#and when i brought up that affirmation saves lives he said. to my face. survival of the fittest.

[smoreboi]

the way some people in older generations talk about suicide is crazy, like they legit talk like death should be a meritocracy, not even making a wtnv reference, they legit believe it. people talking like “kids these day meet the slightest resistance and immediately kill themselves, back in my day we dealt with so much more and we never did that” like. seriously these weirdos stand in front of suicidal people and say you haven’t suffered enough to earn death.

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 6

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths (3)

The first person to leave a door could gain a hint about the next door. This was preferential treatment and leniency that the door awarded the victor. This was also an affirmation of strength.

But what many people didn't know was that when only one person was left in a door, that person, upon leaving the door, would earn a very special sort of hint. The person who possessed this hint gained not only detailed insight into the next door, but also a chance to save their own life.

For reasons, Ruan Nanzhu had never told Cheng Yixie about this. Cheng Yixie only learned about it by accident.

And Cheng Yixie, after just barely scraping his way out of the seventh door, had also come to a realization. He'd realized that he couldn't protect Cheng Qianli. The world of the doors was treacherous and ever-changing; no matter how smart he was, he was just a mortal in the end, and all mortals made mistakes. Mistakes in daily life may be utterly unimportant, but mistakes made inside the doors could cost you your life.

Cheng Yixie returned to the mansion, saw Cheng Qianli's brilliant grin embracing Toast, and made a silent decision.

Everything that followed became so reasonable.

Cheng Yixie was clever, and when clever people did bad things, they were naturally adept.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing, Cheng Yixie." Ruan Nanzhu very quickly figured out Cheng Yixie's deviancy, and he and Cheng Yixie had their very first explosive argument. "You're going to get Cheng Qianli killed, as well as yourself!"

Against Ruan Nanzhu's accusations, Cheng Yixie chose silence.

"Stop this, while you still can," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Don't wait until it's too late to turn back…"

Cheng Yixie gave Ruan Nanzhu an answer. He said, "Cheng Qianli's not even eighteen yet."

He held onto the railings, looking out over the lush green yard where Cheng Qianli and Toast were chasing each other around in play.

"If only one of us can survive, I hope it to be him."

Ruan Nanzhu, "but there are other ways. You're choosing the stupidest method—"

"But it's the most lucrative." Cheng Yixie was no older than fourteen, but there wasn’t any trace of a child's innocence to be found in his eyes. His pupils were deep lakes, in which were hidden things even Ruan Nanzhu couldn't comprehend. "Sorry, Ruan-ge, I really can't just watch Qianli die."

Ruan Nanzhu knew he had no chance of convincing Cheng Yixie. He said no more, and walked away.

At this point, the worst that Cheng Yixie had done was let people go to their deaths. But after…Cheng Yixie closed his eyes. He never wanted to talk about what happened after anymore.

Once someone broke their bottom line, it was like plunging into a quagmire; you could only keep sinking.

Had it been anybody else, Ruan Nanzhu would likely have already kicked Cheng Yixie out of Obsidian. But Cheng Yixie was just a kid. He was like a fresh-grown sapling that, before it could even grow up straight, got snapped at the waist by the battering rains and winds.

Cheng Yixie began to sink deeper and deeper in to the abyss, until he had no way of ever getting out.

Everybody said what went around would always come back around; Cheng Yixie thought that he would be the one to pay for the things he did. Once people do wrong, they had to pay a price. Cheng Yixie was willing to pay for his sins with his life.

But on the day retribution truly came, Cheng Yixie finally learned that some things didn't happen as easily as he's imagined.

The tenth door was hellishly difficult.

Even with the special hint slip, Cheng Yixie was running on the last of nine lives inside.

Just as he had Cheng Qianli, and the two were stumbling their way to the door, they discovered that where the door should have been was instead a giant green bronze statue. The statue was beastly and looked like a demon, and the green bronze encasing it was beginning to crack, revealing hard skin as black as lava rock underneath.

Seeing such a scene, Cheng Yixie knew the monster before him was about to wake. Though the door was right behind it, they still couldn't make their way through.

"Gege," Cheng Yixie spoke quietly, standing behind Cheng Yixie. "I'm scared." The hand he held Cheng Yixie's with was covered in sweat, and there was a helpless tremor in his voice.

"Don't be scared, I'm right here," Cheng Yixie comforted Cheng Qianli quietly. He took a deep breath, and then stuck a hand in his pants pocket, settling on the sharp dagger folded inside. "Just listen to me, and it'll be fine."

Cheng Qianli scooted closer. He seemed to have sensed something, and wrapped Cheng Yixie up in a tight embrace. They were twins, after all; they felt everything together. Through the thin clothing between them, Cheng Yixie could feel the heat of Cheng Qianli's body as well as the anxiety in Cheng Qianli's heart.

"Gege." Cheng Qianli's voice was filled with woe, and even sounded a bit choked. "Is it about to come to life?"

The monster behind them had already exposed the blood red of its eyes. The giant jaw packed full of fangs began to savagely snap. It looked ready to pounce at any moment.

"Mh," Cheng Yixie said. "But it won't be able to hurt you."

"Why am I so stupid?" Cheng Qianli said. "If only I were smarter." His tone of voice was agonized. "If only I were smarter, then Gege wouldn't have to work so hard…"

Cheng Qianli's arms around Cheng Yixie slowly began to loosen, and his voice too grew faint.

"But no matter how stupid I am, I still know what Gege wants to do…"

Cheng Yixie felt that something had gone wrong. His voice froze for a moment, and he slowly turned his head.

"Qianli…"

"Hey, I brought one too," Cheng Qianli said. "I hid it in my pants pocket, just like you."

He was smiling, but was likely also in agony—this smile was particularly hideous.

Cheng Yixie’s head inched down, and he saw a dagger stuck in Cheng Qianli’s chest. Bright red blood was flowing like a babbling brook down his chest, soaking his clothes and puddling on the ground.

Cheng Yixie saw that dagger, and felt himself reeling. He opened his mouth to say something, but the image before him appeared to have utterly stolen his ability to talk. He couldn't say anything, and his body slowly slumped forward.

"Ge…it hurts…" Cheng Qianli collapsed in Cheng Yixie's arms, black eyes big and staring. His pupils reflected Cheng Yixie's figure. He called, "Ge…"

"Aah…Aaaah!!" A wretched scream came out of his mouth, and Cheng Yixie could only watch as Cheng Qianli's breaths grew fainter. The roar of the monster behind him came from a spot directly over Cheng Yixie's head, but Cheng Yixie didn't turn around. The monster lunged at him and—

A black shadow enveloped Cheng Yixie. He ought to have been torn to pieces by the monster, but a faint sheen of light was emanating from his body. It partitioned the monster's attack directly away from him.

In Cheng Yixie's arms, Cheng Qianli's chest had stopped moving. With a numb expression Cheng Yixie turned around, spotting that huge black door behind the monster. He saw that door and stumbled to his feet with Cheng Qianli in his arms. He made a run for that door, unlocking it with the key drenched in blood. He still wanted to see Cheng Qianli again. There were still so many things he hadn't said to him.

Cheng Yixie sprinted out that tunnel like he had gone crazy, grabbing the Cheng Qianli outside in an embrace. The moment Cheng Qianli offered him a smile, mouthful after mouthful of blood began pouring out of Cheng Qianli's mouth. Cheng Qianli touched his face, called him Ge, told him not be sad.

Cheng Yixie was wailing. His Qianli, this was his Qianli—the kid he loved the most still hadn't been able to grow up. Hadn't even passed his eighteenth birthday. Certainly hadn't gotten to see all the beautiful sceneries of the world like he'd hoped.

What came afterwards, Cheng Yixie didn't really remember. He didn't really remember how he got through that time. By the time he came back to himself, he'd already left Obsidian, and was crossing doors with Zhuo Feiquan.

Zhuo Feiquan, like him, was a person left behind at the end of the world. Zhuo Feiquan no longer had a sister, and Cheng Yixie no longer had a brother. Zhuo Feiquan's luck was just a lot better than Cheng Yixie's, that's all—he had a pendant that his sister's soul laid in.

"Hey, you're not planning on getting me killed inside the doors and stealing my pendant, are you?" Zhuo Feiquan spoke frankly. "I'm telling you, I'm hardy as hell."

Cheng Yixie looked at him, answering faintly, "forget it. I thought about it, but it's better not to do it."

"Why not?" Zhuo Feiquan asked.

"I'm afraid he'll have to pay for the bad things I do again." Cheng Yixie's tone was cold. "Look, isn't that the case now?"

He didn't even dare to die, because his life had been traded in for Qianli's. That little fool had to be smart just this once, but this one time was all it took to torture him to death and back.

Zhuo Feiquan threw back his head and laughed.

To have experienced the same pain of losing family, the two actually had an odd resonance. Only those days didn't last. Zhuo Feiquan died in his own tenth door, and before dying, he placed his pendant in Cheng Yixie's hand. He didn't say anything, because both of them already knew.

Cheng Yixie clutched the pendant that Zhuo Feiquan gave him and managed a smile, meaning he had accepted Zhuo Feiquan's good will.

Once he had the pendant, Cheng Yixie wondered if he should use it to summon Cheng Qianli. But after thinking about it, he didn't do it. Because he remembered that Cheng Qianli was scared of ghosts.

If he wasn't there, Cheng Qianli could only wait around inside the doors. That was probably another kind of torture.

Cheng Yixie wouldn't do that to him.

The days went on one at a time. So Cheng Yixie thought that this would be the end of his and Cheng Qianli's story. He still went through doors in a state of numbness. He might die inside one of these days, but to the him right now, death seemed more like a merciful blessing and escape.

This continued on like this until Cheng Yixie went into his own eleventh door.

In his eleventh door, when he saw Tan Zaozao on television, Cheng Yixie became conscious of something. He left the hospital that he'd entered the door through in a hurry. He went back to his house and knocked on that familiar door.

Moments later, the door opened to reveal a face completely identical to his. And when he saw Cheng Yixie, he looked on with a stunned expression.

Cheng Yixie began to laugh, ignoring Cheng Qianli's shock completely and wrapping him up in a hug. He said, "idiot, Gege's been looking for you for such a long time." I thought that once I'd lost you, I would never get you back.

Good thing that now, he was finally found.

And since he was found, staying in this illusory world of the door seemed to be…not all that bad.

The once-split soul merged back together then, from two to one, just like the moment they were birthed from their mother's body. A satisfied smile appeared on Cheng Yixie's face. He dried the tears at the corners of his eyes and watched as the sun outside the window slowly descended beneath the horizon.

Translator’s Note:

Look, I need those of you who have even a passing understanding of Chinese to suffer this passage with me: 程一榭嚎啕大哭，他的千里，他的千里啊——他心愛的小孩還是沒能長大. The original is simply “HIs Qianli, his Qianli ah...” Just a fucking WAIL. Like me. Just fucking head back, sobbing at the ceiling.

[Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(2)] | [Extra: Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing]

[f0rever15elf]

They Were Roommates: Part 1

Modern!AU:  Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5  / Part 6 (coming soon) Pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader Rating: NC-17 Word count: 9,509 (I ain’t even sorry)  Summary: A dangerous night leads to an interesting living arrangement between you and one grumpy Spaniard. 

Warnings: Violence, blood mention, death mention, alcohol mention, food mention, reader in danger, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, no beta reader, shameless use of the roommates trope

A/N: So this was gonna start out as just a fluffy little fic and then it turned into something a little bit steamier. I have lost all control of these characters, I’m sorry (not really). 

Masterlist |  Ao3

You should have run. You should have turned on your heel and gotten out of there as quick as your legs could have possibly carried you. You knew better than to go sticking your nose into things that could get you in trouble, Dad had raised you better than this. But Mom had raised you with that tender heart and soft soul, and ultimately they won out over your sense of self preservation. And now here you are, surrounded by a group of brutish looking men who all reek of the cheapest vodka you've ever smelt. The contents of your stomach churn as they banter, joking about all of the things they were going to do to you, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you do your best to keep your knees from knocking together. 

You should have walked the other way. 

But the man on the ground was being beaten. Five on one was hardly ever a fair fight, no matter how strong and rugged the one seemed. And so you had yelled out to get their attention, telling them to back off. And it got their attention alright. The new target was you, and they wasted no time in cornering you against the brick wall. 

"Please, please just let me go. You can have everything in my purse, and I won't tell anyone about this. Please..." You hate the way your voice sounds when you beg, but if it meant surviving, your pride could take the compromise. The one you could only assume was the ringleader barked out an obnoxious sounding laugh and shook his head. 

"No can do toots. We were getting bored with our little punching bag over there. You showed up at just the right time." The four other goons all chuckle and make various sounds of agreement, closing the circle in on your tighter. Your mouth is dry as the Sahara when you try to swallow and your ears are beginning to ring. 

"P...Please don't do this..." you manage to squeak out as the leader slinks up in front of you, bracing a hand by your head as he stares at you with feral eyes. You close your eyes tightly, trying to shrink away from the stink of cheap booze on his breath when a sharp crack from behind the leader breaks the tension. Your eyes snap open to see the man who they were beating standing there with a short piece of pipe clutched in his hands. In front of him, one of the men lay crumpled and motionless on the ground, red staining the ground around his head. Your stomach couldn't take it any more and you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach right onto the ringleader's shoes. Sputtering and gasping for breath you stand back up as the remaining four descend on the dark haired man, leaving you your opportunity to escape. Dark eyes catch yours for a brief moment before the man nods, swinging his pipe again. You decide that's your cue, and turn tail, taking off into the night.

----

The next morning, the blaring sound of your alarm rouses you from a restless sleep. Resisting the urge to chuck it through your window, you instead turn it off, slamming it back down on the bed side table. Sleep had eluded you in favor of nightmares of the men cornering you. Even in your dreams the smell of alcohol was sharp and nauseating. With a groan and a sigh, you toss back the covers and stumble into the bathroom. 

"...I look like shit." The reflection stares back at you with sunken eyes surrounded in dark circles, her hair an absolute mess. 'Death warmed over' is how your mom would word it, and to be honest, it pretty accurately describes how you're feeling this morning. Did you really need to go to work today? One more glance in the mirror and you decide that is a firm "No." Marcy would understand when you call her about it, you know she would. "I should get cleaned up, at least," you mutter, quickly going about your morning routine. 

The shower certainly helped, and with a little under-eye concealer the bags were mostly hidden. Mostly. Today was a me day, you decide, grabbing your purse and heading out the door. First order of business? Caffeine. 

The little coffee shop down the street was your favorite spot for a decent cup of coffee, and the owners were always so sweet. As the bells in the doorway chimed over your head, Samael, the owner, looked up to greet you, smiling as he recognized you instantly. 

"Well, well, well! Good morning to our favorite regular!" 

"Morning Sam. How are you and Anita doing?" You smile as you approach the counter, already digging out your wallet. 

"Well, today. A bit of a busy morning, but busy is a good thing! Will it be your usual today?"

"Please, with an extra espresso shot."

"Long night?"

"You have no idea." Sam just chuckles and shakes his head, ringing you up before going to make your order, muttering something about what it is to be young as he does. 

With your artificial energy securely in your hands, you make your way outside. The sun was shining brightly today, and a cool breeze kissed your skin, beckoning you to spend time enjoying it. The park it is. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn't even notice the man making his way towards you until it was too late. A hiss leaves your lips as hot coffee drenches the front of your blouse, causing you to jump back. "Son of a-! I am so so sorry!" You look up to see who had been unfortunate enough to wear the other half of your drink and your heart nearly stopped in your chest. "It's...you..." 

"Clumsy," he mutters under his breath before scowling back up to you. "You should be more careful." A heat rises in your cheeks and you clear your throat, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. He had an accent, you noticed. Spanish, perhaps? Regardless, it sounded wonderful coming off of his lips, and almost didn’t match the irritated look he wore. 

"I'm honestly really sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention." The man just grunts in agreement, slipping off his coffee soaked hoodie. 

"Clearly. Like I said, you should be more careful." He stares you down with dark brown eyes and you get the feeling he isn't just talking about the coffee incident. In the daylight, you could finally get a good look at him. Dark, curled hair stuck out in almost every direction on top of his head in an organized chaos. His eyes had a hard edge to them, the edge of a man who had seen too much. His skin had an almost golden hue to it, but the most notable feature was the scar that ran along his left eye, now paired with a blooming black bruise. His lip was split and a bruise was creeping its way along his jawline as well. "It's rude to stare." 

The comment sends a jolt through you and you jump, clearing your throat. "Right, I'm sorry I just...You...you're the guy from last night, right...?" You lower your voice as you ask, worried about someone overhearing, though you weren't sure why. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, staring you down with an intensity that made you feel only inches tall. 

"Maybe." 

"...Thank you, then. For..." you wave your hands, trying to complete your sentence, but the thought of what he had saved you from brought a sour taste to your mouth. 

"We're even." His matter of fact tone catches you off guard and you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so you close it, kicking the ground. The whole time, his eyes never leave your face. 

"Did you, uhm, get those taken care of?" you ask, gesturing to his face. 

"They'll heal on their own." 

"So, that's a no then. I have a cold compress back at my place. A-and I can wash your hoodie since I got coffee all over it. It's the least I could do." What are you doing? Inviting a strange man over to your place? A man whose name you didn't even know? A man who literally beat someone with a length of pipe right in front of you last night? If Dad could see you now he'd be reading you the riot act for sure. The mystery man just blinks, considering it for a moment. "And I could make us some lunch...?" 

"Sure." Ah, so the way to this man is through his stomach. That's easy enough to handle. You offer him a gentle smile and nod, turning to head back to your apartment, and he follows just behind you, hands still in his pockets and grumpy countenance still on his face. 

The walk is...strange. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but there was a palpable tension in the air between the two of you, and it was clear this man was not going to be initiating any form of conversation. Clutching at your bag, you clear your throat. "I don't think I ever got your name." You look up at him, curiosity in your eyes. 

"Tovar is what most call me." You nod, testing his name on your lips. 

"Tovar...Spanish, right? That sounds like a Spanish name," you muse, and he just makes a grunt of affirmation. Clearly, this man was the pinnacle of conversationalists. The corners of your lips perk up at your own little joke. You offer him your own name and he nods. "Are you from around here?" The look he gives you absolutely screams "what do you think?" and you felt that heat rise in your cheeks again. 

"Spain. The Eastern region. Moved here about a year ago." 

"Well, welcome to The States." You rummage around in your bag, pulling out your keys to let you both in. You kick off your shoes as soon as you cross the threshold and drop your keys in the bowl you keep by the door. "Home sweet home. Pardon the mess, I wasn't expecting to bring someone home today." The man called Tovar was silent, standing in the doorway with an awkward hunch in his shoulders. "You can come in, you know. Make yourself at home. Ah, and I'll take your hoodie." He hands it off to you without question before slipping off his own shoes, following your farther inside. He remains standing, looking over the pictures you have hung over your walls.  When you return from changing into a clean shirt and starting the laundry, he's found one particular picture that he's picked up off the bookcase to look over and you feel your chest tighten.

"That's my parents." Your voice is smaller than you were expecting it to be, and Tovar looks up at you when he hears it before looking back at the picture. "They passed away a couple of years ago. Car accident." He nods, setting the picture back down. 

"You look much like your mother." His observation brought a small smile to your lips as you turned to head into the kitchen. 

"Most people said I looked more like my dad. But I appreciate the compliment. How do some grilled cheeses and tomato soup sound?" He grunts again, coming to sit at the bar that runs along the side of your kitchen. Mulling over what to talk about as you get out everything for lunch, you decide it was best to jump in head first. "What did those men want with you last night?" You hazzard a glance over to him to see him staring at his hand he’s resting on the bar. When he doesn't reply after a moment, you gently call his name and his head snapped up, as if you broke him from a daze.

"The leader owed me money." Now you're really confused. 

"The big one owed you money, but you were the one getting beat up? Isn’t it usually the other way around?" The first sandwich sizzles in the pan as you flip it before looking back over your shoulder. 

"He called his friends to...deter me from taking what I was owed." For some reason, the way he said that made your blood turn to ice in your veins. 

"Ah." What else could be said? It suddenly felt hard to breathe in the little apartment so between sandwiches, you moved to open a window, feeling Tovar's eyes on you the whole time. 

"That... sounded bad, didn't it?" You look back at him as he speaks up, and you could swear you saw a nearly...sheepish...light in his eyes. But as quick as you saw it, it was gone, replaced with that glowering look he always seemed to have.  "I just did some work for him, and he's shorted me in the past so I didn't want it to happen again." You nod, setting a plate and bowl in front of him, for which he thanks you quietly before hunching over his food. Walking around the bar, you set your own food down and sit next to him as he eats like a man who hasn't seen food in weeks. You pick at your sandwich, thinking. 

"Tovar...what is it you do?" You feel his eyes on you again, electing to keep your gaze on your soup. 

"You're awful interested in business that is not yours," he grumbles before taking another bite.  

"Can you blame me? This isn't exactly a normal situation." 

He sets his spoon down and sits back in his chair with a sigh. "I do whatever I can to make ends meet. To get food to eat. To save for a place to live." You splutter into your soup, grabbing a napkin to wipe your mouth before turning back to him. 

"You don't have a place to live? You're homeless?" 

"I am." That matter of fact attitude astounded you. 

"What the...How can you be so...okay with that?" He just shrugs. 

"It's how I've lived for years since I left the Spanish military. No job, no family, no friends, nowhere to go. I came here to see if I could find something else." His eyes leave yours and he picks up the spoon again, playing in the soup. You sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to wrap your mind around this. He was homeless, probably struggled to ever get a good meal which would explain how voracious he was when you put the food in front of him, and had no one. Your heart begins to ache as it always did when you were met with someone in need. 

"I...have a spare room..." The words are out of your mouth before you're able to second guess them. The look of surprise on Tovar's face as he looks up at you makes your heart stutter for a moment. 

"Are you offering it to me...? I can't pay you yet, I have almost no money." You shake your head and wave him off. 

"I'm not looking to make a profit off you, Tovar. If you need a place to stay, you can stay here for as long as you need. Just help out around the house. The nights are gonna start getting colder." 

"Amiga, you are far too trusting." For the first time, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, oh so slight, but you're sure it's there. 

"I know, and my dad is rolling over in his grave because of it." The laugh that leaves your lips is gentle and light and is the closest thing to music Tovar has heard in a long time. Perhaps things would be alright after all. 

---

It’s been almost two months since you invited Tovar into your home, and it’s nearing a point where you’re finding it hard to remember what living alone felt like. Life with him was comfortably simple. He never asked for much, and did as you asked in terms of helping to keep the house clean. Tovar kept odd hours, a by product of taking odd jobs to try and start amassing some semblance of savings, and it wasn't uncommon for you to come home from work to find the grumpy Spaniard knocked out on the couch with the TV on Telemundo. And every time it brought a smile to your face. When he was sleeping, his face looked so much less grumpy, the frown lines smoothing out as he dreams. You would drape a blanket over him and turn off the TV before heading to your own bedroom to sleep. 

What you weren't expecting was after a night of working late to come home to the smell of popcorn. "Tovar..?" You called out, confused. Normally at this time, he was either out on a job or passed out on the couch. 

"Amiga, you're home! Good!" He comes out of the kitchen, a large bowl of popcorn in his arms. You set your purse down by the door, walking over to him with that puzzled look still on your face. 

"Work held me a little late today. What's with the popcorn?" He hands off the bowl to you before grabbing two beers from the fridge. 

"A celebration is in order." 

"Celebration? For what?" 

"As of today, I am employed!" You blink as a slow recognition lights your face. 

"The security detail job got back to you?" The excitement in your voice is unmistakable and he nods, proud. 

"I start tomorrow." 

"Tovar, that's great!" He nods again, grunting as he moves past you to the living room. 

"So tonight, let's watch a movie together to celebrate." He plops himself down on the couch, spreading out and making himself comfortable, drawing a chuckle from your lips as you move to join him. It wasn’t often that he acted happy, usually staying quiet and reserved even when you knew he was excited about something, so this was a welcome change of pace. 

"As you wish," you grin as you set the bowl down before settling in next to him, pulling a throw over your lap. 

"What shall we watch?" he grumbles, flicking through Netflix. You shrug, popping a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth. 

"Dealer's choice, gruñón."  He rolls his eyes at the nickname you had for him before settling on some Spanish flick you had never seen before, remembering to turn on the subtitles for you. Exchanging the remote for his beer, he settles in, turning off the light on the side table and plunging the room into darkness, save the light from the TV. 

You aren't sure when exactly you fell asleep, You really aren't sure when you ended up leaning against Tovar, and you are EXTREMELY unsure as to when his arm found its way around you. The only thing you are sure of is that this grumpy man holding you to him while he slept was one of the most comfortable feelings you had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. At least, that is what your sleepy haze told you. When it finally clicks that you were cuddled up to your roommate, your heart leaps into a sprint and you tense in his arms. You shouldn't be doing this. You were roommates. Oh my god, you were ROOMMATES! This was crossing all sorts of lines! Wiggling slightly, you do your best to try and worm your way out of Tovar's grasp, but the movement stirs him just enough that he grabs you more securely to him, turning you so your cheek presses against his chest. 

"Hermossa..." His words are but a breath on the top of your hair and you freeze, the sound of his heartbeat strong and steady under your ear. Had you heard that right? Maybe it was just the rustling of fabric. Yeah, that was it, the fabric. Heat was rapidly rising in your cheeks and the tips of your ears were on fire, but struggling too much more to get out of Tovar's grasp would surely wake him, and you knew he needed to be well rested for his first day of work. And so you choose to stay in place, cradled against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat strong in your ear, the sound that slowly lulls you back to sleep. 

---

You thought the morning was going to be awkward, but Tovar never gave you the chance. The sun's golden light pouring through your curtains is what wakes you, alone, on your living room couch. Sitting up, you wipe the sleep from your eyes, your cheeks getting hot again as you recall what you woke to earlier that morning. "Tovar...?" You called softly, standing up to look for your roommate, but only finding a note on the kitchen table, telling you that he had headed in to work with an approximation of when he would be home. He must have tucked you in before he left, and this thought did little to cool the heat burning in your cheeks. 

You slap your cheeks quickly, letting out a frustrated groan as you make your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for your day. You were friends, that's all. Roommates. Sometimes friends fall asleep on each other, no big deal. So why is it that whenever your mind wandered to the thought of being in Tovar's arms, your cheeks grew hot and your pulse quickened? Why was it that the only thing you could bring yourself to think of was how strong and sturdy he felt as he held you to him? Why was "hermosa" said in his sleepy voice the only sound you could hear as you tried to go about your day? Looking into the mirror as the steam slowly starts to fog it up, you had your answer, proudly displayed in the shine in your eyes.

"...Fuck...I'm falling for my roommate..." 

And so, you do the only thing you can think to do when you find yourself bogged down in thought. You clean. Today was an off day for you, so you had all the time in the world, and the countdown to Tovar's return from work was quite possibly the longest countdown you've ever been faced with. All the better to clean with, you decide, throwing on some music. Working from room to room, you clean every surface that COULD be cleaned; counters, cabinets, walls, baseboards, floors...The apartment would be SPARKLING by the time you were through with it, so help you God. Tovar would inch back into your thoughts time to time, and in retaliation to the errant thoughts, you scrub harder or faster, as if the scrubbing would cleans the thoughts away. So absorbed are you in your cleaning that you don't even hear the door open, or the keys clatter into the holder. 

"Scrub any more and you'll need to replace the tile." You nearly jump out of your skin, letting out an embarrassing shriek as you wheel around, brandishing the bottle of cleaner as a weapon. You're met with Tovar's bemused expression, eyebrow cocked as he leans against the door jam of the bathroom with crossed arms. 

"Jesus, Tovar, you scared the crap out of me!" 

"Thought you heard me come in," he shrugs. "All I can smell is cleaner, have you been cleaning all day?" 

"...Maybe." 

"Why?"  You open your mouth to respond then snap it closed, fidgeting, still on the floor. You couldn't just tell him it was because you had been thinking about him all day, you couldn't make things weird like that. You were roommates, just roommates. 

"Just felt like cleaning is all." 

"Amiga, you are a strange one." He holds out his hand to help you up, his face still disgruntled looking, and you take it. Your knees protest and you groan, stretching as you make it to your feet. 

"How was your first day?" You ask, moving past him, oblivious to the look on his face in response to the borderline lewd groan you let out. He swallows thickly, following you back to the kitchen. He grunts as he sits down, rolling his eyes. 

"I work with a bunch of idiots." You can't help but chuckle, unsurprised at his response. Tovar tended to find most people to be idiots. "But it's steady pay. Better than the odd jobs I was working." 

"That's good. I'm sure you'll be able to take care of any of the idiots at work in short order." You flash him a grin before ducking down to put the chemicals back under the sink. "I was thinking paella for dinner. I splurged on some saffron and seafood at the store when I went shopping the other day." You pop up from behind the counter just in time to see the surprise on his face before it falls back into the resting grumpy face he wears so well. 

"You know how to make paella?" His voice is incredulous, and you nod, grinning. 

"I learned on a trip to Spain several years ago, actually. I just don't normally cook it 'cause my paella pan is really big and well, seafood is expensive." He lets out a grunt, sitting back in his chair and nods. 

"If you mess it up, I'll judge you forever." 

"I would expect no less from you, Tovar." Pulling off your gloves and tossing them under the sink as well, you head back to your bedroom. "I'm gonna shower then get started on dinner." He grunts again, and you don't catch it as his eyes follow you all the way back to your bedroom. 

Fresh from the shower and dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, hair still wet down your back, you make your way to the kitchen to start on dinner. Tovar is nowhere to be seen, so you assume he's hiding in his room. The man enjoyed his privacy. Paella had seemed so intimidating  to you at first, but after having someone walk you through the steps, you picked it up quickly, electing to stick to the more traditional rendition of the dish. After slapping the lid on the paella pan and setting a timer for it to simmer, you walk to Tovar's door, tapping on it. You were just going to tell him that dinner was about 20 away, so you were surprised when the door opened. The sight before you took your breath away. 

He was standing there, shirtless in some loose hanging sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair was damp, the occasional droplet dripping from it to roll down the expanse of his chest. Your eyes drifted down for a moment, taking in his muscular physique graced with scattered, faded scars. 

"It's rude to stare," he states simply, but the smirk is evident in his voice. You snap your eyes back to his, your face on fire. His eyebrow is arched and the smirk is firmly on his face. "What do you need amiga?" 

"D-Diner," you squeak out. "Dinnerintwenty!" The words run together before you turn and all but sprint down the hall to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You lean against your door, sliding down to hide your face against your knees as you attempt to calm your racing thoughts. The way Tovar looked had been positively SINFUL, and your mouth is dry at the thought of how those drops of water looked rolling down his skin. 

"Stop stop stop," you chant, smacking your cheeks again. "None of that, noooone of that." After a few more deep breaths, you're able to compose yourself enough to dart to the bathroom and rinse your face with some cold water before heading back to the kitchen to check on dinner. You notice Tovar has come out to take up residence on the couch, flipping through the channels. He's apparently elected to put a shirt back on, and you'd be lying if you weren't a little disappointed in that fact. He must have felt you staring, because he turns to look at you, eyebrow still arched, and you quickly avert your gaze to the dish in front of you, grabbing a fork to test the rice. Satisfied with the taste and texture, you grab out two plates, serving up a large portion for Tovar, and a significantly small portion for yourself. Two months, and he still ate like a starving man every meal. You had no idea where he managed to put it all. 

"Dinner's ready, Tovar." He grunts, coming back to the bar from his place on the couch to take his seat as you place down two glasses of white wine before hopping into your seat next to him. You watch him anxiously as he picks up his fork, heaping a large bite into his mouth. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as he takes a few more bites before he grunts appreciatively. 

"It won't be winning any awards back home, but it isn't bad." The backhanded compliment was more than you had expected, and a wide smile crosses your face. Satisfied that he enjoys it well enough, you join him in eating quietly. Tovar never really talked while he ate, usually too busy stuffing his face to get a word out even if he wanted to, so dinners were typically silent. You couldn't help the feeling of pride when he helped himself to an equally large second serving. As he sat back down, his knee bumped yours and you squeaked, drawing his gaze. 

"What was that?" 

"N-nothing, just startled me a bit is all." You cram another bite into your mouth, hoping he would drop it. 

"You're jumpy today, amiga." He takes a few more bites before he continues. "Something happen?" 

Oh, you know, just came to a realization that I'm falling for my roommate who I still know so little about and I can't get the thought of you wet and shirtless out of my head, but yeah, I'm totally fine....

Is what you wanted to say. All you were able to say, however, was a simple "No." He nods, scraping up the last few bites on his plate before clearing both of your place settings. You down the rest of your wine in a gulp, hoping it would still your trembling nerves. Tovar loads the dishes into the dishwasher before turning to lean against the sink, arms crossed as he stares you down. "What?" You ask incredulously. He's silent as he stares at you with that grumpy, inquisitive gaze, sizing you up like some sort of quarry. "What is it? Something on my face?" you ask again, unable to bare the intense silence. Eventually, he just shakes his head, pushing off of the counter to walk past you. 

"I have work early tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep," he states, continuing down the hall. The sound of his door shutting is followed by you slumping in your chair, resting your head on the counter. You bang your head against the counter a few times before standing up to clean the kitchen. Once all of the dishes are put away and the counters wiped down, you head down the hall to your own room for the night. A sound coming from Tovar's room causes you to pause. It sounded almost pained, so you stop to listen, concerned he might have hurt himself at work and didn't tell you about it. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time he had done something like that. You can't help the little gasp that escapes your lips when you hear him moan out your name, the shock of it causing you to stumble back from the door, pressing up against the wall adjacent to his door. Wide eyes bore holes into his door as your name drifted through it once more, laced with the lewdest sounding moan you had ever heard. 

Deciding you had heard enough, and feeling rather embarrassed for such a blatant breach of privacy, you bolt for your door, shutting it quietly. Your heart is racing, thrumming loudly in your ears, and your cheeks burn so hot you feel like you could combust just standing there. There could be no mistake, your name had come from Tovar's lips mixed with the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. 

...How the HELL were you supposed to sleep tonight? 

---

The next week or so, you try your utmost to act normally around your roommate, still preparing meals, or covering him with a blanket if you come home late and find him on the couch. But every night plays out the same once you’re safely behind your bedroom door. Those lewd moans lacing your name in his gruff, husky voice. The thought of them caused the heat to pool in your belly every time, without fail. You'd find yourself seeking your own high, getting off to the thought of him over you, moaning your name in your ear. God how you want him. 

There were times where you thought you had built up the courage to tell him that you had heard him, but as soon as those dark eyes meet with yours, all thoughts vacate your mind and you end up a babbling wreck. This was going to kill you, you were sure of it. 

The desperation and desire does nothing but mount the longer this drags on, to the point where even at work you can't seem to manage to keep your thoughts off of the handsome Spaniard sharing your small apartment. Word from your manager saying you're able to head home almost an hour early is a welcome reprieve and your home is a welcome sight as you cross the threshold before immediately making your way to your room, kicking the door closed behind you. Or, mostly closed, anyways. That didn't matter, Tovar wasn't going to be home for several hours. You'd be cleaned up and calmed down by then for sure. 

Shedding your clothes, you sprawl on your bed, slowly dancing gentle caresses over your skin. The pads of your fingers ghost around your nipples before you squeeze both breasts. You let out a quiet sigh as your eyes slip closed. Your imagination runs wild as you picture Tovar above you, his warm breath brushing over your skin, raising goosebumps along it. You shiver at the thought of him whispering your name against the shell of your ear, yearning to feel his stubble scratching against your cheek as he drags kisses down your jaw. 

Your hand finally dips between your legs, spreading yourself and coating your fingers in your own arousal before drifting back up to twirl around your delicate bundle of nerves. Your hips arch up off of the bed under your ministrations, wishing it was Tovar's fingers drawing these moans from your lips rather than your own. His name slips out before you can stop yourself, completely lost in the fantasy of your roommate pinning you to the bed, the image of him in just those loose sweats urging you forward as the heat coils tighter in your stomach, your fingers moving ever faster as you pleasure yourself. "Fuck...Tovar...haaa..." You hiss between clenched teeth as you continue to work, drawing yourself ever closer. It's when you imagine him whispering terms of endearment to you in his native tongue that sounds so good on his lips that you lose yourself completely, tipping over that precipice of pleasure with a long keen of his name, back arched. 

You fall back against the bed, panting as the waves of your orgasm slowly abate, leaving you in a happy haze as you get up to go and clean yourself. You're a mess, aren't you? Unable to think of anything but your roommate pleasuring you, which is definitely not what he signed up for when he agreed to your offer of a place to stay. You ponder how much longer this living arrangement is going to last. He has a steady job now, a steady paycheck. That, coupled with what he already has saved...he would probably be off to find a place of his own soon, and that thought made you sadder than you would care to admit. You can always ask him to stay, but would that be too forward? There was no harm in asking, right? He'd understand, right? Tovar was a bit of a grump, but he was at least understanding with most things....usually. With a grumble that sounds a bit too much like your roommate's, you finish your shower, getting dressed before heading to the living room, nearly hitting the roof when you see Tovar sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. He glances up at you when he hears your gasp, that damn eyebrow quirked up again before his gaze fixes back on his phone. 

"I wasn't expecting you home for another couple of hours, Tovar." You try to make the comment sound offhand as you head into the kitchen to raid the fridge for dinner ideas. 

"Got off early." Oh God, his voice was gruffer than usual and the heat was already pooling in your core again. 

"Well that's good. You've been working late pretty much every night since you started." You settled on just grabbing two beers from the fridge, bringing one over to him after opening it. He just nods, taking a sip of his drink. 

"They let me off because apparently threatening to break William's arm for being an idiot isn't proper etiquette." Your mouth falls open and your eyebrows raise as you stare at him. He looks up at you and you see the glimmer of humor in his eyes, causing your shoulders to relax and a smile to cross your face. 

"Tovar, I never pegged you for a joking man." You chuckle as you make your way back into the kitchen, pulling out the takeout menus. "I don't feel like cooking tonight, come figure out where you wanna order from, what do you want?" You lean against the counter, flipping through menus with your back turned to him, doing your best to keep your mind from wandering to the man sitting on your couch. You jump a little when a hand finds your left hip, the other bracing against the counter as Tovar leans up against you. Instantly your face grows hot and your mouth goes dry at the feeling of him so utterly close to you. The hand on your hip feels electric and you struggle to keep your breathing under control. 

"What I want, hermossa?" His voice is low as he brings his head down level to yours. "Are you an option?" Your knees give then and there and if you hadn't been holding on to the counter, you would have hit the floor. Tovar's grip on your hip tightens and he presses up against you, pinning you to the counter as you tremble against him. "Well?" he nearly growls into your ear, and you squeak out an affirmative as his nose trails a line from your ear down your neck to your shoulder where he places a kiss at the junction before nipping it gently. A shudder runs through your body and you're sure at any moment your eyes would open as you wake from this delicious dream. There is no way this could be real. 

You could feel him pressing up against your backside through your clothes and you swallow thickly at just how big he feels. Your imagination had not prepared you for this. The fingers of his left hand dig into your hip as his lips attach to your neck, sucking and nibbling till a dark mark is left. The sound he makes after leaving his mark is proud and dammit your knees just won't stop shaking.  

"Pero," he whispers suddenly into your ear and your eyes open. You turn your head to look at him, confused. "The next time I hear you moaning my name, I want it to be my proper name." His eyes were so dark and lust blown, they caught you so off guard that you almost didn't put two and two together. 

"N...next time? What do you mean next-." You cut yourself off as you freeze in realization. "Oh my God...you...you heard what I was...earlier you heard..." Pero smirks wickedly and nods. 

"You should really close your door, hermossa, if you don't want to be heard." His hand that had been resting on the bar comes up to turn your head just a little more, gripping your chin to bring your lips to his in a firm kiss that you quickly find yourself melting into. For as gruff as he sounded, Pero's lips were so damn soft. You crane your neck to press deeper into the kiss, drinking him in as much as humanly possible as you press your backside against him. He growls into the kiss as you grind against him, his hand letting go of your chin to run his fingers down your body, slipping under the hem of your tank top. Goosebumps break out along your skin the feeling of his calloused fingertips running along the skin of your stomach. In a sudden moment of boldness, you grab his wrist and lower his hand, helping to slip his fingers under the waistband of your pants and he groans into your mouth. Taking advantage of the situation, you lick up into his mouth, desperation and a burning need tinting every single action. His tongue dances with yours as his fingers rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, drawing a whimper from your lips. 

He's the first to break the kiss, chuckling darkly against your lips. "You are a mess. Already so wet for me. Did your fantasy do me no justice to quell that ache between your legs?" All you can to do to respond is let out a high pitched whine at his lewd question, grinding down on his fingers, desperate for that delicious friction. 

"P-Pero...Please..." Your voice is a whimper as you open your eyes to look up at him, the desperation in them clear as day. He leans in, grabbing your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, pulling back until your lip slips from between them with a gasp from you. 

"I like the sound of your voice when you beg, maravillosa." You didn't think his voice could get any lower than it was, and the sound of desire that laced his words would have hand you on the ground if he hadn't been holding on to you. His fingers slowly slip under your panties, rubbing your mound before parting your lips to coat his fingers in your slick. "So fucking wet for me." You whimper again, nodding as you cling to his arm, grinding down your hips. A jolt fires through you as he finally swirls the pad of his finger around your clit, and you let out a strangled cry, clenching your eyes closed. Pero chuckles in your ear, nibbling at the lobe before moving down your neck to suck another mark as his finger rubs the most tortuously slow circles against you. You were losing your mind and needed so much much. 

"I'll beg all you want, please, PLEASE Pero, give me more. I need more," you keen, bucking your hips against his hand. Thankfully, he obliges, slipping a finger inside of you with ease and you let out a content sigh, grinding down against his hand. He curls his finger against your walls, searching for the perfect spot that he knows will have you seeing stars. When you nearly scream, he grins against your skin, nipping at his latest mark before adding a second, then third finger, slowly thrusting them in and out of you, meeting the thrusts of your hips. The stretch of his fingers is delicious, the bump of his thumb against your clit with every thrust bringing you closer and closer as your nails dig into his arm. 

His lips trace along your ear still, and he whispers to you with that voice so low it draws a groan from your lips. "I want you to cum for me, hermossa. Cum and let me hear my name on your lips." He punctuates his demand with a nip at your ear and you lose it, coming undone around his hand. Your walls clench around his fingers as you throw your head back against his shoulder, your arousal absolutely coating his fingers as his name pours from your lips as reverent as a prayer. He coaxes you gently through your orgasm with slow thrusts before slipping his fingers from you. When he puts them in his own mouth, moaning deliciously at the taste of you on his fingers, you could swear you were about to cum again just from the erotic sight. Your hands moving on their own, you grab his wrist and pull his fingers from his mouth. Looking up at him with the most innocent eyes you can manage, you bring his fingers to your lips, taking them in your own mouth. You moan at the taste of him mixed with your own arousal, running your tongue along the digits. The light in his eyes turns absolutely feral and he spins you around, reconnecting his lips with your, one hand holding your hips to his, one hand at the base of your skull, crushing your lips to his with a passion that literally takes your breath away. Your arms wrap around his body, pulling him closer to you as you drag your nails down his back, relishing in the shiver that runs through his body as you do. 

When he breaks the kiss to trail kisses down your jaw, you let your head fall back to grant him better access, trembling in anticipation and he forces your legs apart with his knee, bringing it up to grind mercilessly against you. The whimpers he draws from you only spur him on further. 

"P-Pero I need you. Please," you beg shamelessly, all rationale replaced by the burning desire for the man who currently had you pinned to the counter. The growl against your neck goes straight to your core as Pero drops both hands to your ass, giving it a rough squeeze before hooking his hands under your thighs, hoisting them around his waist, holding you up against him. Your own arms wrap around him, tangling in the curls at the base of his neck as he turns, carrying you to his bedroom. The blood in your veins courses with such excitement that you couldn't help the giggle that bubbles out of your throat. 

Gracelessly, he tosses you on to the bed and you bounce, grinning up at him like some Cheshire cat as he strips out of his shirt. You take your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes rake up and down his figure. Taught skin covered corded muscle, something you know he worked very hard to maintain given how often he used the gym at your complex. He joins you on the bed, crawling up to you with the most intense look in his eyes. His fingers tug at the hem of your tank, tugging it up. 

"This. Off with it," he growls and you nod, nearly ripping the offending article from your body as he watches approvingly. Reaching around you, he quickly undoes the clasp of your bra, tossing it to join the discarded clothes. A hunger for you shines in his eyes as he takes you in, the intensity of his stare bringing a sudden shyness to the forefront of your mind. You shrink in on yourself, bringing your arms up to cover your chest, but he is having none of it. He takes your wrists, pulling your arms away from your chest as he looks up at you. "Hermossa, do not hide your glory from me." The gentle command sends a rush of adrenaline through your body and you nod, arms relaxing in his grasp. He lays you back, rough hands running up your arms and over your chest where he massages your breasts, pinching the nipples just hard enough to cause your back to arch off the bed before they continue down over your stomach, finally coming to rest on your hips. The feeling was better than anything your imagination could have possibly dreamt up. "How many times I have dreamt of this..." 

He leans over you to press a fierce kiss to your lips that quickly migrates along your jawline, following the line of your neck down to your chest. His stubble rubs deliciously against your skin, raising bumps along its path. Your fingers tangle in his hair, hips bucking up against him as he takes your left breast in his mouth, alternating between sucking, nibbling, and lavishing it with kisses until it borders on sore before switching to rain the same attention over the other. A whimper of longing escapes your lips and he glances up from his ministrations with a predatory grin before he trails kisses lower, over your naval and down to the hem of your pants. Greedy fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them off with a quick motion, your panties along with them. The cool air on your core sends a shiver rocketing through your body. 

"Such a beautiful sight," he mumbles, his hands grabbing your hips firmly as he makes himself comfortable between your legs. You do your best to still the trembling in your legs, but to no avail as he runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, his warm breath sending tingles across your skin. He repeats the gesture for the other side before letting go of one of your hips to drag a finger up your dripping slit, gathering your arousal on his finger. The gasp you let out is one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard, and he craves more. He wants to see just how many sounds he could draw from those pretty lips of yours, but his patience is wearing thin, his self control slipping. He presses the flat of his tongue against you, licking the whole of you before spreading your lips to suck your swollen clit into his mouth, running his tongue around it in quick circles. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it and he groans at the feeling, his cock twitching in his sweatpants. Your hips buck against his mouth, and he lays his arm across your hips, holding you in place. 

As he continues his ministrations, begs and moans spill from your lips in an endless, nearly incoherent stream, and each time you say his name he drags his teeth lightly over your clit, sending an electric shock through your entire body. Your moans grow higher and higher in pitch until you are screaming his name, tugging harshly on his hair as you cum for him the second time, spilling over his tongue as he eagerly licks it up. He pushes himself up and off the bed, licking his lips as he watches you laying on his bed, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath from your orgasm, eyes hazy with pleasure. He quickly rids himself of his pants and smirks when he sees how your eyes widen at the sight of him. Opening his bedside table, he pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on, hissing at the feeling before he crawls back over your body, connecting his lips to yours. The taste of yourself on his lips draws a moan from you as you pull him against you, wrapping your legs around his waist. With a bite to your bottom lip, you feel him pressing against you. You break the kiss and gaze up into his lust filled eyes with a gaze that surely rivaled his own in terms of need and want and he hesitates, watching you. You lean up, ghosting your lips across his ear and he shivers as you speak. 

"Fuck me, Pero." 

You need say no more as your words start a fire inside of him. He presses into you and your head falls back against the pillow, your jaw going slack at the stretch as he fills you. With shallow thrusts he works his way into you until he is fully seated inside of you, his own body trembling at the feeling of your heat totally encompassing him. He groans as his head falls against your neck when your walls flutter around him, the stubble and mustache tickling at your skin. 

"Te sientes como el cielo..." He mutters against your neck, your pulse racing under his lips. 

"Pero, fuck, please move. Please, I can't take this." You cry as he snaps his hips against you, lifting his face from your neck enough to watch your face contort in pleasure as he sets up a brutal pace, fucking into you hard enough to shake the bed. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging into the skin there which causes his hips to stutter for a moment before he regains his pace. Mutters in Spanish pour from his lips in the most gorgeous song you have ever heard as he ruts into you. When his hand moves to where the two of you are joined to rub aggressive circles against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, you scream his name in a way that has his stomach tightening. 

"Won't...last..." He grunts, but all you can do is nod and cry out. His face falls against your neck again, stubble scratching at your skin. His teeth find purchase against the soft flesh of your neck and that is all you need to come tumbling over the edge. Your walls bare down on his cock and he growls against your skin, pulling you through your orgasm before his hips slam against yours, the moan of your name on his lips as his own release washes over him. He stills inside you, panting against your neck as he tries to regain his breath. Your arms hold him to you for as long as you can, worried that when he pulls away this would all disappear and you would be standing in your kitchen as if nothing had happened. 

After a few moments, he slowly slips out of you, propping himself up on his elbows over you to look over your face. His face still carried that borderline grumpy look, but the edges were softened, gentle. His fingers lift to delicately trace along your jaw and your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch. 

"Of all the times I have imagined this very thing, nothing compares to the actual feeling of you..." You open your eyes to look up at him, your heart swelling in your chest. You open your mouth to speak, but once again find yourself at a loss for words. He gives the smallest glimpse of a smile before getting up to clean himself off, coming back to join you in bed. He gathers you into his arms, pulling the blanket over the both of you. Once again you find your ear pressed against his chest, the heartbeat strong and steady.  Your mind begins to race at the thought of what had just happened, and Pero feels you stiffen in his arms. His fingers trace lines along your spine in an attempt to soothe you, grunting in question. 

"Please don't leave..." you whisper against his chest, so quiet he isn't sure he hears you. 

"What was that?" 

"Please...please don't leave. You have a job now and you're making money and can afford your own place and I know I said this was a temporary thing till you got back on your feet but," You look up at him with watery eyes. "But I don't want you to leave...I want you to stay here, with me." He looks down at you with an unreadable face, his fingers stilling on your back. 

"Maravillosa... I would not do such a thing to you." His gruff voice was still coated in the honey warmth of his own release, and it warmed you through. "I will go nowhere, I swear to you."  At his words, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding, relaxing into his arms to let your cheek rest against his chest. 

Pero Tovar is not a soft man. He is war hardened. A man of few words. His face always borders on a scowl when he is awake, but when he looks at you, his eyes soften just a touch, the crease in his brow smoothing ever so slightly. Pero Tovar is a grumpy Spaniard, but he is your grumpy Spaniard, and that is all that mattered. 

-----------

Translations:

gruñón : Grumpy Hermossa: Beautiful Amiga: friend Maravillosa : Marvelous or gorgeous Te sientes como el cielo... : You feel like heaven

Tag list:  @yespolkadotkitty​, @lackofhonor​, @cryptkeepersoul​ Tag list is open! Requests are open!

[ragingbookdragon]

The Beds We’ve Made PT. 2

Kurt x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Blood, Violence, Slight Angst

Author’s Note: Might be back on my bullshit but I am writing fics so it counts for something. Enjoy! -Thorne

           It was shoddy luck on their part that resulted in the attack just two hundred meters from the city, more so hers than her companions. As she wrenched her saber free from the torso of the last marauder, her eyes flitted over the field, finding both her companions still standing, though her relief was short lived as Vasco brought a hand to his side.

           De Sardet took a step towards him, worrying, “Vasco, are you alright?”

           The captain didn’t respond at first, fingers undoing the main belt around his waist. It hit the ground and he pulled his jacket open. Her eyes went wide as crimson began to bloom, staining the cream shirt he wore.

           She immediately pressed her hands up against his wound, ignoring how he hissed. “How bad is it?”

           “I don’t know,” he muttered as he shook his head, and she shifted one of her hands to feel around for an exit wound. None was there.

           “Bullet’s still inside. We need to get you to a doctor,” De Sardet affirmed. “Put pressure with your left hand, sling your right over my shoulders.”

           Vasco obeyed and they started down the small hill, coming to the dirt road. The farther they walked, the heavier the Naut became, all but leaning onto her and with a quick glance to him, she knew he wasn’t going to make it all the way to the gate even with her help. Sweat started rolling down his forehead and she cursed under her breath.

           “Vasco, stop. Stop.” De Sardet whispered, gently maneuvering him to the ground, her fingers shifting beneath his to pressure his wound. His tricorn tipped to the ground when he rested his head back onto her shoulder, groaning weakly.

           Síora knelt beside them. “Carants?” Her eyes were wide with worry and De Sardet looked to her.

           “We’re not strong enough to get him back.” She shifted her gaze to the city gates, probably a hundred meters away now. “Síora, go to the barracks and get Kurt. He’s the only one strong enough to carry Vasco.”

           She could tell the native was hesitant especially since it’d been only a week before that the noble had removed the mercenary from her service.

           “Síora, hurry,” De Sardet urged. “I don’t know how long Vasco will stay awake.”

           “I will be swift,” she replied, taking off towards the city.

           De Sardet shifted, leaning around Vasco’s body to lift his shirt. Pulling the handkerchief from her coat pocket, she pressed the cloth to it; it soaked through within moments.

           “Done in by a…gunshot,” Vasco panted. “Figured I’d go…down with my ship.”

           She snorted. “If you’re still able to joke, I guess it’s not as bad, huh?”

           “I don’t wanna die on land.”

           De Sardet grabbed his chin, the blood smearing along the black tattoos. “You listen to me right now. You’re not dying, you hear?”

           Vasco chuckled, though it dissolved into a groan. “Can’t exactly…stop it.”

           “If you die, I’ll have no one to sing sea shanties with.” She gave him a smile, batting her eye lashes. “Don’t wanna disappoint this pretty woman, now do you?”

           He grinned. “Never.”

***

           She burst into the barracks, doors slamming into the walls as she strode forward. Manfred looked up from his desk, at the woman; she looked familiar, but not enough that he could place her.

           “Can I help you, miss?” he asked, taking in the native clothes she wore.

           Síora nodded. “I need to find Kurt. It is imperative.”

           Manfred started to stand. “Can I ask what for?”

           “Caran—De Sardet needs him. Our friend is injured.”

           He nodded, leading the way towards the training grounds. “I understand.”

           Cracking the door open, they stepped out, watching Kurt bark orders at some new recruits who were doing pushups. Before Manfred could even call for him, Síora was sprinting to him.

           “Carants!” she yelled, and Kurt’s head snapped up, eyes wide at the usually calm native so frantic.

           “Síora?”

           “De Sardet needs you. It’s serious.”

           Something flashed in the mercenary’s eyes and he didn’t even wait for her to explain, simply grabbing his sword leaning up against the wall and hurrying after her.

           The recruits had watched them for a moment before glancing towards Manfred who simply commanded, “Back to training, you lot!”

***

           She’d managed to strip Vasco of his coat to keep him cool, but it barely did anything as he’d already sweat through the back of his shirt. His consciousness was dwindling faster than she could keep it steady, ultimately resulting to talk to him to keep him awake.

           “C’mon Vasco, if you think about it, someone has to get us back to Serene when this is all over. Whose boat am I going to take?”

           That did it. His face pinched and she knew it wasn’t from pain as he griped, “Ship. For the last fucking time…it’s a ship.”

           De Sardet giggled. “You know those terms are synonymous, yes?”

           “My foot is going to find your ass synonymous…if you call my ship a boat again.”

           She snorted, running her free hand to smooth back his damp hair. “I’d like to see you try. We both know who the better fighter is.”

           Before he could even make his own witty comeback, the thunk of boots came their way and she prayed that it wasn’t an enemy. De Sardet squinted, and upon making out Kurt’s face in the evening light, she almost cried in relief. The mercenary skidded to a halt beside them, dropping to a knee.

           “Kurt,” she breathed. “Thank the Gods you’re here.”

           He looked Vasco over. “What happened?”

           The captain groaned. “The fuck does it…look like happened?”

           “Well, I see you’re in rare form, captain,” Kurt joked. “How do you feel?”

           “Like I’ve…been through a hurricane,” Vasco ground out and De Sardet shifted behind him.

           “We tried making it back.” Her eyes found the mercenary’s. “Kurt, I need your help to carry him. I’m not strong enough to do it on my own.”

           Kurt nodded. “Of course.” He grabbed Vasco’s arm and pulled it around his neck, one arm going to the captain’s back, the other below his knees. “On three. Vasco, lean in if you can.”

           The Naut grunted. “I’ll try.”

           He looked at De Sardet and nodded, watching as she moved herself to Vasco’s free side to catch him if he fell out of Kurt’s arms.

           “One. Two. Three!” Kurt heaved and pulled him up, wincing as Vasco let out a pained moan. He glanced at Síora. “Constantin is sure to have a doctor waiting on him at the palace. Go and get them. We’ll take Vasco to De Sardet’s residence.” She nodded and started off ahead of them.

           The hurried and when De Sardet kept looking over, he said, “He’ll be okay, Green Blood.”

           She shook her head. “That’s not what I’m thinking about.” Gesturing to them, she asked, “Does he even weigh anything to you?”

           Kurt snorted. “Nah. It’s like holding a few grapes.” He gave her a knowing look and murmured, “Honestly it’s like that time I had to carry you back from the tavern.”

           Her eyes went wide with shock and she cried, “You said you’d never bring that up again!”

           He dodged her attempt to shove at him, though she seemed to remember the injured Naut and stopped.

           “Oh, so I can’t bring up how you told me you wanted to shag—”

           De Sardet audibly growled at him, pointing her dagger in his side. “I will shank the shit out of you if you finish that sentence, Kurt.”

           The mercenary chuckled, but conceded, crossing under the arch, and moving towards the residence. When they neared it, De Sardet opened the door to the guest apartments.

           “Vasco’s room is the second door.” She opened it and let Kurt inside, watching as he set the still-moaning captain onto the bed. Síora came in behind them with one of the masked doctors. The doctor looked between the group and nodded at Kurt.

           The mercenary nodded to the door. “We’ll take care of this.” De Sardet started to make a retort but he fixed her with a look. “Green Blood, please. Let us do this.”

           She pursed her lips and glanced at Vasco, then back to Kurt. “Promise you’ll get me if you need me.”

           He nodded. “Of course.”

           De Sardet let Síora lead her out, and every time she heard a pained yell come from inside the bedroom, she had to fight to stay seated, to trust Kurt.

***

           It was well into the night when the doors finally opened, and the doctor stepped out. They’d said nothing but given a simple nod before taking the coin purse and leaving. De Sardet shuffled into the bedroom, catching sight of Kurt placing a freshly dampened rag onto Vasco’s forehead; he’d fallen asleep it seemed.

           “How is he?” she whispered, afraid to wake him.

           Kurt nodded. “Got the bullet out.” He tipped his chin to the metal ball, no bigger than the tip of her pinky, sitting on the nightstand. “He’ll have one helluva souvenir to show off.”

           De Sardet chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed, gently taking Vasco’s hand in hers. “Think they’ve got a tattoo that stands for ‘I survived getting shot’?”

           “Probably,” he chuckled, watching as she placed two fingers to the Naut’s pulse.

           “Heart rate is calm,” she decided, softly resting his hand back on his stomach. Her eyes drifted to the side of the bed where Kurt sat on a stool and she inconspicuously took in the blood that stained his hands.

           She stood and walked towards the basin. Ever so carefully, she picked it up and slowly walked back over, setting it down by Kurt’s feet before once again taking her seat at the edge of the bed. De Sardet picked up the rag that was set on the side and dipped it into the water. When it was soaked, she wringed it and gently took one of Kurt’s scarred hands into hers, wiping the blood in silence; though she could feel his eyes on her, she didn’t say a thing.

           “You don’t have to—” she cut him off by turning his hand over, running the rag across his palm.

           “I don’t,” she agreed. “But I want to.” Her eyes met his. “You saved Vasco’s life tonight. Cleaning the blood off your hands is the least I could do.”

           Kurt shrugged, offhandedly mentioning, “He’s important to you.”

           The words sounded so bitter and it made De Sardet smile as she quipped quietly, “Careful there, Kurt. Your jealously is showing.”

           “I am not jealous,” he retorted, scowling when she flashed him an innocent smile.

           “No, of course you’re not. Taking the company of another man, a sailor no less, to watch my back instead of you. There’s no reason for jealously.”

           “You think you’re being cute but you’re not,” he griped, following with, “my lady,” when she cocked a brow.

           “I think I’m adorable,” De Sardet hummed before taking his other hand.

           He watched her for a moment, then muttered, “Not exactly like I could watch your back after you removed me.”

           De Sardet’s hand froze and she met his eyes, simply gazing at him for a long minute. “You understand why I removed you, don’t you, Kurt?”

           She knew he didn’t want to admit the reason to her, even though they both knew it, but he shifted through the shame and nodded. “Yes, my lady, I do.”

           “So, you understand that my anger and resentment has been founded and is legitimate?”

           “Yes…my lady.”

           “Then you don’t get to be pissy with my decision.” Her words were firm, but they weren’t angry, not like they were the other week. They still stung the same though.

           De Sardet wiped the last of the blood from his hand and set the rag down, replacing the basin where it was. As she moved to the door, she heard him speak.

           “Green Blood?”

           She paused and looked back at him. “Yes, Kurt?”

           He seemed to be mulling over his thoughts, looking as if he was going to be sick. “I…would like your help with something.”

           De Sardet arched a fine brow. “And that is?”

           Kurt met her eyes. “I want to track down the man responsible for the ghost camps. For Reiner…for me.”

           She searched his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Meet me here tomorrow morning and we’ll go.”

           “Thank you, Green Blood.”

           De Sardet tipped her head slightly. “Don’t thank me just yet. We haven’t found him.”

           Kurt huffed a laugh. “With you, we will.”

[prose-for-hire]

Party of two

Pairing: Spike x vamp!reader

Request: "Don't fight it. Or do. I like them feisty." With Spike

Requested by: @sunflower-stan​

Warning: Spike is violent in the flashback. Siring/biting. Spike and reader are evil and they kill people (not described much).

A/N: Wouldn’t be Halloween without soulless vampires doing evil things. (I know I romanticise him a lot but I wanted to make this more of a twisted relationship – but this is me so it might just end up very romanticised. It’s a Halloween lucky dip – enjoy!)

You sighed contently, staring out of the balcony into the dark night. You turned when you heard him walking towards you, a smile you couldn’t drop from your face as you saw him. You adored his face, especially when he changed to his vampire form. There was something about it. His yellow eyes that saw into your soul (or, where your soul should be). His ridged forehead that you loved to caress in such a way he barely changed to his more human-like face unless to entice someone for you both to take home.

“Happy dead-iversary, love” He smirked, pulling you in for a kiss. It would have knocked the breath out of your body, if you had any that is. You grinned as he handed you the small pocket watch that had been in your family for decades previous. You thought it had gone missing with your soul, never to be found again.

“I thought this was lost! I missed it so much!” You clutched it to your heart, smiling at the object before smiling back at his face.

“Sorry, pet. Took some findin’ but – you deserve it” He said softly, his hand under your chin with such affection it was impossible to remember him treating you any other way.

“Thank you! I love you, William!” you say, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing slightly. He affirmed his own feelings as he led you into the other room, where a decadent display had been set up. A small celebration of the date. Just for the two of you. You smiled, looking around at everything he had done.

It had been another half hour and he had noticed your spirits weren’t as high as they had been previously. He was concerned, you usually enjoyed Halloween.

“Two decades of death and what have I done with my time?” You sigh, staring down at your party outfit. Sulking slightly. Spike had thrown you an elaborate death-day celebration that you were very grateful for. Yet you had this nagging feeling. You had thought the beginning of your unlife would have come with more success. Perhaps a mention in Vampire weekly. Or a couple more massacres under your belt. You were still recovering from almost dying in Sunnydale at the hands of the slayer. Luckily, Spike had found a way for the both of you to escape unscathed.

“Pet, you’ve done plenty. You bagged a slayer! Don’t get much sweeter” He assured you, coming up behind you and running his hands down your arms. He rested the side of his head against yours. You both closed your eyes, savouring the contact. It always felt so good by his side.

“But other vampires have done things. Big things and what can I say for myself?”

“You’ve only been dead 20 years, now ain’t the time for a bloody mid-death crisis” he sighed, noting your mood, “Do you trust me?”

“Always” You confirmed, it was second-nature now. It was you and him against the world.

“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be” He assured you, “I’ve got another surprise, come with me” He grabbed your hand tugging you outside and down the street. He had heard of a Halloween party he knew you would enjoy crashing.

“Do you remember it, love?” He asked as you walked, referring to your siring. And you did, it was now one of your favourite memories. One you cherished dearly, because it brought you Spike.

“Like it was only yesterday” You smiled dreamily, moving further into his side instantly and smiling at a memory that had horrified you in the moment. Now, it was laughable. Hilarious at how weak you had been. You stalked over to the house together, both thinking of the same moment.

When your hands connected, tangling your fingers together, you were taken back to that moment….

You had been running. It was Halloween, you were brusquely walking through the streets of your hometown. A desperate fear coursing through you. You sped up, hearing the noises behind you. The noises that could only be someone following. Someone following with bad intentions. You could feel them, dripping with evil with every heavily booted step towards you. You turned, looking over your shoulder. But there was nobody there.

The chill that ran up your spine told you otherwise. You had tried desperately to cling to the idea that you were being paranoid. You were just spooked because it was Halloween… right?

No matter what you told yourself, you started to panic. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears. A dizzying fright that you couldn’t escape. The feeling trapped you before he did. A cold sweat now dripping from your forehead. He licked his lips, almost able to taste it. The salty despair that would soon be mixing with your blood.

You were clutching your pocket watch, checking the time, trying to get home before midnight. It was Halloween and you had been told terrible things could happen on Halloween your entire life. A notion you would hold long after your death.

He stopped you finally, he had enough of toying with you now. He knew better than to take this for granted, it was Halloween after all. Nothing was supposed to happen on Halloween. He slammed you into the wall of the alleyway, rolling his eyes at your naivety. Every time, no matter how large the threat they always ran into sodding alleyways.

“What a pretty trinket, sadly where you’re goin’ – you won’t have much use for it” he shrugged, a cruel smile on his lips as he threw it over his shoulder. You whimpered when you heard the watch smash against something hard. You retracted your arm, balling your hand into a fist as you swung at him. He caught it. You raised your knee to catch him in the groin, but he managed to swerve that too. He restrained you a little too easily as you struggled helplessly against him, “Don't fight it. Or do. I like them feisty." He smiled, cruel intentions twisting his face. No. This wasn’t a trick of the light. It was actually his face – it had changed. His forehead growing bumpy and overhanging. His jaw moving to allow for prominent fangs to jut out from his mouth. His eyes bore into yours the same way. His amusement at your reaction to being so close to death made him pause, even a fraction.

You started to run during his brief pause but he just rolled his eyes, pushing your shoulders back hard into the rough brick. You realised there was no escape. No hope.

You grasped his hand, almost pleadingly. Wordlessly begging for him to stop. For him to just turn away and leave you. A stray tear slid down your cheek as he surprisingly gripped your hand back. He was shown something. A future possibility…

What he saw was twenty years ahead. You by his side, weaving your fingers between his. Halloween decorations ripped down around the both of you. Your mouths running red as did the scene before him. The ceilings and walls a beautiful crimson hue.

The bodies lay around you, face down. The lives you had carelessly used and tossed aside. Drank your fill. Scared a few senseless – it did appear to be Halloween after all. You were the only one he would break tradition for. You were invincible together. And he felt it, just from the one touch.

He saw the glint in your eyes. The sheer joy at the destruction you had created together. Your smile lit up your face, your features only enhanced by the blood trickling from the sides of your mouth.

He took his free hand and wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The look you gave him penetrating and exhilarated. The euphoria of a fresh kill beside your love. He knew what this look meant somehow and he smirked into it.

You move in, your lips meeting his. The thick, tangy liquid mixing with your saliva. You reached and placed your hands, also red, on either side of his face as you kissed him with such passion he was snapped back into his present.

There he was, looking at you his head to the side in confusion. Had you seen it too? No. You couldn’t have done, you were still shaking like a leaf.

He must help you, the way he was helped. He was sent here, on Halloween for a reason. To bring you to life, reanimate you in a way you could thrive. You had merely been surviving until this moment. He was going to save you. Going to take you places you had never even dreamt of before.

“Do you want to live forever, love?” He asked, but it gained no response – you were still mourning your family heirloom and what appeared to be your own life too, “I mean it. Bloody answer me would you? All I’m askin’ is a polite agreement and we can get this started” he said, shaking you by the shoulders to make you face him again. You were so tired, you nodded and closed your eyes.

He moved your head to the side, exposing your neck. His face twisted and you whimpered again, your eyes had cracked open slightly and you wished you hadn’t. He hushed you. Stroking the back of your head, trying to cling to some of the affection he had felt towards you in the vision of the future he had stumbled onto moments before. He understood, he too had been confused when he had been sired. But he would be there, show you the way.

He bit into you and you started to claw at his back feebly, not sure what you had just agreed to. The seething pain a strange sensation, it started to feel so far away. As if you were watching the scene from above. His fangs were deep in your neck as he sucked the life almost completely out of you, leaving just enough. Enough for you to be conscious.

He nicked his palm with his own fang, a line straight along from one side to the other. He pressed his palm against your mouth. He held the back of your head down, willing you to know what to do on instinct. You started to lap at the cut as if you hadn’t had anything to drink for weeks. He smiled through the stinging, enjoying every moment. Willing you to last until that party. Suddenly willing to have you by his side.

The bond forming, sealed with your shared blood. The blood that was now starting to circulate around your body.

“Welcome to your first real night of living, pet” He muttered in your ear as you eyesight went fuzzy and your head rolled back. Your body had still been shaking as you knew you were about to die. You weren’t entirely sure you believed him, trusted that whatever you had just done would bring you back later. He scooped you up, carrying you all the way to the crypt he had been living in alone.

This was the one of many Halloween’s since he had met you, that Spike had been pleased he had left the lair for the night.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Adjusting To The Everyday Life

Summary- 5.4k Curtis Everett x You. The new way of life is becoming routine, and your starting to adjust. Curtis does his best to help you along. Warnings- swearing, hints of smut, talk of pregnancy. 

A/N- yea, it's a slower chapter, I suppose like a filler. But this was the mood I was in, so this is what happened.  

A/N2- To see the story behind the picture, read this short- Surprise

Chapter 10 / Masterlist

Slowly the new room was becoming 'Home', it had been a couple weeks since Curtis brought you to the room, and together you two cleaned it out of the personal stuff that couldn't be used, and you took the time to bring down yours and his few belongings. Since settling in, he brought you two a couple changes of clothing, and for the first time in years, you were able to give both of your clothes a proper wash. A few things were just unable to be saved, one of his jackets, you just couldn't salvage, but the other couple you could. Part of you wished you were able to clean out your bunk in the tail-end. But it was a days travel through the deep snow to get back to the car, and you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to Curtis, not when there was so much going on.

Maybe someday. 

But there was one thing you knew made it from the tail-end, cause Curtis carried it with him everywhere, and that was the slightly smudged charcoal drawing you commissioned back when you knew it was close to Curtis’s birthday before the riot, and you had seen him tuck it away when you two first moved in. So when you opened the drawer and it wasn't safely tucked in the folds of your few clothes, you felt your heart catch. “No, where is it?!”

Starting to pull out the items from the drawer, and shaking them out, your panic got the best of you, and you were searching among the bedding stored there when Curtis walked into the room to find you on your knees, looking under the bed, among all the stuff on the floor. “Baby, what is going on?” And he was shocked further to see you come out from under the bed with tears brimming your eyes. “Curtis I can't find it, and I saw you put it away.”

Confused, he used his boots to gently push stuff aside and squatted down next to you, gripping your chin to have you look at him. “Put what away Babygirl?” His brows are raised well above his beanie in concern and you sniffle in his hold. “The drawing of us, the picture. I could have sworn you put it in the dresser before your shower the other night, and now...” your hands pick up one of his shirts as if the picture will just fall out from underneath it. Curtis’s blue eyes snap in understanding and he lets you go, opening his jacket and pulling out a slightly bent out of shape paper.

“I got it right here, sorry Babygirl. I just usually carry it on me for safekeeping. I put it away the other day cause we were going to be working on the water, and didn't want it to get ruined.” He handed it over and your teary face turns into an uplifted one, careful when you took it. “Of course! Curtis, I don't know where my head's at these days. Everything is just... “ You sigh, and looked at him apologetically. You've been terribly emotional the past few days, and you've either been mad at Curtis or crying over nothing. Shaking his head, he grunted to move to a stand, taking your hands and drawing you up.

“It's okay, I don't need to carry it anymore.” He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at your cheeks. “What did you want to do with it?” You look at the picture and smile again, it simply made you happy and you pointed to a spot above the door. “Can you hang it up? Then this place can be officially home.” You held it back out and he took it, there was a lip of steel running along the wall just above the door, and Curtis arched to his toes to get high enough and set it on the beam, stepping back. “How's it look Babygirl?” His arm moving around your waist and pulling you in front of him. Letting yourself lean back against his chest while studying the picture sitting above your doorway, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Perfect, Welcome Home.”

It was so easy to make you happy, Curtis let his hands slide around to your midsection and just hold you there, kissing your tilted back forehead. “It is perfect.” He really couldn't remember when he had been happier, everything was going okay, the people were settling in and accepting this new way of living, the greenhouse was thriving, as well as the remaining animals that survived the crash. People were eating actual food, for the first time in 17 years, at least for the tail-enders. You actually we're coming around to more affection, although he would wake up to find you worrying yourself in the dark now and then, you were far easier to coax into his arms and fall back asleep. Assuring you that whatever happened, you two would deal with it together.

That was the last part, waiting to see if you were actually pregnant or not. I could see it worrying you, making you fret when you thought no one was paying attention. And Matt. Matt, Curtis was at a loss of what to do with that fucker. He was still locked in the Car they stuffed him in weeks ago. But you insisted on once a day walks with him, and Curtis to. There was no way in hell he was leaving you alone with Matt. Brother or Not. Speaking of which, Curtis knew what was coming and you turned to look up at him, the question in your eyes.

“Can we go see Matt now Curtis?” you worried your bottom lip, always seeming to be nervous to ask, although he never told you no. Today was no different, kissing your forehead.

“Only if your up for it Babygirl.” He said with a bit of hesitancy, simply cause not even 20 minutes ago you had been in a full panic. But you nodded with affirmation, and grabbed at your jacket, and stuffed a hat on your head since usually you all went outside for the fresh air and sunshine, although still bitterly cold. So many years in the dark, you especially couldn't get enough of the sun. Curtis would find you often standing outside, lips blue with your eyes tilted into the sun, seeming to soak it in. The man pictured you soaking it in, light was drawn to light. Why you were drawn to him, he didn't know. Leading you down the aisle, his hand resting in the small of your back.

Snapping open the heavy door between cars, you leaped over the gap, and worked Matt's car open, and light spilled into the darkness to show Matt leaning against a wall. One arm hooked over his knee, lifting his head to scowl at the two of them, you went in wringing your hands and smiling hopefully. Curtis right behind you, a dark imposing figure scowling. The complete opposite of your hopefulness. “Hey Matt, how you feeling today?”

Matt snorted and tugged on the heavy livestock chains around his ankle. “Fucking fantastic Dear Sister. Living the fucking dream.” Curtis snarled out while digging for the locks keys in his pocket and handing you off a knife for protection in case Matt happened to overpower him. “Cut the shit, Matt. She didn't come here for you to be a little bitch.” Cutis squatted down and yanked his leg into the light enough so he could see the lock. Matt seemed to somber a bit. “Been better Y/N, thanks for asking.” His hand moved to his now bare ankle rubbing at the red ring. Curtis stood and reached to grasp Matts forearm, bringing him up to a stand.

This was ritual by now, You and Matt walking ahead just a little, Curtis not far behind. Close enough that should Matt try to put a hand on you, Curtis would snap your brother's neck. It was a promise he made to Matt when you first started this. Otherwise, Curtis didn't interfere with your conversation. Most of the time. Your hands were stuffed in your sleeves as you trudged along, your voice optimistic, hopeful that Matt would engage back. “The greenhouses are really thriving Matt, they survived the crash intact for the most past. A bit of the pipework bringing the water in got damaged, but we've been regularly melting snow to compensate.”

“You think You all will be able to keep up with that? Eventually, the water is going to run out. Without the train moving anymore, it's not gathering any to store in the tanks.” Matt smirked as if he was dropping some devastating news, looking between you and Curtis.

“Were keeping a close eye on the tanks, and only using that for stuff absolutely necessary. Everything else... well we're covered in snow.” You kicked at the Frozen snow covering the ground. But he was right, eventually the water would become an issue, just like the power. The whole train was temporary. Eventually they will have to move, see if they can find something more suitable for the group on the outside of one of the cities. Of course, they were estimating where they were on the tracks. Curtis, Edgar, and John having dug through Wilford's main car a few weeks ago and came across maps. If their estimations are right, they were somewhere in what was once Russia.

A massive landscape staring at the map. But dotted with cities. All Curtis had to do was convince the council that packing up a small scouting party and seeing if they were near any of the major cities, it would mean more supplies available to them. They had to get off the train, all its resources were going to run out eventually. Wilford never prepared for the Snowpiercer to ever be at a standstill. These worries were settled at the back of Curtis mind, but these walks with Matt, he was sure to remind them of it. Even you sobered a bit after Matts little jibe.

“We will deal with it when it comes up Matt.” You wanted to reach out, staring at Matt. God, he looked so much like your father, just not the coldness. Your father always so welcoming and open, Matt though sniffed either from the cold or distaste to your answer. “Well, we were able to deal with it till your man insisted on crashing the train. We would certainly not be stranded in the middle of fucking Russia. Couldn't have planned that a little better Curtis. Crashed us somewhere with resources at least? But you never think ahead, do you Everett. Always just brute Force and no couth, is there anything between those ears?” Matt hissed at him, his rage crossing his face once more.

Once more he got the best of your temper as he was bad-mouthing Curtis for those few seconds before Curtis could put a stop to Matts ranting, you pushed against your brother's chest, sending him sprawling in surprise. Curtis actually had to hide a chuckle of surprise himself, but you were furious and snarling at your brother. “Jesus Christ, your just... Cruel all the time, aren't you. Fuck you, Matt. Curtis, I'm done.” You turned away and brushed past Curtis, in which he shook his head, and went to collect Matt, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pushing him forward. “Ya know, you would think you would learn to at least treat her decent since shes the only one who gives a shit about you and why you're still alive.”

Matt snorted as he trudged back through the snow, following your quicker paced form as you reached the outskirts of the camp once more.

“Maybe it's time she grew up Curtis, quite thinking that any of us are out for more than ourselves.”

“Well your certainly proving that to her aren't you,” Curtis growled as they to reached the outskirts of the camp, the snow here all pounded down from people walking on it all day long. “When that day comes and she gives up on you entirely, what do you think is going to happen to you?” Curtis said darkly, and Matt eerily grinned. “Be the day I end up going free.”

“We will see about that.” Curtis pushed him back up the stairs and into the darkness of his car once more. Matt plopped on the mattress while Curtis went to lock him back up, Matt watching him closely, and to the open door, debating. Curtis even though he wasn't looking at him knew his thoughts. “Try it and it won't end good for you Matt.” Wait, we got to wait... The younger man thought, instead getting himself comfortable. Their guard won't be up forever.

You just had to get away, even managing friendly conversations was out of your wheelhouse right now, and you stomped back to your room, and slammed the door behind you as if you were a child all over again, grabbing a pillow off the perfectly made bed this morning and sitting on the edge of it, you screamed into it. What was it going to take to get the meanness out of Matt?! You have done nothing but be good to him short of letting him go free, had even managed to get Curtis to reluctantly agreed that if there was any change, they would see about giving him a bit more freedom. But nothing you tried softened him. Nothing. Ripping off your jacket and hat, you shoved them away into the chair when you sat down, and you just suddenly felt drained. All over, like it all just seeped from you.

Sighing, you lift your hands and rub at your face, glancing up at the picture hanging above the door. That made you smile, thinking back on earlier when Curtis hung it up for you. Maybe it's not all bad, and you shrug off the negativity being around your brother brings on you. Changing into something not as warm, you decide the best way to spend the rest of the day was helping in the greenhouse, and maybe the kitchen. Things would be okay, you were doing more than surviving, you all were actually living.

When you left the car and headed towards the greenhouse, you didn't even glance at the car that held Matt, giving it a wide berth, entering the greenhouse, immediately the earthy smell the plants gave off was as good to you as feeling the sun on your face. A musty heaviness of dirt, greenery, and water. All over the labors of the past few weeks showed with healthy trees bearing apples, bright and red. Green sprouts of leaves down rows and rows, all edible. Even now one of the people who worked the kitchen was picking bundles, piling them in her apron. “How do you know what is ready?” You asked, wandering down the aisle while piling your hair behind your head and trying it off.

“Easy child.” The older worker said, holding out a leaf that was full and vibrant for you to take. “Go ahead, taste it.” You ripped off a piece of it and slipped it in your mouth, when the tender leaf crushed between your teeth, vibrant fresh bitterness flooded your mouth, your taste buds still getting used to food. “When these bunches are all full like this, it's meant to be picked.”

“What is this?” Unable to help yourself, you ripped off another piece and chewed on it, getting the same overwhelming effect from before. “Kale. I will sautee this just a bit in some marrow, and put it in a soup for the camp today. Shave off some of that meat off a hock in the freezer, add those new baby potatoes we have at the end.” The older woman continued on, bringing you to where the rows of potatoes were hidden from view, her fingers digging into the dirt and dragging up the bulbs, shaking the dirt off them. “We get enough of them, and you have yourself a meal.”

You dug your fingers into the moist wet dirt, the sensation oddly familiar and weird, bringing back memories of planting flowers with your mother in the front of the house. The woman watched her with interest, taking in your reaction to it all. “Yer from the back, aren't ya?” You nodded slightly, and carefully brushed off the dirt encasing the baby potatoes. “Yes, one of the tail enders who came up with Curtis.”

“Ahh, yes. Thought you looked familiar. What your man did letting us go took a lot of guts, not many would have that. Trust me, very few of us have much to thank Wilford for or have any reason to give him loyalty. My name is Tess by the way.”

“It was touch and go, but it was the right thing to do. We can't start living a new life following the old ways.” You shrugged and Tess smiled at your words, her wrinkles lining around her eyes deepening.

“Like hearing wisdom come right out of the babes mouth. I could use your help if you don't mind. Getting this camp fed is a couple people process, It's my turn to water but I got to get this all started up. Feeding all these people is a lot different than just cooking for Wilford.” She continued placing potatoes in her apron. “all-day process, and the only way we don't burn through what we got stored. You mind watering for me?”

“Be a pleasure to.” You assured her and you took over where she had left off. Curtis came later to find you, having poked his head in earlier to see you were settled into a project after dealing with Matt, he didn't want to bother you. But now it was getting late, and after pouring over the maps in what they turned into a meeting space of sorts with the rest of the “council” they formed, passing ideas of where to go, and how to proceed, he was tired. The sky was starting to darken, and spending a quiet evening with you really was all he wanted at this point. Figuring you would be where he had left you, Curtis shrugged off his jacket as he went into the humid car, glancing around, and walking down the aisle, checking the rows till he found you, kneeling while using your hands to churn dirt, snipping off any dead leaves on each individual plant, a small trailer left behind you.

“There you are... was wondering where you had gotten off to.” Heavy boots thudded the floor and you looked up in surprise. Your hair curling around your temples and a streak of dirt across your forehead, you gave him the sweetest smile that Curtis would have sworn made his heart skip a beat. “You've been in here all afternoon, think it's time we call it a day.” Hand reaching for yours, you hesitate cause yours are dirty, but a wiggle of his fingers, enticed you, and you let him pull you up. “It can't be that late, it's still light.”

“In here, artificial lighting for the plants.” Leading you to a window, you leaned into his side, looking at the way the sky was painted in so many vibrant hues.

“Alright, maybe I did lose track of time. I only meant to stay in here for a couple hours.” You admitted and he laughed, his arm resting around your waist.

“Come on, let's go eat.”

As becoming another regular was all eating dinners together. Tess would bring out whatever, and those that didn't have something stored away would come to get a bit of whatever she made that day. Groups of you would sit together, and slowly it was a mingling of people. Today you sat at Curtis’s side, sipping from a cup he brought you, and across from you, Edgar and Yona did the same as you, Yona talking about what she was doing with the kids. The kids, it was hard to think of them as the trains orphans anymore. They simply seemed to just belong to everyone now, no longer separating the train in classes as before.

“Teach them some manners, the little shites.” Edgar teased Yona, and you nudged your boot against his leg to get his attention.

“Excuse you, you were no peach either Edgar. Always sassing when you didn't get your way.” You smirked back at him over your cup as you sipped from it, Yona giggling at his side, and he narrowed his eyes at You. “I was a great kid! I listened. Kinda.”

“Right. Just as good as you listen now.” Curtis laughed deeply, moving to get up, and held out a hand to take the emptied dishes to bring them back to the kitchen. You moved to a kneel, beckoning Edgar to turn around. “Let me look at your back, see how that scar is healing.” Pushing himself from the wall, he twisted, and hiked the back of his shirt up. You leaned in closer, tracing around it for a moment. “Sore any? It looks really good, considering what happened.”

He pulled away and tugged his shirt down, giving a roll of his shoulder. Whenever the matter of his scar came up, he would go quiet. “It’s a'right. Tender once in a while, especially when hauling stuff.”

“Yea, you probably should have waited to do the cleanup.”

“Well, it had to be done.” He stated, and Yona next to him frowned slightly studying him. But Curtis coming back distracted them from the conversation, and you yawned, pushing to a stand.

“Doesn't matter if it had to be done, still should have waited. Night.” Biding your goodbye to your companions, a hot shower sounded excellent, and Curtis came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“You okay?” a soft kiss was pressed just at the hollowed curve of your neck, and you let your hands weave over the top of his around your stomach. “Yea, just super tired suddenly. Been feeling this way most of the day. I'm sure it's nothing. “

He lifted his head and frowned hearing that. “You sure you shouldn't go see Price? Could be something.” You turned just as you reached the door, and pulled yourself in close against him with a fist of your hands in his shirt, leaning up to tease your lips against his. “Handsome, I'm fine. Tired is all... I promise.” Blue eyes looked slightly doubtful, but he relented and the two of you went into the room.

“Would you tell me if you thought otherwise?” Curtis locked the door while you started stripping out of the dirtied clothing to escape into the bathroom. Curtis caught just a glimpse of your backside, and inhaled sharply. No sex for the past month and half was starting to in ways he didn't care for. But it didn't matter, there was no way in hell he was going to try anything until you were ready. Instead, he set about taking off his boots, sitting on the edge of the bed to untie them, make himself comfortable.

In the bathroom, you turned on the water and slipped in before it got hot. Not wanting to waste any water, and tipped your head back to moisten your hair, and start scrubbing it, getting the dirt and sweat out from earlier. Then getting ready to wash your body, you looked down and saw red swirling by your feet. Your hands start roaming over your body quickly without thinking, a panicked cry out. “Curtis!” You twist in the shower, looking behind you to see if your cut anywhere and it hits you.

You had your period. If came... You weren't pregnant.

And that moment relief flooded you so intensely, you slid to the floor of the tub, somewhere between a cry and laugh of relief, Curtis burst into the bathroom, in response to you calling his name. “Y/M?! Baby, you okay?” He opened the curtain to find you sitting on the bottom, and immediately scanned you going to his knees. Cupping your face as you had it pressed to your knees, making you lift up to look at him. Your body shaking slightly under his hold. “What is wrong?” and that's when he caught the bit of red escaping down the drain. “Fuck, where are you hurt?” He is shifting you forward and you finally regain yourself enough to put a stop to him.

“I'm fine, I'm okay. Turn the water off and hand me a towel?” You ask and he reached over to turn it off, worried eyes finding you again and his hands seeking to look for whatever was causing you to bleed, but you grab his hands to make him focus on you. “It came Curtis. I'm not pregnant.”

His face is just stunned, his shirt half clinging to him from where he had leaned into the spray to check on you, and you couldn't help but giggle at the way he looked, blinking water out of his face before he repeated what you said. “You're not pregnant...?” the realization flooded his expression to relief and you nodded with a grin. “You're not pregnant!” He repeated and drew you into his arms, hugging each other out of relief. “Oh Babygirl, thank god. Are you okay?” He leaned back to look at you, and moved to get up and grab a towel, holding it open for you. Pulling yourself to a stand, you step into it, feeling prominently better then you had since you were raped.

“Relief Curtis, I just feel light as air. I didn't know what we were going to do if I was.” You pressed your face into his chest, breathing in deeply while he rubbed your back through the towel.

“We would have done everything we could, just like for any other child,” Curtis assured you, thanking everything under the moon and stars though that you weren't made to go through that as well as everything else that had happened. You mumbled in his chest, and lifted your face to look up at him. “I will go see Price in the morning, just to be sure.”

“Thank you.” Curtis kissed your forehead and let his hands cup your face, kissing you in that slow way that made your heart flutter, you opened to him, your tongue sliding with his and a soft moan between you two. Curtis pulled back and let his forehead rest against yours, his hands had fallen to your hips and his fingers flexed through the terry cloth. “You better get dressed Babygirl.” Both your eyes closed, merely breathing in each other before he moved to kiss your forehead and released you.

Curtis left you to pull on a large tee, it swept well down your thighs that you've been sleeping in as we as well as a pair of panties with a liner, brushing all your hair out, and debating about putting it up, you recalled that Curtis loved your long hair. Spreading it around your shoulders, you brush it out more till it's soft waves were shining, and once you checked to make sure any mess was gone. Flicking off the switch you came into the room being dark, Curtis sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to get in since you always slept against the wall. When he saw you, his hands opened up and you happily stepped into them, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

Nuzzling against your ribcage for a moment, and his hands sliding up and down along your sides, you let your fingers slide through the back of his head, and along his neck. “Today was a good day, right?” You ask softly while lifting your head to look at him. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders. Curtis lifted his head just a bit and looked up at you, flattening his hands against the small of your back and pulling you in closer. “It was a good day Babygirl.” His hands lightly pressed against the back of your thighs and you shifted to straddle him, letting your forehead rest against his. “Even with everything that happened today, it was a good day.” His arm tightened around you and shifted back with a slight roll so he could lay you down and shifted to his side next to you.    

Loping an arm around your hip and kissing your shoulder, you slid in closer to his heat while he dragged the blankets that was collected. You felt him relax under your fingers playing in his hair, and although you didn't fall into the same lull that he did, his breathing turned shallower, soft snores rolling from his chest. Twisting to your side, his hand instinctively tightened around you, but you weren't going anywhere. Your gaze was able to follow the lines of his face from the window right behind your head, casting the room in a silver glow. Your thoughts drifted.

You were lucky, You knew it. Curtis had been with you since practically you came on the train, kept you alive and safe. You've done what you could to show your love back over the years, but you knew in this you wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for him. Even these past few weeks, surviving through the revolt, he didn't even realize it was coming back to him that saved her from the attackers. Everyone was so focused on surviving, they forgot why they survived.

If it wasn't for Curtis, they would be wasted away in the darkness, a forgotten memory of a past life.

And he never asked for anything in return. Not really. Not even during this time where you were slowly opening back up did he push for me. And another day, another time you would have fallen into that mind-frame that he no longer wanted you. But you knew better, just that morning you happened to see him relieving himself in the shower, barely catching whispers of your name, just under the sounds of his grunts. You knew he was trying to be quiet, not wanting to pressure you.

A soft shift and your name brought you out of your thoughts, and Curtis was leaning on his elbow, blue eyes searching your face. “What's on your mind Babygirl?” he had expected you to deal with some conflicting emotions since finding out that you were not pregnant, but you just looked at him with a soft expression, leaning into him and kissing him deeply, your hands clutching his shoulders and leaning back, bringing him along, and the kisses turned more feverish. Curtis groaned against your lips and down along your jawline, hissing softly against your neck. “Are you sure?” His head lifted, his hands cupping your face to search you for any doubt, any sign that you didn't want him to touch you and make love to you.

Your hands splayed over his chest raised just above you, spreading your fingers through the crisp dark scattering of hair and hummed softly in appreciation of the feeling against your palms, nodding. “Please Curtis... I miss you. But I'm scared.”

His head tilted and those kisses against your neck went to your face, each one a well placed soft brushed of lips warming you. “scared of what Babygirl?”

“What-what if I'm broken?” Your brows furrowed, and your fingers eased to his back, tracing along the flexing of muscles.

“Babygirl, you're not broken. I promise.” Curtis rubbed along your hip under your shirt. “But there's no rush Y/N.”

Your eyes roamed him and then your hands folded into your shirt and you pulled it off, letting it fall off the end on the bed.

“Show me.” You lean back into the pillows, and then Curtis shifted, wide shoulders blocking out the rest of the room as he leaned over you, leaving you gasping underneath him. Tilting your head back to give him access to your neck, outside, the stars.

There were so many stars and those desired kisses on your neck, his calloused hand sliding along your skin.

Your breathing came out in rushes, the stars going blurry in your vision. Curtis's hand grasped your chin lightly and made you look at him. 

"Babygirl, I got you. Your safe."

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @p8tn0lish​ @jtargaryen18​ @stardancerluv​ @princess-evans-addict​ @patzammit​ @fckdeusername​ @that-damn-girl​ @curtisbbq​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @simsadventures     

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Taken away' :New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Taken away"

Chapter Summary : Bell is recovering from her gunshot wounds she obtained after her last mission.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +4800

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In just one night, I had the impressions to revisit my worst nightmares. Things I'm trying to fight for days.....two weeks actually. I'm still facing the memories and nightmares where 'The Winter Soldier' was created and I'm trying at my best to stop thinking to be a brutal person. I tried but that night make me do a step back due to how I did neutralize those guards at the nightclub's bar. I'm trying to fight Adler's control and perversion above me and in one night....I did a step back and he was the one who did this to me.

The worst of it is that he didn't disturb him at all to control, I think that he liked that and missed that for 3 years.....and then, I realized that I was shot just next to my right kidney. I was thinking that I was going to die after that shot, after those traumatisms that came back to me. I was starting to lose control and my blood further once I was brought into the car by Park before we drove away. Before shutting my eyes, the only thing I saw was Park's face worried, fearing to lose me as much I was fearing to die. I slowly passed out on the way back to the safehouse, hoping I will live another day.....

I don't know where I was but by looking around me, I was surrounded by multiple flaming buildings and wrecks of vehicles and tanks. The place....it was situed somewhere in the desert but I couldn't tell exactly where it was, more looking somewhere maybe in the Middle-East or in a part of the Soviet Union. By watching the scene, I was the only survivor of what just happened and it was so fucking bad.

I wasn't standing up at all....because I was wounded at my legs, having a bullet hole in each one of them but it didn't stop here. The left part of my uniform especially the coat sleeve part was burned and I was also shot at my right shoulder, making me suffering so much pain in my body. I couldn't move at all, just looking at the skies invaded by the black smokes of the burning surroundings and hearing the flames consuming the place.

Suddenly, a much louder noise was starting to be heard at my ears until I start to saw a helicopter ready next to me. I didn't move at all, didn't smiled too but I was just trying to  stay alive as long as I can. The helicopter landed before I could see some people running towards me, leaded by....Freya.

"Fre-......Frey-......Freya !" I tried to speak but my voice were hurting me a lot like if I was punched in the throat so hard by someone.

"Yirina !" She exclaimed, getting next to me before she checked all my body and seeing its state. "Shit." She whispered as others soldiers approached me as well, mostly medical personal. "Quick, get her in the chopper !"

I was then transported by 4 fours mens inside the cargo hold of the helicopter before they put me gently on the cargo hold ground of it. I was scared, breathing a lot as those mens were near me and I was thinking that they were going to hurt me so with some part of my strenght remaining, I tried to struggle to move my arms and with so much pain my legs before Freya arrived to put her hands on me, especially on my shoulders, avoiding the wounded part.

"Don't panick, Yiri !" She said, holding my shoulders as I was still moving

"They want.....want to hurt me." I told her, so scared by these mens even she was there for me, I was so lost in that helicopter. "Let me go.....let me go, please." I started to cry in front of everyone, asking to leaving me

"We're here to save you, not hurting you." She explained to me, giving me a good look before she looked at the man at my left. "Stop being brutal with her, you're hurting her !" Her voice was sounding very angry, releasing her anger to that guy.

"It's not my fault if she is moving around and complicating our job." The man defended himself before Freya grabbed him by his collar, in a fury.

"Listen to me..." She started, enraged, holding that man like that with her right hand"If she dies because of you, you're next in line, understood ?"

"Okay, okay !" He exclaimed, Freya releasing him as the others started to hold me with less force with their hands, not wanting to hurt me and to suffer Freya's fury on them. The man started to unwrap some medicals tools out of his medic box "I need you to hold her at her shoulders and give her something that she can put in her mouth." Freya complied and the others too, them, holding my legs. She gave me a tissue that she put in my mouth to contain me.

"It's gonna hurt ?" Freya asked to him, he nodded

"I will first remove the bullet she had at her right shoulder, it's gonna hurt. Hold her still." He ordered as he started to move with his tools to my gunshot wound at my shoulder. I tried to take a deep breath but that piece of tissue in my mouth was avoiding me to breath "Grigoriev, stay still."

It was hurting me as he was, with his tools, trying to remove the bullet of my wound and each movement he was doing to remove it was making me want to move but with the others around me, holding me, it was impossible. I screamed, the tissue in my mouth when the bullet was finally removed from me, making my head move a little.

"It's okay, Yiri." Freya grinned as I was looking worried before she moved to get that tissue out of my mouth. The doctor was getting started to move at my legs as his mens were getting next to my upper body to start wrapping some bandages around my wound,

"You're safe now, no one will ever hurt you !"

Another troubling memory...still fearing to die and that fear is still present today in me but I think I need to fight that fear even if I'm believing that it was in me for a long time, impossible to remove, but I will have to do this anyways, one day. Hopefully, when I opened my eyes again, I was relieved to live another day, awakening in the medical room of the safehouse and like before I closed my eyes, the first thing I was able to see was Park standing at the end of the bed, looking at me, worried.

She was looking more happy when she saw me opening my eyes and I could see that she wanted to take me in her arms but she wouldn't want to hurt me and the others came in, having heard Park saying that I was awake. They announced to me that the bullet didn't do any bad damage on me, almost having hit my right kidney in the process but having me moving quickly allowed me to survive the shot. Adler was the only one to not come as the others explained that Park heard him saying the key-phrase to me and forbidden him to come see me after I was brought here.

I wanted to get up but they advised me to stay in bed for some days, wanting me to recover at 100% and not wanting me to hurt myself at work again like that. They were right as where I was shot was still giving me pain each time I moved my legs even if it was still healing and wrapped by some bandages. During 4 days, I followed their advices to stay in bed, sometimes giving me visit to see how I was, to give me food and drinks and Park gave me my book, allowing me to write in case I've got memories back.

I didn't have big memories coming back...well, I've had nothing coming back to me during these days, avoiding me to write in the book expect for updating some parts of the book like the description of my friends. Apart from that, nothing big actually happened in four days in work as Perseus was still struggling with the loss of 'Bonnie Blue' but her death by Adler didn't stop the arms trafficking, meaning that someone took the lead from it, the 'Nuit Blanche' was closed until further notice. Park was the one to give me updates on the situations and she was also staying a lot with me, trying to recomfort me.

Finally, after 5 days, I was finally able to move my legs and it was better for me to get up and to join the others after I put a shirt to cover myself as I was already in the same pants I had fours days ago. Once I was ready, I started to walk to get out of the medical room to get inside the main room.

"Guess who's back alive." Woods was the first person that spoke, seeing me walking out of the medical room as he started to walk in my direction.

"Finally, we were awaiting that moment for so long."  Mason followed, behind Woods as the latter was offering his hand for me.

"It's nice to see you from that height." I joked, causing the boys to laugh and smile at me as I shook hands with Woods before I moved to shook hands with Mason.

"You are really a damn warrior." Woods affirmed, looking at me proudly "I thought that you will stay in that bed for more days but look at you : in great shape !"

"I can say that." I exclaimed before I looked behind them to discover Park, grinning at me and slowly walking towards me "Hey, Park." I waved with a low voice and without warning me, she put her arms around my shoulders to hug me and to be with her, I reciprocated by putting my arms around her....we were doing a friendly hug in front of Mason & Woods.

"I'm happy to see you back on feet." She whispered to me

"I know, me too." I told her before we withdrawed from each others with an smile, we would have liked to kiss but with Woods & Mason near us, it's better to stay low for the moment. "Where's Sims and Adler ?" I asked to them

"Gone to meet an CIA agent in the city." Woods replied

"For ?" I continued

"It's for having more intels about the supposed buyer in Irak and to try to have some on the politician in the US." Mason finished before I started to walk slowly near the dashboard, followed by them.

"There's nothing else ?" I said, looking at the dashboard, trying to find if there's anything new to it.

"Apart for that nightclub to be closed down because of what happened, nothing big occured except with the part that the arms trafficking is still under way." Park responded, leaning herself on her desk. "We're suspecting that one of those three buyers took the lead." I looked at the dashboard, precisely where I did put the initals of those buyers Park mentioned, seeing each one of them : R.D, A.R and H.S.....Harry Stone, the only one that we know exactly.

"I think Harry Stone is the one who's leading that business now." I suggested, looking at Park who were biting her lips, joining her hands together...looking worried. "An ex-SAS soldier is an expert in firearms and since he travels a lot, he can train Perseus troops and manage that business." I looked at Mason & Woods, wondering what they were thinking about it

"You're maybe right..." Woods started, putting his hand on his chin, thinking "I can't see an Irakian general in the middle of a war doing this, even less for an politician in the United States."

"Same thinking with my buddy here." Mason said, nudging a little Woods for fun, making me smile before I looked at Park, still looking worried and in her thoughts.

"Park, what do you think ?" I questioned and surprisely, she almost jumped from her desk because of me. "You're okay ?" I told her, curious of her

"Yeah, I'm okay." She responded, trying to concentrate back on herself "To answer you, I'm think you're right." Her answer make me look back at the dashboard, thinking that I accidently scared her as she was in her thoughts.

"So now, we have to wait until Sims & Adler come back, right ?" I asked....maybe to everyone.

"Yeap." Woods was the one to asnwer my question first before I started to hear him and Mason walking away, maybe going back to their workplaces or maybe going to take a beer in the fridge. I finally get my eyes off the dashboard.....before I could see Park next to me, holding a jacket in hand and handing it to me.

"What are you doing ?" I asked, confused

"You don't remember what you said yesterday ?" She said in a lovely voice, grinning to me "You promised me that when you will be up that we will get some ice creams." She raised an eyebrow, mentioning a private discussion I had with her yesterday in the night before she left me to go to sleep.

"Oh yeah, I remember !" I exclaimed....semi-enthusiastic "I thought you said that I was joking about it !" I added, never thinking that she really wanted to do that.

"I never said that." She affirmed, still holding the jacket in hand before I finally decide to take the jacket and put it on me. "Now, let's go get our ice creams, I know a perfect place for that."

In less than a minute, we prepared ourselves to go out of the safehouse to get our ice creams, I did take my M1911 in case. We are maybe fighters and spies but if we can just profit of trying to live a normal life for just an moment in our days, could make us happy womens. I think it was cool from Park to organize that for me, maybe thinking that I needed to destress from work a moment since I've been working non-stop for days even if during my days in bed, I didn't work at all, letting the others doing it.

Of course, since she was the one who gave me a chance to have at least a peaceful moment since I woke up, she was the one to drive and of course, she didn't tell me absolutely where we were going, quoting that 'it was a surprise for me'. Each time I was trying to know, she was either saying that or instead, a little lovely 'Ssshhhhh'. During the drive, we didn't put any radios on as she preferred to have her thoughts cleared and not invaded by music for the moment, explaining that she wanted to have a single moment alone with me.

After 5 minutes, we finally arrived at the place she brought me : a typical american diner just next to the border with the GDR called 'Sunny Diner'. The place was looking beautiful to see :very shiny, very....american. By looking at it, I had a weird impression that I did come here before but I couldn't remember when exactly....maybe it was just a dream like that I did about the place or something I can't really explain at all.

We entered the diner, Park first, and we installed ourselves in a empty table. There weren't a lot of people at this time : it was after noon and there were just some people at the bar and few at the tables. A waitress quickly came and we ordered our ice creams and by the odds, me & Park chose the same flavor : strawberry. We both laughed about it as we both said it at the same time and once our order were done, we waited at least 2 minutes before our ice creams cup were there.

We started to eat and during our discussion, I could feel her right leg stroking mine all time and it was arousing me by an lot. Of course, I stayed focused in our discussion where we talked about herself as I wanted to know more about her : she told me when she joined the MI6, some of her various missions she has done in her firsts years but also, she opened herself to talk about her family : she has two brothers, one younger as the other....well, he died in a IRA attack in 1973 and that was her reason to join the MI6.

I was touched while listening to her story and I was quite happy to learn more about her. We were nearly finished when something in my mind came in,

"Park, can I ask you something ?" I started, having finished my ice cream cup before as she was still finishing it.

"Sure." She said, almost surprised as she was looking outside, her spoon in her right hand.

"Uhm..." I took a breath, getting my arms on the table, trying to not screwing my question over by my other thoughts. "Well, each time Stone's name is mentioned, I see you getting either troubled or lost....is there something wrong about him that I don't know ?" At hearing my question, she stopped every movements she was doing, looking like I said, troubled.

"I don't know if I can talk about this." She exclaimed, putting her hands on the table and trying to not look me in the eyes, like she hide something. I reacted by gently putting my hand over the top of hers.

"You talked about yourself." I affirmed to her, giving her an smile "I'm ready to know more." I didn't remove my hand from hers, still smiling before she nod to me and took a deep breath

"Okay." She whispered to herself as she redressed herself on her seat "Stone....was an old friend of mine." When I heard that, I understand why she was not okay each time Stone was said. "During an long time between 1975 and 1980 with him, we formed a friendly group composed of me, two others MI6 agent, an BND agent and him, an SAS soldier."

"Something bad happened, I guess ?" I asked, curious to hear that story, she nodded.

"In 1980, one of our missions goes to shit : we needed to destroy an soviet complex used for holding an nerve gas but during the mission, Stone and one of my friends in the MI6 'died'." She responded, breathing at the end of it, her voice cracking at the last word

"Faking their deaths...." I whispered to myself and somehow, she heard me

"During all these times, these two were Perseus agents and I learned it the hard way a year ago when we started to work on a mysterious project called 'Goldeneye'." So, that was the operation Belikov mentioned 2 weeks ago when I go to his place. "Stone was the one in charge and the other.....well, she was her lieutenant for it."

"How did you learn of it ?"  I questioned her

"A anonymous person asked me to encounter 'the one in charge' as he was apparently knowing me and it was at this moment I saw him."  She scratched the back of her head, not giving for me enough details but I preferred to not get too deep in it

"Must be hard to tell yourself that one of the friends you've been mourning for years is in fact a enemy." I admitted to her, moving my hand to get under hers.

"In the old days, Stone was like an hero to us but now, we all know his true state." She looked at me with narrowed eyes, taking my hand in hers "I just want sometimes to feel that he was never like that."

"I said that to myself sometimes too." I told her as it was also something I was dreaming : What if I was never just an Perseus agent ?

"Listen." She leaned from her seat, getting her head close to me "Maybe you did bad things but yourself, you know that you're not like that, you showed it to me and the others."

"I did." I said in a low voice

"Us....me, I will make sure that you will have what you want." She stated, making me things of what I wanted for me for the future

"Seeing my friends again, my path to redeem myself and......to be with you ?" I affirmed, looking at her with lovely eyes and saying the whole

"Everything at once." She said before she finally approached me to kiss me on the lips, putting her both hands on my face, giving a kiss I was waiting for days now since we weren't really able to do it even when we were alone. We broke the kiss after a long minute. "I think we should go back to the safehouse."

"I would have liked more moments like this." I whispered to her before she got up from her

"Me too." She then take a breath as she was putting her jacket back on her "We will have more time, don't worry !" She added, giving me an smile as I got up too.

Once we have finished to put our jacket on, we started to go out of the diner, not forgetting to pay for our ice creams....she payed for me and her....and then, we got back to her car, and once we were fully seated in the car, Park drove off the place as she preferred to drive herself even if I proposed myself to do it. It's not 3 years in a coma that were going to stop me to drive....it was her who did. At least, I know that she will give me one day, the chance to finally drive myself a car or something that I can drive.

In our way back, she finally decided to put the radio on maybe to remove from her thoughts what she said to me about Stone and I can understand that by the tone she has taken when she talked about him to me. We didn't talk too much in the first minutes, either giving each other some smile before getting focused back on the road again. At one moment, we were stopped at a redlight awaiting it to go to green, allowing us to pass and in a second, my thoughts were troubled by something until the light goes to green, allowing us to go through the crowded intersection.....

But at the middle of the intersection, suddenly, a car coming from the left intentionally hit the back of ours at full speed, causing our car to deviate from its path and sending us off the road, the car hitting violently a pole and making us blackout from the accident. When I opened back my eyes, I could see the smoke of our car's engine going out, the window broken down and Park....still alive but unconsious from the shock, I tried to wake her up but nothing was helping me. I could feel a little bit of blood on my face, some parts of the window making some cut in it.

I don't know how I was able to survive that accident as it was pretty brutal and my body was feeling it a lot. The seatbelt protected me but my left arm was in a big pain as it has gone against the door when the car hit the pole. I was breathing a lot, feeling the blood going down some parts of my face, especially on the cheeks and next to my lips.

I started to unbuckle my seatbelt and when I was done, I could see 2 people coming towards us....masked people.....Perseus...By seeing them, I realized that they have been following us since we left the diner to go back at the safehouse but why striking us now instead of having everyone in the safehouse ? When I saw them, I decided to act like if I was still knocked down, taking out my M1911 and hiding it from their sight with my right hand. I closed my eyes, acting....

"Shit, they're alive ?" One of them said, worried

"Of course, they have to be, ducon !" The other exclaimed, annoyed by his friend. He was sounding french and his last word showed me that it was indeed french....a bad word.

"So, we have to take the two of them ?"  The first one asked to the french guy as he was opening the door.

"Are you gonna stop asking questions ?" The french was getting angry as I could hear him finally opening the door widely "No, we only need the british cunt, orders from the top, the other.....she's nothing for us !" Nothing.....really ? They could take me but instead, they take Park away and by that, I couldn't let this happen...Why her ? "Come on, help me out to transport her to the van."  He added as he was getting Park out, helped by his friend and it was at this moment I decided to stop acting.

Once they got Park out of the car, not wanting to hit her in case, I opened my eyes and then I aimed towards the first guy I saw before shooting him in the back of the head, making him fall in front of him. I tried to shoot the other guy but instead, I start to hear some gunshot coming towards me....a van positioned in the middle of the intersection with an guy armed with an XM4 shooting at the car. I reacted quickly, opening the door at my side to get out of the car and to protect myself from the bullets.

I checked my gun mag in case....only 6 bullets and by my no-luck, it was the only mag I have bring with me, meaning that I can't miss my shot at all. During all of that, the guy aiming with his XM4 don't stop firying at me until I waited for the right time as he was reloading to go out of cover and perfectly, from an distance, to have him. At this moment, I could see Park dragged inside the van by 2 others masked persons that I tried to stop but before I could shot any bullet, I was suddenly tackled to the ground by an another person.

"Get the cunt out of here, I'll find you at the meeting point !" He shouted to his friends as he was holding me in the ground, it was the same french guy who was talking bad about Park. I watched in horror as the van left the scene, going away and in a instant, I could feel all the rage inside me growing in.

"You son of a bitch !" I yelled before I give a knee kick right in the nuts and then, I make him go away from me by pushing him backwards with my feets.

"Espèce de salope !" He said, angry in his french voice as he was trying to get up again but I was more faster as I grabbed my M1911 I had in hand by the cannon and I hit him in the face with the stock of my gun, knocking him out.

I wanted to kill him but....he was the only one that could tell me where did they sent Park away and why they took only her and not me too. That was questions I wanted to ask but not right here as they were going to have a lot of witnesses and maybe the police to arrive soon. I had to bring this guy with me back to the safehouse and interrogate him by myself. I looked around to see if there were an empty car that I could take since ours were completely destroyed and smoking.

I found one pretty quickly just at a few meters from me and I decided to steal it. I grabbed the unconscious french guy, dragging him on the ground and when I arrived near the car, I broke the window of the driver seat and open the door from the inside. Then, I dragged the guy on the backseats, making sure that he wasn't acting like me. I managed to start the car engine like if I remembered to steal some cars....that's weird, Yiri !....and then, I looked at him, with an deadly glare before I drove off the scene,

"You and I.....we will have a talk !"

[be-dazzled]

“You’ve done the unthinkable, you know. You’ve made me fall in love.” Gruvia :) (Juvia to Gray)! ❤️

Writer’s Corner: My dude! This has been sitting on my WIP for quite some time. I think you’ve already forgotten. Hehehe. Since you are the Queen of Angst, how about I have a try? Teach me the ways of the angst queen, senpai!

---

High rise building. Nothing but a silent skyscraper. But that structure, ordinary on the outside, held so much secrets… and blood. The center of the world’s best and deadliest contract killers. Where money weighed more than life. The Zenagon.

The higher the floor number, the more dangerous the slayer. On the hundred and first floor, five levels away from the occupants of the highest members of the echelon, there was an echo of fingers tapping on the hard glass atop her office table. The woman had her legs crossed under the table, blue blank eyes stared at the name flashing on her receiver. She wasn’t even supposed to receive it, to get a Kill Order. She has already rose from the ranks. Started as a meager foot soldier, climbed to the top of the food chain. At least, to the 100th floor of the Zenagon, where all the second level handlers held office.

“Cobalt, we need confirmation.” The desk-bound Zenagon intelligence on the other line waited.

“Affirmative.” The woman responded; thankful that she only had to answer through the intercom. Otherwise, her strained expression would have given her away.

“We will send the details through your mobile. Immediately make contact once the kill is secured.” This time, there was no need for a response. The order was carved in stone. And if ‘Cobalt’ failed this mission, she would be marked a traitor of the organization. Her eagle eyes flicked back to the name in the monitor.

SHOOT TO KILL: GRAY FULLBUSTER

Gray Fullbuster was dangerous because if he wasn’t, Zenagon would never send ‘Cobalt’ after him. After all, Gray Fullbuster was the son of the organization’s defected chairman and ‘Cobalt’s’ trainer, Silver Fullbuster. She was ordered to kill the son of the only person who treated her as his own child. But it was also Silver who taught her that in their line of work, there was no room for human connection, no space for feelings. That any human emotion would get her killed in the field. For years she always believed it: that feelings were a privilege not available to people like her. The creed allowed her to survive the harsh reality of her world. But he changed it. Cobalt’s gratitude wasn’t the only thing that started the conflict within her. It was that one thing that she has deprived herself all her life. That one thing that made her question her entire belief system. If money weighed more than life, could it also overcome feelings?

Before she could answer her own question, her cellphone pinged. Cobalt opened the message. Just like how it’s always been, the instruction was short and simple: Rooftop. Hargeon Oceanside Hotel.

She didn’t know how they found him. Nevertheless, Cobalt had to go to him and carry out her mission. The woman hurriedly opened the top left drawer of her desk and pulled out her Beretta M9. Although she hasn’t used it in the field after her promotion, Cobalt weekly tried her service pistol in the organization’s shooting range. That way she was confident the Beretta wouldn’t fail her when the need arises. After checking that all fifteen rounds were loaded, Cobalt tucked the pistol in the holster strapped around her upper leg and left for her kill.

---

The intelligence report was spot-on. Zenagon prided itself with superb intelligence gathering. True to the report, Cobalt found her target at the rooftop of the building. But like her, Gray was also an agent. He was trained to be prepared, day and night.

“I knew they’d send you for me. I just didn’t think they’d find me that fast.”

Cobalt had her prey cornered. With no more roof to run on, Gray finally faced his killer, staring into her menacing blue eyes.

“Give yourself up, Shadow.” She addressed him with his Zenagon alter ego which made the latter snicker, wincing at the meaningless name now that they marked him a traitor.

“I think we’re past that, Juvia.”

Juvia aimed the end of her barrel at Gray’s direction. Her years of training had taught her not to flinch, lift a finger or move a muscle, at anything even if Gray had used her real name, exposing her identity. Something considered a mortal sin in their line of work. Juvia, Zenagon’s Cobalt, kept her ground, ready to pull the trigger if Gray foolishly made a move. Her trained eyes followed his every moment. She could see him consider his options.

Gray looked behind him; the ocean, as angry as the blue pools drilling a hole on him. He wasn’t sure he’d survive the fall but it was the only option left for him if he chose it. Gray gazed back to his assigned killer, searching her eyes to find some salvation. There wasn’t. Gray laughed – a dry, humorless laugh that echoed into the wind. At the callous old men of the Zenagon, at the heartless situation they brought the two of them in. It must have been their punishment.

“Spineless jerks.” He said, “Sending you, of all people, to kill me? That’s just heartless, baby.” Even with his life hanging in the balance, Gray was still that insufferable cocky son of a b*tch.

Juvia agreed with him. She didn’t have to say it. There were hundreds of people they could send to end Gray’s life. They chose her, Gray’s own Zenagon handler, to pull the trigger on him. Either out of spite or to serve as a cautionary tale for everyone who’d fall off the wagon, just like Gray and Juvia did. Maybe both. But either way, it was damn tragic.

Gray made tentative steps towards Juvia, taunting, challenging. His usual smug slowly changing his features. But looking closer, there was no challenge or confidence on his expression. There was only resignation.

“Do you really think I am all those things they accuse me of?”

Juvia knew what he was trying to do, she was the one who trained him. She had enough experience to know not to fall for it.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll have to–”

“–Then shoot me.”

But Gray was inching towards her. His steps covered the short distance between them until the end of her barrel hit his chest.

“If you really think I am capable of all those things, shoot me. Right in the heart.”

Juvia released the safety pin on her pistol, pressing the barrel against the plane of his chest. All she had to do was pull the trigger and all her problems would go away. Just a light nudge on that cold steel and he’ll be gone… forever.

“It’s either me or you, right? So, go on. Shoot me.”

He didn’t blink. He didn’t falter. Juvia could see that he was serious about it. It should be easy, he has resigned to his fate – Shadow dying in the hands of Cobalt. Juvia could feel a slight crack forming on the walls she built up all those years. She knew he could see it too. Despite her efforts not to let anyone get close – too close, it just happened. He might not have been able to tear down the wall entirely but Gray managed to force a crack on that hard façade. She could feel it growing every passing moment.

“You’ve done the unthinkable, you know.” The tears she never knew she could shed started falling down her cheek. Resolved to be faithful to the only life she knew how to live, Juvia allowed the crack to break open, to be true to herself, just this once. “You’ve made me fall in love.” One last time.

She thought the confession would finally free her. That it would finally give her the courage to pull the trigger. But surrendering to her true feelings, Juvia felt the weight of the gun wearing her down.

“I love you, too.”

Gray shoved her hand holding the gun away, kicking the firearm away from both their reach. He then grabbed her by the waist, crashing her pliant body against his. Gray pressed his lips against Juvia’s, hungrily brushing them as he opened his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss as his hand held Juvia’s head in place. She didn’t fight it, afraid she wouldn’t be able to win. She didn’t want to win. But Gray pulled away before she could even respond to his kiss. He pulled away enough only so he could look her in the eyes as the two of them drew staggered breaths. Her deadly blue eyes softened into his, wet by the tears that she shed for him, for them.

Juvia might have finally opened herself up to him but that didn’t change anything – certainly not the unforgiving circumstance they found themselves tangled in. If anything, Gray’s kiss only made it worse for Juvia. So, he did the only thing he could to save her. Gray plunged a blade into her stomach and pushed her into the ocean with him.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/67791176

Chapter 39

The band's success became more and more noticeable. Even though they seemlingy didn't do anything different than before, what was making their music, the hotels they lived in became more luxurious. Suddenly they were filled with eagerly polite pages that followed them around, not only caring for their luggage for that they could now afford more costly stuff. Still, more important to them than clothes and fancy rooms, was their equipment. Norbert saved money for something very special he had been looking forward to for a long time. When he finally had enough, he set out early in the morning to get it, because it had become increasingly difficult for him to show his face in public without being recognized by anyone. Even though Norbert liked the attention, if not admiration, he avoided them now. He didn't want to be held up. Someone else was going to admire him today and he couln't wait to see that person again.

Some time later he arrived at Bates' Music Shop. The quiet ring of the bell already made him feel nostalgic for all the good old times he had spend in there, staring at all those instruments he couldn't pay for and wallowing in dreams. It was a long time ago since he had last visited the shop. He simply didn't have time. And now he felt like he entered the past. He let his eye wander over the shiny new equipment, thinking about how much he could afford now. A mix of various colorful guitars caught his eye. But when he searched for the object of his desire he noticed with horror that it was gone.

"No", he whispered and hurried over to the instruments to take a closer look. He couldn't find the one. Then a familiar voice interrupted him. "Can I help you?" Immediately, he turned around. "Where is it?", he desperately asked and Bates gave him a puzzled stare. "I'm sorry?" Norbert pointed at the wall. "That masterpiece of wood and strings that was hanging over there." "You mean, the blue guitar?" "Yeah, that," Norbert said, vehemently nodding. "Where is it now?" "Well," Bates said, turned away and walked back to the counter, way too relaxed for Norbert's taste.

"It's reserved for a special customer," the shopkeeper explained then. "What? Who?", Norbert blurted out. "I'm sorry, but I'm not giving away the names of my customers. Discretion, you know." Norbert, who had followed him to the counter, now folded his hands to plead: "Please, Mr. Bates, I must have it! I'll pay more than that other customer! You know how much it means to me, please think about it!" Bates blinked. "Norbert? Is that you?" His expession lit up. "Uh...Yeah, it's me," Norbert answered and unsurely grabbed his hair. "Did I change so much not even you can recognize me?"

"Well, if you don't look close enough...", Bates eyed him. "I heard you're a star now." Norbert was flattered but waved him off. "Nowhere near. I just stopped being broke for most of the time." "Nick Lightbearer", Bates said grinning. Norbert returned the smile. "The girls like it." "Oh, I can imagine you're being very busy now. You don't come round to my place anymore." "Uh, well, we really are busy. You know, the tour and everything. We've never been as wanted as we are now. It's all exciting. We even played in the Parade District." "I hope there's no better music shop in the Parade District that you favor now?" "Oh, no, there's no better shop than yours in the entire town," Norbert assured him, making Bates light up even more.

"Well, I've been wondering if you would remember good old Bates one day and visit me again. And for that case..." He grabbed something under the counter. "I kept this for a while longer." Suddenly, the blue-silver, shiny guitar lied in front of Norbert who loudly gasped. "You...you kept it for me?," he stuttered while his fingers stroked the polished wooden body. "You're lucky. I was about to give it away. There really is another potential buyer I can't put off for any longer." "You really are priceless", Norbert sighed, then he quickly digged into this pocked and brought out a wad of notes that he slapped on the counter. "Keep the rest," he said with emphasis. Bates shortly estimated how much it was, then he shook his head. "I can't take that." "You can. See it as amends for everything I owe you." "You don't owe me nothing." "Nothing officially," Norbert corrected him and shoved the notes back to him. "Just take it. Or else I'll offer you more." "Don't lead me into temptation, old Nick," Bates said laughing and finally accepted the payment. "But don't let that get to your head, you hear me? Money makes people lose their common sense. You're a good boy, Norbert. Stay that way."

Norbert gave a wide smile. "Don't worry, I have the best overseer," he said, thinking about his beloved, sensible Morrie. "Alright." Bates shortly patted his shoulder. "Drop by from time to time, will you?" "Of course I'll come back," Norbert promised, "I can't survive without your stuff!" "Little charmer." "You know me," Norbert said with a self-contented shrug. "Good luck, Norbert", Bates dismissed him and Norbert reverently took his new guitar, put it in it's case and made his way back to the hotel, where Morrie was surely waiting for him. He was so euphoric he felt like he could fly away if the guitar case wouldn't hold him down. He couldn't wait to show his lover what he got.

First, he placed it in the hallway, before he went into the room. Morrie was sitting at the desk and writing music, as usual. "Hey there, my sweetheart, did you miss me?," Norbert greeted him cheerfully. "Norbert, where have you been?" His lover sounded a bit reproachful. Norbert walked over to him and started to massage his shoulders. Morrie stretched himself, leaning into the touch and sighing quietly. Then Norbert leaned closer to whisper into his lover's ear: "I have a new crush." Morrie promptly froze. "You have what?" His voice rasped. Norbert continued to pet him while he said: "She's outside, in the hallway. Wanna see her?" His voice was soft as silk. Morrie stood up and stared at him in disbelief, following him outside.

He was still staring when Norbert showed him his new acquirement with bright eyes. "Isn't she beautiful?", he whispered, holding the wooden body. Morrie let out the air. "You...", he began and walked towards Norbert. "You nasty brat!" Norbert broke out in laughter and fled backwards until his back hit the wall. His lover had no trouble closing the distance between them. "Come here you, I'll teach you a lesson!" He grabbed the other boy, threw him over his shoulder and carried him back to the bed. Norbert still laughed hysterically, trying to speak. "...Morrie...wait...can't you take a joke...?"

The moment he lied in bed Morrie started to tickle him without mercy. "Stop," Norbert was soon out of breath. "Stop it!" "So, you've been in Bates' Music Shop without me? What weird new habit is that?", Morrie asked him, granting him a pause. "I...wanted...to...surprise you," Norbert gasped. "Fucking me over is what you wanted," Morrie countered and continued the punishment. "Scare the hell out of me. What did I do to deserve this?" Norbert winded, helplessly laughing. "Nothing...nothing! Please, Morrie...I...sincerely...apologize...please stop...I...can't..." Morrie showed pity and granted him another pause.

While he watched him gasp for air, he couldn't help but pet his cheek, tell him it was okay. Norbert quietly chuckled and beamed at him. "Do you like it a bit?", he asked after calming down. "Oh, yes," Morrie affirmed. "You'll look ravishing with it. I won't be able to focus when I see you on stage." Norbert chuckled. "You only see me from behind." "That's even worse." Morrie chuckled too. "But you'll turn around for me from time to time, right? Blow me a kiss and that?" "Sure, I'll come over to shag you on your concert grand." Morrie's face turned a bit more pink. "You know how I like it."

Their financial status wasn't the only thing that changed alongside with their increasing popularity. One day Norbert entered the breakfast lounge and a girl walked close behind him, asking him, seemingly out of breath: "I'm sorry, are you Nick Lightbearer?" Norbert eyed her face that radiated excitement and made a lazy pose when he answered: "You're right, luv, that's me. And who are you?" She made a high pitched sound and pressed her hands on her mouth, before she clasped them and said: "I'm your biggest fan!" Then she calmed down a bit and said quieter. "Elaine, just call me Elaine." "Okay, Elaine," Norbert answered, and even this simple sentence made her chuckle happily. "How about we get ourselves a coffee and talk?" That made her a bit uneasy.

"I'd totally love to...But...but...I don't live in this hotel. I only heard a rumour that you're here and sneaked past the waiters to get to you." "Really?", Norbert laughed. "You have some manners, girl." She chuckled again. "Are you mad?" "Nonsense, just sit down, you're my guest now.", he decided without hesitation. He hadn't met a fan before that took a risk to see him and he was just as curious about her than she was about him. Soon, they were sitting at one of the modern, expensive looking tables and Norbert ordered them coffee.

"That's so kind of you, Nicky," she sighed, admiring him. Norbert waved her off. "It's nothing..." "You are a kind one, are you? Or are you rather dangerous, you know, like they say in the magazines?", she continued to purr, eyeing her idol, who made an effort to adjust his suit and his hair without being obvious. If he had known he had visitors today he would've spent more time on it in the bathroom. "That depends," he answered, "right now I'm in a way too good mood to be dangerous." "Oh, that's so amazing," she cheered. "I've always wanted to meet you, Nicky, and now I finally see you in person." "Well I hope you're not disappointed," Norbert said and leaned back, looking as relaxed as possible while his feelings boiled up. He had the choice between bursting with pride or drilling her with questions why of all people she admired him so much. Instead he tried to look like it wasn't the first time he met a fan.

"Absolutely not. You look even better than in the magazines." She sighed again. "I didn't get that close to you at your concerts. I'm so glad I found you, Nicky. Does it bother you that I call you Nicky?" "Not at all. My friends call me that too." Norbert's heart pounded loudly. Many girls liked him before, but they never adored him that much and made him so many compliments. This whole situation paralysed his tongue. He found himself much too taciturn, but Elaine seemed to like him anyway. Every single one of his words made her beam more.

Suddenly she leaned closer and whispered so quietly that he had to lean in too to hear her. "I fell in love with you just the moment I saw you on TV..." Norbert froze, wondering if he had misheard her, and gave her a quite flabbergasted look. Then he felt her foot on his. "Don't you feel it too? Our hearts beat like one when we're close." Norbert opened his mouth to answer but his brain didn't come up with anything, so he stared in silence. The cool facade collapsed. He knew he should shy away, run, but that would only embarass him in front of everyone in this room. In addition, his body didn't obey him. He was paralysed, waiting for anything to happen.

"You have to kiss me now, Nicky," she whispered. Norbert leaned closer without thinking. He tilted his head, felt the warmth of her skin when he suddenly stopped. His heart pounded heavily in his throat and panic started to bubble up in him. The feeling radiated from his chest and ran through his body, causing him to struggle his way off the table while Elaine's disappointed look followed him. "Sorry...I don't feel it," he stuttered and hurried out of the lounge, feeling the looks of every guest on him and the heat crawling up his face. But he couldn't stop running until he was back in his room.

Still shivering, he crawled under the blanked, trying to forget Elaine. But the feeling of regret didn't leave him. Regret of running away, not taking the chance. She had longed for him so much. He couldn't forget her eyes he had been running from and feared he would dream of them. Then he scolded himself. Morrie was his one true love! Why was it so hard to follow that simple rule? He felt guilt, as if he had really kissed her, because he wished he had done it. Because he felt like a coward and at the same time like a cheater. He didn't know how long he hid under the blanket until Morrie found him. He felt his fingers palpate the blanket. "Norrie? Are you still in bed?" Then he lifted it up and eyed at his lover with an amused expression. "What are you doing down there?" When he saw Norbert's helpless look he turned serious. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

Norbert straightened himself, grabbed Morrie like a drown would grab the shore, and pressed his lips on his. He kissed him as fiercely as he would've kissed her, giving to him what she had tried to steal. Morrie, who was surprised by his lover's eagerness, made an amazed sound. He was pulled into the bed. Norbert sat down on his lap and gave in to the urge he had been surpressing, ripping the clothes off his lover's body. He bit and licked Morrie's skin, turning him into a winding and moaning mess. Then he entered Morrie, making his lover gasp at the unexpected, forcing himself not to cramp. Norbert began with a slow rythm, feeling Morrie move his hips to let him in. He needed him more than ever. His fate depended on this moment.

When the release he had longed for overwhelmed him, he bit Morrie's shoulder, feeling the salty taste of his sweat. Shivering and sweating, he made a few more thrusts while Morrie clung to him, moaning in pleasure and ruining the bedsheet. When Norbert collapsed next to him, he heard his lover breathe in silence. His hands stroked Norbert's temples and Norbert closed his eyes, focusing on the gentle touch. Then his lover made an approving whistle. "My, Norrie...", he whispered. "I gotta say...I didn't know you until now." "I see that as a compliment," Norbert sighed, hugged his lover tightly and smiled. "Do you feel better?", Morrie said into his ruffled hair. "Yeah." All feelings for Elaine were gone. He kissed Morrie once more, on the cheek, as thanks.

[the-hidden-writer]

An Odd Family Tree

A series of snippets from the lives of the FitzSimmons family, set post 7x13. Also, the series of events that lead up to the birth of their grandson.

Available to read on AO3 and FF.net.

Comments make my day!

Chapter 26: Ever After

“So please, just tell me once and for all… who did I name my son after?”

Jemma turned to Fitz for help, she truly didn’t know what to say, but her husband was still frozen in his place, his mouth moving but not quite managing to form words.

So it was up to her, then. She took a deep breath- if she was going to tell her daughter the truth, then she might as well tell her everything rather than insult her intelligence.

“Alya, d-darling, do you remember the mission we told you about? The one where we were sent to the future to save the world from getting torn apart?”

Alya was quiet for a few moments before she replied. “I remember.”

“Well,” Jemma continued, her voice sounding as heavy as her heart felt in the unusually tense kitchen, “do you remember how we got back to the present?”

“Something to do with Uncle Enoch, right?” Alya questioned skeptically. She only had very vague memories of Uncle Enoch, but there were plenty of pictures showing the pair together. What she definitely couldn’t remember was him being a robot. He’d always just felt like a part of the family.

“Y-Yeah.” Fitz affirmed. “It is. B-But in order to get us home, h-he-”

“He needed backup.” Jemma said, and Fitz shot her a grateful look. “And so an… um, ally we’d made in the future offered to help. We all thought it was a suicide mission, but we think he ended up getting sucked in by the tiny piece of the monolith that was near him. He came back to our time and timeline too.”

“You never mentioned bringing someone back from the future with you! That’s a huge change to history.”

“We know!” Fitz exclaimed.

“We didn’t mean to.” Said Jemma. “But he came back with us and tried to help us.”

“Tried?” Alya questioned.

“He got shot and had to have emergency surgery.”

Fitz gasped and snapped his attention towards Jemma. “He got shot?! You never told me- oh no…”

Alya looked between them, her face darkening with concern. “Who was he, Mum?”

Jemma continued to purposefully ignore her. “Even after he got shot, none of us really had time for him. We treated him so horribly. I always thought that I did better than the others, but just now I realised that it felt more like an act back then. Like I was obliged to be nice to him. B-But I shouldn’t have…”

She choked back a sob then, and Fitz quickly rushed to her side to comfort her.

Alya couldn’t find it in herself to find sympathy. She glared at them, the same question reflected in her expression.

“You know, he told me once about his family.” Fitz said whilst rubbing Jemma’s back. “He was a… a slave, I think. All humans were in that future. He told me that his mum had been murdered in front of him when he was just nine-” his voice cracked at his own words- “and his dad was sent to die.”

Alya opened her mouth to say something, but Fitz didn’t let her.

“B-But that’s how he learned to survive!” He said, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “He came back, started a whole company and was super rich and- and we left him…”

He covered his face with his hands and Jemma gently pried them off his face to kiss his cheek.

“He chose to stay behind.” Jemma reassured. “Without him, we wouldn’t be here, and this timeline might not even exist.”

“What was his name?” Alya whispered again, her skin a sickly pale hue.

Jemma and Fitz shared a look of devastation, because there was no going back or even going forward without revealing the inevitable. The silence in that moment was thick and heavy. It felt like no words would ever be able to cut through it.

Luckily, no words were needed. From outside, Deke’s sudden loud burst of giggles could be heard over Owen’s playful shout of exasperation.

Jemma’s head turned towards the window, though her vision was too blurred with both age and tears for her to focus it properly.

She smiled a wobbly smile.

“His name was Deke.”

Both Fitz and Jemma’s hearts broke at Alya’s cry of anguish. They watched her fall to her knees as she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her shock. They both had strong instincts to comfort her, she needed it more than they did after all, but neither of them could find it within themselves to do so.

They felt like they didn’t deserve it.

“I-I thought you might have looked into the future or something.” She sobbed. “Not- not this! Not from that future!”

In-sync as always, Fitz and Jemma’s parental instincts broke them out of their guilty stupors and they hurried to their daughter to help her back to her feet.

“He was a hero.” Jemma said as she brushed the dirt off her daughter. “And trust me, once we’d brought him back he was genuinely the sweetest man I’ve ever known.”

Fitz let out a small scoff… that turned into a broken laugh… that melted into a sob.

“You said you left him.” Alya said, wiping away her tears with her sleeve almost childishly. “Where? Why didn’t you go back for him?”

“Our final mission.” Fitz supplied, knowing that his wife’s memories of those final moments of that mission were hazy. “In order to get us back to our timeline from the screwed up one and take all those chronicoms back with us, someone needed to activate the quantum device from the other end.”

Alya gasped with sudden understanding.

“Deke volunteered.”

“That drawer.” Stated Alya. “That’s-”

“All we could find left of him on the Zephyr once it was all over.” Jemma answered. “That tape we used the walkman with is all him. He stole the songs, but that was his voice.”

“I… I don’t believe…”

Her parents didn’t need to be prompted into wrapping her into their arms. They did so, and Alya let them hold her as she shook and cried and mourned.

“Why are you sad?”

The trio turned their heads towards the owner of the little voice, who was standing in the doorway where Alya had caught them. He was fidgeting with his t-shirt again, his brown spiky hair was all tousled and full of mud, and his face was full of such genuine concern that made it look strange upon such a small child’s face.

“Oh, my little monkey.” Alya called, sniffling. “Come here.”

She immediately knelt down and opened her arms out for a confused Deke to run into. Her hands closed around him like a trap that wasn’t going to let go of its prey any time soon. And everyone was fine with that.

“I’m so, so proud of you.” Alya’s voice was muffled by the fact that her face was buried into Deke’s bony chest.

“We love you very much, sweetie.” Jemma said, planting a kiss on Deke’s free hand. “More than you can ever know.”

Fitz ruffled his already messy hair. “Seriously, you’re the best, Baby Deke.”

“I’m not a baby!” Deke stuck his tongue out at his grandad, satisfied that his family wasn’t sad anymore. “Stop saying baby!”

“You’re right.” Jemma said warmly.

Fitz smiled, linking hands with his wife. “You’re our big Deke now.”

The pair noticed that Alya squeezed their grandson tighter. They shared a knowing look.

Deke grinned widely, the gaps in his teeth becoming more clear. There was an air of innocence around him that neither Jemma nor Fitz had ever gotten the chance to see before.

“Thanks Bobo, thanks Nana. You’re the best too.”

~-.-~

Leo and Jemma Fitz-Simmons had thought that they’d gotten their happy ending the very second Alya was born. It had been the happiest day of their lives, despite the team being missing, because they were finally a family.

But since they’d completed the mission that they’d been preparing for years, it had felt like something was still missing. They’d lost Enoch. They’d lost Deke.

They didn’t really have time for mourning back then. They had to set up proper lives for themselves. Raise a daughter and actually live normal lives. Still, that void left by those losses felt like it could never be filled.

At least, that was the case until Fitz stumbled upon Owen Shaw.

Meeting Owen brought them hope. He brought the chance of healing the open wound, of mending something that was permanently broken. Or, in their case, permanently stuck in a disastrous reality that he never should have been in.

It had taken many, many years, but Deke Shaw was finally born and with him that void had started to close. Slowly but surely.

The couple had known since his birth that they would have to tell Alya the truth at some point, but time passed quickly and they didn’t know how to proceed. They grew older and older, but so did Deke.

Alya was angry at first, as any mother would be. But after a lot of explaining, she understood. They gave her the power of telling Owen if she wanted to, and she decided against it. For as much as the memory of Deke influenced her son, she wanted him to be his own person.

Or at least, that’s what she told her parents. But they knew her well enough to know that she was just trying to distance him from the orphaned slave as much as she could for the benefit of her own mental health.

Yet, perhaps for some unrelated reason, the rift that had formed between Owen and Deke began to close. Owen grew closer to his son and by some miracle began to treat him in such a kind way that would never be associated with the boisterous Owen Shaw.

Alya herself had grown almost inseparable with her son. She comfortably changed her job to a part-time position in order to be able to spend more time with him. This extra time allowed her to take him to a dietitian to help improve his physical health. Though his ribs were still visible, he was no longer underweight, and that in itself was a huge achievement to Alya.

She’d also grown a lot closer to her parents. Though for a while they’d been distant due to work demands, they ended up visiting a lot more often and having little adventures in the garden. She knew that they needed support, and she wouldn’t hesitate to give it to them. They were her everything. As was Deke.

Deke, as all children do, grew up too fast. One day he was a mischievous five-year-old, the next he was a mischievous nine-year-old. He was considered a genius in his school and did end up moving up a class. Since he still struggled with making friends though, he fell to his grandparents. He never failed to make them laugh, and would boast to his classmates about how cool his Nana and Bobo were. That they used to be spies!

And FitzSimmons? Well, time passed for them too. Also too quickly. They renovated the Deke Drawer into the Deke Shelf. A shelf in a display cabinet filled with little trinkets in the living room, there for all to see.

They knew that, however much time they had left, they didn’t want to spend it keeping secrets or worrying over loose ends. They’d long since dismantled their lab and all prototypes and equipment within it. Their consciences were free. They were free.

Fitz grew his fabulous grey beard to a ridiculously long length. Jemma convinced him to trim it. This was the sort of adventure they liked now, the sort that involved only laughs and no danger or SHIELD or loss.

And they were happy. They’d had to wait half a century for it, but the universe had gifted them with uninterrupted happiness.

This was their true happy ending.

There will be 2 epilogue chapters following this. Thank you for reading!

[capricornus-rex]

Old Friend, New Family (3)

Requested by: Anon | Prompt:

Hey I was wondering if you’d take a prompt where the reader is an ex-padawan who’s master died pretty early on in order 66, and was instead saved by a clone that removed his inhibitor chip. Then maybe they get separated, and years later when the reader is a crew member on the Mantis, they come across the clone again? How would the crew, especially Cal and Cere, react to meeting a friendly ex-soldier clone who’s close with the reader? Could you make it full of angst then fluff? Love your writing!

Tags: Defected! Clone Trooper, Jedi Survivor! Reader, Order 66 Survivor

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: Part 1 | Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

CURRENT TIMELINE

In time, you found yourself alone… again.

In a short span of only two years, the guardian who said would have your back disappeared and never returned to you—and so you’ve entered a life truly on your own.

That is until you met Cal Kestis.

Three years ago, Cal was surprised to find another Jedi—who’s nearly in the same age as he is, no less. He found you in a street brawl against some Stormtroopers in Corellia, during a side trip to the planet. When he sensed that you were alone and on the run—as he did before—he offered you a place in the Mantis; seeing that there was nowhere else for you to go, not knowing where Strig could be or if he’ll ever come back, you got tired of waiting and being hopeless.

Strig, I’m sorry… but I will find you. I swear. You said in your mind as you took Cal’s offering hand.

That time when you were getting to know each other, you became fast friends. Ironically, your bond was formed over the fact that you’re both Jedi—finally, something the two of you can relate to. Your connection was strengthened by your stories of surviving the Purge, even though you’re probably worlds apart and were complete strangers to each other. It was another way of growth, as Cere saw it.

Little by little, throughout that time you’ve spent together, that connection evolved into more than friends as the Mantis hopped from one planet to the next. The two of you became open books to one another and your relationship became intimate.

“I’m glad you’re here, [y/n],” Cere opened up to you once during your stay in Bogano. “I don’t know if you realize it but you’ve taken care of Cal in more ways than one.”

“Sometimes I feel like he’s the one taking care of me!” you beamed, then shifted back to a somber tone. “I just know what it feels like to have lost everything. I think we all have gone through that one way or another.”

“I agree. For someone so young, you’re quite insightful,”

“My master often thought the same thing about me,”

A hint of sorrow laced the small smile on Cere’s face, “I’m sure he did.”

Eventually, your journey had brought you to the planet Zeffo. After that showdown with the AT-ST, you decided to take some time off before returning to the Mantis.

Once settled in, you’re almost afraid to close your eyes—afraid of the unknown that you’d see in the trance. Long have you struggled to prepare yourself once darkness loomed behind your eyes, often you did tell yourself that you’re ready but in reality are not, and you’re constantly plagued by loss, grief, death, and sorrow.

“Padawan, listen well, whatever happens… Survive!”

“Master…!”

“Come on, kid, there’s nothing left for us here. But you don’t have to be alone…”

The explosions, the ear-shattering whistles of the projectiles leaving the blasters’ barrels, and the shouts of the clones entered your one ear and exited the other; the sight of Master Zal Karos and his final moments when he was still alive, when you stood by his side against an army of unrelenting clones, was mind-numbing and made your head ache; and finally, the feeling of Strig’s friendly grip around your small hand brushed over your skin—you could feel the tattered padding of his gloves on your palm—and then you felt his touch on your back as he shepherded you out of the aftermath.

Your mind trapped in the persistent influence of your memories warped you to the town of Yezuf, in Ghidra—where you and Strig have made a home to flee from the Purge.

Fire blanketed the town and everyone was in an immense state of panic. Even though it was only a memory, the sensations felt real that it’s overwhelming: the harsh push of the crowd as you go against the flow felt like punches and jabs into your stomach, the heavy bodies shouldering past you made your arm twitch, and hands blindly digging in and bruising your skin as strangers held for support as they ran the other way.

“Everybody, this area is off-limits! Authorized officers are only allowed beyond this point!”

“Strig?! STRIG!!”

“Violators shall be apprehended! Hey you, kid! Get outta here!”

“No wait! I have someone there..! STRIG!!!”

“Strig…” you murmured.

The memories are still vivid in your mind, it’s as if they had only happened yesterday. Five years have passed since the Purge, and three for Strig’s unexplained disappearance when you were living in Ghidra. Most of the time, they invade your meditation, and yet you’re unable to open your eyes from it.

“Hey, [y/n],” Cal called from afar.

You open your eyes, the green grass beneath the pillars and stone’s throws fill your vision, and your head turns to Cal’s direction. He often finds you in the same spot at the windswept ruins. The young redhead scales the steps and joins you at the platform right before the tomb’s elevator.

“I know that look. Something troubling you?”

“It’s… getting difficult for me to focus on meditation lately,” you trail off and then dismiss the thought. “I’ll get over it.”

“Having trouble collecting your thoughts?”

“I suppose…” you trail off, staring at space in search of a word. “It’s nothing.”

Cal accompanied you in relishing the tranquility of this part of the planet. The two of you listened to the mountain breeze, the faint song of the ice and snow, and the shifting of the rocks beneath the surface—where the extravagant tombs rest. After that brief moment, he perked up and reached for his pouch behind his back.

“I got you something,”

“Oh, you did?”

Cal opens the flap to reveal a batch of bread that Greez made. When you took a bite, a dark red puree oozed out from the center.

“Are these…?”

“Strawberries!” Cal finished the question and answered it altogether. “I told Greez they’re your favorite. They liked it too back there.”

Your heart melted. The fact that you told Cal only once that strawberries were your favorite—but you didn’t expect him to remember that—made you all the more fuzzy inside. Cal may not know it, but he seems to find it quite easy to cheer you up—whether it’s making you smile or laugh, he always had a trick up his sleeve. You take bites of the bread, tilting your head back so the jam drops right into your mouth, and then swatting the crumbs off your face.

“The sky is so weird here,” you blurted.

“What made you say so?”

“Look, there’s always thunderclouds looming about, but no sign of rain—just cold wind,”

“Planets and their weather differ, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but compared to most planets I’ve been to back in the Clone Wars, the weather here is nicer.”

Amused in watching your curiosity and imagination run wild, Cal propped his cheek over his fist as he asked you more about the planets you’ve been to back in the day. In return, you made him promise to tell about his side of the story.

“Do you think our masters ever knew each other?” you bring up the topic out of the blue.

“What, you mean like, fought together until they had some Padawans tagging along with them?”

You giggled at Cal’s visualization, but still you nodded in reply, “I was thinking of something along the lines of just being in the same room but… Yes, something like that.”

“I’m sure they have, in one way or another,”

You gave an affirming nod and then silence followed. He noticed that you’ve stopped wolfing down on your favorite snack and just examined the last bite between your fingers. Cal decided that it was a good idea to steal the last bite off of your hands, he took the bread using his mouth and then took off.

“Hey!” you cried out.

“You weren’t eating it anymore!” his mouth was partially full, hopping through the grass as he spoke.

“Go get your own, you brought a bag of it!”

You chased after him and tackled him to the next lower tier. Like children, the pair of you burst out laughing and threw your backs flat on the bed of grass dotted with little purple flowers; Cal plucked one and gingerly placed it on your hair.

“Aww, look how pretty you are,” he cooed, stroking your cheek with the back of his hands.

You tossed to the side so you face each other, in turn, you’re now the one stroking his hair and dusting off shreds of grass at the same time and sprinkled petals on his hair too.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 64 - Bridges Built and Burned

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: description of a panic/anxiety attack Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3 or start at Chapter 1

----------

Twelfth day of Haring, 9:31 Dragon

An air of calm followed Rosslyn over the following days as she settled into the limitations the mages put on her for her recovery. In the beginning, she chafed at not being allowed to do more, but after the first hour-long meeting with Cailan and his surviving advisors left her grey-faced and staring into thin air, she gave in to her convalescence with barely a grumble. Anora, at least, understood her need to be doing something, even if beneath the graceful manners and elegant pours of tea every conversation with the queen felt like a test, a way to pry out her inclinations and posture over the king’s good opinion. Perhaps the suspicion was merely a holdover from too many years of habit, a wariness for the woman who had been set up as her rival before she even left the schoolroom, but it didn’t make their talks any less exhausting.

Far more pleasant was the extra time she got to spend with Alistair. Charming as ever, he kept as much in her company as he could with all her duties loaded on his shoulders, taking her out onto the battlements or to see Cuno, or tucked up in the warmth of the library so they could go through paperwork together. The normalcy of it felt strange after almost a year of sleeping with only a thin sheet of canvas to keep out the weather, and the routine and bustle of an army camp to keep her from thinking too deeply of home. Now home was the reality, complete with the familiar comforts and faces she had left behind, even if the fit was slightly off, like a favourite shirt pulled out of shape after one too many launderings.

On the third day, she even managed to sneak away. It was good to have a little rebellion, despite her reluctance to go further than either seeing Lasan in the stables, or to the kennel to check on Cuno’s recovery. Her dog’s missing foreleg had done nothing to quell his excitement when she had first stepped into the runs, his fits of whistling sneezes setting all the others off in mad barking so they wouldn’t be left out. Only Alistair’s sharp check for her injuries had stopped the dog bowling her over, but he had pushed into her face nonetheless, anxious as a nursemaid as she buried her head against his neck and erupted into sobs. He was still wobbly on his feet and a little incontinent, thanks to the medicines mixed by the healers, but otherwise he had recovered well.

“A few more days, and the mages say they can start to wean him off their potions,” Gareth informed her now as they watched his eyelids droop from the latest dose.

“That’s good,” she answered, smiling. “Then he can come upstairs and stop howling the walls down every time I have to leave.”

“Daft sod. Uh – I mean –”

“You’re the one living with him,” Rosslyn allowed. “If anyone’s earned the right to call him that, it’s you.”

Gareth chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a good lad, mind.”

“He is.”

On her way back to the keep, she turned right instead of left beyond the harness room, and followed the stairs down towards the cells claimed from the old Alamarri settlement on the hill. Guilt prodded her steps, and intrigue. A question that had bothered her since finding out how her dog had survived. The guards posted to the vestibule at the bottom snapped to attention when they saw her coming, though the nervous glance they shared betrayed more than simple surprise.

“I’m here to see the blood mage,” she announced, before they could ask, or tell her to go away. When they hesitated, as if she were no more than a mere servant wanting to satisfy her curiosity, she drew herself up and stared them down.

“With all due respect, Ma’am, that man is maleficar, he canna be trusted.”

“And with no templars in the keep –”

“Am I still the Teyrna of Highever, or has something changed in the last half an hour?” she demanded. “Your concern for my safety is noted, but you wear the Laurels and you will stand aside at my orders.”

Defeated, the guards shared another glance before the one with the keys led the way to the right cell. The weight of the rock pressed down on her, almost as heavy as the darkness crowding around the oil-burning lanterns set in alcoves in the wall.

“Leave me the light, and lock the door behind me,” she commanded.

“Aye, Your Ladyship.”

She held the lantern high as she stepped into the cell – the same one that so lately had housed Fergus, though she tried not to think about it, or the animalistic odour lingering in the stone. The blood mage huddled in the far corner, flinching away from the light as it fell on him, but not fast enough that her breath didn’t catch. He was thinner now, and the scruff on his face had lengthened into a thin beard, but the lank hair and pale skin were the same as they had been when she confronted Howe. Pushing the memories away, she looked further and noted the cloth wrapped around his manacles to stop him cutting himself on the sharp edges, though she doubted that would be much of a barrier to one determined to make themselves bleed. That he hadn’t resorted to those desperate measures counted for him – but then, perhaps he was just patient.

“Jowan,” she said, as the lock clicked behind her.

When he turned to her, he had to blink until his eyes adjusted to the light, and when he recognised her, trepidation stiffened every muscle in his body.

“Your – I mean, my lady?” He coughed. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how all these different title things work.”

“Your Ladyship,” she affirmed. “To you, anyway. I’m told you’re the one responsible for saving my dog’s life.”

A hasty, terrified nod.

“Then I owe you my thanks. He’s doing well, almost back to his old self.”

“I – I’m glad to hear it, Your Ladyship,” he managed.

Rosslyn let the silence stretch. As the moments passed under what Alistair called her general’s stare she watched the mage fidget and drop his gaze to the floor, covering his arms across his body as best he could. Good; if he were flustered, she would more easily spot a lie.

“I want to know why you did it,” she said at last.

“Uh…”

“Why didn’t you let him die when you already had a hand in the deaths of so many others?”

Jowan’s eyes flicked to hers in what might have been defiance, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. “I never wanted to kill anyone,” he confessed. “I only ever wanted to live free of the Circle. I don’t know if you have any idea what it was like there –”

“I saw what it became,” she replied, gently.

“That’s right. I heard about what Uldred did. He was the one who taught me about blood magic. If I’d been braver…” He swallowed. “But I was just an apprentice, and he was one of the senior enchanters – I knew they’d never believe me if I said anything, they’d just… All I wanted was to escape. I’m not that good at magic, I was never like Surana or Clement or Karyna, and there were always so many horror stories about the Harrowing, I knew they’d kill me or make me Tranquil for sure.” He seemed to realise he was speaking too quickly, and sighed to centre himself. “But I was caught trying to get into the phylactery chamber. I had no choice. I wanted to protect Lily, but she… I don’t know what they did to her.”

“Who’s Lily?” Rosslyn asked.

“I love her. But when I… Maker’s breath, she looked at me like I was a monster. The thought that she might have paid for my crime…”

She recognised the spiral he was about to fall into, had been there herself. Steady, she leaned into his eyeline and repeated her first question. “Why did you save my dog’s life?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” he replied, looking up from his hands at last. “I was too afraid before, but you stood up to him, even after everything he said. Howe and Loghain threatened to hand me over to the templars if I didn’t do what they asked, but when I saw what you did, I couldn’t sit by anymore.” He straightened, and for the first time met her eye without hesitation. “That’s the truth. I’ve made so many mistakes, disappointed so many people – I wish I could go back and fix it. I don’t know if anything I do could ever make it right.”

With a sigh, Rosslyn lowered the lantern. “His Majesty has asked for my opinion on what should be done with you. As it stands, the templars are not in a position to take you back to the Circle, but nor can he just let you go.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship.”

“For my own part,” she went on, “I am grateful for what you did, but it wouldn’t be fair to weigh one life against the many more you’ve caused to suffer.”

At that, the mage slumped, though his expression lacked surprise. “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything, but I do wish I could go back and fix everything.” He licked his lips. “Thank you for coming to see me, anyway, for… giving me a chance to talk. It means a lot.”

“No decision has been made yet,” she told him, without quite knowing why.

He offered her a smile as she called for the guard, but it was thin and faded quickly. His eyes followed the swing of the door as it was opened, and as she ducked through back into the corridor, she didn’t look back. The second guard had followed his mate to watch her, and he saluted. The door slammed. She almost turned away, but something about his manner stopped her, a nervousness more sensed than seen, and while she couldn’t source it, it brought her notice to his posture, the way he stood not by the wall but in the middle of the corridor as if to herd her back the way she had come. Considering she had already escaped Jowan’s cell unscathed, it made little sense.

“What’s down there?” she asked, with a jut of her chin.

“No one.” The guard’s eyes flew wide. “That’s – nothing. I meant, ‘nothing’. Your Ladyship.”

She advanced on him, just a step. “Who is down there?”

“Uh… It’s really nothing to concern yourself with,” he tried again, but before she could squeeze anymore out of him, a dry, nasally voice trickled through the cracks in the stone walls and turned her blood to ice.

“Is that a visitor for little old me? Do hurry up, I’ve got a busy schedule.”

The guard tried to push in front of her. “Your –”

“Give me the keys,” she growled.

She didn’t even wait to be given them, instead snatched the ring out of the guard’s half-obedient hand, already marching forward. Her fingers shook. Disbelief raged through her blood. Her heart beat so loudly she didn’t hear the key when she turned it in the lock, but when the door swung open, with the light spilling through around her against the opposite wall, even that seemed to stop.

Howe’s face was obscured by dirt and a grey tangle of beard, layers of old bandages wrapped around his head crusted with blood on the left side, his skin saggy from lost weight, but the hooked nose and narrow, polecat eyes would be recognisable anywhere. It was like being stabbed again. She wanted to vomit.

The swine smirked at her. “Well, well, well. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

She tried to focus on his chains, his clothes, how the once-bright satin hung off him in tatters. “They found you.”

Her lungs wouldn’t work. How long had he been kept in the dungeon – under her feet? Why was he still alive? Why had nobody told her?

“I suppose it was too much to hope Loghain might have killed you,” he drawled, as if remarking about a small bet on a slow horse. “You’ve shown such an infuriating talent for survival – or maybe it’s just that so many people are willing to die in your place.” His eyes glittered. “Your father, your people, your dog –”

“You didn’t kill him,” she snapped. “He lives.”

“Oh? Pity.”

“What are you doing here?” Every word ground like glass on her tongue.

At this, Howe looked absolutely delighted. “Me?” he repeated. “I am here on the king’s invitation.”

“You’re a lopsided old man sitting in his own shit in a dungeon.” The wound in her side ached. She couldn’t stop shaking. “You have nothing left. And you’ll die a traitor’s death.”

“Will I?” he asked. “And what about you? You seem surprised to see me. Nobody told you I was here, did they? Not your crippled excuse for a brother, or the king, or even your dear princey-wincey. It must hurt, thinking you’re so important, so grown up, only to find those closest to you have so little regard for you. imagine not even telling you they’re secretly hiding your greatest enemy in your own keep!”

A pause, to let the realisation settle, but even though she knew what he was doing her feet were rooted to the stone and every barb stung and her mind stuck on the sight of him and it whisked away to what he had done, what he had wanted to do –

“They still consider you a child, just like your father when he sent you away. Do you want to know what his last words were? The look in his eyes when he realised I was the one who had brought him what he finally deserved?” He laughed. “And your mother. Do you want to know how long it took her to die? How many arrows –”

“ENOUGH!”

He fell silent, still smirking as if he weren’t manacled in a prison cell, as if this confrontation were a victory, and revulsion crawled so far up her throat she could no longer breathe. She reeled away from the door like a drunkard, vaguely aware of the guards calling her name. Her lantern slipped form nerveless fingers and smashed.

“If he speaks again, cut out his tongue.”

If she spoke the words out loud, she couldn’t tell. The only thought in her head was the need to leave, to run, never mind the ache in her side and the jumble of questions stirred up in her mind like wind-scattered leaves. The whos and hows and whens swirled before her eyes, until her legs buckled and a sharp pain in her knees found her halfway up the stairs to the keep. A sob lurched in her throat, caught only by the hand she slapped across her mouth. Tears came unbidden. She bit her lips together and forced her lungs to still against the heaving breaths they tried to gouge out of the air, to keep silent in case the soldiers heard her, in case they came looking.

It was the pain from her wound that finally calmed her weeping, the fact that every cut-off inhale sent a jagged line of fire from her ribs to her hip, but with it her mind was allowed to drift from the blank panic of needing to keep quiet, and a seed of thought sprouted in the dark. She hadn’t known about Howe’s capture, but someone had ordered the guards to keep watch. Someone had kept this information from her, ordered them to keep it from her. The spark of realisation set among her tremors like dry tinder and flared into real, scalding anger.

It had her body in its grip before her mind decided where to go, drove her only up, past a startled maid on her way from the kitchen, past Cailan and Anora arm in arm with only the most instinctive of obeisances, before she reached the second floor of the keep, her family’s private level, the pull of her wound worsening with every step but not enough to stop her.

“My lady, what –”

But she swept away again before Graela had time to finish her question or drop the linens being folded on the bed. The Cousland sword clinked as she plucked it from its corner in white-knuckled hands. She had carried it through battle and fire and the swell of the Waking Sea, and now she had only a few strides left until she reached her brother’s temporary room.

Amell, tending him, jumped away with a small shriek as Rosslyn kicked in the door. Fury took her to the bed, where Fergus hastily flung the covers over to hide the truth of his atrophied legs.

“Rosslyn, what –”

“This is yours,” she snarled, and flung the blade onto the mattress by his hand.

“Father’s sword?” He glanced from it, back to her. “I don’t understand –”

“I was going to talk to you about it,” she rushed. “About the title and who should have it and what we would do next – but why should I bother if you’ve already decided to shut me out of decisions that are mine to make by right!”

“Rosslyn –”

“I know Howe is here!” she thundered, and her lips bared in a feral smile as he winced. “You didn’t think to tell me you’d found the man who slaughtered our entire family?”

How dare he. How dare he take this from her. Her breath came in spurts, her nails biting into her palms, flesh washing hot and cold as if night and day were chasing over her skin.

“I didn’t want –”

“He’s sitting beneath us right now and you thought you could keep it from me? How long has he been there? How long have you been lying to me? Was it before I woke up, or after? Those soldiers down there were wearing the Blue, plain as day, and only one person could tell them to lie to my face. How could you –”

“Your Ladyship, your wound.” Amell started forward. “It would be best if you –”

“Get away from me.”

“Don’t snap at her,” Fergus chided, as if he had the right, then slumped. “How did you find out?”

“What does it matter when you didn’t tell me?” she cried. “You’re my brother! You should understand! What, do you think I’m still a child who should be kept away from the kitchen knives? While you were cringing away in that dungeon doing nothing I was out leading armies, fighting for our people’s freedom! I did everything expected of me and more to get back here! I retook this castle! And yet none of that means anything?”

“You were still recovering,” he ground out, but the excuse only made her anger flare hotter.

“I have hunted him for a year, I had to read report after report of everything he did, I saw what happened to Canavan and Gilmore, and Mother, and Father, and I led Highever’s army away and into war even though it was the last thing I wanted to do! And you, meanwhile, can’t even find the guts to walk ten steps to your own room! You’re a coward. How dare you make decisions for me? The monster responsible for everything we’ve been through has been locked away right beneath our feet and you’re just sat here as if you don’t even care!”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t care!” he roared, his own anger finally let loose. “He took everything from me – everything. I couldn’t lose you as well. We thought it best –”

But she pounced on that word like a jackal. “We?” she repeated. Spots danced in front of her eyes now that her battle rage was burning itself out. She clutched at her side, felt something wet seeping through the fabric of her dress, but his blanch turned her stomach more than the agony gritting her teeth.

“We wanted to protect you,” Fergus insisted.

“Alistair knows.”

Her legs crumpled. She had to catch herself on the bedpost, and in the confusion that followed, Amell’s hands pressed over hers with cool words of reassurance, a shoulder under her arm hoisting her up, her brother reaching for her from so far away – and him in the doorway, transfixed, horrified.

“Graela told me you were…”

She swallowed past the knot of tears gathering sharp at the back of her throat and turned to the enchanter. “I – I can’t breathe.”

“You’ve torn the muscle layers. Here –”

Alistair darted in to help as she staggered forwards on Amell’s arm, but she pierced him with such a glare he stopped short, mouth slack with a look of puppyish hurt that woke a vindictive squeeze of satisfaction in her chest. She vaguely heard him exchanging low, desperate words with Fergus as she limped back to her own room, a curse, and then tentative footsteps as she was eased down into a chair by the fire. Now that she had opportunity to notice, every tiny shift of her clothes over her reopened wound tugged at the edges like fishhooks.

“Rosslyn.”

“This isn’t your room,” she growled at him. Air hissed between her teeth. She couldn’t tell if it was the pain causing the sting at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Pushing down the discomfort she let her eyes fall on him, taking him in, hunched shoulders and hands wringing with the suppressed need to reach for her. “You’re sorry you were found out,” she corrected, slowly, with only the barest wobble in her voice before she turned her gaze to the hearth.

A pause, and then a sigh.

“Riley and half a squad of infantry brought him back two days ago. They found him with Loren and Mother Berit. It seems Loren decided favour with the Maker was worth more than his loyalty to the Crown.”

“And yet I didn’t hear a thing about it,” she replied. “You lied to me. To my face. Even though you knew what he meant to me.” The struggle to keep her voice level was one she was losing, but between the threatening tears and the words she had already hurled at Fergus, her throat ached as if she had swallowed smoke. And still her anger smouldered. “Ever since the battle you’ve treated me like I’m incapable of even standing on my own feet, like I’m a fool who can’t be trusted to drink out of a proper goblet. Fergus doesn’t surprise me, but you – How could you keep this from me?”

Alistair threw his hands up in exasperation. “Because I was afraid something like this would happen! Every time Howe turns up you get this – this intense focus and you stop caring about anything else. You push yourself, and you hurt yourself, and you get so blinded by the idea of vengeance you turn into someone I barely recognise!”

“I don’t turn into anyone!” she shot back, staggering upright once more.

“No, you should sit –”

She slapped his hand away. “This is me, and it’s not something that can be tucked away out of sight just because you find it distasteful. What do you think I was doing all those months you sat so cosily under that mountain? I killed people. I’ve lost count of how many, not to mention all the others that were sent to die on my orders. Why shouldn’t I seek vengeance?” she demanded. “Howe deserves to die. He deserves every ounce of suffering I can wring out of him.”

“There – that’s it right there!” he shot back. “You’re so focussed on how he hurt you, you can’t see how it’s twisting you into something exactly like him!”

“‘How he hurt me’?” Incredulous, she could only stare at him. “He ruined my life! Are you saying I shouldn’t be angry about everything he’s done?”

“This isn’t anger, this is blackness, and you’re letting it consume you.”

“He murdered my family!” she shouted. “He pretended to be my father’s friend for years and then he slaughtered him like an animal! Doesn’t it matter what he did to Cuno, to my people – what he was planning to do to me? He has caused so much pain and he deserves all of it back again –”

“And how would you do that?” Alistair challenged, in a voice like steel. “He’s one man – you can only kill him once.”

“I’d find a way – I will find a way to make it right. I let him go at West Roth and I have regretted it ever since!”

He drew back at that, as if she had struck him.

“I can’t do it again,” she promised. “I won’t.”

“And this isn’t a path I can see you walk down. I won’t watch you destroy yourself.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed the physical distance separating them. There was hurt in his eyes, but also a plea to a part of her still reeling from the blow of being lied to – that he had lied to her about the one thing she had wanted for almost a year – and it channelled her rage into something colder, harder, like the slow of a river freezing into winter ice.

“Then get out,” she said.

He stepped towards her instead. She looked away, stiff, shoulders straight, a dismissal she had learned in her time at court when pretending someone didn’t exist was the biggest insult of all.

“Damn your pride,” he spat, after a long moment of watching her. She followed the stomp of his boots to the doorway with her face still turned to the window, refusing to be cowed, and when he paused, she braced for whatever curses he would choose.

“You saved my life at West Roth, in case you didn’t remember. I hope you don’t regret that as well.”

And then he was gone, and the anger clutching at her heart unspooled, and when her breath came back it was the sharp, desperate gasp of a sob as she fell to her knees.

[dr-gloom]

What You Wanted (Ch 5)

So for those of you who’ve seen teardroppeddew’s Good For You animatic, it’ll be pretty obvious that i sorta deviated from the plot

I had to make the chapter longer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

you ever get the feeling a chapter just writes itself?

anyways ive wanted to write about the split and the creation of the dark sides since remus was introduced so thanks for giving me the excuse 

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: none; familial LAMP

Words: 4,276

Tags/Warnings: manipulation, deception, mind control, fighting, insecurities and fears, Virgil becomes a bit of a self affirmation billboard but oh well, I suppose one might consider Janus and Remus morally grey

Please reblog the version with links

Virgil is left on his knees in front of the door, its already dark appearance barely distinguishable in the blackness of the subconscious. He doesn’t know how long he sits there crying and staring at the door disbelievingly, but it could have easily been hours. This couldn’t be real. Why now, of all times? Why wait this long to tell them? And why did they believe him so easily? They hadn’t even wanted to talk to Virgil about it, they’d just taken Janus at his word and kicked Virgil out like he was nothing.

Virgil sniffs, wiping his cheeks on his hoodie sleeve as he gets to his feet. He looks around the darkness and brushes off his pants, picking a random direction and starting to walk. There was very little actually in the subconscious save for the other two sides and some random objects for… reasons no one had really figured out, but they had managed to find enough to create their own living space; couches, chairs, that sort of thing. Virgil thought to himself he might as well look for a couch to bury his face in until he fades away.

He feels like he’s been walking for hours with no luck. Not a single sign of life or stray mystery object in sight, the door long gone. He’d begun to consider just laying down on the ground when a voice behind him nearly scares him out of his skin. 

“Virgil, what a surprise to see you back here.”

Virgil whirls around, coming face-to-face with Janus and Remus. Janus’ face is carefully neutral, his posture elegant and poised as always, but the rage is clear in Remus’ snarl, his hands balled into fists at his side. Virgil swallows. 

“If you’ve come back for another round, don’t worry. I’m letting you go.”

All anger and fear is erased, washed away in place of bone-chilling panic. With what just happened, the way the “light sides” had so casually pushed him aside, Janus and Remus were all Virgil had left. Yes, Virgil had been angry, he’d been ready to beat the shit out of Janus if he saw him, but the realization that he could be well and truly alone had erased all desire to keep the two sides away. If Janus didn’t even care about him anymore... “What?” 

Janus sighs through his nose, inspecting his gloved nails. “You heard me. I’m tired of fighting, I’m much more concerned with surviving this hellscape. So, I’m shutting my mouth and letting go. You can go back to the ‘light sides’. I’m done.”

Virgil shakes his head, eyes wide, heart beating fast. “Wait- wait a minute…”

“I mean, clearly you’ve been working hard! You’ve got those three wrapped around your little finger; they’ve got it bad, worse than I ever did. So I won’t interfere with your little game; go on, the show belongs to you now. I know when I’m beat.”

Tears well in Virgil’s eyes. “No, you’re wrong, I was never manipulating them! They’re my friends! Why did you tell them all of that?!”

Janus blinks innocently. “Well, it’s true isn’t it? Or did you really forget the seven months’ time you put into trying to get them to our side?”

Virgil shakes his head, taking a step back as panic wells in his chest. “N-no, it’s not- you’re wrong, I care about them, it’s not like that.”

Remus and Janus share a smirk as their wires wind their way around Virgil’s wrists, the anxious side too panicked to notice. Virgil was the last piece; he was always more powerful than he’d ever know, and as such he was a vital part of Remus and Janus gaining control of the mindscape. As long as they had control of him, they couldn’t fail. 

Virgil tugs at his hair, his heart racing. “This isn’t good, I need to fix this, I know I can get them to-” He notices the wires wrapped around his wrists and lets out a startled cry, pulling at them to get them off. More wires wrap around his wrists and neck, and Virgil slowly goes lax, the panic melting from his face and hands lowering to his sides. Remus and Janus share a triumphant look, heading towards the door to the mindscape with Virgil. 

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Janus sighs contentedly as he lounges on his bed. It’s been twenty years since he’s set foot in his room and it’s hardly changed at all, much to his relief. Yellow walls with black accents and furniture, a snake tank on his dresser - if they’d been real people and her a real snake, Janus has no doubt Calypso would be dead - and a TV mounted to the wall opposite his bed. Remus had been ecstatic to find out he himself had a room, which had manifested when he introduced himself to Thomas. Janus hadn’t been in it yet, but he was sure it reflected the duke’s personality perfectly (part of the reason he hadn’t gone inside yet; he loves Remus, but the man was a bit chaotic). 

There’s a knock at Janus’ door and Morality walks in, his golden eyes crinkled with a smile and the wires around his wrists glinting in the light. “Hiya kiddo! Brought you some lunch!” 

Janus doesn’t even look away from his TV as he grunts and waves a hand towards his desk, his other hand stroking Calypso’s head. Morality happily sets the tray down and walks out of the room without another word, shutting the door behind him.

This is the life. Getting to relax in his own room, lay on his own bed, do as he pleases, only talk if he wants to talk, and use Morality as a glorified servant? He never thought he’d see the day. Janus’ musings are interrupted by Remus ripping his door open. “Come kill villagers in the imagination with me!”

He definitely would never see the day where Remus learned to knock.

“You know I don’t care much for that sort of thing, Remus. Take Virgil with you if you’re in such dire need of companionship.”

Remus shrugs, leaving to do just that. Janus sighs at his still-open door. Seriously, it’s like he was living with a child. He stands up, shutting his door with a soft click and going back to cuddling Calypso. He starts to feel drowsy and closes his eyes.

“Virgil is missing!”

Janus’ eyes fly open, looking at Remus’ haggard form in his doorway. He glances briefly at the clock - it’s been twenty minutes since Remus left him initially, so he’s probably searched the entire mindscape - and sighs, sitting up. “Perfect. Did you check the subconscious?”

Remus gives him a withering stare. Janus is unaffected. “No, you’re right, only an idiot would run there. You’ve covered the whole mindscape? The only other place he could possibly be is the imagination.”

Over the past couple months, the one thing that hasn’t been perfect has been Virgil. For reasons they haven’t figured out yet, he can shake off their influence and sever their wires without them noticing, leading to him “disappearing” as the two sides lose track of him and he takes to hiding. It takes very little to get him back under their thumb, though, so Janus wasn’t especially concerned to find out their old friend had escaped again. 

“Well… I didn’t check his room.”

Now it was Janus’ turn to give Remus a withering look. “That’s the first place you look, Remus.”

“It was locked!”

“I wonder why.” Janus rolls his eyes and heads down the hall, Remus following him like a lost puppy. Janus tries Virgil’s door, huffing softly when he finds it locked, and simply appears on the other side of it. Remus blinks in surprise and does the same, appearing beside Janus as Virgil whirls around to glare at the two sides he once called family. “Virgil, really, what were you hoping to gain by hiding away in your room? Come back with us, don’t make this hard on yourself.”

Virgil bares his teeth, his fists clenched at his sides. “Shut up, Janus, I’m not listening to you anymore. I’m freeing the others and helping them banish you to the subconscious.”

Janus tamps down his anxiety before it can become anything more than a candle’s flame. “You know you can’t free them, Virgil, don’t lie to yourself now. Just give in already, there’s no use fighting us.” Gold and green wires wrapped themselves around Virgil’s wrists. For a brief moment it seems like Virgil will come quickly and easily, but his nails dig into his palms and blood seeps between his fingers, snapping him out of it. 

“Stop it! Stop, let me out,” he cries, his fingers tangling in his hair. He rips at the wires with rage in his eyes, causing them to snap and go limp in his grasp. Janus takes a startled step back. 

“I’m not submitting to you anymore!” 

Virgil disappears, leaving Janus and Remus standing in his empty room. Janus is reminded of the helpless fear that had filled him the day Virgil ducked out and he had been convinced he was dead. Instead of being swallowed by it though, he snaps it in half with a gnashing of his teeth and turns on Remus. “Find him,” he snarls, disappearing to look for Virgil. Remus swallows and does the same. 

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

Freeing the others was a lot easier said than done. It wasn’t like it was hard to find them, but Virgil had no idea if he knew how to snap their wires - he didn’t know if what worked for him would work for them, or if he’d even want it to - and he had no idea if Janus and Remus could see through their eyes or sense what was happening. How much could he do before they found him? Could he fight them off, if they used his friends against him? Could he stand to hurt his family, if that’s what it took? He needed a clearer head. He needed Logan.

Virgil finds the logical side at his desk pouring over papers like nothing’s wrong. If it weren’t for the fact that Virgil could see the wires controlling him - something he had to concentrate on to notice - he’d assume that Logan was free. Virgil walks up behind his friend, looking down at the papers out of curiosity. 

‘FAILURE’ ‘WORTHLESS’ ‘EMOTIONLESS ROBOT’ ‘LEAST FAVORITE’ all glare back at him in large red letters, the papers otherwise blank. Virgil frowns. Why would Logan have these? 

“You are the one who decided the way to win was through fear.”

Virgil’s frown deepens and he takes the papers from Logan with little resistance from the other side. “L? Hey, dude, you there?” He waves a hesitant hand in front of Logan’s face, but the logical side shows no signs of having noticed Virgil or the fact that his papers were even taken from him. Virgil chews on his lip anxiously for a moment before he turns Logan’s chair to face him, taking Logan’s hands in his. “L, you’re the smartest, most loyal, most capable person I know. You are not worthless, and you are definitely not a failure. You work so hard to keep Thomas on track and make sure we’re all happy and working together. You’re just as valuable and just as loved as the rest of us, and I know you’d scream ‘falsehood’ at me if you could, but you are definitely not emotionless.”

Logan had seemed to slowly relax as Virgil kept talking, his eyelids drooping into a more relaxed state and his shoulders slouching. Virgil smiles softly, hesitantly, and tugs on the wires around Logan’s wrists. They tear like spider webs, falling away and disappearing. Virgil severs the ones around Logan’s neck as well and Logan blinks into awareness, glancing around. His eyebrows are pinched, eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “Where… What happened? Where did Deceit go?”

Virgil’s mouth pulls to the side. “Deceit took control of you and the others. You’ve been… It’s been two months.” 

“I see…” Logan frowns. “And how is Thomas? Is he alright?”

“As far as I can tell he’s totally fine. Seems like you guys have still been doing your jobs, he just lies a little more than he used to. Nothing serious.” Virgil shrugs. Honestly… He didn’t know what he expected. He’d never given it much thought, but now that he was thinking about it he realized it seemed a bit silly to expect Janus to enact some nefarious plan. Even if he didn’t know Janus personally, it would make no logical sense. He lived in Thomas’ head just like the rest of them, and cared for him in his own way. Hurting Thomas would only hurt him.

“And the others?”

“You’re the first one I’ve gotten free. Honestly I had no idea what I was doing.”

“Well whatever you did worked, clearly.”

Virgil glances down at the papers scattered at their feet, waving them away. “Yeah…”

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

“If my hypothesis is correct, then you are the best equipped to handle these precarious situations.”

“No pressure.”

“Well I suppose there is a substantial amount of pressure, but only if you value freeing our friends and fellow- ah. I see. Sarcasm.”

“He learns.”

The two sides stand in front of Patton’s door, neither one particularly eager to be the one to open it. The last time they’d been inside, Virgil had nearly had an anxiety attack and Logan… Felt things. Now, one could say Virgil’s plight was worse, but we aren’t here to judge the trials and pains of others. After another pregnant pause, Virgil huffs a sigh and reaches for the handle, pulling the door open. Might as well get this over with.

Patton sits, much like he had been two months ago, looking through a photo album. The parallel to that day makes a spark of fear shoot through Virgil, but he tamps it down. He can’t be afraid. He has to help Patton. Virgil takes a deep breath through his nose and enters the room, walking over to the paternal side and sitting across from him.”Hey, Pat…”

Patton is looking at pictures that at first glance Virgil recognizes, but when he looks again, really looks, there’s something off. Sunny days are now full of dark clouds and rain, smiling faces are now frowning or scowling, betraying sadness and anger. Laughter is replaced with fighting. Virgil frowns thoughtfully, looking over the pictures then up at Patton’s crying face. He sighs softly. 

“Patton, you should know by now that’s not gonna happen.” Virgil moves to sit next to Patton, wrapping an arm around him. “You know we’ll always be a family.” A brief thought about That Day flits across Virgil’s mind, but he ignores the anxiety it brings with it. 

“Has he apologized?”

Virgil shakes the voice off. “Sure we fight and disagree sometimes, but all families do that. We love each other, and that won’t change. Logan will always groan at your puns but acknowledge how smart you are, begrudgingly of course. Roman will always call you ‘padre’ like the extra dork he is, and treat you like his fairy prince. And I’ll always be here to shoot the shit and pull you out of your own head. Metaphorically speaking. And you’ll always make us sit for a family dinner, call us your kiddos, and make us laugh. Here, let’s fix these pictures, I’m the only one that’s allowed to be this gloomy.” He gently takes Patton’s hand, the wires on his wrist tearing and fading away as Virgil lays their joined hands on the photo album. The pictures slowly change, the clouds and rain disappearing, smiles and laughter back in place. Virgil takes the photo album and sets it aside, sighing softly at Patton and pulling him into a hug. 

“We gotcha, popstar.”

The other wires tear and fade away, and Patton blinks back to awareness. A bright smile slowly builds and he hugs Virgil tightly, tucking his face into Virgil’s hair. “Oh, kiddo.” 

Virgil lets himself enjoy the hug for a moment before he pulls back, Logan finally entering the room and sitting beside the pair. Virgil turns to the logical side, clapping him on the shoulder. “Can you take over from here? I gotta go rescue our fair prince underarm stink.” Logan smiles in amusement. 

“I believe I can handle this, yes.” 

Patton launches himself at Logan with a giggle, tackling him to the ground for cuddles as Virgil leaves the room.

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

Virgil finds himself hesitating once again as he stares at a door. Roman’s door, specifically. Roman isn’t a weak side, physically or otherwise, so whatever was keeping him under the influence had to be some serious shit, and Virgil still had no fucking idea what he was doing. Virgil stares at the bright red wood and takes a deep breath. He had to do this; in Logan’s words, “you are the best equipped”. 

He sighs and pushes the door open.

As he suspected, it’s pretty bad. Someone - Remus, no doubt - has made Roman’s room look like the imagination, and Roman stands in the middle of the room surrounded by monsters. The sight of them has Virgil’s anxiety ratcheting up exponentially, but he can’t focus on that; he has to help Roman. Virgil steps into the room, and as soon as his shoes meet grass he hears the voices.

“You’ll never be good enough.”

“Such a disappointment, really. You’re failing Thomas.”

“They would all be better off with Remus.”

“At least he knows how to speak up for what he wants.”

“What kind of a prince rolls over and gives up on his dreams?”

“You’re pathetic.”

Virgil’s anxiety worsens. With the way he’s feeling, it’s almost like he’s still in Patton’s room. He has no idea how to handle this; Roman’s demons are so big, so strong, and - he cringes as Roman barely lunges out of the way of a beast’s claws - so violent. This isn’t like Logan and Patton, where he can just sit with them and tell them good things until they wake up. This is a real problem that he is nowhere near equipped to handle. 

He knew Logan was full of shit. 

But he has to try. Virgil’s progress is achingly slow, each step feeling like his feet are made of lead. In front of him, Roman dodges and slashes and stabs at the monsters surrounding him on all sides. It’s hard to tell if the voices are coming from them, or the room itself. Virgil hopes it’s the former or he may not be able to do anything at all. As he gets closer, he has to start watching his step, stumbling out of the way of raging monsters and flailing to avoid crashing bodies. One of the monsters takes notice of Virgil and charges at him, roaring angrily. 

“You’ll never win. You’re a disgrace, a coward, and soon the others will realize it too and you’ll be alone.”

It feels like the voice is inside his head. Virgil clamps his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block it out and screams in fear as the monster descends upon him. The sound of ringing metal disrupts the voice in his head and he hesitantly opens his eyes - when did he close them? - to see Roman standing before him, sword raised to deflect the monster’s claws. Virgil stares up at him with wide eyes as Roman takes a step forward, knocking the beast back only for it to charge again. 

“You already are alone. You’ve always been alone, fighting and losing to yourself. How can you possibly hope to help anyone when you can’t help yourself?”

Virgil slowly stands back up as he watches Roman. That monster hadn’t been whispering to him, it was always talking to Roman. They had the same fears.

He knew what to do.

“You’re wrong!” Virgil cries, running forward. In a brazen act of stupidity and protectiveness, Virgil takes Roman’s sword from him and deflects the monster’s attack. “He isn’t alone, he has me, and I’m not going anywhere.” Virgil begins to advance on the monster, pushing it back blow after blow, managing to slice into its flesh. “People aren’t made to fight themselves, that’s why we have friends and family to help us! It’s living with your own demons that makes you so good at helping us fight ours, Roman!” He stabs the monster in the heart and it dissolves into a cloud of black mist, dissipating. Virgil turns to face Roman, panting for breath and limbs shaky with adrenaline. 

Roman stares at him with wide eyes, looking confused and surprised. The gold and green wires are still wrapped around him, but Virgil knows he’s getting somewhere. He walks up to Roman, still holding his sword. “Princes fight for others, not themselves. That’s what the knight is for. And like I said, I’m not going anywhere.” He holds out his hand, looking at Roman with more determination and confidence than he’s ever felt in his life. After what feels like a hopelessly long moment of silence, Roman slowly raises his arm and grips Virgil’s hand. His eyes clear up and the wires on his arm fade away, Virgil reaching up with a grin to tear the other ones off. 

Roman smiles at Virgil for a moment before he blinks, seeming to realize he’s wearing the crown Remus had put on his head still. He takes it off and makes a face, tossing it to the ground, and the two sides watch it dissolve into mist. Roman looks back at Virgil, letting their hands drop. “Thanks, Judy Gloom.”

Virgil shrugs, turning to leave Roman’s room. “That’s what I’m here for. Come on, we gotta get going, we have some-”

Something slams into Virgil’s chest, knocking him back. Roman cries out in shock as he’s pushed from his own room and the door slams shut in his face, trapping Virgil inside. 

Virgil scrambles to his feet and turns to face Janus. The other side’s face is carefully blank, his hands clasped behind his back. Before he can get a word in, Virgil surges forward, fury lighting his blood. “Stop this, Janus! You’ve lost, now leave!” He watches the fear flash across Janus’ face and for a brief moment he feels guilt settle in his stomach. He quickly pushes it away, reminding himself that Janus and Remus controlled and manipulated the others for two whole months and tried to ruin his happiness. “Open the door! Let me out and get the hell out of our house!”

Remus appears suddenly right beside Janus, and Janus grips Remus’ arm. Even he can’t tell if he’s trying to hold Remus back or using him for support. “You belong with us, Virgil, even you must sense that! It’s only a matter of time before they turn on you, before they remember why they tossed you aside with us and do it again! I’m only trying to protect you!”

Virgil grips his hair in frustration, glaring at his former family. Two decades of memories; shared laughs, sorrow, and stories. Two decades of “it’s us or them”. Two decades of “he was wrong”. But people change. Patton changed. Virgil was changing. They can change.

He sighs, venomous words dying on his tongue. He slowly lowers his hands, studying the two sides before him. The hurt, anger and betrayal is clear on their faces, and Virgil wonders why he didn’t see it before. “Look… I’m not leaving them, Jan. But I don’t want to leave you guys, either. You’re still my family, and so are they. It doesn’t have to be us versus them anymore, they’ve changed, and I’ve changed, and you guys can change, too. Just… give it a chance.”

Janus snarls, baring his teeth. “I’ll never forgive Morality for what he did. Never.”

Sadness settles over Virgil like a blanket as he looks at his family. “Okay. Just remember… You two have rooms here. You’re welcome back whenever you want, but… Only if you stop fighting.”

They don’t say a word to that, disappearing and leaving Virgil alone. He sighs shakily, his limbs feeling like jelly and his heart heavy. This was so fucked up in so many ways, it was like he was looking at a huge tangled mess of yarn that he’d made in his sleep and now he had to untangle it. The door opened behind him and suddenly Patton was rushing up to him, nearly bowling him over with a hug.

“Virgil! Lolo told us what you’ve been doing, you’re so amazing!”

Logan walks up beside Virgil with an amused smile. “I merely informed them of the information you relayed to me, as well as what I observed while you were helping Patton.”

“Which is amazing!”

Roman claps Virgil on the back with a grin. “Truly! It was quite an act of bravery and cunning, if I do say so myself!” 

Virgil chuckles, gently brushing them off. “Seriously guys, it was no big deal. Any of you would have done the same.” 

The three other sides share a look before dragging Virgil to the commons to watch a movie. They might not have known Virgil as long as Janus has, but they knew, just like him, that Virgil was far more amazing and capable than he could ever give himself credit for. After all, Fear couldn’t only create people’s greatest fears and insecurities, he could fight them as well.

That’s what knights are for.

[the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers]

Cruelty And Kindness

Title: Cruelty And Kindness

Word Count: 1,140

Warnings: A mention of homelessness, a mention of bullying and getting death threats. These are VERY vague but I don't wanna harm anyone so stay safe guys!

Ship: The Demon and the Choir Girl (Nero x Myself)

Summary: When stumbling in on yet another argument between the Sparda siblings and I end up gaining their attention, I'm at least going to explain myself.

The soft golden haze of the sun had been wanting to play more rounds of hide-and-seek, Rebecca noted with a smile. It certainly seemed that way seeing how every once in a while it'd hide its glowing face behind the clouds that continuously rolled by. Nero couldn't help but smile in return due to his girlfriend's creative answer on what, to him, seemed like nothing more than a day where the weather was too indecisive to make up its mind.

To Nero, being able to hear the lavender locked lady's absentminded thoughts and usually sunny disposition was what brightened up the otherwise repetitive walk to and from the library where she had her classes. Even today when they had to make a quick stop into Dante's office because Rebecca had left the notes she was reviewing on accident, a quiet laugh filled the air as Nero listened to the short girl's ramblings about class and watched her animated gestures from the side of his crystallized vision.

That all faded when the couple swung open the office door and a slight chime from the bell above tingled into the air. Even that was drowned out by the bickering of ivory locked brothers. It seemed that the older twin couldn't help but question how his relaxed younger brother could live in such a manner. The youngest bearer of the Sparda bloodline exchanged a side glance with his loving companion as they stood still in the doorway. This was far from the first time that the pair had stumbled in on a scene like this, but time and familiarity hadn't made it any less awkward.

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and jerked her head to the small coffee table near the corner of the room where her folder of notes remained untouched. Nero nodded in return knowing that the problems of his father and uncle were not a problem of theirs. What made it his problem was while Rebecca was gathering her notes, the steel sights of his father struck her small stature.

"And you," Vergil stated when warm chocolate orbs met with his clouded ones. "With a soul drenched in innocence, it will hurt when you discover how cruel the world truly is." His words however harsh-sounding weren't even trying to chastise but simply act as a warning.

With these words, Rebecca's bag slipped off her slumped shoulder before she brought a hand to cover her face. Noticing the subtle gesture, Nero stepped forward. His own fists were tightly clenched and more than ready to lay into his father if he had made Rebecca upset. Before a fight could break out however, Rebecca's ivory hand dropped from her face and a small sigh pushed passed her maroon lips.

"Believe it or not, I already realized long ago." Rebecca began to explain. The tone of her voice was much more grounded and every word she spoke felt weighted and uncomfortable.

"Facing all the injustices of watching my family willingly put toxins that will kill them in their bodies both literally and metaphorically. Watching the system that was meant to protect, rip away the shelter that people preach is a human right then having the systems that are meant to relieve the burdens and care for us laugh in my face while some other brat begged her mom who also apparently needed help so bad for yet another set of clothes from Justice, they got the help I didn't. I was only ten and wanted a home. I knew it wasn't right. The kids who called me an embarrassment to live among so many other sicking names weren't right either. The adults who were near did nothing or even enforced the ideas by telling me 'kids are cruel.' I know, believe me. So are adults, I mean a year later those who were meant to be my mentors told me I was a burden and should kill myself. I was only eleven. Humans are cruel. But that's just how they are because as they say it's survival of the fittest. Cruelty thrives while the attribute that humans used to be so prideful of, kindness, dies with the rest of humanity.

Leading people like you who are so sweet but can see that to believe that people like me, who try to share unabashed kindness, as innocent and naive, perhaps even foolish. I don't take it as an insult so don't worry. But it is like you said humans aren't supposed to be this way, life was not supposed to be this way, but those of us who can see it don't have the power to do anything and those of us who do have the power wouldn't change a thing.

So I KNOW how disgusting it is, I am surrounded by it and live with it every day. But that's why I do try to be so kind to everyone because really that's all I can do at this point. You can't save a drowning person when you can't swim and the thing is I'm already drowning but people rather push you under than give you a hand. The late nights and escapism through sharing kindness with those around me feel like my only life preservers until I can find something more. If I can't, then at least I found some falsified happiness before the peace of death finally comes, even if that is only temporary.

So I know it's despicable if not downright horrifying, but if I try to be as ambitious as you I'd only be killing myself quicker than I already am. I do apologize for my rambling but I'm simply tired of having people tell me I'm naive because I still try to face this world with kindness."

Rebecca then picked up her notes once more along with her bag. She didn't even put her notes inside as she made her way for the door while the three men stared in silence.

"Oh and next time please leave me out of your arguments since I already have my parents to drag me into senseless things. If you ever need someone to talk to though, I'm here."

With those final words on the matter, Rebecca's mood seemed to completely revert back to how it was before this scene occurred. Using her free hand, she interlaced it with Nero's gloved hand which seemed to snap him from his rushing thoughts. In that ever giggly voice, Rebecca questioned if the two still had time to grab a bagel before class with the offer of the meal being her treat. Nero sputtered out an affirmative answer before lightly arguing that he would pay as the couple fell into step out the door. Leaving the brother with a heart seemingly made of stone with a sliver of a hopeful smile to grace his lips...

[eddsworldgt]

Heeeeeeey There my dear potato people

Hava new writing that I said I’d have out a loooonngg while ago, but my excuse is that I wrote it in Wingdings on paper and had to transfer it. Anyway, here’s the writing, depending on your guys’s answers, I’ll continue it-I’ll also try to put this under a cut.

“Let go of me!” Tom cried, struggling to squeeze out of the hand of his captor.

“Hmm…nah.” The hand clenched tighter around his tiny body and brought him closer to the man’s grimy face. Hot, rancid breath washed over Tom, making him gag and his eyes water. The man lifted a grubby hand and stroked Toms head, continuing. “You’ll sell for a hefty price. You’re gonna make me rich, freaEeEEGGH-!“ The man jerked and spasmed, his hands going slack and allowing Tom to slip through the man’s half closed fist, and suddenly he was rushing towards the very distant asphalt. He slammed his eyes shut and braced himself for the inevitable impact, curling his limbs closer into his body.

“Ouff!” Something slammed into his back, forcing the air out of his lungs. He felt huge pillars close around him, and felt a nauseating sense of vertigo as what could only be a hand moved in a direction that he could barely discern to be up. The fingers pressing onto his body lifted, allowing Tom to roll over onto his side with an airless wheeze. Something hard and cold shoved in between his curled limbs and pushed them apart, then roughly maneuvered Tom so that he was on his back and his arms were above his head.

“There,” a blaringly familiar voice rumbled. “You will be able to catch your breath easier this way.”

Hesitantly, Tom cracked an eye open to see who now held him. He was met with the sight of a face so incredibly marred with burn and scar tissue that it took him a long moment to recognize it.

“Tord!?” He pushed himself up on his elbows, fuming. “What the he-!” A groan floated up from the ground where the man was now currently slumped, cutting Tom off.

He looked over and watched with slight apprehension as the man clumsily lurched to his feet and glared with bleary, unfocused eyes that drifted up to meet Tord’s cold eyes.

“What the…” His gaze slid down to where Tom was sprawled, a wave of possessiveness overtaking his face.

“That’s mine!” He growled, snatching at Tom.

Tom scrambled away from the approaching digits as Tord cupped his hand around Tom, pressing it against his red hoodie. He stepped back, letting the man stumble, then delivered a swift sucker punch to the man’s gut with his metal hand. Wheezing, the man keeled over as Tord said, “I would suggest that you stay down.”

Tom felt himself being lifted, and looked back to see Tord looking at him with, oddly enough, worry in his eyes. “Are you alright, Tom?” He asked, scanning Tom from head to toe. “I’m fine!” Tom spat, even though it was obvious he was shaken. Could you blame him though? Being kidnapped and being (possibly) saved by the guy that tried to kill you and was also supposed to be dead would do that to a guy.

Tord looked at him for a few more seconds. “Hmm...I will…deal with that later. Now then,” he addressed the man crumpled on the ground. “You said that you were going to sell my friend here, ja?” The man nodded in affirmation, and smile with far too many teeth slid across his face.

“If you’ll give it back to me, I’ll split the cash with you.” The hand under Tom moved, sending a jolt of fear throughout his body. He let out a breathless exhale when he was dumped onto Tord’s non-scarred shoulder instead of the man’s waiting hands. Tom sunk his fingers into the threads of Tord’s hood as Tord stepped back and slammed his foot onto the mans head with a nonchalant “Nah.”

The man collapsed, unconscious.

Tord reached up with his flesh hand, jostling Tom on his precarious perch on his shoulder, and tapped what looked to be an earpiece in his ear.

“Sir?” A questioning voice rang out from the speaker. “I need a pickup at…” Tord leaned back out of the alleyway to look at something. “Olive street, between the tattoo shop and the cafe. I have a new test subject for the doctor.” Tom’s eyes widened, and he peered over the edge of Tord’s shoulder, wondering if he could survive a jump down.

“Oooo, what’d they do to deserve that?” The guy on the speaker asked. “He was I- No, Tom, calm down, you are not the test subject, you-“ “Tom?” The guy on the earpiece interrupted. “Isn’t that one of your old housemates?” The voice gasped. “Are you reconnecting with them because you’re a sad and lonely hermit?”

“What? No-What? Ugh, never mind.” Tord pinched the bridge of his nose, unbalancing Tom and making him fall into the red hood. “Just get over here and pick this guy up, Paul. I have something else I need to do.”

Tom climbed out of the hood and back onto Tord’s shoulder, grumbling. “What the hell, Tord! What are you doing back here?! And what do you mean test subject?! Dammit, Tord!”

Tord let Tom finish his rant before responding. “You know how I said I was going to make the world a better place? I am simply going to use bioweapons, among other things.” Tom stuttered. “Eh-What?”

“Anyway, you still live with Edd and Matt, ja? Or at least near them?” He took Tom’s surprised expression as a yes and asked, “What is the address?”

Tom scoffed and crossed his arms.

“You think I would tell you after what you did? Fat chance.’”

Tord looked at him for a moment, then huffed.

“Alright,” he said, then abruptly grabbed Tom with his robotic hand. The cold fingers clasped tightly around his body had Tom gasping, his hands clinging to the sides of the palm, and he looked up at Tord. One of his eyes, the right one, was also robotic, he noted offhandedly.

Toms eyes flicked down to the ground, then back up to Tord, who smirked. “Then you can walk.” The air whooshed past Tom’s ears as Tord crouched, making him dizzy. The hard metal wrapped around his torso disappeared, letting Tom fall for a few moments before slamming against the immense wall of metal that was Tord’s palm.

“Hmm? Tom, let go.” Tord’s unoccupied hand came up to pry him off of the side of his palm, the calloused fingers completely engulfing Tom’s minuscule hands. Tom held on as best he could, but ended up falling the last few inches to the ground, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

Tord stood, towering over Tom, and turned away, starting to walk away from Tom, who was desperately trying catch his breath, to call out to Tord’s rapidly retreating back.

...part one! Ahaha!

Anyway, I have an idea. The next part of this story will be written only if you guys take up a vote. Stay with me now, all you’ll have to do is put ‘Tord’ or ‘Paul’ in the reply thing. Whoever’s name is written the most will be in the second part. At least three of you guys have gotta vote, too, otherwise you guys’ll be leaving Tom to live on the sidewalk like a tiny hobo. So. Also if the way the voting thing works doesn’t make sense to you, come scream at me and I’ll try to clear it up because my mind rabble doesn’t make sense to anyone. Anyway, thanks for reading!

[amucus]

WHO: Amycus Carrow (@ascarrow) + Lily Potter (@lilyevanspctter) + James Potter (@potteringpctter) + Alice Longbottom (@alicethelongbottom) + Frank Longbottom (@frnklongbottom) for @amorfatihq

WHAT: The one with the interrogation.

WHEN: April 12th, 1982, late afternoon.

WHERE: A safe house.

AMYCUS started to come to, only to find that he was still in a dark basement (that reminded him of the dungeons at Hogwarts), and still magically bound to the World's Most Uncomfortable Chair. But all of that was Fine ™️ until he laid his sleepy eyes on the bane of his existance. "Lily," he greeted through gritted teeth. "Ready for another round already?" He winked, but his features were painted in fifty shades of disdain.

LILY braced herself when they arrived to the safehouse, not wanting to show the death eater how utterly broken she felt over the lose of her child, the thought of how he might be with each passing moment never leaving her. Were they feeding him, cleaning him? He was a baby a small baby barely two years old, did any of those monsters even know how to take care of a small child? Still, she'd managed to compose herself when they entered the basement, she sat her kit down on a corner table before turning to him her face twisting when he spoke. Her green eyes blazed with anger, the sight of him growing it tenfold upon remembering he was the reason they took her son. "Your friends, took our son." She said stepping closer. "You're going to tell us everything because I have lost all concern for your wellbeing at this point."

AMYCUS could kind of see it now, what Potter saw in her. She was hot when she was angry. Mean, in a different way than the women he usually interacted with, but still crazy hot. She was every bit as fiery as her red hair. His jaw ticked, but he kept his cool demeanor. The Death Eaters took Harry? Curiouser and curiouser. "You took me first," he pointed out, sounding bored but his interest was piqued. "-and I don't have any friends, so I don't know who you're referring to, but my condolences for your loss."

ALICE lingered in the back; there was a fire and anger in her eyes that she didn’t bother dampening. This man - boy - before her was part of the organization that had stolen away her friends’ little boy, while her own son slept beside him. They destroyed Arabella’s home. She had no sympathy for Amycus as she watched Lily display her own rage. She couldn’t wait to see the redhead enact a mother’s wrath upon him. So she lingered near the door, Frank near, as she watched with cruel satisfaction written on her face.

JAMES quickly stepped forward, although angry and wanting to burn down the world, he knew Amycus, specifically was not to blame for this particularly interaction. After all, he wasn't the reason why their son was kidnapped. No, even James could see that. He gently took Lily's hand, pulling her away from Amycus for a second before whispering low in her ear. "It's not going to get us anywhere if we're cruel to him," he said. "Trust me. I know him... Just, let me try something?"  He met her eyes then, strong, hoping she wouldn't mind the interruption.

LILY ignored the interjection about them taking the death eater first. If only so she wasn't reminded that it was her completely sound and sober decision to do so in the first place. That kind of reminder would only derail her. She reared closer to him her jaw ticking, "Let's not kid ourselves by assuming you have more than two brain cells, but if I were you I'd be making good use of them right about now because god help you if I don't get my son back,-" She was cut off mid tirade when James pulled her back and she whirled on him eyes blazing as brightly as the deep red of her hair. "I don't care much about his comfort right now James! Or are you forgetting he associates with the likes of the scum who have Harry? Who knows how many children he's robbed from their parents himself!" She exclaimed not nearly as quietly as her husband. Though at his affirmation and request she settled somewhat. "Fine. I'll get the serum ready."

ALICE flinches at Lily’s tirade. Although this is exactly what she’d expected, exactly what she hoped her friend would unleash, it was different to hear it. She took a tentative step forward, but didn’t continue. Anger and recklessness might very well ruin this interrogation. The collection of information needed to be done precisely, carefully. She allowed the two parents to take charge until they stepped too far, or not far enough, although she doubted the latter would be an issue.

JAMES knew that the request must've seemed out of the blue. But he also knew Amycus. Knew him from school, from times when the pair, although unlikely, would sit at The Leaky together and talk. It wasn't as if he wasn't angry, or that he particularly even cared about Amycus' comfort at this point. But, not every interrogation needed to be pins and needles. "Lil," he said, trying to calm her, gently meeting her eyes for potentially the first time since they'd learned their son was kidnapped. "Trust me." As she left, James shook his head softly and went and sat down in front of Amycus, spinning the chair around so he could rest his forearms on top of it. "I don't like this as much as you don't like this, Carrow," he said. "My son is missing. In exchange for you, they took my son. Not even two years old. The one you said was going places just a day ago." He let that settle in, and took a deep breath himself, trying to steady himself. Eyes meeting Amycus', he tried not to flinch. "You told me you were a Death Eater for a reason, Amycus. Not just because we were blasted. Why? Why are we sitting here right now? Give me something, mate."

LILY could feel her gut twisting at James' words. Not even two years old. The one you said was going places. She simply clenched her fists at her sides as she stalked across the room to where she'd earlier left her laboratory kit, meeting Alice and Frank's only a minute. She didn't particularly like the person she was right now, she didn't even want to think of what she might truly be capable of if pushed to that point. And they were there to bare witness to just that. She opened up the bag, taking out the small green elixir bottle and then a bottle of water. Along with a few other odds and ends. She had brought the truth serum of course, but also some more nefarious concoctions that might help things along if needed.

AMYCUS' head lulled to one side as she insulted him. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before, even from the so-called-friends she not-so-kindly referred to before. That was only part of the reason Amycus didn't like people. "How about you put your two braincells together and find another outlet for your anger. Like, I don't know, whoever took your child." He was being so cavelier, but when had Amycus ever shown any care or concern for anyone other than his sister? She was projecting. So bloody pissed off at herself she was taking it out on him. Cool. This was fucking batshit. He opened his mouth to continue but someone cut in and Amycus' tired eyes cut to James... the reason he was here. "Au contraire, Jimmy Jams. Pretty sure I like this a little less than you do, but the wench has us both beat." He flashed a wolfish grin and settled back further in his chair. Might as well try to get fucking comfortable. "Correct. In exchange for me. An eye for an eye. That, my friend, is Karma." Eyebrows wiggled a little, fishing for some type of reaction. "You said it yourself. I like the kid... Why did I tell you?" he mused aloud. He swiped his tongue over his lips, then bit them together, waiting for the lightbulb to go off in that pretty little head of James'. "Maybe I confided in you because I trusted you, mate," he challenged. Was it true? Probably not, but his new bff Lily was cooking up a truth serum for this very occasion so...

JAMES couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for what Amycus’ was going through. He expected him to poke at it; to make a hole where there was already a tear. But James hadn’t expected Amycus to say that he had trusted him. “Godric, you trusted me?” he asked, trying to keep his face neutral. “We both bloody know that’s not the best answer.” Taking a deep breath, James tried to reason with Amycus. “An eye for an eye means equality, Carrow. But you’re an adult. My son has barely lived. We both know this unfair. We both know that I’ll help you if you help us.” That much was true. James wouldn’t lie about that. But would Amycus trust him now? He didn’t know.

AMYCUS had spent years mastering his pokerface. It was the only way to survive in the Carrow household. He didn't answer, deciding to let the question hang in the thick air between them. The corner of his lips twisted up into something sinister. "You gonna choose me over her?” he asked, sending a pointed look over James' shoulder. "Didn't think so. She's already written my obituary for the Prophet, mate. Doesn't matter what I say. Kidnapped child or not, killing me was always the endgame here so save me from this friendly little chat she and I are about to have and just kill me now." He lowered his gaze and rolled his neck, curious if James would call his bluff. "For what it's worth though, I had the chance to harm your child and the motive. And I didn't, did I?"

FRANK stood in the back, wand clasped tightly in his hand, taking in everything in the room. He watched James and Lily did the unthinkable as they demanded answers about their son, felt Alice’s sturdy presence in the corner waiting for the time to step in, and listened to the Death Eater say a lot of words that didn’t really mean anything. It was frustrating, watching the young kid with the horrendous mark on his arm, poke and tease the Potters - even if he truly had no idea where their son was. It seemed unlikely, unless the kidnapping had been planned before they got Amycus in their custody. All he could hope for was that the truth serum that Lily was preparing would at least give them some information. He nodded at the redheaded girl - approving and encouraging her move of sorting through her bag. Following protocol, he or Alice should be the ones to give the green elixir to the Death Eater - but things were already out of order here, and it would probably do Lily good to take back some of the power. Talk between two boys who had once known each other would only complicate things. It would be impossible for them to not be personal - and even though the matter itself was, it was clearly hardly productive. He’d wait until it was necessary, step in and ask the questions that would hopefully point them in the right direction to where Harry was being kept.

LILY had stayed quiet letting James try his way like he'd asked though she whirled in place to glare at him from across the room. "Do not assume you know anything about me. Let's not forget I'm not the one associated with a criminal organization that routinely tortures and murders innocent people." The nerve on him to try and paint her out to be the one out for him for no god damn reason. "We wouldn't be here at all if those weren't the kind of people you support. Killing you was never in our plans, but I'm not surprised you would think that considering what your people do."

ALICE stepped toward Lily again, this time reaching her. “Careful. No one wants me to see you take this guy down more than I do, but he is the way to Harry. Let’s figure that out before we do anything...drastic.” She whispered the words so Frank was the only one close enough to hear. “As aurors, there’s protocol we need to follow to make sure we all stay out of trouble. Let me give him the serum.” Her eyes were firm, but pleading. She understood just how much emotions could cloud someone’s judgement during a crucial moment.

AMYCUS rolled his eyes dramatically slow as he turned his head to look in Lily's direction. "Right. You wouldn't know anything about an organization that kidnaps, poisons and tortures someone for crimes they hypothetically committed, would you?" A smirk curled in his lips. "What exactly are you implicating me for anyway? For being a part of a club? For having some sick art on my arm?" He shrugged halfheartedly. "Tell me, Lils - can I call you Lils? - who's the bad guy here? Still me? Whatever helps you sleep at night." He winked again, paying no mind to the other people in the room. "Do not assume you know anything about me," he said, throwing her own words back at her.

FRANK watched as his wife approached the younger witch, agreeing with everything that she warned in a hushed tone. It was no surprise that when she needed to, Alice would step in and help guide Lily. He only hoped that she would trust her fellow Order member and mother - as well as a talented Auror - to run the interrogation. "She's right," he told Lily with a nod, taking a moment to look at his wife before returning his attention to the redheaded girl and trying to get her to focus on him rather than the vile things coming out of Amycus' mouth. It was easy to act as if their cause was the same, when Frank and Alice knew first hand that the Death Eaters interrogations were nothing like this. "We will get the information we need. We just need to act properly. Let Alice do it."

JAMES shook his head at Amycus’ words, eyes meeting his with a deep sadness. Or maybe it wasn’t sadness so much as weariness. First his son, and now Amycus. “Of course I’ll choose Lily,” he said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you, either.” He stood out of his chair, shoulders shrugging. “Let me know if you change your mind.” And with that he looked to Frank and Alice. He’s all yours, he seemed to be saying, shoulders down.

ALICE could only imagine how deep Lily’s emotions ran for this entire situation, but it seemed James was at an even deeper crossroads. Amycus was his friend, it seemed, and this interrogation didn’t look like it was going to end well. With shoulders back, Alice careful took the serum from Lily and approached Amycus. “I can shove this down your throat or you can take it willingly - it’s your call.” She offered the vail to him with raised brows. Switching seamlessly into auror mode was easy given the tension in the situation. And that required an entirely different personality and set of morals than the one people were used to from her.

LILY was so angry speaking was difficult, but she understood where Alice and Frank were coming from, and honestly she was so thankful that they were there. If left to their own devices she and James would like just crumble under the weight of their own guilt and panic. She let Alice take the bottle, and after taking a deep breath she hand Frank the water bottle for him for the bitter elixir. Because despite her anger and willingness to incinerate anything and everything in the path to get getting back her baby she was not an unkind woman. Composing herself she went to stand with James, needing him to lean on.

AMYCUS could handle James and had even gotten used to Lily (though, despite his feigned bravado, she still scared the shit out of him) but his patience was wearing thin with their friends. Three's a crowd. Five's a party. None of his 'friends' were invited. "The flying pitch's a little uneven here, don't you think?" he asked, lazy eyes sweeping the room to look at each of the four interrogators. "No." Like the foul creature he was, he actually spat in Alice's direction. She may have been 'pureblood' but she wasn't sacred, not like her traitorous husband. She didn't deserve his respect. "Let her do it," he sneered, tilting his head in Lily's direction. "I want her to remember who the villain in this story is every time she looks in the mirror."

JAMES had been waiting for a moment like this. The moment where the fire in his veins took hold. And, Amycus' actual threat to Lily did that. Without a second thought, he grabbed the vial from Alice's finger-tips, sending a second paralyzing spell Amycus' way, shutting him up just for a moment. "No," he shook his head, looking at Lily. "You're not the bad guy here, Lils." And so, he did it for her. He wished that the night hadn't come to this moment, but still, holding Amycus' mouth open, he quickly poured the liquid down his throat, then held his nose. It was do or die here, literally, and James couldn't even look Amycus Carrow in the eye.

ALICE wiped the saliva off her shoulder - it missed its intended mark - with extreme distaste. It wasn’t the first time she’d been spit on, and it wouldn’t be the last. His words however, elicited irritation. An unruly detainee was always so much more work. Before she could reply beyond acknowledging his slight, the vial  was gone from her hands and James was shoving the liquid down Carrow’s throat. Panic filled her. “James! That’s enough!” Her voice was firm, demanding. This situation was getting out of hand. Let her conscious be stained, or Frank’s - they’d seen enough already. Conducting torture in this form was something she worried James wouldn’t fully recover from.

LILY watched the interaction carefully, though she nearly lurched away from James when he had the audacity to spit in her friends directions. She'd be all to happy to force the concoction down his throat without a hint of remorse, despite what he had to say about it. Her serum would not harm him in anyway, and him telling the truth would only make this more painless for him. So really it was a mercy. Though James was off before she could even react, she watched him knowing full well that he would think on this far more than she would have. Though she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit comforted knowing that no matter the distance that had filled between them as they both dealt with their grief differently, they would always stand up for one another.

AMYCUS was waiting for it - the moment James Potter snapped. A viscious smirk curled on his lips as he watched it happen. James grabbed the vile in a fit of rage, coming straight for him. And Amycus wasn't even going to fight him. It was four wanded wizards verse one incapacitated, defenseless wizard. His mouth was forced wide, but he would have swallowed it down easily - every last drop. He tried to lean into James' view but his mobility was limited... so he just let out a maniacal laugh. "Do you always fight her battles for her?" he asked, licking a trace of the serum off his lips. "First question's yours hero," he challenged, looking right at James.

JAMES didn't notice he was breathing heavily until Amycus was speaking again. He turned away to wipe the sweat from his brow (when had that happened?) and pulled his glasses off his nose for a moment. Suddenly, he felt ten years older. Taking a deep breath at Amycus' question, he didn't turn around when he asked, "Where would they most likely have taken Harry?" He supposed anything could be justified if he were only looking out for his son, but still, the guilt rode in his stomach, making him want to vomit.

AMYCUS tsked and shook his head back and forth. "Wrong question, Jimmy Jams." His range of movement was very limited and it was very fucking inconvenient. All he could gesture with was his facial features and he relied heavily on body language. "One of the manors. That's an easy one," he answered, voice dripping with boredom, and like the little shit he was, he feigned a yawn. "Next time ask me what you really want to know." Aaand he actually fucking winked before turning towards Lily. "Your turn, little Red. Any questions for the big bad wolf?"

LILY watched them, the frown that had settled unlikely to dissipate for the duration of this unsavory interaction. His flippant answers though did make her feel just a little bit angrier every time he opened his mouth. Without really even looking at him because her attention was fixed on Carrow, Lily took the bottle she'd earlier handed to Frank and walked over to him. Uncapping it she offered it to his face since his hands were immobilized. "Give me the names of the death eaters in Voldemort's inner circle." She said, forgoing any question relating directly to Harry's possible whereabouts, which he had no way of knowing anyway. The smart thing to do would be to extract as much information about the Death Eaters from him as possible enough so that it could sorted through and they could decided what would be useful, where or rather toward whom they could focus their efforts.

AMYCUS eyed the water bottoe warily, not trusting anything she gave him. The damn serum left a bitterness in his mouth he wasn't particularly fond of though so he gave in and opened his mouth. He only swallowed half of it before tilting his head back and spitting it upwards, creating a little fountain with his mouth. Water ran down his face, so when he looked straight ahead again, he shook his head, making the water droplets fly. Ge let out a sigh of relief, making an ahhh sound... like a fucking child. "Amycus Carrow," he stated, just to be facetious but the urge to spill more names was literally causing him physical pain. Fucking serum. He tried to hold it back but finally gave in. "Just kidding. I'm not in the inner circle so I know nothing," he teased, flashing a pained smile. "Jonas Travers," dick. "Rodolphus LeStrange." Asshole. He considered for a moment before adding, "Rabastan LeStrange." Guilty by association. Then, just for shits and giggles, he added, "-and Sebastian Wilkes. The right hand man."

FRANK could see that the young Death Eater was doing everything to rile them up. Either to get under the skin of those he once knew, distract them from the information he had, or the information he didn't - or all of the above. Still, Frank had to make himself stoic. Even though he wanted nothing more to throw a spell in Amycus face to wipe off the grin as he spat in his wife's face and teased the other two, he knew it would do them no good for all three of them to lose their head. Instead he handed the bottle to Lily, keeping his eyes on his wife, silently assessing her current state. The only thing that pulled his attention from Alice were the names that Amycus started to rattle off, burning them into his memory.

ALICE wasn’t the least bit surprised at the names revealed. Well, Sebastian Wilkes was a little bit of a shock. He always seemed...well, not the Death Eater sort. Still, she looked back, eyes meeting her husband, and gave a brief nod. They had become perfectly synchronized partners over the years, the movement as if to say, “we’ll look in to this later.” She turned back to the child in the chair, her eyes narrowed. “If you’re done playing with your own saliva, I’d prefer we moved on.” She wondered if the Death Eaters even missed his presence. They probably only stole Harry to send a message, but weren’t concerned with actually getting this nuisance back. “Care to add to that list?” She paused, meeting Frank’s eyes again for guidance. Their questions had to be specific, precise. She turned back as if she was satisfied with their quiet conversation. “Where do your meetings take place? I want the names of the specific locations and owners of the manors, if those are on the list.”

LILY stepped back when he only spit up the water instead of drinking it all. Dipping her head into her hand she had to massage the pulse at her temple. Drained and enraged all at once. She let Frank and Alice return to the forefront letting them do what they did best though she didn't let up her death glare in his direction.

AMYCUS was tired. Physically. Mentally. "No." The older witch was a snore, but that could work in his favor. Maybe she would bore him to sleep - or better yet, bore him to death! She was catching on though. Getting a little more specific with her question. He bit down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from blurting anything out too fast. "Knockturn Alley. Hogsmeade. Diagon Alley. Right under your nose," he said, but that didn't really answer her question, so he continued. "Carrow. Travers. LeStrange. Wilkes," he answered, pointing a bored look in her direction but there was a challenge in his eyes.

ALICE rolled her eyes. Of course he would twist that question, no matter how specific. His information was hardly that, and wasn’t helpful at all. “Do you think they’re on their way to help you?” She said in mock curiosity. “The Death Eaters, that is. They took Harry, but who’s to say they’ll bother getting you back? We’ve spent enough time with you to understand that you’re not exactly the useful type.” Her cruel words flowed freely, a finger tapping against her chin. She kept a few feet away, though. She liked this outfit enough to not want him to spit on her again.

LILY rolled her eyes as he regurgitated answers. "The serum is strong enough that he won't be able to talk his way in circles if you ask him direct questions. I say we start naming off the wizards we suspect. Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Evan Rosier, their all related aren't they?"

AMYCUS' brows came together to form a crease between his eyes. "Maybe that's what they want. The more time you spend interrogating me, the more quality bonding time your son gets with them." He shot a look James' way before cutting his eyes back to Alice. "You need my help or you wouldn't be here while he's there - wherever there is. I may not know where he is - because you kidnapped me before it happened - but I may be able to find him. Or I could if I was useful," he shrugged one shoulder, just barely, but enough to know he was regaining control of his body. His eyes darted to Lily but the only answer he got was an aggravated, "Yes." They were related, that's all she asked.

FRANK nodded in return to his partner, watching as she continued on to interview Amycus. At the sight of Lily, he finally made his way up to the chair where the Death Eater was tied up, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he passed her. He ended his walk just a couple steps behind his wife, listening as the two women discussed their questions, his eyes trained on the boy. "There's no need to dance around the questions - he's dispensable as a Death Eater already, especially now that he's revealed information." Going off of Alice and Lily's lead, he made another step forward to Amycus. "You clearly underestimate us and just how many people are searching for Harry. You're just one stop in the search." He looked down at him, crossing his arms across his chest and gripping tightly onto his wand. "Who do you report to?"

AMYCUS couldn't help but roll his eyes. Useless. Dispensable. They were trying to get a reaction from someone who couldn't feel anything - someone who was already dead inside. He knew his place in the Death Eaters. Knew he was only minimally useful. He liked it that way. "One very long, very useless stop," he baited them with another bored look. He looked from the wand to Frank's face, chuckling under his breath. "Lord Voldemort." Technically, they all reported to the Dark Lord... and Amycus didn't like to deal with anyone else unless he had to.

LILY was growing more impatient by the minute, this was supposed to be easy. He couldn't lie, yet the asshole was craftier than she'd have given him credit for skirting around the truth where ever there was room to. "He can't talk his way out of a yes or no question. So how about I ask a different way. Are Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Evan Rosier death eaters?"

AMYCUS’ bored look was gone as he fixed her with a hard stare. One of those three names was a person he almost considered a friend. A murderous friend that would kill him for outing him... but what choice did he have? The witch was good, and that serum of hers was a bitch like it's maker. He worked his jaw, starring her right in the eye as he replied with a quick, "Yes." Then, because the stunning spell was wearing off, he made a sudden move. It was a small little jump, but it made a loud noise as the legs of the chair scratched the floor. "Anything else, or are we done here?"

JAMES wished there was more he could think of, but since his first question he'd felt the ache in her stomach beginning. There was a kind-of heartbreak at the thought of this interrogation not getting them anything. And, to James, although they got names, did they really get anything at all? Amycus was right, he realized. They'd risked it all for nothing. With a sigh of his shoulders, James shook his head at the horrible reality of this situation. "An eye for an eye," he said, softly, scanning Lily's face before turning on his heel. A quick look at Amycus and James left the room, but he couldn't stop the fury in his veins and the hot tears in the corners of his eye.