#and projections that he dons in an attempt protect himself from this change

[fansblogs]

i’m a dying orphan child and i need more fankel interactions

[angelsndragons]

fjord’s feelings for caduceus changed in episodes 98-99

by which i mean, fjord finally realized how special and important he is to caduceus, which in turn set the tone of their relationship for the rest of the campaign. buckle up, this is a long one.

not when fjord threw away his sword and went to caduceus instead of jester. or when caduceus presented him with the star razor. or after the citadel fight when caduceus gave him his holy symbol. i think things changed for fjord in episode 98-99, when caduceus saved his life and removed the orb.

this is going to require some context.

because here’s the thing: fjord’s always looking for the price, waiting for the catch or other shoe to drop. people caring for him because of him with no strings attached is unprecedented. vandren and the world taught fjord that love is conditional, that only if you hide what others would find ugly and make yourself useful to them will they deign to give you a scrap of affection. i don’t think vandren did this maliciously, mind you, it was just part of his worldview and fjord’s life up to and beyond that point supported it. we can see that right up to the end of the show, where fjord is terrified that vandren didn’t remember him or that he didn’t mean nearly as much to the man as vandren did to him.

so we have fjord, who learned to don masks and hide his truest self, including his best and worst aspects. while fjord made the nein into a coherent group, into a force, a crew, a family, even, he still waited for that other shoe to drop. waited for the day that they would reject him because he was no longer useful or because he pushed them too far. you can see this waiting all over the early campaign; he’s not looking for an excuse like caleb to cut and run but he anticipates nearly all the moments that almost fractured the nein, in spite of that low wisdom score. while jester carried the guilt of not being able to save molly, fjord carried the guilt of not protecting the group in that crucial moment. travis confirmed on talks that fjord’s biggest fear when he lost his powers the first time was that he would no longer be useful and be kicked out of the group. 

that’s why fjord damn near broke down at the end of 72. the nein, no questions asked, with their standard level of snark, accepted that he was going to be a liability and kept him around anyway. armed him anyway. declared that he was no liability and that they would help him along until he could help himself and them again. this unconditional acceptance caught fjord completely off guard. it always does, really. because caduceus had said for months, an out of game half a year, that he was looking to reforge the sword as a gift for fjord. he said this to fjord’s face. he did not change course when he learned that the sword was a legendary blade forged by acolytes of the wildmother and moonweaver. the blade was still meant for fjord, even if fjord was still chained to uk’otoa. fjord extends his love and protection to the nein but is still not convinced the reverse is true. he was starting to believe it but he wasn’t quite there yet.

caduceus has a high enough wisdom to understand that’s fjord’s hang up even if he doesn’t quite understand the reasoning behind it. that’s why he pulls fjord aside in ep 75 and tells him that he doesn’t have to choose the wildmother, that there are other gods and other ideas out there looking for a champion. fjord, who at this point considers wildmom his only option (travis says she’s the only one who’s shown the slightest interest in fjord and that’s why he’s gunning for her), is befuddled by caduceus and this whole talk, so much so the pair end up talking past each other for the next several episodes.

after fjord officially becomes a paladin, things between him and caduceus become fairly...unsettled compared to their previous interactions. they talk past each other more, they aren’t in sync enough to double team those social interactions they were just starting to get good at. things are just weird for a while. to me, that’s fjord waiting for the catch, waiting for caduceus to call in some favor or something like it. and he keeps getting confused when caduceus doesn’t. so he tries once or twice to follow in caduceus’ footsteps and do as he would instead. and it just makes things weirder. these two don’t have a moment together that doesn’t leave one of them confused or unsatisfied until ep 87, when caduceus gives fjord the holy symbol and inadvertently kicks off the next phase of their relationship. because here, caduceus tries to put them back on equal footing and fjord recognizes it. caduceus rejects framing their relationship as mentor/student and tells fjord he doesn’t need caduceus to give him answers. fjord is “well on his way.”

by defining what they aren’t, mentor/student, our two boys inadvertently ask the question, “so what are we?” honestly, it’s a question that the entire group grapples with in the 90s as they reintegrate yasha, as veth struggles with the question of changing back and whether she can stay with the nein, as beau tries to sacrifice herself for veth, as jester learns some uncomfortable truths about the traveler, as caduceus finds his family again. fjord and caduceus can easily define what they aren’t - not mentor/student, not brothers or cousins- but what they actually are stumps both of them.

their relationship doesn't look like any of their relationships with the others: beau is fjord's bro and first mate, caleb is fjord's complicated mirror and admiree, jester his crush and first person he learned to be vulnerable with, veth his antagonistic sibling. on caduceus' side, caleb is the one he looks to for a fellow project nerd and clear, unvarnished goals, beau and jester are the sisters caduceus misses, yasha the quiet beloved barbarian he understands better than the rest, and veth a mess he wants to help but can't. but fjord and caduceus' relationship is highly undefined at this point. notably undefined, beyond their newly shared connection to melora. at the dinner with essek, we get the stone bomb. and travis and fjord panic. like no, seriously, they spend the next four episodes low key panicking over this revelation. this ties back to fjord waiting for those other shoes to drop but it’s also more than that.

when it comes to destiny, fjord has always been the answer, the self made man, to both caduceus and caleb’s questions about destiny. he makes choices about who he is, who he wants to be, and takes actions towards those goals. he is one of those rare people who can wear many different masks, take on many different roles, while still maintaining his sense of self and becoming a fuller version of who he is. when I say fjord is the answer to destiny, what i mean is that he is what ioun said way back in c1 about Fate: mortals make choices and through those choices, destiny is fulfilled. he is the answer to caduceus' own growth from passive instrument waiting for someone to play him to active communicator in this conversation between gods and mortals. in this sense, fjord is what caduceus learns to be (this is exactly why caduceus rejects a mentor role; he has as much to learn from fjord as vice versa).

so for this coincidence to pop up, this idea that maybe fjord only had the illusion of choice to extend his service to the wildmother, that maybe somehow he was manipulated again, that there was some grand destiny pushing things and fjord had no say in it, yeah, i can see why fjord was low-key terrified. so is this what fjord and caduceus are: just some predestined grand fairy tale partnership neither of them have that much say in? episode 96 resoundingly rejects that label too. for one thing, none of the stones or clays treat fjord's last name as anything amazing or spectacular. for another, this string of episodes gives us caduceus at his most human. the terror of not knowing what happened to his family, the uncertainty of his homecoming, the relief of saving his family and home, the irritation at the way the chaos crew treats the temple, the playful attitude caduceus cultivates after, it's all on display. caduceus drops much of his placid exterior and willingly allows the nein to see sheer depth of emotion he has.

which leads me back to episode 98-99. uk’otoa’s agents come for fjord. and caduceus is pissed. travis and ashley both said on talks that they hadn’t really seen taliesin that pissed, that it was like someone had threatened an actual loved one of his. fjord dies. and comes back to an exhausted, still pissed off firbolg who is five seconds away from snapping archmage vess derogna’s head off for interrupting his prayer of healing. taliesin doesn’t even begin to relax until they start interrogating the dead fish people the next day. once caduceus confirms the ball is still in fjord, notably caduceus and caleb were the two who remembered, fjord starts asking for a way to remove it. he asks caduceus to start a commune with wildmom in tandem with jester’s commune with the traveler. caleb tells fjord that caduceus fought “very hard for you while you were down, i don’t know if he’s up to it.” having heard that, caduceus still tries, with his first divine intervention attempt of the campaign. and when jester figures out that greater restoration will work, caduceus pushes through his exhaustion, takes charge, and goes through a truly terrifying greater restoration with fjord to remove the ball. convulsing, seizing, shuddering, collapsing, etc.

in those moments, and in the quiet after when fjord confirms that he still has his powers, it finally hits him that yes, people can protect, fight, and love him for who he is alone. there is no chain or other shoe waiting to be dropped here. the wildmother is no uk’otoa, to punish or take power at a whim. caduceus will fight with everything he has and then some for fjord because he loves him (not for nothing does fjord only realizes the depths of jester’s feelings when she uses heal on him). who are caduceus and fjord to each other? they are people who will fight for one another and the others as far as they can. fjord says over and over again that he wants to protect the nein and look out for them because he cares for them. he demonstrates it over and over again as well. caduceus says basically the same thing; he wants everyone safe and happily on their way and will stay until they are. he demonstrates this all the time as well. this is, i think, the first time that he demonstrates his dedication so unequivocally, free of the artifice of duty, fully committed through love. fjord recognizes this in caduceus and caduceus does in fjord.

i say this is a turning point because, while they don’t really have another super in depth conversation alone together, these two start clocking each other and openly help and look out for each other. there’s an ease and intimacy to the relationship after this. fjord watching caduceus swim near vokodo’s lair, fjord being ready to hand over his armor to caduceus when it looks like his won’t be ready, fjord, caduceus, and beau plotting behind jester’s back to keep her safe from the traveler, the absolute offense fjord takes to eadwulf after he spoke to caduceus like that, fjord levels up in paladin after caduceus tells him he’s proud to know him, all the way to the end of the show when fjord shelters the clerics and tells them to finish lucien, we get little moments like these from both of them. hell, caduceus is the first person in the campaign to tell fjord directly that he loves him.

[todoscript]

Can I request Pro!Hero Bakugou in a scenario where he's going on the scene where a place was being attacked by low level criminals and the place's mascot character was essentially trying to protect kids from the harm, kind of standing up to the villains to abide time til the heroes or police arrive. Bakugou saves the day and the mascot character pops their giant head off to properly thank him and he's like--Oh shit they're cute I was not prepared

Bunny Face

Genre | Fluff. 

Pairing | Pro Hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Words | 1.9K+

Warnings | Bakugou getting flustered. Bakugou cursing. Bakugou beating up a villain. Bakugou.

A/N | I changed it from villains to a single villian, hope that’s ok. Also, Anon, this request? This is big brain energy right here

To say you were dying would be an understatement.

The cruel rays of the sun beating down on the earth made it an absolute hell underneath the heavy bunny costume you were forced to don on, all thanks to a particular coworker who bailed on their shift today with an abhorrent excuse of⁠—you quote—“car trouble.” It was bullshit, but you weren’t the one calling the shots, not when your boss said you were to fill in for them despite your protests. Now, clad from head to toe in fluffy pink fur and hefty layers of fabric and foam, you suffocated from within a cocoon that gathered heat and sweat around your body. You were so letting your coworker have a piece of your mind the next time they showed up.

“Miss Bunny! Miss Bunny! Let us take a picture with you!” a circle of kids hollered, their grabby hands tugging your fur to seize your attention and even jump to pull on your ears. The only thing you have to thank this costume for is the fact it at least concealed the dreary expression on your face, masked by the mascot’s smiley, plastic facade.

You simulated a chipper voice not to break the guise. “Alright, Miss Bunny’s coming,” you managed as the kids pulled you in front of an assembly of parents that captured their cute little children posing with a mascot who most certainly desired to be anywhere else.

Just as their phones clicked and shuttered, a loud boom suddenly thundered behind you, grabbing everyone’s attention in the area. The parents looked up with gaped mouths at the smoke diffused in the sky and the whirring of rides that tottered off balance in the distance.

“Look! Up there!” Their kids pointed to the lone figure who stood atop the highest peak of the ferris wheel, the man shouting out curses and threats for all those beneath him to tremble and run in terror. You, however, simply grounded yourself, impassive underneath your costume and nearly numb at all the events transpiring around you.

You have got to be shitting me, you thought, eyes cast into a deadpan.

Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse.

.

.

“Ground Zero! Ground Zero!”

Bakugou winced at the deafening static blared into his right ear, where the intercom vibrated a frequency of hasty squalls from his sidekick. He pressed a button on the device with his right hand to relay the call, his left currently occupied gripping the collar of a thug he just knocked into submission after giving them chase through the alleys.

“Calm down, dumbass, I heard you the first fucking time,” he scolded, the clamor of sirens heard in the background of the other line, “What is it?”

“A villain is running amuck at the local fair!”

“What the hell?! That place is populated with people!” Bakugou’s eyes flared alert as the tone in his voice rose to a volume much more piercing than his sidekick’s. Unknowingly, the hold he had on the unconscious goon in front of him tightened while his mind conjured the next plan of action. With such a densely packed area of civilians, the villain will undoubtedly cause rampage and havoc if not dealt with immediately. And right now, he was still halfway across the city from where they held the local fair. Not wasting another second of his time, he tossed the thug off to the side and tied him up for the police to apprehend later.

“Evacuate as many people as possible before I get there! Make sure the fucking villain doesn’t damage any of the structures holding up the bigger rides!” he instructed his sidekick.

“Yes, sir, Ground Zero, sir!”

With that, he pushed the mic off on his comlink before propelling himself into the air thanks to the kinetic explosions emitted from his palms, blasting past buildings, and keen on seeing the villain’s imminent doom at his hand.

It’s through his breakneck speeds across the city that he arrived there in no time at all. He assessed the current damage in the area and leered at the gray smoke scattered in the air, eyeing the attractions that fell off their foundations. He eventually spotted a crowd of kids gathered around a big blur of pink that held its arms outward to shield them, even while a menacing figure slowly inched closer

“There you fucking are.” Bakugou fired forward, eager to rocket down from the skies and let the sole of his boot greet the villain square in the face. On impact, the thug clobbered onto the ground, but was yet to be knocked out, gathering himself to stand and face the Pro Hero.

“It’s Ground Zero!”

The kids that surrounded you shrilled in joy at the explosion hero’s appearance into the fray, pulling on your costume to express their excitement.

“Look, Miss Bunny, Ground Zero’s here to save us!”

You peered through the small, meshed slits of your costume at the man before you, who had his grenade arms ready. He enacted confidence in his stance, challenging the dangerous villain without a single ounce of hesitation.

“Hey, Bunny Face!” he yelled, eyes never leaving his opponent.

Bunny Face? Your brows knitted together.

“Y-Yes?” you replied, voice coming out hoarse through the dense layer of foam.

“Get those kids out of here, I’ll handle the villain!” he commanded, and you did not disobey. You hastened the children by your side to make a break with you to the gates and safely meet their parents again, leaving the explosion hero to defeat the threat.

And defeat he did. The villain stood no chance against him as his attacks were all eluded by the Pro Hero’s high evasion and trained skills that had the goon edging the end of his rope.

“Screw this! I’m outta here!” he shouted, turning toward the opposite direction to attempt a getaway. However, Bakugou was already one step ahead of him, propelled and positioned in front of the enemy once more.

“If you’re going to escape, you shouldn’t yell your plans out loud, you fucking idiot,” was all the explosion hero gave, his hands effused with nitroglycerin that quickly emitted a radiating heat.

“Now DIE!!”

At his triumphant roar, his palms ignited a tremendous explosion forward, making clean contact on the villain who stood aimlessly at the flash of light that enveloped his body in a fever of nuclear energy. By the time the smog cleared, Bakugou was crossed with an unconscious, smoking body.

He dragged the villain toward the gate, where the police and his sidekicks gathered, along with the other fair-goers. They applauded him for his victory, saving the day once again. As the hero scanned through the crowd, he caught sight of you in the throng thanks to your bulky, bright costume that stuck out like a sore thumb. 

When your gazes met, you finally hauled the large bunny head off, revealing yourself to his red eyes that widened slightly upon grasping your true appearance.

He couldn’t help the stare fixed on you while you approached him, noting how your pretty eyes glistened, complimented by the balmy rosiness adorning your cheeks and the delicate flow of your hair that danced lightly at every step you took.

Fuck, she’s cute, his thoughts blurted out without him realizing you were now right in front of him.

“Ground Zero, right? Thanks for helping us back there. We didn’t know what we’d do without you,” you thanked, your words acting as the catalyst that finally brought his mind back to the cusp of reality. He shook his head in an attempt to ward off the flush of red reaching his cheeks due to your gratitude and the small proximity between your faces. Your voice—once veiled by that abominable voice box in your suit that did no justice to how sweet your tone was—did not help him maintain his indifferent facade. He opted to turn his head to the side for now.

“N-No problem,” he cursed at the way his deep timbre stuttered out his reply.

“No, really, thank you! I didn’t know how long I could protect those kids, but you managed to come in at the right time before things got bad!” you expressed your gratefulness while inching closer, much to his dismay.

“Look, it’s nothing, alright?! I’m a hero, it’s what I fucking do,” he brazenly stated, projecting as much poise as he could muster despite finding the dazed gloss in your eyes, and the way you gingerly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, cute. Just even a peek of your soft-looking lips in his peripheral vision was enough for his demeanor to betray him.

Calm the fuck down, Ground Zero, he urged himself.

“What’s wrong? Do I look OK?” you called out his series of glances, subconscious about how you appeared after staying hidden beneath the sweltering hot ensemble for the majority of the afternoon. In your head, you thought you must be a complete mess in front of him, with your hair strewned all around and face a bright, crimson hue. However, Bakugou saw differently, and through his eyes he tried to fathom how one could still look so pretty in spite of that cumbersome costume you wore.

“You look fucking fine,” he assured, though his words were an understatement in comparison to the rampant thoughts imbued in his head. A smile lined your lips thanks to his affirmation.

“Oh, here, have this!” You reached your pink pad of a hand into the front pocket of your costume’s overalls and pulled out wads of yellow tickets. “Some free admittance tickets for the fair! Maybe you can use them when it opens up again.”

You offered the stack to him at which he was going to reject and cooley state he didn’t have time for shit like that, but he pulled his brakes upon realizing something.

“You.. work here, right?” he asked, though it should be obvious considering the hefty costume no regular person would wear on a hot day like this. Or on any day for that matter. The bunny honestly was, without a doubt in his mind, quite fucking hideous. However an endearing girl like you got roped into this job was a mystery to him, but he eventually received an explanation.

“Yes, though I’m not usually the one wearing the mascot costume. My coworker bailed today, so I was forced to take their place,” you answered, mentally pained when remembering what you had endured throughout this hellish day.

“Your coworker must be an ass.”

“Oh tell me about it,” you agreed with an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. “Anyways, I usually work at a game stall next to the ferris wheel.” You pointed to said attraction that was somehow still standing in one piece despite all the chaos that transpired today.

“You’re welcome to visit me if you want, Ground Zero,” you said, and at that, Bakugou gladly took the tickets from your hands and accepted your proposal, knowing it meant he could see your pretty face again.

“Fine, but when you see me, it’s Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki,” he informed, babbling about how you couldn’t call him by his hero name or risk bringing him unnecessary attention he most certainly didn’t need to deal with during his free time. Though in actuality, he just wanted you to be familiar with him and utter his name in that syrupy voice of yours that sounded like melodies to his ears.

You giggled, the laughter coming from your lips saccharine and the expression on your face rivaling a meadow of flowers with the colorful bloom in your eyes.

“Alright, Bakugou Katsuki.”

And then you finally thought that maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

Ending Notes | I hope this request was ok! If any of you want to request something of your own, feel free! My ask box will stay open until whenever

[pandajaye]

Todoroki Family Ties (Parts 5-6)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki

Warnings: mention of harsh discipline,

Part 5

Enji explained everything. The whole entire full length truth. He explained what happened to Rei. What she did to Shoto’s eye. What he did to Touya. It flipped her reality completely.

“Thank you for letting me open up about all this. It’s not all easy to admit to. I’m so sorry for not telling you the truth.”

She felt kind of bad for the guy. But she really felt bad for Rei. The guilt she must have in her soul for what she did. For what he pushed her to do. Would it happen to her too? Whatever. She didn’t want to think about that anymore right now. Instead, she snuggled close to him again.

“Let’s just talk about it later. Today was kind of wild wasn’t it? I’m lucky that Shoto called you when he did. I probably would’ve been ashes if he hadn’t done something.”

Her snuggles were met with some of his own. Kisses even. He really was sweet when he wanted to be.

“It was and you’re absolutely right. Because of him, you’re still in my arms. He’s a good kid. Still learning to be tough, of course. Maybe I’ll give him a break tomorrow too and just train with Touya. You and Shoto could just spend some time together.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. I think he’d really like that. Good idea.”

The next day, Shoto and stepmama Ivy, got to have fun and relax.

They practiced some yoga:

“Okay, Shoto. Let’s try downward dog.” *stretches* “Now you try.”

Shoto attempts the pose successfully and flawlessly.

“Did I do it? I think I did it!!”

“You did! You got it! Good job, Sho! Now, try to keep your balance and reach out with your left arm and lift your right leg. Like this.”

She moves to position and takes a deep breath, coming out of position to observe Shoto. He struggles a bit, but completes the goal and sits back down.

“Awesome! Our next pose is gonna be a little harder. Think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah! I’m ready for anything!”

“Good attitude! So, I know your dad has this idea that being a hero means being all hard and tough. But you have to learn how to be flexible and balanced. You must relax and focus so that you can attack efficiently. Always keep in mind that you have to be able to adapt to successfully strategize and defeat your opponent.”

While she was talking, she bent into the side crow post with grace and ease, balancing on nothing but her hands.

“I can do it! Watch me!”

Shoto attempted the same pose but struggled to hold himself up, falling back down.

“Dang it! I’ll try again.”

He tried again. The same result but he fell down a little quicker.

“Hey, maybe it’s time to take a brea-“

“NO!! I can do it!”

Another attempt and another fall. She could tell he was getting tired but he was really determined.

“Okay. Just remember: relax, focus, and breathe. You got this.”

He tried again. And slipped again, starting to get a little upset. Not a little. A good bit actually. Shoto stood up and stomped around.

“NOOO! NO NO NO NO!”

Ivy sat in front of him, reaching her hands out.

“Hey, Shoto. It’s okay! Calm down. Just breathe.”

He should really take her advice. He was starting to get as red as his own hair. There were tears in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“I promise I’ll get it, I promise! I’ll work harder and get stronger and-“

“Shoto Todoroki. Take a seat and breathe. Hold my hands.”

Shoto listened and sat down in front of her, putting his little hands in hers. His left hand was really warm but his right hand was cool. Must be his quirk.

“Breathe with me. Deep breath in.”

They inhaled together.

“Deep breath out.”

They exhaled together.

“Now. Why do you feel so strongly about this? It’s literally just yoga. It’s supposed to be fun.”

He wiped his eyes but thinking about why he was getting so frustrated made him cry more.

“And.... I’m supposed to be number one. I’m not s-supposed to fail. Failure is bad. Bad is weakness. Weakness is punishable.”

Ivy didn’t hesitate to pull Shoto into her lap and hug him tight. Every sniffle made her heart sad.

“Sho.... It’s okay. You’re not training with your dad. We’re having a fun day off together. Me and you. You’re safe with me. Life is going to be challenging. You’re not always going to achieve your goal right away. I didn’t come out the wound bending like a pretzel, honey. It took me a long time to master a move like that. You’re only seven years old, you’re not expected to be able to hold up your own body weight. But it also doesn’t mean that you’re not strong. We’ll work on it another day if you’re still determined. Let’s rest your arms and have a snack and relax.”

Shoto wiped his face again and stood up.

“Can we cuddle and watch a movie too?”

“It’s your day off. We can do whatever we want. If that’s what you wanna do, let’s do it!”

When he got up she crouched to wipe his face and kiss his forehead, standing up and holding his hand. After an arm massage, a snack, and a movie, cuddle included, he felt a lot better. They both did. The movie finished just in time for Touya and Enji to return. That’s when Ivy discovered Shoto had fallen asleep. She let him sleep for a little longer while she made dinner.

“What did you guys do while Touya and I were out?”

She shrugged.

“Nothing much. Just some yoga. But.... we need to talk about his emotional health. He got really upset when he couldn’t do this one pose. I don’t know. Does the phrase ‘Weakness is punishable’ sound familiar to you?”

Enji looked from the floor to the wall. He really tried to pretend he didn’t hear what she just said.

“Touya did good today. Not great. Just good.”

“Enji. He’s seven. You can’t keep pushing him so hard. It’s gonna backfire on you. It probably already has with Touya.”

“He’s fine, Ivy. It’s what he needs to push himself.”

“Why does he need to push himself? The only pushing he should be dealing with is on a swing.”

“What did I tell you about trying to tell me what my kids need?!”

The two froze when Shoto shuffled. Maybe if Mr. Hellfire didn’t raise his voice he wouldn’t have woken up. He yawned before rubbing the sleep away and looking at them.

“Is dinner ready yet?”

She rolled her eyes at Enji and gave him a warm smile.

“Almost, Sho. Can you go ahead and get your brother and wash your hands please?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

Shoto slid off the couch and headed to Touya’s room, sort of stumbling from still being a little tired. Back in the kitchen, Ivy glared at Enji, her voice lowered to a whisper.

“We WILL talk about this later.”

“Fine with me, urchin.”

“Whatever, flaming bookshelf.”

Sometimes people do outta pocket shit. People like Enji. Who for some reason thought it was hot for her to call him a flaming bookshelf and smacked her ass and walked off. She gasped and grabbed a wooden spoon and threw it at the back of his head, trying not to laugh.

“BOOOYYYY IF YOU DON-”

Part 6

The incident with Touya was three days ago. Enji and Ivy continued to argue about how they should handle the situation before coming to the conclusion that they’d just talk to him. For a good 20 minutes, he sat on one side of the living room and they sat across from him. Enji and Touya had a glaring contest and Ivy just tried to smile so he wouldn’t have to feel like he was in big trouble, not that he broke eye contact with Enji to even notice her anyways.

Finally, Ivy broke the awkward silence.

“Sooooo.... Touya. Your father and I just wanted to talk to you about the other d-“

“Apologize.”

“No.”

This is where the trouble starts. Something is always going to go wrong when someone interrupts someone else. Especially if there’s two people that butt heads constantly.

“Hun, I got this. So. Touya. Is there anything that you want to say about what happened? Would you like to explain what you were feeling?”

Since she was being so nice about it, he decided to answer her. He rolled his eyes and adjusted himself before speaking.

“Listen. I’m sure you’re a nice person, but to be honest.... I think you’re weak, I think you’re sensitive, and I think you’re useless. I FEEL like you think you can replace my mom but you don’t even have a quirk! You’re literally nothing but some wench off the street looking for home, stray.”

“ALRIGHT THAT’S IT! YOU NEED TO LEARN SOME RESPECT, INGRATE!!“

“YOU AND ME OLD MAN, LET’S GO!!”

They were about to hurt each other but Ivy interfered before any damage was done.

“Enji, just go check on Shoto! I’LL talk to him. Alone.”

Enji growled before stomping off to the door to check on his youngest playing outside, while Touya sat back down with a huff. Now it was just the two of them.

“Touya.... I know this isn’t just about me or your mom not being here. I know how hard he pushes you. I know what your dad does to push you, and past your limits at that. You’re still a kid. A teenager. Life is already so hard for you. Psychologically especially. You’re growing up. Going through puberty. Liking people more than in just a friendly way. Reading magazines-“

“Oh god, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP!”

She did stop, since she was only kidding, and laughed at his reaction.

“I’m just messing with you, kid. But seriously. I know it’s hard and I see the resentment in your face. I also see the stress you’re giving yourself. I know that that pain and frustration you projected onto me the other day, was a little bit cause, y’know, I’m not Rei. And I know that in that aspect, I can’t change anything. *sigh* But I still want to do my best to protect you guys. Because I really do care about you. I am so proud of you and the strength and determination that you show. I don’t know if your father ever acknowledges it, but this is me acknowledging it. Good job, Touya. You’re my number one hero.”

At first, he tried to sit there and pretend like he hadn’t heard a single word she had said. He was almost convincing until the ends of his mouth quivered. Until he wiped his face with his forearm. Until he got up and walked over to her and couldn’t look her in the eyes. Just stood in front of her. It wasn’t for nothing. She knew what was happening. He needed to be held, so that’s what she did. She embraced him with open arms and a squeeze to reassure him that he was safe with her. That she would do anything to protect him. That he was worthy and more than just a masterpiece.... that he was someone that was loved obviously instead of just the absence of negative moments.

She could feel him shaking when he cried. He needed this, he was positive-touch starved. Jesus.

“I’m r-really s-sorry.... for what happened.... for everything I said....”

Ivy rubbed his back before pulling back to look at him and wipe his face.

“I forgive you. More importantly. Did you like the dinner I put out in front of your door that night?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. It was great-“

“SCORE ONE FOR STEPMAMA!! WOOHOO!! Sorry, I love cooking. I also love you.”

“Back at ya.”

He smiled and headed to his room. Ivy took a deep breath, feeling accomplished. At least.... before Enji ran back inside in panic and looking upset. He’d been running around, there was sweat on his face.

“SHOTO’S GONE!!”

“....W-What?”

[tiredcath]

Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through. 

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

 Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

 First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

 The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

 AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

 it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

 People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

 a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

-

or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

 Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

 Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

 It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

 Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

 The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

 Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

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

WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

 Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

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

BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Nitpicking Articles About Flash Rogues

Here’s some mistakes I found in Internet articles about the Rogues.

Article #1: 

1. The Rogues did not make their first appearance in Flash #130. 

It’s an understandable mistake, given that five of them are on the cover, but really the only Rogue to do anything of note was the Mirror Master. The other Rogues’ appearances were just Mirror Master’s lawyer (whom he hypnotized) impersonating them. Their actual first appearance as a group was Flash #155.

2. This one is really minor, but it’s Heat Wave, not Heatwave. 

3. I think it’s a bit misleading to say that Captain Cold is the most powerful of the Rogues. He is powerful, no doubt, but Mirror Master and Weather Wizard have a considerably broader and more versatile range of powers than he does. Pied Piper and the Top are probably also more powerful than he is. 

4. This is another minor mistake, but the party in Flash Vol.2 #19 was celebrating Captain Cold’s release from the Suicide Squad, not really his retirement. 

Article #2: 

1. I wouldn’t describe the Rainbow Raider as the least powerful of the Rogues. He’s a bit of a doofus, but his ability to manipulate both light and emotions is quite impressive and would be an extremely potent weapon in the hands of someone other than Roy. By the logic this list is using, Weather Wizard should be much lower on the list than he is. While he uses his powers more effectively than Roy usually does, he doesn’t use his powers to nearly the extent that he could if he put more effort into them. 

2.  There is NO WAY that Roscoe should be listed as the second least powerful Rogue. He’s not just a master inventor who created an atomic bomb all by himself, he’s a telekinetic telepath with super speed who can also return from the dead via possession. Surely he should at least crack the top ten. 

3. Being a contortionist is impressive. Not sure how it makes Ragdoll more powerful than Roy or Roscoe, though. 

4. Golden Glider is confusing; I’d accept her being ranked fairly low in terms of raw power if we were just looking at her Pre-Flashpoint self. But since the picture of her is from the New 52, when she gained the power of astral projection. With that power, she seems like she should be a bit higher on the list than #17. 

5. “Still, she makes the list for being an iconic villain who, when partnered with her protective older brother, turned out to be fairly competent all things considered.” Lisa was competent all on her own, thank you very much. 

6. Considering Piper has canonically blown up a planet with his flute, #16 seems quite low. Even if we disregard that feat because it was from Countdown, he’s still pulled off some really impressive feats that makes me feel like he should be a lot further up the list. 

7. “His powers are pretty insane considering their potential for assassinations and surprise attacks, but he ranks fairly low on the list because he can’t really stay a villain long enough to be effective.” This list isn’t ranking the most dangerous villains, just the most powerful ones. Reforming doesn’t make him less powerful! 

8. I really like James, and his inventing prowess shouldn’t be understated. That being said, there is NO WAY he’s more powerful than post-Flashpoint Lisa, Hartley, or Roscoe. He’s probably not even as powerful as Roy! 

9. “After being tricked into helping the demon Neron and smooth talking his way out of hell, the Trickster fully succumbed to psychosis, becoming a goofy, rambling personality, accentuated by being brainwashed by the Top.” ????? When did this happen? What are you talking about, article? 

10. “After getting his nose broken three times in the course of a day by Batwoman, Deathstroke, and Batman, Trickster sacrificed himself to save Piper. And how did Piper thank him? By dragging his body through the desert before finally cutting the hand off his corpse.” What was Piper supposed to do? He was on the run from people who wanted to kill him and he almost died! 

11. #14 seems like an appropriate slot for Cicada, all things considered. I’m still pretty sure he’s not more powerful than Roscoe or Piper, though. 

12. Double Down should not be higher on the list than Roscoe or Roy or Piper (or Trickster or Lisa or Cicada, for that matter.) 

13. Capt. Boomerang is a talented, skilled fighter. That being said, he is not more powerful than Roscoe. Or Piper. Or Roy. Or even James and Lisa, really. 

14. Heat Wave as number 11 is fine. I still don’ t think he should be higher than Roscoe or Piper, though. 

15. “Wow, the character Heat Wave has not aged well. So much so that the CW’s Arrowverse has actively kept the character from having any perceivable depth because the little intrigue there is to mine from him is from a bygone era best left in the past.” ???? Stop being mean to Mick, article. He’s a great character! 

16. Magenta as #10 is fine. In fact, I would be okay with her being a little higher, all things considered. 

17. “Long after breaking up with Wally West, Frankie Kane developed her magnetic powers quite suddenly and accidentally killed her entire family as a result. Understandably confused and terrified, she was quickly folded into Cicada’s cult where she became a lieutenant with the moniker, Magenta.” Frances’ powers developed before she even started dating Wally, let alone before she broke up with him. Also, it wasn’t like she immediately joined Cicada’s cult after Wally’s broke up with her. There was like a decade that passed between those two events, and Frances made several appearances in the intervening years. She also didn’t get her code name from Cicada. 

18. WHY IS ABRA KADABRA ONLY AT #9????

19. “Originally debuting under the moniker of Mister Element, Albert Desmond adopted his better-known name after finding the legendary Philosopher’s Stone and gained the ability to transmute materials. The problem was that Albert Desmond wasn’t actually Doctor Alchemist and never was. Turns out the entire time he was a villain, it was as an alternate personality called Alvin Desmond, who is also his celestial, astral twin. And if the concept of a split-personality metahuman who can turn one substance into another with a fantastic macguffin sounds familiar, it’s because Doctor Alchemy is basically Firestorm except as a disheveled gremlin of a villain.Though that’s fairly impressive in its own right, but his true claim to fame actually comes from the CW Flash show, where he was played by Harry Potter’s Tom Felton and reimagined as psychic entity that remembered the Flashpoint timeline that Barry had accidentally created. His power was updated from simple transmutation to metaphysically crossing timestreams, allowing him to grant super human abilities to people who had them in Flashpoint, including the CW version of Wally West. Though he’s ultimately put down by a coalition of Flash’s crew, the ability to transcend time itself basically made him a veritable god. Pity only the CW could see the character’s potential for it.” No, article. Just no. First, CW Alchemy was considerably more boring than his comic counterpart. And he’s not Dr. Alchemist, he’s Dr. Alchemy! (That being said, Dr. Alchemy deserves to at least be at #8 on the list, so I don’t really have a problem with his ranking.) They also don’t describe the Albert/Alvin situation quite right, but that’s really confusing, so I can’t really blame them for that. 

20. “Well part of it is that his main goal hasn’t changed much since his first appearance: to devolve humanity back into apes, no doubt a novelty in the early '60s, but kinda boring today. The other reason? Turns out that Grodd has failed in this endeavor at least 18 times, a failing record among Flash’s villains.” How many comics with Grodd in them has the writer of this article actually read? Because I can think of at least four storylines off the top of my head where Grodd has a goal other than turning people into gorillas. Also, the fact that he’s failed in his attempts to do this doesn’t make him any less powerful; Joker and Lex Luthor also fail in most of their schemes. It’s what comes of being a comic book villains. That being said, Grodd being #7 on the list is appropriate (although I might personally rank him a bit higher.)

21. Captain Cold is cool. I like him a lot. But even if we give him his New 52 ice powers, does he really deserve to be #6 on the list? Also, there’s no way he’s more powerful than Abra Kadabra, Dr. Alchemy, or Grodd. Or the Top. 

22. No complaints with the Mirror Masters collectively sharing the #5 spot, or with Shade being at #4. 

23. Weather Wizard is really powerful; him being in the #3 slot isn’t too inappropriate. Though I’m not sure if he’s really more powerful than Abra Kadabra (who should really have been much higher than #9). 

24. Why is Godspeed specifically at #2? True, he’s a speedster, and speedsters are VERY powerful, but there are a number of other villains with super speed who I think are faster than he is. I also would argue that he might be less powerful than Abra Kadabra, Shade, the Weather Wizard, and the Mirror Masters, given that he’s not really all that experienced with his powers. 

25. Eobard Thawne is really, really, REALLY powerful. I would argue that Abra Kadabra might be more powerful than he is, but otherwise he definitely outclasses the other villains on this list. 

26. And where’s Hunter Zolomon, anyway? He should definitely be on this list, and no lower than #2. 

[sunflowers-insherwood]

Allan A Dale Analysis - 2x05

Analysing Allan’s Experience of the Confrontation with Robin in Ducking and Diving

As I was writing my analysis on Allan in 2x06 (which is coming tomorrow!), I realised it was necessary to first investigate this confrontation between him and Robin, as it changes their relationship massively and sows the seeds for the motivations behind their actions in the next episode. This is a quite casual line by line analysis of their conversation in the bar at the end of 2x05 (Ducking and Diving), and is quite speculative, as I outline my theories but also alternative interpretations – mainly of Allan’s viewpoint. I wrote out the transcript for this conversation myself, so the punctuation is intended to show more the pauses/ emotions rather than be grammatically correct. Let’s dive straight in! (Wordcount: 3.5k)

X = owner of the Tripp Inn, A = Allan, R = Robin

X: You’re late, I was going to keep your money back. Silver, not gold.

As soon as Allan walks into the room, he looks to the back corner and all around to ensure Robin isn’t there already to find him. He’s on edge and doesn’t want to be found, but now trying to do the right thing.

A: You’re gonna tell Gisborne to keep this money. I’m not doing this anymore, alright, I’ve changed.

I’m never sure what to make of the motives behind Allan’s actions here. To me, his actions are more of someone realising that their time’s up: he’s a rat on a sinking ship trying to cover his tracks before it goes under. This obviously paints him in a pretty bad light, as the only reason he’s stopping being a spy is because he’s about to get caught. I find this more believable than a realisation that he’s actually done wrong, however, because I doubt that if he hadn’t felt threatened he wouldn’t have tried to stop working for Gisborne then. I think he would have eventually, but it would’ve taken him longer to realise the severity of his actions. Alternatively, the reactions of the others and his conversation with Djaq have sped up his realisation process significantly and he’s genuinely guilty about what he’s done. Perhaps it’s a mix of both. On top of this, if he thought it was certain he would get thrown out by Robin, I think his survival instincts would tell him to keep the money and run. He refuses it, signifying he feels really guilty about what he’s done, or that he thinks he can still get away with it at camp. Maybe he intends to refuse the money, and then tell Robin he was working for Gisborne afterwards, to prove that he’s stopped being a spy.

X: It’s a bit late for a conscience now isn’t it?

A: Yeah. Very late.

Again, this could mean two things: that he knows he’s almost about to be caught, or that he genuinely feels bad and knows that he’s been playing the double agent for too long. I’m more able to believe the first but I think even if you see him as simply covering his tracks, the sincerity of how this line is delivered implies there is an emotional conflict going down here too.

*Arrow fires into bag of money. X gasps*

A: Robin. *swallows* You’re early.

I think of this as an attempt at humour, perhaps more to himself than anyone else as he says it so quietly. Classically the comic relief of the gang (when Much fulfils this function it’s accidental in his sincerity, Allan is more purposefully cheeky chappy about it) he’s still trying to lighten the situation and break the silence. Robin doesn’t allow it and Allan instantly has to go to defend.

R: Leave us.

A: Stay there.

This is an indicator of just how scared Allan is of what Robin will do to him – he wants the bartender to stay there as a form of protection, as a witness to anything Robin might try to do to him, under the theory that with someone else there Robin won’t hurt him so badly. Allan feels completely cornered, as he knows he can’t really blag his way out of this situation and that Robin would probably overpower him in a fight. Does Allan think he’s about to die? Quite possibly.

R: GET OUT! I need to talk to my spy.

A: What was that with Will? You banished Will.

Allan’s first thoughts are on Will. This could be (again) interpreted in two ways: he’s purely confused about the situation and is trying to work out where Robin stands, or he’s genuinely concerned for his best mate in the gang (which is the interpretation I prefer, although I think it’s a mixture of both). We see how torn up Allan becomes when Robin accuses Will of being the spy that afternoon – he almost admits to being the spy then as he cries ‘no…’ and ‘Robin…’ when he hears Robin explain it was Will, hating the idea that Will would be accused on his behalf. Even if he’s willing to sacrifice the cause, he’s still loyal to his friends, or at least tries to be. It actually benefitted Robin to frame Will as the spy, as Allan and him are so close; I know this was a random choice but it actually worked to Robin’s advantage, making Allan feel worse and acting as an extra punch in the gut.

R: It was an act! Only she knew who was guilty. And I knew the spy would want to come here before me to cover his tracks. For all I knew, it could’ve been Will standing there. But it’s not. Is it? It’s you.

On a related sidenote, @chaoticbitheatrekid recently mentioned ‘i don’t know if this is just me, but i always felt that if Robin had to pick one member of the gang to get rid of, he would pick Allan’. Although he says here ‘for all I knew, it could’ve been Will standing there’, to me the ‘but it’s not… it’s you’ indicates that, maybe if he didn’t consciously think it was Allan, to him Allan was the most likely to betray the gang.

A: Robin, it was over, ask her! I made a decision.

Robin interprets Allan’s presence here as I did, as Allan trying to ‘cover his tracks’. However, Allan did come here purely to reject the money, and he has a point here:  if Robin asked the bartender, he would find out Allan was giving it back. I don’t think this would matter to Robin even if he did ask however, as he would purely view it as Allan trying to save himself rather than the more sympathetic view that he’s genuinely regretful.

R: Then what’s this?

A: No, I was giving it back.

This is true, but again Robin doesn’t investigate it any further. He consistently refuses to listen to Allan’s side of the story – something that Allan will become extremely bitter for later.

R: So you betray me. You betray yourself, you betray your king, and for what. For a few silver coins. What have you told Gisborne, Allan?

Another example of the differences between Robin and Allan’s priorities: Robin’s mind almost instantly goes to the King, a person I don’t think crossed Allan’s mind during this entire process. Perhaps ignorantly (or he’s decided to ignore the idea), he’s assumed the only thing his betrayal will impact is the gang’s immediate success. He can’t see the bigger picture that Robin strives towards, as his motivations for being in the gang are less to help other people (which I think he enjoys, but wasn’t the reason he joined) and more as a fun way of survival among friends. Robin also mentions (in true teacher fashion) that Allan has betrayed himself, indicating that Robin did believe Allan was a good person, perhaps especially due to his progression from a shameless liar at the start of series 1 to a pretty sturdy friend in series 2. Allan’s actions could almost be viewed as a relapse into the lies and pickpocketing associated with his brother. Interestingly, Robin doesn’t mention the rest of the gang at all here, implying that he sees Allan’s betrayal as a direct attack on him and the King. Allan begins to internalise this view in 2x06, but I think if he were to explain who he betrayed, he would only mention the gang.

A: Mmm… nothing really.

Allan seems almost awkward here. ‘Nothing really’ is obviously his attempt to diminish what he’s done to appeal to Robin, but also furthers the idea that doesn’t think he’s done anything too serious (he knows betraying the gang was serious, but doesn’t think the outcomes have been that bad), and that he never had intentions for his betrayals to impact more than the gang’s monetary success. This wasn’t helped by Guy reassuring Allan when he agreed to working for him that nothing he said would be of any real weight to the people or wider actions of the gang.

R: Does he know about the camp?

A: No.

R: No. Does he know about Marian?

A: No!

Allan’s reactions to this part of his interrogation further the theory that he really didn’t think he was impacting much outside of the gang’s money – he grows almost appalled at the idea of telling the location of the camp and Marian’s secrets to Gisborne, like they never even crossed his mind, or they were so out of the question that he never would have imagined telling him. He seems offended by Robin’s insinuation that he would betray the gang so greatly, that Robin’s idea of him is so low that he thinks Allan would sell the very safety of his friends for money. Robin’s assuming of the worst instantly is another action that Allan will grow to hate later, and although it is harsh, in Robin’s defence he is quickly ensuring the safety of his gang, not only accusing Allan. Their fighting is entirely based on a lack of proper communication and interpretation. If not loyal to the cause, Allan is loyal to the people he loves, and that can be seen by his repeated protection of Marian in the later episodes. He never tries to harm any of the gang apart from Robin (2x06), but I think that is due to loosing part of his love and respect for Robin in this confrontation. If he doesn’t lose it directly, he definitely projects Robin’s hatred of him onto Robin and villainises him until he feels justified in attacking him later.

R: More lies?

A: NO. This was the last time, I promise. And I was wrong. But he captured me, Robin, he tortured me, I didn’t have a choice-

You can hear how earnest Allan is on that final no. I guess Robin, in the midst of his anger and paranoia, can’t read just how truthful he is being. But I don’t think I’d be able to either, to be honest. Robin then interrupts him from speaking, actively talking over Allan rather than listening.  

R: EVERYTHING IS A CHOICE. Everything we do!

Up until Robin says this, Allan has been purely defending his corner and reassuring Robin of everything he hasn’t done, and trying to get back on the same page – but when Robin diminishes his experiences of being captured and tortured, Allan flips and instead starts on the attack. You can see this change happen as he takes a second to think, eyes narrowing with offence as he thinks of what to say back. And what Allan said next has a point, Robin is in a place of privilege as the leader of the gang because if he gets captured, he’s never left for long enough to get tortured, and the Sheriff prefers to go straight to threatening to kill him anyway. He’s too prized a prisoner to be treated badly. Allan’s experiences of being caught are very different: he was left for hours, unsure if anyone would come and rescue him, while being pretty consistently tortured both physically and emotionally. (It’s also interesting that Allan doesn’t tell anyone anything while being physically hurt, but once Gisborne starts preying on his insecurities, he’s bought quite quickly. He is exhausted at that point but it looks like Allan is emotionally hurting more than he lets on to the rest of the gang. Also, he makes it explicitly clear that he isn’t going to help with killing anyone or giving away condemning information, it’s only when Gisborne brings up the idea of little bits of information he becomes swayed. The way to get to Allan is by convincing him what he’s doing isn’t actually harming anyone, actually showing he’s good at heart.) When Robin tells him ‘everything is a choice’, Allan sees it as a complete disregard of the position of hardships he’s been in. Robin’s lecturing him on morals, but in his eyes, Robin has never been/ will never be in the same difficult position as he was. Before that statement by Robin, Allan’s been feeling guilty, and been reaching out to reconnect with Robin – but at the dismissal of his experiences, Allan’s guilt turns to anger.

A: That’s easy for you to say though, isn’t it, huh? You get the glory, you get the girl. Everyone loves you. And then when the King comes back you’ll get lands, property, a wife, EVERYTHING. And what will I have? You are always in the sun, Robin, and I am always in the shade.

I’ll cover this more in the 2x06 analysis, but Allan’s biggest fears are being in pain, deprived, and without security. This outburst is actually one of Allan’s most vulnerable moments (looks like he’s only able to admit to his fears in anger) as he shows all of his insecurities by stating everything Robin has that Allan wishes he did. These play on his being deprived – ‘you get the glory, you get the girl’, ‘what will I have?’ – and being without security – ‘and then when the King comes back you’ll get lands, property, a wife’. As much as Allan enjoys being in the gang, he knows that it cannot be sustained for long and worries about what will happen to him after it ends and, he assumes, everyone goes their separate ways.

R: Is that meant to be an excuse. Heh?

In his anger, Robin misses the vulnerability in Allan’s side of the story. (To be fair to Robin, if I just found out someone I trusted completely had been selling important secrets to my arch nemesis, I’d be blinded by anger too.) But because Allan’s only way of showing vulnerability is by attacking Robin, and Robin takes the attack personally, he misses the insecurities behind Allan’s motivation by taking what he says as an excuse, not a reason. In this moment, Robin exerts his fury physically, pushing Allan up against a wall and shaking him – Allan sees no way out and begins to work on the defences again, realising he can’t gain anything but further disconnect by attacking Robin.

A: Give me another chance, please. I wouldn’t have let Gisborne hurt any of us, I’d never have told him anything like that.

I think this plea makes Allan looks particularly weak, as we see him switching tactics the second he realises one isn’t working (showing how clever he actually is), but also insinuating how happy to shift the truth he is in order to get what he wants. It makes him look almost cowardly, and in Robin’s eyes just furthers the mistrust, as he ricochets from an attack to a plea for forgiveness. However, it’s also a truthful admission by Allan of what he wouldn’t do and where he very firmly draws the line.

R: Harmless lies, innocent betrayals? They don’t exist, Allan!

Robin’s morals are consistently a lot stricter than Allan’s, and at their relationship’s best, this leads to Allan being inspired and positively influenced by him, but at its worst creates conflict and leads Robin to believe he is better than Allan, lecturing him on what is right (see 2x06).

A: Robin, I’ve changed. How can I get you to believe that?

I see ‘Robin, I’ve changed’ as an agreement with Robin that ‘harmless lies’ and ‘innocent betrayals’ don’t exist, but as Allan has only just realised the severity and extent of the actions he believed to be harmless until so recently, he shows his agreement through saying his beliefs have changed. He’s still reaching out to maintain his connection and trust with Robin and in turn, the gang. (I think if it hadn’t been Robin who had gone to the Tripp Inn, it would’ve been a very different outcome. Much would’ve been similar to Robin, casting him out immediately, but taking the betrayal very personally. John would’ve been really angry but I think Allan would’ve perhaps been able to talk him down. Will has a wicked temper for Allan to reckon with, and I think as Will and Allan are so close and Will’s morals so strong, he would be quite personally offended too, so Allan would struggle to win him over, but after some time to cool off Will would’ve heard Allan’s side of the story. Djaq says multiple times she believes Allan is a good man and could have changed, so would’ve listened to his entire story and possibly even let him stay if she believed him. As the leader of the group, Robin sees the gang as his responsibility to keep safe, hence having to be extra harsh in order to make sure they are protected.)

R: You can’t. And the funny thing is, you might be telling the truth.

Here, Robin shows he is aware of how blunt he’s being with Allan, but has so little trust for him he can’t even begin to think he’s telling the truth. He admits that Allan could be being truthful, but that he’s refusing to give him a chance anyway. In 2x06, as Allan becomes highly bitter, saying ‘you should’ve given me a second chance’, it’s likely largely in reference to this moment, where Robin refuses to even consider his viewpoint. For now though, Allan is still trying to regain Robin’s trust.

A: I am!

R: And how am I supposed to believe you anymore?

A: Robin, I swear to you, on my life.

*Robin holds knife up to neck*

A: Don’t kill me. Please.

I don’t think Allan comes across particularly well within this conversation, but the only reason he’s acting in a way that can be seen as cowardly is because he’s doing what he can to fight for his life the entire time, shown as he at first asks the bartender to stay, and coming to a peak here as Robin presses the blade to his throat. His attempts to stay alive have to be spoken, as he knows Robin would overpower him and there’s nowhere to run. His fears of what Robin would do to him are confirmed and in this moment, he truly has no idea whether Robin will kill him or not.

*Robin jerks knife away*

Woohoo Robin doesn’t kill him!

R: You are lucky I’ve left you with a life to swear upon. Never, ever, let me set eyes on you again.

This kind of insinuates Robin thought Allan deserved to die, or at least deserved a worst punishment than just being told to never come back to camp. As we see in the next episode, this doesn’t go to plan and essentially forms the basis for Allan’s further descent and the height of their physical conflict, which is in 2x06.

*Robin stalks away, Allan is left to feel sorry for himself*

TO SUMMARISE:

-        Robin continually refuses to listen to Allan’s explanations, instead seeing them as excuses

-        He dismisses Allan’s experiences of being captured and tortured, instead lecturing him on morals that Allan thinks he can’t afford to have (this is the biggest hurt for Allan, I think – the complete dismissal of his experiences)

-        Robin’s quick to assume Allan would betray the gang completely (admittedly it’s better to be safe than sorry in these situations)

-        He knows he could give Allan a second chance but doesn’t even consider it, and tells Allan this (a major catalyst for Allan’s anger in 2x06)

-        He separates Allan from the gang, meaning Allan can’t go back to camp to collect his items, and can’t explain to his friends his side of the story; they will only hear it through Robin, furthering the bias against him

-        Allan tries to reconnect and reassure Robin, only attacking him once and playing defence the rest of the time

-        He came to the Inn to cover his tracks but also to return the money, implying he’s doing everything he can to stay with the gang – and whatever the motive, he was about to stop working for Gisborne

-        Allan didn’t think his betrayals were as severe as they were, he never imagined telling Gisborne anything more than when they were planning on targeting a certain area

-        Allan and Robin’s inability to listen and respond to one another properly leads to a worsening of the situation and drives them both to the actions of 2x06, as Allan becomes more bitter as he reflects on the conversation and Robin still doesn’t understand Allan’s motivations properly

Thank you so much for reading if you’ve made it this far, I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know your hot takes and interpretations too – did I miss anything? My analysis on 2x06 is coming tomorrow so keep an eye out for that :)

[lifblogs]

celnene

9414 words

destiel, fae!castiel, high fantasy!au

written as a prompt request awhile ago

The baby was crying. The beautiful, blond-haired baby with green eyes was crying, and both parents had left him there in the cabin alone. Their intentions hadn’t been evil, seeing as the mother had gone to hunt for food, and the father had gone to the market to sell furs in exchange for something to eat other than meat. Castiel understood why they hadn’t brought the baby along. Even the trek to the market could be dangerous. Castiel had been there before, wearing a glamour so as to hide from the humans. He found that he enjoyed watching them, even though these people would kill him if they knew who, and what, he was. They’d see his sharp canines, and his pointed ears, his perfect skin, and ethereal glow, and they’d shoot and stab him full of iron.

Usually, most of them weren’t violent to other humans, not as severely as some had been during the wars centuries ago. There were a number, however, who belied that simple fact. Bandits were on the roads, ready to take advantage of helpless townsfolk. A few ex-soldiers wandered, taking their anger out at being dismissed from the army on the people there, and bullying them for money.

So no, a baby wouldn’t have been able to be brought along, despite the sure amount of kindness he would find.

As for friends? Castiel was sure the two parents of this baby didn’t have any that could watch their six-month old. He knew because, well, for some reason he had had his eye fixed upon them for years. He just felt… drawn to them, particularly when the mother had become pregnant.

Once they’d had the baby, they’d taken extra precautions, making weapons of iron. Some were still in the house, but if they didn’t touch Castiel, he would be fine. Would the parents return in time to make an attempt at ending his life? No, the chances of that were slim. Even now he could smell the scents of the parents fading, and they hadn’t renewed. They were getting farther away.

That baby boy was still crying. At six months old he was able to eat mashed food, and he was becoming a little less helpless. Still, he was a baby, and for now, he was all alone in the world.

Castiel came down from his perch on the tree, jumping easily to the ground fifteen feet below and landing on his feet, strong bones and legs easily taking the impact.

As he walked towards the cabin, idly flicking out his power behind him to brush the snow and obscure his tracks, he raised his hand, and he pushed, letting his power pulse outwards. The latch unhooked, the door swinging open slightly. Cold air rushed in ahead of him, and a flurry of snow swept across the mat inside the door. Not wanting the baby to get too cold, Castiel hurried in, taking care to close the door behind him.

The baby didn’t seem hungry when he swept a discerning hand that glowed gold over his body. He was fine. However, he was… lonely.

Castiel, feeling warmth in his chest, picked up the baby, and started bouncing him. For some reason he started telling him about the wars, telling him of the dark fae the humans had helped battle off, and then, in a stroke of mistrust, had turned on the fae that had helped them. The battles had killed more humans than fae, and Castiel, acting as a highlord beneath the reign of his father, the highprince, had been able to convince them to turn away. He left out the gory details, of course, but he told the story of how their peoples had separated, and how some fae still cared about the humans. Too many years had passed for the humans to remember what had happened, and those who weren’t royal or wealthy could barely read. Even then, most humans saw the word Fae and turned away from it, even if that word was on a history book.

Despite their ignorance, Castiel found them interesting. But not as interesting as the baby boy he was bouncing on his knee. The baby, whose name he’d caught a few months ago—Dean—was now gurgling instead of crying. He looked up at Castiel with the greenest of eyes. One of his little hands fisted in Castiel’s silvery-white cloak.

“Yes, it’s all right, Dean,” he told him. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

Castiel stayed with Dean till he heard the parents arriving home.

They didn’t even know he had been there.

✥

Castiel had work to do as a highprince. In his opinion, it was boring work. Most of it was politics between the different courts in the realm in an attempt to postpone another war. Along with that, there were ledgers to keep a decent account of, new guards to choose for his retinue, overseeing commerce—which, to his dismay, included strong drinks that were so punctuated with alcohol they could easily double as cleaning fluid. The alcohol hadn’t made its way to the nobles of his court, but he was aware of its circulation through the slums in the lower depths of his city.

Castiel’s city was Taivakel, built atop a towering mountain. His palace resided at the top; a thing of marble, and gold, and diamond. The city then grew out in a circle all around the mountain, many of the buildings made of smoothened white stone. Different sections of the mountain had been carefully segregated. Though, in the past century, Castiel had had the walls separating them knocked down. He did not want his people to be divided. In part because he cared about them, but he also knew that a divided people could plant animosity among his citizens, and dangerous things could happen. Rebellion—though that hadn’t happened since his father was highprince—civil wars, higher criminal activity.

With this new system, the different quarters had begun to merge with each other, and Castiel quite enjoyed it. The reports he received from his lords and advisors relayed that the people did as well.

Castiel’s people were all fae. The lesser ones, without powers, had been pushed to the bottom of the mountain. They lived in small, wooden shacks and crowded apartments. They had created a black market centuries ago as an attempt to get by. Another highprince, one of whom he was acquainted with—Corvalend, the highprince of Aardess—tried to curtail his worries about the lesser folk. He claimed that they were lesser for a reason, reminding him of the fact that they lacked magic.

Still, Castiel was trying to help; setting up donations, attempting to send builders to fix up the homes, lowering the taxes, and sharing goods. Some for free, some at a lower price. Despite his attempts, he had received quite a bit of backlash from the non-magic folk in his city. They claimed they did not want the help of a highprince who surely looked down upon them, and they insisted that they did not need his help. They had been self-sufficient for four centuries now, and claimed that their ways of life could not be changed. Still, he tried. He desperately tried, caring about all his people.

Then, of course, there were the religious zealots of Dawn’s Children. Dawn was supposedly a representative of the dawn of a new age, in which humans and fae would live together. To most, it was blasphemy. Castiel was not very religious, but he welcomed the idea of merging with the humans. However, sharing that would make him very unpopular with his people. 

Dawn’s Children took in all kinds. They preached in thick robes, collected followers, kept their heads unshaven. To appease them, Castiel had appointed their high priestess as one of his advisors.

Many of Dawn’s Children were tame, gentle, but problems quickly arose whenever they wandered into human territory. Which they did quite frequently.

They wished to mate with them, seeing as they had found ways for two beings of the same sex to mate and create life. In the city, that secret was guarded carefully. However, the work of Dawn’s Children never seemed to come to fruition. Many of the members who delved into the human kingdoms did not return. During their first foray, Castiel’s father had sent a battalion of troops after them, even requesting that Castiel lead them. He had declined, and without his leadership, only half the troops had returned. His father blamed him, as Castiel did himself.

Quite frequently he found himself venturing into the human realm in secret, as he had a few years ago when drawn to that baby. His only creed was to explore, observe, and not interact. Yet, he felt pulled to the child, and often walked through doorways of light to the human realm. He would do this at night, while tasking one of his lords or trusted advisors to watch over the city in his stead. Perhaps the time for another visit was drawing near.

✥

The day had been grueling. Highprince Castiel had undertaken a building project in the lower quarter. Though his identity had remained hidden till an hour or two into his work, he was eventually found out, and vitriol was flung his way. Still, Castiel worked, whether these fae wanted him to or not. This was his duty. To serve, protect, lead. If he could not do what he would ask of someone else, then in his eyes he would have failed as a highprince.

Castiel let out a deep sigh as he now settled down into the hot water filled nearly to the brim in his deep-set, marble tub. There was a ledge to sit on when one did not want to be fully submerged.

The ledge was where he rested for now, sore from his day’s work. Eventually, he soaped up his body, washing away the sweat, and grime that had collected on him. After dunking into the water to rinse away the soap, servants toweled him dry. They attempted to dress him in his night clothes, and Castiel dismissed them, a fluffy towel wrapped about his hips.

He perused his wardrobe, opting for dark clothing. He donned a black silk tunic with a deep v cut down the center, and silvery embroidery on the cuffs, black leather pants, paired with fur-lined boots, a vest for partial warmth, and a cloak.

Fall had come, and he did not want to get cold on his travels.

Castiel waved his hand, widening a doorway of golden light. He stepped into it.

✥

Dean was playing in the forest. It was evening, the sky that dull gray before the sun lowered beyond the horizon and surrendered the world to starry night.

Dean was seven years of age now, and he was receiving some schooling. His little brother was three years of age. Dean couldn’t wait to take him out in the woods to play with him. All his brother Sam seemed to be able to do for now was play with the wooden toys their father had carved for Dean some years ago.

Sometimes, against his mother’s will, Dean traveled into town. Whilst there he came to know that his patched together clothing, originally taken from his father’s trunk after his death, was a sign of poverty. With one parent, they were not very well off.

Now, he played in the woods; he had found a giant stick, and was whacking a tree with it. He moved into different stances, ones he had come up with in his head, and had convinced himself that the soldiers used.

Light broke through the twilit sky, and Dean gripped his stick hard, heart pounding. What was that?

Then he saw a tall shadow through that golden glow, and Dean ran to hide behind a thick ash tree he had taken to climbing a year ago.

Poking his head around, he saw the shadow step out of the light and materialize into a man. He was dressed in black, his tan skin inhumanly smooth, dark hair immaculate, and—

Dean hid behind the tree again, gasping, breathing hard.

The man was fae!

Dean had seen the pointed ears. Did he have fangs too?

The fae male stepped so lightly that Dean hadn’t even heard him approach, and—

He rounded the tree Dean was hidden behind. At his discovery, Dean’s instincts told him to drop his stick, to run. Yet, there was something deeper inside of him. An excitement, a thrill of some sort. Dean ran at the fae male and cried out, swearing, “Get back! Get back! You don’t belong here, you damned Inenuan rubbish!” as he beat at his legs and lower abdomen with his stick.

Eventually, he tired, and when he stepped away, panting, shaking fingers scraped from bark, still holding onto his stick, he looked up into the face that observed him. He saw blue eyes, a strong jaw, nearly too-pink lips, and eyes as blue as the Clear Lake a few miles away. Mary and Dean had made the trek before; Mary with Sam bundled up against her chest. Dean was reminded of those waters when he looked into those eyes. Blue, cold, perhaps even empty.

No, emptiness was not what lay there. Just something different, something he could not recognize. After all, he was fae.

The fae male reached out, and took Dean’s stick. Dean trembled.

“You know,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, sharp teeth flashing as he examined the stick, “if you stripped this of bark, whittled it down, and sharpened the edge, it would be a more effective weapon.” 

He handed it back to Dean, and Dean just stared, mouth dry. He licked his lips. 

“Your form was off as well,” he commented. Then Dean was sure his heart had stopped because that thing, that being, was touching him. The touch was not harsh, nor anywhere inappropriate; simply meant for moving his limbs around. Yet he had dropped his stick in shock. “Here,” the male said, “you want to keep your feet shoulder width apart, and lower yourself slightly as if you were sitting up on a high stool. There, good. Feet must be straight, pointing forward, bringing power and balance into your legs.”

Dean still couldn’t breathe. A fae was touching him! Talking to him! When would the killing blow come? Would he steal him away, cook him up before eating him for dinner? Would he enslave him, perhaps keep him as a pet? Or would he put him on the front lines of his army to be used as a distraction to lessen the deaths of the real soldiers? No matter the course of action, he was sure he would die.

“All right. Yes. Now put your arms up.” He now grabbed hold of his arms, and Dean took in a sharp breath. Though, the touch was gentle, perhaps even kind. No, impossible. This creature did not know kindness. “You want to keep one held up, angled slightly away from your body. This one you use to block blows. It protects you, and from this position you can easily lift it to protect your face, or lower it to protect your abdomen. The other arm should be lower, pulled back slightly. You can alternate which hands you use if we’re talking hand-to-hand combat—here make a fist—keeping you from tiring on one side too quickly, and giving you the advantage of coming at your enemy from both sides. And you see here?” He lightly patted Dean’s elbow, and Dean realized he had not left the position he’d been placed in, too terrified to move. “With this arm farther back, when you reach out to punch someone, it gathers momentum, but only if you keep your elbow and wrist straight.” The male backed up slightly, taking his hands off him. “Here, try it. Punch me.”

“Wh-what?” Dean questioned, voice small in the otherwise empty forest.

“Hit me,” the fae male commanded. 

That voice was commanding. It was the voice of a leader, the voice of one with power. Dean found he could not resist. He stepped out with one foot, and drove a punch into the fae male’s gut. The satisfying sound of a fist hitting the center of a body met Dean’s ears. To his dismay, the male had not moved even an inch.

Dean faltered.

The fae crouched down, getting on his level. “It’s all right, Dean,” he told him. “I am stronger than you, able to withstand much more, but with practice, you will be able to protect yourself.”

“H-h-how do you kn-know my name?” Dean asked, struggling to get the words out.

“That story is long,” he said. “But perhaps in a decade or two, I will tell it to you.”

A gate of golden light opened, and Dean shielded his suddenly-watering eyes against it, blinking something fierce.

“Farewell, Dean,” the fae male said, and then he made to walk into the light. Before disappearing into it he turned, saying as if in afterthought, “By the way, my name is Castiel.” 

Castiel stepped into the light, which receded behind him. Dean was alone in the darkened woods.

✥

Sam coughed, blood coming up on his lips. Dean just held his hand, bowing his head. Sam was unconscious, but still he said to him, voice rough, throat aching with emotion, “Come on, Sammy. Hold on for me. You’ll be okay.”

Mary was out trying to get herbs for him, and she was desperate, saying she would not lose another one of her boys. After their father had died, she had attempted to be a good mother, but had no longer possessed the will. The spark had gone out, and Dean had tried to light it once more. He’d given everything for her, for Sam. It hadn’t been enough.

Somehow, with Sam being sick, she seemed to have that spark again, that fight. She was going to be there for him.

Dean searched their little cabin for a cloth. He found one resting over the edge of the washbasin—which was empty. He groaned, knowing they needed more water.

Dean put the cloth over his shoulder, took the washbasin, and went outside into the cold with it. He forwent putting on a cloak. He wouldn’t be out there for long. He went to the spigot located in the back of their cabin. The metal was cold as he worked it up and down to get the water from the cistern. It seemed to burn his hand.

Doesn’t matter.

Water splashed over his hands. Dean couldn’t do this gently. He was breathing hard, sweat on his forehead despite the cold.

Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam

Praise Ilvasar, that even this little bit of water would help.

Doubtful.

Dean went back in out of the cold, put the washbasin down near Sam, and then soaked the cloth. Water dripped in little pitter-patters as he wrung it out. He used it to clean the blood off of Sam, and then put the clean part of it on his blazing hot forehead.

Sam’s breaths rattled in his chest.

Dean stayed kneeling by the bed, and put his head down against Sam, one hand resting across his brother’s stomach. He knew that with his arm like this, he was supposed to be able to feel Sam breathing. The abdomen seemed to hold deep breaths. Sam couldn’t breathe deeply enough for them to reach lower.

His brother whimpered, and when Dean moved his head higher, he could feel Sam’s too-slow heartbeat. His breaths rattled, and squeaked. A tear fell from one of Dean’s eyes, rolling down his cheek to land on Sam’s cotton tunic.

Dean held on to his shoulder, fingers kneading, trying to soothe.

“Sammy…” he murmured.

The door banged open, and in an instant, Dean—though exhausted—rose and settled into a stance he’d somehow learned but possessed no memory of being taught. He relaxed, heaving out a breath at the revelation that it was just his mother.

Their eyes met, and unspoken, horrid words passed between them.

Dean collapsed to his knees, reaching out for Sam’s hand.

His mother came to hold his hand, and despite the trials of their past, he allowed the touch.

“What must we do?” Dean murmured.

“There’s nothing.”

Dean pulled his hand away. A part of him wished to argue, wished to fall into the habits he’d developed years ago. Instead, he went into his room, and donned the jacket and cloak he’d left resting on his bed. He grabbed his leather gloves by the door, and pulled his hood up, ready to set out.

His mother grabbed him.

“You can’t go,” she said to him, pleading.

Dean found his words were lost to him, that he could not speak. Instead of soothing his mother, or confiding in her with his plan, he shrugged free of her grip, and walked out into the cold evening.

Dean wandered for quite some time, searching for any roots that could have survived in all the snow. There were rumors of magic in the land, so surely there would be some.

His search proved fruitless. Dean had wandered at least two miles from the cabin, the sun now beginning to set. The sky was painted in red, bleeding into the gray darkness.

Cold, shivering, Dean knelt in the snow, holding himself upright against the thick base of a tree. His hands were frigid despite the gloves protecting his skin. The ice bit at his nose, his lips, and the wind made a good many attempts to tear his hood off.

He held onto it with his free hand, breaths suddenly coming hard and fast.

The now-familiar ache in his throat built up, and in pain-filled moments his vision began to blur, the world fading away from him.

There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

Sam was surely meant for the grave.

With that thought pounding inside his head, he rose, and walked, even as he lost all track of time, all understanding of his body. Dark had settled upon the world when he came to, when his tears dried. Stars blinked out above the bare trees.

Ilvasar, please.

No. Hope for his brother was not something Ilvasar could grant him, if Ilvasar even truly existed. Religion had always seemed rather weak and feeble to Dean. Were gods and powerful spirits truly watching over them? Or were the human superstitions all for naught?

However, Dean had begun to burn prayers for the gods some months ago, searching for anything that could help Sam.

Ilvasar was a common god to be used as a curse. However, he would not help here. He didn’t have the powers, did not know how. So he looked up, and he prayed to Neia, the goddess of all things natural in the world. The legends told of her proclivity for healing. Perhaps…

Dean attempted to reach her, to believe.

Please, my brother is dying. Neia. I beg of you.

Sam will die.

Sam will die.

Please…

Sam will die. He will perish and be taken to the afterlife, perhaps even into a realm of darkness.

Neia…

A tortured scream left Dean, and he climbed to his feet. He kicked at the snow, and then drew his arm back in a fist. When he punched the tree, the bark tore at the leather glove of his right hand. His knuckles throbbed. Yet, he wished to take his anger out on the tree once more.

Fist raised, about to deliver another blow, the realization that he should put his anger and fear into use came upon him. What would screaming and crying in the dark and cold accomplish? Such a manifestation of emotions would never help.

Hand throbbing, ice cold reaching through the tear in his glove, and radiating against him to numb his face, he birthed an idea.

Was the idea a terrible, and possibly perilous one?

Yes.

No other options had presented themselves.

Beginning to hunger, his stomach growling from missing dinner, Dean looked up at the stars, determining his position.

Good. He had already unintentionally been traveling in the correct direction. All he must do was continue north in a straight line.

He walked, keeping his cloak wrapped securely about himself, raising his feet up high so as to not get stuck in the snow. His breaths were harsh in his chest, his thighs beginning to ache. Still, onward he went.

Dean was not sure how he was aware of crossing the Border. Perhaps it was the slight tingle that had traveled down his spine. Or perhaps it was the way the very air seemed different, more… pure.

Now what must he do?

Dean knew not.

He walked. Hopeless.

Cold and exhaustion gripped him, and he gave in, lying beneath the low bough of a fir.

✥

The tugging in Castiel’s gut alerted him to Dean’s presence. He had crossed the Border. But why? Why did Castiel then sense a dark dread, and exhaustion?

These feelings had awoken him, and he did not bother to dress—only grabbing his cloak, and shoving his feet into some boots—before fixing himself on Dean’s location. Light opened up in his chambers, a tear in the physical plane of this world. He stepped through it.

Where he was transported to was a forest a few miles from the Border. Dean had been traveling north, yet he would have never reached Castiel’s territory that way—if that had truly been his goal.

He slept beneath a tree, his face pale against the light of Castiel’s portal, his lips blue. His hair, which had darkened to brown with age, had been swept away from his face.

With his chest aching despite his immortality, Castiel rushed to him, and cradled his head in one hand, hoisting him up into his lap. He wrapped an arm around him, and found Dean was limp. Lifeless.

Not even daring to hope, he put two fingers to Dean’s neck, feeling for life, for blood flowing through him.

Yes!

There it was.

Faint.

Castiel could not bring beings back from the dead, but he could heal. It was an ability he’d acquired from his father.

Those two fingers traveled to Dean’s frozen lips, almost pressing into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he reached into the well of power inside of him, reached into that strong, viperous glow and warmth. Light played against Castiel’s eyelids. In mere moments, Dean’s breath warmed his fingers.

Pleased that Dean would not die at this moment, Castiel hoisted him up, carrying him over his shoulder, and he took him through the portal.

✥

Softness caressed Dean, enveloping him. He was sunken into something plush, furs layered above him. Despite this, the outward comfort could not penetrate the aches in his body.

Eyelids heavy, feeling as though he could barely open them, Dean breathed deep, attempting to fall back into sweet, blanketing sleep.

Fear suddenly spiked through him, and he tried to sit up. He hardly succeeded, holding himself up with a shaking arm, his other arm across his aching ribs.

Hands were on him now, and Dean tried to push them off, rip them away from him.

He found he could not do so. There was an iron strength in those hands.

As Dean took in the room, the white, gold, and silver coloring of it, his head became a place rife with fear.

He had passed through the Border.

These were not the chambers of a human. There was something distinctly inhuman about them. Perhaps it was the delicate, arching designs, the natural lines to everything that put the rough angles of humanity’s creations to shame. Silver and gold arced and swirled through the white of the room, creating a beautiful, unfathomable pattern.

Dean dared to look up into the face near his. Dared to confront the truth that he had been captured by a fae, and one who was surely male, the size of his hands giving him away.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean started, gaze traveling over that strong jaw, those pink lips, the nearly sharp cheekbones, and the big, beautiful eyes. The fae’s skin was tan, hair dark and ruffled. It did not serve to hide his pointed ears.

Did he have sharp fangs?

Why did it matter? This fae knew his name.

This fae had captured him.

Dean was plunged into the stomach-churning sensation of vulnerability, and then a new realization came upon him. He looked down to assess the truth. Of course. He was naked.

“How do you know my name, and what did you do to me!” Dean growled, shocked by the strength in his voice.

The fae male just pushed him down into the bed, Dean struggling all the while. He then set himself on the bed beside Dean, pulling the furs up against his chest, covering him once more.

“You were dying,” his captor told him.

Fear pumped through Dean’s blood.

Yet, those eyes, that face, was so beautiful. Strength lay beneath his night clothes. A deeper part of Dean that tended to crave someone’s touch, was very pleased with this situation. However, it was not the one ruling his mind.

“The cold had gotten to you,” he explained. “You were blue, frost-bitten. Your bodily functions had slowed. Death had been upon you, so close that I feared I hadn’t reached you in time.”

Dean glared, and this strong, stupid, self-absorbed, repgunant being—

No, Dean, he chastised himself. You require his help. For Sam.

He saved you.

He can save your brother.

—the fae male removed his hands, leaving Dean propped up on plush pillows.

“You still haven’t answered how you know my name,” Dean said.

The fae frowned, tilting his head in a way that seemed to signal confusion.

“You truly don’t know?” he questioned.

“Know what?”

The male reached two fingers out towards him, and Dean attempted to shy away.

Useless. Those warm fingers rested against his forehead with a gentle touch.

Dean was carried away. Away from the bed, the elaborate and lavish chambers that were so hauntingly beautiful. Away from the palace he now understood he was in. Away from time, from the present. He went back, and back…

Till he was just a little boy standing in a forest, shaking with fear as he raised a stick, preparing to fight the fae before him. He was all dark hair, and bright eyes, so tall, so large.

The fae spoke, positioned his body, taught him. Dean recognized the stance he was directed through, a stance that had helped him when he had enlisted in the army. The army had not brought much good, seeing as any attempts to fight across the Border had killed troops in droves, yet Dean had learned to fight. With his fists, with knives, a sword, a staff, a spear. Before he’d become a deserter upon hearing of Sam’s illness, he’d been training with the axe, and even with a bow.

Had… Had this being truly helped him with this?

Why couldn’t Dean—

As the fae male turned to leave through a gate of golden light, he turned back, a slight smile turning up his lips. By the way, my name is Castiel.

Dean was rushed back through time, through the world, as if a rope had suddenly been pulled taut, the strength of some ethereal creature reeling him back in. Dean strained against it, head pounding.

A voice rang through the travels of his mind: Don’t fight it. It’s all right.

Implicit trust was born in Dean, and he breathed deeply.

His mind returned to its natural place inside him. His vision was blurred, but in seconds, it righted itself.

“Castiel,” Dean breathed.

Castiel’s smile in response to his words was gentle, warm. It was not what he had expected of a fae.

“So where am I?” Dean asked, attempting to sit up once more. He shied away from Castiel’s hands, though the strength in them had begun to stoke a fire deep in him. “I saw this is a palace. Are you… Are you a royal of some sort?”

“I’m a highprince of the kingdom of Taivakel,” Castiel informed. “We are on top of a mountain, and you are leagues from the Border.”

“All right. Why am I naked?”

“I had to warm you. Your clothes were wet and cold.”

Dean saw the sense in that, but still, he was slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps not in a way he should’ve been. Staring at Castiel, his gut began to throb.

He attempted to banish the treacherous thoughts from his head. He smothered them under prolonged pain, and the coming of grief.

Words spilled from his mouth, tone aching with the very love he held for his brother, “Castiel, you have to help me. My brother Sam is dying of sickness. I crossed the Border to find someone to save him, to…” He swallowed roughly, and forged on, “To make a deal.”

A sultry darkness flickered in Castiel’s eyes, and the grin on his face transformed into something feral.

Dean’s mouth went dry, and he tried to swallow, but found his throat was just as parched.

“Cas—” he began to ask before the dryness of his throat deadened his words.

“Yes, we can make a deal. But you cannot back out of it. Whatever we come to, you must follow through accordingly. Betraying me, attempting to break the deal, it will result in your untimely death.”

Dean found the strength to speak. He asked, his voice rough, gravelly, “You can save him?”

“Yes, I can save him.” Castiel pulled away from him, getting off the bed. He began to pace, a hand to his chin. “But what do I desire?”

Dean wanted to hide in the furs, pretend he was no longer there despite the deadly allure of Castiel.

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”

Castiel turned to Dean, eyes bright, and Dean gulped, holding the furs to himself, kicking himself away as Castiel crawled over him on the bed. He held himself up with his hands and knees, and Dean’s breaths were shallow as he stared up at this being, as he felt the pressure where their bodies touched. Dean imagined he could hear his heartbeat. How was that possible? All fae had hearts of stone, surely. It was why they could not die.

Those eyes seemed to penetrate him, and Dean’s body began to betray him, heat building up in between his legs.

Oh, Ilvasar. Neia. Jhana. No. Spirits, help me.

Castiel lowered his face to his, their lips nearly touching, nose brushing against his own. Everything in Dean begged and pleaded for he himself to reach up, to press their lips together. To discover whether the stone was in his entire body, if the dreaded evil could truly live in him.

Castiel breathed deep, and Dean shifted, hand lowering to hide his growing arousal.

“I will heal your brother for you, Dean Winchester. In return, I ask only for your firstborn.”

That was it?

Dean had expected to bleed for him, to become enslaved, to be at the mercy of this fae.

For the moment, sacrificing his firstborn did not seem like an evil act. He did not have a child, and surely wouldn’t for years. Dean was not the kind of man who gave women a reason to stay and settle down with him—his recently broken engagement was testament to that. As for his other tastes… They could not produce children.

He’d heard rumors however that when a human and a fae... became close in that way, that despite being the same sex, they could create a child… somehow. Perhaps it was just rumor, but still, Dean found himself asking, wanting to hold up his end of the bargain as studiously as possible, “When will we begin?”

Castiel pulled back slightly. “I beg pardon?”

“Creating a child,” Dean added, cheeks reddening, gaze traveling away from those penetrating eyes. They then found the thickness of his body, and his own body continued to betray him. “I… I heard that… a human man, and a fae male can…”

Castiel sat back, and sidled off of Dean. He rested back on his heels. “Ah, so you’ve been preached to by Dawn’s Children.”

Dean nodded.

“They pander lies, they meddle where they should not, but that is one truth they properly acknowledge. However, my people and I try to keep it close to us.”

“Why?” Dean found himself asking.

“It is thought of as blasphemous for our races to mix.”

Dean wished to nod in agreement, but he was still frozen, naked under the pile of furs.

“However,” Castiel went on, a sensual haze darkening his eyes, “I find your presence quite persuasive. I am not averse to the idea of making you mine.”

Highprince Castiel grinned.

✥

Castiel had the strong urge to dress Dean up as he saw fit, to parade this human around as his own. He was. He would be. The idea of creating life with Dean Winchester coaxed a thrill in him that he could barely contain. Was it because of the taboo acts that would take place? The betrayal of a stifling culture? The touch of someone forbidden? No matter, he wished to let out the thrill, the rush. To let it out in luxurious ways that this human wouldn’t even be capable of comprehending.

Yet, Dean ordered him around. He ordered Castiel to get him clothes, to leave him alone as he dressed. Made him heal his aches, get him food and refreshment. Now, he came out of Castiel’s room, and crossed his arms as he stood across from him.

Dean was dressed in fine leathers and furs of mostly black. Castiel resisted licking his bottom lip when he looked at him.

“First things first, you are going to hold up your end of the bargain. I’m not quite sure how much time my brother has left, but when I went in search of something, anything, to help him he was… He must not have long.

Dean lowered his head slightly at those words, blinking fiercely.

Perhaps Castiel should have feigned ignorance and pretended he hadn’t seen that look, but he went to Dean, and held him by his shoulders in what he hoped was a reassuring grip. Dean was an inch taller than him, it would seem, but that didn’t mean that Castiel couldn’t do as he wished.

He lowered himself slightly, head tilted upward, so he could meet Dean’s tearful gaze.

“I will save him,” Castiel promised.

✥

Memories rekindled themselves in Dean’s mind when Castiel seemed to create a glowing tear in reality. He had been hesitant to step through it, so the highprince had grabbed him by his upper arm, and hauled him through with him.

Dean found that he did not possess the will to object. With Castiel’s strong hand on him, Dean felt as if he had just started living, as if his previous life was in dull colors and darker shades.

He worried. Yes, he worried. He had given himself to this fae highprince, and he had done so with hardly a thought.

Yet, Dean would do it all over again. He would have given up more if he had to, he would have become a very slave to the highprince who had saved him if that was what was required.

For now, it seemed as if Castiel was content to fulfill his end of the bargain.

The light had taken them to Dean’s family’s cabin, which now seemed too small and drab, even after only seeing a few rooms in the palace of Taivakel. His life, a human life, could not compare to the very being holding onto him so tightly. The heat his touch brought to life in Dean’s stomach was something he had never felt before. Even with all the girls he had been with in the village, and the few boys, Castiel was already unlike any other. Dean’s betrothal to Lisa now seemed far and in the past, despite it only being broken off a fortnight ago. She didn’t matter. Only Sammy mattered. Only… Dare he say it?

No, he could not.

He would not.

Dean was better than that.

If you are, then why did you offer yourself up to him so willingly? Are you that desperate for someone to fill the void?

Dean tried to push that thought down, but it festered inside of him. His black, fur-lined cloak billowed in the winter wind whispering through the trees, as did Castiel’s.

What he was wearing was still astonishing. He knew his clothes had not been anything special, and at times were very close to falling apart, but now, he felt regal. How was it that he felt such a thing from clothes he did not belong in? These were the clothes of a fae, not of a man. Clothes of royalty.

Dean was no such thing.

Castiel took his hand—which was protected with a black leather glove, just like Dean’s—and hurried over to the cabin with him. No light could be found inside despite the growing dark.

Dark?

Had it not been day when he’d awoken?

Yes, but he had assumed it was morning, not taking time to look at the positioning of the sun.

He swallowed roughly. Oh, Ilvasar, he’d been away a whole day.

Where was his mother?

Was Sam…?

Was he…?

Dean shrugged himself free of Castiel’s grip, and rushed towards his home. He flung the door open, barely daring to see what awaited him.

Darkness shrouded the common area where Sam’s bed had been set up so it would be easier to keep an eye on him. His mother would have had a fire going, or at least have some candles lit. She wasn’t here.

“Sam?” he called out, voice shaking.

He knew his brother couldn’t answer, yet it felt better to speak than to stand there silently.

A hand clasped down on his shoulder, and he jumped. He turned to look at Castiel.

“Do not tarry, Dean. Your brother still lives, but is approaching the veil.”

Paying closer attention to sound, he heard his brother’s harsh breathing. He rushed in, tripped on a stool, cursed, and then stumbled to Sam’s side. As Castiel entered, a golden glow was lit upon his hand, brighter than any lantern. For a moment, Dean had to shield his eyes.

Dean held his brother’s hand, and brushed his sweat-dampened hair back from his face. He was in different night clothes, and he looked as if he’d been bathed. So his mother had been here. Where was she now? Why was she gone?

Perhaps it didn’t matter.

“I’m here now, Sammy. It’ll be all right. I’m going to look after you.”

Still on his knees, Dean turned, and he swallowed roughly as he looked up at Highprince Castiel, as he took in the ethereal features that would never be touched with age, the pointed ears, the dark hair, those sensuous lips hiding sharp canines, the beautiful blue eyes that had seen countless lifetimes of men wax and wane.

“Please, help him.”

Castiel bowed his head in deference, startling Dean. “As you wish,” he told him.

Before long, Castiel was kneeling beside Dean, and he had one of his glowing palms pressed against Sam’s chest. The glow intensified, and Sam’s breathing seemed to falter, his body arching up into that large hand.

Dean gripped Castiel’s arm.

“Stop it. What are you doing to him? What’s happening?”

Castiel just gripped Dean by his hair, and pulled him off of him.

“Quiet. I’m healing him.”

Castiel closed his eyes, and his lips were parted as he focused. His breaths came heavy, and Dean could just see those fangs poking out.

A darkness seemed to flow up into Castiel’s hand, nearly blotting out the light. It twisted up his arm, where it penetrated him. He groaned, and then his body slumped; he let out a protracted sigh. Sam’s body relaxed, and his breaths sounded even for the first time in two months.

Oh, praise Jhana! He was alright!

Smiling, tears dripping from his eyes, Dean held Sam.

Suddenly, Castiel and his light were gone, and Sam’s eyes opened. Before Dean could wonder about the whereabouts of the highprince, Sam met his gaze.

“Dean?”

“I’m here, Sammy. I took care of you. You’re all better.”

“How?”

Dean leaned down, placing a kiss upon his brother’s brow. “The answer matters not. You’re all right now. You’re healed.”

“Where’s Mother?” Sam asked, now sitting up on his own, searching the cabin.

Castiel chose that time to make his reappearance. Light shot out from his hands, making both Dean and Sam flinch, and in moments, the cold fireplace was a beacon of roaring warmth.

Sam kicked himself backwards on the bed.

“D-Dean? Who is that?”

Dean was given no chance to answer. Instead, Castiel informed them, “Your mother will be along shortly.”

“And you…” Sam began to ask, then swallowed roughly. His wide eyes traveled between Dean and Castiel. Then, his face softened, but not into an expression of admiration or content. There was sadness there. “And you made a deal with him,” Sam finished.

“Yes, I did, Sammy.”

Sam ripped his hand from Dean’s.

“How could you?”

“You were dying!”

“What did he ask of you in return? To be his pet? His whore?”

“Sammy, I’m alright.”

Castiel came over, Sam flinching back. “Your brother has offered up his firstborn. He intends to have me collect shortly.”

Sam’s brows furrowed together. “How? Dean’s not—”

“No, he’s not. It appears he would like to do this with me. I shall be helping him.”

Disgust painted his brother’s features, tension coiling in his limbs.

“How?”

“The details are not of import,” Castiel answered. “What you need to know is that your brother came into this willingly, and that he will be all right. I swear to you, Sam, I will not harm him, and I vow to keep him safe.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Sam accused.

Castiel started pulling the glove on his right hand off. With the leather off, Dean saw a large ring on his fourth finger he hadn’t taken note of before. The gem set in the silver metal was darkened and smooth. Castiel worked the ring off his finger, and held it out for Sam to take. Hesitantly, Sam held his hand out, and Castiel dropped the ring into his anxiously waiting palm.

“Here,” he told him. “This ring is connected to another that I have in my palace. Rub your thumb over it whenever you wish to see how your brother fares.”

“What if you hide the other ring?” Sam asked. “What if this one is not real? What if you will pretend that Dean is safe?”

“I like you, boy,” Castiel commented. “You certainly think of all the loopholes.” Sam just gave him a grim look in return. Dean went back to holding his hand, and his brother let him. “How about, one week out of every month, I let you, and perhaps your mother, come stay with me to see how Dean fares?”

Despite having been unconscious and bogged down with sickness for so long, Sam’s mind seemed just as sharp as ever.

“And what do you want in return?”

Castiel brushed a hand across Dean’s cheek, his stomach fluttering at his touch.

“I will get to keep Dean.”

“What? No!”

“It’s all in the price of saving you,” Dean told him. “I think it an honorable deed. Please, let me do this. I will be safe. Besides, it was about time I moved out of the cabin anyway. I’m a little too old to be living with my family. Perhaps it’s time to make my own way.”

“You won’t be able to!”

“Sam.”

“Tied to him, you won’t—”

Dean took hold of Sam’s face, looking deep into his hazel eyes.

“I will. I wanted this. I did this for you. You’re”—Dean choked on the next words he wished to speak, and his vision blurred, a tear rolling down his cheek—“...damned Inenua! You’re alive.”

“Dean, you know you should not speak of that place.”

“What?” he asked with a shrug. “You know it’s not real.”

The silence of Castiel beside him was deafening.

Dean looked up at him, and Castiel just winced.

He swallowed roughly. “Ah, well. Wonderful. I suppose I always liked fire anyway.”

“Hush now,” Castiel commanded.

Dean had opened his mouth to say something else, but now he found he had no choice but to obey. The sheer power in Castiel’s tone was something that he was sure no being could ignore.

“All right, Sammy, I have to go,” Dean said when words came to him once more.

“You’ll leave me? Just like—just like Dad?”

“You know it’s not like that. Besides, you’re old enough to be out on your own. We’ll see each other often. Please, live your life. Don’t waste away in my shadow.”

Sam nodded, having difficulty looking at Dean. Then, he drew him into a bone-crushing hug. Dean held him with just as much strength.

“Bitch,” Dean quietly called him, as was their proper way of saying goodbye to each other.

Sam laughed against him. “Twit.”

Long seconds passed before Dean was able to pull himself from Sam’s grip.

“Bye, Sammy.”

“See you soon, Dean. What of Mother?”

He waved his hand absently. “Ah, she’ll be fine. As will you.”

He turned to the highprince who still held onto him, the highprince who might actually possess a real heart. “I suppose it’s time you took me back to the palace.”

A golden tear opened in the room already flooded with light and warmth. Dean blinked his eyes against it.

“Wait,” Sam began, standing and taking his first steps from the bed in months. “Your ring,” he offered to Castiel.

Castiel smiled at him, and it was a smile that Dean hadn’t ever expected from a fae. What he saw there was…

Kindness.

He barely noticed anything else besides the light Castiel had the ability to create.

“Keep it.”

Once through the tear in reality, they were back in Castiel’s chambers.

Immediately, the highprince shoved Dean against a wall. Perhaps being fearful would have been the reasonable reaction, but Dean had never been known for being reasonable. His breaths left him as wanting groans, and he fought against Castiel for only a moment, testing his strength.

Yes, Castiel was far superior.

Dean swallowed roughly, and asked, voice already a low gravel, “Not going to show me off to the lords and ladies first?”

As an answer, Castiel growled, and pulled Dean’s head back. Throat exposed, Dean barely dared to breathe. The highprince began to lavish his neck with gentle kisses, a press of lips against skin that was soon becoming more insistent. When he began to suck over his pulse point, it was as if a string of pleasure had been drawn taut throughout his body, and someone had just yanked on it, making it shudder with wanton desire. He moaned, finding himself weak, needy, at this fae’s mercy.

Castiel held Dean’s arms above his head, so he had nowhere to go when he felt Castiel’s fangs at his neck.

Again, his reaction was far from reasonable. In fact, his body was beginning to ache with arousal.

“Do it,” Dean begged.

Castiel tilted his head up, stroking a thumb along the column of Dean’s throat. Pleasure trailed through him.

“Hmm, if you wish for it that badly, then no, I will not give you what you desire.”

“Then what—“

Castiel pressed his lips to Dean’s, and Dean kissed back. The world faded away into a realm of white light. Castiel remained pressed up against him, yet his lips were traveling lower as he began to undress him.

Dean felt weightless, and yet, the white all around him did not falter.

Breathless, Dean asked, “Are we in Celnene?” Celnene was one of the afterlives, the one Dean wished to pass into after death took him.

Castiel grinned, a dark, seductive laugh leaving him as he straightened.

“We’re in your mind.”

Dean pulled back, furrowing his brow as he frowned at him in confusion.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Castiel let Dean step away, yet he took the space apart as an opportunity to begin undressing. First he unpinned his cloak. It fell away, as if it had never existed. In fact, when Dean looked down he found no true source of stability. What were they standing on?

Overwhelmed, dizzy, he began to feel like he was falling, and would never stop.

Dean suddenly found himself in Castiel’s strong arms, and he panted as he looked at him.

“It sure would be nice if my mind at least knew how to create a floor.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you, Dean.”

A bright flash of pain seared from his throat down to his collarbone. It greatly stirred his fading arousal. Then, of all things, he felt a body pressing against him, hardness fervently grinding in between his legs, finding Dean’s own—

Yet, Castiel was only holding him in here.

“Castiel?” Dean asked.

The highprince swiped a thumb across Dean’s cheekbone. “I am about to show you the proper way to make love. Making love is not just an act of the body, it is one of the mind, and we fae can embody that. In fact, that is how I am going to put a child in you.”

Dean groaned at those words.

Castiel ground against him in the physical realm, and in the realm of Dean’s mind they were suddenly… ONE. Gold flared through Dean, caressing his very insides. The sensations seemed to shatter him, burning him all over. When he opened his mouth to scream, pleasure took hold of him there. It went into his mouth, into his throat. Dean breathed in the very essence of Castiel, and he learned in every part of his being that Castiel’s heart pumped blood like any living being. A whole world burst behind his eyelids, and Dean never wanted this fae male to leave him. Dean himself would surely never leave him.

He was in Celnene.

This was more than just something he had agreed to to save his brother. This was what he wanted.

Great Ilvasar, and Neia, and Jhana above, this was what he was sure he had always wanted, whether he’d known it or not.

Castiel claimed him, and in turn, Dean claimed Castiel.

Somehow, when the act was over, Dean could feel a part of Castiel’s consciousness in him, mixing with his own. He was lying down, groaning, tired and aching all over. Castiel was up against him, bare skin nearly burning everywhere they touched.

“So that’s how—” Dean began to ask.

Castiel kissed the back of his head. “Yes, which is one of the reasons we tend to not interact with humans. The child you will birth for me will be more powerful than even myself.”

Dean twisted his head back to look at him, the soft furs of the bed caressing his skin as he did so. When had they gotten to the bed?

“Then why? Why agree to this?”

“You agreed first.”

Dean grinned at him. “Trying to win against you is folly, I assume?”

“I think you would find trying to do so a most unfortunate plight. Now, sleep.”

At his words, the tiredness and exhaustion Dean had been feeling since the completion of their coupling simmered to the surface.

“Sleep,” Castiel murmured, holding Dean close. He kissed the back of his head once more, and began to caress him, touch gentle against his chest. “Sleep.”

Dean began to let that comforting darkness take him, knowing in his heart that his brother was saved, and that he was where he was supposed to be. Not only in Taivakel, or in this realm. With Castiel. His own little slice of Celnene.

With memories of meeting Castiel in his childhood dragging him down to sleep, warmth enveloped him. So this was where Dean’s life had been leading him.

Now, all he could do was wait, and birth his firstborn—the babe that would become Castiel’s.

In sealing this bargain, even Dean had become Castiel’s.

What Castiel didn’t know yet, was that Dean was going to make him his. A fae highprince all to himself.

Once more, Castiel murmured, voice soft in his ear, “Sleep.”

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 1 Part 2

Words: 1907

TW: Blood, graphic violence, death

CW: War, attempted assassination, vampires

B: Near silent footsteps didn’t announce Derrick’s presence so much as the scampering of a happy stoat pattering across the stone ahead of him did. The man was massive, how on earth he could move so quietly was a mystery Rapscallion wanted to solve one day. Whenever he got around to it. 

“They’re waiting for you upstairs.” With his bland tone of voice, Derrick could’ve been discussing the weather.

For all that Rap could be seen to care, they might as well have been. “I know.”

“It’s inadvisable to make them wait.”

“So?” Indifferent shrug.

“There’s a difference between cute and stupid. You crossed a line earlier, and you’re going to drag your feet now?”

“Yep.”

“They want me to drag you if necessary.” Both of them knew how that would end. 

“Aww, I knew you cared!” 

“Never tried to hide it, unlike some people.” 

“Oh stop it, you’ll make me blush.” Rap’s devil may care smirk nearly brought one to Derrick’s expression, but he had to be serious!

“Palavering isn’t going to change the situation...”

“Yeah, but!! If they’re annoyed enough, they’ll give the orders without the imperious preamble and pomp. Here’s your orders and off you go! Works like a charm.”

“Right.” Massive arms were crossed over an equally broad chest, the quirk in his eyebrows reminding Rap his friend really will carry him off if need be. 

A huff lifted a pesky lock off his forehead momentarily, exposing the brilliant emerald orbs beneath. “I’m going, I’m going! I’ll catch ya later. Or not.”

Derrick shook his head, one scarred hand messing up the extraordinarily unkempt rusty mop Rap called hair. He knew what was meant. They couldn’t promise anything, nor really ask, but the unspoken request every time was to take care. Try and survive, eh? Wouldn’t be quite so exciting without the other around. They should probably wonder about how much nonverbal communication went on between them, but such was life. Full of the oddities that made it...so alive.

.....

The board of impassive faces that met Rap would be unreadable to most. Decades of training had refined their poker faces, but everyone has their tells. Tiny twitches, the way certain coifs had been fixed endlessly before he arrived, notebooks, bracelets, rings all adjusted to the nth degree...they should really watch their perfection of accoutrements more carefully. It all but telegraphed their mood. Course they’d never asked him. 

Uhhh...okay, wait. They all had that same creepy dead look in their eyes except one. Dude off to the left, madness gleaming usually signaling blood lust. Did he do anything to tick that one off recently? ...No, not that he could remember...few times over the years, sure. The last prank hadn’t been his, but he took the blame for it. The crazy stunt had gotten a larger contingent of the assassins caught up in it and made them all want to kill him for a few weeks. That wasn’t too much of a deviation from the norm however. With a bit of time they’d all drop it, move on to the next frustration or take it out on their targets. They’re not allowed to kill one of their own anyway. 

Missions were usually handed out by one person. Not a tribunal. Must be another meeting taking place, killing two birds with one stone. This wasn’t set up as a retribution either or he’d sense more of his fellow assassins in the shadows. That’s a delayed relief and he knew it, but hey! He’ll take what he can get.

“So! Whatcha got for me? Who’s incurred the wrath of the great and powerful Assassin’s League? Besides me of course.” 

A minuscule draw to the head assassins’ brows was his reward, but the gleam in the other’s traveled from his eyes to a wide, manic smile. It was also he from whom the instructions came, a mission that per the norm wouldn’t allow for denial in accepting.

“Your target is la Comtesse Arcanum. She will be taking part in a battle between the French army and the German forces. Shoo now. Off with you.”

A noble. Right! That should be easy enough. So why was that gleam now being shared among most of his peers? He almost preferred when they all were content to be blasé about everything to...this. Esh.

Rap was on his way quick enough. It only involved avoiding the booby trap someone had set for him in the hallway to his storeroom. Place didn’t so much count as a bedroom as he rarely bothered to sleep there: gathering up an array of...necessary supplies and hopping a horse he’d leave in the nearest town to the battlefield; he was good to go.

Mission was simple, least to his mind. These commanders tended to do their leading from behind, strategizing based off of reports and keeping themselves safe in a tent far removed from those who gave and lost their lives for whatever ideal or land being quibbled over. Surrounded by soldiers, they thought themselves to be safe. Protected. Untouchable. Heh. People assume in order to be an assassin you have to melt into the shadows. Not true. Humans jump at shadows! They distrust their own even. Disappear into the mundane though...no one will look twice. 

Think about it. Your water boy scurrying to keep the retreat horses fresh? What about the cook’s kid running rations, a medic’s assistant supplying fresh bandages, even an officer with the bearing and urgency demanding he not be stopped for anything or anyone, ducking into the command tent. It was always some variation and pretending to be in a hurry was the only steady requirement. When he got to this battlefield however, he couldn’t stop the swear word from being muttered.

“What the—? Lemon juice.”

No bustle to a central command tent. No commander in that one large, ostentatious tent either. A map, little flags which could surely help anyone intending to spy on their contingency plans, but no female commander. He was going to have to go into the fight himself, and he was beginning to see why they’d thought this would be such great fun. Fun for them.

A survey of the map showed him the general lay of the land, an idea of the commander’s intentions, how she had spread her troops, and where he might lure her to take her out. It wouldn’t be easy as she had plenty of people who were going to be trying to kill her. An entire army as a matter of fact. But if they sent him out there, the army wasn’t going to be enough to take her out.

Something about how the pattern was laid out was bugging him: only when he discerned she wasn’t the singular high ranking officer on the field did he understand. Sort of. Who fought with their own vanguard rather than dividing forces? There must be a purpose for it... He was going to need a vantage of the battle before he went out to join it.

Donning a uniform of the French army, he fished out a spyglass and took a cursory view of the battlefield, suppositions holding true. A maelstrom of blood and chaos was the field, soldiers and grass on fire, blades flashing, one of the soldiers fighting seeming to be made of fire and still plowing on. It was a mess. Rap shrugged and put away his tool. He’d picked out a spot to lead la Comtesse and his target to distract her with, which just so happened to be the second most dangerous force on the field to contend with. Who was on fire. According to the excited rumors in camp, that was the man he was looking for all the same. His own eyes confirmed it from the way the two moved in concert as well, even if logically what he was seeing was defying rationale.

By the time his traps were laid, set for both his target and those who may get between them, the battle had become more of a slaughter than an even fight. It was a matter of time before the opposing commander sounded the retreat; with the lack of officers on the field of battle it seemed surrender wasn’t to be the intention.

Anyone approaching the man on fire had been incinerated, disturbing visions of boiled metal and bent airwaves lending credence to the notion that whatever was actually happening over there and however the frak it worked, it wouldn’t be a bright idea to get anywhere close. Instead, Rap took advantage of the pile of discarded corpses surrounding the indefatigable duo and...played dead. The winds were probably changing soon, based on the way the clouds were moving. He was gambling on the hope this fire man wouldn’t want to risk accidentally burning his commander or allies, never mind the fact Rap had NO IDEA how in the name of insane bonfires anyone could survive being in the middle of those high temperatures, let alone send them off. 

It worked. It worked!! Fire man moved with the wind, using it to carry his incendiary discharges towards his enemies rather than risk his own. A useful breeze, the coat that surely served to project further fear in his enemies and protect the backs of his legs lifted. Just enough. A series of tainted projectiles fired in quick succession, more than half hitting the small target that was the back of fire man’s knee. Good thing Rap had gone with his metal options rather than the more innocuous wooden ones. Easier to hide the evidence afterward, but they wouldn’t have survived the heat. Then again, usually his targets weren’t walking infernos. A notion for further consideration later. Much later. 

It didn’t take long, though fire man must’ve had an elephant’s metabolism to not have dropped immediately, but in under a minute he was finally down on one knee. It would continue to work through his system; the flames guttering along with his strength. The delay gave Rap enough time to move into position though. He would lure the commander to his choice in battlegrounds. Not far from where they were, but just enough that his traps would remain untouched by the unwitting and unintentioned. He held his blow gun aloft, a short sword in his other hand. France’s coat of arms emblazoned on his chest and a very unsoldierly smirk on his lips completed the visage. 

Make her feel rage. Take away her calm. Peel back the strategy and finesse that made her a terror in her element. Force her to step into his world, one without rules of combat, and that would be the only chance he had to take her out. Then again...something made it seem like all his efforts wouldn’t matter. As if she would step just as easily from her realm into his and beat him at his own game. He would not, should not consider defeat. That would mean accepting death, and this had only just begun!

The cocksure rise of lips and brow would not betray fear’s frigid grip trailing sweat down his spine nor the faint tremor of nerves knowing this time, among all the others, the League had no intention that he should come back alive. They might just be right. But he’d never willingly give them the satisfaction.

Standing stock still in the open went against every single instinct in him, nearly all the training he’d received and the adrenaline screaming he move! Fight or flee, pick one!! But for this to work, she had to come to him. A few steps were all it would take and the first of his traps would be sprung...

[animeman08]

Iron Man

Iron Man is a fictional superhero appearing in American comic books published by Marvel Comics. The character was co-created by writer and editor Stan Lee, developed by scripter Larry Lieber, and designed by artists Don Heck and Jack Kirby. The character made his first appearance in Tales of Suspense #39 (cover dated March 1963), and received his own title in Iron Man #1 (May 1968). Also in 1963, the character founded the Avengers alongside Thor, Ant-Man, Wasp and the Hulk.

A wealthy American business magnate, playboy, philanthropist, inventor and ingenious scientist, Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark suffers a severe chest injury during a kidnapping. When his captors attempt to force him to build a weapon of mass destruction, he instead creates a mechanized suit of armor to save his life and escape captivity. Later, Stark develops his suit, adding weapons and other technological devices he designed through his company, Stark Industries. He uses the suit and successive versions to protect the world as Iron Man. Although at first concealing his true identity, Stark eventually publicly reveals himself to be Iron Man.

Initially, Iron Man was a vehicle for Stan Lee to explore Cold War themes, particularly the role of American technology and industry in the fight against communism. Subsequent re-imaginings of Iron Man have transitioned from Cold War motifs to contemporary matters of the time.

Throughout most of the character's publication history, Iron Man has been a founding member of the superhero team the Avengers and has been featured in several incarnations of his own various comic book series. Iron Man has been adapted for several animated TV shows and films. In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the character was portrayed by Robert Downey Jr., appearing in the films Iron Man (2008), The Incredible Hulk (2008) in a cameo, Iron Man 2 (2010), The Avengers (2012), Iron Man 3 (2013), Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), Captain America: Civil War (2016), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Avengers: Infinity War (2018) and Avengers: Endgame (2019). The character also appeared in Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) and in the upcoming Black Widow (2021) through archive footage.

Iron Man was ranked 12th on IGN's "Top 100 Comic Book Heroes" in 2011 and third in their list of "The Top 50 Avengers" in 2012.

> Powers, abilities, and equipment

Armor

Iron Man possesses powered armor that gives him superhuman strength and durability, flight, and an array of weapons. The armor is invented and worn by Stark (with occasional short-term exceptions). Other people who have assumed the Iron Man identity include Stark's long-time partner and best friend James Rhodes; close associates Harold "Happy" Hogan; Eddie March; (briefly) Michael O'Brien and Riri Williams.

The weapons systems of the suit have changed over the years, but Iron Man's standard offensive weapons have always been the repulsor rays that are fired from the palms of his gauntlets. Other weapons built into various incarnations of the armor include: the uni-beam projector in its chest; pulse bolts (that pick up kinetic energy along the way; so the farther they travel, the harder they hit); an electromagnetic pulse generator; and a defensive energy shield that can be extended up to 360 degrees. Other capabilities include: generating ultra-freon (i.e., a freeze-beam); creating and manipulating magnetic fields; emitting sonic blasts; and projecting 3-dimensional holograms (to create decoys).

In addition to the general-purpose model he wears, Stark has developed several specialized suits for space travel, deep-sea diving, stealth, and other special purposes. Stark has modified suits, like the Hulkbuster heavy armor. The Hulkbuster armor is composed of add-ons to his so-called modular armor, designed to enhance its strength and durability enough to engage the Hulk in a fight. A later model, created with the help of Odin and the Asgardian metal Uru, is similar to the Destroyer. Stark develops an electronics pack during the Armor Wars that, when attached to armors that use Stark technologies, will burn out those components, rendering the suit useless. This pack is ineffective on later models. While it is typically associated with James Rhodes, the War Machine armor began as one of Stark's specialty armors.

The most recent models of Stark's armor, beginning with the Extremis armor, are now stored in the hollow portions of Stark's bones, and the personal area networking implement used to control it is implanted into his forearm, and connected directly to his central nervous system.

The Extremis has since been removed, and he now uses more conventional armors. Some armors still take a liquid form, but are not stored within his body. His Endo-Sym Armor incorporates a combination of the liquid smart-metal with the alien Venom symbiote, psionically controlled by Stark.

Post-Secret Wars, Stark uses a more streamlined suit of armor that uses nanotechnology to shape shift into other armors or weapons.

Powers

After being critically injured during a battle with the Extremis-enhanced Mallen, Stark injects his nervous system with modified techno-organic virus-like body restructuring machines (the Extremis process). By rewriting his own biology, Stark is able to save his life, gain an enhanced healing factor, and partially merge with the Iron Man armor, superseding the need for bulky, AI-controlled armors in favor of lighter designs, technopathically controlled by his own brain. His enhanced technopathy extends to every piece of technology, limitless and effortlessly due to his ability to interface with communication satellites and wireless connections to increase his "range". Some components of the armor-sheath are now stored in Tony's body, able to be recalled, and extruded from his own skin, at will.

During the "Secret Invasion" storyline the Extremis package is catastrophically shut down by a virus, forcing him again to rely on the previous iteration of his armor, and restoring his previous limitations. Furthermore, Osborn's takeover of most of the few remaining Starktech factories, with Ezekiel Stane systematically crippling the others, limits Tony to the use of lesser, older and weaker armors.

After being forced to "wipe out" his brain to prevent Norman Osborn from gaining his information, Tony Stark is forced to have a new arc reactor, of Rand design installed in his chest. The process greatly improves his strength, stamina and intellect. The procedure left him with virtually no autonomic functions: as his brain was stripped of every biological function, Tony is forced to rely on a digital backup of his memories (leaving him with severe gaps and lapses in his long-term memory) and on software routine in the arc reactor for basic stimuli reaction, such as blinking and breathing. The Bleeding Edge package of armor and physical enhancement is now equal in power, if not a more advanced, version of the old Extremis tech.

Skills

Tony Stark is an inventive genius whose expertise in the fields of mathematics, physics, chemistry, and computer science rivals that of Reed Richards, Hank Pym, and Bruce Banner, and his expertise in electrical engineering and mechanical engineering surpasses even theirs. He is regarded as one of the most intelligent characters in the Marvel Universe. He graduated with advanced degrees in physics and engineering at the age of 17 from Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and further developed his knowledge ranging from artificial intelligence to quantum mechanics as time progressed. His expertise extends to his ingenuity in dealing with difficult situations, such as difficult foes and deathtraps, in which he is capable of using available tools, including his suit, in unorthodox but effective ways. For instance, in Stark's final confrontation with Obadiah Stane, the villain managed to have Stark's companions in an unconscious state in a room with motion sensors; when Stark entered the room, Stane warned him that the slightest move would trigger a fatal electrical current to his hostages, thus forcing Stark to stay still and slowly die of dehydration lest he wants his friends to die. However, while Stane was confident that such a trap was inescapable, Stark is able to outwit and defeat its mechanism in seconds, thus freeing the hostages and allowing him to continue the battle against Stane.

He is well respected in the business world, able to command people's attention when he speaks on economic matters, having over the years built up several multimillion-dollar companies from virtually nothing. He is noted for the loyalty he commands from and returns to those who work for him, as well as for his business ethics. Thus he immediately fired an employee who made profitable, but illegal, sales to Doctor Doom. He strives to be environmentally responsible in his businesses.

At a time when Stark was unable to use his armor for a period, he received some combat training from Captain America and has become physically formidable on his own when the situation demands it. In addition, Stark possesses great business and political acumen. On multiple occasions he reacquired control of his companies after losing them amid corporate takeovers.

Due to his membership in the Illuminati, Iron Man was given the Space Infinity Gem to safeguard. It allows the user to exist in any location (or all locations), move any object anywhere throughout the universe and warp or rearrange space.

[multiverseforger]

Martin Li is an illegal Chinese immigrant from Fujian province who attempted to travel to America to be with his wife. His mode of transportation, the Golden Mountain, was a slave ship operated by the Snakehead gang as a way to sell Fujian captives as overseas slaves in Kenya. During a storm, the ship's crew evacuated, leaving the captives alone to make a break for the New York shores. Li was the only survivor and spent the following years building a large fortune and dedicating himself to helping those less fortunate.[1]

The story is later revealed to be somewhat false, though only the Mister Negative persona appears aware of it. It is revealed that Mister Negative was actually one of the crew members of the Golden Mountain. When the ship nearly crashed onto the New York shores, he stole the identity of one of the deceased Fujian slaves (the real Martin Li) who was heading to America for the aforementioned reasons. This gang member was eventually captured by the Maggia Don Silvermane and experimented on with a synthetic drug created by Maggia chemist Simon Marshall that could be more potent than heroin. He escaped with the help of two other experimental inmates and soon developed two personalities, the kind-hearted Martin Li and the villainous Mister Negative, the latter of the two developing the ability to generate a black electrical energy that could be used to heal, control others, or charge objects with his touch. The Mister Negative side dedicated himself to becoming Chinatown's Kingpin of Crime while the Martin Li side attempts to run the F.E.A.S.T. center with humility.[2]

Martin Li operates a soup kitchen in Chinatown, the F.E.A.S.T. Project (Food, Emergency Aid, Shelter and Training), where Peter Parker's Aunt May volunteers.[3] Neither Peter nor May are aware of Li's dual identity as a Chinatown crime boss under the Mister Negative name.[4] Despite being a crime lord, Li is a seemingly kind and generous man. The F.E.A.S.T. Project has displayed healing powers for people of various illnesses, although the cause of this healing has yet to be revealed.[volume & issue needed]

During the first story of "Brand New Day" storyline, Mister Negative first comes into conflict with Spider-Man when he makes a power play toward taking control of New York's criminal underworld by attempting to wipe out all existing members of the Karnelli and Maggia crime families using a DNA specific bioweapon called the "Devil's Breath". In exchange for leaving the Maggia families' children alive, he takes a sample of Spider-Man's blood to use in a Devil's Breath formula.[3][4][5] Mister Negative later tries to use the Devil's Breath formula to kill Spider-Man during a fight with the Maggia, but Spider-Man is able to hold his breath long enough to escape alive.[6] Spider-Man then recruits the Black Cat to help steal Spider-Man's remaining blood from Mister Negative and replace it with a vial of pig blood so Mister Negative is unaware of his loss.[7]

Martin Li endorses Bill Hollister for mayor of New York City, putting him against Randall Crowne, adding him to a list of opponents (many of whom become targets of the villain Menace). It also causes him to become the target of a smear campaign by Dexter Bennet, editor of The DB and supporter of Crowne.[8] After Menace is revealed to be Hollister's daughter and Hollister resigns as mayor, Li unsuccessfully runs in a special election, losing to J. Jonah Jameson.[9]

Mister Negative later recruits Hammerhead and offers to put the man's brain in a new robotic adamantium skeleton after having been shot point blank in the head by Underworld. Hammerhead agrees to that and Mister Negative has his surgeon Doctor Tramma perform the procedure.[10]

Mister Negative eventually comes across Eddie Brock, giving a job at his soup kitchen. A touch from him causes Brock's cancerous cells to completely disappear. Also, remnants of the Venom Symbiote fused with Brock's white blood cells react with Mister Negative's power, causing Anti-Venom's existence during a conflict with Mac Gargan, the Venom Symbiote's host.[11] After the F.E.A.S.T center is torn apart during the fight between the two, Li discovers from a group of sweatshop workers (from a shop owned by Crowne) that they were experimented on with drugs from Oscorp.[12] Later, Mister Negative and his Inner Demons encounter and battle Anti-Venom. In the aftermath, Brock watches Mister Negative turn into Li, becoming the first to be aware of his dual identity.[13]

During the 2008–2009 "Dark Reign" storyline, Mister Negative refuses to submit to the Hood's rule of conquest of New York's criminal underworld. During a meeting with Hood's henchman White Dragon, Mister Negative corrupts White Dragon and sends the man to attack Hood's headquarters. In retaliation, Hood decides to attack and kill him. H.A.M.M.E.R. seals Chinatown on Hood's behalf and an all out brawl erupts around Li's estate. Hood's gang gets the upper hand until Spider-Man arrives to rescue Martin. However, Spider-Man too is corrupted and sent into battle on Mister Negative's behalf.[1] Spider-Man attacks and pummels the members of Hood's gang who are attacking the villain's headquarters and Mister Negative then sends the web-slinger to kill Betty Brant who is interviewing the real Martin Li's widow and is coming close to the truth. The Hood himself then confronts Mister Negative at his Chinatown headquarters and battles him.[14] During the battle, Mister Negative tries to corrupt Hood but fails. Norman Osborn ends the blockade H.A.M.M.E.R. has on Chinatown when Hammerhead hands papers implicating Oscorp in the aforementioned drug tests on immigrants. An irate Hood decides to kill Mister Negative anyway but he escapes. A later conversation that Osborn has with his own darker Green Goblin side reveals that he now has an alliance with Mister Negative similar to the one with Hood. However, Spot slips in and steals back the evidence of Oscorp's tests, revealing being Mister Negative's mole in the Hood's gang under the promise that he will be cured once they get their revenge on the Maggia.[2]

In the X-Men storyline "Serve and Protect", Mister Negative and his Inner Demons are at San Francisco on attempting to murder a widowed woman who still have a child. When two unidentified heroes, then revealed to be the X-Men Rockslide and Anole in disguise, Mister Negative hired The Serpents, and devise a plan to lure them into their traps, then turning then into his pawn into attacking other X-Men as well. Although his plan foiled by Anole's strategy into using a temporary brainwashed Rockslide, Mister Negative releases the rock mutant hero and vow they will meet again on the other side.[15]

During the 2009 storyline "The Gauntlet", Mister Negative corrupts May Parker when the woman walks in on him punishing an Inner Demon.[16] May manages to break free from Mister Negative's corruption when Peter went to May for moral support after the Lizard devoured Billy Connors and essentially 'killed' Curt Connors.[17]

During the 2010 "Shadowland" storyline, Mister Negative takes the advantage of the conflict against the Hand in a plot to set up a criminal establishment there, only for him and his Inner Demons to run afoul of Spider-Man and Shang-Chi.[18]

Mister Negative later has an encounter with Jackpot and Boomerang.[19] During the "Origin of the Species" storyline, Mister Negative was among the supervillains assembled by Doctor Octopus to secure some items.[20]

During the "Big Time" storyline, Mister Negative is targeted by both Anti-Venom and the new Wraith. When they, along with Spider-Man, interrupt a heroin-smuggling operation, Wraith uses visual recognition software, linked to every television broadcast in New York, to publicly out Mister Negative as Martin Li. When the police approach, Mister Negative and his men retreat. Li is later seen locked in a room by Mister Negative's men who wait for him to change back into their master.[21]

During the 2011 "Spider-Island" storyline, Mister Negative is told of a prophecy that he is destined to be killed by Dagger.[22]

During the 2012 "Avengers vs. X-Men" storyline, Mister Negative and his henchmen invade a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility as a way of taking an advantage of the war between the Avengers and the Phoenix Five, but Hawkeye and Spider-Woman defeat them while having a discussion about their relationship. It is later revealed that they were informed about Mister Negative's plan by Madame Hydra who wanted to get rid of the competition.[23]

During the 2014 "Original Sin" storyline, Mister Negative is seen meeting with the self-proclaimed Goblin King (Phil Urich) who is now leading the Goblin Underground's remnants when it came to them awaiting for Eel II to help divide the criminal underground following the original Goblin King's defeat. Their meeting is crashed by Black Cat and Electro who demand their share of the plan. When Mister Negative and Urich refuse to listen to Black Cat, the woman reminds them that they were all outed by Spider-Man and will succeed in the goal of defeating Spider-Man.[24]

Following the 2015 "Secret Wars" storyline, Martin Li is arrested at some point. He is rescued by Cloak and Dagger who have been corrupted by his touch and are using patches of the drug known as "Shade" to stimulate the effects of Mister Negative's touch and "remain" loyal to him. After the two break Mister Negative out of the prison ship where Li is being held and revert him to his Negative form, he leads an assault on Parker Industries' Japan branch, which leads to a confrontation with Spider-Man, whom Negative manages to touch.[25] Although Peter exhibits an immunity to Negative's corruption power, Negative escapes to his Hong Kong headquarters and reverts to Li. Li later sees a video message from Negative that he is targeting a philanthropist named Shen Quinghao, the former leader of the criminal Snakehead Syndicate which controlled the slave ship where Li became Mister Negative, and makes a proposal to Li, which Li accepts.[26] His plan fails, and after Cloak and Dagger are eventually are freed from Negative's control, they vow to remain in Hong Kong to protect it from Negative's future efforts.[27]

During the "Sins Rising" arc, a revived Sin-Eater steals the powers of Mister Negative and uses it to corrupt the guards at Ravencroft when he targets Norman Osborn. He also uses the powers to corrupt the clone of Ashley Kafka into releasing Juggernaut.[28]

A man claiming to be "Martin Li" shows up at the FEAST building seeking help as the Inner Demons attack.[29] This "Martin Li" later surrenders to the Inner Demons. Mister Negative meets with Mayor Wilson Fisk and informs him that they will need the sister counterpart of the Tablet of Life and Destiny called the Tablet of Death and Entropy. As Mister Negative has the item, he states to Mayor Fisk that their desired function can only be used when both items are together. Mayor Fisk allows Mister Negative to control Chinatown and the Lower East Side. Obtaining the Tablet of Life and Destiny from Spider-Man and Boomerang puts Mister Negative in competion with Black Mariah, a Crime Master, Diamondback, Hammerhead, Madame Masque, Owl, Silvermane, and Tombstone.[

[misswildfire]

Empathic Pain

For as long as Mikey had known, he had been different. He wasn’t just talking about the fact that he was a mutated turtle, or that he knew ninjutsu or that he lived in the sewers below New York City. No, this marked him different from his brothers. Don had once referred to him being an empath, or having the ability to sense other people’s emotions or mental state. He didn’t need to be in the same room to see his brothers body language to know how they were feeling. Touch made the emotions he felt from someone stronger. Getting pinned down and beaten by a group of Purple Dragons has disastrous consequences for the youngest turtle. 

For @brightlotusmoon Thank you for all your support. 

For as long as Mikey had known, he had been different. He wasn’t just talking about the fact that he was a mutated turtle, or that he knew ninjutsu or that he lived in the sewers below New York City. No, this marked him different from his brothers. Don had once referred to him being an empath, or having the ability to sense other people’s emotions or mental state. He didn’t need to be in the same room to see his brothers body language to know how they were feeling. Touch made the emotions he felt from someone stronger.

He found comfort in knowing what his brothers were feeling. It allowed him to be able to react as necessary, push when they needed it or back off when the situations called for it. Perhaps it was because he spent his life with his brothers he was use to their emotions, it was familiar, calming even. The first time he had really gone to the surface with his brothers and spent a longer period around humans had grated on him in ways he hadn’t expected. It had been exciting, new, scary, and very, very loud both in the physical sense and in the emotions that they projected.

Mikey wasn’t sure if he was just use to his brothers so their emotions weren’t as distracting, but he found himself constantly distracted by the emotions from the humans. The closer they were to him, the louder they were. The first time April had touched him, he had nearly passed out, her emotions quickly overwhelming him. He had gotten it a bit more under control now, happier emotions were easier for him to process and filter out, it was more negative emotions that he had a harder time dealing with.

Night was the best time to be on the surface for him. Even though New York was known as the City that Never Sleeps, most of the humans were asleep and when they slept, their emotions weren’t as loud. It gave him a break and allowed him to be able to enjoy his time topside.

Brought of his musing as he dodged another blow from a Purple Dragon. He and his brothers had been ambushed while on patrol and there were more of them than usual. Gritting his teeth he spun his nunchuks faster, taking out one that dared to get to close. He normally relied on his speed and agility to keep him out of his enemies reach. He hated being around them, the negative emotions, the hatred and disgust they felt towards him and his brothers sometimes left him breathless. The few times that someone experience some minor negative emotions like fear, had been physically painful when there had been physical contact.

So far he had been lucky that none of them have landed a physical blow during a fight, but tonight, his luck was about to run out. He was tired and his reactions must have been slower than normal. He had been up most of the previous night, for once not goofing off or playing video games or reading comics, but because he had been worried about Don who was burning himself out trying to upgrade their security system. He desperately wanted to help, take some of the burden off his purple masked brother, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t good with technology and Don usually found him more of a hindrance than help. His senses dulled, he didn’t see the Purple Dragon sneak behind him and whack him in the back of the head with a staff, or see the other who came in to take him out at the knees causing him to crash to the ground.

Physical pain from fighting he could deal with, blows from weapons, or falling hard. He’d been training all his life and could deal and even brush most of that off and keep going. It was the physical pain from negative emotions caused by his empathy he didn’t know how to handle. When a Purple Dragon grabbed him and roughly flipped him over so he was laying on his shell, he couldn’t stop the whimper that broke free. White hot pain seared through him, threatening to quickly overwhelm him. Disgust, anger and hatred bombarded him. When another Dragon joined the first Mikey knew he was in trouble. He couldn’t stop them from taking his wrists and dragging them above his head, pinning him down or the third that grabbed his ankles and pinned him from there. The constant contact was absolutely hell. His wrists and ankles seared in pain as if in contact with something hot enough to burn. Part of him wanted to look and see if his skin was actually blistering. He tried to struggle, tried to get free, tried to recall the training that had been drilled into him his entire life, but the pain left him gasping for breath, unable to move. When another Purple Dragon started raining punches upon any available piece of skin he could reach, Mikey knew he was done for. A scream tore from his throat and his back arched involuntarily, body thrashing in an instinctual attempt to get away from the pain.

Never in his life had he experienced this level of pain before. Every inch of his skin felt on fire. His brain felt like mush, no longer able to process any emotions or any level of thought. He wasn’t aware of anything except the searing, excruciating pain that filled ever pore. So overwhelmed, he didn’t notice when the sources of his pain were ripped away from him, one by one. He didn’t notice as Donnie gathered him in his arms, murmuring reassurances to him. Moving was painful and he whimpered as Don moved.

He was so incredibly over stimulated that things that normally felt good, his brothers emotions, being held by them, left him feeling raw and aching. Nothing felt good, everything felt like white hot fire. His  mind and body no longer able to take anything more, he lost consciousness, going limp in his mates arms.

Hearing his youngest mate scream in pain like that was something that was going to haunt Leonardo for a long time to come. Looking back on that moment later, he would wonder if he, Raph and Don shared a brain in that singular second. They moved as if one; Raph and Don racing to their orange clad mate and Leo finishing off the remainder of the Purple Dragons with a ferocity he had never felt before, taking a defensive position to protect his family in case their enemy dared to try and approach. Raph quickly disposed of the Purple Dragon scum who had dared to hurt his mate, allowing Don to quickly assess him for any critical injuries before scooping him in his arms and making a hasty retreat. Raph took the wheel, with Don and Leo piling in the back with Mikey still in the purple clad terrapins arms.

“Here, you take him,” Don murmured, feeling the need to keep his voice down. Accepting his youngest mate, Leo couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the genius. “He needs calm emotions and we all know you have the best control out of any of us.” He cradled Mikey close, quickly trying to centre himself. He wanted to rage, lash out, the anger that someone had dared hurt his mate churning inside him. He pushed it down, knowing he would have to experience and meditate through those emotions later. Right now, he needed to be calm, as the last thing he wanted was to cause any more pain.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, once he felt he had gotten his emotions under control.

“He will....eventually,” Don said, frowning. “But something needs to change. We were lucky that this was a relatively minor attack, but what if he had been worse?” The implication of what if their enemies got a hold of them and tortured or experimented on them hanging thick in the air. “We can’t bar him from patrol with us forever, but the status quo can’t remain the same either.” They all knew that Mikey hated to be excluded and not allowing him to come on patrol would not only put a rift between them, but could potentially do more harm to his mental health than anything. Besides, it wasn’t as if they really wanted to leave him behind.

“Any ideas?”

“Some sort of mental shield like you see in the movies?” Don shrugged. He really had no idea how to help their baby brother. “I’ve been looking into Mikey’s abilities on and off for years. Since it appeared that it was under control and he only ever mentioned that the humans were loud, I didn’t have any cause for concern...” Don shuddered visibly upset. “I never pursued it further. Clearly a massive error on my part.” Glancing at his only younger brother, the purple glad genius couldn’t help the sinking feeling that he had utterly failed in his one job to protect him. He could only hope that Mikey would forgive him one day.

“Don’t go there,” Raph rumbled from the drivers seat, having stayed uncharacteristically quiet up until this point. He desperately wanted to rage, to take out the anger he felt on their enemies but he knew right now his priority was getting his family back to the safety of their lair so Don could tend to their youngest mate. So he swallowed his anger, feeling it bubbling just below the surface. He knew it would break at some point, he had never been good at controlling his emotions, not like Fearless, but he was trying. He was definitely going to have a very intense workout later or spar with Leo to get it out of his system since there weren’t any Purple Dragons around for him to punch. “If you failed him, than so did we. We all knew how sensitive he is to our emotions, especially when he’s touchin’ us. It didn’t occur to any of us that this may cause a bigger problem since the humans were loud, so if you failed so did we. We all fucked up.” He glanced in the rear view mirror, smirking as he saw Leo frowning when he cussed. The more he got him worked up, the better their sparring match in and out of the bedroom would be later. It seemed to him they could both let off a little steam later, do them both good. Once they were certain that Mikey was going to be okay, that was.

“Don...” Leo looked down at the unconscious turtle in his arms. He wasn’t if what he was doing was helping at all, Mikey still looked to be in pain.

“Just keep holding him. His systems are probably overloaded right now. Besides, you know he loves cuddling you the most.” Don shot his older brother a half grin. It was true. Even as children, Mikey had always gone to Leo for cuddles, proclaiming that their eldest brother gave the best cuddles ever. They had all long suspected it was because Leo’s emotions were the most even and tranquil out of all of them. The youngest had once described Raph’s emotions as being like Raph himself, strong and intense. While Don on the other hand he had described as almost an electric buzzing, similar to the noise his electronics and computers in his lab made. His emotions ran quick, much like the thoughts in his head.

The leader of their little family nodded, hugging his youngest mate closer to his body. The feeling of being useless was nearly overwhelming. This wasn’t a physical enemy he could vanquish, he could do nothing to help the thunderous storm taking place inside Mikey, no matter how much he wished to. All he could do was hope that his emotions would break through and provide some peace for his little brother.

Stirring slightly, Mikey felt a soft, calm presence enveloping him. It felt oh so familiar but for the life of him, he couldn’t place it. Just beyond he felt two more presence that were familiar. It was at the tip of his tongue...why did they feel so familiar?

Mates.

He felt calm and safe, a far cry from the earlier pain he had been in. What had caused that pain again? Right. Purple Dragons. Ambush on patrol. Held him down. So much pain. He backed away from the memory, focusing instead on the comfort he was surrounded by. His mates must have rescued him. The thought brought him some comfort. At least he didn’t have to worry about more pain. Feeling the air shift around, he felt himself moving or being moved rather. Where were they bringing him? He could hear his mates voices, concentrating he tried to figure out what they were saying.

“Should I bring him to your Lab, Don?”

“No, he should be fine with some sleep, just put him to bed. If you or Raph could stay with him, that would be ideal. Mikey felt himself moving again before being placed on something soft. He could feel Leo’s worry. He really should wake up, he hated it when his eldest brother worried about him. Fighting his way towards the warmth that he could feel, he opened his eyes slowly.

“Did you catch the licence plate of that truck?” he tried to joke weakly, his mouth feeling dry. He could really use some water right now.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Leo murmured softly, pressing his forehead to his youngest mate.

“Been better,” he replied honestly, knowing better than to try and hide anything from Leo. It never worked out well for him in the end. He was achy, and sore and still felt completely out of whack. He bit his lip as his memory of the night fully returned. Oh boy. He had messed up royally. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. How much of a burden did he need to be for his family? Twice now they’ve had to rescue him. On top of being useless, he knew he was needy. He hated being alone and was forever pestering one of his mates to hang out with him. Did they even still want him? He couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over and trailing down his face. Perhaps it was better for everyone if he just left.

“Mikey, Mikey, hey, what’s wrong?” Leo ran his hands over his youngest mate, trying to find any injuries he had missed that would cause the youngest to cry like this.

“I- I really messed up, I’m sorry.” He buried his head in Leo’s plastron, not wanting to see the anger he was sure to be in his mate’s eyes.

The blue clad turtle blinked in confusion, momentarily stunned by the words he just heard coming from his youngest brothers mouth. “Michelangelo, sweetling, listen to me.” He waited patiently for Mikey to  lift his head and look at him. “If anyone is owed an apology, it’s you. We’ve known about your ability for years now and we’ve never done anything to help you control it. We just assumed it was fully under control because you never said otherwise. You got hurt today because we failed you.”

Had they ever failed their youngest mate. Cupping the orange one’s jaw, he titled his mates head so he could slid his lips against the other in a chaste kiss. He smiled as Mikey sighed in pleasure, some of the tension in his body melting away.

“I want to show you how sorry I am, may I?” When Mikey nodded, Leo gently pushed him back into the plush mattress of his bed, trailing kisses down his plastron. His hands stroked the sensitive area of where their shell met flesh, knowing how much Mikey enjoyed the sensation. Purposefully, he moved past the swollen slit, glad he had the foresight to remove Mikey’s clothing before putting him to bed, instead turning his attention to his quivering thighs. He nipped each one in turn, soothing it with his tongue. When Mikey shifted his hips impatiently, he pinched his tail, loving the moan he got as a reward.

“Good things come to those who wait, Michelangelo,” he teased, pinching the others tail once more. His mate distracted by the attention on his tail, the leader leaned down, tongue licking the full length of his slit. He continued to lavish attention on the sensitive flesh, alternating licks, sucks and nips. His hands having moved to the younger’ hips, keeping him pinned in place, forcing him to accept the pleasure he was simultaneously seeking and trying to get away from, his senses still very much overstimulated from earlier.

“Drop down for me,” he demanded, the answering whine the only warning he got before his mates cock revealed itself to his gaze. “You’re so good for me,” he praised before taking Mikey into his mouth, quickly working his way down to the hilt. His goal of trying to keep the younger off balance, not knowing what to expect, so he had no choice but to focus on the feelings he was experiencing now, seemed to be working. Humming, he reached down to play with Mikey’s tail as he started to bob up and down slowly, intent on working his mate into a frenzy. It didn’t take long for Michelangelo to become a sobbing, pleading mess, but he kept his pace, knowing that the longer he drew it out, the more intense the orgasm would be. He knew exactly how to play his younger brothers pleasure like a fiddle. His thumb circling the puckered hole, his two fingers squeezing his mates tail gently, Leo knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Taking him once more down to the hilt, he relaxed his throat, he swallowed, knowing the sensation would send Mikey tumbling over the edge.

Making sure to lick him clean from root to tip, Leo moved to lay down beside Mikey, gathering his younger mate in his arms.  

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, nuzzling into Mikey’s throat.

“So good, gimme a minute dude and I can return the favour.”

“No, tonight was about you. I’m fine.” And he was. It was enough for him that his mate was home safe,  his other two mates were somewhere else in the lair. He knew as much as Raph liked to push the rules and go out, he would stay in tonight, most likely comforting Donatello who never took one of his brothers being injured, especially if he thought it was something he could have prevented well. His family was together and they were safe and that was all that he needed. For now, they would sleep, the exhaustion written on Mikey’s face was as plain as day to him. He had a feeling the youngest of them would have a very busy morning with his two elder brothers wanting to make up the wrongs they’ve committed to him.

Saving those thoughts for the morning, he pulled the blankets up around them and settled into sleep, Mikey securely in his arms.

[1kook]

freefall

✗ Wong Yukhei x (F) Reader

summary→ You thought you told Yukhei you didn’t trust Rohei, especially when she was high. Why he even bothers to hang out with her despite her obvious crush is beyond you. wc→ 6.6k tags→ angst, homewrecking attempts, drug use, couple fights :/, makeup vanilla sex, bulging mention, breath play but not rlly lol

fly→ soar→ freefall 

this has been in my drafts for 7 MONTHS!! I'm sorry also not proofread lol

A lot of the things you knew about your boyfriend where things he told you himself, like his favorite color or his grandma’s name. He loved to tell you every little detail of his day, from the fact his socks were inside out to the weird LARPer group he’d seen on the way to class. He’d told you about his love for soccer and his first crush and the last movie he saw and how he liked his phone beneath his pillow. Yukhei literally told you absolutely everything about himself. 

There’s two things Yukhei’s never directly told you. 

The first was something you’re sure Yukhei isn’t exactly aware of himself, and that was the ridiculously Casanova persona he took on when he was high. Of course, you knew firsthand about this Yukhei. His playful expression would fade away, until he was all molten gazes and wandering hands, sneaking beneath your skirt after he’d cornered you against some frat house’s kitchen. Breathy laughs, plush lips pressed against your jaw in some sort of twisted game to see if he could make you come in front of all those people, pressing his wonderfully hidden cock against your hip until you begged him to go home. 

With a little bit of weed, Yukhei became an absolutely delectable man, and you’re not the only one who’s noticed. 

Which leads you to the second piece of information Yukhei’s never told you, and that was the existence of one very clingy girl. Her name was Rohei, an accounting major in the same year as Yukhei. She was pretty and nice, and everyone seemed to like her, which somehow made her entitled to your boyfriend.  How ridiculous. 

You’re not sure when exactly she’d become such a blip in your radar, or when she even started hanging around him. Yukhei never mentioned her, so for a while, you ignored her. 

That is until she started showing up to your sessions, all giggly and annoying as she tried to squish herself beside Yukhei. Even then you’d given her the benefit of the doubt, knowing you were also, quite frankly, an annoying person when you were high. The smoke made a lot of things foggy, but her hand resting on his thigh was as clear as day. 

After that, you’d warned Yukhei against seeing the home wrecker, citing your own personal girl instincts as the only solid reason you had against disliking her, not that Yukhei particularly cared. The first time you mentioned her had confused the fuck out of him, and it only took about five minutes of physical descriptions for him to realize exactly who you were talking about. 

“Oh,” he sighed, pausing his game of Zelda to glance over at you. “The girl with the Windex bottle laugh?” 

You snorted, giving his side a gentle shove with your foot. “Yeah, that girl,” you said. You abandoned your phone in favor of meeting his gaze. He’d invited you over fresh out of his shower, his hair wonderfully fluffed up and soft. God, was he attractive. As if sensing your sudden shift, he wrapped one huge hand around your ankle, tugging you down the bed and towards him. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, ducking down to brush his lips over yours. You let an airy moan escape you, sliding a hand around his neck to pull him closer. He grinned something wicked against your lips, game abandoned as he slotted himself against you. “You’re my girl.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Yukhei—no, if anything, you trusted him too much. The real issue was that you didn’t trust these other bitches. Yukhei could flaunt your relationship as much as he wanted, could walk around with your name across his chest, but that wouldn’t stop mean and desperate girls from throwing themselves at him. They’d use any chance they’d get to entice him, which is exactly why you’d begged him not to go smoke with his friends one night. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, halfway through tugging his hoodie over his head. After an enjoyable evening tangled in the sheets with you, his best friend in the entire world, Mark Lee, had invited him out to smoke. ‘With the usual gang,’ had been his words, and Yukhei being the pothead that he was, instantly agreed. 

You sighed, tugging the sheets to your chest as you sat up. “Well, is she gonna be there?” You grumbled, not trying to hide your annoyance that well. Yukhei blinked. 

“Are you talking about that girl again?” You pursed your lips, avoiding his gaze. Yukhei snorted, and you yelped as he flopped back down on the bed to envelope you in his arms. “Baby, I’m crazy about you, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, covering your face with your hands, as if he hadn’t seen you completely naked fifteen minutes before. “I know,” you sighed, though it came out more like a whine. “But she wants to fuck you! I know she does.”

Yukhei ignores you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Begrudgingly, you wrap your arms around his soft form, the pout on your face slowly fading. It’s the sweet and romantic side of him, the one he usually hides from his friends, that melts your resolve. A sudden nip at your collarbone brings you out of your rosy vision. 

“Babe, stooop,” you whine, your inner Sammi from Jersey Shore jumping out. “My calves still hurt.”

“Chiiiill,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, plush lips caressing the skin. With each soft kitten lick he gives, you feel yourself slowly melt into the mattress below you. “Lemme take care of you,” he proposes, and as much as you want to protest, the hand that snakes its way between the two of you sucks the words from your mouth. 

“S-Sensitive,” you say instead, head lolling onto the pillows as Yukhei’s deft fingers rub small circles against your clit. He hums against your skin, carefully taking note of each tremble your thighs give, and the gasps that catch in your throat. 

After he’s done ravishing your throat and your orgasm is creeping up on you for the second time that night, he juts his chin up to meet your gaze. “You did so well tonight, baby,” he praises right before he slots his mouth against yours. “Rode me so good, fuck, you looked so pretty for me.” You reminisce on the grueling work out riding your boyfriend had been, the guiding hands on your waist the only help he’d provided. 

Another whimper escapes you, right before Yukhei does his signature move (the one he’d claimed about a week ago), which was slowing down all movements, letting your orgasm build, before giving your clit one final flick that sent you crashing through your own bliss. 

After you’ve received your second orgasm of the night, and you’re feeling especially pampered, Yukhei kisses you on the lips sweetly and scampers off to meet his friends. 

Afterwards, you’re feeling a little bad about trying to limit his outings because of your own raging jealousy. Yukhei was your boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you had to keep an iron grip on him. He was his own free person; a goofy soul who needed social interaction more than others. For you to keep him on a leash because of some unproven theory was wrong. 

You’re still feeling pretty sour, but that all changes when you do your usual nightly Snapchat sweep. Your swiping through snaps of your classmates and friends, crying over projects or complaining about jobs, when the one and only Mark Lee’s story pops up next. Nothing unusual, just him blowing smoke into the camera while some cheesy RnB music plays on the radio of someone’s car. In fact, everything’s fine until you click right, and are met with a three second snap of a particular group shot, the entire right side of the camera frame taken up by Yukhei’s lean figure and one scheming Rohei wrapped around him. 

You click your phone off, calmly set it to the side, and fall asleep. 

You don’t mention it to Yukhei. For some reason, there’s this annoying voice in the back of your head telling you Yukhei should tell you on his own. After all, you had been having an internal battle on whether you were too protective or not, and going off on him for something that could just be a minor instance would only prove that. 

There’s another big frat party this weekend, and though you usually go with your friends, Yukhei invites you to come with him this time. You can’t say no, especially with the way half of his smile gets hidden by the pillow he’s pressed into. He looks so soft and sweet, you find yourself peppering him in kisses as you agree. 

You don a pretty dress you’d bought that week, a tight little number that accentuates your figure. Right as you bend over to strap your heels into place, you hear a low whistle from the bathroom door. 

“Baby,” Yukhei whines, hands slowly gliding around your waist from behind. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he huffs, nose pressed against the side of your head. You giggle, leaning back to meet his dark gaze. As if the wolf whistle wasn’t enough, he adds, “I’m gonna bend you over and fuck that pretty little pussy.”

Your jaw drops open, and you playfully slap his hands away. “Yukhei!” You scold, strutting across the room to grab your cell phone and his keys. You ignore his gaze as you go about collecting yourself, and when you’re waiting for him at the door, you say, “who says I’m gonna let you?”

The night goes similarly to that encounter, Yukhei’s eyes trailing you wherever you go. It’s like he refuses to look away from you, from the way your hips sway to the music and the way your collarbones glisten with the thinnest sheen of sweat. Even when he’s settled down in the den for a quick session with his boys, his eyes find their way back to where you’re chattering with your friends right outside the door. 

With each hit, his dark eyes become hazier and hazier. But he also becomes bolder and bolder, sinful pink tongue swiping across his lips as he eye fucks you for the entire world to see. Your friends giggle at your boyfriend’s behavior, and then scramble away when they see his tall figure come swaggering towards the doorway. You presume they’re done with their session for now, everyone parting ways. 

“You come here often?” He croons, and your lips press together in an effort to hold back the ridiculously dopey smile threatening to take over your features. 

“Every now and then,” you respond, easily falling into his little game. It ends up consisting of him babbling out every pick-up line he knows until you’re giggling and falling into him. He’s not exempt from the goofy smile you wear, staring down at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the night sky. 

After a particularly corny comment, he leans down and accidentally knocks your foreheads together. “Come back to my place, baby. I promise I can treat you better than anyone ever has.” Cherry ready lips ghost over your own. 

You hum in response, dizzy from your boyfriend’s flirty behavior. “I don’t know,” you joke, tilting your head up slightly, enough so that you upper lip brushes against his. “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”

“Smart guy,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Seriously, though,” he says, suddenly more sober than he’s been in the past few hours. “I told you I was gonna fuck your pretty little brains out tonight, remember?”

His vulgarity strikes a chord within you, and you find yourself pressing your legs together. But Yukhei is nothing if not observant, his hands tracing down your side until it’s snaked its way around to rest upon the swell of your ass. He knows he’s already won you over for the night, so he presses a quick kiss to you lips before scampering off to tell his friends he’s off. Nows as good a time as ever for you to do the same. 

You nonchalantly stride back over towards where all your friends have congregated this time, telling them you’ve decided to turn in for the night. Them being your friends obviously know that you’re not heading home to sleep, but rather to get fucked into another dimension. You don’t deny nor confirm their claims, instead leaving them with a coy smile that has them up in hoots as you walk away. 

Normally, Yukhei is able to find you in a crowed party easily enough—being tall has its undeniable perks—so you’ve never really been the one searching around for him. But you remember his current state, how he’d stumbled over his words and how his long legs seemed to be working of their own accord tonight. You decide the safest option is to find him yourself, because a high Yukhei tends to have the attention span of a child. 

It doesn’t take long to find the group of guys he’s usually around, Mark Lee’s newly dyed blonde hair particularly standing out to you. They all greet you in the polite way that is customary for a fellow bro’s girlfriend, and you do the same. You turn towards Mark, “where’s Yukhei?”

Mark’s brows furrow together in confusion. “He said he was gonna look for you, actually,” he answers, and you find yourself as confused as him. 

“When was this exactly?” You press, a weird feeling settling in your gut. 

Mark’s lips quirk to the side, eyes drifting around the kitchen as he seems to try to recall when he’d last seen your boyfriend. In the end, he can only offer you a half-assed shrug and an unsure, “ten minutes ago?”

You end up thanking Mark, as well as bidding him adieu, before continuing your search for Yukhei. As you’d mentioned before, he rarely had trouble finding you in crowded areas, always gravitating towards you like a magnet. It was weird that it’d taken him this long, even weirder if he’d actually been stoned enough to have forgotten or strayed away. 

You pass by the beautiful oak study built into this frat house, and almost completely dismiss it had you not caught sight of sudden movement inside. Gently, you push open the glass paneled doors, eyes slowly adjusting to the dark room. 

“Baby,” you hear your boyfriend say. You sigh in relief, thanking god that Yukhei wasn’t lost, just dumb. You glance around for a light switch, only for your eyes to stumble upon the frame of one very out of place figure. Your brow twitches, and had you not been sheathed in darkness, you’re sure she would have seen the way your entire expression changed. 

A movement to her left finally alerts you of where Yukhei is in this dark room, and you don’t hesitate to make your way towards him. Suddenly, you have the vision of the stealthiest nightcrawler as you absorb every detail of this situation. 

The first one is Rohei’s frame, curled up beside Yukhei far enough that she isn’t touching him but close enough she can probably see the swell of his plush upper lip. The second is the vulnerable state of Yukhei’s body, a dab pen clutched between his fingers that definitely isn't his. The third and most telling factor has to be the annoyed expression on her face, similar to your own. 

Oh this bitch was definitely up to something. 

“Babe,” you say, calmer than a retail employee dealing with a stuck-up customer, “we’re supposed to be leaving.”

Yukhei nods, fast and cute like a puppy, but these circumstances make you want to strangle him. “Of course of course, baby, Rohei was just telling me about this new pen flavor!” As if on cue, Rohei smiles sweetly at you, curling just the slightest bit closer to your boyfriend. “I know you really like the watermelon one, so I was wondering if she knew any other good fruity ones.”

You flash her the fakest smile you can muster, and in his state, Yukhei doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s nice,” you play along, eyes burning into her like laser beams. “But I’d really like to get going before it gets darker out.” You tug Yukhei’s arm, his body following you to rise off the couch. 

Right before his ass can leave the cushion, there’s a sudden force being exerted on his other side that has him falling backwards. Your eyes widen, but then narrow into slits when you finally see what had stopped him from leaving with you. Your met with two perfectly manicured hands wrapped around his forearm, attached to the same girl you told Yukhei you didn’t trust. 

“But we were just beginning to talk!” she whines, flashing you an innocent pout that lets you know she knows exactly what she’s doing. You feel your insides boil. “We were having a good little chat, weren’t we, Lu?”

“Lu?” You humph, eyes flickering between her face and Yukhei’s. 

He shrugs, too dazed by the lights sweeping through the open door to really focus on the situation at hand. “She calls me by my American name, baby, remember it?” He beams, not at either of you, but at some invisible object in the air only he seems to be aware of. 

“Yes,” you seethe, “That’s nice and all, but wouldn’t your talk be better when you can actually remember it?” You try, hand gliding from his wrist to his palm to tangle your fingers together. “Let’s get you home now.”

She scoffs, not releasing her grip on his forearm even the slightest bit. “Don’t be a prude, ___,” she spits, “he’s having a good time with me right now, can’t you see.”

Your eyebrows raise at her sudden and rude comment, and you find yourself providing a quick rebuttal. “He’s having a good time because he’s high right now, you’re not that special.” 

“Really now,” she laughs, every bit of malicious intent in her tone. “I’m sure that’s why he always goes out of his way to sit next to me during rotations, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Probably because you take weak, short ass hits, and he knows that.”

"Not because he knows my mouth was there already?” She fights back. “You know my lip gloss looks real cute on him when he goes after me.”

The fact irks you, and you add it to the list of questioning you need to do later. For now, you’re not about to lose to this girl. “I don’t really care if he sits by you, honey,” you reply, finally gathering enough strength to pull Yukhei off and away from her. “Just know that those same lips that hit the blunt right before you are the same ones that ate my pussy twenty minutes earlier,” you smirk, watching as first the shock and then the humiliation washes over her face. 

You throw Yukhei’s arm over you shoulder, staggering towards the doorway as you leave a stunned Rohei behind. “And another thing,” you call out, not even bothering to look at her. “Stop going after my fucking boyfriend.”

As you and Yukhei stumble out of the house, leaving the loud music, alcohol, and weed behind, you realize how warm your face had become during the verbal altercation, turning the air on full blast once you get inside Yukhei’s car. He says nothing as he settles in the passenger seat, letting you drive the short distance to the student apartment he’d been assigned at the beginning of his junior year. 

You’re pulling up on the club when he finally regains power over his tongue. 

“Mean,” he mumbles as you guide him up the stairs until you reach the third floor. 

“Huh?” You say, unlocking his door and ushering him inside. You abandon your shoes by the door, keeping note of his whereabouts as he stumbles around his home. He ultimately crashes on the couch, staring at you with glazed over, red eyes. 

“That was mean,” he repeats, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. He elaborates. “You didn’t have to be so mean towards Rohei,” he yawns, tugging a throw pillow onto his chest to hug. “She was just being nice, s’all.”

You blink. 

The anger you’d felt towards Rohei seemed overwhelming to you when you encountered her, but it was nothing but a candle flame to the sheer amount of fury that enveloped you now. “Being nice?” You calmly repeat, and Yukhei nods. “Oh, so taking your high as fuck ass to an empty room during a party is being nice now? Flirting with you and touching you in front of my face—that’s being nice?” You splutter.

“Chill out,” Yukhei huffs, sitting up in the slowest manner possible. “We were just smoking,” he mumbles, flashing you an unimpressed glare. 

You snort, tossing his keys on the coffee table to cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, I know. She loved telling me how her lip gloss looks on you, Yukhei.”

If he wasn’t upset before, he definitely was now as he sits up on the sofa. “Come on now,” he snaps, “you know better than anyone how your little lip gloss sticks to the paper, don’t act stupid now, ____.”

Something snaps inside you, and you whirl directly to face him in anger. “Don’t fucking call me stupid when I’m rightfully mad at you for flirting with other girls.” 

“Rightfully, my ass,” he retorts, tugging his jacket off to throw it over the couch. “She was right, you’re a fuckin’ prude.”

It’s as if every single alarm goes off in your head, eyes narrowed in absolute fury (though it doesn’t stop the water from collecting on your waterline). “If you agree with her so much, then why don’t you invite her over and fuck her brains out tonight, Yukhei,” you spit.

He rolls his eyes, “maybe I fucking should. Probably fucks better than you anyway.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you rasp out, hands balling into fists beside you. 

Yukhei simply flops back onto the sofa, ignoring you even as you stomp back to the entryway with tears in your eyes to put your shoes on. If he says anything  else, you don’t hear it past the thudding of your heart in your throat or the slam of the door behind you. 

There’s not much for you to do then other than stomp your way home in the dark and cold of night, tears blurring your vision on the entire trek back. It’s only as your swiping your ID to unlock the building that you realize you’d left your phone at Yukhei’s, but you’re feeling too humiliated to go back. You settle on washing your makeup off, and tugging your favorite loungewear on (of course, it’s just a pair of shorts and Yukhei’s t-shirt) before moping all night. 

There’s a knock on your door early the next morning that rouses you from what was probably the deepest slumber you’d had in months. It has you shaking the drowsiness away as you try to remember what awoke you in the first place. The knocking continues and you lazily slump off the bed and stumble towards the door. 

There’s a devastatingly handsome man at the door, nothing like his high counterpart that had left you a sobbing mess last night, presenting you with your forgotten phone and an apologetic frown. 

“Hey,” Yukhei murmurs, and you sniff in response, too tired and sleepy to greet him back. “I brought you your phone,” he says, as if you hadn’t already noticed. You snatch it out of his hand. “And I just wanted to—”

You let the door shut in his face, and for a moment all is silent. A second later, and your heart is fluttering wildly in your chest again, the same overwhelming sense of heartbreak you’d dealt with all last night taking a hold of you again. At the same time, the knob begins rattling like crazy, your boyfriend’s desperate voice breaching through the door. 

“Baby, please, I didn’t mean anything last night,” he pleads, the raw emotion noticeable even through the wooden door. “I was high and so fucking stupid, and I know that’s not an excuse but I-I didn’t mean any of it, please,” he begs, and a soft thud against the door leaves you wondering if he’s leaning on it. 

You can feel your heart thundering in your chest, every shaky inhale leaving your throat feeling more and more constricted. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to well up with yesterday’s leftover tears, but you’ll be damned if this dumb ass makes you cry two days in a row. 

Another soft knock pulls you out of the deep hole you’ve dug within yourself. “Please,” Yukhei rasps out, voice oh so vulnerable, “just open the door, baby.”

You tug the door open, narrowing him with the most furious glare you can muster through your watery gaze. “Don’t call me that,” you spit, and you hope he can see how hurt he’s left you. 

“___...” he says, slowly reaching a hand out towards you, one you brush away before turning to head further into your dorm. You plop down on the edge of your bed, turning your phone on to see it’s down to the last quarter of its battery. Yukhei shuffles in, shutting the door behind him before awkwardly hovering over you. 

He doesn’t say much, just plops down on the perfectly made bunk across from you (your roommate has been gone abroad all semester). You start toying around on your phone, watching from the corner of your eye as he plays with the ruby red comforter beneath him, all the while sneakily glancing your way, almost as if he’s unsure if he can even do as much. 

After a couple minutes of awkward silence, you decide to face your fears head on. “So how was Rohei last night?” You murmur, eyes zeroing in on your fuzzy sock-clad toes. Yukhei lets out a harsh exhale, and when you glance up at him, he meets your glare head on. 

“Baby,” he says, soft and slow, in that same tone he uses when he thinks he’s right and he won’t leave until you say otherwise. “I didn’t mean what I said last night, and you know it. I was way out of it and—”

“Shut up,” you spit, unable to contain the annoyance from curling around your voice. “Just say you’re fucking sorry instead of trying to blame this on everything else, Yukhei.”

He blinks, doe eyes comically wide as he takes in your sudden outburst. You take his silence as a sign to continue. “Stop trying to say it was because you were high or drunk or whatever the fuck you were and just say it like it is.” Your chest heaves as a huff escapes you. 

“Calm down,” he says when he regains his wits, “you know better than anyone that I would never say that to you normally, I was just really faded and shocked from all the yelling you were doing.”

“That doesn’t matter, Yukhei!” You burst, hands flailing as the frustration builds inside of you. “You said it, which means you obviously thought it before—”

“I didn’t!” He counters, voice as loud as yours. “It slipped out in the heat of the moment, it was an accid—”

“Oh, everything you said was by accident then? Calling me stupid and a prude? That was all just an accident?”

“It fucking was! Don’t act like you’re not the same way when you’re high. You let any and every guy hang off of you, but suddenly the one time I do it it’s a problem?” He snorts, brows furrowed dangerously close. 

You scoff, your chest feeling tighter and tighter with each passing second. “Don’t you dare turn this on me, Yukhei, because I’ve never said I’d rather be with someone else,” you spit, your words seemingly slowing his defensive attacks. Your traitorous eyes flood with tears. “High or no—,” you mean to end with, but your voice cracks as a sob escapes through your throat. 

You look away in shame, covering your face with your hand. It takes everything in you to stop your frame from shaking because you know he’s watching you with those big sad eyes of his. 

You’ve always been unnecessarily weak when it came to Yukhei, his smile just too bright for your heart and the way he’d softly call out baby making every bone in your body weak. You were too much of a pushover, always won over by his charming words and his talented fingers. Even now, as you feel the bed dip beside you, you don’t hesitate to throw yourself into his arms and let your sobs overtake you. 

His hand rubs against your back as he softly shushes you, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” over and over into your hair. You cry out all the tears from last night and then some. Faintly, from your spot pressed against his chest, you can hear the thundering of his heartbeat and know it matches your own. His fingers continue their dance over your skin, gently massaging your scalp before tracing along your spine, ever so softly and gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he says when your sobs have been reduced to sniffles. “I was stupid, and should have thought about what I said before I said it.” He pauses, and you pull away from your safe spot nestled in his arms to meet his forlorn gaze. “Honestly, I think I was just trying to say whatever I could to hurt you,” he admits, his glazed eyes looking down. The tip of his nose is red and you know it’s taking everything in him to not cry with you. 

Your soft spot for Yukhei is nothing compared to the weakness he has for you. 

He repeats his apology a third time, ducking his head to bump your foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut as he takes in your presence. You sniffle once more before tilting closer to brush your mouth against his. The shaky exhale he releases against you has you melting into his embrace, the fingers that had been clutching to his biceps for dear life, slowly relaxing. 

He gently eases you onto your bed, lips departing from yours to trail down your neck, pressing his knee between your spread thighs. One of his hands glides from its position on your shoulder to cradle the underside of your thigh, tugging it upwards until you’ve thrown it around his waist. The gesture has your bodies pressing closer, cores aligned. 

“You don’t have to,” you murmur when you feel his cold fingers creep beneath your top, dancing along your skin. 

He presses a peck to your collarbone. “I do,” he responds, and you jump when his fingers brush against the underside of your breast. “Have to show you how much I love you.”

Your heart swells, and you find your hands reaching up to tangle in his dark brown locks, the pretty blonde color he’d had when you first met now completely gone. The memory has you thinking back even further in time, to your lazy days spent working the movie theater over the summer, when he’d been just a silly work crush, to the first time you’d hung out and he taught you how to smoke. The rose-tinted glasses in which you view all these memories with him has you murmuring out the words back to him. 

He wastes no time tugging your little shorts off, leaving you clad in just heart-patterned undies that have Yukhei muffling a snort into your shoulder. “You’re so fucking cute, baby,” he croons, letting one lone finger trace along your slit. 

You whimper, thighs quivering as you watch him tease and toy with you until you’re begging him to fuck you already. “But you’re not stretche-”

“Please,” you whine, cupping his cheeks in your palms, “I need you so bad.”

He caves without much of a fight, leaning back onto his haunches to tug himself out of his grey sweatpants. The sight of his slowly plumping cock has you salivating like a dog, and before he leans over you again, you press a palm to his chest. 

He blinks, big brown eyes staring at you in confusion. “What?” You pinch the fabric of his shirt between two fingers, pulling it back, before letting it fall into place again. Yukhei snorts, “oh,” and with one hand, tugs his shirt over his head. The movement gives you a delicious view of his muscles in action, and you feel yourself grow impossibly wetter. 

With the material finally out of the way, he reaches down to tug your panties to the side, giving him the perfect view of your throbbing center. He doesn’t bother to line himself up, just grabs his cock in his hand before plunging it where he knows it should go. He doesn’t waste any time, bottoming out in the first go.

Your toes curl, hands wildly gripping onto whatever they can—the pillow, the comforter, his hair—until they settle on digging into his shoulders. He grinds his hips, leaning down to place his palms on the bed on either side of your head. You proximity allows you to wrap your arms around his neck, but you also use it to press a soft kiss to his jaw. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, finally pulling his hips back until only the head of his dick is sheathed inside you. He stays like that for a second, before thrusting back in full force. “You’re so perfect, baby,” he tells you, repeating the action over and over again. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I ever lost you.”

You moan, nails digging into the flexing muscles of his shoulders. You choke out another moan, his speed picking up and rendering you speechless afterwards. A particular hard thrust has you groaning in pleasure, a hoarse shout of “fuck!” leaving your lips. 

Yukhei huffs, hot breath fanning across your face. “You like that?” He taunts, snapping his hips forward, clapping his skin against yours. You nod, hands falling limp as they slide off his shoulders. “Tell me how much you like it, baby.”

Your tongue feels heavy inside your mouth as you struggle to find the words. The drag of his cock against your pussy walls making you draw a blank. “I-I-I love it,” you gasp, the hands that slid off his form a moment ago limply wrapping around his waist. Your head rolls to the left, and you press a chaste kiss to his wrist. “Fuuuck,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasure enveloping you. “Yu-Yukhei,” you cry, though he doesn’t slow down to hear you. “I love you,” you babble, and then say it another two times for good measure. 

He huffs out a chuckle at your mindless state, finally slowing his hips. He begins gently rocking against you, one hand snaking down to toy with your clit. You cry out again, every part of your being feeling so sensitive. “I love you too, baby,” he murmurs, the tip of his pointer finger tracing circles around your clit. Right as you’re about to climax, he pulls that goofy signature move of his and halts everything, letting you hang of the precipice before giving your clit one final caress. 

Your orgasm has you babbling even more nonsense, from how much you love him to how good he fucks, to a randomly thrown in “and fuck you, rohei” that has him smiling against your jawline where he’s been pressing kisses. 

Your body feels featherlight afterwards, and you almost fall asleep had Yukhei not begin shallowly thrusting in you again. You’re reminded of his pleasure, and you reach a hand up to cradle his face as he continues rutting against you. “So good, baby,” you purr, eyes hazy with love and euphoria as you watch him. He smirks at the usage of your pet name against him, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. 

“You’re usually not a—a dirty talker,” he mumbles, looking away from you for a second to watch how his length plunges into your dripping hole. 

“I can be,” you murmur, you thighs twitching as a result of your oversensitivity. “For you.”

Yukhei snorts. “Yeah?” You nod. “Talk me through it then, baby,” he teases. 

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain a smile, but it still shines through. “Anything for you, baby,” you play along, finally letting go of his face to trace your hand down his abdomen, until it’s rested right above his pelvis. “You really outdid yourself this time,” you murmur, watching how his dick disappears inside of you. “You love fucking me when I cry, don’t you?” 

“You know it, baby,” he responds, flashing you that wicked smirk of his. 

Your laugh trails off into a light moan, and you can’t tell if the wetness you feel is from your own come or a new wave of arousal. “Ugh, I can’t,” you whine, your resolve weakening as you watch him shallowly thrust into you. Your boyfriend laughs, tightens his grip on your waist, and then pushes further in. Your eyes roll back, but you snap them open when you catch sight of your stomach. 

Something pokes up through your skin, and aside from the initial fear and confusion that’d caused your eyes to fly wide open, your entire body tingles anew when you realize it’s Yukhei’s huge cock bulging through your skin. 

“Fuck, baby,” your traitorous tongue starts, eyes hazy as you watch him move beneath your skin. “You’re so fucking big you can see it.”

If you were surprised, Yukhei is completely awestruck at the sight, his body moving as if under a trance as he watches the way his cock makes your skin bulge. Right before you can start babbling like a dumb ass, Yukhei reaches his hand down to cup over your mouth. “Just shut up for a second,” he warns, and suddenly, begins picking up his pace at the same angle. 

Each thrust has his cock pushing up into your tummy, and you moan and whine under his hand as your second orgasm builds inside of you. “Jesus, fuck,” Yukhei spits, eyes wild as he fucks for himself, completely disregarding you. “Look at my fucking cock inside of you.”

His hand stays firmly clamped over your mouth, your only airway available being your nose, so you find yourself huffing and gasping for breath. Yukhei doesn’t notice, his movements growing sloppier and more out of rhythm the closer he gets to his own orgasm, until finally he lets you go. He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath though, as he shoves his tongue down your throat. 

Suddenly, he freezes, and you can feel his hot seed coating your walls as he groans into your mouth. The sensation of your pussy being so deliciously full of both your pleasures has something inside you snapping, and a second wave of euphoria crashes over you. Your toes curl, and his name falls from your mouth like a mantra, before eventually the both of you fall numb and silent. 

You regain your wits first, reaching a hand up to gently card at his hair, humming a tune as he catches his breath. You think he’s fallen asleep, when suddenly he leans back to look at your worn out features, and says, “did you see my cock, baby?”

You snort, and push his face away from you, much to his amusement. “Yeah, I felt it,” you murmur, and hiss when he pulls out of you, momentarily staring at your overflowing and abused hole.

He groans at the sight. “God, I can't wait to get you pregnant.”

“What?!”

[rosesforshego]

𝓘𝓯 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓜𝔂 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʜᴇᴍ

“August 24th, 2002 8:00 pm.

Dinner with the Possibles was . . . surprisingly uneventful.

At least, in the way that Drew would define "uneventful" to be.”

Jim and Tim, the two who were deemed the most likely to launch their fork-fulls of lasagna at each other, dutifully ate their dinner in hopes to excuse themselves as soon as possible—presumably to scorch James' perfectly manicured lawn. Kim remained fairly quiet and interjected into the conversation when she felt it was necessary. Ron, who sat beside her, continuously shoveled heaping amounts of lasagna into his gullet while simultaneously slipping some under the table to feed his naked mole-rat. Rufus, an honored guest in the Possible house, was spoiled with his own, ceramic plate that Ron had made during his, albeit regrettable, summer at Camp Wannaweep, but remained under the table during family dinner. He didn't seem to mind. Rufus perched upon Ron's toes as if he were seated at the table with the rest of the family and only emerged from under the table cloth when he felt the need to join the conversation—just like Kim.

Per usual, the round-table discussion took a very boring turn for the children. Ann and James discussed their grueling workdays with Drew. James, who had been home all day, tirelessly worked on the newest, top-secret project that the Middleton Space Center had provided for him. When asked about said project, James responded with "It's a secret, but I can tell you one thing: it involves rockets", which prompted a well-deserved eye-roll from Drew, followed by a "No, duh"—a phrase that he had picked up from Kim, herself. She smiled. He was learning.

Ann, however, was not as lucky as her husband. She was forced into work by an emergency operation, which proved to be exhausting as the dark circles under her eyes shifted in the artificial lighting that illuminated the dining room.

When asked about the operation, Ann, with a sigh, responded with "Long". Drew's cheerful look softened into one of empathy. The one word told Drew what he needed to know, and it broke his heart.

"Brain surgery is not easy."

His lips tightened into a fine line. He never assumed that it was and he had always applauded Ann for her commitment to the profession. Nearly every operation, Ann played a delicate balancing act between life and death—a balance that toyed with the stranger that sat beneath her scalpel. On a good day, Ann, in all of her excitement, would give her friend a call and explain to him the intricate details of her latest, and greatest operation. Drew always anticipated those calls—not because he was fascinated by the process that Ann underwent with each procedure, but because it filled him with joy to hear his friend's voice full of exuberance: the product of an adrenaline high. But, when he failed to receive even a peep from Ann Possible, Drew understood. He could only imagine the stains that littered her steering wheel from the salty tears that stung her eyes.

"I-," Drew never knew what to say, so he let his words slip. He hoped that with his somber expression, Ann would understand that he held a deep sorrow within his heart for her.

"I'm sorry."

Eyes downcast onto her scarcely-touched plate of pasta, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," her blue irises rose with a faint gleam that reflected the lamplight. Drew found his breath caught in his throat.

Ann was a strong woman—the strongest that Drew had ever known. To see her eyes reflect a sort of helplessness that he felt deep within his old soul nearly brought tears to his as their gaze locked from across the table. Quickly, Drew pulled away, afraid to lose himself within the deep regret that swam within her sapphire eyes, and turned towards James, who held the same worried expression as his own.

Thankfully, the children, who continued to devour their dinner, were none-the-wiser.

"Y'know," Ann's voice broke the thick silence that laid between them, "I'm just glad that I made it home in time, or else a certain someone would've had to cook."

The side of Drew's lip curled into a half-hearted grin. The last time James tried to cook, he nearly set the kitchen ablaze.

"So, you mean we'd be eating Chinese takeout?"

"You would be correct," James interjected as he tore his troubled gaze away from his wife and stabbed his mountain of sauce-covered pasta with his fork.

A light chuckle, shared between Ann and Drew, dissipated the heavy atmosphere that had befallen upon them. They both knew that dinner would be better off if James didn't don the apron.

Drew's elbows found themselves at home atop the tablecloth as his chin rested upon the back of his hands, "I thought Mama Possible taught her kids how to cook."

"She did," Ann smirked as she mirrored Drew's position, "Slim took all the talent."

Cheeks stuffed with ricotta, James returned to the conversation with a scowl of disapproval. Drew covered his mouth with his free hand in a poor attempt to stifle a laugh while a loud snort escaped Ann's throat, followed by cheeky grins that formed around the table from the children who found enjoyment in poking-fun at the adults in the conversation. It was one against six and James opted to remain silent on the matter. He knew better than to defend himself against the vicious mockery that filled his home with laughter.

Ann's playful snicker that rang within Drew's ears was effortlessly replaced with a jarring ruckus—its origin from the rocket that launched from the patch of scorched grass in front of him.

"See, Uncle Drew?"

"Isn't that so cool?"

Drew rested his arms upon his lap as he watched colorful sparks of hot electricity evaporate into the stillness of the warm, summer night. Fourteen years after the Ol' Faithful incident, he remained a prisoner to his astonishment that his two best friends had created three beautiful, and exceptionally intelligent, children.

They were going to change the world.

"Very," a brief commentary from Drew seemed to suffice. The biochemist was always at a loss for words.

Wide grins spread across the youthful cheeks of the twins as they continued with their project of mayhem. While Drew could never offer a meaningful conversation about rocket science to his two nephews, the twins seemed satisfied with his one-word answers and the look of bewilderment and awe that seized his features. If they wanted constructive criticism, Jim and Tim would have asked their father for assistance. Drew was simply a witness to their greatness.

The twins entered a discussion about intricate theories as to how they could improve the hunk of metal that they had just shot into the night sky. Drew could not understand a single word, the conversation littered with scientific terms and twin-language that were foreign to his cultured ears, yet he remained enthralled by their nuanced conversation.

"Uncle Drew?"

Kim's soft, candied voice shoved away Drew's daydreams. He turned to his left to see his niece close to his frame: her knees crossed; her mind deep in thought.

"What's high school like?"

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"If you're looking for a simple answer, Kimmie, you're not going to get one."

Her eyes, a piercing, verdant green, squinted as a deep frown rested upon the smooth elasticity of her skin. That was not what she wanted to hear.

"I figured," she retorted, though she had hoped otherwise.

Drew's smile dwindled as Kim's eager demeanor faltered at the utterance of his statement.

The day Drew laid his eyes upon little Kimberly Ann, he knew that he was absolutely smitten. She may not have been his own flesh-and-blood, but, from the moment she arrived home from the hospital, she had been like the daughter he had always wanted—bright and brilliant with an unquenchable thirst to understand life itself. But, as Drew learned, in this quest for answers, within the shadows lurked heartbreak, sorrow, and an immense amount of raw pain that was always ready to pounce upon their next, optimistic victim. Upon discovering his own answers, these horrendous monsters had burrowed their way into the core of Drew's being, filling his veins with a thick sludge of despair that silently spread throughout his body. This kind of pain, embedded in his very identity, could not be washed away with a simple, supportive gesture and, instead, required copious amounts of synthetic chemicals to keep his disorderly mind in check. So, as soon as little Kimmie entered this unforgiving world in the back of his Sedan, Drew made a silent promise to himself to forbid the demons of despondency, that patiently waited behind her rose-tinted glasses, to destroy her.

Drew slowly closed his eyes as the image of a tiny Kimberly faded beneath his eyelids. She was no longer a helpless child who hid from the menacing shadows that skulked across her bedroom wall. She was fourteen years old. Drew could no longer hold her little hand within the palm of his. He had to let her go because he knew that if he continued to coddle her, he would have committed a great injustice. As an uncle, and a Godfather, he continuously tightrope-walked the fine-line between protection and liberation—his guidance in Kim's life was necessary, there was no disputing that, but she had to learn how to make mistakes and part of Drew felt an intense pang of guilt over the way he had protected her all these years.

It was time for Kim to understand that the world will not abide by her rules. Yet, he knew that as soon as she put down her glasses, the world would attempt to devourer her.

Drew was at a loss. All he could do was hope for the best.

"High school is. . ." Drew pondered for a moment, attempting to pluck his words from thin air, "complicated. There are ups, and downs, just like any other part of life." He wasn't sure if she understood, but he continued, "But if you keep a positive attitude, you'll be golden."

That, she could do. After all, she was Kimberly Ann Possible. As her father had told her time and time again, she could do anything.

This sense of immortality terrified Drew.

Kim's head bobbed, as if she gained an understanding, while her green irises maintained a sort of vacancy. She could not comprehend the complexities of which her uncle had spoken, but she grasped onto his vague way of saying "look for the silver lining" and hoped that this was the correct message he was trying to send.

Drew understood the mystifying mysteries that came with this world on a much deeper level than Kim. As much as she longed for the answers as well, she knew that her uncle was not going to let her cheat, but, every-so-often, he did drop a clue or two to guide her along life's journey. So, as much as Drew's message worried the optimistic teen, she didn't hesitate to take his advice to heart.

"The real question is," the man turned his head towards the young teen who used his shoulder as a comfortable pillow, "how do you feel about high school?"

Kim lifted her head as her brows knitted into a tight furrow. She had pondered her answer to this question on many occasions, though no one had ever asked her before. At first, she was petrified. The old eight-graders loved to disperse rumors into the clamor of the middle school halls—horrid rumors that described terrible tales that had befallen their elder siblings; putrid tales of betrayal, hurt, and self-deprecating violence at the hands of broken friendships. But, as she climbed the ranks of the middle school social hierarchy with each passing grade, Kim had learned the hard way that the pool was, indeed, not located in the school's musty basement, so every tale that the eight-graders fed to her sixth-grader self was a lie, right?

"Well," she started, the word rolling off of her tongue like molasses as she used the pause to cultivate her answer, "I feel. . . good."

"Good?" Drew asked, inquisitively, "Only good?"

"What do you mean by only?"

"I thought you'd have a grander reaction, Kimmie," Drew responded. It was the truth. Kim was known for her grandiose reactions to changes in her life. From the time she was allowed to babysit the twins to when she put her best foot forward and embarked on her career as the world-renowned, teen-hero, Kim had often expressed her exuberance through screams of delight and conversations that moved at lightning speed. So, as Kim's next adventure grew nearer, for her to state that this exciting time of her life was simply good, perplexed her uncle.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I mean, high school is just an extension of middle school, right?"

Drew lifted an eyebrow. She couldn't be more wrong.

"Kim—"

"Sure, I may have to study more, but I have cheer tryouts next week, which I feel confident about—"

And Drew did not doubt that she was going to make the team, but that wasn't the point.

"But, Kim—"

"And there are the dances to look forwards to—"

And boys. Drew shuddered. Again, not the point.

"Kim—"

"On top of saving the world? Uncle Drew, I think I can handle it."

Drew lifted a finger as his brows contorted into a minute scowl. He was delighted to hear that there were aspects of high school that thrilled her, but Drew knew that if she were to step foot into Middleton High with this type of attitude, she would be crushed under the weight of reality that she had continuously neglected to accept.

"Yeah," Ron interjected, interrupting Drew before the man could utter a word, "this is Kim Possible we're talkin' 'bout. She's been doin' this for years. Why would high school be any different?"

Drew closed his eyes once again as a deep sigh parted his lips. Oh, how naïve they were.

"Kimberly."

Kim, who believed she had proved her point, closed her mouth at the sound of her name. This got her attention.

"Let me be the first to tell you that high school and middle school are two, completely different fiends."

Ron's once confident expression fell as he gingerly placed his cheek against his knees. That was something he didn't want to hear.

"Fiends," Drew continued, "that can be tamed with an exceptional amount of dedication and patience."

Great. As if middle school wasn't hard enough, the two teens would have to put in additional effort to "tame" the wild beast that was Middleton High. Weren't the adolescent years supposed to be fun? The promise of wild entertainment, coupled with copious amounts of simple, immediate gratification was what Kim and Ron had looked forward to. No one told them that they had to work for it.

Kim released the tension that she held within her arms at the realization that life does not get any easier. Defeated, she turned towards Ron, whose expression of discontent mirrored her own.

"Listen, I'll be frank with you two," Drew stated, his voice low with a hint of a somber tone laced within it. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but someone had to ground these two eager teens in reality, and as sure as hell James wasn't going to be the one to do it. "High school is a lot of work—"

Their lips nestled into a deeper frown, but the teens let him continue without protest.

"But it's a wonderful time to learn who you are, in here," he brought the tips of his fingers, that were encased in crumbs from his peanut butter stickies, to his sternum.

This did not seem to dissuade his pseudo kids.

"At this point in your life, you will face hardships—some that are easy to overcome, some that are difficult to comprehend—but each challenge, each experience, will contain a certain amount of significance to you and only you."

Subconsciously, Kim and Ron found their bodies leaning towards Drew as they found themselves unexpectedly captivated by his statement.

"Unfortunately, not everything will come up roses—you will encounter failure—"

Kim's eyes narrowed as her gaze bore holes in her uncle's demeanor. Failure was not in her blood. Ron, on the other hand, battled dry-eye as his eyelids continued to widen in fear. More failures? Why couldn't he catch a break?

"But remember that while you're competing at cheer competitions, dancing at prom, or," he turned towards Ron, "spending your afternoons at Bueno Nacho—"

Did Uncle D just call him out? Ouch.

"These experiences don't define who you are, what you do with them will."

Kim and Ron, simultaneously, leaned forward to share a similar, perplexed look. "What you do with them"? What was that supposed to mean?

"But, I believe," Drew continued, unaware that he may have lost the two teens within his philosophical rant, "that you two can overcome whatever challenges life throws at you. Kim—"

She tore her attention away from her best friend and returned to the conversation at hand.

"I understand that your family has the motto 'anything's possible for a Possible', but I truly believe that you have what it takes to go above and beyond—to attain the goals that you set for yourself, despite life's complications."

A soft smile, welcomed by the warmth that rose to Kim's cheeks, returned, "Mom always said I came into this work with a fearsome kick."

Drew couldn't help but offer a smile in return, "She's right."

On impulse, Drew's left arm stealthy snaked out from beside his frame and gently wrapped around Kim's shoulder. He pulled her closer to his chest as her head resumed its position on his protruding shoulder. She exhaled, long as slow, as she let her body relax in Drew's embrace, allowing his arm to hold her in place. This is where she belonged.

"And Ron," his right arm mimicked his left as he brought his other nephew closer to the unconditional love that radiated from the cold caverns of his chest, "Don't sell yourself short, okay?"

Ron stammered as his body followed the coaxing arm of his uncle, "Wh-what do ya mean?"

"You're a bright, young man with a rather," Drew's lips tightened as he searched the recesses of his mind for the word he wanted to use, ". . . interesting outlook on life—"

Interesting was an understatement.

"Use that to your advantage. Solve problems with your creativity," he commanded as Ron's tuff of blond hair tickled the side of his cheek.

"You'll do great things, Ronald, I'm sure of it."

The intensity of Ron's fearful gaze subsided as a small wave of confidence washed over his features. If Drew believed that the meager teenager could achieve great feats, then Ron believed it, too.

Uncle D had never been wrong before.

As Ron leaned into Drew, the chemist felt the tension that the two teens held in their bodies dissolve as their backs pressed against his arms. With a sigh from Kim and a crunch next to Drew's ear as Ron took another, generous bite of his cookie, everything seemed. . . right.

And, for the remainder of the night, the three sat together and blissfully watched Jim and Tim relaunch their rocket into the blackened sky.

Maybe the world was not so cruel after all.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 18: The High Stakes

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

With Adrian's execution literally looming on the horizon Nadya enlists Jax, Lily, Maricruz, and Kamilah to put a crazy, life-threatening plan into action.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Nadya’s okay—really she is. Something that Katherine has to assure Lily and Kamilah for her; since they seem blinded by personal attachment. Really, she is!

And it takes a while but the hunter finally gets them to stop fussing over her hand even though she cradles it close to her chest. It still hurts; her fist still stings and there’s a dull throbbing in her shoulder because she threw her arm back a little too enthusiastically. But the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction.

Satisfaction that she’s sure she’ll feel all over again like it’s for the first time when she’ll go into the office to pack up her desk and see Nicole’s purpling, swollen black eye.

Whatever it takes. Jax was right. And she may not have been able to take on the large vampire guards who dragged Adrian away, or frankly any member of the Council (though in the adrenaline high following Adrian’s sentence she sincerely debated whether the Baron or Lester were the weaker links to start with), or the Trinity if she could have caught up with them in time.

No, she couldn’t fight any of them off. But she sure could cross the chamber and throw the hardest punch of her life right in that traitor’s face.

Whatever it takes.

Cadence and Katherine join them back at the penthouse. They take to the terrace in hushed whispers but no one really notices.

There are more important things to focus on.

Gerard wraps her hand in an ice pack and tea towel. Busies himself by filling the apartment with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee even though what he offers on a silver tray is much darker and thicker than espresso. Lily is somber but takes it hungrily. Kamilah declines with a small shake of her head.

“You need to keep your strength up, Lady Kamilah.” Gerard admonishes. He doesn’t deserve the look she throws his way. “Only trying to help…” He leaves the tray regardless.

No one says anything. Doesn’t know what to say. What to do. The world is at a sort of standstill around them.

Actually it would be easier if it were. Then they wouldn’t know Adrian has twenty-four hours from the approaching dawn to live — wouldn’t know time is still moving around them. Around him.

The terrace door opens and Katherine has the mind to close the floor-to-ceiling blackout curtains behind her companion.

They shuffle awkwardly — an unusual sight from the Nighthunter’s normal confidence — in the middle of the space.

“If we could stay, we would,” Cadence insists. It sounds more sincere coming from him. “But something’s happened back in New Orleans and…”

“It’s okay.” Nadya knows her smile is halfhearted but they get the idea.

Katherine pats her arm softly. “You stay safe, you hear me? Don’t do anything stupid. Well,” she looks at the ice pack, “don’t do anything stupider, I should say.”

Cadence dips his head in an awkward fashion; it takes Nadya a second to realize he’s trying to meet Kamilah’s eyes. But she won’t. Keeps staring down with a thick curtain of hair to help her.

“I wish we could have done more.”

The pair of them make it to the door when Kamilah finally decides to speak. Looks up and stares blankly ahead with her back turned to them both.

“Do not step foot in this city again.”

Cadence hesitates, hand on the doorknob, and throws her back a strange look. “Just because we weren’t enough to save him?”

“No.” There’s a long pause. “Because you court danger, here. Return to your city, to your friends… then take my advice — run. And never stop. They certainly won’t.”

Nadya doesn’t have to ask. The Trinity. But her warning leaves more questions than answers and, judging by the look in Cadence’s eyes before Katherine urges them out, he’s just as clueless.

And just like that the weight of everything resumes crushing them.

“It would be unfair to ask; not only for them to risk their lives but to practically throw them away.”

She looks to Kamilah; who sounds like she’s answering some unheard voice’s questions.

“It would be two clans against four.”

“Kamilah?”

The woman looks at her — through her. Too lost in her own thoughts. “Injustice cannot be combated with justice. Not when everything was stacked against our favor. They walked in there… knew what they were doing when the tribunal was called. Whether the Trinity gave an alibi or not, they were ready to find the smallest shred of doubt and tear it open.”

Whatever it takes.

With Kamilah’s every word an idea starts taking shape in Nadya’s brain. Lumpy, sort of misshapen at first; but the more she takes in Kamilah’s protests the more it starts to grow, and grow, and sharpens itself like a blade.

It’s not a good idea by any means. In fact it’s probably the stupidest idea ever had — not just by Nadya but in the history of the world. No doubt the two-thousand year old vampire would agree.

Just as her idea tops itself with whipped cream and a cherry there’s a kiss to her cheek; Nadya looks to see Lily pulling out an old flip-phone.

“I’m gonna call Mari, ask her where to meet. You should come with me.” She glances sideways at Kamilah. “I trust her, I do, but who knows how long it’ll be once Adrian’s gone until they go after her next? And you, too.”

She doesn’t answer. Lily chocks it up to grief and stands; stops when Nadya grabs her wrist like a vice.

“Don’t make that call just yet.”

“But —”

“Lil’, please.”

She sits, face still scrunched with doubt. Nadya takes her place instead and, still keeping the ice on her hand, rushes through the hall and to her room.

She finds what she’s looking for in a second; her work purse resting on top of the corner desk and her prize right within. Tucks it under her armpit and returns to the vampires but rather than taking her seat she stands before Kamilah to get her attention.

When that doesn’t work she simply drops the stake in her lap. That does the trick.

Kamilah holds it like one might a large jewel; taken aback and slightly confused as to how it came into her possession.

“One down, three to go.”

Their eyes meet. The way Kamilah looks up at her — so lost and out of touch with the reality around her — it makes Nadya think of when she had the same crisis in her apartment. Kamilah hadn’t held her hand and comforted her. She’d picked Nadya up off her butt and pushed her to take a step forward, then another.

And every step since has been easier than the last — no matter what’s happened.

Kamilah’s lips purse before she tries to offer the weapon back. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities but even I would struggle to confront the entire Council.”

“So we don’t fight the Council —” nope, and Nadya has to be careful in how forcefully she pushes the stake back, “—at least not yet. For now we just fight our way to Adrian and rescue him. We buy ourselves more time.”

“‘More time’ will do nothing to change minds like Vega’s.”

“Oh yeah, that crackpot’s a lost cause. But someone was behind the attack at the Ball — maybe the same person who started the Feral Turnings in the first place. We don’t know who but… we know it’s not Adrian.

“I don’t know what to do, Kamilah. I’m freaking out and kinda numb at this point. And I’m not gonna stand here and say you’re sitting down and taking it — mostly because I value my life — but I want to see the same vampire who scared the ever-loving heck out of me, who threatened me, but who also helped and protected me too.

“I’m mad. And when I’m mad — I’m loud. And I do stupid, stupid stuff.”

“She’s serious,” chimes in Lily behind her; reminds her briefly that she and Kamilah aren’t alone, “like, ‘all aboard the bad life choice express’ serious.”

She shoots Lily a look. Well-meaning, but really? All she gets is a shrug in reply so back to trying to convince Kamilah to join her so-called ‘bad choice express.’

“I don’t have a… a rallying cry here, okay? So let’s — let’s just get up and go kick some ass before I ramble and end up saying something really dumb and irrelevant.”

Not that Nadya anticipates Kamilah to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, donned in golden armor and wielding a sword and shield — a mental image to file away for a less dire time — but she expects, well, something.

Even if that something is just a smirk hiding at the corner of her dark lips.

“I’m afraid that has already come to pass.”

She blinks. “What has?”

“Your rather artful way of promising to run your mouth.”

They look down at the stake together — a nice, polished thing; a gift from Adrian once life attempted to get back to normal — and Nadya smiles when she sees Kamilah close it in her grasp.

“They will be holding him in the safest place they know; the Shrike. Nowhere else has the fortifications, the precautions specifically for our kind. Showing my face will immediately raise alarms, but I doubt I have the time to familiarize myself with the tunnels connected to it.”

That’s exactly what Nadya hoped to hear. Throws a look back to Lily who catches on quick and vanishes towards the kitchen with haste and her phone already up to her ear.

“Oh, and sorry I lied.”

Kamilah frowns. “Pardon?”

“I lied — just a second ago.” She offers her good hand out; doesn’t actually expect Kamilah to take it but the vampire is full of surprises today, apparently. Her grip is cool against the clammy sweat on Nadya’s palm and there’s a certain ‘rightness’ restored to the world when their positions change and she looks up into those endlessly dark eyes.

Realizing she’ll have to prompt an answer, the woman quirks a brow. “About what did you lie?”

Sure, her smile still isn’t that well-meaning. Nadya doesn’t even know if she’d call what she’s feeling hope. But it’s not that gnawing pit of distress and that’s enough.

Because she’ll do whatever it takes to save Adrian. They both will.

“I totally have a plan.”

The familiar ‘NORTHMUN’ van doesn’t pull into a spot; just flashes the brights three times before the engine coughs and takes a well-deserved break.

The back doors swing open and Maricruz leaps out, a predatory animal ready to strike, and immediately she and Lily are in one another’s arms.

Nadya shifts awkwardly on the balls of her feet. Tries not to use the scene in front of them — such a tender kiss despite the longing that fuels it — to give her an excuse to see how Kamilah reacts to public displays of affection.

Lucky(?) her, Jax slams the driver door closed and rounds to join them. Still with his hand on the hilt of his sword and glaring near-literal daggers at Kamilah.

Nadya throws Lily a weary look. “I thought you told him.”

Head resting on her girlfriend’s shoulder, Lily rolls her eyes.

“I did.”

“Like I wouldn’t be ready for a trap when they are involved.” Jax mutters. To Kamilah’s credit his display doesn’t even seem worth a response.

“Good to see you made it out of the frying pan intact, chica.” Mari offers; either doesn’t care about the tension or is so content with Lily returned to her that she can put her hatred of the Council and the Clans aside. If only Jax could do the same.

Nadya can only breathe the barest laugh. “Thanks for joining us in the fire.”

Jax stuffs his hands in his pants pockets. “We haven’t agreed yet.”

“Jax…”

“No, Nadya,” Kamilah steps forward; manages to look down her nose at the leader of the Clanless quite easily, “his wariness is inconvenient — yes — but not unfounded. And if he wishes to treat this like a business deal then I see no harm in complying. So long as he doesn’t waste what precious little time we have.”

Nadya checks her phone—09:09—stifles a yawn and tries not to think that every hour gone is one hour closer to sunset.

They have the bare bones of a plan; and even that’s being generous. Too many variables, too many unknowns… the only thing they can all agree on is the universal fact that what they’re attempting is foolish, risky, and may very well end up in more than just Adrian dead if anything goes wrong.

Now, the only thing stopping them is Jax’s bruised ego.

He steps towards Kamilah with a twitching upper lip. “If you think you can just stand there and talk down to me when it’s my help you need — you can forget it.”

“Jax — no — that’s just how she talks.” Lily supplies helpfully. It isn’t helpful at all.

Nadya feels like she’s going to suffocate under the weight of it. Of the tension, of their time limit, of everything.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah, well, make time.”

Kamilah snorts. “For a child’s petulant whining?”

“Oh, right. Well how about I take my whining and my van and book it?”

He’s met with silence and considers it a victory. Before Kamilah can clench her fist at her side Nadya slips her hand close ‘on accident’ and immediately the touch goes soft.

“Jax,” she has to swallow down her fear, “please.”

“I thought we’d finally gotten you to listen, to understand a little about what we deal with as Clanless. The risks people like us — people like Lily — have to take to survive because of people like her.” He jabs a finger at Kamilah.

She’s ready to spout out whatever needs to be said to get Jax to change his mind. He’s there, which meant he had to be open to some kind of discussion… right? Why else would he have come — not just to get Lily? Nadya hopes Maricruz might have a solution but the woman shakes her bob of neon blue hair. This is just the way he is.

“I understand your plight.”

All eyes are on Kamilah and with understandable surprise. She continues before Jax has the chance to spit out the insult ready on the tip of his tongue. “You know your worth, your value — your power. You cower in the shadows and watch the creatures in the light — those who think they are better than you by right of passage, birth, both; neither. You wish simply to exist. Regardless of whether you see your new life as a curse or a blessing… there is a part of you that yearns, aches for what you had before: freedom.”

After moments of torturous silence… Jax nods.

“We deserve the right to live without punishment of death.”

“Yes. You do.”

Even Nadya’s a little confused; she’ll admit. Jax’s thoughts race across his face like a film in fast-forward — his emotions on full display in a range. Anger—sadness—confusion… doubt.

Finally he settles on spite. “What game are you playing?”

“None,” she answers, “merely pointing out that we are not so different: you and I, your kind and mine. You are a product of a flawed world; of a failed autocracy and noble intentions that led to ignoble actions. And above all that you are young. So much of your history — our history — is unknown to you.

“Yet I have seen it all: the end of the old regime and the birth of the new one… and how that, too, crumbled to dust. We did not intend to demonize our own. We were placed in a delicate position and at the time our solution was a workable one.

“The populations were drastically uneven. One deviant working alone could destroy the entire system. It didn’t matter if they were Feral or just craved violence. To those of us who lived it, the horrors of what happened in Europe were still fresh in our minds and we promised ‘never again’ because that was our only choice.”

The elder’s words hang over them all; tightening the air and making it hard to breathe. The way she speaks — there are things Kamilah’s holding back. Things she doesn’t want to say… or maybe can’t even after all this time.

But the slow melody of her voice and her careful choice of words works hard to paint a picture in the distance for them all. Just clear enough to let their imaginations fill in the horrible and terrible rest.

Or… that’s probably how it is for Jax, for Lily, for Maricruz.

For Nadya? It’s like a reel — the worst things in eye-stinging clarity. It’s that strange blurry seconds-to-hours right after sleep and just before waking where your dream happens all at once before it fades into nothing.

She doesn’t know how she knows. Feels like she has no right to know; like she’s somehow intruding on the intimacy of Kamilah’s entreating of Jax by knowing — by seeing — what she endured though someone else’s eyes.

Blood in rivers. Brief moments of joy dashed like clouds over the sun. Righteous fire and no bodies to bury. Only ash left on open palms.

But she pushes it down. Shoves it all into a small box inside her already filled to the brim with every other dreamlike memory and sits on the lid praying nothing will get out. Because that’s what needs to be done right now.

For Adrian.

Whatever it takes.

“What do you want from me,” Jax asks with a hard edge, “what do you want me to say? Do you want me to pity you; to comfort you? Because no one was there to comfort the Clanless killed on the Council’s orders — on your orders — when they suffered. No one.”

“For now I want for nothing.”

“Then I think we’re done here.”

“However…” Jax’s hand pauses on the van door; keeps his back turned and tense but he’s not leaving. He’s letting Kamilah finish.

She tries again. “However, I would ask for your help in rescuing Adrian. Not only because he has been the Council’s largest advocate for the Clanless, and should we right this wrong done unto him may find himself dedicated to helping your people — your cause.

“But also because he is a good man — the best of us all. He is good man who suffers now from the same corrupt system which you seek to destroy. And because he is all I have left in this world which gives me hope.”

Yet almost in denial of what she’s saying Kamilah twists her hand and closes her fingers through Nadya’s. Holds her hand delicately; like her bones are as fragile as bird wings. She doesn’t need to say anything.

Jax is struggling. With his conscience, with his code, with his morals and with the thoughts of how this could be turned in his favor. Though his fringe he looks over to Mari. She gives him the least helpful half-shrug in the world.

“We’ve never turned our back on someone in trouble,” she answers his silence, “they just always happened to be one of our own. Maybe we could branch out a bit.”

Lily snort-laughs; kisses her girlfriend’s cheek.

It’s not much… but apparently it’s enough for Jax to take a cautious step towards Kamilah. A breath — and he extends his hand.

She takes it wordlessly. The pact is sealed.

“Fine, get in, We’re wasting daylight.” He barks like a General; rounds back to the driver’s seat while Mari opens up the back. “We gotta swing by a guy I know first — it’d be a good idea to get Lily’s tech, too. Espinoza, do you still have those old schematics of the warehouse district?”

They clamor into the cramped space. Even trying to take up as little room as possible Nadya’s thigh presses up against Kamilah’s intimately. The vampire doesn’t pull away.

“Don’t need ‘em,” Mari taps her temple, “all up here. We gotta use a different lure this time, though.”

“Oh!” Lily bounces in place, “what if we did the Chirp Wireless job, but in reverse?”

The van resists waking once, twice, then heaves to life. Jax revs the engine.

“I like the way you think, kid.”

He peels out of the garage; too fast for Nadya to grab for purchase. But before she can fall she feels something like steel around her waist — looks to see Kamilah’s arm holding her steady.

“Do not worry,” and the affection in her voice sparks more heat inside Nadya than purposeful seduction ever could, “I’ve got you.”

“No need to worry,” Past-Nadya had said, “I’ve never been claustrophobic.”

Past-Nadya was an idiot who thought only of herself and didn’t even take into account how Future-Nadya might feel about things.

And as current Present-Nadya and on the verge of becoming Future-Nadya… she wouldn’t mind giving Past-Nadya a piece of her freakin’ mind.

She shifts her hips; tries to get her knees into a more comfortable position. Her aching joints scream in protest but they, too, want this plan to work so they just let her do what she needs to.

Outside the stale darkness of the shipping crate she strains to hear the conversation — wonders if this is really taking as long as it feels or if time is just moving extremely slowly when she has nothing to do but wait.

She’s about to try a more daring stretch when she finally hears Maricruz off to her left. Freezes in place like that will help.

“Fine evening, ain’t it boys?”

“You’re in the wrong part of town.” Comes a gruff reply. Mari laughs it off with ease.

“Am I really? Stupid me, I guess. But if you know so much why don’t you tell me where I’m supposed to be delivering all this fine-ass hooch because it don’t look illegal if I walk it in through the front door. And we both know el Baron is all about the looks.”

A suspicious silence follows. Nadya strains her ears so hard she can’t hear anything but the blood pumping through her skull.

But Mari plays it cool. This isn’t her first job and it’s not a skill she’s let grow lax with the years. Nadya’s starting to see why Lil’s got it hard for her.

Finally one of the Baron’s men speaks — only his voice is much closer and Nadya has to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking in surprise.

“So all this is on his orders, huh?”

Mari snorts. “Uh, no shit.”

“Funny, ‘cuz I’m pretty sure after your last little stunt he cut all ties with you smuggler freaks.”

The chorus of ‘oh crap oh crap ohcrap’ in Nadya’s thoughts is so loud she doesn’t know how the vampires can’t hear it through the box.

But Maricruz rolls with the punches — doesn’t even hesitate.

“Not my fault you’re too low on the totem pole to know any better. So low you didn’t even get the night off for his little victory shindig. All that body’a yours and no one to pet it.”

“What’re you harpin’ on about?”

“Wow… you really don’t know.” Mari ticks her tongue. “Shame. All this —” there’s a thud as Mari’s hand just so happens to smack the box Nadya is inside, “— is for el Baron’s victory party after that jackass Clan-whatever-Leader cabrón is fried crispy.”

“Raines?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t give a shit. I just know I gotta cart over three crates of imported champagne to Lacroix after this and I should’a been there already. So thanks for fucking with my schedule.”

She’s gotta hand it to the woman — even Nadya would be struggling to tell the truths from the lies if she were the one being conned. But that’s what makes her good at what she does.

The tap-tap-tap of Mari’s nail on the lid of her crate stops just short. She probably wouldn’t have heard the vampire’s rebuttal if he wasn’t obviously right in Mari’s space.

“And what about that heartbeat I hear in there, huh? Hooch don’t sound like that.”

“That’s a gift for the doorman, dumbass. But if you don’t want her…” She’s almost sing-song when she seals the deal. But it’s all acting, right? Please dear God let it just be acting.

Then with a lurch Nadya’s moving — too bad her stomach doesn’t follow with.

Lily has strict orders not to talk on the comm. piece in her ear for fear of over-sensitive vampire hearing but she can just imagine how proud she is of Mari. Ten bucks on a full-circle chair spin at the very least.

“You’ll go in through the cellars with a load like that.”

“I know how to do my job.”

“But get in and get out fast. The Boss’ll be coming down to take Raines to his execution soon. If he sees you’re the deliverer I’m gonna lose my neck.”

There’s more thumping, squeaking, and the rattling of metal before something heavy scrapes against the ground. Immediately Nadya’s senses flash back to her first time in these very dungeons — she tries not to let it fill her with hopelessness and fear; all the things she didn’t know and didn’t want to know back then fighting their way to the surface.

Whatever it takes. She tamps them back down firmly.

When the Baron’s henchman speaks again his voice is distant. This is actually working.

“And leave that little snack a’mine in the last cell — you know what, shove a bottle in there with her. If I gotta work I might as well enjoy it.”

“Amen, brother.”

Time slows again in silence. That or maybe she really is in here for hours. No… Adrian doesn’t have hours. She trusts Mari.

Then on muted cue there’s a series of loud thuds and the creak of the wooden lid above her lifting free.

The dim torchlight isn’t much but it’s brighter than the void of the crate so Nadya shields her eyes. Has to blink back bright spots before she can see again.

When her vision clears Maricruz looks down at her with a disapproving frown. “Don’t think I didn’t catch your heartbeat out there, chica,” Nadya takes her extended hand and unfurls herself from the crate with a struggle, “have you no faith?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a conversation for another time.”

“All right, but I’ve got a good long memory.”

While Nadya unkinks every joint in her body Mari lifts one of the crates filled with actual liquor and drops it aside to pry open the one underneath it. Jax claws his way out with straw in his hair and a glower.

“I’m with her on this one,” he jerks his head at Nadya. A piece of straw flutters to the ground. “You took forever with that. Next time just dust them and be done with it.”

“I was prepared for a scenario with more idiots to con, thank you very much.”

“Well I thought you stole the show, baby.”

All three of them jerk at the sudden noise at which Lily speaks in their ears. The signal feedback screeches and threatens to pop her eardrum.

“Too loud, cupcake!” Mari says through clenched teeth. Lily mutters an apology and the second time around she’s at a much more manageable volume. “Better, better.”

“Sorry guys. We were still calibrated for the construction site job.”

Jax looks around with a grim frown. It’s then that Nadya realizes the last time he was in here he, too, was trapped.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. Jax nods.

“Glad I’m on the other side of the bars this time.”

“You and me both.” Mari hauls the cart aside; presses her finger to the piece in her ear. “Ready with the electrics over there?”

Lily’s reply is fuzzy with static. “I think so. This place is pretty dark but back up top the doors have a random passcode generator. They probably flip it with each new rotation.”

“But can you get it for us?”

“If Cleopatra would stop breathing down my ne — OW!”

Her cry makes Mari stop in her stacks, literally. “Lil’? What the fuck?”

There’s shuffling and feedback. Jax doesn’t wait; just grabs the nearest torch out of its sconce and starts dragging the light over the nearest closed cell doors.

“She is mostly unharmed,” comes Kamilah’s drawl in their ears, “and has learned her lesson about pet names. Nadya — you’re well?”

She tries not to blush in Mari’s presence but the smuggler couldn’t care less; muttering likely insults in Spanish under her breath as she passes Nadya up to join Jax.

“Yeah — yeah I’m okay.”

“Good. Then make haste. They’ll be coming to collect Adrian soon and likely assumed there would be resistance from him. We don’t want them to have brought more guards than we prepared for.”

Replying would only waste more of their time, so Nadya grabs a torch wordlessly to help join the search.

“And Nadya?”

“Yeah Kamilah?”

Silence, then: “Be safe.”

“I will.”

How this winding labyrinth of cells was first built is beyond her, but Nadya wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she came to learn that the Cellars were built solely for the Baron’s purposes. The place isn’t at capacity in the slightest — there’s maybe two empty cells for every forlorn soul that she holds her flickering flame over — but it’s not like that’s something she’s happy to see. There are still way too many captives both human and vampire alike.

And she was almost one of them.

She learns not to get too close when a vampire — not Feral in the literal sense, but feral nonetheless — rushes at her and tries to claw for any scrap of her flesh from the rusted bars of her prison.

“I’m so sorry.” Nadya whispers and continues on.

Rounding the corner to a new row she spots Jax’s face in faint orange at a cell near the very end.

“He’s over here!”

She almost drops her torch in her haste — rushes down the damp corridor just as Maricruz appears in a blur at Jax’s side.

“Adrian!”

Maybe expecting Adrian to be leaning against the bars with the relieved delight of a damsel in distress was too much, but he isn’t even awake. “What’s wrong with him?” She looks between the vampires as Maricruz works her crowbar on the lock. “Why isn’t he getting up? Adrian? Adrian!”

“What’s the matter?” Comes Kamilah’s worry over the comms.

“He’s unconscious,” Jax replies, smacks his open palm on one of the bars. “Hey, come on Raines! Get up!”

Nadya’s voice cracks. “Kamilah he—he isn’t waking up. Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Without seeing him myself I —”

“Corwin!”

Lily’s blunt interruption stops Kamilah mid-sentence. “The Corwin chair took, like, a shitton of energy out of him right?”

The heavy noise of the snapped lock echoes through the stone. Maybe they’re too far underground for anyone to have heard them. Or maybe vampires hear better than she thinks. Either way they need to move.

The door swings open and Nadya runs inside. Skids her knees across the dirty floor but pushes the burning pain aside for Adrian’s sake.

“Check his wrists,” instructs Kamilah, “does he still show signs of the chair’s magics?”

“What ‘magic chair’ are you guys talking about?” Jax stands in the middle of the pathway, his eyes darting left and right for sign of attack. “Get him up — we need to go. Now.”

Nadya ignores the man and gingerly pulls up Adrian’s wrists where his suit sags from his position. The smell makes her nose crinkle before she even sees the wounds up close. Really wishes she hadn’t.

“I-It looks like the bleeding’s only just stopped. I need something to bandage him up — oh god — it’s awful.”

It takes all of Nadya’s effort to keep the contents of her stomach inside. She looks around for something—anything—to use but straw isn’t exactly going to do the trick. Instead she focuses on trying to wake him up; shakes his shoulder first with hesitance then almost violent force.

“Adrian? Adrian come on — wake up! We both know I can’t physically carry you out of here you — you jerk!”

“Nadya if you — will someone calm her?”

Then Mari’s hand is pulling her away. No, they need to help him. “Kamilah how do I wake him up?!”

“If he hasn’t yet begun to heal then they have kept him from feeding. Injuries from magic take a great toll on us — and take a great deal of energy to heal. He won’t wake until he is fed.”

Jax gives a grunt of frustration. “Well we didn’t bring any blood bags so he’s gonna have to suck it up.”

“Not funny.” Mari mutters. “But if you want to get technical we did bring a food source…”

The vampires stare at Nadya in silence. The digital feedback from the comms tells Nadya that Lily and Kamilah are listening on bated breath.

Right. Of course they did.

With a frightful look back at Adrian’s unconscious form, prone and almost innocent on the floor-level cot, she swallows her fear.

“Okay.”

“It’s risky.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“He might not even know it’s you,” Jax argues, “and drain whatever source comes his way regardless.”

“It’s a risk I’m gonna take.”

Mari nods. “One we have to take if we don’t want all this to be for nothing.”

Nadya shoves up her sleeve — fumbles as she tries to debate if her neck would be better — but while she trusts Adrian she also knows it’ll be safer for them both if she isn’t bleeding from the neck in a dungeon full of starving vampires.

“I… have to agree with the stubborn one on this,” Kamilah’s voice makes her hesitate, “the Adrian you know has reformed his hunger — and also feeds in moderation daily. Starvation may bring out a different side of him.”

“We can’t leave him here Kamilah!”

“I did not say I disagree.”

“So agree with me that there’s no other option. They’ll stop him from hurting me… right guys?” Nadya looks back to the others. Mari gives a curt nod.

Over the comm. she can hear the depth and worry in Kamilah’s sigh.

“I trust him.”

“As do I.”

“So trust me.”

Finally; “Very well. Stop him the moment he begins to heal. It should be enough to wake him and get out. He can regain all his strength when you’re out of there.”

Important thoughts initially pushed aside, thoughts like ‘if he’s unconscious how can I make him drink?,’ come back when Nadya holds her wrist just over his mouth. Nothing happens.

“Adrian…” she steels herself and lowers her arm for her pulse to beat between his pale lips, “I know you’re gonna hate yourself for this later. But right now there isn’t gonna be a later if you don’t drink.”

It’s a miracle but he starts to stir. She shudders when the tip of his warm tongue touches her pulse point. But it retreats — his body closes in on itself.

“No no no!” Nadya grasps his forehead with her other palm and practically forces her wrist back into place. “This isn’t a ‘between you and me’ situation, okay? You’re gonna drink, and you’re gonna stop, and we’re gonna get you out of here — get all of us out of here; me included. But we can’t carry you. You’ve gotta stand on your own two feet. So, uh, you know, wakey wakey… eggs and bak-ey. Chop chop! Get with the sucking!”

Judging by the reactions on Mari and Jax’s faces she regrets it… quite a lot. And is suddenly very very glad Kamilah isn’t there in person.

He’s not resisting this time — which is the only good thing. He still refuses to pierce skin. “Adrian… come on, please,” she’s practically whining now; pressured by the way Jax keeps looking back and forth like he’s invested in a sped-up game of ping-pong.

On her last thread Nadya leans in and whispers in Adrian’s ear.

“You wouldn’t let me die at the Ball and I’m not gonna let you die now. So bite, vampire boy, and beat yourself up about it later.”

There’s an unseen pressure on her wrist followed by a piercing pain. She swallows her cry because she has to. Then her skin feels wet, and his tongue presses flat against the wound, and wow that’s the strangest sensation she’s ever felt in her life but, you know, new experiences.

“What you are doing is incredibly generous, Nadya. Just breathe.”

Kamilah talks her through it. Her voice eases the pain somewhat. Keeps her from having a violent reaction when Adrian springs to life like an automaton and holds her arm down in a vice-grip.

It’s hard to tell in the darkness, especially as things start to go a little blurry at the edges of her vision, but Nadya’s so trained on Adrian and the promise of his recovery that she can see the change in him. The sickly translucence leaving his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes swelling fresh with life.

On his wrists the charred flecks of unsalvageable skin fall off like ash; replaced new — healthy and pinkish in hue.

“Okay he’s healing.” Mari’s voice is fuzzy in her ears. Who shoved cotton balls in there without her permission?

“Then pull her away!”

Kamilah’s panic shakes her out of her stupor. Nadya tries to remove her arm but with each passing second Adrian grows stronger — his hold alongside. “Adrian stop. Seriously — that’s enough.”

“She won’t be able to fight him with reason. Pull her, Clanless, now!”

“Enough, Raines — enough!”

Knives slice over her wrist and Nadya cries out; thrown back from Adrian’s cot-side and to the far wall where she skids the heels of her palms roughly.

When the stars stop spinning in front of her eyes Nadya stares at Maricruz holding Adrian—now sitting up—back with visible effort. His eyes are red but glazed. Nadya can’t look away from the shine of her blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Get it together, Raines,” Mari grunts with a few smacks to his solid chest, “you’d beat yourself dead if you hurt her and you know it.”

Watching Adrian come back to himself is a strange sight. The way he shifts in his own skin like whatever beast was trying to push through is being restrained; put back in its cage. It feels like she’s witnessing the answer to the great mystery asked by horror writers the world over.

What is the appeal of the vampire? This is. The way he goes from monster to man in the blink of an eye. Literally too; one blink and red fades back to the deep dark warmth she’s used to and even knowing what she just witnessed Nadya still feels herself relax around the familiar presence.

Adrian shakes his head, rouses himself from the fog in his mind. “Wh—What…?”

“Thanks for joining us pendejo — better late than never.” Maricruz helps him along with a few (well-meaning, Nadya’s sure) smacks to the face before she’s across the cell in a blur. Grabs Nadya’s injured wrist like she’s holding a tiny porcelain doll and bares her fangs.

“Hold… still…” Sure, Nadya holds, but Mari doesn’t do anything — which is a cause for concern? Maybe? Probably?

“Uh… Maricruz?”

“Huh?”

“What’re you doing?”

“You smell… wow.”

Immediately the human yanks her hand back no matter how much it hurts. Tries to fight off that natural instinct her mind has to conjure up the worst possible scenario that takes into account she’s surrounded by vampires, three uncaged, and one still jonesing for a fix to recover his full strength.

“Heal her… now.”

Adrian’s croaking command works — not gonna argue with that — brings the other vampire back to herself as she swipes the pad of her thumb over a fang like one might strike a match. Quick, efficient; and before the cut can close up she drags her blood over Nadya’s wrist in a smeared circle to close her wounds.

“Thank you.” says Nadya quietly. Maricruz departs without another word.

She stands; brushes herself off before holding out a helping hand for Adrian to take. She can feel him resisting putting all of his weight on her but it’s enough.

He rolls his shoulders, tries to flash his usual devil-may-care smile but when he starts to lean dangerously to the left she grabs him as best she can.

“Whoa whoa… easy there.”

“I — Sorry.”

“I didn’t know vampires could get vertigo.”

He means to shoot a look at her joke but, when met with her smile, returns it. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“Don’t think I’m not grateful, but we’re going to talk about this crazy stunt later.”

“Nadya, please pass along a message for me.”

Nadya grunts as she helps Adrian with his first hesitant steps. When they duck through the cell doorway he’s able to stand unaided — if winded. “Of course.”

“Tell him he’s a fool to think we would have done nothing.”

She gives a small smile down at her shoes before looking up at Adrian.

“Kamilah says she loves you.”

His expression says ‘I highly doubt that,’ and Kamilah’s protests in her ear aren’t helping. But they take hands and squeeze.

He’s gonna be safe.

“Fully intending to break up the moment here — but I’m pretty sure I just heard a door a few blocks over.”

That’s how Adrian notices Jax for the first time. Looks him up and down and, like most, lingers on the sword now drawn and in a clenched hand.

“Do I have enough time to ask why the Leader of the Clanless is helping rescue me?”

Which is enough to make both Clanless pause — Jax dumbstruck while Maricruz hastily rushes to pick up the long stake she dropped before it hits the ground.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course,” says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “as if I would scour the city to find the source of the Feral attacks without checking into the Shadow Den? What do you take me for?”

Jax’s sword twitches dangerously at his side.

“You know about the Shadow Den?”

Nadya looks for help but it’s clear from Mari’s glare she isn’t going to provide. Stares at Adrian with the exact same wariness; always on the defensive.

“Is now really the time for this? Didn’t you just say —”

“Tell me who ratted us out.”

“I’ve known for years — Kamilah has, too.”

Lily gives a tinny gasp. “The plot thickens!”

“So long as they remained non-threatening we were content to let the Clanless have their space in peace,” explains Kamilah, though her frustration is only thinly veiled, “but perhaps this would be better discussed at a later time?”

Jax looks like his whole world has inverted. Mari, too, struggles with the same sort of stupor but shakes herself out of it at the sound of footsteps and muffled voices bouncing off the walls.

Nadya’s blood runs cold. If she can hear them, then they’ve already run out of time.

Chest puffed out Jax steps forward to confront Adrian with burning eyes. “If you bastards did anything to my people, I swear —”

“Oi! Later, Matsuo!” And his time to protest runs out when the first large shadow is cast on the wall ahead of them. “Time’s up!”

“There they are!”

One shadow becomes two, becomes four, becomes a mass of hulking bodyguards rushing at them so fast the wind they gather almost blows out the torches.

“They’ve got Raines! Kill the others — the boss needs Raines alive!”

Mari and Adrian think the same — push Nadya behind them on both sides where she stumbles and falls behind the liquor crates.

There’s a shout that turns into a wet noise. Nadya looks up just over the rim and sees the nearest body collapse to the ground with the head rolling several feet away before they both crumble into ash. Blood drips from the tip of Jax’s sword, splatters in an uneven pattern on the wall as he readies himself for the next idiot to get too close.

She watches Maricruz vault herself over the cart and slam her boot into another guard’s chest. He goes toppling down, pinned and prone, then turns to dust under her strike.

“Nadya, stay down!” Adrian shouts. It’s just enough distraction for the guard he’s holding back to wrench their bodies against a nearby cell wall. The old metal creaks and bends in protest.

He’s too weak to fight — he can barely stand. Nadya looks around for help but Jax is locked in combat with another vampire, his sword cast aside in the fray, and Mari is too far down the hall to staunch the flow of enemies.

There’s a glint out of the corner of her eye and Nadya catches sight of Jax’s sword peeking out of an empty cell. Straw clings to the blood on the blade but it’s right there.

“Okay,” she breathes, “you can do this.”

“Whatever you’re thinking of —” starts Lily…

“— do not dare!” Kamilah finishes for her. Nadya grits her teeth and yanks the bud out of her ear. She has enough self-doubt as it is and being told not to do something might just be what holds her back.

“You can do this. You can do this. Whatever it takes, right? Right! Go go go!”

Nadya propels herself out from behind safety just in time to see Adrian’s legs give out from underneath him after a punch to the gut. Blood trickles from his temple — the shallow cut too much to heal in his weakened state.

Quickly she fumbles, grabs the katana’s hilt and lifts the surprisingly heavy blade with all her might. “Oh my god oh my god ohmygodohmygod ohmygod OHMYGOD!” She screams the mantra like a battle cry and swings wildly — more dragged along by the weapon than in control of it — in the direction of Adrian’s assailant.

In retrospect squeezing her eyes shut probably isn’t the best idea. Doesn’t stop her. Just like the sudden resistance in her whirlwind of bladed fury doesn’t stop her from yanking as hard as she can — strength is one thing but this is one sharp freakin’ sword.

The resistance doesn’t last long but she’s on a roll. She’s speed, she’s fury; a legendary warrior for the ages. And with battle cry that deafens everything else around her.

“— adya—Nadya! NADYA!”

There’s panic in the voice calling her name and Nadya doesn’t get to stop and register it on her own. Instead feels a strong hand on her elbow and the sword wrenched from her grasp. Her battle cry almost turns into a shriek of terror.

“Nadya. Open your eyes.”

There’s gotta be some logic left rattling up there since she obeys. Even petrified Nadya wouldn’t listen to the bad guys when they told her what to do. But this isn’t a bad guy, its Adrian pulling her into his arms and keeping her from flailing herself to injury.

When she inhales something fills her lungs; makes her pull back choking. Behind her Adrian eases her through it with a hand on her back, his voice soft.

“It’s over now. Hey, hey see? Look around. It’s over.”

The ash of victory blackens Mari’s neon hair as she comes back their way. Jax, too, sweeps the remains of the Baron’s men from his leather jacket.

But Nadya’s still wired; adrenaline coursing through her veins. She’s dizzy, and buzzing, and wants to collapse for a year-long nap but could run a marathon in between.

“We don’t have long before more show up — and round two might not be just a bunch of N-P-Cs.”

“Espinoza’s right,” Jax sheathes his retrieved sword, “run now and talk later.”

Not that no one’s been saying it for the last god-knows-how-long but it’s enough for them to finally get their feet moving. The momentum from the fight blew out most of the torches but Nadya trusts the night-vision of her companions as Adrian pulls her along with a firm grasp.

She’s not sure about a lot in life but one thing she knows for certain is Adrian Raines would use the last of his strength if it meant keeping hold of her hand.

With one last look behind them Nadya trips over her feet. Stares at the floor caked with ash.

Adrian eases her back into running; casts Nadya a worried glance.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing — I…” She tries to wipe the ash from her cheek; smears it instead.

Because he’s Adrian he knows.

“You saved my life. That’s what you did — nothing else matters.”

I killed a vampire.

“You’re sure?”

He leads her up the stairs and into the freedom of the night.

“Damn sure.”

[rebuiltbionicle]

Okoto, History

Or: “How I’m canonising G2 in a G1 AU”

Okoto was one of the “Islands of Mata Nui” which were neatly divided into Wahi of the six elements. Each Wahi was home to a Koro of Matoran of each element. It was, for the time being, an idyllic Matoran paradise. However, the future would hold a turbulent ride for the Okotans that would leave a lasting impact on the universe at large.

It was an obscure island to the south of the Matoran universe, settled some time after the Great Spirit Robot had launched rather than pre-loaded with a population. Matoran of the main six elements settled in each of its Wahi. It was protected by a team of Toa, the Toa Okoto, composed of six Toa of the primary elements. Their names were:

Agarak, Toa of Air

Uganu, Toa of Ice

Owaki, Toa of Water

Mamuk, Toa of Fire

Etoku, Toa of Earth

Kerato, Toa of Stone

They primarily defended the Matoran from recalcitrant Rahi and the odd pirates. The Brotherhood of Makuta, back during its benevolent days under Miserix, gave the Toa Okoto the gift of seven Companion Rahi to aid the Toa. These Rahi were:

Uxar, dragonfly Rahi of Air

Melum, simian penguin Rahi of Ice

Akida, dolphin Rahi of Water

Ikir, phoenix Rahi of Fire

Terak, saurian mole Rahi of Earth

Ketar, scorpion Rahi of Stone

Agil, hawk Rahi, without an element but with special powers of its own.

Despite their past success and new companion rahi, the Toa Okoto failed to protect the island from being conquered by the Barraki Carapar. Under Carapar’s Kingdom, a large arms producing facility was planted on the island and engineers brought over to operate it. After the kingdom was inducted into the League of Six Kingdoms, the bureaucrats serving under the Barraki began a development project on the island, turning the arms manufactory into a vibrant industrial sector, and creating a second metropolis on the coast for trade. There was a population boom brought in by the creation of the cities, which failed to benefit the local Matoran.

When the Barraki were deposed, the city built on the island collapsed rapidly. The island came under the rule of lesser Barraki that continually fought one another, turning the island into a battlefield. The Toa had to force the combatants off the island. Eventually fighting ceased, but not before the island turned into a graveyard. The civilians brought over by the League abandoned the island as worthless, leaving the Matoran to bury the dead. After this morbid ordeal, life began to return to normal.

When the Brotherhood of Makuta began assigning regions to its members, Okoto came under the supervision of Makuta Kulta. With the guardianship of a Makuta, and their destinies fulfilled, the Toa Otoko put their Toa power into stones and generously donated them to other lands. Kulta made a laboratory for his work in the old arms manufactory.

After some time, a well travelled Ce-Matoran named Ekimu arrived on Okoto. He was a mask maker, a traditionally Ta-Matoran occupation but one that Ekimu had become fond of and quite adept at. Having to import spare masks from other lands was irritating for the Otokans, so they welcomed Ekimu and held him in high regard.

Ekimu set his foundry in the old manufactory city, and therefore was often close to Makuta Kulta and worked alongside him on some projects. Over the years, Ekimu observed changes in Kulta’s attitude shortly after the Brotherhood revealed that Makuta Miserix had “died.” Kulta began work on a special Kanohi of unique design and purpose. Ekimu aided in a few prototypes, though he was kept in the dark about the purpose of the kanohi. He eventually learned it was meant to drain the power from Toa and grant it to the wearer. Ekimu attempted to intervene in its creation, but the Matoran was no match for a Makuta. Kulta wanted Ekimu alive to help him build masks, but to get him out of the way threw him into a tomb with Stasis Kraata.

This turn of events did not transpire quietly. The entire island was in uproar over Kulta’s actions. They attempted to call for aid, but Kulta had the island cut off and unleashed an enormous population of Skull Spiders to terrorise the Matoran into submission. Word did manage to get to the outside about the actions of Kulta.

By this time, the Makuta has begun using teams of Toa bodyguards, the Toa Hagah. Kulta had sent his team away from Okoto on endless fetch quests so they wouldn’t find out what he was up to. This backfired when the Toa managed to collect one of the trinkets early and decided to surprise Kulta by presenting it in person. They met the Matoran on the island besieged by the Skull Spiders, and learned of Kulta’s treachery. They renounced their position as guards of the Makuta and agreed to aid the Matoran against Kulta.

The Toa were:

Jagiri, Toa of Plantlike (not Air, but the Le-Matoran welcomed them anyway.)

Buzkayo, Toa of Ice

Bumonda, Toa of Water

Flammik, Toa of Fire

Droton, Toa of Earth

Rokreng, Toa of Stone

The Toa were the elite, but were still not powerful enough to take on a Makuta of Kulta’s level. The Turaga advised that Ekimu had given them several viable Great Kanohi, but were stolen from the Matoran by the Skull Spiders. The Toa fought a guerrilla war against Kulta’s army to gather up the kanohi to help in battle against Kulta. To help them, the top warrior of each village (the “Protector”) was sent to guide the Toa across the island. These Matoran were:

Vizuna, Protector of Le-Koro.

Izotor, Protector of Ko-Koro.

Kivoda, Protector of Ga-Koro.

Narmoto, Protector of Ta-Koro.

Korgot, Protector of Onu-Koro.

Nilkuu, Protector of Po-Koro.

The search was a success. A good arsenal of masks were procured by the Toa, and much of the Skull Spider army culled, especially after they defeated the Lord of Skull Spiders. They moved to confront Kulta directly in his stronghold. Kulta, a wielder of the Kanohi Tryna, moved to resurrect the long dead legionnaires of the Barraki, forming an undead army. The Toa pushed through the army to confront Kulta.

Meanwhile, the Protectors made their way to tomb where Ekimu was held. They slew the Kraata locked in the tomb with him and awoke him. At this time Kulta had donned his power draining Kanohi and was gaining the edge over the Toa. Kulta, completely overlooking the Matoran, was taken completely by surprise when they shattered their Kanohi and restored the Toa’s powers. With the split second of advantage, the Toa overcame Kulta, shattered his armour to pieces and left what was left of him crawling away to safety. This was before the Makuta evolved into gaseous beings. Kulta had solid form, there was just now significantly less of him physically. He promised that his was not the end, and that he would have his revenge over the Toa.

For the time being, Okoto was brought to peace. The Toa were celebrated as heroes, and officially honoured as Toa Okoto. The Brotherhood of Makuta, enraged but maintaining secrecy of their plot, denounced the actions of Kulta and congratulated the Toa Okoto and assigned them to protect the island; the politest way they could discharge them from Brotherhood service.

This peace did not last, as the villages came under attack by a new kind of Rahi. Elemental beasts; a form of war Rahi that had elemental powers. Their appearance overwhelmed the Toa and villages and scattered them. Ekimu suggested they rally within the manufactory city in which he was remaking his home; it was already well fortified. As the Matoran evacuated, the Turaga told the Toa of the Companion Rahi they once had, and told them too seek them.

Kulta, who had sent the war rahi, had anticipated the Toa seeking the companion rahi. He commissioned a Ruhora game hunter, Umarak, to hunt down the creatures before the Toa could. Though Umarak managed to get close to both Uxar and Ketar, each Toa managed to find their corresponding Rahi. Agil remained elusive.

The Toa returned to the city, which was under siege by the warbeasts. Merging with the companion Rahi they were able to force them back to a degree. The companion rahi gave them a vision of the source of the warbeasts; a labyrinth to the south, built and operated by Kulta. Meanwhile, Umarak reported his failure to Kulta, and for his effort was shadow-handed and used to bring Kulta back to full strength in a new body.

The Toa tracked the labyrinth down and began to fight their way through, dismantling the rahi synthesisers within. Meanwhile, Agil made its way to the city and met with Ekimu. It revealed that it had the power of an organic Toa stone, and transformed Ekimu into a Toa of Psionics.

The Toa met with Kulta in Umarak’s body and fought. Kulta was more reserved in this fight, cautious due to his previous loss and aware of the Toa’s increased powers. Kulta maintained use of his Tryna to back his fighting with undead warriors, and used the internal mechanisms of his labyrinth to his advantage. He slowly was able to overpower the Toa. When it seemed that he was going to win, Ekimu intervened.

After absorbing Umarak, Kulta was able to take control of the body but wasn’t able to crush Umarak’s stubborn will; the hunter’s soul was still alive within Kulta’s body. Ekimu sensed this, and with his psionic powers tried to give Umarak the power to overcome Kulta. This eventually succeeded. With the risk of being overwhelmed in his own body, Kulta used his shapeshifting powers to separate from Umarak. Kulta was surrounded and defeated. The Toa wished to spare Kulta and hand him over to the Brotherhood, but Umarak was real unimpressed with being nearly murdered and killed Kulta himself. Given the circumstances, the Toa did not punish him.

Umarak returned to Stelt with a genuine Makuta hide (which he couldn’t boast about publically) while the Toa Okoto settled back down and helped the island rebuild after that. They sent out word about what had transpired. The Brotherhood of Makuta officially denounced Kulta’s actions, again, and sent teams to help the Matoran rebuild their lives and to discreetly find what was left of Kulta’s mask of power draining and turn it into the Nui Stone. Although nobody knew this at the time, there was seed of distrust sown against the Brotherhood that led to the Toa keeping Brotherhood information on the Makoki Stone.