#brings him to the permit office and uses him as an excuse to put everyone on hold

[solargeist]

grian doesnt let being a single parent stop him, he drags xelqua along with him everywhere

[tae-cup]

The Analyst | Night Terrors (2)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: The prestigious department of police and investigations in Seoul, Korea, is called to the small town of Cape Springs in rural California. Nothing is quite what it seems here.

Warnings: Blood, violence, you know crime stuff? Fluffy stuff somehow

Genre: Mystery, Crime, Angst, a lil humor, sexual innuendos, BUT I S W E AR DON’T WRITE SMUT OKAY

Word Count: 8k Words (they just keep getting longer omg)

A/N: Let me know your thoughts! Any suspects? Just message me if you want to be tagged! 

Thank you so much to @kingbewwy for helping with my story planning and ideas!!

Beautiful header by the wonderful @dnrequests

Other:

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    You were leaving class, head down, trying to stay out of the way of the students in front of you. Blending into the background was something that you wanted, but you also couldn’t hide your passion for forensic analysis. The entire process fascinated you, plus it was a job that had you easily disappearing from the public eye. You were taking biochemistry, toxicology, and criminal justice to bolster your dreams. 

      It was a normal day. Normal as it could be for you, anyway. You were currently interning at the local police station on a work study permit. You would go and observe how things worked in your free time, often shadowing the forensic analyst of the team. Jae-hwa was an older man with years of experience, yet no cases to use that experience on. The man would often grumble about the slowness of the town as he showed you how to work the equipment. 

     Today, you made your way to the station, shoulders drooping under the weight of your backpack. 

“Y/N!” Your mentor called. “Come here, we want to introduce you to somebody.”

“Okay?” You dropped your bag in the office lounge and made your way to where you could hear his voice. He stood, a younger man next to him. 

“This is Namjoon, he’s interning here as well now.” 

     You smiled warmly, Namjoon did the same. He had dimples, which you couldn’t help thinking were adorable. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N, I hope we work well together.” You held out your hand and he shook it. His grip was firm, but not tight. 

“Nice to meet you as well, and same to you.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. He seemed cool, calm, and collected. He would make a great police chief. If it weren’t for that hair.You thought to yourself. His bright blue hair might be a little too...funky?

“I’ll let you two get acquainted.” The forensic autopsy technician passed you some money. “Here, go out to lunch or something.” 

“Oh, it’s fine, I can pay.” You smiled, offering the cash back to him. You may be a broke college student, but you still refused handouts. The man sighed. 

“Just take it, Y/N.” Then he left. 

    There was an awkward silence as you and the other intern stared at each other. He swallowed, you blinked a couple times. Finally, you cleared your throat. 

“I guess we should get going, then I’ll show you around the station.” You announced, headed towards the exit. The blue haired male snapped out of his daze and raced after you. 

“So what brings you here?” You asked, turning the corner and scanning the street before quickly crossing the road. 

“You just jaywalked.” He brushed past your question. For some reason, his tone made you feel as if you’d just been convicted of murder. Your eyes darted around the block before turning to face him. 

“And you have bright blue hair. Don’t point out the obvious. Besides, I don’t see any cops. What are you going to do, arrest me?” You rolled your eyes. 

“My hair is perfectly fine- it was just a stupid dare, and anyway aren’t you supposed to be representing the station?” 

“It’s not like I’m wearing a uniform or holding a sign screaming that I intern at the police department.” You pursed your lips. Why did he make you so nervous? 

“Maybe not, but I am about to be a police chief.” He raised an eyebrow. 

Your face went pale. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I’m assembling the best of the best to create Bangtan Police Department. We’re going to take the police world by storm.” His chest puffed slightly in pride. You only laughed, watching his expression deflate. 

“Namjoon you are hilarious. You’re so young. Just get through this internship and think over it again.” You patted his arm and continued walking down the street. He gaped, once again having to catch up to you. 

“Excuse me, I’m sure you’re actually younger than me! And it’s true, it’s going to be great!” 

“What are you going to do? Call out every person who jaywalks?” A small smile slid onto your face. He was not as amused. 

“I’m going to help with solving murder cases, cold cases, help the poor, anything.” 

“Uh huh.” You opened the door to the cafe. “Got any people in mind?” 

“I have a couple friends. Yoongi is already known as a top notch investigator and he’s training a rookie named Taehyung, but they’re on board with joining.” 

“Min Yoongi? The person who helped solve the murders of Hyun and In-sun?” You tilted your head in interest. 

      The murders of Hyun and In-sun were a famous case in Korea. The case itself was filled with weird holes and inconsistencies, along with the fact that the local police had been bribed. In the end, the case had gone cold until Min Yoongi came in and solved it within a month. It was...extraordinary. There was something different in the way that man’s mind worked. 

“Yeah!” Namjoon nodded enthusiastically. “My father trained him.” 

You narrowed your eyes, not believing his story. 

“Okay, okay, who else?” 

“Well, my second in command will be my long term partner and friend, Kim Seokjin. He’s a reasonable man with experience in the field as a police officer and investigative reporter.” 

“Interesting, continue.” 

The drinks arrived, condensation dripping off the glasses. 

“Well, that’s all I have so far. I’m planning on recruiting more once we get more well known.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Okay, let me get this straight, lover boy.” You ignored his flushed his face at the nickname you just appointed. “You have four people and you want to start the world’s best investigative slash police team.” 

“Yes.” He said, his voice softer and you could tell he was losing his energy. “But I still need an analyst.” He gave you a pointed look. 

        With a sigh, you studied the man. He had potential, he just needed to cultivate it. With a little growing and pushing, he’d make a great police chief. You sipped your water, mulling over the idea. It was definitely enticing, to offer yourself to him once you were done with your studies, but he was looking for the best of the best. 

“You should ask Mr. Jae-hwa.” You decided. 

“Who?”

“My mentor. Surely he introduced himself.” 

“Well yeah, I remember him I-” He sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, he’s your mentor, right? So why don’t you just...join?” 

“I’m inexperienced.” You frowned. “I’ve only been an intern for a year and studying for two.” 

“Once you graduate.” He amended. “I think we’d work well together.” 

      You chuckled, thinking over the opportunity. It was a risk. Every police department was looking for a good forensic analyst, you could find a good job at an established department if you wanted. Still, the offer he was giving you was enticing. Being partners with him didn’t even seem so bad. Namjoon had a hunger inside him. A hunger to prove himself and you could see him going the distance. You picked up your menu, a little smile gracing your lips. You shook your head with amusement.

“You’re too hungry, Namjoon.” 

           You had been busy. You were already working on several cases and had traveled out to Daegu to personally investigate a case. It was about a head found in a car, the body found a few days later in a house. There was lots of blood. You placed the cotton swab into a tube and sealed it up to test later. Then you maneuvered around the crime scene, trying to avoid all the police doing their jobs. You had a habit of trying to shrink, to stay out of everyone’s way as much as possible. 

      That’s when Namjoon called you. You frowned. Isn’t he in America? You glanced at the time. 4:15 P.M. You sighed, picking it up. Typical, for him to call in the middle of the night. 

“Namjoon, why the fuck are you calling me? You know I’m busy, as I said, you could just send your samples to the forensic analyst back at Bangtan….are you doubting my team’s capabilities?” You scoffed at his urgent tone. “There’s no reason for an ‘on site’ analyst.” 

       You put him onto speaker phone and stepped into your car. 

“Yeah, we also have murders over here, what makes you so special?” 

“And here I remembered you being so nice.” His muffled voice came through the speaker.

“Excuse me! I am nice! I just don’t enjoy being pulled away, I have an important job to do here too.” You complained to him, indicating and turning left. 

“Please!” A new voice came through the phone, audio cracking and popping from bad connection. 

“Taehyung, is that you?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “The connection is so poor here.” You glanced at your samples. 

      You could send these to your team and join Namjoon and the others. It had been a little under a week since you last saw them and your skin was just itching to be near them again. Perhaps it was a silly little crush, or crushes if you factored in the fact that there were seven of them. You didn’t think it possible, but here you were, pining after seven of your coworkers. 

“Fine!” You cried over their voices shouting into the phone. You parked in front of your hotel. You were already clearing your schedule and arranging for the samples to be sent to your team of analysts. “I’ll be there in two days, just please grab some blood swabs for me.” You huffed, hanging up. 

         You pressed your forehead to the wheel of the car, a sigh escaping your lips as you pressed your eyes shut. These boys were already giving you a headache and you weren’t even with them yet. 

           Two days later, a Tuesday, you set your bags down in the empty lobby of the Cape Springs police station. You arrived like the plague doctor, briefcase and everything, the fading sun behind you. The dust made you want to sneeze, your nose scrunching up as you fought the urge. You decided to go straight to the police station, y’know, for funsies; and also to surprise them. The hard suitcase that held your equipment was in hand as you sneakily made your way through the building. 

        You could hear the murmur of their voices and you turned right down a short hallway. There was an open door that led to a conference room with a large round table. Eight chairs were pulled up, one empty, a ninth chair in the corner occupied by a small looking girl. She was eagerly taking notes of the conversation. 

“Once Y/N arrives, we can finally look over the samples. My best guess is Rohypnol but you never know, it could be something less traceable, like oxygen injected into the bloodstream.” Namjoon declared. 

“But we’ve never found any discarded needles, that seems nonsensical.” Jimin pointed out. 

“Rohypnol is a good guess, based on the reports you sent in.” You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. A sly smile graced your lips. 

     Startled, eight heads turned to face you. Seven smiles broke out. 

“Y/N! You’re finally here!” Taehyung jumped up, Jungkook following suit. You opened your arms, used to their tag team hugs. 

        You peer over the taller men’s shoulders, just barely, to catch Namjoon smiling with, perhaps, relief. Jin was observing the sight, amusement evident in his posture, Hoseok was quick to wait behind Jimin who was also awaiting your hug. Then there was Yoongi who didn’t seem bothered at all, yielding no reaction. 

        You weren’t exactly disappointed, this was his usual behavior, but it was surprising. Time to fix that attitude. You had always been a motherly figure, despite your lack of interest in having children. The two younger ones pulled away and before Jimin and Hoseok could launch forward, you put up a hand to stop them. 

“Yoongi.” You barked harshly, placing your hands on your hips. He groaned loudly, like a reluctant teenager. “Is that any way to greet your mother?” You frowned in mock disapproval. “Come give me a hug.” You opened your arms up to him and made a grabbing motion with your fingers. 

“You’re not my mother, I’m way older than you.” He grumbled, standing and giving you a quick hug. You flushed proudly. Everyone, you included, knew Yoongi would follow your orders, begrudgingly, yes, but he would still follow them no matter what. He held a deep respect for you, despite being four years older. You never knew where it came from, but it was there. 

       After the awkward hug, Jimin and Hoseok embraced you. They giggled and easily snitched on the misbehavior of their friends, receiving annoyed shouts from the other boys. 

“Taehyung!” You cried, horrified. “Is it true you’ve only been eating french toast for all your meals?!” 

“That’s not completely true. I ate regular toast once when they were out of ingredients for french toast.” Taehyung said grimly, his face without a trace of humor. You just huffed and turned to the remaining people. 

       The girl was visibly startled by all the commotion and she stood next to Jin and Namjoon. A little too close. Your eyes narrowed, but you shook your head. You needed to focus on the task at hand. 

      There was still a twinge of jealousy. You were the only female in the inner circle, the best of the best. The eight wonders of the crime world. Each specializing in a different area, constantly called upon for the biggest of mysteries. Every single one, without fail, ended with a stamp on the file; Case solved. 

“And who is this?” You tried to hide the slightest twinge of jealousy in your gut. She seemed to be a perfectly nice girl, a bit fragile looking, but someone with the face of an angel. She looks like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

“This is Hae-won.” Jungkook grinned. “She’s my age and she’s here to study the process!” He explained excitedly. 

“That’s great, Jungkook. Lovely to meet you, Hae-won.” You passed off her slight narrowing of eyes to a trick of the light. After all, the sun was coming in low at this hour and it could have been shining in her eyes. You held up the hard suitcase that had your heavy equipment. “Where can I set up my equipment?” 

“O-over here.” Hae-won stuttered, rushing ahead to show you the old forensic room. “We haven’t had the need for it in a while, I’m sorry it’s so dusty.” She apologized, dipping her head in embarrassment. 

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You bowed to her and she left the room to leave you to set up. 

       You took out your plastic test tubes, ziplocs, microscope, and petri dishes. Then you checked to make sure your camera wasn’t scratched before throwing open the blinds. The window was facing the opposite direction from the sun so all you could see was a long shadow hitting the building next door. 

“Joonie?” You barked from your room. You made a note to pick up wipes to clean up the place. 

“Yes?” His footsteps pounded down the hallway and then skidded to a halt outside the door. 

“Did you get the blood samples like I asked?” You asked, a cheery tone to your voice. 

“Yes, but can’t you wait? I know you’re a workaholic, but we’re heading out to the diner for some dinner.” 

“No wonder you guys haven’t been able to solve anything.” You rolled your eyes. 

“First of all!” Namjoon sputtered, “Betty’s diner has excellent food and second of all, we need to eat, unlike you. You’re like a vampire, you only need blood to survive.” 

“I enjoy my work.” You said dryly, giving him a hard look, fingertips pressed together. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a little too much.” 

“If this is your way of asking me to live a little, I will have you know that my work is very fulfilling.” Especially when I get to work 24/7 with you guys. 

Namjoon sighed and crossed his arms. “You will only get the samples once we go out for food. You will eat at all mealtimes and that’s an order.” 

“Fine.” You grumbled, turning around to take out the last lense. “Who else is going to supervise that Tae gets a balanced diet?” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

        He turned to leave, but he lingered in the doorway. His hand rested on the wooden door frame, tethering him to the room. You admired the way his smooth brown hair looked as it became dusk. 

       It had taken forever, but you had convinced him to stop dying it blue in college. It’s damaging the hell out of your roots and how is anyone going to take you seriously with vibrant blue hair? That’s what you had said. He had relented after some push back and now you were blessed to see his beautiful hazel brown hair. 

“By the way, we missed you.” Namjoon murmured softly, you almost didn’t catch it. It was a surprise, but the fearless police chief had a soft voice, one that could easily be missed if you weren’t listening. 

“I was gone for under a week before you needed my help.” 

       His lips quirked into a smile, hand slipping from the door frame as he retreated back to the meeting room. 

        You decided Hae-won didn’t talk much. You tried to engage her in conversation, but she had responded half-heartedly several times and you gave up trying to push it. A part of you had hoped you would become friends, maybe talk about something other than the murders. Because contrary to popular belief, you weren’t a complete workaholic. Which, now that you thought about it, Namjoon was being a huge ass hypocrite. 

        Whenever you were on a job with the other seven men, all they could talk about was the case and if they were going to drag you out to dinner, you didn’t want to be regaled with tales of disembodied heads and people being cut open. It just wasn’t polite. 

“Hae-won, what did you order?” You asked, trying to include the girl who seemed to shrink with every passing minute. 

      She avoided your gaze, mumbling something to the table, or it may have been to you. You couldn’t tell because she refused to look anywhere except the ground. 

“She said she ordered a burger.” Jungkook nodded at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“She can tell me that herself, yeah?” You didn’t mean it so harshly, it just came out that way. 

“Hae-won is just a little shy!” Taehyung interjected, rushing to the girl’s defense. You just narrowed your eyes further. 

“And what did you say she was studying to be?” You weren’t an interrogator or investigator by any means, but you had seen Yoongi and Taehyung at work before. 

“An interrogation officer.” Yoongi drawled, taking a sip of his water and looking like he wished it were alcohol instead. 

“Interesting.” You murmured. Maybe she was just nervous about meeting new people, but she would have to get over that quickly if she wanted to last. 

“Oh yeah, I found something at the crime scene yesterday. I wanted to check again.” Jimin said, bringing the conversation back. 

“And?” Namjoon looked expectantly at him. 

“Well it was after we went to retrieve the samples for Y/N and…” He shook his head. “I think it’s better to discuss it in detail in the meeting tomorrow.” He sighed. “I just wanted to give you a heads up.” 

“Too bad we didn’t bring in a forensic autopsy technician.” Taehyung sighed, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder. 

      It made the man tense, but Taehyung had never been good at reading the room. Namjoon kicked the poor boy under the table, making him jolt upright with an awkward chuckle. Small town, things are different here. It was like the token red dot in a sea of blue. 

“I interned under a forensic autopsy technician. I don’t know much, but I understand the process.” You cracked your knuckles, already trying to recall the steps you’d seen Jae-hwa, your mentor, go through. Namjoon nodded along with your statement, having worked alongside you. 

“Of course our very own specialist isn’t just experienced in one area.” Jungkook puffed his chest out and you tried to hide the flutter in your heart and the heat crawling up your neck. 

“Can I visit the crime scene tomorrow?” You asked, though you would even if they told you no. 

“Yes, of course. Do it before the meeting so you can discuss your findings.” Jin nodded. 

“When is the meeting?” You were exhausted, jetlag wearing you down. 

“2:00 P.M. tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” You made a mental note of it. “I’ll be there. Would anyone like to join me?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Jimin quickly raised his hand. “I’d like to check it out more.” 

“I’ll go too.” Hoseok said, having not spoken much, which was odd for the hyper police officer. 

          He had spent the time whispering things to Hae-won. It looked like they were in their own little fantasy, their own fan club. For some reason, your blood began to boil at the thought. Calm down. It’s nothing. There’s nothing going on here. You’ve known these boys forever. If anyone is going to be with them, it’ll be you. The last sentence in your mental monologue made you internally slap yourself. How can you think like that? Just shut up and do your job. 

         Right, maybe your job could distract you from whatever feelings you had towards your incredibly handsome coworkers. Besides, they had a job to do too. The last thing on their minds should be their love life, so the same should apply to you. 

“I have french toast?” The waiter asked. You turned your head to face Taehyung so fast you almost got whiplash. 

“You bastard, you said you were getting the hamburger.” 

He just grinned evilly and leaned over the table to take his plate. 

          You had seen plenty of dead bodies before, but usually it was easier when they were cleaned up. God, it was like no one understood how autopsies worked in this place. You couldn’t just deal with this bloodied corpse, you need to be able to see and analyse the wound. 

         Having Namjoon there helped you with your frustration as you swiped at the blood staining the victim’s, Hak-kun, neck. You ignored the goosebumps that broke out when your finger brushed over his very cold and very dead skin. Namjoon looked more disturbed while you held a calm facade. 

        Right, he’d seen Hak-kun alive and breathing just days prior. The man had seen him warm and full of blood pumping through his heart. The contrast must be disconcerting. 

“Namjoon, you really don’t have to be here.” You said softly. You may be a dumb ass sometimes when it came to emotions, but you weren’t heartless. Besides, you could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off him. 

Ever the brave chief, he shook his head and took a step closer. 

“It’s fine, really.” He swallowed thickly in a way that screamed definitely not fine. “I want to help.” 

He could be a real help, you knew that, but your guilt won out. “No it’s okay, I insist. Actually, it would be better if you left while I examined the body.” 

“I don’t believe you.” There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Okay, fine, but just stand where you won’t be in the way and take note of everything I say.” You quickly amend. Once Namjoon pulls the ‘I don’t believe you’ card, there’s no escaping his words. 

“Alright.” He seemed content with that. 

       You picked up your scissors to get ready to cut away at the dirtied fabric. You took another moment to look at him. He was standing dutifully, a pen and notepad in hand. He waited expectantly. 

“If this becomes too much for you to watch, I won’t fault you for leaving.” Your eyes clouded over in sympathy. He scoffed. 

“You underestimate your chief.” 

“If you say so.” You then set to cutting away the strips of cloth that covered the abdomen. You took a moment to search for bruising. You found none. “No bruising visible on abdomen, though I speculate there are some on the back, according to Jimin’s description.” Your voice was monotone, calm, without a single waver. 

“The neck has been cut deep. I can guess that the killer is experienced. It’s a clean cut, straight down and cutting through the sternocleidomastoid.” You leaned down, surveying for any other nicks. 

“I see no other points of contact, the neck being the only surface bloodied. No extra cuts, it’s not messy.” You rolled the body over and cut away the back. Your eyebrows furrowed together. Your lack of speaking caused Namjoon to look up. 

     He eyed the bruises warily as you moved more cloth aside. 

“There is severe bruising along the vertebrae.” You dictated, eyeing the dark spots along the spine. “Most likely caused by dragging. There are other bruises, they look roughly the size of fingerprints.” 

      You took out the tape set on the tray beside you and pressed a strip to one of the dark spots. “I’ll analyse this, see if there’s any fingerprints. From where they’re located and from the bruising, I can guess that the killer is smaller in stature. Most likely having to drag the victim to his final resting place, unable to support his weight.” You thought for a moment. “That’s enough for now.” 

       You cut some fabric and placed them in ziploc bags. Then you wheeled the body back into a cold storage unit. You cleaned up your workstation and then left Namjoon trailing behind you. 

“How did you figure all that out?” He asked after a moment. 

“Those are just my guesses, they aren’t the law.” You smiled gently. “I’m trained to give my best guesses.” You walked ahead. “Now, let’s go visit that crime scene.” 

           The ground was free of blood. You had even gotten on your stomach to check and found nothing. This could only mean that Hak-kun was murdered in his car. That also made little sense and his positioning was confusing as well. He had been resting against the dashboard, looking peacefully asleep. It was also odd how he even managed to get into his car. A small town like this didn’t have security cameras up and around so that could give no answers. 

          The only traces of blood were in the car. Drugs must have played a part in this, why else didn’t he fight back? Your stomach turned. This was definitely an odd case. The murders were cold, calculated, well thought out and tracks well covered. It was exceptionally easy to get away with these in such a small town. 

         You arrived back at the police station to see if your samples were done. They were, and the results were not surprising. Rohypnol. Most commonly known as the date rape drug, it acted fast to immobilize an unsuspecting person. You printed out the results, because thank god they had wifi here at least, and left for the meeting. 

The meeting room wasn’t big and with nine of you in it, the walls were suffocatingly close. 

“Okay, let’s begin.” Namjoon said as everyone settled into their seats. Hae-won took the seat in the corner. “Jimin, start.” 

        The detective nodded to his superior and turned to grab his briefcase off the floor. He placed it on the table with a thump. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath. The pink haired man pulled on blue plastic gloves and took out a plastic bag. Inside of it was a beret. It was black with a little gold button in the center. It could be considered cute if it wasn’t found at a murder sight. 

“I was looking around and I accidentally bumped open the glove compartment. I found this.” He explained, pulling it out with a gloved hand and turning it to show everyone. Hae-won let out a small gasp.

“That’s mine!” She squeaked. “It went missing a few days ago.” 

          You exchanged a worried look with your coworkers. Carefully, you placed your files on the table and stood. You crouched in front of her, the men watching you. You placed your hands on hers; she was trembling. 

“Hae-won, love.” You smiled softly. “You realize this incriminates you, yes?” 

         She shook her head violently and pulled her hands away from you. In her eyes, you didn’t see any sign of a killer. You only saw a scared girl, a shaking, terrified out of her mind, girl. 

“I-I didn’t-didn’t-” She stuttered, breathless. 

        Jungkook quickly jumped up, rushing over to comfort the girl. You were pushed aside and you tried your best to keep a frown off your face. You settled for an impassive look. 

“Y/N! How could you suggest such a thing, can’t you see Hae-won wouldn’t even hurt a fly. She’s scared of walking home alone at night, you think she’s going to murder five people?” Jungkook seethed. You ignored the rage boiling in your stomach. 

“It’s proper procedure, she needs to know.” You tutted. 

“And you’re being heartless.” Jungkook hissed. You were taken aback, lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I’m doing my job, Jeon.” You said coldly. “Listen, I read the case file, I know you found Hak-kun’s tie and then he was murdered, so there’s a possibility that these talismans are a sign of who is next.” You pointed to the beret as you spoke, trying to shrug off your pain. 

“In that case, we need Hae-won under constant surveillance when Saturday rolls around.” Jin said. Instantly they all looked to Hoseok. 

“What? Why me?” The man furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Have you forgotten? You’re one of the only formally trained and active police officers we have. Jin is too old.” Yoongi smirked. 

“Excuse me!” Jin gaped, mouth opening and closing to find a response. 

“And if she is the murderer, then we can watch her carefully.” Namjoon turned to you, seeing if this placated you. It wasn’t like you needed to be satisfied by any agreement. You were just doing your damn job, why couldn’t they? 

“I have no problem with that.” You sat down in your chair. “Anyway,” You opened your file as the room went back to order. “I found, very obviously, traces of Rohypnol. The victim was definitely drugged, the question is how.” 

“All the evidence we have is the glass of spilt water we found. I can only guess he took it voluntarily.” Jin pointed out. 

“Well, didn’t he mention having a headache in that tape? He could have easily been convinced.” Jimin leaned back, crossing his arms. There was a tense silence as everyone worked to put pieces together. 

“There has to be a motive, there hasn’t to be a reason these people are connected.” You drummed your fingers on the table restlessly.

          You didn’t want to be suspicious of Jin, but you were. If he wasn’t the murderer, was it possible he was involved with them? He was the last one in the surveillance room. You didn’t want to accuse him and you were busy denying it to yourself, but it was a possibility. Surely, Yoongi and Taehyung had thought of it as well and brushed it off. 

“Hyung, don’t you think that it’s odd that the footage was looping.” Jungkook turned to Jin. “Isn’t security footage one of your specialties? You stayed late, you didn’t notice that he was looping?” 

The second in command narrowed his eyes at the young male. “Are you suggesting I have something to do with this?” 

        There was an intense stare off as they glared at each other. Namjoon reached up to put a hand on his partner’s shoulder and Taehyung frowned at Jungkook. These seven men were the only ones you could trust in a case, what happens when that comes into question? The distrust would run rampant. Namjoon must have been on the same thought line as you because he broke the stare off by clearing his throat. 

“Absolutely not, it would make no sense and Seokjin has been nothing but loyal all these years. He has no motive and he’s a trustworthy man.” 

“I just think it’s something to ponder over.” The glorified coffee boy said. 

“No. We don’t throw accusations around like that, Jeon.” Yoongi turned to scold the maknae. The boy simply shrugged, swiping his bangs off his face. 

“It’s odd, that’s all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the redness of Seokjin’s face. 

        Your eyes surveyed the room, noting the tense posture of Jin, the frown still plastered on Taehyung’s lips, the laid back nature of Yoongi, Hoseok’s arm around Jimin, and you decided to break it up. 

“Okay, that’s enough. Apologize, Jeon.” You said sternly. The young man, who had been so confident a second before, now looked like a kicked puppy. 

“I’m doing my job.”

“You don’t have a job here.” Namjoon drawled. 

Jungkook’s face lit up red, embarrassment taking over. 

“Yah! We let you sit here and then you go and accuse our second!” Taehyung shouted, jumping up. Jungkook scrambled back as the tall man stalked over to him. 

“Kim Taehyung, sit the fuck back down.” You hissed. “And you too, Jungkook.” 

They both halted immediately and sat back down. Taehyung swallowed. 

“You guys are acting like children.” You huffed. “Now, let me continue.” You took out some papers and shuffled them. “First, it was a clean job. The stroke was purposeful along the jugular. There were no other signs of struggle except the bruises on his back, which could be attributed to being dragged along the pavement. I found no other DNA except Hak-kun’s.” You read. 

“The killer was very clean indeed.” Namjoon responded, everyone remained silent. The tensions falling over the room like a thick blanket. 

“Okay, I can’t think in this tension. You guys work your shit out, I’m going to look over the tapes again.” Yoongi stood and promptly left. 

        Your eyes trailed his figure as he stormed down the hall. The door to the room currently dubbed the ‘investigator’s nest’ slammed shut. Taehyung sighed and some of the tension left the room when he stood as well. 

“I better go check up on him and work through some files.” He announced, not waiting for Namjoon to dismiss him before he left. You could hear him padding softly down the hall and knocking on the door. 

         The others gradually stood, making up some excuse or another before it was just you, sitting dumbfounded along with Namjoon, and Hae-won. There was a long, drawn out, silence that stretched between you three. You were an unlikely trio with no Jungkook to bridge the gap. You just stood and left, no further words needed. Besides, you wanted to test for fingerprints on the fabric. 

          Down the hallway, to the left, the Investigator’s Nest was closed to prying eyes. Taehyung sat on the floor, surrounded by old case files and manila folders. Yoongi sat at the desk, earbuds in as he listened to the tapes once more. 

“You know, hyung, no matter how many times you listen to those tapes, nothing new is going to come up. Hak-kun obviously isn’t guilty.” Taehyung said, picking up a paper and reading it. The head investigator didn’t look up from the screen, but he did take an earbud out. 

“I don’t think he’s guilty, I’m just wondering if he knew who it was. Maybe that’s why he so willingly took the drugs, maybe he recognized them.” 

“You and I have both listened to those tapes so many times I could recite every line from memory.” Taehyung grumbled. He stretched out his legs, avoiding the neat stacks he had littered around. 

“I know, I know.” Yoongi sighed and lightly slapped his face to stay awake. His eyes hurt. 

“And we both know that he doesn’t mention anyone other than Mun-hee.” 

“Maybe he was working with the killer?”

“Why would he be dead now then?” 

“I. Don’t. Know.” Yoongi said through gritted teeth. 

“Hyung…” The younger male stood and walked over standing behind him. His slender fingers started kneading Yoongi’s shoulders. 

        Taehyung had been feeling lonely, just a little. Though Yoongi and him slept together, the older man rarely showed his affections. It was the opposite to Taehyung’s openly affectionate personality. Now that they were in a small town, the prejudice was palpable everytime they hugged so Yoongi had basically cut him off from that as well. 

“What’s wrong, Tae?” Of course he knew something was up with his young lover. 

          Yoongi had learned over the years how Taehyung ticked, how he functioned. He knew he had been somewhat neglectful, but he was more concerned about being beat up if the town found out about them. 

“You know you haven’t kissed me since we arrived at the airport?” Taehyung murmured in Yoongi’s ear. It would be seductive if Taehyung didn’t genuinely want a kiss. Instead, it came across more whiny. 

         The investigator sighed and turned around in his chair to look over the taller man. He placed his hands on his hips. 

“Is that really all you want?” He fought to keep the flush off his face. 

         Taehyung nodded wordlessly, leaning down, but Yoongi spotted an odd file on the ground. He moved his head, causing Taehyung to shout in anguish as he just missed his lips. 

“In a moment, Tae.” Yoongi stood abruptly, causing Taehyung to stumble back a few steps. 

         The other man looked hurt, opening his mouth to say something when he saw Yoongi bend down to pick up a file. The head investigator opened the file, flipping through it until he suddenly stopped. 

“What is it, Yoongs?” Taehyung peered over the man’s shoulder, but he turned the other way. With a huff, he stood back, studying Yoongi’s face. 

“I found something interesting.” His eyes were focused on one spot, one picture. 

           A girl, her throat slit, blood pooling on the dashboard. She looked like she fell asleep at the wheel. Her hair splayed around her head, soaked in her own red liquid. His eyes trailed up the page. It was dated two years before. The picture was labeled ‘People V.S. Paek Cho, exhibit A’. He flipped to the next page. There was a newspaper article cut out. He examined it, frowning. 

“Farmer Chung-hee’s daughter, Joo-Eun, found dead in her car, Rohypnol in her system. Officers claim there was no sign of sexual trauma, however. Paek Cho, an accomplished student and outstanding citizen is convicted of her murder…” Yoongi murmured, reading over the article. 

“....Father had to be dragged out of the room by officers once the sentence was read out. An anonymous friend of Joo-Eun testifies against Paek Cho, stating ‘he always gave them the creeps’. Paek Cho receives one year of community service after being convicted of collusion in the murder, but in the end there was not enough evidence to convict the young man of first degree murder or even manslaughter.” He stopped, reading the last sentence in his mind. It’s odd, considering the amount of indisputable evidence stacked against Mr. Paek. His mind was racing with possibilities. 

          These murders and the murder of Joo-Eun held a shocking resemblance. It could be a way to get back at the town, but the only person mentioned who would have such a motive would be Chung-hee, the farmer, and no one in town had even mentioned him. He threw the file onto the desk. 

“Taehyung, tell me what you see.” 

     The dark haired man picked up the file and flipped through it. “Oh.” was all he said. 

       His eyes were surveying the same picture, the article, everything. 

“Why is the file so empty?” He murmured. He then skipped to the last few pages. “Wait.” He took out the article and placed it carefully down. The paper was old and worn. 

“What is it?” Yoongi leaned over, placing his hands on the desk. 

“It says here that Mun-hee was a juror at the trial, so was our Jane Doe.” Taehyung pointed to their names. 

          Yoongi’s eyes snapped up to meet Taehyung’s. 

“Taehyung, we need those court documents, now.” 

           Slam. A thick binder of papers was dropped onto the desks. Jin looked up from his studies, Namjoon leaning over him as they spoke in hushed voices. Jimin was joking about something with Hoseok and Hae-won, who was now under 24/7 surveillance. You stood to the side, talking to Jungkook about your results and also trying to give him some pointers on holding his tongue. 

           Everyone’s eyes trailed to Taehyung and Yoongi’s panting forms in the doorway then to the binder on the desk. Dust flew from underneath, making Taehyung cough, the sound turning to a wheeze because of how out of breath he was. 

“Did you guys just run a marathon or something?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Shut up, Y/N. You know I would never put myself through such torture.” Yoongi scoffed. 

“We went to town hall to retrieve some court documents.” Taehyung explained quickly. He then went on to explain their previous discussion in detail, Yoongi chiming in every so often. 

“Hae-won, are you alright?” Namjoon interrupted, looking at the trembling girl. She looked like she was panicking, sweat beading on her forehead. 

“It’s just not right! They let Cho off so easily, it’s not justice, it’s against everything the law stands for.” She cried out, literally shaking with rage as she spoke. You, along with everyone else, were surprised by her outburst. Hae-won was a curious creature, hm? 

“Were you a part of the case?” You prodded, subtly asking why she was so worked up. There would be no other reason for these emotions.

          She had such bitterness apparent in her eyes. You watched her carefully, eyes drinking in her movements. You took note of the slightest twitch in her fingers, the crescent prints she left in the palms of her hands, the way her lips tugged downwards. 

“N-no.” She said, her voice reverted to the quiet girl you all knew her as. She sat back down, taking in a shaky breath. “I just love this town, this is a sore spot for a lot of the good people in town.” She said sweetly. 

“But you knew the jury members?” Jin asked. 

“Yes, I...I went to school with them. We were seniors, a lot of us were 18 and the town is small, they don’t have a big pool of choices for jury members.” She explained. 

“Right.” Yoongi nodded, seemingly understanding. He then turned his attention to the file in front of him and you did the same. “It looks like, just as we suspected, Hak-kun, Mun-hee, Jane Doe, and the two previous murders were jury members.” 

“Poor Chung-hee was never the same after that trial.” Hae-won suddenly said, her voice ladened with pain. “He lives alone now, outside of town; doesn’t speak to anyone, refuses to even look the folks here in the eye.” 

      Once again, your attention drifted back to Hae-won. 

“Did you know her, Joo-Eun?” You asked the girl. 

“Yeah, but only a little. We went to the same high school, but she was always nice!” Hae-won said. “I just remember once she came out to meet me when I was about to head home. It was winter and the sun set early, you know? So anyway, it was getting dark and I remember how she grabbed my arm, her face pale. She said to me ‘I think someone is following me, please walk home with me.’ I didn’t think much of it. We don’t have any creepers, you know? But Paek Cho was always off.” She shrugged. Then suddenly she looked stricken, like she didn’t mean to say that much. The dark haired girl covered her face with her hands. 

“Can you tell us anything else?” You asked softly. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-I don’t remember. I think she asked me to walk her home from a party once but I refused.” She sighed. “Then she was dead the next day. I was too busy studying for my finals.” 

           She may have been a harmless bystander, but it was obvious this weighed on her. “I often think about how I was the last person she contacted. I barely knew her and suddenly I was roped in.” She looked close to tears so you went over and hugged her. 

            The others remained silent, watching the interaction. Namjoon felt his heart flutter when you made eye contact with him. He couldn’t help imagining your arms wrapped around him. 

“You said Chung-hee remained outside of town?” Namjoon questioned, not daring to take a step. He was worried he would throw off the delicate balance of tension in the room. 

“Yes, but he’s not the murderer! He wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’s just a little grumpy, a real loner.” Hae-won cried. 

“How are you connected with him, Hae-won?” Yoongi asked, his voice gentle, but prying.

“I’ve just-I used to buy my produce fresh from him.” She answered easily. “He was always kind.” 

         Yoongi nodded at her response. 

“Jungkook, please take Hae-won out for some fresh air. It’s stuffy and dusty in here, it can’t be helping the situation.” Jin said factually. Jungkook nodded, despite their earlier differences, he still listened to his superior. 

         Once they were gone, you all stared at each other. 

“Okay, I’ll say it then.” Taehyung broke the silence. “Chung-hee is the most obvious suspect here. He fits all the descriptions, he has a motive, he doesn’t speak to anyone in town.” 

“But Hae-won said-” Hoseok began. 

“I don’t give a rats ass about what Hae-won said.” Yoongi interrupted. “We need to investigate him.” 

“It just doesn’t feel right. Something about it isn’t right, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, I suppose.” Hoseok relented. You noted that he spent a lot of time giving in to the others. It could be that he had an inferiority complex, being seen as your run of the mill police officer. 

“Hoseok, you have opinions too, we’re okay with hearing them out, right Yoongi?” Jimin seemed to follow your thoughts. 

“Uh, uh, right.” Hoseok murmured, suddenly bashful now that the spotlight was on him. 

            He realized that he so rarely was asked what he thought. The man spent a lot of time just following their orders; he trusted them wholly and completely. His faith had never wavered in his partners, his coworkers, his lovers. It felt unreasonable, rude, and downgrading if he tried to bring up his lowly opinions; as if he was tainting their genius by bringing his own stupidity into it. After all, he never finished college. He went straight to the police academy, deciding school just wasn’t for him. 

“I just, Chung-hee doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to-to do such a petty thing.” He tried to explain his gut feeling. 

“We don’t know what kind of person he is, yet, Hobi.” Jin narrowed his eyes, almost accusing him of colluding with the murderer. 

       Once again, Hoseok was reminded of his inferiority. Of course, of course. But then an angel sang and came to his defense. 

“I have to agree with Hobi.” You said firmly. “My mind is saying ‘it’s obviously him’, but my gut is telling me no.” 

          Hoseok was...shocked. No one really defended him in these sorts of discussions. It felt out of character for you to do such a thing, often found laughing alongside the others. 

“As much as I respect your gut, Y/N.” Taehyung began, a condescending tone dripping from his words, “This is our job. We can’t just not investigate people who are obviously linked to a crime.” 

“But in what way? Because this poor man’s daughter was murdered two years ago? You think that’s enough to implicate him in a crime today?” 

“No! But you’re missing the point!” Taehyung hissed, running a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a big deal if the crime wasn’t exactly the same.” 

         You sighed, giving up your fight as your gut twisted. Poor Chung-hee, a farmer who probably just wanted to live his life and get far away from the law, was about to be dragged into another mess. 

“Hoseok, go get Kookie and Hae-won. We leave tomorrow.” Namjoon’s eyes were cold, not a hint of emotion betrayed in his stance. “Dismissed.” 

      You turned away, taking Hoseok’s arm in yours. 

“I hope you’re doing the right thing, Namjoon.” Venom fell from your lips. You turned away and followed Hoseok out the door.

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Taglist: @lovelyseomin​

[bipabrena]

Beneath x the x Ice (AO3 HisoIllu fic) Chapter 9

A fic where there’s more to Illumi than meets the eye. Hisoka goes to great lengths to help him realise he deserves better than the Zoldycks and being a puppet to his parents.

Read the whole thing here.

X

Amane, Gotoh and three more butlers stood guard around the massive dining room while the Zoldycks sat to dine.

Zeno and Silva strictly discussed business, while Kalluto and Kikyo spoke.

As usual, Milluki was allowed to use his phone to watch anime while he ate.

No one noticed the lonely Illumi.

Everyone alternated between eating and speaking, but Illumi did not. Illumi never moved. He merely stared at his plate with an impassive expression, the same impassive expression he’d always had.

Those huge, large voids for eyes merely stared at the plate of food.

Mouthwatering and delicious, and his stomach ached for it, but his body did not respond to fulfil its wishes. It remained hungry, as it had been for the last week that Illumi had not been eating, and as it would remain for the rest of the day.

Eventually, Silva attracted everyone’s attention so he could explain the job of epic proportions they had next. The one Illumi would take in, the assassination for the Queen.

They all listened intently, but Illumi remained in his bubble of nothingness.

“You have no dignity or a will of your own.”

“You let others make decisions for you, and all you do is nod. How pathetic.”

“You’re not even worth fighting.”

It seemed this is all Illumi could hear inside his head. It had been for the last three weeks, ever since the event with Hisoka transpired.

The family’s attentions was directed to Illumi once Silva addressed him.

But Illumi said nothing.

He hadn’t heard a single word.

It was then they finally noticed his plate was full, his cutlery had been untouched, and the glass was dripping wet as the cold from the beverage condensed from being unheeded.

“Illumi!” Silva yelled. Surprisingly loud, surprisingly firm.

They were all taken aback.

But all Illumi did was slowly look up at him. Aloofly. With zero emotion, with such impassiveness that even put his own family at unease.

It felt different from usual.

“Yes, father?” asked Illumi with a hollow tone that surprised them further.

“I’m speaking to you, son. Did you not hear a word I said?”

“Forgive me,” he said. “I did not.”

“Is something the matter, dear?” Kikyo asked. “You haven’t touched your food.”

“You’re so strong, so absurdly strong, yet so pathetically weak.”

“You have no mind or ambitions of your own.”

“You are pathetic, Illumi Zoldyck.”

“You’re not even worth fighting.”

He blinked impassively at them.

Pathetic… weak… not even worth fighting… he thought. A manipulated manipulator, a puppeteered puppeteer. That’s what he implied.  

“Do you really love your family, or is it only a robotic, forced loyalty?”

Illumi sighed so subtly it was almost imperceptible to those watching him.

… I can’t help but wonder, he told himself.

“Son, your mother is talking to you,” Silva said in a cautioning tone.

Kalluto frowned as concern overwhelmed him.

What was happening?

Illumi seemed absentminded lately during training, but now during dinner, too?

They all expectantly awaited his response.

“I’m fine,” is what he elected to say. “What were you saying, father?”

“The contract for the Royal Family of Kanem will be in forty five days, starting today. We already have everything prepared, it is only a matter of waiting. In the meantime, you will continue responding to other contracts we may get.”

“Yes, father.”

He and Silva exchanged a look. The others couldn’t help stiffening because of the sudden tension that overwhelmed the room. Silva seemed stern and belligerent, while Illumi remained utterly indifferent.

Not defiantly. Not because he didn’t respect Silva or care for his words.

Simply because he felt he had nothing to care about in general.

“You’re an irreplaceable commodity for our family.”

He recalled those words told to him by Silva the day he sat him in his office. The eyes, the tone.

Their relationship had always been so give-and-take.

Nothing more, nothing less.

He’d never experienced the warmth or familial love Killua had been deluged with by his parents and grandfather.

The closest thing to it was Milluki’s fear and respect, and Kalluto’s fondness.

But nothing from his parents or grandfather.

A commodity. A commodity is not even sentient. It’s just a thing, he thought nonchalantly. A thing that benefits you. That’s my role.

Yes, that’s who I am.

I can’t escape the position I was born into.

I’m a servant of my own family. I was born to work for them. To be their puppet. To not have ambitions or goals of my own. Just like I told Killua of himself that day.

Except that those rules do not apply to him.

Yes… a commodity. That’s all I am.

Suddenly, Illumi looked at the ceiling inquisitively. He seemed utterly indifferent to the tension in the room, to Silva’s stern expression on him.

He was simply so absentminded.

It was incredibly concerning to all of them.

“Would you like to eat in your room, dear?” Kikyo asked, and that surprised them.

“No, but if you do permit, I’d like to excuse myself. I have a meeting with a potential client in a few hours.”

“Granted,” is what Silva said immediately.

Illumi stood and left.

His stride was robotic. Lifeless.

Despite being indifferent and emotionless, Illumi always walked with an admirable grace. His body was strong and lithe, he stood tall amongst everyone around him, with pride and with his head held high. He always moved with an intrinsic gracefulness and firm aura that clearly denoted he was strong and could win any encounter.

But right now, he walked with indifference, without purpose, without meaning.

And then, even Silva found it in himself to worry.

X

Illumi stirred his hot chocolate. The shape that had been drawn on it by the skilful barista faded into a foamy spiral.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Illumi,” said Chrollo. “I understand you usually do business through calls, so this does mean a lot to me.”

“It’s no problem. What do you need?” Illumi asked curtly.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but the underground auction will be held soon. I have my own plans for it, but I may need to use your services.”

Illumi’s unblinking, onyx eyes bore into him.

What a strange thing, Chrollo thought.

Illumi’s eyes had always been cold.

They penetrated anyone whose gaze met his. His stare was piercing enough that it’d make anyone feel exposed, and even the strongest man would shiver, however slightly.

He just looked through you.

Like he were navigating every trench of your soul, of your mind; finding weaknesses and creating schemes to exploit them. A penetrating gaze that exposed everything about those submitted to it, but nothing about the one who owned it.

It was a hair-raising thought that everyone who’d ever met Illumi had thought to themselves.

Chrollo himself had thought it when he first met him.

But right now…

Illumi did not carry that presence. He seemed so impassive, so indifferent, so dead. Like there was absolutely nothing inside him. Like he were a shell, a ghost that happened to have a host.

And, somehow, that was even more unsettling. More hair-raising.

“When the time is right, I would like you to kill the ten dons.”

“Okay.”

Chrollo blinked.

“Is there anything else?”

Well… no. But Chrollo didn’t invite Illumi for coffee and snacks only for business. He’d like to get to know him better.

Frankly, he’d love to make Illumi the fourteenth Phantom Troupe member. At the very least, he’d like for Illumi to be an honorary member.

The Troupe rarely got together, there simply weren’t that many heists in Padokea. But with the rising gangs all across the world, he wanted the Phantom Troupe to be at the top as it once was.

Having Illumi around would change everything.

He had the connections to find whatever he wanted. The Phantom Troupe was never about glory, but about a bunch of comrades who did whatever they wanted simply because they could.

But Chrollo would like for the Troupe to be together more often. A couple of heists would be a nice way to stay together.

And with Illumi, he could find anything.

More importantly, it’d be a great excuse to spend time with him. To get to know him better. Even if he didn’t end up joining the Troupe, at least there would be something more between them aside from provider and client.

Illumi stirred his hot chocolate as he watched Chrollo, and Chrollo thought he was cute.

Chrollo listed the facts in his head.

The mafia was a huge deal, but their protection was limited and borderline useless against Nen users. Ultimately, they’ll end up contracting someone who could truly challenge the Troupe once they strike.

Assassins. And the most proficient assassins in the world happened to be in a nearby region.

The Zoldycks.

By having the ten dons killed, it’d leave the Zoldycks with no real targets assigned by a client, and so the Troupe would be scot free.

From the thirteen members in the Troupe, Chrollo knew that only five would pose a threat to the eldest son sitting across him, and the two heads of the family.

Uvogin, Phinks, Feitan, Hisoka and himself.

They were the true threats. The rest wouldn’t stand a chance.

So, if they happened to hire the Zoldycks, eight members would be at great risk of dying. Even Chrollo’s own life could be in danger. However, if he contracted Illumi right here, right now, he’d become his client, and so Illumi wouldn’t be able to kill him.

That’d be at least one less threat.

Chrollo manipulated the truth a little. He explained to Illumi the reason he was hiring him, and what the Troupe’s job entailed.

Illumi nodded.

Then, he decided to bring something else up, something that would bring him closer to Illumi.

“I wanted to know what other services you offer.”

“Elaborate,” is what Illumi said.

“Do you only assassinate? I understand how it may be a futile question with an obvious answer considering your profession, but I was wondering whether you offer other services such as Intel gathering or reconnaissance.”

Illumi’s hollow, nearly hypnotising eyes blinked at him impassively.

“I’m listening,” said Illumi.

“I’m sure you’re already beyond familiar with what the Troupe does. We’re thieves. We like something, we take it. However, there aren’t many heists here in this continent, and the underground auction is all we’ve had in a very long time. If I asked you to gather Intel for me, to find a job for me, would you be able to do it? It goes without saying the pay would be hefty. You’re the one that will put the price, and I will pay whatever it takes, so long as it doesn’t leave me squeaky clean,” he smiled. “But even then, I may still consider it.”

“As it is not a decision I can make on my own, I cannot give you an answer right now. I would have to further discuss it, then get back to you. Is that acceptable?”

“Absolutely, Illumi.”

He could hear it. Illumi could hear it so clearly in his head.

Silva’s voice.

“The pay isn’t worth it. Don’t mess with the Phantom Troupe.”

Well, he wouldn’t be messing with them. He’d be doing a job for them.

“Then, if that will be all, I believe we’re done here. I will be contacting you as soon as possible.”

“Wait, Illumi!” Chrollo called when Illumi stood up after leaving the money for his drink on the table.

Illumi looked at him.

“Won’t you sit and finish your hot chocolate?”

“I wasn’t here for it, I was here to discuss business with you. I don’t need to finish it.”

“Is there anywhere you need to be right now?”

Illumi was silent, and Chrollo took this as dissent.

“If you don’t, why don’t you stay here a little longer? We can chat for a while.”

Illumi said nothing.

It was hard to get him to talk. But that was okay, Chrollo thought. He liked a challenge. And if that challenge happened to be quite pretty, he would be more than okay with accepting it.

“If it’s your job policy to not relax a moment and sit down to talk to someone, I completely understand. If it’s not, however, I don’t see the harm in sharing a hot beverage with a friendly neighbour.”

… Ah, shit.

This wasn’t good. This brought back memories.

This place… the hot beverage…

“You’ve helped me keep an eye on Killu by your own volition.” He leaned back. “There will be a lot of people in that warehouse, possible Nen users too, that you can kill. I wanted to return the favour.”

“So,” Hisoka licked his lips, “as a token of your gratitude, you want to take me out on a date? ♠” he pestered.

Illumi blinked. “It’s not a date.”

“Is it not? ♥” he chuckled, hoping to annoy the eldest Zoldyck. “Because it sounds like one. You and me together, at night…”

Illumi blinked impassively.

… Why am I remembering that right now?

Goddammit.

… Hisoka… he thought to himself with the slightest sense of mourning.

“I suppose it won’t kill me,” said Illumi as he sat back down.

Chrollo smiled. He wasn’t sure whether that was a joke, but in the off chance that it was, he chuckled gracefully.

He brought forth his charms, the charms he used whenever he wanted to steal someone’s ability, whenever he decided to gather information, whenever he wanted to manipulate someone or gradually bend them to his will without them ever noticing.

Except that, for this one time, today was different.

Truly, he wished not to get something out of Illumi.

In fact, the main reason he wanted that new heist was merely to have an excuse to work alongside him. He was willing to pay whatever price Illumi placed. The auction would be soon and the treasure would be hefty, so money was not an issue in the slightest.

He wasn’t sure why the eldest Zoldyck son drew his attention so much.

He just knew that he did.

Read the rest of the chapter here.

[everlarkficexchange]

The Change

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 59: Growing up Peeta started loving her. It was a gradual thing that happened throughout his childhood and into his teens. But something changes when he hits puberty. Her scent has heightened, he can spot her from miles away. He gets a bit possessive. But the biggest thing is when his body starts to heat up and even just the thought of you gets him hard for days. He finds out the family secret of his werewolf genes, something his parents thought passed him. How can he go by with his day and be with her without scaring her away by humping her because of his heat. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

  Rated M: for language and “adult-y” situations.

  Tags: Underage. No-Games AU. In Panem AU. Tags/Warnings will be added accordingly. Un-beta. All mistakes are mine. 

  Author’s Note: I really tried to write this as a one shot, but since the quarantine brought my husband and kids to work/do schooling from home, I’ve been busier than ever… and I really wanted to have something to post before the exchange was over. So here’s the first part of this story, around 2500 words.

  As always, thank you to the moderators of the Exchange, you ladies are terrific as usual. Thank you to @animekpopxx for her awesome prompts, I swear your prompts are my catnip and kryptonite rolled into one. 

Heads Up, there’s no verbal interaction between Everlark in this chapter.

Stay safe, everyone. Enjoy! 

Chapter One:

  Is ten fifteen in the morning when I start feeling feverish and thirsty. We’re in the middle of a social studies test, and I can’t keep from squirming in my chair, shaking the whole desk everytime I try to hold on to it for stability. 

  I catch the teacher’s eye and wince when she screeches in her affected accent for me to stop twitching. 

  I try to tell her I can’t help it, but before I get one word out she’s flying upon me from her own desk at the very front of the class. 

  “Mr. Mellark, you have exactly 5 seconds to—“ she gasps when her cold hand grasps my shoulder like a crow’s claw. “You’re burning up, Mellark!” She sounds concerned for a Capitolite, but by the way she extracts her bony hand from me, I have to think I must be burning through my thin cotton shirt. “Why did you even come to school if you were so sick, boy?” She snaps eyeing me suspiciously.

  Against my better judgement, I roll my eyes. “We have a test, Ms. Greer.”

  “A note from your father would’ve suffice.” She snips.

  “I didn’t feel sick this morning.” I explain, embarrassed when my voice cracks lamely and the other kids try to hide their quiet chuckles, so the teacher doesn’t turn on them. The boys in my year have already grown into their adult voices, and some of them even have facial hair. Not me. I still sound and look like a baby. “I don’t feel sick right now.” I almost whine, which actually disproves my statement, because I’ve never whined about anything; whining it’s a sure way to get on my mother’s bad side, so is the first thing we Mellark’s learn to suppress and avoid at all costs. 

  Ms. Greer huffs impatiently, “Well, you have a terribly high fever, and you’re starting to sweat all over the place, Mr. Mellark. I’m going to have to ask you to go home until you are well again. The last thing this district needs is some epidemic tearing everything apart.” She sniffs out the last phrase, probably more concerned about missing her fat paychecks every week she stands here feeding us Capitol propaganda that’s supposed to pass as schooling, than actually worried about the district’s well being. 

  I try to protest about the missing the test, but this time Ms. Greer rolls her eyes and waves me off, saying that I can make it up with a two page report on coal production and its impact in District 12’s economy… as if she herself doesn’t know that our local industry is a joke, District 12 is still the poorest district in Panem, even after the Reformation a few years back, when the Capitol dissolved the Hunger Games and promised to open fair Inter District negotiations. It never happened, at least not with us, yet the whole country uses our coal. 

  Ms. Greer’s glaring at me though, so I pack up and start shuffling out of the classroom, only stopping to grab a note she hands me to bring to the front office. 

  As I footslog to the door, strange things happen that startle the shit out of me: first, a rush of smells like pine needles, sun and wildflowers invade my nose leaving me disoriented and frenzied; is a combination like nothing I’ve smelled before, but somehow, instinctively my eyes lock with the gray orbs of Katniss Everdeen, who somehow I know in my bones is the owner of the aromas filling my nostrils— I already knew she was sitting there of course, I deliberately chose my seat so I could steal glances at her long, dark braid, during class, but… I’ve never stared at her so boldly and openly, and for a moment I think she is staring at me with some interest… concern, maybe? It’s gone as soon as her gorgeous eyes fly away. That’s when the third thing happens. I growl deep and low at her dismissal, a possessive and animalistic sound that rumbles in my chest, making the rest of our classmates stare at me… great! As if the other kids need any more reasons to giggle and whisper behind my back.

  I’m the shortest boy in my class; I still have what can be considered as baby fat in this District, holding on to my thick frame, and while my older brothers are wrestling champions, I’m too heavy and uncoordinated to wrestle myself. Is not that I’m at any risk of being bullied or anything, I learned to be witty and funny a long time ago as a self preservation mechanism, and everyone likes me well enough, but I still don’t want to give anyone any munition to use against me.

  Yet, I can barely control the noise rumbling in the back of my throat, an worst of all, I’m fighting this unbearable urge to stomp to Katniss’ desk and plant myself there until she turns her eyes back to mine and acknowledges me. 

  She scowls at her notebook and rubs her nose with her knuckle. There’s a spike of some strange smell— reminds me of discomfort, I think— mingling in with her original scent, and that’s what finally makes me snap to reality, and force my legs to trudge to the office to get me an official excuse for missing school for the next few days.

  I’m loathe to admit it, but I’m itching so badly all over my body, I’m glad Ms. Greer kicked me out of class for having a fever. I don’t feel sick, but the itching is just killing me, and I want out of my clothes now… maybe a layer or two of my skin as well, but that just sounds kinda gross. 

  To my surprise, when I arrive home, Mother’s hands stay put at her sides instead of flying up to scoff the side of my head for skipping school, as if I where stupid enough to come home if I was skipping for real. She looks at me oddly though, almost like she’s sad or disappointed I came down with this fever. 

  Father on the other hand, looks mildly alarmed for a moment, but after feeling my forehead, he cups my face and pulls the skin under my eyes downwards with the pad of his thumbs, tilting my head around like he’s checking their health. Then his thumbs let go of my cheekbones and hike up the skin over my upper lip, bearing my teeth to him. He tilts my head again studying my mouth like I’m some prized pony he’s hoping to buy. His thumbs slide the length of my canines and then prods the tip for sharpness. An uncharacteristic blank expression takes his face, then he nods seemingly done with his examination or whatever he was doing; he lets go of my face and asks in his usual, quiet voice, “Are you hungry?” 

  My stomach growls in response. I’m surprised at the sudden feeling of voracious appetite unfurling in my belly. “Yeah.” I mutter, watching him pin the school note to the board by the bakery door with all the operational permits, just in case someone comes asking about me missing school. The Hunger Games might be abolished, but school attendance is still compulsory and any unauthorized absences are punishable by hefty fines, no one can afford to pay.

  Father points at the dining table with a thick finger, and I sit down heavily in my usual chair. I’m very surprised when out of nowhere, my mother plops a plate heaped high with food— mostly fresh stuff too— but I ignore the serving of vegetables and the freshly baked roll, in favor of the few meats lining the plate. I know Mother keeps certain meats she can reheat and repurposed in other meals, so it’s disconcerting seeing this abundance in front of me.

  I only pause to look up at my parents standing side by side near the wall, watching me eat with some strange interest.

  “Eat, Peeta, before the food gets too cold,” My mother orders without her usual verb when they notice I’m staring back.

  I dig in unceremoniously, inhaling first a piece of goat meat, then a pigeon leg, and lastly a bite of fried squirrel that somehow makes me growl as soon as my teeth sink into the morsel. There’s an overwhelming taste of pine needles and flowery woods mixed in with the savory flavor of the squirrel; my mind is suddenly full of images of a long, dark braid swishing against a brown leather jacket. 

  “More squirrel!” I demand in a grunt. 

  My father’s eyebrows arch for a second, and again my mother is the one to bring a piece of meat, no bigger than the pigeon leg I just ate, and tosses it on my empty plate. 

  I throw myself at it like a savage beast.

  “After you’re done eating, you can go lay down.” Says my mother flatly. 

  Well, now I’m worried! 

  My eyes snap at my parents, anxiously. “Why?” I ask cowed. 

  The last time my mother encouraged any of us to rest during a work day was… never. They did send my middle brother to stay with our aunt once; he had chicken-pox. My brother got to stay in bed for as long as he wanted, until he wasn’t contagious anymore and Mother dragged him back home. 

  My father sighs, “So you can sleep off your fever, son. You can’t handle dough while you’re sick. We could get fined for a safety code violation. If the peacekeepers think you’re working while sick, we could get in a lot of trouble.” 

  “Oh… okay.” I’m relieved. But I still have to ask, “And you’re both alright with that?” 

  My mother snorts. “Eat up, Peeta. Then go to bed. We’ll see how you do in the morning.” She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head, dislodging a few blonde hairs from the tight bun at her nape. She leaves the room muttering to herself something about not being ready for any of this shit, leaving my father to stare at me alone. 

  We just stay there, mutely watching each other for a second. 

  “You like the squirrel meat best?” He asks, awkwardly pointing at the piece of food still clutched in my fingers. 

  “Yeah. I mean, everything is tasty, but this stuff is just great.” I take a big bite out of my piece to illustrate, and as soon as the flavors invade my mouth, I shudder involuntarily, even body parts that usually lay dormant during meals stir at the thought of the huntress this particular animal came from. 

  My father makes a noise at the back of his throat, then he asks, “How are you feeling? Any weariness? Tiredness? Lethargy?” 

  I shake my head, “Nah. I actually feel great. I feel like I should be outside chopping wood, or running laps for wrestling practice.” It’s true too, even the itchiness driving me insane earlier, is gone. 

  Father’s eyebrows arch, “Wrestling, huh?” 

  I shrug and go back to finish up my lunch. It’s the first time I’ve actually voiced my interest in the sport, but I don’t know why it should come as a shock? After all, everyone in town knows Mellark’s are somewhat legacy wrestlers. 

  “Well, we can figure it out if you still feel so energetic after your nap.” Father says before making his way back to the bakery, leaving me to my own devices. 

  I finish up my meal, returning to the icebox the vegetables and bread I didn’t eat, then wash my plate and put it away. Sick or not, Mother would throw a fit if there is a dirty dish in the sink when she comes back to the apartment. 

  I lay down, not expecting to find sleep since I’m so wired up. I’m tempted to fetch my sketchbook— really, it’s just a bunch of scrap paper I’ve put together in an ancient folder I keep under my mattress— and draw for beat, but I’m a 16 year old boy… lay in bed, idly. My mind wanders back to the stupefying smell I’m convinced belongs to Katniss Everdeen, and as usual, thoughts of her lead to stirrings in my nether regions, only this time my body heat increases to furnace temperatures, my mouth goes dry as a bone, my skin itches like crazy and I’m trembling with aching want like never before. 

  I don’t understand what the hell is wrong with me, but I only start to panic when my dick starts swelling in my trousers, and it keeps growing and growing and growing, until the crotch of my pants feels like it’s shrunk three sizes on my body. I tear at the buttons until the fly is open and hastily try pulling myself out of my boxers, but goddamned near impossible to do, and I desperately shove at bottoms freeing myself after squeezing and twisting like a maniac. 

  I’m a little disturbed at how purple and swollen my dick looks. There’s some kind of protuberance bulging at the base of my cock. I’ve never noticed it before, and I’m freaking out it may be some nerve end or some of those tiny veins that pop when pressured… I silently beg the universe my I didn’t break my dick while pawing at it to pull it out. I’m still pulsing with want, and my brain is screaming to go back to remembering the aroma of pine needles and freedom that’s Katniss… but at the same time, I can’t unsee the strange meaty ring at the base of my dong. 

  I bring my fingers to it apprehensively. I’m curious, so I poke it and hiss at the zap of pleasure I felt as soon as my fingertips grazed the turgid skin. 

  I chance another touch, just to see if I can recreate the sensation, and moan pitifully at the feeling. The head of my cock bobs dripping precome. I close my eyes and wrap my hand around myself, so I don’t have to look at how angry red my penis is. Images of Katniss come unbidden into my mind’s eyes, and before I know it, I’m pumping my fists and groaning like a wounded animal, lost in sensation. 

  I can’t keep a rhythm to save my life, but as soon as the heel of my hand makes contact with the strange, swollen ring around my cock, my body jerks violently; I double over at the waist, gasping, “Katniss!” Just as cum starts pouring out of me like a fucking fountain.

  I saw a kid in school convulsing once, it scared the shit out of me then, and the way I’m twitching and spamming in bed right now, vaguely reminds me of it. I wonder if this is what it would feel like to convulse? 

  My cock is still spewing ribbons of semen in every direction, but my erection keeps hardening and swelling; I try pinching the head of my penis to staunch the flow of cum to no avail and I’m getting anxious and scared enough, I consider calling my father for help, but the mess in my bed is embarrassing, and I can’t stop eyaculating. Suddenly, out of nowhere my mind is conjuring up memories of that sweet smell of Katniss’. 

  The phantom smell of pine and flowers tickles the roof of my mouth and start panting into my pillow. I’m lightheaded and out of breath, copious sweat covers my entire body and an overwhelming need to squeeze the base of my cock takes over my body. My hand wraps around the weird protruberance above my pelvic bone and I fucking howl on contact. 

  My vision goes dark, and I only have one more thought before passing out: “I have got to hide this filthy mess from Mother.” 

  To be continued…

[anonbebe97me]

𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜 (Ch.5: Wasted.)

A/N: This was a fic I’d originally posted on Wattpad last year. Hope you guys enjoy!

Description: Working for Mr.Yoo Kihyun was an absolute nightmare; Y/N hated everything about him, and was convinced he was either part demon or at least some sort of reptilian hybrid- never in a million years would she have expected to learn that he was, indeed only human, and even worse; that he might even be…likeable?

Link To: || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 6 || 7

I tossed and turned all night. How could I focus on sleeping when I just singlehandedly embarrassed myself like this? I couldn't even bring myself to reply to Kihyun's message.

The sun streamed in through my partially open curtains and went across my face. I never wanted to get out of bed, but today was especially difficult. My alarm sounded,  but instead of turning it off, I just let it ring.  

"What is my life..." I whispered, turning over in my bed.

Finally, I became annoyed with the high-pitched ring, and I decided to shut the alarm off and get out of bed. I stretched, and immediately felt the tension in my body. I let my arms hang limp at my sides as I walked over to my bathroom, lightly kicking the door open.

I got dressed quite slowly- much slower than I normally would. I made minimal effort to look nice- I looked just presentable enough to pass as an office worker. As I got to the door, my phone started ringing in my purse. I pulled it out to see Lizzie's name on the screen.

"Hello?" I held my phone between my cheek and my shoulder as I locked the door behind me.

"Just remember- it's not a big deal. Just tell him you thought the cupcake was pretty so you wanted to take a picture," She reassured me.

I shook my head, though she couldn't see me, "He'll know I'm lying. He always knows," I said.

"He will not- You act like he's your father or something," I could imagine her rolling her eyes as she spoke.

"Correction- my father is less scary than Kihyun," I said, stroking my forehead with worry.

I hopped in my Uber and headed to the office. On days when I couldn't wait to get to the coffee bar and see Shownu, the rides to the office seemed dreadfully long, but of course, the one time I could use a million-hour car ride is the day that traffic seems the lightest it's been in months. When we pulled up, I almost dragged my feet across the sidewalk.

I opened the doors to the building and kept my head low as I walked in. I spotted Shownu across the lobby and I slowly walked over to him. Usually, my heart would be fluttering in my chest at the sight of him, but all I felt was a sinking feeling in my chest from the fact that I would have to face Kihyun.

Before I could get to the counter, Tiffany beat me to my spot. I could only see the back of her, but judging from her tone of voice that she was probably smiling- maybe even blushing as she ordered her latte with extra foam.

The only thing keeping me from finding her completely annoying, was the fact that i was avoiding having to go up to the top floor for as long as possible. Today, I welcomed the interruption in my schedule.

As Tiffany chatted Shownu up (of course, he was much too polite to tell her to shut up so the next person could order, but I sure wasn't gonna interrupt her either), I heard a familiar clearing of the throat behind me.

My eyes slowly closed as I braced myself for Kihyun's death stare. I slowly turned around, and of course, there was Kihyun.

"I need to speak with you."

His expression was cold and intense.

"I-" I began before being interrupted by Shownu's deep voice.

"Y/N," He said with a smile, "You're up."

I looked at Kihyun and pointed at Shownu, "I gotta- excuse me," I said, walking up to the counter.

"No mug?" Shownu asked.

I smiled exaggeratedly, "Not today- can I get a large?" I asked.

"Do you even need to ask? I know your order by heart," He chuckled as he revealed a large coffee from behind the pastry display.

My heart fluttered a little bit, but it was interrupted by Kihyun's harsh voice, "Y/N."

It startled me, but I tried to play it off, "Thank you, Shownu," said, sliding the money over to him.

He looked down at the money, and then looked at me. Without a word, he took the money and set it off to the side, "Come again," He said, his smile fading slightly.

I grabbed my coffee and then turned back to face Kihyun.

"Let's go up to my office," He said, immediately turning to walk toward the elevator.

I trailed behind him, like a horse to the slaughter.

The elevator ride was silent, making it seem much longer than usual. He didn't even pull out his phone the way he usually would- he just stared straight ahead. His expression, however, did seem to soften a little bit.

He lead me into his office and he sat down in his seat. I closed the door slowly behind me, and I sat down in the seat directly in front of his desk.

"You...wanted to speak to me?" I asked.

He didn't answer me for a while. It looked like he was in his thoughts, so I didn't speak again.

"Y/N, I consider myself a very professional man. I do my best to not get too close to my employees- not just for my own sake, but to avoid making my workers feel uncomfortable. Do you understand?" He asked, his tone was much softer than it usually was.

I stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"I don't know if maybe you misread my kindness yesterday, and if you did, I sincerely apologize," He continued, "but I meant nothing by my gesture yesterday. I was going to get myself food, and I knew staying late meant you'd miss dinner," His eyes seemed to search mine.

"Damn it, Y/N, are you even listening?" He asked, irritated at my silence.

My heart started beating faster as I felt the familiar feeling of wanting to run away.

"I..." My voice was quiet, "I just thought the cupcake was pretty, and I meant to send it to someone else..." I said.

His eyes were fixed on me for a moment, "Hm, is that so?" He asked incredulously.

I nodded, "Yes."

He sighed, "Well, as long as that's the truth," He saiid sarcastically.

I looked down for a moment, "It is," I said as I stood up, "was that all?" I asked.

He didn't look at, or answer me. I took it as my cue to leave.

When I walked out of the office, I slowly made my way to my desk.

The rest of the day went by quickly, and soon, everyone was packing up. I wondered what it would be like staying late today. After the last people headed into the elevators, I turned my attention back to my screen and proceeded to look over the draft of the contract that Mr.Lee's father was going to sign.

Kihyun's door opened and he held an open file in his hands as he walked out. He glanced over at me and stopped in his tracks, "You may go home," He said, looking back down at the file.

I was confused, "But...don't you need me to stay to look over the-"

"Go home," He said walking over to a filing cabinet at the far end of the room.

My blood was boiling,  but I held my tongue and grabbed my things. Without realizing it, i was stomping to the elevator doors.

I got to the lobby and started walking toward the door, until I heard my name being called.

"Y/N! Y/N!"  I turned to see Shownu jogging toward me.

"Shownu?" I was surprised at his eagerness to reach me.

"Here," He said, reaching out his hand.

I reached mine out to see what he was trying too give me, and when he finally dropped it in my hand, I shook my head, "Wait, why are you giving this back to me?" I asked.

He smiled, "I could tell you were having a rough morning... here's my effort to make it better?" He said.

I smiled, "You can't just keep paying for my coffee," I laughed.

He smiled and shrugged, "Says who?" He asked.

I looked down, my face turning hot, "Well, thanks Shownu..." I said shyly.

He smiled and then, to my surprise, reached up to graze my cheek with his finger, "Don't worry about it," and with that, he turned around to walk back to the counter.

Though my day was absolutely terrible, at this moment, I felt like I was on a cloud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By Friday morning, I'd managed to finish everything up for the building permits. I was quite proud of myself. I put everything in order and knocked on Kihyun's office door.

"Mr.Yoo?" I called through the door.

"Come in," He said.

I walked into the office and walked to his desk, setting the stack of papers on his desk, "I'm done."

He glanced at the stack, "Alright."

I stood there, waiting for a 'thank you', but after realizing I wouldn't be getting one, I walked out of his office.

It's the weekend. It's the weekend. It's the weekend.

By the time 6:30 rolled around, I was already packed and ready to go home. As I stood up from my desk, Kihyun came out of his office and cleared his throat, "Y/N."

I held onto the strap of my purse as I waited for him to speak.

"I found some mistakes in the contract. I thought you had made a draft beforehand," he said, crossing his arms. Though he wasn't buff, the way he stood made his muscles bulge a bit through his dress shirt.

"Mistakes? I made sure there weren't any- I revised it like six time," I explained.

He sighed, "You'll need to fix the mistakes before Tuesday. Take the weekend," He said,  putting the stack of contract information on my desk, and turning back to walk into his office.

I snatched the papers off of my desk and shoved them aggressively into my bag.

When I got to the lobby, I was so mad that I flew past the lobby and headed out to my Uber, all without a single glance back.

I was ready to get wasted.

[kaysreadingarchive]

Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: Part 2

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, slightly John Seed x Reader x Joseph Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, mention of character death, insulting

Word Count: 3,307

A/N:  Another chapter is out. I feel very free more with this story than my others. But don't worry, another chapter of On the Front Line will be out soon. It's just fun to write this sort of stuff and I feel happier while doing it. Thank you all for your love and support while I write trash and sip tea. It means the world to me! And like always, give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. I also really want to know what your theories are for the coming story. I always love reading your guys' analyses.

Masterlist      Omegaverse Rules

-----------

There wasn’t a week that went by that didn’t involve a Seed brother or the Project at Eden’s Gate. The mere mention of the word seed sent you into a whirl of emotions. It was mostly anger. All three of them never seemed to stay out of people’s business or trouble.

It made you think that Pops was wrong to say Nancy should keep her eyes on you three instead of the brothers. It would benefit him more than your snooping. All they did for months now was cause trouble for everyone who lived in Hope County. Most people would say that they weren’t bad folks. People saw them as something good. People didn’t read too much into it, they saw them as a simple church. They were compared to the Lamb of God church outside Fall’s End or even Pastor Jerome Jeffries.

None of them did anything illegal, nothing that could warrant suspicion. There was a complaint or two about John annoying various business owners or buying up possible farmland, but that was it. Pops and yourself were the only ones that knew better. You’ve spent hours after your shift was over piecing their records together.

You would sit at your little desk sifting through the three files you composed of them, including another woman named Faiths whose actual name was Lana.

Joseph’s was the thickest with arrests ranging from trespassing to disturbing the peace. None of them were murder or kidnapping, but it was something. He didn’t seem to hold a job for long according to the records from the Rome Police Department.

John’s was the thinnest. He had a clean record from what you could tell. He was a lawyer and he seemed pretty successful with a dab of luck with rich parents. It would definitely explain the charm and dollar signs. You couldn’t even hold yourself back from scoffing when you read his file. The whole point of looking over these records was whether or not they could have a permit to carry. You felt uneasiness just thinking about giving John a permit to carry a dangerous weapon, but you had to give him one.

If you and Staci showed up at a call involving him, he always had a stupid ass smirk on his face. You started to think he purposely caused a ruckus just to irate you. Staci just had a dumb expression on his face, but you really couldn’t hide your fury with him.

Jacob was a whole other story. He committed arson apparently. It would explain why his face looked like shit. He burned down a barn and then was drafted into the military. Great, fucking fantastic. Just what you needed. A war hero.

You slumped down in the office chair and let out a long, agonizing sigh. You stayed late yet again to go over the files. You wanted, no needed an excuse to not give them that piece of paper. Your eyes focused on the stack of files again, but not a paper was out of place. This was it. They won, John fucking won.

At your last visit to John, he had asked you about the status of the permit. There was another noise disturbance call in the area and of course, it was you and Staci. You both drove to a clearing near a pasture not far from Fall’s End.

It was fairly nice, only having a dirt road to access it. Piles upon piles of light-colored logs littered the ground and John was in the middle of it. His jacket was off, leaving him in only a blue button-up shirt. His black sunglasses were over his eyes and he wore a blue hard hat. You would think he wouldn’t wear one so it wouldn’t mess up his hair, but the big baby was sucking it up so he didn’t get hit in his thick skull.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite deputies. What brings you two here?” His voice sounded teasing as he walked up to the window of the patrol car. He laid his arm on the door and leaned in.

“Knock it off, John. You know why we’re here.” This insult barely shuts him up. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as you talked back to him. But then it turned back into a smirk.

His smirks usually sent chills down your spine, not the good ones either. This time it didn’t, it felt like you were in control for once. Your brain was finally telling your anxiety to calm the fuck down. It felt great to not have this overwhelming pressure on your chest.

“Oh, you’ve got a mouth on you, Rook. It would be a tragedy if I had to teach you some manners.” There was a hint of a predatory tone in his voice. It may have sounded flirty but it definitely wasn’t. How people believed in these brothers was beyond you.

Normally, in this situation, you would feel trapped, but you felt so free. You could easily reach over the door and strangle him with his own necklace. Maybe drown him in the Henbane. That sounded like a great idea.

“Why don’t you knock it the fuck off before I show you the inside of a jail cell.” John didn’t even flinch at your threat. To him, it sounded like a kitten hissing to defend itself. This pointless fight with words, something attempting to hurt him, was shining through as wrath.

Staci was the exact opposite, instead of being cool and collected, this grown-ass man was sweating bullets. His hazel eyes were wide open, and his mouth was hung open. He had never heard you curse or act out like this before. You were usually shy and reserved, you never really voiced your opinion especially to him.

You’ve always were reserved, even as a child you never could speak your mind. But, John was someone that pushed you and pushed you until you finally broke. You didn’t see him as a person, you saw him as an object to be yelled at and punched. Like a pillow. Yeah, a handsome smug ass pillow. There was always a part of you that wanted to break out and now this fucking church finally did it.

“Now, my dear. We don’t want to say things we’ll regret, do we?” His blue eyes flicked from the guns strapped near his sides to you. Your eyes narrowed as you watched his movement. His tattooed hand settled at the base of his waist. Putting a steady hand on the cool metal.

“Are you threa…!” Before you could say anything, Staci covered your mouth with his hand. It smelt like gunpowder and donuts and was big enough to not only cover your nose but your mouth. You hastily ripped it off before he suffocated you. You gave him a glare and mumbled curses under your breath. What an asshole.

“We’re just going to go if there isn’t anything else.” You could tell he was trying to act nice. It was like a challenge for him. Staci’s entire personality was either set to asshole, or fake friendliness. There was no in-between. You could practically feel the anger boil inside of you when John’s smirk got even bigger and turned into a full smile. White teeth and all. He was mocking you and it only made you angrier.

He reached into his expensive suit pants and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. ‘COME JOIN US!’ was written in big bold letters and the cross of Eden’s Gate was plastered right in the middle. He reached in through the driver’s side door and just held it there for you to take. You looked at the paper and back at him, waiting for him to make a surprise move.

Maybe he’ll grab your arm and cut it off. Or he could drag you through the door and make you work on his silly wooden project. The possibilities were endless when it came to this man. Who knew what he would cook up in that stupid mind of his. Some persuasive lawyer shit.

You carefully reached for the paper and snatched it away as soon as your fingers made contact. Goosebumps went up your arm when you brushed your hand with his fingers. You had no idea whether it was from disgust or… something else, but you definitely didn’t like it.

“I would love it if you would join us. Maybe we can wash out that sinful mouth of yours.” You had no idea whether he was flirting or not. He was doing an awful job at it if he was. Nevertheless, a faint blush made its way to your cheeks. You looked away and rolled the window up, just hoping his fingers would get caught. They sadly didn’t.

Instead, you did him one better. You slowly backed the car up and made sure to go over one pile of logs. The wheels went over the pump and the sickening crack of wood sounded in the car. You looked outside the window to see John screaming. He began to bang on the glass until you shifted the car into drive. Another crack was heard as you pulled forward and you could see a fairly large log split in half.

A feeling of satisfaction soon replaced the anger as you drove away and John’s face filled the entire rearview mirror. His blue eyes were narrowed as his entire face was bright red. He looked to be screaming at one of the builders. Who was no cowering in fear as John let him have it.

The ride back to the station was quiet. Awkwardly quiet considering that Staci was a motormouth. He said nothing as he watched farms and pastures pass by. His lips were pulled into a frown and his eyes held seemingly no emotion. They were just pools of hazel with nothing else. That uneasy feeling was very evident now.

It was hard knowing someone was mad at you, a critical flaw you’ve always had was wanting to be liked, it got worse at the academy when no one seemed to like you. Or when you parents died, you stopped looking for approval from them and it switched to wanting approval from everyone. You couldn’t please everyone was something Pops always said.

Just knowing Staci didn’t like you ate you up inside. “Staci, come on, whatever I did I didn’t mean it.” The beginning was very evident in your voice. The tough act slowly melted away as your voice and hands quivered on the wheel.

Staci didn’t even react to you. He just continued to gaze out the window.

“I’m not mad, I just hope you don’t go to that sermon. I have a bad feeling about those guys, but no one else seems to. John especially.” Wait, were you hearing this right? Staci Fucking Pratt cared about you. The same jackass that glued your office supplies to the ceiling and had an absolute field day with you getting them down? The same one that made a habit of tripping you when you walked into your office?

“Was that concern I hear Pratt?” Your frown turned into a small smile as you teased him. He didn’t look at you but you could clearly see him get flustered.

“Shut the fuck up, ( Y/N). Don’t tell Joey, I won’t hear the end of it.” He gave a slight chuckle and went back to looking out the window.

The atmosphere became more comforting than before. You parked the car into a space and got out, grabbing the flier. You were curious, to say the least. What was strange about it was it was at night. Apparently the project did them at odd hours. From the butt crack of dawn to midnight, there was no stopping them. Even people like Major Virgil Minkler thought they were good people. Strange but good.

You just wanted to see if your hunch was true about them. Could they be bad people or were you just crazy? John was definitely crazy in your opinion but he just seemed to have a terrible temper that went on and off like a switch.

You walked to your shared office and logged out of the computer. Staci had already dashed to his car as soon as he hit the power button. You grabbed the files from the desk and walked out with your bag. You put all three of them into the archives in the break room and walked out to Pop’s office.

You gently knocked on the wood door and opened it. “Oh, kiddo, I didn’t hear yea.” Whitehorse turned to you and put an arm through his jacket.

“Are you ready to go old man?” He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the truck keys and walking out behind you.

“Old man? Soon enough I’ll be saying that to you, you’re gettin’ grey already from Pratt.” He had to just pull your leg. You did nothing but complain about Pratt at home. Pops had even said you were like an elementary school girl bullying a boy she liked.

As soon as you made it to the truck you threw your duffle bag into the bed. You weren’t really worried about someone stealing, everyone kept their front doors unlocked. This county was placed around trust and faith. Eden’s Gate was an extent of that. They brought faith so they could be trusted. Something definitely irked you the wrong way, they were too friendly. Too willing to help. Maybe that’s why people trusted them so easily. They would follow someone like Joseph blindly if he made the tough choices for them.

You hoped right into the passenger’s seat and Pops followed you and set the truck on the road. The radio was softly playing old 80’s rock. You turned the station and an unfamiliar song played through the speakers. You turned the volume up slightly and, ‘Keep your rifle by your side!’ played.

“What the fuck is this?” You turned the channel again and this time, ‘Jacob’s gonna come and set those sinners free!’ played. “Is there some new Christian station? This sounds so bad.” You kept the station on and made fun of it as Pops drove. He would put in a joke or two as the songs changed, each one worse than the last.

You brought out the flier and gave it another look over. You could feel Pops green eyes on you as soon as the name Project at Eden’s Gate came into view.

“Don’t tell me you're gonna go see that loon, (Y/N). They’re up to somethin’, I can smell it from a mile away.” He gave you a worried smile and turned his focus back onto the road. His comment took you back a moment and you thought about it. What if he was right? What if they really are a cult or something that? But a cult? In Hope County? No fucking way in hell. But, then again, you were very curious why everyone went. Why anyone would want to listen to a grown man in a bun preach. He must be worth listening to then. You went back and forth with yourself before Earl had enough and sighed.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you went. Just don't get caught up in a web, who knows what would happen if I lost my favorite granddaughter.” He gave another reassuring smile. You knew he would support you with whatever you did. Whether he agreed with it or not.

“I’m your only granddaughter!” You gave a slight chuckle and threw all the tension out the window. You were going to go to this sermon and see what happens, it couldn’t be that bad.

When you finally reached the house and Pops threw you the keys from the porch as you slid into the driver’s seat. You drove off towards Eden’s Covenant near the Henbane. It was very pretty this time of year. White oxeye daisies grew in bunches along the river’s shore and you remember having picnics with your parents by the banks and learning how to make daisy chains.

When you arrived you could barely find a spot to park. There was no parking lot so there were cars shoved into every place they could fit them. You even spotted Nancy’s van a few cars down from your truck.

People singing could be heard outside. It was the same song from the radio. Keep Your Rifle By Your Side. Wait, did they have their own radio station? Yet, there were the same songs from another station. This church bought two radio stations. That can’t be right, a church doesn't need a station in the first place.

You walked to the front of the church, seemingly dragging your feet to beat around the bush. You were hesitant at first but Joseph’s voice rang from inside. It was very soft but began to get louder until it sounded like he was ranting and not performing a sermon.

You pushed the door open, trying to avoid the people that practically stood in the isles. There wasn’t enough room for everyone it seemed. You squeezed your way through until you found a spot near the wall in the front. All three Seed brothers were present. Joseph up in front preaching his little heart out and Jacob and John lingering in the back along with who you presumed to be Lana. Surprising, Joseph’s shirt was off, revealing numerous tattoos. His rosary swayed with his frantic hand movements as he tried to act and give life to his words. It was almost mesmerizing how passionate he was about this.

“When I read the newspaper like everyone else, I see headlines I don’t want to see. Brother turned against brother and for what reason? Politics, greed, and pride. These politicians, these leaders are too blind by their own sin to see what they are willing to destroy in order to feed it. God cannot ignore this world any longer. The Lord has seen your sins and He has asked for my help. He whispered His righteous words into my ear and delivered a message onto the world. Come and see the change that the project will bring. Hear as Gabriel sounds his trumpet of the oncoming collapse. Our Pack must stick together to walk among the angels through Eden’s Gate!” Collapse? What was the collapse? And a pack? Did he mean like a pack of wolves? What the hell is this?

Joseph walked back and forth, staring intently at each member. He didn’t turn away as he got louder, pulling more and more people in with his intense gaze and words. You had to internally fight yourself from listening to him further.

In some instances, in some crazy way, he was right. Just ask any prepper in this county and they would tell you something similar. You turned yourself away from Joseph to see Jacob looking your way while whispering into the ear of another man. They both looked straight at you as the other bearded man walked away, his trench coat trailing behind him.

“I am your Father and you are my Children.” The congregation gave cheers as the sermon ended. Joseph hopped down from the stage and was immediately swarmed by a dozen people offering hugs. While they were distracted, you slipped out the door and back to the truck. Quietly avoiding Nancy and Danny, who were both outside speaking to John.

You opened the driver’s side door but stopped. Your clothes were thrown all over the bed and the duffle bag was ripped open. “What the fuck!?” You gave a small scream as you jumped into the bed and went through your stuff. Your picture was gone. Your mom and dad’s picture was fucking

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 63

A Head In The Clouds

Summary: In which we sit in on a meeting between the Dandelions. Word Count: 1,602 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

The room that the Dandelions used was located in the main building, sitting on the same level where the headmasters' offices were. In it was a large round table with enough seating for all five of them, a writing desk on one wall, two loveseats on adjacent walls, and a couple shelves filled with books. It was decided early on that they would all meet on Friday, usually after classes were over, but occasionally they'd meet during lunch if they all were already in the area. This Friday was not much different than any other week, spare for one exception; Ephemer was late.

Ephemer was set as their appointed leader simply because he knew far more about the school than anyone else. He was very good at the position, but being late? Completely unheard of until today. Of course, last week had been a close call- he and Anora had their dorm jumping adventures just the day before and he was still riding off that giddiness. Today, it was starting to look like that initial high still hasn't worn off, and it was apparently affecting his internal clock.

The other Dandelions, figuring that Ephemer would come around eventually, decided to bide their time in the mean time. Ventus and Lauriam were going over the former's homework at the round table, Skuld was sitting at the writing desk to revise her notes, and Brain wasn't going much of anything- instead sitting on one of the two loveseats in the room to casually lounge after a long school day. Had it not been for Lauriam and Ven going over homework, it would have been rather quiet in the room.

“Clouds that are commonly referred to as 'mares' tails' because of their thin, wispy appearance are called...”

“Cirrostratus?” Ven guessed, his head resting in his hand as his eyelids started to droop.

Lauriam shook his head. “Cirrus.” he corrected. “However, both cirrostratus and cirrus clouds are classified as…?”

“High clouds.”

“Good. And high clouds generally form around what altitude?”

“16,000 meters?”

“Close. 5,000 meters, or 16,000 feet.”

“Right. I knew that.” the boy mumbled before resting his arm and head on the table. Lauriam looked him over with a small, bemused smile.

“Don't give up on me, Ven.” the older even said. “You were doing so well.”

The only response he got was a half hearted “Hmm...” and a very long yawn.

“I hear that.” Brain spoke up, lazily raising a hand in the air in agreement. He didn't bother to notice the odd looks that Lauriam and Ventus were giving him.

“Don't you have schoolwork to do as well?” Lauriam questioned with a skeptic raise of his eyebrow. It only net him a callous wave of the other's hand.

“I've got my routines, you've got yours.” Brain told him. “Besides, why would I even bother bringing my homework with me when, usually, we'd be halfway done a meeting by now.”

But this excuse was not a good one to the older student. He even started to open his mouth to say something, but the door to the clubroom opened up and quickly shut behind the newcomer. Everyone turned to look at who at arrived, seeing that it was only Ephemer made for a dull surprise. The Seventh Year looked like he had run across campus and back again; his face was red, his clothes mildly disheveled, and his breathing was hurried. And yet, there was a wide smile on his face as if nothing were amiss.

“Looks like someone had fun with their girlfriend last night.” Brain idly noted as he started to sit up.

“Sorry,” Ephemer immediately apologized, “I know I'm late, promise it won't happen again.”

“Why are you late?” Skuld then questioned while starting to put away her notebooks and notecards. “Your last period was study hall.”

Before Ephemer could even build a solid alibi, Brain told her, “Seems to me, he was doing less studying, and more making out with a certain someone.”

Everyone looked at Ephemer with an accusatory glance. He didn't confirm or deny it- instead sheepishly scratching the back of his neck as he let out an even more bashful laughter.

“I-it's a good thing we don't have a lot to cover this week.” Ephemer nervously informed them. “Skuld, can you get the itinerary planner out of the desk? I think I put it in the top drawer last week.”

His friend gave him a curt nod before doing as she was told. It took the group a few minutes to get settled around the table for the meeting. Ephemer tried to keep his mind busy by riffling through the planner- but then he remembered something and a bright blush appeared on his face.

“So we-” he started to say, but his voice cracked, making him sheepishly pause for a moment before starting again, “We should start with past business as usual. The only event of note would have been the dual house activities between Unicornis and Ursus. How did that go?”

“About as well as you'd expect.” Brain snorted. “It helped that their events were on separate ends of campus. If the weather permits it, we should try to keep their activities closer to their respective dorms. The only thing we'd have to worry about would be noise complaints, or something, but we can tackle that head on when and if the situation rises again.”

“Understandable.” Ephemer agreed. “Are any of you guys opposed to it?”

The others shook their heads, giving a unanimous agreement on the subject.

“Do we know what the next subject is for the Ursus house activity is yet?” Lauriam spoke up.

“Not specifically.” Brain admitted. “There wasn't much response this week in terms of ideas. I'd chalk it up to dual activities and not waning interest. But the suggestions seemed to favor something more on the technical side, like programming.”

“Do we even have enough room for that?” Skuld wondered out loud.

“If we were able to replace the computer science stations in a larger room, say the gym, then we may.” Lauriam suggested. “But we may still be a few stations short. It would all depend on student turn out.”

“I'll add it to the list of upcoming business.” Ephemer decided. “Also for upcoming, we have the Anguis house activity next Sunday. I was told that several chess pieces were missing from their sets- is that still the case?”

“No.” Skuld disagreed with a small shake of her head. “We received a donation from the hobby store in town. We were able to completely replace the old chess sets with completely new ones.”

“That was nice of them.” Ven nervously piped up. “Can we thank them?”

“We can hold a fundraiser in their honor.” suggested Brain as he gave his fedora a little flick. “But we should ask them what they need first, just in case.”

“I agree.” Skuld nodded.

“As do I.” Lauriam chimed in.

“I'll add it to ongoing business then.” Ephemer told them before doing just that. “Which means that we're almost done for the day. Let's see… for other ongoing business we have the correction of the peeling and cracked paint in the gym lockers. Most of what we have has been relayed to Headmaster Ira. Then there's always the cleaning of the school's bulletin boards; remember, if it doesn't have a date, get rid of it. Any ads past three weeks should be taken down, along with any hate messages. Then that just leaves the planning of a fundraiser for new fencing equipment. Did I leave anything out?”

The rest of the Dandelions shook their heads, some even gave verbal confirmation.

“Well, if we have nothing else to discuss,” Ephemer mused, looking down at the planner as he made some notes here and there, “I would like to propose a refurbishment on the fire escape attached to the Vulpes girls' dorms. I- no, I mean An- someone from the dorms recently used the fire escape and nearly tripped over a loose screw. Obviously, this won't do in an emergency, so we should look into fixing it.”

Ephemer finished making his note and looked up at the others. He was surprised to see their blank glares. “What?” he questioned, his voice a bit more defensive than he meant to. “It's a perfectly legitimate concern!”

The stares continued until Brain loudly cleared his throat.

“While it may be a concern,” he said with a hint of mocking, “I completely fail to see that one wayward screw is enough to renovate the entire fire escape.”

“Besides,” Lauriam even added, “If we were going to renovate one dorm, we'd have to do the same with the others as well. They were all built at the same time.”

“And even then,” Skuld continued in her own disapproving voice, “The only thing we could do for refurbishments is to take it up with the Headmasters. We have no real say over that stuff.”

“You guys just could've said no...” Ephemer grumbled under his breath. But he shook his head, understanding where they were coming from. “Does no one else have any propositions for this week?”

At their unanimous agreement, Ephemer gave a firm nod of his head.

“Then our meeting for this week is adjourned.” he decided. “Have a fun weekend.”

“Probably won't have as much fun as you'll be having.” Brain smirked as he started to get up. “Don't forget to take a glove next time you almost trip over that screw.”

Ephemer, who had been caught off guard by the flippant remark, only blushed a deep shade of red.

[nickscxtch]

SMITTEN  ღ CHAPTER TWO

< chapter one

The academy had students from all over the world, and familiars were not permitted. Familiars were also goblins that took the form of animals to best help their witch masters. My mother's was a husky named Wolf. Classes like Herbalism and Latin can be curriculum majors, and students can choose what they wanted to study. Classes like Conjuring could only be taken once the Academy's general requirements were met.

That was information hurdled at me by my mother as she checked my bags to make sure I didn't forget anything.

The exterior of the school was Gehenna Station, and my mother accompanied me so she could introduce me to Father Blackwood.

"Also, my darling," she said before we entered. "If you happen to meet someone by the last name of Spellman, do try make friends. It was because of a Spellman that your father and I were allowed to be wed."

I was confused by the statement. She never really talked about the comings about of their marriage. I knew that witches and mortal were supposed to be separated, but the main part about witch life that my mother still spoke about would be her slang and her life at the academy.

We walked through the doors, and she looked around with a fond smile on her face.

"The academy was built according to the principles of sacred geometry," she said. "Each room is a perfectly proportioned pentagon that locks with the one next to it. No one knows how many pentagons there are, exactly, some say an infinite number."

We made it to a room where there was a statue of what my mother had shown me to be the Dark Lord, and two little children statues, a girl and a boy, looking up at him.

We entered Faustus Blackwood's office. He was the headmaster as well as the High Priest.

"Welcome to the Academy of Unseen Arts, Miss Hart, Mrs. Hart," he greeted my mother and I. "It's nice to see you here, being a full-time student after your signing of the Book of the Beast."

He handed me a paper, and said, "I've prepared your schedule. I hope they are to your liking."

I tried not to laugh with the way he pronounced "schedule", but he raised an eyebrow in question anyways, having noticed my amusement. He dismissed it while I looked over the classes.

I thought they were all appropriate, basic level classes for a witch who rarely even used her magic in her sixteen years of living. Of course, some incantations here and there, helping Archie and the gang solve the mysteries of Riverdale without them noticing what I was doing. I think that might also be a reason my mother sent me away, she thought I was too reckless, and that I would get the Riverdale and Greendale witches exposed.

"All is good?" he asked after a moment.

"All is perfect," I said.

He looked at his pocket watch and said, "Good. Mrs. Hart, if you would excuse your daughter and I, I'll take her to class and give her a tour."

"As long as the previous decision we discussed is still the same?" she asked, and I looked at her confused, but she gave me a 'don't ask' expression, so I didn't.

"Of course, anything for you, Esme," Faustus nodded to my mother. "If only the other child could be so willing the way yours is."

Again, confused.

My mother nodded, and she hugged me. She put her hands around my face and said, "Do have a good time here, darling. I had some of my best memories at this Academy. Welcome to the Path of Night, my dear. We're just a town over if you need some lovin', but do try to make some friends here first."

━━━━━━━ღ━━━━━━━

At lunch, I went back to my new bedroom. I didn't have a roommate, which made me happy enough, and I was yet to make any friends. Most people in my classes didn't pay any attention to me, which I was glad about. I thought that I would draw eyes because of the whole "half-breed" thing, but no one's even mentioned it.

I thought it was probably best to start unpacking as soon as possible. I opened my suitcase and there it was, the thing Archie asked me to take with me before I left: his varsity jacket with an R on the front to represent Riverdale High. He gave me it as a way to have him close, even though technically he was. The academy was in Greendale.

There was a knock, and I shouted a "come in" on reflex, as if I was back home and my father was behind the door. The door opened and the person leaned against the archway. I furrowed my eyebrows when I realized it was a boy with a slightly tanned complexion, dark brown hair side swept and a little wavy at the front, dressed in all black except for his white collar. If I wasn't so entranced with the randomness of him, maybe I would've noticed the fact that he had a baby face or the mole on his neck. Maybe.

"Hi," he said.

"Um, hi," I replied, standing up from my bed with the jacket in my hand. "Come in?"

He looked at the jacket, and I set it down. He took slow steps towards me, holding two trays of food.

"I saw that you came straight here, we have choir together," he said. "So I thought I'd grab you lunch, and I asked Father Blackwood which dorm you were in, sorry if this is creepy."

He hadn't even told me his name yet, and he was here bringing me food. I guess I didn't go as unnoticed as I thought.

"Thanks," I said, trailing off at the end because I didn't know his name, taking the tray from him and setting it on my bed next to the jacket.

"Nicholas, Nick, Scratch," he said, using his free hand to shake mine.

"Annalise, Annali, Hart," I said, shaking his with a smile.

"Anna-lee," he said, nodding as he overly pronounced it. "That's a cute nickname for a cute girl."

"Ah, he's a flirt," I said, sitting down on my bed and putting the tray in my lap. "And that's probably why he's here."

"No, no," he said, sitting down next to me. "I'm here because you're new here, and I don't like it when people are lonely in a place full of people."

"Ah, a flirt and a sweetheart," I said, patting his head.

"Normally, I'd be offended that I was just patted like a dog," he said, but then he nodded with an approving pout. "But I think it's adorable coming from you."

"Shut it, Scratch, that's enough charm for one day," I told him, laughing.

I didn't think much of his words, assuming that flirtatiousness was just one of his personality traits. It fit him, too, because he had a very mysterious aura and a flirty smile.

I think this one would make a great friend.

He motioned to the jacket with his head. "Riverdale High?"

"You know it?" I asked.

"I've heard about it. I've done some research on the mortal schools, Riverdale, Baxter, just for fun, I guess. I don't really leave the academy often, but it's interesting seeing what the mortals do for fun," he shrugged as I started to eat whatever food this academy served.

Definitely going home soon for home cooked meals.

"Did you do sports over there?" he asked.

"My best friend, Archie, he's a football player," I replied.

"Are you smitten for him?" he asked.

I laughed. "Who says smitten anymore?"

"Don't avoid the question."

I shook my head, and said, "No. Not for Archie Andrews."

"For anyone?"

"Nah."

Curious as to why no one's made half-breed comments about me, I asked slowly, "Have you heard about any half-witches, half-mortals?"

He nodded, and I thought he was going to say me, but instead, he said, "Sabrina Spellman? Everyone's heard of her. The daughter of the best conjurer ever, the great Edward Spellman, who chose his love of a mortal over being High Priest, which in my opinion, was really cute even though I don't understand the concept of actually loving. Witches don't really fall in love, so I don't know what any of that felt like. Sabrina doesn't go here, none of us have met her. She doesn't have her dark baptism until Halloween because that's when she turns 16."

Spellman? I wondered, thinking of when I heard the last name. I recalled when my mom told me to befriend anyone named Spellman because it was because of a Spellman, whom I am assuming is this Edward guy, that led to my parents being allowed to be together.

So, there was another half-witch, and her name was Sabrina. How come it was that everyone knew about her, but no one knew about me?

chapter three >

[winterpower98]

PKNE Droids

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[I am Paperinik and I’m a hero!]

[I live in the 21° century, but I happen to travel to the future!]

[Sme time ago, someone tried to stop me...]

PK: ... and maybe today you're trying to make me waste time!

PK: Hey, where...

???: PK?

PK: Tyrrel Duckard?

PK: I’m ok, thank you for asking! And you?

Robot Agent: Do not move, this is a police check!

Robot Agent: You are violating the law on public order!

Tyrrel: Everything in order, agent!

Tyrrel: We were chasing the wanted man who knocked out my partner!

Tyrrel: Excuse him, he woke up a little confused!

Robot Agent: Explanation recorder, you can go!

PK: Let me understand too ... especially why you’re calling me partner!

Tyrrel: Because we work together!

PK: You and I?! But you were the one who wanted to erase my reality!

Tyrrel: UHM ... You got hit pretty bad!

PK: You mean you weren't the one ...

Tyrrel: Who knock you out? If so, why would I have taken you to 2179!

PK: Who am I suppose to thanks then?

Tyrrel: I’ll explain everything with a warm drink!

Bartender: Nice cape, friend!

PK: Thank you, I’m happy it’s still an ongoing trend!

PK: Well then? Talk!

Tyrrel: I’m in this century because of an ongoing investigation!

Tyrrel: Since the timepolice has reinstated me ...

PK: O-oh! You’ve become a good droid!

Tyrrel: You can bet!

PK: Keep going then, I’m listening!

Tyrrel: Even if you can’t remember it, we are on the same team!

Tyrrel: You understood that when I came and asked for your help!

Tyrrel: The situation is delicate, a group of droids escaped from the 23° century!

PK: This should be an everyday job for you?

Tyrrel: Not this time! The timepolice discovered where they went ...

[ ... And when! A decisive year for their evolution!]

Tyrrel: We were about to capture them, but something went wrong!

PK: GULP!

PK: Let me guess! They put me k.o.!

Tyrrel: Yup! We located their hideout!

[ While I was inspecting it, you stayed outside on lookout ...]

[ And one of them caught you off guard!]

[ LuckllyI had all the necessary to neutralize their weapon effects!]

Tyrrel: And when you woke up, you hit me!

PK: I suppose I own you an apology then!

Tyrrel: Nevermind, partner! Let’s get back to the hunt instead!

Robot agent: Bartender!

Robot Agent: Those two are regular customers?

Bartender: UMPF! Luckily they’re not!

Bartender: That guy with the ask ruined my menù in 20° century style!

Bartender: It was printed on authentic vintage replypaper!

Tyrrel: This is my office!

PK: So, you’re here in official capacity!

PK: I thought you timepoliceman acted in disguise!

Tyrrel: And it is! This is only a cover!

Tyrrel: I came from the 23° century and in 2179 time travel was already invented, but it’s secret! I can’t attract attention!

PK: Don’t worry, the furniture isn’t too flashy!

PK: But I did expect a device to track down the fugitives’ signals!

Tyrrel: They don’t have any signals, they are standard models!

Tyrrel: Only us timepolice droids have locators and cronoengine!

PK: The how did they escape!

Tyrrel: From a normal public cronostation! Those droids are property of Ruvo Chandra, a big guy in 2298!

Tyrrel: The temporal travel permit was in his name!

PK: Great! Now tell me you don’t even know what they look like!

Tyrrel: Don’t exaggerate, I have their record card! She is Zyba, personal secretary of Chandra!

PK: An updated model of miss Quackfaster! EH EH!

Tyrrel: Miss who?

PK: Nevermind, keep going!

Tyrrel: Soren was his bodyguard ...

Tyrrel: And Moris his attending replica!

PK: Attending what?

PK: Use my words, I can’t understand yours!

Tyrrel: “Attending replica” means he is Chandra lookalike!

Tyrrel: Every celebrity has one for dangerous or ... annoying situations!

PK: It’s not much to track them down!

Tyrrel: We have another clue! I found it in the timepolice archives!

Tyrrel: Recognise someone?

PK: Impossible! I have never been to this future before!

Tyrrel: Well, this proves the opposite!

PK: I ... don’t understand!

PK: Actually yes! You used me!

Tyrrel: Nothing personal, everyone knows your the droids friend!

Tyrrel: You could have been in league with them!

PK: And if this is another me?

PK: One that came from who knows which century, for example!

Tyrrel: plausible hypothesis! Meanwhile, take a look at the view!

Tyrrel: If you didn’t notice, there is the headquarters of Robolab!

PK: The name is not new ...

Tyrrel: I believe it!

Tyrrel: It’s the society that has been studying droids since the 21°t century!

PK: I don’t think I saw any of them around!

Tyrrel: At the moment there are only robots, but in a few years droids will be everywhere!

PK: EH EH! They will fall in price?

Tyrrel: They ever told you you’re funny? They lied!

Tyrrel: The Robolab was bought by a young genius who will revolutionize the research!

Tyrrel: You should know him, his name is Odin Eidolon!

PK: Maybe he is the goal of the fugitives!

PK: What could they want from Odin?

Tyrrel: For example, grant droids more freedom rights from the beginning!

Tyrrel: Or take his place!

PK: You’re raving! They don’t look like him!

[ But this gives them an advantage because Eidolon never appeared in public!]

Odin: Good day, gentlemen!

Tyrrel: Once in command of his industries, the droids could rewrite history!

PK: ULP! No trace of the other me ...

PK: ... But that is Soren!

Tyrrel: Stop! If we follow him he will bring us to his ...

???: Detective Duckard?

Inspector Wuff: I am Inspector Wuff! I would like to talk to you!

Tyrrel: Hard to say no with those assault Robotagents that are with you!

PK: Don’t try to escape, big guy!

Soren: OOOH! PK!

Soren: What are you doing in the 22° century? I would never have hoped to meet you here!

PK: Eh?! Did you hear him ...

PK: ... Duckard?!

PK: This was not planned!

PK: Now you tell e why did you hit e and what are you and your partners planning!

Soren: I ... what?! And What partners?

Soren: We left the future to save us!

Soren: Let me explain!

PK: Alright, but be convincing!

Soren: Good, but let’s go away from here ...            ... There are too many curious persons!

[Here is a completely different thing, eh?]

PK: There are at least one billion people!

Soren: Exactly! In this crowd, who would think of us?

Soren: Zybra and Moris will be here in a bit!

PK: I wonder why did I let you call them!

PK: If you’re thinking of pulling a trick, you didn’t understand anything!

Soren: I just want to tell you everything with them!

Soren: I’m not good with words, I’m programmed as and action droid!

PK: I know! After all, you’re the one who sent me sleeping before!

Soren: GASP! D-do you often do that?

PK: Actually, I didn’t remember being able to! Maybe it’s the amnesia!

Soren: It looks like a verification protocol of the mnemonic transfer!

PK: Protowhat? What are you talking about?

Soren: During the memory upload, fragments of elementary contents are distributed!

[The droid activates only when ...]

[ ... manages to reassemble them!]

Soren: Are you sure no one manipulated your memory?

PK: What have I got to do with it? I’m not a droid!

PK: But she is!

PK: She didn’t see us, let’s go to her!

Tyrrel: PK!

Soren: ARGH!

Tyrrel: Don’t lose time! Neutralize him!

Soren: I thought you were on our side!

PK OOF!

Tyrrel: Move! We’ll lose him!

PK: I can’t use the shield with all these people!

Tyrrel: old-fashioned scruples?

Tyrrel: At least moved from the shooting line!

Men: YAGH!

Soren: You won’t take me back!

Men: UH?

Soren: I didn’t do anything bad!

PK: Are you alright?

Tyrrel: Yes! Nice catch, partner!

Tyrrel: Now let’s finish the job!

PK: But .. he’s not stopping!

PK: Is that gadget useful for something or is it only ornamental?

Tyrrel: Don’t be in a rush!

Tyrrel: He’s slowing down, see?

Tyrrel: The inhibitor disables any droid without risk to living beings!

PK: The effect is not really instantaneous, eh?

Tyrrel: No, but it works! Why didn’t you use it?

PK: Maybe because we don’t have that in the 21° century!

Tyrrel: That’s why I gave you one, forgetful!

PK: GULP!

Tyrrel: Look here! How much interesting material!

Tyrrel: There is nothing else, we can deliver him!

Tyrrel: The Chrono - translational will bring it back to the 23rd century!

[ An unwanted journey in the future would confuse anyone, but not PK! Well, more or less .. by the way: better to travel in time at a standard speed and in a week you will know how the mission is going! ]

Tag list

@adamarinayu​

@bamboozledeagle​

@zanarnaryon​

@glowing-gravity​

@keriwi1

@pinkpearlapple

@aj-the-bluejay

@emilieschwarz9887

[yochevedmexicana]

ICE and why I hate it

Have you ever had your spouse kidnapped by a government agency? I have. This was my reality back in 2006, when my husband was picked up by ICE during a raid at his work. My husband had legal residency due to being married to a U.S. Citizen, but ICE doesn't care. If you are brown and don’t have your papers on your person, ICE will put you on a bus, take you away and your family will not be told where you are.

At the time ICE was not listed in the phone book, nor was it on Yahoo or Google. ICE was not even a department I had heard of. I had heard of INS (the Immigration and Naturalization Service), but ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) was a agency not commonly heard of because it was formed in 2003.

I got a frantic phone call from my husband while I was at work, “I’ve been taken by immigration!! Bring my documents to the immigration office in Salt Lake!” Click. He gave no address. I had no idea where the immigration office in Salt Lake was. 411 had no listing for “immigration office”, “immigration detention,” nor “INS,” which is what I knew it by. I drove around Salt Lake City aimlessly, with tears blurring my vision, hoping I’d come upon the illusive detention facility by chance.

My mind was a jumble. Why was he taken? Surely once he gets to the ICE facility they will run his name and see there has been a mistake! He is in the country legally and he will be released that very evening! I tried to reassure myself. This is America. There are laws in place to make sure only criminals go to jail and innocent people like him are sent home. They have computers. They will realize their mistake and he will be released. Everything will be okay. I bet I’ll get a call any minute! So after haphazardly scouring Salt Lake City for a building I had no address, phone number, or name for, I went home to sit by the phone. Night came and no call... and no husband. 

I called my husband’s family in California to let them know what had happened. Instead of sympathy and encouragement, they yelled at me and accused me of causing it somehow. They said, “You are a citizen! FIX THIS!” But how? I had no clue where to begin.

I had no idea who had taken my husband, where he was being held, or for what reason. The next morning I looked through some of my husband’s papers and called some of his friends who were in the country illegally in hopes that they would know where the immigration office was. Thankfully they did. 

It was a grey innocuous building, hidden from the street. The entrance was in the back, out of view near the dumpsters with a small nondescript sign. Once inside there were armed guards, metal detectors and what reminded me of a dirty DMV with scores of people of different nationalities sitting, waiting anxiously for their turn to speak to an official behind the glass. I took a number and sat down. I had to wait a few hours before I got my turn.

“Excuse me, there’s been a mistake. You picked up my husband yesterday by mistake. He is here legally, here are his documents. Please release him.” They type some information into the computer. They walk behind a wall, return, more typing into the computer.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. He is not here. He has been transferred to Weber County Correctional. NEXT!!”

“Wait. Transferred to Weber County?! But we live in Salt Lake County. Why would you do that?”

“I do not know, ma’am. NEXT!!!”

“WAIT! He is here LEGALLY. He is married to a CITIZEN. I HAVE HIS PAPERS RIGHT HERE!!!”

“I cannot help you, ma’am. If you do not leave I will have you removed.” A quick glance over at the armed guards by the door and I realize I will get no help here. My heart sinks to the very pit of my stomach. Why have they taken my husband? He hasn’t done anything wrong!

I called my mother sobbing. She suggested calling an immigration lawyer. I’d never hired a lawyer and so I Googled one online that offered free consultations. I found one near the Ogden Correctional Facility where my husband was being held that advertised experience in immigration cases. When I went in to speak to the lawyer he said he had connections on the inside with immigration officials and could find out why my husband was being held and what his charges were, but I would have to pay $3000 for his services. Did I really have a choice? And where would I come up with that kind of money? I had to swallow my pride and ask my mom for the money and she transferred it the next day.

The following day the lawyer calls me into his office.

“Your husband is being held for outstanding warrants for crimes he has committed and will be deported. There is nothing I can do.” I was confused.

“No, there is some mistake. My husband doesn’t have any warrants. He hasn’t committed any crimes.”

“I’m sorry. I spoke to the immigration officials myself, it’s there in black and white. He probably had secrets he never told you about.” I’d known my husband for almost 8 years (at that point), right out of high school, so if he had committed crimes or had warrants I would have known about it. Or would I? No. I knew the lawyer was wrong, but I was ushered out of his office anyway. So, now I was without a lawyer, $3000 in debt, and no closer to getting my husband back.

I visited him in jail as often as I could. The drive from West Valley City was long and I was trying to keep life as normal as possible for my baby and young son. Bills were piling up and I could not afford the mortgage without my husband.

One day, my husband was no longer at the Ogden jail. Transferred again with no warning. This time it was to an ICE detention facility in Arizona, but I would not know that for 4 agonizing months. That’s because he was not told of the transfer, and once he had arrived, was not permitted phone calls. He was held in horrible, animal-like conditions, treated like he was refuse, less than human, by employees of our American government. And I, as his U.S. Citizen wife, was given no information as to his whereabouts, or if he was even alive, for months.

I cannot explain to you the mental anguish, the heartbreak, the financial struggle of a single mother trying to keep the heat on in the house, and smile on her face for her children’s sake, while trying to locate her missing spouse. I was alone in Utah with no family, and now, no husband. It just couldn’t get any worse.

My husband finally got access to a good immigration lawyer in Arizona through the recommendation of another detainee. We had to sell our car to pay for her legal services but she got him out of the detention facility before he was deported. I couldn’t afford our bills for the 9 months he was unjustly held, so we ended up foreclosing on our house soon after he returned home to us.

The immigration court system does not follow the same judicial system that American courts do. There is no speedy trial. There is no due process. It is not even under jurisdiction of the Justice Department. It falls under the Executive Branch. Yup, that’s right. The same branch as the President. With quotas and backlogs, it’s not uncommon for your complicated immigration case to be decided in 7 minutes by an overworked judge in certain parts of the country.

My husband’s case turned into a several year ordeal, with thousands of dollars being spent on lawyers and trips to California for immigration court because we felt the court and lawyers out there would be less racist compared to Utah. It turned out my husband had been confused with a person who had his same name, but who had a criminal record. The worst part is, if I had showed up to the immigration office with his documents on the day he was picked up, everything would have been cleared up and he would have been released to me. To this day, his family thinks I didn’t show up on purpose, and I think a tiny piece of him believes that too.

All I know is that ICE took my husband with no cause for 9 months, transported him to an undisclosed location, held him inside a chain-link holding cell, without due process, and without access to phone calls. As a U.S. Citizen I can not forgive my country for what it does within its borders to innocent people.

Where will it end? Don’t say it’s not your problem because it won’t happen to you. The children at the border, the asylum seekers trying to enter. Everyone deserves basic human rights. 

Don’t take rights away from those most vulnerable because that is a slippery slope to having those rights being taken away from you.

Benjamin Franklin once said: "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety." I choose Liberty.

[oblio-k]

hh just realized i forgot to post this here lmao. anyways here’s a fic about my AU where Ziyal has an older bajoran half brother named Linaan who loves & supports her even though he’s terrified of her friends because she deserves a blood relative that truly cares about her and can be there for her when Kira can’t. past Dukat/Tora Naprem & Naprem/female OC

After All This Time

Ziyal could remember her mother quite clearly. Her memory wasn’t as great as the average Cardassian, but she remembered people very well. Her mother was tall, with a fire in her deep brown eyes. She was warm, much warmer than her father, and Ziyal recalled her jokingly referring to herself as a living heat pack on more than one occasion. She was kind, but passionate, and made sure to teach Ziyal all about Bajor, alongside her Cardassian studies. Sometimes, she would look sad, but always cheered up after focusing on her.

Sighing, Ziyal stared down at the cup of tea in her hands. She missed her mother. Although she’d had many years to get over it, it was still difficult, at times. To go from always being with her mother in safety and comfort, to watching the life drain from her and being dragged off to work in the Breen mines.

The station was lonely. Sure, she had Nerys, which she was very thankful for, and she was developing some sort of friendship with Garak, but other than those two, she didn’t have anyone she was close to. Her father wasn’t on the station, so there wasn’t anyone she felt like she could call family. Eventually, she hoped, she would be permitted to be Nerys’ family, but that would take time.

Her depressed mood continued, much to her dismay. Garak was busy in his shop, and Nerys had to cancel their springball practice due to some kind of minor station emergency. Something about security, and Nerys had sounded guilty about missing another opportunity to spend time together. Ziyal couldn’t help but feel miserable. Painting would clear her up, no doubt, but her quarters were so far, and she hadn’t touched her cup of tea...

She took a sip from it, frowning when she realized it had started to go cold. There was no use in forcing herself to drink it. It would just make her feel worse. Returning it to the replicator took barely any time at all. For once, the replimat was sparse. A Bajoran couple sat at a table far away from her, and a few Starfleet officers were catching a break at various tables. One of the shopkeepers was typing on a padd, a mug next to them.

Sitting back at her table, she lifted up her sketchbook and decided to try drawing something to distract her mind.

When she ended up with a sketch of her mother’s face, she sighed again and closed the book.

“Excuse me, miss, but are you Tora Ziyal?”

Ziyal looked up to see a Bajoran man standing a few feet away from her. Something about him seemed familiar, though she was sure she had never seen him before. He looked nervous, fiddling with his earring.

“Yes. How are you?”

“Good. May I sit here?” He gestured to the seat opposite of hers. A bit nervous herself, she nodded. He sat, and stared at her. “Hm, you really do look like her.”

Like who? “You look familiar, yourself. May I ask your name?”

“Oh, we’ve never met.” He lowered his hand. “My name is Tora Linaan. I... I suppose I’m your half brother.”

“My half brother?” she echoed, surprised.

“Through our mother, Tora Naprem. When I heard you were- well, that you existed, I had to come see for myself. You have her nose ridges, so I suppose the rumors are true.”

“You have her nose ridges too. And her family symbol.” She was suspicious. Surgical alteration was very simple, and it was easy enough to get a fake earring.

“Yeah. You don’t wear an d’ja pagh?”

“Ah, no... I don’t know much about the Bajoran religion. Major Kira has been trying to teach me.” It was the truth, and she hoped that by saying Nerys’ name, it would deter the man if he was a fake trying to hurt her in some way. “Mother didn’t teach me too much about it.”

“It was never very important to her, huh? My mum hated that about her. She’d tell me, ‘Linaan, your mother was a wonderful woman, but she was spiritually lacking. Don’t end up like that.’ I wish she’d gotten over that.” He looked down, sadness in his eyes. “After what she did for us...”

“Linaan?”

“Ah- sorry, I shouldn’t bring up bad things.” He smiled at her. “This is a blessed day, I’ve finally met my sister! I do hope you’ll accept me as family. You’re all I have left. It’s... It’s been very lonely on Bajor, since my mum died.”

He sounded so sincere, maybe he was telling the truth after all. Could that be why her mother sometimes looked so sad, remembering a son and wife she’d left behind on Bajor for a new, Cardassian family?

“I would love to continue talking to you, Linaan.”

“Great! Would you like me to go get some tea? I have so many questions for you, and I imagine you’ll have plenty for me.”

“No, I’m alright.”

-

Linaan seemed to get over his nervousness after telling her a few things about himself. He was twenty-eight years old, a research assistant in a university, and spent most of his time organizing things for the professors and scientists there. He lived by himself in a small house in Ashalla, and wasn’t on very good terms with his neighbors for reasons he chose not to elaborate on.

“Mother never mentioned living in Ashalla.”

“Oh, no, Mother never lived with us.”

“She didn’t?”

“Mother called me an unexpected blessing from the prophets. She stayed in her home province, but visited us often. Occasionally, we would visit her.”

“She said the same thing about me.”

Linaan tilted his head. “Oh, you don’t believe me, do you?”

“Well-”

He chuckled. “I suspected you wouldn’t. If you’d like, we can go to the infirmary and run a genetic test.”

Once again, she was surprised. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. I want you to see me as family. Then we can really talk, instead of you listening to me rambling on about my life.”

-

Doctor Bashir had a moment of free time, and was happy to run the test for them. Linaan didn’t look worried at all, and Ziyal started to wonder if he really was telling the truth. It would be nice to have a relative living on Bajor. He seemed to really want to connect with her. Perhaps he could visit often, or call her whenever he wasn’t too busy at the university, if he was being honest.

As the computer ran through its scan, she began to feel hopeful. This could be the solution to her loneliness. Maybe the station wouldn’t feel so isolating anymore, with a family member just a few hours, a video call away.

“Results ready,” the computer announced.

“It’s a match,” Doctor Bashir said, shocked, looking at the screen. “You’re really half siblings.”

Linaan gave her a wide, tilted grin, just like their mother’s, and she beamed back. He put an arm around her shoulders. “We have a lot of catching up to do, Ziyal! Should we go back to the replimat? I’m afraid I don’t know the station at all.”

“I know a quiet place in one of the pylons we could talk.” She bid Doctor Bashir a quick thanks and goodbye, and then started walking. Linaan followed her. “Oh, then I want to introduce you to Major Kira! She’s the one who brought me here, and has been looking after me.”

“Do you have many friends on board?”

“Not really... Most people only see me as Cardassian, or avoid me once they know who my father is.”

“I was very surprised when I found out Mother had promised herself to him. But I figured that she probably raised you mostly by herself, so you would be a nice person.”

“We lived on the station during the Occupation, in my father’s quarters.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Was your father good to you?”

“He was, and is. He loves me very much.”

“That’s good. So, do you have any friends at all? Besides Major Kira. If you don’t, I’ll help you find some friends at the university. One of my coworkers is a hybrid, like you. I could introduce you to her.”

Kira had suggested finding friends for her, but Ziyal didn’t want people to feel obligated to befriend her. “No, it’s alright. The senior staff is very kind to me, and I’m friends with the tailor on board. He and I eat lunch together with Doctor Bashir and sometimes go to the holosuite.”

“A tailor? Did he make this dress for you?”

She nodded. “Do you have many friends?”

“Oh, um... Not nearly, actually. Not after... Well, my reputation took a bit of a down turn recently, and I had to cut a lot of people from my personal life. The hybrid I mentioned, though, we’ve become good friends.”

“Did something happen?”

“Well...” He looked a bit guilty. “I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Mother, and when it got out that you existed, uh... Everyone around me called Mother a collaborator, and shunned me for defending her. I’ve always been kind to Teya, as well, and any of the war orphans I saw, so they called me a Cardassian sympathizer.”

“Oh.”

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. Well, I don’t like them saying bad things about our mother, but I still have my job, and the professors can’t find fault with my work. Enough about me. What do you do on the station?”

“I’m an artist. I do paintings.”

“That’s amazing! I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

“That’s what Nerys says. Major Kira.” She couldn’t wait to introduce them. “You guys have something in common already, I’m sure she’ll like you.”

“Perhaps I could meet your tailor friend too. I could use a new shirt.”

-

They sat down by a viewport and talked for what had to be hours, exchanging stories. Linaan was uncomfortable talking about his time in various work camps, and Ziyal avoided too much discussion about her time in the Breen mine. She didn’t even talk about that with her father, and she had a feeling they both shared the desire to forget their time in those places.

Linaan told her how her mother had been transferred to Terok Nor after they were all captured for the work camp while visiting her, how after a while they began receiving better rations than the other workers. “They wanted to take Mum, but Mother begged the soldiers to take her instead. She told me she was doing it to protect us, had heard that the Bajoran women who cooperated got special treatment for their family.”

“Nerys told me about that, too.”

“We worried about her. Mum thought it was a stupid idea, because they weren’t married, and it wasn’t actually on the records at the time that I was Mother’s son. I had to go register myself after the Occupation ended. All I had to prove it was my d’ja pagh.”

“I wonder why Mother never told me about you...”

“How would have you felt if you’d known, then?”

“Guilty, I suppose.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted to upset you. And don’t feel that way now. I don’t blame you for her never coming back. I’m glad that we have each other now.”

“Do you think she ever told my father about you?”

Linaan shrugged. “She did whatever she could to protect us. I suppose you could ask your father, but, ah...”

“What is it?”

“Well, if you choose to ask him, please ask over video. I don’t want to be introduced to him in person.” She could understand that. “I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that Mother sired a child with the Prefect, of all people.”

She smiled. “But the Cardassian part you got over?”

“Mostly. I’m still wrapping my head around that. Cardassians never seemed the type to like submitting to Bajorans.”

“My father has different tastes than most Cardassians.” And it got him in so much trouble. She sighed when she thought about how much effort he put into trying to charm Nerys and Captain Sisko. “It’s embarrassing, really.”

“How many siblings do you have, again? Six?”

“Seven.”

“Are you sure?”

She buried her face in her hands. The thought had admittedly occurred to her many times. When she’d been introduced to her father’s family, his wife had asked if Ziyal was the only one. She couldn’t be sure it was true when he had promised that Ziyal was the only child outside of their marriage he’d had. Sure, she believed she was the only one he’d carried himself, but had he fathered any others? “I don’t know,” she quietly bemoaned.

Linaan patted her shoulder in comfort. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Sighing, she uncovered her face and said, “At least out of eight half siblings, I have one that didn’t hate me on sight.”

“And I’m glad to have one of one half siblings that gave me a chance to prove myself as real. Shall we go find Major Kira? I’m getting hungry, we could invite her to lunch. Or dinner. What time is it?”

-

They found Nerys near the security office. She was frowning at a padd, no doubt some criminal activity report she’d picked up from Odo. Ziyal took Linaan’s wrist in her hand and waved to her. “Nerys!”

“Ziyal.” She eyed Linaan warily. “Who is this?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Major Kira. My name is Tora Linaan.”

“Tora?”

“This is my older brother. We have the same mother.” Nerys looked suspicious. “Doctor Bashir confirmed it earlier.”

“How long have you been on the station?”

“Since 1100. Ziyal has told me much about you. Thank you for looking out for her all this time, and being such a good friend.”

“I’m just doing what’s right. Where do you live?”

Ah, her brother was being interrogated. She supposed she should have expected it. At least Linaan didn’t seem to mind her wariness. “Ashalla. I work at the university. Would you like to come eat with us? I can answer all the questions you like over dinner.”

“Sure. Ziyal, do you mind if I ask Odo to come with us?”

Goodness, it really would be an interrogation. She nodded anyways.

-

“So, you’ve never met Gul Dukat?”

“No. I wasn’t even aware our mother had met him until last week. Ziyal is going to ask him if he knew about me. I’m rather curious as to whether or not Mother mentioned my mum and I to him.”

Odo huffed. “I imagine he’ll drop by for a visit to make sure you’re really Ziyal’s brother, regardless of the answer.”

“I’ll mentally prepare for an interrogation.”

Nerys poked at her hasperat. “You keep mentioning that you have two mothers. Was your mum your real sire or just adoptive?”

“Oh, no, Mum is my biological bearer. I look more like her than I do to Mother.”

“Wait- Naprem is your sire? But, Ziyal-”

“My father carried me.”

“What?”

“Cardassians don’t have the same reproductive system as Bajorans. Any Cardassian, provided they’re fertile, can bear children.” Linaan answered.

Ziyal nodded. “It’s more difficult for some than others to conceive and give birth naturally depending where they fall on the spectrum. Father is on the ‘male’ end, while I’m more on the ‘female’ end. Male being easier to sire, female being easier to bear.”

“Wait, Linaan, how did you know that? I didn’t even know that.”

“One of my coworkers is a hybrid. She mentioned it to me when we volunteered at the orphanage.”

“Odo, did you know that?”

“Certainly not.”

“You really didn’t know that? Ziyal, did you ever say anything?”

“I’ve mentioned where I fall on the spectrum to Doctor Bashir, but he already knew about it.”

Odo had had enough of discussing Cardassian biology and changed the subject. “Linaan, where were you during the Occupation, if your mother was on the station?”

“In work camps. None that got liberated, unfortunately. I was working until the day the Cardassians withdrew.” He prodded at his food. “Well, I’d rather like to forget what the camps were like. Major, Ziyal told me you and her play springball together? Perhaps I could watch, one day.”

“I told you, I’m not very good at it.”

“Springball takes practice, Ziyal.”

-

“Garak!” Ziyal spotted Garak the next day, and pulled Linaan over to him. “Garak, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

He turned when he heard her voice, and gave the two of them a polite smile. “Ziyal. How are you this morning?”

“I’m doing well! I’d like you to meet my older brother, Tora Linaan! Linaan, this is my friend, the tailor.”

“Oh, you didn’t mention he was Cardassian.”

“That isn’t a problem, is it, my dear boy?”

“No, I just... Have had a lot of Cardassian surprises this week. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Garak.”

“Please, just Garak.”

“Garak. I’d like to thank you for looking out for my sister. She speaks very fondly of you.”

Ziyal noticed something. “You don’t look very surprised.”

“I admit, my dear, that Doctor Bashir told me the news yesterday. No doubt the Major interrogated you all night, so I’ll spare you the same treatment.”

“Did you do a background check on him?”

He raised a hand to his chest in mock offense. “My dear, I would never break into someone’s personal records! That’s quite illegal.”

“Yes, but you did it anyways, didn’t you?”

“Oh, it’s alright, Ziyal,” Linaan assured. “I’ve had my records picked apart by the university, having them checked by your friends doesn’t make any difference. I’m glad they care so much about you to do that.”

“I’m sure your records prove that you’re a good person.” He looked away, nervous again. She frowned. “Linaan?”

“Ah, well, I don’t have a criminal record or anything, it’s just... You know how I said it wasn’t on the records that I was Mother’s son?”

“Yes.”

“There aren’t actually... any records of me before I walked into a government building and asked to be registered. Legally, I didn’t exist until after the Occupation. Any record of my existence in the work camps was erased during the Cardassian withdrawal.” He reached up to fiddle with his earring. “It’s pretty suspicious, really.”

Garak nodded. “If it wasn’t for Doctor Bashir’s genetic test, you would have no real evidence of being Tora Naprem’s son. Ziyal, I imagine your father won’t take that well.”

-

“Father, no!” Ziyal was impressed at how well Linaan was handling being accused of being a fake while being slammed against a wall. “Linaan isn’t lying!”

“Naprem would never have kept a child hidden from me!”

“She did- My bearer and I received extra rations, she must have lied about who we were. Did she ever ask you to help a woman named Aako Ceri?”

Her father paused to think. “She asked to give better rations to her friend Aako and her family.”

“Mum hated her, because she didn’t have faith in the Prophets. They couldn’t tell anyone about me, because Mother was from such a low d’jarra.” Linaan gasped for breath. “Why would I lie about this?”

“To hurt my daughter in order to get revenge against me, the head of the Occupation.”

Linaan looked over at Ziyal, and she couldn’t believe he was taking the time to acknowledge that that was a good point. “Linaan... Really?”

“I told you my record was suspicious, sister.”

“Don’t agree with him!” Goodness, it was like he was trying to get himself strangled.

“Well, you have to admit that it’s a good plan.” Linaan frowned at her. “You really were too trusting of me when I approached you. I’m worried, now.”

“Stop talking to my daughter!”

Ziyal grabbed her father’s arm and tried to tug him away. “Father, please! Doctor Bashir did a genetic test- he’s really my half-brother!”

“That was a Federation test, sister, why should he believe it?”

“You’re not helping, Linaan!” she scolded. To her father she suggested, “Why don’t we go onto your ship and perform a test there?”

Scowling, her father reluctantly agreed. Linaan gasped for breath when he was released, and winced as her father grabbed his arms and pushed him forward. “Let’s go.”

-

“This can’t be real!”

While her father had some sort of crisis at the positive match the computer was displaying, Ziyal found a dermal regenerator and brought it over to Linaan to heal the bruises that were beginning to form on his arms and neck. Bajorans had sensitive skin like humans, so his skin was already turning all sorts of different shades.

The bruises faded with a few swipes of the regenerator, and Linaan rubbed the spots they’d been. “Thank you, Ziyal.” He gave her a small smile, and squeezed her hand. Then he looked past her at her father. “I’m willing to answer any questions you may have, sir. If you’re still worried, you can check my answers with Major Kira and Constable Odo. They questioned me as well.”

“Why wouldn’t Naprem tell me about you?”

“Mother always wanted to protect us. I’m certain she believed that keeping my mum and I a secret from you was for our own good.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you. She should have known that, after I promised to protect our daughter.”

Ziyal decided not to bring up the fact that he had intended to kill her when he found her in the Breen mine. Now wasn’t a good time for her to say anything.

“I don’t really know, sir. Whatever her reasoning, I know she never meant to hurt you or Ziyal. Tora Naprem wasn’t that kind of person.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

[mysweetestcreature]

Wish Upon A Star (StepBro!Harry) Part VI

Part V

***

Present Day: Six Years Later

“Look, I don’t care what Clintworth wants, the budget is the budget. So, you can tell him that it just can’t be done,” she slams the handset back on the base. She leans over to prop her elbows on the surface of the desk and brings her fingers up to soothe her temples. It’s April, and the marketing department has already hired their quota of new strategists for the season. However, the bloody head insists on taking in more than their budget permits. “Stubborn Americans,” she grumbles to herself.

After graduation, Y/n had been offered a job at one of the fastest rising corporations in New York. In just eighteen months, she managed to rise in the ranks to executive accountant. It’s a true testament to how much one can achieve with grueling nights of overtime and coffee running through the bloodstream.  

With a loud sigh, Y/n grabs her purse and coat, and pushes out the doors of her office, “I’m going out to lunch. If I have any messages, write it down and put it on my desk, yeah?” she calls to her assistant as she heads straight for the elevator. “Thanks, Miguel,” she winks. 

The weather is beginning to shift to higher temperatures after having suffered through a ghastly winter. She enjoys the moments when she’s able to walk through her city rather than having to hail for a cab. It’s true what they had told her before, the energy here is an incomparable force, and to think she almost ran away from it all. Truth be told, she hasn’t been home in over three years. There’s nothing there for her anymore, all that she could ever want is all right here. 

The money she’s making at work is decent enough that she’s able to afford a nice apartment on the Upper West Side. From her bedroom window, is a nice view of the Hudson. The thought that at twenty-four, she’s able to live such a lifestyle, still baffles her. Although, she has gotten accustomed to the nightlife that surrounds the area, it’s rather enjoyable. 

On special occasion, like when she’s sick of reading through all the financial reports that seem to pile high on her desk every day, she’ll call up either Anne or Eric for a few minute’s chat. They’d recently sold the house in Holmes Chapel and are now living in Camden. The decision was brought about when Eric was promoted to lead the London office, and he just couldn’t refuse such an offer. 

Her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket and she smiles when she sees who it is. “Hey there,” she flirtatiously greets.

“Someone’s running a bit late,” the person on the other end says. She giggles into the phone as she rounds the corner of 51st.   

“I’m walking into the restaurant as we speak. I can even see you right now!” she hangs up her phone and strolls over to the man dressed in the fitted navy-blue suit. He smirks when he sees her approaching and opens his arms out for her to enter. The man kisses her on the cheek before pulling out the chair for her to sit in.

“I see you decided to walk here,” he teases. “How’s work?” he asks while he glances over the menu.

She places the folded napkin in her lap and does the same. “Nothing out of the ordinary, it would just bore you,” she shrugs off. 

“Dollface,” he reaches for her hand across the table, “you could never bore me.” She looks up from reading the mouthwatering description of the taglierini to smile at him. 

“If you’re that curious, I’ve practically been breathing down marketing’s necks,” she says lightly.

He chuckles and kisses her knuckles, “It’s what you’re best at.” She playfully shoves at him before pulling her hand away.

“I resent that, William!” he lifts his hands up in mock surrender.

They had met during her last year at NYU. He was in one of the major business-exclusive fraternities and had bumped into her at one of their parties. At first, she didn’t think anything of him, but he was persistent and pursued her. It took about three months before she accepted to go on a date with him. One night out turned into frequent evenings spent walking through Central Park, and the rest is history. 

***

He tilts his head up and studies the way the wall is being painted. As he takes a closer look, he notices the air bubbles forming just above the arch. “Repaint this part when you get the chance, will you, Tony?” he orders. He waits for Tony to give him a salute before continuing to supervise the rest of the crew.

This is Harry’s biggest project to date. A social networking company based in America had acquired him to design the plans for their new London branch. They’ve made quite the wave in the recent years, and Harry was honored to take on such a job. 

Upon completion of his education, he’d been contracted by his place of internship to be a full-time architect. Harry has quickly become one of the most requested, and soon he’ll be eyeing a position as a partner. While he may be a bit young for that, if this project goes off without a hitch, he’s guaranteed for early consideration. 

His mum says he works too much and complains that he never visits them enough. He tries to see them at least twice a month, but it seems like he’s always got stuff to do, or so he tells them. Anne’s tried to set him up on dates with daughters of friends she’s made. None of them are of major interest to him. Relationships in general aren’t of any interest. 

Some would say he’s married to his job, and they’re probably right. Even while at university, Harry had poured his all into his school work. He considered everything around him to be a distraction, and he would only make time for social activity once he was sure to be at least two weeks ahead of deadlines. 

***

Age 20:

It’s a Friday night, and everyone in the dorms is out drinking, or partying, or both. Harry has his headphones on to cancel out the noise while he focuses on completing a blueprint which isn’t due for another week. His professor has been quite impressed with him, and he’s even offering him a student internship at his firm. 

Harry pretends that he doesn’t see his door open, and he chooses to ignore the blonde that waltzes over to him. He sighs when she takes off his headphones and insists on sitting in his lap.

“Where’ve you been all week?” she questions, as she attempts to discreetly shove her breasts in his face. “I’ve missed you,” she huskily whispers in his ear. He can’t help the way his eyes roll in annoyance. He had shagged her a few days ago while under the influence of some concoction one of his mates had given him. She had been giving him suggestive looks all night, before he thought ‘fuck it’ and let her take him back to her room.

Although, he thought he’d seen the last of her when he’d left once she’d fallen asleep. The one-night stands had become his thing, and they were to remain just that. So, as this girl—whose name he can’t for the life of him remember—is disturbing him from his assignment, well, it just won’t do. 

“Look…Tessa, I had a great time the other night, really I did, but I’m not exactly looking for anything more right now,” he says and does his best to politely shove her the fuck off him. 

“Excuse me? It’s Monica, you dick!” she responds, looking fully offended. He throws her an unconcerned look, and she storms out of the room. 

He sits back in his chair and breathes out in relief.

***

Present Day:

When she finally gets home, she opens up a bottle of wine and pours a glass for her and William. He’s making her dinner tonight, having left work early. For the last month or two, he’s been hinting at wanting to move in. She first noticed when he asked her if she wanted him to make space in his closet for her clothes. It’s a sweet gesture, but Y/n doesn’t know if she’s ready for that kind of commitment, or if she’ll ever be ready to take that next step.

“I’ve got some exciting news for you,” he calls to her from his place in front of the stove. 

She takes a sip from her wine, “Do tell.”

William stirs the vegetables around in the saucepan and puts the heat on low. “I’ve got business matters to attend to in London, so I have to fly out there in a few weeks. Since you’re from there and all, I was hoping that you’d want to come with me?” he grins at her. 

“First of all, I’m from Manchester,” she pokes him in the side, “and…I don’t know, Will. I’ve got work and you know they can’t function without me.”

He dismisses her with a wave of his hand, “I told you, you should just come work for me. I can pay you double than what they’re paying you now.” Her cheeks suck inwards, not this conversation again. Not wanting to ruin the mood, she brushes it off. “I can finally meet your parents. You said they live around the area, right?”

“Yeah, but my dad-”

“Great! I’ll book our flight after dinner,” he cuts her off and goes back to his cooking. Y/n leans back against the counter, in distress. 

***

“You’re really coming here? To London?” Carrie’s voice booms through the phone. After their meal, Y/n had faked drowsiness in order to get William to leave. She submerged herself in a hot bath before calling up her friend.

“Apparently. The new branch is about to open up and he wants me to come along,” she mutters.

“Well it can’t be that dreadful.” 

A sarcastic laugh echoes through the bathroom, “Trust me, it can. He wants to meet my parents.”

The line is silent for a moment, “Is that a bad thing? I mean you’ve been with the guy for, what? Two, three years?”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for him to meet everyone,” Her leg splashes out of the water, and she watches the suds flow down her skin. 

“And by everyone, you mean him, don’t you?” Her heart drops at the mention of him.

“Of course not, it’s been six years…” she sighs. And in those six years, she hasn’t spoken to him once. She hadn’t come home for Christmas break that first year, and he’d been gone for the entire summer holiday. He has an Instagram, but rarely ever uses it, so she’s pretty much in the dark in everything concerning him. Although, the few pictures he has from a few years ago—wow. If she thought he was gorgeous before, it’s rather frustrating how he’s just…unreal. 

“Then get your arse back here! If you’re really over him, it won’t be a problem, yeah?”

Her body further immerses itself into the bath. From what her mum had told her over the phone, he rarely sees them anymore. Too busy with his job and whatnot. She thinks carefully about this, what are the odds that they’ll even see each other? London is such a big city, it can’t be that hard to avoid someone. 

***

Harry is lying face down on the bed when his phone rings. He reads the caller ID and immediately picks up. “Yes, Mr. Schwartz,” he answers, the naked body next to him slings an arm over his back. He carefully picks it off before pulling the covers off. “I’ve got my people doing the finishing touches.” The voice on the other line continues to babble on, and quite pretentiously at that. 

“Ok, I’ll be sure to contact the decorator to follow-up on the tables.” His head falls back, and he covers his eyes with his palm. “I’ll be there, see you,” he hangs up his phone. The project, while he’s incredibly thankful for it, has him working with some of the snobbiest people he’s ever had the displeasure of working with—that’s from having only talked to them over phone. Just the way this man talks makes his skin crawl. He thinks they feel entitled, calling him at inconvenient hours because they seem to forget about the five-hour time lapse. 

He gets back into bed and allows the woman he picked up at the bar to straddle his waist. Her lips fall onto his in a sloppy kiss. She starts her trail from his neck and down his body until her lips wrap around his semi-hard member. He sucks in a breath and keeps his eyes shut because that way, he can pretend it’s her. 

***

Y/n is panicking, actually scratch that, she’s gone into a full mode frenzy. She’s been pacing around her office for god knows how long, trying to pull herself together. Miguel is watching her with concerned eyes from where he sits on the couch tucked in the corner of the room. 

“This is insane! I’m a grown-ass woman and bringing her boyfriend to meet her parents shouldn’t be such a nerve-biting thing, right? Right?” she nearly yells at him for confirmation.

“Honey, you’re making me dizzy. You need to sit down,” he motions for her to lie on the cushions. When she does, she lays her feet in his lap for him to massage.  

“I just don’t know what to do. I haven’t seen my parents in-”

“Three years, I know.”

“And I haven’t seen him since-”

“He left you in that closet.” She glares at him. “What? Not my fault you spill tea whenever you’re drunk.” 

Miguel has been her assistant since she’s taken the position as executive accountant. He probably knows more about her than any employee should ever know about his boss. He quite enjoys it though, he finds her life to be so exciting and dramatic. 

“What am I going to do? I can’t handle this! It’ll be nearly impossible!” she groans, nearly pulling out her own hair. She hasn’t even forgiven her parents for ruining her last relationship, and now she’s expected to introduce them to her newest? “Give me advice,” she whines to Miguel. 

He lets out a huff, “Like you said, you’re a grown-ass woman. Everything that happened to you before should remain in the past. That includes your,” he pauses and bites his lower lip, “extremely fine stepbrother.” 

***

Age 14:

Harry is at some stupid sports camp, and Y/n has become extremely restless at home. It’s only been three days since he’s left, and he’s not scheduled back for another four. She already misses him like crazy. Who would have thought that she’d be searching for his incessant pestering and corny jokes that only she seems to find funny? Her mum has suggested calling him up, but she can’t do that! If Harry were to find out that she misses him, he’d never stop teasing her about it. 

“Sweetheart, just call him. I think he’d really appreciate it if you did,” Anne nudges her towards the phone. Y/n crinkles her nose in thought and squints at it, as if touching it would burn the flesh off her hand. “Oh, for goodness sake,” Anne mutters and before Y/n can do anything, Anne’s already dialed the number and is waiting for someone to pick up.

“Yes, this is Anne Y/L/N, Harry Styles’ mother. If it isn’t an inconvenience, I’d like to speak to him,” she smirks at Y/n. Anne’s eyes are suddenly widening and she literally shoves the phone to Y/n’s ear.

“Hello?” Y/n gasps when she hears Harry’s voice. She looks to her mum, but the sly woman has already made a sneaky escape. 

“Hi, Harry,” she shyly replies. Curse her mum for putting her in this situation.

“Y/n! Hey! How are you? Wow, didn’t realize how much I missed you until I heard your voice.” Y/n can feel her face flush and she bites her lips together to prevent the huge grin threatening to form. “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she pauses. “I miss you too, like a lot. Hurry home, ok?”

“I’ll try my best, anything for my favorite girl.” She slides down the wall and suppresses her squeals with her knees.

***

Her reflection seems to be of someone she doesn’t recognize, it’s the first thing she notices when she takes a good look at herself in the hotel bathroom mirror. The person in front of her lacks the confidence that she normally radiates. There’s this pang in her chest that hasn’t left her since landing this morning. And no matter how many times she tells herself to relax, she feels like she’s sinking further into the feeling. 

Being in this city makes her anxious. All the broken promises that should have been glare at her wherever she turns. They had passed her would have been university in the car here. Y/n quickly wiped the single tear that fell down her cheek before William could notice. She wonders where she would be if they hadn’t gotten caught but forces the thoughts out of her mind. What’s over is over. 

Her and William are meant to meet her parents for lunch in a bit. She’s peeved at the part of herself that’s hoping that he’ll be there. “Of course, he won’t be there. He’s probably busy or something,” she points at her mirrored image, “You. Calm yourself down, Y/n.” When she recognizes how ridiculous she’s being, her lips flap to mimic a motorboat engine.  

***

Eric and Anne anxiously await their daughter at the restaurant. He’s eaten half the bread in the basket as he anxiously eyes the entrance. It’s hard to believe that it’s been this long since he’s last seen her. They’re not as close anymore, haven’t been since he’d forced her to leave. When they talk on the phone, it’s a simple ‘hi, hello’ before she’s hanging up to attend to her duties. 

“Honestly, Eric. I know you’re nervous, but please try to contain yourself,” Anne scolds him. She’s only slightly more put together than he is. 

Her husband taps his fingers impatiently on the table, “I can’t help it. Surprised she even told us she’d be here. I haven’t had a fully decent conversation with her since...” he shakes his head, not wanting to remember.

“See! There she is now,” the pair of them rise once they spot her walking towards them in some of the highest heels she’s ever seen.

“There she is!” Eric slowly wraps his arms around her.

“Hi, Dad,” she hugs him back awkwardly, then turns to greet Anne. “Hi, Mum.” 

“You look amazing! My goodness, New York has been good to you, hasn’t it?” her mother has her twirl in front of her. A blush creeps onto her cheeks, but an almost obnoxious cough has her turning back to William.

“Um…Mum, Dad, this is William,” she angles herself to reveal the man standing behind her. “My…boyfriend.” 

The older two give each other weary looks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, William,” Anne is the first to speak. Eric eyes the man from head to toe. There’s something about him, he can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but he’s not sure if he likes it. However, he does extend his hand when he feels Y/n burning holes through his skull. 

“Let’s sit down, yeah? I’m starving!” Y/n tries to progress. She basks in the time that everyone takes to gloss over the menu, the less talking, the better. 

***

“So, tell me, Anne, what was this one like as a child?” William asks. “Y/n rarely talks about her life before NYU.”

Anne wipes her mouth her napkin and adjusts her posture, “She was the sweetest little girl! Always wanting to help me around the house and help me cook because the men were completely useless.” She sends her daughter a knowing smile.

“Hey, Harry and I did our best to keep up with you two!” Eric defends with a chuckle. Y/n watches as confusion adorns over William’s face.

“Harry? Who’s Harry?”

Her parents give her that look, and she crinkles her nose at the sight. She may have failed to tell him that she has a brother, but for a good enough reason. When she met William, the only thing she had mentioned was that she was from Holmes Chapel, that’s it. He, of course, asked about her parents, of which she obviously did mention. 

“Harry is our son,” Anne says as a matter of factly, “Y/n’s brother.” 

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother?” he eyes her disbelievingly. Y/n takes a long sip of water, hoping to buy time to think of an excuse. 

“Sure, I did!” she slowly places the glass down. “I mentioned him briefly once or twice.” She bites the inside of her cheek and hopes he’ll buy it. And thank god he does. 

***

Everything looks perfect. Harry had walked through all twenty-five floors of the building to make sure that the setup met his standards. And now, he watches as the people who will be using this space mingle amongst each other. His clients had invited him for the grand opening celebration. As much as he would rather avoid any big social gatherings, there is a lot riding on this, and he would like to meet the people he’s working for, in person. He’s asked around, and some people—he assumes are employees—tell him that the big boss is running a bit late. It’s a bit unprofessional, in his opinion. Harry grabs a fluke of champagne from a passing server and gulps it down in one go. 

That’s when he spots her from across the room. It’s like everything around him slows down. She’s just as beautiful as he remembers, if not, more. Her hair is curled just below her shoulders, and she looks so elegant in that satin dress she’s wearing. He thinks back to if he’s had too much to drink, when he realizes that the one he had just consumed is only his first. His eyes blink a few more times, but it’s not an illusion. She’s here, but why? All he wants to do is run right up to her and embrace her, kiss her. 

“Are you Mr. Styles?” he breaks contact with her figure when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to meet a man that’s a few inches shorter than him.

“I am, but please, call me Harry” he replies. 

The man gives him an over exaggerated smile, exhibiting his too-white teeth. “William Schwartz, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he shakes his hand. “You know, I must say, I’m rather impressed with what you’ve done here. I mean, I’m just blown away by all the detail. This place makes the New York office look like a garbage dump.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m sure that’s not true, but thank you for the compliment. My team and I have worked really hard.” 

“My girlfriend was just telling me how wonderful the place looks,” William peers behind him, “Y/n!” Harry is frozen in his spot. In his head, he’s praying that it’s not the same Y/n, his Y/n.

***

She graciously pardons herself from the conversation when she hears William call for her. He’s talking to someone, but his back is turned to her. Once she’s close enough, her heart stops.

“…Harry?” she can’t believe he’s here. He slowly pans his head until their eyes connect. Suddenly she’s a teenager again, the butterflies in her tummy acting out whenever he’s near and look at her with those eyes. All she can think about is the urge to touch him again. The pictures she had seen on his profile hadn’t given him any justice. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, and she sees fragments of tattoos over his chest. She remembers him telling that he wanted to get inked, but never expected this much. 

The world around them seems to fade away as they take a good look at one another. She’s so close, yet seemingly untouchable. There’s a spike in adrenaline coursing through his system as he watches her lip tuck beneath her teeth. It’s been so long.

William looks between the two of them, “Do you two know each other?”

Y/n hesitates at first, she’s still trying to figure out if the man in front of her is really there. “He’s my…” but it’s as though she can’t find the words. 

It’s him who breaks eye contact to look at William, then he clears his throat. “Her brother.” 

“Yes,” she narrows her eyes at him, “my brother.” 

“Oh,” William drags out, “so you’re the prodigal sibling that I’ve recently learned about.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her, “I guess that’s me.”

“What a coincidence, isn’t it, Dollface? What are the chances that your brother is my architect?” his arm fastens around her waist, and she can’t help but feel awkward in her place. She does her best to put on smile to shield the inner turmoil. “Well, I’ll let you guys catch up.” Her eyes remain wide open when he pecks her goodbye.

The pet name has Harry about ready to throw up. His fists clench in his pockets as he watches them interact. He can’t stop the twinge of jealousy that rushes through him when William kisses her. “So, Dollface.”

***

A/N: This is a major catch-up part since I’ve jumped over a lot of time. Feels like we’ve just started, but now we’re starting the countdown to the end??? I love you all ❤️Tell me your thoughts here!

[mintenochian]

Let’s Talk About Qrow Branwen.

Huntsman. Uncle. Twin. And a self-titled “bad luck charm.”

I have so many feels over Qrow fucking Branwen.

Qrow’s semblance, revealed in Volume 4, is “bad luck.” Here’s what the RWBY Wiki has to say.

“Qrow's Semblance brings misfortune wherever he goes, and unlike most Semblances, his is always active and uncontrollable. This leads to incidents as small as a glass being knocked onto the floor in "New Challengers" or as significant as a blocked attack chopping off the corner of a building in "Punished". His Semblance can come to his advantage in a fight, such when Tyrian Callows falls through an old roof. His Semblance does not discriminate on who it affects, which causes him to keep his distance from the people he cares about.”

Qrow freaking Branwen.

Can you even begin to imagine what kind of hell this man must live each day?

No, you really can’t. You really, really can’t.

You probably think, “Yeah, it would suck to have constant bad luck.”

Allow me to elaborate for you.

Imagine a young Qrow, perhaps part of a happy family, crying because his sister, Raven, tripped and hurt herself while they were playing. In the weeks following, Raven is more careful when she’s playing.

Imagine a slightly older Qrow, now in school, watching his close friends get into freak accidents and sustain random injuries. His friends are in the hospital or kept home, healing, more and more often.

Imagine tween Qrow, hearing that close family members are passing away suddenly and unexpectedly. His relatives don’t visit much, they’re all grieving.

Imagine teen Qrow, finding out that his first girlfriend was in an accident and is now on life support. When Qrow goes to visit, her life support shuts down and the doctors are too late.

Imagine 17-year-old Qrow, starting his life as a Hunter at Beacon. During the relic retrieval in the forest, he makes eye contact with Raven, just as a Grimm attacks. Qrow wheels Raven onto the stage in a wheelchair when Ozpin announces Team STRQ.

Imagine Qrow, now on Team STRQ, grow more and more reserved as his teammates experience troubling accidents and strange injuries. They ask Qrow what’s wrong. He says he’s fine. He starts wondering if he’s the one causing the accidents and injuries.

Imagine Qrow, doing research with Raven, having recently discovered their ability to transform into their respective bird namesake. Qrow learns that his bird form, a crow, is a symbol of bad luck. Something begins to grow in the back of his mind as the WiFI goes out and many students doing last minute homework are unable to finish. Instead of celebrating finding his supposed semblance, Qrow is lost in dark thought.

Imagine 20-year-old Qrow, graduated from Beacon, watching Taiyang and Raven date, and seeing the small accidents that endanger their relationship whenever he hangs out with them for too long. Qrow refuses to date. Summer wants to help her teammate. Qrow say’s everything’s fine. Depression begins to set in.

Imagine Qrow, beside Taiyang, each holding one of Raven’s hands as she goes into labor in the hospital. Nearly 18 hours later, Yang is born, and Raven is in a very dangerous condition. The doctors say they’ve never seen such a healthy pregnancy go so wrong at the very end. Qrow, with his new title of Uncle, excuses himself, and goes to the nearest bar.

Imagine Qrow, tears in his eyes, as Taiyang and Raven and Summer have the biggest fight in the history of Team STRQ’s fights. Yang plays with Qrow in the living room, calling him “Uncle.” The fight is broken up by Yang screaming in pain. Qrow doesn’t know how the TV fell, but the weight in his heart tells him that it was his fault. Raven and Taiyang make sure their daughter is alright while Summer tries to speak to Qrow as he makes an excuse to leave. He ends up at another bar. The bartender is starting to recognize him.

Imagine Qrow, hiding the scent of alcohol on his breath watching TV with Team STRQ and little Yang. He sits apart from them, and the weight in his heart grows when the news report. The local bar burned to the ground, most of the employees still inside. Qrow’s depression and want for a drink only grow.

Imagine Qrow, biting back tears as the fight from a few months ago comes to a front and ends with Raven walking out, Taiyang heartbroken, Summer in tears, and Qrow trying to comfort Yang while touching her as little as possible. All of them think that it’s their fault that Raven left, but Qrow knows the true blame resides with him.

Imagine Qrow, now without his twin and best friend. Summer and Taiyang find out about his growing reliance on alcohol, and they do their best to help him. He finally tells someone what he’s been feeling for so many years. He’s a bringer of bad luck. Summer and Tai are trying to reassure him as the power goes out, and Yang cries for hours. Qrow wishes for a drink and answers.

Imagine Qrow, as he goes on long hunting trips, and on one return discovers Taiyang and Summer have begun a relationship. He hesitantly agrees to be the best man at the wedding. Raven doesn’t show up, despite Summer reaching out to ask her to be the maid of honour. Several small mishaps occur at the wedding, but Qrow makes it through without a single drop of alcohol. Maybe, just maybe, things are looking up. Maybe the hunting helps.

Imagine Qrow, hunting more and more, rushing back when he hears the news. He arrives a few minutes after Ruby Rose is born, beaming as he hears the pregnancy was quick and easy. No repeats of last time. Yang holds Ruby, already strong enough, and asks with wide lilac eyes if “Uncle Qrow” wants a turn. He can’t refuse, and takes the small bundle, wrapped in a red blanket. Qrow feels the weight in his heart, knows he should hand Ruby off before anything happens, but he doesn’t want to let the little bundle go. In several nearby rooms, doctors rush to save patients who are flatlining for no reason.

Imagine Qrow, uncle of two beautiful girls, turning down babysitting in favor of hunting. He notices a pattern as he kills Grimm after Grimm after Grimm. He finds them fighting each other, already wounded, and sleeping. During fights, Grimm stumble on thin air, wound fellow beasts, miss openings for attacks. Qrow uses his bird form more and more, but the question of his semblance hangs in the balance. Where does the bad luck come from, and why? When there’s no Grimm around to fight and Qrow is alone, the weather is always terrible.

Imagine Qrow, unable to do anything but drink after Summer dies. Taiyang would join him, but his two girls need him. Ruby and Yang ask for their uncle, but Qrow doesn’t want to be around anyone he cares about. It’s too risky. A car accident kills several people outside the bar. Qrow drinks into oblivion.

Imagine Qrow, still ridden with grief, helping Tai bury Summer. Raven doesn’t show up. Yang gets expelled from school for fighting. Ruby gets bullied after Yang is gone. Qrow drinks. Tai tries to cope. The bad luck continues.

Imagine Qrow, finally cracking under so much pressure. He goes to talk to Ozpin at Beacon, something Summer suggested several years ago. Ozpin has answers. Qrow’s semblance isn’t his bird form. Ozpin calls him “a strange case.” His semblance is always active, and it cannot be controlled. Qrow breaks down right there in Ozpin’s office. Ozpin offers to help, staring down at the remains of his favourite coffee mug.

Imagine Qrow, struggling to stay sober, teaching his first class at Signal, thanks to Ozpin’s good word. He’s every student’s favourite teacher. His classes are practical and hands on, and the students are heavily independent, since Qrow distances himself from nearly everyone. It gets harder once Ruby joins Yang at signal. The accidents stay at a minimum. Qrow feels like maybe he’s figuring this out.

Imagine Qrow, helping Ruby put the finishing touches on Crescent Rose. Ruby has already cut and bruised herself several times during the construction, but Qrow fears Ruby’s adoration and idolization more than the injuries. He needs to distance himself. He helps Yang with her motorcycle once she gets her permit. He really needs to distance himself, but he enjoys spending time with the girls. Ruby goes to the hospital when a dust cartridge explodes in Crescent Rose and Yang ends up in the bed next to her after getting in an accident on her first spin. Qrow swears never to be so selfish again. They could have died. Everything was his fault. Depression and alcoholism return. He quits at Signal, to the dismay of everyone.

Imagine Qrow, putting all of his time into hunting, honing his skills. His semblance is uncontrollable. The Grimm, attracted by the stench of negative emotion rolling off of the single Huntsman, soon discover this. He hunts several species of Grimm to near extinction in parts of Remnant. Taiyang sends the occasional update. Qrows notices that everything seems to be going smoothly, and that gives him a dark sense of satisfaction.

Imagine Qrow, in very recent events, hearing a glass shatter after being knocked over, getting Winter Schnee caught acting out line, and playing video games that the girls lose, despite having more experience. Small things. Nothing too big. He’ll take off soon and the bad luck will fade.

Now, remember. Qrow, watching Ironwood deal with prosthetic malfunctions, hearing reports of Amber getting worse. Hearing the news that Yang is disqualified. That Penny Polendina is dead. Grimm are attacking. The Fall Maiden’s powers are in the hands of the enemy. Amber, Penny, and Pyrrha Nikos are dead. Ironwood’s army is destroyed. The Grimm dragon is awake, but quickly frozen by Ruby’s silver eye powers. Ruby is in a coma. Yang is dragged to safety, bleeding to death, missing an arm. Her teammate is also badly wounded. Qrow watches Team RWBY get torn apart as Weiss Schnee is taken home by her father, Taiyang arrives to take Ruby and Yang, and Blake runs away. Ozpin is dead.

Qrow drowning in the belief that everything was his fault.

Remember Qrow following Team RNJR, keeping several miles between them, the horrifying memories of everything so fresh. He knows he can keep Ruby safe from a distance. But Tyrian attacks, and he’s nearly too late. He’s not exempt from his semblance. Far from it. Wounded. Too close to Team RNJR for their own good. Having to take more of their innocence and carefree lives by explaining what was happening. The quiet shame he hides as he reveals his semblance, not meeting Ruby’s eyes for fear that she will see him as a monster. Poison setting in. Unable to protect Ruby and her friends. Unconscious, but still causing bad luck.

Understand Qrow. Despite the terrible things his bad luck does to those around him, the bad luck affects him worst of all. Because he knows. He knows that it’s his semblance, and he believes that it’s all his fault. And he can’t do anything to stop it.

Imagine Qrow fucking Branwen.

[bluesakura007]

Undeniable - Chapter 3: How Dare You - Khan Noonien Singh x OC

Summary: Zin’s revelation in the courtroom sparks disapproval and an argument with two crewmates who aren’t that keen on letting her go with Khan on the exile sentence she suggested. 

Warning: This chapter’s a little bit of an angsty one.

"We're not seriously gonna let her do this are we?" Said the CMO.

"I think we should. I mean it’s her choice, so if she’s certain that it’s what she wants to do then us trying to stop her’s just not right." Scotty replied.

"What is also not right, Mr. Scott, is to allow lieutenant-commander Hamilton to make that choice and thereby ultimately risk her life at the hands of Khan if she does decide to accompany him in exile." Spock, afterwards, added his own viewpoint. "I am in agreement with Dr. McCoy."

Bones himself momentarily looked off into the distance in reaction to this second sentence. "Still one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve heard in a while."

They and the other five senior crewmembers, which was except for the woman in question and included Carol, were currently gathered together in one of the court building’s empty conference rooms several floors up, all standing in various places around this room in equally varying positions. Some of them were leaning against the wall, others weren’t, some had their arms crossed and the rest instead had them at their sides, during which the cold, white sunlight outside touched, essentially, every surface in sight.

"Chekov, what are you thinking about this?" Kirk asked this ensign.

Pavel appeared to be somewhat hesitant and anxious about providing his answer, but responded after a second or two with, "I agree with Mr. Scott, sir - if Zinalya wants to do this then I don’t think we should stop her."

"I personally don’t know which side to take in this." Said Sulu. "We’ve all seen what Khan can do and what he has done, and I’m as worried about her as the rest of you, but at the same time if she thinks she can help to change him by going with him then we should at least let her try."

"So you’re on the fence?" Said Jim.

"Yes sir."

The captain sighed quietly to himself, in agreement with these points which had just been mentioned and having realised around a minute prior that this was what Zinalya's request for advice the previous evening regarding a "transfer" had really been about. "To be honest with you I’m feeling the same way. I'm on the fence too."

"And me." Uhura nodded her head.

"And me." Carol additionally contributed to the discussion.

"Khan is a highly dangerous man, Doctor; a dangerous man who should not be permitted to leave the Federation with one of Starfleet’s own officers." As Spock put in another point in reply to the blonde woman, it was after this sentence was spoken when, in the doorway behind him, the burgundy haired one who was the subject of all these different sides of the argument suddenly turned up. "Such a course of action would not only mean he has caused her to leave behind a career she has been building on for several years, but will also bring disrepute to Starfleet and put the Federation’s trust in us at risk."

During this, Scotty, Pavel and the others who had the doorway in their line of sight looked at where Zinalya was standing with surprise at her appearance and with a little bit of a desire for her not to have been there to hear Spock. Regardless of the matter at hand, they all still didn’t want to offend her if they could avoid it.

It took a moment of silence for Spock to realise that they were looking behind him at something, to which he turned around to see that she was indeed standing right there. He opened his mouth ever so slightly upon seeing her, as if he was about to say something but didn't know what, and his abrupt realisation was being channelled through the look in his eyes.

Zinalya snorted derisively through her nose at this expression upon his face and fully entered into the room. "No, it's okay, just carry on like I'm not even here why don't you?" She didn't show it externally, but she did feel a tiny twinge of guilt at the way she'd spoken, as she was usually a mild-mannered enough person.

Spock finally managed to pose the question, "What is it that you see in Khan which makes him so endearing to you?"

"Why I’ve got feelings for him?"

"Yes."

Now it was her turn to be stumped for what to say next. "Because I don’t fully know why, but I feel a little like he’s lonely, and like he’s been through a lot because of admiral Marcus." She answered calmly.

"Oh yeah? And whose fault is it that Marcus can’t be brought to answer for what he’s done?" Said McCoy, to which a look of painful recollection crossed Carol’s features for only a second. Despite her clearly expressing her shame beforehand for this admiral to be her father, she could nonetheless oh so vividly remember the sound of his skull being split by Khan and the way in which the latter conveyed his final words to him: You should have let me sleep.

"My decision still stands: I do wanna go with him if they do give him the exile sentence instead of putting him back into stasis." Zinalya said firmly in answer.

The doctor’s eyes narrowed and his jaws tensed up. "Are you out of your bagel-fed mind? God only knows what Khan’ll do to you!"

"You weren’t there when he was crying back on the Enterprise. He was talking about how everyone he had left who he knew and who mattered to him were used against him and most probably killed by then, and he only cried one tear - he was hurting and he still didn’t know how to express it and get it all out. He’s a troubled man, Bones."

"You sound like you’re his goddamn therapist..." He commented to himself, which caused the previously placid and collected Zinalya to suddenly feel a surge of irritation coursing through her body.

"If Khan wanted to hurt me, he would’ve already done it by now." She snarled back through gritted teeth. Pavel turned to look at Scotty, both of them beginning to experience concern at the rising tension between their friend and the Southern doctor. "Somebody with his capabilities would've just done whatever the hell they wanted with no restraint."

"That does not excuse his actions which he has committed, which include the deaths of admiral Pike and the numerous others from the bombing of the Kelvin Memorial Archive and the USS Vengeance's crash into San Francisco." Said Spock. "And even of the captain."

"Yeah, we're all very well aware of how you handled that one." Zinalya, unblinking and with the stony expression on her face still present, responded, recalling one of her own memories of Khan, on that day they were referring to, getting practically dragged through the Enterprise with several gashes across his face and with a broken right arm, and the way Uhura described Spock's rage-fuelled fight against him which caused these injuries. Jim, the revived man himself, was now feeling the same concern at the conversation's growing friction that Scotty and Chekov were.

"Is it absolutely definite that you want to leave with him, lassie?" This chief engineer enquired.

"It is." She nodded.

"There you go then, case closed." Scotty was attempting to finish the discussion so that the source of the almost tangible tension would be cut off.

"It's not just 'case closed'!" Retorted McCoy, before turning his attention back towards the security chief and raising his voice. "Dammit Zin, we're trying to help you out here! Do you wanna end up dead or something?!"

"No of course I don't, but it's nice to be allowed to have a choice!" She snapped back.

"You mean like how you've got the choice of having a relationship and maybe even settling down with pretty much any guy out there that you want, any actually good enough guys out there in the world and in the whole damn Federation, and you picked Khan, a guy who's basically a murderous ass?" He hissed aggressively.

Zinalya fell silent after this was said, matching what the others had already been doing during the last few seconds. And then some moments later, without hesitation, she marched across the room towards Bones and slapped him across the face. Hard.

Everyone's eyes widened, with Kirk, in addition, even doing a brief whistle in this same surprise. Bones' head had been jerked back to one side by the force of the slap, and while he looked back with incredulity at Zinalya, who was now only a few inches in front of him, he spent about half a second using his fingertips on one hand for feeling the area of his left cheek where he'd been hit.

"How dare you." Her voice was only just higher than a whisper, during which her features morphed into a full, deadly glare and the volume of her voice then kicked up again by several notches to the point where she was now shouting at him. "How dare you dictate who I can and can't like and what I can and can't think about someone!"

Feeling as if she'd been betrayed by a man who was supposed to be one of her trusted comrades, it was immediately after she'd finished speaking when Zinalya turned around and stormed back out of the room and away down the corridor, leaving the others with a range of different emotions but with the main one being shock at what had just taken place.

[myselfinserts]

Perhaps, if he’d paid attention in class, he wouldn’t have been remembered as such a failure.

The end of the quarter was coming. The break before the summer sessions would be starting soon. As a result, everyone was rushing to get study time in the library. The private rooms were booked out until the end of finals. And Regi was struggling to get his work done in French. 

So when Lisette came by the other day to help with the kittens and asked if he wanted to join her study group, he jumped at the chance. Most of his friends were already in it. At least, he considered them all friends. Henri and Grégory for sure. And Blanche, of course. He still wasn’t certain on where he stood with Allard, but he was sure it wasn’t outright hatred. Massive dislike and reluctant acceptance? At the very least, he was certain the man didn’t hate him nearly as much as he did before the Perun tour.  

Better than nothing, he supposed. 

He’d arrived to class early, prepping the seats with school approved study books for the upcoming assignment, when he’d gotten the notification on his phone. Lisette had sent him a link to the study group’s chat. 

Smiling, he clicked the link.

>  'Grumpy Cat Owner' added 'Reginald Gladstone' to the group.

>  'Vast Queen' changed 'Reginald Gladstone' to 'Otter Child'

Otter Child: Wait. Wait, why am I 'Otter Child'.

Vast Queen: This is why.

Regi felt his ears burning as he saw the image of himself be uploaded to the group chat. He hadn't realized he'd been photographed. His last hair tie had snapped that morning, so his hair was down the entire day yesterday. He'd also happened to be studying. In the quad. After having found a really nice, smooth, perfectly sized rock just the day before. Marianne had talked to him about 'stress stones' and their uses. He thought it'd be a good one for it. And it was.

Until he was photographed using it to run through his hair like a baby otter.

Otter Child: Okay. I think I earned that one.

Étienne Allard: I hope you cleaned that rock before putting it in your hair, Gladstone.

Otter Child: Of course I did!

> 'Vast Queen' changed 'Étienne Allard' to 'Delightful Sunshine'.

Delightful Sunshine: Must you change my name every time I log in.

Gay-zer-Beam: Get used to it Allard.

Otter Child: There's no icons, who is who?

Gay-zer Beam: It's Didier, dumbass.

Otter Child: Seriously?

Gay-zer Beam: I make one mention of liking 'The Incredibles' and this has been my nickname since.

Grumpy Cat Owner: To be fair, Edna Mode is a mood.

Otter Child: A big mood.

Delightful Sunshine: What the hell is an 'Edna Mode'?

Otter Child: EXCUSE ME?! I’m shocked YOU of all people don’t know about Edna!

Vast Queen: Looks like we’ll have to watch it during break.

Delightful Sunshine: Absolutely not. And Gladstone, aren’t you supposed to be in class doing prep work?

Otter Child: You remembered?

Glitter Princess: Who would have guessed.

Handy Man: They shall have a summer wedding.

Vast Queen: Oh, how sweet~

Otter Child: Please don’t.

Gay-zer Beam: Always pictured Gladstone as more of a Winter Wedding man, but Summer makes more sense for Allard.

Delightful Sunshine: I hate all of you.

Otter Child: Please no talks of weddings while I’m having girlfriend trouble. 

Glitter Princess: girlfriend trouble?

Handy Man: Sorry Regi. That’s gotta be tough. 

Delightful Sunshine: Can’t relate. 

Gay-zer Beam: Same. 

Otter Child: The Subject. Change it. Please. 

Glitter Princess: Okay. New Subject: I heard one of your classmates tried to kill Perun. That true?

Otter Child: NO

Delightful Sunshine: Just his assistant. 

Otter Child: THERE WAS NO ATTEMPTED MURDER

Gay-zer Beam: Pity. I heard the guy was a potential drop out and a hopeful for the Perun internship. Double duty failure.

Grumpy Cat Owner: Pretty sad he won’t be remembered much now. Heard he had a pretty nifty Quirk.

Handy Man: Oh how the hopeful fall fast. 

Delightful Sunshine: Perhaps, if he’d paid attention in class, he wouldn’t have been remembered as such a failure.

Otter Child: Pretty sure I’ll be remembering him for more than his class placement. He owes me a pair of glasses.

Delightful Sunshine: As if he would pay for those. 

Gay-zer Beam: Anyway, I gotta go. I have Dolce’s class next. We on for next week, Lydie?

Glitter Princess: Only if you found me a tutor for Japanese like I asked. No tutor, no treats. 

Grumpy Cat Owner: We got you one, don’t worry. 

Otter Child: Wait, is that why you invited me to the group?

Grumpy Cat Owner: No, I also want you to learn better French. No offense, but you suck at it. 

Delightful Sunshine: Finally something we agree on.

Otter Child: Okay, fair. So what are we talking? Just writing or speaking Are you learning common or standard? Particular dialects? I have tons of work books we can look over but it’ll help if I know where we’re starting from.

Glitter Princess: .......

Gay-zer Beam: We’ll show you the worksheets later. I need help too. 

Vast Queen: We’ll send you the date and time for the study session. It’s at the same cafe we usually hit up.

Otter Child: Okay. 

Hearing the door click, Regi sighed, shooting a quick goodbye before putting his phone away as Rosine walked into the classroom. She was rolling in a couple of boxes, all of which he recognized from the office just two days ago. He fought the burning of his ears. 

“Can you place these files to the assigned numbered student please?” Rosine asked. “Last big assignment before the end of term and it’s vital that no one gets missed.”

“Sure thing, Madam.” Regi took one of the boxes, opening one up and smiling as he got to work. “Is this the ‘Two Sides, Same Coin’ assignment?”

Rosine nodded. “Yes. And this year because the pool is so large, this assignment is crucial. So don’t screw up the pass outs.”

“Got it.” He paused. “Mind if I ask who I got? Or do I have to wait for my cake like the rest of the kids?”

She smiled, letting out a small snort. “I gave you Chimera Third. Figured that would be a good challenge for you.” Rosine started writing on the board. “By the way, about last night-”

Regi winced. He’d been trying hard to forget about it. A robbery in progress that he was about to take care of on the clock, and Mary swooped in and not only finished it for him, but did so off the clock, forgetting her permit to operate in Paris back in her hotel room. A room which was no doubt racking up a lot of money. And no doubt the person behind the robbery would use that fact to get the charges dropped. 

How am I going to deal with her? 

“I swear, Madam, I had no idea Mary would-”

“I’ve already sent a complaint to the EHA on behalf of the agency. They said they’ll arrange for Mary to go home by the start of next year.” Rosine’s nose wrinkled. “I was hoping it’d be sooner, but it’ll only be sooner if the Geodes decide she’s worth scouting.”

“I’m sorry,” He muttered. 

“Don’t apologize, Regi. I’m glad you handled the situation as well as you did. You’re rather brave.”

This made him pause. “What’s so brave about telling off my girlfriend for interfering with work?”

Rosine stopped writing, glancing over her shoulder with a soft, forlorn look. “Reginald, speaking up against loved ones can be far harder than speaking up against an enemy. And I’ve seen McMiller. If I were to be honest...you could do better. You should do better.”

This took him aback. “Huh?”

Rosine simply shrugged and turned back to the board. “Sorry, I overstepped. You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out.”

Regi said nothing, and continued to pass out the files, struggling to focus long enough to get it done. Mary always had a way of screwing him over it seemed. 

At least I have the study group now. And Meatloaf. And Luci’s visit coming up next week. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll manage. Just one day at a time. 

The students started filing in not long after Regi finished passing out the folders. He made himself comfortable, feeling a slight sense of unease at some of the students’ reactions to the files. No one touched them yet, but they seemed rather stumped. 

After role call, Rosine stood up front. “Before you are files on Heroes who have been well known in international circles for the last fifty years. You will not know who you’ve been assigned until you open your files. Your job is to create an essay on the Hero you’ve been assigned, going over how their involvement in the world of support affected it and vice versa, and then by the last week of the term, I expect them all turned in. Extra credit will be given to those who also do a presentation.” She glanced across the room, taking in the piercing gaze of the students. “As you’ve seen after our little field trip, one of you has already been knocked out of the running. This assignment is crucial to your moving on in my courses specifically. To those who are failing, this essay will bring you up to a passing grade and allow you to move up with any teacher you pick. However-” her eyes narrowed - “only 60% of you will be able to move on to my advanced classes. Even less if you get subpar marks.” Rosine smiled. “But most of you are passing, so there’s no need to worry too much.” 

Regi remained quiet, his mind still wandering away from him slightly after the previous night's patrol. He was too tired to pay attention to anyone else complaining. And there were complaints. He could hear the occasional groan or gasp of disbelief. This was considered one of Rosine’s harder assignments, rather infamous among the school. 

“Alright. Your syllabus is with your files, please take the rest of class to read them over.” With a turn, she headed back to her seat to start in on some paperwork. 

"Madame! Can I switch with someone for this essay?!"

Here we go, Regi thought, flipping open his file. 

"And why," Rosine started, "would I allow that, Monseiur Dosier?"

Dosier held up his hero file. "You gave me some no named D-lister from a little island off the coast of the UK. How the hell am I supposed to do an essay on his support tech escapades?"

This caught Regi's attention.

Rosine gave Dosier a hard stare. "That hero whose profile you hold was the number three on his hero association's leaderboard for a little over a decade and only just recently retired. Not to mention he's relatively respected by the Canadian branches of support design, particularly by Matsumoto Inc. I'd hardly call that a 'no named D-lister'."

Dosier did not seem to want to listen. "But no one even knows how to get any of the info on his tech! This file is just two pages! No contacts, no hero agency, nothing! You're setting me up to fail!"

Right away, Regi knew who he was talking about. And it would be an easy A for him. But he remained quiet. He wanted to actually feel like he earned this grade. 

"If someone is willing to switch with you, then fine. I won't stop you." She turned back to her paperwork. "Just know that who you get in return might end up being tougher on your skills than this one. Though I don't know anyone else brave enough to research the bastard. Probably the most difficult profile I assign when this essay comes about."

"Then why assign it?!"

"I'll take it." 

Much to everyone's surprise, Étienne stood up and walked over to Dosier, taking the file before dropping another, much larger stack of files, on his desk. Regi watched him carefully. He seemed almost excited. A glint in his eye he rarely saw. 

"I'd gotten All Might. Frankly, his foray into the world of support items doesn't interest me. I'd prefer a challenge." Étienne returned to his seat, leaving Dosier gaping like a fish. "Now will you kindly shut the fuck up?"

Regi tried very hard not to snort and turned back to his file, already making notes on some of the topics he’d cover. He’d never really explored much into support design and Beast Power quirks on his own before, but he wanted to. This would be the perfect chance. 

About ten minutes before class wrapped up, Regi got a text. 

> Last I checked, your uncle’s name was supposed to be Elbert Silverson, correct?

> That’s right. He’s technically my half-uncle. He’s my mom’s half sister. 

> Then why the hell do some of these early files have his name listed as Manabu Hirano? 

> Ah. That’s a bit of a long story on the why part, but the short of it is he took his mother’s maiden name when his parents divorced and decided to go by his middle name instead.  

> Stupid decision. Elbert is a stupid sounding name. 

> Better than Reginald tho, right? My grandparents used to call me “Reiji” if you’d prefer to call me that. 

> Fucking stuff it, Gladstone. If I need anything else for this assignment, I’ll message you. 

> Not a problem. Oh, and here’s a photo of Amber from this morning. She’s in a bit of a milk coma. 

> NOT IN CLASS YOU IDIOT!

> Sorry!

Regi winced, but still glanced down at Étienne from his spot in the back. He could just make out the tiniest of smiles. Not enough to be noticed by anyone else in class, but enough that he could distinct it from his usual grimace. 

He resisted the urge to text Étienne further, and turned back to his work. 

[gracelessnick]

Nick & Grace Headcanons 1/?

• Nick stops by Sam’s office more often to visit Grace interning than to see his own father.

• Nick’s actually really glad he won’t be getting his license before Grace so he can use that as an excuse to drag her along to parties with him.

• They usually have study not-dates (totally dates) at Nick’s house because it offers more privacy in comparison to Grey House’s revolving door of residents.

• Nick shows up for breakfast at Grey House when he’s getting a ride to school from Sam so he’s able to see Grace in the morning as usual.

• Nick takes to calling her his “saving Grace” whenever he passes a test because of her helping him study.

• Generally, Nick pays for their food whenever they’re eating a meal at the Bistro, but when they’re out simply for drinks Grace insists on paying.

• Nick’s handwriting is actually slightly more legible than Grace’s, which he loves to tease her about.

   - Eventually he takes to “helping” her write like him, covering her hand in his. He explains as if it’s completely complicated, but really he’s just 100% sure if the room envelops in silence then she’ll be able to hear his heart beating a mile a minute.

   - Grace is totally reminded of this when Noah brings up her handwriting in 309.

• Nick always writes in pen.

   - Grace makes a casual comment about it, and he opens up--but only with her. “It’s nice to feel something permanent in my life once.”

   - She smiles softly at him, and lets him know that she’s here to stay as well.

   - They have another one of their just Looking™ at each other moments, before Nick’s hand that was inching across the table towards hers bumps into her pencil and he looks down, both of them laughing.

   - “But maybe I should use pencil for math. It’s...not my best subject.”

   - She laughs again, shaking her head. “No, it is not.”

   - They BOTH remember this in 303.

• Nick inherited his father’s inability to cook, so Grace takes pity on him.

   - Often times this just means he eats over at Grey House when Sam’s out or they make a snack to take over for one of their study (not) dates.

   - Sometimes it means he’s put into one of her aprons and they cook together.

   - In 208 he got away with ditching the apron; coincidentally that’s the only time she throws food at him.

• This is Nick’s hoodie. He’s 5000% sure she looks better in it than he ever did.

   - Bonus: Sam totally notices but only quietly consults Eve about it.

   - After Nick tries to convince Sam he’ll go with him to Greg’s meeting about London, he makes a comment about his hoodie as he’s leaving. Grace is totally swamped in work and just laughs, telling him she likes it and definitely needs it for at least the rest of the day.

   - “Ah, it’s fine. You seem to have a lot of work to do today, anyway.”

   - “Ha. You have no idea.”

• As soon as it starts to warm up outside they take to hanging out on Nick’s porch steps late into the night--really late once summer begins.

   - Once Sam secures the lake house and fixes it all up, Nick and Grace spend their summer nights there instead.

   - As well as some weekend getaways.

• When Nick finally has his permit and is ready to learn to drive, he considers dropping hints to Grace that he wants her there with him but instead decides to flat-out ask her. She’s thrilled to follow him on his “journey.” He finds her word usage adorable; almost says so out loud, too.

• Nick purposely tried to make his inviting Grace to London with him seem like a sudden idea, but he’d thought about it a lot. He’d miss her too much not to at least suggest it.

• Nick doesn’t only talk with Greg about his family, but about Grace, too.

   - Greg sees her in the hallway once and can immediately pick her out due to his thoroughly detailed conversations with Nick.

   - Nick never mentions it to Grace but she seems to know anyway, what with that twinkled in her eyes and her *feelings.*

• Neither of them say it out loud, but they’re really, really, really hoping they’ll get to go on vacation together.

   - Grace definitely wants it to be somewhere with a history, preferably a magical history.

   - Nick KNOWS she wants it to be somewhere with a history. He knows her so well.

• Grace urges Nick to read the Tarynsville series so she can fangirl about it to him as well.

   - He agrees. But only to make her happy. And definitely after calling it the wrong name several more times.

• They rode the Ferris wheel seven times in a row at the Lights Festival just so they could point out where everything and everyone was.

• Grace takes to shooting hoops in Nick’s driveway when she wants his attention--plus it’s an excellent chance to tease him about “pounding the backboard” yet again.

• Nick nearly has a heart attack when he’s informed of Grace’s accident because “h o l y  s h i t.”

   - He told Courtney it’s not her fault because he’s 5000% sure it’s his fault. He knows Grace wouldn’t say that, but it tears him up.

   - He’s the one that gave her the stuffed lion in her hospital room. He just went around to stores with Courtney to help her out with her own gift, plus Grace never asked who bought the lion.

   - She feels inexplicably drawn to the stuffed animal. She mentions it only once to Nick, and he looks wholly pleased with the comment.

   - {Notice, when she finds the book Abigail put in her room in 305, the stuffed lion is still there on her bed.}

• Nick insists on stopping by Grace’s room before the Tarynsville book reading to show off his costume and faux accent. She slips and calls him cute, cuing another one of their signature Looking™ moments.

   - She hears about Martha calling him “Boy Prince” later on and teases him for over a week.

• They bond over their mutual frustration with App Store games after 303.

• Grace insists on going to the movie theater with Nick, and not just when he’s running the film like in 304.

   - He agrees under the condition they can share popcorn again.

• After Cassie and Sam take Cassie’s car in 304, Nick drives himself and Grace home in Sam’s car. Nick *happened* to have a set of keys--Cassie, of course.

• Nick just laughs his head off when Grace informs him of her day with the mayor. (305)

• Nick goes over to Grace’s house after her birthday moment with Cassie just to check up on her and give her a present.

   - She thought the entire day with him and Courtney was the only gift, but nope: he bought her a choker (309) and a leather jacket (309, again, when she’s walking with Noah).

   - She gets him to try on both of them just for the fun of it.

   - Definitely calls him cute again.

   - He’s keeping count of those ^ moments.

• Nick shows up to Grace’s academic decathlon games simply to make faces at her when she gets a question right.