#and im good at climbing n need to burn it out of my system. i can get by microdosing social connection for thr rest of my life i guess

[phagodyke]

well.

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes​ that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross​ that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc. 

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh. 

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again… 

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole? 

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone. 

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…” 

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart. 

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t. 

“I wish you were here, noona…” 

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum. 

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?” 

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.” 

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven. 

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh. 

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.” 

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?” 

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.” 

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.” 

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting. 

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips. 

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze. 

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom. 

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place: 

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?” 

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything. 

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.” 

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?” 

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain. 

This subject, however, has been a brick wall. 

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—” 

“(Y/N)?” 

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face. 

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch. 

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger: 

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.” 

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).” 

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop. 

“Did you need something?” 

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—” 

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.” 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.” 

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue: 

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…” 

“Then you met Jackson.” 

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.” 

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring. 

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.” 

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?” 

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…” 

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…” 

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm. 

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—” 

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care. 

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?” 

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You smile at his apology. 

“I’m sorry too… for everything.” 

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.” 

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders. 

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?” 

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.” 

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.” 

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.” 

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.” 

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly… 

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.” 

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way. 

“(Y/N)—” 

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…” 

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey. 

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill? 

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.” 

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips. 

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.” 

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—” 

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.” 

“Help is on the way—” 

“How do you know that for sure?” 

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows. 

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.” 

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison. 

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment. 

He needs to have hope, if nothing else. 

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?” 

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.” 

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?” 

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head. 

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?” 

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.” 

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see: 

Im Jaebeom. 

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk. 

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.” 

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?” 

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?” 

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.” 

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.” 

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff: 

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.” 

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.” 

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?” 

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.” 

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.” 

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest. 

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return. 

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?” 

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet. 

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?” 

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.” 

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—” 

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities. 

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...” 

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing. 

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.” 

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!” 

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!” 

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!” 

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.” 

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!” 

“Every war has its casualties.” 

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?” 

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!” 

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.   

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?” 

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!” 

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer… 

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward. 

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.” 

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder: 

“Not yet, hyung.” 

“But Jinyoung—” 

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.” 

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party: 

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.” 

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.” 

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?” 

Jaebeom’s face darkens. 

“...So there is a cure?” 

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.” 

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.” 

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.” 

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world. 

“You know she doesn’t have much time—” 

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”  

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead. 

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.” 

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far. 

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!” 

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn. 

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch. 

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph: 

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.” 

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.   

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something… 

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.” 

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?” 

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave. 

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why. 

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?” 

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.” 

“He never told me that.” 

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.” 

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—” 

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.” 

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further. 

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway. 

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight. 

“Everything okay…?” 

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.” 

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.” 

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—” 

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress. 

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh: 

Die. 

“Shit—we need to go. Now.” 

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.” 

“Don’t be an idiot.” 

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.” 

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation. 

“What is it?” 

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…  

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?” 

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”  

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal. 

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!” 

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight. 

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.” 

“Watch your ears.”  You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire. 

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise. 

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand. 

“Mark—” 

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand. 

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat.  You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!” 

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—” 

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!” 

“I understand you—” 

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!” 

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.” 

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality: 

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two. 

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable. 

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…” 

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears. 

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?” 

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.” 

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips. 

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!” 

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.” 

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?” 

You nod.   

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.” 

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…” 

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!” 

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…” 

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing. 

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile. 

“Thank you, Changbin…” 

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…” 

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.” 

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head. 

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.” 

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.” 

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer. 

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…” 

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.” 

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?” 

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question. 

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?” 

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…” 

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.” 

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.” 

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—” 

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!” 

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…” 

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.” 

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—” 

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...” 

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips: 

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.” 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else. 

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse: 

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.” 

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand. 

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—” 

“Tzuyu…?” 

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips. 

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?” 

“It seems so.” 

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one. 

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?” 

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.” 

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…” 

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart. 

“Everything is taken care of, right?” 

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace. 

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear. 

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”  

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…” 

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.” 

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.” 

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?” 

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.” 

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.” 

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation: 

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues. 

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!” 

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears. 

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!” 

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out. 

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?” 

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!” 

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...” 

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts: 

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!” 

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground. 

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground. 

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!” 

“(Y/N)! Don’t!” 

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white. 

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms. 

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!” 

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips: 

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out. 

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…” 

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so. 

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?” 

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.” 

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.” 

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent. 

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?” 

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest. 

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.” 

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that… 

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human. 

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.” 

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.” 

“Then let me be selfish with you.” 

Tzuyu smiles. 

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.” 

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.” 

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

[pinkykitten]

promise me - part 3

2845: EXILE

synopsis: It’s the year 2845. A year where Earth is in shambles and space is the new frontier. You are sent along with other cadets to a distress call about some type of unknown creature. You are new as an engineer on the ship Shiganshina and you have to work for your boss and leader of your group Levi Ackerman. But remember, in space no one can hear you scream.

pairing: levi ackerman x female! reader words: 3,068 genre:  violence, gore, romance, fluff, space au, series, future au

a/n: im actually rlly proud of this chapter. now its when the door starts opening up and new secrets are revealed and even more questions arise. ty all who have given support and love to my writing and this series. i work rlly hard on this so it makes so happy to see u guys love this. tysm. 

The feeling of being useless was horrible. There laid Gunther’s lifeless body-leaning against the blood soaked wall. The hallway was once sparking with violence and fighting it felt so hollow to you and so quiet. 

“Oh my God.” You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. “I can’t believe this happened.”

The tips of Gunter’s fingers were turning blue and his hands were as cold as ice as you held onto it tightly. 

“Y/N,” Levi coughed out raspy. “Y/N.”

You wiped your tears away and slid towards Levi. You looked at his face then saw his wound. There was a orange size burn-from the saliva of the alien-that was red and a rash. It was splayed across his ankle and was oozing.

“You’re going to be alright. How bad does it hurt?”

“Not that bad,” he winced. You could tell he was holding it in. He was trying to be strong for the mission. 

You rummaged through the first aid kit. In there was a bottle of pain pills, Band-Aids, and a cream to help with bacteria and burns. “Take some of these,” you popped the pills in his mouth. “This should help with the ache.” You splattered some cream onto your hand and evenly spread it on the burn. Levi barely moved a muscle. His strength was truly evident. You wrapped his ankle with some gauze and your gaze met his. Your heart became still. His features were handsome to his thick, black, long eyelashes to his soft looking lips. 

You shook your head, tearing the day dreams away from your mind. “You think you can stand?”

“I think so.” Levi gripped the wall as he pushed himself up. He stood up and took one step, leading him slipping to the ground. 

You caught him in your arms and guided his arm atop your shoulders. “I got you,” you smiled small. “Let’s try to get to shelter and take a breather.”

You didn’t know what was next. What the plan was. All you worried about was now but the thought of how you were going to survive replayed. You saw many outcomes of you dying and everything seemed impossible. To everyone you portrayed this know it all, knowing every step you took but in reality you were a lost soul. 

Turning a corner was a double bed room for the workers. “Sit here.” Levi laid back in the bottom bunk bed. Pain evident, slightly, on his features. In quick motions you gathered items around the room to place in front of the door, barricading it in case any monsters tried to get through. “I think we’re good.” Sweat dripped down your neck. 

You sat opposite from Levi on the other bottom bunk. You noticed Levi sweating as well, his face red. Touching his forehead, you realized he was burning up. “Not good,” you told yourself more than him. Grabbing a glass of water you led him to drink water, hoping that would help. “I’m in fear the venom is getting in through the skin to your blood.” You tapped your lip in thought.

“Great,” Levi scoffed. 

“What do you mean?”

Levi sat up. “I need you to promise me something Y/N. If I don’t make it, finish the mission and save those that need help.”

You sat in front of him and grabbed his cold hands. “You’re not dying. I’m not letting you.” The thought made your lips tremble as your e/c eyes became glassy.

“Just promise me,” Levi’s calloused hands rose to your cheeks, wiping your scared tears that escaped your captivity of your eyes. “Please Y/N. I need you to be okay?”

“...Okay,” you breathed out. 

“I know you’re scared but I don’t think you know how capable you are. You are made of greatness Y/N. You can do this, with or without me.” Levi laid back and tried to get some sleep. 

You walked to the window showing space. A vast area that sometimes is made up of unknown. Scared was an understatement. You didn’t know what that ‘thing’ was, where it had come from and why was it here? There were so many missing pieces to the puzzle. 

You couldn’t help but want to discover more to this mystery and you couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while your friend laid there dying. If this monster was on Marley and it was going to show its face more often you needed tools. You couldn’t bare being defenseless against that thing. “I’m coming back Levi,” you saluted to him. “I promise, just be patient.”

You checked the map of the ship and noticed the weapons room was far north away. It was on the opposite of the ship. “Are you kidding me?” 

As you raced to your destination you saw all the damage that was on Marley. So many wires were pulled and sparks exploded, scaring you. The thought came up of what if you hadn’t had taken this job? Would you still be in your garage being a mechanic? There was some sneaky stuff happening and some things didn’t feel right? Then you thought of Annie and the fear she must be feeling. What if she was dead? You had to know, you had to see if! 

Finally you had made it to the warehouse but the gate was locked. “Hmmm? Maybe there’s an issue with the power?” You checked the computer system nearby and saw all the power was made to keep the vents open. It was either the vents or this gate. “I’m going to close the vents.” You locked in the correct kep numbers. The gate opened wide and you stealthily walked in to not grab attention. 

You took a step and a loud bang was heard across the room. Your pulse quickened and your mouth became dry. You tore up boxes and compartments and they were empty except one at the very end. There was no cover there so if the alien was with you it would see you. ‘I have to be quick,’ you thought.

You rolled to that area and looked to find a motion detector, a flamethrower and items to make a molotov. Now you felt more confident. “Finally,” you got set on making the molotov. But you didn’t feel the presence behind of the alien growing tall and hovering behind you. It roared loud, baring its teeth. 

You turned back and screamed, dropping the weapons. You were going to crawl away when a shot ringed your ears. You looked up to see a wounded Levi shooting at the alien. 

“Levi?!? What are you doing?” 

“Just run! I got it!” Levi repeatedly shot at the monster, calling it to him. “Yeah, come this way.”

You quickly grabbed the weapons and ran to the vents to jump in it. “Cuss!” The latch was locked in order to get in the vents. You then remembered you closed the vents which means the alien was in here with you the whole time. “Levi the vents are closed! I gotta go back to the systems and open it up! You keep him distracted!”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?!?” Levi was up against this huge creature. 

Running with all your might back to the computers you typed in that the gate would shut and the vents would open. Levi was still stuck in the warehouse. “Levi get out of there!” You had your hand out. 

Levi ran backwards shooting vigorously at the monster. “Close it! Close it!”

You punched in the numbers and Levi ran past the gate, it was a hair away from closing on him. It instead closed on the alien. The alien was caught in between. His hands were trying to bust the gate open. 

“Climb! Climb!” You ushered Levi to get up the ladder to get to the vent. Levi climbed up and offered his hand to you. You took it climbing and the alien grabbed onto your legs, pulling you. You tried and you tried with all your might. Veins protruding and teeth clenching. With a roar you and Levi pulled away from the alien and climbed in the vents. They were tiny and cramped. 

You both walked on your hands and knees to get through. 

“If we take two rights and 4 lefts then we should be at the room we were at.” You recalled from the map. 

“What the cuss was that?”

You shrugged, “I needed to get items.”

“Yeah, you could of died.”

“You just told me I could do this without you and now you don’t want me to. Which is it Levi? Because I’m getting very confused!”

Levi shook his head, “Yes, I remember what I said but you idiot but you don’t have any weapons. What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”

“Fought the best I could. I know I can do this. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Levi scoffed and led the way.

You sighed, “you’re right. I should of had some type of weapon, that was dumb. But I got a ton. Now we can defiantly use these against him.”

“What did you get?”

You showed him all that you had found. “Pretty neat huh. We get to use these bad boys on that son of a cuss.”

Levi couldn’t help but smile at how brave you were and ruffled your head, “just, please be careful next time. Okay?”

Finally, you and Levi made it to the end of the vent. Jumping out and now creating a new plan to exterminate the alien. 

The fuzziness of the voice on the intercom blared loudly. Who was still alive? It took a second for someone to speak. “Is that Annie?” Your ears were open. 

“Levi and Y/N, it’s Reiner... if you’re still alive please, meet up with me at the control base. I, I need to show you two something. ASAP!” Then it shut off like it never was turned on in the first place. 

“What if- what if something is wrong? Maybe he found Annie?”

“Or killed that thing,” Levi suggested. 

Making to the control base wasn’t easy. You had to be on the look out for the alien. Any sound you made came with gut wrenching fear. At one point you were even certain that your heart pounding would be too loud and it would hear you. Every moment spent alive was a miracle. 

There was a large wall of glass separating you both from Reiner. Unknowing you were present, he was facing the glass, sitting on a chair, focusing on the computers. He seemed not stressed at all. You would think because his friend and fellow ship mate was taken or dead that he would be more on his toes but he seemed not worried about a thing. Maybe he didn’t really like to show emotion. It was true that being emotional at the moment there was no time. Your eyes traveled up to see his back was facing a huge vent. 

“He’s really stupid isn’t he?” Levi knocked on the glass to get Reiner’s attention. 

Reiner ushered you both over. 

“Any news?” Reiner and you said in unison. 

“You first,” Reiner said. 

“Well,” you threw all your weapons on the counter top near the computers set up. “We went to the weapon base and contained all these! We didn’t realize the moment we stepped on Marley that we were gonna need such heavy equipment.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Reiner stood up and faced away from the two of you, as if he was disappointed in himself. “I know you all have many questions.”

“That’s an understatement,” Levi sat, annoyed. “Why did you bring us here Reiner? It seems like you want to get something off your chest.”

Reiner turned around, seeming so stoic. “I want to tell you two how this thing got on here.”

It was the question you were thinking about the whole time you were here.“Yeah, what did you mean that it started with Ymir? Who’s Ymir?”

“Ymir was one of our ship mates. See when we first were dispatched on this mission we were told that we were going to different planets to find life. We went to what we named planet 13. Me, Annie, my friend Bertholdt and Ymir went and it seemed fine at first but then we found some...eggs.”

“Eggs?” Levi questioned. 

“Eggs. I was taking some samples when I heard a scream and Ymir had touch one of the eggs. It was on her face and we took her to the medical bay to get her back to her health. But we didn’t know that she would never get better and as I was running tests on her the thing came out of her chest. It was, so confusing. We didn’t know what to do. It escaped and that’s where we’re at now.”

You were shocked. “Now I have more questions than answers.”

“Cuss,” Levi muttered under his breath, not knowing what other move to make. 

“We need to learn more about this creature, do you happen to know Reiner if this is the only one or are there more on here?”

“The one-” Reiner was starting but then the computers started beeping. 

“What’s that?” Levi pointed to the map on the screen. “What are those ripples and dots?”

Reiner sprinted to the chair and checked the monitor, “cuss. It’s another shower, it’s gonna be longer and much stronger than the last one.”

“What do we do?” Your balance is thrown off when one or a few meteorites hits Marley. The ship starts beeping, alarming guests. “What happened?”

“It’s made a huge hole.”

“Where?” Levi looked at the model on the computer screen. 

Reiner pointed to the head of ship. “We need to fix it quick or else it will ruin the whole ship.”

“I got this.” Levi grabbed a few of the weapons and was about to exit but fell due to his injuries. 

“Levi!” You ran to his aid and lifted his trousers. It was starting to look infected and you could tell it was affecting him because his lips were turning white and he had more bags under his eyes. “You’re not well.”

“I’m fine,” Levi tried getting up but fell in your arms. 

“You’re not going anywhere. You will stay here and wait for me. I’ll patch up the hole.” You took the weapons away from Levi. 

“No Y/N!”

“Are you sure Y/N? It could be dangerous.” Reiner said. 

You rolled your eyes, “Just watch the cussed thing.” You grabbed a walkie-talkie and threw one at Reiner. “Keep me updated please.”

“The same to you.”

You ran to the head of the ship, using your motion detector to make sure the alien wasn’t near you. It was odd how it wasn’t busy like it usually was. Something was wrong. 

‘Is this thing broken?’ You asked yourself as you smacked the machine. “Ok, Reiner, where is the hole?”

“You’re near it. You have to make 3 lefts and it’s by the electric pad made for that area.”

“Alright,” you whispered and all of a sudden a loud bang was heard nearby. You quickly built a molotov and held your flamethrower in front of your chest, pointing it forward. You hated this playing game. If it was going to hunt you down, you were ready to face it. But nonetheless you moved on stealthily. The wooshing of the air leaving and space pulling everything out notified you that the hole was there. “I see the hole!”

Reiner continued talking while your motion detector started to beep rapidly. Your face turned into horror and something pulled you towards them. You screamed loud and could hear Reiner and Levi on the other end. 

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You looked behind and saw it was the alien dragging you towards the hole. You kicked it in the eye and went to get your flamethrower but you realized it had fallen when you were dragged and it was on the floor far away. 

“Come on!” You were in survival mode as you kept kicking with all your might. You got a good blow as you kicked it in the throat. You crawled to the flamethrower and as the alien was about to pounce on you, you produced flames, almost killing it. 

“Yeah, get back!”

It was now trapped. You held the trigger of the flamethrower as long as you could, backing it up more and more to the hole. You were going to kick it out. 

The space was pulling and you had to hold onto a medal bar attached the wall. Because of the strength the bar was slipping and almost detached. The alien tried to hold onto that as well but instead held onto your leg. You pointed the flamethrower at it and it ended up losing fuel. The alien smiled wide and crawled up your leg, now face to face with you. 

“No!” 

The alien tried to stab you with its claws but you punched its hands away, getting bruised. It brought it’s tail up and was about to stab your stomach, when you pulled, with all your strength, the metal bar that was attached to the wall, that you were holding onto. Nothing was holding you back from being sucked out into space. You were willing to risk your life to kill this thing. You lifted the bar high in the air and struck it repeatedly on his face. You both were falling, almost reaching the blackness and stars. When you pulled from your pocket a made molotov and threw it at it. It shrieked and exploded as it got sucked out. 

You were almost getting sucked out when you held onto a corner of the wall and grabbed a piece of metal and shucked it to the hole, covering it. You fell to the floor and went to screw that piece of metal to that hole. You smiled, proud of yourself. You killed the alien and patched up the hole. 

“I did it guys! I’m alright!”

There was no answer from them, just only static. 

Your lips quivered as you didn’t think of nobody else except Levi. 

As you walked upon the control base, it looked like a disaster. All the computers were thrown off and everything was moved, misplaced, and just thrashed every where. What’s worse there was no signs of Reiner or Levi anywhere.

a/n: no levi!!! hehehe im so bad lol. i feel so bad w levi in the manga as of recently with everything that has happened to him he just has no emotions like even less now and he just doesn’t care. its like everything has been ripped away from him so poor levi, ive rlly given up on every other character as well lol in the manga except levi. i also am not a fan i know shoot me lol of annie and armin idk not rlly into it. 

[angelguk]

» in your arms tonight - jeongguk scenario

Jeon Jeongguk - BTS

words - 5.2k

genre - college!au, smut, established relationship, domestic!au, drabble

warnings - oral sex (fem and male receiving) / fingering / riding / nipple play / edging + orgasm denial / unprotected sex / switch!jeongguk / dom!reader / gukkie finds out he has a new kink ( or fetish man idk) / this is mostly soft so don’t expect some hardcore bdsm / this was meant to be a drabble but clearly i have no idea what that word means (5k words im really,,,,,,)

soundtracks - beabadoobee, soren & dance with me (please listen to them, these songs sound like what falling in love feels like)

He heard the rush of water from the tap in the bathroom come to a halt, followed by the patter of your bare feet against the tiles as you searched for a towel to wipe your mouth with. Your movements were in time with the gentle patter of rain rushing from the skies above. The sound did something to his heart, a wave of contentment floating through his body as he wiggled in the bed sheets. He almost wanted to get up and join you but the ache in his legs from yesterday’s workout kept him cemented to the soft comforter beneath him. And the pillows smelt like you too – at least like your shampoo. It was peach or something and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the fabric, eyes fluttering close.

The towel hit his head with a resounding thud.

“Yah! Are you not going to get up and brush your teeth?” You didn’t sound annoyed so Jeongguk didn’t retaliate, still enamoured by the way his bed smelled like you. But he did toss the towel into some corner of his room - he’d find it tomorrow morning.

“Later,” He whined instead, cracking open his eyes to find you standing at the door of his bathroom, one of his white t-shirts bellowing around your minute frame and a miffed frown on your face. It hid the shorts you had underneath but from where he was situated it looked like you were wearing nothing but his shirt. He didn’t expect the jump in his heart when that small realization hit him. “Come here.”

“Do I look like a dog to you?” You retorted, shutting the bathroom door as you moved forward, a small smile on your face. “Ordering me around with your stinky breath. Heathen.”

“Shut up, you know you like it.” He rolled back, pulling down the sheets he’d cocooned around himself so you climb in beside him. You rolled your eyes in response, tossing aside the pizza boxes Jeongguk had dumped on your side of the bed and clambering onto the mattress. The small act had his shirt raising up your bare thighs and oh – oh.

“You removed the shorts?” He asked, acutely aware of how his voice sounded constricted in his throat.

You hummed in response, collapsing beside his figure, the fabric of his shirt bunching around your waist as you did so, fulling exposing the little black underwear you had on. In a second, the sight that had Jeongguk’s heart thrumming against his chest and his blood flowing to places he was too tired to deal with, was gone – covered by the sheets he suddenly abhorred.

“Fuck.”

You tutted, shifting upright so you could grab the laptop perched precariously on his bedside table. “Nope, don’t you dare. You said you’re too exhausted for sex tonight.”

“I am!” He replied, writhing a little bit so the semi he was sporting could disappear. “You’re just doing that a purpose!”

“I did absolutely nothing.” But he didn’t miss the glimmer in your eyes when your said that, or the way the corners of your lips titled upwards in the smallest smirk.

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do,” You easily replied, fingers swiftly taping away at the keyboard. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Why not.” Hopefully that would distract him from the burning desire to fuck you into the mattress. As much as he wanted to, his thighs couldn’t take it – Hoseok had gone too rough on him at the gym yesterday and coupled with his training for baseball Jeongguk’s legs felt like absolute mush.

“We’re not watching a good one because I’m sick and tired of your commentary.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t have an artistic eye for cinematography,” He sharply retorted, delivering a poke to your waist. “Whiny baby.”

You snorted. “Me? The whiny baby in this relationship? Please go take a look in the mirror.” Jeongguk kicked you shin. “Aw! Fuck off! And it’s not just the cinematography you take a dig at everything – the character development, the plot line, the dialogue – do I need to go on?”

“You don’t get to say anything – you enjoyed Twilight.”

“Yeah when I was fourteen!”

“I saw you watching it last weekend when you were supposed to be studying.”

“Edward is a hot vampire. Like anyone can agree that Robert Pattinson looked good despite that terrible makeup.”

He huffed, raising a hand to ruffle through the soft chestnut strands sticking to his forehead. You reached out your own, fingers slipping through his own as your nails dragged across his scalp. He sighed into it, back arching slightly as you drew patterns on his skull, the feeling of your nails scraping against his skin send shock waves of pleasure through his system. “I don’t care if he was hot, the special effects for that movie were disgusting.” He let out a soft gasp that had your rubbing your thighs together, his eyes closed in pure bliss. “I thought you were Team Jacob.” His voice was husky, telling sign that you’d set him off once more.

“I’m Team I Would Like To Be Fucked Tonight.” You stated, blatantly ignoring the stink eye he shot your way. “But clearly that’s not on our agenda. Have you ever seen Vampires Suck?”

“Obviously not – it sounds horrendous.”

The laugh you let out made something twist in Jeongguk’s gut, a rush of disappointment radiating through him when you retracted your hand. It was bizarre to him, how much he craved your touch. Even the smallest of encounters left him breathless. For fuck’s sake you were just giving him a half-assed head massage and he was riled up again.

“Oh you’re going to hate it,” You replied, oblivious to the wanting look Jeongguk had on your face. The blue screen illuminated your features, eyes bright and sparkling with mischief as you searched up the terrible film. He couldn’t help but smile, a crushing urge to kiss your nose rising in his chest. Sometimes you were so cute and it made him feel like his heart was bursting.

“It’s so stupid but kind of funny at the same time? It’s like a badly made version of Twilight,” You continued, pulling it up on the screen.

“A badly made version of Twilight? Babe, Twilight was terrible, how much worse can it get?”

You beamed. “So much worse.”

“God the things I do for you,” He groaned, shoving his face into the pillows. To be honest Jeongguk didn’t care about what you were watching tonight. His body already felt heavy with sleep and he was most likely going to knock out as soon as the opening credits rolled in.

“Scoot stinky boy,” You commanded, sliding back down into the comforters with the movie loading on the screen. You grabbed a pillow, propping it underneath the device as you scuttled into Jeongguk’s space, your legs landing right above his.

He sniffled, pushing up the pillows with his head so he could get a better view of the screen, “I’m not stinky, you smell,” He countered, wiggling his legs until yours were intertwined with his and your bare thigh was pressed against his own.

Sometimes Jeongguk regretted wearing nothing but boxers to bed. Yeah it was more comfortable but fuck if it wasn’t annoying to have you so close and not have the energy to fuck you the way he wanted to.

“Phew what was that? Smells terrible in here, close your mouth.” Jeongguk wanted to kiss the smile off your face.

“Shut up the movie is starting,” He instead chose to say, trying to distract his mind from how warm you felt against him, how his skin literally tingled with every gentle graze of your skin against his own, and how his dick was starting to become hard again for the third time that night.

It took five minutes of the opening scene for Jeongguk to realise that this was going to be the worst thing he’d ever see with his own two eyes and for his persistent boner to deflate like a popped balloon.

“What the ever living fuck was that?”

You giggled, leaning over to place a finger on top of his pink lips, the action causing Jeongguk to subconsciously pout.

“Shh, Bella is saving Edward.”

“They covered his dick with a disco ball! Why is he stripping in Italy? Why are there fan girls smashing each other with garden tools? What’s with the girls in bikini’s dancing in a jello fountain? Y/N what is this?”

“A masterpiece,” You murmured, pressing a kiss on his check – one that had Jeongguk leaning in for another, preferably on his mouth but you pulled away, flicking him gently against his forehead. “Now shut it and watch the movie.”

“Fine,” He retorted but his mouth was open a second later, eyes already observing a fault in the way the movie was shot.

And that’s the way the rest of your Saturday night ensued, Jeongguk throwing comments that whole movie was a pile of shit while you defended it (and occasionally critiqued because god this movie was horrible). Somewhere along Jeongguk had found a way to envelop you in his arms, pulling you right against his bare chest. He’d slug one of his legs over yours, fully dwarfing you in his hold as he pressed his warm mouth against your neck. His fingertips followed next, idly drawing lazy patterns against your skin while his eyes stayed sharp on the scene. But the movie got boring for him quick, the jokes were sub-par and the style it was shot it physically hurt his soul.

It didn’t take long for his mind to digress, nerves picking up the warmth you were emanating in his arms. Or the way his shirt had ridden up your thigh once again and the only barrier between you and him was the fabric of your panties which was pressed right against his own thigh. And his boxers but that wasn’t on the forefront of his mind. He could slide his thigh in between your legs if he wanted too, he couldn’t help but think about that, dragging a finger against your neck.

The shiver that jerked through your body jostled your backwards, further into his arms until the familiar curve of your ass was pressed right against his crotch.

He forgot the movie was playing in an instant.

You felt his hands suddenly drop to your waist, grabbing at the fabric that had bunched up there, his grip firm as he ground into the curve of your ass. It didn’t take long for you to start dripping, the need for his touch already buzzing beneath your skin just from being near him. But you weren’t going to give in that easily, despite how good his felt against your ass or the little sighs he made as he grew harder by the second.

“Nope, no,” You yanked yourself free, immediately yearning for the feeling of him against you.

“Babe~” There was a nip at your neck, one that nearly had you melting right back into him.

“No – no. You said you were exhausted. Sleep.”

“I retract that statement. Please, fuck, I need you.”

“I can’t hear you over this funny joke,” You taunted, making a point to laugh loudly.

“That was terrible joke and you know it,” He replied, yanking your back into his chest. You whined, raising your fists against his broad chest. Your hands hit taunt muscle as Jeongguk crawled on top of you, pulling underneath his hulking figure.

“No – Jeongguk,” You wheezed out, a laugh stuck in your throat. “The laptop, you’re going to drop it-”

He grabbed it before it could descend to the floor and shatter. In an instance it was slammed shut, abruptly cutting off Bella’s scream, and Jeongguk tossed it back onto the stool it was previously perched on. When he returned his attention to you, you couldn’t help but squirm, a rush of wetness slipping from your pussy at the sight of his dark blown out eyes.

“I was watching the movie,” You said indignantly.

“We can finish it later,” He breezily replied, “Want you now.” The peck on your nose took your off guard but when he pulled away, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t use words to describe, you couldn’t help but grin.

“I don’t think you know what you do to me,” Jeongguk continued, a hand on your hip tugging you closer underneath him. You swung your legs over his waist, giving him the room to lean down and nudge his cock right against your wet clothed pussy. The sigh he gave at the contact made your stomach flutter with need. “Fuck, babe, you have no idea what you do to me. You’re always so fucking cute even when you’re talking shit.” A press of his lips against your forehead as his hips rolled into yours. You groaned at the movement, revelling in the weight of your boyfriend over you. “You talk back all the damn time and it just makes me so hard. Even when you know you’re wrong – and you’re always wrong.” Another roll of his hips, this time rougher, one that had your cunt dripping. You nearly smacked the side of his head for the backhanded compliment but the next thing that slipped from Jeongguk’s mouth had you halting. “I love that – I love you.”

“Fuck,” You whispered, hands finding themselves entangled in his hair. “Fuck, I love you too.”

He stuttered to a pause, cock still pressed against you, staring at you with wide eyes. “You – you don’t have to say it back, if you don’t mean it.”

“No, I want to. Wanted to for a while now and I mean it. Jeongguk I love you.”

The bewildering laugh he let out echoed in your chest, the smile on his face so wide you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks and grin back. “I love you too Y/N.”

Then his lips were on yours and you could only melt into it. His tongue slipped beside yours, coaxing soft broken moans from your lips that had him bucking harder against you. Jeongguk tasted like the pepperoni pizza you’d gotten for dinner and coupled with the mint flavoured toothpaste you used the combination was not the best but it didn’t even matter because the boy above you loved you. You’d know for a while that this relationship was something else because Jeongguk made you feel things you didn’t even know you were capable of sometimes. Things were always so comfortable with him, even if they weren’t always easy. Being with Jeongguk felt right.

And he felt the same, even if he could only communicate it with nips to your lower lip and the tight hold on your hips as he rocked you into the mattress. Jeongguk felt like he was ablaze, from the tips of his toes to the heart slamming against his chest. He never expected you to say it back, at least right away. He didn’t even expect it to come out, it just happened. And the fact that you feel the same has him on the fucking moon and incredibly hard. He could only kiss you harder, map out your mouth with his own because he wanted to imprint the feeling of you whining into him in his memory for the rest of his life.

“Jeongguk,” You pulled away, exposing your neck when Jeongguk immediately latched on to. He was never going to stop kissing you. Never.

“Yeah,” He groaned into your skin.

“Need you to do something else with your mouth.”

“Whatever you want baby.”

He took the hint, sliding down until his breath was hot against your blazing cunt, His arms had pulled up the shirt and you reached down to yank it over your head when Jeongguk stopped you.

“K–keep it on please.”

“Why? You don’t want to see my tits?”

“Fuck,” He sighed, fingers digging into your naked thighs. “No I do, I love your tits… It’s just – I can’t explain, could you keep it on though?”

You raised an eyebrow but dropped your arms, complying with his request. You didn’t miss the little exhale he let out. And then his eyes were trained on your pussy once more.

The first lick made you jolt, even though it was through your underwear you could feel the familiar knot of tightening in your gut. It didn’t help that Jeongguk looked so pretty between your legs, how his wide eyes would flicker to yours for reaffirmation that he was pulling you apart.

“Take them off,” You whispered, after Jeongguk had delivered a kiss to your cunt. He did so with protest, eyes darkening when they landed on the slick covering your inner thighs.

“Look at you princess, you made such a fucking mess. Should I clean it up for you?” He hummed, brushing his nose against your inner right thigh.

“Yes, please fuck-”

He didn’t bother to open you up like he usually would. Jeongguk would take his time eating your own, sliding his tongue down your cunt, tongue dipping below to play with your entrance until he dragged it back up and teased his way to your clit. Tonight Jeongguk immediately latched onto your clit, swirling and flicking in sharp swift motions at had your toes curling in pure bliss and your hands fisting the sheets.

He abruptly pulled away, leaving you heaving as you glanced down. He grinned at your confused expression, lips coated in your slick and a rose flush on his face, and then reached out to direct one of your hands onto his head.

“Pull at my hair,” He murmured.

Oh – oh that you could do, and were about to state it when he resumed his assault on your clit, effectively making your brain melt from the pressure of his tongue on your cunt.

“Holy fucking – Jeongguk!” Your hips moved on their own accord, bucking into his mouth in search of something that would help you topple over and come because you really needed too. It didn’t help that Jeongguk had a low vibration going on his throat, the humming resounding into your cunt with every wet lick and press of his tongue on you. You couldn’t help but claw at his scalp, yanking helplessly at the strands there.

“Please, fuck! Let me come, please let me come.” He didn’t reply, choosing to instead slip two of his fingers between your thighs, circling your entrance with them as he gazed intently at you. The stretch you felt as he pushed them into you had you throwing your head back, legs spreading further apart so he could get deeper. It took a moment or two for him to establish a rhythm that kept in time with the ministrations of his tongue but it didn’t take long for you to come undone underneath them.

The need to orgasm was becoming unbearable. The small tremors in your thighs that you moaning into the heated atmosphere made Jeongguk grin, the flicks against your cunt speeding up. And then he crocked his fingers upwards, the pads of his fingertips slamming right into something that had you screaming his name.

It happened faster than you expected, one second Jeongguk had you unravelling with the sharp jabs into your sopping cunt and the next one you were clenching down on his fingers, thighs shaking with every tidal wave of pleasure that coursed through you. The only thing you knew was him name and he couldn’t help but bask in it. You looked gorgeous like this – mouth thrown open and your eyes on the brink of shutting. It made him so unbelievable hard that it was starting to hurt.

“Fuck,” You exhaled, blinking at the ceiling as Jeongguk pulled his fingers away, immediately cleaning them with his own mouth. The movement garnered your attention and you were left mesmerized as he licked you slick away before giving you a bright smile.

He rose upward, taking his place above you, heart leaping at the sight of your small figure still lost in his shirt but this time with a glow on your face.

“If you want we can do that agai-”

The taste of you on his mouth didn’t deter you. In fact you pulled him closer, your fingers grazing his abdomen, taut muscles involuntarily fluttering at the contact. Jeongguk was built magnificently – you could not deny his hours in the gym really paid off. And it made you want to climb him like a tree.

When Jeongguk detached himself from your lips, he huffed a small laugh landing another peck on your nose. “Your nose is so cute. Have I ever told you that? I love your nose.”

“My nose is ginormous you idiot. Stop trying to change the conversation.” You hand had wandered further down, dipping into the black fabric that strained against the curve of his cock. You didn’t know whether to start with him in your mouth or to sit on his dick immediately.

“Baby,” His mouth was in your neck,  “I wasn’t joking when I said I couldn’t fuck you tonight. I don’t think I can handle being on top.”

“Then you don’t have to,” You retorted simply, causing Jeongguk to pull back so he could look you in the eyes. “Do you want me to sit on you first or would you prefer it I sucked you off instead.”

He was visibly stunned, a bewildering look glazing over his eyes. “I-”

You palmed at his cock, relishing in the way he arched into your touch, his eyes falling shut as a choked “Shit” slipped from his lips.

“Pick one baby.”

“Wanna fuck your mouth.”

You grinned, gently pushing him off so you could roll on top.  He was now beneath you back against the mattress as his eyes eagerly followed your moments. You kissed the crock of his neck, hands dragging down to roll his nipples in your fingertips. He reacted the way you expected him too, with a soft groan and a curse that went straight to your core.

“Look at my baby, such a good boy,” You whispered against his ear with another flick to his nipples. “You’ve treated me so well tonight and I promise to do the same but I need you to do something for me. Only come when I say you can. Is that okay?”

He nodded so hard his head jolted the pillows apart. That was more than okay for him. You rarely ever took the dominant role in the bedroom but when you did he found it incredibly hot. He wouldn’t come until you let him, even he was aching to right at this very moment.

The only reason why you wanted to withhold his release was because you wanted Jeongguk to feel so good could he couldn’t help but come, you needed to see him like that tonight.

You pressed a satisfied kiss against his mouth, no tongue this time, and then found your way down to his boxers, kneeling forward before the hardness there. This stupid thing should have disappeared ages ago.

Jeongguk tossed them off at your command, leaving his cock exposed to the warm air, curving against his stomach, the tip red and dripping with precum. Your lips wrapped around it with a soft kiss, the welcoming wetness of your mouth leaving Jeongguk groaning as you sunk down on his cock. Where your mouth couldn’t reach your hands occupied.

Your wrists snapped up and down, twisting around his length in quick motions that you knew he liked. You tried to keep up with the pace you’d created with your hands but Jeongguk was thick enough that it was difficult to swallow his cock easily. Especially from this angle. But you pushed through the ache that was burning your jaw and kept the tight hold of your mouth around his dick, tongue swirling around the tip as your hollowed your cheeks.

“Fuck baby, fuck! Like that, yes, fuck I’m gonna – shit I’m gonna come-” He remembered what you’d requested but your mouth was so warm and so wet he couldn’t help but want to come down your throat, not when he could hear the way you were gagging around him. So when you pulled off with a disapproving look he didn’t feel sorry at all.

“Jeongguk,” You slapped his thigh. “You’re terrible at being a sub.”

“Sorry,” He replied, mouth twisted in a languid grin. “I haven’t jacked off in a couple of days and you’re mouth was – yeah your mouth was really nice.”

You sighed, bunching up his shirt at your waist. That revealed the new coat of slick coating your cunt that had the smile tumbling right off Jeongguk’s face. “Do you really need to come right now?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah I do.”

“Where do you want to come? In my mouth or in my pussy?”

Jeongguk’s brain went haywire.

“We’re – we’re not using a condom?” He choked out, painfully aware of how his dick twitched at the prospect of being buried inside you with no barrier.

You shock your head. “No, I want you like that.”

“You sure?” His tone was incredulous.

Another nod.

“Baby, I love you but, like, I’m not ready to be a dad.”

You hit his arm with a laugh bubbling from your mouth. “Idiot my period starts really soon.”

“Really?”

“Yes – please just pick a place to come.”

“Your pussy obviously, shit, come here,” He was reaching out for your hips, dragging your over his crotch. You hovered above him, cunt aching to have something inside it.

“Want me to keep the shirt on?”

“Yeah,” He replied dreamily, eyes enamoured with the way your pussy looked covered in wetness that he was responsible for.

“Jeongguk,” You continued innocently, a sharp look in your eyes.

“Yes baby,” His fingers were digging into your hips, gently pulling you closer to his cock.

“Do you have a kink for me wearing your clothes?” This halted everything.

He didn’t look you in eye as he mumbled out a hasty rambling sentence, “Maybe I do.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, is that a bad thing?” He looked so innocent like this, gazing at you with the widest eyes that were brimming with apprehension. He looked like fucking deer caught in headlights who didn’t know whether to run forward or wait for the incoming disaster. You chose not to reply, instead wrapping your hand around his length and lining it up with your entrance. His own fingers were still digging into your hips, tensed as he awaited your answer.

“Jeongguk,” You said, using his cock to toy at your entrance. He groaned despite his uneasiness, the veins in his neck twitching. “Anything you find hot, I find hot. Just know that you’ve just given me free range to steal all your shirts now.”

The snarky reply on his tongue transformed into a groan of pleasure as you sunk down on him, your wet pussy sucking in every inch of his cock. You welcomed the stretch, pushing yourself down as your walls fluttered around his dick. Eventually he was burrowed inside you, your entrance flat against his crotch and the fabric of his shirt brushing against his abdomen.

Every time you had sex Jeongguk always found himself losing it at the feeling of your walls contracting and stretching around him.  It felt like absolute heaven because you were always so wet and warm and welcoming for his dick. He’d never felt so connected to a person during sex, but with you even when it was a rough quickie before class, Jeongguk felt alive. Like this was where was meant to be – between your legs giving you everything he ever had.

You sighed, eyes wavering shut, and hips shifting slightly as you adjusted to the familiar stretch of his dick inside you. Jeongguk swore, his hips painfully still as he waited for you to start. His hands were grazing your thighs as he did so, hands trailing to your back so he could give you ass a tight squeeze.

For some reason, one Jeongguk couldn’t wrap his mind around, you in his clothes looking like this made his gut seize up with desire he’d never felt before. You just looked so beautiful like this, mouth open and pussy wet because of him and only him. And the fact that you were wearing his clothes – it was like a signal in his mind that this is for him. That you were for him.

“Baby, remember you can’t come until I say so.” Your smile was lazy as your forced open your eyes, hand on his stomach. You leaned forward and then you started moving. The grip on your hip tightened as you bounced on his dick, your pace quickening with every slap of his skin against yours. It took Jeongguk a second to process the pleasure exuding from his core, he couldn’t even speak, only watch in awe at the way your breast bounced gently beneath the fabric of his white shirt. Or the way your slick leaking all over his dick, making a mess that he wanted to touch.

You jolted up with the pad of his finger hit your clit, immediately moaning when he established a rhythm that had you jerking up and tightening around his dick.

“Jeongguk!” He’d raised his knees so you could lean back, the grip on your waist know purposeful as he fucked up into you with harsh precise thrusts.

“Say my name,” He groaned as you squeezed his cock, using one hand to guide your bounces with the other made quick work of your clit. “Say it baby.”

“Fuck, fuck! Jeongguk – fuck! Love you so much, ugh, love y-you” You threw you head back, screaming his name as your second high came crashing down upon you, pussy clamping down tightly around your boyfriend as you creamed around him. You couldn’t anything else but his name as your rode out your orgasm, toes curling in delight as the tremors cause your shudder above him, mouth wide open.

Jeongguk briefly projected from his body. You were so snug and tight around him he couldn’t help but grab at your hips, pulling your down roughly as his own hips bucked upwards, in a mad chase for his own high. He found it quickly enough, but forced himself to wait until you were coherent.

“Can I come?” He ground out, as you rested your palms against his stomach. You felt the muscle quiver beneath your touch, his stomach caving in with every thrust inside you pussy. You could tell we need to come so badly and yet he had waited for your permission. How was Jeongguk even real?

“Yes, yes, come baby.”

“Fuck,” His eyes were screwed shut as he fucked you through his orgasm, hips stuttering against your own as waves of ecstasy shot through his veins in bursts of pleasure.

It was strange, feeling his come inside you but it was feeling you welcomed. That was until you rolled off and it started slipping out of you. Your knees hit the mattress with a thud as you flopped down beside him.

“You owe me a thigh message,” You muttered into the air coloured by the scent of sex and your joint heavy breaths.

“Your thighs hurt?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good, now you know what I was feeling,”

“Fuck you Jeon Jeongguk,” You replied, the stupidest smile on your face as you whacked at his sweat coated arm.

His grin matched your air, brown hair tousled from your hands and eyes twinkling as he gazed at you. “You just did baby. Give me thirty minutes and we can go again.”

“Ugh, for that you have to get up and turn off the lights.”

[starstaiined]

Would You Lie With Me & Just Forget The World?

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: The world is a dangerous place. It can be big, scary, and almost overwhelmingly dark. But despite all the negative aspects, despite all the pain and turmoil, Katherine Howard has always found a brief reprieve in the other queens. Particularly, in her older cousin. (And as loathe as they are to admit it, the other queens have to agree with her.) Anne Boleyn can be chaotic, wild, and reckless  … but she’s also passionate, kind, and effervescent. Her boundless energy acts as a barrier against the bad in the world. But when that barrier breaks and the world turns on its head, can Kat manage to navigate the turbulent waters without her cousin by her side?  

CHAPTER ONE // 

TW: Implied abuse/neglect, Implied sexual abuse, Panic Attack, Car crash 

A/N: sorry this chapter took so long! I ended up having to trim parts out and it isn’t as smooth as I was hoping for, but this is one of the rougher chapters to set up because of all the background. (I’m setting this in my own AU verse/idea that I’m still writing up the lore for, if anyone wants to hmu for that feel free!) 

TAGGING: @the10amongstthese3s  @radcowboyalmondtree  @tonight-we-are-live  @the-queen-bee-is-here  @everything-insanity  @whoufflewhovian200311  (if you want to be added, just reply to this post, send me an ask, or hit up my ims! these are the people I know who were interested!) 

“Annie, I’m scared.” 

Anne froze, the almost inaudible admission tugging at her heart. She climbed down from the garage roof as easily as she’d climbed up. “You don’t need to be scared, Kit. I’ve got you, okay? Just trust me.” Anne smiled mischievously, shooting her brightest gap toothed grin at her cousin.

Kitty visibly relaxed, and Anne showed Kitty how to use the materials lining the side of the building to get to the top. (After it, it wasn’t more than a few feet in the air.) But as ordinary as the view may have been, it was extraordinary because they were there together. 

Anne dropped to book bag she’d brought with her, unrolling the blanket and wrapping it around Kat’s shoulders. “Can’t let the birthday girl get too cold now, can I?” She asked with a teasing grin. She reached into the bookbag, unaware of the surprise on her cousin’s face. She handed Kat some silly plushie she picked up at the store, and a (terribly smashed) attempt at a cupcake. 

“You...you remembered?” Kat asked, looking down at the presents her cousin gave her as if they were the greatest thing in the world. The genuine shock in her voice startled Anne. 

“Of course I did Kit...why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday your favorite cousin turns seven, after all.” 

“Dad and the boys sometimes forget...” Kitty attempted to appear nonchalant, although it was obvious she was upset. 

“They do what?” Anne growled, and Kitty flinched away at the change in her voice. Not now, Anne chided herself, using every ounce of teenage self restraint she had in order to plaster on the cheesiest grin she could muster. “I’m sure they’re just...planning a surprise or something.” 

“Maybe.” Kat mumbled, but it was clear she didn’t believe it. 

They sat in silence, before Anne’s lips curved back into their usual grin. She nudged her younger cousin. “Why don’t you spend the night? We can play board games and watch movies. I’ll even let you-oh.”

She’d been cut off mid sentence by a hug, and found Katherine peering up at her. “You’re the bestest, Annie! I love you.” The younger girl’s face shone with excitement that hadn’t been there moments earlier. 

Anne couldn’t help but mirror that joy. She ruffled Kit’s hair, laughing at the expression it produced. “I love you too, Kit. And I’m here for you. Always.” 

But their short moment was cut short as her father’s voice echoed up from the ground down below. “ANNE BOLEYN, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! THE LAST THING WE NEED IS YOUR POOR HABITS RUBBING OFF ON LITTLE KATHER-” 

And with that, Anne woke with a start. She damn near fell off her bed with a yell, catching herself last minute and blinking sleep out of her eyes. The other side of the bed was empty. Thank god. It meant Kat had slept with Jane instead, and she hadn’t accidently interrupted what little sleep the girl managed to get. Anne flopped back down on her bed with a sigh. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, energy buzzing in her exhausted muscles demanding that she get moving. She glanced at the alarm clock. 6:03 A.M. 

Well, that was as good a time as any to start the day, wasn’t it? She rolled out of bed, quietly, and made her way to the bathroom. She ran through her usual morning routines : brushing her teeth, throwing her hair up in a tight bun, changing out of her pajamas and into running gear. By six thirty, she was ready to run. With her headphones fixed firmly in her ears and music blasting, she let her muscles guide her. The song playing pulled up another memory, a little fuzzy around the edges but still soft enough to pull a smile from her. 

Family Christmas parties, everybody’s favorite time. Except not really. Anne dealt with it as best she could, which was ignoring damn near everyone and doing her own thing. She was choreographing a dance routine to a song that had just come out, earbuds in and focus completely on the movement of each muscle in time with the beat. Which is why she didn’t notice George until it was too late. He slammed into her side roughly, knocking her off her feet and sending her sliding across the floor. Anne stared slack jawed for a moment, recovering her breath, before yelling “What the fuck George!” 

“Careful Ninon, don’t let dear old dad hear you using that language.” George answered with a smirk, towering over her. The gleam in his eyes made it clear he was in one of his moods, which meant Anne was in for it. If there was one thing George excelled at, it was pushing her buttons. 

“Why don’t you go bother Mary for once?”

“Because Mary’s actually socializing with the family, unlike you.”

“Sorry, not sorry, but I’m trying to have fun. I’m not interested in being judged for stupid reasons, okay? I just want to be left alone.” 

“Don’t want to be judged, don’t give them reasons to judge you. It’s simple, really.” George answered with a shrug. “Besides, considering your …. reputation I don’t think they’re stupid reas-” 

“I don’t really care about your opinion, George.” Anne snapped, face immediately heating up. She pushed herself to her feet, taking a couple steps away from him. “Maybe you should shut up.”

“Maybe you should stop being such a sl-” He didn’t get to finish that thought as a pink blur knocked into his legs. It caught him off guard; he flailed his arms wildly to no avail and ended up tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass. Anne blinked in surprise. George pushed himself to his feet quickly, visibly seething. “What the fuck!” 

Ten year old Katherine Howard, about two feet shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter, didn’t break eye contact with George from where she’d positioned herself; she stood directly in front of Anne as if she were a human shield. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” She deadpanned. 

“Brat.” George hissed, pointing a finger at the young girl menacingly. 

Kat just shrugged, but she could feel her hands trembling. “Takes one to know one, right?” 

Anne laughed, making her brother’s face flush six different shades of red. George, thoroughly humiliated and beyond angry, stormed off. Almost immediately Kat’s shoulders deflated. Anne pulled her younger cousin into a side hug. “KitKat, you are my hero.” 

“We’re family.” Kat answered back, her voice muffled by Anne’s shoulder. “We always protect each other, don’t we?” 

Anne smiled. “We do.” 

The memory faded. The burning in her muscles, and the unfamiliarity in her surroundings, made it clear she’d gotten lost in her head longer than she’d meant to. Crap. It took her nearly an hour to find her way back. She made a beeline straight for the fridge once she did. She gave the calendar a quick glance as she opened the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice, before doing a double take. 

November 4th. Kitty’s birthday was less than a week away! How in the hell had that happened? Anne was usually on top of these things, but between the interviews and the show and her work on choreo...she could feel guilt flooding her system. Shit. She wracked her brain, trying to remember whether or not Kitty had been acting strange recently. She’d seemed a little lethargic but Anne had chalked that up to being overworked with the show…

She didn’t think twice. She rushed up to Cleves room, flinging the door open in a panic as she shook the other girl. “Anna!” She hissed, voice low but pressing. “Anna, wake up!”

“Anne…?” Anna asked groggily. “What time is it…” 

“It’s eight.”

“What are you doing up? We didn’t go to bed until almost tw-”

“Shh, that doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to the store. Do you want to come?” 

Anne’s voice brimmed with urgency, but Anna was too tired to register it. She buried herself deeper into her blankets. “With your driving? No thank you, Miss Boleyn, I choose life.” She waved a hand dismissively, eyes never so much as cracking open. The warmth of her bed was too enticing. 

Anne heaved a sigh, but accepted Anna’s answer. She ran to the kitchen, scribbled a quick note on a post it, and attached it to the fridge. 

Need to run some errands. Urgent. Be back later. XO, Anne. 

And with that she disappeared through the door, the orange juice still sitting forgotten on the counter. 

The shopping went quickly. Or well, as quickly as it could go when Anne Boleyn was involved. She spent hours loading her cart with Kitty’s favorite snacks and movies, picked up random little knick knacks that she thought Kitty might like. (Hell, she even managed to find some cute presents for the rest of the queens.) Brimming with excitement about her haul, and eager to show it to the others, Anne was in a phenomenal mood when she hopped back in the car. She was jamming along to every song coming over the radio, grinning from ear to ear. 

The buzzing of her phone on the seat next to her snapped Anne out of her private karaoke concert. It was probably just Kat calling to check up on her. She could feel warmth spreading through her chest as she let out a breathless giggle, turning down the music and running a quick hand through her hair. She found Kitty’s worry endearing, although she half wished Kitty would realize that Anne would be fine. After all, she always was. 

She half debated it letting it ring to voicemail, just until she could answer without taking her hands off the wheel. That was….until the name on the caller ID caught her attention. 

THOMAS HOWARD.

Suddenly, all the mirth she’d felt drained out of her like air out of a popped balloon. She hadn’t spoken to her uncle in YEARS. The last time she’d seen him was the day that she had left, Kitty tucked under one arm and spare clothes under the other. He made good on his promise to ostracize both of them.

Kitty’s head is buried in the crook of her neck, tears staining the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry,” Kitty chokes out between sobs, barely comprehensible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Anne, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” 

Anne could feel a storm building beneath her skin, aching to break free and wreck every single person that had driven her cousin to this. SHE WAS A CHILD! But over the last few years, Anne had watched the light drain from her eyes. She was just kicking herself for not realizing what was going on earlier… But she can’t focus on that. Not right now. Instead she rubs soothing circles on Katherine’s back, rocking the girl back and forth. “It isn’t your fault, Kit.” Emotion rubbed her voice raw, and it takes everything in her not to cry. “None of it is. Not a damn thing. Do you hear me? Not a single damn thing.” 

If anything, that just seems to make Kat cry harder. “It is, it is Annie. I know it, and he knew it, and, and, and everyone knows it.” She’s cut off by a sob that shakes her frail shoulders. “He knew it, he said it, he-”

“He’s a piece of shit, Kit! I’m sorry, but it’s true. Your dad sucks. I wish it weren’t true, I wish you could’ve had the life you deserve. Somewhere far away from this bullshit.” Anne croaked out, a few silent tears falling as she fought to maintain a steady voice. “But you didn’t get that, instead life gave you a crappy hand and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. But I can promise you one thing.” Anne tucked Kitty’s head under her chin. “I know it isn’t much, but I’m here for you. Always. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m right here. And I’m always going to be right here, okay?” 

With a few sniffling breaths, Kitty nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, she held out a hand with her pinkie extended. In a small voice, she asked, “Pinkie promise?” 

Anne was all too happy to link their fingers. “Pinkie promise.” 

They made themselves more comfortable in the living room, still a tangle of limbs but this time a tangle of limbs under a blanket. Before drifting off to sleep, Kitty squeezed Anne’s hand. “Annie?” She asked, drowsily. 

“Hm?” 

“Earlier...earlier you said that you weren’t much...but you are. Okay? You’re the best. And I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Anne squeezed her hand gently three times. I love you. “Don’t worry KitKat, you’ll never have to find out.” 

Anne’s thoughts flashed to every time since then that Kitty’s tears staining the collar of her shirt, to the way the poor girl had trembled from nightmares that stole her breath. She remembered rushing out on errands like this, doing anything and everything to pull a smile out of her cousin, who spent the week leading up to her birthday WISHING for that call from the rest of the family. Thomas Howard failed as a father consistently over the past two years, and there’s almost no one Anne hates more. (When she thinks of him, all she can see is Kat trembling, crying out my fault, my fault, my fault. Just thinking about it makes her jaw clench.) Even now, in what she assumes is an attempt to make amends, he was calling her and not Kitty!

She reached over, answering it swiftly and bringing it to her ear. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, I need you to shut the hell up for two seconds and listen to me, Thomas.”  Anger boiled in her veins and sharpened her tongue, but blurred everything else. In the haze of her own hatred, her focus on the phone pressed to her ear, she missed the truck that was swerving on a path directly towards her.

[creepyalienghost]

Orphanage farm-end

Norman awoken by the morning greetings of little Susie and it didn’t take long before the room was live with action. He stretched his arms up as he yawned then pulled himself up. He glanced over at Henry’s empty bed and felt the sadness creep back in. He does miss Henry but not as much as Joey was. And Norman could tell by the look of Joey that he had been crying silently. He felt so bad for the poor guy. He had lost his best friends because of Sammy. They both understood the position Sammy was in but Joey hated him now. Norman couldn’t blame him. Yet he was still going to keep Joey from hurting Sammy.

Speaking of Sammy, Norman turned towards his bed and made eye contact with him. Poor guy had guilt all over his face. Norman can see he was hating himself over Henry’s death. He came over and sat next to him, letting him lay his head on his chest. “I’m ..im sorry....” he mumbled but Norman could understand him. “I didn’t want this to happy!”

Norman hand ran though the blonde morning hair. “ your not the blame for this Sammy.” Norman whispers in his ear. “Mom is who to blame for letting us die like this.” He reminded him. “Your just trying to stay alive.” Sammy nodded because it was true. He was just doing this to stay alive. “and soon we’re escape this place, together.” He kisses his head to help him feel better.

They sit there for a while longer letting the room grow emptier by the minute as everyone leaves for breakfast. Once they were the last two Norman slowly pulled away. “We got to join the others now... or mom might become suspicious.” Norman told him.

Sammy nodded whipping his face clean with the back of his hand. “Your r-right.” He spoke with a bit of fear but a lot of sadness in his voice

He and Norman quickly made there beds nice and nearly then got on there plain white uniform, heading down the stairs. As they entered the dinning room everyone was already setting up the tables with plates, bowls, cups and silverware. “You help the others, sam. I’ll go help Joey finish breakfast.” Sammy nodded and went over to one table to help them.

Norman went inside the kitchen where Joey was working on some eggs and watching over the pancakes that was in the pan. He looked behind him once he herd the door closed and looked relieved. “Oh. Finally. You can help me with these eggs.” He said in annoyance, handing Norman the eggs.

About 15 minutes later most of the children was feeding there faces and talking to there friends around them. Norman noticed Sammy didn’t feel like talking and Joey on the other hand wasn’t much for talking or

eating this morning. Even mom noticed.

“Joey my dear. I know your sad about Henry being adopted but remember he’s happy now.” She smiled a motherly smile at him that only made joeys blood boil in rage.

Though out the next few days Joey didn’t talk to Sammy at all. He hated Sammy for what he’s done to Henry. Joey hardly talk to Norman as well. The two only talked when their alone out in the woods, planning there escape. Pretty soon they had their plan set to bring everyone with them to escape. They had the supplies they all needed like food and rope. They had train the younger ones to climb run and jump and they knew it was time. Best thing about it was that Sammy never found out about all this.

Sammy was apparently woken up by a hand covering his mouth in the middle of the night. He woke up wide eyed by this and started thrashing around, trying to kick whoever it was off. “Sam. Calm down. It’s me.” A kind voice said and Sammy immediately calmed. Norman’s face appeared in his line of vision and he removed his hands. “Sorry. I couldn’t have you waking up mom now.” He smiled an apologized smile.

Sammy nodded at him in forgiveness but then he wondered why he was up in the middle of the night. Sammy sat up in his bed and saw everyone of them had there day clothes on and a backpack filled with stuff. “What...what’s going on..?” He looked at Norman.

“We’re escaping Sammy. Tonight. Right now.” Norman replied. “ I even got your bag ready with you knowing.” He smiled proudly at himself for outsmarting the spy.

Sammy looked at everyone face to face. Little Susie, jack, Wally and the rest of them. “Norman..it’s impossible to escape here...” He glanced back over at Norman. “The demon will catch each and everyone of y’all...they will torture them before they kill them, while you and Joey would be dragged back here.” Sammy said with tears in his eyes. “Dont make this mistake...”

Norman frown at his best friend. “Sammy. It’s to late to stop our plan. Joeys doing his part right now!” He explained to him.

“Wait. What was the plan?!” Sammy asked confused.

Before Norman could explain anything

to him, Alison slammed opened the the bedroom door. “ it’s time!” She yelled. “She’s fighting the fire!”

“Let’s go!” Joey called out behind her. All the children made there way out of the room to follow Joey out. Norman looked at Sammy one last time. “Sammy. Please. Come with us...”

Sammy had a good thing coming with this deal with mom. He didn’t want to ruin it by being stupid now. Not with his 12th birthday is this close. Sammy shook his head no as he took a step back from Norman. “N-no. I’m s-sorry. I -I can’t...” Sammy sobbed especially with Norman looking disappointed at him.

Norman sighed sadly then he raised up his chin with a finger and kisses him for a moment,before parting. “I’ll come back for you Sammy. I promise.” With that he left into the smoky filled hallway.

He soon found himself standing outside the orphanage, watching it be engulfed in flames. Mom was standing next to him after she tried to put them out and failed to do so. Sammy was the only child that stayed but she knew there was no recovering from this. Her children had escape and she would most likely be killed once Sammy turns 12.

Mom looked down at him and felt sorry for him. She had been him turn on his friends for years, telling her everything. She knew how This children felt. She was once in the same position as he was and turn to the dark side to live.

Mom gave him a blanket she had saved from the fire so he wouldn’t freeze and die before his birthday. Sammy gladly took it and wrapped it around himself. Together they watched their home burned down by Joey. Sammy was secretly happy they had escape and mom was to.

———-

Since the orphanage was gone, the demons told Isabella bring Sammy in that morning. Together they walked down the path to the gate in silence for a while. As they grew nearer Sammy turned to mom. “Hey mom. Do you ..really love us?”

Mom smiled down at him and nodded. “believe it Sammy. I do love all my children. That’s why I tried to make it as happy as I could for you all.”

Sammy couldn’t help but smile. He gave mom a big hug before they entered the tunnel. “Alright Sammy. Right here.” Mom instructed him to do then went into some doors.

Sammy leaned on the brick wall and wonders how the others are doing. We’re they far away? Have they been captured? Or have they succeeding? We’re they dead? Sammy didn’t know. He hoped for the best for them.

Another door opened after a few minutes and mom popped her head out. “Sammy.” She called.

Sammy walked over to her and entered the bright lit room. After a moment he saw a creature he only herd off. The one. How he knew that was beyond him, nonetheless he knew. The one was the ruler of all demons. He was the one everyone obeyed. Sammy bowed down to the one in respect.

The one observed him for a good long time. Then the demon reached over to the boy with his cold none human limbs, stroking his cheek. “Ah the boy is already such a loyal servant.” It spoke, making chills run down Sammys spine. “You did an amazing job Isabella.”

Mom Bowed to the demon and smiled wickedly “Thank you, the one. I have always provided what is needed.”

He excuse Isabella out of the room only for her to be killed by her failure of keeping the children. The one and Sammy left for his Layer. Sammy stood by the ones side no matter what. He watched other humans get punished for doing something wrong, he watched other children get experiment on and he watched new girls being trained to be moms.

He sometimes hears about Norman and Joeys group. Once they killed a few demons he herd. They also save other children from other farms before they get killed. The one is extremely angry with them because they are a problem in this System. Sammy never lets it show but he’s extremely happy there still out there and he still holds on to Norman’s promise.

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Thief and Assassin (Seven chapters of 12)

Leonard is the head of the Centralis Thieves Guild. Sara, unexpectedly, has found herself the head of the Assassins Guild. To save their city and the kingdom, they'll have to work together-and they might find themselves falling for each other in the process.

So, barely two weeks ago, I was thinking about all the fantasy books I used to read and still love. And the germ of an idea started-what about a CaptainCanary fantasy AU? Thieves and assassins are fantasy staples, after all. What, I thought on my commute home that day, if Leonard and Sara were the heads of the Thieves and Assassins Guilds, respectively, and had to work together to save their city?

And this happened. I'm posting seven chapters now, with four more and an epilogue to come soon. (Three more chapters are done and the rest are close.) I adore this AU, and I hope you do, too!

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta and @pir8grl for reading, encouragement and many tips on useful clothing and setting-type things! For @dragonydreams

I’m just posting Chapter One here, since I posted so much at once. Full chapters posted here on AO3 and here at FF.net.

“Boss!”

Leonard, who’d been leaning back and contemplating the old fire-blackened beams overhead while balancing a dagger on one calloused fingertip, let his chair thump back to the floor, raising an eyebrow as his second in command thundered up the stairs and into his office. Mick tended not to run anywhere for nearly anyone these days, so this must be good…or bad, as the case may be.

His old friend halted in the doorway, catching his breath and grunting as Leonard merely looked at him with an inquiring expression. But Len didn’t speak, and Mick quickly got tired of waiting for his boss to ask.

“There’s a new head of the Assassins Guild,” he said shortly, folding his arms. “An’ she did it like you—the old way.”

That was…not even remotely news Len had expected. He’d admit that his mouth fell open, but he quickly closed it—although not before Mick saw the expression of shock and smirked victoriously.

Len ignored the expression but climbed to his feet, straightening his black tunic and thinking furiously.

“Then Darhk…”

“Is dead.” Mick actually grinned. “As a doornail. Cold meat. All that stuff. I think some of the junior Guild members threw ‘im off the South Gate cliffs.”

Given Darhk’s appetites and what he’d done to the once-respected Centralis Assassins Guild, Len wasn’t really surprised. But he was more concerned about other things at the moment.

“Her, you said.” he frowned thoughtfully. “Someone local?” He doesn’t know of anyone currently in the Guild, male or female, both or neither, who’d be able to take Darhk. If he did, things would have been different long before now. He’d have seen to that.

“Word is no. Newcomer to the city.” Mick paused. “From what I hear, I don’ think she knew what she was doing.”

Len paused in tucking a few stilettos up his sleeves. “She didn’t mean to kill him?”

“Nah. That, she meant. She didn’t know it would make her Guild head.” He shook his head. “Or…so Sarab said. I was down at Saints n’ Sinners when he came in. It’s still quiet…but it will be all over the city soon.”

Len winced, reaching out to collect his dagger from the desk. With a quick spin, he sheathed it at his belt. “That…”

“That could be real good--or real bad.” Mick nodded. “You wanna talk to her, boss? ‘Fore it all crashes in on her?”

Len paused, eyes fixed on the other item on his desk.

He remembered. He remembered what it was like…the determined challenger, the terrible Guild head who seemed hellbent on destroying everything that made the Guild system in Centralis work, the knowledge that loss meant death, and a particularly brutal one--and the realization that, even after victory, the hard work was just beginning.

“Yeah,” he said, picking up his Guild emblem and lowering the heavy platinum chain over his head, wrapping long fingers around the snowflake-shaped sapphire depending from it. “I do.”

Sara A’Stella, Ta-er al-Sahfar, master assassin, newly made Guild head in Centralis, was slowly, methodically, banging her head against the smooth, dark surface of her new desk.

Not hard enough to hurt herself, oh no. But enough to distract herself, from what she’d blundered into here and what she’d done to her future when she did.

She doesn’t regret killing Damien Darhk. She’d spent barely three days in Centralis and had known nearly immediately what needed to be done. But she hadn’t realized what that death, at her hands, would mean here.

Her fingers closed around the chain of the Guild emblem around her neck. The nearly black stone had belonged to Darhk, although Sara would be expected to get her own stone soon. The sooner the better—she hated having something that Darhk had owned on her person.

But what a new emblem would mean…

“Sara!” Amaya A’Zambesi, Sara’s dearest friend, who’d accompanied her to Centralis and thus gotten herself embroiled in this whole mess, too, poked her head in the door and frowned. “Stop that!” She paused, and Sara could very nearly hear her snicker. “You’re going to damage that very nice desk.”

Sara let her forehead rest on the surface. “If I knock myself out,” she pointed out thoughtfully, “I won’t have to deal with anything for a while.”

She heard Amaya sigh. Her friend, whom she’d met while traveling, wasn’t, properly speaking, an assassin, though she was a very talented warrior and mage—where she came from, the traditions weren’t always separated. Still, she’d made it clear to the members of the Assassins Guild that she wasn’t leaving Sara’s side, proper assassin or not, and Sara was beyond grateful for that.

“Well, here’s another reason to stop, then,” Amaya said then, just a bit tartly. “The head of Thieves Guild is here to meet you—to ‘pay his respects,’ he says.”  She paused as Sara lifted her head to stare at her, then smirked. “He’s quite attractive, actually. And very highly respected, from all I’ve heard.”

Sara sat up hastily, running a hand over the pale braids pinned up to her head and checking her clothing. After the battle early this morning, she’d scrubbed for what seemed like an hour and sent the clothing she’d been wearing off to be burned. She still didn’t feel entirely clean.

She wasn’t sure she ever would again.

Amaya’s eyes were sympathetic as Sara glanced back at her and cleared her throat. If something were amiss, Amaya would have said something, Sara knew. But she also understood.

“That was quick,” Sara said after a moment.

“Thieves always have the best sources of information.” Amaya paused. “His second’s with him. You…”

“You’re my second.” Sara stood, trying to sound uncompromising.

“Not an assassin,” Amaya reminded her. “The Guild…”

“Tough. They’ll have to live with it for now.” Sara shook her head. “I’m not taking anyone who had any kind of position of power under Darhk just because ‘that’s how things were always done.’ That’s how they got Darhk to begin with.” She hesitated. “Thieves Guilds traditionally work together with the Assassins Guild. I know we haven’t been here long, but…”

Amaya was shaking her head. “Not here.” She nibbled her lip. “I have done some asking. There hasn’t been that sort of arrangement here at least since Leonard took over the Thieves Guild. No love lost.”

That can only be a good thing. “Leonard,” she mused. “No patrial?” And no patronym, although those are rare, only given by high nobility or royalty to families for services to the kingdom.

Sara doesn’t use hers.

Amaya shrugged. “A’Centralis, I presume, although he didn’t give one.” She eyed Sara. “And you probably shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”

Sara waved a hand. “All right. Uh. Do I go down to him, or…”

Of course, Amaya had already found all that out. “I’ll send him to you. But be standing until he gets here, or you’re treating him like a supplicant.”

“Can’t have that.”

Amaya gave her one more encouraging smile, then departed. Sara fidgeted a little, looking around as she stood there in Damien Darhk’s old office, wondering how this had become her life.

She’d come to Centralis to join the Guild here because it was relatively close to Stella, and she couldn’t go back there—not yet. She hadn’t known that a mad man had taken over the Guild, that he was ruling it with an iron fist (and not in a good way), that she’d regret her decision to join nearly immediately and plan to leave—until she’d walked in on him “disciplining” three apprentices early this morning when she arrived to turn in her Guild token.

Two of the kids hadn’t made it. The third was still holding on. Everyone had known Darhk had a touch of magic—many people did. But until then, Sara hadn’t realized it took the form of blood magic.

There was a quiet step at the doorway. Sara looked up, trying to look both receptive and deadly. She knew she was both, but it was different trying to exude that.

The head of the Centralis Thieves Guild was a tall man with close-shaven graying hair and piercing blue eyes, eyes that were looking directly at her with an intent and curious expression. Amaya was right, Sara realized, eying him: He was attractive, graceful and poised with lean but undeniable muscle. Older--Sara put him at about 10 years her senior—but definitely attractive. Sexy, even.

And that was so completely not what she should be thinking right now.

Sara cleared her throat. “Hello,” she said quietly. “I’m Ta-er…Sara A’Stella. And I suppose that you know by now that…” She spread her hands, indicating the office around her. “…I’m the new head of the Assassins Guild.”

The man regarded her another moment, then inclined his head, those remarkable eyes still holding hers.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice low and intense and every bit as attractive as the physical aspect. Damn.

Still, the words weren’t what she was expecting. “Excuse me?”

“For taking out Darhk.” The man shrugged, a one-shouldered gesture, as he took one step into the office, pausing before going far enough to connote any sort of threat. “I’d dreamed of doing it myself, but….” He let his voice trail off, then shrugged again, smirking at her.

“Anyway,” he drawled, spreading his hands out before him just like she had. “Leonard. Head of the Thieves Guild. A’Centralis, but I generally just use ‘Len.’”

Sara lifted her chin, watching him, wondering what he was thinking. “Len,” she returned. “And why is that?”

The question was imprecise, and she regretted it immediately, but Len zeroed right in on what she really meant—and chose to answer it.

“Because he was bad for the guild and bad for this city,” he said flatly, looking her right in the eyes. “Really bad. I did whatever I could to counteract it. But there was only so much, and…” He let both shoulders rise and fall. “I had my own to watch out for.”

“Your own.”

“My guild.” For the first time, there was a crack in that smooth façade. Sara, watching, saw anger and determination and even a touch of regret in those ice-blue eyes. “I took it 10 years ago. In the old way—same as you.”

The old… “You killed your predecessor.”

“I did.” Len dipped his head. “And for much the same reasons. But…I knew what I was getting into. I don’t believe you did.”

Was it that obvious? Well, to anyone who hadn’t been there when a Guild member had moved to give her Darhk’s chain and emblem and Sara, still covered in blood and with a sword in her hand, had recoiled?

There seemed to be no point in denying it, though. “I didn’t.” She tipped her head to him. “In…in most places I’ve been, there would have been a vote after the dust had cleared. I figured I’d just…remove my name from contention. I didn’t realize Centralis went by the old ways.”

There was…no, not sympathy, thank gods…in Len’s eyes. Understanding, though. “Then why,” he asked quietly, “did you do it?”

If he knew as much as he had shown so far, he probably knew this too. But Sara can understand why he would want to hear it from her.

“I walked in on Darhk practicing black magic,” she told him bluntly, folding her arms, watching him carefully. “On three apprentices who’d flubbed a mission. Because of his shoddy training practices and handling of Guild matters, but that didn’t matter to him. He was taking their life energy.” She sighed. “Two of them are dead anyway. We’re not sure about the third.”

He had an excellent card-sharp’s face, did this Leonard, but he either let her see his thoughts or didn’t care to hide them at the moment. Satisfaction, regret, and a cold, cold fury chased each other across his features until they resolved into determination. He stared off into the distance a moment, then nodded firmly and transferred that blue gaze back to Sara.

“The Thieves and Assassins Guild traditionally work together, in most cities,” he told her. “That hasn’t been the case here since I took over--and then refused to deal with Darhk.” He nodded. “I’d be honored to try to reestablish that alliance…with the Guild under you.”

Despite the seriousness, was there something suggestive in that tone, in those words? Oh, Sara thought there was. But to her own surprise, it didn’t anger her or even annoy her, although by all rights the presumption should.

She liked Leonard. Liked him with an instinctive and surprising thoroughness. He had a thief’s caution, but her instincts told her that he’d spoken truth to her and, what was more, shown her truth in his own unconcealed expressions.

She made her decision right then and there. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

Instead, Sara lifted an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know me,” she returned.

A quick smirk, and Len leaned forward. “I’m a very good judge of character,” he drawled.

Sara, trying not to smile, smirked back. “We shall see.”

“I look forward to it.” And then, with a wink, Len rose again to his full height and became serious again. “You know you’ll have to be formally presented to King Hunter and the captains of the Triple Guards,” he told her. “Soon: within the next 48 candlemarks.” He paused. “I’ll sponsor you, if you wish. But if you don’t, they’ll presume you might not be planning to abide by the usual set of rules.”

Sara stared at him, then sighed. She hated court functions. But he didn’t need to know that or how she knew it. “And Darhk did?”

“He knew how to play the game. It gave him a measure of safety.” Len hesitated, eyes still serious. “Trust me when I tell you that Hunter will be pleased. Even a monarch can’t just remove a Guild head. And there had been threats made to his son…”

Hunter? Sara didn’t realize she’d murmured the name out loud until Leonard lifted an eyebrow at her. She shook her head. “I’ll never get over just how…how mainstream the so-called Lower Guilds are here,” she told him. “You call the king by his patronym?”

Len’s lips twitched, and Sara saw mischief in his eyes. “Mostly that’s just to annoy him,” he told her. “But, yes.” He shrugged. “Thieves and assassins happen. Especially in any sizable city. Best to have them regulated and trained and policing themselves. It’s worked here for a long, long time.”

“Until a Damien Darhk happens,” Sara reminded him.

Len tipped his head to her. “Until then,” he agreed, then changed the subject. “I’d be honored to sponsor you in front of the king. You took power this morning; if you are going to play by the rules, we should probably go to court tomorrow afternoon, if not tonight.” A look of distaste crossed his features. “I’m not a fan of evening court; too much posturing. Afternoon’s bad enough.”

“Tomorrow is fine.” If she can’t find a way out of this by then, she never will.

“You’ll need court formal garb.” He rather too obviously avoided studying her worn leathers, perfectly serviceable for every day, but hardly impressive.

Sara rolled her eyes, inspecting his own unrelieved black. The starkness of the outfit contrasted with the cut, which she knew perfectly well was tailored and would not have been cheap. Her fellow Guild head knew he looked damned good—and may have been trying to impress her.

“I can handle that,” she informed him. Or, more correctly, Amaya would. “And…thank you. I do appreciate the offer.”

A flicker of something in those amazing eyes again.  “Believe me when I tell you, Sara…” Argh, the way he said her name! “…that it’s my pleasure.”

For all the suggestiveness in the tone, there was a very real thread of sincerity too. Sara dipped her head, agreed to wait here for him at two candlemarks after noon the next day, and watched as he turned for the door.

She didn’t realize that she was going to tell him until she did it.

“Someone put him into power. Darhk,” she said, watching those impressive shoulders under the night-black tunic freeze. “Someone’s been pulling strings. There’s something rotten going on in this city.”

After a long moment, Len looked back at her. “I suspected that,” he said quietly. “But…we’ll talk?”

“Yes.”

And with that, the head of the Centralis Thieves Guild left her office, more questions than answers in his wake. Sara thoughtfully watched him go—and wasn’t ashamed that she admired the ass in those tight black pants—then sank down into the chair with a sigh.

“This is either going to be a lot of fun,” she murmured, thinking of Leonard and his sexy voice and his friendly innuendo. “Or an utter disaster.”

Keep reading here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

[jincherie]

Wanted | 01

pairing: Jungkook x reader genre: space!au, alien!au, sci-fi, alien!Jungkook, smut (future) words: 8.7k+ rating: sfw warnings: swearing notes: as per usual i have jumped in over my head and this is going to be longer than the one shot it was meant to be soooo.... im splitting it in parts!!! i hope you like it!! more will be coming very soon :) (dont forget, this will have smut in the future!!!)

You were a deserter, a renegade, a wanted “criminal”. It was never in your plans to crash land on that planet, and it most certainly wasn’t in your plans to fall in love with it’s handsome ruler.  

masterlist | moodboard | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | complete

The cavern was serene, the towering walls lined with tiny, glimmering jewels that shone and hummed with an energy of their own. Large, dripping stalactites hung from the ceiling that loomed above, barring the entrance and preventing any creature larger than yourself from entering. They, too, were embedded with sharp crystals, and you’d had to be extremely careful when slipping between them so that you weren’t sliced on the way.

You’d travelled for weeks, months even, to find this place. You’d puzzled over stolen maps, run into dead end after dead end, and pieced together so many broken clues it felt at times as though your head was going to split into two. But finally, ultimately, you had been led here— and here was where you needed so desperately to be.

You were on thin ice. Ever since you’d started on this trail you’d been dubbed a wanted criminal, a traitor to the garrison and, by extension, the union. You hadn’t really done anything wrong, per say, but that certainly hadn’t stopped the ships and fighters that had been snapping at your heels for the past few months. You had one of the best crews you knew of in the galaxy, yet constantly running, evading, fleeing— having to always be one step ahead of those that were after you was exhausting. Words couldn’t encapsulate the sheer relief you felt now, at the end of the map and with the object you’d been seeking the entire time firmly in your grasp. It almost brought tears to your eyes, but you weren’t so foolish as to let your guard down just yet.

Your hand rose, fingers running along the leather cord of your necklace before you slipped it back beneath your shirt, hidden from the eyes of the world once more. Your eyes swept over the space of the cavern once more, years of training telling you to check the coast was clear, and make sure you weren’t in any immediate danger. Nodding to yourself, you took a step away from the large stalagmite in the middle of the room— the top had been cleaved straight in half, and in the middle there was a worn groove, now empty. Your boots landed in shallow water, the sound echoing across the space. You’d retrieved the object you’d come for, and now it was time for you to get the hell out of here.

There was a short buzz of static before a familiar deep tone sounded from your earpiece, “y/n, did you get it?”

You brushed down your leather jacket, adjusting your pistol in its holster. You turned towards the entrance and began to weave your way out, gaze trained longingly on the bejewelled walls. You’d already nabbed a handful of the jewels from their places when you’d first entered, and now they rested safely in a pouch against your hip. With any luck, they’d be worth enough to get you the supplies you needed for the next month or so. “Yeah, I got it. Taehyung, did you—”

You were cut off by a large tremor, the ground beneath your feet shaking and rumbling deeply. A select number of crystals were shaken from the walls, thinner stalactites dropping and shattering into dust and shards on the cave floor. The air itself seemed to vibrate as something massive flew close over the top of the cave. Alarm rang through you, freezing you in place as Taehyung’s voice sounded in your ear once more, urgency and fear threading through his tone.

“y/n, they’re here! I don’t know where they came from, but they’re here— you have to get out of there, now!”

You nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see it. “Affirmative, I’m heading out now. Prepare the ship for departure.”

Taehyung rushed an affirmative before the earpiece cut off and you were left to your own devices, the cave still rumbling dangerously with the remnants of your enemy’s sudden arrival on the planet. You took off as fast as you could in a cave full of sharp edges, your hardy boots slapping loudly in the shallow puddles that littered the floor. Your heart was racing, a customary reaction when the people that wanted to execute you for your crimes found your whereabouts, but you tried to stay calm for your crew’s sake. It was your fault they were in this mess, after all— you owed it to them to take care of them.

The entrance of the cave approached quickly, the rosy light from the planet’s twin suns casting a glow upon the luminescent crystals and refracting glimmers over the walls. You held your breath as you slipped quickly between stalactites and into the open air once more, but despite your best efforts in your rush you felt the sharp double point of a crystal slice into the flesh of your thigh above your knee. Instantly, the gash burned, and you knew it was a reaction caused in part by the nature of the crystals—they thrummed with energy, burning hot against skin wherever it touched, and were made up of a material that was so foreign to your body it simply didn’t know how to react to it.

Cursing, you ignored it for now— it wasn’t life threatening, but there were other factors at hand that most certainly were. The high-pitched thrumming of an engine you knew so well grew closer with each second you were in the open, and fear urged you into motion once more. The forests on this planet weren’t dense, but along the ground the shrubbery was thick and you were weaving between crooked branches and curling flora as you went. You really didn’t want another cut to match the one on your thigh— especially since the plants on this planet were known for the toxins they’d developed as a defence system. You didn’t want to think what would happen if any of those entered your bloodstream.

Taehyung had parked the ship nearby and it wasn’t long before you finally burst through the treeline and came face to face with your ship. The metals and materials on the exterior that had once shone in pride now sported dents and scorch marks from lasers and beams you hadn’t been quick enough to dodge, upkeep a lot more difficult when you were one of your solar systems most wanted and on the run— supplies were sparse and parts even more so.

The cargo bay lay open, ramp down and awaiting you as the ship’s engine thrummed and prepared for a prompt take-off. Taehyung was no doubt in the cockpit, communicating to the rest of your crew and keeping an eye on the enemy.

“Pull up the ramp!” you ordered as you climbed into the cargo bay, feeling the immediate jolt in the ship as the ramp groaned and lifted, sealing the large doorway with a reassuring thunk. Being so close to the engine room you could hear it thrumming, rumbling as the ship’s thrusters warmed up and prepared to lift.

You climbed from the bay with ease, slipping into the main hallway and running towards the cockpit. A barrage of sounds became known to you at once as you burst inside, quickly taking your seat in the seat alongside Taehyung’s. You might have been the main pilot of your ship and crew, but Taehyung had been your second in command, and he knew how to fly. You flew into action with ease, listening as you hooked your earpiece back into the ships radio and Namjoon’s voice filled your ear, broken only by slight static in the middle.

“There’s only two of them but they’re both commander vessels— kkksssshbfbf— they haven’t spotted us yet but if we remain where we are they will soon.”

A dread you were used to feeling at this point filled you; it had been the same two commanders that had been hunting you this whole time. Taehyung nodded, flipping the necessary switches and grasping the thruster, his warm eyes turning to you as he awaited your next commands.

“Alright, get out of here,” you ordered the rest of your crew, reaching and pulling down the ship’s defence controls. The joysticks slid into your grip with practiced ease, and you felt the ship’s cannons unfold from where they were stored in the exterior in unison. “Head to J-009, go as quickly as you can and once you get there lay low. We won’t be far behind, we’ve just got to shake them first.”

“Affirmative,” Namjoon sounded, and then you could hear him instructing the other two in the ship he was currently on. You thought you heard Hoseok whine, but pushed it from your mind to instead focus on your current situation.

“Okay Taehyung, get us out of here,” you instructed, watching the screen before you and adjusting the canons accordingly.

The male nodded, listing his actions as he did them, like he’d been trained to do. The muted tone of the ships low-level AI greeted your ears and Taehyung grasped the rotational controls in his other hand, pulling back on the thruster and launching the ship off the ground with a jolt. The ship buzzed as the landing gear retracted back into their storage spaces and Taehyung pitched the nose of the ship upwards, resting on the thrusters and preparing to leave the planet’s atmosphere.

He was two seconds too late. Before he could pull back the ship jolted violently twice in quick succession and veered, metal groaning, the screens before you lighting up with warnings and loud piercing notifications that told you you’d just been hit. You cursed, having forgotten to pull up the particle barrier in your rush to board and take off. There wasn’t enough time to do it now— it took three whole seconds to warm up before it was fully functional, and after the blow you’d just taken it wouldn’t be good if it was struck while warming up.

The screens blared, the ship’s AI sounding a loud warning, “Attention: rear landing gear on right side severely damaged. Rear right shield generator severely damaged. Suspected damage to right fuel tank and navigation system: running assessment.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cursed loudly, removing one hand from the canon controls to grasp your own rotational joystick and turn the ship while Taehyung managed damage momentarily. As expected, the looming hull of not one, but two commander vessels entered your field of vision and you cursed once more, returning your grasp to the canon controls. “Taehyung, we can’t focus on damage right now— we need to get out of here. I’ll cover us, but get us out, okay?”

From your peripheral vision you saw Taehyung nod and take the rotational controls back in his grasp. Taehyung’s screen switched to the very front of the ship as he turned the nose once more, and yours stayed locked on the vessels behind you for combat. You shifted your hands forward, the canons extending and shifting with them, and aimed carefully.

“Alright, Taehyung, go!” you ordered, flicking the clear case from the buttons at the head of the joysticks and pushing them in with your thumbs. Beams of concentrated energy blasted at the vessels, and your impeccable aim had the lasers hitting right near where you knew the flight deck to be.

Unlike you, your enemy had the time and thought to put up their particle barriers— your shots hadn’t put a single dent in the actual ship, but the impact upon the barrier was enough to give you an opening to escape. Taehyung pulled the thruster back and the ship shot off, powering through the resistance that the planet’s atmosphere posed. You were exiting fast, but nowhere near as fast as you should have been— the damage they’d managed to do to your ship was impeding your escape more than you anticipated, and a sick feeling of dread began to fill your abdomen.

As you sped away you aimed another couple of shots, each of them meeting the same fate as those before. The massive, hulking commander vessels were something your smaller ship didn’t stand a chance against— your craft may have been built for speed, manoeuvring and quick offense, but theirs was built for battle. From the beginning your only chance at surviving the encounter had lain in your ability to flee, and now even that was in jeopardy.

“Assessment complete: right fuel tank intact; navigation system has sustained medium damage. Assessment also found: right thruster sustained light damage. Maintenance advised.”

You cursed— a damaged navigation system meant that if you shot off into hyperspace there was no guarantee where you’d end up. You grit your teeth as you fired another two shots, the barrier blocking them just as you’d expected. The second commander vessel veered around the side of the other and began in your direction at an alarming speed. The apprehension curling in your stomach intensified.

Taehyung did his best to lead the ship away from the planet, hurtling from the atmosphere with the commander vessels hot on your tail and gaining. Your mind whirled trying to come up with solutions to your problem, but there were none. With the current state your ship was in, you wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough— speed was what you usually relied upon, since the commander vessels were significantly larger, but with your right thruster damaged you didn’t have a chance of getting away quick enough that way. Your next plan would usually be hyperdrive, but with the ship’s navigation system so damaged… there was no promising where in space your ship would arrive.

Taehyung jerked the rotational joystick to the right, dipping out of the way just in time to dodge the large laser beam that shot your way. Despite the fact that you knew it would do no good, you aimed your canons once more and fired at the vessel closest to you, as a means of distraction if nothing else.

“y/n, we’re not going to be able to get away like this,” Taehyung said, a note of desperation colouring the edges of his tone. Your teeth sank into your lip— you knew that, you knew, but you didn’t know how to fix this situation. A glance at Taehyung’s expression told you he too knew the only other alternative you could possibly take, and you turned your attention back to the vessels rapidly gaining on your ship.

You spoke, voicing your concerns as he rolled the ship out of the line of fire once more, the spacecraft shuddering, “Tae, with the damage we’ve sustained, I don’t know if we’ll—”

The male turned to you, and for a moment you weren’t looking at Captain Kim, your second in command and your crew’s genius engineer and co-pilot, but Kim Taehyung, your best friend and the person you would absolutely die for. You bit your lip, reading the look in his dark eyes and turning back to your screen. “Alright, prepare the ship for hyperdrive. Input coordinates for J-009, and let’s hope it gets us at least somewhere close. If the navigation system doesn’t fail us, the thrusters might— but at least we’ll be far enough away that we’ve lost them.”

Taehyung nodded, quickly inputting the coordinates and flicking switches. You released the canon controls, pushing them so they retracted back to the ceiling, and fastened yourself to the seat before leaning forward and preparing the rest of the ship for hyperdrive. The navigation system wasn’t your only concern— entering hyperdrive when the ship was already damaged in other parts posed the risk of worsening the damage, and if you were hit again before you managed to leave then it was possible you could lose parts of the ship in the process.

But you didn’t have a choice.

“Ship is secured, preparation for hyperdrive complete,” Taehyung spoke aloud, flicking up the plastic casing over a keypad and entering the code only yourself and your crew knew. You watched, stomach cramping in anxiety, and input the code in your own keypad— this ship required the code from both co-pilots when in dual-pilot mode to unlock and engage hyperdrive.

“Code entered,” Taehyung whispered, and for a moment it was silent. You watched on your screen as the vessels grew closer, a glow beginning to gather around the canon as they prepared another shot— one that might very well be your last. You clutched the necklace around your neck anxiously, seeking any and all comfort you could get; you’d come so far, gods, just please let you survive this. You had the object you’d been searching for but your job wasn’t done yet.

“Engaging hyperdrive.”

Taehyung’s thumb pressed into the button and your ship shot off, space warping across your screen, just split-seconds before the vessels fired another shot into the space where you’d been. You sailed smoothly for all of two long, heavy seconds before your ship groaned and creaked, beginning to shake violently. The AI spoke up once more, informing you of the rapidly growing list of damage to the ship and it was all you could do to close your eyes and try not to grow nauseous from the shaking.

Alarms blared into the air, and you heard Taehyung fastening himself to the seat beside you as the ship rattled and vibrated in ways it most definitely shouldn’t be. There was a loud bang from the right of your ship, and you were thrown from hyperdrive and hurtling through space at an alarming speed.

“Warning: right thrusters compromised. Maintenance advised. Thrusters disabled to prevent further damage.”

The last thing you saw amongst the crimson flashing across your screen was a planet, cerulean and jade in the light of the nearest star, and the ship was hurtling towards it at an alarming speed. Heat glazed the sides of the ship as you entered the atmosphere too fast, too quick to register. Before you could even think there was a loud, resounding BANG—

Everything went black.

 x     x     x     x     x

The first thing you were aware of, was the burning sensation encompassing your thigh and right arm. The air was warm, and something was dripping onto your face, slowly bringing you further and further into consciousness. A gasp tore from your throat, your eyes wrenching open and blinking rapidly. On your next inhale your throat constricted, rejecting the air wrought with the thick, cloying smoke from the wreckage around you and you coughed violently, falling from your place on the pilot’s seat and onto the ground. The belt had snapped, and you didn’t want to imagine where you’d been right now if you hadn’t been wearing it in the first place. You coughed and hacked on your knees, trying to clear your lungs and rid your mouth of the acrid taste coating your tongue and throat. When you could finally breathe once more, you tried to ease your body from the floor of your wrecked ship.

Your limbs protested vehemently against movement, but your heart ached more at the sight of what had once been your pride and joy lying in ruins around you. Tears stung your eyes from a combination of smoke, pain, and emotional distress, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, finally bursting free of the fog that had been lingering over your mind since awakening, your thoughts went straight to the other person that had been on board with you.

“Taehyung!” you gasped, throat raw and voice a mere croak. You coughed, holding your singed sleeve over your mouth in a half-hearted attempt at filtering the smoke from your breath. You spun, your eyes searching for a tell-tale sign of your co-pilot— a sign that he was still alive.

There was a groan from your left and you spun fast— too fast, you nearly toppled on your weak legs— and lurched towards the noise. “Taehyung!”

The front of the cockpit had been blown apart upon impact, the metal exterior and frame peeling away in front of Taehyung’s seat and dread began to fill you before you caught sight of the prone form several feet in front of the ship. You ran forward, legs shaky, and rejoiced the fact that it seemed he’d only flown from the ship after impact— things mightn’t have been so fortunate had he flown earlier.

“Taehyung, Tae— Tae, come on, wake up man,” you urged, sounding somewhat desperate, as you fell to your knees next to your best friend and checked him for wounds before rolling him carefully onto his back.

The blonde blinked blearily, coughing slightly; he wasn’t in the ship and therefore wasn’t surrounded by as much smoke, but the burnt, singed smell in the air certainly wasn’t pleasant to wake up to.

“y/n?” he croaked, blinking as your form came into focus before his eyes. He immediately lurched up, a groan sounding as he threw his arms around you. “Shit, you’re— we’re alive! God, I’m so glad we survived.”

Even in a situation like this he managed to make you chuckle. You returned his embrace before he was pulling away, looking over your form before he even thought to look over his own. His eyes zeroed in on your arm, and then your thigh. His voice grew high-pitched, “You’re bleeding!”

This was news to you. Surprised, you looked down to see you were, in fact, bleeding from the arm and thigh. You remembered slicing your leg on a crystal in the cave, but you didn’t know where the large gash above your bicep came from. You nodded in affirmation to his words, slightly desensitised after the whole ordeal— honestly, the outcome could have been a lot worse. You were happy things had turned out this way. Sure, the ship was totalled, but the two of you were alive and neither of you were mortally wounded or anything similar. Although, from the way Taehyung was freaking out and ripping strips of cloth from the bottom of his shirt, you might have been the only one that thought that.

Even in his frenzy to take care of you he managed to stop himself, teeth finding his lip as he recalled the basics of his first aid training. Every garrison cadet was trained in first aid, it was one of the first things you learned when you began your training.

“We need to clean your wounds before we bandage them,” he mused, significantly calmer now that he’d gotten over the initial shock of the whole ordeal. He bunched the cloth up in his hands, rising onto shaky legs with a soft groan, and proceeded to help you up so you were standing with him. You shifted your weight, testing your legs, and you were glad to find that despite the pain you were adjusting quite quickly after crashing your ship into a foreign planet. That reminded you, where exactly were you?

You turned your gaze around you, trying to discern which planet you’d managed to crash on while Taehyung continued, wobbling about and peering around in search for something in particular, “Need water,” he mumbled to himself, blinking through the smoke that was finally beginning to disperse. Your burning wreck of a ship was now just a wreck, strewn about in the middle of a forest on some alien planet. “Or any fluid, really.”

Your eyes were trained on the flora surrounding you, in awe at the way the plants shifted and swayed in the slight breeze, stunningly beautiful flowers perching on the end of curling branches and glowing in mesmerising bioluminescent blues and pinks where shade fell upon them. Glowing spots speckled over the leaves and trunks, the grass-like organism beneath your feet not exactly luminous but not dull, either. You were surrounded by such vibrant and peculiar colours and shapes, you couldn’t help but be entranced. “Taehyung, this place is beautiful.”

He huffed, having trained himself to ignore your nonsense, and you were brought suddenly back to the present. You turned, making your way over to him. “Do you recognise any of these plants? I have no idea where we are.”

Along with first aid, while you underwent training as cadets you were also taught about alien lifeforms and the flora and fauna present on other planets significant to the union. Of course, it wasn’t information that everyone remembered in full, but it could help in situations like this where you found yourselves on a foreign planet without any idea where you were.

Except neither of you recognised any of the flora enough to know where you were. A slight flaw in the system, but it couldn’t be helped.

“No…” he said slowly, squinting into the distance. “We can breathe though, so this place is definitely similar enough to Earth. The plants and trees… they look kind of familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen them before.”

You hummed in agreement, letting out a surprised noise when Taehyung suddenly grasped your hand and moved towards the back of the ship. The cargo bay lay painfully open, the massive door torn from the ship and crumpled several metres away. The blonde let go of you to duck inside, disappearing only to re-emerge moments later with a water bottle and the smoking remains of what had once been your first aid kit in hand. Your guess was the rubbing alcohol within had caught fire, and to be honest you weren’t really surprised. Carrying outdated first aid packs had its risks, after all, but you’d stored the newest and best one on the ship Namjoon was on and so had been left with this. You followed obediently when Taehyung guided you to a crate that had clearly flown from the ship upon impact but somehow remained miraculously intact. You took a seat and he placed the makeshift bandages and ruined kit beside you.

You peered around as he cleaned and wrapped your wounds, the occasional hiss escaping you as he rinsed dirt and soot from the open lacerations.

“I don’t know where we are, but we should probably get off this planet as soon as possible,” you were stating the obvious, but speaking your thoughts out loud allowed you to organise them better. Taehyung hummed along, doe eyes focused on the task at hand— you winced as he moved to the large gash on your arm that was still dribbling blood. You had to remove your jacket so he could access it, and you were glad it seemed to be relatively warm on this planet. “I don’t think the ship is going to help much, and we don’t know if there’s a civilisation here let alone if its friendly…”

You turned your head to watch him work, gears churning in your mind. “We need to let Namjoon and the others know what happened… do you think the radio is still in one piece?”

Taehyung pinned you with a look that told you exactly what kind of state he thought the radio was in, and you resisted the inappropriate smile that wanted to tug your lips as he went back to work with a sassy roll of his eyes. “Honestly, I’m surprised we’re in one piece after that landing. Hoping anything else survived in that mess of an aircraft is wishful thinking.”

You wanted to pout and rebuke his blunt statements, but honestly he was right. You were lucky to be in one piece, let alone alive, after that horrendous landing. You kept your gaze on Taehyung’s deft fingers as they tied the strips of his shirt and remaining bandages around your arm, silent for a few moments. Taehyung didn’t speak, but let out a sigh once he was done, running a hand through his blonde locks.

“It would probably do us good to have a look at it anyway,” he shot you a smile, “After all, I am the best mechanical engineer the garrison had to offer— how could I rightfully claim that title if I couldn’t fix one measly radio?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, and Taehyung flashed you a boxy grin.

Minutes later, as you stood before the remains of what used to be the ship’s radio now strewn across the dirt, the grin fell from his face. You both stared for a moment, in awe almost at just how destroyed the radio had gotten.

You let out a sigh, “Tae, it’s irreparable—”

“No!” he cut you off, squatting and making as though to reach for a part but his hand hovered, unable to decide which— and there were a lot. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure I can fix it. It just might… take a while, dig it?”

You gave him an odd look at the weird speech and simply shrugged, too tired to bother formulating a response. You let him tinker with the remains, moving back to the crate and plopping down with a groan. Your wounds were wrapped now, but your entire body still ached.

There was a peculiar burning at the nape of your neck that continued down the cervical portion of your spine and had been present ever since you’d woken, and was gradually making itself more known. You wondered idly if it had anything to do with the mark that had appeared there months ago when you’d first left on your journey… before you dismissed the idea. While you didn’t exactly have an explanation for the pretty, intricate tattoo-like marking that had appeared on your skin out of nowhere, you were pretty sure the burning ache was just from whiplash or something. You tilted your neck, stretching the tense muscles in an attempt to ease the pain. It helped a bit.

Taehyung was mumbling to himself as he hovered over the radio scraps, organising pieces this way and that in an attempt to make sense of them, and you were left somewhat to your own devices. With a sigh, you decided to be useful and search the ship for anything that wasn’t absolutely destroyed in the landing, and eased off the crate with a soft groan. You made to move towards the wreckage, boots heavy on your feet, when there was a sharp crack that had you freezing in your steps. The hair on the back of your neck rose and you had the sudden, overwhelming feeling you were being watched.

“Tae,” you called, glaring when he ignored you for the radio. “Taehyung! I think there’s—”

You didn’t get to continue, a sharp feeling of alarm piercing your gut and your trained senses going off. You ducked and rolled, dodging just in time as an object pierced the air where you’d just been standing with a light whistling sound. You gasped, eyes taking in the carved dagger now embedded in the side of your totalled ship before you spun to face the tree-line where it had come from. Taehyung’s head whipped up, his hands full of radio parts and chocolate eyes wide. “y/n?”

“Shit, Taehyung there’s—” Another whistling sound pierced the air before you could continue and you rolled out of the way just in time once more, using the momentum to tumble to your feet and knock Taehyung out of the way of the knife aimed for him. The radio parts cluttered to the ground along with your bodies and you groaned in unison, your wounds singing out in hot, throbbing pain.

You rolled off the male, scrambling on your back and trying to find purchase with your boots in the soft soil the landing had uprooted beneath you. You attempts were halted, however, by a gleam before your eyes and sudden sharp point at your throat. Your lungs froze, throat constricting in fear as you gazed up into the deep eyes of a masked form, eerily human in build, the freckles that littered its body glowing a dangerous bright crimson, luminous against its skin. All at once recognition lit in the back of your mind and you knew exactly which planet you’d managed to land on. Dread filled your stomach.

Apparently there was civilisation here after all.

x     x     x     x     x     x

You wished you could have commented on the walk through the forest to get to where you were now, but alas you hadn’t seen any of it. You’d been out cold— thanks to some sedative you’d been shot with in your moment of weakness— probably thrown over someone’s shoulder the entire time like nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and only now were you beginning to awake.

Apparently just in time.

All of a sudden you were dropped to the floor unceremoniously, a pained groan tearing from your throat as you landed on your wounded arm. There was a similar sound as what you guessed to be Taehyung was dumped next to you, his leg flying and kicking you in the shin. You let out a sharp yelp in response, glaring at the blonde while you tried to right yourself into an upright position as best as you could with your hands bound behind your back. He looked back at you with wide eyes, seeming every bit like he was panicking internally and to be honest you didn’t blame him. Not only had you crash landed on some alien planet in a bid to escape people that wanted you dead, but after said landing you’d been jumped in the middle of the forest by the planet’s inhabitants and now you were god knows where, completely at their mercy. Needless to say, this wasn’t shaping up to be the best day of your lives.

The aliens that had taken you— you were just going to call them men, since they looked so eerily similar to your human selves— spoke amongst the other, the language completely foreign against your ears, their speech riddled with clicks and trills that you’d hardly known such human-shaped mouths were capable of making. It bothered you that you couldn’t understand a word of it, as ridiculous as it was. You’d studied many alien languages and were proficient in a good amount— it was something that had helped land you such a high position at such a young age, back in the life you left behind.

Taehyung’s panicked eyes met yours as the ‘men’ spoke above you, before you turned your gaze to the room you currently found yourselves in. “y/n, please tell me we’re not where I think we are,” he whispered desperately, kicking you again when you didn’t respond. “y/n! This is serious!”

You turned to him, mouth turning down. Honestly? You were fucking terrified right now. You’d read about this planet, heard of these aliens— the Kelkie were almost never seen venturing amongst the stars, not much known or even spoken about them besides the fact they bore a striking resemblance to humans, told apart by the luminescent patterns over their skin and other minor features, and were rumoured to be the most bloodthirsty, ruthless race to ever grace the galaxy in the history of creation.  All you’d ever heard of them, including in your time as a cadet, painted them as cruel, merciless monsters with a bloodlust that could never truly be sated. They were the horror stories parents told misbehaving children at bedtime to keep them in line, the threat whispered against darkened hallways in shady interspecies bars and hangouts across the galaxy. They were the ultimate warriors, the deadliest weapons, and you’d never seen one in your life before this very day.

Yes, you were terrified.

You didn’t want to be, you wanted to withhold judgment— it wasn’t your style to blindly believe rumours spread with no viable proof. Everyone knew of the Kelkie, but strangely enough, when asked, they didn’t know anyone who had ever met one— the same went for you. You had no way to verify what kind of species they were, what kind of creature, for yourself.

“I know it’s serious!” you hissed back at Taehyung, observing the room around you so if an opportunity arose, you had some idea of where to run. It was a large room, the floors a decadent combination of obsidian-like stone and something resembling marble, inscribed with runes and symbols, patterns and pictures that threatened to distract you from your current task at hand. “Stop whispering so loud or you’re going to get us in trouble!”

Taehyung glared at you, kicking you again and you groaned, catching the attention of one of the men. You’d surmised that they had to be something similar to soldiers, guards maybe. They wore masks across their eyes that hid their identities and the glowing freckles across their cheeks— one of the only other things you knew about the Kelkie was that their spots displayed the emotions they were feeling at that moment, and you guessed that hiding them was a tactic that helped them on the battlefield.

Then again, the arms of the men were bare of any garment, and the freckles were on full display. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

The Kelkie that had noticed your pained noise looked down at you, saying something at you in his tongue that bounced right back off your human ears. You blinked up at him owlishly despite your fearful trembling, and the alien growled slightly at your lack of response. What did he expect? You clearly couldn’t understand him.

Taehyung was shooting you looks that clearly told you to quit doing whatever you were doing, and you decided after catching sight of the sharp, carved blades at the Kelkie’s waist that it would probably be best to listen. You averted your gaze down, hand coming to finger the necklace and pendant resting against the top of your sternum. You heard the guard shift back to face the other and resume the conversation, and turned your thoughts to something more pleasant, ignoring Taehyung for the meanwhile. Your eyes shifted to the feet of the guards and you pondered their clothing.

It was a strange material, nothing like anything you’d ever seen before. It moved like fluid with each shift of their bodies and shimmered in a fashion similar to silk from Earth. It was pitch black, glinting midnight blue in the light, and over their upper half it acted as a vest with a high collar that stretched up their neck and fit their form until their hips, where the material split into something resembling coattails on either side of their body. The pants were straight until the ankle where they flared and then fastened in a harem-like fashion, tucked into ankle boots that were lined and plated with that looked like a metal similar to silver. For a species rumoured to be bloodthirsty and renowned warriors, they had only a surprisingly small amount of armour. From what you could see, it was only the boots on their feet and the plated bracers over their wrists. There was a metal choker around their necks, but it looked like it was more for decoration than anything, along with the silver dangling from their ears and adorning their fingers.

Taehyung waited a while before he tried talking to you again. His eyes sought yours once more, voice a hushed whisper, “y/n, how are we going to get out of here?”

You resisted the urge to shrug, because you knew it would stress him out if he knew you didn’t have a plan, but also because he’d probably kick you again and your shin was already throbbing.

“I’m working on it,” you murmured, peering around the massive hall once more. Honestly, there wasn’t an entrance or an exit that was close enough and provided a good enough chance of escape; you had no idea how you would even begin trying to get out of here. Even if there was a good enough exit, your captors were faster than you, stronger than you— they’d be on you in the time it took you to draw in your next breath. Something about the situation did draw your focus, however, and your eyebrows drew together. “Why are we just sitting here in this room? They’re not doing anything, it’s like they’re waiting for some—"

Before you could finish a large set of ornate doors swung open to your right, your head whipping to face them as the guards shot ramrod straight. Within seconds they were gripping you and Taehyung and dragging you closer to a large obsidian throne that you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed before. Taehyung shot you a horrified, panicked look and you couldn’t even offer a smile of reassurance because god damn it you were currently feeling the exact same way. The guards had picked you up with ease with only one arm and soon enough you were being dropped unceremoniously on the ground once more.

You landed on your arm yet again and couldn’t help the groan that escaped you, only just dodging Taehyung’s leg as it kicked out just like it had last time. God, these aliens were rude. They could have at least walked you over instead of manhandling you.

The guards began speaking once more in their foreign tongue as you struggled to sit up, abdominal muscles aching from the constant effort. You were still so sore from fucking crash landing on an alien planet and you were only accruing more injuries as you went.

In focusing on the pain currently making itself very well-acquainted with you, you hadn’t noticed the three other figures that had entered through the door and prompted your sudden relocation before the throne. At Taehyung’s gasp and the sound of a new voice, your gaze whipped over and you froze.

The Kelkie currently speaking was the shortest of the three, raven hair pushed back with some strands falling over his forehead. His eyes were dark as they flicked between yourself, Taehyung, and the guards and his voice was light and airy as it caressed the clicks and trills of his mother tongue, lips plump and pink. His form was toned, dressed in garb similar to the guards but decidedly more ornate and lighter in colour, and his warm skin was scattered with fine freckles that glowed icy blue and resembled the smattering of stars in the night sky. He was shorter, but his entire form emanated power and your senses were telling you that right now you were in danger.

Taehyung’s leg was trembling against yours and you nudged him softly, subtly, before flicking your gaze to one of the other Kelkie as he began speaking. His tone was deeper, and his eyes trained solely on the guards as he spoke. He was taller than the first, but dressed in a similar fashion and his own raven hair wasn’t slicked back, his freckles glowing deep blue. All of a sudden panic began to well up in you as the gravity of the situation finally began to sink in— fuck, you were going to die.

Immediately your eyes began searching for an out, an exit close enough that you and Taehyung could make it and have an actual chance at getting away. Your heart stopped in your chest and your blood froze in your veins as the final person in the room spoke.

His voice was powerful, commanding, catching your attention without any extra effort on his part and even without looking you could tell it was directed at you. Taehyung trembled, and you slowly turned your gaze to the Kelkie standing in the middle of the other two, his dark, doe-like eyes boring straight into yours as he spoke at you in a language you couldn’t understand. Your breath caught in your throat because standing right before you was the most ethereally handsome being you had ever seen.

His stance was strong, unyielding, and he was bulkier than the other two yet had the kind of body proportions that had heat fighting to rush to your cheeks. He was dressed in that same silken material, almost obsidian over his form, but glinting deep burgundy instead of midnight blue in the light. The edges were embroidered in silver, the choker around his neck and the bracers over his arms engraved and shining along with the thin circlet over his forehead and the silver in his ears. Instantly you could tell that he was the most important one in the room, the most powerful, and you were instantaneously afraid and in awe.

He was speaking to you, voice a pleasant timbre against your ears even if you didn’t know what he was saying, and when you didn’t respond his eyebrows furrowed. He turned to the guards, his own inky locks flicking as he demanded something of them. They responded obediently and he was looking at you once more— you couldn’t take the intensity, the weight of his gaze, but you couldn’t avert your eyes. He watched you a moment, gaze flicking between you and Taehyung, before he said something shortly. Immediately the guards grasped you once more and fear spiked behind your ribs, stomach cramping in panic.

He strode forward and instinctively you tried to pull yourself from the guard’s gasp, your efforts achieving nothing but an annoyed growl in response as you stayed firmly in place, his grip like iron on your arm and digging into the bandaged wound. You stopped only at the sharp pain, wincing, and it was all the opportunity the Kelkie needed to step closer and press two long fingers against your forehead.

It was like you were jolted at his touch, a spark of electricity coursing beneath your skin and warmth gathering beneath his fingers where they pressed against your forehead. There was a slight, sharp pain on both sides of your head, your brain throbbing against your skull for a moment before he pulled back, fingers glowing slightly. He exhaled, eyes closed a moment while you recovered from the sudden and weird experience before he opened them and pinned you with his intense gaze once more.

“You,” he said, your eyes shooting wide at the sound of your own language leaving his mouth instead of the one you’d been hearing the past couple of minutes. His voice caressed the notes and sounds with a clear accent, having difficulty articulating words and sounds so different from what his mouth was used to. “Who are you and why have you come to this planet.”

It wasn’t a query so much as a demand, and before you could speak the guard holding your arm yanked it, slicing your binds and holding out your wrist for the male to see. To your further shock and surprise, he spoke in your tongue as well, “Your majesty, the mark on her wrist.”

You could have sworn your heart stopped in your chest at the sound of the title, your eyes whipping to the aforementioned male in horror. Your majesty. He was a king, an emperor. You heard Taehyung cursing softly next to you as the ruler of this planet stood before you and gazed at the tattooed marks on your wrist.

His reaction was instantaneous, eyes shooting to your face and a hiss escaping his teeth as the smattering of freckles over his cheeks and nose flared bright red. “The garrison?” he almost snarled, voice a low rumble in his throat. You cursed yourself for the excited beat your heart skipped at the sound. “The Intergalactic Union is not welcome here— breaking the accord in place has dire consequences, and you will be punished accordingly—”

“No!” you gasped, eyes wide as you yanked your wrist back, the accursed numbers inked on your skin glaring back up at you. You rushed to explain, very aware that your life was currently on the line, “No, not the garrison! I’m not— we’re no longer in the garrison, no longer in the Union. We defected.”

The King pins you both with a narrow glare, teeth gritting. The shorter of the two beside him is observing your every move with shrewd, dark eyes, his arms crossed. “If you are no longer in the garrison, then what is your business here, girl?” he demanded, and you resisted the urge to cower that rose suddenly within you. “You come to my planet in a garrison ship, bearing the mark of a soldier, and you set my forest ablaze in your arrival. These are not actions of peace.”

You gulped, realising how bad this must have looked. The Intergalactic Union may have composed a majority of the galaxies inhabitants, but that didn’t mean it was always looked upon fondly— you knew better than anyone that missions and actions issued by the union to be performed by factions like the garrison weren’t always on the morally correct end of the spectrum. Decisions were always made at a price, and for many that price was too much to withstand, to accept, to support.

“I apologise for the damage our arrival has caused,” you said evenly, trying to regulate the hurried, anxious beat of your heart. You didn’t doubt that with their trained senses they could hear each panicked thump it made against your ribcage. “It was not our intention to land here. We were fleeing from the garrison and our ship was damaged, so when we entered hyperdrive… it did not take us where we meant to go. We didn’t plan to crash here.”

The King’s eyebrows rose, markings shifting from hot vermillion to a shade between crimson and indigo. The taller of his companions spoke, arms held behind his back as his dark eyes met yours, expression hard. “Why would the garrison be chasing their own soldiers?” he demanded, the unspoken threat in his tone sending a shiver of fear down your spine.

“We… My crew and I defected, several months ago,” you answered truthfully, pretending the slight shake in your voice hadn’t been present at all. “They’re after me because I stole something important from them and they want it back.”

The shorter male let out a humourless scoff, shifting his weight on his legs. “Stole? So you are a thief, then.”

You grimaced, since he technically wasn’t wrong and you couldn’t really deny it. “Well, technically…” you stopped yourself, rushing to defend your actions, aware that is wasn’t just your life on the line right now. “But it wasn’t for no reason! I did it to stop them from doing something horrible.”

The short one went to interrogate you further when the King cut him off. “Everything you’re telling me right now could easily be a lie,” he said, markings a cool ice blue as he glared down at you and Taehyung with a firm, unwavering gaze, jaw clenched and a tick appearing before he continued, “I will not trust humans who trespass on my planet while bearing the mark of the garrison.”

You were scared, panic filling your lungs at his words at what he was going to do. The King turned to the guards. “Take them to the east wing. I want them restrained and on separate sides of the room. They are not allowed out, and no one aside from Seokjin, Jimin and myself are to enter. Understood?”

The guards nodded immediately and the King turned his hard gaze to you. His eyes burned your skin where they raked over your form. “We will hold you for one week. If you are truly on the run from the garrison as you say you are, then they will not come to rescue you and at the end of the week you will still be here. If they come,” his marks flashed vivid crimson, dark eyes boring into your soul. “Then I will kill you and every single human that comes to retrieve you myself, for attempting to deceive me and breaking the accord between Kelkie and The Union.”

Fear struck home in your heart, and having said all he wanted the King nodded to the guards. “Take them,” he ordered, and they immediately hauled you and Taehyung from the floor. They dragged you, strong fingers digging into your wound, and your eyes fell upon the King of the deadliest race known to the galaxy and his advisors.

His dark gaze followed you the entire way out, a different colour tinting his marks, and even when you were hauled from your room the sight remained burned into your mind’s eye.

The marks had been deep, reddish pink.

masterlist | moodboard | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | complete

[whirlybirbs]

--- THIGHS OF DEMISE

summary: #bittercoffee! an avengers dinner party leaves you and bucky trashed. they do say alcohol is liquid courage! thigh riding happens. you establish a new pet-name. rating: she be short, but she be steamy so 18+ on this one! word count: 1.5k a/n: for the anon who requested this and for those who’ve put up with my nsfw headcanons for long enough!

                                        wanna read more about these two?                                                     HERE’S THE MASTERLIST!

Bucky can’t remember the last time he was this plastered.

Maybe before the Battle of the Bulge. The Howling Commandos had celebrated their death sentence then. He was young. Boyish.

Right now, though, he can’t really think about it -- he’s busy tripping through the doors of his quarters, your legs hitched around his waist as you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him breathless. Bucky groans, teeth and tongue mingling with yours as you press your chest to his, nearly climbing his torso as the hulking vigilante crosses the threshold of his room.

It’s hot. You’re hot. He’s hot. Like, sweating, because your hips rut into his own and Christ, he’s trying to close the door but he’s a little busy, so Bucky gives up and falls back against it anyways. The room is spinning when he finally tears his lips from yours -- you’re… angelic, lips red and hair mussed and eyes dark as you eat him up -- and Bucky has to swallow down the L Word bubbling on his tongue as his blue eyes search your features.

It’s a beat of a moment, and it passes the second his fingers scales your cheek to tug you back in.

He’s drunk. Everything feels slow, hazy. Blue and orange. The lights under the cabinets glow warm and mingle against the blue lights outside the tower. You move, kissing him again, and it’s slower than before. Your nails graze the hot skin of the back of his neck. Metal fingers twist in your hair.

It feels good. All of it does.

It’s sloppy -- you’re just as drunk as he is; Asgardian mead mingles in his system like the coconut rum mingles in yours. It was apparent that you two weren’t going to last the night. Longing looks and lingering touches dragged you two together like magnets searching for their better halves.

You both slide along the wall, getting sidetracked with increasingly more violent kisses each stop -- it’s all becoming a blur of feverish need, and you can feel him against the juncture of your thighs as you claw at his shoulders and bite his lips and knock teeth.

Bucky’s calves hit the couch and he settles backwards, dragging you down to the loveseat with a devilish grin. You laugh, loud and brave, and his mouth settles against the column of your throat. He bites a cherry red mark there, stubble burning as he drags his lips along the skin there. Fingers tug his hair. His hands settle into your hips, gripping you tightly as if you’d vanish into thin air. You lean backwards. He chases you.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” you slur, eyes heavy-lidded as you shift in his lip, rocking your hips against the evident arousal pressing in his jeans. Bucky swallows, jaw clenching as you do, before you drag yourself up and away from him. “Look at you.”

You finger skims his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip as you stand.

Your knees buckle, legs heavy with lead and love and lust.

“Doll,” his voice is hoarse as he watches you, and you see his chest stutter with a clipped breath as you worm your fingers into the hem of your sweater, “Get back here.”

“M’ hot.”

“Yeah,” he laughs -- it’s deep and throaty and dark -- as his eyes rake over the exposed skin you bare as you toss the sweater over the back of the couch. His eyes are glued to your fingers working at your belt, the way you push your jeans and boots off in a less than graceful way. “You are.”

“No,” you stumble, swaying slightly as you do before fixing yourself and grinning back at him, “Like m’ sweating.”

“Christ, me too,” he mumbles, tugging at his collar as you sway towards him. His gaze is hungry, devouring every inch of skin, every delicate swirl of lace along your panties and bra, and his hands hit your waist as you drape yourself across his left thigh. His skin is hot through his jeans and you grin, mouth searing back to his as the dance begins again.

It escalates again, to biting kisses and muffled moans and hands pulling hair and nails clawing up his back as he bites deep purple bruises into the curve of your shoulder as your hips start to rut against his thigh. He can feel you, and his hands are quick to meet your hips, guiding the frenzied movements with a predatory eye.

“Look at you,” he breathes, gut swirling with arousal as you chew your lip, one arm draped across his shoulder as you cling to his shirt. Your nails tighten into the fabric and you huff -- his hands are big and warm and pressing you against his thigh with each rock. His nose brushes yours, lips bruised and red, “My pretty little kitten.”

Your chest clenches, mind going a little hazy as you surge upwards to catch him in another reckless kiss. You can feel that trademarked Barnes smirk against your lips as he lifts his knee, pressing just the right way against the hotness building between your legs.

Things escalate. You claw his shirt off of him, tossing it across the room as your nails drag down the muscles there -- you’re gaze is just as heavy as his nimble fingers land on his belt buckle and he groans, fingers knotting into your hair as he battles against tooth and tongue and affection and arousal. Your fingers skim along the evident bulge there, palm pressing just right along the curve and head and Bucky shudders against your mouth as you grin and tug your lips from his bite. Movements aren’t so drunk anymore, not off the alcohol, but off one another.

Another breath of a pause. He watches you, blue eyes looking not so blue, but more grey with big pupils and heavy lids. His hands urge your hips on. You trail a gentle touch along the silhouette pressed to his jeans.

“Call me kitten again,” you slur, lips ducking to skim along the stubble of his jaw, “I think I like that pet-name.”

“Do you?” it’s soft, voice a little wrecked as your fingers press against his cock. His eyes screw shut. He feels like he’s been punched in the chest. You pulls the words from his lips, watching with a greedy gaze as you set a rhythm with your touches. “Y-you like it when I call you that, kitten?”

You chew your lip again, and Bucky thinks this is definitely heaven. He’s died. His heart gave out and he died in his sleep in this a dream in heaven. This isn’t real because you’re moaning against his mouth and his thigh is slick with your arousal and fucking hell, his brain is on the haywire from the heavy touches driving his heart to hammer home.

Your nails drag against his back as his hands guide your hips, eyes screwed shut and breath hitching with every rock of his thigh against your core. Your skin mingles against his, hot and soft. Bucky’s getting desperate now too, breathing labored and eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull as he jumps his own hips into your hand, clutching you like his life depended on it.

In a lot of ways, it does.

And you pull his hair. Press a purple love-bite to the tendons in his shoulder. You mumble against his skin, voice high with the tight-wound of your orgasm heating your words. “So handsome, Buck, you should see yourself.”

He falls apart then, muffling a high whimper into your neck. He comes hard, fingers tightening as he clutches you, fingers pressing into the skin of your hips. Your own orgasm washes over you. It’s all you need and it’s blinding and heavy and your whole body rushes against his like you’ve been slammed with the crushing weight of the tide. Your fingers grip him tightly, kneading into the metal plating of his shoulder as he pants, your own brain going fuzzy with a warm bliss.

You’re both quiet for a moment, still against one another as your breaths become the only sound in his room.

And then he laughs.

It’s a soft exhale, not more than a little breath puffed against your shoulder, but you know it’s a laugh. It makes you do the same. You pull your head upwards, muscles warm, before you blink at him. His eyes are heavy with exhaustion. He looks good. His hair is mussed and his face is pink and he’s littered with little hickies that fade with every second.

“We’re horrible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, smother a little laugh as you shift in his lap. His jeans have suffered the brunt of the fun, damp in areas with the aftermath of it all. His stomach jumps, muscles tightening as he laughs again.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had heavy petting like that,” you slur, words heavy with the downturn of the alcohol and your orgasm, “...Get it, because I’m your kitten?”

You fight a laugh, but Bucky doesn’t and it’s loud. Genuine. His teeth are pearly in the glow of the kitchen lights. You grin. You card sluggish fingers through his hair.

“We should probably shower.”

“Mm,” he nods, “M’ hungry.”

“Me too,” you whine, head lolling back as you slump in his arms, “Can we order pizza?”

“Please.”

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[mintchocolateleaves]

Cost of Freedom (25/52)

Summary: In which Heiji has been found out, Kaito and Shinichi grab the files and Aoko and Ran return to the police station. Prison!AU

[Beginning]     [Previous Chapter]     [Next Chapter]

"What th' hell is goin' on?"

Heiji takes a step back, drops the hand carrying his phone to his side and lets out a strangled gasp, breath constricting as he glances over at the girl he has been in love with since he was a child. It feels almost like his heart is attempting to squeeze through the gaps of his ribcage, the valves constricting in a way that brings him nothing but pain.

"Kazuha," he breathes, pressing his thumb against the touch screen of his phone, ending the call without glancing down at the screen.

He keeps his gaze on Kazuha, searching her face for any reaction other than shock. How is he going to explain this... how can he possibly explain what he's doing in a short enough time to be able to convince her to not only keep his secret, but to let him continue?

"What are ya doin' back...?" He asks, glancing down to Kazuha's empty hands. He'd been so certain, so completely sure that she'd be down at the coffee shop long enough for...

"I forgot my bag..." Kazuha says, stepping forward and closing the door behind her. She leans against it, almost as if she's attempting to barricade them both inside and keep any other police officers out. "Heiji... what's goin' on?"

Heiji bites at his lip, running a hand through his hair. "N-nothing."

"Tha's a load'a crap." Kazuha whispers, eyes narrowing as she stares him down. "You ain't a liar Heiji, when ya lie it always shows on yer face..."

Not good, Heiji thinks, not good at all.

"I don't know w-what yer talkin' abou'." He stumbles over the words, goes to take a step forward, but hesitates at the expression on Kazuha's face. For a second, there is just faint horror - that he's been lying to her, hiding more than she could have expected - and then, it shifts to distrust and shock, puzzle pieces clicking into place.

"Oh god," she lifts her hand up to her mouth, stifles a gasp and shakes her head. Heiji isn't sure whether she's blinking away tears of anger or horror, but her eyes are wet and she's looking at him as if she doesn't know him. "Tell me ya didn't..."

"Kazuha-"

"You were talkin' to those escaped criminals," she whispers from behind her hands. Then, tearing her gaze away to look at the ground, she adds, "you helped ‘em, didn't ya? Heiji have ya gone mad?"

Heiji takes a step forward, frown forming across his face. "You wouldn't understand."

Hell, Heiji isn't even sure if he fully understands - he'd knows that there's at least a small element of insanity to his actions, he shouldn't have helped break Kudo out... but he was on death row for crying out loud...

"Then explain it to me." Kazuha says, raising her head. She takes a step away from the door, crosses the space between them and glances up at Heiji - her glare is overwhelming, like flames licking at his skin, the heat burning him from the inside out. "Explain how you ain't completely insane."

"Kudo didn't do it." Heiji says, "and they were gonna kill 'im. He was framed."

Kazuha throws her hands up. When she speaks, it's with a raised voice, the volume bordering on a shout. "Where's yer proof, Heiji?"

Heiji frowns, glares back. "I looked into th' case myself idiot, I know he's innocent."

"Then why didn't ya get a'  appeal on th' case? If he's innocent, then why did ya need to break 'im out?"

He takes a step forward, tells Kazuha to quit yelling. It's... The evidence he's put together is circumstantial, nothing that would hold in a court of law against fingerprints and lacking alibis. But there had been clues at the scene that had gone overlooked - he wonders whether Hakuba and the others have picked up on them when overlooking the case...

"Quit yellin'," Heiji hisses, "and jus' trust me on this, okay?"

"No wonder yer dad refused to let ya visit this Kudo guy," Kazuha says, reaching forward to aim a punch at his arm, "he's manipulated ya into thinkin' he's a good guy, an' not a serial killer."

That's - that's not true, Heiji tells himself. He'd... there had been truth to the conversations he'd had. Maybe Kudo was a little bit odd, and maybe he'd been thrown into solitary confinement because he'd had to protect himself through violence but - but Kudo wasn't a killer.

"He's not a serial killer!" He cries, and it feels almost as if his anger is burning, provoked by Kazuha's own fiery glare. "I know tha' he isn't!"

"You wanna know why yer dad told you not to visit this guy?" Kazuha spits, "It's 'cause ya look fer puzzles where there ain't any - ya can't believe tha' a detective is responsible for those deaths right? So ya mind made this fake case to make 'im out to be innocent."

Heiji takes a step forward, glares and looking down his eyes at Kazuha, he growls, "Kudo is innocent."

Kazuha flinches away, and like that, any anger Heiji feels is extinguished.

She...

"I'm not lettin' ya do this," Kazuha says, shaking her head, "they're criminals."

His stomach twists. Heiji doesn't know what to do - Kazuha just doesn't understand, won't understand because she's too focused on murders and is trying to rationalise things. For someone who believes in the supernatural, sometimes he thinks she's a little too close minded.

"Give me today," Heiji whispers, "give me today ta convince ya he's innocent. After tha', if you don't believe me... I'll turn 'im in myself."

They don't slam the door behind them, but it almost sounds like it when Kaito closes the archive door behind them, holding his breath as they wait to see whether anyone has seen them enter the room. Opposite him, Shinichi lowers the phone from his ear, glancing down at the screen with wide eyes.

"What...?" Kaito breathes, as Shinichi passes the phone over to him. The screen glows amongst the shadows, and he leans over to press the light switch.

Light illuminates the room, and for a moment, Kaito glances at the rows of bookshelves, each containing files from various old cases. There are four rows, roughly fifteen foot long, and it leaves him wide-eyed wondering how they'll be able to find Shinichi's case files within the thousands of files.

"Hattori hung up," Shinichi says, and he makes his way down the aisle on the far left, eyes skimming over the labelling system, never once stopping to examine anything. "It looks like we're on our own right now until he can call us back."

Kaito slips the phone into a pocket, racing after the ex-detective, escape plans spurring into life as they make their way to the end of the row.

"I see now what you meant when you told me you had to come along to find those files," Kaito says, falling into step beside Shinichi, "a simple search around would take too long."

Shinichi nods, "exactly," before dropping down to his feet, nails digging into the gaps between one of the tiles - he exhales, lifting it up, tile scraping the edge another.

Inside the gap, there is an aluminium case, a padlock sealing it, keeping it shut. Shinichi pulls it out, placing it in front of Kaito.

"Can you pick it?" he asks.

"I really don't think we have the time-" Kaito mutters. The look he receives however, forces him to glance down at the padlock, pointing it upward. He's always been quick with padlocks, and this one doesn't look like it's rusted at all. It shouldn't take any longer than ten seconds. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Shinichi mutters a thank you, watches Kaito as he pushes his picks back into the lock, feeling the pins with the top pick, jiggling the lock until they're all firmly up. It takes five seconds, and then, he's pulling the lock off, passing the box back over for Shinichi to open.

Inside, there is a mobile phone, a case file and a set of keys. Shinichi pockets the phone and the keys, offers Kaito a sharp smile that begs him not to ask right now, before placing the case file - it's thick, at least a centimeter thick - on the inside of his suit, inside the pocket Kaito had incorporated into the disguise.

"Okay," Shinichi says, as he closes the box, placing the lock back on. "We need to get out of here."

"That would be nice," Kaito responds as the other teen places the box back into the hole, putting the tile back into place. "I do think maybe we're pushing our luck inside a police station."

"This was your entire idea!"

"I know that," Kaito says, standing back up and glancing over at the door, "and I'm not saying this isn't a good idea, but we're still pushing the limits and as fun as it is, I don't think we'd survive the ridicule of being caught the day after we've escaped prison."

"They'd probably throw us in solitary confinement forever," Shinichi sighs, "not that I'd complain."

Kaito shudders, remembers the image of Aoko staring across at him, her voice ringing in his ears. The movement is visible, shows in the quake of his shoulders and for a moment, Shinichi stops, offering him a small smile. It's meant to be reassuring, but it seems more like pity.

"Let's avoid being locked up again," Kaito says after a while, dragging himself to his feet. "Especially if it means no solitary."

At the door, Shinichi and Kaito share a look, offer sharp nods, before forcing themselves back outside into the corridor. Excitement curdles away into nervousness, and Kaito forces the door closed behind him, glancing up and down the corridor.

If there's anything he's learnt from his heists, it's that it is always easier to get inside a location, than out of it.

"Ran-chan!" Aoko shouts, climbing the steps from Kudanshita station to the street above, where Ran is waiting. "Aoko's so sorry for running late!"

The fact that they've still got over an hour until they're meant to all meet at the police station, leaves Ran wondering whether Aoko notices the irony of her own statement. Instead, she smiles, tells the girl that it's alright and they start their walk towards the police station.

Aoko had called her, asking if they could go to the station earlier today, before either Saguru or Hattori could arrive. Ran knows that she and Saguru have promised not to keep secrets, but she's accepted without telling him about it - she doesn't want to give Aoko any reason not to help them find Shinichi and KID.

"Come on!" Aoko says, offers a grin, and grabs onto Ran's wrist, pulling her along the street until they reach a taxi. And then, Aoko pushes Ran inside, offers another quirked smile and demands for the driver to take them to the police station.

The urgency makes Ran feel nervous.

As the taxi pulls away, Ran crosses her legs, turns to Aoko with a question in her voice. She says, "you never explained why you wanted to go to the station earlier."

Aoko leans back, rests her head against her seat. When she speaks, her previous smile has faded, leaving behind a blank expression not unlike the one's that Ran has read about in KID's case file. "Aoko wants to rewatch the psych files with Ran-chan, just with the two of us."

"Why?"

"She wants to rewatch the first interview, the one where Kudo-kun said working the case from two sides was exhausting," Aoko says, and she leans forward, her gaze meeting Ran's. Her irises dance with conviction - Ran purses her lips in response. "Aoko thinks that Kudo-kun was telling the truth."

Ran narrows her eyes, "Shinichi isn't a criminal."

"Aoko hasn't decided on that yet," she admits, shaking her head. "No, Aoko means that the case was exhausting to him. Aoko wants to rewatch the videos to see if he drops any hints as to why - Kudo-kun said it himself, he's leaving the case for whoever watches the recording."

A frown, Ran feels something fluttering in her stomach, although she's not sure whether it's nervousness or relief. In thinking that Shinichi was fully innocent... has she overlooked what he's been saying? Had he been leaving messages behind for people to look into...

"But... Surely he's leaving it up to the psychologist who was studying him... not for whoever was watching the video recording...?

Aoko bites her bottom lip, shakes her head. "He didn't keep full eye contact with the psychologist. Aoko noticed that he looked at the camera more often that he looked at her."

Ran hadn't notices that - in fact, she's pretty sure that none of them did. She and Hakuba had been so certain he was innocent, that they'd been focusing more on his words and overall body language. How they'd overlooked Shinichi's eye contact...

"Good find," Ran mutters, as the taxi pulls up to the pavement, the police station looming over them. "Let's head up to the computer then, shall we?"

"I thought ya said they were meeting ya at 10 o'clock," Kazuha asks, leaning forward over at the CCTV cameras. Heiji watches her from the corner of her eye, considers the sudden calmness in her voice, and turns to face the monitors. "But those two are here early."

Heiji watches, nervous, as Aoko and Ran walk in through reception, holding his breath. Then, his eyes flicker over to another camera, the outlines of Kuroba and Kudo in their disguises walking down the corridor.

Despite showing no outward signs of being on guard, Heiji can practically feel the paranoia they must be emitting.

"Yeah," Heiji says, pulling at the collar of his shirt - is it hot in here? Or is he just starting to feel the pressure?

"And this is Kudo an' Kuroba?" Kazuha asks, moving her finger to point up at the two criminals, as they take a left down the corridor, towards the staircase.

Heiji mutters a 'yes', and she frowns. "That's gonna be troubling. Tell 'em to stay away from tha' stairwell."

Heiji sends the text without thinking, before asking why.

Kazuha moves her finger down to another screen, the real Takagi and Sato standing in the entrance to the first floor's stairwell, talking to a twin-tailed traffic officer. Heiji feels his heart leap up his throat, tries to reach up to drag it back into his ribcage, and fails.

"Oh shit," Heiji mutters. "I need to tell them."

"Ya can't," Kazuha says, "'cause Nakamori-chan, and Mouri-chan, are on their way. They'll chase after 'em as soon as they can, an' it'll look weird if ya don't go with 'em."

The groan that seeps from his throat, is nothing short of helpless.

"Gimme ya phone," Kazuha says, leaning down to her bag and pulling out a pair of headphones. Placing them in her ears, she glares until the mobile is in her phone. She plugs them into Heiji's phone, unlocks it - she's known the passcode since before he'd even set it, somehow - and turns back to the CCTV footage. "Go help with th' search."

"Kazuha?"

"I promised I'd hear ya out didn't I?" Kazuha mutters, pulling up the records of his most recent calls. "I can't do tha' if yer in jail for abetting criminals. So... jus' for now, I'm on yer side."

The text message, Kaito thinks, offers no explanation, but since it's from Hattori, he accepts it and turns around before they can even set foot in the stairwell.

Minutes later, he overhears the outburst of 'they're in the what?', assumes the worst and realises that things aren't going as well as they could be. Glancing over at Shinichi, he offers his best poker face, a calm exterior to the worried paranoia he now feels.

And then, the phone goes off.

Kaito picks up, relief spreading through his bones as they rush down the corridor, back in the direction of the archives. How did they wake up so quickly - and even then, how have the detectives been discovered so early?

"Oh thank God," Kaito breathes, pulling Shinichi left, rather than right like the ex-convict seems to want to go, "you can get us out of here right?"

"I'll try." 

The voice is not Hattori's.

Unless Hattori has suddenly learned how to mimic voices, Kaito is extremely certain that the voice does not belong to the detective. The accent is still Osakan, but that doesn't mean anything to him - in fact, it only makes him feel more confused. His friend Kazuha then...? But why would Hattori-

"Heiji ain't available," Toyama Kazuha says, and her tone is quiet, "but I ain't a bad alternative. Turn right."

"I'm not sure I understand what's going on," Kaito asks. He takes her direction anyway, making his way down the corridor with a quick gait, steps like thunder across the floor. "Where is...?"

"He's searchin' for ya, like th' others," Kazuha says. "I found out he was helpin' ya when I came back fer my bag, and he still owes me an explanation, but this once I'll help."

Kaito exhales. He still feels nervous, energy building in him at the sight of danger and the unknown, but there's also a source of comfort there - even if it's not Hattori, there's someone on the other side of the phone willing to help them. He still doesn't know whether he can trust Kazuha, but for now, they don't really have a better alternative.

"Left," Kazuha orders, and then, another left. A right and then the two of them falter when Kazuha tells them to take a right here.

"But that's a dead end," Shinichi mutters. "We can't go down this way."

"Yes ya can-" Kazuha breaks off, and there's muffled conversation, "this room has th' best wifi, I'm watchin' videos while I wait for Heiji... look, do ya want a headphone - ya look stressed, I've got th' best cat video- no... okay..." another pause, "head down that corridor."

Kaito does, and as they're walking down the door, he realises why she's sending him down a corridor with no stairwells or obvious exits.

"What was that about cat videos, miss?" Kaito asks, as they come to a stop at the end of the corridor. He taps his hand against the window, glances at the lock at the bottom and nods his head. It's a fairly low window, almost seems like a hidden fire exit for police officers who need it.

"I'm playin' on my phone, while talkin' to ya on Heiji's. If anyone asks, these headphones are for videos I'm watchin', not talkin' to you guys."

"I almost feel like you need an award." Kaito mutters, glancing at the window, Shinichi keeps guard opposite him, looks over at him as he works on the lock, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear. "That's downright devious."

"Heiji told me ta get ya there," Kazuha says, "an' he's on his way with Kudo's girlfriend... an' yours. Don't take it by surprise, when they notice ya, get out."

She doesn't offer anything else, the line going dead.

Kaito doesn't understand why they need to see him - wait... it clicks almost instantly. If Hattori is seen openly trying to catch Shinichi and Kaito, he loses any suspicion that might fall upon him - it's almost genius. He wonders who came up with it, Hattori, or his protector Kazuha.

It seems almost odd to think that Hattori, supposed kendo champion needs to be protected, but looking at his decision to work with two escaped criminals, breaking laws to help them, it almost makes sense.

"I get it," Kaito says, turning to Shinichi and offering him a small smile. It's weak, worried. "Shinichi, we're gonna get company pretty soon."

"Shit..."

Kaito agrees wholeheartedly, but keeps his mouth shut. The sound of footsteps leaves him moving away from the unlocked window, pulling Shinichi backwards so that he's standing nearer to him.

Hattori comes into view, and then Shinichi's girlfriend, Ran-chan, and then, finally - Aoko.

He offers a wave, a smirk that seems to satisfy the growing hysteria building in his stomach as she faces him. Kaito doesn't even know why it unnerves him to see her face, to watch the wide-eyed stare she gives him, watching it slowly transform into a frown.

"Ran-" Shinichi breathes from beside him, and he takes a step forward, as if to walk towards her.

"Shinichi!" Ran calls, and she's moving forward, in front of Hattori who's frozen, in front of Aoko who is simply staring. "Shinichi?"

More footsteps - it seems that Hattori has brought a legion of police officers along with him, steps sounding more like a death march leading him back to prison. 

The sound brings him to life again, forces his attention away from Aoko, the curve of her eyebrows as she frowns, the openness of her body language, the way her expression is shuttered, a blankness not even he can read.

"Shinichi," Kaito says, raising his hand so that the teen can't move forward, "do you trust me?"

Shinichi glances at him, shakes his head ever so slightly, and responds, "with your mental state, not particularly." 

He pushes Kaito's hand down, stares past him to Ran. Kaito feels a fleck of irritation throb at his forehead, wonders whether he can get them out before Shinichi's own love-sickness can get him caught, and decides that there is only really one thing to do.

"That's the spirit," he chirps, and pushes Shinichi from the window.

Ran surges forward, and Kaito uses this moment, to pull a piece of paper from his pocket, tossing it to the ground by her feet.

"Sorry to cut all the reunions short," he says, offers a quick, small bow, "but we've got somewhere to be."

As he throws himself from the window himself, Kaito tries to ignore Aoko's call of 'don't leave.'

(Like with everything else she ever seems to say, it's completely impossible.)

[rpchive]

Sixty Fifth Encounter-- Above and Beyond

look at all this fucking kleivenn lore. also, we finish the Starbound arc!

The IT once again comes to a stop on the outskirts of the Kleivenn city rather than inside of it. The creature from before does not seem to be near the IT, however, giving them a safe entry. Karumet: Don't suppose we'll be able to get in without being let in...unfortunately, if you had a way to speak to someone in the city, you probably wouldn't have needed to make this trip... Collin: Well, no one thought to give me a magical Kleivenn phone, so it wasn't really an option. At least the giant messed up ones aren't wandering around at the moment. Karumet: Regardless, we should probably try to get someone's attention. As she steps out onto the sands of the city, Nine's voice answers from what is simultaneously everywhere and yet nowhere at all. Nine: Don' be so ridiculous! Y' think I ain't gonna notice ya walkin' around my place? I knew yeh were comin' b'fore y' even stepped out. Now, I'm guessin' yer wantin' 'n audience 'r some'in'? Collin: Essentially, yes. There's something we'd like to talk with you about. Nine: Well, pick a door; I ain't got all day. Well; I guess I do; but there's better stuff t' be doin'. Collin: What, you didn't want to see us again? He answers while he walks over to the closest building and pushes the door open. The door opens to the same hallway; transitioning from battered, dusty sandstone to clean tiles and proper stone, leading into the actual city. Nine: Nah, it ain't like that; I like yer comp'ny; I jus' don' like sittin' around in one place too long.

sounds more like a spiral problem than a nocturne problem

Collin and the others walk down the hallway toward the city. "I suppose I can't blame you there. I assume everything's been alright on your end so far?" Nine: Everythin's been pretty av'rage; jus' a bunch a' th' same ol' stuff. Makin' sure everyone's alright; makin' sure none a' th' 'beasts come slippin' in...borin' stuff. The hallway lets out to an entire courtyard of sorts; a rather large water fountain sits in the center with a large, serpentine, stone dragon in the center of that; the dragon itself is coiled around a large, crystalline vase that pours a seemingly endless amount of water out of it. Around the fountain are four rounded stone benches, and four pathways stretching out from beneath them; two of which lead into the city; one of which leads off to where Nine's "office" is. On the edges of these paths are patches of grass and flowers, various flowered bushes and trees lining the edges of the stone archways and passages. Though there are no visible sources of light, the area still seems to be well lit. More interesting, however, is the fact that the sun has mostly set within the actual city, while it was midday when you landed. Collin: Uh, was that hallway longer than I remember it being, or is there another reason why the sun is in a completely different position now? Nine: Nah, 's always daytime out there. 'S a desert, after all; 's s'posed t' make y' uncomf'rtable. Collin: So time moves differently in here? Nine: Nah; tha' city y' show up in ain't real. If anythin', time don't move out there at all. Collin: Ah. Well then... that's something to think about, I guess. The group continues on down the path to Nine's office. Draped across the arms of her chair, Nine continues to stare up at the ceiling as the group enter the room. She has made no effort to repair or replace the table that Tori broke during their last visit; she's simply shoved it into a corner of the room where it's out of the way. "Anyway; y'all have some'in' t' say?" alienrabitt: Uhh, yeah, I guess. Did you guys ever get attacked by...what was their name; Xentrilis? Blinking a bit, Nine looks over towards the group. "Nah. Ain't seen 'im since th' war. Ain't nobody seen any 'f us since th' war." Collin: Well that's good to hear. Maybe what you saw was the future, then?Nine: Ain't possible. He's dead. Ev'ryone's dead 'cept fer me.

you’re taking that surprisingly well. then again, I guess Nine’s had a few hundred years to get over it

Nydins: But if it hasn't happened, then it will, right? This is the city you saw all torn up and burning down? alienrabitt: Yeah, unmistakably. Nine: Look, y'all clearly ain't gonna listen t' someone who was there; how 'bout y'all scoot on down t' th' library 'n ask Holly t' tell yeh 'bout th' damn war; maybe then you'll realize why Xen ain't gonna come getcha in th' middle a' th' night. Collin: Alright, we'll bite, but this conversation isn't over yet. Stranger things have happened than a dragon god coming back from the dead. Nine: While tha's true; it ain't th' case fer this. Y'll see. Collin sighs and turns to the others. "Alright, I guess we need to find a library for now." Backtracking to the courtyard; the group sort of meanders through the city for a bit before finding the library in question. A young kleivenn, serpentine in body, yet with several sets of wings, is coiled up patiently behind the front desk. Her entire body is a dusty, rose pink, with glowing runic markings barely stretching out from beneath her multiple layers of fluffy, warm clothes. Adjusting her goggles, she chimes out a sincerely welcoming greeting as she waves at the group.

it her

Fawkes: Hello! Are you Holly? ???: Me? Oh, no; I'm only her secretary. Holly's probably in the history section; I can't even remember the last time I saw her leave. Fawkes: Ah, could you point us in that direction, then? Stepping out from behind the desk, the secretary slinks along like a ferret among rows of tables and bookshelves; carefully coiling her tail around her body and folding her wings so as to not knock anything over. "Certainly! This way, please." The group makes their way after her, trying carefully not to bump into anything as well. Guided by the pink secretary; the group arrives at a desk no bigger than three feet wide surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books at least seven feet high each. The desk itself is covered in a multitude of tiny papers and notes; most of which are handwritten in ink by a quill made from a feather no longer than 5 inches. Squeezing around one of the book stacks is a white dragon equally as small as her desk space; tiny frills on the sides of her cheeks and the top of her head similar to Karumet's flap anxiously at the size of the crowd around her workspace. Blinking tiny, red eyes the size of marbles, who you can only assume is Holly adjusts the long, green scarf trailing behind her so that she can be heard around it: "Iris; tours do not extend to my workspace." Iris: Oh, well, yes; I understand this; but these outsiders came to speak with you specifically! Glancing you over in particular, Holly starts climbing one of the stacks of books, a muffled jingle being made with each movement. "Yes; outsiders indeed...must be Nine's doing..." Collin: I'm guessing this isn't the first time she's done this, then? Holly: While it isn't the first time; you're probably the first human to set foot in these walls in over a thousand years. Though I am not offended by your presence; I am...curious as to how you found this sacred place as you are. Collin: Ah, right, I suppose that'd need explaining. To cut a long story short, a little while back Tori and a few other Kleivenn needed help after we escaped from someone doing experiments on them. Karumet brought us here, and Nine helped us out. He gestures casually to Tori and Karumet as he mentions their names. "We came back to warn Nine about a..."vision" that Tori had, but he said that it was impossible and told us that you could tell us why." Holly: ...Interesting; a clairvoyant saa; a wish born from...paranoia? Uncertainty? Insecurity? Depressing.

Iris: M-miss Holly...!! Holly: Well, what in the worlds was this vision? Demo: Xentrilis; crushing through your home like Godzilla; burning it all down. Holly: ...As amusing as you think you are; that's entirely impossible. Only the Holy Mothers left behind godshards; the remaining Eight of the Nine were destroyed entirely. Again, she glances you over. "You should know; you're the ones who killed them all." Collin: Hey, don't give me that. I'm Tori's wishmaker. If anything, I'm on your side. Holly: Then you are either impossibly old, or incomprehensibly in danger; either way, my condolences. The life you lead is neither simple, nor would I truly call it a life at all. Still, I can see why Nine chose to send you all to me; so allow me to educate you. Climbing over a few stacks, Holly grabs one of the top books, shoving it open to a picture similar to the one on the scroll in Lou's house. Holly: Several thousand years ago; when the Earth was inhabited by truly intelligent life; the cosmos aligned in a unique manor that would, in all likelihood, never occur again within the lifespan of the solar system. In this moment; from the concepts of the Earth; rose the original Kleivenn Mothers. Known simply as "Stardust" and "Phoenix" among humankind; the Holy Mothers would, gradually, over the span of their blessed days among humanity, bring the Nine into creation... Holly: The Nine, known as the Holy Others; consisted of Artemis; Orion; Chariot; Xentrilis; Cadivan; Halcyon; Venzibaar; Omnivus; and...Nine, whose true name they have refused to share with us. These Holy Others created the various breeds of kleivenn that continue to walk the span of the multiverse to this very day. Holly: In the more "recent" years of the Earth's life, humanity rapidly grew threatened with the power the kleivenn possessed, ultimately deciding to attempt to drive us to extinction upon the discovery of the common saa. Using methods ranging from creating unique poisons; turning saas upon their wishmakers; and even attempting to create hybrids by merging the known organs and physical forms of both creatures, humanity slowly began to wipe our kind off the face of their homeworld. Holly: Without the help of our kind, and with no human willing to keep a saa alive long enough to find out our weaknesses, humanity began to lose their own war. Out of fear; out of desperation; out of madness; or perhaps a combination; they turned to the only being they knew that would be capable of helping them in their time of need: one of our own gods; Xentrilis. Holly: Xentrilis agreed to help humanity destroy kleivenn-kind under the conditions that the Mothers were to be targeted first, and that he would go unharmed. Agreeing to these blasphemous terms; humanity agreed to this alliance, and began to use saas as grenades; using the combined forces of the magic expelled upon their destruction and the wishes made upon their deaths to shatter and scatter our Mothers, and to bring an end to seven Others. Holly: Incapable of locating Nine after the destruction of our very birthplace and home- Kujaar, the very city you stand in today -humanity decided that the war they had waged had been successful enough; the remainder of our kind now godless, powerless, and fearful. With nowhere else to turn, and with no faith, Xentrilis lost his ability to overpower the humans that had feared him in the war, and he, too, was destroyed by captive saas. Holly: With saas no longer being stolen from the homes of survivors; of the injured; of the sick; of the poor; of the hopeless; of the helpless; the remainder of the kind members of humanity silently swore that they would continue to keep those remaining out of the public eye. From this point on, saas are not known in human history as the creatures you know us as now. They are known as figureheads; politicians; as warriors; as peacemakers; as saints and legends...but, primarily, we are known as myths; as mere whispers on the wind, and flickers in the shadows; simply bedtime stories for children who would never be capable of seeing us, and who would fear us should the day come that this should change...

Collin: Dear God... I knew the war between Kleivenn and humans was bad, but... Fawkes: A genocide. And using members of its own group as weapons... Collin: I don't even know what to say to this... Holly: Yes; I'm sure most of you wouldn't. Carefully, Holly steps away from the book and closes it, returning to her initial stack of books. "And even if Xentrilis had somehow been shattered and scattered; there's simply no way he could return without every single shard being gathered back to one place. The closest he, or the Holy Mothers, could get to returning, in that regard, would be if a saa were to absorb one of their shards into their heart; however that process has never been attempted on any known shards, as the sheer raw power of the Holy Mothers would be too much for a saa to contain, and would reduce them to their crushing point almost instantaneously." Karumet: ...Would it be possible for a saa who hasn't granted their wish to contain a shard after reaching their crushing point? Holly: Hypothetically speaking, if a saa were to maintain both their consciousness and their physical form long enough, and their wish was to return to their form, then yes, perhaps a saa would be capable of containing godshards. This has been entirely unrecorded in the entirety of kleivenn history, however, and would be far more than unlikely. Collin: Uh, that's sort of an oddly specific question, Karumet. Why would you ask something like that? Karumet: When Tori reached his crushing point; he saw two dragons, right? The Mother of Saas and Xentrilis? Holly: ...You were visited by Phoenix Herself? The Phoenix; Nine's lover? And Xentrilis? You're either a saint, or going to kill every last one of us... Karumet: I'm just wondering; if it's possible for a saa to take in shards, and Tori saw Xentrilis attack Kujaar; could it be possible that, in his final moments, he took in the remnants of a god? Holly: ...Are you implying that this saa is Xentrilis reincarnate? This Saa? Born from the wish of a human begging for a chance at life? Absolutely not. His body would reject it, and it would destroy him. Collin: Not only that, where would Tori even get these shards, and why would he want to do something like that? Holly: These shards are not as physical as you might be thinking. With the two of them presenting themselves to your saa in his final moments, it's entirely possible he could have taken either of them in in that instance; however Xentrilis would be highly unlikely. I believe he would have a better chance of taking in Phoenix. Karumet: He reached his crushing point from taking in magic involuntarily; what's saying he stopped being capable of doing that before he reformed? Collin: So, what, are you saying there's a 60-40 split between Tori either being the reincarnation of the mother of all Saas, or the Other that destroyed them all? Holly: 60-40? He either took Phoenix in or reincarnated without them; even then, this entire conversation would've surely spurred some sort of reaction had he truly taken in a godshard. Hearing about the deaths of all your friends and family wouldn't sit well with anyone... Well, I hate to break it to you, but she's right; I don't remember any of that. It just sounds terrifying, and that's probably how it feels for most kleivenn... Karumet: But that doesn't make any sense...why would you see Xentrilis destroying Kujaar if Xentrilis isn't here? Holly: Perhaps it was simply a dream. Dreams can just be dreams at times, no matter how vivid. Fawkes: You are right, technically. However, things are rarely just coincidence in our little group... Holly: And as much as I hate to disappoint you; a rarity is still a possibility... Collin: I guess so... Regardless, I appreciate you telling us all of this. Holly: Certainly! Should you ever have further questions about our history or culture, do not hesitate to return. As intimidating as you are, I see no harm in educating a human sincerely willing to learn for the good of others. Collin seems genuinely surprised. "Intimidating?" Holly: ...You are a human, after all...

wouldn’t be the first time Collin’s been intimidating; though it’s...not very hard to scare Rio

Collin: I mean I get that, but- Ergh, nevermind. We'll keep you in mind in case anything else turns up. Nodding, Holly gestures for Iris to return the group to the exit, which she does just as carefully as she the first trip. Iris: Well, what an interesting visit! She seemed to be in a pretty decent mood; I haven't seen her that engaged over a subject in quite a while! Collin: That was a decent mood? Iris: Oh yes; usually she won't even speak to visitors. Collin: Ah. I see... Iris: Hopefully you all found out what you needed to know? Collin: Well, it definitely answers a few things. I'm a little concerned at how easily everyone seems to be brushing us off, though... Iris: Brushing you off? ...Well, while it does sound concerning, Holly has a point; Xentrilis simply doesn't have the same resonance as any pre-existing race of kleivenn; so nothing would be capable of handling the power of so much as one of his godshards, assuming any exist to begin with... alienrabitt: ...But...what if something new existed? Something like a saa, but not one? Iris: ...New? Nine hasn't been able to make anything since the Others died...but..if something new that was similar to a saa came into existence, I suppose that, if it were truly that terrible, then perhaps it could under similar conditions to those your friend described... Collin: ... You guys aren't thinking what I'm thinking, right? Demo: ...First of all; I'm right here...secondly, you heard Holly; if I'd actually taken in some godshard or whatever, I would've reacted to all this already, right? Get real... Collin: I... guess? I don't know what to make of all this, honestly. Demo: There's nothing to make; y'all are paranoid, and there's a reason nobody else here wants to take you seriously.

weeeeeelllll....

Iris: I wouldn't call them paranoid; just...curious! And creative. All this hypothetical is interesting! A breath of fresh air, in my opinion. We could use more of that, honestly. Things get a bit dull around here... Collin: I suppose it would, although in a place like this, dull is better than some of your other options. Iris: ...Yeah, I guess so...regardless, I'm afraid you're out of leads... Fawkes: It seems you are right. So, what should we do now, guys? Should we just go back and leave? Guess so...can't say we didn't try, at least? As the group returns to the IT; XL stops at the console instead of going to her room. "Silky messaged me? She usually doesn't try to do that until way later in the evening..." Nydins: Oh, you two have been talking this whole time? Like pen pals? That's cute... XL: She insisted; Null's not exactly the best company. Tapping away at the keyboard, XL pulls up Silky's latest video message. The camera, rather than being in any sort of office, seems to be in what appears to be in a rather large, vacant room, save for Silky, whose helmet has been connected to the rest of her armor, and some sort of yellow avian with a rather large, red crystal dangling from a cord around his neck. Bouncing excitedly, the avian places a feathered arm around Silky's shoulders, bringing the camera close with his free hand. "Exalaar!! Exalaar!! Hahaha! We have a proposition; Exalaar!!  You've stolen something precious; Exalaar!! Now you have to return it; Exalaar!!!" Bursting into hysterical laughter for a moment, the avian settles down, grabbing the camera with both hands as he brings it mere inches from his face. "The R-10. Bring it home; Exalaar. Put an end to this cat and mouse; Exalaar. Your time is up; Exalaar." With that, the video ends.

Exalaar 8 sounds more like the name of a star or planet, right?

that’s XL’s real name

Collin: .... That wasn't good. Rio: H-he...you're not going to...? No...no, no, I can't be scared...it doesn't matter what he wants; he can't actually hurt me... Nydins: What?! We're not just handing you over to some bouncing lunatic!! Besides; if that helmet's functional, he's done more than just hurt Silky...!! Rio: But I can't let him hurt anybody else...Kluex isn't going to stop just because he thinks he's already won... Collin: So that weird pigeon's name is Kluex... but why does he want you? Weren't you just one of Greenfinger's helpers? Rio: ...No. I wasn't just reprogrammed; I was repurposed. I don't totally understand what it all is...I just know I have bits and pieces of technology from all across the sectors. Every time we went to a USCM base, they would try to see how "complete" I was. I remember that I was put through tests of some sort; but I don't remember what they were. Something to see how some sorts of functionalities were working; but every time they did that, I couldn't remember what I'd done... Collin: ... Alright then. I don't know what he wants you for, but he's not laying one stupid feather on you. On the other hand, we still need to rescue Silky. Can we find out where that video came from? XL: I can trace the message and have us there by morning. Collin: Then do it. We don't have any time to waste.

there was supposed to be a break here since everything after this is a new setting. theorettically I could’ve made a new log, but eh

As the IT comes to a stop, the group gathers in the console room. XL and Rio seemingly have not left since yesterday. XL: I've warned Almiet. I don't know if she'll find us or not; but either way, she's looking for trouble, and she's bound to find something. Other than that, whatever's out there is arguably as equally ready for us as we are for them... Collin: Fair enough. Do you know where we've landed? Rio: The coordinates traced back to an avian planet in the X sector...we peeked outside; there's some sort of...absolutely massive ship parked in the building. I'm surprised it even fit... Collin: Fair enough. So we're breaking into a ship, huh? Do we have a plan, or are we just kicking down the front door and letting ourselves in? XL: They called us; I'm sure they'll let us in... Collin: Well, fair enough. I want Rio sticking close though. I'm not letting anyone lay a hand on her. Rio: ...Um...alright...I'm not exactly sure how well that will pan out, but it's still comforting... With that, the group heads out of the IT towards the other ship. Interfacing with the door, Rio is capable of opening the ship herself. Entering the ship, the group finds massive, metallic, gray and white halls; most of which have long lines of colored light accenting them. Different halls seem to have different colored lines, as if the lines signify sections of the ship. From the main entrance, there are three choices; two varying shades of blue, and one white. alienrabitt: Well, which way should we go...? Rio: ...The white one. I don't want to go any other direction...honestly, I'd be happier to just...leave; but we can't... As the group starts towards the white-striped hallway; a low, mechanical voice interrupts them from overhead: "No, no; you don't go that way. Your friends? Yes. You? Absolutely not. Stand in the circle and wait. Failure to comply will result in punishment." Collin: And why the hell would we do that? ???: R-10 is cargo. Do not fear for her safety. She will go unharmed. She is arguably more valuable to our purposes in her current state than she was upon her construction. It's exciting, to say the least! Please don't stand in our way; we don't like stooping to the violent levels of organics.

I think I managed to convey that they all speak as a “collective,” but they all have separate views. they’re kinda like The Delightful Children from Down the Lane tbh. not really a hivemind, but unified in goals and mentality

Collin: Carg- You better tell me your name right now so I know who to disassemble once I get up there! ???: We are the Pentagonal. This is your third and final warning: separate from R-10; or the hylotl will be subjected to punishment. Collin clenches his fists and begins taking several deliberate breaths to try and steady himself. He glances over to Rio, unsure of what to do. Glancing up to the ceiling briefly before looking to XL, Rio starts backing away from the group. "They're right. They can't hurt me. And Nydins is right, too; Silky's already in trouble...I...I should..." Demo: ...Why? Why are they making us choose? They're? tough, right? If they really wanted you, they could've just taken you by force already and been done with it. ???: Absolutely not! With all of you surrounding R-10; it would be too likely that she would be damaged in the process. Even the smallest amount of damage to the proper places would kill her in an instant. We refuse to take such risks. But you refuse to leave your friends behind. You will comply. Collin: God /dammit/. Rio, I... Rio: ...It's okay. I'll be okay... With that, Rio enters the circle designated on the floor. There is a low rumble as the circle begins to sink below like an elevator, and the floor closes up seamlessly behind Rio after she lowers out of sight. There is no response from the Pentagonal; leaving the group in silence.

has a bit of a Star Wars feel, huh?

After a moment, Collin swings his fist into the closest wall, which crumples with the ease of a soda can. Collin's arm and gauntlet seem completely unaffected by the impact, and he shakes his hand out as he speaks. "They're going to pay for this..." XL: I fully intend for them to. The entire resistance will find us sooner or later. Almiet has a solid record when it comes to dealing with these people. One way or another, this war is coming to an end tonight. Collin: Good to hear. Let's get moving then. The group continues following the white-lined hallway. Though it too branches into three paths at the end; the center path is blatantly the correct way to go; leading to a large, empty, circular room, where Silky stands by a different avian than the one from the call. This new avian, baby blue in base color, has brilliant red and yellow markings dyed into his feathers. Aside from the long, red cape draped over his shoulders, he wears little more than a simple, navy loin cloth, and a large, golden, bird-shaped pendant; an equally large, red jewel latched into its talons. Kluex: ...So this is it. The human who killed Atlas, and the hopeless gaggle of misfits that assisted him. These are Inari's precious guard dogs? I can hardly believe it. Collin: You're not exactly an intimidating sight yourself. Did you wake up late and forget to put some clothes on before you ran out the door? Kluex: Says the human in an Aperture jumpsuit. At least I've changed clothes.

There is the sound of a door closing on the opposite end of the room as a woman calls out to Kluex: "Step aside; I can handle the rest from here." Beady eyes narrowing, Kluex glances behind himself. "You want to be left alone with these heathenous cowards?" The woman, who is likely in her early to mid 20s, steps into view. Dressed in mostly purple and black; the lower half of her face is obscured by a bandana; while the right side is mostly obscured by her black hair, which is significantly longer in the front than the back. Crossing her gloved arms, the woman clacks her boot on the floor impatiently. "This isn't about opinions; it's about impressions; Kluex. And if you don't get moving, you'll be leaving quite the impression in the floor."

I wasn’t kidding; she really does look kinda like Sombra

Straining to hold in his contempt, Kluex breathes out a quiet, yet respectful "Understood" before taking his leave. Collin: It looks like we're meeting all sorts of new people today, huh? I assume you already know who we are, though. ???: So we are! I've been looking forward to meeting you in person as well. The other human...the legend...the foil...it's impressive! You come onto the scene out of nowhere, and take out in an instant two figureheads that the resistance couldn't even find over the span of the entire war on their own! How could I not want to bring you here? But I'm being rude; you aren't from around here, so you aren't familiar with our names. I'm Asra Nox. XL: You?! You're the Asra Nox? But you're just-- Asra: Human? Yeah; I get that a lot. Collin: Uh, someone wanna fill in the people who aren't from this universe? Asra: Everyone knew there was a fifth party involved in this little arms race between races; but nobody could put any faces or names to them. Some suspected I was a novakid; or perhaps a penguin; but no...I'm very much human. Not a cyborg; no magical prowess; simply...organic. Atlas and Greenfinger were curious about me, to say the least. The Pentagonal saw potential in allying with me, and personally sought me out, offering to meet my demands in exchange for the opportunity to observe me in the process. Kluex was the only member that seemed hesitant to have me on board; he doesn't see my potential like the others. He seems convinced that I have...bigger plans... Collin: Then what are your plans? You seem to be playing with some some very big names here, after all. I would assume whatever you want would have to be pretty big to require doing that, right? Leaning up against Silky, Asra snaps her fingers. "You would be correct in that assumption." The entire back wall lights up as a giant screen; five, humanoid silhouettes are seen seated at a table; two of which are already on the edges of their seats. After a few more moments, a large rig of cords and wires lowers from the ceiling in front of the wall, Rio strung from them like a puppet, her accents and the eyes in her visor now a dull gray color. Collin: RIO! What did you bastards do to her?

The figure on the furthest right bounces eagerly in their seat. "This is it!! This is it!! This is the R-10!! It can do anything! It can interact with anything!!" They pause, clapping excitedly. "What should we shut down first?!" Asra: ...Any suggestions? I'm feeling pretty generous. XL: Let her go!! Let them both go!! Put an end to this madness!! Asra: I am putting an end to it. You said it yourself, right? 'This war is coming to an end, one way or another?'

see originally Asra was gonna have some long-winded conversation with Collin about his opinions on the aliens and such he’d befriended, only to tell him that all of them were bad and selfish and that they were likely lying to him to gain his trust just so they could use him; this would’ve spiraled into the Bad Route where Asra would’ve “offered” to “help” Collin see the “truth” about things like them, but that’s one of two alternates that never happened

Collin: What, do you really think turning Rio into some kind of hacking machine is going to end the war? The other interested Pentagonal chimes in: "Dial her up, Asra. Before one of us dies of suspense." Turning to face Rio, Asra responds: "Get me Almiet." The screen on the back wall divides in half within seconds as Almiet answers on a different ship. Almiet: "Asra Nox! It's been too long." Asra: We haven't met face to face before... Almiet: "Oh, don't worry; I'll fix that real soon." Asra: I'm afraid not. This game is over. Almiet: "Guess again." The view of the room she's in widens to reveal a significantly smaller control room than that of the S.S. Koi. "I'm alone. And I'm coming for you myself." Asra: You always think you're one step ahead of everyone; don't you? Almiet: "No; I never think. It takes too long. I already know what I need to do; and I'm doing it." Asra: Then you and I might not be so far behind each other. Snapping a second time seems to cause every ounce of lighting save for the emergencies in Almiet's ship to cut off. Squinting briefly, Almiet pulls up her hood. Almiet: "Everything's off. Even the air. Even the engine. You're trying to strand me." Asra: I don't try; I get results. Almiet: "Then I'd say you and I are actually on the exact same page." Reaching down to grab her spear, Almiet visibly braces herself for impact. As if on cue, her video cuts out in the very instant the larger ship rocks slightly. XL: ...You're right. The war will end. But it's our win. Not even giving Asra the decency of hearing her violin; Almiet comes barreling down the hallway, blade at the ready as she skids to a halt. "So you finished the rig? Big deal! This is Rio we're talking about!! She's one of us; so you can't possibly hope to keep her down!!" Asra: ...Now who said I wanted anyone out of the picture? Tell me, are you familiar with Erchius? XL: ...This...this ship isn't the Pentagonal...it's a cage!! Stepping forth into the small crowd, Asra points to Collin and Tori before making a downward gesture. Within an instant; the pair is beamed to a different part of the ship with Asra. Collin: Shit! Where did you just take us? Asra: ...The two of you. I was told there was only one person responsible for everything; but when the Pentagonal "interrogated" your friend, she knew about both of you. It was like watching a second timeline; entirety inexplicable, and yet...the only thing that made sense. We had such little time to prepare; I couldn't find a proper way to put an end to something like him...but I did find something to slow you down. Asra makes an upward gesture this time, and Tori is restrained against a large sheet of metal within moments. Collapsing down into a chair, the metal's new form no longer hides the massive tank of sickly blue liquid behind it. Flickering between his lighted form briefly, Tori groans as he struggles to free himself to no avail, giving up uncomfortably quickly. Collin points his gauntlet straight at Asra. "I don't know what the hell that is, but you let him go right now or I guarantee that you are not leaving this room." Asra: ...You don't want to do that. I'm the only one that could release your glitch friend without destroying her personality. Besides; she's going to be here in a moment. Would you really want her to see you do something like that? Collin: What? Why are you bringing her here? Asra: Because I need her to open the door for me. Erchius is obedient; but it can get...eager. Collin: What are you talking about? Who the hell is Erchius?

well, more of a what. she’s actually talking about the Erchius Horror, which is from the Erchius Mining Facility (the codex entries are super fucked)

As Rio lowers down into the room, many of the cords and wires disconnect, save for one large, central one. Making eye contact with both Collin and Tori briefly, Rio turns her attention to Asra, speaking in a flat tone: "It's ready." Asra: ...Can I ask you something personal? Would you do this? Would you want to? Rio stares at her for quite some time before giving a response: "...No." Asra: ...Then I won't push this envelope further. Get the door; we need to work quickly. alienrabitt: ...I don't know...what you're doing...but don't...don't make her do it to him.... Asra: Oh no, she won't be involved. It's only me and him. I don't want to kill either of you. Collin: Do what, dammit? You still haven't answered to anything I've said! Asra: ...You'll find out firsthand. I won't need to answer. Stepping across the room, Asra heads for a door that does not open until she is immediately in front of it. "This way." Collin: And just leave Tori hooked up to this...thing? Asra: ...Let me ask you something; if I were to step down; let this entire war slide; let your friends go; would you even bother hearing me out? Collin: ... I'd be extremely confused as to what sort of game you're playing here, but... I can listen. Asra stands in the doorway for what feels like hours in silence before stepping back into the room. "...At a loss for how to handle it; the  delegates and diplomats of each race met to develop a plan to stop the beast responsible for destroying an entire planet that was still roaming free among the sectors. The ceature that ate the planet Earth...was sealed away in a meteor. A giant meteor. This was the only solution anyone could come up with that would bring no harm to other parties..." Asra: But a meteor of that size doesn't form naturally. And a creature that size doesn't just slide into a meteor, either. It would have to be created by other means...by magic. An art form long thought to be gone; there were barely any left who practiced such things; let alone those with power strong enough to create and maintain something of that size. They burned through a multitude of magic users to create the meteor, my mother included. This stopped the creature for a time; but the meteor was frail on it's own, and soon, it began to crack like an egg... Asra: At a loss for what to do, these delegates accepted that the creature would break free, slowly consuming the sectors one planet at a time. But humanity is unique in comparison to all these...things. We deal with everything in extremes; right down to the very emotions we express. My father, the last magic user; The Last Mage; stepped forward when no others could. With the futures of multiple civilizations on the line; he didn't even stop to question whether his life was a fair price to pay. Reinforcing the meteor with every ounce of his magical power; my father lost his life to the creature as well; but saved every being among the sectors. Asra: ...Twenty years later; that very meteor is coming back. Contained to a point, but alive, that creature is seeking out freedom; seeking out more...

ah yes, The Ruin...beware; starbound spoilers

Collin: ... And you want us to stop it, am I right? Asra: ...You could. Or, we could do what I've been doing, and keep running. Collin: Run? What good is that going to do for anyone? Asra: It would bring an end. To the war. To the boundaries of the sectors. To every single soul that...demanded my parents die for them...out of their own ignorance and cowardice... Collin: You expect me to just stand aside an let an entire universe's worth of life be wiped out by some planet-sized blender? You realize you'd be throwing away what your parents died for in doing that, right? Asra: They shouldn't have died for them to begin with!! They knew what the consequences would be shouldering that kind of thing on their own; they should've known better than to just...give up! There had to be a better way to handle it; out of all the technology available; none of it could stop something like that? I can't believe that! Collin: I... don't have the answer to that. I don't know enough about this universe's technology, and I certainly can't see into theoretical futures. Regardless of whether or not it was the best decision, it was a decision that they made. I'm certain that they wouldn't have made such a grand sacrifice if they truly thought that there was another option at the time. Asra: ...It doesn't matter which one of us is right. That thing is still coming...if none of us can stop it for good; everybody trying to fight this war, good or bad, is going to die. alienrabitt: ...Why...? Asra: Because of the giant--!! alienrabitt: ...Why did you call it here...? Asra: Wh...what? alienrabitt: ...You lied...Erchius...it isn't here...you used it...used Rio...to bring the meteor here... Collin: What? How did Rio bring a sealed up planet destroyer here? alienrabitt: ...It's a chain of fish. Asra rigged Erchius...Rio manipulated Erchius...Erchius manipulated the thing...it's dragging the meteor here... Collin: Well, so much for the "run" plan, huh? alienrabitt: ...Don't be ridiculous. We parked the IT...in front of her front door... Asra: ...Where are you even drawing these conclusions from? alienrabitt: I can see it...I can see...everything you're trying. The coffin; the fragment; our friends. You steal the IT...you take it to our Earth...between the two of us; you get what you want; but you're not happy...we're not people like that...you know that...you regret it...what you did to him...so don't. Don't run...you can make this right... Backing away in discomfort, Asra finally starts looking nervous. "I...I..."

this one’s an interesting one; 2ri’s talking about the Bad End Asra would’ve caused. I actually debated trying to make Asra a separate person for a bit, but ultimately I decided against it. she still wound up acting different from this point, though, which is what I wanted

alienrabitt: ...Go upstairs. End this. You have to...someone has to...or it'll kill us...all of us... Collin: For what it's worth, I can lend a hand. There's a bit more to me than you might think at a glance. Asra: ...If you can, then feel free to try. I wasn't kidding; I don't even have a fraction of my parents' power. Collin: Let me do the heavy lifting then, I can take it. Just let me know what needs to be done. One last time, Asra gestures up, bringing only her and Collin to the upper levels of the ship. Pulling down the bandanna covering her face, Asra heads for the area where Almiet crashed in. "...He was right. All your friends are stuck back on your ship. I wasn't planning on killing any of you." Collin follows behind her. Collin: Could've fooled me. So, what's our objective? Seal this thing away, or try to end it here and now? Asra: ...It's already sealed; just not enough...dad did what he could; but...he wasn't perfect. No normal human could totally seal this thing alone... Collin: Well, here's a little tip for you... His eyes flash purple for a split-second. "I am not your average human."

I kinda knew who we were gonna see next based on that tbh. I was pretty hype

Asra: ...Then we might stand a chance after all. Stepping out onto the upper half of the small ship Almiet undoubtedly hijacked from somebody else, Asra looks up to the sky, already beginning to darken as some large, misshapen "ball" begins to block out the sun. Collin: I'm gonna make a quick guess and say that's our target. Am I right? Asra: Seems like it. Think you'll be able to handle that? Collin: Shouldn't be too hard. I had to actually wrestle the last giant monster I had to deal with; this one can't even fight back! You guys just enjoy the show, we've got an idea. Asra: ...'We'? Collin climbs out of the hole Almiet's ship made and drops all the way down to ground level. His leg's air shard sends out a cushion of air which scatters the grass and cushions his landing, and he strides out a ways from the ship until he's surrounded by a decent area of land. He takes a deep breath, stretching out his arms to the side, and speaks briefly to himself. Collin: Alright... I think I get the plan, but I'm going to need some help with getting enough power for this. I knew I should've just topped off from Firefly's tanks before we left. Maybe we can- Right, nevermind, later. Alright, let's do this thing! Collin's eyes turn purple again, and he is consumed by a flash of purple light. When it fades, a young man has taken his place. His torso is completely obscured by a purple cloak, its surface shifting and swirling like oil floating over water. He wears a simple pair of circle framed glasses, although one lens is covered by a small eyepiece cast in brass. He extends his arms out to the side, opening his robe, and the inner surface of the cloak appears to be a galaxy spotted by countless stars. His body is covered by various utility belts lined with pouches and containers of every size, and at his hip is a golden wand wrapped in weathered paper and capped with bone at either end, which quickly snaps to his left hand. He looks up at the object obscuring the sun, and smiles slightly. ?: They were so close... the poor things. Rest easy, your work shall not be in vain. I have sealed things far more powerful than you, monster. Take heart, for your prison will be one of the finest this universe will ever know. He begins moving his wand around in slow, fluid movements, casually turning his body in a circle as he does so. Certain areas of the ground begin to glow with runic markings, and as he finishes his circle, the runes are ripped up out of the ground, and the six mounds of earth instantly take the shape of diamonds, one point at each tip and four points ringing the middle in a square. The man's motions change to sharp, directional swings, and the diamonds begin to etch themselves with glowing runes, each diamond possessing a different color. He then snaps his wand straight up, and the diamonds hurtle sharply into the air, coming to stop instantly in a ring high above his head. He spins in a circle and then points his wand directly at the ball in the sky, and the diamonds skyrocket through the atmosphere up to the object, each one taking a position around the ball to form a three-dimensional cross with the ball at its center. The man slashes the wand downward, and the diamonds slam into the surface of the ball, spinning rapidly as they bore into the surface, quickly digging themselves down to their midpoints before stopping. Finally, the man points his wand directly at the object, and a burst of white light erupts from the wand's tip, hitting one of the diamonds' points and arching out to all of the others. There is a blinding flash, and as the light dims, the ball's surface is now converted into an incredibly complex and intricate series of interlocking circles and runes, with the diamonds jutting out from its surface. The man casually stows away his wand and retracts his arm back into the robe, smiling in a satisfied way, and Collin returns in another flash of purple light, his markings completely gone save for his left hand.

Squinting at Collin, Asra shakes her head. "Maybe not so human; yeah..." Collin looks up at the newly formed prison in the sky, and then flops backwards gracelessly onto his back, limbs spread out haphazardly on the grass. He calls out from below to whoever can hear him. "I'm okay! Just... a little winded..." Glancing from the ball to Collin, Asra carefully attempts to get closer to the ground. "You...you? You did it; I'm not sure how; but you did it! I'm impressed. Confused; but impressed." Collin: It was... a group effort. Thank Precantaro, he... he did most of the headwork making that thing. He says it was remarkable work, but they didn't have the...manpower to finish out the details. He just polished up the design a bit, added his own touch... Nothing's breaking out of that thing... Asra: You shapeshifted; or something like it. I've never seen anything like that. It was phenomenal; but unfortunately Kluex's empire might've been the only other witnesses. There shouldn't be any backlash, though; the sun's almost equally sacred to them, so if anything they'd be grateful. Though I don't think any of them would know what that thing is from here... Collin: Well, I'll take what breaks I can get. Just as long as they don't want me to move that thing too... I'm sure you guys can handle that. Collin rolls over and pushes himself onto his feet, pausing to dust himself off. "Now then, get Rio out of that godforsaken machine, give us Silky back, and let us out of here." Asra: ...Right. Turning back to the ship, Asra makes several vague gestures before stepping back through the hole and interacting with a panel on the nearby wall. Several moments later, the IT is dragged through the ship like a prize in a claw machine, carefully placed beside Asra in the hallway. "Rio should be up with your other friend in a bit."

that image is so silly to me, omg...

Collin: And Tori? Did you already get him out of that freaky chair thing? Asra: Who did you think Rio was bringing? Inari's in the box with the rest of your friends. Collin: It's "Silky". Asra: ...Yeah, Silkwaltzer Inari; also known as Mizuchi's Jewel. I remember seeing her on TV as a kid; she was beautiful...but Atlas ruined that, too. Fortunately, he didn't plan on the person responsible for that armor to see it again. It'll take some time, but I'm sure I could find a way to force the armor to unbind from her without killing her. Also, the helmet doesn't function. She thought I didn't notice; but I don't think she knows I made the whole set.

yyyep, there’s Silky’s reveal too!

Collin: You what? Asra: I made that armor myself. I wasn't magical like my parents, but I'm smart. Damn smart. If I made it; I can break it. I can set her free; fix the mistake Atlas made. If I'd known he was gonna use it on her, I would've made it way more dysfunctional... Collin: Dear God, when? This would be huge for her! Asra: Probably about 5 years ago. I'm sure I still have the blueprints; I could look it over for a while; probably bust her out in a week or two... Collin: Let me go get her, she needs to hear about this. Asra: Be my guest. Collin quickly steps inside the IT. The remainder of the crew, including Almiet and Silky, are in the console room. Silky has long since ditched her helmet, and her and XL have been speaking with Almiet this whole time. Almiet: ...Oh; it's the guy! The Collin one, right? It's so hard to tell humans apart... Collin: I mean, I'm the only one with a prosthetic leg like this... I hope? Almiet: That's...fair. Well, watcha got? Collin: That Asra person made Silky's armor. She thinks she can break Silky out of that thing. XL: ...The leader of the opposing factions of the war wants to help the ex-girlfriend of her late co-conspirator? Why? She knows the helmet didn't work, right? Collin: Actually yeah, she knew the helmet was busted the whole time. Silky: ...She didn't bust me in front of the Pentagonal... Almiet: She also didn't stop you from bringing us all back here! I'd say she figured you'd help us out alive no matter what. Y'know, despite everything, she really is still a good kid.

interesting thing Almiet’s been saying that nobody pointed out; Almiet knew Asra before all of this

XL: Why are we trusting the war criminal suddenly? Collin: Aren't you guys also technically criminals? Almiet: Mostly me. But we did it for good! Asra; not so much... Collin: I can't argue there, but I think she's trying to redeem herself, to some degree. If you want to chase this, be my guest, but I can't make you trust her. Almiet: And if you still don't trust her; bring Rio. Wherever she is... Collin: Asra said she and Tori were on the way here. I imagine they'd be here soon. Maybe I should wait outside, though... Almiet: I'm sure we're not the only ones she needs to make up to; so I'd have to agree. Collin: You're welcome to come with if you want to question her yourselves, but I'm heading out. Collin turns and heads for the IT door. Asra is standing out in the hallway with Rio and Tori. Tori, however, is mostly draped over Rio instead of really standing on his own. Asra: Sorry about the speedwell; I tried to seriously water it down with other things, but I wasn't sure what would actually work or not. Fortunately, you didn't overdose or slip into a coma... alienrabitt: Nah, don't feel too bad...it wasn't as bad as it looked. Honestly, the worst part was how out of whack it was making me. I couldn't stop, well, seeing things. It was hard to pick out what was going to happen; what was possible; and what was actually happening, honestly. Collin: Okay I'll try one last time: Does anyone wanna tell me what the hell that chair thing was? Asra: The chair was hooked up to a tank full of some incredibly low-grade speedwell poison. The flower's totally harmless to literally anything and everything else; but it's a different story for whatever your friend is. It was hard to tell myth from fact around here, though, since there's barely been any recorded cases of anything like him here, so I just went under the assumption that giving him a solid dose would absolutely kill him and tried to use as little as possible. Realistically most of that was a bunch of other stuff I had for similar purposes.

speedwell poison is an even older reference to my like, very first persona

it was inspired by Taggerung, ‘cause Dayna had a marking shaped like a speedwell flower

Collin: ... Suddenly I'm right back up on the fence about you. Asra: Like I said, it was only enough to slow him down. I didn't want him breaking out and stopping me before I'd...well, nevermind. alienrabitt: Oh, so you actually were planning on doing that? Fuck you. Asra: But I didn't! I'm glad I didn't; he's alright. Collin: ... Do I want to know? Rio: I'm guessing this is about the Erchius shard. Th-the fact that you even had that...I don't even want to think about what that would actually? do to a person... Asra: Less than you'd think, but more than you'd like. Collin: I really don't like what this conversation is implying... Asra: Listen, Erchius is entirely safe in a controlled environment; you just need to be very careful about it. If it gets too eager or something, it'll start messing with whatever it wants; but otherwise, it's very precise. Probably would've taken a few tries, but-- ah, gosh, old habits; I just can't help it, though; everybody told me Erchius was too self-centered to be used practically; but I did it. Honestly; it's like these people never tried to train anything before... Rio: Y-you used that on multiple people?! Asra: Only for Kluex's bird buddies; I never really got to-- ahhh, you almost got me again! You rascal. Collin pinches the bridge of his nose. "God, I don't know how much more of this I can take..." Asra: Well, if it makes you feel any better, the personality stays in tact. Erchius doesn't like that kind of thing. alienrabitt: I swear to the gods, if I could actually move... Asra: Hey, hey, I backed down...nobody got hurt... Collin: I'm really beginning to question your trustworthiness here, Asra. Asra: Listen, I would never hurt another human. I just didn't know if you'd try to fight your way out of the situation before you found out all your friends were actually safe. Had to find a way to stop you somehow.... Rio: You could've just...left me alone? Asra: But then Almiet wouldn't have shown up. Everything had a reason; don't worry... Collin: I... guess? I don't know, I'm just worn out at this point. Precantaro took a lot out of me back there... Rio: Maybe you should have seafood instead...

no, no, he’s not italian food...

alienrabitt: I...think he's talking about-- nevermind. We should go. Asra: Suit yourselves. I'll start looking over the armor, then. See you later! Collin: Right, I... guess we'll check back in later? He shrugs, and then pulls open the door of the IT for Rio and Tori. Slightly nervous still, Rio half-heartedly waves goodbye to Asra as she helps Tori back onto the IT Collin steps in after them and closes the door.

whew, alright; that one was a bit longer. next one should be way less “active,” whatever it is.

[topsolarpanels]

Where global warming gets real: inside Nasa’s mission to the north pole

The long read: For 10 years, Nasa has been flying over the ice caps to chart their retreat. This data is an invaluable record of climate change. But does anyone care?

From the window of a Nasa aircraft flying over the Arctic, seeming down on the ice sheet that covers most of Greenland, its easy to assure why it is so hard to describe climate change. The scale of polar ice, so dramatic and so clear from a plane flying at 450 metres( 1,500 ft) high enough to appreciate the scope of the ice and low enough to sense its mass is nearly impossible to fathom when you arent sitting at that particular vantage point.

But its different when you are there, cruising over the ice for hours, with Nasas monitors all over the cabin streaming data output, documenting in real day dramatising, in a sense the depth of the ice beneath. You get it, because you can see it all there in front of you, in three dimensions.

Imagine a thousand centuries of heavy snowfall, piled up and compacted into stone-like ice atop the bedrock of Greenland, an Arctic island almost a quarter the size of the US. Imagine all of modern human history, from the Neolithic revolution 12,000 years ago when humans moved from hunting and gathering to agriculture, and from there, eventually, to urban societies until today. All of the snow that fell on the Arctic during that entire history is collected up in just the top layers of the ice sheet.

Imagine the dimensions of that ice: 1.71 m sq km( 656,000 sq miles ), three times the size of Texas. At its belly from the top layer, yesterdays snowfall, to the bottom layer, which is made of snow that fell out of the sky 115,000 -1 30,000 years ago it reaches 3,200 metres( 10,500 ft) thick, virtually four times taller than the worlds highest skyscraper.

Imagine the weight of this thing: at the centre of Greenland, the ice is so heavy that it warps the land itself, pushing bedrock 359 metres( 1,180 ft) below sea level. Under its own immense weight, the ice comes alive, folding and rolling in solid river, in glaciers that slowly push outward. This is a head-spinningly dynamic system that we still dont fully understand and that we really ought to learn far more about, and rapidly. In theory, if this massive thing were fully drained, and melted into the sea, the water contained in it would stimulate the worlds oceans rise by 7 metres( 23 ft ).

When you fly over entire mountain ranges whose tips-off scarcely peek out from under the ice and these are just the visible ones its possible to imagine what would happen if even a fraction of this sum of pent-up freshwater were unleashed. You can plainly see how this thing would inundate the coasts of the world, from Brooklyn to Bangladesh.

The crew of Nasas Operation IceBridge have seen this ice from every imaginable slant. IceBridge is an aerial survey of the polar regions that has been underway for nearly a decade the most ambitious of its kind to date. It has yielded a growing dataset that helps researchers document, among other things, how much, and at what rate, ice is vanishing from the poles, contributing to global sea-level rises, and to a variety of other phenomena related to climate change.

Alternating seasonally between the north and south poles, Operation Icebridge mounts months-long campaigns in which it operates eight- to 12 -hour daily flights, as often as weather permits. This past spring season, when I joined them in the Arctic, they launched 40 flights, but had 63 detailed flight plans prepared. Operation IceBridge seeks to create a continuous data record of the constantly changing ice by bridging hence the name data retrieved from a Nasa satellite that ended its service in 2009, called ICESat, and its successor, ICESat-2, which is due to launching next year. The Nasa dataset, which offers a broad overview of the state of polar ice, is publicly available to any researcher anywhere in the world.

In April, I travelled to Kangerlussuaq, in south-west Greenland, and joined the IceBridge field crew a group of about 30 laser, radar, digital mapping, IT and GPS engineers, glaciologists, pilots and mechanics. What I saw there were specialists who have, over the course of virtually 10 years on this mission, mastered the art and science of polar data hunting while, at the same period, watching as the very concept of data, of fact-based discourse, has disintegrated in their culture at home.

On each flight, I witnessed a remarkable tableau. Even as Arctic glaciers were losing mass right below the speeding aircraft, and even as raw data gleaned directly from those glaciers was pouring in on their monitors, the Nasa engineers sat next to their fact-recording instruments, sighing and wondering aloud if Americans had lost the eyes to watch what they were ensure, to see the facts. What they told me uncovered something about what it means to be a US federally funded climate researcher in 2017 and what they didnt, or couldnt, tell me revealed even more.

On my first morning in Greenland, I dropped in on a weather meeting with John Sonntag, mission scientist and de facto field captain for Nasas Operation IceBridge. I stood inside the cosy climate office at Kangerlussuaq airport, surrounded by old Danish-language topographical maps of Greenland, as Sonntag to present to me that the ice sheet, because of its shape, can make unique weather patterns( the ice isnt flat, its curved, he said, making a little knoll shape with his hands ).

The fate of the polar ice has occupied the past decades of their own lives( Im away from home so much its likely why Im not married ). But at pre-flight climate meetings, polar ice is mostly of fear to him for the quirky route it might affect that days weather. The figure in Sonntags mind this morning isnt metres of sea rise, but dollars in flight period. The estimated price tag for a flight on Operation IceBridge is about $100,000; a single hour of flight time is said to cost $10 -1 5,000. If Sonntag misreads the climate and the plane has to turn back, he loses flight period, a lot of taxpayers fund, and precious data.

I would come to view Sonntag as something of a Zen sage of atmospheric conditions. He checks the weather the moment he wakes in the morning, before he eats or even uses the bathroom. He told me that it wasnt simply about knowing what the weather is. With weather, there is no is. Whats needed is the ability to grasp constant dynamic change.

What Im doing, he told, is correcting my current reading against my previous one which he had constructed the last possible moment the night before, just before falling asleep. Basically, Im calibrating. The machine that he is calibrating, of course, is himself. This, as I would learn, was a pretty good summary of Sonntags modus operandi as a leader: constantly and carefully adjusting his readings in order to better navigate his expeditions changing conditions.

Nevertheless, despite the metaphorical implications of his weather-watching, Sonntag was ever focused on the literal. At the climate session, I asked him about his concern over some low cloud cover that was developing a situation that could result in scrubbing the flight. Was his concern for the functionality of the aircrafts science equipment, its ice-penetrating radars, its lasers and cameras?

John Sonntag on board Nasas Operation IceBridge research aircraft at Thule airbase, Greenland. Photograph: Mario Tama/ Getty Images

On that day, as it turned out, Sonntag was more worried about pilot visibility. You know, so we dont fly into a mountain, he explained, without taking his eyes off the blobs dancing across the monitors. That kind of thing.

A few weeks before I met Sonntag, a reporter had asked him: What makes this real to you? The topic had startled him, and he was evidently still thinking about it. I candidly didnt know what to say, he told me.

Sonntag cuts a trim, understated figure in his olive green Nasa flight suit, fleece coat and baseball cap, and his enthusiasms and mellowed ironies tend to soften his slow-burn, man-on-a-literal-mission intensity. I could imagine how a reporter might miss the underlying zeal; but get to know Sonntag and youll learn why, even three weeks later, that topic was still rattling around his head.

Im still kind of at a loss, to be honest, he told me. What makes it real ? I entail, wow, where do I start?

It is indeed a strange question to ask someone who was once on a high-altitude flight when temperatures fell so low that the planes gas turned solid, nearly sending it straight down into Antarctica, immediately on to the ice, in the middle of the darkest of nights. Each of the 63 flight plans for this season in the Arctic was the result of months of meticulous planning. A squad of polar scientists from across the US sets the research priorities, in co-operation with flight crews, who make sure the routes are feasible; the mission is managed from Nasas Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland.

Sonntag is there at all phases, including at the construction and installing of the scientific tools, and he is the person in the fields responsible for executing the mission. He is supposed to have a plan for every contingency: if the plane goes down on the ice, hes get plans for that, too. He is responsible for inducing assured that his crew have adequately backed up and stored many terabytes of data, and that their own creature comforts are taken care of. On days off, he cooks gumbo for them.

The reporter likely had something else in intellect. The melting of ice, the rising waters, and all the boring-seeming charts that document the connections between the two what stimulates that real? To Sonntag and his crew, it is as real as the data that they have personally helped fish out of the ice.

Sea levels, which were more or less constant for the past 2,000 years, have climbed at a rate of approximately 1.7 mm a year in the past century; in the past 25 years, that rate has doubled to 3.4 mm a year, already enough to create adverse effects in coastal regions. A conservative estimation holds that waters will rise roughly 0.9 metres( 3ft) by the year 2100, which will place hundreds of millions of people in jeopardy.

Given the scale of sea- and ice-related questions, the vantage point that is needed is from the air and from space, and is best served through large, continuous, state-supported investments: hence Nasa. There is a lot we dont know and a lot that the ice itself, which is a frozen repository of past climate changes, can tell us. But we need the eyes to see it.

First constructed during the cold warto way Russian submarines, the P-3 Orion aircraft, a four-engine turboprop, is designed for long, low-flying surveillance missions. IceBridges P-3, based at Wallops Flight Facility in Virginia, is armed with a suite of instruments mounted under the plane and operated by engineers sitting at stations in the cabin. A laser altimetry system which bounces laser beams from the bottom of the aircraft to the top of the ice and back determines the height and topography of the uppermost layer of ice; a digital mapping system takes high-resolution photos of the ice, helping us ensure the patterns in which it is changing shape; and a radar system sends electromagnetic pulses through the ice, thousands of feet and a hundred thousand years to the land beneath.

This data shows us where the ice is growing and where it is shrinking, and helps researchers ascertain its current mass. The IceBridge data has furthermore helped create a 3D map of an ice-locked land that no human eyes have ever seen: the territory of Greenland, its mountains, valleys, plains and canyons, and also a clear position of the layers of ice that have grown above it. Nasa repeats its IceBridge flights annually, to chart how the ice changes from year to year, and, by comparison with earlier satellite data, from decade to decade. For the integrity of the data, it is best to repeat the flights over exactly the same terrain. The track of each IceBridge flight must adhere to a line so narrow that they had to invent a new flight navigation system, which Sonntag cannot help but describe with boyish hilarity( We basically trick the plane into thinking its landing !).

In trying to grasp how the ice runs, its necessary to know the shape of the underlying terrain: in places where the land slopes up, for example, we know that ice will flow slower. IceBridge data helped discover and chart a canyon in northern Greenland the size of the Grand Canyon. In addition to being a wondrous discovery in its own right, this was useful in understanding where, and how, the ice is moving. One effect of this giant valley system can be seen at the coast, where sea water can seep into cavities, potentially melting lower layers of ice. Other aerial data has shown how glacier fronts, which served as corks holding back the ice flowing behind them, have lessened and unleashed the flow, causing more ice to flush into the sea at increasingly rapid paces.

Fantastic 3D maps of the ice sheet created with IceBridge data have also helped researchers locate rare, invaluable Eemian ice, from more than 100,000 years ago. This was an era when the Earth was warm similar to today and in which the seas were many feet higher, which resembles the world to which we are headed. By drilling deep into the ice, glaciologists can excavate ice cores containing tinges of materials such as volcanic ash, or frozen bubbles that preserve precious pockets of ancient air that hold chemical samples of long-departed climates. Because of IceBridge data, researchers know where to look for these data-rich ice layers.

These are among the reasons that John Sonntags head hurts, and why he doesnt know where to begin or what to think when people ask him what constructs this real for him. Behind even well-meaning questions is a culture of ignorance, or self-interested indifference, that has constructed it easy for a Republican-led, corporation-owned US government to renege on the Paris climate agreement, to gut the Environmental Protection Agency, and to slash billions of dollars of climate change-related monies from the federal budget this year. When the White House lately proposed cuts to Nasas climate-change research divisions, the media has enabled them along by interring the story under speciously positive headlines: Trumps Nasa budget supports deep space travel, crowed CBS News. The worlds coasts are facing catastrophic sea rise, but at the least Americans can look forward to watching their countrymen grill hot dog on Mars.

The US constructed Kangerlussuaqs airfield in the early 1940 s, and they still preserve a small airbase there. In 1951, America constructed a giant fortress on the ice, Thule Air Base, in north-west Greenland strategically equidistant from Russia and the US where it secretly maintained armed atomic weapon. In one of naval historys more ambitious armadas, the Americans cut through the ice, made a port, and effected a conquest second in scope merely to the D-day invasion. And all they had to do was uproot an Inuit settlement.

The USs history in Greenland devotes the lie to the notion that ice research is inherently peaceful, much less apolitical. Glaciology advanced as a field partly through the work of US scientists serving the needs of their countrys rapidly growing nuclear war machine in the 1960 s, helping to build Camp Century, a fabled city under ice in northern Greenland and designing Project Iceworm, a top-secret system of under-ice passageways nearby, which was intended as a launch site for concealed nuclear missiles. In 1968, at the high levels of the war in Vietnam, a nuclear-armed B-5 2 crashed near Thule. A flame, started when a crewman left a pillow over a heating ventilate, resulted in four atomic weapons hydrogen bombs plunging into the ice, and releasing plutonium into the environment.

When our flight landed in Kangerlussuaq, we passed rapidly through passport control, but our bags were nowhere find work. For 40 minutes we could see the one and only commercial aircraft at this airfields one and only gate simply sitting on the tarmac, with our purses still in it. This wasnt a serious problem Kangerlussuaqs one hotel was just up a short flight of steps from the gate but it did seem odd that the purses hadnt come through customs. Another passenger, sensing my confusion, approached me.

Yankee? he asked.

Yankee, I replied.

Customs, “the mens” told me, was actually only one guy, who had a tendency to mysteriously disappear.

By the route, he added conspiratorially. You know customs here has a special arrangement with the Americans. The customs guy, the stranger told me, turns a blind eye to liquor headed to the US Air Force bar on the other side of the airfield.

Kangerlussuaq( population 500 ), or as the Yanks prefer to call it, Kanger, still feels like a frontier station. Most locals run either at the airport or at the hotel. Next to the airfields main hangar, local people house the huskies that pull their sledges. The roads of Kangerlussuaq can be dicey; there are no sidewalks. Once you leave the tiny settlement, there arent roads at all; and if you go north or east, of course, theres only ice. Decommissioned US air force Jato bottles plane boosters that, to the untrained eye, resemble small warheads are ubiquitous around Kangerlussuaq, usually as receptacles for discarded cigarette butt. In the hotel cafeteria you can see American and European glaciologists, greeting each other with astound and hugs, because the last period they met was a year or two ago, when they ran into each other at the other pole.

Kangerlussuaq in Greenland. Photograph: Arterra/ UIG/ Getty

When I ultimately got my bag, I constructed my route down to the 664 barracks, where the crew was bide. But before I fulfilled the crew, I fulfilled the data itself. In a small, slouchy barracks bedroom, near the front doorway, I encountered two Nasa servers. IT engineers could, and often would, sit on the bed as they worked.

The window was cracked open, to cool the room and soothe the crackling servers, whose constant low hum, like a shamans chant, was accompanied by the pleasant fragrance of gently baking wires one of the more visceral stages of the daily ritual of storing, transferring, copying and processing data captured on the most recent flight. After years of listening to Americans debate the existence of data demonstrating climate change, it was comforting to come in here and reek it.

When I first arrived, I found one of the IT crew, garmented in jeans, T-shirt and slippers, and with big, sad, sleepy, beagle eyes, reclining next to the server, his feet up on a desk, chowing on a Nutella snack pack. He explained the irony of his struggle to keep the servers happy in the far north. A week earlier, when IceBridge was operating its northern flights from Thule Air Base, they couldnt seem to find any route of get the server rooms temperature down: Were in the Arctic, but our problem is seeing cold air.

For a moment he paused to consider the sheer oddness of life, but then he shrugged, and polished off his Nutella snack. But we just chug on, you know? he said.

This attitude captured something essential about IceBridge: its scrappy. Its the kind of operation in which the engineers are expected to bring their own off-the-shelf hardware back-ups from home.( As one radar tech told me: if your keyboard violates in the Arctic, you cant just go to Walmart and buy a new one .) More than one crew member described IceBridges major piece of hardware, its P-3 aircraft, as a hand-me-down. When the Nasa crew “was talkin about a” their P-3 they sometimes sounded as though they were talking about a beloved, oversized, elderly pet dog, who can act dopey but, when pressed, is amazingly agile. IceBridges P-3 is 50 years old, but as one of the navy pilots told me, they baby the hell out of it. It just got a new pair of wings. I got the strong sense that this climate data gathering operation was something of an underdog enterprise the moodier sibling of Nasas more celebrated deep-space projects.

But these unsung flights are not without their own brand of Nasa drama. The IceBridge crew would tell me, with dark witticism, the story of the time a plane was in such dire straits that everyone aboard was panicking. One man was look at this place a photo of his children on his phone, and in his other hand, was clutching a crucifix. Another man was pinned to the ceiling. Someone actually hollered Were gonna die !, like in the movies. John Sonntag, on the other hand, sit there, serenely assessing the situation.

During my time in Greenland in April this year, I didnt witness Sonntag manage a distressed aircraft, but I did watch him carefully navigate a Nasa crew through a turbulent political season. In the week I was there, the group was preparing for two anxiety-provoking scenarios, politenes of Washington, DC. One was an imminent visit from several members of Congress. As one engineer put it to me, We just get nervous, candidly, because we dont know what these politicians agenda is: are they friend or foe?

The other was an impending shutdown of the entire US federal government: if Congress didnt make a decision about the budget by Friday that week, the government would close all operations indefinitely.( The sticking point was budgetary questions related to Trumps proposed perimeter wall .) If the governmental forces shut down, Operation IceBridge was done for the season; the Nasa crew would be sent home that day.

This had happened before, in 2013, just as IceBridge was on the way to Antarctica. Congressional Republican shut down the government in their effort to thwart Obamas diabolical plot to offer medical care to millions of uninsured Americans. Much of the 2013 mission was cancelled, with millions of dollars, many hundreds of hours of preparation, and, most importantly, critical data, lost.

I still cant actually talk about that without feeling those feelings again, Sonntag told me. It was kind of traumatic for us.

The crew of IceBridge was facing an absurd scenario: living in dread of a shutdown of their work by Congress one day and, shortly thereafter, having to smile and impress members of that same Congress.

Conditioned by the tribulationsof modern commercial airline travel, I was unprepared for the casualness of my first Nasa launch. The feeling in the hangar before the flight, and as the crew prepared to launching, was of shifting workers who are hyper-attentive to their particular tasks and not the least pay particular attention to gratuitous formalities. The flights were long and the deployments were long; the key to not burning out was to pace oneself and to not linger over anything that wasnt essential. Everyone was a trusted pro and nobody was out to prove anything to anyone else.

Shortly before our 9am takeoff, I asked Sonntag what the plane should feel like when everything was going well what should I be looking for? He smiled sheepishly. To be honest, if you consider people sleeping, thats a good sign.

On the eight-hour flights, seeing engineers asleep at their stations entail international instruments below their feet were happily collecting data. For some stretches, there wasnt even data to collect: hours were expended flying between data target sites.( Over the intercom, a pilot would occasionally ask, Hey, we sciencing now or simply flying ?) Flight crew, who attend to the plane but are not directly connected to the data operation, occupied the cabin like cats, curled up proprietarily, high up on fluffy, folded-up engine covers.

This pervasive somnolence the hypnotic hum of the propellers, the occasional scene of crewmen horsing around in their flight suits, which devoted them the look of sons in pajamas coupled with the low-altitude sweeps through fantastic mountains of ice, dedicated the whole situation a dreamlike quality.

From the windows of the P-3, at 450 metres, you dont need to have read anything about glaciers to know what they are. At that low altitude, you can see the deep textures and the crevasses of the ice, and just how far the glacier widens across the land. The eye instantly grasps that the ice is a animal on the move, positively bursting ahead, while also not appearing to move at all, like a still photo of a rushing river.

A rift across Antarcticas Larsen C ice shelf, seen from an IceBridge flight. Photograph: UPI/ Barcroft Images

Seeing the polar ice from above, you get a very different view from that seen by novelists in past centuries, who saw this landscape, if at all, by boat or, more likely, from a depict. But the vision, to them, was clear enough: it was the Objective, the annihilating whiteness of demise and extinction. Herman Melville described this colour as the dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide scenery of snowfalls a colorless all-color of atheism from which we shrink. This is where so many of those old stories terminated. The Arctic is where the ogre in Frankenstein leaps off a ship on to the ice, never to be seen again. Polar defines spell doom for Poes sailors, and Captain Nemo, who are pulled into the icy maelstrom. And celebrated real-life travellers did, in fact, succumb gruesomely on the ice, in search of the Northwest Passage, or the north pole.

But, from the window of Nasas P-3, that old narrative seems inaccurate. Consider that whiteness, which so scared Melville and Poe, who objective his Antarctic saga The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym with a horrifying italicised refrain on the word white. But polar snowfall and ice, precisely because it is white, with a quality known as high albedo, deflects solar energy back into space and helps keep grounds climate cool; the loss of all this white material means more heat is absorb and the earth warms faster. In a variety of other ways, including moderating climate patterns, the ice helps constructs life on earth more livable. The extreme conditions of the poles, so useful for instilling anxiety in 19 th-century readers, actually induce the world more habitable.

Our bias against the poles can be detected even in that typical term of kudo for this icy scenery, otherworldly. This description is precisely incorrect: the Arctic is closely connected with every other part of the planet.

This, too, is something you can see. Flying over it, at a low altitude, I was struck by the familiarity of the thing, how much of Greenland was a visual echo of my northern homelands. In the muscular frozen ripplings of its glaciers, created by an intensely pressured flow, I saw the same strong hand that deeply etched those giant scratchings into the big boulders of Central Park in New York City. This isnt an analogy: those marks in Manhattan were make use of changing ice, the very same ice layers that still have a foothold in Greenland. I grew up, and have spent the majority of members of my life, in Ohio and New England, places that were carved out by that ice: ponds originally made of meltwater from the last great ice age, low mounds smoothed over by retreating glaciers. That old ice dedicated shape and signature to almost every important place in my life, and in the lives of so many others. And, in the future, this ice will continue to shape the places were from, right before our eyes. It is only our ignorance that stimulates us call it otherworldly.

But even as we passed through this scenery, even as the lasers and radars took their deep gulps of data from the ice, I could hear expressions of anxiety from the data hunters. At the same hour that were getting better at meeting this data, we seem to be losing the ability to communicate the great importance to the public, one engineer told me four hours into a flight, during a transit between glaciers.

You can hear this anxiety surface in the witticism floating around the crew. I heard one engineer gag that it might be easier to just rig up a data randomising machine, since many people out there seem to think thats what their data is anyway.

I mean, itd be much easier, and cheaper, to do upkeep on that, he pointed out.

In another conversation, about how to increase public awareness about climate change in the US, I asked one of the senior crew members whether they would greet a novelist from Breitbart aboard one of these flights.

Oh, perfectly, he said. Id love for them to see what were doing here. I suppose sitting on this plane, watching the ice, and watching the data come in would be incredibly eye-opening for them.

His optimism was inspiring and worrisome to me.

The mantra of the crew is no politics. I heard it told over and over again: just stick to the job, dont speak above your pay grade. But, of course, you dont need to have a no-politics policy unless your work is already steeped in politics.

Glaciers on the Greenland ice sheet, observed by the IceBridge crew. Photograph: Jeremy Harbeck/ Icebridge/ NASA

Speaking with one of the scientific researchers mid-flight, I got a very revealing answer. When I asked this researcher about the anthropogenesis of climate change, the tone changed. What had been a comfortable chat became stilted and deliberate. There was a little eye-roll toward my audio recorder. Abruptly my interlocutor, a specialist in ice, get pedantic, telling me that there were others more qualified to speak about rising sea levels. I offered to turn off my recorder. As soon as it was off, the researcher spoke freely and with the trust of a leading expert in the field. The off-the-record position expressed wasnt simply one of sober agreement with the scientific consensus, but of passionate outrage. Of course climate change is related to human activity! Weve all insured the graphs !

The tonal discrepancies between this off-the-record answer and the videotapeed answer that I should consult someone else told me all I needed to know. Or so I supposed the researcher then asked me to turn my recorder back on: there was one addendum, for the record.

Richard Nixon, the researcher said, seeming down at the red recording illumination. Nixon established some good climate policy. Theres a tradition in both parties of doing this work. And, I mean, if Nixon

The researcher giggled a bit, realising how this was sounding. Well, thats what Im hanging my hopes on, anyway.

Over the planes open intercom, there was abruptly, and uncharacteristically, talk of the working day headlines. While we were in flight, people around the world were marking Earth Day by demonstrating in support of climate rationality and against the current US regime. On Twitter, #MarchForScience was trending at the exact moment Nasas P-3 was out flying for science. There was even a local protest: American and European scientists took to the street of Kangerlussuaq for a small but high-profile demo. While it was happening, one of the engineers piped up on the P-3s intercom.

Anyone else sorry to be missing the march?

But the earnest question was merely met with stillnes and a few gags. Among the Nasa crew, there had been some talk about trying to do a flyover of the Kangerlussuaq march, to take an aerial photo of it, but the scheme was nixed for logistical reasons. The timing was off. The senior crew seemed alleviated that it was out of the question.

Later that week, after my second and final flight making a total of 16 hours in the air with Nasa the crew retreated to the barracks for a quick science meeting, brews in hand, followed by a family-style dinner. We dont seem to get enough of each other here, one of the engineers told me, as he poured a glass of wine over ice that the crew had harvested from the front of a glacier the previous day. One of the engineers asked a glaciologist about the age of this block of ice, and frowned at the disappointing respond: it probably wasnt more than a few hundred years old.

Well, thats still older than America, right? he said.

Outside, the sky wasnt dark, though it was past 10 pm. In a couple of months, there would be sunlight all night. After dinner, one of the crews laser technicians lounged on a couch, playing an acoustic version of the song Angie over and over again, creating a agreeably mesmerising effect. Two crew members talked of murderer methane gas. But most sat around, drinking and telling tales. One of the pilots tried to convince someone he had find a polar bear from the cockpit that day. These deployments are tiring, someone told me. Bullshitting is critical.

One of the crew expended his off-days on outings with a camera-equipped droning, and had attained spectacular videos of his explorations, which he edited and set to moody Bush tunes. I joined the crew as they gathered around his laptop to watch his latest. There was something moving in insuring these people who had expended the working day, and indeed many months and years, flying over ice and obsessing over ice-related data now expending their free time relaxing by watching videos of yet more ice.

As usual, politics soon snuck into the picture. The next video that popped up was footage lately shot at the Thule base. The video showed some of this same Nasa crew hiking through an deserted cement bunker, a former storage site for US Nike anti-aircraft missiles. Today its merely an eerie, rusted, shadow-filled underground space, its floor covered in thick ice. When these images came on the screen, the crew fell quiet, watching themselves, only a week ago, putting on ice skates and doing figure-eights over the wreckings of their countrys cold war weapons systems.

An engineer chipped a shard off the frozen block harvested the previous day. Perhaps sensing my mood, he dropped it into a glass and poured me some whiskey over ice older than America and told: Well anyway, perhaps thisll cheer you up.

Early the next morning, before the crew boarded the P-3 for another eight-hour flight over polar ice, a rare political debate broke out. Four of the crew were discussing the imminent Congressional visit, which prompted one of the veteran pilots to recite, once again, the mission mantra: Stick to science: no politics. But because that approach felt increasingly less plausible in 2017, one of the ice specialists, feeling frustrated, launched into a small speech about how Americans dont take data seriously, and how its going to kill us all. Nobody disagreed. Someone jokingly said: Maybe its best if you dont fly today. To which another added, Yeah, you should stay on the ground and just do push-ups all day.

Finally, John Sonntag who had been too busy reviewing flight plans to hear the chattering stood up and tapped his watch. OK guys, he said. Lets run. Its time to fly.

Main image: Nasa/ Joe MacGregor

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