were close personal friends with Emma’s brother’s family, as David’s former partner, and by extension, with the whole group. Regina would be the one taking care of their party tonight. Emma needed to square some drinking details away with the woman and then she’d be mission ready. After talking to Regina, she glanced around the crowded bar, searching for the man of the hour. Whatever confidence or hope had been building, promptly deflated as she located Killian, only to find him sitting at the bar with some handsy redhead whispering in his ear. 

“Emma!” She heard Mary Margaret’s voice call out from across the bar, but she couldn’t turn, she was transfixed, watching as the woman ran a finger along Killian’s jawline. It gave her just an ounce of pleasure when he removed her hand from his vicinity and placed it on the bar. The mystery woman was undeterred though as she placed her hand on his chest next. 

Mary Margaret called her name again, louder this time, and Emma noticed it caught Killian’s attention as he began to scan the bar. When his eyes met hers, they immediately lit up and he mouthed the word help, with desperation in his every feature. Emma’s confidence restored, she sashayed toward him with renewed determination. 

Goddamn, she thought as she appreciated how Killian’s royal blue button down shirt and black slacks were tailored to his body.  She bit down on her lip when she noted that he definitely had his customary one too many buttons undone and was displaying that magically delicious thatch of chest hair she’d imagined running her hands through just a couple times. Sauntering right in between the two, she settled in the spot of his perpetually manspread legs and placed her palms on his thighs, leaving her back to the other woman.

“Hey Sexy, where’ve you been all my life?” she asked in the sexiest tone she could muster while also trying not to crack up as she laid it on thick for the woman trying to steal her man. What?

“Right here, waiting for you, love,” Killian answered, wrapping an arm around her waist. The man didn’t miss a beat. 

Emma couldn’t be bothered to feel bad as she rubbed her palms over his muscular thighs which currently rested on her hips. She had a mission tonight, and this floozy behind her had been throwing herself at Killian.

“I’m so lucky someone didn’t come and scoop you up before I got here.”

Emma almost melted when he came right back with, “No one else is you.”

She knew this man, had known him for several years. She knew when he was playing a long con, when he was bullshitting, when he was joking, when he was serious, and when he was sincere. Her heartbeat stuttered as his earnest expression dared her to believe him. Just at that moment, the drinks Killian had ordered arrived. “Come on,” she said, grabbing the three beer bottles in one hand and taking his hand in her other. 

“Let me order a couple more, now that the rest of you are here.”

Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And leave you at the mercy of Hands, I don’t think so.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Killian actually shivered, and she wondered how bad it had gotten before she’d arrived. When she stepped back though, she noticed a bright flush along Killian’s cheeks, and she wondered if she wasn’t causing that shiver and blush. “I’ll order when the server comes around.” 

Emma was positively rippling with anticipation of what Killian would think of her dress as they walked over to the private room Mary Margaret had reserved for tonight. The bar had several private rooms off each corner of the bar, they were a little less noisy, and perfect for celebratory drinks. This one had a large round booth and table in it, so Emma slid in next to her brother, pulling Killian in behind her. Strategically speaking, she was hoping David couldn’t stare daggers at Killian from this angle, like he always did when Emma and Killian were hanging out and getting too close for his comfort. She didn’t need her stupid brother ruining her plans.

“Here love, you can have this beer,” Killian offered as they sat down.

“That’s okay, I can wait for the server.” Emma was not in the mood to get drunk, at least not drunk for real. “Are Will and Belle still coming tonight?” Emma asked as she untied her jacket and leaned forward to take it off while still seated in the confines of the booth. 

Killian audibly choked on the swig of beer he’d been taking when he caught a glimpse of all the skin Emma was now showing. One false move and there could be a nip slip, really.

“Hey, Jones, you okay there buddy? Emma, quick, give him mouth to mouth, he’s choking,” she harassed. 

Emma shot her a look before slapping Killian on the back a couple times. “My ribs,” he croaked once he’d finished hacking and coughing. 

Emma preened as she noticed he still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “You gonna be okay?” she asked, turning fully toward Killian as she soothingly rubbed her hand along his rib cage.

“Love your new dress, Ems,” Ruby exclaimed, adding fuel to multiple fires.

“New dress? Are you sure you got the whole thing?” David fumed. “Looks more like a tank top to me. And yes, to answer your question from before, Will and Belle are coming, their Lyft was running late.”

Emma looked over her shoulder to scowl at her brother, and he scowled right back. “I happen to like this dress, David,” she said, saying his name as pettily as any sister could, “what about you Killian. Do you like my new dress?”

Killian’s hand immediately shot up to scratch behind his ear, but before he could even speak a word, David leaned forward, peered around Emma and stared those oh so familiar daggers at Killian. 

“Oh stop it, David,” Mary Margaret chided her husband. 

“Oi mates, hope you didn’t start the party without me,” Will shouted as he and Belle entered the room. He and Belle scooted into the booth next to Ruby and Mulan, and Emma was thankful they’d arrived before David could start ranting about not wanting his sister to date a cop.  

Emma, Mary Margaret, Belle, and Ruby had all been promised a play by play of the Gold bust now that the case was finalized, Gold had been sentenced, and everyone was healed. Will and Mulan hadn’t been injured, but they’d been part of the task force, and instrumental in the take down. Emma tried not to concentrate too hard on the fact that she was the only female here who wasn’t technically a significant other. Besides, maybe that would change after tonight.  

A round of shots was ordered to start the evening and Regina brought them to the table, handing a shot of rum to each guest. They toasted to the takedown of the felon who had run rampant like a virus, for far too long. The story was intense to be sure, and a second round of shots was ordered to toast the health and safety of David, Killian, Mulan, and Will.  

When the live band started, they headed for the dance floor and Emma was thankful to have a bit of privacy, albeit in the middle of a crowded dance floor, with Killian. “You cut quite the figure in that dress,” he whispered into her ear. 

The band was covering a latin number and Emma melted as Killian pulled her in close. His left hand was on the small of her back and the other held her free hand. Her free hand rested on his chest, right at the juncture of his too unbuttoned shirt. 

“I don’t know exactly how to do this… dance,” Emma mumbled as Killian began to move his feet. They were connected at their hips as they swayed with the beat. 

“It’s called a mambo; there’s only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d danced with him before and it never ceased to amaze her how well the man could move his body. If he was this fluid and skilled while dancing, what could he do in bed? 

“I can see your mind working, Swan. What are you thinking about?”

Emma tried to stop the blush, but she’d definitely been caught ogling him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Perhaps I would,” he admitted while sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You are blushing,” he added as he trailed the finger down her cheek.

“I was just thinking, if you’re this good on the-” Emma’s breath was knocked from her as David and Mary Margaret careened into them. 

“Hey guys,” David shouted over the music, “time for shots.”

Emma just barely stopped herself from yelling at her brother to stop being a cockblock. Instead, she settled for stomping on his foot as she led Killian off the dancefloor. They all lined up at the bar and Regina doled out more shots. 

“I’m ready to go home,” Emma slurred into Killian’s shoulder several hours later. “Take me home?”

“Aye, love.”

“I thought Ruby was your ride,” David interrupted.

“No can do, Davey,” Ruby mumbled. “Me and my baby are staying at the hotel across the street so we don’t have to drive and we don’t have to come back for the car tomorrow. 

“We will take you home,” David proclaimed, as if someone had died and made him king.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re already taking Belle and Will home,” Mary Margaret told her husband. “Killian hasn’t been drinking for the last two hours, he can take Emma home.”

“Bu-” David started.

“I know we have five seats, but we don’t need to squish five adults into them, when Killian can give Emma a ride.”

Emma snickered at the way Mary Margaret effortlessly handled David.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” David muttered. 

After the group said their goodbyes, Emma let Killian lead her to his truck. She pretended to need much more help getting in than she really did. Under the guise of being drunk, Emma found she was much braver. If he turned her down, she could always pretend she was so drunk she didn’t remember, and if he was a gentleman, which he was, he’d never mention it. 

Reaching across the space between them, Emma brushed the hair away from his forehead. “I was so worried about you when you were in the hospital,” she whispered, making sure to slur a word here and there.

“I’m sorry I worried you, lass, but you needn’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, Killian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, in your inebriated state, I’m sure it’s hard to imagine, but I am sure you’d manage.”

“What a horrible thing to say! I would not be okay if I lost you, I would never be okay.”

Killian clasped his hand over hers, which had been idly stroking his cheek. “Shhh, love, there’s no need to discuss this topic anyway. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s surviving.” 

Killian pulled into her driveway and hastily exited to help her down from the truck. She definitely put more weight on him than was strictly necessary and sloppily handed him the keys to unlock her door. 

“Someone is going to be feeling like shite in the morning,” Killian laughed. 

Emma played it up, and allowed Killian to get Tylenol and water for her as she stripped out of her dress and hopped into her bed. 

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he checked as he set her hangover supplies on her nightstand.

Emma caught his hand as he went to put it in his pocket. “Stay with me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” Emma asked sweetly, looking up at him with all the hope she felt inside written clearly on her face.

Killian exhaled a long sigh as only a man who knows he’s lost can. Circling around the bed, he started to climb in behind her. 

“You’re not going to sleep in jeans, are you?”

“I don’t exactly have sleepwear at my disposal, Swan. And you’re sleeping in your dress.”

Emma laughed at that, that’s what he thinks. “Take off your jeans, boxer briefs are just like shorts.” She grinned triumphantly as she heard the metal of his belt and the rustling of pants being dropped. 

Once he was settled in her bed, she turned over and snuggled against him. The groan he emitted when she did so shot a bolt of heat straight to her core. She knew he was just as affected as she was, and that was hot. 

“Emma, please, you’re making it very hard fo-”

“That’s kinda the point,” she giggled, pressing her body against his and snaking her free hand into the opening of his shirt to rake it through his chest hair. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Yeah?” 

“Poor choice of words,” he corrected as he scooted away from her advances. “We can’t do this.”

Emma immediately felt the sting of his words in her chest, like someone was gripping her heart, or worse, like someone had taken it and she was hollow. A flurry of emotions ran through her as she tried to assure herself she still had her failsafe of “being drunk”. She searched for words. “Why? Because of my stupid brother?” she demanded, her voice a little more watery than angry.

“This has nothing to do with your brother, Swan.”

“Then… why?” Emma sat up in bed and pulled the blankets tightly around her body, as if they’d protect her from whatever hurtful reason he had for not wanting her.

“Because you’re drunk and-”

“Well-” Emma interrupted.

“No, wait, let me finish. Before I lose my nerve.”

Emma frowned at him, but complied by sitting quietly.

“You’ve been drinking all night love, and I would never forgive myself if I took advantage of you in this state and then you regretted it in the morning, if you regretted me. I… I’m crazy about you Emma, I have been for a long time. I don’t want a drunken one night stand with you, hell, I don’t want any kind of one night stand with you. I want… more.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked softly.

“Short answer? I’m a coward.”

“What if I want to know the extended version?” she asked as she patted the seat next to her and offered him part of the blankets so he could join her.

Killian got back into the bed and sat up against the headboard as Emma was. “I guess I’ve hid behind your brother’s warning to stay away from you. I mean, he’s not wrong, it can be a hard life being with a cop. Look what happened with Gold. I also worried about jeopardizing our friendship, especially if you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why now?”

Killian chuckled before answering her. “You being drunk gives me the courage to say how I feel, because you might not even remember this in the morning.” 

Emma dropped all pretense of being inebriated and leaned forward so she was looking straight into the depths of the eyes she dreamed about almost nightly. “Let’s get something straight, okay? I could never regret you, Killian Jones.” Placing a hand softly on his cheek, she smiled at the awestruck look on his face. “And also, I haven’t had a drink all night. I paid Regina to fill my shots with apple juice. I just needed the cover of liquid courage to try and seduce you because I am shit with words. And I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could always pretend that I didn’t remember the next day.”

Killian’s warm laughter startled her a bit, but then she was laughing with him. “I usually have a flair with words, Swan, you just do something to me that brings me to my basest form. I’m a goner for you, and I wish I’d have told you sooner.”

“Well, get used to me not being great with words. I’m sort of caveman-like. I mean, I’m not gonna point and grunt, but I definitely use action over words. But if I can paraphrase a great wordsmith, ‘I’m crazy about you, Killian, I have been for a long time’.”

The smile that lit up Killian’s face, dimples and all, was worth the hell she was going to go through with David. 

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I never got a chance to answer you at the bar. I love your new dress, may I see it again,” he asked, gently tugging at the blankets she’d wrapped around herself for protection a few moments ago.

“Hmmm, sorry, not right now...” Killian immediately dropped his hand from the blanket and began to tell her it’s okay, when she peeled away the blanket, and continued, “because I’m not wearing it anymore.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured before biting down on his lip hungrily.

“Still the plan.” 

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

“Stand up, love, let me see you.”

Emma complied, standing up and bearing herself to him. She was clad in nothing more than lacy, black panties and a matching bra. Watching as he perused every inch of her body, from the swell of her breasts, to her lean torso and soft belly, then down to the apex of her thighs, she could see his length swelling under his boxer briefs, and every part of her wanted him. Crooking her finger, she beckoned him to her, and it was his turn to comply. 

Once Killian stood before her, Emma unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, to the floor. Then she did something that shocked her a little bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close and just held him; he immediately reciprocated, both arms encircling her and bringing her close. The feelings they’d just spoken floated around them and  flowed between them.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she guided his mouth to hers and kissed him, softly and exploratorily at first. But as lips gave way to caressing tongues, and roaming hands, heat built and Emma found herself panting and breathless.

Killian unclasped her bra and pulled it away and she was never more grateful for that barrier to be gone, as his chest hair delicately tightened her nipples and sent sparks shooting to her core. She wanted more and made it known by grabbing his ass with both hands and hauling him firmly to her. Killian glided his hands down her back and over her firm ass while sucking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned his name at the sensation of his wet mouth laving at her breasts, and his fingers and palms caressing the smooth expanse of her ass. Emma wanted that last barrier gone, she reached between them to remove first her panties and then finally his boxer briefs.  

She was not disappointed when she finally got a look at what her Detective was packing. Emma licked her lips as his cock stood at full attention, straining with the need to be touched.

“See something you like, darling?” 

There was that hint of cockiness that she loved so much. “Yeah,” she breathed as she dropped to her knees. Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Emma stroked up and down a few times, relishing in the hiss that left Killian’s mouth. When his head dropped back, she pounced, taking him deep and swallowing once, before pulling back and then setting a slow rhythmic pace.

Killian lifted her from her knees and attacked her mouth with kisses, between trying to speak, “You don’t have to do that.”

Emma pulled her head back to stare at this man in front of her. What guy turns down head? “I know I don’t have to, I was enjoying myself,” she said, then she pushed into his frame, guiding him backwards until he could sit at the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees again, and  smirked before descending on him once more, but before she could even set a rhythm, he was halting her ministrations again.

“Okay, that’s twice. What’s up, Jones? Do you not enjoy getting head? Do I suck at it, and not in the good way?” Emma sat back on her calves, folding her arms around herself.  

“On the contrary, you are magnificent at sucking my cock, Emma.”

She grinned mischievously at the compliment, a swarm of relief flooding her mind. “Then what gives?”

“I haven’t...” Killian trailed off, and an actual blush colored his cheeks as he tried to find the words he was looking for. 

Emma put her hands on his knees and gently squeezed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while, I’ve kind of been saving myself for this brilliant lass I know. Plus, I’ve been hard since you took your jacket off at the bar and I don’t wish to finish before you,” he admitted. He rubbed nervously behind his ear as he waited for her reaction.

Emma was a little speechless. At no point in her life had she ever been with a man who was so dedicated to her gratification, he would deny his own. She’d definitely never been halted in the middle of a blow job so that her needs could be met. She stood up, taking Killian with her and then turned them around so that she could lie down on the bed. Holding her hand out to him, she pulled him down next to her and then scooted so that they were laying face to face. “Make me come, Killian.”

Needing no further guidance, Killian captured her lips in a fiery kiss while situating her on her back. Their tongues slid together effortlessly until he broke the kiss to blaze a trail down her body. She would definitely have marks, but he was careful to leave them where only they would see. As he paid special attention to her breasts again, delighting way too much in the noises she made, Emma finally caved, begging for more.

Scooting down between her legs, Killian took stock of the pretty picture splayed out for him. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured. Ever so gently, he ran the tip of his finger along her glistening folds, parting them as his finger ran further down, exposing her clit to the cool air. 

“Please Killian, touch me.”

“As you wish.” 

Emma keened in half relief and half need as his tongue finally made contact with her clit. She thrust her hips, needing nothing short of penetration, and again, she was obviously hoping for more than just one finger. She wasn’t disappointed when Killian filled her with two digits as he worked her clit with his tongue.

Emma fisted a handful of Killian’s dark hair as he brought her a pleasure like none she’d experienced before. It was hot as hell to have him watching her with those devilish blue eyes gazing up from between her thighs as she fucked his fingers. 

Emma had never been much of a talker in bed, but she found it easy with Killian to ask for more, to ask for it harder, and because of that, he had her falling over the edge of oblivion quickly.

“Get up here, now,” she panted, once her mind came back from the haze of post orgasmic delight.

“Gods, you taste divine,” he praised as he moved over her body, settling between her legs so they were face to face.

“You are really good at that, better than I could ever have imagined.”

“Oh, Emma,” he began as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently before letting it go, “do elaborate on ‘imagined’,” he smirked before grinding his hips down so his thick length slid through her folds and over her clit. 

A breathy moan rushed past her lips as he teased her. “Yeah? You want to hear all about how I get myself off while thinking of you?”

“Aye, lass, tell me.”

“Mmmmm, sometimes it’s quick and dirty, fucking my fingers, wishing they were yours. Other times I imagine you bend me over your desk at the precinct and take me roughly. But the best is edging while wondering if you’re lying in bed thinking about me, stroking your hard cock. I always finally make myself come, pleading your name as I picture you making yourself come all over your chest, calling out my name.”

“Christ, Emma, I’m going to come all over your chest if you tell me any more.”

In a flash of motion, Emma flipped them so she was on top, staring down at Killian. “We can’t have that.” Leaning down, she kissed him roughly, demanding his tongue, while situating his cock so she could sink down on it. “Oh… fuck you feel so good,” she gasped as his full length hit a depth she’d never felt without toys. Her hands found purchase on his chest as she adjusted to his size. 

She let Killian set the pace after he grasped both her hips and guided her along. He was mesmerized by the way his cock slid in and out of her wet heat. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he praised.

Killian pulled her down for a kiss again, and flipped them so he was on top. Emma whined as he withdrew from her completely and sat back on his haunches. “I’ve just realized I don’t have a condom,” he said defeatedly.

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill and I’m clean. You clean?”

“Aye, lass. On my honor.”

“Then put every inch of that cock back inside me,” she demanded as she pulled him back into the cradle of her thighs.

Emma laughed lightly as Killian groaned loudly while pushing back into her. “Just so you know, love, this feels so much better than any time I’ve ever taken myself in hand while thinking of you. And I always come with your name on my lips.” 

Her answering smile turned into a low moan as Killian pulled out and then thrust back home. He changed the tempo, long deep passes, quick pounding thrusts, grinding his hips into her sometimes, and pumping shallowly others. She made sure to let him know what felt good and what felt better, and especially what was, “Oh fuck, yes, right there!” 

Despite never having been together before, the combination of Emma knowing what she liked,  being comfortable enough to ask for it, and Killian listening to her and taking care of her, had them riding the same wave, feeling, exploring, loving. 

In the end, Killian had both her legs pulled up high around his waist, arms under her shoulders, and his face buried in the crook of her neck as he methodically drove into her, determined to make her come again. 

Emma had her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, her arms around his neck, and her head thrown back into the pillow. They were a hot sweaty mess, and she was sure she’d never been wound this tight, she’d never been this turned on,maybe there was something to sex with feelings. His hot breath against her neck caused a tightness in her nipples and a tingling in her clit. Killian’s thrusts were punishing, hitting her deep, and she was so close and she knew he was close and she really wanted to come again.  

“Touch yourself, Emma, I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

An errant bit of relief flooded her as she realized Killian was not intimidated in asking for what he wanted either and he wasn’t too macho to ask her to help get them there. Now was not the time for reflection though, and so she pushed those delightful thoughts to an area for later. Reaching down between them, Emma gathered the arousal that coated her thighs and started rubbing her fingers over her clit. “Almost, Killian, almo- Oh, Ooooh,” Emma cried. 

It was almost ridiculous how in sync they were, each gracing the edge of ecstasy before plummeting off one after the other, calling the other’s name like a benediction. She’d been right, his moves on the dance floor had definitely foreshadowed his performance in bed. And just like the attentive gentleman he was day-to-day, he was the same in bed, making sure to guide her through every aftershock, and hold her as she came down from on high. 

“Bloody Hell, why did we wait so long to do this?” Killian panted against her neck, before rolling off of her. “Come here,” he said, pulling Emma against his side. 

Instead of nestling into him, Emma stood up and stretched deliciously. “So, I guess, I’ll umm... see you around?” A mixture of shock, disappointment, and embarrassment crossed his face before he quickly jumped out of bed. The look was priceless, she really did feel heartless, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. 

“Right, love,” he mumbled as he turned from her and grabbed his slacks off the floor.  

Emma tiptoed behind him and circled her arms around his waist, his whole body was taught. “I’m fucking with you, Jones,” she said gently, pressing her cheek to his back. “Join me for a shower?” As his body relaxed, she placed a few kisses between his shoulder blades causing him to shiver. 

He turned in her arms and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. “You are a devilish little minx, aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t resist,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Come on, let’s go get clean… and dirty.”

“Do you promise to tell me more dirty little fantasies?”

A blush ran up her body as she remembered telling Killian her favorite fantasy about him. 

“Don’t get shy now. For someone who says they’re shite with words, you were certainly very chatty in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Killian.” She rolled her eyes and smacked his chest as mortification coursed through her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shower, but found herself being swung back into his chest.

Killian wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his front to her back in a sensual embrace. “Don’t you dare ever feel ashamed to tell me exactly what you want, love. If you want it harder,” he thrust his hips against her ass to elaborate, “if you want it deeper,” he growled, sucking at the lobe of her ear, “if you want my mouth between your thighs…”

Emma moaned as Killian continued rutting his hips against her ass and caressing her with his strong hands. She hung on his every word.

“If you want to watch me stroke my cock,” he said huskily, “just say the words.”

“Fuck, Killian. I want you to fuck me again,” she responded breathily. Taking his hand and pulling him toward the shower again, she met no resistance this time. 

Reaching into the shower she turned the water on full blast and then turned around and jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to kiss him while they waited for it to warm up. 

He took her again, against the wall of her shower, then they made out until the water began to cool, before they both fell into bed, sated and exhausted.

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

Emma hummed happily as she stood at the stove making pancakes. Killian was still sound asleep in her bed, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and a hard case of morning wood if the slight tent of the sheets was anything to judge by. As much as she’d wanted to wake him up with salacious activities, she’d also wanted to let him sleep in. So she’d silently slipped into her black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. Her mind kept jumping to different parts of their evening together, and how much she hoped for a repeat performance.

An unadulterated smile broke out across her face when Killian’s husky voice broke through her morning musings. “Something smells delicious.”

The way he nuzzled into her made her weak in the knees as she protested the compliment. “It’s just from a box.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear, “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

Emma spun in his arms and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her mind was spinning, it was a little shocking to her that she wasn’t panicking at all about how much they’d discussed last night and how deep their feelings ran for each other. She realized she wasn’t afraid because what they had was worth taking the risk for. Breaking the kiss, she peered into his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes full of emotions that she knew mirrored her own. And the absolutely boyish grin gracing his face made her heart soar. 

“What?” he asked as she continued gazing at him.

“Nothing, I’m just... happy.” 

“Aye, love, me too.”

Emma leaned in to kiss him again, this time parting her mouth and begging entrance to his as she stroked the seam of his lips with her tongue. “To hell with the pancakes,” she muttered when he opened to her, tongues tangling together. Carding her fingers through his hair, only their breathing and wet kisses filled the air as she pushed him back toward the table until he was sitting with her nestled between his legs.

 Untying her robe, Killian caressed his hands up and down the lush skin of her torso before greedily pulling her against him, showing her how ready she had him, not that it was hard to tell through his boxer briefs.

“I smell pancakes. I thought we were eating on the way to the zoo?” a masculine voice said, cutting through the moment. 

“David!” Emma gasped.

“Your brother has a key, good to know,” Killian muttered. Emma dropped her head into Killian’s shoulder, willing this to be a dream. That was quickly shattered when she heard Mary Margaret’s voice. 

“Are we interrupting something,” Mary Margaret asked, eyes wide as saucers and a smirk begging to be let out. 

“EmEm! Killy!” little Leo cooed. 

David’s hands had immediately found his hips, as they quite often did before interrogating a suspect. Although the look on his face looked more like he was preparing to beat a perp. “What the… I mean… What’s go- Why the hell is he- Goddammit!” he roared, throwing his hands up in the air, and the toddler snuggled in Mary Margaret’s arms immediately started crying at his father’s outburst. “I thought I said she was off limits?”

“Hey!” Mary Margaret and Emma both yelled. As Emma stepped away from Killian to give her brother a piece of her mind, Killian quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Neither missed the huff of exasperation from David, but both ignored it. Killian quickly folded Emma’s robe over and tied it closed before giving her an attempted wink.

She smiled that happy smile at him before returning a scowl to her brother. “I am not a possession, David. You’re not my father, you’re not my husband, and you’re not my keeper! You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be with.” She was outright yelling as she finished.

“I’m not,” he boomed. “I’m telling Killian he can’t be with you. I don’t want you with a cop, Emma!”

“Why is being with a cop good enough for your wife, the one you share a love so pure with and would lay down your life for, but being with a cop isn’t okay for me?”

“It’s not like that, Emma,” David argued.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s it like? I’m dying to understand,” she retorted.

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“From what?” When David made no move to answer, she shouted her question louder at him. “From what!?” 

“Daddy, EmEm, no fight,” Leo cried. 

“Emma,” Killian called softly and she turned to look at his calming blue eyes. He was quite the site, clad only in his skivvies, both hands strategically placed over his package. “Let’s get dressed. You both could use a minute to calm down.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret piped in. “Take five, we’ll finish making breakfast. You still have that leftover ham from the other night?”

Emma nodded at her sister-in-law, then she and Killian headed toward her bedroom.

“Where are you going, Jones,” David seethed.

“Where the fuck do you think his clothes are, David,” Emma cursed.

Once in the bedroom, Killian pulled Emma into his arms. “Hey, we are going to make him understand, okay. There’s no reason to fight with him. Let’s make him understand. Hear him out, whatever his reasons, and then show him why he’s wrong.” 

“No, Killian. He’s being an absolute dick. He has no right to tell me what to do. And I hate whatever his reasons are. I don’t care.”

Killian placed a hand on each of her cheeks and looked into her eyes, before planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Yes you do, love. And we can figure this out.”

Admittedly, some of her anger faded as Killian talked of understanding and explaining and communication. She walked to her dresser and pulled out one of his old t-shirts she’d borrowed at a party at his place. 

“You still have this?” he chuckled.

“It smelled like you for a long time after I borrowed it, I like sleeping in it.” 

“That party was over a year ago,” he mused.

“I told you, I’ve wanted…,” she paused, trying to find a better word for how she’d felt for so long. “I’ve really liked you for a long time, Killian.”

He slipped the t-shirt over his head before descending on her and kissing her fully. “Maybe almost for as long as I’ve fancied you.”

She just giggled at that, hugging him for fortification before taking his hand and heading back out into the battle zone.

“Wait, I still don’t have pants.”

Emma led him to the guest room.“David and Mary Margaret keep extra clothes here for when they don’t decide early enough who is going to be designated driver.”

“I don’t think Mary Margaret’s pants will fit me, darling.”

“Shut up you goofball,” she laughed as she threw him a pair of David’s sweatpants.

“Let’s sit down and eat, and discuss this like adults,” Mary Margaret, always the mother, ordered everyone when Emma and Killian emerged. 

She’d finished cooking the pancakes, whipped up a batch of scrambled eggs, and was just finishing frying up the leftover ham. David was pouring a round of coffee for everyone and holding Leo who was happily babbling now that he had a pancake in his hand and no one was yelling.

After strapping the baby into the portable high chair they kept at Emma’s place, everyone sat down at the table and dug into breakfast. 

“Can you just tell me what you think you’re protecting me from?” Emma asked. “I mean you trust Killian with your life, literally. Why don’t you trust him with my heart?”

David’s stoic expression lightened at that. “Does he have your heart, Emma?”

Killian glanced toward Emma and smiled knowingly. They didn’t need to call it love right this instant, but they were definitely invested in each other. 

“Answer the question, dear,” Mary Margaret prodded. “Otherwise they don’t have the truth, because trusting Killian has nothing to do with it, and you know it.”

“Fine,” David sighed. “You dealt with abandonment by your own parents, by every subsequent foster parent, by the only friend you made as a child, who turned out to be a fraud, and then with Neal’s betrayal, which almost broke you. I don’t want you to ever experience that abandonment again.” David’s voice broke as he finished explaining. Tears rimmed his eyes as he contemplated even trying to understand what she’d been through. And he would be damned before it happened again, especially by someone who he’d introduced into her life. 

“What?” Emma asked incredulously. “That has everything to do with trusting Killian,” she argued. “Why do you assume he’d abandon me.”

Leo quieted as the tension between siblings started to grow again and Mary Margaret looked around the table, jaw clenched and a warning in her eyes to every adult at the table to not upset her baby again. 

Killian placed his hand over Emma’s white knuckles where her fist lay balled up on the table. “I don’t think he means I would intentionally leave you, Swan.”

Emma looked between her brother and Killian, a confused furrow cocking her brows. 

David chuckled, “See, he gets it.”

“Explain, David. Make her understand where you’re coming from,” his wife urged him.

Wait, Emma thought, it was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to be making him understand why she and Killian were a good, no great, thing. Before she could speak though, David started up again.

“Emma, you really think no one sees how much you two are into each other? You really think for almost two years, no one has watched the way you pine for each other, flirt off the charts, tease each other like kids on a playground? You’re like an old married couple half the time, we’d have to be blind not to see it. Killian is a good man, I understand he’d never purposefully hurt you, he’d have to deal with me if he did. But you have to understand that officers die in the line of duty all the time. Being with one means you accept that risk. I couldn’t bear the thought of you losing one more person you loved, especially if it was someone I brought into your life.”

A tear or two trailed down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to her brother. As she really heard what he was saying. For the first time, she understood where he was coming from. It finally made sense why he didn’t want her being with a cop. And it relieved her mind that it had nothing to do with Killian personally, especially because she wasn’t giving him up. 

“EmEm, you sad?” Leo asked.

A small laugh turned cry-hiccup escaped Emma’s mouth. “No baby, I’m happy,” she smiled. 

Leo clapped his hands, his innocent celebration of an adult human being happy, bringing a smile to everyone’s face. 

Emma unfurled her balled up fist under Killian’s comforting hand and interlaced their fingers, giving him a strong smile. “David, while I am thankful that you explained your reason for not wanting me with Killian and I even understand where you’re coming from, I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a bus. There are no guarantees in this life.”

David nodded his head as he glanced between her face and her and Killian’s intertwined fingers. 

“He has my heart, David, would you deny us that?”

David sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest as he often did when contemplating something. After a full minute, at least, he exhaled a breath bespeaking acceptance, albeit reluctantly. “I’m beginning to see that. And I could never deny you happiness, Emma.” 

Emma beamed at her brother, understanding that while his actions may have been off kilter the reasoning behind them was fueled by brotherly love. 

Mary Margaret leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek before flashing Emma and Killian a smile. “Glad we got this settled,” she giggled.

“So, just what are your intentions toward my sister, Jones?”

Emma scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes at David’s attempt at big brother intimidation tactics. But when she heard Killian’s answer, she was kinda thankful to her brother.

“Well Dave, whatever happens between me and Emma is as much up to her as it is me. But I’m in this for the long haul if she’ll have me.”

“Good answer, partner,” David laughed as he threw his hand out across the table in an offer to shake Killian’s. “Two rules,” he added as he squeezed Killian’s hand tighter, “you are never allowed to kiss and tell around me, and if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” 

Killian let David have his moment of brotherly protection, because he understood how important it was to cherish Emma. He was the one who’d fancied her for almost two years after all. 

“All right, enough of that,” Mary Margaret sighed as she wiped Leo’s hands and face. “Let’s get everything cleaned up, and then we are headed to the zoo as planned. Emma you are free to bail, you and Killian probably have a lot of catching up to do for the last year and a half.” 

Emma waggled her eyebrows at her sister-in-law and Killian had the good sense to not dispense with his usual abundance of innuendos, while David just cast the evil eye at his wife. 

“What,” Mary Margaret asked, holding her hands up in mock innocence and confusion, “what’d I say?”

“Ga-dammen!” Leo shouted and every head whipped around to look at the little boy as he tugged helplessly at the lap belt of the high chair. “Up, up,” he pleaded. 

“Way to go, dear, looks like he’ll have your charming vocabulary,” Mary Margaret scolded her husband.

Not having any kids of their own had Emma and Killian struggling not to bellow out loud at the little guys antics. 

“No, no, Leo,” David told his son as he unbuckled the lap belt and picked him up. “That’s a… that’s a daddy word.”

“David! What kind of lesson is that?”

Emma and Killian just looked at each other and started cracking up. “So what do you say? Stay in or join these crazy kids at the zoo?” Emma asked Killian.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing,” Emma deadpanned. “I’m asking you out on a date with me, my brother, his wife and kid, and the monkeys too.”

“Sounds delightful as long as you’ll be there,” Killian answered as he pulled her into his embrace and pecked her lips. 

“Hey, let’s just take it slow,” David interrupted, “I’m not quite there yet.”

“Oh relax, she’s 28, not 16, they’ve obviously already done the deed, how are you going to get squirmy over a hug?” 

“Not helping!” David pleaded with his wife, rubbing his temples in a soothing motion. 

“He’s such a baby,” Mary Margaret cracked up. “How about you guys meet us there? No rush,” she added conspiratorially. 

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to lay out a trail of rose petals to the bed for them?”

“He’s too easy,” she continued laughing.

“Fuhfuh sake!!” Leo shouted.

Mary Margaret’s laughter cut off immediately as she stared daggers at her husband. “Watch your mouth, he’s a parrot these days!”

“Gonna be a fun day,” Emma said, once the Nolans had departed. She was most definitely trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“It’ll be brilliant, love. You and me, that is the only requisite for my enjoyment.”

“I bet you say that to all the other girls.”

“There are no other girls. Only you, milady.”

“Good,” Emma whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Mmm, let’s practice mating like the animals, Swan.”

Emma laughed so hard her stomach hurt. “I have no doubt David is now timing the drive to the zoo and adding it to the time he thinks it should take us to be ready.”

“I can be quick,” Killian purred as he thrust his hardening length against her stomach. 

“Or we could take our time and really freak him out?”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, I promise, that’s all I want you to have.”

Emma stared into the intense gaze of Killian’s eyes, the blue shining with truth and sincerity. “The long haul, Killian, that’s what my heart desires. You and me.”

The End

Tagging @laschatzi @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @hollyethecurious @jennjenn615​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @apromisednightcap​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @wordsmith-storyweaver​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @nikkiemms​ @deathbycaptainswan​ @gingerchangeling​ @thisonesatellite​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @tiganasummertree​ @cocohook38​ @snowbellewells​ @andiirivera​ @searchingwardrobes​ @timeless-love-story​ @artistic-writer​ @kday426​ @imagnifika​

[rideboldlyride]

The Morning of the Dragon (Pt. 1)

This is all @doodleladi‘s fault. I love the art in this post of theirs. Please go look at this art... and all of their other beautiful Zutara art! Here’s AO3: Link 

It’s under the break- And this is just part one of two. I can’t guarantee part two will be out before Zutara Week (I’ve got to finish those prompts first) but the second half will come soon, I promise!

She had only been in Caldera City for a few days, staying at the Palace at the Fire Lord’s particular request. It wasn’t an unusual request; it was a standing invitation to all of his old friends. In official capacity as a representative of the Southern Water Tribe, she was making her semi-annual visit to reconfirm trade agreements between her people and the Fire Nation. In an unofficial capacity, she had been written by her friend, Zuko, to help with an imminent threat of unknown form. It was rumored as an attack against the throne but no intelligence had been retrieved to give this looming threat any substance. 

Finally speaking in person with him, he had seemed only mildly concerned, in contrast to the tone of his letter. When she pressured him over this he moved from his desk and paperwork without comment. Upon reaching the door, he dismissed his guard retinue before closing and latching it tightly. He had been studiously avoiding her gaze during all of this, and when he returned from the door, he sat down in the second guest chair with a rather undignified flop. A deep sigh escaped him. 

“Sometimes I forget that others don’t have to play the mind games…”

A dark brow rose at his words, her blue eyes questioning. He began to absentmindedly rub his forehead directly above his scar. Golden eyes avoided her.

“Yes, Katara, I am concerned. I’m too close to some major changes in the nation. Change doesn’t always sit well with those comfortable in their positions.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that they’d rather my father or my sister on the throne.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she now understood his request for help. But why her? Not that she was upset, she admitted only to herself. That question wasn’t worth asking, and she was quite content to metaphorically stretch her legs again in something other than politics. 

“What can I do to help?”

With that, the next two days were spent elbow deep in intelligence reports, and meeting with the Fire Lord’s Head of Intelligence, a stern faced, graying woman. From as far as they could determine, it was Azula sympathizers. As for the date and actual form of the attack, Katara was at a loss. These dissenters were a well-organized crew and tight lipped. The first sign of their existence was a misplaced pamphlet. And while some of their activities were easy to track, there were large brush strokes missing in the overall painting. By the third morning, she awoke feeling more frustrated and inexplicably drowsy rather than rested. 

As she withdrew the curtains, the brilliant morning light was sharp and piercing. Her head pounded. Pulling the water from her nearby water bowl, Katara’s hands glowed as she placed them over her temples. As the pain eased, she was surprised to find that the drowsiness refused to budge. On instinct, she followed her Qi lines downwards, following a small ripple in their flow. The ripples grew into a full turbulence in her belly. Even through the fog, her mind snapped into place. 

She had been drugged. 

With a wave, she leeched the toxin through  her skin, and flicked it out the open window. Mind finally clear, a sudden litany of observations flooded her consciousness: there was no fresh water in her bowl, no attendant at her door trying to rouse her at this late hour, no Zuko doing his morning kata in the courtyard. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. With a mad rush, she sprinted first to the Fire Lord's office chambers. 

No guards outside the door.

No Zuko inside. 

Next, to the throne room, and once more, there was no guard. 

Another empty room. 

With bile rising into her mouth, she bolted down the hallway. In the transit, she was amazed to find no staff or guards wandering the Palace. Outside the Fire Lord's chambers, two guards sat slumped. Scorch marks and melted armor told her who had been there. However, she was mollified, in a morbid way, to see that smoke still rose from their mortal wounds. Their visitor was recent. And potentially still within.

Moving quietly to the door, she laid an ear against the wood grain. Ever so slightly, she could make out the familiar quiet but frantic female voice. A meaty thump echoed, followed by a muted groan. Katara's heartbeat pounded in her ears. She didn't need to wait any longer. Pulling water from the very humid air about her, she coiled it like an angry snake, and with it's strike it broke open the door before her. 

Anger sparkled like icy crystals behind her eyes, as the waterbender took in the room. While she was certain there were others involved, the room held only Zuko and Azula; the former, bound and gagged on the floor. A mist rested over his eyes, and Katara was certain he too had been drugged. 

A cackle escaped his sister's mouth, and she turned to the angry gaze of her older brother. 

"Look, Zuzu! We're having a reunion!" Wild amber eyes flicked back and forth between the two. The younger woman was ready for this insurrection to end before it had truly started, but as she reached out to pin Azula to the wall, she saw the fear slip over Zuko's eyes. Katara faltered in that moment. 

Azula smirked, pointing two lazy fingers at her. 

"Bam."

And Katara's world went dark. 

***

She awoke again, sick to her stomach. While not sure of what had hit her, she was sure it was not Azula's lightning. For one, Katara was certain that if she had been shot through with lightning, she would not have woken back up again. Secondly, the only thing that ached was her head. The pain was only exaggerated, she found, by the pressure and sway from her motion. In her addled brain, Katara felt the sea swell around her but as she reached out blindly, there was only a haze of water about her. Something held her hands in a solid clasp, and they moved together only, still drawing nothing from the ocean that must exist beyond her eyelids.

Confusion seeped through the fog enveloping her mind. How could she sway without the sea, be bound without seaweed at her joints, have her head throb without the pressure of the ocean's depths?

Sway…? Bound, pain…? Her mind was jumbled, until they crested a wave, broached. The jostle forced her eyes open, as she struggled to make sense of her last waking memory. Through pure muscle memory, her body remained limp, allowing her eyes to take in her surroundings before moving. Her joints remained loose, and as she swayed, she attempted to make sense of what she saw. 

Instead of the blues and greens of the ocean, or even the inky blacks of the sea at night, she found rock and dust, cast in a flickering red glow. She swayed, not with the waves, but with a gait. Seaweed did not rest around her wrists and ankles, but rather coarse rope. And the pounding in her head, she suspected, originated more from the cause of the drizzle of blood that seeped from her hairline to one of her eyes. 

The waterbender was dazed, her thoughts still a jumbled mess, but she tried to sew together the tapestry. With a sudden pop of recognition, she saw her last moment before the dark. 

Azula… Zuko!

The memory of her dear friend brought the unease from her stomach to the back of her mouth, and she swallowed the acrid taste back down. It was better for her captors to think her still incapacitated, and unaware, as she gathered whatever intel she could glean from them. Through the roar of a non-existent surf, she could make out the shape of the words spoken around her, but only with intense concentration. 

"... over there. I want her fully within view." It was a growling voice. Angry, dismissive, sneering. Solidly masculine. 

Her current mode of transportation stopped, pulling themselves upright, before moving again. As the joint of the wall and the floor came into view she willed her body limp. Her courier was less than gentle, but she forced the pain away from her face, allowing a neutral facade to stay in place, as she was dumped unceremoniously against the wall. 

Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on the rest of her senses, including the pull of the moon on her skin. She knew they must not be too far from the surface, for while it was distant, it was not unattainably muted. Maybe midday? The waterbender had not been unconscious for too long. 

The floor under her felt cold but dry. Around her, past the smell of dust, a faint rancidly sweet smell permeated from every pore and crevice. At the rustle of fabric, she heard metal jangle, being dragged both across stone and something else metal. Heavy metal. Desperately, she tried to piece together the puzzle, but the only connections she could make were hardly settling her concern. A hearty thump reverberated near her, bracketed by a pained grunt. 

It took all of her willpower not to open her eyes at that moment. Fear danced in her belly, for Katara was certain she knew who had made that noise. Instead, she waited until footsteps moved towards her. They stopped just shy, closer to the origin of the enclosed space's newest inhabitant. 

"Here, Father. And that peasant is the one I spoke about." Azula. Her voice was high. Too high. The water tribeswoman wondered if she had stopped taking her herbs, or if the seeming taming of the young woman over the past few years had been an act all along.

Wait. Father?!

Katara's heart jumped into her throat. She had never heard Ozai's voice before but it was easy to place that scathing voice with the warped scar on Zuko's face, and she felt a bitter anger grow from her chest, down to her fingers, tingling. All she had to do, Katara knew, was reach out, and she would be able to feel his heart beat, the blood rushing through his veins. And with a snap, she could end it right there. It's what Zuko would deserve- a fresh slate wiped clean with the blood of his father. Her mind wandered to Azula- how she might actually be able to heal without the presence of Ozai…

But in that half breath, she released the tension in her body, and let the thought crash upon the rocks of her mind. It's not what Zuko would want- not what would be good for anyone. Instead, she waited and the dark wave washed over and away.

"Good." The older man purred, and she listened as a ruffle of fabric brought him closer to the ground. "I thought I told you, Zuko. Defiance would be your downfall. Consider this the push."

With a flurry of sound, she heard the footsteps retreat, along with the scraping of bare skin upon the stone. A grimace tried to cross her neutral expression, but she caught it in time. The healer knew she was going to have her work cut out for her once it was all said and done. Far enough away now from the sounds, she felt confident to open her eyes to slits. 

They were in a meat locker. An old, unused one, but its original purpose was obvious. Meat hooks of various weights and sizes hung across metal grids, above. Blue eyes watched worriedly, as the older man reached for one of the stockier hooks hanging, dragging it to where his son laid discarded and bound on the floor. A growl on his lips, Ozai snatched his bound hands and caught the rope on the hook overhead, latching it into place. It was just high enough that she recognized that Zuko stood high on the ball of his feet. 

Father and son stood eye to eye.

"So." Ozai began, his voice only betraying disgust at the young man before him. Katara's heart sank, as she spotted the one thing Zuko was desperately trying to hide, to tamp into the deep recesses of his expression. Fear. "You thought you could usurp my throne."

A strangled noise came from behind the young woman and Katara recognized with a pang of surprise, that Azula stood directly behind her. The thought caused an immediate reaction, so quick that she couldn't suppress it. The waterbender jolted. Evidently Zuko wasn't the only one who couldn't control the fear these two wrought. 

Azula jumped upon it like a cat-wolf on its prey. Fingers with jagged, raw nails, dug into the flesh in her arm. She felt the prick of blood breaking through the surface of her skin. 

The pretense was gone, and Katara turned to face Azula, fury behind the tumultuous seas in her eyes. While Zuko had been gagged, she had not, and in the moment she took advantage of it. 

"I wish I had been wrong about you." Katara's words were like venom, and the noble woman's expression fell. Taking advantage of the lull, and the sudden release of pressure from her arm, the waterbender turned, and bit down hard upon the closest thing she could find. It ended up being Azula's forearm. 

There was a certain level of justice she felt when she withdrew, leaving bloody teeth marks embedded in her flesh. Azula withdrew with a cry and fell back, clutching her arm. With a spin, she knocked the young noble off her feet. Reaching for her bound ankles, Katara pulled at the water around, but could barely gather enough for a small wisp of a stream. 

Behind her, she heard a degrading laugh, and it lashed like a whip across her back. Defiant eyes flashed towards the prior Fire Lord. 

"You." Her voice was rough, growling. "You're out of your crate."

She watched with satisfaction as her words hit home. His unblemished gaze turned in rage towards her. 

"Mongrel." He sneered.

Disgust rolled through her, as she pulled at the rope coiled at her ankles, feeling it finally break free. A sound caught her attention, as Zuko released a muffled cry towards her. His eyes were wide. 

Water was nearby, but too far away for her to pull to her easily, and with an unhinged disgraced princess and an infuriated ex-Fire Lord so close, the effort would be deadly. For a moment, she questioned her verbal jab, but didn’t have any real time to consider it, before she heard the crackle of fire. Rolling, legs now free, she ended back on her knee and foot, sitting low, as blue fire licked at where she had stood just a few moments prior. As much as Katara wanted to focus on Zuko, and getting him away from his father, Azula forced her attention on to her only. 

Desperately, she reached again for water, but found it still inaccessible. But like a whisper in a room, she felt a tingle at her arm, now dripping with her own life force. There was another option…

***

Zuko watched the fight starting across the room from him, leaning into the heat from his sister’s fire. Straining against his binds, he had dismissed all thought of his now non-bending father, until his face swam before him. As powerless as Ozai now was compared to him, the young man was not naive enough to think he held no threat. 

“This was going to be an easy transition, you ceding the throne to save your little peasant friend.” His words sneered, hinted at something more, but Zuko didn’t care. “But now, it seems we’re going to have to go about this the old fashioned way.”

A flash of light off steel, and Zuko knew what fate his father had in mind for him. Instead of watching what neared him, he tore his face away, desperate to watch for Katara’s success and survival. A hand behind his head, gripped at his hair, pulling him forward, and his father’s words were in his ear. Amber eyes refused to turn to him, but the words were as cold as the steel he felt slip through his skin.

“I should have just let you die the night you were born. You’ve been nothing but a disgrace to me.”

Zuko knew of the night he had been born, under a full moon, in the depths of winter, for he had barely breathed, and was far too cold. He had been told of how his father kept him warm for the next day, against his skin. That was when his family still had a chance of joy. Of happiness. And now… this final betrayal of his father’s love hurt more for the lack of surprise. 

Abstractly, he felt the cold steel slide out of his side. The pain had yet to flare, but his knees gave way, and he sagged, all his weight now hanging from his arms. Ironically, he thought, the pain in his shoulders was worse than the one in his side. A shot of electricity from his side flared and a groan escaped him, unbidden.

Oh. He thought. Oh, there it is. 

***

She danced, feet light, slowly working her way around, while the enraged princess spewed fire about. Katara's head still pounded, and it made her work hard to concentrate on through the haze. The small sliver of water she had pulled at earlier was slowly working its way through the ropes at her wrists as she twisted away from yet another geyser of flame.

A groan reached her ears, and she turned in time to see Zuko sag as a dark line grew across his abdomen, and slid effortlessly down his lines. 

"No…" it wasn't a cry of anguish, a scream of rage, but rather a whisper of fear.

The distraction was all Azula needed, and she felt the heat wrap around her shoulder. A smell of scorched hair, fabric and flesh tickled her nose, as the fire blossomed on her. She rounded, fury now in her eyes, as the ropes fell away. 

In her peripheral, she registered Ozai's retreat up the stairs, his prison garb flashing red, but she watched the more dangerous of the two- Azula. The action of the fight brought Katara to bear, and the wild-eyed woman now stood between her and her goal: Zuko, who's belly was becoming slick and dark in the dim light, and the skin around his eyes was becoming tight. Even still, his gaze was locked on the battle before him. 

A new feeling coiled in her belly, one of warmth, certainty, when their eyes met over the head of his sister. She was familiar with the feeling- she had felt it years ago, when she had to fight her way to him across the coronation plaza. The difference now was that she was old enough and experienced enough to put a word to the feeling. 

Now wasn't the time to name it though, and instead, she used it as fuel to clear her mottled brain. The tingle was back at the liquid pooling down her limp arm, since the pain of the fire rendered it temporarily useless. It wasn't water, but the flow of liquid, and intuitively, she knew that while it may be slightly more sluggish to move, bending it was fully well within her reach. 

With her free hand, she pulled the blood away from her arm, and it twisted threateningly, it's shadow purple in the blue flames. Eyes narrowed, she matched the harried gaze of Zuko's sister, and dropped her tone to ice.

"You have a choice. Either you move," she dipped her head menacingly, "or I go through you, Azula."

An angry, broken cry echoed through the room, as blue fire flared from her fingertips, following the wild swing she took towards the tribeswoman. Uncontrolled and wild, Katara easily sidestepped, bringing her whip of blood around, grazing it's sharp edge against her cheek. It drew its own line of crimson. Light brown eyes filled with tears, and she stumbled for a moment. 

Twisting to round again on Azula, her bloody whip (disconcertingly) growing, Katara turned onto her heel, leaned back, and softly molded the dark mass of fluid before her. Her fingertips danced hungrily at its shape, crafting something new. Standing back, one leg drawn in closer, but loosely placed before her, she eyed the other young woman. The look in Azula’s eyes was familiar, as she paced like a caged boar-hound. As she passed directly in front of the water tribeswoman, something popped behind her eyes, and the unsteady girl dropped low, knees bent and arms drawn up to her chest. 

Letting loose a volley of fire balls, Katara’s dark mass of blood surged, flattening before her like a shield. Foot sliding forward, she leaned into the motion, dragging her arms, even as the smell of metallic burning reached her nose. She pulled more from the open wound in her arm to replenish the blood burnt away by the saving motion. A shift in her hands, and the free flowing blood became a circle over her head, as she swept the noble’s feet from under her. The strike of the bent material on Azula’s already wounded cheek acted like a splash of cold water, and she came up sputtering. Katara used the moment to keep her on her toes.

“What are you hoping to accomplish, Azula? Ozai’s already gone.”

“He’s gone to secure my throne!” Her dark eyes flashed, and she recovered, sending out a new spray of fire. Katara merely side stepped, gripping her wrist with the now-whip, and using it to tug her forward and off her feet.

“It didn’t sound that way to me…” A dark brow rose over a too-blue eye. “Sounded like he was warming the throne solely for himself.”

“That’s because you’re a peasant!” The girl spat back at her. “You wouldn’t understand the throne!”

There was no fire in Azula’s hand as she leaned forward again, still struggling to regain her footing. Her ragged nails were the only part that made contact with Katara’s cheek. Three new lines of crimson blossomed across her cheekbone. The blood bender merely added its contribution to the crimson pool before her. 

“And I have no desire to, in the way in which you rule. Tell me, Azula,” she slid sideways again to avoid the flailing of the other fighter. She had no fire, no spark in her actions. Katara had no more fear for Azula. All of hers now waited on the other side of the room, where Zuko’s head now dropped forward loosely. “Tell me, who would you rather care for you? Rule over you? Ozai? Or… or Zuzu?”

The nickname felt like poison on her tongue, having only heard it used derogatorily. But she also knew that, once upon a time, that nickname was everything to both of them. She hoped her words might stir that memory more than before. Azula stood stock still before her for a moment, and blue eyes watched her warily. 

The prior Crown Princess, however, was defeated, and not by Katara’s whip. 

Slowly, a knee quivered, and then crashed to the ground, followed by the rest of the young woman’s body. The heels of her palms crushed into amber eyes. Sobs, slow and heartfelt escaped her as she crumpled onto the floor. 

"...he left..." her words were full of pain, slipping between sobs, "... gone…t-took it all away… again... but Zuzu…" 

Sharp nails clawed through disheveled hair. Katara sat up, recognizing the threat as now non-existent, but still moved cautiously around her. As soon as she moved away from the kneeling figure, the waterbender bolted to Zuko's side. His body hung limply from his wrists. With a twist of her hands, his binds fell away, and he slid to his knees with a loud thunk, but she caught him before he fell the rest of the way. His head slumped on to her shoulder. Panic flared in her belly, and tears sprung behind her eyes. 

"Zuko? Zuko?" Fingertips slipped into his hair, trying to rock him into consciousness. "Please. Please. Don't leave me." 

Desperation clawed up her throat. All the things that had sat unspoken, desires and fears, that were at the back of her brain, always at the tip of her tongue, and she couldn't do anything. There was no water, nothing she could pull to heal him. Eyes tight, tears began to trace lines down her cheeks. 

Tears. 

She pulled what she could: tears fallen, sweat on bare skin, condensation on the walls and steadily the water gathered at her hands and glowing, gently, she laid her fingertips on his open wound. 

"Please, Zuko…" she pressed her lips into his hairline, "don't leave me. I have too much to tell you…"

***

Part One/Part Two

[themusicplayedherlife]

If you have a request box and it’s open can I get a Tim x demigod reader. Tim is a son of Hermes and the reader is a daughter of Athena. The reader only likes hanging out with the seven pulse Nico, Will, Grover, and Calyps. The adult figures are Mr. D and Chiron. She only hangs out with the seven Nico, Will, Grover, and Calypso and had been in every quest with Percy and the rest since Percy got to camp. The reader is antisocial and an introvert. Tim somehow worms his way into her heart.

a/n: i am so sorry this is so lateeee! you have no idea how many times i started this and rewrote it. you really gave me a hard challenge lol but it’s here and i hope you like it

Tim couldn’t stop staring. He knew it was probably weird and he should look away, but it’s fascinating watching you swing your sword. You’re so graceful, so calm and collected when you flex your wrist to make a harsh cut in the air.

“What are you staring at?” is the question that drags him out of his dream like state.

Looking up, he finds his brother staring down at him. Well, not really his brother, but someone he considered as such nonetheless. They grew up together, even though they didn’t share the same god or human parent, just a legal guardian that gave them a home when all hope seemed lost. But he was as much of a brother, maybe even more, as his cabin mates were.

“Nothing,” is his nonchalant answer. Dick already knows what he’s staring at, anyway, he doesn’t even need to ask, but he loves teasing him about his crush.

Dick snorts. “Yeah, sure, I believe you.”

Practice swords clash and grunts fill the air. You stand at the ready, not giving into Percy’s playful taunts. Growing bored, Percy finally rushes at you and you easily sidestep him and swing, getting Poseidon’s son square on his back.

“Stop sulking and go talk to her,” Dick suddenly says after a beat of silence.

Tim can’t help but wrinkle his nose in annoyance. As much as he loves his brother, he really wishes he were less meddlesome.

You flip your hair back and stare down Percy as he tries to counterattack, but you get him again, right behind the knees, Annabeth shouts your praises and it causes Percy to pout and turn to look at his girlfriend, once more leaving himself wide open for you to attack.

“Easy for you to say,” Tim mumbles. “You get along with everyone.” Must be the Aphrodite genes in him.

“Because I make an effort.” Dick nudges Tim’s head with his finger before ruffling his hair just as Percy throws his sword to the ground and raises his arms. “Look, she and Percy are done training for the day, now is your chance.”

This is his chance! He hops to his feet, but suddenly his feet stop as his mind starts over thinking. What if… “What if she wants to be on her own?”

He knew how guarded you were, after all, you had been betrayed in the worst way possible. Betrayed by someone you trusted and looked up to; someone who was like an older brother to you. While Tim was hurt to find out that a housemate—a sibling no less was behind the betrayal, it didn’t have the same impact on him as it did on you. You had been devastated, full of anguish as you tried to deny what became so clear (if any of his siblings—Dick, Jason, Cassandra or Damian—did half of what Luke did, he would’ve lost his mind). He wonders if that’s why you choose to keep to yourself? Avoid the hurt that someone could cause you by keeping your friend circle so tight and close?

He’s an idiot. Of course it is.

Dick rolls his eyes. “Just go-“ he pushes him forward- “and talk to her!”

“What do I even say?” He asks in a panic.

“Ask if you can sit together for dinner!” Dick suggests. “Or if she’d like to train with you tomorrow! You got this, Timmy!”

Yeah. Yeah! He does have this! He can totally do this! Tim nods resolutely, ready to march up to you and ask if you’d like to sit with him, only to find you’re no longer on the training ground. His shoulders fall and he lets out a loud sigh.

With a sympathizing chuckle and a pat on the back, Dick says, “Next time.”

“Yeah, next time,” Tim murmurs.

He tries his luck as you’re cleaning your weapons, a hand me down celestial-bronze sword from Annabeth and two identical blades gifted to you by Damasen when you fell into Tartarus with your sister and Percy.

You were pretty territorial with your stuff, preferring to clean them and wield them yourself. He’s only ever seen you let Annabeth touch them, and only because she gave you your first weapon.

“Hey,” Tim speaks up slowly, gaining your attention, and you pause in your ministrations. “Um, sorry, do you mind if I—“ he points at the cleaning wax and everything you have laid out to keep your weapons in top condition.

Your eyes fall to the spread in front of you and you nod, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“Thanks,” he mutters and he gently lays out his own weapons gifted to him by Bruce. They’re not the most traditional of weapons like yours or most in camp and he can tell you’re intrigued by the way your eyes linger on them. “Uh, do you want to try using it?” he asks, motioning to his custom bo staff, made out of celestial-bronze, with his hands.

You shake your head, but the curiosity lingers in your gaze and Tim feels his heart speed up when you don’t look away. “How do you kill monsters with it?”

“I—I don’t,” he answers truthfully. “It disorients them, gives my brothers or Cass a chance to finish them off.” You nod slowly, unsure if that’s such a wise idea. Monsters don’t attack to disorient, they attack to kill, so why shouldn’t he? “But I do sometimes use it as a makeshift sword,” he jokes and for a moment he swears he hears a small puff of air that sounds kind of like a giggle.

It’s enough to have him grinning widely.

“Hey—“ a voice interrupts—Nico. When did he arrive at camp? “You done, yet?” He asks you, not even acknowledging him, which isn’t much of a surprise. Hades’ son tends to keep to himself, preferring to travel on his own, too, but occasionally he’d seek you or the others out for companionship.

“Just about,” you answer him, voice lighter and full of warmth. A tinge of envy shoots through his veins. He wonders when you’ll be able to direct that voice in his direction. “Give me a moment to wipe off—there.” You pause and your eyes lock with his for just a moment. “Do you mind putting all of this away?”

“No,” he answers dumbly, unable to break eye contact with you. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Drake,” you murmur and quickly put your weapons away to join Nico for who knows what.

He hopes he can spend more time with you next time.

Next time comes a lot sooner than Tim thought it would.

He can’t sleep. It’s not the first time, either. His cabin mates usually make fun of him, say his mind is always running and that’s why he’s never able to rest. He’s starting to believe there might be some truth to their words. 

With a sigh, he carefully sneaks out of the cabin, grabbing his red hoodie as he goes. He follows the path to the woods where he knows he’ll find some peace and quiet. He knows he shouldn’t stray far, even with Wayne Tech and the fleece protecting the perimeter, you could never be too careful. He doesn’t go too far from camp, but far enough where he’s sure Connor won’t find him and try to pull some kind of prank on him when he realizes he’s gone.

The twigs snap under his feet as he gets closer to the lake where all the naiads play in during the day. He knows they’re all asleep by now and shouldn’t bother him, or so he thought.

Hands wrap around his wrist, ready to throw him over their shoulder with all of their weight, but Tim is quick. He’s able to pull away and wrap his own arms around his attacker—why are they so light?—and is able to throw them both on the ground where he successfully managed to pin them down. 

Peering down at the person pinned beneath him, his eyes widening almost comically, embarrassment finding a home on his cheeks. Shit.

“Drake?” Your eyes are just as wide and shocked as his, mouth parted slightly as you stare up at him unblinkingly.

Your name falls from his lips the same way, unsure if it’s really you beneath him right now or some kind of mind trick.

The shock drains from your eyes and you grow serious, suddenly bucking him off of you. He gets the hint and quickly scrambles to his feet.

“I’m sorry, you just grabbed me and I—“

You ignore his rambling, wiping dirt off of your pants. “Why are you out here? You know it’s dangerous.”

His brows furrow and he fixes his hoodie. “Could say the same to you.”

You eye him, head tilting and he has to tell himself to keep eye contact—don’t break, don’t break. He swears he can get lost in those endless shimmering eyes of yours. You sigh and turn away first and Tim let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he answers, voice coming out as a broken squeak. He curses himself for not keeping his voice leveled. He really has it bad doesn’t he?

You don’t say anything, instead you head towards a small patch of grass by the glistening water of the lake and plop down. You bring your knees up to your chest and you just sit there, and Tim doesn’t know how, but he somehow manages to find the courage and strength to drop himself down beside you.

He waits for a beat, and when you don’t tell him to leave, he relaxes, one leg stretched outward and his palms resting against the ground as he leans back.

You spend the rest of the night in companionable silence.

Tim thankfully has the option to opt out of Capture the Flag this week. On his mini quest with Jason and Cassandra, he got hurt pretty bad saving a child from a wild hellhound terrorizing a small town on the outskirts of Gotham. Not that he’s happy that he got hurt, because ouch hellhound teeth digging into skin is the worst thing he has experienced, and that’s saying a lot as a Demi-god and Robin.

Don’t get him wrong, he gets why everyone gets super excited about it, but sometimes—members of the Ares cabin, like Jason, especially—get super competitive and it becomes this whole thing where everyone fights all day and they take more jabs at one another than usual.

“You still ain’t good, kid?”

Tim spares a glance over his shoulder at Jason, who is geared up and ready. Dick and Cassandra flank his sides both in their own personal gear.

“Hellhound got me pretty good.”

Dick ruffles his hair. “I’ll see if I can get Chiron to spare some Nectar or Ambrosia after the game.”

He had some when he arrived at camp, but it wasn’t enough for a Hellhound bite apparently. “That’d be great. Thanks, Dick.”

“Stay safe,” Cassandra mutters patting his arm before making her way over to her other team members with excitement. He forgets how much she loves Capture the Flag.

Dick shakes his head and Jason chuckles lowly, the two following after her.

“Good luck!”

“Won’t need it,” Jason barks back at him, smirking.

He rolls his eyes and pities the fool that’ll have to take on his brothers and sister.

“Here,” a soft voice says just as a small bag of squared treats falls on his lap and he startles, barely catches it before it can drop to the ground. “I had some extra Ambrosia lying around.”

He blinks at the food and then up to find you looking away from him, your friends just a few feet away.

“I’ve never fought a hellhound, but Percy and Annabeth said they can be pretty vicious.”

“Are you sure—“

“Yeah,” you cut him off, finally meeting his gaze, a small smile on your beautiful face that has his heart racing and the wound in his leg throbbing. “Keep out of trouble, Tim.”

Tim. You called him Tim! This is—that’s great news! Just as he’s registering his name drop, he realizes you’re already walking away from him to join the rest of your friends waiting off to the side.

“Thanks,” he calls out to you and you glance at him over your shoulder, eyes scrunching up and lips turning up in one corner. Shit. How is it that one simple smirk can turn his world upside down and kick his heart into overdrive? It should be illegal to make someone feel so strongly as you make him feel.

If he dies from his hellhound injury right this moment, he wouldn’t regret anything in his life.

Except he would regret a couple of things. He knows over the last few years you’ve been in and out of the camp, following your sister and the rest of your friends on the prophesied quests, but he wishes he had tried to get to know you earlier. Maybe then he’d somehow be connected to your prophecies too, and he didn’t have to worry about you never coming back.

“Relax,” he hears Jason say behind him as he and his siblings wait with him for any signs of you and your friends. “She’s gone through worse trials than this and has made it out alive. She can handle finding her mother’s darn owl.”

“She’s strong,” Cassandra adds with a resolved nod, completely convinced about her words.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “She is.”

“She may have already found the owl,” Dick reassures, clapping him on his shoulder. “She’s probably on her way to Olympus to deliver it and Annabeth said that might take another week.”

Gods, he hopes not.

It’s another day, and Tim wonders if you’re okay. If you’re keeping safe and warm. He knows Frank and Piper wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you three are as thick as thieves, and trust each other with your lives, but he still can’t help it.

He thinks back on that night on the lake, how you just sat side by side in silence, and more often than not, most nights he’d find himself by that lake with you by his side.

The first time you broke the silence, you asked him more about his bo staff, asking how it worked and if he’d regret picking that as his choice of weapon. He told you it was gifted to him, and he trusted his weapon to get him out of messy situations. You just stared at him for a beat longer before nodding in understanding.

That night, after you had both went your separate ways—you to your cabin and him to his, he lay awake as his thoughts run wild.

Those nights, sitting side by side in companionable silence, or in shy conversation as you watch the water sparkle, feels so long ago now.

He grabs a rock, turning it in his hands, weighing it. He gently raises it and is about to flick his wrist to skip it across the water when a soft voice stops him, the rock falling to the ground and rolling away.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His head slowly turns, as if trying to process that familiar voice—because it can’t be! Annabeth didn’t think you’d come for another week! “Naiads aren’t fond of campers throwing things in their lake.”

He scrambles to his feet and takes in your form—apart from a scratch on your cheek, you seem okay! “You’re home!”

“I’m home,” you repeat, a slow smile making its home on your beautiful face.

Gods! He could just kiss you out of relief!

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long,” you murmur shyly and his eyes widen. “I heard from Annabeth you’ve been waiting for me.”

“No!” he interjects loudly, and the water behind him ripples. Shit. Don’t wake up the naiads, Tim! “No,” he tries again softly, “don’t apologize. I’m just, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

It’s quiet out by the lake, not a single bird to be heard or an occasional giggle from a nymph breaking curfew. It’s like everything is holding its breath, watching, waiting to see what might happen. Or maybe it’s just him.

“Okay,” you bend slowly, turning away from him as your smile turns awkward, strained, “well, I just wanted to let you know I’m back, so—“

His hand reaches for your wrist without thinking and you stare at him, smile falling from your face, but you don’t look scared. Your head only tilts and your eyes sparkle with the reflection of the stars, and he knows you’re only curious.

He’s curious, too. Why did he stop you?

“I—“ he closes his mouth, unsure of what to say exactly. His hand drops to his side and he berated himself. He’s already made a fool of himself, no need to keep doing it.

You sigh gently, facing away from him for a moment before taking a couple of steps to stand right in front of him, the tips of your shoes almost touching his. He has to resist the urge to hold his breath, because wow, you’re even more beautiful up close. “Tim, do you—do you like me?”

“What?” he asks dumbly, having not expected you to ask that of all things.

Heat radiated off your pores, eyes drooping and a sweet flush beginning to appear on your skin. “Sorry, I—wow. I’m an idiot. Um. I’m sorry, forget I asked that—“

Before Tim knows what he’s doing, his hands have somehow made a home on your warm skin, and he watches as your eyes widen, mouth parting in a silent question. He knows he’s being oddly intimate, but he didn’t know what else to do! Probably not this! But you’re not pushing him away so that’s a good sign, right? “I—I do,” he admits. “I do like you. I like you a lot. Since the moment my siblings and I arrived and I saw you training with Annabeth.”

“That was so long ago, Tim,” you say, voice a little breathless and he really hopes he hasn’t creeped you out.

“I—I know, but you looked so cool telling her to stop taking it easy on you.”

“I was annoyed,” you whisper.

“Yeah.” He grins slowly, almost in a haze. “But I thought you looked cool.” Your eyes drop to his hoodie as his hands drop to his side. “I just—I just thought you should know since you were asking and—“

“I like you, too,” you admit shyly, eyes meeting his and he swears he can see himself reflected in your eyes surrounded by stars instead of these dark trees. “Somehow, someway, you’ve worked yourself into my heart, Timothy Drake.”

“Oh, man!” He can’t help but laugh, nerves finally slipping from his tense bones, an unfamiliar heat taking over every piece of him. And he wonders if this is what true happiness feels like? “Can I—“ he clears his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

When you nod bashfully, he presses his lips against yours, relishing on the softness of them as your hands cup the back of his neck, and gods, he could just laugh again because this doesn’t feel real. You don’t feel real, but you are real, and you’re so sweet and soft and he can keep kissing you all night, but it’s a shame you both need to breathe at some point. And so, reluctantly he pulls away, only to press his forehead against yours.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow?” he asks, breath fanning over your lips.

You chuckle and he smiles. “I’ll have dinner with you every night, Tim.”

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

When Love Must Die (chapter 9)

Quick author’s note for your attention, please.  I’ve noticed that the interest in this story has waned quite a bit (here on tumblr at least), and (since I’m an absolute whore when it comes to feedback and I have a hard time getting inspired to write more when I don’t get much of a response) I’m considering stopping updates for it on here and sticking with AO3 updates alone. I’ll see how this chapter does and decide accordingly. Just wanted to give everyone a heads-up.

Link to Chapter 1 (masterlist)

Tagging:  @armaggedidnt @oh-hamlet @foxyfoe-reblog @s3dgy @butttteeerrrrrr @swanheart69 @giulisetta  @tonystark5ever @agentlokii @tardisoftheshire @maehemscorpyus

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

Chapter 9

 A soft rustle of movement beside him breaks through the light doze he has finally allowed himself to sink into what seems like moments ago, and he startles awake, arms tightening instinctively around the stubbornly unconscious man-shaped being tucked safely against his side.  He blinks, disoriented slightly from his not-quite-sleep, lets his bleary gaze focus on the young witch who stands less than a foot away from the bed, a tray of food in her hands.  

“Sorry,” she murmurs, looking contrite, “I didn’t mean to wake you.  I’ll just…”  Carefully, she sets the tray down onto the nightstand beside him, moves to step back.

 “Don’t…,” Aziraphale raises a hand to stop her.  “It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep.”

 She cants her head knowingly, her mouth tight with worried disapproval.  “Perhaps you should be,” she chides.  “You look absolutely beat.”

 He believes it, too. He hasn’t had a moment’s respite since he popped back into Anathema’s living room with Crowley’s limp, mangled form cradled against his chest, shouting for Adam to encase the fragile, dying essence in a protective corporeal sheath – a temporary patch, a desperate attempt to keep the severely damaged essence from simply breaking apart in Aziraphale’s arms.

 Since then, the only thing the angel was focused on was keeping Crowley alive and healing, healing, healing. Properly, thoroughly, completely. Determinedly undoing all traces of Hell’s purposefully, ruthlessly crude patch-up job: gently straightening out the twisted, crookedly knitted bones, mending the terrible scars that mar every inch of Crowley’s beautiful skin, soothing away the deep, devastating burns.

 And it was working. Aziraphale could tell it was working. Could feel the broken, jagged edges of Crowley’s abused essence slowly, oh-so-slowly, pulling back together, its worryingly feeble glow becoming just a bit stronger in response to every pulse of angelic grace Aziraphale infused into it.  And Crowley was blessedly, completely out of it throughout the harrowing procedure, remaining loose-limbed and pliant under the healing glow of Aziraphale’s hands.

 Until Aziraphale started on his wings.  

 He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the awful, soul-rending scream that tore from Crowley’s throat when Aziraphale hand first ghosted over one of the mutilated appendages in an attempt to infuse a bit of healing grace into the worst of the damage.  He’d pulled back then, shocked to frozen horror by the tidal wave of pain and fear that crashed against his senses.  It was… it was…

 Aziraphale swallows down an uncomfortably human swell of nausea as he thinks back to those harrowing and seemingly endless hours of the night, during which Anathema and Newt stood on either side of Crowley, pinning him down on his stomach as he thrashed and writhed desperately in their grip, while Aziraphale himself, his corporation’s heart bleeding, ripping at the seams in the face of his friend’s interminable agony, wrestled the wildly flapping wings into submission one at a time, forcing as much healing energy as he could spare into each quivering appendage, trying his best to ignore Crowley’s raspy, throat-tearing howls of pain and the sobbing, gut-wrenching pleas for him to “stop, please, stop!”

And then came the nightmares.  Vivid, brutal and just as relentless.  And Aziraphale was helpless against them.  Helpless to calm the wild, defensive flail of the long limbs.  Helpless to soothe the pained furrowing of the sweat-stained brow, the quiet, pitiful whimpers and full-on wretched sobs.  Helpless to chase away whatever awful images that passed before Crowley’s wide open but unseeing stare, as his friend screamed himself hoarse into the haunting void visible to him and him alone. Helpless to do anything but sit there with silent tears streaming down his cheeks and his trembling arms wrapped around Crowley’s guitar-string taut, twisting form as tightly as he dared so as not to hurt him and to keep Crowley from further hurting himself.

 He never felt more exhausted in his life.

 And yet he didn’t dare leave.  Didn’t dare step away even for a moment lest Crowley should fall prey to another vicious nightmare.  Or, worse yet, lest he should awaken and find himself alone.  Aziraphale couldn’t do that to him.  Not after everything that dear boy has been through for his sake.  

 And so even now with the near-overwhelming and heretofore unfamiliar to him urge to sleep, he politely declines Anathema’s offer to keep watch over Crowley so he could go to the spare bedroom and rest.

 “I’m sorry, my dear girl,” he shrugs, apologetic, shifting to pull Crowley closer as if afraid that she would physically try and force them apart.  “I… I can’t.”

 She shakes her head at him with the chiding look of a mother disappointed in her child.  Concedes with a sigh, moving as if to leave.  Then pauses, her gaze lingering on Crowley’s slack features.  “It’s strange,” she muses, almost too quiet for Aziraphale to hear.  “He doesn’t look much different.”

 “How do you mean?”

 “Oh,” she looks back up at him, flustered.  Shrugs, gesturing awkwardly toward Crowley,  “I just… I mean… I know Adam gave him his old body back, but I thought… with him being an angel now and everything… that he would…”

 “Look different?”

 She purses her lips, sheepish.  Reaches up nervously to tuck a stray lock behind her ear.  “The other demons I saw, they… well, they all looked and felt very different from the angels.  Their appearance, their auras.  So I thought that he’d feel different, too, now, but… he doesn’t really.  I mean… his eyes are different now and all, but he… he feels the same.  Do you know what I mean?”

 Aziraphale nods, smiles wistfully, looking down at the man in his arms.  “I met him before, you know,” he murmurs, a seeming non sequitur that she frowns at, confused.  “Raphael,” he adds in lieu of explanation.  “Before the Fall.”

 “You knew him?” And he can feel the weight of her stare on him, the shocked judgment of her realization. “Then why didn’t you–”  She stops short, hand flying up to cover her mouth before she says too much.

 But it doesn’t matter. He knows what she’s thinking. Lord knows, he’s been thinking the same thing ever since he saw those images in Hastur’s head.  Has been judging himself for that ever since, too.

 “Why I didn’t recognize him?” He looks up to find silent confirmation in her expression.  Huffs out in tired self-condemnation, “I forgot.” And that’s as simple an answer as he can give her.  As truthful as it is damning.  “I’m pretty sure none of us were supposed to keep any memories of the Fallen.  They were… some of us were very close back in those days.  Brothers, sisters, best friends.  Having the memory of those we’ve lost that day, it… it would have caused quite a lot of grief, I imagine.”  His lips twitch, morphing into a bitter smirk, “Perhaps She was afraid that it would lead to more unrest.”

 “But you’re remembering now?”

 Aziraphale hums, raising an eyebrow in contemplation.  “Not… all of it,” he admits reluctantly, “not exactly.  Just… flashes, really.  Random bursts of images… feelings… impressions.” He shrugs, a bit helplessly, “It’s… it’s hard to explain.”

 She nods mutely, seeming to accept his jumbled explanation.  Perches cautiously on the very edge of the bed.  “So what do you see?”

 There’s a prickle in Aziraphale’s eyes, a too-too familiar burn, and so he raises his gaze to the ceiling in a vain effort to contain the traitorous gathering moisture.  “Light,” he whispers, unable, unwilling to keep the awe from his voice.  “Beautiful and mesmerizing… like the stars.  And kindness,” he adds, his voice trembling just a bit, “So… so much kindness and love! I don’t think I’ve felt that much from any other angel.”  He blinks, shifting his gaze back down to Anathema.  Smiles brokenly as he feels a tear spill over his eyelashes to drip onto his cheek.  “Perhaps that’s why he managed to hold on to it?  He had so much of it within him that the Fall simply couldn’t burn all of it away,” he muses, as more tears follow down the same track.

 It feels right, what he’s saying.  Feels true. And he knew the truth of it, for thousands of years he knew.  Had seen it in the begrudging care with which Crowley treated those around him; in the compassion (no matter how desperately, but, ultimately, poorly, hidden) that he exuded towards humans; in the untainted, gentle affection he showed towards Aziraphale himself.

 But Aziraphale rejected it. Pushed that truth away, buried it under layers upon layers of denial, relying on blind obedience and mindless indoctrination instead of allowing himself to open up and see proof of the opposite that was right there in front of him, centuries upon centuries.

 What a fool he was. What a naïve, blind fool.

 “So you’re right, my dear.” He forces another smile for Anathema’s benefit – a pale, trembling thing.  “He really doesn’t look that much different because… because he never really changed that much.”  

 He raises an equally trembling hand to swipe at his rapidly dampening cheeks before looking down to gaze with tearful fondness at the former demon asleep in his arms. Lovingly, tenderly, he threads his quivering fingers through the tangled, sweat-matted locks. Places a ghost of a kiss, soft and apologetic, onto the pale strip of skin where it meets the hair’s flame-red edge.  Whispers, barely audible, “Did you, darling?”

 Crowley’s face tightens as if in response, a deep furrow of pain cutting across the smooth skin of his brow, and Aziraphale reaches out, unhesitating.  Presses his fingers over the crease, willing his own still healing-weary essence to release just a tad more of angelic grace.  Slumps in grateful exhaustion as he watches Crowley’s pain-tightened features soften and go lax with proper, mending sleep.  

 There’s a brief moment when he wonders if he should take Anathema up on her offer after all, to take a much needed break from his healing vigil and allow himself to rest, to give his own powers a chance to recharge.  He opens his mouth, a humble request for Anathema to stay with Crowley while he follows Crowley’s example and lets himself relax into a blessedly restful slumber ready on the tip of his tongue.

 And snaps it shut a mere heartbeat later as a powerful and dreadfully familiar presence rattles sharply against the protective network of wards surrounding the cottage.  

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt19: Spawn of lightning

[Jaune’s House, it’s storming outside]

*Bzzzz Bzzzz!*

Yujin:*groaning in bed* Ugh five more minutes...

*Scroll begins to ring constantly, the sound of gong playing repeatedly*

Yujin:I know that ringtone.... *raises her to look outside* Well looks like no outside training today; it’s already pass ten?

*Bong!!!!! Bong!!!!!!*

Yujin:*grabbing her scroll* Tenzen I know you’re probably bored but don’t just blow up my-.......

............

Yujin:*springs out of bed and rushes down stairs* Mom!!!!! Dad!!!!!! Auntie Ruby!!!!!!!!!

*Ruby and Yang watching the rain as lightning dances across the sky*

Ruby:Wow, this looks like it’ll be going on for awhile. I sort of miss storms like this.

Yang:.......

Ruby:Yang?

Yang:Huh? Sorry I zoned out.

Ruby:You okay? Humidity getting to you?

Yang:It’s not that. This storm is bothering me though; I don’t like the feel of-......Ruby *points to the distance.*

Jaune:*swings open the door with Yujin* Guys we have trouble! It’s- *gasp*

*pink lightning shooting off in the distance. Followed by a single orange one further away*

Jaune:Nora........

Yujin:(Tenzen....)

Yang:Tsk, *running to the car* Everyone in! If I floor we can make it to an airship and get there in-

Ruby:No way that’s fast enough on its own. Jaune, amp me up....... I’ll meet you there. *grabs scythe*

[Emerald Forest]

*every sound washed out by the noise of explosions and down pour. Nora running and sliding through the now muddy landscape; cuts all over her as blood runs down her face. Messing with her vision in her left eye*

Nora:*huff* (Come on Nora...just keep moving!) *spins around firing a volley of grenades before turning back around and sprinting*

*cult members dodging left and right as grimm take the hits*

Member:Agh! Master Jericho! She’s pushing us back!

Jericho:Resilient aren’t you? No wonder she survived the last encounter. *a group of Ursa tanks the oncoming barrage and keeps charging* resilience runs out however; keep advancing Catalyst Mercy!

Nora:(Almost our of ammo, was Tenzen just late or......focus Nora. They would’ve used him to bait me) *slides behind a tree* (How did they even find us? We’ve been so careful....)

Jericho:You know you’re only making this longer than it has to be? We killed your little guardians or whatever they’re called so nobody is keeping tabs on you. Can you just make this easy on me?

Nora: *tensing her body to remain still* (They got Mercury and Emerald...?)

*beowulves sniffing along the ground*

Jericho:(Stupid rain....) I hear this isn’t your first encounter with us? I’ve only been here a couple years but you’re quite the name in our little organization. Took down our brothers and sisters over a decade ago after we jumped you and your pathetic husband.

Nora:*gritting her teeth*......

Jericho:Say, where is that guy now? Writhing in pain somewhere? I hear we put quite a beating on him like nobody’s business. Arms, back, ribs, femur; I’d love to meet a guy like that and see how the bones heal after that kind of punishment. Tell me something.....

Nora:........

*thunder crackles across the sky*

Jericho:Do you think your son can take that type of punishment?

Nora: *jumps out and blows the beowulves apart before running at him* TOUCH MY FAMILY AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!!!

Jericho:So angry..... *jumps back as his men run forward*

*body crackles with pink lightning as she slams her hammer down and electrifies the soaked ground; shocking the enemies*

Nora:Get back here! *clearing anything and everything in front of her with a few swings. Eyes blurry and body trembling she proceeded to right hook an Ursa Major; sending it right at the master*

Jericho:To be this strong without an ounce of aura left is incredible. However..... *points up*

*giant Nevermore feathers pierce into the ground and pins Nora’s arms between them. A long the end of one feather stabbing right through her foot*

Nora:Agh! Ugh...! *struggling* You think....I won’t get out of this!?

*several cult members lining up next to their master as their guns find a killing shot to take. The grimm slowly loom behind Nora ready to maul her has the Nevermore circles above*

Jericho:Somehow I’m not too worried if you do. *walking up to her*It took awhile but we finally have the Lightning Empress herself near minutes away from being nothing but a story to tell; on a stormy day no less. It’s kinda sad, but you’re too dangerous to be left alive. *rubs his hand across her face*

Nora:*trembling at his touch, attempts to bite him but too slow* Hands off!

Jericho:Your eyes still show no fear. Are you not afraid of death? Knowing that after this moment your family too will end?

Nora:........*eyes widen as fast as they do tear up as she continues to struggle in vain* Leave them out of this!!!! Ren can’t..... he can’t even fight anymore. My son is young and has nothing to do with this. *wheepin* JUST KILL ME DAMNIT! Don’t.....don’t touch my family...

*tears, blood, and rain all mix together as her body finally goes limp in defeat; too tired to scream anymore*

Jericho:Now those are the eyes I wanted to see. Looks like even people like you can break with enough pressure. If it was up to me you might’ve won me over; it’s not my call though. My orders were very specific. Seeing how the bird caught you it’s only fair it gets to eat-

Mercy:Get down! *tackles him as the Nevermore crashes down on the grimm; killings the majority or them and the Nevermore itself*

Jericho:Agh! What the hell happened!?

Mercy:I...I don’t know. One minute I was controlling it find then it crashed. Was it struck by lightning?

“Something like that....”

*orange and pink aura flow down the feathers trapping Nora. It wraps around her and hugs her almost like water*

Nora:*Looking up* T...Tenzen?

*Tenzen sits perched up on quills while holding another one in his right hand. His aura overflowing out him turning his eyes orange and pupils almost reptilian like. Natural orange hair with pink strip now inverted as his body crackles with a bit of lightning matching his aura*

Tenzen:.......

Nora:Tenzen you have to go. These people are no joke; they-

Tenzen:Hurt you and dad back then right; causing everyone so much trouble and grief? *his voice calm, devoid of energy yet filled with confidence and clarity* You don’t think I could just leave you like this could you? Don’t worry mom, I got this.

Jericho:*standing up* I gotta say I didn’t expect to see the runt here. So you’re their k- *Tenzen’s finger right on his chest* (when did he-)

Tenzen:Get lost...*collapses his hand into a fist; caving in Jericho’s chest a bit and sending flying back into a tree*

Mercy:Jericho!!!! Everyone attack!

*A massive gust of wind sends them flying back as Tenzen swings the giant feather like a fan. Only to promptly ram into member to swipe a gun. Shooting two more and leg sweeping another one before stunning then all with his aura shocking the ground*

Jericho:*coughing* You little punk. I’m gonna-

Tenzen:*lifts Nora bridal style* You’ll have to catch me first..... *dashing past them in an instant*

Jericho:Catch them both and bring them back here now before they get.....get.....*starts seeing triple of everything fading in and out constantly*

Mercy:Sir....*looking around* You’re seeing this too right? I think we all are; I can’t tell what’s what!

Jericho:*grits his teeth has he holds his chest* That stupid guardian of theirs is alive.

*green bullets fly out from the forest in random locations until they suddenly stop*

Jericho:Show yourself!

Emerald:Come and find me if you can. I’m gonna enjoy cutting you all down for hurting my partner.

Jericho:Mercy, we need her dead if want a chance of finding them.

Mercy:Don’t you think I know that? Everybody with me, *sending grimm in every direction* we’re going hunting....

Nora:*holding on tightly* Look how strong you’ve gotten.

Tenzen:I’m sorry for being late. I....I should’ve been here from the start. *looking at her wounds*

Nora:*rests her head and takes a breath* It’s alright, you were just in time.

*Tenzen trails off in between some bushes were Mercury sits up against a tree. He sits Nora right next to him*

Nora:You’re alive!

Mercury:I better be; everything hurts to much to be dead. I called for help like you asked. *tossing him back his scroll* It took a minute but she finally picked up like you said.

Tenzen:That’s good; all that’s left is to buy time. I’m going back for Emerald now before it’s too late. *aura slightly dimming*

Nora:Be careful, are you sure you can hold out. You’re burning through a lot of aura.

Tenzen:All the more to get this done fast. Sigh, should eaten breakfast or something. *blasts of once again into a blur of sparks and aura*

Mercury:You have a smart kid. *pulling at his own scroll* I’d say this plan is insane if everyone involved wasn’t crazy themselves. Now we wait.

Nora:Wait for-

*a massive blast of wind blows by them almost pushing them. The raindrops fly everywhere as a storm of rose petals blankets the area *

Ruby:Where...*huff* are they? *huff*

Mercury:*tosses his scroll to her* Follow the orange dot.

Ruby:It’s moving pretty fast.

Mercury:Afraid you can’t keep up?

Ruby:Hmph, I’ll catch up. *looks at Nora’s condition* I’ll definitely catch up. I brought a gift for the both of you.

*Raven’s portal opens up with her and everyone else coming out of it in the car*

Jaune:Hey strangers need a hand? *hands glowing*

Mercury and Nora:Yes!

Tenzen:*his hair eyes constantly switching back and forth between its regular color and inverted* Come on Tenzen you can do this. Just keep pushing a little more...... it’s almost a over. I just need to make it to the cliff wall.

Emerald:*approaching the wall, physically exhausted and injuries everywhere. A distinct bruises around her neck* God this better work. I bought you all the time I could.

*she extends one of her sickles and flings into into the wall. Yanking on it to make sure it’s secure*

Emerald:All or nothing now....

“Isn’t it a bit too wet to be rock climbing?”

Emerald:*immediately flings the other chain outwards as she turns around. Missing all the cult members and grimm that now surround her while the chain’s end lands somewhere*

Jericho:*shaking his head* For a guardian you kinda suck.

Emerald:We’re called Sinister Shadows you jackass. You think you’d know that by now. If you’re gonna try and kill someone then make sure they actually die.

Mercy:I’ll be sure to remember that next time I hang you and your partner.

Emerald:There’s not gonna be a next time. Should’ve caught that chain....

Tenzen:*runs by and yanks it. Emerald punching Mercy while being propelled back into the forest and into his arms* Hold on tight. *picks her up and heads straight back to the wall*

Emerald:Oh this is so insane.... *grabs the chain in the wall as Tenzen starts on the side of it. Steadily curving upwards like a pendulum*

Tenzen:Almost there! Just a little more- *semblance fizzles out and slips on a rock* .......

Jericho:Looks like someone is all out of steam!

Emerald:*heart drops*

Tenzen:I’m gonna throw you......

Emerald:You’ll wha-aaaah! *launched the rest of the way up the cliff to safety as he falls back down to the ground hard* Tenzen!!!!!

Tenzen:*aura broken on impact* Ugh, that....really hurt......

Jericho:*standing over him* That fall is the least of your worries.

Tenzen:Hehehe I guess you’re made about the bunch? Good..... *kicked and stomped on repeatedly*

Jericho:Do you have any idea how long it took to orchestrate this plan? *stomps on his ribs* how perfect every thing was going!? *kicks is face* Then you came along and ruined it. *grabs him by the neck*

Tenzen:...... *spits blood on his face* Guess you... didn’t plan well enough.....*slammed into the wall*

Jericho:You know your mommy was supposed to be the one die first but I guess you get the honor. Mercy, hand me your gun.

.............

Jericho:*turning around* MERCY I SAID-........ *drops Tenzen on the ground*

*Ruby standing in the middle of every cult member one the ground savagely beaten. Most of them near death or wishing for death; every grimm turned to stone as her eyes shine*

Ruby:*holiding Mercy by the collar before dropping her limp body on the ground* Did you have a plan for dealing with me? You must’ve if you didn’t think I wouldn’t find out about this.

Jericho:*starts trembling* Re...retreat immediately; no one survives The Red Reaper alone.

Tenzen:*vision fading* You made it.....thank goodness. *passes out*

Ruby:......*walks pass Jericho and picks him up* Not half bad kiddo; not bad at all. *walks away*

Jericho:You....you are letting me go?

Ruby:I personally have more important things to do then hurt you. Her on the the other hand... *steps aside*

Nora:*standing quietly as she’s soaked in the rain. Her hammer gripped with both hands and aura shining brighter than ever*

Jericho:*face goes pale*

Ruby:You have her full undivided attention. Nora, we need this one alive. *dashes up the cliff to grab Emerald then leaves*

Nora:You heard her you’re not gonna die. *lightning strikes getting stronger* You’re just gonna really wish you were.

Jericho:*back pressed against the wall* What....what are you going to do to me?

Nora:You’re interested in beatings right? Let’s see how durable your legs are.....

[8osbabe]

okay so this will sound dumb, but like the reader is dating two-bit and she is super badass, like she fought 5 socs at once and beat them all but she has an identical twin sister who acts the same, and the gang calls them the terror twins.

a/n : okay here’s the thing. i need to stop.

these genuinely take me long because i

go into my google doc, thinking, “oh

this will be a short drabble, then i’ll

move onto the next one!” and then i

lose all self control and write a

2000+ word fic. also your idea isn’t dumb,

I was actually really inspired and writing

this just kind of flowed out of me.

____________

it’s one of those unbearably hot days in tulsa, and the windows of your bedroom are cracked open to let in a draft, though it doesn’t help much.

standing in front of your closet, trying to decide what to wear, you already know it’s going to be a god-awful day.

why? well, to begin with, summer days like these call for more breathable, or skimpier, clothing.

thing is, the hot weather seems to aggravate every dirty, skeevy greaser in this neighborhood. fights happened more often, and their advances were far more aggressive

so it didn’t help that you were stuck with wearing less clothing for the next month or so.

finally, you pull out one of your looser, linen blouses, opting for an old skirt that was a little small on you, but at least didn’t heat up much.

you’re halfway slipping it on as your sister pushes the door of your shared room open, falling onto her bed with an exhausted sigh.

“you know, i really didn’t think i could get any hotter.”

you roll your eyes, turning to face her and smoothing down your hair.

“—hey, i have that blouse, too! we should match,” she says sitting up.

“we aren’t five anymore. we don’t have to dress the same just ‘cause we’re twins.”

“well, whatever we’re wearing, dad’s making us run down to the market. ‘says he’s out of smokes, we’re out of bleach, and we need more eggs.”

your expression turns sour as you survey your looks in the mirror. “what, he’s too drunk to do it himself?”

he did that a lot lately. the simple fact that you had to buy bleach on a consistent basis to clean up the aftermath of his drunk spells, was nauseating.

you can see your sister from her reflection in the mirror, biting her lip and staring at the ground, her somber expression almost making you feel bad. yeah, she was the nice one.

“alright, let’s go, grease,” you smile at her and reach out a hand to help her off the bed as a sort of apology for snapping.

taking it, she jumps off the bed and you head outside.

the walk to get groceries wasn’t particularly long, but your house was tucked in the very deep end of the neighborhood, forcing you to walk past every other house on your way.

the actual market was conveniently close to your house, mostly because this was the one with the clerk who didn’t really care about selling smokes to minors, and would even sell you a six pack or two if he was in a good mood.

you manage to make it through unscathed, though, and you suppose it’s because it’s early, and most greasers are hungover or sleeping.

you walk out of the store with your purchases tucked into a paper bag that you’re holding across your chest with your arms.

your sister’s going on about some soc she scammed, overcharging them for grass, which was a good business to be in, considering the drug was blowing up with socs who could afford it by the minute.

your sister didn’t smoke at all, in fact, she’s pretty sickly, so she avoids almost everything that could get her sick. when you’re a greaser, you can’t afford much antibiotics, which means that sitting out the flu, sucks.

but, money doesn’t grow on trees, at least not these trees, so you did what you had to, to keep moving. it was a risk, but your sister was willing to take it. you wouldn’t stop her.

you’re laughing with her when she reminds you of the time she got beaten to a pulp by a soc when she first started selling, though it hadn’t been funny at the time.

at first, the idea of being a real pusher, made her feel guilty. instead, she raided the old spice cabinet in your kitchen, where bottles full of seasoning were gathering dust.

so she put them to use, stuffing the tiny bags and making a quick buck off of dumb socs.

then, word got around about the scam, and they hand come to find her outside the drive-in, slapping her around and demanding the real thing.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that you only become aware of your surroundings when you near two boys, greasers, leaning on the fence outside of an old-looking house.

your expression turns stone cold, but it doesn’t stop them from calling out to you as you close in on them.

“will you look at that, two-bit. one for me and one for you,” one of them snickers. he’s smoking, wearing a leather jacket, nearly the same color as his dark hair.

he looks like the hood type. the other, a blonde in a mickey mouse muscle shirt, not so much.

the hood had called him two-bit.

you’re just starting to walk past them, both of you ignoring them.

“— aw girls, don’t be mean.”

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to keep your cool.

then, the hood sticks a foot out abruptly in front of you, and he’s too quick for you to react. he sends you, and the bag of groceries, flying to the ground.

your sister stops short, and jerks the hood forward by his jacket.

“piss off, dallas.” oh, she knows him. cool.

“stop,” you call out to her, slowly moving to your feet. “lets just take the stuff home before dad freaks. we’ll see to this later.

your twin gives dallas one last menacing glare, before releasing him and grabbing the paper bag from the floor.

you grab the small bottle of bleach from where it rolled out of the bag.

“what’s that for, ‘you use it to keep the boys away?” two-bit laughs. eye roll.

“actually, it’s just my favorite summer beverage.” you offer him an excruciatingly fake smile, and take off after your sister.

you’re already far and don’t hear them when they speak again.

“those girls were weird, man.” dallas smirks and takes a drag from his cigarette.

two-bit smiles. “i don’t know. i liked the mouthy one.”

you’re crossing the street when a silver camaro nearly runs you down, screeching to a stop beside your sister.

“you. you’re the chick who sold my little brother some spice,” he snarls from out the window of his car.

“i am?” she answers smugly.

“you know, he didn’t stop coughing for an hour. ‘drank two gallons of water that day.”

“really?” she’s trying to contain her laughter, but isn’t doing a very good job of it.

this doesn’t appease the socs, who turns off his car just as fast as he, and four of his friends, jump out of the car.

now, as far as the odds go, they were pretty screwed up.

you look at the bottle of bleach you’re armed with, though, and decide this will be fun.

best case scenario, they leave ashamed and with mild chemical burns. the worst, well, at least you stain their madras permanently.

the driver, who had some score to settle with you sister, pounced her first, but sweeps his legs, sending him to the ground.

it was a good strategy. they were easier to fight when you could pin them.

one takes after your sister, trying to help out his buddy, but the other three rush you.

you unscrew that cap of the bleach and launch some of the liquid onto the exposed skin of the assailant’s chest.

he hisses, and falls back, and two of his friends take off. it was the wise thing to do.

with the remaining one down for the count while he nurses his chest, you look toward you sister, who’s digging her thumbs into the driver’s eyes.

not enough to blind him, because that was surely a lawsuit, but enough to keep him down.

another tries to pry her off of him, his back turned to you. it gives you the perfect opportunity to kick him where you know it hurts best, and punch his nose when he turns to face you.

“let’s go,” you call to your sister. you feel winded.

you walk quickly in the opposite of your original direction, opting to walk a different way home, and leaving the remaining socs to climb back into their car.

the new route takes you back to the house with the greasers, only this time they’ve moved from their spot on the fence to look towards you as you walked closer, confusion and smugness radiating off of them.

“we, uh, thought we’d help, but-,” two-bit starts.

“but we didn’t need it.” it was your turn to be smug. you loved the look of bewilderment when people saw how resourceful you could be in a fight. girls who could hold their own were hot.

“your girls want to come in for a beer?”

you hate to give in, but dallas’ offer of free beer on a hot day after you just spent all your energy fighting, was too tempting not to take.

you close in on two-bit, cupping his cheek.

“my hero,” you say sarcastically, with the faux smile to match.

then you slap him.

“don’t touch my ass.” he laughs, and you suppress a smile as you walk past them toward the house.

—

you’re sprawled out on the curtis couch, lying across two-bit as he sits up, attentively watching the mickey cartoon that was playing on tv.

you were spaced out, thinking about how you met him, how you got here, apart of this gang of sorts.

it was easy to lose interest in the mickey mouse cartoon, because you didn’t really care for it, though you would never tell keith because you knew it’d be a deal breaker.

you do like to tease him, though, by pretending not to understand it and ask a lot of questions.

“—but they’re both dogs? but only that one talks?”

“you’re looking at it wrong, babe—,”

you tune out his long speech about the history of canine domestication in the mickey mouse universe.

you watch your sister mediate an arm wrestle between soda and steve across the room, when ponyboy, the youngest curtis, walks into the house smirking.

“pony, where you been?” soda asks, still managing not to lose focus on the arm wrestling match.

“i ran into a couple of socs outside the movies, i almost had to fight ‘em, until one of them recognized me as a member of the gang with the terror twins,” he smiled. “i didn’t know it was that easy.”

you smile at him. “it’s got a ring to it, huh?”

“i’m or sure if they left me alone ‘cause they were scared,” he looks at you. “— or maybe they just didn’t want to lose their dealer,” he says, now glaring at your sister, who laughs vibrantly.

“you? terrifying?” two-bit laughs.

“what’d you mean? i am scary.”

you stare at him, daring him to prove you otherwise. he takes you up in that offer, and pins you against the couch, catching you off guard.

“who’s scared now?” he almost whispers into your ear, and you know what’s coming.

“two, stop!” you squeal, but you really don’t want him to. he’s kissing wildly at your neck, his hands roaming your sides and hitting all your sensitive spots, the tickling feels causing you to laugh loudly.

“get a room, you two,” steve growls from where he’s almost winning the arm wrestle.

you snicker. “steve, your neck is a little red. i could almost swear that it’s every shade of evie’s lipstick!” you snicker, and you can see his cheeks burn.

“i win!” soda calls, your comment having caused steve to lose focus and throw the win to soda.

you settle back into a comfortable position on the couch, watching as soda and steve break into an argument about why that wasn’t fair, thinking about yourself, your sister, and your relentless reign of terror.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Chapter Forty-One:

The One Where Violet, Klaus, & Sunny Are Entirely Out of Luck

The evening ride in a stolen beat down fire truck was not a pleasant one for Sunny Baudelaire and her two older siblings, Klaus Baudelaire and Violet Snicket. As Sunny continued to drive and the two elder siblings fell into a miserable silence, all three children were contemplating what to do next.

As Sunny continued to drive as the sun set on her brother’s thirteenth birthday. She kept her gaze ahead of her, focusing on the road. Fighting away newly developed demons that haunt her. She wanted desperately to share secrets that she had learned. Secrets that her siblings could not find in the torn pages of the Quagmire triplets’ notebooks. Secrets that Olaf and Esme plagued upon her alone. A bowl of sugar? Darts laced with venom. Bitter, dark secrets about the Snicket family and the Baudelaire family. At her ripe age, Sunny was only a mere toddler so much of the dark information that she was told did not make much sense to her even when the villains tried to dumb it down for her. These secrets would have haunted her far worse had she been her siblings’ age. Which was one reason why she didn’t want to tell her siblings the information that she could understand all at once? She was afraid of hurting them the way she was. Because even though, she didn’t understand everything, Sunny was smarter than the average toddler, she did understand some things. Like that Count Olaf happily and proudly murdered two of Violet’s family members in his sick pursuit for revenge because their parents played a deadly game of darts. That Violet’s father had murdered at Klaus’ age. And most importantly, she understood what Olaf had done to her brother back when the two siblings lived with him. Sunny was currently fighting the urge to look towards her brother and apologize. In a way, Sunny felt as though she was to blame. She didn’t have a real rhyme or reason to blame herself because she knew that Olaf was a sick, sadistic being. But she felt guilty and remorseful nonetheless. And then another part of her wanted to turn to Violet and apologize for the grief that she had subsequently caused her. If it weren’t for Sunny and Klaus being unable to handle Olaf on their own, not only did her father drag himself into their mess but he died because of their mess. And now, Olaf wasn’t only going after Violet, he had just murdered her uncle, a man who had temporarily saved her and the Quagmires, and then pinned the murder on Violet and their brother. Again, Sunny was slightly aware that these tragic events were not her fault but the fault of a psychotic, homicidal lunatic. So Sunny drove and drove in complete silence, afraid that if she opens her mouth, she’ll never close it and she’ll spill too much.

Klaus leaned against the passenger seat window. His arms folded across his chest, his eyes were red from crying. He already missed Duncan and Isadora Quagmire like crazy. He continued to glance towards the sky trying to keep track of where Hector’s self-sustaining hot air mobile home in hopes of being able to reunite with the two triplets. He knew it was insane but what did he have left to lose? He was riding shotgun in a stolen fire truck that was being driven by his toddler-aged sister because the three siblings were forced to evade their arch enemy, an angry mob, and now the authorities. He had nothing but the items in his pockets which mainly comprised of torn notes, photographs, and a spyglass, the clothes on his back, and his two sisters. He glanced over silently at his sisters. Violet sat between him and Sunny, with her face in her hands, grasping her locket. While Sunny was so focused on driving that the toddler didn’t even notice that he was staring for quite some time. He sighed as he thought about how his life had been so simple so many months ago. Last year on his birthday, all he had to cry about was that his parents had failed to make appetizing bread pudding. He scoffed at how spoiled he was merely a year ago. So much can happen in less than a year. He thought to himself. He looked once more towards his sisters, first looking at Sunny. When Klaus and Sunny’s misfortune began, Sunny was still in her infancy. She was so tiny and helpless that Klaus had to carry her everywhere. Now as he looked at Sunny, he could see that she has in fact grown up. She could walk and she was talking better than he had ever imagined. She could also drive a fire truck, apparently. Yeah, she was still tiny for her age and she was vastly younger than him and Violet, but he could see what she meant when she called herself ‘self-sufficient’. He knew he couldn’t continue to baby her and that soon she will not need him. Speaking of not needing him, he glanced back over to Violet, who still cried softly in her hands trying her best not to disturb Klaus or Sunny. Even though, he had seen Violet at some of her low points, as in when she had that hallucination at the burned remains of his and Sunny’s childhood home and when Olaf had admitted to her a dark secret that made her lose her cool in front of a crowd that already suspected them of murder. He could see that Violet was still far tougher than he ever could be. She was resilient, she was stubborn. She also walked around as if she had barely any fears at all. Klaus couldn’t help but feel bad for getting her involved in his and Sunny’s mess, her life had been so much better, happier, and safer when she wasn’t aware of their existence. Here, she sat, silently crying in the middle of a stolen fire truck. Klaus sighed and rubbed his face. He took his gaze away from his two sisters and back to the sky, placing his fingers on his lips where Duncan Quagmire had kissed him and wondered when he would get to see the Quagmires again.

Violet Snicket started the long ride checking behind the siblings every five or so minutes to make sure that the authorities and Count Olaf weren’t behind them. She couldn’t believe that her life had turned for the worst this quick. She could remember not too long ago she was spying on her father who happened to be on the run for a crime that Violet was no longer sure if he committed or not. Now, she was on the run for a crime she didn’t commit and it just felt like a sick feeling of deja vu had plagued her. She knew some tricks about living on the run. She learned them from her father since he had been on the run for her entire life. She knew a few basic rules: Never use your real name. Never get close to anyone. Never get comfortable, always be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. She could hear her father telling her when she was six and had asked him why they moved a lot and why she wasn’t allowed to have friends. She glanced over her shoulders again making sure the siblings weren’t being followed, she sighed as she could hear her father telling her other lessons. Keep your keepsakes on your person if you can. If you can’t, make it fit into your backpack. Never, ever forget your backpack. Her father told her when he finally allowed her to carry hers. When Violet was younger, closer to Sunny’s age, he always carried both backpacks because he had managed to get his daughter an adult-sized purple backpack that way they can have a fair amount of things. When Violet had turned eight, she noticed her father having trouble lugging both backpacks around and she asked him if she could carry her own to give him a break even if it was only for a few minutes. He obliged and although she was short for her age, Violet carried the adult-sized backpack for much longer than her father had expected before kindly asking him to carry it once more for her. She frowned when she remembered that Olaf had taken her backpack, the very backpack that her father had given her and had raised her to use for survival. It was gone. Part of her hoped that Olaf had kept it so maybe she’d be able to steal it back one day. She didn’t have many doubts about whether or not he’d keep it, seeing that he had liked one of her inventions that she had within the backpack. She shuddered slightly and turned to see if they were being followed but taking a good, hard look towards her brother as she did. She frowned. She didn’t fully understand what Olaf had done to her brother and she really wanted to know. She had her guesses and seeing Violet’s track record with plausible theories of heinous acts that Olaf has committed against her family, she had a reason to believe that she was correct. But she didn’t want to push him into telling her or make him uncomfortable. She knew that he would tell her when he was good and ready and she knew that when he did, it would signify that he completely trusts her in her role as his elder sister. She snuck a glance towards Sunny and shuddered. She stared at Sunny’s torn clothing and matted hair. She was so thankful to have the toddler back in her ‘custody’, seeing as Violet was the eldest so she was now a substitute guardian for her siblings. But she couldn't help but be haunted by a similar question she had about Klaus which is: What did Olaf do to you? Violet shuddered harder when her mind went to a dark place. She knew that Olaf was a sick and twisted man, with ill intentions for herself and Isadora Quagmire but Violet didn’t know how low Olaf was as a human being as she stared at Sunny, she pondered. She doubted that he was that sick, not that she thought he had any sense of decency because Violet Snicket thought the exact opposite. But she doubted it because she hoped that there weren’t people that sick in this world. But again, she wasn’t sure. And they are correct when they say that curiosity kills the cat because as Violet continued to sneak glances at the toddler, she was trying to figure out how she could ask Sunny. Sunny was a toddler so these questions were no doubt complex for her and even at the age of fourteen, they were complex to Violet, too. Never had she imagined she would ever be in the position where she had to ask a person under the age of three whether or not something explicit had happened to them. But she knew that if she ignored it entirely and just hoped that her suspicions were correct and nothing like that had happened...she would never forgive herself for not investigating hard enough if she turned out to be wrong. She sighed and grabbed her locket. She didn’t open it, she just held it in the palm of her hands. She didn’t have to open her locket, she could see the two pictures that were within it, in her mind. The one of her mother staring back at her smiling as she held a newborn Violet. She knew that she didn’t make any promise to her mother personally but she did make a promise to Klaus and Sunny and to her dead mother and father that she would keep them safe as she looked from Klaus to Sunny she felt as though she was failing all of them. Sunny was kidnapped the moment Violet was dragged into this insanity and Klaus, he had been brutally hurt before she was ever involved and yet, she still blamed herself for all of it. She didn’t know why, but she felt ashamed to open her locket. Maybe it was her own insecurities that have always been in the back of her mind or maybe it was the new insecurities that had been brought to her by Esme Squalor’s vicious words. ‘Your mother’s unwanted mistake,’ Esme had called her when Klaus had yelled at her to leave his sister alone. Unwanted mistake. She heard over and over again. Was it true? Was Esme right? She began to cry and quickly shoved her face into her hands hoping to drown out the noise that followed. Had Beatrice given me to my father because she didn’t want me? She asked herself as she opened her fingers slightly to glance at her siblings. Klaus was only around a year and a half younger than her. When she does the math, her heart sinks. It didn’t take long for her to replace me. Then she looked over at Sunny, who again, was vastly younger than Klaus as if Klaus was enough for Beatrice until finally, she had decided to have another. It took her eleven years to want another after Klaus...but only a year and a half to want another after me? She began to cry harder, tears rolling from her eyes onto her locket making the locket colder to the touch. Would this still be how everything went? Did she want another so fast after me because she lost me...or because she gave me away? It was a question that she asked herself a lot, it was one of the reasons why Violet put her siblings before her. Violet was aware that her life meant something but there was this nagging part inside her head that told her that her siblings mean more since their mother kept them. Other reasons for her selflessness was that her father had instilled that Snickets take care of their own. To Violet, it seemed like Snickets die trying to prove this to be true. Her father. Her uncle. And if it had to come to it, she would too. It just seemed like the logical thing to do. She was currently angry with herself that she couldn’t convince Olaf to take her and let the other four go and that she was unable to make Klaus and Sunny leave without her. She was happy that she was able to save Duncan and Isadora Quagmire, although she deeply missed them and vowed once the siblings get rid of Olaf, she will do everything in her power to find them and bring them back into their lives. As Violet sat between her siblings, she contemplated how she was going to go about her new life on the lam. Being on the lam was a disheartening thing and can be an uncomfortable way to live, especially in the beginning when you are still finding your pace. This was something Violet had already known living with her father who had once described the feeling of being on the run like being squeezed into a tight, dark box tossed at high speed from a moving vehicle and abandoned on a dusty patch of road, tormented by doubt and unsure of where you are going. At the time that he had said this to a ten-year-old Violet, she had thought he was overreacting and exaggerating the way he always did because he liked to spew out big words for fun. But Violet wished that she could tell him that he was right, that was exactly what being on the run felt like. She was tormented by doubt and other dark thoughts and unsure of where she and her siblings should go next.

As she glanced up from her locket to the sky, she nudged Klaus gently. “Sleep,” she told him. She could tell her brother was fighting his heavy eyelids.

“Huh? No, I’m...I’m fine,” he yawned. “We need to stay awake to…” he yawned again.

“I’ll watch for Olaf and the authorities,” Violet reassured him. “I’ll wake you up when it’s my turn to sleep,”

“What...what about Sunny?” He yawned pointing at the toddler, whose head was swaying.

“Brooklyn,” Sunny replied which was her way of saying. “No sleep until we get there,”

“I’ll drive,” Violet suggested as she smiled understanding her sister’s reference.

Sunny looked towards Violet, glaring. “Kit?” Sunny replied. “I don’t know...you look like someone who drives like an unhinged psychopath,”

Klaus tiredly translated for Violet, who rolled her eyes. “If a toddler can do it, I can do it,” Violet told Sunny.

“Hook,” she replied triumphantly, which meant, “highly doubt you could sword fight someone with your teeth...but fine. Have at it.”

Sunny quickly stopped the fire truck, crawling over her sister’s lap as Violet moved the boots that Sunny had fashioned to help her reach the pedals. Sunny cuddled up against their brother and Violet laid the fire fighter’s jackets over them for warmth. She continued the drive through the night as her siblings slept as peacefully as they could. Both siblings trembled and whispered in their sleep so Violet spent a lot of her time singing songs as sweetly as she could hoping to help them find some peace. She continued to drive down the bare road, swerving more than Sunny had but somehow still keeping on the road. Violet was happy that there was only one road in the hinterlands since she and her siblings did not possess a map and she didn’t want to get totally lost. She glanced in the rearview mirror making sure that Olaf wasn’t following them. What would she do if they were? She asked herself. She sighed as she glanced once more at her sleeping siblings. She knew exactly what she would do. Surrender herself for their safety or die trying to fight off Olaf and his goons. Violet was left alone with her thoughts for a couple of hours as she drove the three further into the hinterlands and closer to civilization. Once the morning sun had appeared on the horizon, Violet frowned when she noticed that the fire truck was slowing down. She looked at the gas gauge miserably seeing that the truck was passed empty. As the truck began to come to a complete halt. “ Goddammit!” she yelled. Violet slammed her fists on the steering wheel angrily causing her brother to jump up from his slumber in shock.

“I was not asleep!” he yelled as he shot up causing Sunny to fall off the seat. Both younger orphans’ hearts were beating rapidly as they glanced around at their surroundings confused. Klaus looked down at an annoyed Sunny, who glared softly towards him. “Sorry, Sunny,” he said as he helped her back onto the seat. Both younger orphans glanced over at Violet, who sighed.

“Come on,” she said getting out of the fire truck.

“Where are you going?” Klaus asked worriedly.

“We have to find someplace to get gas,” Violet explained as she walked over to her siblings’ door and opened it for them. “Klaus, grab that gas can,” Violet said pointing to one red gas can.

“Walk?” Sunny asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Violet answered. “If you get tired, I’ll carry you.”

Sunny merely nodded and led the way down the lone road in the Hinterlands. Violet still worriedly looking behind them every two minutes now in fear that without their fire truck, Olaf would surely be able to catch up to them. She glanced around to see that the Hinterlands were desolate, meaning that there was nowhere for the three siblings to hide if Olaf did show up.

Now before I continue, I must tell you that you should stop reading this tale altogether. Because if you think the worst thing to happen to the three children in the Hinterlands is that their fire truck runs out of gas leaving them stranded in the midst of a desolate place while being pursued by a homicidal creeper than you definitely should not continue this story. Because this desolate place is very unlikely to bring their troubles to an end. But your troubles could be over this instant if you are sensible enough to halt this dire story. I beg of you, look away from this sorry tale now. There is no earthly reason why you should read even one more word about the misfortune, treachery, and woe that are in store for you should run into the street and throw yourself under the wheels of a bus. I, on the other hand, must continue this tragic tale that is only about to get vastly more dire and disturbing because it is my mission to find Violet Snicket and her two younger half-siblings. So please, consider yourself lucky because you have a chance to look away. And to clarify, this is your last chance.

After an undetermined amount of walking, the three children stopped. It was early in the morning, and the children were thirsty, hungry, lost, and exhausted which are good reasons to stop their long walk but the three siblings were also frightened, desperate, and not far from people who wanted to hurt them, which are three good reasons to continue.  The siblings had abandoned the idea of conversation, saving every last bit of their energy to continue their journey to get gas.

Right now, the siblings were standing outside a convenience store.

“Last Chance General Store.” Klaus read aloud. “That’s an ominous name,” he pointed out.

“It probably means it’s the only building around for miles,” Violet explained.

“I guess a last chance is better than no chance,” Klaus admits with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Violet said as the three siblings separated but only barely. Violet walked over to the gas pumps and frowned noticing a sign on both of them. “Out of gas?” she read aloud.

Klaus walked over to a payphone and grabbed it, placing it to his ear. When he couldn’t hear the dial tone, he realized that the sign that was posted above the payphone was correct. “Out of order,” he whined slamming the phone back down on the receiver.

Sunny walked over to the front of the store, where a slot machine sat with a sign. “No luck,” she said pointing to the sign that read ‘Out of luck’.

All three siblings sighed as Violet threw down the gas can angrily. All three siblings glanced at the only building they had seen for miles. The outside of the store was covered with faded posters advertising what was sold. The children could see that fresh limes, plastic knives, canned meat, white envelopes, mango-flavored candy, red wine, leather wallets, fashion magazines, goldfish bowls, sleeping bags, roasted figs, cardboard boxes, controversial vitamins, and many other things were available inside the store. Nowhere on the building, however, was there a poster advertising help, which is really what the three siblings needed.

Violet and Klaus nervously glanced down at the newspaper rack in the front of the store. Seeing their names and pictures in a special edition copy. Klaus grabbed the newspaper angrily curious to see what Mrs. Poe had written about him and his sister in this newest copy of her newspaper.

“‘ Murderous Orphans At Large!’” He read aloud to his sisters in a whisper hoping no one inside the store could hear him. “‘Authorities are trying to capture Veronica Snicket and Klyde Baudelaire, two orphans wanted for the murder of notorious villain, Count Olaf. Official sources who worked on the case also say that they have also kidnapped Susan Baudelaire. If you see these two murderous orphans or their newest victim please contact authorities.’” He read aloud. Violet sighed worriedly as Klaus slammed his fist against the newspaper holder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he yelled.

“Shhh,” Sunny pleaded glancing inside the store.

“Why does she get his name correct this time?” he asked ripping up the newspaper in pure anger as he threw the pieces in the air. “Every other time, it was Count ‘Omar’ but now when she’s falsely reporting that he’s dead, she gets his name right?”

“Klaus,” Violet said reaching her hand out to grab her brother’s shoulder.

“Oh, and now apparently we kidnapped Sunny. Sorry, I mean ‘Susan’,” he says angrily.

“I bet Detective Dumbass was the ‘official source working on the case’,” Violet pointed out.

“Great. People are going to capture us, throw us in jail for a murder we didn’t commit and who knows what’ll happen to Sunny,” Klaus cried.

“He probably did that so at least he’d be able to use Sunny to get your guys’ inheritance,” Violet explained.

“Why is this never easy?” Klaus hissed. “Why does he get to make the rules of this sick game and why is it never easy? ”

Sunny looked to her brother trying her best to make him laugh. “Slay?” she asked him, which was her way of saying, “So when did y’all kill Olaf? And why didn’t you wait for me?”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Not the best time for jokes, Sunny,”

“Redrum,” she replied, which meant, “honestly, you’re right. No time for jokes. Time to murder this sick bastard.”

“No, you’re not going near him,” Klaus told her.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Can you guys stop?” she asked looking inside the store nervously.

“Should we go inside?” Klaus asked.

“If anyone read the paper, they’ll know that you and I are on the lam,” Violet explained. “But if we keep wandering, we’ll die of thirst and/or exposure.”

“And/or count Olaf,” Klaus added.

Violet sighed as she glanced down at Sunny. “Okay, what we’ll do is go inside, I can wash Sunny up, while you grab us some food and Sunny a new change of clothes.”

“We haven’t any money,” Klaus pointed out.

Violet pulled out her father’s wallet. “I am so glad I decided to hold on to this,” she said smiling.

“Look, the store has a telegram inside,” Klaus said pointing to a poster.

“Okay, good. You can send a telegram to someone you can think of who would help us,” Violet said.

With that, she grabbed ahold of Sunny’s hand and the three siblings took one last look behind them to make sure that their enemy hadn’t caught up to them. Violet and Klaus grabbed onto the handles of the store’s doors and walked inside as the bell above their heads chimed.

“Is that you, Lou?” called out a voice. The children could not see who it belonged to though, since the inside of the Last Chance General Store was as crowded as its outside, with every inch nearly crammed full of things for sale. The children were surprised there was enough room to make actual aisles.  “Are you delivering the paper?”

“No,” Violet replied.

“I’ll be right with you. I’m stacking day-old pastries.”

“We were hoping to send a telegram,”  Klaus asked as the children walked to the front register of the establishment.

“A telegram?” he asked jumping up to face the children from behind the front register. “What are three skinny, filthy children doing around here so early? Where are your parents? Do you know how dangerous it is around here? I’ve heard that this morning’s paper has a story about two murderers who have kidnapped a young baby.”

“Newspaper stories aren’t always accurate,” Klaus replied nervously.

“Nonsense,” the shopkeeper said. “ The Daily Punctilio wouldn’t print things that weren’t true. If the newspaper says somebody is a murderous kidnapper than that’s the end of that. Now, you say you wanted to send a telegram?”

“Yes,” Violet said. “We have money to pay and everything,”

“Very well,” The shopkeeper said and smiled at them. “You see those porcelain kittens there,” he said pointing to an aisle. “It’s not that aisle. You’ll turn right at the brooms, left at the fishing poles.”

“And the restroom?” Violet asked nervously.

“It’ll be near the men’s clothing section,” the shopkeeper answered pointing in a different direction than the telegram device. He took a hard long look at the three kids causing Violet to look away nervously. Sunny to bit her lip and Klaus to shake slightly. “You look familiar,” he said to the children. “Have I seen you kids before?” he asked.

Violet scrambled for something to say in response to this. Her father always had answers ready, it was probably why he was such a good liar. “W-we-we’re child actors,” Klaus answered after noticing that Violet wasn’t coming up with a response. Violet and Sunny looked at Klaus. As the shopkeeper continues to stare at them suspiciously.

“No, that’s not it.” the man answered. “Eh, oh well. It’ll come to me,”

With that Violet picked up Sunny and carried her through the aisles. Klaus following closely behind his sisters, glancing back to make sure the shopkeeper wasn’t following them. “That shopkeeper recognized us,” he told Violet worriedly. “We need to hurry,” he cries.

Violet looked to Klaus. “Do you know how to send a telegraph?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good. While you do that I’m going to take Sunny to the bathroom and get her cleaned up,” she explained.

“We’re splitting up,”

“We’ll meet back at the bathroom,”

“I don’t like this,”

“Just us,” Sunny agreed not liking the idea of separating from her siblings.

“We’ll be fine,” Violet told them as she walked away from Klaus headed towards the bathroom.

Klaus sighed as he got to work with the telegraph. Even though the telegraph machine was an arrangement of dials, wire, and strange metal implements which is something more so in Violet’s field of work. Klaus had read a few books on telegraph machines and he was competent enough to know how to send a telegram. As he grabbed the headphones attached to the machine so he can keep track of whether or not his message was going through, he pondered who he should send it, too. The only people to come to mind were Jacquelyn and Larry, who he hoped was still alive and had not fallen victim to Olaf’s homicidal tendencies. He knew if any two adults could be willing to help him and his sisters it would be them. So as he addressed the telegram to Mulctuary Money Management. He grabbed the two metal strips to tap out his message in morse code. He began to speak out loud as he tapped out his message in code. “To Jacquelyn Scieszka at Mulctuary Money Management. From: Klaus Baudelaire. My sisters and I are very grateful for you and Larry attempting to help us back in the village. STOP. But we are truly in need of assistance as soon as possible. STOP. We are in the middle of the Hinterlands, alone, lost, and scared. STOP. We managed to save the Quagmires and have Sunny back. STOP. But we need further help clearing our names and escaping from Count Olaf and Esme Squalor once and for all. STOP. We are desperate for your assistance. STOP.  Please reply at once. STOP. My sisters and I are in grave danger. STOP.” he dictated. He took off the headphones and turned away from the machine. He frowned looking towards the ground. “We are in grave danger,” he reminded himself as he headed for the bathroom.

_______________________________________________

Meanwhile, Violet carried Sunny towards the bathroom. With Sunny only barely protesting.

“Klaus?” Sunny cried.

“He’ll be fine,” Violet assured her for the fifth time but Sunny wasn’t having it. Violet glanced down at Sunny. “Hey, tell you what. How about you and I quickly browse around and get you a new outfit. I bet you don’t want to keep wearing that horrendous school uniform anymore.”

Sunny nodded her head in agreement. Violet and Sunny rushed through the women’s section to the little girls’ section. Sunny immediately eyed a cute little dress that had three star-shaped buttons. The top was blue, but the skirt end of the dress was yellow, pink, and a darker shade of blue than the top. Violet picked it up off the rack, not caring about the price and grabbed a small pair of shoes and underwear, and white stockings for her sister and headed straight for the bathroom.

Violet quickly got to work on using the bathroom hand soap as shampoo for her little sister’s hair. Sunny looked miserably up at her sister as Violet cleaned her in the bathroom sink of a convenient store. As she sat in the lukewarm water glancing up at Violet, she could remember the times when she was a little bit younger than she is now when her mother would give her baths in the Baudelaire mansion’s kitchen sink. Sunny was never one for baths but Sunny had always preferred her mother to be the one bathing her. Maybe it was because of Sunny’s distrust in water and how she never felt safe in a body of water. Her love and trust in her mother were greater than that distrust and she somehow felt safer when her mother bathed her. But as she looked up towards Violet, who was quick and gentle. She smiled and couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and safety when she was around her big sister. She didn’t understand how Violet had been separated from her and Klaus but she never wanted that to happen again. She hadn’t spent as much time with Violet as Klaus had since she was kidnapped by Olaf but Sunny already knew that she would kill for Violet as Violet would for her.

Once Violet had finished bathing Sunny as best as she could, given the circumstances, she helped her sister put on her new outfit, the entire time trying to find the most appropriate way to ask the question that won’t escape her mind. But every time she had opened her mouth thinking she had finally found the arrangement of words that could convey this heavy-loaded, complex question to her toddler sister. She stops and wonders if she could say it in an even better way. So as she helped Sunny button up the front of her dress, she had failed in finding the best way to bring up this topic to Sunny. She sighed as she stood up reaching for the door.

“Vi?” Sunny called out for her nervously.

Violet’s heart sank in her chest as she stopped reaching for the door. “Yeah, Sunny?”

“Can we talk?” the toddler asked.

“Absolutely,” Violet said feigning a smile as she knelt to Sunny’s level.

“It’s about what Olaf did?” she said meekly as Violet’s heart shattered once more.

_______________________________________________________

Klaus waited patiently near the telegraph machine. He knew it was crazy to expect a reply back so quickly but Larry and Jacquelyn did arrive on a motorcycle and if they drove all night like the three orphans had but in the opposite direction, they must have made it back to the city by now. But he didn’t waste his precious time, he walked around a few of the displays that were around the telegraph machine. Grabbing snacks for the three siblings to further their journey. He jumped when he heard the bell chime.

“Lou, is that you?” the shopkeeper called out as Klaus felt his heart starting to beat rapidly.  “Oh sorry. I’ll be right with you.”

Klaus gulped worried that whoever just came in already read that The Daily Punctilio. He ducked behind the few aisles making sure he wasn’t seen. He glanced towards the direction he watched his sisters go. He walked casually as he dared not turn around.

______________________________________________________

“What did Olaf do to you?” Violet asked worriedly placing her hand on her younger sister’s shoulder.

Sunny looked up at her confused. “What?” the toddler asked. “No, not me. Klaus.”

Violet gasped. “You know what happened to Klaus?”

Sunny nodded, shuddering. “He bragged,”

“Of course, he did,” Violet said rolling her eyes. Violet offered her youngest sibling a smile, but Sunny merely frowned.

“It’s very bad,” Sunny explained cringing.

“I can only imagine,” Violet muttered. She knew she couldn’t invade Klaus’ privacy and ask Sunny to tell her what Olaf had told her. So she avoided actually responding to her sister.

“Should I tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That I know,” Sunny said. “Or wait till he tells me?”

Violet opened her mouth to answer her sister after a brief period of contemplation. But was interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door which caused her to jump and grab Sunny quickly holding Sunny to her chest tightly as she screamed.

“Violet?” a familiar voice called into the bathroom.

Violet released her sister with a sigh of relief. Rolling her eyes she turned her head towards the door. “Shh. Don’t use my real name.”

“Why? the paper got our names wrong?” Klaus whispered back.

“I don’t care. Olaf could make sure Mrs. Poe publishes our actual names and then what? We need to pick fake names and stick to them.” she whispered back.

“Fine. You make a good point. I’ll be Nick,” Klaus replied.

“Soli,” Sunny whispered. “Short for Solitude.”

“What kind of name is that?” Klaus asked.

“What kinda name is Klaus?” Sunny countered.

“Savage toddler,” Violet commented laughing. “I’ll be Lilac.”

“Purple,” Sunny critiqued.

“So? It’s still nothing close to Violet,”

“Are you guys done?” Klaus whispered. “Someone entered the shop and I’m afraid they may have read the paper.”

“We’re almost done,” Violet called back. “Grab a change of clothes for you and me,”

“What? I don’t know what kind of clothes you prefer,” Klaus complained.

“Anything. Just nothing pink.” Violet said. “I’m not very fond of the color.”

“Valid,” Sunny agreed.

“Just...hurry. Please,” he whispered back.

“Got you, bro.”

Klaus walked towards the men’s section that wasn’t very far from the bathroom door. He didn’t know why but he just wanted to get the fuck out of the store. He walked around glancing at discounted t-shirts and hats. A hat could help him hide his face from passersby and even Olaf if he were to catch up with the siblings. He thought as he grabbed a dark green one. Green wasn’t necessarily his favorite color but it was Duncan’s. And this shade of green reminded him of Duncan so he liked it. He placed that hat on his head adjusting the backstrap so it would be easier to move lower to cover more of his face.

“Oh darling, green is not your color,” a sinister voice from behind him snarled mockingly. Klaus tensed as he immediately recognized that voice. He drops the green shirt he was looking at as he slowly turns around to see Esme Squalor in the store only a few feet from him. She was leaning against a display of umbrellas which caused him to start shaking. Esme smiles at him when she follows his gaze to the display. “Oh, darling. I’m not like Olaf. I’d never hurt you like that.” she hissed taking a haunting step closer to the young boy.  Esme looked around the adjacent aisles looking for signs of either Violet or Sunny. She couldn’t see either. She smiled as she looked to Klaus. “Tell you what if you come with me quietly, I’ll convince Olaf to forget all about the girls,” she whispered. “What do you say?”

Klaus, finally getting over his paralysis began to slowly back himself into a wall. He looked this way and that, looking for a way to escape. But he knew that if Esme was here, no doubt the rest of the troupe and Olaf were here, too. He didn’t know what to do. “ Mister! ” Klaus cried desperately . “I need help!”  

Esme sighs angrily. “ Wrong answer.” she hissed as she darts for Klaus. Klaus takes a quick glance towards the bathroom praying that Violet and Sunny stay there a while longer where he can lure Esme away from them. He decides to run down a few aisles containing things like nylon rope, floor wax, soup bowls, window curtains, wooden rocking horses, top hats, fiber-optic cable, lipstick, dried apricots, magnifying glasses, slender paintbrushes. In a desperate attempt to stay away from the villainess. Esme darted this way and that trying her hardest to grab onto the boy but to not raise suspicion from the shopkeeper.

______________________________________________________

Violet looked back to her sister, waiting a few seconds to know that Klaus was away from the door. “Maybe wait to let him tell you or if it comes up naturally in conversation,” Violet explained to Sunny. “Maybe wait till he blurts it out so he can pretend that he got to tell you and not Olaf.”

Sunny merely nodded.

Violet took a deep breath. “Sunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Olaf…” she began, biting her lip afraid that she wasn’t going about this correctly. It would be far easier to ask Sunny had she been closer to Violet’s age.

“Did Olaf what?” Sunny asked confused as to why Violet was unable to finish her question.

“Did he...you know…” Violet hinted at but Sunny merely looked at her confused. “You know how he…” she paused. She shook her head, muttering something to herself. “Did he hurt you?”

“Obvi,” Sunny replied slightly confused, which meant, “Obviously he hurt me. He’s Olaf.”

Violet sighed. With how fast Sunny answered that and with little to no hesitation Violet knew that she didn’t understand Violet’s vague question. She sighed. “We should probably get going,” Violet said as she lifted Sunny in her arms. She pushed the bathroom door open slowly glancing around for her brother. Where was he? She asked. “Soli what was his new name?” she asked her toddler in a whisper.

“Nick,” Sunny whispered back as she turned to look behind her sister, looking desperately for her brother. “Nick!” she called out.

“Nick!” Violet cried desperately. As she turned slightly towards the left. Sunny screamed in her ear immediately as Violet turned towards where her sister was staring.  Violet gasped and stepped back a bit as she saw Olaf smirking at her from the other side of the aisle. “No!” Violet cried holding Sunny tighter. Sunny was holding on to Violet as tight as she could refusing to look at Olaf. She was wailing as loud as she could.

“Oh, come on, sweetie. Surrender to me and I will go easy on the baby,” Olaf mused, stepping closer to Violet and Sunny.

“ Never! ” Violet cried.

“Fine,” Olaf said taking another step closer to the two orphaned sisters. Sunny squealed loudly. “I guess I’m going to have to skin the other two brats alive.” he shrugged his shoulders before darting towards the two girls. Causing Violet to shriek. Her adrenaline was rushing through her veins before she decided to run from the man, she maneuvered Sunny to her hip and she turned towards where Olaf was running and raised her leg as high as she could effectively drop kicking Olaf in the face causing him to grab his face groaning in pain.

“ I’m going to make you pay for that! ” Olaf hissed as Violet ran down several aisles carrying a wailing Sunny.

“What’s going on?” the shopkeeper asked.

Esme glared at Klaus while Olaf glared towards Violet and Sunny. “We need help!” Klaus cried desperately dodging Esme who just missed his shirt collar as he ran away from her.

Before the shop keeper could respond, the children heard the front door of the store open with a familiar chime. The three siblings prayed that it wasn’t Olaf’s troupe because then they would be terribly outnumbered. Klaus ducked behind a display of men’s jeans as he had managed to backtrack to where his sisters had been. He gazed at the open bathroom door in fear. But how could that be? Esme was chasing me? She wouldn’t have been able to...oh fuck. He thought as he glanced around to see Olaf only four aisles from him. He hugged his knees tightly and held his breath, even going as far as to placing his hand over his own mouth and nose to muffle any noise he could be making. Klaus hoped that Olaf had seen Violet and Sunny. He couldn’t let Olaf get his sisters. Olaf had heinous plans for Violet and Sunny was traumatized enough by her recent time in Olaf’s captivity. Violet, on the other hand, had dropped to the floor. Still holding sunny close to her refusing to let go of her toddler sister. She glanced this way and that looking for Klaus’ shoes. Surely she would have heard if Olaf had captured him. Violet and Sunny crouched down behind a display of pillows as the two sisters desperately searched the store for their brother.

“Hiya, Lou!” the shopkeeper said causing all three siblings’ hearts to drop further into their chests.

“Milt! Put down those scones and look at the headline,” Lou directed, showing Milt the latest copy of The Daily Punctilio. The children could hear the shopkeeper gasp as he read the headline allowed. “Murderous Orphans At Large”.

Sunny gave a little whimper of fear while Violet sighed in defeat. Klaus scoffed lowly, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Murderers? Oh, dear.” Klaus heard Count Olaf say. He couldn’t tell if Olaf was getting closer or farther from him but he dared not look.

“I know those kids,” Milt whispered to Lou.

“They’re in my store right now. And they have that little baby they’ve kidnapped.”

“What do they look like?” Lou asked stupendously.

Milt pointed down at the newspaper. “They look like two innocent kids, but they’re really vicious murderous kidnappers.”

Milt and Lou began to disperse from the register in hopes of finding what they believed to be two murderous kidnappers and their kidnap victim. Violet held on to Sunny tightly as Sunny cried as softly as she could in Violet’s shoulder.

Olaf bumped in the other two men. Causing the three men to jump in shock. “You scared us, mister.” Lou cried.

“Thank you,” Olaf said happily as he walked towards another aisle.

“Excuse us. We’re trying to catch some murderer kids,” Milt explained as he headed towards a different aisle than Olaf. Violet looked towards Sunny, glancing around to see that any path around them was clear of Olaf, the shopkeeper, and the newspaper delivery man. “We can crawl that way,” Violet dictated pointing towards a back door exit.

“Brother,” Sunny whispered.

Violet began to crawl ushering for Sunny to follow her. The two sisters began to crawl as quickly and quietly as they could through the racks of clothing before making a right turn. Violet bumped into a pair of red leather boots. She gulped as she slowly looked up to see who she had already guessed to be wearing these specific boots. Esme Squalor smiled down at the two orphaned sisters giving them a small, vicious wave of her hand.

“If it isn’t the other two,” Esme hissed.

Violet jumped to her feet quickly, scooping up Sunny in the process and running past several aisles before ducking behind construction paper and canned peas. “Klaus,” Sunny whined looking around desperately for their brother.

“We’ll find him,” Violet promised.

Klaus lowered himself to the ground and crawled as quietly as he could making sure to not crawl passed an aisle that was in open view of Olaf. He sighed in relief when he saw the villain’s back turned to face him. Klaus wiped the sweat off his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief until he noticed the objects directly in front of Olaf. Olaf was standing right in front of a display of several mirrors which were all pointed at different angles. A few of them were pointed in an angle that made Klaus Baudelaire gulp in worry. As Klaus gazed up the display of mirrors, he could see Olaf’s expression within the top mirror. He was smirking and looking directly at Klaus. The moment he and Klaus made eye contact, he swiftly turned around and ran towards the young boy. Klaus shuffled to his feet desperately but he tripped on a map that had been left on the floor. “No!” he cried as he fell stomach first landing on the wooden floor of the store. He groaned as he caught his face in his arms. Olaf grabbed Klaus by the ankles.

“One down,” Olaf hissed as Klaus struggled to break free from the mans’ grasp.

“Let...me...go…” Klaus cried. He kicked furiously trying to get the man to let go of him.

Esme walked up laughing. “Oh, good. Darling. You caught the best one,” Esme commented.

“No, I caught the easiest one.” Olaf corrected. “Now go find the other two,” he ordered her. Esme scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have to,” Esme explains as Olaf tried to force Klaus to stand up. Klaus struggled in the man’s grip. But he didn’t call out for his sisters.

“What do you mean?”

“Watch,” Esme said as Lou and Milt began to approach. Almost immediately, Esme burst into fake tears. “My daughter?” she cried turning her head giving herself a few seconds before her tears started to flow. “ Have you seen my daughter?!” she wailed. “ This murderer and his ugly little accomplish kidnapped our daughter!” Esme cried as Klaus glared at her.

“Sunny isn’t your fucking…” Klaus tried to argue before Olaf slapped his hand over Klaus’ mouth.

“Please,” Olaf cried, following Esme’s lead. “Have you seen our infant daughter? Or his accomplice?”

“Yes, actually. They’re also in this store,” Milt explained.

“I say we call the authorities and continue searching for them,” Lou suggested. Both adults immediately fooled by Esme and Olaf’s bullshit. “We’ll be right back,”

Klaus continued to struggle in Olaf’s grasp as Esme continued to walk around. Olaf gripped Klaus’ face. “Call out for your little protector,” he demanded.

“No,” Klaus spat defiantly.

“I’d cooperate if I were you,” Olaf hissed. “I can always hurt one of them instead,”

“You can’t hurt them if you don’t have them,” Klaus pointed out.

Olaf sighed angrily. “We will find them eventually,” he hissed to Klaus. “Oh, Violet. Come out. come out wherever you are,”

Violet shuddered as she listened to Olaf’s voice. Sunny began to shake in her arms. He turned down an aisle with safety pins and candy canes, dragging along Klaus with him. Klaus looked around frantically hoping that Esme and Olaf don’t find Violet or Sunny.

Milt and Lou returned from calling the police. “The police are closing in. You might as well surrender, Veronica,” they called out. “We have your accomplice.”

Violet and Sunny’s eyes widen as Sunny screeches. “No!”  

“There you are!” Esme screeched as she ran towards the two girls but Violet ducked behind an aisle of sports balls.

“Wherever you are, murderer. You’d better give up!”

“We’re not murderers!” Violet cried in frustration. “We’re the victims!”

She balanced Sunny on her knee as she grabbed a soccer ball from the shelf. She glanced up slightly to see Olaf several aisles down dragging around a struggling Klaus.

“Of course, you are a murderer!” the shop keeper answered. “It says so in the newspaper!”

“Plus,” Esme called out triumphantly in her sneering tone. “If you are not a murderous kidnapper then why are you hiding and running?”

Violet started to answer but Sunny covered her mouth before she says anything more. “Detect,” Sunny explained to Violet. “They’ll be able to locate us by our voices. Just let them talk and maybe we can escape.” Violet nodded her head.

Violet glared towards Olaf attentively allowing for the adults around to continue talking. When she could clearly see that Olaf had separated himself from the other adults who were trying to catch Violet and Sunny. Violet threw the soccer ball as hard as she could at the man’s head. Thankfully for Klaus, she had her mother and father’s sportiness and hit Olaf’s face with precision and accuracy causing him to release their brother. “You little bitch!” Olaf yelled as the soccer ball ricocheted off his face and hit Esme in the back of the head.

“Hell yeah, two for one!” violet cheered as she watched Esme glance in every direction wondering where in the world that ball had come from to hit her.  Klaus darted quickly towards the direction where the soccer ball had come from. The children embraced each other briefly as Violet led her siblings down a couple of aisles until they were hiding behind an aisle with bedroom slippers. She saw a small glimpse of the exit and silently pointed the way to her siblings just as Olaf and Esme appeared in front of them in the same aisle just many rows back. The three siblings shrieked in terror as the villains moved closer to them.

“This ends now, Snicket,” Olaf hissed as Violet held Sunny close and grabbed Klaus’ hand and began to run through the store towards the exit. Violet led her siblings through a walkway that had several long ropes of beads hanging from the ceiling. The three siblings ran through the beads with ease. Violet turning slightly to push Sunny in Klaus’ arms as she allowed Klaus to run ahead of her. Klaus passed his older sister with ease but still gripped her hand with his free on to indicate to her that they weren’t leaving her behind. Violet grabbed a large jar of marbles off the shelf they were passing and with a devilish smirk to her two younger siblings, Violet opened the jar quickly, haphazardly pouring the contents of the jar to the floor as Klaus and Sunny opened the exit of the store. Violet threw the glass jar with all her might, hoping that if Esme and Olaf fell on her marble trap that they’d get stabbed with the glass shards. The three siblings heard a loud shattering sound as the jar made contact with the wooden ground. The next sound they heard as they exited the Last Chance General Store was Olaf hitting the ground with a loud thud! and inhuman growl and Esme shrieking in shock as she, too, hit the ground with a loud thud! .

If the orphans’ hearts weren’t beating rapidly in their chests they would’ve laughed at the pain the two villains had received from Violet merely spilling the marbles everywhere. They quickly ran alongside the building, all three glanced behind them to see if their abusers were following. Violet and Klaus breathed heavily, both looking at one another as they turned the corner and huddled closely together trying to catch their breath. The children took a deep breath and a good look around. The sun was rising, revealing the flat and desolate landscape the children had driven and walked across all night. In a few hours, the entire countryside would be covered in sunlight and the land was so flat that the children would be seen from far, far away. They couldn’t hide forever, and as Violet, Klaus, and sunny huddled together in terrifying silence about their close encounter in the Last Chance General Store. The three orphans could tell that their situation was much more dire than they had ever imagined. Sunny glanced around and poked her siblings in the shoulder. Both older siblings glanced in the direction that Sunny was pointing. “Troupe,” Sunny whispered as Violet and Klaus ducked down.

“What do we do?” Violet asked nervously.

“We have to get out of here, now,” Klaus replied worriedly.

“Scooby-Doo,” Sunny said pointing in the direction of the rising sun. Parked a ways from the store was a square, blue van with the letters VFD painted on its side.

Violet followed her sister’s direction and looked at the van with mixed feelings. “Klaus, look,” she said after a minute.

“But we don't know what that VFD stands for,” he argued.

“Well we can’t go back in there and we surely can’t stay out here in the open,” Violet argued. “What choice do we have?”

Klaus looked at the van and then at his sisters and then back to Count Olaf’s car. Anyone was better than Olaf. “but what if they’ve read the paper?”

Sunny shrugged her shoulders as she led her siblings sneakily towards the van. Before they could even knock on the van’s door. A friendly-looking man with a guitar in his lap and a short and groomed beard on his face opened up the doors smiling at the three children.

“Volunteers?” the kind ginger asked.

Violet scoffed in annoyance as Klaus smiled towards the man. Sunny took one glance towards the store and could see the silhouette of Olaf exiting the store quickly. She looked to the man with the guitar and hurriedly nodded her head. “Yes,” she chimed in.

The man smiled at them. “Well hop on in,” he held out his hand for Violet to take as he helped her aboard the crowded van. “Move over a bit, brothers and sisters. For our new brother and sisters might want to sit next to each other.” Klaus looked at the man confused as he handed Violet Sunny and hopped into the van himself. The ginger-haired man closed the door behind the young boy. Klaus took a seat beside his older sister as the two siblings held Sunny on both their laps.

Violet glanced out the window as the van started pulling away. She caught a glimpse of an irritated Esme and Olaf walking out of the store. She ducked her head down hoping that she wasn’t seen by either villain.

“Are you two okay?” the shopkeeper asked the two villains.

“Just peachy,” Esme snarled as she tried to fix her hair. She glared at Olaf. “How could you let them get away?”

“They blindsided us both with beads and marbles!” Olaf snarled as he glared at the blue van that was departing.

“Where’d they go?” Lou asked curiously looking around for the three kids.

“There’s only one place that road leads to,” Olaf explained. “Heimlich Hospital.”

Esme’s face shot up with pure happiness. “That’s where my damn sugar bowl is! The librarian told me so.”

“Of course it is.,” he said annoyed.

“Those brats are obviously after my sugar bowl, too. They’re just like their fucking mother. I’ll destroy those brats if they touch my fucking sugar bowl.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Olaf explained. “We can grab them and your sugar bowl in one fell swoop.”

“How boss,” the bald man asked. “You’re on the lam,”

“On the contrary,” Olaf said smirking showing his henchpeople the headline to The Daily Punctilio. “I’m dead.”

“And Violet and Klaus are wanted for your murder and the kidnapping of Sunny,” Esme chimed in clapping her hands.

“Yes, thanks to those idiots at The Daily Punctilio, I am a free man!” Olaf cheered as he sat in the driver’s seat.

“I thought we were officially dating?” Esme asked glaring at Olaf.

“Yeah, I don’t really like labels,” Olaf said. “Now let’s follow that van.”