#anyway maybe its not that deep but brother i am willing to dig

[littlcfreaks-archive]

it was a cover, because she didn't have a way for him to be any hotter; she wasn't sure that it possible - maybe part of her also wouldn't want him to be any hotter. he was attractive enough and nesta already worried that he was far out of their league, "i think its more fun if you try to guess." eyebrows lifted expectantly, waiting for him to take a guess. nesta was doing alright with him - but it wasn't like this with most people. uncertainty clouded her judgement on why, but maybe it was how they met, maybe it was because he had so easily made her feel comfortable (which opened a whole new why that they ignored). nesta really didn't know, even as they sat here and he playfully suggested what was the truth. lips tug into a smile that doesn't reach their eyes, a hollow laugh, "maybe i am. maybe its all fake, or maybe i just enjoy being around you enough to not want to punch you." she's getting dangerously close to scaring herself, dangerously close to a gray area that left them feeling unsure. nesta wasn't exactly trusting - so at first his admission that he would probably lie to her makes their heart beat in their chest so loudly that they're sure that he could hear it, feel it and she took a deep breath, trying to steady themselves as he explained and really - she understood his explanation. clearing her throat, trying to erase the nerves that had arisen (that shouldn't have - what right did nesta have to care if he lied to them?), their head nodded slowly, "well, technically, won't be a lie now since you told me." they weren't sure that the logic actually tracked, but it made sense to them - not being willing to share everything wasn't a lie and at the very least, he had clued them in, not left them wondering. and again - they can't help but think - its easy. its so much easier than the messy fights with her boyfriend that typically end too bad, leaving her bruised and with a broken spirit.

"okay, as much fun as revenge sounds? i'd rather congratulate them on their ability to fuck with you. second, i don't think revenge would be the way for me to make the best first impression, hm?" and the truth - nesta was terrible at getting revenge; she had always failed when trying with her brother. even with this, nesta did love him, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips as they nodded, "he really is. he's the best brother i coulda asked for." the glint in his eye is enough to make her freeze, lips opening just a little bit, recovering with a quick nod, "uh, y - yeah. have been for a long time." she pauses, nose scrunching up, "only kinda hot? i think its pretty fuckin' hot that i race cars and that i can fix it when it breaks." she couldn't help but be curious about his life, couldn't help but to dig for more information, "how'd you get into bikes?" hoping that it was a happier memory than hers had been. an interest originally driven completely out of a need for control over something that caused her an immense amount of anxiety, turning into a need to replace the memory of her mother's death, of the car accident that had haunted her for so long, with new memories. memories of her maneuvering cars expertly, fixing things that could go wrong, having control over the situation. as if nesta can read his mind, they turn back to look at him when he says that he wouldn't be able to stay away. their voice dropped almost to a whisper, worried that for some reason once she returned the sentiment he would reveal that it was all a joke, "i don't want you to stay away. i don't want to stay away." he leans in, brown eyes darkening even further, making their heart beat in their chest, absent-mindedly nodding, "probably." it was the truth - he'd probably kill both of them if he found out, but nesta wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her anyways. this time their voice was a whisper, tilting forward until their lips just barely brushed his, "yes."

" you gonna share what those are, or am i just supposed to guess ? " there's nothing nesta has to do to make them more attractive in his eyes. she's already captured his full attention, all spare thoughts going to them and them alone. he'd like to tell himself it's the idea of it all, the way they're so recklessly toying with fire, but he knows it's not. she's just . . . well, amazing. to put it simply. but of course he doesn't reveal that easily, lets a knowing smile settle upon his features as he watches them. careful eyes crinkled, he gets it —— he's not always that great with people on first impression either. sometimes he has this way about him that makes it seem like he cares about nothing when in reality he feels everything so deeply, cares a little too much about a lot of things. " you're doing okay with me . . . " it's spoken quietly, leaves him wondering if he's the exception. the idea of that is kinda nice. it makes him feel pretty special. there's a strange feeling that washes over him then, when she reassures him that she wouldn't lie to him. it's something he appreciates. people how know him beyond the act he portrays know that he can be emotionally delicate. over the years it had caused people to lie when they thought it would spare him from feeling some type of way, but he could always tell. always hated it. would rather know the truth and deal with whatever his true reaction may be than to be treated with kid gloves. " i know, " he nods, clearing his throat. " i might, sometimes, but not about anything that really matters. i kinda have this tendency to pretend like things are good with me even when they're not and i can't say that i won't do that, but . . . i'll try not to. it's just habit. no bad intention, i swear. " their smile practically melts him, mirrors it so effortlessly. nesta has this weird way of making him feel relaxed even though their situation is tense. " yeah, pretty much. felt like i was on a bad trip for a straight month. i've been plotting my revenge ever since, maybe you can help me out. " they're so much smater than he is, though, and always seem to catch him out before he can execute any way to mess with them. " sounds like a good brother to me. " a soft chuckle and cruz pauses when they continue, a glint in his eye. " wait, you're into cars ? " shit, he thinks he may have just fallen in love. " that kinda hot. you know that's my thing, right ? well, more so bikes, but cars too. " it could be said that cruz lomax was never happier than when he was fixing up old bikes, whether it be a motorcycle or a dirt bike. some of his earliest memories are of him and camden sat out back of their trailer, spending their days working on something or another. it didn't matter if it was boiling hot out or snowing up a storm, nothing ever stopped them. not even the sound of their dad yelling out the window, all drunken slurs and hate. it had been their escape, a way to keep their minds confused on something else. nesta looks away and in his mind he wills them to look back at him, never wants them to feel like they need to hide. " no, you do. you deserve better. better than that asshole, better than me. but i . . . i don't even think i'd be able to stay away from you now even if i tried. " something he doesn't plan to do. has no intention of even attempting it. he's here and he wants them, more than just in a physical sense. wants to know them. like a moth to a flame, cruz moves forward slowly. his gaze is settled upon them, darkening slightly. his lips so dangerously close to their own. " fo you think he'd kill me if i kissed you right now ? " he doesn't even care. thinks it's well worth whatever price he may have to pay if she wants it too. " do you want me to ? "

[drbtinglecannon]

I'm still foaming at the mouth over the Hexsquad Hagsquad art

[gumnut-logic]

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and…decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital…again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[weirdochick56]

Trapped- Campbell Eliot Imagine

Campbell Eliot x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. Dark!Campbell (obviously)

Disclaimers: This isn’t a light character and this isn’t a light relationship or situation. This is dark and violent so please read with care if abusive situations aren’t your jam!

Word Count: 3,914 words

Summary: Campbell Eliot is your bestfriend’s, Sam, brother. He’s a disturbed individual who doesn’t feel emotions like the rest of you do. His gaze and heart are dark and sadistic and yet- you’re drawn to him. So when he comes looking for Elle and no one gives her up, he offers another aleternative; he’ll take you instead. But he’ll only keep you for a limited amount of time. If by the end of that time you still want to leave him, he’ll let you and Elle go-- definitively. If not, you’re his. Should be easy right?

***

(Gif is not mine!)

You lick your lips, flipping through another page of the book, eyes intensely seeking out every word, soaking every syllable in your head.

This was you third time reading Jane Eyre, but each time it just got better.

You’re so immersed in the fictional world of the young woman, in fact, that you don’t notice when someone comes in until he speaks- voice gruff and bemused.

“Good book?”

You jolt off the couch, heart instantly clenching in shock as your gaze flickers to person which has spoken.

“Campbell,” his names leaves your mouth in a barely-registered, unintentionally breathless mumble.

He grins at you. “Did I scare you, doll?”

You swallow, avoiding eye contact. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Shrugging, he steps closer to you. “As happy as I am to see you, I’m here for Allie and Will. They’ve got something that belongs to me.” He motions loosely around you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they are would you?”

You shake your head. “And even if I did why the hell do you think I’d tell you?”

He pauses suddenly, face falling and the move is so startling, your heart does too.

He stares you down as he steps closer. You refuse to move or maybe you just can’t- his gaze paralyzing you entirely.

It isn’t until he’s a mere foot away from you, scanning you from head to toe pensively, that he finally speaks.

“You’re too fuckin pretty and smart to be aiming this low, Y/n. Always were.”

You scoff at him. “And according to you what the hell is so low that I’m aiming at?”

“This. This house, these people. You don’t belong here.”

You laugh wryly, shaking your head. “And what the hell would you know about belonging Campbell? All your life, all you’ve done is not fit in. You try- you hang out with the cool kids but even you can’t make yourself believe that you actually feel good with them. That you actually fit in.”

He clenches his jaw, clearly on the verge of snapping, before a small ominous smirk grows on his face. “Yeah. You’re right, dollface. But at least I’m actually going for the people that matter. Allie and her pathetic little crew won’t stay in power of this town for much longer and then you’ll be on the losing side.”

You smirk. “We’ll see about that.”

At the smugness in your face, something suddenly snaps in him and he laughs.

“You’re so fucking lost. I’m willing to show you the way though, Y/n.” He tilts his head mocking, eyes scanning you from head to toe with a malicious glint in those mysterious eyes.

You swallow your fear. “Yeah? And how’s that?”

“If you open those long legs of yours for me, I’d be more than willing, dollface.” He licks his lip mockingly.

You’re sure he doesn’t actually mean it; Campbell is always playing games and this is another one of his sick manipulations to get you riled up.

And it’s working.

You first your hand, raising your arm in a flash, ready to punch the living daylights out of him, but he catches his arm just before your fist connects with his annoyingly sharp jaw.

He yanks your closer to him, clicking his tongue with pretend disapproval. “Now, Y/n, that’s not a very nice thing to do to a guest, is it?”

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I’m not your fucking toy, Campbell,” you hiss at him, despretely trying to tug your arm from his painfully tight grasp, fighting the panic rising in you at your vital mistake.

No one else was at home and they wouldn’t be for a while. It was just you and him— no one was here to save you if he decided to do something.

Truth be told, he terrified you. But that didn’t mean you’d let him know that. You knew the sick motherfucker got off on that shit, and you weren’t going to become just another helpless victim trapped beneath his sharp claws.

Not you.

At your venomous response, Campbell simply raises a dark brow at you, scanning you from head to toe with decisive carelessness and a cold indifference that made you feel like a minuscule bug beneath his shoe.

That was one of the things with Campbell- he had a way of making people feel like worthless little things. Especially in comparison to him. It was this effect that made you detest him even more than usual. He wasn’t just a jerk, he was manipulative in the worst way possible because he didn’t only manipulate you for his own benefit, but against your own. He made you hate yourself so much you’d have no choice but to comply with him.

And you weren’t immune to it, no matter how much you tried to deny it.

And yeah, sure- physically speaking, Campbell Eliot could more than easily overpower you. No doubt.

He was taller, towering over you like a damn mountain. And he was clearly stronger- the lean muscles that flexed beneath his shirt anytime he took a menacing step toward you were enough evidence.

But somehow you knew it was stripping your mind of its power that he really enjoyed. Being able to trap you in your own fucking body- that’s the real power trip he craved.

He raises his hand, fingertips softly brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as you stubbornly stare him down.

The touch is shocking in its contrast to the death grip he has on your arm and it nearly makes you whimper.

He curls his hand over your jaw, placing his thumb under your chin, fingertips softly brushing against your neck.

You watch him so closely that your heart nearly drops when he suddenly twitches- it’s very small, but seeing as you’re quite literally holding your breath for his next move, you catch it- and it’s as his hand sweeps lightly over your neck...over your throat.

You watch his face closely. His lips part, his breath hitches and his eyes darken even more beneath the dim light of your living room.

He catches himself quickly, though. So quickly in fact, you’re sure if it weren’t for the fact that he were so close and you were so fucking scared of him, you wouldn’t have even noticed.

But you did. And a chill runs up your spine when you think about what he must’ve been thinking in that messed up head of his.

This fear grows when he uses his thumb to force you to look up at him, leaving your jugular totally exposed and vulnerable to those big hands.

“Oh, dollface, but you are,” he responds with sardonic sympathy. “You all are. Now, tell me where they are.”

Your breath hitches when he abruptly digs his fingers into the skin of your arm, sinking his claws into you.

Tears prickle your eyes at the sudden and sharp pain. You try to blink them away and hold back the tiny sobs threatening to exit your slightly dry lips, but a few of both escape anyway and you hate yourself for being so damn weak in front of him.

That is why, to reserve your dignity (or what’s left of it anyway), you don’t dare back down, looking at him dead in the eye and gritting your teeth as you lean in.

You wait for him to expect something of you and then you talk.

“Fuck. You,” you grit out with biting anger.

He smiles in a sickengly smug way, dark eyes practically drinking in the sight of you twisting in pain beneath his touch, of the humiliation embedded deep beneath that fake bravado of yours.

And as much as you hated admitting it, despite it all, there was such beauty in that gaze, such intriguing depth.

God, if it weren’t for the fact that you could see the sadistic joy -far darker than you had initially thought- clearly swimming in them as well, you could’ve confused him for handsome. If for a mere second.

If for a mere second, you could make out a striking resemblance between him and Dorian Gray in the infamous painting- the version before he turned into a monster that is.

His face was structured in that same classical beauty kind of way- high cheekbones, sharp jaw, bold brows, delicate pink lips, and a thick set of long lashes encasing a pair of piercing blue eyes.

But seconds go by and that mere second sure as hell did.

And all it gives way to is the pain you’re currently feeling and the perpetrator behind it. His beauty is dangerous. It’s deceiving to what truly hides beneath it. The ugliness simmering beneath, just waiting for something to snap from within to explode and take with it everything in its path.

He leans into you all of a sudden, making your heart jump all the way to you throat at the abruptness of the movement.

Not go mention; you’re fucking trapped between him and the wall now.

You catch a whiff of his cologne- a subtle but manly scent and the musk of his sweat and it makes your head spin. That along with the bitterness of the situation you’re in, nearly makes you faint with fucking desperation.

A trapped animal. That’s what he was minimizing you to. A fucking animal.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, hard. Licking your dry lips, you anticipate with almost overwhelming anxiety his next move.

His gaze flickers down to your lips as he laughs softly.

The warmth of his breath as it brushes against your face sends another chill down your spine and you can’t quite decipher if it’s because you’re shitting your pants or because he’s abandoned his indifference and is now looking at you like you’re his next prey and he can’t wait to chase you down and devour you.

His thumb softly caresses your chin, fingers moving into your hair. Your lips part at the delicious sensation and despite yourself, you lean into his touch.

“Careful what you go wishing for there, Y/n. Might just come true,” he warns mockingly, his whispers hoarse. His gaze sweeps over you- shameless as ever.

He made you feel invaded in your own body, the way he looked at you. His gaze and the liberties he took with them as he roamed your body and face made you feel like you were mistaken and actually his to look at. Like you were his to undress with his eyes.

It was a strange feeling to have him close after watching him from afar for years. Even as Sam’s best friend, you’d only ever talked to him twice before in the past.

Both were calling him out on treating Sam like trash.

To which he’d only laughed and walked away as if you were but a pesky little thing. After that, you had made it a point to stay away from Campbell. He was intimidating even in his nonchalant disregard.

But now, after what has happened, after almost everyone in your town had disappeared- he was making you question everything you believe in. And he seemed to be targeting you rather than just shake you off.

The fucker.

You suddenly can’t breathe, your heart beating so fast, you feel feel fucking dizzy with all the adrenaline it’s pumping through your veins.

You inhale shakily, trying to keep your fitting in this slippery slope of a situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“Let me fucking go, Campbell. I already told you I don’t know where they are,” you say- tone far too soft to be anything even remotely close to imposing.

He clicks his tongue at you mockingly and when you feel him tangle his fingers into your hair, wrapping the strands around his hand, you know something bad was going to happen.

Suddenly, he yanks your head back. The searing, burning pain coming from your scalp was unexpected and lethal and you cant help but let a loud yelp escape your lips.

“I’ll let you go when I fucking feel like it, you got me? I still don’t think any of you fucking understand, so let me make it crystal clear,” he snarls, forcing you to look him in the eye.

They’re stone cold, emotionless, the only emotion he had -sadistic joy- is gone and in its place there’s only searing, voidful, palpable anger.

“Everyone in this fucking town is scared of me.” He briskly releases you, knocking you back into the wall as he takes a few steps away from you. “And it’s for good reason.”

With a tiny grunt, you glare up at him. “Asshole,” you mutter.

He ignores your petty little insult, scoffing down at you like you’re a worthless piece of shit.

“Even you.”

You scowl. “Well I don’t know about everyone else but I, for one, am not afraid of you, Campbell.”

His lips curl upwards as he stares at you with a bemused look on his infuriatingly attractive face. “Sure you fucking aren’t. You know,” he clicks his tongue. “I always found it strange that even when you and Sam were attached at the hip, you never tried to get even remotely close to me. I mean aside to give me shit about the way I chose to treat Sam.”

He suddenly grows serious, a predatory look instantly growing on his face. Then he clenches his fists so tight, his knuckles turn paper white.

“Oh, the things I could do to you,” he mumbles, eyes zeroing in on your chest and then your neck. He drags his tongue over his thin upper lip, eyes flickering back up to you.

If that asshole knew how bothered his eyes on you made you feel, he ignored it. Or perhaps he enjoyed watching you squirm. Probably the latter.

They’re so dark now, that under this lighting- they almost look black. Far from his natural pools of blue and strikingly menacing.

His silver earring glimmers dangerously under the light and then you catch a glimpse of something else in his hand as he holds it up to the light.

Your blood runs cold when you realize it’s a blade.

He casually plays around with it, twirling around his hand with ease.

“You wouldn’t just be afraid...” he closes his eyes for a second, as if imagining it in his mind. A sick, perverted smirk instantly curls his lips and his cold gaze pins yours down once more when he releases a tiny hum.

“You’d be begging me to hurt you some more. Hell you’d get on your fucking knees and ask me to like the nice little girl you make everyone think you are.”

Your chest rises but doesn’t fall as you hold your breath. You’re trembling at this point, but you hope to god he doesn’t fucking notice.

“You’re sick,” you whisper roughly, eyeing him cautiously.

He shrugs nonchalantly, fingers running the knife some fucking idiot had left lying around.

“Maybe. But at least I’m not weak.” He looks at you pointedly. “At least I know how to take care of the things that belong to me.”

You huff, swallowing down your fear and letting your mouth run. “See, that’s the fucking problem with you Campbell. You think you’re entitled to owning people. But I’m not going to let you manipulate me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, trust me, Y/n. Right now, with you- this is as real as I get. If I was manipulating you, you wouldn’t know it.”

Despite how much his words chill you to the bone, and your strangely strong urge to ask a whole bunch of questions, you merely chuckle sarcastically at him, putting on a brave face.

“Fortunately, that’s never going to happen.” You smile before quickly letting it drop. “Now if you’re done, get the fuck out.”

He sighs with fake defeat, putting the knife down casually.

“Fine. I’ll go.” You don’t budge, refusing to drop your guard at his words.

He smiles and even though you know that it’s not real- for a split-second you forget who he is because of how damn charming it is.

“Tell your friends I was here, will you doll?”

You almost let out a sigh of relief when he spins on his heels and begins to walk away but that gets trapped in your windpipe when suddenly pauses near the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“You know, it’s a shame.”

“What is?” You snap.

“That we hadn’t talked like this earlier.” He grins darkly. “I actually kinda enjoyed this little convo of ours.”

And with that he walks out, slamming the door shut.

Once you’re sure he’s gone, you release a huge breath, falling against the wall.

Your arm was throbbing aggressively and so was your scalp, your chest aches with pent-up anxiety.

And yet....

And yet all you can really think about is those eyes. That smirk.

The darkness inside of him wasn’t entirely empty, you conclude the more you thought about the genuine joy he had as he saw you in pain.

It was fucked up for obvious reasons, but you couldn’t help but think that what he held in that gaze was far more than that emotionless exterior he showed everyone. It was darkness nonetheless, but it wasn’t entirely devoid of all emotion.

Everyone said he didn’t feel like the rest of you did. But he felt something didn’t he?

There was something almost mesmerizing about figuring out what he was thinking. What he was feeling. About what made him tick.

It was crazy, but he’d always seemed like a sad person to you. Even underneath all that hard skin he’d built over the years, underneath that emotionless existence he’d been living, he seemed sad.

He scared you so much, it was practically impossible for you to comprehend why he also intrigued you just as much- if not more.

His darkness was as terrifying and unpredictable as it was alluring to you.

You sigh a little, glancing the already-forming bruises marring the skin of your arm. They were dark imprints of where he’d sunk his fingers into you.

You shiver just thinking about his hands on your skin.

You can never forget how dangerous he is.

Because if you do, you could find yourself trapped under his claws.

*

You tug on your long-sleeve subconciously, looking at Allie with furrowed brows.

“He said he was looking for you guys.”

Will shares a look with the blonde girl before looking back at you. “Did he specify why?”

You shrug. “No. Just said he needed to talk with you because you had something that belonged to him.”

Pursing her lips, Allie sighs. “We’re sorry for leaving you alone, Y/n. We should’ve had someone from the guard here. But he didn’t like-” she hesitates, watching you closely. “He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?”

You look down, tugging even more at the sleeves and shake your head. “No.”

Allie had enough on her plate as is, you didn’t want to add another thing to it and be a bother.

She nods and sends you a look, fairly enough not looking convinced at all by your meek firmness.

“Well-” just as she begins to speak, a loud knock at the door abruptly cuts her off.

All three of you share a look this time, and you swallow harshly, heart racing. “Campbell?” you mumble with dread.

Allie motions to Grizz to check who it is. He nods, prying the front door open only slightly.

“What do you want Campbell?” He spits.

The small, indifferent, mocking, cold laugh he gives as a response floats in from the other side of the door and sends a shiver down your spine.  

“I need to talk to Allie,” he says simply.

Grizz goes to protest coldly, but Allie shakes her head at him, motioning for Campbell to come in. Grizz clenches his jaw, but complies, stepping aside for him to step in.

Campbell smirks sumgly, leering down at Grizz -who looks just about ready to explode- as he passes by him.

Then his gaze shifts to you as you stare at him and he grins brightly. You instantly look away, scrutinizing your hands.

Your spine goes rod straight as his footsteps near the kitchen, where you currently sat on a stool by the counter.

“What the hell do you want Campbell?” Allie raises a brow at him.

He slightly glances at you before smirking up at her.

“Elle. Where is she?”

Allie shakes her head. “She’s not your property Campbell. And you can’t just barge in here like that.”

His smirk drops and he glowers at her. “Give her to me or I swear to God-”

“Or what?” Will interrupts. “What will you do?”

Campbell refuses to back down. “Or I will come over to your house every fucking night and make your life miserable until you do.”

Allie heaves a heavy sigh. “Campbell-”

“Unless...” he softly sing-songs.

Everyone pauses, staring at him.

And when his gaze gently glides over to you, you know what he wants before he even says it.

“Unless?” Will murmurs.

Campbell bites his lip delightfully, gaze never leaving you. “Unless you give me her instead.”

All at once, everyone around you protests.

“What are you crazy?!”

Campbell shrugs, mumbling beneath his breath . “A little.”

The outrage continues. “No fucking way we’re doing that.”

“Listen,” Campbell shushes them. “The way I see it is; this town is fucking sick and tired of you Allie. So I really doubt they’ll have a problem helping me make all your lives a living hell. Now, I can take Elle and keep her because she’s mine. Or I can take sweet little Y/n here and return her after I’m done with her. That is; if she even wants to come back after I’m done with her.”

None of them even consider his offer. They start protesting again against him.

You just sit there, staring off blankly. And when you finally speak up. moments later, everyone falls silent.

“I’ll go with you,” you whisper.

“W-what?” Allies sputters. “Y/n, no.”

You look at her. “Allie, this is my choice, okay?”

She purses her lips in a silent reprimand.

Campbell snorts at your words as you look up at him. “But you have to give me back after a month.”

“Two.”

“One and a half.”

“Deal.” He smirks with satisfaction.

He looks at Allie pointedly. “Deal?”

The blonde glances at Will, Grizz and finally you. It’s clear she hates this; they all do.

You take a deep breath, getting off the stool. You walk towards her, taking her hands in yours.

“Allie please,” you murmur. “Elle has been beaten down enough by him. He’s broken her.”

“And that’s exactly why I won’t let him take you too,” she insists freverently, squeezing your palms tightly.  

You deadpan, lowering your voice to a whisper only you two can hear. “Allie, Elle is a badass, but I’m stronger than her, we both know it. I’ve known Campbell my whole life, I know his startegies. I know I can hold out for a month and half. I know that I’ll come back to you and he won’t be running a damn campaign agaisnt you then. It’s a win-win.”  

“But-”

“This town needs you, Allie. Even if they don’t see it now. Don’t let us down.” You smile reassuringly for her sake more than yours. “I need you to trust me on this.”

She blinks back tears, nodding lightly.

You nod at her, fighting back your own tears and you step away. You turn to Campbell; your fucking nightmare incarnate.

“Let’s go,” you say softly.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

***

Why is there such a shortage of fics on Campbell? He’s such an interesting character and let’s be honest; fine as hell. 

(with that earing bruh?)

I definitely have a thing for hot psychos and it concerns me a lil bit.

A special thanks to:

My forevers

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@sammykb1994​

@lilypalmer1987​​

@mogaruke​​

[riptideau]

[AU Opener]

[Opener for Demigod AU (Percy Jackson style)!]

[Reblogs are welcome!]

    “Come on, Martin! The aquarium closes at four!”

    “I’m coming, let me find the passes!” Martin dug into the depths of his backpack as his ten year old brother grew more frantic. He glanced up to the clock on the wall- crap. It’s 2:37! This realization made him dig quicker, before suddenly flipping his bag upside down, shaking out all of his week’s homework onto the floor.  Leaping from the edge of his bed, he knelt down and threw papers aside.. nada. “I thought they were right-...” He himself was beginning to grow upset, where the heck were the passes?!

    He leapt to his feet, racing to their desk as Chris sat impatiently on the top bunk. He went through every drawer, bag, and cabinet in their room, even under the bed and between the mattresses.. all coming back empty handed. He let slip a heavy sigh, at this rate, the aquarium would be closed before he even found them...

    His eyes slowly lifted to Chris, but as soon as he saw his little brother’s brown eyes beginning to tear up, the older brother became invigorated. They will find those passes. He forced a light smile, a determined one at that.

    “Help me look through the house, they have to be here somewhere.”

Thankfully, that smile was at least a little calming, as Chris returned a worried smile to him before nodding and descending the ladder. They then searched the house, Chris taking up the kitchen while Martin carefully searched the living room. Once more, every drawer, under the couch, behind the tv even, and, as much as he hated to do it... even Mom’s purse. And for nothing, they weren’t in there either. He carefully put everything back where he found it.     No dice... well. Yes dice, but wrong dice (He’d found some lost dice from an introductory game of DnD a friend had given to him and his brother. He made a note to ask Kyle if he wanted them back).

    “I FOUND THEM!” Chris’s excited shout sounded from the kitchen before he darted out, laminated red cards in hand. Martin took them quickly, glancing over them to check that they were the right ones-     “Yes!!” He couldn’t hold his excitement back anymore, he dared a glance at the clock- 2:44! They still had time!     “Let’s go! Race ya to the door!” He pocketed the passes, before racing towards the door, Chris hot on his heels. Lucky for the little guy, Martin remembered to leave a note in case Mom got off work early to see them missing. Went to the aquarium!

    And then they were off, grabbing their bikes and racing, as siblings do, down the road on that misty day. They tore through puddles, and while Chris’s clumsiness got his pants soaked to the knees, Martin knew how to slide right through the puddles, barely a speck on him. He’d always had this close connection with water, as much as Chris mildly envied his older brother’s skill in maneuvering mud holes, he couldn’t help but silently admit he was impressed that even with puddles as wide as a car, Martin still glided through them.

    In fact, he had slipped into ‘the zone’. Glancing back after periods of time to be sure his brother was keeping up, Martin was more engrossed in thoughts of what creatures may be out in the aquarium! Belugas, blue tangs, clown fish, maybe even a shark! He hadn’t realized he’d been pedaling faster- and only stopped to a coast when Chris really began struggling to keep up.

     The closer they got to the aquarium, the more it felt to tug on him, even after they arrived and checked in, he found himself making a beeline towards the closest tank. The water seemed to feel as if pulling him in, though he fought against it and stood straight, oh how he wished he could swim with the creatures. Just by merely watching them, their behaviors, how they interacted with others, he pieced together conversations in his head, relationships and alike. He could almost hear them.

     “Let’s go look at the sharks!” Chris nudged his older brother, abruptly snapping him from his awe before running off in the direction of the shark tank observation room.

     “Chris, wait!” Martin spun on a heel and chased after him, nearly tripping over fallen weighted posts with rope stretched between, not realizing they were supposed to be standing.

     As soon as he stepped into the room, he felt a sense of unease. Something wasn’t quite right... a trepidation nearly smacked him right in the face as his brother stood a little too close to the glass...

    His stomach twisted when he saw the cracks in it.

    “Chris...”

     His brother looked up just in time for a great white to race by the glass, startling the both of them as it curved to make another circle of the tank, a tiny splintering sound coming from the glass. The shark paused on the opposite side of the tank, eyeing that splintering glass as it ever so slowly began to leak.

     Chris backed up next to Martin, whom was watching that shark like a hawk... it was hungry.. and tired of the shredded up garbage- he wouldn’t repeat what the shark seemed to be thinking by mouth, especially not in front of Chris.

     “We should tell the staf-”

     As if on queue, the great white raced full speed ahead towards them, glass finally shattering under the pressure of massive water displacement by an angry white. Martin pulled his brother close, and as much as he willed his legs to run, he was frozen, a fearful hand held out towards the incoming surge of water, glass, and whatever that great white shark had in mind for them...

     But none of it ever came? They had braced themselves for a flood and blood, but yet they remained dry... with the great white swaying in the edge of that water wall that had formed a mere two feet from his hand. Chris dared a look from his brother’s chest first, staring to the shark for a second before seeming to look above him.

      “W.. what’s that..?”

     Martin’s eyes shot up, a glowing blue sphere was hovering over his head, with a dark blue fork-like symbol in the center... a trident? He stared up at this sphere for a moment before it suddenly faded, with just enough time for him to pull Chris- and himself- out of the way of the shark tail fin that had whipped around to smack them.

     The shark spun around to make another attack, but slowed to a stop once more, looking past the brothers.

    “Akheilos.”

     The brothers whipped around in terror, dreading the lecture they were about to get- would they loose their aquarium pass for this?!

     A short haired woman stood there, in about as casual clothing as they wore, with boot cut jeans, long sleeve shirt and turquoise tipped hair. She.. didn’t seem angry? She instead slowly began clapping with a sincere smile on her face.

    “Bravo, Son of Poseidon. Fourteen years old and already facing off with the great Akheilos?” She laughed respectfully.

    “Anyways, we should be going. The shatter caused quite a ruckus, people will be here any minute.”

    “W-we can’t just leave them like this!” Chris spoke up, which was unusual, as Martin slowly nodded. That wall of water never dropped, stood firm. It knew its boundary and it would not pass it. The woman frowned for a moment, as if thinking, then nodded.     “Fair enough. If you can hold the wall for a little bit longer, I’ll go drain the tank a little. Below the glass, at least.”

     Martin slowly nodded, before realizing he hadn’t been paying attention to the water wall. The shark simply stared him down, now hesitant to attack now that the woman was there... was she his trainer?

     Stay... He found himself thinking, willing the wall to remain still and standing, though the more he thought, the more it swayed, sunk, or lurched. He quickly learned the trick was to not stress about making it stand, but to simply- go with the flow? He slowly relaxed his mental pressure on the wall, smaller sharks seeming tempted to explore, he kept seeing flicks of tails beyond the lower ledge of the window, but they were intimidated by the great white.. Akheilos?

    You are out of your league, Son of Poseidon. You are in my domain. Martin tensed as the deep voice whispered, glancing to Chris, whom stared straight at the beast with no reaction, then back. You are lucky, that is all. I do not feel like fighting a God again.

     Akheilos... Martin dug in his memory for the name, it did sound familiar.

     The water suddenly began to recoil into the tank, pulling the shark backwards with it.

     We will meet again. It will not be pretty, Son of Poseidon.

    “Aaaaand, now.” the woman was back, just as the shark’s head sunk below the ledge of the tank. The two brothers turned to her in a shocked silence.

     She smiled. “My name is Tortigua. I am a satyr from Camp Half Blood and- ... I have a lot to fill you in on, don’t I?”

[singaporeluststoriescollection]

How I managed to bang my GF's family and friends (Part 1)

Hi bros, I have been a silent reader for months and now I would like to share my own experience about how I managed to get lucky with my GF’s family and some of her friends.

  Before I begin, I believe some of you will be wondering “Waa, you sure or not?”

  If I were to be honest, all I can say is that I’m not bad looking and I keep myself lean and fit. Most importantly, I am pretty confident and a little cocky at times. I guess some girls dig my style.

  Anyway, I thought it would be interesting for me to share my life story here, so here I go:

  I was 27 when my GF brought me to meet her family. Things were getting serious between us, and we were considering marriage. It was a big step ahead for me, as I never thought I would see myself getting married.

  My girlfriend (Evelynn) is the same age as me, a petite 27-year-old lady standing at around 155cm. I met her at work and she’s a demure and sweet lady, partially the reason why I fell in love with her. Naturally, I was expecting her family to be a traditional and conservative Chinese family.

  From what I understood, she has an elder sister and an elder brother, with her being the youngest sibling. She told me that her sister is a HR personnel working in an MNC, so I was expecting a dull, boring lady.

  So, you could imagine the shock I got when she opened the door to her house and what greeted me was a sweet pair of tits.

  It was 8pm or so on a Friday night and her sister (Eyvon), had just gotten home from work and had taken a bath. She later told us that she had totally forgotten that Evelynn is bringing me over for dinner.

  Eyvon was playing with her phone on the Sofa when we entered the house. The first thing I saw was her perky nipples underneath a thin, worn-out T-shirt. The outline of her nice C-cup boobs almost bursting out of the tight-fitting t-shirt. Best part of it all was that she’s completely unashamed that I’m there talking to her while her tits are almost visible.

  Evelynn brought me to her room later and Eyvon joked around a little before that, saying “Mom and Dad will be home soon, so don’t try anything funny in the room!”

  Now my head is filled with images of her firm and round boobs and I have a hard time keeping my boner down…

  My GF’s mom and dad came home within half an hour or so, and I went out to greet them. Not knowing what to expect, I was pretty darn nervous. What if her parents don’t like me? What if I smell weird? It’s the first time I’m meeting them after all.

  I came out just in time to see her parents placing a box of cake on the table. I’ve seen her parents from her photos before, and they look pretty friendly. True enough, her parents were all smiles when they saw me. Her dad came over and shook my hand- firm and strong. He seems like a chubby man in the photos but I’m pretty damn sure those were all muscles below his fats.

  Her mom came over and gave me a hug. The moment her arms wrapped around my back, the first thing I felt were her plump breasts. And holy shit were they impressive. Looks like Eyvon got a good portion of her mom’s good genes. My GF Evelynn on the other hand, is a modest A cup. However, I must say that my GF’s face is the prettiest among them all.

  I savoured the short couple of seconds her breasts were pressed against me, and proceed to make small talk with the dad while mom went to the kitchen to heat up the food for dinner.

  My GF grew up in an English-speaking household, so conversing with a middle-aged man in English made me felt as if I’m speaking with my boss at work.

  Not really a nice feeling, to be honest.

  After a short chat with her dad, dinner was ready and we dig in to the food. Eyvon wore a bra during dinner, perhaps due to her mom nagging her. It was a real pity, since I would like to see more of her breasts. My GF’s mom kept shoving food onto my plate, telling me to eat more. Every time she bends forward to pick up a dish, I could see her breasts press against the dining table. Thank god for the table blocking their view. By then my cock is almost at its limit.

  And it was on that day that I started to have weird thoughts about my GF’s family…

  It has been a week or so since the dinner, and I still can’t get the image of my GF’s sister and mother out of my mind. I’ve been having sex and fapping more frequently, to such a point where my GF started telling me that her private area is sore from all the sex. I have no choice but to visit ML for a quick release every now and then.

  Then the weekend came, and I was left with nothing to do in my house as my GF went to hang out with her female friends. My brother came and bug me to go to the gym with him as he needs a spotter, but I gave an excuse just so I could stay at home and fap. By then, I’ve almost used up all the fap-worthy photos available on Eyvon’s Facebook profile.

  I had to resort to my imagination.

  I could vividly see Eyvon standing in front of me, wearing nothing but the worn-out t-shirt from that day, signalling me to go over and do her on the sofa. I took off my pants immediately and plunge my cock deep inside her, imagining how she would moan. I ejaculated within minutes.

  At this point, I knew I had to get help, or at least speak to someone who can help me. It has to be someone I can trust…

  So, there I was, having frog porridge in area G with a good buddy of mine. Let’s just call him Jeremy. Back in NS, he was the one who taught me how to chiong, and we’ve been best buddies ever since. He may appear frivolous and act like a dick at times, but he is a good man who will never leave a bro in the lurch.

  Over the porridge and Gong Bao frog, I shared my issue with him.

  “Wah bro, your GF sister sound like she asking for it you know?” Jeremy half-jokingly teased.

  “I mean, come on lah” he added “Why else will she show off her body like that in front of others?”

  I then told him about how they’re English educated and might be more ‘open’ about such things, but Jeremy dismissed my claim.

  “No way lah” he continued “bro I know her type, she must be desperate for attention! You say she’s close to 30 and still single right?”

  And Jeremy was right. According to Evelynn, Eyvon broke up with her BF a couple of years back and hasn’t been in any relationships since.

  …I wonder why? It’s not like she’s hideous or anything.

  Jeremy brought me back to reality, and gave me a piece of his mind.

  “Bro, just try your luck and drop some hints lah, maybe you will get something out of it…”

  So, for the next couple of weeks, I tried my best to get closer to Eyvon. Evelynn was happy about the effort I was putting in, thinking I’m trying to gain the favour of her family. Truth be told, I was really trying to do that. Buying desserts and gifts for Evelynn’s family constantly certainly ain’t cheap, but I could tell that they are starting to open up to me more as the days went by.

  As for Eyvon, she started wearing skimpier clothing as the days went by. It’s as if she considers me a member of the family by now. She used to wear T-shirts and shorts around the house all the time, and I enjoyed stealing glances her.

  However, I was greeted by a pleasant surprise when I went over to their house during one of the weekends.

  As usual, I made my trip to Evelynn’s house in the afternoon, expecting her to open the door for me. But little did I know that she’s taking a bath. Eyvon came to the door instead, and I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

  As if a grand reveal done by a magician, the wooden door opened up to reveal Eyvon wearing a grey spaghetti strap tank top! The tank top was probably one size too small, as it was a ridiculously tight fit even for a lean girl like Eyvon. The tank top accentuated her figure, and you could see all the curves at the right places.

  Most importantly, I can see the outline of her nipples beneath the tank top. If the tank top was white in colour, I’m willing to bet that we’ll get to get a good glimpse of the colour of her nipples.

  At that moment, I realized I was staring. And my brain, still recovering from shock, somehow made me said the darnest thing ever. (I probably sounded like someone recovering from head trauma)

  “Hi, hey, ah… Eyvon! Uh, looking good!”

  Eyvon raised her eyebrows, fairly surprised by my reaction. However, her surprise soon turned into a chuckle, and she moved aside to let me into the house.

  “You’re looking pretty good yourself!” she winks comically, and gave my butt a slap as I entered the house.

  …that was unexpected and… oddly arousing.

  Perhaps Eyvon realized that I had a thing for her due to this incident, as something interesting was about to happen soon…

  That very night, I stayed over at my GF’s place. Her parents are ok with me staying over and I don’t like to go home on weekends because of certain reasons (maybe I’ll elaborate on this in the future, it’s complicated)

  I tend to stay up late, due to my gaming habits. It’s 2am or so and I left Evelynn’s room for a drink.

  After pouring myself a cup of coke, I sat on the sofa, replying to my friends’ messages. One of my friends got into a bike accident a couple of weeks and somehow managed to injure his testicles.

  So, there I was, giggling like an idiot on a sofa while replying to the messages in the group chat, making fun of my friend.

  About 20 mins or so later, I heard a door swing open.

  Twisting my neck to one side, I saw Eyvon coming out from her room.

  “Hey, still not asleep ah?” She asked in a really sleepy voice.

  Thinking that my incessant laughing might have disturbed her sleep, I apologised to her.

  “Sorry ah, I was laughing too loudly”

  Eyvon opened the fridge, getting herself some orange juice.

  “Oh no no, that’s not what I mean! Not your fault I’m awake!” She replied.

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw the lights from the fridge illuminate her face. Despite having no make-up on and a head of messy hair, she still looked sexy as hell.

  Eyvon gulped the juice down and gave her arms a good stretch while yawning. Her chest raised before my eyes, stretching out the old t-shirt she’s wearing as pyjamas.

  At this rate, her T-shirt will rip one day.

  What kind of dumb ass would dump a gem like her? Wondering that, I turned my eyes back to my screen. Expecting her to return to her room after this, I went back to the group chat.

(Original thread: http://tiny.cc/td3x6y) (To be continued…)

[ryukoishida]

WangXian Week 2019 | Day 1 - Modern AU: In which engineer!WWX built an android that threatened to destroy the world. [Android AU]

Written for WangXian Week 2019

Title: Viral [Part One of Two] Day: 1 – Modern AU Summary: As a robotics engineer, Wei Wuxian wished to be the forefront of the movement that brought AI technology into military use, even if it meant going against the whole world — even if it meant going against Lan Wangji.  Characters/Ships: WangXian; featuring android!Wen siblings, Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen, android!Lan Sizhui, android!Lan Jingyi Rating: PG-13 A/N: Prequel to “For Man and Machine Alike”. Even more android AU? HELL YUH. Posting the second part on day 8 because I’m no longer a productive writer. Sorry.

-

i.

“Hey… hey, isn’t that the younger brother of Gusu Robotics’ CEO?”

“Lan Wangji? He’s in our lecture?”

As soon as Lan Wangji sat down in his seat by the windows, the late afternoon autumn sunlight streaming in through the glass and casting the quiet figure with cold topaz eyes in a golden sheen, the whispers in the lecture hall started to rise and fall like waves as first year students of the university’s robotics department all turned to stare at the young man with a combination of awe and envy.

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng, what’s the deal with this Lan Wangji anyway? Why’s everyone staring at him?” Wei Wuxian followed the curious gazes of his fellow classmates as his brows dipped low in a slight, confused frown, and saw the man calmly ignoring the gossiping around him and concentrating on reading the book he had in his hands. His delicate fingers moved to flip a page, and the specks of dust wafted up from the slight movement, the particles fluttering in the sunlight. Honestly, who even read from actual, physical books anymore? Those volumes were practically ancient artifacts since e-readers and other more portable devices had become mainstream and affordable for almost all population.

Wei Wuxian continued with a harrumph, “I mean, I get that he’s very good-looking, but so am I!”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at his best friend and adopted brother’s shameless statement.

“Wei Wuxian, if you can maybe stop being so complacent for one moment and actually pay attention to things around you, you would’ve realized that that guy is the second young master of the renowned Gusu Robotics, who got into this program with the highest GPA in our year and is rumored to become Lan Xichen’s right-hand man after graduation.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Jiang Cheng’s explanation, or if he did, he certainly didn’t express much interest in Lan Wangji’s distinguished background.  

“Quiet please, everyone. Class is starting.”

Behind the podium at the front of the lecture hall stood a tall, slender man with sleek, black hair, an impressive goatee, and an impeccably perfect posture that exuded an air of sternness and uptight attitude of a much older and stricter gentleman.

“Welcome to Ethics of Artificial Intelligence,” he began with a voice that rang strident and clear within the large hall filled with about 120 students, “I’m the instructor of this class, Lan Qiren. In this semester, we will be discussing various current events and case studies involving ethical issues surrounding the design and production of androids, as well as how our ethical ideals as human beings affect the artificial intelligence that we build…”

About half a minute into the introduction, Wei Wuxian’s attention was already drifting off to elsewhere, his fingers restlessly twirling the pen he was supposed to take notes with on his tablet. While most of the class were listening closely to the droning voice of the instructor, Wei Wuxian sneaked another look at Lan Wangji, the red in his irises brightening with pure curiosity.

As expected from the top-performing student in their year, even his posture was flawless: his back was straight and elegant, and his face was angled directly towards the front of the classroom, his eyes never straying away or distracted by his surroundings.

“…where should the line be drawn between teaching artificial intelligence to interpret and use the data so that they can make the most efficient solutions, and anticipating the unintended consequences of ethical rules and morality set and input by us, the creators?”

Even the whirring air condition of the lecture hall was unable to combat the warm Indian summer breeze drifting in through the open windows, and Wei Wuxian found his eyelids growing more and more heavy, until a loud yawn escaped from his mouth without much of his own awareness.

“Boy sitting in the very last row — you, in the red and black hoodie —” Lan Qiren’s droning voice suddenly turned a degree sharper as he looked towards the back of the classroom, “do you have something to share with the rest of the class?”

Jiang Cheng had to elbow him three times before Wei Wuxian jerked awake and finally realized the entire class and their instructor were staring at him expectantly.

Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, not a hint of embarrassment at being caught falling asleep in class could be found on his face.

“Notwithstanding the hypocritical and wasteful way with which we build and use androids that take care of the physical labour workforce and then pointedly ignore the ethical issues of not providing them any regular maintenance and dumping them out the moment they are damaged through misuse and negligence, or when newer models replace them,” Wei Wuxian started, the cruel humor in his brightened irises a sign of challenge to the gradual frustration displayed on Lan Qiren’s face, “this outdated philosophy of ethics is exactly what’s stopping the robotics community from moving forward and getting into new territories.”

“And what kind of new territory is that?” Lan Qiren asked darkly.

“Military and defense, of course,” Wei Wuxian replied, and he swore he could hear the entire class gasped in unity.

Jiang Cheng was pinching his forearm in an attempt to stop his best friend from digging his own grave, but Wei Wuxian pulled his arm out of Jiang Cheng’s grasp and continued, “just imagine the possibilities! If programmed correctly by installing core rules about engagement and treatment with civilians, the chances of mistakes made by human soldiers during adrenaline-fueled situations will be significantly reduced. Not to mention, the variety of autonomous weapons will be endless — land, sea, sky — we can even incorporate the technology we’re currently using on the bulkier tanks and aircrafts and make them more compact and lightweight.”  

Before Lan Qiren had a chance to respond to this outrageous idea, an idea that had been discussed and dismissed through the years due to its problematic implications, another voice — deep, cold rumbling like winter thunder bringing with it an oncoming ice storm — said, “you can’t be certain that we, as humans, can come up with rules that are applicable for every possible combat situation. The consequences from that alone are too hefty a price for humanity to pay to satisfy your wild fantasies.”

Lan Qiren actually looked proud of his nephew’s retort, and so he remained quiet for the time being to see how Wei Wuxian would respond.

When Lan Wangji turned around to face the other student, Wei Wuxian could, for a brief moment, focus on how the sun reflected off the man’s eyes, making the topaz turn golden.

“You know, Lan Wangji, for someone who got into this program with the highest GPA, your mindset is surprisingly old-fashioned,” Wei Wuxian tsked, a teasing smile lingering along the corner of his lips as he continued, “without risks, there will be no rewards or progress.”

To Wei Wuxian’s utter delight, Lan Wangji’s frown deepened, as if he was physically affected by the other man’s words, but he continued to murmur in the same calm, collected tone, though this time, everyone could see his fingers gathering into fists, “without precise algorithms and solid firewalls, these autonomous weapons can be lethal in the wrong hands. If we started using AIs on the battlefield, we are removing the human attachment to the moral implications of war; people will be more willing to start unnecessary conflicts.”

“This industry is meant to bloom as our technology gradually evolves to fit our lifestyles that have become heavily-dependent on artificial intelligence,” Wei Wuxian refused to back down. He knew the majority of — if not the entire — robotics community was hesitant in integrating AI technology in military usage, but this was precisely why Wei Wuxian was so adamant in becoming the person to initiate the trend and inspire other talented robotic engineers to do the same. “We can’t let it remain stagnant just because people like you are scared to take a chance.”

“You just have to start shit on the first day of school, don’t you?” Jiang Cheng sighed as they made their way towards their next class after they got dismissed from their ethics lecture.

Wei Wuxian, whose attention had already been dragged far, far away from his current conversation with his best friend, said with a mischievous grin as his gaze settled on Lan Wangji’s retreating back. “Oh, I was hoping I’ve started more than that.”

ii.

“Wangji… Wangji, what’s wrong?”

“Brother,” Lan Wangji jerked back into the present as he pulled his gaze away from the article displayed on his tablet and glanced up at Lan Xichen, who greeted him with a concerned smile and sat down at the dining table to join him. “It’s… nothing.” He put the tablet to the side and continued to eat his breakfast, though the eggs had turned cold and rubbery.

Glancing briefly at the screen of the tablet before it flickered off into black, Lan Xichen caught the image of a young man with fierce, determined eyes and a self-assured grin that was bright and contagious, and he immediately thought of the boy that Lan Wangji brought home one day several years ago; he’d came over to their place for a school group project. From what he could recall, however, the meeting neither ended well, nor was it productive; all Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had accomplished since Wei Wuxian had stepped into the Lan residence was endless unresolved disputes, agitated shouting, and torn plans all over the floor.

Lan Xichen hadn’t seen the boy since, and his younger brother, though reticent with most people, was reluctant to mention his classmate after that incident.

“Isn’t that your old schoolmate from university?” Lan Xichen took a sip of his tea before he asked, his tone casual yet masked with mindfulness.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji nodded once, paused, and then added quietly, “he quitted after the first year.”

And it shouldn’t have affected him so strongly back then, when Wei Wuxian had skipped over to him after their last exam of the semester and nonchalantly told him that they wouldn’t see each other anymore, that he was quitting school to work on his own projects because he was so sick of the university’s suffocating rules and hypocritical values.    

I’m going to miss you, Lan Wangji, he’d said with a teasing grin, and Lan Wangji had wanted to snap at him — for being so frivolous with him that it was impossible for the usually composed man to ignore his presence, for being so indifferent about throwing his own future away.

Seeing his face on the news today shouldn’t bring such an onslaught of emotions, either, but the waves just came and came, each time towering higher than the last, and Lan Wangji felt like he couldn’t breathe for as long as his mind remained rooted to this man who seemed fearless as much as he was rebellious.

Many of the university’s professors had been doubtful of Wei Wuxian’s abilities, claiming that he was a fool to abandon his education in order to pursuit a dangerous fantasy.

Yet to the disappointment of many of the older generation in the robotics community, Wei Wuxian succeeded in what he’d set out to do. Two years after he dropped out of school, the talented engineer — from a combination of self-learning, experimenting, hard work, and infinite sleepless nights — designed and sold prototypes and production rights of two of his own android creations to a private security company, which had earned him enough money to operate his own lab and concentrate his research and invention of the elite WEN series.

Today was the day Wei Wuxian was officially revealing the first prototype of the WEN series androids.

And Lan Wangji wanted to avoid seeing or hearing anything related to that man, for he had long given up on him four years ago. Or at least, that was what he’d tried to tell himself.

That same night, exhausted from work but unable to fall asleep, he attempted to let the news channel lull him to slumber.

“‘Warfare Engagement Noblesse’ is the official name of the series that 23-year-old robotics engineer Wei Wuxian has developed over the last two years, and it is the first of its kind,” the reporter introduced the young man sitting on the couch next to her. “Mr. Wei, would you like to tell us more about your prototype unit? I heard that you’ve already named it.”

“With pleasure,” Wei Wuxian grinned, and the camera panned to the young engineer and his creation, which, at first glance, looked nothing more than an extremely polished version of a household or workplace android: his clear green irises reflected intelligence and understanding, his dimpled smile expressed open honesty and kindness, and his well-designed body proportions granted him inhuman strength and physical abilities. Yet, nothing about his exterior features advertised the kind of danger or lethal characteristics that the WEN series supposedly boasted of.

Wen Ning, the android designed for warfare and violence, looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a human being.

At the reporter’s slight bemusement, Wei Wuxian continued, “this, here, is Wen Ning. I’ve coded his personality to make him look and act more approachable, less intimidating. In his non-combat mode, he’s just like any other household androids: friendly, helpful, obedient.”

“H-hello, everyone,” the android spoke for the first time, his voice surprisingly gentle as he introduced himself, “I’m Wen Ning, Master Wei’s personal assistant and companion. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“I presume Wen Ning has the same software and hardware that many of the household and workplace androids already have, so what makes him so different from the rest?”

“Correct. He can certainly function as your average household or workplace android,” Wei Wuxian’s grin grew a little wider as he continued, “but he also has the most up-to-date military strategy and tactics, logistics arithmetic, battlespace interpretations and calculations programmed into his central processing unit and memory storage.”

“And what does that entail?”

“It means that Wen Ning has the ability to gather all the available data during a battle — geography, numbers and functions of involved personnel, logistics — process them with its ingrained algorithm based on logic, and come up with the most efficient solutions that would grand the ally the highest rates of success. In short, you no longer need to depend on a group of stuffy, middle-aged men fueled by bloodthirst and adrenaline to make idiotic decisions that would impact a large group of soldiers’ lives.”

The reporter didn’t want to touch on the political part of Wei Wuxian’s statement, so she cleverly steered away from that topic by asking her next question, “the software sounds impressive, but what about the hardware?”

“Thought you’d never ask!” Wei Wuxian laughed. “We can’t do a demonstration here for obvious reasons, but earlier in the day, we recorded a test run of Wen Ning’s hardware implements.”  

“Let’s take a look,” the reporter smiled pleasantly and the screen switched to another scene of an open field in the middle of which stood Wen Ning.

Lan Wangji felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the seemingly gentle android transformed at the command of Wei Wuxian, currently the only human being who had control over him through the use of the highest quality voice recognition program.

His jade-green eyes glazed over, turning it grey and dull. An opening revealed itself on the nape of his neck, and the gap widened along his spine, ripping the flesh-like material apart to expose the cold, eerie shine of metal alloy beneath, blue glowing beams of flaring energy hovering just above his steel bones and wiry tendons. His limbs were decomposing, too, pale flesh peeling away to be swallowed by silver, until no parts of him looked human anymore.

Wen Ning, the android designed for warfare and violence, had transformed from a perfect, angelic being into a creature that could only be found in apocalyptic stories and hell, if it existed.

With Wen Ning presented so publicly, Wei Wuxian had made his intention known to the world, and Lan Wangji felt his heart growing heavier and heavier with each breath he took even long after he’d turned off the news broadcast.

iii.

“Oi, Lan Wangji!” a familiar voice called him from some distance, and he turned to see a man with chaotic black hair, loosened silk tie hanging limply around the open collar of a slightly wrinkled shirt, and an infectious smile making his way towards him. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Wei Wuxian…” Lan Wangji nodded once as greeting, and then his gaze shifted over to the man and woman standing a small step behind the young robotics engineer. His lips tightened just a minuscule, but Wei Wuxian caught the expression of aversion all the same. Still, his grin never faltered as he made some quick introductions.

“You must have known about them, Lan-er-gege,” Wei Wuxian casually used the nickname he used to called Lan Wangji by when he wanted to annoy him in school, but now the tone was merely teasing, with a hint of mischief and flirtatious aftertaste. “Wen Ning, first prototype of the WEN series, my personal assistant and good friend. And this is Wen Qing, Ah-Ning’s sibling unit. She’s a combat medic android who specializes in providing medical support during battles.”

Wen Qing stared at the other human with dark, distrustful eyes, and when Lan Wangji seemed unperturbed by her openly scrutinizing glare, she nodded stiffly before turning her head to the side, an obvious sign that she didn’t want any part in this conversation anymore.

“Master Lan,” Wen Ning greeted him with a polite smile, “Master Wei has told us so much about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Ah-Ning! You aren’t supposed to tell him that!”

“O-Oh, sorry, I-I didn’t realize, Master Wei…”

Lan Wangji turned his gaze towards Wei Wuxian and one of his eyebrows quirked up in question.

Wei Wuxian sighed and said to his android companions, “Ah-Ning, Ah-Qing, why don’t you two wander around the convention for a bit? We’ll meet back at the entrance of the conference hall in three hours.”

Outside the downtown conference hall, the sun beat down on them ruthlessly. Wei Wuxian had long discarded his tie and suit jacket, the top buttons of his shirt undone to expose the clean lines of his collarbone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows so that his forearms — lined and dotted with old and new scars — were bared to the heat of mid-summer. Walking beside him in stark contrast, Lan Wangji was still meticulously dressed and groomed, as if the summer heat couldn’t affect him in any way.  

“I heard that the government is purchasing the production rights of the WEN series,” Lan Wangji began, his gaze never straying away from the path that lay before him.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Wei Wuxian grinned up at him as he twisted around to walk backwards so that he could have a better look at the other man. Even after so many years, and despite his irritatingly conventional perspective on the robotics industry, Lan Wangji was an enigmatic puzzle that Wei Wuxian was still fascinated and intrigued by. Whether it was a silly, irrelevant squabble between friends, or a fervent discussion concerning a more serious topic, Wei Wuxian had always been the type determined to have the last word, and so when he encountered Lan Wangji on the first day of university in the ethics class, he knew he had to break him down, to convince him to see things his way.

If nothing else, he wanted to prove to Lan Wangji that it was possible for the robotics industry to go even further; all it needed was someone in their generation to take that daring step.

It was a shame that he had to drop out of school early, at least in that regard.

“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” Lan Wangji said after a prolonged pause, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should say it.

Uncertainty, coming from someone like Lan Wangji, was strange — almost unnerving.

“I wouldn’t be here if it were otherwise,” Wei Wuxian said, his grin collapsing a little.

“You don’t get it, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji’s voice tightened a degree, his lips straightening into a firmer line. “Now that you are so closely involved with the government, who knows what other projects they are planning to have you make for them?”  

“Hey, that just means more profits for me, isn’t it? That’s a good thing!” Wei Wuxian laughed it off. Both of them knew he wasn’t doing it for the money, but having the extra financial means would certainly help with furthering whatever research Wei Wuxian was interested in, and that was what Lan Wangji was afraid of the most. “Come on, Lan-er-gege, don’t be such a downer. What do you say we go get some late lunch, hmm? My treat?”

To Wei Wuxian’s utter surprise and secret delight, Lan Wangji agreed with a quiet nod.

And this would at least partly explain why, two hours later, with their stomachs’ appetite completely satiated and Wei Wuxian marginally intoxicated by the wine he’d consumed during the pleasant meal, the two engineers found themselves stumbling into Wei Wuxian’s hotel room, limbs entwined, their lips seeking for each other’s tastes and swallowing each other’s ragged breaths, their bodies hungering and craving for something else that’d been planted within their hearts since the day they met.  

“Lan-er-gege, you… ah… you’ve been keeping secrets, haven’t you?” Wei Wuxian’s husky chuckle was interrupted when he hissed as the other man nibbled him lightly along the sensitive part of his neck, his teeth leaving marks that would remind him of what they could have been in days to come.  

“Not from you,” Lan Wangji breathed in the scent — his scent — and his arms tightened around the solid warmth of Wei Wuxian’s body as if he would dissipate like a trail of smoke if Lan Wangji didn’t hold on to him for dear life. “Never from you.”

Like a vow.

Wei Wuxian froze at those honest words, his lips quirking up into a sad, gentle smile that Lan Wangji would never see.

Only later did Lan Wangji realize how naïve he’d been that night — to think that Wei Wuxian would be willing to let go of everything he’d achieved merely because they’d spent the night together.

iv.

“Come with me,” Lan Wangji said, desperate, though his voice remained its usual calm and poise. “Come with me and join Gusu Robotics. They can’t touch you there.”

“Now why would I do such a thing?” Wei Wuxian laughed, the sound hollow and without any trace of his usual good-natured humor or lightheartedness. Only bitterness dripped from his voice like acid, burning everything it touched. “So that you and your goddamn corporate regulations can tie me down and force me to relinquish the research that I’ve been conducting over the past few years?! To throw away everything I’ve worked so hard for, just like that? I thought you, of all people, would understand!”  

“You have the entire robotics community in the country turning against you,” Lan Wangji had his fingers wrapped tightly around the other man’s wrist to stop him from going. “Do you even know what that means?”

“Let them,” Wei Wuxian spat, searing with anger. “Who the hell do they think they are? What right do they have to stop me from conducting my own research, just because I refuse to follow their damn conventions? I don’t fucking get it. I want to contribute to the community as much as they do, but if we don’t try creating something new, how would the industry advance?”

“Wei Wuxian…” Lan Wangji’s grip on him slackened, and Wei Wuxian pulled himself away.

At that moment, even more so than when Wei Wuxian announced that he was going to quit school with that infuriatingly carefree grin of his, Lan Wangji felt the cold distance between them grew even wider, the gap having pulled so far apart that he had no idea how to bridge it anymore.

“What? Am I wrong?” Wei Wuxian challenged the man before him, and he continued, his voice shaking in confined frustration with no outlet for release, “someone made the first household android, and the first sexual companion android. They had all met with antagonism from those who supposedly stood on higher moral ground, but did that stop them? Hell no. So, tell me again, why should this stop me?”

“The boycotting is only a start…” Lan Wangji said, his amber eyes darkening in solemnity. “I don’t know what else the Robotics and Automation Committee would do if you don’t stop.”

“And what is it to you?” Wei Wuxian didn’t address the other engineer’s concern when he stared directly into his eyes, but the twist of his lips was cruel — beautiful but cold. “Just leave me alone, Lan Wangji. You have no reason to be dragged down with me.”

-

A/N: I actually did some “research” on AI and morality/ethics for this lol, and I found this interesting article that goes into the philosophical aspects, if anyone’s interested in this sort of thing.

[frostythefelix]

Haunted: Chapter 7

Spooktober 28th

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Han,

My name is Y/N Y/L/N. This is going to be hard to process and for that I am sorry. I have some information about your son, Jisung, that I’d like to speak to you about. Please get back to me as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Y/N.”

Short and sweet. Good. You tapped your fingers lightly against the keyboard, too nervous to hit send just yet. You didn’t even know if you could bring Jisung with you when you went to see his family, or if they’d take the news well. Digging up the past was never a really good idea, but this was important to your friends. They needed the closure, and you were sure their families did too. You pressed send anyway with a deep breath.

“Whatcha doing?” Changbin asked, scaring you. You slammed your laptop shut in panic. He couldn't know. Not yet.

“I-I was doing homework.” You stammered. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” He sat down next to you. “I just came up to apologize.” You furrow your eyebrows at the boy.

“Why would you apologize? You haven’t done anything wrong.” You were confused. Sure, you didn’t know Changbin well, but that was because he didn’t show himself to you a lot, not because he did anything wrong.

“I don’t know. I just feel guilty for not talking to you. I don’t want you to think I don’t like you.” He pouted. You can’t help but coo. He looked up, alarmed. “What are you ‘awww’ing at?”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that- that was so cute!” You giggled. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Come talk to me more often, though! I’d like to be as close to you as I am with the others.” Changbin smiled at you and nodded.

“I’d like that too. I have to go now, though.” Your laptop dinged at that moment, your heart racing with anticipation. You gave him a tight lipped smile, hoping he would leave quick so you could see Jisung’s parents response. He vanished before your eyes and you instantly opened your laptop. A little blue dot next to the only email you found for the Han family had your heart racing. You clicked, bracing yourself.

“Y/N,

I don’t know who you are, but I am willing to hear what you have to say. When can we meet up?

-Mr. Han”

With a sigh, you replied. The weekend was best. His response came quickly, a time and place to meet. You spent the next two hours hoping Jisung would make an appearance soon. Alone. He didn’t come until after dinner. You made sure no one was coming before showing Jisung the emails. He was more than excited, but his excitement faded quickly.

“How do we know I can leave the house?” He asked, his head lowered.

“I guess we just have to see. How can we distract the boys?”

“We could always tell them your brother was bullying you again. Maybe that’ll distract them long enough?” It wasn’t completely foolproof, but it was all you had.

The next day when you got home from school you made sure to complain about your brother a little more than usual. You knew it would get to them. Chan was blabbering about how rude your brother was and the second he walked in the door the boys were all over him. You waited until they were upstairs until you made your way outside. The plan was to see how far Jisung could follow you down the street before getting pulled back to the house. He double checked that the boys were distracted before following you out. You got to the end of your street before he wouldn’t go any further.

“You’re attached to the house.” You stated. “Maybe we have to attach you to something else?”

“How the heck do we do that?” He questioned, rubbing his temples. You were at a lose. The two of you walked slowly back to your house. You had four days until you were supposed to meet with his parents at their house— four days to figure everything out.

“Let’s just try it. Tomorrow when I’m at school try to attach yourself to something in my room!” The idea seemed dumb, but he agreed to it anyway. Anything to see his family again.

The boys didn’t even notice your absence and you quickly made it to your room unannounced. Jisung tried to attach himself to your teddy bear while he could. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, but he was trying with everything he had. He swore he felt less of a pull from the basement that night, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

The day before your meeting with Jisung’s parents he came to you with a large smile. He had done it. He figured out how to attach himself to the bear and all you needed to do was test it.

“Hey, Mom.” You slung your arm around her shoulders, an innocent smile on your lips. “Can I take the car for a bit? My friend just texted me. She wants to meet up at Starbucks to work on our project.”

“I thought you were meeting up tomorrow?” She asked, skeptical.

“We are!” You defended. “She just wants to get some done tonight without the rest of the group.” Your mother seemed to believe you, nodding her head and pointing to her purse. You grabbed her keys, shouting thank you on your way out the door, teddy bear stuffed in your backpack. You sat the teddy bear in the front seat, smiling widely when Jisung popped up beside you.

“You ready?” You asked him, receiving a nervous nod in response. You backed out of the driveway, Eric Nam’s soft voice playing quietly in the background. “Where should we go?” Jisung shrugged, observing the scenery. You pursed your lips, understanding that he probably wasn’t allowed out of the house and doesn’t know anything around there. You decided to just drive. The excitement began to bubble up in both of you when you made it past the point you were stopped last time and it only grew when you were one, two, three miles from home.

“I think it worked, Y/N!” Jisung exclaimed. You chortled in response, nodding your head enthusiastically. You couldn’t believe it.

“We did it!” You said, parking the car on the side of the rode and turning to Jisung. He returned your grin.

“Should we tell the others now? We know it works!” You frowned at his suggestion.

“I haven’t gotten in contact with all their parents yet. I don’t want to tell them until I know for sure it’ll work.” You explained. Jisung nodded, his smile not reaching his eyes anymore. He felt guilty. As excited as he was to see his family again, he wanted to share the moment with his best friends. He wanted them to get the same opportunity.

“How close are you?” He whispered, afraid to ask.

“I’m very close. I just can’t seem to find anything on Felix’s family.” Jisung’s frown deepened even more. Felix had it worse off with his family. Sure all nine of them left on bad terms, but Felix’s last words to his mother were something he would regret forever. The excitement you both felt from before was gone, guilt and nervousness in its place.

“You guys have been very secretive lately.” Chan pointed out, taking you to the side when you got home that night. “What’s going on?” You smiled up at him, wanting to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll know soon enough, Chan. I promise.” He wanted to argue, but let it go. You would tell him, he just had to be patient and trust that you weren’t lying to him. The other boys noticed as well, but they kept their thoughts to themselves.

You spent the entire morning trying to find a distraction for the boys. You had to leave by noon to get to the Han’s house on time. You hoped they wouldn’t notice Jisung’s absence today, but you would tell them everything soon. As long as they were patient everything would work out! That’s what you told yourself the entire way to the Han’s. The car ride was quiet, Jisung too nervous to speak, wondering what they would look like now, what they would think when you told them you could see his ghost.

The house was cute. It looked like a stereotypical grandparents home and you smiled at it. Jisung handed you your backpack as you got out of the car. Taking a deep breath, you rang the doorbell. A small dog barked and you could hear a man approaching the door. Your heart hammered against your chest in anticipation. The door slowly swung open to reveal a middle aged man that Jisung clearly recognized. His breath hitched at the sight of the man.

“Y/N, that’s my big brother.” Jisung whispered. You smiled at the man in front of you, extending your hand to him.

“My name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” The man straightened at the sound of your name.

“You’re the girl who emailed my parents?” He was confused. How did you know anything about his little brother? You weren’t even born when he was taken.

“Yes, I am. May I come in?” You wanted to seem as upbeat as you could. What you had to tell them was heartbreaking and you hoped that your mood would make it just a little better. He nodded, a tight smile on his lips as he led you into the living room. Two elderly people sat on the couch. Jisung gasped, a tear escaping his eye. It had been so long. His mom had her head in her hands, her husband patting her back comfortingly.

“Mr. and Mrs. Han,” you addressed. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” The woman’s head shot up at the sound of your voice. She was already crying, but stood up to greet you anyway.

“You’re so young!” She exclaimed. “And so pretty. Look at her, honey, isn’t she pretty?” Her husband stood beside her, smiling grimly at you.

“Let’s get to it, please. We haven’t talked about him in a long time.” Mr. Han said, hugging his crying wife.

“He hasn’t changed,” Jisung chuckled. “Right to the point.” You tried not to look directly at him. It would look odd if you turned and smiled at nothing.

“Right. Please sit.” You knew what you were going to tell them was going to be hard for them to hear and you thought it was best if they’d be sitting. “This might be hard to talk about, or unbelievable to hear, but please, listen until I’m done.” All three Han’s nodded, huddling together on the couch. You took a breath before starting. “I moved into the house your son was killed in not too long ago.” A gasp came from his mother and you flinched. “Please, let me finish.” You smiled sadly. “I’m not sure if you believe in ghosts or not. I sure didn’t until I moved in, but your son is still there. Well, here. He and a few others are stuck in that house. I don’t know how, or why, but I can speak to them. I can see them clear as day, and they’ve all told me their stories. Jisung is here with us now.”

“What-” his brother began, but his mother hit him to shut him up.

“I have never believed in ghosts, but if you are telling the truth and my son is here, please tell him I love him. Tell him there has not been a day I didn’t think about him.”

“He can hear you.” You said, chancing a glance at the boy. Tears raced down his face one after another, but a large smile was held on his lips.

“Jisung, honey?” She called out. He moved closer to them, hanging on to his mother’s every word. She was crying so hard she could barely get her words out. “I am so sorry. I love you so much.”

“Tell her it wasn’t her fault. It was a stupid fight. I never should have run away over something so stupid.” He said, staring at his mother. You nodded at him, all three people in front of you looking to where you were looking.

“He says it wasn’t your fault and that he never should have run away over something so stupid.” You repeated.

“I remember why I ran away, Y/N. It’s like seeing her is bringing everything back.” Jisung explained.

“What was it?” You asked him, not caring if you looked strange.

“I wanted to hang out with the girl I liked, but I was grounded because I failed a test.” He shook his head. “God, I can’t believe I ran away for such a stupid reason!”

“Jisung, you were thirteen. Do not blame yourself. The only person to blame now is that disgusting man who did this to you.” You shuttered at the thought of him.

“Are- are you really talking to my son?” His father asked, speaking for the first time since they sat down. You nodded. “What does he look like? Did he grow up well?” You giggled at his question and nodded.

“He’s very handsome. He looks a lot like you.” You said, unable to look Jisung in the eye.

“How long did that bastard keep him? How long did he suffer?” His brother asked, fists clenched.

“Five years.” You answered, your chest feeling heavy. You’d never actually thought about how long they were tortured for. It was never something you wanted to think about. He swore loudly, bringing his fist down on the coffee table with enough force to make the whole thing rattle. His mother scolded him immediately.

“Tell him it’s nice to see he still has that temper.” Jisung laughed. You giggled in response.

“Jisung said it’s nice to see you still have your temper.” He laughed, wiping tears out of his eyes. Jisung tutted looking at his brother, fresh tears brimming in his eyes.

You spent three hours talking to Jisung’s family. You could feel the weight being lifted from his shoulders the longer he was with his family. He looked so happy, and suddenly you weren’t worried about facing the rest of the families. Sure, not all of them were going to react as nicely as this one, but they all deserved this feeling. The goodbye was probably the worst part. You had never seen a family cry so much.

“After twenty years we can finally say goodbye thanks to you.” His father sighed. “I love you, Son. I will never stop loving you.”

“Sometimes I wonder who you would grow up to be. I like to picture you as a famous comedian, making everyone smile with your dumb jokes.” His brother chuckled.

“My jokes weren’t dumb.” Jisung grumbled causing you to laugh out loud. All three of them send you alarmed looks.

“Sorry, he was just being a child.” You said, shooting a teasing smile to the frowning boy to your right. The smiles you received warmed your heart.

“That’s my boy.” His mother laughed, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “Goodbye, Jisung. I wish we could’ve said it sooner.”

The ride home was much lighter than the ride there. Jisung was happy. He finally got to say goodbye. The coldness he felt in his chest was gone, replaced by a warm, blissful feeling. The other boys could feel it, too. Hounding Jisung with questions when they found him that night. He just smiled and told them they’d know soon.

prev | seven | next

masterlist

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Stuck In The Middle

Summary: The reader wakes up in bed with the Winchester boys...

Teaser

Pairing: Sam x reader x Dean

Word Count: 1,700ish

Warnings: language, smut

A/N: First time writing poly...

“No, no, no,” you said, trying to cover your face with your hands unsuccessfully. One arm was trapped under Dean’s pillow and his head, your other pinned somewhere behind you and if you weren’t mistaken, being loosely held by Sam’s ginormous one.

“Morning,” yawned Sam, nuzzling into your backside, nuzzling everything into your backside. Dean merely grunted, shifting his body weight closer, twisting his head up and pecking a kiss to your cheek.

“For someone that always complains about being cold, you’re toasty,” said Dean blinking open his green eyes. He immediately pulled away and sat up, a thin sheet barely covering his lap. “Sam.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam as you guessed he was doing a mirror image of Dean, your face completely buried under your hands now that they were free. “Did you say something?”

“Of course I didn’t say anything. You’re the one that woke us all up,” said Dean, Sam’s hands reaching down and gently prying your hands away. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I slept with you both. At the same time. What...who the hell thought that was a good idea!” you said, both boys looking at one another strangely.

“Uh, you,” said Sam, Dean nodding in agreement. “You sat us down in the library and said you were going to leave because you couldn’t be here anymore.”

“You said you loved us both, Y/N,” said Dean, reaching out to stroke his thumb over your cheek. “You were willing to leave to make sure you didn’t come between us so we sort of got up the guts to tell you how we felt.”

“I think I did most of the talking,” said Sam, Dean frowning. “Which is fine. We both knew where we stood which was neither one of us were going to act on our feelings so we didn’t put you in an awkward position, Y/N. When we figured out we all loved each other, it wasn’t too hard after that.”

“We didn’t really talk after that much. Basically we got straight to the screwing,” said Dean, your gaze falling to the mess of clothes scattered throughout Sam’s bedroom. “Again, that’s okay. We just...I think we all got carried away.”

“This won’t work,” you said, willing yourself to get out of the bed and start digging around for your shirt, finding one that looked like Dean’s and pulling that on for now. When you lifted your head and caught them both sat in bed, neither one were looking at you. “It won’t work.”

“Y/N, last night you were the one that said it could. When you were pulling us all in here, you wanted us to try and...now you don’t?” asked Sam.

“I’m not getting between you two. End of discussion,” you said, dropping Sam’s jeans on the floor, no luck in finding anything belonging to you.

“Hey. This is coming from the guy that hates to talk about anything but you don’t get to make that call for all of us,” said Dean. “Sam and I, we love each other. We’re resigned to the fact that we need each other more than is healthy. But we do and a traditional relationship wouldn’t work anyways. We’ve both been there where we get stuck feeling like we have to choose between the girl or the brother. It sucks but this...we don’t have to choose, Y/N. We get all of it.”

“Our lives aren’t built for normal, Y/N. We thought you were pretty darn perfect before but...fuck it, we really want you and you want us and it’s going to take getting used to but let us try. Don’t get gun shy now. Not after last night,” said Sam. You finally had your shirt in your hands, running your hand over the material.

It’d be so easy to just grab it, go get your bag where you’d left it by the stairs and run away. They’d follow for a while but eventually the Winchesters would leave you be, after they’d given up for good. The way Dean was talking, the way Sam was looking at you...you were under their skin and for people like them, they didn’t expose themselves like that.

You couldn’t hurt them when they were willing to give you a shot.

You dropped your shirt and crawled back on the bed, sitting to face them, stretching your legs out in the small gap between them before tucking them up.

“How’s this going to work?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees. Sam broke into a smile, taking hold of your right hand. Dean couldn’t bounce back so fast like Sam could. They were so similar but there were certain differences that you’d have to get used to, like holding out your hand for his, Dean eyeing it before slipping his hand over it. 

“For one...we need a bigger bed.”

Two Weeks Later

“Mmm,” you said with a stretch, one hand finding a cool spot, the other smacking into a warm Dean Winchester’s chest. “Morning, Dean.”

“Sweetheart,” he grumbled, reaching his arm around your waist, tucking your body tight against his. “Five more minutes.”

“I always figured Sam would be the cuddly one,” you said, Dean answering by throwing his leg over yours.

“I am aggressively cuddly,” said Dean, taking a deep breath, eyes still shut. “Maybe Sammy will make us coffee.”

“Considering he’s either on his run or in the shower, I think we have to fend for ourselves,” you said, Dean chuckling to himself.

“Or we just stay in bed and go back to sleep,” said Dean. You reached a hand up to his hair, running over the short, spiky strands, Dean’s eyes fluttering open under the touch. “This was definitely a good idea.”

“I agree. Memory foam King size bed? Nice,” you said, Dean squeezing your hip with a laugh. “Yeah, you boys are alright too.”

“Just alright? I think I have to remedy that,” said Dean, kissing your nose and flashing a wink.

“What are you...” you said, Dean slowly sinking below the sheets, settling himself between your legs. You sucked in a breath when his lips found your clit, giving a gentle suck, gliding his tongue over the sensitive bud.

“I see you two are finally up,” said Sam, walking in with a towel around his waist, chuckling at the sight. “Good morning, baby. Dean. Having a good day so far I see.”

“How was your...Dean,” you moaned, your hips bucking up while Sam laughed.

“My run was lovely, Y/N,” said Sam, gathering up some clothes smirking as he watched you clutch at the sheets. “You are fucking gorgeous.”

“Aw, thanks Sammy,” said Dean with a pant. “One of us had to get the good looks in the family.”

“Yeah, you look good with a sheet over your head, Dean. Now finish what you started. I want seconds,” said Sam, sitting down and removing his towel, leaning over to kiss you. Your thighs squeezed around Dean’s head as you came, Sam swallowing down your moans while Dean pushed you through it. 

“Fuck,” you panted when Sam broke away, Dean standing up with a devilish smirk, flinging the covers back. 

“She’s all yours, Sam,” said Dean, grabbing his boxers from the dresser, pulling on a pair of sweats and walking away with a sway of his hips. 

“The little tease,” you said, Sam nipping at your jaw. “You...you’re the biggest fucking tease I’ve ever met in my life.”

“No teasing this morning, baby. I’m hungry,” said Sam, nestling into Dean’s previous spot and diving right in. Your hand shot to his head, fisting in his hair and giving it a tug, Sam groaning into the touch.

Not two minutes later you were shouting out, Sam’s tongue thrusting through your folds as you squirmed and shook, pulling away with a grin.

“Yummy,” said Sam, rising to his feet, licking his lips. “I saved you some hot water in the shower, baby. Breakfast should be done by the time you’re out.”

“You two are going to spoil me, Sammy.”

“I found a case today,” said Dean late that night, your head lifting off of Sam’s chest and turning to face him. “We haven’t been on one in a few weeks. I figured we should get back in the swing of things. A simple salt & burn from the looks of it.”

“Alright,” said Sam with a yawn, stretching out his long arms, throwing his arm over top the pillows, accidentally bumping Dean’s head. “Sorry.”

“How many times have we had to share a bed? I’m used to your floppy limbs,” said Dean, reaching over to shut off the light. “Night.”

“Night,” said Sam, giving himself a bit of space, both boys always letting you decide whether you wanted to cuddle up with one or the other or both, or just wanting some plain old space for yourself.

Tonight though, you grabbed both their hands, both turning into you, trapping you between them. You turned your head back to kiss Sam, leaning over to kiss Dean, closing your eyes with a smile. 

“Thanks for giving us a chance,” said Sam, Dean’s head nodding against yours. “The past couple weeks have been...”

“Good,” said Dean, resting his hand on your waist, a telltale sign he was ready for sleep. “We’ll head out first thing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Sam, smashing his face in the back of your neck, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Goodnight boys,” you said with a yawn. “Sweet dreams you two.”

@zeusmyster @atc74 @aingealcethlenn @pillow223 @alilianamendez @dancingalone21 @smoothdogsgirl @docharleythegeekqueen @blushingdean @jaelami @roxyspearing @kickasscas67 @gallifreyansass @untitled39887 @charliebradbury1104 @quiddy-writes @arryn-nyxx @poukothenerd @feelmyroarrrr @mrsbatesmotel53 @idalinette @evyiione @jayankles @samisimportant @maddieburcham1 @demonic-meatball @hey-um-misha @flufy07 @its-not-a-tulpa @whit85-blog @mrswhozeewhatsis @extreme-supernatural-lover @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @spn-ficfanatic

[gumnut-logic]

Together

This little piece is for @ak47stylegirl who has been having a bad time recently. Hopefully this will bring you a little smile when you wake up in the morning ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and...decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital...again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[ichimacchus]

Love Essay - Chapter Five: Bottom Roots under the cut!

I’m mad bc Wattpad keeps unpublishing this so I’m just gonna write the chapters in Sta.sh writer on DeviantART until Wattpad’s functional once more.

PS: I’m proud of this

A few days had passed and Karamatsu's sickness had seemingly vanished overnight. Todomatsu had gotten used to the days of rest and now he had to start stalking again. He just wished Choromatsu had picked someone else, but he knew deep inside that he was the only one capable of doing this in secret.

At the moment, however, it was the middle of class and Todomatsu had lost track of how much time it was until lunch. He just slumped on his desk, resting his head on one arm and scrolling through things on his phone with his other arm. Karamatsu was sitting next to him, holding a textbook open with both hands. Todomatsu kept glancing out the corners of his eyes at him, watching as he used the book to hide that he was looking at Chibita. The room was, as per usual, filled with the sounds of the other students talking and laughing.

Todomatsu made a small, catty grin. Time to act.

"Oi, Karamatsu nii-san" Todomatsu said softly, looking at his brother. Karamatsu jumped a foot from his seat, startled. He put the book down, and glanced over at Todomatsu. "Eh?" he asked, dazed. "Why do you keep looking at Chibita?" Todomatsu asked, preferring to get right to the chase instead of beating around the proverbial bush.

"Ah! I am merely looking beyond him, out the window at the beauty of this campus!" Karamatsu responded, closing his eyes and placing his fingers under his chin in the shape of a gun. Todomatsu stared at him with narrowed eyes. And pigs can fly, Todomatsu thought to himself, knowing that what his brother was saying was complete and utter bullshit.

"Why do you go pale when you see the outside, hmm?" Todomatsu asked in a smart ass way. The color drained from Karamatsu's face faster than you could say "glitter". Gotcha, Todomatsu thought with an internal smirk. "I-I-I..." Karamatsu stammered before sighing. He held the book up with both hands again. "You do not need to know." he said, proceeding to flip a page.

You sneaky motherfucker, Todomatsu thought. As if he wasn't already suspicious of Karamatsu's actions! Todomatsu went back to looking at his phone. When he looked out of the corner of his eye again, Karamatsu had finally put the book down, and he was now writing something.

And Todomatsu highly doubted it was notes.

Suddenly, Karamatsu got up. "Where are you going?" Todomatsu asked him, his stomach starting to spin. "Bathroom" Karamatsu replied calmly, walking past him and to the door, leaving the classroom.

As soon as Karamatsu was out of the room, Todomatsu looked around him and looked over at the paper Karamatsu was writing on. "My dearest Chibita..." were the only words on it, and there were tiny hearts scribbled in blue ink. Todomatsu's stomach turned. "Geez, does he have to be so mushy..?" he said to himself, going back to pretending to mind his own business.

He sent a text to Choromatsu about Karamatsu's obvious lie when confronted, as well as the paper. Todomatsu noticed his professor writing something on his computer. Todomatsu looked back at the door of the classroom. Had he even noticed Karamatsu leaving? Probably not. The professor was really lax, and unless he needed to teach something or review something, he usually let the class do whatever.

Guess that's why so many people like him, Todomatsu mused.

He got a text back from Choromatsu. "Send me a photo so I know you're not lying?" his brother had texted back. "Sure, just hold on" Todomatsu replied, exiting what he was doing and pulled up his phone camera. Taking a picture, he sat back in his chair as Karamatsu returned. Todomatsu sent the picture to Choromatsu, adding "Painful just returned" to his message.

"That could be a love letter.." Choromatsu replied. "Maybe." Todomatsu replied.

The bell rang, and Todomatsu quickly typed "Listen, I'm going to lunch, ttyl", then rushed down to the cafeteria, or whatever they called it.

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

Meanwhile, Karamatsu was done for the day, and was heading out to the dorm. He felt strange, harboring a letter of such emotion inside his bag, but no one else was going to see it YET. He would make sure his brothers would never see it. They'd mock him endlessly for it. Which was why he put a lock on his backpack zippers, so no one could open it except for him. He'd stashed the combo somewhere in the front pocket, and he had the key around his neck like a necklace.

Arriving at the dorm, he shoved the door open. Choromatsu and Todomatsu were on the couch, and appeared to be studying. "Oi" Choromatsu greeted him, not even looking up from whatever he was doing. "My brothers! I'm heading off campus to a store! I will be back in a few hours!" Karamatsu announced, tossing his backpack to the ground. Todomatsu stared at him.

Karamatsu turned and left, palming the key around his neck.

As soon as the door was shut, Todomatsu threw his notebook across the room. It hit the microwave, which was above the stove in the kitchen. "What was that for?!" Choromatsu blurted out, staring at the younger brother.

"Dunno." Todomatsu shrugged.

"Now that he's gone, we can talk about the letter." Choromatsu said, gently setting his supplies down on the coffee table and straightening himself. "It's in his binder. I watched him put it in" Todomatsu blurted without thinking.

Choromatsu hesitated. "Anyways, from what we've seen from his behavior, he's definitely in love. Right?" Choromatsu asked. "Whaddya mean, 'right'?" Todomatsu said, curling his fingers in quotation marks when he said "right". "I mean, from what Osomatsu told us about his chat with Karamatsu, he's been feeling lightheaded, he said his heart was skipping beats, his stomach filled with butterflies. You've been in love before, like, actual dating love. Those are some of the ways to tell you're in love, right?" Choromatsu explained.

"Yeah, those are some. I mean, I know I felt those when I fell in love with Atsushi-kun" Todomatsu said, feeling his face grow hot at the thought of his boyfriend. "Right. We can connect those feelings to the book, and it ties in to say he's fallen in love with someone. But, who?" Choromatsu mused, putting his fist to his lips.

"I wanna say Chibita so badly" Todomatsu murmured. "The letter you saw him writing does seem like a love letter, since he DID say 'my dearest Chibita'.." Choromatsu said. "That doesn't really say much. He called everyone dearest." Todomatsu reminded his brother, flopping onto his back.

"We need to read the letter" Choromatsu said suddenly. Todomatsu shot upright. "You're kidding..." he gasped. Choromatsu stared back, his pointed frown plastered on his face. "Nope. I feel like we should read it." Choromatsu replied. "But his backpack is locked!" Todomatsu protested. He was willing to snoop on Karamatsu, but not through his stuff. It was like reading someone's diary!

And the unspoken rule was to never read someone's diary without permission unless you want to have your intestines ripped out.

"He must have a code." Choromatsu said, hopping off the couch and picking up Karamatsu's bag. It was heavier than he expected. Todomatsu turned around and grabbed the arm of the couch. Choromatsu sat back down on the couch, Karamatsu's bag on his lap. He studied the lock. It was black, and the silver metal of the curve fitting between the zippers. On the side of the lock were three, small wheels with numbers on it. A code lock.

"Oi, Totty" Choromatsu said, causing his brother to turn back around. Choromatsu put the bag between them. "Can you pick the lock?" Choromatsu asked, fumbling with the collar of his dress shirt that he wore under his green hoodie.

"Yeah. I can try" Todomatsu said, grabbing hold of the lock and moving the little wheels with his thumb. The first combination he tried was 002. When he pulled down on the lock, the metal curve stayed in place. Todomatsu tried more combinations. None of them seemed to work. At last, out of desperation, Todomatsu tried 524, the digits of the sextuplets' birthday. When Todomatsu pulled down on the lock, it came off the zippers in his palm.

"Are you shitting me?" Todomatsu murmured.

Unzipping his brother's bag, Todomatsu opened the pack wide open, and started digging through its contents.

"Oh my fucking god" Todomatsu exclaimed.

"What? Did you find it?" Choromatsu said, leaning forwards. Todomatsu shook his head. "Nope. I did find something much, much worse" Todomatsu said, his voice dropping. "What?" Choromatsu inquired, dread rising in his chest.

Todomatsu stared Choromatsu dead in the eyes, pain and horror in them.

"He has a jar of glitter in here" Todomatsu said softly, pulling out a small jar with a black screw on cap. It had a white label with "Sparkles" written on it in black sharpie. Inside it was a mound of painful, blue glitter.

"Oh my lord..." Choromatsu murmured, slapping his face with his palm.

Todomatsu pulled out a blue binder from the bag. "Is that the one it's in?" Choromatsu asked. Todomatsu nodded and opened the binder. It was the top thing inside it. Choromatsu scooted over to sit beside his little brother. Together the two took in the words written on the lined piece of paper.

"My dearest Chibita,

You are like the sun to me. You are the light in my life. I wish we weren't floating apart. My heart has started yearning for your touch. I have been feeling like I am walking on air when I see you around. You have a charm many would desire. It is a shame I'm the only one who has noticed. I know my brothers are literal demons, but I assure you, I'm not like them. You may disagree, but can they notice your beauty? Can they be as romantic as me? The fire you ignite in me longs to be fueled by your kiss. I want you to notice me like you notice your amazing skills in cooking. One day, I hope to be more than just mere friends.

- Your dearest songbird, Matsuno Karamatsu", the letter read.

Choromatsu and Todomatsu stared at each other, eyes wide. Then, they stared back at the paper.

"Okay, he's definitely in love with Chibita." Todomatsu said. "What now..?" Choromatsu asked. "I'll put it away. You think of the next step in our plan." Todomatsu said, returning the letter to the binder, and then placing the binder and glitter back in the bag, locking the zippers in place where he'd found them. He moved the wheels on the lock to random numbers.

"I think you should casually bring up the subject of love and try to get him to spit out that he loves Chibita." Choromatsu said out of nowhere.

"Who loves Chibita?"

Todomatsu and Choromatsu jumped as Osomatsu walked in. "Long story. We'll explain only if you promise not to say a word to him about it." Choromatsu said. Osomatsu let his bag fall on top of the pile. "Sure. Now, spill" he said, lifting his hoodie over his head, unveiling the grey t-shirt he had on underneath.

Choromatsu took a deep breath. "Karamatsu. We've been spying on him for over a week because he's been acting off. Totty's been gathering notes on his actions. We connected the feelings he described to you to being in love, and the dating book is solid proof. We found out he's in love with Chibita by snooping in his bag." he explained, standing. Osomatsu, who'd gone into the kitchen to make ramen, looked over his shoulder.

"So you've been spying on him and found out he has the hots for Chibita?" Osomatsu asked. "Yeah, pretty much" Todomatsu replied.

Osomatsu was silent. Choromatsu walked to the bathroom. "Don't tell Karamatsu we're doing this." Todomatsu said. Osomatsu nodded. "I won't." he said, turning back to the noodles.

Todomatsu sighed. They'd gotten this far. Now what were they gonna do? They couldn't just confront Karamatsu.

This was going to be harder than Todomatsu had anticipated.

And Todomatsu didn't always like challenges.

[icecubelotr44]

To Every Thing a Season (4/16)

Summary:   After witnessing the tragic murder of his brother Liam, Killian Jones is more determined than ever to discover the secrets of time travel. Fast-tracking his education at Storybrooke University, Killian is assigned a lab assistant, one Emma Swan. Together, they find a way to break through the veil of time so Killian can set things right. But what will be the price for changing the past, and is it one they’re willing to pay?

Rated:  T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @optomisticgirl made imagesets for all the chapters and @ab-normality made a video and a gifset for this fic.  You can find the imageset for this chapter above and here on her blog.  The video is linked here and on her blog here and the gifset is here!

Beta readers: The as-always wonderful @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, thanks so much for all of your help and cajoling and reassuring!  And a huge thank you to the spectacular @spartanguard who stepped in to help beta read as well!

A/N:  Written as part of the 2017 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge.  You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Thursday from now until its completion. And yes, there is a happy ending after all this… just so you know.

Word count:  ~ 5,350 (80K+ Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: ao3 | ffn  

Current Chapter: AO3 | FFN

Chapter 4: To Break Down and to Build Up

Killian woke with a start, jolting up on the futon and clenching his fists until the sharp pain of fingernails digging into his palm grounded him to the present instead of the past.  He wasn’t even sure which dream this was, which memory that tore him from sleep, but it didn’t matter.  They all ended the same - with him bursting back into reality only to find that the dream wasn’t nearly as bad as the realization that it was another day when Liam was cold in the ground and Killian was no closer to going back to save him.

What are you doing, little brother?  Why haven’t you come for me yet?  You promised.

Logically, Killian knew that these were his own words.  He knew that Liam would never have spoken that way, his words would have been encouragement and patience.  He knew that the irritation and frustration came from his own perceived failures rather than any memory of Liam.

And even though the words sounded like Liam’s voice, even though the tone and the dialect and the accent were his brother’s, he still knew his brother would never have thought that, let alone said it.  That was more their father’s way.

It didn’t change anything.  He heard Liam berating him and his mind automatically latched onto how long he’d been failing his brother.

Nausea assaulted Killian, fiery tendrils of anger and shame warring for dominance as he levered himself off the couch and towards the common bathroom down the hall.  The memory of the soldering iron burn left him with a bit of a phantom limp, but he’d been free of the crutches for a couple weeks and knew the scar would fade soon as well.  The dream he’d woken from picked at him relentlessly even as he tried to ignore it.  The memory prodded its way back to the forefront of his mind and made him gag a little with each step.

“All right there, Jones?” Will’s voice made him jump and swivel his head around.  Scarlet was exiting the stairwell, a distinct swagger to his step and glazed eyes that tracked him slowly.  It had been a while since he’d seen his roommate truly sober - Ana’s betrayal had left him reeling and Killian didn’t really know how to help other than to keep the young man away from their RA and campus police.

He was about to answer in the affirmative when Will lurched for the bathroom door and the sounds of retching echoed out into the hall.  Killian’s own stomach turned, reminding him of what he was doing in the hallway but he steeled himself and waited for Scarlet to finish.  

Focusing on someone he could help instead of how helpless he was to change Liam’s fate settled him just enough that he didn’t join Will in a stall.

It seemed like hours later when Killian had Scarlet sprawled across the futon, a blanket thrown over his passed-out form and a rubbish can near his head.  Unable to stomach the idea of going back to sleep, Killian pulled on the worn leather jacket that hung off his wardrobe and tucked his keycard into a pocket.

The night was cool and quiet, stars above and a crescent moon just enough to light his way between the scattered streetlights on the campus paths.  He wandered aimlessly, not sure of where he was headed or even what he was doing out on the quad this late.  There was nothing for him out here - no responsibilities, no ghost of his brother, no dance of the numbers to assault him.  He couldn’t get into the lab and the library was closed.  All he had was the slight breeze in his hair and the scent of the ocean that was only a few miles from campus.

As if that had been his intended destination all along, rather than a subconscious one, Killian turned towards the main road and began the trek to the shore.  His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, the sleeves no longer too big to sit comfortably at his wrists.  The scent of his brother was no longer ingrained in the material, and there were holes in the lining that he’d dutifully stitched and stitched again.  But none of that mattered - he wore it as a reminder, as a comfort, as a coat of armor against the world he’d been abandoned to.

The tide was on its way in when Killian finally made it to the tiny beach.  It was still too cold to wade in the water, but he slipped off his shoes and socks just the same.  He left them at the end of the boardwalk, curious to see another pair left haphazardly on a dilapidated piling just beyond his own shoes.

He walked above the seaweed line, letting the bite of cold sand and small rocks ground him as he went.  The sound of waves rolling in and the clean scent of brine wrapped around him like a blanket, quieting the last of his thoughts.

There was nothing here but peace.

“Seriously, Jones?!” A voice rang out in the night and Killian practically jumped out of his skin.  His hand came up to cover his heart as the other clenched in a fist before his brain could catch up.  He couldn’t see her, but he would’ve known that voice anywhere.

Emma.  Not someone looking to hurt him.

The scar on his thigh stung in protest, but he ignored it.  There was a difference between that scar and others he wore.

Finally recovering his voice, Killian asked, “What are you doing out here alone, lass?  It’s late.”

He looked around, trying to see in the darkness to figure out where she was hiding.  He had turned in a complete circle before her quiet laughter reached his ears and the light from a cell phone caught his eye.

She was sitting on a large boulder, her knees drawn up to her chest and an oversized hoodie swamping her figure.  She looked like a siren intent on dragging him to his death, but Killian found himself drawn to her side anyway.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered when he finally reached her side.  Emma looked down at him from her perch and then slid over to the side.

Not pausing to think about it too much, Killian scrambled up the side of the rock and hunkered down beside her.  They were pressed together from shoulder to hip, and he could feel her chill drawing on his warmth within moments.  “How long have you been out here?”

Killian felt the shrug more than he saw it.

They sat quietly for a while, staring out at the endless ocean and trying to pick out the horizon in the inky blackness.  The granite cliff behind them provided a backrest, and Killian settled down a bit further, fully relaxing for the first time since he’d woken in a cold sweat from his dream.

Emma sat rigidly next to him, still curled up in a tight ball.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, what gave him the shot of bravery he needed to reach out and tug on the ends of her hair.  Emma looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes, and he smiled softly at her.

Not giving himself time to question his motives, Killian slid his hand across her back until his fingers wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her gently backwards.

Emma resisted for a moment, but then sighed and leaned back until her head was pillowed on his shoulder, his arm trapped between her back and the rocks behind them.

“I was… am… an orphan,” she breathed out, tensing a bit as she waited for his reaction.

Killian rubbed his thumb back and forth over the fabric at the jut of her neck, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around her shoulder.

Whatever reproach she was expecting, Emma didn’t seem to find it, and continued.  “I was left on the side of the road when I was an infant.  Whoever my parents were, they couldn’t even be bothered to take me somewhere safe before they dumped me.  I guess that they knew what they were doing, because no one else ever found something worth saving in me, either.”

Killian sucked in a breath, pulling her closer and tucking her head under his chin.  He had no idea what was happening, no idea how to help or make it better, but he remembered the times when Liam would try and make him feel normal after a rough day at school or with their father’s issues, and tried to emulate that.

He didn’t speak, had a feeling that Emma didn’t even realize she was speaking out loud, and he didn’t want to break the spell that had settled over them.

All he knew was that he had no idea what he was doing.

“I think about that sometimes, when I can’t sleep.  I wonder if maybe it wouldn’t have been better if…”

“No, Emma.  It wouldn’t have been better.”  He’d wanted to stay silent.  He’d wanted her to forget he was even there so she could get whatever this was off her chest.  But when he had an inkling over what she was going to say next, he spoke before he could think about it.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she said in the same quiet, defeated tone of voice.

“Aye, I do.  You’re somewhat of an open book, lass.  And I’m good at reading.”  He smiled into her hair, the scent of something flowery tickling his nose.  “It’s not something I haven’t thought about myself in the past few years.  If it wouldn’t have been better for everyone if we just weren’t here.  If we’d never been.  But it isn’t.  It wouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” her words were choked.

Killian closed his eyes and breathed deeply.  “Because if you weren’t here, then I’d be all alone out here with nothing but the ghost of the brother I can’t save to keep me company.”

“Do you want to tell me about him?” she asked hesitantly, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his own against her shoulder.

Killian shook his head, biting back the sudden need to tell her everything he’d ever known about Liam.  But that wasn’t why he’d come out here tonight, and it certainly wasn’t why she had come out here tonight.

“Sometime, yes.  He’s important to what we’re doing.  But not tonight,” he whispered.

Emma nodded, shuffling around a little bit until she was curled more fully against him.

“What are we doing, Jones?” she asked quietly, tensing as his arm came around her more securely.

What were they doing?  He had no earthly idea.  He’d never so much as bothered to think about Emma as anything other than his assistant before, but somehow she’d snuck past the numbers and the failures and the driving need to focus on nothing but his brother.  They were friends, yes, but something felt different with her pressed against his side, tangled up in the darkness and the tranquility that the ocean provided.

“We’re existing,” Killian whispered, unsure how to put it into words more eloquent than that.

“Hmm,” she replied non-committally, tucking her head under his chin.  Killian didn’t know if his response was enough, and he was caught up in the ridiculous notion that he wanted to be more for her.  That he wanted to be enough for her.

God, he wanted his brother to tell him what to do next.

Without a concrete list of controls and variables, Killian didn’t know exactly what to do.  There were no lab manuals for this, no constructs and instructions to base his hypothesis around.  

And Emma shouldn’t be an experiment, anyway.  She was far more precious than that, he could see it in the way she interacted with him.  No, Emma was special.  No matter what her idiot birth parents - or any of the foster families who had failed her - led her to believe.

Killian wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, the soft sounds of the waves remixing with the even breaths Emma made as she finally relaxed.  He didn’t dream, a miracle in and of itself, and woke to the pinks and reds of the sun rising.

Emma was still tucked against his side, her fingers tangled in the ties of his hoodie and her mouth open as she snored softly.  Killian smiled at the sight, his hand coming up to brush some of the stray hair away from her forehead.

Emma sat up like she’d been shocked, her fists coming to bear and her breathing stuttered.

“Whoa, whoa, easy Swan.  It’s just me.”  Killian froze with one hand in front of him placatingly, holding eye contact with her until she woke up fully.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, bright red spots staining her cheeks as she began to blush.  “Old habits.”

Killian shook away the apology with a quick turn of his head and tugged on the back of her sweatshirt.  “Lay back, lass.  It’s still early.  The sunrise is amazing out here.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, tearing her eyes away and tensing.  “I have class at nine.”

She was going to run.  Killian didn’t know how he knew, but he did.  Unless he did something.  “It’s barely six am, Swan.  You’ve plenty of time.  Unless you’re afraid I’m going to sully your virtue.”  He smirked and waggled his eyebrows the way he’d seen Liam do towards girls on the train sometimes.

Emma burst out laughing, but the tension eased out of her frame and she flopped back dramatically against his chest.  “Oh yes, Jones.  You’re a regular Don Juan.  Watch out, world!”

Killian laughed along with her, trying to disguise the breath of relief when she didn’t move to slip away from him.

They sat in silence for awhile, watching the sun paint the horizon in a stunning array of colors.  Emma’s hair tickled his nose, but Killian was terrified to move and brush it away lest he break the magical spell that had encapsulated them.

Here, there was no sordid past of foster homes and orphanages, no ghost of a lost brother or a disappointed sot of a father.  There were no numbers, no experiments, no criminal justice papers, and no Candy Crush to interrupt them.  There was no hesitance, no over thinking, no walls, and no worry over what would become of this.

There was just Emma and Killian, curled up on a boulder watching the magic of the day starting.

Killian could get used to this.

Emma kept expecting the need to run from Killian to overtake her.  She kept thinking that the next time they met up at the beach in the middle of the night or the next time he tangled their fingers together under the cafeteria table would be the time that she’d balk.  She thought that the day she’d shown up to the lab for their session and there was a carnation bloom waiting for her on the keyboard while Killian studiously worked on his model - complete with bright pink ears - that she’d panic.

She didn’t.

And that terrified her.

She needed this job.  She needed Killian’s easy friendship.  She needed to keep up her walls so that it wouldn’t hurt when someone else threw her away like garbage.  She needed…

She needed exactly the laid-back relationship that Killian was offering her.

Emma wasn’t sure when Killian had snuck up on her defenses and sidled his way through her walls, but he had.  He was there and he was comfortable and as long as she didn’t think about it too much, he was safe.

She left her last class for the afternoon in a rush, trying to make it across campus to the labs on time.  The professor had waylaid her with comments about her most recent paper on the contrast of Supreme Court cases in history versus today.  He had appreciated a point that she made and wanted to expound on it at length.  Then, when she got out of that conversation, Ruby had caught her and wanted to complain about her newest boyfriend Graham’s tendency to follow her around like a lost puppy.

By the time she got to the lab, Killian was thoroughly engrossed in the circuits he’d been fiddling with for months now.  It looked to Emma as though he had the workings of more than one computer spread across the table, and the soldering iron that had caused them such strife earlier in the semester was carefully perched on its stand and far away from Killian’s leg.

Emma glared at the tool for good measure.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Jones?” she asked, already slinging her backpack under the lab table and signing into the physics program.

Killian jumped off the stool like someone had set off a firework under his chair.  The tiny screwdriver he’d been using clattered to the ground, making him jump again, and the telltale blush worked its way up to the tips of his ears.

He was embarrassed.

“Hey,” she called to him calmly.  “It’s just us here.  You okay?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  Instead, he dropped to his knees and started searching for the lost tool.  Emma watched him miss it three times as he swept a hand under the shelf before she sighed exasperatedly and stalked over to him.

Without a word, Emma knelt down beside him, tugged the screwdriver out from its hiding spot with one hand, and tangled their fingers together with the other.  “What’s going on?”

There was more than a hint of redness on his cheeks now, but the smile was more genuine as he tightened his grip under her own.  “I wanted to… to ask you if…” He paused, took a deep breath, and tried again.

“Will you go out with me?”

Emma froze.  All of the fears that she had been waiting for, that she had thought weren’t going to rear their ugly heads because it was just Killian and her, it all came to the forefront and she couldn’t hear over the buzzing in her ears.

What they had was simple.  It wasn’t a thing, it was just them.  If she agreed to go out with him, then that meant they were… they were what?

“Emma?” Christ, he sounded more nervous than she was.

She looked up when he sat back on his heels, loosening his fingers to pull away from her.  He looked like she had kicked his puppy and smashed his prototype all rolled into one hangdog expression.

She wanted more than anything to erase that look from his face.

“All right,” she whispered, the words escaping her before she could think too hard about them.  Going out with him didn’t have to be complicated, and it didn’t have to be anything more than just them.

“Aye?” he asked, the hope burning brightly in his too-blue eyes.  There was a half-smile forming, and, God help her, dimples.

Emma didn’t think too much about it after that.  “Yeah.”

Killian grinned so hard it made her face hurt.

That was when she realized she was grinning, too.

The date was simple - it wasn’t like either of them had a lot of money or transportation off campus to begin with.  They took the shuttle into the main part of town, holding hands and crowding into half a bus seat so it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.  A simple dinner at Granny’s - complete with the woman herself sniffing around for potential gossip to share with Ruby - and a walk down to get ice cream at Any Given Sundae.  It was easy, it was simple, it was just them.

“I wish I could give you more,” Killian whispered as they ended up at the beach again, the blanket they had hidden in an outcropping of rocks protecting them against the night air.

Emma shook her head, curling more fully into his warmth.  “This was perfect,” she whispered back.

Killian grunted his disapproval of that, but tugged her in closer and tucked the edge of the blanket under her shoulder.

“Was it so bad?  Going out on a date with me?”  Emma could hear the tension in his voice, the uncertainty.

She was terrified of what this all meant, terrified that he would wake up one day and realize that she wasn’t worth it.  But he was worth the risk, and Emma thought she might be able to put her fears aside for him.

“So bad, Killian, that I think we should try it again next weekend, and the weekend after that,” Emma teased, grinning at the way his breath caught in the chest under her ear.

It took him a moment, but Killian finally huffed out a laugh and relaxed under her.  The sound of the waves crashing on the beach was the only soundtrack to their evening, the nightly path of the stars through the sky the movie that they fell asleep to.

Emma woke with a start, the booming echo of thunder causing her to sit straight up before her eyes were even open.  Killian jolted up behind her, the warmth of his chest a balm against the wind that cut through her.  They were scrambling off the rock before lightning could streak across the sky, illuminating the beach for an instant before shrouding everything in darkness once more.

She heard the rain before she felt it.  Big, fat droplets of icy fire that pelted them as they ran off the sand and for the relative safety of the buildings.  They were still a few miles from campus, the shuttles had long since stopped for the night.  Killian crowded her against the side of the buildings as they walked, draping the blanket over her shoulders and taking the brunt of the rain.

“You’re going to get sick, idiot,” Emma complained as she tried to spread the cloth over both their backs.  

Killian tugged on her shoulder, stopping Emma in her tracks and backing her up against the wall.  He tucked the edges of the blanket over her shoulders and into her hands.  Then, he stepped into her space so that their knees knocked together and his forehead rested on her own.  He quirked half a smile, his nose brushing against hers as he stared into her eyes.

Emma slipped her hands over his shoulders, cocooning them both in the blanket once more and erasing any space that had remained between them.  “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hello, luv,” Killian whispered back.

“What are you doing?”  Emma snickered when his nose wrinkled up.

He stepped closer, nudging his foot between hers and dropping his face to her neck.  Emma nearly squealed when his nose found the warm skin at her throat.  He was freezing.  “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

Emma scrunched up her nose, tightening her grip around his shoulders and trying to close the blanket around his back.  She’d thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her, and she’d tensed.  She didn’t know if Killian had felt it and had redirected his intentions, or if he had always planned on stealing her warmth for a moment, but the drop in her stomach when he hadn’t kissed her surprised her.

“All right, glacier-face, let’s get you inside somewhere.”  Emma broke the moment, tucking them both into the blanket and tugging Killian down the street.

All too soon, they were standing outside Emma’s dorm room door.  She reached up and wrapped the blanket around Killian until he was completely trapped.  His nose wrinkled again and one of his eyebrows shot up as Emma secured the corner of the material at his chest.

“Emma,” he warned.  “I’m stuck.”

She smirked back at him, watching as he shifted his hands to try and find the opening.  “I know.  It’s a good look on you, Jones.”

He sighed, pouting a little, but let it be.  “I had a good time tonight,” he said quietly.

“I did, too,” Emma replied.

Killian shuffled his feet, and Emma knew that he would be scratching behind his ear if his arms were free.  “Well, good night, luv.”

Emma heard the hesitance, the hint of insecurity that called to her.  She didn’t think too much about what she did next, just acted.

The scruff covering his jaw scratched at her lips and the muscles in his cheek twitched in surprise as she let the chaste kiss just under his cheek last a second longer than she intended.  “Good night, Jones,” Emma called as she slipped inside her dorm room door.

She leaned back against the heavy door, and could just hear Killian’s quiet and awed, “good night,” before his soft footsteps echoed down the hall.

And so it went.  Emma continued to help out in the lab and Killian continued to forget to eat until he realized she hadn’t eaten.  They met up between classes to study alongside one another in the library and they went to the Merry Men’s gigs.  Killian left flower blooms on her keyboard and Emma kept a fully stocked drawer of notebooks and mechanical pencils for him.

He didn’t refer to her as his girlfriend, and she didn’t tell anyone she had a boyfriend, but the idea of it all wasn’t quite so frightening any more.  Emma thought she might not mind if they did label what they had.

Will Scarlet, it seemed, hadn’t gotten the memo though.

“Look, I dunno what’s got into your boyfriend,” Scarlet’s accent carried heavily over the cell phone connection.  “But he’s drunk as a skunk on the floor of our room and I’m on me way out the door.  You wanna come get him, then I’ll leave a quarter in the latch, or just let him pass out on the rug.  Up to you, sweetheart.”

Emma pulled the phone away from her ear to look at incredulously.  Killian… her Killian… was drunk?  She didn’t even think he’d ever touched anything stronger than Red Bull, never mind drinking enough to wind up on the floor of his dorm room.  “I’m on my way.  This better not be your idea of a prank, Will.  If it is, I will get my revenge.”

Scarlet didn’t respond, but the next thing Emma heard were very slurred lyrics.  “Did they play the fife lowly, did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?” echoed through the airwaves in Killian’s marked accent.

“Wow,” she breathed out, reaching for her keycard and sprinting out the door.

It was easy enough to get past the door monitor, throwing her ID on the desk and sprinting down the hall without so much as a, “by your leave.”  Emma didn’t think the bored upperclassman even looked up from his tablet.  Up the stairs and down another hallway, and she could hear Killian still singing the same tune.  Emma thought she recognized it from the Merry Men’s setlist, a cover of a Dropkick Murphy’s cover.  The name of the song escaped her at the moment, but she remembered how sad the lyrics had left her.

“Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame.  The killing and dying it was all done in vain,” came through the door as Emma slipped inside, pulling the quarter off of the latch and letting it lock closed behind her.

“Killian?” she whispered into the darkness.  Emma wanted to let her eyes adjust before she risked tripping through the room lest she fall over Killian.

“‘Mm-ma?” the singing cut out quickly and she followed the sound of his voice to the other side of the futon.

Scarlet had left Killian sprawled out on the old throw rug, his arms wrapped around a trash can and a blanket tossed haphazardly across his back.  When Emma sat down on the couch near his head, Killian shoved his upper body off the floor so he could look towards her knees.  “That you, luv?”

“Hey,” she whispered.  “You wanna get up off the floor?”

Killian shook his head and then grimaced, a soft whimper escaping him as he hugged the bin closer.  “The ship’s rocking too much.”

Emma laughed.  “The ship, huh?  Who’s captaining this boat?”  She reached down to scratch her nails over his scalp.

“Morgan.  I don’t think I like him much.”

“Mor… Captain Morgan?”  Emma looked around and saw the handle of rum that had rolled under the TV cart.  She was relieved to see that it was more than half-full.

She felt Killian nod before he levered himself up with a huff and rolled onto the futon.  His head landed heavily in her lap, and he buried his nose in the crease of her hip.  Emma settled the blanket over as much of his lanky frame that she could reach, and carded her fingers through his hair.

“What happened, Killian?  Why the rum?” she asked mostly to herself, not sure he was cognizant enough to answer her.

“Miss m’ brother,” he slurred, a distinct hitch in his breathing.  “Wan’ Liam back.”

Emma clenched her eyes shut against the sting that the pain in his voice brought about.  She’d never felt as much attachment to anyone as Killian did to a ghost, and she wanted more than anything to fix it for him.

“Do you wanna talk about him?” she asked, settling more fully into the futon.  She smiled softly when Killian’s hand snuck out from under the blanket and started scrabbling around until he knotted their fingers together.

“He was m’ big brother,” Killian mumbled with a sniffle.  “He looked out for me, you know?”

Emma didn’t, but she had heard stories.  This wasn’t the time for that, however.  “I know, Killian.  You miss him, huh?”

“He died.”  Killian didn’t elaborate, but Emma had already figured that out for herself.

She tangled her fingers through his hair, snagging the wisps that curled around the back of his ear and tugging a bit.

“Was my fault,” he whispered brokenly, and he shifted further onto Emma’s lap.

That she hadn’t expected.  “I don’t believe that,” she spit out vehemently.  She knew better than to believe that.

But Killian shook his head violently against her thigh.  “Was.  He was takin’ me to a lecture.  Wouldn’t’a been there otherwise.  Wouldn’t’a got shot.”

She gasped in spite of herself.  His brother had been murdered?

Killian bowled on and Emma felt like she was sprinting to catch up with him.  “Don’t even know who it was.  It was like he was a ghost.  Just came outta nowhere and shot up the street.  Didn’t even know who Liam was, didn’t care who m’ brother was.  He just… just shot him for no reason.  Liam wouldn’t’a hurt anyone, wouldn’t’a done anything wrong.  But he didn’t care.  Just killed m’ brother.  Then he disappeared.  But I’m gonna fix it.  I’m gonna save ‘im.  Gonna make m’ brother proud.  You’ll see, Emma.  Gonna make you proud of me, too.”

He sniffled a little, and Emma bent forward until she was cocooning his head with her body.  She switched so that their combined hands were in his hair and her now-free hand was sliding up and down his back.  “I’m already proud of you, Killian.  Your brother is, too.  I know it.”

She had him wrapped up so tightly that he couldn’t shake his head ‘no’, though he tried admirably.  “I hear him sometimes, asking why I haven’t figured it out yet.  Why I haven’t saved him yet.”

Emma didn’t know why it hadn’t sunk in earlier - the reason that Killian was so focused on time travel, the reason that he wanted to discover its secrets in the first place.  He was just a lost boy whose only guiding star had been stolen from him.  He just wanted his brother back.

“You’re gonna save him, Killian.  I promise.”  Emma’s voice was strained with the intensity that stole her breath.  She was going to do whatever it took, and Emma Swan didn’t take her vows lightly.  

“You’re going to get your brother back, and I’m going to help you.”

To everyone who has left a comment so far, I'm terribly sorry that I haven't responded yet.  I've been in the process of moving for what feels like months now and have fallen woefully behind.  I appreciate each and every like, reblog, and message, and will get back to you as soon as I can!  Thank you all for reading and please, please, please, keep letting me know what you think! 

Tagging: @gusenitsaa, @kiwistreetswan, @lenfazreads, @xhookswenchx, @killian-whump, @eala-captian, @kmomof4, @onceuponaprincessworld

[shadowoods]

Klaus Mikaelson | Imagine

A/N: Combining two requests because they were similar. Change of perspectives because I tried something. 

Content: Reader had some feelings for Klaus while he was in Mystic Falls but because being in a relationship, they never admitted. 5 years later, (Y/N), a witch, needs the Mikaelsons’ help.

Warnings: none 

It has been years of silence since the last incident. Many people put their lifes on the line and eventually lost it. So many fights, so many tears. 

Odd, (Y/N) thought as you walked down the streets of Mystic Falls. This town was probably cursed from its very beginning, but after he had left, everything turned upside down completely. 

A smile crept its way on the young female’s face as her thoughts wandered to the time half a decade ago. 

“(Y/N)”, a voice reached the witches ears which automatically lead to an eyeroll. She walked past him, without giving more reaction and went straight for the counter.

“Matt, I’m starving.” You declared simply with a pout. You were sure the kitchen was closed since it was late but you tried anyways. “You’re fifteen minutes too late, (Y/N).” “Enough time to turn a blind eye?” You asked with a charming smile.

He scolded you further, not taking any compelling. “Sorry.” He poured some liquid in some glasses while speaking. “Why are you late this time?” You groaned and sighed in resignation. You’ve lost. 

“I had business to do. I-” You two were interrupted, when another person sat next to you. 

“What an awful service”, he almost immediately stated, “when a charming girl like you asks for a dinner, she should get a three-courses menu, don’t you think?” You tried to ignore the original vampire next to you, but his stare seemed to burn your skin, looking right through you.

When your gaze met his, you saw it for the first time. A genuine, but cheeky smile and for a brief moment, you forget that he had a short temper and murderous tendencies. 

“How about dinner somewhere else, love?”

(Y/N) refused the offer. Back then, she was in a relationship with Damon Salvatore and didn’t want to betray him, not for someone like Klaus anyway. 

But even though she despised him, that day he was able to touch something deep within. He was able to fascinate her through all the layers that tried to not get attached with such simple moves.

However, she ignored the feelings she had, the knot in her chest when he left for New Orleans and cut the lines. Maybe he didn’t like me as much as he pretended. 

In general, people seemed not be aware of their true feelings, (Y/N) thought as she remembered the day Damon broke up for you. For Elena.

A sigh left her lips, her eyes darted aimlessly through her surroundings. Mystic Falls is in peace now. Everyone seemed to be satisfied.

Everyone besides her that means.

The storm in her was more severe than ever before, like all her senses knew something wasn’t right.

                                                             * * * 

Peace is something you can’t cling onto and hope it’ll never leave you. You have to fight for it, all the time. 

That could have been a line of a dystopian young adult novel and maybe it even was. She almost smiled as she realized how much she could have predicted this. 

Being a witch will never guarantee you peace. Supernaturals will always knock at your door and drag you by force if necessary. Witches are the ones always putting their lives on the line, sacrificing themselves for others. It’s the endless circle of life.

But as soon as you needed help, they suddenly disappeared from your radar. Having what they wanted, they’d block your ID and cut the lines.

“C’mon”, she whispered, panic slightly coming through. But a robotic voice was once again telling you to check if you dialed the right number.

Hope you have a nice road trip, Damon, you thought in bitterness, send your postcard to heaven... or to hell. I’ll email you details when I’m certain.

Tears were welling up her tears. Maybe she hasn’t made just one false decision in her life. She never wanted to rely on someone but truth is, everyone needed at least one person to trust. Someone to lean on.

The letter was getting heavy in the pocket of her hoodie. She crumbled it months ago but never had the guts to throw it away. 

She always acted on hating him.

But maybe he has always been the one caring the most.

She bit her lip and fought the tears back. Maybe he has been the solution all time long.

It was time to take another path. 

                                                              * * * 

She was in the centre of life for mere minutes, but she could already sense the difference she always felt when being with him.

Everything was much more vivid and she could feel a natural amount of magic hovering in the air.

Maybe it was all imagination and it would burst into million pieces with taking the next few steps. But maybe giving up like that was too easy.

While searching for the house you encountered people and shared a smile. Their joy was really contagious. You’ve never felt this delight back in Mystic Falls.

Before you could turn on your heel, you already knocked at the door. 

“(Y/N)”, you were greated by a familar face, but her expression didn’t seem too happy. 

“Rebekah.” In the split of a second, you were pressed against the walls, her hand firmly wrapped around your neck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She cocked her head to the side. “Have you come to ruin my brother’s life once again?” 

“What? No.” Your breath hitched as you felt her nails slightly digging into your delicate skin. 

“Rebekah. Let go of her.” She rolled her eyes, but obeyed slowly, not breaking eye contact. Your eyes wandered, instead, and spotted the always neatly dressed Elijah. Well, seems like you’re allowed to breathe for another minute.

“What a nice surprise”, he greeted you. “Nice?” Rebekah questioned doubtfully and looked at him with a brow arched, “I’d already broke her neck if I wasn’t so aware of being hated for centuries by Nik.” Rebekah then looked at her distastefully. “As if she was worth another dispute.”

“Rebekah, dear, this is not how to treat a guest”, another voice interfered. Chills ran down her entire body and she could feel her heart pacing up. “And you’re right”, he added, coming into view, “I would have been furious.”

You were greeted by the infamous grin and could feel your legs go weak.

Klaus.

“(Y/N), darling, how about we’ll talk somewhere more private?”

Thank god you  managed to nod and follow him upstairs.

                                                         * * * 

“You look as pale as a ghost, dearest”, he said as he closed the door behind you.

“Charming as ever”, you responded with a half smile.

“I wasn’t expecting to ever hear of you again”, he changed the topic. “But I do like being taught better in this case.” 

He was happy to see me, the thought was a relief. He has never looked past me. 

The half smile just evolved into a bright one. You had the odd feeling that you just came home after a long, long time.

“Yeah, I wish I had another reason besides kissing ass to get mine out alive.” The words slipped out before you could prevent.

Klaus eyebrows shot up and a sly grin appeared on his mischievious expression.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s fine”, he cut you off, “I missed the cheeky statements of yours.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. 

“So, what’s troubling you?”

“Does that mean you’re willing to help after all this time? Aren’t you angry with me for never responding to your letters?” Or to your flirting.

After a pause in which he never avoided eye contact and smile never fading, he answered: “Actually, I am, love.”

The words hit you like a slap into the face. A deserved one, but your relief was vanished and so was your smile.

“Oh, of course.” You managed to say, looking anywhere but him.

In the corner of your eye, you saw him moving and the next thing you felt were his fingers on your chin.

“I am angry because it took you long enough.” He cocked his head a little bit. “And I’m a little bit upset that you needed an enemy to realise how much you’re in need of me.” 

“I’m sor-” Again, he interrupted you, this time, with a gentle and brief kiss.

“I believe you own me a dinner date, don’t you?” 

You smiled happily and nodded in agreement.

You’ve finally found the right path.

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: This chapter was inspired by events in BTVS 7.10 “Bring on the Night” and 7.14 “First Date.”

Warning: implied torture, blood, STRESSSSSS

Chapter 26: Digging

All she said was, “We're alive. Get here.” Racing back to Buffy’s, Dean’s mind flooded with bloody, maimed pictures that fit alive. When he saw the house -- dark, windows shattered, doors smashed -- he bit back a scream. Alive. Alive.

Xander and Anya, sweeping up glass around a body in the living room, both pointed upstairs. He found Buffy in her sister’s room lifting an unconscious Andrew. Seeing Dean, she dropped the boy’s limp body and leapt over the bed, landing in Dean’s arms.

As he held her, he tried to make sense of the bodies in the hallway and the giant hole between the sisters’ bedrooms. Through the hole lay the splintered remains of the chair Spike had been in. “Did Spike hurt anyone?”

Buffy started to tremble. Dean eased her to her room where she set loose a torrent of tears muffled by his chest and a pillow.

After a few minutes, she blew her nose, and chewed on her lip while searching for words. “It’s all the same thing. It’s all one thing. My visions. ‘It is watching.’ Mom and Tara. Spike killing. It’s all the same. Its flunkies, they were in my vision a few nights ago; it was the first time in dozens of visions that I saw what killed me.”

Fear had carved a place around her eyes. It was the sort of fear people had when they first heard the hounds baying for them.

“Girly, ain't nothing gonna kill you. I’ll kill it first.”

“But that's what they're doing.” Her voice was rough and weak. “Dean, I think the evil monks are killing Slayers, or at least unactivated Slayers. I'm probably the big finish. It's the only reason I can think of that I would see and feel so many of these deaths.”

And she felt them. Night after night, she’d wake coughing, sputtering, flailing and scared. When her breathing steadied, and she stopped sweating, she’d tell him her vision. Always a girl being murdered. Sometimes she ran. Sometimes she fought. She always died.

He refused to accept it as some sick prophecy. “Maybe you're just supposed to protect these girls, and that's the only connection.”

“The bodies. Those are the monks. That’s what wrecked the house. A crew of them came to kill Andrew and ran off with Spike.”

Spike. Of course. Were the tears for Spike the redemption project or Spike the ex?

“What happened?” he asked.

She seemed to calm as she recounted Spike attacking Andrew, though Dean was less than thrilled to hear the thing had dressed up like him. She rattled off details of the attack on the house like it was a paper for school.

“Spike’s gone,” she said, an emptiness taking over her eyes. “He has information, and God knows what they’re doing to him.”

“We’ll get him back, Buffy. We’ll find him. Now, tell me how we kill the branded freak shows.”

“They’re easy enough to kill, but we have no idea what’s controlling them. It knows where to find us.” The fear returned to her face. “I c-cant fight this! It's just me, and I-I n-need Giles.”

Dean took her face in both hands, once again reveling in just how tiny his superhero warrior really was. “Look at me. This nasty has been hiding underground for how long?  Even if it’s met a Slayer before, you’re a goddess-crunching, master-vampire-dusting badass who’s fucking climbed back from death. It may have been the baddest son of a bitch on the block back in the day, but it ain’t got shit on you.

“First thing we’re gonna do is seal up the house. Then Sam and I are gonna get rid of those bodies. When I get back, darlin’, if you’re not in bed, I’m dragging you in with me. You’ve been up for days. Tomorrow, we’ll hit the books. Okay?”

She slid back into his arms, calmer and quieter than before. “You’re wonderful, you know. I love -- love hearing your voice. It’s all deep and rumbly and calming.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, concerned about her brief pause, the way her words sped up to the point of tripping her tongue. He looked over the room again just so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “Get your cute little ass in bed. I gotta deal with the bodies.”

He was sound asleep, but Dean still stretched out his arm for her. Buffy placed his searching hand over her heart and smiled as he snuggled deeper into the pillow, his pouty lips slightly parted, his brow smooth with peaceful sleep. The night they’d met, she had a hard time pinpointing his age. Dean Winchester existed between two extremes -- the wide-eyed, grinning boy with a soft heart and silly humor, and the brutal, cold-eyed hunter with a temper. Both sides of him had a place in her life, but she liked seeing his boyish side the most. Perhaps because that was a rarer moment, a moment when they were safe and happy; she liked to imagine who Dean would have become had his innocence not been stolen from him when he was four.

What if Dean’s mother hadn’t been killed? What if Dean never knew monsters were real? Would they have still found each other? Doubtful. Maybe that Dean would have settled down with a wife who could provide him with a couple chubby babies to bounce on his knees. He wouldn’t know the recoil of a gun or the sensation of blood on his hands.

That Dean wouldn’t be afraid of the words I love you which Buffy had felt obligated to choke back a few hours before.

But a Slayer and a Hunter would be crazy to think of happily ever afters. They’d discussed the likelihood of dying young many times, but those talks had been what ifs. Now, an unknown evil was knocking down her door, and she had no idea how to stop it; which meant the clock was ticking on their time together. She wondered if those glimpses of Dean the Lost Boy were about to disappear.

Startled by the sound of a window sliding open, she reached for the dagger she kept on her nightstand. Then she recognized the shadow climbing inside from the trellis. Painfully aware that she was wearing her boyfriend’s t-shirt and nothing else, Buffy approached the man in her bedroom. “Angel, what are you doing here?”

Her vampire ex, her first love, glanced at Dean sleeping in her bed. “I heard you were in danger.”

She tugged at the hem of the shirt and willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy. “So you climbed through my bedroom window? That might have seemed romantic to high school me, but I gotta tell you, adult me would have appreciated a phone call. Or a knock on the door. It’s battered and glassless, but still extremely knockable.”

He shook his head and smirked. God, did she swoon over his smirk. “Had to be in person. Had to be secret. So the rumor’s true then?”

“Off-the-scale danger. Some big evil force with an army of evil monks is trying to kill me with...evil. And I have no idea how to fight it.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about your new boyfriend, Dean Winchester,” he said, pointing at the bed.

Feeling like she’d been dunked in cold water, Buffy grabbed a blanket and sat down on the bench. “How did you know about Dean? Are you keeping tabs on me?”

“Not in the ‘Let me know if my ex is seeing anyone’ sort of way,” he confessed, sitting down beside her, “but a stranger rolls into Hellmouth City from another dimension? That causes some waves. Been hearing his name for a while, doing some research, catching some whispers. Buffy, he’s bad news.”

“I know who he is,” she said with a bubbling rage. “Who do you think you are to come here in the middle of the damn night to comment on my love life?”

“I’m someone who cares about you! This guy is a pathetic low-life. He’s a womanizing, alcoholic criminal. Worse than that, he’s a black hole. He’ll suck you in and you’ll die. He’s got a trail of bodies in his wake, and a lot of them are people who cared about him.”

“We live a violent life. You know that. Just because people died, that doesn’t mean it’s his fault.”

“Okay, ask him whose fault his dad’s death was. Ask him about his girlfriend Jo and her mom. Ask him about Bobby--”

“Bobby’s not dead. He’s just missing.”

“Then he probably doesn’t know about Bobby yet. Anyway, they all died because he abandoned them, and he’ll abandon you too. You think he’s going to fight beside you against whatever is coming? Buffy, it’s here because of him. He’s going to get you and your friends killed, then turn tail and run. He only cares about himself and his brother.”

“If you knew Dean at all, you’d know that’s not true. He cares about everyone. Yeah, Sam’s definitely special --  he practically raised him for God’s sake -- but Dean Winchester would never run from a fight.”

“Is that why he jumped dimensions? He wasn’t running?” Angel rose and straightened his jacket before walking towards the bed. “I’m sorry, Buffy, but you’re not listening to reason.” In one swift motion, he yanked the pillow from under Dean’s head and covered his face with it.

“NO!” Buffy pulled on the vampire’s arms while her boyfriend flailed. “Angel, stop! Please, don’t!”

Her cheek stung, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Dean leaning over her, worried. “You okay, Buffy? You were screaming about angels. Did you have another vision?”

She was in her room, in bed with her boyfriend, alive. “Let’s hope not.”

A cup of cold water to the face didn’t rouse Andrew. Dawn crossed her arms and twisted her mouth. “Boiling water?”

“Ooh, that’s an excellent idea,” said Anya, nodding.

Buffy smacked Andrew, causing his lip to bleed. Stung awake, the boy shook his head, trying to take in the room. She grabbed his bound wrists and practically spit in his face. “I am done playing. Tell us about the seal, or I’m turning you over to them.”

She pushed him into Anya’s arms. “Anyone have any wishes for Andrew?”

“Could you turn him into a jellyfish?” Dawn asked from the stairs.

“No, please,” begged Andrew, as Anya pushed him down at Willow’s feet.

“We have some unfinished business,” said Willow darkly.

Andrew, pale and shaking, rolled away from her. Sam yanked him up by the shoulders and turned him to face Dean.

“Wha-what are you gonna do to me?” Andrew asked with a small bit of hope.

Dean smirked. “Whatever we want. See, my brother and I, we just like hurting people. What’d’ya think, Sammy? Kneecap first, or maybe a molar?”

“Knee,” Sam replied.

Dean raised a hammer.

Twisting away, Andrew cried, “I liked you so much better yesterday, when you were just the guys who tied me up!” He bumped into the Slayer. “Thank God! The crazy hot guys are trying to kill me. You’re a hero. Go hero for me!”

“Answers now or--” Buffy pushed him back to Willow.

“Oh God, no! No! Please! Okay, the seal is in the basement of the high school.”

“In that case, it’s guaranteed to be sealing sunshine and rainbows,” said Xander, who’d been watching the show from the stairs with Dawn.

“What does it do?” Buffy asked.

“Don’t know. I was just told to open it.”

“How?”

Looking very much like a child learning to lie, Andrew bounced on the balls of his feet and said in sing-song, “If you sing it showtunes, it will tell you everything your heart desires.”

Grabbing Andrew by the throat, Dean raised him to eye level. “Willow, you think he needs two eyes? That seems like a lot.”

“Blood! Blood! You open it with blood.” Dean dropped him, and Andrew fell to his knees gasping.

“The pig’s blood,” said Willow.

“Yeah, I botched it the first time, so I was hoping to open it with pig’s blood or I’d be next.”

“First time? Why do I have the feeling the first time wasn't a simple ‘open sesame’?” asked Buffy.

“H-he told me how to do it, but it didn’t work. The pig’s blood was sort of my long-shot to the thermal exhaust port, but I-I’m not as good of a pilot as Luke.”

“Details, Andrew,” Buffy demanded.

“W-Warren told me sacrificing Jonathan would open the Seal of Danzalthar and we’d become gods, but Jonathan didn’t have enough blood.”

“First of all,” said Willow, shaking her head as if it would help make sense of the chaos, “Warren is super dead. Second, you killed your best friend because your dead worst friend told you to?”

“Warren is very convincing. He’s like the Yoda of badness.”

“Yeah, a dead Yoda,” Dawn scoffed.

“Death cannot stop a true Jedi!” Andrew shot back. “Plus, Jonathan said it was okay. It didn’t even hurt, and he’s in a better place.”

“For the record, kid, getting stabbed always hurts,” said Dean, setting down the hammer and leaning against the washer.

“But Warren said--”

“Andrew, that wasn’t Warren!” Buffy was rubbing her head. “Your friends haven’t been talking to you. Those guys who came to kill you last night were sent by whatever thing’s been visiting you.”

“Assassins?” His big blue eyes filled with tears as the betrayal sunk in. “But I’m just Andrew Wells, little brother of the guy who ruined prom.”

“I thought you were Moriarty,” said Sam, bored.

“This may surprise you, but I was never very good at being bad. Warren was the brains. I was just the brawny lemming.” He pulled his knees up to his chin and started to weep.

Dean looked at Buffy, who shrugged. When they’d set up this ruse, they hadn’t expected tearful remorse.

Willow mouthed ice at Dawn who went upstairs for something to help Andrew’s swelling.

Dean almost felt bad for the kid -- was he even eighteen? Nerdy and insecure, he’d fallen in with a bad crowd, much like the teenager who’d stolen Sam’s body months before.

Andrew sat up and wiped his face on his sleeve, leaving a noticeable trail of snot. “If Darth Vader can throw the Emperor into the reactor shaft, I can change too. It’s never too late for a super villain to redeem himself. I’ll help you.”

The timing of everything was a perfect stress cocktail. Buffy should have been studying for her Developmental Psych exam next week. She should have been decorating and shopping with Dawn. She should have been planning her first Christmas with Dean, who, if the pattern held true, hadn’t had enough holiday cheer in his life. Of course, all of the evil would converge around the holidays and finals time. When did the bad guys ever make things easier on her?

Instead, ‘tis the season Buffy and Sam were following Xander and Andrew through the high school basement.

“Pick up your feet, you shuffling waste of air,” Xander hissed.

“It’s hard to walk with my hands tied behind my back. It’s hurting my bad shoulder, too. I pulled it in a light saber fight right before Episode I came out, and now whenever the weather changes it--”

“Shut. Up,” barked Sam.

Maybe if she wasn’t so stressed, Buffy wouldn’t haven’t gone gushy on Dean. There was fear in his eyes when he left her room, though she didn’t know if it was because she’d almost said I love you or because of his phobia that caring about him marked her for death; not that she needed help in that area. But he’d come back and climbed into bed with her after doing God knows what with the bodies. He’d even told her a story about a cursed coin, a wishing well, and a suicidal teddy bear she refused to believe was true. True or not, it was funny and sweet that he wanted to help ease her mind. They seemed to be okay. Maybe her fumbled attempt at affection hadn’t hurt.

After a couple turns, they entered a small room. Xander whistled low as Sam and Buffy swung their flashlights over a large metal plate featuring a goat’s head in an inverted pentagram. The ground was littered with shovels, burnt torches, and spots of blood. When Sam lit one of the torches, they could see a large, bloody wheel suspended from the ceiling.

“Of course this is what’s in the school basement. I don’t know why I expected anything different,” Sam muttered.

“The wheel of misfortune wasn’t me,” Andrew said. He looked away from them, his voice falling to a whisper. “I just stabbed Jonathan and took off.”

“You left your friend to die alone?” snapped Buffy, who wished more and more that they didn’t have to let their hostage talk in order to get information.

“It was icky.”

“Someone was bled on that thing.” Buffy wondered if it was Spike’s blood. If so, at least no one died, but it couldn't have been pleasant. What would they have done with him after?

“Do you think it opened the seal this time?” asked Xander.

Passing around shovels, Buffy replied, “Don’t know, but we have to cover this thing.”

Later as they were leaving the little room, Buffy stopped short and stared at a dark corner, a corner she’d hidden in days before. “Andrew, what night did you kill Jonathan?”

“Wednesday. I remember because I had to record--”

“No one cares,” said Sam.

“Slayer senses tinglin’, Buff?” Xander asked.

“I was down here on Thursday during school, and I ran into Principal Wood. He had a shovel and blood on his sleeve. If Jonathan’s body was still down here, maybe Wood moved it.”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “Wood is a pretty chill guy. He’s never given me the impression he’s wrapped up in Hellmouth business.”

“Maybe he wasn’t before,” Xander said. “See, the Hellmouth used to be directly under the library. Giles had a bunch of charms and incantations to keep from going crazy with it blasting him every day, but that room we were just in sits right under Wood’s office. He may have started the year as Principal Nice Guy, but who knows where his head is now. Sam, you got a key to his office?”

“Just the outer doors and the library, but…” He pulled a lockpick kit from his jacket.

Principal Wood’s office was tidy, modern, and devoid of any personality. Buffy sneered at the motivational poster on the wall. “I hadn’t noticed he was Anya levels of bland. He doesn’t even have free, random business pens.”

After some poking around, Sam said, “Nothing looks out of place in his files; well, other than you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here’s my employee file. Standard stuff. My resume. My quarterly review. School picture.”

“Look at you with your tie!” said Xander.

“Very handsome,” added Andrew.

“Your employee file is similar, but I found this laying underneath all the other files.” He slapped a thick manila folder on the desk.

Suffering horrible high school flashbacks, Buffy flipped through it. Disciplinary records. Report cards. Teacher concerns. A Child Protective Services notice that was never sent. She knew her file was thick, but the other additions alarmed her. Wood had her records from her pre-Sunnydale stint in a mental hospital, transcripts and letters from all of her schools -- university included -- medical records, lists of jobs she’d worked and friends she’d had. Most disturbing of all was a small collection of candid pictures -- Buffy at school, at her house, in various graveyards -- all clearly taken from a hidden place with a professional camera.

A snap pulled her away from the stalker puzzle. Sam had jimmied open a locked case on the wall, revealing hangers full of axes, knives, and swords.

“For the record, I’ve never met this Wood and have no idea what his deal is,” said Andrew.

“Apparently none of us have,” said Buffy.

Dean chewed on his lip as he thought about how to get away with murder. It was important to not leave a body, but if he made it look like the principal was killed by a vampire, would anyone even look twice?

“Babe, are you listening to a thing I’m saying?”

“‘Bout how your boss is a fuckin’ stalker? Got it. Thinking ‘bout how to handle it.”

“Not the priority right now.” Buffy handed him another dish to dry. They’d been piling up for days, a fact no one had noticed until there was only one plate for lunch. “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to break into the house to steal my underwear. It felt more like research notes. You know, kind of Initiative-y.”

“You think he’s workin’ for the government?”

“Or crazy. Should be able to handle either, although I admit gave me the wiggins. We’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I got a footnote in the stalker file?”

“No, it looked like most of it was pre-Winchesters. I guess he didn’t feel like he needed to follow me around anymore since my desk is right outside of his office.” She shuddered and started scrubbing the flatware. “Tell me happy news about research,” she said.

“Dawn’s gonna lap Sam for smartest kid in the class.”

“You think Sam’s the smartest? Don’t say that in front of Willow. She had a panic attack over an A minus.” Buffy grinned.

“My brother’s brilliant, an’ you know it. Anyway, Dawnie found a pile of letters with your monks on ‘em. Post-translation, she found out they’re called Harbingers of Death. I know what you’re thinking, that’s an awesome name for a metal band.”

“You know me so well,” she said, stretching on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek.

“These Bringers worship something called The First Evil, which Anya said is a shitty demon pick-up line, but I figure she never got high enough clearance in the demon world to learn some of the uglier stuff.”

Buffy pulled the plug on the drain and dried her hands. “How do we fight it?”

He wanted to keep doing dishes, keep making her smile with lame jokes, instead of telling her what hours of research had produced. “That’s it. Jack shit on the seal. We got two letters in Sanskrit, an’ they’re mostly poetry.”

“That’s not enough! We need--”

“We need a lotta things. The geek squad is crackin’ at it now. Do you wanna call the Council again? They gotta know something or at least have more books.”

“They made it pretty clear they have no desire to help.” Throwing her towel on the counter, she grumbled, “I need Santa to bring me a very English-y Giles bearing answers. An army would be nice, too. And some new boots.”

Xander popped his head in the newly repaired backdoor. “Hey-ya handyman, can ya gimme a hand with the drywall situation? Unless you two enjoy zero privacy.”

The Median Witches’ Chronicles was also a bust. Willow looked at the book-strewn dining table and, not for the first time, longed for the resources the Magic Box provided. She kicked herself again for burning it down. One of those books could have had answers. No, no, she wasn’t going to guilt trip herself again. She wasn’t going to dwell on what she couldn’t change. Healing meant those moments had to stay in the past.

“Anything?” she asked the room.

“I found a really cool spell for changing hair colors,” said Dawn.

“Ooh, lemme see!” demanded Anya with grabby hands.

“I thought the drug store sold magic kits for that,” said Xander, relaxing on the couch after reassembling Buffy’s house.

“Try to focus!” snapped Buffy. “I know you’re all tired, but we’re sitting ducks right now. We don’t know how to kill this thing or even how to find it.”

Willow, too excited to find words, began waving her hands and ooh oohing.

“Monkey girl, do you have something to share with the class?”

“We don’t know how to find it!”

“Why is that exciting?” asked Dean.

“Locator spell. I can find anything.”

“Like with the map and little lights?” asked Sam, closing his laptop.

“That’s one kind, but with the not-so-creative name of The First, I’m thinking we won’t get great results. There’s another kind that lets you essentially search for something’s essence and see what it sees without it even knowing you’re there.”

“So any time you’re bored, you could get inside me, touch my essence, and have a looky-loo?” asked Dean. “Willow, I didn’t know you were such a perv.”

“What? No perv. Not perv!”

“Do you really want to try touching something that calls itself The First Evil?” asked Buffy.

“Yeah, you touching evil books didn’t go so well for any of us last time, and publication is several steps removed from evil essences,” said Anya, as she copied the hair spell from Dawn’s book.

“I’d like to think I’m smarter than that. No, for this to work, I need to touch something it touched. We don’t have anything of The First’s, but we have those Bringer blades. They probably touch each other’s weapons. They worship The First. Maybe if we find where they’re hiding, we could, I don’t know, bag one and give it the once over for answers.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have staged that Andrew scare. Now the fear-lust is in you,” said Buffy.

“I also like to think I’m a badass,” said Willow.

Everyone gathered in the dining room to watch her work her magic. The spell itself was shockingly simple -- a couple candles, some sand, ground eggshells, an object, a bowl; it was staying in the subject’s head that was hard. It was the beyond the mental equivalent of tiptoeing. She had to be cat-like quiet, or whoever’s mind she was in would kick her out. Pouring the sand over the knife, she closed her eyes to see.

The room was cavernous. A church warmly lit with the flicker of a thousand candles. She was sitting in one of the pews beside a few other Bringers. At the front of the church, beneath a dark rose window, lay Spike, pale and stripped, stretched out on the altar.  

“Why don’t you bugger off?” she heard Spike. “You’re wrong. She’ll stop you.” She couldn’t see or hear whom he was talking to. Focusing on the host Bringer’s legs, she tried to stand.

Suddenly she was hit by an electric blue light searing through her body, a voice rumbling like thunder. Witch, you will only make me stronger.

The roar of it deafened her, and she blacked out.

Everything was dark. There was a steady beeping. Willow reached for the needles in her arms. “Will, don’t try to move, okay?”

“Xander? I’m scared. I-I can’t see!”

He squeezed her hand. “There’s a bandage over your eyes. No, don’t freak on me,” he said, pulling her other hand off of her face. “The locator spell went kaboom, and this giant demon ghost thing came out of you and started shooting lightning at Buffy and Dean. They’re okay, but your eyes have a flash burn from whatever you saw. The doctor said you’d heal, but only if you keep your eyes covered.”

Willow tried to speak, but her voice was replaced by a choked wail. She heard a couple clicks and felt Xander crawling into the bed with her, wrapping her gently in his arms.

“You can get through this, sweetie,” he murmured. “You can do this. We’ll all be your eyes while you heal. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.”

But she knew. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t alone, because the First wanted to see them all die together.

next chapter

[tsukkibito]

The Moon over the Turtle’s Back

Several shafts of firelight pierced the bamboo walls of my heavily decorated room. Alerted by urgent footsteps and restless flickering of torches carried by several men, my eyes flew open while keeping still as I could manage. I may not be allowed to participate in defending our kingdom but I can still listen to the sentries and gather what information I can from their hushed voices.

Then came fear. An unwanted feeling that I am extremely familiar with. Wars amongst tribes was the only constant occurrence as I was growing up that it instilled in me this fear I know too well.

After listening for a while, loud footsteps overwhelmed the violent current from the nearby river. The voice of my father giving my servants stern instructions somehow calms me down. Although I’ve never seen his face, I know his voice too well. Our conversations were always formal and professional, between a Datu and a binukot, strictly done with a partition separating us. That definite rule, a law that only my kin dared to implement, made me the most valuable treasure in the kingdom and among the tribes.

What I look like, only Mother knows. I was immediately hidden from everyone after I was born; even my father and my brothers hadn’t laid eyes on me even once. Other kingdoms give their priests special permissions to correspond with their living scribes but ours do not. Performing my predestined obligation granted my noble family the highest honor and prestige. Even the citizens are willing to fight on my command. It’s a pleasure, knowing the significance of my existence.

“Mother, last night. . .”

Mother lifted her head and her eyes confirmed that what I heard, Father’s urgent voice and the angry clash of metal against metal, was indeed real. The Sultan’s troops took advantage of the storm last night and many more lives were sacrificed to protect the kingdom.

“Kinnara, have you ever dreamt of watching the sea?” she asked, refocusing on her weaving. Her slender fingers expertly tackled the stubborn threads. Loneliness seemed to grip her voice and I understand because we share the same fate. She too was a Binukot but Father granted her the warmth of the sun and the freedom to see the world until sixteen years ago when she had to stay with me and raise me by herself. I wonder if she ever regretted giving birth me.

“Mother, I am contented with this life I know. I do not wish to be anyone I am not and I do not want anything that is not meant for me.”

If she’s testing me, I’m confident that I passed. I wish my answer makes her happy. Happy, contented, loneliness; I knew all these words but really, I’m not too sure I understood what they actually meant. And although I knew what curiosity is supposed to be like, I am not interested. Knowing nothing about the normal world except from my mother’s stories is not a problem a problem in my standpoint. Weaving and doing my duty as a living scribe by memorizing epics and songs certainly would not be a burden to me.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Banog,” I call one of my servants, my eldest brother, who was standing guard outside my room. “Summon the Datu.”

Without a word, Banog leaves and Bukaw took over his post. I watched their shadows move and disappear. Mother silently continued her weaving and maybe, her prayers, because I am praying too. Desperately. We’re in the middle of a crisis after all.

After a while, Banog returned to inform me that Father was currently negotiating with the hostile tribe. There was a hint of worry in his voice but his concerns to me were insignificant.

“Do you know that the sea is salty?” Mother asked me again. Something was definitely troubling her and it's affecting me in a way that is both disturbing and upsetting. I stared at her intently.

“Do you hate me, Mother?” I asked her those things but inside my chest was a tangled ball of white threads. “I do not appreciate you messing with my resolve.”

Hate. These words spilling from my mouth were ideas borrowed from those epic tales that I’d memorized. The realization that I might never had an emotion of my own relieved me.

She shook her head crying but I couldn't sympathize with her. I’ve never cried. I have nothing to cry about. Maybe those tears were the evidence of her hate because that emotion was believed to weigh heavily on the heart. She must have been suffering.

She embraced me and whispered to my ear the most terrifying fate that awaited me. My mind went blank and all I heard was the creaking of the bamboo floor and the murmurs of the nearby river. The boiled bananas I ate for snack almost escaped me.

“I am too late after all,” I whispered but it sounded more like a croak. I was aware of the possibility but I could never believe my father went ahead for the final resort. He severed the thread and sacrificed me.

He sold me. He betrayed me.

I heaved a sigh to rid myself of the unfamiliar dark-colored emotions entangling with the plain white threads that I believed was my heart. Then I smiled, carefully wiping away my mother’s tears with the hem of my skirt.

Fearing for my own is an act of selfishness. I was not raised so I could live for my sake. The Heavens blessed me with this beauty for the benefit of our kingdom. My only option was to save the lives of my people.

“I will submit to the Sultan. It is the right thing to do,” I declared. I shivered at the thought but decided that from now on, I must talk of the Sultan in the most respectable manner. My future depends on him and to adore my future husband is going to become my sole duty.

Mother violently shakes her head with her fingers digging on my shoulders and her eyes so wide with unsung pleas. It’s strange, as if she’s a different person. She was supposed to be the most sophisticated woman in the tribe but I don't see a trace of that right now. Only the eyes of a frightened woman unable to say the things she wanted to say, silenced by her own upbringing.

“You are the treasure of our tribe, Kinnara. I cannot allow that monster to taint and enslave you!”

“He’s going to wipe us out. A farming tribe cannot stand for too long against a tribe that breathes war.”

I am the objective all along, anyway. Father chose to keep the reason hidden but I eventually realized the truth. I am privileged with the abundance of time to think and ponder things over.

The Sultan's warriors killed our people and burned down their houses. Even the domesticated animals were not spared. There was no looting involved, only a clear message left for us to consider. The wars existed because the Sultan wants the most valuable Binukot among the kingdoms. Obtaining me meant their kingdom's illegibility to be granted the greatest political power in all of Kalupaan. The remaining kingdoms will surrender and kneel under one supreme ruler.

It spells the worst possible future for the kingdoms, but who am I to challenge the inevitable? 

“Mother, I am afraid too, but I will cast it aside. I will let you bear these fears for both of us.”

I hoped it was the end of my mother’s protests. I know she’s worried because of what I am but the Sultan recognizes that fact and still wants me. That gives me hope. 

*

Strange noises –

I realize I fell asleep. I found myself inside my largest palanquin and Mother was nowhere near. I called for her and I called Bukaw’s name. Only the cicadas replied.

I’m not naturally curious of what lies beyond the walls the confine me. Every time I am transported, peeking doesn’t even occur to me. People could be executed just by looking at me so I figured I’d also discipline myself by completely accepting my seclusion. It is only fair.

But the strangeness of those sounds prompted me to take a little look.

I gasped.

I see the moon! And it’s better than the one I saw during the harvest ritual. Is it a different one? A bigger, brighter and prettier moon? A mother moon, maybe?

I wish Mother could give me answers.

“Where am I?” I whispered. Normally, I would just sit and wait but my common sense tells me that there is no one around to do my bidding. I gingerly touch the wall of my palanquin and my hand immediately retracted. The sighs and shivers startling me so much that I ended up speechless.

The walls were breathing and shivering. Really shivering, like a living being that is soft and warm to the touch.

“Get out,” says a deep, rusty voice that conjured in my mind images of a no good vagrant, or maybe a drunkard. Right then the walls collapsed and rippled beneath me that I bolt upright, almost touching the earth with my bare feet.

“I can’t!” I shout, repulsed by the thought of losing my status to mere dirt.

“Get out or I’ll kick you, brat!” the voice rumbled and the wood beneath my feet rippled again, more violently this time, and tossed me out off its wooden floor. While I struggled to get up, the palanquin reassembles itself, but not before slamming on my back and knocking me off-balance. It ran off toward the dark forest, laughing madly.

I stared at the darkness for a long time. It dawned on me that my worth just disintegrated along with my status and my whole life has been such a pitiful waste. Just because I stepped on the ground with my own two feet.

And I am all alone. I’m on the ground, barefooted, and for some reason; my palanquin is alive and shamelessly kicked me out. If I’m not dreaming then maybe the gods or the jealous diwatas are playing a trick on me. No wonder none of them answered my prayers.

They were jealous of the beauty that drove kingdoms into years of violent wars, I thought, feeling dark threads wrapped tightly around my throat.

Almost cursing out loud, I paused upon remembering the beautiful moon. I looked up once again, appreciating the fact that no trees obscured my view. The strange sounds came from the direction of the moon, so maybe mortals can hear the moon when it’s that close and big. I took one careful step, and then another, wincing as tiny sharp rocks cut the soles of my soft feet. 

“I can never be who I was,” occupied my mind as I struggled forward. Walking is awfully exhausting, especially since the path was sloping and the rocks were getting sharper. I stopped to tie my hair on my back and then gathered up my flowy garb to avoid tripping on them accidentally.

The moon kept on getting farther away whenever I believed that I’m getting really close. I ran uphill where a single boulder carved it's silhouette right in front of the moon. I might catch it if I go a little bit faster. 

“One can never run fast enough to catch the moon.” It’s a man’s voice. “Especially one as clumsy and slow as you.”

I panicked.

Someone, a person, saw me!

I cocked my head to the direction where the voice came from. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him. I thought he was a boulder from down the hill but now that I'm standing next to him, he’s a man with a huge stone bilao covering the entirety of his hunched back. His view was fixed on the faraway void so he looked kind of sleepy.

He took my breath away, just like how the moon did earlier.

“What are you?” I asked, breathless. I am not ignorant, I know that there are different kinds of people. But I haven’t heard of a person with a large stone stuck on his back. It looked bumpy, with flowering crystal spikes in the middle, but the edges were rounded, smooth and shiny.

“You’re a rude fellow,” the man points out, his voice sounded sleepy too. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Was he afraid of the consequences of looking at a binukot?

“I’m sorry,” I say because I really was. It might be an illness that I’m not aware of. I puffed my cheeks. Can't he see that I'm barefoot? Nothing will happen even if he stares at me because I am no longer pure.

But he was still fussing over the thin bamboo stick he’s holding, pulling it up and dropping the line again.

The cold wind blew and I shivered. The air smelled tangy but not unpleasant, like fish broth. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Fishing,” he answered, pointing at the vast rice field below our hill that expanded far beyond, reflecting the brightest moon I have ever seen.

“Fishing?! In a rice field?”

He laughed, his eyes closed and wrinkled at the sides. I found myself smiling too, because he made it seem so easy.

Beneath us, the strange booming sounded clearer than when I heard it from afar. What I believed to be a rice field was in fact something else,  mirroring the light of the moon like the inside of a clamshell.

“So it’s the first time you’ve seen the sea?”

I nodded but realizing that he isn’t paying attention, I said, “Yes.”

 “No wonder he's dancing more beautifully than usual.”

“It was the sea calling out to me.” I breathe. It was the strange noise, her song, that beckoned me to her.

“Sometimes, the sea wants an audience, especially when the moon dances on her surface. Then, a wish is born.”

I listened to his bizarre stories. My throat itched because of the cold and his sleepy voice made me drowsy but the tales he told me were so fun and mesmerizing. The people in it and the places he described were unlike the images I saw in the epic chants that I memorized.

Strong winds blew right past us that I worried I might topple over and plunge to my death but the man seemed unaffected by the elements and continued talking in his own pace. He would occasionally pull his fishing line and then throw it back downagain.

He’s a peculiar man, although I don’t know the extent of his peculiarity because I didn’t have anybody to compare him with. Unlike my mother, he talks like everything around us is alive and familiar. 

In the end, he didn’t catch any fish. Instead, he easily hauled the largest clam I have ever seen, filled with shiny pearls of assorted sizes that looked like eggs of different birds. He tossed the largest one to me and I catched it with both hands.

“Thank you,” I told him. The pearl was surprisingly warm that I pressed it to my cold cheek. At last, he stood up, leaving the thin bamboo pole on the rough ground. He staggered and seemed surprised by it.

“Oops, it’s gotten heavier,” he says.

"What is?"

"My shell," he answered, slowly turning to show me his back and I waited patiently for him to face me again.

“What happens if it gets too heavy for you to carry?”

He stared at me for the first time and shrugged. His eyes were black and shining, like the surface of the calm sea.

“I will probably turn into a rock. Or maybe I will turn into nothing.”

Something stirred inside my chest, like a tug and the threads started moving and recoiling. It made me queasy.

“Why would you like that?” I asked him. It was late when I noticed the accusatory tone in my voice.

“I don’t like it. But I can’t help caring for people, so I can’t escape my fate. We are the same, bound to our curses.” He walked away, like an upright, lazy turtle. I remember I saw a turtle once.

[sasukeuchiha-eternalmangekyou]

While listening to the ninja's explanations and the conclusions he'd drawn - some of them long ago, some maybe just the other night - a sad smile crossed Sureen's face. 

Things were… different than what she'd expected. Learning the truth about Itachi hadn't left Sasuke disoriented or aimless. Not at all. The only thing that had changed was the direction and the extent of his mission. It was no longer about restoring justice by killing merely the culprit. Now it was about eliminating the very root cause by destroying a whole village including all of its inhabitants. A deep-drawn sigh escaped her. There was nothing left for her to do. "I think the reason why I came after you, in the first place, was because I was sure that learning the truth about your brother would turn your plans and your convictions upside down so much that you wouldn't… you couldn't… dunno. At least in my head it felt alarming enough to set out straight away. But I guess I was wrong. Because in a way things are still the same now. If anything, they grew larger and deeper… to a whole new stage. I can't even tell if that's a good or a bad thing. 'Cause basically, it's still all about revenge, it still serves to keep you focused and moving forward. You can still stick with the very same survival strategy that has always worked for you. It's just…" Sureen paused and let another sigh escape her lips. She rubbed her tired eyes with her hands, then massaged the bridge of her nose in an attempt to unravel her muddled thoughts. "... It sucks. Seriously. Because in fact your mind is amazing, you have the ability to really think things through and look at them from various perspectives and then come to a conclusion or even change your mind after collecting enough new information. You could totally leave old paths, look for new directions, question old ways of thinking, and come up with new ideas based on what's happening around you - that would be so you. But as it is now, you can't… get there. All you can do is isolate yourself. From everyone around you, and from yourself. From what you'd really feel if you'd go there. "I'm so sorry everything turned out this way. But the only thing that comes to my mind… as an answer of sorts, is… at this point you need to go follow your chosen path, it's the only thing that makes sense, I can see that now." She swallowed hard, slowly moving her fingers through her long, tangled hair strands. But suddenly another cautious smile lit up her face as a thought crossed her mind.

"But you know what, at least according to MY experience, making future plans almost NEVER works. Somehow you just can't include all those existing options and determinants, 'cause things tend to develop in the weirdest directions which you just can't anticipate, no matter how hard you try. 'Cause life is unpredictable. I mean… I'm not trying to say your plans are nonsense and in fact things will turn out differently anyway. But I guess that's what I'll secretly be hoping for," she bashfully shrugged her shoulders. A few minutes later though, listening to Sasuke's theory on what the world would be like if everyone had her ability, Sureen couldn't help but grin broadly. "Oh boy, just why am I NOT surprised about THAT point of view? Feeling like you want to do your self-discovery thing all by yourself with no guidance from no one - that's so you being you man," the girl chuckled. 

"Nah, but seriously… you've got a point. That's why usually we would be trained in fully mastering our ability. And people my age would be perfectly capable of switching it on and off, and only use it when they feel like they wouldn't cross a line with it. And from there it's common sense and intuition. Because no matter which additional abilities or senses you might have, people still do have the right to keep their secrets to themselves, and it doesn't mean you can shamelessly interfere with their lives or their privacy. 

"It's just that… for obvious reasons I was never trained to master anything. I only know the very basics of my ability. So most of the time I'm totally going overboard with it, or more like, it's going overboard with me, since I've got no clue how to switch it off. So yeah. If everyone used that thing the way I do, you'd totally have a point. But I'll figure it out, it's just a tad complicated to get there when there's no one left to teach you… but well, I'll figure it out eventually," Sureen hurried to shrug it off before her grief could take over. She nodded in agreement, a relieved smile tugging on her lips as she listened to Sasuke telling her there was no need for her to join him since he already had team Taka on his side, regardless of his shifting objective.

"And regardless of your shifting objective as well, rest assured that I'll still be on your side when it's over. Because the day after will come when there's no one left for you to kill - either because you completed your mission or because your plans vanished into thin air. But either way, that shall be the day I'll come back. Because trust me, the real difficult part begins when you realize that your life is gone but you're still there. But we'll cross that bridge when you get there, 'cause I guess at this point it's rather meaningless to you. Just remember I'll be back when your plans come to an end," she replied, her eyes bright with confidence. "Pffffft… and just for the record, your sanity isn't all that trivial. At least not to… well, I could name at least four [// million!!!!!] persons including ME," Sureen growled with feigned annoyance, the telltale smile still tugging on her lips. "Otherwise, as for me, I wouldn't have come here to begin with, Mister."

“Things have changed, that much I can assure you,” Sasuke explained, sight still absorbing the skyline of auburn. “But you’re right. It’s still about revenge. Nearly my entire life has been. But there is something deeper that’s altered after discovering a truth my brother never wanted me to know…” 

He closed his ebon eyes, taking a deep breath to collect his rampaging thoughts. They still managed to run wild whenever Itachi was consuming his mind, but now heartache accompanied them in a cascading sorrow he nearly forgot existed. It overflowed, temping to drown him in this ravaging battlefield called love. He was devoted to a lie, something so contradictory while being tugged along by restricting strings.

He shook his head, trying to chase the pain away to no avail. He spoke quietly without looking over to Sureen. “You don’t have to be sorry. We all suffer our individual traumas and some manage to dig themselves out of the darkness while others don’t know how. I may be strategic and levelheaded in most cases, but I’ve always been impulsive when it came to my motives. Leaving the village was a reckless move, but not something I regret. It may very well be due to isolating myself, but that place stopped feeling like home a long time ago.” He raised his hand, clutching his fingers. “I appreciate the friend you’ve been to me in spite of being at odds on many occasions. The mere fact that you understand my path means a great deal. Even if you don’t agree with it.”

Unlike some, she wasn’t trying to stop him and return him to a life he no longer wanted. Although his former teammates have decided upon themselves to save him, they failed to realize that choices were factors. If he wanted off this destructive path, he’d have done so by now. It no longer mattered. His new goal was waging a war against Konoha, one they’d all perish in anyway. Or he’d die trying.

“I figured you’d hope for that,” the Uchiha commented, now glancing towards his comrade. “I know firsthand that plans never go as we expect. The unpredictability of my life never ceases to throw me off track. My trust in what’s real is sometimes shaken. Not only have I been misled, but I’ve been used. Itachi’s intentions were created by his sense of justice. He left me alive out of care. But it was cruel. The method he used to keep me blinded and strung along… If I had known everything, I could’ve made my own decision on how to take the massacre. But instead, he chose for me. So, I know well enough that life changes unexpectedly. Until it does though, I’ll keep striving to avenge my family.”

He listened to Sureen clarify her abilities and outlook on those powers. It was no form a revelation that she felt that way pertaining to what she couldn’t control. He knew little about her, but never pried to discover more. They’ve been traveling together for a short while, but never had she once tried to interfere too harshly when in disagreement. He didn’t pity her capabilities or think less of her for the empathy she formed with them. Rather, he was somewhat reserved about his attention towards her attendance this entire time. Like Taka, she didn’t fight him on much, but her company and endeavors to try to understand was helpful while he was struggling with this mess of information.

“It’s possible that you’ll be able to teach yourself how to control your gifts. In my experience, not many are willing to help what they don’t understand. Perhaps for you it will be different. I was merely unwilling to accept it.” Sasuke fully faced her now, aware that they’d soon be parting ways. The others have left once the sun set the other day and were waiting for him to be prepared to head off. She was the only one who sought him out this morning.

Her declaration of being by his side when this was all over was heard and silently accepted. He knew it was pointless to dispute. If she wanted to witness what became of him once this trial of vengeance commenced and ended, then he’d be fine with that. It’s not as though she were his enemy. She wasn’t from the Hidden Leaf or standing in his way.

Sasuke walked past her, a nod given. “I guess this means goodbye until next we meet.”