#but it might stay a one shot forever unless people desire a continuation

[alcetryx]

One by One, the Stars Blink Out

Spawn!Astarion, Astarion/FemDurge, Grief, Angst, Very Sad Oneshot, No Happy Ending, Post Canon, Character Death, Violence, No Smut/No Sexually explicit content

Word Count: 4.8k

Based on a prompt I received (@yumaroni), this fic absolutely devastated me but pushed my boundaries because I am not an unhappy endings type of person (though I do love making my characters suffer first).

Astarion hated it when Flora was away. The days felt emptier, the nights lonelier, as he grappled with managing life alone in the scrappy tent they called home in the Underdark for a little over a year. When she had gone to the realm of the surface - the place he could no longer follow her for extended expeditions - he could do nothing but count the days until she returned to his arms. Of course he understood the necessity of her absence… or he had at one time. It wasn’t right to hold her hostage from the sun forever. His perfect Flora deserved to walk in the sunlight, now free from the shadow of the urges that once compelled the Bhaalspawn. And yet, it wasn’t for herself that she chose to walk in the sunlight at all. No. Her absences were all for him.

The woman he loved had never given up on him - she swore to return the sunlight to him too, so they again might walk in it together. For months the sorcerer had been researching ways to cure Astarion’s affliction - and the result was that she would be gone for weeks or months at a time, chasing a lead. Sometimes a person who might know something, other times a magic item, other times a spell. Every time she would return empty-handed, crushed, and disappointed with her failures. Astarion had at some point stopped being disappointed with her- instead just happy to have her home again. Each time he saw her dejected face appear over the ridge, he would run to her, and hold her and kiss her as she wept. In her mind, she let him down again. 

“You can stop looking for a cure, you know, darling,” he had said the last time she was preparing to head out again. He meant it. He didn’t know what she was up to this time - she never shared where she was going… only where she had been. A policy, to avoid getting hopes up. 

He didn’t know how to tell her that he wanted her to stop looking. Didn’t know how to explain that a lifetime in the Underdark with her by his side was better than an impossible task that only left her absent and in danger. He could hardly stand to see her disappointment any longer. 

Even if he had said those things, it would have changed nothing. Flora was a single-minded creature, determined in her task. She would stop at nothing to return the ability for her love to bask in the sunlight again, and to let it shine on his silvery hair. But to him, the warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the warm embrace of her arms. It was nothing compared to the feeling of her lips against his cool skin. 

When she returned again… he swore he would tell her the truth. He wanted for nothing but her, for whatever remained of her fragile human lifespan. Running around Faerun chasing cold leads was wasting their precious years together - the lifespan of a human was nothing to him. If anything, it should have been him on a quest, seeking to bring his love the gift of immortality without the cost of vampirism. 

Astarion didn’t spend all of her absences sulking, of course. No. Refusing the ascension and freeing the spawn left him with a whole headache of unexpected responsibilities that he was wildly unsuited for. Often, his siblings would joke that he and Flora were like the king and queen of the Underdark, with seven thousand mostly-loyal subjects. They were loyal to her, anyway. She was a hard woman not to like. Exceedingly kind and generous, and a confident leader. There were many times where Astarion felt unfit to take over in her absence. Everyone expected a great deal of things from him as an extension of her. Her love. Her partner. 

These days he laughed at the thought of being considered any sort of king. Once he had craved power - but he never expected it to be such a gods’ damned drag. The uncomfortable realization was that he never wanted true power, or at least not power over people. That was far too much work, and too much responsibility. The power he had yearned for was the glamorous kind - the kind that impressed people and let him defend himself and those he loved. He ended up with the dreaded genie’s wish - the worst of both worlds. He had people who watched and looked up to him for guidance (save for his own past marks, who understandably still held a grudge), but also had no power to physically defend his love on her arduous journeys. Her crusades to restore what he had lost.

The reluctant “king” of the spawn still managed to accomplish quite a lot to settle a community of vampires in the Underdark. Although it could hardly be called a town or a city, it was a settlement. Most of the spawn had chosen to stay - though a few had run off into the dark, never to be seen again. They all slowly learned what to do with their freedoms again. Some began calling the settlement “Redemption” - and it was feeling more and more lively with every day that passed. Once some had learned to find alternate sources of food, progress leapt forward in full swing. Many claimed the creatures of the Underdark tasted better, as if specially crafted to the tastes of vampires - a concept Astarion was sour to. They must have been lying to themselves, as many had never tasted blood before escaping Cazador’s dungeon. Starving vampires would take any blood they could find, and the strange and unusual creatures the Underdark produced were the first taste of blood for most. It wasn’t the animals and monsters that tasted good… but the freedom. The ability to stretch their legs again, and to have a second chance. 

 Although he was slowly becoming more self-assured in his leadership abilities, Astarion found himself often relying on his siblings in Flora’s absence. They often grated on him, but some were more reliable than others. Dalyria had a particularly comforting presence, being much more reasonable, patient, and less insufferable than his other siblings. Much like Flora, the other spawn seemed to approve of her. He suspected it was in part due to her pushover tendencies, but of course he’d never say that to her face. She could stand to be more assertive after years underneath Cazador’s thumb. 

Together, Astarion, his siblings, and Flora had formed a sort of council. It almost functioned like one. 

“Astarion, some of the spawn are wondering about the possibility of going to the surface for building materials. Like tools. Wood, stone, things like that. We have some skilled workers here, though they may be out of practice. They want to start building proper shelters.” 

He rolled over on his bedroll, eyes closed, acutely aware of the cold spot where Flora should be.

“Dalyria. Nice to see you still have no concept of announcing your arrival.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion, but you don’t make it easy to speak with you any other way.”

“Are there not trees and stone in the Underdark? We’ve built…. Some things.” Not proper structures, that much was certain. 

Dalyria’s face tensed. As patient as she was with her brother… his callousness still could surprise her. Astarion pushed himself up from the ground, regaining alertness after his trance.

“They aren’t familiar with the materials. Trees that grow in darkness are an entirely different sort from those above ground… or so they say. I’m inclined to believe them. We don’t have many tools to assist. Collecting some from elsewhere would be a great help. We have no shortage of working hands and all of them are growing eager for some normalcy…. Given that we may be here for an eternity now. Everyone tires of camp life.”

Astarion was tired of it, too - but he wasn’t about to dirty his own hands. They weren’t meant for things like building or manual labor - he was a man of the softer things life had to offer. He would sooner burn down a house than build one. The only thing that had made this existence tolerable was Flora. He would have been happy enough to live a camp life for the rest of his life if she was there to keep him afloat. 

And yet, he thought to himself, now that the opportunity was presented… didn’t Flora deserve better? This was his opportunity to prove himself. How proud she would be of him when she returned, to see a major building process underway. Yes. He would make her a real home here (well, not him, specifically - but he would oversee the process), a place where she would want to stay.

“They don’t need my approval,” Astarion finally said, concentrating his effort to make his voice sound controlled and gentle. He crossed his arms.

“No… but they seek it. After so many years of having their… our… every movement controlled and every decision made, it’s no wonder that they seek the approval of a leader.”

Astarion averted his eyes, pacing to the far corner of the tend, pretending to inspect a shoddy patch job. “Don’t get the wrong impression. I’m no leader - they don’t need me. They need Flora. She’s better at handling the… diplomatic things.”

“She’s not here though. You are. And I know she believes in you.”

“No one voted for me. It would be just as well for you to lead them.” 

Power and leadership… two very different things.

“It’s a fine idea. Consider this my stamp of approval.” He waved his sister away.

It was no no avail, for she approached him regardless, pale lips curved into a frown. “Getting the resources will be challenging for us, on our own. Going to the surface is dangerous, when your entire population runs on a fatal hourglass.”

“What more would you ask from me, Dalyria? If I could do something about that, then Flora would still be here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You accuse others of not being ‘burdened with intelligence,’ and yet you can’t come up with a proper solution? Do you not remember your friends on the surface?”

“My friends?” Astarion scoffed. “What - why - I - what friends?”

“You didn’t defeat Cazador alone,” Dalyria reminded gently. “Your friend, the son of Duke Ravengard. Might he not be someone to ask? Perhaps we could come to some kind of agreement in exchange for supplies.”

“What could we possibly offer them?”

“Well, perhaps an army in times of trouble? Having a second wind of soldiers to operate solely at night might not be a bad deal.”

“Did you… did you think of this all on your own?” Astarion couldn’t hide his surprise.

Dalyria wrapped her arms around her torso defensively, prepared for him to mock her. “What? Why? I…” she trailed off, her eyes dropping to the pendant around her brother’s neck.

A magical pendant, and a gift from Flora - a tiny glass vial of her blood that Astarion kept hanging over his heart in her absence. Enchanted to never open, and to stay warm and red so long as she lived. A reassurance of her safety.

“Don’t get so defensive, Dal. Gods. It’s… a good plan. If only they’ll still speak with me. Flora has met with them since our final battle together, but I have not been so fortunate. Not since fleeing here to the Underdark.”

The blood in the pendant had begun to separate, the denser components creating a sunken layer at the bottom of the vial, leaving a yellowish-pink liquid at the top.

“Don’t look at me like that, it isn’t my fault - it isn’t like they’ve tried to visit m-”

“Astarion.”

“I’ll pen a letter to Wyll though, I’ll try to get it sorted out. I’m sure there’s something we can offer. The Underdark is teeming with rare spell ingredients after all, perhaps a tr-”

“Astarion,” Dalyria repeated more sternly. She cleared her throat.

He wasn’t listening, and had already turned to shuffle through his belongings, oblivious to the concern in Dalyria’s voice. He collected a scrap of paper and a pen and pushed aside some things on the crate that had served as a table for several months now.

“You’ll have to help me proofread it - Wyll and I have never been the best of pals, and I wouldn’t want to come across like too much of a bastard.” He paused before touching the pen to the paper, unsure of where to even begin.

“Astarion!” She repeated again, her tone panicked as it pushed the constraints of her usual volume. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Ugh. Gods, Dal. What?”

She didn’t answer, only pointed a trembling finger at the necklace that held his lover’s essence. Astarion knitted his eyebrows together in a moment of confusion, before desperately grabbing at it, yanking it up to peer at the contents of the tiny thing. He watched in horror as the liquid began to combine again, disturbed by the sudden movement.

“What?” His voice fell to little more than a fractured whisper, holding all of the fear of a little boy. “No. This is… no. This is a mistake. The enchantment. It must have worn off - it must have -”

***

“You can’t keep running off on your own, darling. Please. How will I know that you’re safe? I can stand to be apart from you, don’t get me wrong. But I could never go on if you simply never returned. It would be unfair to leave me wondering for the rest of my miserable immortal life if you were dead, or if you simply left me behind.”

“I would never leave you,” Flora smiled. Her thin fingers wrapped around either side of his face, cradling his cheeks. “I’ll always come back for you. You must know that by now.”

His hand reached up and rested on the top of hers, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. He looked into her crystal blue eyes that always left him with a feeling of serenity. Her love for him was an honest one and anyone could see it. Astarion could see it, though it was still difficult for him to believe. Saying “I love you” was simply not something that they ever did as a couple, but it was known. It was felt in the way that she held him, and in every small act of love she indulged him with. How was it possible that the woman before him had once been a Bhaalspawn? Now, free from the grip of her father Bhaal, Flora was finally herself. How she had become such a delicate, kind, and empathetic creature was a mystery to him. The stories of Astarion and Flora had followed similar paths, though somehow she seemed to heal from it all much more gracefully - as if somehow underneath it all she had always been good. Or perhaps she was just better at hiding it.

No one ever would have guessed of her past tendencies to murder indiscriminately in an amnesiac state. The idea seemed preposterous now. So preposterous that if Astarion didn’t remember the night where she almost killed him, resulting in him wrapping her in rope to stop her, he wouldn’t believe it himself.

She was deserving of far more than he could ever offer her. “You might. I couldn’t possibly blame you. Your life is just a blip in the timeline of mine… why shouldn’t you spend it in the sun?”

Flora shook her head, her soft brown waves bouncing around her shoulders. Even though there was no sunlight to shine down here, he could still recall the way her hair glistened like warm honey in the afternoon sun. How unfair it was to have her beauty dulled by the misery and gloom of the Underdark. She pulled him into a long hug, her hands lightly running his tense shoulders.

“Who needs the sun, when I have my star?”

The following day, before Flora left, she presented Astarion with her creation. The pendant. “As long as I am alive, the blood in this pendant will look just as it does in my veins. It won’t separate, and it will stay warm.”

He held the vial in his palm, the delicate silver chain hanging over the back of his hand. He could feel the faintest thrum of it against his palm - the softest echo of her heartbeat. It was nearly imperceptible, unless you were paying very close attention. He didn’t want to think about a world where it stopped.

“Don’t get any ideas now, either. No matter how hungry you get - you can’t open it. It isn’t a snack,” she joked.

Astarion didn’t laugh. Instead, he pulled her into another hug, kissing the top of her silky hair. “Thank you. Please be safe.”

***

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He ripped the pendant from his neck, snapping the chain with such force it cut the skin of his neck and his hand.

“No… no,” his voice fell to a hushed choke as he dropped to his knees. His entire world, gone in an instant. He hadn’t even been the one to notice. 

Dalyria felt his pain and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tremble of his body. This was not the Astarion she knew. He had always been strong, preferring to play off his difficult emotions with humor or dry sarcasm. Now, he fought to suppress ugly sobs at the back of his throat.

“You could be right,” she offered optimistically. “It could have been a mistake - the enchantment could have failed.” 

Even her optimism could not hide the truth - she is lying to him, and she knows it.

“It didn’t fail. She’s gone,” his voice spat in agitation. 

“I - I’m so sorry, brother,” her hand gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It didn’t feel right to do anything more.

He pushed her hand away, detesting the feeling of being touched by another person.

“Get out. Get out of my sight.”

Dalyria backed slowly out of the tent, her eyes fixed on her crumpled sibling. His arms fell to the floor, fists banging against the floor of the tent. She hesitated before leaving him alone entirely, unsure of what he would do next.

For the next several hours after, Astarion stayed crouched on the ground until his knees burned, the pendant held still in his palm. He stared at the talisman, unblinking, willing it to return to normal. Praying that it had only been a mistake. Something temporary, that interfered with the magic. But as the blood remained in the same, ugly state, it grew colder and colder, leaving Astarion to come to terms with the knowledge that he would never get to put the body of his lover to rest.

He would never even know what became of her.

If only he had begged her to stay. If only he had told her how she was more important than the sun to him. He needed her. The spawn of the Underdark needed her. With him as their leader, they were surely all doomed. How could she leave him? She knew how helpless he was without her.

***

The pain does not ease with time, and Astarion took no visitors for weeks. He did not leave his tent. He did not leave her side of the bedroll, his nose buried inside of her pillow as he clung to the fading remnants of her scent. Soon, every part of her would be gone. Her few items were those of practicality, and so went with her on the road. She hadn’t had the time to appreciate an excess of things, and never hung onto anything that would hold her down. All that remained of her was the pendant, and the place where she once slept.

Many tried to visit the heartbroken spawn, but all were driven away by angry, incoherent yelling, as he drowned in the tide of his grief. Nothing would pull him back together again, not even as several of his siblings desperately tried to inform him of the string of bodies that had been found throughout Redemption. Several nights in a row, a spawn was found dead, left laying in a pool of their own blood. Of course it was not the blood loss that took their lives - the true cause of death remained a mystery. Spawn volunteered to walk the perimeter at all hours - but still the camp was under siege by an invisible threat. Whatever was killing them knew how to take down a vampire, but also was skilled enough to leave no trace.

Somewhere, Astarion eventually found a brief moment of clarity, where he forced himself to finally pen the letter to Wyll. It was what Flora would have wanted, and he decided it would be the last good deed he would do for Redemption. The way the letter actually turned out, the request for aid was secondary, an afterthought to the news of Flora’s death. With it, he pleaded for Wyll to try and find an answer to her fate. Wyll was a busy man these days, but perhaps he would find the time for Flora’s sake, if not for his. When the sun was setting topside, Astarion finally left his tend for the first time in weeks to return to Baldur’s Gate. The letter was deposited in the mail - Wyll would see it in several days’ time.

In the eerie quiet of the night, Astarion looked around at what had become of Baldur’s Gate. He hadn’t left the Underdark for long enough that much had changed. The mindflayer attacks had caused a great deal of destruction, but now there was little trace of them. The rebuilding efforts must have been going well. He wandered the streets aimlessly, wondering what became of his love. Where had she gone? 

Had she been alone when she died? Scared? Was she killed, or did she die as the result of some terrible accident?

Before long, Astarion found himself standing before the Elfsong. The noise and music that broke free of the establishment cut through the silence of the streets, warm and inviting. The pull of the tavern called to him, begged him to drown his sorrows in drink - a pastime lost to him in what felt like another lifetime. He gave into the temptation, won over by the promise of the nightlife. As if someone else had taken over his body, he was soon sitting at the bar, throwing coin after coin at the bartender and knocking back drinks until he nearly forgot where he was. Forgot who he was, at least consciously. 

No amount of wine could burn Flora from his brain. Drunk, broken Astarion rambled to whatever poor soul was unwise enough to sit next to him, successfully driving away several people in quick order. One man stayed a bit longer than others, a fairly attractive young elven man who wore clothing that suggested he wasn’t local. At first, the elf must have thought Astarion was flirting with him, for he stayed much longer than the others. But Astarion showed no interest back, only using him as a vehicle to vomit his woes. By the end of it all, the man could do nothing but slip away awkwardly after realizing it was no flirtation.

The dawn caught Astarion off guard, and as the sunlight began peeking through the windows and the candles started being blown out, he quickly sobered. He had spent too long indulging, and missed the window to return to the Underdark. He would have to remain in the Elfsong until sunset, and given that he was incapable of drinking himself to death, he would run out of coin eventually. Or the bartenders would grow suspicious. The only solution was to get a room for the day and recover from his wild night.

***

Only, the trance he took offered to rest. It didn’t give him the usual, blissful nothing that he was accustomed to. Instead, his mind filled with a terrible vision as his trance was infiltrated by some outside force.

Looking around, Astarion was transported somewhere chilling and familiar - the lair of Bhaal. Where Flora had faced Orin… and died for it. For all of the good it did now. Sprawled out on the sacrificial stone table was Flora, her limbs bent in such wrong directions that he thought she was surely dead.

He desperately tried to break his trance. This was wrong - he didn’t want to see this.

Flora was not dead. Her eyes blinked at him, tears running down her bloody face as she mouthed the word help, too dehydrated and wounded to speak it properly. Blood was pooled under her back - far more than should have or could have come from her petite body. Carved into her naked chest was a crude imitation of the scar that marred Astarion’s own back - a taunt to him. 

The dark figure that stood over her turned to face him, and he was greeted by the twisted face of Cazador. He shouted in surprise, taking a large step backwards and again begging himself to return to reality. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to have a nightmare like this. Cazador’s gaze met his, fangs visible in a menacing smile that dripped with blood. Her blood.

It was Cazador, but not quite. Something was off about him, as if it were only someone wearing his face. But the vision was painfully real, and he could not escape it, through any methods he tried. He struggled against the trance, failing to pull free of it. Ending a trance was typically a simple thing - something he had done thousands of times before. The menacing laugh that filled his ears did not belong to Cazador, but instead some other sort of unholy being. Cazador turned back to Flora, and plunged a dagger into her stomach, standing to the side and forcing him to watch every moment of it. Flora cried out in agony, the sound ringing in his ears like a horrible song stuck in his head. Cazador’s voice might not have matched that of the original… but Flora’s voice was spot on and unmistakable. It was perfectly crafted to maximize his torment.

Astarion swallowed his disgust and fear as he willed his legs to run to her side. He reached desperately for her. He had no weapon, but it couldn’t matter now. He had to rescue her from the table. The light in her eyes was fading quickly. There wasn’t much time left now - she wasn’t going to survive. 

She’s already dead. This isn’t real.

He found himself stuck to the floor, feet frozen in place. He could do nothing as Cazador dragged the dagger down her stomach, ripping her open, cutting a long gash from her pelvis to her chest. Flora’s gurgling screams would haunt his memory for months, if not years to come.

The gleeful smile never left Cazador’s face. He had always been a violent and vicious man, but even through all of that, a smile was not something he traditionally wore. This was a vision, and this Cazador was not real.

Flora was not real. So why did he feel himself crying out for her specter? Again he begged himself to wake from the trance. He pinched himself. He tried to picture the room where he had been when he slept, but the image was murky and unclear. He watched Cazador drop his hands to the table, cupping her blood in his hands. Then he slowly approached him, hands held open to Astarion, pushing it up to his face. It was so disturbingly real that he swore he could smell it - a familiar, coppery and flowery tang. But no, it actually wasn’t quite right when he paid closer attention to it. This blood was muskier. Less appealing. Wrong. Not hers at all.

This isn’t real. It isn’t her.

Finally he managed to break the trance, coming slowly back to reality - covered in an unusual amount of sweat. He didn’t sweat. As the world formed around him again, he realized that he was no longer in the bed he’d taken his trance in. Instead, he stood in another room of the Elfsong, lit by a sputtering candle that was beginning to drown itself out in its own pool of wax. 

Astarion stood over the corpse of the same elf whose ear he had talked off earlier in the evening - the one who had initially thought he was flirting. He looked down at the familiar dagger in his hands, which were covered in the elf’s blood. A perfect mirror of what he had witnessed in his trance.

A perfect mess he would have to hide until nightfall.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Puppet Masterlist

There's news that might change things forever. The only question is, will the change be in a good or a bad way?

Content | Angst, fluff, smut

Word count | 8.1k

Lesson Eighteen: Different ways to love.

You had never been part of a band meeting before and, as you were sitting in some conference room or other that management had rented in the hotel they were staying in, you realised you were fine if you never got invited to another one either. It was intimidating, to say the least. It turned to somewhat humiliating when they put the pictures up on the table between you. They were of you and Ethan this time.

You remembered the day they must have been shot. Ethan and you, on the way to the van from the hotel. Him playfully grabbing you from behind. Your bodies squished against each other with his head buried in your hair whispering dirty things in your ear. A clouded look on your face, a slight bite to the lip. Then knowing smirks on both of your faces as he let you go. It wasn't exactly anything extremely incriminating - but it was enough to stir some serious rumours, especially after the pictures of Thomas kissing you so shortly before them.

"Now," the voice of someone from management - you didn't take the time to remember their names or exact roles - broke the silence. "We don't care what you do in private. The problem is when it goes public. The whole sexy rockstar thing is great. But when rumours about infidelity creep up because people are suspecting you to hook up with the same girl, it's not gonna be good for the numbers."

You felt as uncomfortable as could be. It was weird being reduced to some girl seemingly hooking up randomly with members of the band. You wanted to shout from the rooftops it wasn't the way people assumed, not by far. But it wasn't your place. The rest of the band stayed just as quiet as they continued to listen.

"Plus, I'm sure that if they manage to reveal your identity," the woman now spoke directly to you, making you even more nervous in the process, "it won't be to your advantage either. So we have two options we want to propose to you. One: You keep her in private, fully. That means no public outings, no pictures online unless it's a group, no flying her out on tour. Two: We link her with one of you. As an official relationship. We don't care who it is. That way she can tag along if so desired and pictures can be more easily explained. However, we would trust you to present the relationship as believable. No pictures kissing other people."

Silence once again settled over the room. You felt yourself fidgeting and Thomas next to you was doing the same. The other seemed more put together, but you figured it was merely an act. If they had any feelings for you at all, this wouldn't leave them unaffected.

"Management would appreciate an answer tomorrow."

With that, the room emptied, one by one. Your head was spinning with an intensity you hadn't felt before.

"I... I need to lie down," you told the others as soon as it was just the five of you. "I need some time."

You didn't look at them as they nodded in understanding, all of them probably stuck in their own thoughts. Thomas took a step towards you, almost reaching out, but you took a step back. You couldn't quite tell why. You averted your eyes even further, scared to look at Thomas' face too closely, scared of what you might see. Hurt, resentment, anger? You didn't know but you couldn't bring yourself to find out.

You briefly let yourself fall against Ethan's chest, Ethan, who immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You looked up at him for a moment, seeing him nod. He knew you needed him right now, he understood, the way only he could. You left with him, already feeling that tiny bit stronger just from having him by your side.

You had always felt an immense range of safety in Ethan's arms and today was no different. Only moments ago, the anxiety and stress had been so deeply ingrained in your bones that you felt like shaking. Now, you let yourself fall into the calm of Ethan's embrace.

The room was dark even though midday was looming on the horizon. But the curtains remained closed and you hadn't bothered to turn a light on. It was silly, but it made you feel safer. As if the world being shut out, both of you lying in the dark with no one to see you, formed an invisible wall around you that would keep you in a secure bubble, where nothing could happen to you. Just for this moment.

You buried yourself deeper into Ethan's chest as his arms tightened around you. In a swift movement, you had dragged your body on top of his, suddenly needing more, needing to feel him against you, needing the full contact, in an attempt not to lose yourself. He allowed it without any comments, simply resigning himself to stroke your back in a calming rhythm. But as much as it helped you settle physically, your mind was on high alert, thinking about two hundred things at once and not making sense of a single one of them. You were so deep in thought, you almost flinched when you hear Ethan's low voice.

"What do you want to do?"

It was such a broad question it almost made you laugh. There were tons of things you did and did not want to do. But right here and now? You wanted to disappear, completely, but only if it meant taking the four of them with you.

"Is that really my decision to make?" you asked instead. It was both an attempt at avoiding a straight answer and a genuine wonder about who, in the end, would be responsible for the decision given to management. "It's your band. It's your names that get printed, and it's your career."

Ethan pulled you upwards, not letting you hide your face in his shirt anymore. You didn't want to look at him, didn't want to know what you would see in his eyes, but you were well aware he wouldn't let you get away that easily either. When you realised he was studying you with nothing but pure love, your heart skipped a beat.

"Maybe so. But it's also your face, potentially your name. And it's your life and your feelings. That weighs more than any PR-related decision we could possibly make."

"I... I hadn't thought about it like that," you admitted, desperately trying to hide your face again, knowing how easily he would be able to read if you didn't, but he had a tight grasp on you that left you little choice. He pressed a kiss to your lips, short, safe.

"We're in a band. We're four people, we have each other's backs," he explained. You wanted his voice to lull you to sleep but you knew there were more important tasks at hand. "We can deal with whichever decision we make. But you have a life outside of this. And we need to do what's right for you. I don't need to ask the others to know they agree."

You wanted to tear up, just a little bit, but you pulled yourself together, just barely, finally allowing yourself to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Not avoiding his face to evade responsibility, but because you knew you would become overly emotional and this wasn't the time. You had less than 24 hours to present facts to management.

"I love you guys," you murmured into his skin, leaving a soft kiss there. His hands resumed stroking your back in a fashion that had you wanting to purr and mewl. You let your hands travel to his side, stroking, slightly scratching over the material of his shirt, and a deep sigh that seemed to move your entire body confirmed his enjoyment.

"We love you too," he whispered into the dark. "Now and forever."

"It's fucking stupid!" Vic ranted as she threw yet another pillow against the wall. The low thud didn't seem to do much to quell her anger.

After Ethan had more or less pushed you off him to convince you to talk to the others, you had been in the hotel's hallway, still trying to figure out where to go, when Vic's frustrated scream had sounded through her closed door. Ethan had simply given you a look, a quick slap to your backside, as he pushed you her way. She had thrown the door open with a vigour that almost scared you. Her face had softened as she saw you, but only long enough to let you in, before continuing with her rage. So now you were sitting on her bed, watching her pace and complain.

"Why do they think they can dictate our lives like that? It's no one's fucking business who we're fucking! I should fucking rail you in front of the paparazzi so they actually have something to talk about. So much for fucking autonomy in this band!"

Her shouting was getting more erratic by the second. You simply stared, letting her blow off steam and hoping the storm would calm soon. You understood where she was coming from, you really did. And it was massively unfair and ridiculous. You had never wished for them to be a little less famous as much as you did now. But it wasn't a possibility. And their lives were... well, as they were, there was no way around that. As much as Vic hated being controlled like this, it would have been a lie to say management didn't have a point.

Maybe you had been a little naive getting involved with the four of them. The time spent at their house, alone or with select friends at best, had possibly been the best of your life. But it couldn't have continued that way forever, even if you had tried to be blind to it. The attention, both from the media and from fans, wasn't something you had taken into account and it had caught you off guard. It made you think maybe the options you had been given weren't such a bad idea. Whichever way you would end up choosing, it would at least bring clarity, put up some rules as to how to behave, at least in public, and what to say if push came to shove and questions demanded to be answered.

Vic was still walking back and forth, messing up her hair even more than it already was. You knew it was time to pull her out of her frenzied state.

"This isn't helping," you sighed, quietly, but it was enough. The second she turned to look at you, really look at you, it seemed like all the anger melted away in favour of something completely different. She didn't waste any time crossing the space between the two of you, easily climbing into your lap, straddling your thighs, as her arms wrapped around you.

"Fuck I'm sorry."

You weren't sure if you had spilled tears or if she was simply trying to comfort you. The way her fingers moved over your cheeks, right under your eyes, could have meant either. Her eyes were solely on you. Finally. You had her complete attention.

"You're right," she sighed against you. "I'm just so fucking angry that someone wants to police what we do."

You pulled her closer, chest to chest. Her heartbeat was erratic and fast against your own, but you could feel her whole body starting to settle down in your arms. You peppered kisses along her neck, more soft than teasing and you could feel a deep breath escape her ribcage.

"I just wish it all wasn't such a big deal," Vic finally said. "I couldn't care less what they write or say."

"I do," you admitted. Vic looked up, studying your face closely.

It was the truth, plain and simple. The band had chosen this life. They had accepted the complications that came with it. They knew it was worth every obstacle to make their dream come true. But that wasn't you. You had been thrown into the deep end without any warning and you had found out the sharks' bite was too dangerous for you.

"I... I'm sorry I didn't think about that. You deserve the privacy you need. Of course you do. It's not our burden to bear and it's not our decision to make." She seemed to be talking to herself more than anything else but you answered anyway.

"So you also think it's on me to say which option I want to go with?"

"Of course, it is," a voice boomed through the room moments before the door falling shut even alerted the two of you of someone else entering.

"Damiano! Why the fuck do you even have my room card!" Vic complained and wiggled in your lap but you simply held her tighter, unwilling to let go of her just yet. Damiano didn't explain, simply winked at her and threw the piece of plastic onto the counter before sitting down next to the two of you. His head dropped onto your shoulder and even though Vic wanted to pretend to be mad, she ended up softly stroking his hair. You removed one of your arms from her waist to wrap it around him instead. It was an awkward tangle, but it was what all three of you needed.

"Have you talked to Thomas yet?"

The question hung heavily in the room. You shook your head. You knew he was an important puzzle part, in a different way than the other three were. There was love, more than platonic love, between all of you, that much wasn't even a question. Obviously, you felt somewhat differently about all four of them. It would have been a lie to simplify it down to the level where it all felt the same with each of them. That wasn't what your love was about, either. But Thomas...

"You know we support you, whatever decision you feel is right, you know that?" Damiano asked as he lifted his head. He pressed a firm kiss against your forehead. "Your happiness matters. Everything else, we can deal with. We can figure it out. All the little details and tidbits. We can discuss it all in the morning, after a good night's sleep. Or a bad night's sleep, doesn't really matter. But I think you need to see Thomas now."

You knew he was right. Vic slowly slid off your lap to let her body drop onto the bed next to you, her touch never quite leaving you, hand on your back. Damiano gave your thigh a squeeze, a gesture that normally would have gotten you excited, but now your nerves were caused by entirely different reasons.

"You can do it, cucciola," Vic said, scratching slightly at your skin through the fabric of your shirt. "He loves you. Be brave."

You took one more look at both of them, knowing you had nothing but their full support, as you stood up, legs shaky. It was time to talk to Thomas.

You didn't know what to expect when Thomas opened the door. Damiano had offered to provide you with a room card, but it felt intrusive to simply barge in. Especially after you had more or less left him stranded after the meeting earlier.

Thomas looked rough. You didn't know how he had gotten himself so stressed in so little time that his appearance suggested he hadn't slept in a week. There was an uncertainty in his eyes you had never known before. He still allowed you to fall into him, press yourself against his chest and wordlessly demand him to hold you.

Being with Thomas felt like coming home. You knew he had about a hundred questions, you could see it in his face when you pulled away, but what was more important was that you knew you'd be okay. Both of you.

"I love you," you said, carefully holding his face in your hands. His eyes were deep, a mostly unexplored territory that you wanted to dive into more and more still, and right now they seemed to hold all the possibilities. You knew you needed to get out what you wanted to say before he would make you drift away, pull you back into the safety of his embrace, where nothing else much mattered anymore.

"I love you and I love the other three. I can't imagine my life without any of you and I don't want to. I've never been in love the way I have right now and I didn't think I could have these feelings for multiple people at once, but I do. I so do. And I assume you know I've talked to Ethan and Vic and Damiano and... well, they all seem to think my opinion weighs the most in this decision. And I think I've made it."

Thomas nodded, unable to keep himself from stealing a little kiss from you as you took a moment to gather your breath. You weren't sure if it was more for your or his own reassurance but you let him, without questions. His lips against yours made everything fall into place.

“Staying away, keeping myself hidden, never accompanying you on your trips again… I don’t think that’s an option, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Of course, we’ll have you!” Thomas almost cried out before quieting down again with a smile that almost made him seem shy. “That’s not even a question.”

“Good,” you giggled, embracing the way the atmosphere in the room was starting to lose its heaviness. “So that leaves us with option two. Making it an official relationship. Making it public. Giving me the freedom to be around, to be in pictures, to be more than a dirty little secret.”

It felt like he was holding his breath.

“It wasn’t even a question of who I was going to choose. I love all of you, you know that, and I would never want to miss any of you. But if there’s one person I couldn’t imagine keeping my distance from in public, not holding their hand, not allowing myself to give them a kiss… It’s you, Thomas. It’s you.”

Thomas kissed you so hard it almost had you tumbling, but you clung to him with an unparalleled urgency. You were wrapped up in each other, a neverending tangle without any beginning or end, fuelled by nothing but love and lust and relief.

As if on purpose, Thomas’ phone chose this exact moment to emit a loud chime that had both of you stop in your tracks. A little fumbling - mainly caused by his unwillingness to let go of you - produced the object from his back pocket. A low groan followed. He let his head drop slightly, pressing his forehead against yours and you could only imagine how uncomfortable this position was with your height difference, but you didn’t dare complain.

“We have a showcase tonight,” he explained. “It’s only a few songs at a radio station, but I gotta go. I would ask you to come along, but…”

His eyes suddenly showcased a dangerous glint. You didn’t quite know what to make of it, but you were certain you’d find out soon enough. You always did.

“Maybe take the time to rest. Take a little nap. We’ll be back before you know it. We might have something planned for you…”

You were still a little sleepy when Thomas dragged you out of his bed and down the corridor of the hotel into someone else’s room. Somehow, despite the excitement about what Thomas had hinted at, the exhaustion had taken over and let you fall asleep the second he had pressed a kiss to the top of your head and left the room. Now, you were desperately shaking the last traces of drowsiness from your bones. You were sure something that would wake you up properly was waiting behind the door to Vic’s hotel room, though.

The room was dark when you entered, but not the solemn, depressing dark you had felt when you had hidden away with Ethan earlier. Instead, they had done their best with their limited ressources away from home, shut the drapes just to light up some candles and turn on some strategic lighting. The three of them turned around as soon as they heard you and Thomas, and you gasped a little at the sight. All of them were clad in gorgeous lingerie, dark red, lace, more seethrough than not, impossibly flattering. When you realised that Thomas was moving behind you, you turned around just in time to see him drop his jeans, shirt already gone, and reveal a tiny red thong that didn’t do anything to hide his manhood.

“How dare you be dressed like that and have the light so low that I can’t even fully appreciate you?” you giggled, making your way over to Vic, her nipples peeking through the thin material and begging you to touch them. You didn’t get very far before Ethan swung his arms around you pulling your back into his chest and keeping you close. You weren’t entirely sure if it was him being unable to keep his hands off you or him keeping you away from going after what you wanted. You assumed a little bit of both.

“Well, believe me when I say it won’t matter soon,” Vic teased, sharing looks with the others you couldn’t quite make sense of. “We’re not planning on letting you see a lot tonight.”

You barely noticed that Ethan had started tugging at your clothes until he motioned for you to lift your arms so he could remove your top. Damiano walked up to you, not hesitating in giving you a reassuring kiss, before helping Ethan get you out of your trousers. You felt horribly underdressed, having thrown on a rather random bra and a comfy pair of underwear this morning, but the way their eyes collectively studied your body built your confidence back up in seconds.

“We love you so much,” Damiano whispered against your lips, barely audible, but enough. “We always want you to be part of this, part of us. And if you want to, you will always belong to us.”

You nodded, breathing an I do back that almost felt ceremonious. Vic brought over a leather band, soft but expensive looking, a choker you realised. She held it up to you, kicking Damiano aside playfully, to let you see the engraved letters on its inside.

D - E - T - V

Blinking the tears away, you swallowed your emotions just enough to reclaim feeling of yourself, unwilling to let yourself be overcome by the multitude of thoughts in your head. You wriggled out of Ethan’s grasp and held onto Vic’s face, bringing her close enough to kiss her heavily, hoping and praying it would make her feel everything you were feeling in that moment, all the connectedness, the trust, the love, the unyielding devotion.

When you let go of her, Thomas grabbed the choker from her, gracefully laying it around your neck to close it at the back. Your fingers moved along the leather, feeling safe and protected under it.

“Do you trust us?” Thomas asked, a chaste kiss on your neck, just above your new accessory.

“With everything.”

"Perfect," Vic grinned knowingly, taking you by the hand and leading you over to her king-sized bed. "Because we're about to show you just how much we love you."

Mere months ago, this situation would have seemed absolutely ridiculous, a fever dream full of kinks you hadn't been quite sure you were into just yet, an idea so absurd it would have made you laugh. But now, right then and there, it all simply made perfect sense.

After delicately undressing you, showering you in kisses and soft touches all the way, and positioning you on the bed, each of them had gently grabbed hold of one of your limbs to securely tie them to a bedpost. You briefly realised how vulnerable your position was - completely naked and spread-eagled and at their mercy - but then they took off the little clothing they still had on and, maybe for the first time, it felt like so much more than sex when they looked at you.

"We want to try something a little different with you because tonight it all about you and how much we love you, okay?"

Damiano could have said anything at all and you would have agreed. It was almost overwhelming to know they would put all of their focus on you, but there wasn't a single doubt that you would be completely safe in their hands.

"How do you feel about gags?" Vic asked, dangling the leather in front of you, a ball in the middle of it, breathing holes making it just slightly less intimidating. You studied the accessory closely. They wouldn't be mad or disappointed if you said no. But looking at it now… the temptation was rising.

"How will I safeword?"

"If you can snap with your fingers, that's usually the easiest," Ethan explained. "We can also give you something to hold that makes noise when you drop it so we'll immediately stop. I also like to touch the tied-up person's hand intermittently, so you can squeeze once for green, twice for yellow and three times for red."

Ethan's hand found yours, testing how easily your restraints let you move, and you squeezed it experimentally, receiving a supportive nod from the drummer. You tried snapping, easily producing a loud sound that seemed to echo through the room.

"Snapping and squeezing it is!" Vic happily exclaimed. She climbed on top of your body, providing you with a  dazzling view of her naked tits as she leaned down. The ball seemed to fit into your mouth perfectly, a sudden wave of panic vanished the second you realised you could breathe normally through the holes. You lifted your head to let her close the clasp and tighten it at the back of it. Her eyes were fiery but emotional as she took every inch of your face in.

You hadn't realised Thomas was moving until he held your hand and you didn't hesitate in giving it a singular squeeze.

"Green," he announced and you could see relief flooding Vic's face too. She moved off you just for Thomas to climb further towards you now. You recognised the silk mask he had used on you the night before in his hands. He held it up in question, you nodded immediately. It was only when he put it on your face that you realised how many of your senses were now impacted.

You couldn't move freely.

You couldn't speak properly.

You couldn't see at all.

That means you would have no idea who would be touching you, who would be where, or what you would be feeling. It excited and terrified you equal amounts but with the trust you had in them, you were prepared to let yourself fall and give up all control.

A hand traced along your body, starting at the side of your neck, along the curve of your breast, down your stomach, and your thigh, a teasing touch leaving goosebumps and an insatiable need for more. Another hand - a slightly different touch, more intent behind it, less softness - grabbed onto your other thigh, pulling at it to spread your legs open that little bit more with the room the restraints gave you. Then, a kiss on your collarbone, hot and wet, immediately making you arch into the contact, gone again too soon. A tongue licking up the valley between your breasts.

Your thoughts were spinning trying to figure out who was doing what to you. If their hands were strong enough to belong to Ethan. If their fingertips were calloused the way Thomas' would be. If their lips were as plush as Vic's. If their hot tongue against your flesh was devilish enough to be Damiano's.

And then they all collectively made you lose your mind. They were all over you, touches, kisses and licks, bites, scratches and spanks, manipulating you in any way they liked. It was impossible to tell where one body ended and the next one began and you realised it didn't matter. This wasn't a test, there was no need to figure out details. You were one with all of them, and they were one with you, losing themselves in love and pleasure the same way you were. Your moans mixed with theirs, some further away, some right in your ear to spur you on even more.

Someone was teasing your nipples in the most promising way, alternating between light touches and flicks, sometimes leaving you yearning for any contact at all just to put their mouth on one of them, sucking and slightly grazing their teeth against the sensitive flesh. You arched against it as much as you could, shamelessly demanding more. You felt hands between your legs, on the inside of your thighs, getting closer to your pussy, not quite there yet. A different hand found yours, holding onto it and you only just remembered the safeword system and squeezed it once. Then, out of nowhere, a tongue lapped against your wetness at the same time as a finger entered you and you instinctively squeezed again.

“Yellow!” Thomas called out and in an instant, every sort of touch left your body, as someone pushed the mask higher to allow you to regain vision and you felt the gag being loosened so you could speak.

“No! No! I’m sorry! False alarm!”

Four pairs of eyes looked at you quizzically and you were glad the room was dark enough so you only had to blink a few times to comfortably see again.

“I just got surprised and accidentally squeezed again, I promise I’m fine, please continue. Please continue.”

Damiano smirked at you, performatively holding up his hand to show you the wetness he had gathered on his finger, before putting it into his mouth and sucking it dry in an obscene gesture. You groaned, struggling against the restraints in an instinctive reaction, trying to reach out to him and get his mouth and hands back on you, but then Vic was pulling the mask over your eyes again as Thomas went to work on tightening the gag.

“Sounds like our cucciola wants more, why don’t we give it to her, hm? I think she deserves it.” Ethan’s voice was low and teasing and it spread tingles all over your body. “No mercy for this one.”

Ethan hadn’t even quite finished his sentence before you were once again under the influence of numerous touches all at once. With your mobility, your sight, and your speech gone, it felt like an attack on your other senses in the best way possible. There was a different mouth on your breasts this time, you could feel it in the way they licked and teased, less teeth, more subtlety. Then your brain went into overdrive when you felt the attention shift to between your legs. It was impossible to tell how many hands were on you, running up and down your thighs, giving them an unexpected spank every now and again, touches to your clit, gathering your wetness, pushing into you. Another finger entered you and from the movements alone you could tell it was two different hands pumping into you just from the misaligned rhythms until they managed to find a similar speed.

Someone moved up the bed and positioned themselves next to you and you quickly realised just who it was.

“You like it, don’t you? Having Ethan’s and Thomas’ fingers in you at the same time. Bet you already want more. I can tell how wet you are from here, I can hear it every time they thrust into you. How’s Damiano’s mouth feel on your clit?” You were confused for a second, but as if on command, his mouth indeed descended on you, teasingly sucking on your clit, leaving you trashing and moaning lowly. If you could, you’d be begging for more. “You love having all the attention on you, just being used by us. Our little puppet to do with whatever we like. Maybe I’ll get myself off on your thigh. Or I’ll remove your gag just so you can eat me out. Or I’ll just touch myself and let you hear how wet I am from watching you.”

“She’s getting even wetter from your words,” Ethan remarked with a chuckle. There was a sudden stretch, probably a third finger entering you, but it was getting hard to tell as you desperately tried to move against them. “Maybe she needs something else.”

You wanted to cry out when the fingers left you, but the gag meant you let out nothing more than a pathetic squeaky noise instead. But you weren’t left empty for long. The bed moved along with the people on it, someone - you assumed Ethan - was positioning themselves between your legs, and then you were finally filled with something much different. He felt perfect, moving slowly at first but already having you writhing underneath him. His grunts were close enough to make you lose your mind just that little bit more. You wanted to wrap your legs around him, draw him even closer but all you felt was the restraints on your ankles digging into your skin.

“He looks so good inside you”, Damiano mumbled into your ear. “You’re taking him so well, so deeply, I can’t wait to be the one fucking you.”

You could hear moans all around you, several touches on your body you knew didn’t belong to Ethan but you couldn’t quite place in the chaos in your head. You wondered if any of them were touching themselves, getting off, enjoying the fact that all you could do was wonder but never know. And then Ethan increased his speed, and your thoughts blurred into nothing at all.

Someone’s hand travelled down your body, leaving little scratches on your skin, before finding your clit. You clenched around Ethan, who replied with a low moan, his hair tickling your skin as he continued to pound into you. You could feel yourself getting closer but before you had any chance to get lost in the feeling, Ethan came inside of you, emptying himself with a few more strokes that hit you so perfectly you wanted to cry, before pulling out. Your body was twitching, desperate for more, willing to do whatever it took to achieve your own orgasm. Anything but snap.

“Good thing you have a few more chances to come tonight,” Vic teased, peppering your neck and chest in kisses. “How about a different type of stimulation?”

You could hear the tell-tale noise before you felt it. Then Vic slid down your body and pressed the vibrator, something long and large, against you, and you erupted in whatever noises were possible behind the gag. There was some shuffling and it felt like she was almost climbing onto your body and when she suddenly moaned, loudly and unhinged, you knew she had positioned herself against the toy as well. The boys busied themselves ravishing your body any other way they could, making sure not a single inch of your skin was untouched for too long. A hand briefly touched yours, just for you to give a clear, singular squeeze back.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” Vic’s voice was low and breathy and you could tell how much the vibrations were affecting her as she moved on top of you. You could basically see her in your mind, humping the toy, moving it further onto you, tits bouncing beautifully, hair wild, and you would kill for the real view, but you were determined not to safeword out of it just to get a visual. She fumbled with the device and only a split second later, the vibrations increased and any thoughts that didn’t revolve around coming right then and there evaporated from your brain.

“Come for me, gorgeous,” she mumbled and when someone dragged their teeth over your nipple while you felt teasing hands on your thighs and hips and breasts, you did just that. With a high-pitched noise that was much more muffled than expected, you buckled wildly against Vic and the toy, riding out your orgasm until it had reached every corner and crevice of your body. Vic followed almost immediately after, her noises much more contained, low breaths and moans that sounded like music to your ears. She climbed off you, a low thud suggesting she had thrown the vibrator somewhere on the floor, and a hand that was unmistakably hers reached up your arm to your hand. One squeeze. A kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t think you’re done yet,” Damiano said and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Think you can take a little more?”

Your nodding was frantic. You could hear Thomas giggle in delight next to you. But it was Damiano who decided to take his turn for now. Positioning himself over your body, he gave you a little breather as he started kissing down your neck, playing with the choker, giving it enough of a tug for you to catch your breath without actually restricting your air intake. He licked down your chest, leaving love bites that would surely evolve into hickeys, missing your breasts completely before wandering further down. Your hips moved on their own account when his tongue moved between your folds, almost making you twitch in overstimulation from the vibration Vic had subjected you to. You wanted to mumble more and please and tell him how much you needed him but you couldn’t.

“She’s struggling against the gag,” Thomas remarked. “Do you want it off?”

You weren’t sure if the question was directed at you but quickly shook your head. You wanted this, all of it, in whichever way they had planned for you and if anything, the desperation stemming from the distance between what you wanted and what you were able to do only made everything that more exciting.

“Good girl,” Thomas whispered into your ear, causing shivers once again.

You had barely noticed that Damiano had moved away again, too focused on Thomas’ voice so close to you, but then you felt his cock against you, gathering your wetness and bumping against your clit, and your attention was back on him immediately. He couldn’t hold himself back for long, it seemed, pushing inside you easily as he moaned loudly. You were sensitive still, but having him inside you felt like a much-needed desire fulfilled after Vic’s vibrator had tortured your clit so perfectly. You moved against him as much as possible, still craving more, craving him, craving another release. He was frantic as he thrust into you, much more desperate to come than you were, and you allowed him to use your body to his pleasure, to take whatever he needed from you, as the others kept caressing your skin delicately.

He didn’t take long at all. With an uninhibited moan that almost sounded pornographic, Damiano came, thrusting into you a few more times in a desperate attempt to chase every last second of it before almost collapsing on you. His face buried into the side of your neck as his laboured breathing fanned against your skin. You once again felt on the edge of overwhelmed at the need to wrap your arms and thighs around him properly, tugging at the bonds. A few more kisses as soon as he had caught his breath before he removed himself from your body.

You knew what was about to follow. Everyone had gotten off. Everyone but Thomas. There was a lot of shuffling on the bed, bodies moving around you, touching you, on purpose and fleetingly at the same time. When a hand found yours you immediately knew it was Thomas, suddenly increasingly aware of the way his fingers intertwined with yours, how his palm molded against yours, and all of a sudden, it shifted and-

You squeezed three times at the same time as your other hand started snapping.

The need for a different type of intimacy had overwhelmed you out of nowhere and before you had even managed to fully understand what was happening, you knew you needed out.

Everyone set into motion all at once, no questions asked, as your restraints were unbound, the blindfold moved away, the gag opened and tossed to the side. Hands working as quickly as possible while still being the gentlest you could have wished for. No one spoke for a moment, everyone busy making sure you seemed unharmed, soft touches to your wrists and ankles, but you didn’t care about any of it.

The second you laid eyes on Thomas, kneeling on the bed next to you, face full of worry, you grabbed onto him, embracing him with all you had.

“Sorry,” you whispered into his hair as you held him close, but even with your voice quiet you knew it was silent enough in the room for the others to hear. “I loved it, I really did but… I need to see you all now. And I need to touch you. All of it.”

Thomas was holding you tightly, his hand stroking your back in a calming pattern. Someone's hand was in your hair, petting it softly, all of them assuring you with words of comfort and love. Thomas moved you just enough for him to be able to look into your eyes, the movement shifting you slightly off his body and letting you feel the prominent erection between his legs. But all his attention was solely on you.

“What do you need?”

“You,” you breathed. “Maybe… maybe we can do it like the first time.”

Thomas didn't hesitate, immediately moving toward the top of the bed so he could sit back against the headboard. His hands reached out for you in an unmistakable invitation and you easily slid into his lap. Both of you simply looked at each other for a moment, lazy smiles on your faces as you reminisced about how far you'd come from that very first time you shared with him. Then you kissed him, wild and passionate, and let him slide into you.

Thomas wrecked his mouth away from yours in a loud moan but your lips were immediately claimed again. Ethan held your head in his hands as he kissed you, unbothered by the way you started slightly moving on top of Thomas, whose fingers were digging into your hips in heavenly pain. Vic was behind you now, straddling Thomas’ legs and pushing her body flush against yours, her bare tits rubbing against your back. Her hands reached around, massaging your bouncing breasts as you increased your speed, Ethan’s mouth unable to keep up and attaching itself to your neck instead.

Thomas was a moaning and mumbling mess underneath you as your hands found his chest. His head was thrown back but you kept eye contact as much as you possibly could, needing that connection with him, and it seemed he did the same.

Then Damiano’s fingers were on your clit and you could feel yourself barrelling toward your orgasm. It was perfect, all of it. Four people around you, loving you wholly and truly for who you were, bending to your every wish to put your pleasure above theirs. This was what goddesses must feel like, you decided, sitting on a perfect throne, every possible need met without even having to ask for it.

Thomas was buckling underneath you, moving against you as much as he possibly could as you pulled him in for another searing kiss, on his mouth, his cheeks, his chin, wherever you could land your lips as you bounced on his cock.

“I love you,” he whispered in a delightfully breathy tone and when Vic tweaked your left nipple, Ethan bit a little hickey into your throat and Damiano flicked against your clit, you came undone in a perfect symphony of sounds. It kept coming in waves, again and again, the attacks on your body not ceasing as you soared through your high, feeling it travel through your body until it reached the outermost corners of your limbs and right back to your burning core. The intensity was unparalleled.

The only thing that kept you from collapsing on top of Thomas was the knowledge that he hadn’t come yet. Everyone else finally moved away from you, sensing you were on the verge of overstimulation, so you pressed your chest against Thomas again, getting him as close as possible. His eyes were closed in pure ecstasy. You leaned down to him, whispering dirty words of love in his ears, spurring him on, and as you clenched around him once more, he let go. The most beautiful sight of your lover coming undone filled your vision, jaw slacked, hands firmly grasping onto the flesh of your hips, face heated up and blushing in the prettiest way. You’d be happy to see it for the rest of your life.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you found perfection. You barely remembered falling asleep, assuming you had done so in the middle and the safety of everyone’s aftercare, but you were overjoyed to realise that you were surrounded by four bodies, still. The space in Vic’s king-sized bed was limited, but everyone seemed to have instinctively taken up only as much space as absolutely needed, intertwined with each other in a tangle that kept you close together.

Thomas was next to you, face to face like you always used to sleep, back in the days, when it was innocent sleepovers with feelings neither of you had tapped into just yet. His arm was lazily slung around your middle, one of his legs between yours, foreheads touching. You could feel his breath on your cheek and if it had been anyone else, it surely would have annoyed you to no end. Not with Thomas, though.

Behind you, Victoria’s body was pressed into yours, not for lack of space, but simply because you both needed to be closer. She was still naked, as usual when she slept, and you revelled in the heat she was omitting. Her hand on your hip felt like a silent reassurance.

Lifting your head ever so slightly, you could see Damiano on her other side. He was on his back, a supremely relaxed look on his face. The sheet was covering his lower half, right where his Mammamia tattoo was peeking out. His left arm was reaching under Vic’s neck, below her pillow, and Vic’s other hand held onto it tightly.

Ethan was lying behind Thomas, facing his back, his long, dark hair all over the pillows like a chaotic halo. He looked peaceful in a way only he could. His arm was on Thomas’ waist, his hand on his lower stomach, holding him tightly, even in his sleep. It looked incredibly safe. You reached out, softly passing over Thomas’ soft skin, until you touched Ethan’s fingers. They reacted immediately, the slightest flinch, a movement, as if they were looking for you.

You leaned back down and cuddled further into Thomas.

This was where you were supposed to be. With Thomas, with Vic, with Ethan, with Damiano. You traced the soft leather still around your neck. You had found your place and it was not only among but right in the middle of these four people that had stolen your heart so completely. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. What anyone else wanted, demanded of you. You’d conquer it all. Everything for now and forever, intertwined and connected with the loves of your life.

***

Taglist: @till-you-scream-and-cry @ethaneskin @blackberryblossom @lifeofa-fangirll @bethanysnow @noeprd27 @polygraph-paperplane @iambandloverr @xx-x-frxnny @thewitchinthemountain @crazyonthelines @vicbellaangelis @mortyandem @icarodamiano @tellmesomething01 @elvirabelle @moonlight-simp @little-moonbeam-666 @theimpossiblehologramtree @ha-la-ansia @l0standn0tf0und @iamtashaquinn @myleftsock @maneskintifoso @katmoonz @cuzimitaliano @wow-ihateithere @searchingford @gr8rainbowpunk @randombush3 @wonderlandishell @befenak @mandy-bo-bandy @lizzylynch1 @andyyxeve @twioss @romanoffswoman

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: Burning Too Much Daylight

(This series of events is part of the alternate continuity of @robovoidfrog's Funkinverse, and is again not to be considered canon unless they state otherwise by the release of Beyond the Spider-Verse.)

After Benjamin and BluBuni managed to save Goatfriend from a landslide in an area and overpower Kenji proper, they came to a stop at the far end of Aquatic Ruin.

Benjamin: Geesh, what is with you trying to stop us from doing the right thing?

Kenji: Dude, you seriously CAN'T save everybody yourself. That's a given in life, and I've had to witness that over time.

Benjamin: I mean, you have a point about it being impossible to save everyone, but that doesn't mean we won't try to anyway.

Kenji: ...Is this why you're still on board with Salty's thoughts, even when you've seen him turn you down?

BluBuni: He's still paranoid from when your group tried to stop him from doing what he felt the urge to do. He might cool off if more -friends side with his desire to stop The X.

Goatfriend: So this is why you've tried to enable my death? Out of that desire to maintain a linear plot that doesn't exist?! I knew there was something fishy about you when Ben and his pack first knocked you out, but this just sells you off as a murderer by inaction!

Kenji: Murd-?! I'm not the one actively trying to murder people to uphold the multiverse! I... I don't even want to deliberately murder anyone. Having my family drift apart and my own counterpart of Pico being driven to a murderous insanity hasn't helped my situation at all, nor has having to witness practically everyone around me undergo their own angst periods.

Benjamin sighed, knowing he couldn't yet forgive Kenji for his repeated disruptions to their parole, but sympathised enough with him to let him be.

Benjamin: Okay. It doesn't excuse what you tried to do, but I'm letting you go.

Alt MIX Boyfriend: What?! He tried to stop us from saving Goatie there, man.

Benjamin: I know, but a lot of these guys aren't thinking straight, more so than what is necessary.

Neo Girlfriend: Which makes sense, considering Leo and Soft Pico's Ben are both stuck with the Society.

Kenji: I don't get it, Ben. Why WOULD you spare me after I've tried to stop you? After I tried to stop... t-the alternate Aloe?

Benjamin: Simple; I don't believe in killing people for the greater good, not even other -friends. Me and Gracie's groups are trying to do the true greater good, by rallying up others to help stop The X as soon as possible. It doesn't help, however, that we've been side-tracked constantly by you derailing our bids to help Salty out. I'll let you go, but you gotta promise not to continue interfering with our mission.

Kenji: *sigh* Okay. I promise.

They nodded to each other.

Soft Pico: Before we let you go... We need to know something important.

Neo Girlfriend: What Earth designation is the Society HQ at?

Kenji wasn't sure if it was best to tell them, but knew it couldn't be hidden forever.

Kenji: I'll tell you, though if necessary, get in there, get whoever you need to out and then hurry out, before Cam notices what you're doing. Alright, so the location is Earth 1-2-4-

He was interrupted as he witnessed blood splatter, showing horror from what happened.

Benjamin: Kenji? Is that all there is?

Kenji: H-He... He figured it out...

BluBuni: What do you mean by-?

Blu turned around, and to her horror, Goatfriend had been shot in the back, now kneeling on the floor.

BluBuni: GOATFRIEND!

She kneeled by his side, tears welling from her eyes. Benjamin did the same, equally horrified.

BluBuni: No no no no! P-Please, stay with me.

Benjamin: Hang tight, G. I'll try and get you healed up.

Goatfriend: I- *cough* I don't want you to waste your strength o-or energy, Ben. That X creep needs stopping b-before he destroys the multiverse.

BluBuni: What about you? I can't just leave you to... t-to...

He put his hand on her cheek, trying to calm her down.

Goatfriend: Hey. Look at me, Blu. You've still got a lot to live for. I don't want your happiness to be permanently gone b-because of this. Y-You need to help Ben and the others stop The X, for m-my sake, alright?

BluBuni: A-Alright, G...

Goatfriend: A-And Ben? Y-You've become tight-knit with B-Blu, haven't you? In case I d-don't make it, please... take g-good care of her for me.

Benjamin: I... I promise she'll be safe with me, Goatfriend.

Goatfriend: A-And, er... just remember that s-she doesn't like carrots. I... heh, I l-learned that the hard way m-myself.

Benjamin: Heh, I'll keep that in mind.

BluBuni smiled to Ben, happy he had the right material as one of her best friends.

Benjamin: I'm gonna get you healed anyway, though. Even if it burns out my strength for a bit, it's better than leaving you to die.

He got started on healing the bullet wound right away.

Goatfriend: Y-You really didn't have to do this, you know?

Benjamin: It's the least I can do for a friend, man. Plus, the shot didn't manage to hit any vital organs, so you're alright.

Goatfriend: T-Thanks, Ben. I really appreciate it.

Grace and Pico arrived on the scene.

Pico: Is he alright? We heard the gunshot before.

Benjamin: Thankfully so. If whoever tried to kill him is still in range, he's not safe here. Grace, can you warp him to a safe spot that's still in this dimension?

Grace: I'm right on it.

She was about to do so, but her neck was clasped by a power inhibitor that prevented her from doing so, right before extra lead was shot into Goatfriend, this time successful in killing him.

BluBuni: NO! G!

She rushed to his body, tearing up a lot as Benjamin went next to her and Grace broke the inhibitor.

Grace: O-Oh, no...

BluBuni: P-Please, d-don't die on me... p-please...

When she realised he really was killed this time, she started crying, now having been through TWO events where she had lost a loved one to outside forces. In response, Benjamin hugged her tightly to comfort her.

Benjamin: H-Hey. I'm here, Buni.

BluBuni: W-Why did it have to be him...?

During the hug, Barbara noticed something close by and pointed Benjamin's focus towards it; a pair of glowing pink eyes that were all too familiar to him. He watched the figure he knew was actively trying to stop him from doing the right thing with contempt, as he slipped away into a portal.

Benjamin: ...Cam!

Pico turned to Kenji.

Pico: Okay, dude. Change of plans, get us straight to his HQ. He needs a reality check.

Kenji kept true to his word, generating a portal that got Benjamin's group into the Funkin' Society HQ at Earth-1249, where Softie was at alongside several other -friends.

Soft Pico: There's Softie!

Softie turned back, seeing his boyfriend having come for him.

Soft Benjamin: Pico?

Soft Pico: Boy, am I glad to see you in one piece. They didn't hurt you, did they?

Soft Benjamin: Thankfully not. Though, I'm not sure I can say the same about all these guys that have been through a lot. Oh, er, who's this (EB!Softie) you've got with you?

EB!Softie: Oh! Hey there!

Soft Pico: It's a long story, Ben. I'll tell you later.

Gracie's group entered the area as well.

Gracie: Did you guys make it?

Benjamin: I... I was so close to saving Goatfriend, but... (through gritted teeth) Cam murdered him in cold blood to try and maintain his "canon"!

Gasps of horror, concern, worry and anger were heard around the other present -friends.

Kenji: I witnessed it happen, everyone. I... I'm sorry.

Judith: I never knew he'd... go as far as to defy our morals just to get his way.

Neo Boyfriend/Leo: The point still stands that, if Salty is out there trying to stop The X, and a few of us couldn't apprehend him ourselves, he needs all the help he can get!

Benjamin: Just what I was thinking.

Gracie: We called you guys together not just to save Salty, but to preserve the very fabric of reality itself.

Benjamin: As it stands, the multiverse needs us to keep it safe, and we need to split from a civil war and unite as one to achieve it.

Gracie: So, our goal is simple. Save our friend, safeguard every universe... and never back down!

Even some of the other defectors, like B3 and Lexi, were present and hearing this.

Galfriend: So how do we go about destroying him if he's pretty much nigh-invincible?

Benjamin: There is a way. Despite him being a distorted demon, his weak spots are going to be where the dark matter in his body hasn't reached. We'll need to make him waste enough of it for us to get good hits in and bring him back down to a vulnerable state.

Leo: Then we shouldn't waste any more time. We're allying as one, and we're staying that way to the end! At this point, no -friend is being left out, no matter what!

Benjamin: And in defiance of defined fates, we'll fix this mess once and for all! Who's with us?

Many -friends in the room raised their fists in their parole to join the cause to stop The X and prove that they're still capable of doing the right thing. However, Cam soon entered the room on a higher level, witnessing what was going on.

Cam: <Everyone, we'll focus on the X after we've stopped Salty's defiance! Get back to your-!>

However, Benjamin spotted him and threw his microphone cord at him, yanking him down by the leg in front of everyone present.

Cam: GAH!

Benjamin: Shut up with your so-called "authority", Blueballs!

Cam: <I'm the good guy here! None of you get it!>

Kenji: He said shut UP!

Kenji speaking up second shocked a lot of the -friends, considering that he had been one Boyfriend the others barely hung around.

Kenji: Everyone, Cam does NOT know what he's doing as a leader, and he's proved that quite well!

Cam: <Traitorous scum! I gave you a simple task, and you botched it on purpose!>

Judith: No! He's right. All of us in here have to atone for our past failures; the loved ones we've lost, the people we couldn't save thanks to your rules... I told you before, Cam. THIS is what we do. We HELP people, even if it affects us badly in the long-run.

Bartholomew/B3: I know it's hard to accept, boss, but THAT is the truth I had been blinded to since you brought me here.

Aloe Mano: In there, you clearly didn't want to hesitate in chasing Salty down the second he got free from your energy cage. And look what things have become now!

Benjamin: It's clear now, isn't it, Cam? Your little society you made under the guise of "protecting the multiverse"? It's nothing but a cult enabling murders by not allowing others to try and save those close to them. Even if you didn't directly kill them, their blood's still on your hands, and on those you and your strike force have prevented from helping those close to them.

The -friends around him were clearly ashamed for enabling the deaths of those close to them.

Benjamin: THAT'S why Salty defied your goals; BECAUSE he isn't going to let his adoptive family meet the same fate as countless others have in your guise of stopping those universes from destabilising! It doesn't help you've been hiring children as young as Lexi into your twisted actions, and I'm sure as hell glad I got to Evan before any of your squad could try and usurp him!

B-Bot: Isn't it obvious from your backstory? It's YOU who's the original anomaly.

Brooke: Make that more of a paradox. You saw the anomalies, attributed them to Salty, and even then, you stood in for a dead counterpart of yourself.

Cam: <That changes nothing. We ARE the good guys, and you all know it. We're still keeping the multiverse safe.>

Softie shook his head.

Soft Benjamin: Not like THIS, we aren't, Cam.

Romantic Boyfriend: Too darn right.

RecD Boyfriend (with accompanying subtitles): Yeah, like, how is this meant to be fair on us when our motive's meant to be doing the right thing?!

Benjamin: In fact, I'll never forgive you for disrupting my attempt to help BluBuni save Goatfriend from his "canon event"! She's been deeply scarred from this second major loss in her life, and his death remains on YOUR hands! AND Kenji's! AND anyone else who deliberately tried to intervene!

Cam growled at Benjamin as other -friends stepped back a little in fear, realising from words alone that the angel was a force to be reckoned with.

Benjamin: THIS is who your leader is, everyone; a deluded and sickening bully who uses force to get his own way! Well, I've made it clear I won't be joining your "alliance", Cam, and neither will any of my pack, end of! We're supposed to be the good guys, and look what you've made hundreds of -friends become!

Cam attempted to lunge at Benjamin before being blocked by BluBuni, who was especially angry at him for what he did.

BluBuni: You're a murderer, and you know it.

Cam: <Get out of the way right now!>

BluBuni: I won't!

Cam: <I will not ask you again, girl! Get the fuck out of MY WAY!>

In response, Bently rushed forward and slashed at Cam's eye again, this time truly damaging it.

Bently: There's a fresh one if you try that again!

Benjamin: ...I guess I should never have bothered trying to redeem you, Malicious.

Toon Boyfriend: You know, you shouldn't even consider yourself a "hero" when you can barely hold a mass group of these guys together!

D-Sides .XML: Like how I don't see myself as a hero. Just shows that you really are a self-mythologizing narcissistic autocrat, ain't ya?

Cam: <This is for the sake of millions of people. Don't ANY of you get it?!>

Gracie stepped forward.

Gracie: What about YOUR Girlfriend, both in this universe AND the one you crossed into? What would she think of you if she could see what you're doing right now?

In response, Cam's stoic expression broke, his look visibly distressed from the thought.

Cam: I-I... Uh...

Gracie: Yeah, that's what I thought.

Benjamin: You CAN still help us if you want, but we're not forgiving you for murdering an innocent just to maintain your flawed philosophy. We're headed for Salty's world all together, with or without you. We're through with wasting time on a wild goose chase and civil war while a monster runs amok!

The others got their watches ready, teleporting away one-by-one with the now-common goal in mind.

Gracie: Farewell, Cam. May you think about your life choices.

Brooke Jr. blew a raspberry at him to make it clear again his opinion on the fallen hero, as he and his father warped away. Even Evan couldn't help but show his contempt to Cam for his unjustifiable actions.

Benjamin: Alright, guys. Let's go do what we should've been focusing on from the start!

The Funkin' Gang and Benjamin's crew warped away, leaving Cam (and Derpina) the only ones left in the HQ.

Derpina: Well... THAT happened, I guess.

Cam: <Not now, Derpina.> *sigh* <Do you have any idea on how we can get rid of The X?>

Derpina: Should all else fail, I've run scans about a nuclear solution. I've run simulations wherein reversing the polarity of the colliders will destabilise Grimbo's being and erase him from the multiverse, as well as all those in Salty's universe.

Cam: <That's an option I don't even want to consider, Derpina! Haven't you got any more feasible options on hand?!>

Derpina: Oh, I'm certain the solution will work should it need to be employed. It has before... in the universe you lived in temporarily.

This realisation hit Cam like a ton of bricks. Everything in his world view fell apart in an instant as he realised that "canon" was not the cause of his failed act to be happy again, and Derpina knew it all along. He fell to his knees and looked around the now-empty building, his face showing genuine sorrow and regret for the first time in a long time.

He slowly made his way back to the control room, looking at his hands, which flashed blood being on them from time-to-time to hammer in the points thrown at him.

Salty: Who decides that? I'm not a kid! Gracie: We're supposed to be the GOOD guys! Judith: Millions of people will be in grave danger if we keep sitting on the wayside. Kenji: Cam does NOT know what he's doing as a leader! B-Bot: It's YOU who's the original anomaly. RecD BF: How is this meant to be fair on us when our motive's meant to be doing the right thing?! BluBuni: You're a murderer, and you know it.

Finally, he rested his hand by the control panel, remembering that one self-destruct command he had installed just in case the silly and quippy natures of his peers annoyed him so much that he'd blow up the entire building with them and himself inside. He also saw his watch very close to running out of power, a look of determination and the urge to actually do the right thing washing over him.

Derpina: So... what's YOUR plan on stopping The X?

Cam (hovering his hand over the switch): <What I should've done before Salty got here to begin with.> I'm going to help the others out and right my own wrongs!

He pressed the button before using his watch to warp to Earth-405 (Derpina in tow), the building itself blowing up shortly after and leaving only debris and badly-damaged machinery at its former site.

[canofspooks]

DannyMay Day 20 (Nasty Burger)

Summary: Five years after the series takes place, Danny feels like his life is at a dead-end. Stuck in Amity Park, working at the Nasty Burger, while the rest of the world moves on without him.

Words: 937

Danny tossed his keys onto the counter and looked around at the dimly-lit apartment. Dirty dishes from the last couple of days were strewn around. Cleaning right after getting off of his last shift at the Nasty Burger wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but if he left it any longer he might get ants, and then he'd have a real problem.

Get changed first. Then dishes.

He trudged into his bedroom and worked the shirt of his uniform over his head. Then came his binder, which was less cooperative. He grunted and twisted around awkwardly until he was finally freed, then tossed the garments into the growing pile on his desk chair.

Home sweet home. Danny threw on an old t-shirt that hadn't been washed in days. Dishes first, then laundry. Or, dishes first, then sweeping, then - the list of chores went on. All he wanted to do was collapse onto the bed.

He indulged himself enough to flop onto the covers and stare at the ceiling until the nagging in his mind overtook his desire to stay still. He combed through the apartment, grabbing dirty dishes from odd places they'd stayed hidden for who knows how long. He grimaced, lifting a coffee cup off a copy of his resume he'd left laying out on his desk. A dark ring stained it, meaning he'd have to print it out again if he wanted to bother continuing his job search.

He couldn't keep working at the Nasty Burger forever.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tucker.

Danny gritted his teeth into a fake smile to hopefully encourage any semblance of life to return to his voice as he picked up.

"Hey Tuck, how've things been?"

"Pretty alright. You've never been out of the country, right?" Tucker asked.

"... Weird question to lead with. Unless we're counting Phantom business, no. Why do you ask?"

Tucker made an excited squeal so loud, Danny had to pull the speaker away from his ear. "I got an interview with Lockheed! Or, I'm going to. They need to make sure I'm not associating with terrorists or whatever. They take their shit seriously. They're testing for drugs I didn't even know existed!"

"Wow, you're really going up in the world, huh? I'm happy for you, man." Danny moved away from the coffee-stained resume and dumped his dishes in the sink.

"Thanks. I just can't believe it's really happening. Right out of college, too. I can't believe my luck."

Danny idly began tidying up the room, throwing old pizza boxes in the trash and tossing laundry in a seldom-used hamper. The chair was an easier shot from his bed.

"It's not luck," he assured Tucker, trying and failing to toss loose pens into his desk drawer. "You're a smart guy. You're probably better qualified for the job than half of the people applying for it."

"I mean, you're right, but I'm trying to be humble here, Danny. Anyway, how's Amity? I heard it was a cold week."

"It's the same old, same old. Dash broke up with another chick and he's making it my problem every time he gets a lunch break." Coming in when he knew Danny was the only one on-shift, bugging him with small-talk, complaining about every little thing wrong with his order. Dash was far from the worst customer - even the former bully had some level of common human decency. The older folk, less so.

He'd find a new job eventually.

"Jeez, I don't know why you put up with Dash. With Phantom, you could fuck with him so hard."

"Yeah but then he's in a bad mood, and he takes it out on me."

Tucker sighed. "I'm not suggesting anything, but Phantom's a pretty good get-out-of-jail free card for most situations. Permanent solutions."

"Tuck." All the playfulness drained from his voice in an instant.

"Sorry, sorry. That was bad. Um, maybe you could move out here? I could always use a roommate. There's pretty good job opportunities out here."

Danny felt the weight of the last five years weighing on his body. He dragged the hamper over to his room and dumped the clothes from his chair into a messy pile… vaguely inside the hamper. That gave him enough room to sit and spin around in the chair until he could think of the words to say.

Please.

It would be so nice.

"You know I gotta say no. Amity needs Phantom."

The pauses between their responses were slow, and measured. Tucker tested the waters, more assertive than before. "Amity can figure itself out, alright? If there were enough ghost hunters there to mess with you when we were in highschool, then they can spend their time hunting the ghosts who actually matter."

"I can't-"

"- Think about it. All I'm saying is, the offer's out there. I miss hanging with you."

A sad smile pulled at the corners of Danny's lips. He wiped away a tear with his palm. "Talk to you later, Tuck. Thanks."

"Alright… call me if you need anything."

With a click, he hung up. Danny sank down into the chair and looked up at the ceiling.

Amity didn't need Danny Fenton anymore. Jazz, Sam, Tucker - everyone in his life who meant anything had moved on. Promised to keep in touch. Tried, he'd give them that. It was hard to keep in contact when the rest of the world was moving so fast and here he was, stuck for the last five years in a dead-end town because it needed Phantom more than anything he was worth on his own.

Maybe that would have to change.

[heliads]

Second Best

Based on this request: “a Zoya Nazyalensky story where she and the reader are friends and one night they get into a fight and Zoya confesses her love?”

masterlist

The task before you is simple. All you have to do is use your abilities as a Grisha Squaller to pick up the metal spear before you and launch it across a clearing into the awaiting target. It’s almost offensively easy, something you’ve been training to do since you arrived at the Little Palace all those years ago. It’s very simple, although the fact that you’re now next in line to complete the task makes it seem strangely harder.

However, the eyes of the rest of the Squallers are upon you, so you can’t exactly back down now. You step forward, lifting your hands in the traditional gestures used by the Etherealki whenever they have it in their minds to do something particularly interesting, and the spear lifts before you. You let it hover there, suspended in the air for a second, and then you fling your hands forward, palms facing the target. The spear flies in unison with your movement, burying itself halfway through its length in the target. It’s almost a perfect shot, maybe off by a hair’s breadth. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

You can hear applause from behind you, the usual aura of surprise that comes with the feat you’ve just accomplished. With a casual gesture of your fingers, the spear yanks itself out of the target, with only a few sparse pieces of straw falling to the ground as any sort of damage. Well, that and the gaping hole in the center of the target, although that is quickly mended by the Fabrikator kept on hand. You can’t help but grin to yourself as the spear returns to your hand. Let’s see anyone else match that.

You may have spoken a little too soon- seconds after you’ve returned the spear to its awaiting position near the front of the courtyard, it’s hurled again through the air, shooting with the precision of an arrow to land in the direct center of the target. You thought it might be impossible to improve upon the slight difference in your shot, but this latest Squaller has managed it with ease.

Normally, any other blue-garbed Etherealki would be looking around in horror and dismay, upset as to what would cost them the first place spot in the class and curious as to who could land a perfect shot such as that. You, however, are somewhat used to this now, and just keep walking with a grin. You can hear footsteps approaching behind you, and don’t even have to turn around to acknowledge the girl now matching your strides.

“Nice one, Zoya.” The girl beside you smirks. “I should hope so. If I so much as missed the center by a hair, you wouldn’t let me forget it for a week.” You laugh. “Of course not. How could I let go of the chance to not tease Zoya’Best In Class’ Nazyalensky? It would practically be  a crime.” Zoya nods, pretending to be serious. “Absolutely. The Saints might invoke their wrath upon you if you didn’t act upon such an opportunity.” You fling your hand over your heart dramatically. “Here lies Y/N L/N, dead after the Saints wanted to see her make fun of her friend and she let them down.”

Zoya snorts graciously as you pretend to faint on her, shoving your mock limp body aside. “Oh, you consider us friends?” You catch yourself easily, rolling your eyes. “Zoya dear, I know it would bring you no greater pleasure in the world to consider yourself a lone wolf, forever at the front of the pack, but I thought you’d realized by now that you simply can’t get rid of me. We’re friends.” 

You can hear Zoya grumbling, but when you glance over at her, there’s an ill-concealed smile dancing behind her eyes. “That’s an interesting way to convince people to like you, annoy them and make sure you don’t ever leave you alone.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “And did it work, yes or no?” Zoya huffs. “It did, but we’re not talking about that.” You grin. “Of course we’re not.”

You pause by the halls of the Little Palace, ready to part ways as usual. Although the Etherealki and Squallers specifically all have their quarters around the same area, Zoya’s rooms are a ways away from your own. This is typically where you split up, where you go your way and Zoya returns to her own devices, where she’ll most likely plot how to take control of the next lesson and prove herself the best of the students yet again.

However, Zoya shakes her head, continuing to walk next to you. “There are too many people waiting by my doors. I’m staying in yours instead, if that’s alright.” You nod, unable to keep a teasing grin from your face. “Of course it’s alright. It must be so hard, having to deal with suitors and fans so often. I imagine it to be simply exhausting.” You’re expecting Zoya’s vexed scowl and smack on the arm, so you’re able to duck out of the range of both.

This is how it is to be close friends with Zoya Nazyalensky, after all. You laugh with her, develop a thick enough skin to stand the constant scathing remarks that must of course be exchanged, and do your best to keep up with the neverending flow of power and possibility that always seems to come her way. That’s how it has always been, and how it will always be.

It’s not that you mind this, of course. You learned early on that no matter how hard you try, she’s always going to come in first in the class competitions and Grisha displays of strength. Being second out of so many Etherealki is pretty damn good for you, and you can tell that there’s a slight sigh of relief in Zoya’s eyes when you never seem to mind her showing off or ruining what might have been a first place finish for you. Hey- you never came to the Little Palace to always be the best, you came to learn and laugh, and you do that with Zoya. You would never trade what you have with her for fierce competition, even if it meant that you’d start besting her in contests.

This isn’t to say that you wouldn’t change slight aspects of your friendship, of course. For some reason, your heart decided to join the scores of other Grisha and even otkazat’sya that were foolish enough to fall in love with Zoya, and you’re just as hopeless as the rest. It’s just the way that she laughs when she wins, the glimmer of competition and spirit in everything she does, the undeniable thrill in your chest whenever you spot the familiar blue-clad silhouette heading briskly your way. No, you don’t think there was ever a way that you wouldn’t fall under her spell, even if you tried your hardest to fight it.

You could have told her you loved her, you think. You could have mentioned it to Zoya at any point, but you don’t. You’ve seen the way she watches potential friends for their weaknesses, having to always second-guess why they’re talking to her. Is this latest Corporalki approaching her because he truly wants to be her friend, or is it because he instead desires the secrets of her skill in Grisha abilities or as another girl in his bed? For anyone else, you think the constant doubts would drive someone mad, but it doesn’t for Zoya. She’s able to tuck it inside herself, bury it until you wouldn’t even know it was there at all.

She told you once, when the night was dark and long and Zoya couldn’t stop herself from having slightly too much kvas after a hard mission, that she sometimes terrifies herself over the fact that she might always be alone. You can still picture her there, curled up in a chair by your fire, the haunted look in her eyes. You know something happened before she came to the Little Palace, something that made her never trust another soul unless they worked to prove it, but it’s hovering in the back of her mind right now.

So, you nodded at her, and gave her another one of your sapphire blankets to help the way that she won’t stop shivering, and you listen. When Zoya looks up at you again, as if expecting to leave like the others or at least shoo her from your rooms, you simply offer for her to stay the night and not have to go back to her empty quarters. You think that was the moment when she finally accepted that you weren’t going away, when she really started to trust you.

This is precisely why you cannot say a word about how you feel- if Zoya finds out, she’ll begin to wonder if your entire friendship was just borne of a lie, the same as any of the other heartstruck Etherealki who think themselves brave enough to tame Zoya. So, you make sure to direct your lingering glances towards the woods and the scenery around you instead of her, and you force a joking smile instead of a soft look. She would know what you meant if you didn’t hide your heart, so you must do your best to deceive her. 

You’ve arrived in your rooms by now, tossing your outer coats to the side and warming your hands by the fire in the corner. You talk for a while about the class and the other students and the way Marie won’t stop staring at Sergei, a Corpoalki who she most certainly should not be associated with. Zoya stays until the candles burn low, and then she says goodbye with a smile. You return her smile. You always do.

You have a most interesting conversation over the next week. It’s not with Zoya, as it turns out, but General Kirigan. Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it at all. He’d caught you unawares in the library one night, while you were studying the particulars of the making at the heart of the world for a class lecture the next day. He hadn’t been there one second yet appeared the next, looming over your book with a shadow that seemed too tall and menacing to be real.

You had looked up in surprise, but he held up a hand, quelling any doubts that you’d accidentally done something wrong. He spoke to you about a regiment of Grisha in one of the backwater towns, some part of the Second Army that was asking for far too many supplies in exchange for the lackluster job they were doing to protect the potential Grisha in the city. For some reason, he asked your opinion of what to do about them, and you gave it. He thanked you with a smile, then left.

This happened twice more. All three times, he showed up, talked with you for a little bit, and asked a question on what you thought of a particular issue. Sometimes, it was still with the Second Army, and sometimes it was with the opportunities presented to the Grisha at the Little Palace itself. He seemed intrigued to hear what classes were like, saying how he had heard you were one of the best Squallers there were. You had smiled at that, and his eyes had glinted like a hound about to take down his prey.

That was the third visit, the most recent visit. You’re walking back to your quarters now, unable to keep a slight grin from your face. This is it, isn’t it? This is how you make your way from the classrooms of the Little Palace to the battlefield, to a real chance to do something different. When you open your doors, Zoya is propped up in an armchair inside, although this does not surprise you. You’ve long since given her free reign of all that is yours.

She looks up at you, a question already bubbling up in her inquisitive glance. “What’s got you so excited?” She’s never been able to miss a detail, has she? You can’t seem to tuck your smile away. “I’ve been speaking to General Kirigan, three times now. I think he might be on the verge of offering me a job in the Second Army.” You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting from Zoya- an expression of surprise, maybe some congratulatory words. Whatever you thought might happen, you were certainly not expecting her to stand up, face twisted in something that looked almost like fear and anger.

“You can’t do that. You should avoid him as much as possible.” Your feet stall from where you’d been crossing the room to her. “What are you talking about?” Zoya shakes her head, almost manic. “You should stay away from him. What did he tell you?” This, coming from your closest friend when you’d been so excited, is enough to make your happiness start to leach from you, replaced by a cold bewilderment and betrayal. “What does it matter? Zoya, this could be my future.”

Zoya seems unwilling to hear you out. “Tell me what he said, Y/N. You can’t trust a word he says.” You scoff. “I’m not a fool, Zoya. I know what he said, and none of it was a trick. He spoke to me like a friend, and last time he talked to me about potential openings within the Grisha ranks. I could have a position. Isn’t that excellent?” Zoya shakes her head once more. “It’s a trick. He won’t give you anything. Don’t tell me you’re actually going to believe what he says?”

You draw back from her now, all traces of excitement gone from you. “Why are you saying this? Maybe I don’t know if he truly means it or not, but you don’t know anything about this. Saints, I thought you might actually be happy for me.” Zoya almost winces at that. “I’m not- I would be happy for you if I thought this was something real, Y/N, but it’s not. Nothing is with him.” You can feel yourself rising up in anger. “Oh, and you would know about that, wouldn’t you? From all of the time you spent with him? Are you truly doubtful, Zoya, or do you just not want me to be involved with him because you don’t want me to have anything that you hadn’t had first?”

The words are coming out faster now, one after the other. Truth be told, it’s almost good to hear them aloud after so long keeping them inside. “I never had a problem with you being first in class, first in everything. I never will, but I assumed that you would extend that same courtesy to me. Why is it that we’re friends in everything, but the second I seem to get some sort of headway, you have to prove it wrong? Can’t I have anything that isn’t yours already?”

Zoya draws back as if you’ve slapped her. “That’s not how I feel. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” You want to laugh. “This is how you keep me safe? By taking everything away from me until I’m only in your shadow and nowhere else?” Zoya flings her hands in the air. “If it means he doesn’t get his hooks in you, yes! I would rather have you stay here forever than lose you.” You look at her, unbelieving. “And why is that? Because we’re such good friends that you’d trade my future for my complacency?”

Zoya’s voice is soft now, barely there at all. “Because I cannot stand to lose you. Because I love you, Saints damn it, and I’d rather have you hate me than never have you at all.” You stand there for a second, then another, then another. Your breath is sharp and harsh in your chest, but you cannot seem to say a single word. You try for a few, anyway. “You love me?” She nods once. “Yes.”

You do laugh now, incredulous. “Why didn’t you say so, you idiot? I love you too.” She looks almost surprised. “I thought- I thought you just wanted to be friends.” You shrug. All of your anger is receding away from you now, washing back into the banks after a flood. “I did, because I thought that’s all you wanted. I didn’t want to make it seem like I was only your friend because I had feelings for you.” Zoya stands there for a moment, then something almost like a sigh comes from her and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around you. “You generous, impossible fool. I can’t stand you.” You laugh, returning her embrace. “Of course not. You love me.”

requested by @villnella​

grishaverse tag list: someone who would be my squaller bestie @underc0vercryptid​, @darlinggbrekker, @cameronsails​, @aleksanderwh0r3​

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 3

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Going through the portal from one dimension to another felt as simple as walking through a door. There was no flash of light, no weird tingly sensation all over Gavin’s body, no “welcome to a new dimension” announcement; Gavin could almost believe he was still back home...were it not for the fact that every single thing around him was mega sized.

Trees as tall as skyscrapers loomed overhead, and although he was looking down on them from Rael’s hip height, Gavin could still tell that even the wildflowers sticking out of the ground would be taller than him. He swore he even saw a chipmunk the size of a car scurrying up the side of a tree.

Suddenly, Gavin felt almost glad he was secured inside a cage. As much as he hated being confined, right now he didn’t feel like he could handle being out in the open, not with a bunch of big ass woodland creatures roaming about. Being attached to a big ass dude was bad enough.

Though he couldn’t see it from his current position, Gavin figured the portal they’d come through must have gone away, judging by the abrupt disappearance of the soft blue glow that the portal had been giving off a moment ago. “I’m officially closed off from the rest of humanity,” Gavin’s brain helpfully reminded him.

Glancing upward, Gavin caught Rael throwing him a brief look as if to ensure his captive was still there. The teal eyes examined him for only a moment before they returned to looking forward.

Gavin sighed. As intimidating as Rael was, he knew he couldn’t avoid talking to the guy forever. For one, he needed to ask his captor where exactly he was being taken, because in the middle of the woods hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. Gavin was admittedly not all that knowledgeable about alteon customs, but he was pretty sure they mostly lived in cities and towns.

Before Gavin even got the chance to mentally prepare himself for the prospect of addressing the alteon, he was bucked forward by the movement of the giant leg behind him.

Once again lying at the bottom of the cage, Gavin groaned. He was really beginning to sympathize with hamsters, lizards, and other handheld pets. Getting tossed around in a cage really sucked. Although, he figured most pets would be handled more carefully by their owners than Rael was currently handling him.

Every other step the aleton took jarred Gavin’s cage, meaning there was zero point in trying to stand up because he’d just be thrown to the floor again in an instant. Instead, he opted for sitting in the back with his arms wrapped around the iron bars for stability. It was still an unpleasant experience, but at least this way he could spare himself a few extra aches and pains.

About five minutes passed by and Rael continued to make his way silently through the forest. He clearly had no intention of striking up a conversation, which meant the task fell on Gavin. “Just picture him in his underwear,” he thought to himself, but then quickly realized that trick only worked on normal sized people. Picturing Rael in his underwear would only make Gavin feel both afraid and uncomfortable. “Okay…just imagine he’s not gigantic then.”

Gavin tilted his head back so he was looking up towards Rael’s face, however from the angle he was at, he could only really see the underside of the man’s jaw. “Yeeeah, kind of hard to imagine he’s not huge when I have to almost break my neck just to see his face.” After taking a deep, steadying breath, Gavin opened his mouth to speak.

-

Were Rael someone well learned in the magical arts, he could have easily teleported both himself and his human charge to the palace. However, as things were, he had no choice but to travel on foot through the woods that surrounded the city of Ostrad.

Rael didn’t necessarily mind a little hiking, but having to walk back to the city added on about an extra hour to the assignment he never wanted in the first place. He blew out an inaudible sigh, ignoring the way the cage hooked onto his belt repeatedly bumped against his thigh as he walked. At least the human had kept quiet so far, as long as it remained that way--

“Hey, uh--Rael?” The unexpected sound of the human’s voice nearly caused Rael to stop in his tracks. He paused for a moment but quickly recovered and continued making his way forward.

Rael flicked his eyes downwards for just a moment and saw that the human was looking up at him expectantly. Half because he didn’t want to end up running into anything, and half because he didn’t want to give the human the satisfaction of getting his attention, Rael quickly went back to looking forward. “What is it?” he responded reluctantly, making no effort to hide his irritation.

“Well--um, I was just wondering where we’re headed,” said the human nervously. Rael had been a little surprised when he found out that humans didn’t have high, squeaky little voices that fit their size. Instead, their voices were essentially normal, though much quieter than that of an alteon. This was something Rael was grateful for. While it would have been briefly amusing if the humans squeaked like mice, Rael had no doubt he would quickly tire of it.

“I’m delivering you to the Emperor at the palace,” Rael stated tersely. Surely the human could have deduced that on his own.

There was a pause, and Rael hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but evidently the human had other plans. “Right but uh--why didn’t we just...portal straight there?” he asked.

Rael rolled his eyes. He didn’t know whether it was all humans or just this one in particular, but there was certainly an air of obliviousness emanating from Gavin Stone. “The portal needs to be distant enough from civilization in the event intruders manage to slip through somehow,” Rael explained slowly, as though he were speaking to a child.

Honestly, the precaution of keeping portals isolated seemed as though it was more for the sake of protecting the humans that might come through than any alteons. Prior to departing for this assignment, Rael had been educated in all the ways humans could potentially bring harm to alteons. The list was quite short, and mostly involved large weapons of mass destruction, which were apparently not widely available in the human realm.

A thoughtful hum came from the caged human. “I guess that makes sense, though I can’t imagine any human intentionally trying to come here,” he commented. He seemed to be gaining some confidence in his speech and no longer stumbled over his words, much to Rael’s annoyance. The last thing he needed was for his captive to start getting talkative.

“Believe me, we don’t want humans here either,” Rael retorted. Perhaps he was speaking from his own opinion more so than that of the general population of his dimension, but he wasn’t about to tell Gavin Stone that.

-

Gavin narrowed his eyes at Rael’s comment. If he didn’t know any better, he might say that his captor wasn’t all too fond of humans. He had to wonder what the alteon’s past experience with humans had been. Was Gavin the first he’d met? Had he really made that bad of a first impression? “Oh yeah, I sprinted away from him full speed,” Gavin reminded himself.

People not liking him was not an unfamiliar thing for Gavin. Admittedly, he maybe didn’t have the best verbal filter, and had the unfortunate tendency to blurt out whatever popped into his head. He had been fired from his first job at a movie theater for accidentally calling his manager a “lazy dickwad” within said manager’s earshot. He had gotten sent to the principal’s office in third grade for letting it slip to another kid that Santa wasn’t real. And Gavin knew it was only a matter of time before he said something to Rael that really pissed off the giant.

If Gavin were smart, he would just keep his mouth shut. It was obviously what Rael would have preferred. The only problem was, Gavin wasn’t smart. Smart people became doctors, settled down with a sweet spouse, and moved into a fancy house in the suburbs. Smart people did not become thieves who stole from literal giants.

“So uh--are you like the Emperor’s delivery guy then?” Gavin asked. He didn’t really know where he was hoping the conversation would go or what he hoped to accomplish, but running his mouth felt familiar. If he stayed quiet he’d just end up wallowing in his own anxiety and fear.

Rael shot Gavin a quick, sharp look. “I am a member of the Imperial Guard, not a ‘delivery guy’,” he snipped, clearly not fond of Gavin’s insinuation.

Gavin didn’t really know what being in the “Imperial Guard” entailed, though he supposed it had a fancy enough name. Honestly, it kind of sounded like something out of Star Wars, though he wasn’t going to mention that to Rael considering the guy probably didn’t even know what a movie was.

“So did they specially choose--” Gavin’s sentence was interrupted midway through by an annoyed huff from Rael.

“There is no need for us to converse. So unless you have something crucial to say, I recommend you keep quiet,” the alteon stated coldly.

Despite Rael’s less than friendly tone, and the fact that it was a colossus of a man saying it, Gavin did not intend on keeping quiet. A familiar desire to be contrary was rising up in him. His mom had always called it his “urge to be a complete pain in the ass.”

Gavin didn’t necessarily want to intentionally piss off his captor, he didn’t want to make an enemy of the alteon. That would be stupid even for him. However, Gavin wasn’t about to roll over and behave like a good little boy. He was a criminal, following the rules was basically the antithesis of who he was. No, Gavin was going to talk to Rael whether the elf looking son of a bitch liked it or not.

[cakelanguage]

Another gift I made for the Malec Secret Santa 2020, this time for yorit1 on AO3! It was my first time venturing into high school AUs, and it was actually quite fun. I hope you enjoy this goofy and fluffy high school au <3

You can also read this on AO3

--

Alexander Lightwood was different. He was nothing like his brother, Jace who was the star quarterback of the football team and a bit of an egomaniac at times. He wasn’t like his sister, Isabelle who was free-spirited and made a statement with her fashion choices and opinions.

No, Alec was quiet. He tried to take up as little space as possible no matter how much room he was given. Despite his towering stature he tended to hunch unconsciously. Like he was afraid he was always taking up too much room.

But he was stubborn and terse to the majority of people and doted on his family. He stood up for others and advocated for LGBTQ+ rights at school and outside it. He took in those who wormed their way into his heart with nary a thought but kept them away from knowing him besides the front he presented.

He was an array of contradictions that only made him more interesting in Magnus’ eyes.

And he stared. At Magnus. A lot.

Initially, Magnus hadn’t even noticed Alec’s gaze. He’d only realized it when Ragnor and Catarina had brought it to his attention.

“You’re being watched,” Catarina commented offhandedly, taking a bite of her salad.

Magnus smirked. “I’m always being watched,” he purred.

A groan echoed beside him. “I swear, if your head gets any bigger they’ll be no way to hide it,” Ragnor groused.

“I refuse to have this negativity within my eyesight.” Magnus made a shooing gesture. “Remove yourself at once.”

Catarina giggled at their banter before clearing her throat. “I’m being serious, though. You’ve been being watched by mister brooding over there.” She inconspicuously pointed to somewhere diagonally to them.

Not one to shy away from attention, Magnus whipped his head around to try and meet the gaze of his admirer. His eyebrows shot up when he met the gaze of Alexander Lightwood.

Alec seemed to have met his eyes too because his face reddened. The boy gave him a timid wave before ducking his head to gaze at his food, seeming to ignore the other occupants at his table.

Magnus would have continued looking at the bashful boy if his vision wasn’t suddenly obstructed. He squawked and turned a glower to Ragnor. “Are you really trying to cover my face up with a paper bag right now?”

His best friend grinned. “You were staring.”

“He was staring.”

“You wouldn’t have even noticed his staring if Cat hadn’t informed you.”

Conceivably, there was some truth to that. He wasn’t short on admirers so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t noticed one person’s attention.

He was curious to see how this would all play out.

It happened at a party.

A Magnus Bane party.

Magnus Bane had risen to popularity with these outlandish parties he threw while his father was away on his business trips. They were grand with drinks flowing in red solo cups and music blasting so loudly that they had the cops called on them more than once.

Magnus could easily party the night away. Immerse himself in the sweaty, hormonally charged throngs of his fellow student body. Ordinarily, he would.

But Alec actually came to this one and that wholly couldn’t be ignored.

The boy still hadn’t acted on what Magnus assumed was attraction to him. He merely continued to covertly admire Magnus from afar. The few times they’d talked, Magnus had reduced the boy to scrambled word-vomit. Alexander was bright red and Magnus was beyond flattered.

Here under the colored lights, the boy was a wallflower if he'd ever seen one. He stuck close to the wall and people watched with a dour expression. Magnus had seen people more excited about midterms than Alexander looked at one of his parties. And that wouldn't do at all.

Optimistically, this conversation would go better than their previous ones.

He saddled up to him with an extra cup of whatever brew Catarina had concocted and a charming smile. "Staying over here all by your lonesome, pretty boy?" Magnus inquired lightly.

Alec lurched beside him and looked at him bug-eyed. "What?" He asked.

"Well, you're denying the party-goers a fine specimen while you hunker to the shadows." Magnus couldn't tell if the boy was blushing with the colored lights gleaming across the room but his expression seemed flattered if not terribly shy.

It was adorable.

"I'm uh—My siblings wanted to come."

Magnus hummed thoughtfully and looked around the room until he spotted Alec's sister dancing amongst the crowd. "Ah, Izzy seems to be having a blast." He turned to Alec with a smirk. "I'm assuming Jace and Clary are making out somewhere around here."

Alec groaned and thumped his head against the wall. "I didn't even want to come." His eyes widened, and he jerked his head back to Magnus with his hands raised. "Not—Not that it isn't a great party because it is uh—everyone loves them and I—" he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Parties have never been my scene and it's just easier to stay on the sidelines."

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded, "or maybe you just need to keep trying." He handed the extra drink to him. "Start with something to drink. It'll do wonders to relax those tense shoulders of yours." And what gorgeously broad shoulders they were.

Alec shook his head and pushed the cup away. "Can't, I'm the designated driver."

Magnus arched a brow and poured the new drink into his original cup. "More for me, I suppose." He took a sip, ignoring the fire that licked his throat on the way down. "In the meantime, we might as well see if we can entice you into enjoying the party,” he set the cups down on a random table and held out his hand, “dance with me."

It wasn't a question and Alec recognized that but still, he shook his head. "Unless you want me to accidentally break your toes, I’m gonna… I'll just stay here."

"Pretty boy, I taught Ragnor how to dance." It'd been his own personal hell for half the summer but Ragnor had gotten significantly better at dancing enough so that he didn't look like he was suffering a seizure when the desire to dance struck him. "I'm sure I can teach you something."

Alec swallowed and looked around the room for anything that might help him. "I'm really not a good dancer," Alec insisted even as Magnus started to coax him from the wall. "I'll look stupid which means you'll look stupid."

Magnus waved him off. "Practically everyone looks silly when they dance, so you won't be alone there." He seized Alec’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Give it a try for five minutes, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Alec let himself be dragged to the dancefloor with consternation. “Five minutes and that’s it.”

This conversation was going lightyears better than their first few conversations. “If you want to stop, that is.”

He let go of Alec’s hand to grab ahold of Alec’s hips. “We’ll start with a sway, literally everyone can sway,” Magnus instructed as he started to sway his hips with Alec’s. He quickly directed their swaying to match the beat of the music. “See? Just gotta listen to the music; your body should pick up on the beat.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from somewhere in Alec’s throat as he bopped his head. “Yeah—okay, now what?”

“Arms, you don’t want to just flap them about.” You could knock someone out by accident if you did that. “Though if that’s your style, we can work with that.”

Alec raised his arms, shifting them side-to-side like muscled windshield wipers. “This?”

Magnus threw his head back and laughed. “God no, that’s—“ Magnus dissolved into another fit of giggles, waving a hand at Alec, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Alec scowled. “Then show me how to do it,” Alec commanded.

The scowl on the boy’s face resembled more of a pout than anything scary so Magnus figured the boy wasn’t too bothered by his laughter.

“You have to loosen up. You’re too tense!” Magnus ran his hands down Alec’s arms, relishing the shiver that ran through Alec’s body. “Relax your shoulders.”

“They are relaxed.”

He quirked an eyebrow and massaged at Alec’s shoulders feeling the tight muscles jump and release under his ministration. “Darling, I’ve seen assholes looser than your shoulders.”

Alec wheezed, his face twisting up, and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s—why did you have to say it like that?” Alec groaned with a snort like he couldn’t decide whether to be upset or laugh at Magnus’ comment.

A Cheshire smile spread across his face. “I’m not wrong.”

Alec flushed, his eyes settling everywhere except Magnus’. “Well, I’m relaxed now.”

“Good, now just watch me for a moment.” He winked, biting his lower lip. “Try to keep your gaze virtuous.”

The laughter that tumbled out of Alec was beautiful and something he’d never heard before. His laughter echoed between them, somewhere caught between rough and warm. He’d never heard the boy laugh before.

But he wanted to hear it forever.

Magnus swayed his body, gyrating his hips and moving his hands up his body, letting them move with him. Lidded eyes gazed at Alec who’d stopped dancing altogether and was just staring at him with a familiar intensity.

“Feel free to admire me.”

Alec grinned and shook his head, already miles past his original comfort levels. “Thanks for the consent.” He crossed his arms and gave him a look. “You want a complete too? I feel like your fishing for one.”

“I very much am fishing for compliments,” Magnus said, “I’m just waiting for the hook to pick some up.”

“Normally people don’t admit to fishing for compliments.”

“Normal is subjective, Alexander.” He beckoned Alec over. “Now come join me, let that body talk.”

Alec shook his head again as he walked back over. “You’re so weird.” But his voice was husky belaying his real feelings on Magnus’ behavior. He clumsily joined Magnus and was soon following the beat more or less.

Magnus had thought this would be an innocent folly – just figuring the other boy out – but he found he was having fun. Alec's inexperience and awkwardness were endearing, and Magnus couldn’t turn his gaze away.

And he didn't want to.

He wasn't even sure what it was about Alec that drew him in. Magnus lived for partying, standing out, and being unashamedly himself. He wore glitter and sheer shirts that got him dress coded constantly.

Conversely, Alec was an introvert who orbited around the ones he loved. He'd started an archery club and followed all the school rules to an alarming degree. The only thing Magnus had thought stood out to him about Alec was that he was openly gay.

But just from his interactions with the boy tonight had revealed a hidden charm behind that stoic front. He had a laugh that made Magnus' heart skip a beat. His smile lit up the room way more than the assortment of lights did. He could dance only marginally better than Ragnor could now – which wasn’t saying much – but it made Magnus enjoy dancing with him all the more.

Just these observations made him wonder why he’d never noticed Alexander Lightwood before.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alec interrupted, nudging him in the side.

Magnus shook his head from his previous thoughts. “My thoughts are worth plenty more than a penny,” Magnus sniffed.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Offer still stands.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Magnus put his arms around Alec’s neck and slowed their dancing down to a sweeping sway. “You’re more than I expected when I came over to you.”

Alec frowned. “More...?”

He shook his head. “I mean that in the best of ways,” Magnus reassured. “There’s just something about you, Alexander.”

Alec ducked his head down sheepishly. “There’s uh… something about you too.”

Magnus grinned, running his fingers through the short strands of hair at the back of Alec’s head. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.” He chanced a look around the room his eyes zeroing in on the clock before turning back to Alec who was finally looking at him again. “It’s been more than five minutes, still want me to leave?”

Hands grabbed at his hips as Alec leaned his head closer. “Please stay.”

Any quieter and Magnus would’ve missed Alec’s plea, but his grip on Magnus was telling enough. “Only if you’ll keep dancing with me.” Magnus gave Alec an exaggerated pout.

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “Stop being so cute.”

“Can’t, darling,” Magnus sighed, “it’s a curse.”

At this point, Magnus could feel Alec’s breath against his lips. With each moment his restraint grew smaller and smaller. He doubted Alec would gather the courage to mention his feelings. But he wasn’t going to wait for the other boy to make a move first. “Maybe this is the alcohol talking, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Alec’s breath hitched, and for a second Magnus thought he’d ruined their moment until Alec let out a pleased sigh. “I – you uh… If I let you kiss me,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “You have to let me take you on a date.”

Magnus’ face lit up. “You wanna take me on a date?”

The tips of Alec’s ears practically glowed. “I’d like to.”

“I think,” Magnus drawled, twirling a piece of Alec’s hair, “that would be more than okay.”

The other boy’s mouth gaped and he seemed caught between awe and joy. Alec pressed their foreheads together. “So do I get that kiss now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Magnus bumps his nose against Alec’s. “How are you feeling about parties now?” Magnus inquired. He genuinely wanted to know if Alec’s opinion had changed.

Alec hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. “I won’t say I like them, but I got to spend time with you.” He brushed his lips against the corner of Magnus’ mouth. “So if you’re there, I can see the appeal.”

“Sweet talker.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. Alec’s lips were dry and deliciously warm against his. Just like his dancing, Alec’s kiss was inexperienced and their teeth clanked together before they got the right angle. Magnus led the kiss, coaxing Alec’s mouth to move with his own. It was hungry and sweet and profoundly earnest.

It was perfect.

Reluctantly Magnus pulled back to let them both breathe. Alec tried to chase his lips for a moment longer, eyes still closed as if he thought he’d open his eyes and Magnus would disappear.  Eventually, Alec did open his eyes, and quiet awe transformed his face.

“Would it be greedy to ask for another?” Alec asked between them, their lips still barely an inch apart.

“Terribly greedy,” Magnus chided with a grin, “But if you take me to that Thai place four blocks from the movie theater I’ll happily give you another.”

Alec laughed, their noses nudging against each other’s. “Promise?”

No answer was needed; his kiss was enough.

[imagine-loki]

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 4/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in.  Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:  This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name.  Also on AO3 here

Even though the hug felt like home, it eventually had to end.  Neither of them wanted it to end, they wanted to stay in each other’s arms forever, to not lose that feeling of home that they’d both so desperately been looking for.  

Loki eventually seemed to remember his propriety and his grip on Sigyn loosened as he took a step back.  Even Thor could see just how much effort it took and how much he just wanted to hug her again, to hold her in his arms so he wouldn’t have to risk losing her again.  

“What does this mean for my future?” Sigyn asked them warily when she’d taken a step back, when she’d shaken off the feeling of home and comfort of being in Loki’s arms.  She knew they weren’t just going to let her leave, especially not Loki, especially not now that he was so overly excited to have his best friend back from the dead.  She didn’t blame him.  she barely remembered and she couldn’t help feeling ecstatic to have him back too.

She didn’t want to leave them.  Not really, but she still had to know what they intended for her.  

“You do not have to change anything, unless you so wish. You may do as you please. Though I am sure there are people who miss you back on Asgard. You would be welcome there,” Loki told her, his voice gentle and caring, though he still seemed in shock that she was back from the dead.

 Sigyn rolled her eyes and huffed at him.  That seemed familiar too, such a usual gesture of annoyance at him.  “You already brought me here to change my life, remember?” she reminded him with a bit of temper in her voice.  They had dragged her here and her life was going to change, whether she wanted it to or not. They wanted something from her. No matter what the Lord of Lies said, she wasn’t free to do as she pleased.

Loki inclined his head. “At the very least, you do need to speak with the team.  Thor will go with you… they do not exactly like nor trust me,” he said a bit sheepishly, as if he felt bad about that now. “After that, you decisions are you own.  They will not force you to do anything.  I will not allow it,” he told her firmly.  He would protect her, despite any consequences to himself.

Sigyn gave him a disbelieving look.  “Didn’t you say that they’re making you work for them?” she asked him, wary of the whole situation she found herself in.

He sighed and inclined his head. “As retribution. I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter.  Besides, it was the Allfather who forced me, not the team here,” he explained.  That made sense, then.  The Allfather was way more powerful that these Midgardians, though if he didn’t have a choice, she didn’t see how she’d have much of one either.  Not really.  

Sig jumped when the rest of the team came into the room.  On instinct, she had automatically summoned a blade as long as her forearm in one hand and a purple bolt of magic in the other. Loki placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Stand down, Lady Fae. They will not harm you.  They would not, but even if they were to try, they cannot do anything to hurt you as long as I am here,” he told her gently.  “You’re under my protection,” he reassured her, pleadingly. 

She was still wary, still afraid, but she vanished her blade and bolt of magic and turned to face the rest of the team. It was Cap who greeted her, who introduced the team officially.  He also asked her for her story and she couldn’t see a good way or reason to avoid telling them, so she shyly told them about the fae taking her as a child. She told them how they tried to turn her fae and had succeeded at least partly.  She didn’t realize she had absently tucked her hair behind her ears as she was talking, letting them see her pointed ears, sidhe-red hair, and tri-colored eyes clearly.  She conveniently left out her newfound revelations about her heritage.  They didn’t need to know about that yet, or possibly ever. 

As she was telling her story, she unconsciously took a step closer to Loki, nearly tucking herself against his side as if he would protect her from the others.  She was under his protection, but it felt like more than that.  

When she finished sharing as much as she was willing at that time, Cap spoke again. “We have a choice for you, and I’m afraid it’s not a good one, but SHIELD isn’t giving any of us much of a choice,” he paused before he continued.  He didn’t want to say this any more than Sig inevitably didn’t want to hear it.  “You can either stay here with the team, move into the tower, become an Avenger if you so desire.  You can live your life, make your own choices, and have our safety and protection,” he paused yet again.  “Or you can leave and SHIELD will come find you and it will be much less comfortable in their care…” 

Ah.  That was the part he hadn’t wanted to say.  

She was being forced after all. 

Loki rolled his eyes and Sig heard his huff of exasperation, could practically feel his anger. “I should have known you would force her to remain here. She just escaped captivity, you expect her to willingly join another prison?” Loki snarled at the team.  

Stark glared at him and Sigyn took another step closer to Loki afraid of the angry men.  “This isn’t a prison,” Stark insisted.  “She’s free to come and go as she wishes, just as you are, by the way.  And the living arrangements are way better than the shithole apartment she’s currently living in. And we’re not asking anything of her besides that she doesn’t try to take over the Earth!” Stark told him firmly.

Loki’s glare hardened when Stark brought up the incident with the alien invasion.  The annoying puny mortal knew that it wasn’t Loki’s fault what had happened.  “It was not my decision to be here. I was dragged here by my brother at the Allfather’s orders. She might enjoy the life she is living. It is not for you to decide what life she wishes to have,”

“No,” she said softly, gently, knowing instinctively the tone she needed to cool Loki’s rage and temper.  “The life I’ve built has been better than what I had among the fae, but it’s no life, not really.” Seriously, even with all her power, she was only just surviving.  It wasn’t a life.  Living here would be better than what she had and way better than being hunted down by SHIELD.  “I-I can try staying here,” she told them a bit warily and very shyly.  At least she wouldn’t go hungry here, not with Tony Stark and a crazy government organization paying for this endeavor.  “I’ll return after I go to my apartment and get my things…” she said it partially as a test to see if they would let her leave. 

“Not everything revolves around this team. She should be allowed to do as she pleases without the threat of SHIELD,” Loki protested again, wanting to protect his oldest and best friend.

 Nat gave him a kind look.  “As should we all, but SHIELD keeps a close eye on anyone who might be a threat.  She’s safer here with us than out on her own.  There are plenty of people who would love to use someone with as much power as she has and an individual can be taken much easier than a group.  She’s done nothing but help us, and I for one want nothing more than to make sure she’s safe and happy too.”  Sigyn realized that Nat was too observant and it hadn’t escaped her notice that all of her things were second hand and she was too thin. 

Sig really was just surviving.

Loki sighed and finally relented.  He turned to Sig, blatantly ignoring the others.  “Would she like me to accompany you to collect you things, Lady Fae?” He asked her kindly.

“No need to go out of her way for me…” she told him quickly, embarrassed and shy.  She looked up at Loki and tried to ignore that the team was staring at the pair, surprised that Loki was even offering to help her. "I… don’t have much.  It won’t take very long,” she tried to reassure him.

“It would not be a bother. Plus, it would give me some time away from this lot,” he added with a smirk. She could hear the annoyance in his tone at the rest of the team.  He always had been a bit of a loner and around so many people his introvert batteries were sure to be drained.

 “A-alright,” she said softly, still shy and wary.  She walked with him to the elevator while everyone else was still staring openly.  “Though you’re not going to like my apartment…” she added even more softly. Loki didn’t both responding to that.  She wouldn’t be living there anymore.  

The pair left the tower together and Sig led Loki on the short walk to her apartment building.  “I’m sorry you’re being dragged into this, Sigyn,” Loki finally said as they were strolling together to her apartment. 

“It’s alright,” she replied with a tentative smile.  “It’s actually probably a blessing in disguise.  You’ll understand when you see my place…”  It didn’t take them long to get to the run-down apartment building.  She only lived a few blocks from the Avenger’s tower.  She walked up the stairs to her tiny, dingy apartment. It was only one room besides the bathroom and kitchen and she had next to nothing in it, besides a mattress on the floor for a bed and a scavenged dresser.  She flushed in embarrassment.  “I know, it’s not much…” 

“You live here?  Why?” Loki asked as he looked around the tiny space horrified.  “I know you have enough magic to have a much better life…” Of course he knew how much power she had. He’d trained alongside her when they were. She should have been able to create a much better life for herself than this.

Sig shook her head and looked sad and weary.  “The fae are hunting me and until recently I couldn’t risk using my powers without risking them finding me.  So I had to make do with what I could get on my own…” she explained.  Though she didn’t tell him why she was suddenly able to use her powers more openly. 

“Sigyn, I’m so sorry…” he said softly and she could see the hurt in his eyes and knew that he was feeling terrible about how she’d been living when he was a literal prince.  He would have come to help her had he known she was alive.  He would have done anything to get her back.

She shook her head again. “It’s not your fault and things will be different now,” she told him with a smile and summoned a cardboard box to empty the contents of her dresser into quickly.  Really, there wasn’t much besides a few changes of clothes and a couple of books.  She’d really only come to make sure the team would let her leave.

Loki took the box out of her hands while she was throwing her few things into it.  She tried to protest, but she saw the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t listen, so she let him hold the box.  “Why help me?” she asked him.

“Sigyn, I know you don’t remember, but you and I were very close when we were younger.  You were my best friend,” he told her earnestly. He wanted so badly for her to remember.  He knew it would take time for her memories to come back, but he still hoped.

 “Mama Frigga taught us magic,” she replied softly, remembering bits and pieces.  She’d have to undo the blocks she’d placed on her memories soon.  As soon as she got time.  “So why are you forced for work with them, Lokes?” she asked.  She noted how he stiffened at the nickname and she blushed.  “Sorry, habit. Where I was… raised… it is incredibly rude to call friends or allies by name, especially where it can be overheard. There is power in the name of things. I can explain it better at the tower…” she told him quickly before he could demand an explanation.

He nodded, accepting her explanation, and the nickname if he had to put up with it.  “There was an incident… Have you ever heard of the battle of New York?” He asked and she could hear the embarrassment in his tone, see it in his expression.

“The alien attack?”

He nodded.  “I was the one who led the attack, though it was against my will; I was being controlled. The Allfather has decreed that I live on Midgard with Thor and aid the team as retribution for my role in the attack,” he explained.

Sig consider that and nodded.  His story was true. She’d be able to tell if it wasn’t.  “And they don’t believe that you were being controlled?” she guessed based on his tone and body language.  She finished throwing her things in the box he was holding and grabbed the box to take it from him.

He smirked at her as he moved the box out of her reach. “Exactly. Though, I have not exactly gone out of my way to try to befriend them. They have already decided how they wish to see me. There is very little I can do to change their minds at this juncture,”

“Maybe they’ll come around someday,” she suggested hopefully.  She liked the trickster and didn’t like seeing him so sad. She glared at the box he was holding out of her reach.  “Now if she’ll just hand that over we can get out of here…”

His smirk only grew.   Smug bastard.  “I am perfectly capable of carrying your things for you, Lady Fae,” he told her pleasantly. 

She huffed, puffing up in grumpiness as she always had as a child. "You’re wearing a full suit and you’re a prince.  There is no reason for you to carry my grubby box of things,” she replied grumpily. 

He held the box more securely, refusing to return it to her. “Shall we return to the tower? I’m sure there is more the team wishes to speak with you about.”

She groaned at that.  She didn’t want to answer more questions from the team.  Though she knew they had to be curious about her.  Knowledge about the fae was rare, especially true knowledge, not just fairy tales.  She did however recognize a lost cause and gave up on getting the box from Loki without a real fight.  And it wasn’t worth a real fight.  Not when he was just being a gentleman.  “Alright, Lokes,” she replied with a smirk and started to lead him from her pathetic little apartment.

He followed right behind her.  “I could easily just teleport the two of us back to the tower?” He reminded her, though made it a question of whether she wanted him to or not.

“If you’d prefer,” she replied with a shrug.  “You’re the one who wanted to escape the others for awhile…” she reminded him.  “Though I’m sure you have questions for me too, which will be easier to answer in private…” she placed her hand tentatively on his arm.  She had a feeling he didn’t like physical contact very much, but it was required for him to teleport a passenger.  Plus her hand was on his suit jacket instead of his bare skin.  

He nodded and teleported she both back to the common room of the tower. she dropped Loki’s arm as soon as she reappeared.  He hadn’t seemed upset about being touched, but she had the feeling he didn’t generally like it.  “I’m sure Stark already has a room picked out for you,” Loki told her.

“I do in fact have a room picked out for her, Reindeer Games,” Stark replied as he looked up from the blue screen he was working on.  “Thor decided which of the free rooms were best.  He’s taken an interest in you for some reason,” he added with a shrug, though clearly wondered  why both Asgardians were taking an interest in the fae.  He smirked at Loki.  “She got you to carry her things, Reindeer Games?” He teased, clearly enjoying antagonizing Loki.

Loki glared at Stark. “I volunteered, you imbecile. It is called being a gentleman.  Look it up.” After one more glare at Stark, he turned his attention back to Sig. “Lady Fae, would you wish for me to escort you to your room?”  

She nodded, if only to keep Loki from killing Stark.  “That would be appreciated,” she told Loki pleasantly.

Stark’s smirk remained in place.  “Her room is on five,” he told Loki.

Loki’s eyes narrowed at Stark, but his expression softened when he offered her his arm to take so he could escort her to her room.  She placed her hand on his arm and while nothing appeared to have changed about her, she suddenly had the air of a court lady, which she was.  Stark just didn’t know that.

She followed Loki up to her new room and looked over the simple room appreciatively once she had arrived.  It had a real bed, dresser, bookshelf, and it’s own bathroom.  It was much nicer than anywhere she’d stayed in a long, long time.  It wasn’t decorated yet, but she had a feeling that would change.  Loki had set her box next to the dresser while she checked out the room.  

She sat cross-legged on her bed and gestured in invitation for him to sit with her.  He sat at the foot of the bed. She tucked her hair behind her pointed ears. “You look like you have a million questions, Lokes,” she started with a smirk. “Where would you like to start?”

“With anything you are willing to tell me. I do not wish to pry into anything you are not willing to reveal yet,” he told her politely, though she could hear the effort it took not to just demand answers to the questions that were killing him. 

“Well that’s exceedingly unhelpful,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him and in that instant sounding and acting so much like the girl he knew.  “By the way, you owe me my ring back.  I kept up my end of the bargain,” she informed him, holding her hand out for said ring.  He removed it from his hand and handed it back to her without complaint or argument.  She slipped it back onto her finger with a small smile for him. “Thanks,” she told him warmly and considered what he might want to know.  “I did promise to tell you why it’s rude to address your friends by name in the land of the fae,” she started. He inclined his head to indicate he was interested, so she continued. “There’s power in the name of things.” That wasn’t the full explanation, but it was a good place start.

Loki nodded, following along with her so far. “And why is that?”

She gave him an appraising look.  “To have a being’s full name is to have some level of control over that being,” she explained, but she saw the disbelief in his eyes.  He wouldn’t believe she until she showed him, so with a small apologetic look she continued: “I name you, Loptr Laufeyson, called Loki Odinson, adopted son of Odin, brother of Thor, master magician of Odin’s court, god of Mischief, Chaos, Lies, and Stories…” as she spoke, his Asgardian form shattered, leaving him in Jotun form with his beautiful patterned sapphire skin and scarlet eyes.  

She thought him absolutely stunning and gorgeous, with his true form laid bare for her.

[writingwhywhywhy]

Derailed Chapter 11

A/N Sorry this is taking forever. The you know makes it hard for me to write. This one should be a lot longer, and it's a lot of explanation. Like wtf is up. I also had to start a new job that is 40   hrs without anyway to write a single thing. Also side note Y/M/N is your mom's name. Life also got complicated since I started so yeah.

"It's a coven." Freya stated

"The long shot was looking for a coven?" You asked slightly confused, while managing to forget that you hadn't told anyone else that Freya was attempting a Hail Mary.

"It was the only available solution. The good news is that they seem to collect in one town." She responded

"Which coven?" Asked Elijah.

"Zavala. They seem to be located about 200 miles from here. They apparently siphon their power from the magic lines that marry into the coven." Freya said.

"So what would they want with me? I have nothing magical about me." You tried to think through the problem

"I say we go and ask them." Dean said

"Sam and I will go in the morning." Klaus commanded

"Great. I am coming with you." You replied

"No." Came from all the men simultaneously.

"If I am or the children I am carrying are what they want, they can't kill me." You stated

"Or you could just be handing them exactly what they want." Klaus replied

"That's why I am not going alone, unless you think between you and Sam you can't defend one measly hunter." You said

"You should understand that witches do have their tricks." Klaus responded

"Hey." Freya started to protest.

"Anyone with brains can see they either underestimated us or didn't think we knew someone powerful enough to track them. Their tricks really are nothing compared to Freya’s." You replied.

"You think I am the brainless one here. I am not.." Klaus started.

"Enough." Elijah commanded.

The room fell silent. "Look, this is getting us no where. Dean, Y/N, and I will head to the town tomorrow. We will politely ask what they want. We are the three people they are lest likely to kill. Plus if they kill one or more of us, they most likely lose whatever they wanted." Elijah reasoned.

The logic was hard to argue with. The room seemed to be hit simultaneously with the sleepiness that everyone had spent the last few weeks earning. A non verbal agreement set in, everyone was going to go to bed. "I hate to admit it, but I think Dean and I might need a guide to our different rooms." You said reluctantly.

"I have got you, love. I believe that Sam has a better sense of direction than his brother." Klaus said

"Sam you can call me if you get lost. I will send my guide to rescue you!" You said exiting.

You stared at Klaus's back as you let your mind wander to tomorrow. It was going to be an awkward car ride. You were so out of it you almost missed when Klaus spoke to you. "You use to never get lost here." He stated

"Yes, but I also use to live here." You replied with no desire to continue the conversation.

"So what is your plan about the kids?" Klaus asked

"I am not sure. I still need more information." You replied

"Hope was a surprise I didn't accept at first. Hayley being pregnant made no sense. I almost missed out on that source of joy. I just want you to know that." Klaus said.

"Yeah but your history with Hayley was a lot less complicated. Plus she didn't have to split locations for her child." You replied

"Sure but her life got a lot more complicated. She made a lot of sacrifices to protect Hope. You might have an easier time." Klaus said

"If you are implying that I don't have a heart, I wish that I didn't because leaving when asked wouldn't hurt. If you are saying I don't love your brother, you are also mistaken. The only think you could be right about is maybe your brother not loving me." You bit back

"If you are blind enough to believe my brother ever stopped loving you, you have not been paying attention. Which makes sense because two men have been falling over themselves and you hardly noticed." He said

You knew exactly who he was talking about and you had to stop this conversation. "Thank you for the compliment but you and Sam really aren't my type." You joked

Klaus glared at you. You glared back. "I believe we have arrived at where you are staying." Klaus said dryly.

"Thank you and goodnight." You said doing your best not to slam the door in his face.

The following morning, you just grabbed your duffel bag and headed straight to the kitchen. Hopefully Dean would be down there and ready to go. You really just wanted to get out of here.  The upcoming car ride wasn't going to be pleasant but at lest everyone had the same goal in mind. Hopefully the silence would stay between the three of you.

Dean was waiting with Elijah. The three of you seemed to be like minded and laser focused. Without much talking the three of you packed the impala. The only pause came when the three of you were to get in the car. Dean was obviously driving and someone should take shotgun. You took the backseat you had spent your first year with the Winchesters riding in.

The car ride was silent even with a stop for gas. The air was thick with unease. About ten miles away from the city, Dean announced his intention to get more gas just in-case. Everyone knew the amount of gas on the car would make no difference in the scheme of things, but having this as a last ditch backup plan was comforting a bit.

You decided to go pee. On your walk back to the car a man seemed to stare you down. It freaked you out and you almost ran to the car. "Are you Y/M/N's daughter?" He asked

Your blood ran a bit cold. Very few people knew her name. Your feet were about to turn into a run, but Elijah and Dean flanked you very suddenly. "Yes. I was actually on my way to this town to do some research on my family history." You replied, hoping you would get away.

"Well I should be a lot of help considering we were married for a few years and had a daughter named Clarissa." He replied

Your heart stopped. That had been your oldest sister's name. He was lying you thought. Your mother had never told you any of this. Before you could process, Dean spoke up. "Any help you provide would be great. She dragged me and this guy along. None of us are great with history or directions. Could we follow you to a cafe?"

"Please she is practically family, you all can come to my home." He replied with his eyes drinking you in.

Before you could politely reject, Elijah stared him in the eye and said "You are going to invite me in as soon as we arrive."

You saw the strange man nod, and realized that Elijah had done a small test and intended to compel the answers out of him. In this moment you really wished the Elijah had been on more hunts with you.

The strange man did indeed invite Elijah in, once the three of you arrived. Hope kinda surged in you. Dean was about to set up and ask some questions. You stopped him with one touch and a look. Elijah had a plan and you knew you could trust Elijah.

Elijah was about to compel the man again, but he offered answers freely. "My name is Walter. I am going to go get my photo book. Your mother was a beautiful bride. You might actually put her to shame." He said walking to grab a book.

The three of you still stood. "Please sit. Would you like something to drink?" Walter asked in a way that made you want to trust him.

Your gut instinct told you not to. So you took the seat next to Walter. "No thanks. My mother never mentioned her marriage to you. Do you know why?" You asked

"Oh because she ran away from the coven. We were in love, but your father came along. I am sure I would still recognize my Clarissa. We were set to be the power couple coven leader with the most powerful children. Yet your mother fell for someone else. Did you know it broke your grandparent's hearts?" He chirped away.

"No I did not." You stuttered a bit shocked at how candid he was being.

"Why are you really here?" Walter asked

You prepared the lie, but instead the truth surged out. "I am pregnant with twins and really shouldn't be. Elijah's sister located that this coven stated it."

Dean and Elijah stared at you with a mix of disbelief and anger. You sent apologies back. "Oh boys don't be mad at her. As the coven leader I have an honesty spell on the house. No one can lie inside my house, not even me. Twins are extremely rare and so interesting. So the reason our coven is at fault, is the fact it is your coven. The Zavala coven was struck with a curse that almost chopped us down.

You see the coven use to gain power through marriages. Then a petty more powerful coven foresaw our great power, and lay a very powerful curse upon us. Every other generation would be without magic, and we could only gain power from a line by having two children of that line being born into the Zavala coven.

The part that almost did us in was the fact that they made it impossible for any members of the coven to have children unless they met some requirements. One was mutual love for each other. The other was you had to be past the age of 26."

That hit you like a ton of bricks. The twins you carried proved that they both loved you. You were still processing that when Walter spoke again.

"We fought it by making conceptions guaranteed, no matter what they were or what should stand in the way of having kids. Unless of course, the coven member or members get a magical block put up with consent from the coven member. So boys what were your last names?"

You watched as they both tried and lost the fight to lie. "I herd of your mother, Elijah. Her line seems to be strong. I approve of him. You know his vampire status will not hinder you having a third child. You should have another child with him. If you do that, we will welcome you and your family back. We need more people in the town, and we can keep you protected." Walter said

Your blood went cold. "I am not having children just to please people." You responded

"Oh well. Hopefully Elijah wins you back. Now do you want some tea while I fill you in on my marriage to your mother?" Walter asked with a sick smile.

You wanted to run. "We are going to go." Dean said

"Well you kids remember, we want her and her kids back." He said with the worst smile.

You almost ran out of the house. Your feet flew to the car and you hopped in back. Dean and Elijah were on your heels. You decided to look back as you pulled away. Walter was standing there waving with his horrible smile.

"So I can see why your mom left." Dean tried to joke.

"Well I can see why she never talked about him." You replied

The three of you traveled once again in silence. You stopped at a diner. The three of you selected a table. Your waitress was a pleasant lady who vaguely reminded you of Kathy. Your heart longed for the town you had called an almost home. "What can I get y'all?" She asked

"I will have a burger, Diana." Dean said

"I would prefer a salad, dear." Elijah said

"I want the greatest burger ever and a side of fruit instead of fries, Diana." You said

Diana gave you a weird look. You rubbed your belly and responded "These kids have been giving me the weirdest cravings."

She nodded like she knew that exact feeling. Now Dean and Elijah were giving you weird looks. "Trust me the cravings are very weird." You replied

Dean decided to barrel through. "So the Zavala coven gets their power from breeding their line."

"So basically, don't have another kid with either of you and we should be fine. They can’t gain more power from us." You replied

"You might want to talk to Freya about the birth control options you have." Elijah stated

"Will do. So now we need to get into the meat of this. What are going to do about them?" You asked

"I don't want to force you into anything you don't want." Dean answered

"Look Dean, we need to face some facts. One I never thought about kids before this. My focus has been on survival. The two of you both brought the topic up once, you need to tell me what you want. I am not against being the equivalent of a surrogate for you two. I just need information before I decide anything." You snapped

Dean was a taken a bit back. "If you decide to surrogate, and Dean is not inclined to be a father, I will take both of them. As far as I'm concerned they both are Mikealsons." Elijah volunteered

"Same." Dean mumbled after the shock wore off.

Before you could start the next leg of the conversation, Diana came back. The town washed over you again and you remembered the promise you made what felt like lifetime ago. You grabbed your stomach again. "I  know what I want. But man this isn't going to be easy."

You arrived at the compound a few hours later.  You walked in with the two men and your duffel bag. The moment the three of your crossed the threshold, you felt more than herd a barrier spell go up. Before you could react to that a figured walked into view. You couldn't believe your own eyes. "Mom?" You asked in a very broken voice.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, yorit1!

For @yorit1​​, I'm so happy I was able to write you this fic and I hope it makes you smile and you enjoy it. I've never written a high school au, but I wanted to keep it fluffy and funny. Wishing you a happy holidays; stay warm, grab your favorite warm drink, and read to your heart's content.

Read On AO3

*****

I Caught You Staring (And Now I Can't Look Away)

Alexander Lightwood was different. He was nothing like his brother, Jace who was the star quarterback of the football team and a bit of an egomaniac at times. He wasn’t like his sister, Isabelle who was free-spirited and made a statement with her fashion choices and opinions.

No, Alec was quiet. He tried to take up as little space as possible no matter how much room he was given. Despite his towering stature he tended to hunch unconsciously. Like he was afraid he was always taking up too much room.

But he was stubborn and terse to the majority of people and doted on his family. He stood up for others and advocated for LGBTQ+ rights at school and outside it. He took in those who wormed their way into his heart with nary a thought but kept them away from knowing him besides the front he presented.

He was an array of contradictions that only made him more interesting in Magnus’ eyes.

And he stared. At Magnus. A lot.

Initially, Magnus hadn’t even noticed Alec’s gaze. He’d only realized it when Ragnor and Catarina had brought it to his attention.

“You’re being watched,” Catarina commented offhandedly, taking a bite of her salad.

Magnus smirked. “I’m always being watched,” he purred.

A groan echoed beside him. “I swear, if your head gets any bigger they’ll be no way to hide it,” Ragnor groused.

“I refuse to have this negativity within my eyesight.” Magnus made a shooing gesture. “Remove yourself at once.”

Catarina giggled at their banter before clearing her throat. “I’m being serious, though. You’ve been being watched by mister brooding over there.” She inconspicuously pointed to somewhere diagonally to them.

Not one to shy away from attention, Magnus whipped his head around to try and meet the gaze of his admirer. His eyebrows shot up when he met the gaze of Alexander Lightwood.

Alec seemed to have met his eyes too because his face reddened. The boy gave him a timid wave before ducking his head to gaze at his food, seeming to ignore the other occupants at his table.

Magnus would have continued looking at the bashful boy if his vision wasn’t suddenly obstructed. He squawked and turned a glower to Ragnor. “Are you really trying to cover my face up with a paper bag right now?”

His best friend grinned. “You were staring.”

“He was staring.”

“You wouldn’t have even noticed his staring if Cat hadn’t informed you.”

Conceivably, there was some truth to that. He wasn’t short on admirers so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t noticed one person’s attention.

He was curious to see how this would all play out.

It happened at a party.

A Magnus Bane party.

Magnus Bane had risen to popularity with these outlandish parties he threw while his father was away on his business trips. They were grand with drinks flowing in red solo cups and music blasting so loudly that they had the cops called on them more than once.

Magnus could easily party the night away. Immerse himself in the sweaty, hormonally charged throngs of his fellow student body. Ordinarily, he would.

But Alec actually came to this one and that wholly couldn’t be ignored.

The boy still hadn’t acted on what Magnus assumed was attraction to him. He merely continued to covertly admire Magnus from afar. The few times they’d talked, Magnus had reduced the boy to scrambled word-vomit. Alexander was bright red and Magnus was beyond flattered.

Here under the colored lights, the boy was a wallflower if he'd ever seen one. He stuck close to the wall and people watched with a dour expression. Magnus had seen people more excited about midterms than Alexander looked at one of his parties. And that wouldn't do at all.

Optimistically, this conversation would go better than their previous ones.

He saddled up to him with an extra cup of whatever brew Catarina had concocted and a charming smile. "Staying over here all by your lonesome, pretty boy?" Magnus inquired lightly.

Alec lurched beside him and looked at him bug-eyed. "What?" He asked.

"Well, you're denying the party-goers a fine specimen while you hunker to the shadows." Magnus couldn't tell if the boy was blushing with the colored lights gleaming across the room but his expression seemed flattered if not terribly shy.

It was adorable.

"I'm uh—My siblings wanted to come."

Magnus hummed thoughtfully and looked around the room until he spotted Alec's sister dancing amongst the crowd. "Ah, Izzy seems to be having a blast." He turned to Alec with a smirk. "I'm assuming Jace and Clary are making out somewhere around here."

Alec groaned and thumped his head against the wall. "I didn't even want to come." His eyes widened, and he jerked his head back to Magnus with his hands raised. "Not—Not that it isn't a great party because it is uh—everyone loves them and I—" he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Parties have never been my scene and it's just easier to stay on the sidelines."

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded, "or maybe you just need to keep trying." He handed the extra drink to him. "Start with something to drink. It'll do wonders to relax those tense shoulders of yours." And what gorgeously broad shoulders they were.

Alec shook his head and pushed the cup away. "Can't, I'm the designated driver."

Magnus arched a brow and poured the new drink into his original cup. "More for me, I suppose." He took a sip, ignoring the fire that licked his throat on the way down. "In the meantime, we might as well see if we can entice you into enjoying the party,” he set the cups down on a random table and held out his hand, “dance with me."

It wasn't a question and Alec recognized that but still, he shook his head. "Unless you want me to accidentally break your toes, I’m gonna… I'll just stay here."

"Pretty boy, I taught Ragnor how to dance." It'd been his own personal hell for half the summer but Ragnor had gotten significantly better at dancing enough so that he didn't look like he was suffering a seizure when the desire to dance struck him. "I'm sure I can teach you something."

Alec swallowed and looked around the room for anything that might help him. "I'm really not a good dancer," Alec insisted even as Magnus started to coax him from the wall. "I'll look stupid which means you'll look stupid."

Magnus waved him off. "Practically everyone looks silly when they dance, so you won't be alone there." He seized Alec’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Give it a try for five minutes, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Alec let himself be dragged to the dancefloor with consternation. “Five minutes and that’s it.”

This conversation was going lightyears better than their first few conversations. “If you want to stop, that is.”

He let go of Alec’s hand to grab ahold of Alec’s hips. “We’ll start with a sway, literally everyone can sway,” Magnus instructed as he started to sway his hips with Alec’s. He quickly directed their swaying to match the beat of the music. “See? Just gotta listen to the music; your body should pick up on the beat.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from somewhere in Alec’s throat as he bopped his head. “Yeah—okay, now what?”

“Arms, you don’t want to just flap them about.” You could knock someone out by accident if you did that. “Though if that’s your style, we can work with that.”

Alec raised his arms, shifting them side-to-side like muscled windshield wipers. “This?”

Magnus threw his head back and laughed. “God no, that’s—“ Magnus dissolved into another fit of giggles, waving a hand at Alec, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Alec scowled. “Then show me how to do it,” Alec commanded.

The scowl on the boy’s face resembled more of a pout than anything scary so Magnus figured the boy wasn’t too bothered by his laughter.

“You have to loosen up. You’re too tense!” Magnus ran his hands down Alec’s arms, relishing the shiver that ran through Alec’s body. “Relax your shoulders.”

“They are relaxed.”

He quirked an eyebrow and massaged at Alec’s shoulders feeling the tight muscles jump and release under his ministration. “Darling, I’ve seen assholes looser than your shoulders.”

Alec wheezed, his face twisting up, and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s—why did you have to say it like that?” Alec groaned with a snort like he couldn’t decide whether to be upset or laugh at Magnus’ comment.

A Cheshire smile spread across his face. “I’m not wrong.”

Alec flushed, his eyes settling everywhere except Magnus’. “Well, I’m relaxed now.”

“Good, now just watch me for a moment.” He winked, biting his lower lip. “Try to keep your gaze virtuous.”

The laughter that tumbled out of Alec was beautiful and something he’d never heard before. His laughter echoed between them, somewhere caught between rough and warm. He’d never heard the boy laugh before.

But he wanted to hear it forever.

Magnus swayed his body, gyrating his hips and moving his hands up his body, letting them move with him. Lidded eyes gazed at Alec who’d stopped dancing altogether and was just staring at him with a familiar intensity.

“Feel free to admire me.”

Alec grinned and shook his head, already miles past his original comfort levels. “Thanks for the consent.” He crossed his arms and gave him a look. “You want a complete too? I feel like your fishing for one.”

“I very much am fishing for compliments,” Magnus said, “I’m just waiting for the hook to pick some up.”

“Normally people don’t admit to fishing for compliments.”

“Normal is subjective, Alexander.” He beckoned Alec over. “Now come join me, let that body talk.”

Alec shook his head again as he walked back over. “You’re so weird.” But his voice was husky belaying his real feelings on Magnus’ behavior. He clumsily joined Magnus and was soon following the beat more or less.

Magnus had thought this would be an innocent folly – just figuring the other boy out – but he found he was having fun. Alec's inexperience and awkwardness were endearing, and Magnus couldn’t turn his gaze away.

And he didn't want to.

He wasn't even sure what it was about Alec that drew him in. Magnus lived for partying, standing out, and being unashamedly himself. He wore glitter and sheer shirts that got him dress coded constantly.

Conversely, Alec was an introvert who orbited around the ones he loved. He'd started an archery club and followed all the school rules to an alarming degree. The only thing Magnus had thought stood out to him about Alec was that he was openly gay.

But just from his interactions with the boy tonight had revealed a hidden charm behind that stoic front. He had a laugh that made Magnus' heart skip a beat. His smile lit up the room way more than the assortment of lights did. He could dance only marginally better than Ragnor could now – which wasn’t saying much – but it made Magnus enjoy dancing with him all the more.

Just these observations made him wonder why he’d never noticed Alexander Lightwood before.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alec interrupted, nudging him in the side.

Magnus shook his head from his previous thoughts. “My thoughts are worth plenty more than a penny,” Magnus sniffed.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Offer still stands.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Magnus put his arms around Alec’s neck and slowed their dancing down to a sweeping sway. “You’re more than I expected when I came over to you.”

Alec frowned. “More...?”

He shook his head. “I mean that in the best of ways,” Magnus reassured. “There’s just something about you, Alexander.”

Alec ducked his head down sheepishly. “There’s uh… something about you too.”

Magnus grinned, running his fingers through the short strands of hair at the back of Alec’s head. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.” He chanced a look around the room his eyes zeroing in on the clock before turning back to Alec who was finally looking at him again. “It’s been more than five minutes, still want me to leave?”

Hands grabbed at his hips as Alec leaned his head closer. “Please stay.”

Any quieter and Magnus would’ve missed Alec’s plea, but his grip on Magnus was telling enough. “Only if you’ll keep dancing with me.” Magnus gave Alec an exaggerated pout.

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “Stop being so cute.”

“Can’t, darling,” Magnus sighed, “it’s a curse.”

At this point, Magnus could feel Alec’s breath against his lips. With each moment his restraint grew smaller and smaller. He doubted Alec would gather the courage to mention his feelings. But he wasn’t going to wait for the other boy to make a move first. “Maybe this is the alcohol talking, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Alec’s breath hitched, and for a second Magnus thought he’d ruined their moment until Alec let out a pleased sigh. “I – you uh… If I let you kiss me,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “You have to let me take you on a date.”

Magnus’ face lit up. “You wanna take me on a date?”

The tips of Alec’s ears practically glowed. “I’d like to.”

“I think,” Magnus drawled, twirling a piece of Alec’s hair, “that would be more than okay.”

The other boy’s mouth gaped and he seemed caught between awe and joy. Alec pressed their foreheads together. “So do I get that kiss now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Magnus bumps his nose against Alec’s. “How are you feeling about parties now?” Magnus inquired. He genuinely wanted to know if Alec’s opinion had changed.

Alec hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. “I won’t say I like them, but I got to spend time with you.” He brushed his lips against the corner of Magnus’ mouth. “So if you’re there, I can see the appeal.”

“Sweet talker.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. Alec’s lips were dry and deliciously warm against his. Just like his dancing, Alec’s kiss was inexperienced and their teeth clanked together before they got the right angle. Magnus led the kiss, coaxing Alec’s mouth to move with his own. It was hungry and sweet and profoundly earnest.

It was perfect.

Reluctantly Magnus pulled back to let them both breathe. Alec tried to chase his lips for a moment longer, eyes still closed as if he thought he’d open his eyes and Magnus would disappear.  Eventually, Alec did open his eyes, and quiet awe transformed his face.

“Would it be greedy to ask for another?” Alec asked between them, their lips still barely an inch apart.

“Terribly greedy,” Magnus chided with a grin, “But if you take me to that Thai place four blocks from the movie theater I’ll happily give you another.”

Alec laughed, their noses nudging against each other’s. “Promise?”

No answer was needed; his kiss was enough.

[lausterholes]

The Forgotten Empress | 1

Pair: Diavolo x Reader, Giorno Giovanna x Reader, Bruno Buccellati x Reader, Risotto Nero x Reader

Summary: Your husband - the emperor of Vento Aureo kingdom - whom you married for fifteen years and have one child with, had brought in a girl and assigned her as his mistress. Due to your disagreement, Diavolo, your husband had ignored your objection. The poisonous smile of her has taken away your husband's love for you. Day by day, you seem to be a forgotten empress of Vento Aureo. But before everything could get worse, three men have walked into your life, making you whole again.

Link to AO3

Vento Aureo. The kingdom that shines above all. Glories, success, honor, show out for everyone to see. People in delight, no wilderness, wealthy. Nothing could be better in this empire.

Except for your husband.

The ruthless, unkind, and vicious emperor of Vento Aureo, Diavolo. He always did a splendid job on his duty of the potentate but failed as your husband and your child's father. Although he worked hard for his people, you and your daughter got neglect. You tried to come up with an excuse for him - he is the emperor and is busy, only to realize that your relationship with him is none other than a forceful one. You didn't love him, but it was an attachment. All of those fifteen years you've fulfilled your duty as the empress and his spouse was nothing than a blank gap of time. Because you and him - Vento Aureo became resplendent.

Once in a blue moon, Diavolo, the illegitimate child of the former emperor, has made a vow to himself that he will kill his own father and become the ruler of Vento Aureo instead - and he did. He spared the czarina - the former emperor's spouse and command her to establish someone to be his empress. And it just happens to be you - the sorcerer and the philosopher of Vento Aureo. The wedding and the vows went quick like it doesn't matter, the first night was nothing more than sleep in the same bed. Everything seemed so unimportant.

Even though, the attachment between you and your husband seemed to get stronger when your first three months passed. He had been in a lot of stressful statement, and so are you. So, that night of the night has come. Both of you stay in the same bed, panting and attaching your body together until the dawn arrived. It was the first time you think that he really is your husband. The cold ice walls of his had melted down that night. No more awkwardness, no more formal conversation. The relationship you've made for him is not a waste.

Until you got pregnant and gave birth to the princess, Trish.

You can feel he disappointedly stared in your eyes. Diavolo doesn't want a daughter, he wants a son. When you meet him again after your recovery, Diavolo didn't even take your conversation seriously. He seems bored. That's when you became fully aware that his love might disappear along with Trish's birth. Cold walls of his started to establish once again. And this time, you might not be able to malt it down anymore.

Trish grew up with you and other maids. She doesn't even know that she has a father. Diavolo is almost absent in her life, not even bother to come and visit her in the golden palace that you both lived in. Trish, the daughter of yours, is not craving for her father, instead, she becomes fully aware at the age of ten that Diavolo is intentionally neglecting both of you. It's a painful truth that your daughter - a ten years old girl have to understand this fact. You wished that you could fulfill her empty heart Diavolo make her. Even that's mean you have to endure all the hard works, finished it as quickly as possible and spend time with her.

You adored your daughter so much, but no matter how much you spend time with her, you know that Trish still feels hurt. Her father doesn't want her anyway.

And - the welcoming ceremony has arrived. Trish - the daughter of Vento Aureo has reached the age of fifteen. All of the royalty on the continent paid a visit and entered the party to celebrate for the princess. Such as duke Joestar and his sons, house Polnareff, and many more. The party went well, Trish gets to dance along with other princess and young ladies. Her smile made your heart feel warm inside.

When the final song was over, Trish approached you with a grin on her face.

"My daughter, did you have fun?"

"Of course! Miss Sherry of house Polnareff is really kind. She taught me a secret technique to dance fluently!" Trish's cheek appeared a blush across her skin, clearly happy. You smiled for her delightfully. Trish continued to speak "Miss Jolyne too, she and her friends are really fun to talk with. I wished I could see them again at another party."

"I'm glad you can make friends, my sunshine." You giggled. "You don't have to wait for another ceremony, you can invite them to the tea party in this palace, or you even get your own invitation."

"I know, mother. But aren't they pretty with a formal dress?"

"I agree."

You were glad that Trish is happy in her day. The smile that ablaze like the great sunshine is the only thing you desire to see from her.

Suddenly, you can hear the footstep of the knight approached the ballroom. You eyebrows raised high, clearly aware that they're Diavolo's knights. But why Diavolo bother to join his daughter's ceremony who he neglects at this time - the time that you should take his place, saying the closing ceremony speech. Or he just suddenly wants to be a good father? Oh, what irony.

"Mother?..."

You didn't respond to Trish. But as soon as the door swung open, you met your husband's eyes before anything else.

"His majesty has arrived!" The knight announced.

You bit your lower lips as you take a look at his face. He looks healthier, brighter, and colder. Different from you, even you wear the makeup to hide away your tiredness, you still look weak and restless. The appearance of your husband at this time might be bad for both of your reputations. What kind of father entered his daughter's ceremony this late? Unless they neglect their child and wife on purpose and have something more important out there.

"Bow to his majesty!" You state out and bowed. When Trish heard that, she awkwardly genuflects to her father, a little confused by his appearance. The guests in this ballroom stared at each other gawkily and inclined their body into a bow. When you noticed that all of them had genuflected, you continued to say the speech for him. "May the sunrise shone for Vento Aureo and his majesty forever!"

"Raise up," Diavolo spoke softly. So everyone undoes their bow and admire the emperor of Vento Aureo. He tied his pink hair into a ponytail, the determined emerald eyes reflected you picture.

Everyone in this ballroom stared at Diavolo figured in disbelieve. The current emperor of Vento Aureo never showed up anywhere unless it's a battlefield. Everybody aware that Diavolo wants to keep in identity anonymous, but much to their surprise, Diavolo showed up in his daughter's ceremony. He slowly approached to you and Trish, spread a cold smile that sent a frightening straight to your heart.

"My lord," You were the first one who speaks.

"My empress," His eyes wandered to Trish. "my daughter."

"My father." Trish bowed once more.

You looked at his unconcerned face with a stoic manner, you always tried your best to hide your emotions in front of the crowds.

"I'm glad you joined this ceremony, my lord. But this is near the end." You whispered the last part with a mannerism voice. Diavolo shot a glare to you and reached his hand in front of his daughter, Trish, for her to grab on. You raised your eyebrows high as Trish sent you an assisting expression. Diavolo sighed softly as he pulled his daughter's hand into his and drag her on the center of the ballroom.

He will give a closing speech?

"At this time, the ceremony of my daughter has reached to an end, I'm grateful that all of you have arrived here just to celebrate for the princess of Vento Aureo. She had grown up healthy and happy, thanks to my dear wife that taking care of her along with working for the sake of our people."

You almost touched by his words. But as soon as you realize that he just pretends to be loving, it shattered your heart once more.

"Empress [Y/N] is a wonderful ruler, wife, and mother. She truly is the matriarch of Vento Aureo." Diavolo's speech continued. You just stood there with a reserved attitude, listen to his speech carefully without showing any reaction. "But, I noticed the exhaustion in her eyes. Every night she has to work until she can't sleep properly. I couldn't let her do this all alone anymore."

You almost frowning.

What does he mean?

What is he trying to do?

What is he thinking?

The guests started to whisper to each other, and it spread like a wildfire. The ballroom filled with a noise of people's susurration within minutes. Your mind went blank until Diavolo snapped his finger. The knight behind the door stepped aside, revealed the beautiful woman behind them. You widened your eyes in shock, glancing back to you husband. Trish - who stood beside him just knitted her eyebrows tight as she stared at the woman.

She walked slowly with a bashful face. Her wavy golden locks look like an ocean with a great sunlight's steam. The yellow pair of orbs are round and shiny like an amber. Her clothes are white overall. She looks like an archangel who just came out from heaven. Her smile was so intoxicating. This woman is incredibly breathtaking, you can't even deny it yourself.

All of the guests started to gasped in shock as their eyes roam over her.

"Welcome Goldia de Fleur. The one who's going to alleviate empress's work." Diavolo announced.

You almost dropped your glass of champagne.

He's literally brought in a woman on his own daughter's ceremony?!

You almost jumped when Goldia approached you with a sweet smile on her face.

"Bow to my empress," She genuflected.

"Greetings, miss Fleur." You stated out blankly. Almost cold.

"Oh, my empress, you can call me Goldia, from now on, we're like sisters, isn't it?" She tilted her head cutely, but it was like a poisonous snake tilting its head to you. Her eyes can't even hide her deepest emotions. You realized what she means by her words, it was more than clear. "Because from now on, I - Goldia de Fleur, the duke Fleur's daughter of the orient, is going to be his majesty's concubine."

Your eyes shot with a cold gaze. You felt like Diavolo has crossed the line this time. You were sure that you can accept this peacefully if he brought Goldia in another state. But, this is Trish's day, not his or hers. It was like your husband trying to clown you and Trish in front of every royalty. That makes you dislike this woman already, and add up hate to your husband a little more.

The ceremony ends, with eyes for Goldia, not your daughter.

This is another restless night of yours.

And no one could lend a helping hand.

---------

"Buccellati! Buccellati!"

The small boy ran into the teahouse with a roll of paper in his hand. Buccellati that stood beside another tall man has turned his head toward him.

"What is it, Narancia?"

"Well, you won't believe what I heard!" Narancia approached Buccellati with an excited attitude. Buccellati takes a look at a roll of paper in Narancia's hand and takes it in a second. "Well, yeah, you can read it - "

"Is this just a nasty rumor or some shit?" The tall man beside Buccellati asked.

"No! Joseph of the Joestar guaranteed this himself. Even other guests in the princess's ceremony speak in the same way!" Narancia nodded his head furiously.

"Good," Buccellati said quietly.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, let's go outside. We need more of this." Buccellati commanded, return the roll of paper to Narancia.

Bruno Buccellati, the head of the Buccellati guild, this guild was formed five years ago and gained a lot of trust from royalty and the citizens. He is one of the independent adventurers of this kingdom. All of his members are well-known adventurers. Such as Narancia Ghirga, the cheery and childish one, but his skill is undoubted. And the tall one, Leone Abbachio, stoic, and serious, he was a knight of the kingdom before, but after he lost his partner, he retired himself. These two joined with Buccellati after the guild formed for a year and a half.

Lately, their leader acting so strange after a winter's ball. But no one could even comment anything on it. They trusted Bruno enough to know that he won't mix his feelings with his works.

"What about others?" Narancia asked.

"Only three of us are enough. If there are too many people, it'll be too outstanding." Buccellati answered.

"Okay then."

---------

The Vento Aureo is a big kingdom, so the terrain of this empire featured with many climates. In the Vento forest, the biggest rain forest in this country is the hideout of the assassination clan of Vento Aureo. They were even better than the royal knight. But what's unfortunate is, the emperor has to counterbalance their power by using money they got after a mission. The less money they get, the more they felt neglect and abandoned. Until it arrived at the boiling point.

The door of the living room slammed open. The blue-haired man welcomes himself inside with a furious face, making all of the members that sat on the sofa look at him. Angry, Ghiaccio kicked the table beside the door harshly until it crumbles down.

"Why are you so angry? Did someone call this place jungle again?" The lavender-haired man asked.

"No shit sherlock!" He snarled.

"What did you get?" The one who sat on the single sofa questioned.

"Well, that fucking emperor earns a concubine! He surely ignored our request for raise of money for one bitch!" He furiously sat down beside the lavender haired man. The whole place got dead air. "I'm not even sure why we serve that man anyway! He did a good job as an emperor, but what about us?!"

"Who did you talking about, Ghiaccio?"

"Goldia de Fleur, missy from the orient!" Ghiaccio answered. "That goldy bitch, she's smart but cunning as fuck! I don't even know that she'll fuck up or make any good!"

"Goldia de Fleur?" The blonde-haired guy repeated. "I heard that bitch's father is about to fuck up the orient he manages because he has no money and power to support his management, so he sent his daughter to the emperor. She may make the balance of royalty collapse in order to help her father."

"For real? Dud, where did ya' get that from?" The playful voice aloud.

"Uh - When I went out to spy on the orient side. I heard this from the duke's underlings." The green-haired man said, his unconfidence voice vibrated. "Not sure it's a rumor or facts. But the economy of the orient side is stagnant, despite the whole kingdom's trading."

"This is far more complicated than I imagine." The long-haired man said with a smug on his face, even he looks like he doesn't give a shit, but he does worried about the whole thing. "What do we do now, Risotto?"

"Well, clearly requesting through the emperor doesn't work. I'll try with the empress."

"Huh?! Are you kidding?! She may be like her husband!" Ghiaccio shouted in disagreement.

"No, she's not."

Risotto got up from the sofa and walked out of the room, leaving all of the members stared at his back fading away in the dark.

"Why he looks so sure?" Ghiaccio frowned.

"You didn't enter the winter's ball?"

"No, why would I go there, Melone? There are plenty of royal guards, I hate their guts."

"Okay, it seems it." Melone shrugged. Ghiaccio raised his eyebrows in frustration.

-----------

[my-proof-is-you]

The Greatest Punishment - Ch. 6

Summary: You and Dean were happy together. The only thing that really frustrated you in your life was the hatred you felt from his brother. You didn’t even know what you had done to him. You just knew that he couldn’t stand you, and the feeling was mutual.

As events unfold, will all that change? You never know what can bring people together.

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” -Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

**I do not own any gifs or pics

Masterlist  |  Tag Yourself!

Song referenced: Drink You Gone by Ingrid Michaelson

After a few more days you were finally strong enough to take care of yourself. You hadn’t really gained any weight back as you only ate little bits at a time. 

You hated to admit it, but you actually missed having Sam help you with everything. In fact, you had milked it a little longer than necessary. It was just nice to have human contact. Going those two weeks alone after Dean died had nearly killed you.

You and Sam still barely spoke, but you were spending more time together. You could tell that he was afraid that you would slip back into the deep depression and stop eating, so he always made sure to cook for both of you. 

He spent a lot of time in the gun range, presumably working through his grief. You had yet to figure out anything to help you with that. You had tried to go to the gun range, but even something as small as picking up your gun reminded you of Dean. It reminded you of the days when Dean wanted to win you over, and he would come up behind you, pretending to adjust your stance as you shot. You knew it was just an excuse to wrap his arms around you. Holding the gun now just reminded you that the space behind you was empty. 

You had a hard time understanding how Sam was functioning so well after Dean’s death. It took everything in you to even get out of bed in the morning, and yet Sam was pretty much back to his usual schedule. He had even gone on a hunt by himself. 

During one dinner, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to ask.

“How are you so okay?” You asked abruptly. 

Sam sat the burger he was holding down on the plate and stared at you with confused eyes.

“What?” He asked finally.

“How are you so okay? You’ve been taking care of me, yourself—even hunting. I just...how?” You asked, at a loss.

He shook his head slowly. “Trust me, Y/N, I’m not okay,” he responded after a few moments. “My heart is broken. Those first two weeks—when we didn’t spend any time together—I was a mess. I was almost as bad as you, except I made sure to eat and drink.”

You watched him as he explained, still trying to understand how he got from there to here.

“Then one morning I was laying in bed and I allowed myself to think about him. I had been avoiding it, because it just hurt to bad. But when I did I realized that he would have kicked my ass if he could have seen me just then.”

He stopped for a moment, taking in your confused expression.

“Y/N, Dean would have killed me if I didn’t take care of you. Hell, he’s probably...wherever he is...thinking, “finally, you fucking idiot,” now that I’ve been helping you.”

You allowed yourself to smile a little at his imitation of Dean. 

“And...I know I haven’t been the nicest to you in the past,” he began. You gave him an annoyed look. “Okay, I was a dick. But honestly, if we’re going to get through this, we need each other.”

You nodded your head slowly, still taking it all in. 

“It’s what he would want. It’s what he did want,” Sam said. 

You sighed. This was all fine and dandy, as long as Sam was nice to you. You had never even given him reason to be such a jerk before. But, he was right, and you knew it was what Dean wanted. 

“Okay,” you said, picking up your burger and taking a big bite. Sam watched you for a few moments before returning to his own. 

Wings fluttering made you look up from the book you were reading in your room to see Castiel standing near your door. 

“Hey, Cas,” you said, knowing he wasn’t bringing any good news. Of course you had asked Cas to look into wherever Dean might be after he died. He had been searching for weeks and still hadn’t figured it out. 

“Y/N,” he said with a nod. “How are you?”

“My heart feels like it was broken into a million pieces, and you?” You knew better than to waste pleasantries on Cas. He knew you weren’t okay.

“I’ve been better,” he said with a sigh. You knew that Dean’s death had taken a huge toll on Cas as well. He and Dean were almost as close and Dean and Sam were. 

“Still no sign of him,” he said after a few moments. 

“I figured,” you replied, looking back down at your book. 

“I’m sorry.” He walked toward the bed and sat down at the foot, placing his hand on your crossed legs. 

“Me too,” you said, looking up into his crystal blue eyes. Something about them put you a little more at ease. 

“Cas, what about what Billie said? Do you have any idea what she meant?” You asked.

“How it’s ‘part of a bigger plan’?” He asked, remembering what you had told him. “No. Heaven doesn’t know what she was talking about, either. They didn’t have any orders for Dean to die.”

You frowned, disappointed. You didn’t blame Cas—you knew he was trying his hardest to get information. 

“Y/N…” Cas began, hesitant. “Do you think that maybe it’s time for you to move on?”

“What?” You asked, already angry.

“I just...I don’t know that we’re going to find out what happened to Dean’s soul. Billie is an entity much more powerful than me, and unless she gives us information, there isn’t much we can do.”

You considered his words, your anger fading into sadness. You knew he was right. All of you had been trying to summon Billie and she refused to come. 

“But Cas, how could I just give up?” You asked, tears flowing down your cheeks. “You know that Dean sure as hell wouldn’t give up if the situation were reversed.” 

“I know, Y/N. But I also know that Dean would want you to be happy--want us to be happy--or at least try to find happiness.”

You sighed. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you were miserable. It didn’t mean you had to forget Dean or stop loving him. It just meant you had to live your life. 

“I think I need to get back to hunting. Or at least get out of this bunker.”

Cas stood up. “I know you’ll be okay,” he said. “And just call or pray if you need me.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you said, standing up. You hugged him, tight. You let go and he vanished with a fluttering of wings. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Sam was good with your idea to get out of the bunker. The two of you were going to a bar. You needed to unwind and get away from everything that reminded you of Dean.

You got ready to go, putting on “real” clothes for the first time in weeks. You put on your skinny jeans, wedge booties, and a flowing cold-shoulder shirt. You put on a little bit of makeup, keeping it fairly natural. You let your hair down and flowing over your shoulders.

You met Sam by the garage, and he looked you up and down. 

“You look great, Y/N,” he said with a half-smile. 

“Thanks. You look pretty good, too,” you returned. He was wearing his usual: jeans and a flannel. 

The two of you got into one of the classic cars parked in the garage. It was an unspoken rule that you wouldn’t take the Impala. 

When you arrived at the bar, you went in and Sam got you a table while you went to the bar. You knew alcohol would be needed, and not in short supply. You ordered two shots of tequila and four beers, bringing it all over to the table on a tray.

“Wow, you aren’t messing around,” Sam said when he saw it. 

“Yep. Bottoms up,” you said, holding the shot up for a cheers. You clinked glasses and downed your shots, the liquid warm in your throat. 

The two of you sat for a while just people watching. After a bit, Sam spoke.

“Hey, they have karaoke,” he said, pointing to the small stage where a middle-aged woman was singing Cher extremely off-key. “If I remember right, you have a pretty good voice.” 

You looked at the woman, considering what Sam said. You knew you’d probably make a fool of yourself, but the alcohol made you feel more confident. Plus, you loved music. It had always had a way of letting you express your emotions in a constructive way.

You shrugged. “Alright,” you said, getting up. You flipped through the song choices in the binder next to the machine, surprised by the variety you found. The song you ended up picking was fairly new.

You knew that it was a bit of a risk, but you also knew that the lyrics reflected exactly how you felt. 

You got up on the stage as the beginning chords started and closed your eyes.

You can't lie Words stay once said Hard to live, so I play dead

You kept your voice steady, focusing on the singing so you wouldn’t cry.

I can’t drink you gone

I can’t smoke you out

I can’t eat away the way that you ate my heart out

Like a sinking ship while the band plays on

When I dream, you’re there, I can’t even sleep you gone

With the next words you opened your eyes and looked at Sam, almost asking him the question you knew you were both struggling with.

How do broken hearts get strong?

Tell me, how do broken hearts get strong?

When you finished the chorus and the music continued, you looked around. The entire bar was silent, everyone watching you.

I still feel your hand in mine

Think I need much more than time

I remember when we used to say

Forever, babe

Forever, babe

As you came to the last chorus, the music slowed down again.

I can’t drink you gone

I can’t smoke you out

I can’t eat away the way that you ate my heart out

Like a sinking ship while the band plays on

When I dream, you’re there, I can’t even sleep you gone

How do broken hearts get strong?

Tell me, how do broken hearts get strong?

Oh, how do broken hearts get strong?

Tell me, how do broken hearts go on?

As the song ended, you stood for a moment in the silence before applause broke out over the bar. 

You walked back to the table and sat down. You looked up at Sam, who was staring at you. He had tears in his eyes.

“Y/N...that was...I can’t even...that was perfect.”

You let a tear escape one of your eyes as you looked at him. “Really?” You asked.

He reached over the table and wiped the tear off your cheek with the back of his index finger. “It was beautiful.”

You smiled a little. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. As you looked at him, you knew that whatever animosity he felt toward you before was gone. You still didn’t understand why, but you didn’t question it in that moment. It was just nice to have someone there who understood what you were feeling.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14​ @divadinag​ @lynne1993​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @infj-slytherclaw​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @sammykb1994​ @lilulo-12​ @mellorine-paprika​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @collette04​ @differentstudentrunaway-e70bf763 @hoboal87​ @bi-danvers0​ @miraclesoflove​ @defenderrosetyler​ @babypink224221​ @fabfan00​

[aurafanfiction]

Life Is Hard (One Shots) Part 3 Chapter Three: Closure

A/N: Just a little drabble about what I hope happened after Della grounded Louie in this last episode. Don't get me wrong, he deserved it, but the boys have gotten away with a lot before and never got in trouble, so it came off a little harsh when Della yelled at him. I needed closure damn it. It would have been nice to see Della assure Louie that she still loves him or something. So I wrote it myself. Please enjoy as always.

Louie ran upstairs thoroughly embarrassed at being punished in front of everyone he loved. He slammed the door to his bedroom on his way in before jumping face first onto his mattress. This whole thing was so stupid, he was stupid for even thinking he could impress his mom this way. The youngest triplet didn’t know what else to do, so he screamed as loud as he could into his pillow, hoping that none of his family could hear him. He screamed until his yelling turned into pitiful sobbing, and he just lay there soaking his pillow in tears. Clutching his blankets tight in his fists.

He couldn’t help but think about how much his mom probably hated him. He almost got his brother’s killed, she was right to punish him for it, deep down he knew that, but he was so angry that she thought she had the right to do something like that. Uncle Donald was their parent, she was barely anything to them yet. What gave her the right to start doling out punishments to him or his brothers when she hadn’t even been there their whole lives? She didn't even talk to him about why he stole that stupid tub.

Louie continued to cry, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t even care if he was grounded forever for putting his family in danger, his mom had yelled at him, in front of everyone. Why would she do that unless she really did hate him? Every last thing about this was stupid! He just wanted her to be proud of him. Instead he had messed everything up horribly.

Della sat in her bedroom with her hands covering her face. It had been only a half hour since she had yelled at Louie and grounded him in front of everyone. He deserved to be punished, no doubt, but she couldn’t help but feel like she needed to talk with him. The look of pure hatred on his face when he reminded her that she did exactly the same thing to them ten years ago, and again when she told him he was grounded. The last thing she wanted was for any of the boys to hate her, she just needed them to be safe, and Louie had gone overboard this time.

She realized that she had exploded on him a bit in front of all the others. That wasn’t really fair of her to embarrass him like that, she had just been so angry. There had to be more to Louie’s behavior than pure desire for money, she just wondered how she could possibly get the answer.

“Maybe I should go talk to him.” She said aloud to herself. “Just to see if he’s okay after everything.”

Louie heard the knock on his door and immediately told his visitor to go away. The last thing he wanted to do was have anyone see him like this. Still, whomever it was entered the room anyway, and he heard a soft voice from the doorway.

“Louie, honey, can I please come in?” Della asked him, noticing that he was busy crying into his pillow, something she had done herself a lot whenever she got punished as a kid.

After a second came a muffled reply. “No you yelled at me in front of everyone!”

“Sweetie, please, I just want to talk about what happened. You’re right, I shouldn’t have yelled at you in front of the others, or at all, I was just so hurt when I saw your brother’s vanish right before my eyes…”

Louie continued to cry, seemingly trying to ignore his mom’s speech.

“I know you didn’t mean for any of it to happen Louie.” She assured him, holding back her own tears. Della placed her hand on Louie’s shoulder and was a little hurt when he recoiled from her touch. “I’m sorry that I yelled at you honey.”

She sat down beside him and her youngest son scooted away a little. Della waited patiently trying to give Louie a chance to speak his mind. After several minutes she tried again. “Please talk with me Louie, tell me what’s been bugging you, this isn’t all about getting rich, is it?”

Louie finally manged to choke out a response. “I really was sorry mom and you still yelled at me, I just let everything get out of hand, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that… you hate me don’t you?”

Della’s eyes went wide, and she felt the tears she was holding back starting to come forth. That was the last thing she thought he would say. She was ready for him to hate her for a while, but what had she done wrong to make her boy think for a second that she could hate him? She couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed her youngest, pulling him into a hug. Louie struggled for a moment but let himself fall into her embrace shortly after, crying into her shoulder.

“Louie, my sweet mischievous little boy, I will never hate you do you hear me?” She soothed, rubbing her boy’s back gently. That always helped her calm down when Scrooge did it years ago.

“You’ve barely even been in our lives for a month, and already you’ve gone on these cool adventures with Dewey, and bonded with Huey over nerd stuff. I haven’t done anything with you except cause trouble and make you mad at me. I would understand if you did hate me.” Louie cried.

She pulled Louie away so she could look at him better. His eyes were red and swollen from all the tears tonight. She could tell that he really was sorry for what happened today. Man, why was parenting so much harder than fighting evil monsters? She wiped his eyes with her sleeve.

“Louie, I mean it, I will always love you no matter how naughty you are sometimes. That’s just what it means to be a kid, you are allowed to make these mistakes. Do I wish they weren’t almost kill your family mistakes, well sure, but no one said this family had normal problems. But I have to be the big bad mom who dishes out punishments when it’s called for, and it definitely was tonight. That’s how you learn, and stay safe in the future. I promise that next time it will involve less yelling. You know? I honestly thought you would be the one who would hate me.” She admitted.

The youngest triplet thought for a moment. “I don’t. I was really mad at you earlier, but I think I cried out all the madness by now.” Louie told her, which got a little chuckle from his mom.

“Yeah there’s nothing like a good cry to make you feel better sometimes. Look I know I barely have a right to call myself your mom yet, we’re all still getting used to this. Having to punish you was the hardest thing I’ve had to do, because I want you boys to like me, but I want you to stay safe more than anything else.”

“I understand why you grounded me mom, I deserve it, Uncle Donald would have done the same if he was here. But you took a dangerous risk too! And you ended up leaving us all and tearing the family apart.”

“And you don’t think I had my own punishment? Ten years of having to be away from my babies is worse than any grounding I could possibly give you.” Della wiped one of her own tears away.

Louie glanced at the ground. “I guess I never thought of it that way.” The youngest admitted. “I just want to spend a little more time with you is all. I just thought if I could get a lot of treasure I could impress you, like Huey with his knowledge or Dewey’s adventuring skills. I’m not really good at any of that, but I didn’t think anyone might get hurt because of it. I guess you didn’t think you’d hurt us either.”

Della ran her hand through Louie’s hair. “Honey, you don’t have to be good at any of that to try to impress me. But you’re right, I haven’t had time one on one with you yet like your brothers. I’m sorry if I made you feel like the odd one out and that you had to do something dangerous to bond with me. Tell you what, why don’t we go grab something to eat,wherever you want, just me and you and we can get to know each other. You can ask me anything you want as long as I get to ask you anything, cause there’s so much I want to know about each of you.”

“I can’t go anywhere, aren’t I grounded.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong you’re still grounded mister, you can’t disrupt the entire time stream and get off that easily.” Della assured him sternly before taking a softer tone. “But I’ll make an exception tonight for this. I think we both really need some quality time just me and you.”

Louie nodded before grabbing his mom in a tight hug. “We really do, thanks mom.”

A/N: I really do hope that we get some good Della/Louie moments in the upcoming episodes. This one was awesome but left a bad taste in my mouth at how she singled out Louie in front of everyone. Like Huey and Dewey stole a submarine once people! Where is the justice! :P My point is that Louie is a sweet little green bean and I need the writers to let him be happy for a second. Let me know what you guys thought about this episode in the comments. Can't wait to see what happens next. ~ Aura

[panda-noosh]

Gone Rogue {Lance x vamp!Reader}

Words: 10.8k

  Summary: Lance had grown up amongst a family of vampire hunters. It was a usual day on the job, nothing he wasn't to – until he saw you.

  Genre: angst - vampire!au 

  Warning: mentions of blood?? bad language.

  Notes: masterlist – after I had my slight breakdown because of my lack of motivation, I wrote this :):):)

  ---

    Lance would never get used to the sounds of the vampire dens.

    He was only young. His father had tried teaching him from a young age that they were the enemies, that he shouldn't be afraid of them because he was being trained to get rid of them; the first stage of training was always to wipe that fear away, realise that humans were the stronger species.

   Lance had yet to catch on to that side of things.

   The vampire dens were dark. Always. In the fifteen years Lance had been joining his father on his hunts, he had never come across a vampire den that was lit up. Most of the time, they were nothing more than random holes in walls, wet caves that smelled like rotting corpses. Water would drip down from the ceiling, and in the distance, Lance could always make out the sound of the vampires, whimpering as they realised what was happening.

    Lance didn't like the twist that captured his stomach. He didn't like the guilt that immediately swarmed his system, didn't quite understand it. He had lived in a household with people who thrived off of that noise, acted like it was music to their ears. Why should Lance be any different? Why couldn't he bask in the sound of tormented monsters just like the rest of his family?

    The den they were tormenting today had been one that Lance's father had spent a good amount of time looking over. Sheets upon sheets of blue prints and random maps had been laid out across the kitchen table for weeks. Lance wasn't able to do anything without catching a glimpse of the very place he was currently stepping foot inside of.

   He expected nothing different – it was just like every other den he had ever gone into. Dark, lit up only by the sudden attack of rays that came from the hunting groups many flash lights; Lance didn't hold one. He felt disrespectful enough stepping inside of their territory. The least he could do was let them live in darkness if that's what they wanted.

     “Remember to keep your stakes close,” Annette whispered from the front of the group. “We don't know how vicious these ones will be, so we need to stay on our toes.”

   Lance instinctively curled his fingers around the dagger protruding from a holster around his waist. The wood bit into his palm, splinters shooting up from the carving due to years of constant use.

    He followed the group further into the den. He was yet to hear any of the vampires, was yet to receive that spike of adrenaline that always surged through his body when one of them finally decided to take the initiative and fly out of their hiding place. It was quiet, definitely not what Lance was used to.

   And judging by the awkward shuffling of the other members of the large group, they too were puzzled by the lack of movement, lack of noise.

    “Something's wrong,” Lance's father, Samuel, announced. He didn't whisper. Samuel never whispered when it came to things like this, forever claiming that he refused to lower his voice just for the comfort of monsters.

   “Should we turn back?” asked Annette.

   Samuel shook his head. “We've been keeping an eye on this place for weeks.”

   “And have you actually ever seen the beasts coming in and out?” Dixon questioned. Through the darkness, Lance could make out the arch of his thick brows as he glanced at Lance's father. “We could be walking right into a trap right now, old man, but you're just too afraid to admit it.”

   “This is no trap!” Lance flinched at the sound of his fathers voice, the gruffness in his words. “I've studied this cave for weeks. We'll keep moving forward until we find something.”

   “If we find something,” Annette added, promptly causing Samuel to scowl. He did not argue any further, however, but instead continued deeper into the cave. Lance hollowed out his cheeks, resisting the urge to speak up against his fathers plans – over the years, he had come to learn that the best thing for him to do was to just keep his head down and his mouth shut.

     The cave only grew darker the deeper they went. The floor became too slippery to walk across without aid, meaning Lance was forced to lean against the concrete wall just to keep himself upright. Bats swarmed overhead, squeaking and screeching at the intrusion of their home. One of them even swooped down and started pecking at Lance's neck – Lance had quickly been told to shut up.

    Moments before Annette screamed and fell to the floor.

   Lance's head shot up. There was no protective streak in him, no desire to run forward and help the woman up, but his curiosity certainly overwhelmed him.

    It quickly dissolved, replaced with horror at the sight of one of them kneeling on her chest, teeth bared and claws sprung. Lance had seen thousands upon thousands of these creatures in his lifetime, but never before had he seen one on their own.

    “Annette!” Dixon cried out, throwing himself forward with his dagger raised.

   Lance's father sprung forward, grabbed Dixon's wrist and shoved him back against the wall. It all happened so fast, Dixon's look of shock, the curses spilling from his mouth as Lance's father grabbed the vampire around the waist, whipped something unfamiliar out of his pocket and jabbed the object into the creatures throat.

    The vampire clawed and cried out, hair whipping around it's face before it's body went completely slack. It's jaw dropped open, eyes sliding shut, legs giving out so the only thing holding it up was Samuel's hands.

   Lance inhaled deeply, looking on with wide eyes of his own. What had just happened? Why hadn't his father just killed it like he always did?

   Lance's father looked up. Annette was still on the floor. Dixon was still holding his dagger, back still pressed tight to the wall.

   “We're taking this one back to the house,” said Samuel. “I don't want any questions until we get there. Do you all understand me?”

   Lance didn't nod, even as Annette and Dixon did. He let their voices be his own, because all he could do was stare at the creature currently unconscious in his fathers grip. This was a whole other level of cruel. Killing them was one thing, but knocking them out and taking them home for testing – as if they were some kind of animal – had Lance's stomach curling in on itself.

    He swallowed the sharp taste of bile, loosened his grip on his dagger and followed the hunting group out of the cave.

   ---

    Vampires weren't meant to feel pain.

   You had been through death, experienced the worst and most final type of pain a human being would ever need to feel – and yet even now, a bad headache still managed to stir you out of sleep.

    You gritted your teeth against the blinding lights currently shining down upon you, a direct contrast to the darkness you were so used to living in. A soft mattress was placed beneath you, though the ropes currently tying you to the bed post ebbed away some of the excitement that came with finally having a soft surface to sleep on.

    Your eyes flicked open. The room you were in was small, a single window locked and barred on the far side of the room, a bed-side cabinet with sharp objects scattered over the top of it placed to the left of you – too far for you to reach with your bound hands, but close enough for you to scoff at the stupidity of the people who had captured you.

   Humans.

   Of course, you had expected this to happen eventually. Going rogue always came with its risks, but you had at least expected to be able to settle into your own den before this happened. In fact, you had expected to at least be given a fighting chance, if not a dagger to the throat to get things over with quickly.

   But nope. Whoever was responsible for your current position had decided to be different and quirky, and had knocked you out instead.

    “It's awake,” a voice sounded out from seemingly nowhere.

   You glanced around. “It?”

     “Annette, Lance – go in. It's talking.”

   “Again, it?”

   The door opened, revealing two people – one of whom was much morefamiliar than the other. You vaguely remembered, through the haze that were your thoughts right now, jumping upon the chest of the timid looking girl standing in the doorway. Her pale hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she had her fingers curled tightly around a wooden dagger.

   You grimaced. “Careful with that, lass. You might hurt someone.”    The girl scowled before shoving the boy further into the room. If the girl – Annette, you assumed – looked timid, then the boy – Lance – looked about ready to pass out. His skin was pale, his lips tight and his hands fumbling carelessly with a bag of blood. His brown hair was sticking up in all directions, but you had to give him one thing – he didn't look away from you when you made eye contact with him.

    That earned him some points.

    “Hand it the food. We want to keep on its good side for now,” that strange voice rang out again.

   Lance stepped forward, hesitantly reaching the bag of blood towards you. You didn't move to take it – physically couldn't with the way your hands were bound. You raised a brow, silently willing Lance to just take one little step forward, one tiny little step closer.

   But he didn't.

   “Lance!” Annette hissed. “Put it on the bedside table, for gods sake!”

   “God?” you parroted. “My, you guys really know how to get on a vampires bad side, don't you?” You glanced at Lance. “There's no need to be scared. I'll even give you a tip if you untie me.”

    Lance's eyes flared before he tossed the bag of blood onto the mattress beside you and stumbled back into place beside Annette. You sighed, glancing down at the bag – you still were unable to reach it. Unless one of these mortals was willing to feed you it by hand, there was no way you were getting your nutrients this morning.

    “Ask the questions we planned,” the overhead voice drawled.

    “You can come down and say hello on your own if you want,” you called out into the room. “I don't bite.”

   Annette stepped forward. “Rogue.”

   That was the one word she needed to say for you to immediately snap your mouth shut. You didn't turn to look at her immediately, instead kept your gaze on the bag of blood by your side.

    But then you looked up, and she was looking at you, and you realised then that these people probably meant more business than they were really letting on.

    “How do you know?” you mumbled.

    “Samuel has been studying you for weeks now,” replied Annette, pulling her shoulders back. She thought she had control now. She thought she had scared you. “We know everything about you, beast. There's nothing you can say or do that will shock us.”

  “Annette,” Lance grumbled. “Go easy.”

   You shot the strange boy a glance. He certainly didn't bring the attention to himself – or perhaps he was just scared. Nonetheless, the way he looked down at the floor, shuffled his feet awkwardly against the carpet told you that he did not want to be there.

   You weren't sure why that gave him even more points.

   “So tell us,” continued Annette, stepping into the room. “What made you choose to go on your own?”

   “So that's what this is about?” you said. “I was actually in the middle of writing my groundbreaking autobiography before you and your lot decided to infiltrate my home. If you'd have just waited-”

   “We're not joking around,” growled Annette, visibly tightening her grip on her dagger. “We want answers, or you die.”

   You scoffed. “You must think I'm stupid. I've dealt with your kind before – you'll get your answers, and you'll kill me anyway. That's how your sick and twisted brains work.”

    Annette's eyes flashed. You couldn't tell if it was from anger or impatience, or fear – or maybe all three, but you didn't care. The anger coursing through you was spurred on by this bitch's stupidity and the hunger currently gripping you. The bag of blood was so close to you, and yet you couldn't reach it. You couldn't reach it.

   “We're not the sick and twisted ones,” said Annette. “We don't drink other peoples blood. We don't kill the innocent-”

  “All the vampires you've killed in the past. You're gonna sit there and tell me that every single one of them was deserving of what you did to them? The children?”

   “We're ridding the world of evil. That's all we need to explain to you.”

   You gritted your teeth. She was delusional. Completely and utterly delusional, and she couldn't see it.

   Beside her, Lance kept his head down. He didn't speak, barely made a sound. He was there to prove a point, that much you could see. He was there to please somebody else – he didn't really want to be there. A part of you truly thought that he didn't even agree with the bullshit his little sidekick was spewing, but you banished the thought almost as soon as it entered your brain – it was much too close to sympathy for your liking.

     You slumped back against the headboard and shrugged as best you could with your hands tied. “Well, whenever you kill me, I plan on deserving it. As soon as I get free, I'm ripping your throat out with my teeth.”

   There was no response. The room fell into an eerie silence, filled only by the sound of Annette's heavy breathing.

   Something crackled overhead before that voice called out, “Get out of there.”

    Annette did exactly as she was told.

   Lance hovered for a moment longer. His blue eyes were pretty in the dim light. His skin was slowly regaining it's colour. For just a second, he opened his mouth as if to say something, before the overhead speakers crackled again and he snapped from his stupor.

    Again, you didn't break the eye contact as he backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

   ---

   Lance couldn't find his breath.

   He shouldn't have been panicking so much. The world shouldn't have felt so wrong, because he had done this all before. Plenty of times in the past he had sat back and watched people – vampires – get tortured at the hands of his father. Every time, he had managed to convince himself that it was okay, that his actions were justified because this was what he had been raised to do.

    But this one was different. This one spoke sense, and he couldn't get the words you had spoken out of his mind. Even when Annette grabbed him by the arm and slammed him against the wall, his mind did not immediately rush to concentrate on the pain that sprang from his lower back, but instead stayed firm on the vampire he had just left behind him.

   “Would you stop freaking out?” Annette hissed. “If your father sees you like this, he's going to-”

   “You're gonna let them starve?”

   Annette flinched back as if Lance had struck her. “Them? Since when did you start sympathising with the beasts?”

   Lance squeezed his eyes closed. If Annette hadn't got such a firm hold of his hands, he would have ran his fingers through his hair, perhaps tried to tug the strands loose in any attempt to get his anger and confusion from his system.

   You hadn't looked scared, which was one thing Lance was certainly not used to. Never before had he laid hands on a vampire, never succumbed to the torture that his family seemed so keen to inflict, but he had been there. He had hovered in the back of the room and watched, just like he had been told to do, and never before had he seen someone look so calm when the risk of starvation was being placed upon them.

   You hadn't even looked away when Lance had stumbled out of the room. You had just stared at him, those eyes piercing him in a way that left him confused, questioning everything he had ever known.

   “Get yourself together,” hissed Annette. “Can't you see I'm trying to do you a favour right now? If you go out there and start sobbing of guilt in front of Dixon and your dad, it's your ass they're gonna be after.”

    Lance nodded, swallowing thickly. “I know.”

   “What was that?”

   “I know,” he repeated through gritted teeth, finally finding the strength to shove Annette off of him. “I know, alright? I'm fine. It's just – That one startled me.” That one. Even referring to you with such distaste left him reeling with guilt.

   Annette gently ran her fingers over Lance's shirt and leather jacket, flattening the creases she had put in it with her grip. “Good. I don't think the Big Guy will want us going back in there for another few hours. I'll tell him you went to wash up if you wanna go and get some rest.”

     “Thank you.”

   She nodded, gave Lance one final look over before she turned on her heel and headed down the long hallway towards the lounge. Lance could hear his fathers voice echoing through the doors, ranting on about how much nerve you had to speak to them in such a way, how he would make you pay for having such an attitude.

   Lance released a breath, his head falling back against the wood of the door frame. Glancing behind him, he could see the door he had just closed, the door you were behind. Part of him was drawn towards it, wanting nothing more than to open it, step inside and get the answers he craved – but he couldn't. The risk of his father finding out what he was doing was too great, and besides, what were the odds of you even wanting to speak to him? To you, Lance would surely be nothing more than another captor, another person to despise. Another person on your hit-list.

    So instead, he broke away from the door and headed back to his own room, refusing to look back for the time being.

    ---

    You resisted the urge to close your eyes.

    You weren't tired. You couldn't be tired, considering you had been knocked out for a good number of hours beforehand. In fact, your body was positively thrumming with energy.

   Just not the good kind.

    You wanted to scream. You were a predator – from the moment you had died and come back to life craving the taste of human flesh, you had been a predator. Your instincts to kill flared up when you weren't getting what you wanted, and you were truly feeling it at full force right now.

    The lights were the worst part. The humans had been kind enough to close the curtains for when the daylight finally started streaming through, but they had forgotten you had lived a good portion of your life trapped in complete darkness. The glowing lanterns they had placed above you were doing nothing to create any sort of ambience, if that's the effect they were going for. They were just giving you a headache.

    The light plus your need for food was making you ravenous. You pulled against the ropes until your flesh was splitting open – no blood poured from the wounds, though, considering your heart had stopped pumping the stuff around your body an awfully long time ago. The bag of blood beside you was taunting. You tried in vain to slide down the mattress and grab it with your teeth – it was too far out of reach.

   All because that stupid Lance kid had been too nervous to put it in your god damn hands.

   You gritted your teeth and slumped back against the headboard. Oh, how easy it would be to just . . . kill them all. To run rampant through this very house and feast on its inhabitants.

   Even as you thought it, the guilt flooded your system.

    It wasn't what you were used to, but the memory of Lance's innocent little face in the corner had you snapping back to reality – you were a predator, of course, but you didn't go after the ones who didn't deserve it. In fact, it had been almost fourteen years since you had last feasted on any human being. It had been fourteen years since you had felt the need to.

   Annette could die. You came to that decision quickly. Her tauntings and the way she followed every word that stupid overhead voice had spoken left you angry.

   Lance, on the other hand, was a different story.

     He shouldn't have been. You knew that. He should have been under the exact same umbrella as everybody else, and yet you couldn't quite bring yourself to think of him as anything more than a pawn dragged into this situation against his will. Clearly he hadn't wanted to be in the room when he had been – the way he gravitated towards the door, the way he barely spoke a single word told you that much.

    Part of you wanted him to come back in. If there was anyone in this hell hole that you could reason with, it had to be him. It had to be.

    “Testing.”

   The voice startled you, though you didn't show it.

   “Testing, testing. Say 'doughnut' if you can hear me.”

  This voice was different, younger sounding.

    “I repeat, say 'doughnut' if you can-”

    “God, is that you?” you interrupted, looking around the room frantically.

    Overhead, you could hear someone intake a sharp breath. “So you can hear me. I'd prefer it if you did as I said.”

    “And I'd prefer it if my body wasn't digesting the lining of my stomach, but we can't all get what we want, now can we?”

    A dark chuckle. “My name's Dixon.”

   “I don't care.”

   “You haven't told us your name yet.”

   “I didn't think it was that important, considering you're just going to kill me once you get what you want.”

   Dixon tutted. “Now, who put you under that assumption? It wasn't Annette, was it? Or little ol' Lance?”

    You bristled. “Why don't we organise a line up and I can come out there and point to who it was?”

   “A tempting idea,” Dixon hummed. “But I don't think I can do that.”

   “Coward.”

    “Insults aren't going to set you free.”

   “But they'll hurt your feelings, and I have nothing better to do with my-”

   “Are you talking to them?”

   You stiffened at the voice now drifting in alongside Dixon's through the overhead speakers. It was familiar, and you recognised it almost immediately as Lance – which was strange, considering you had heard him speak only very little in the last twenty four hours.

   Nonetheless, the sound of his voice put a pause to your previous sarcastic comment. You instead settled back against the bed frame, waiting for him to continue.

    “What are you doing in here?” Dixon hissed. “Did the Big Guy not tell you and Annette to get ready for the next round of interrogation?”

   “Interrogation? He told us to get out of the room.”

  Dixon scoffed. “Yeah, well, rightly so. This thing doesn't know when to keep it's mouth shut.”

  You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to rip completely free of your bounds and rip his throat out – once upon a time, perhaps you would have been able to, but these humans were a lot more intelligent than you were willing to give them credit for. Your inhuman strength had long since been sapped out of you by whatever injection they had given to you, and the hunger that had engulfed your system now was not helping. You were too weak to even hold your head up, let alone snap through the knots that were keeping your hands bound.

    Lance was silent for only a moment before he said, “You go and get something to eat. I'll take it from here.”

   “What are you talking about? You don't even know what I was – hey! Hey, dude, give that back!”

   “Go,” Lance demanded, and you were surprised to hear the authority in his tone.

   There was another few moments of silence before you heard a chair creak, and then it was just Lance's voice flowing into your room.

   “Are you okay?”

   You weren't sure how to answer that one, so you didn't.

   Lance sighed heavily. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't – I don't know what they're doing. They've never done this before.”

    “They just kill us, don't they? This must be a weird change of plans.”

    Lance paused. “I'm sorry.”

    “What are you apologising for?”

   “For everything. For trapping you in there. For – For not being able to do anything about it.”

    You bristled at the way he said that, the way he finalised it all so quickly. You had no doubt in your mind that he had every ability to come in and do something about what was happening – he just chose not to. He was scared, whether of you or the other people upstairs.

   “I don't need your help,” you replied. “I'll get myself out of here. And when I do, you'll all regret fucking with me and my people.”

   “I don't doubt that.”

   “Then why not just let me go? I'd spare you if you let me go.”

  “Because it's my family up here. You'll kill them if I let you go.”

    It made so much sense, but it didn't quite cut it. You gritted your teeth again, flexing your stiff fingers against the ropes tied around your wrist. “If that's what you wanna do, then I won't stop you. But you're gonna regret it later on.”

    “I'm sorry.”

  “Stop saying that.”

   “Are you hungry?”

   You glanced down at the bag of blood at the side of you. “No.”

    “You need to eat.”

   “Your little friend won't let me. Remember?”

   Lance inhaled sharply. “I'll come in and give you food tonight, once everyone's gone to bed. I don't want you starving.”

   “I don't need your help.”

    “So you've said,” Lance mumbled. “Doesn't mean I won't help you, though. As much as I can.”

   ---

   He was going to get in so much trouble. That much he knew.

   After spending the majority of his life listening to his fathers rules and taking them in stride, it felt strange to finally break free of that routine. He was usually asleep by eleven o clock every night, grateful to be escaping yet another day of guilt and torture. But tonight, he forced himself to stay awake until he heard Dixon and Annette racing up the stairs, giggling and shoving each other like children.

    Once upon a time, Lance envied their friendship, wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. They were like brother and sister – all Lance had was his father, and he wasn't afraid to admit that him and his dad didn't get on quite so well.

    Tonight, though, the sound of them racing up the stairs signalled only the beginning of his wild plan. He was going to help you. Help you, help someone that his family hunted down for sport. He was going to go against everything he once understood, just because it was you.

    It was confusing. Even as he slid out of bed and grabbed for the bag of pigs blood beneath his mattress, he couldn't quite wrap his head around why he was doing it – there was no reason for it. Already you had threatened the lives of his family members, already made it very clear that you would not hesitate to rip Lance's throat out if you ever got loose. Lance had absolutely no reason to help you.

   He pushed those thoughts from his mind. He did not stay up past his bed time just to back out of the plan now.

    Slowly and quietly opening his door, he slid out of his room and headed directly for the staircase, the pigs blood tight in his hand. If he were to run into anyone, there would be nothing he could say to cover up what he was doing – he wasn't hiding it, though he thought he probably should have.

    He reached the door you were behind, opened it and slipped inside before he could convince himself to back away and leave things as they were. He was tired of being an onlooker to such horrors – he needed to start helping, no matter how small his help was.

   The room wasn't lit. The lanterns had been dimmed down, the curtains still drawn so the room was cast in complete darkness. For a moment, Lance panicked – he couldn't see you. He quickly reached up and turned the dial on one of the lanterns above his head, illuminating the room.

   You hissed.

   “Bloody hell!” you exclaimed. “Could you not?”

   Lance stumbled forward. “Sorry, sorry, sh! My dad'll hear you if you're too loud.”

   “Oh, sorry. I'll just keep my mouth shut then, shall I?”

   Lance sighed, shaking his head. You were curled up against the mattress, both of your arms draped loosely to one side, being dragged down by the ropes that had clearly been biting into your flesh all day. Your hair was a knotted mess, draped over your face with you making no effort to bat it away. Lance had the sudden urge to reach forward and tuck it behind your ear, but quickly stopped himself and instead sat down on the chair by your bedside.

   You watched him with narrowed eyes. Lance knew you weren't freaking out purely because he had food in his hand – despite you claiming you weren't hungry earlier on, the hunger was obvious in your gaze now.

   He raised the bag up a little bit. “Pigs blood.”

   “My favourite. Too bad I can't eat it.”

   “I thought I could . . . ,” He coughed awkwardly, glancing at the door. “If you'll let me, I could always feed it to you.”

   And it was such a wimp thing to say, such a cowardly thing to suggest when he could simply reach over and untie you. You would be free, you could eat on your own and Lance wouldn't have to live with the guilt of knowing that he was walking free around his home whilst you were tied up against your will.

   But the conversation from earlier flashed back into his mind. You would hurt his family. You had said you would hurt his family, and despite everything, Lance wasn't willing to risk that.

    You were silent for a little while before you said, softly, “Please.”

   Lance looked up. He wanted to examine your face, wanted to see if the soft tone of your voice was real or not, but as soon as he saw your sunken cheeks and reddening eyes, he realised that that could wait. He fumbled with the top of the bag, ripped it open and slowly leaned forward.

   You craned your neck, willing Lance to trickle the blood into your mouth. He could see the faint circle of scars placed upon your jugular – that was where the accident had happened, where another vampire had sunk their teeth into your throat and turned you into the thing you were today.

    Your eyes fluttered closed as soon as the liquid passed your lips. Lance's heart was thumping wildly in his ears, a voice screaming in disbelief at the back of his head, because this went against everything he had been taught.

    You pulled back after a few more sips. Inspecting the bag, Lance saw that you had drained its contents in seconds flat; he raised a brow, glancing up at you as you panted in your attempts to catch your breath.

   Your eyes met his own. “What? I haven't eaten since you lot kidnapped me.”    Lance set the empty bag to the side. “Do you want any more?”

   You blinked as if not understanding him. “What?”

    “Blood. We have more in the fridge. I can go and get you some if you're still hungry.”

    “Uh. . . No. No, that was fine.” You hesitated before adding, “Thank you.”

    The word made Lance's blood run ice cold. It felt wrong. It was undeserved.

   He shook his head. “Don't thank me. You should hate me.”

   “Well, I do, but that was still a nice thing for you to do.”

   Lance scoffed. “Just . . . don't say thank you for it. It makes me feel like an asshole.”

   The room fell into silence again. Lance continued to look down at his lap, messing with the rings upon his fingers in any attempt to get his mind off of what was happening right now; he should have just got up and left as soon as his job was over. He was risking everything by staying in here with you for a moment longer than originally planned, but the thought of getting up and leaving was one he couldn't quite begin to fathom.

    “Why do you have me in here?”

   The question was abrupt, the last thing Lance had expected to hear. His head shot up, jaw dropping open before quickly snapping closed once he realised what it was you had actually said. How was he supposed to respond to that when he barely knew the details himself?

    Your eyes glittered, not once leaving Lance's. “You can't blame someone for being curious. I was minding my own business in my cave. You had no reason to come for me.”

    Lance flushed. “I know that.”

   “So then why am I here? Why can't I leave?”

    “I don't . . .” He inhaled deeply, tilting his head back towards the roof. He couldn't lie. Not about this. “My dad hunts your kind for a living. He's killed . . . thousands of you. I've watched him do it. But when he heard about you going rogue, he got curious, I guess.”

   You raised a brow. “He wanted to know why I went off on my own?”

   “He wanted to know something nobody else would know,” Lance replied, only then realising the truth behind the statement; his father wasn't interested in making the world a better place, ridding it of what he claimed was 'evil.' He just wanted knowledge, wanted to be able to tell people that he knew the reason behind certain aspects of life that were, quite frankly, absolutely none of his business.

    “Funny,” you mumbled. “I haven't seen your father come into this room once. He's just sent his little delinquents in instead.”

   Lance snorted. “Yeah, he does that as well.”

   “And you all just listen to him?”

   “We have to.” Lance winced, quick to correct himself. “Well, I have to. If he ends up kicking me out, I have nowhere else to go. Annette and Dixon, they just worship the ground he walks on. They wouldn't want to go against him anyway.”

    You paused. “That's sad.”

   Lance looked up. “Huh?”

   “How old are you?”

    Lance was struck with confusion, but answered nonetheless. “Nineteen.”

   “Nineteen,” you repeated. “An adult, and you're too afraid to go against your dads orders, even if you don't agree with them.” You raised a brow, tilting your head to the side in a way that had Lance's breath whisking itself from his lungs. “You don't agree with him, right?”

   His eyes widened. “No! No, of course not! The things he does to vampires-”

  “To my people,” you corrected. “There's no point in trying to soften the blow. I'm tied to the damn bed post.”

   Lance gritted his teeth, his cheeks flushing red with both embarrassment and guilt. You were right, and he knew that. There was no point in trying to deny what was right in front of him – he was an adult. He could have walked away from this lifestyle years ago, and yet he chose to stay rooted to his fathers wishes because he was too afraid of stepping away from his comfort zone.

    He glanced over at you. You were looking down at the ropes around your wrist, biting your lower lip. The corners of your mouth were stained with blood, and it took everything in Lance's power not to reach forward and brush it away for you.

    “When are you finally going to get it over with and kill me?” you asked, not a hint of fear in your voice.

    Lance's mouth went dry. “I won't let them kill you.”

    “You won't be able to stop it.”

   “I – I will.” He was only now realising the weight of his words. This was a promise he was making, and an important one.

   But for some reason, he was determined to see it through.

   “You'll get out of here alive, and I'll make sure they don't come after you again,” Lance continued. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I want you to believe me when I say that.”

    You stared at him, eyes tracing over his face. He wanted to shy away, wanted to curl up and pretend he wasn't involved in any of this, but he didn't. He stared right back at you, watched the moment you started nodding before you finally said, “Okay.”

   ---

   Two weeks had passed since Lance and his family had infiltrated your cave. Two weeks of you being caged up in the tiny back room, hands tied, being fed only when Lance was nice enough to sneak out of bed and feed you the leftover pigs blood from the fridge.

    Lance was getting tired of it.

    He was getting tired of pretending like he didn't care about you, getting tired of watching you deteriorate during the day, getting tired of listening to his friends talk about you like you were nothing more than a throwaway source of information.

    He just wanted this to end. He wanted you to go back to being safe, but there was no way in which he could logically and safely get you out of this place – not without putting either you or his family in danger of being killed.

    He hollowed out his cheeks, running his hands through his hair. Downstairs, he could hear Dixon and Annette talking about dinner as his father no doubt sat quietly, sipping away at his coffee. Lance had been placed on watch duty, meaning he was being forced to sit in the attic and watch you through the cameras that had been placed all around your room.

   He hadn't plucked up the courage to talk to you just yet, still pondering over what to say. It had only been the previous night in which he had stalked into your room and given you the last bag of pigs blood – he would have to go out and get some more, but until then, he was being forced to pretend that his heart wasn't beating at a million miles per hour, both in anxiety and excitement for the conversation to finally begin.

    His eyes flicked over to the monitors; you weren't doing anything productive at the minute, simply leaning back against the headboard with your knees dragged into your chest. Your hands had been untied a few days prior thanks to Lance's insistent prying at his father to finally let you walk around the room. Despite this bit of freedom, it was still clear to Lance that you were bored out of your mind and growing increasingly impatient as the days passed by.

    Finally, he leaned forward into the microphone and started talking.

   “Hey there.”

    You barely flinched at the sound of his voice, though Lance couldn't help but smile when you turned your head ever-so-slightly to face the camera in the corner. “Is Dixon there with you?”

    “No. Him and the others went for lunch.”

   You scoffed, shifting in your bed so your entire body was facing the camera. “And they left you out?”

   Lance hummed. “I wasn't hungry anyway.”

   “Lucky you.”

   Lance winced, realising what he had said a little too late. “Sorry.”

   You waved a dismissive hand in the air, brushing the comment to the side, much to Lance's relief. “Don't worry about it. Are you planning on visiting me tonight, then? Maybe we can play a game of Scrabble whilst I talk about how I'm going to rip this place to shreds once I get out.”

    “Y/N...”

   “Don't say my name like that,” you grunted, before sighing heavily. “Look, I get it okay? You don't want me to hurt your family, and you don't want your family hurting me. You must be in a pretty tight bind right now, but you've gotta understand that I'm not gonna sit around and wait for you to get your ass up to help me out of here. If I have to take matters into my own hands, then I will.”

  “You won't have to,” Lance replied. “I promised you, didn't I? I said I would get you out of there safely, and I will. I plan to, but you've just gotta give me time-”

   “How much time do you need, Lance? Because I'm not sure how much longer I have left in me.”

   Lance closed his eyes, the chair groaning as he leaned back. He was being selfish, and he knew that, but he couldn't let you go without knowing you were leaving this place safely. The past two weeks had showed him that the life he had been living before was wrong, inhumane in more ways than he could count – he cared for you, which scared him most of all. The nights in which he was sat by your bedside, listening to you rant, talking to you about the most random of things, were some of the best moments in his day. He looked forward to them, made a mental checklist throughout the day of all the things he was going to tell you when he finally managed to sneak downstairs and see you.

    But he was putting you through hell, and he knew that. It made his stomach twist, a new type of guilt that he was unfamiliar with until now.

    “Soon,” he said. “Just – Just hang in there, alright? Wait on me for a little while longer.”

   “You're asking an awful lot.”

   “It's making your job easier. If I can get you out of here smoothly, you'll be out in a matter of minutes. If we're lucky, we won't even wake anyone up.”

   You scoffed. “You say that like the idea of getting a little messy was bothering me.”

   Lance rolled his eyes. “And what's your idea of a little messy?”

   “Oh, I don't know,” you hummed, before flicking your eyes towards the camera. “You and I have been getting awfully close lately, haven't we? The mess doesn't just have to be the blood of my victims, you know...”

     Lance's eyes popped open, his heart suddenly hammering behind his ribcage. He wasn't sure how to respond to that, not as his cheeks grew bright red and his body went rigid against the chair.

   It was the sound of your laughter that snapped him from his daze. “You still with me, boss, or did I scare you off?”

   He swallowed thickly, fanning his face. “Anyway, as I said,” he pushed on awkwardly. “I'll have you out in no time. You just have to be a little bit patient with me.”

    You sighed, sprawling back across the mattress so your head dangled out of sight of the camera and over the opposite side of the bed. “If you insist, pretty boy. But I'll snap eventually. My kind usually do.”

   “I know. You've told me.” Lance rubbed at his chest, getting ready to change the subject before the door to the attic swung open and Dixon stepped inside. Immediately Lance took his finger away from the speakers and spun to face the man, his broad body taking up the majority of the doorway, his chin going unshaved and scruffy. Lance raised a brow, silently asking him what he wanted – lunch wasn't usually over this quick.

    “Samuel wants us all in the dining room for a meeting. Now, he says. And be quick.”

   Dixon, forever the impatient soul, didn't wait around for Lance to reply. He shot a quick glance towards the monitors, smirked at the sight of the captured vampire before he span on his heel and left, simply expecting Lance to follow.

   Lance had half a mind to tell his dad to go to hell. That was quickly banished by the sound of your voice saying, “Might wanna get up and go before Papa gets angry.”

   Lance span around, pressing his finger to the microphone. “How did you hear that?”

   You chuckled. “I'm a vampire, Lance. I hear everything that goes on in this house.”

   ---

    As expected, Dixon, Annette and Samuel were gathered around the table, awaiting Lance's arrival.

    He was nervous, to say the very least, because there was no doubt in his mind concerning what this meeting was about. It was obvious. There was a captive vampire living in the back room – there was nothing else to discuss in the first place.

    “Take a seat, son,” Samuel said, pointing towards the spare seat beside Annette. She shuffled over, giving him room that he hesitantly filled. Samuel folded his hands in front of him before leaning forward and beginning, talking in that smooth, accented voice of his. “The vampire goes tonight.”

   And it was such a simple statement, but Lance had to take a minute to process what it actually meant. His mind went blank, even as Annette and Dixon burst into laughter at the side of him.

   His mind was blank, and then it wasn't.

   Suddenly it was running at a million miles per hour, too fast to keep up with, and the words were slipping from his mouth before he could think better of them.

   “No.”

  The table went quiet, heads snapping round to see what the problem was. Samuel's eyes narrowed, Annette went frigid at the side of him, Dixon nudged his elbow in an attempt to get him to think clearer about what he was about to do, but Lance couldn't stay quiet. Not right now.

   “No,” he repeated, sterner this time. “No, you can't just – you can't just kill them.”

  Samuel trained his eyes on his son. “And since when have I not been able to do just that?”

   “It's wrong!” Lance exclaimed, slamming his hand against the table. “For gods sake, you've kept them trapped in that damn room for two weeks now with no food-”

   “Blood isn't food,” Annette pointed out.

   Lance bit the inside of his cheek. “Listen, what I'm saying is-”

    “Don't tell me you've started sympathising with the fucking thing,” Dixon scoffed. “I know you're the youngest, Lancey Boy, but I thought we'd drilled some common sense into that brain of yours over the years.”

   “It's not – I'm not -” Lance gritted his teeth. His heart was pounding. The blood was rushing to his brain much quicker than should be considered healthy; he felt dizzy, sick with concern as images of you in that room downstairs flocked through his brain. “When do you plan on doing it?”

   Samuel perked up. “Tomorrow morning. We'll try and get answers out of it one last time tonight, but if it fails to cooperate, there's no point in keeping it around any more.”

    Lance felt ill. “You've starved them for weeks, Dad. You can't expect them to help you out.”

   Samuel shrugged. “Then its walking itself into its own fate.”

   It. It. It. It.

  The disrespect in the word had Lance's body flaring with the need to punch something. He was always so calm, so laid back, so compliant, and yet right now he truly felt the need to shove his fist into the nearest wall.

   He stood up without thinking. Annette reached for his hand, tried to stop him, but he shoved her away and marched out of the room before anyone else could say anything – they were all on thin ice, and he wasn't prepared to make a fool out of himself by losing his head.

    He dashed directly towards the attic. He needed to talk to you. He needed to explain to you what was going on, needed to come up with a plan fast, before-

   As soon as the door to the attic was thrown open, he could hear you yelling.

   He sprinted towards the monitors, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you slamming your fists against the wooden door, screaming and yelling. You were too weak from starvation to make any real dent in the wood, but Lance had no doubt in his mind that, if you didn't let up soon enough, the hinges would snap in no time.

   He slammed his thumb into the microphone. “Hey, hey! Stop! Y/N, stop!”

   You stumbled away from the door, casting your angered glare up to the camera. “You son of a bitch! Get me out of here now before I rip this door off it's fucking hinges!”

    “What's the matter with you?”

    “Don't you dare,” you growled, jabbing a finger at the camera. “I just told you that I can hear everything that goes on in this house. They're planning on killing me tonight, and you knew!”

   Lance drew back, eyes widening. “No, Y/N. No, I swear to god, I didn't know until they told me. I was trying to fight your case-”

   “You walked out!” you yelled. “I'm not sticking to your schedule any more. I'm getting out of here.”

   Lance groaned low in his throat. “Please, Y/N, I'm going to get you out-”

   But you were too far gone now. Your eyes glowed a deep red colour, one Lance had never seen before, one that terrified him to say the very least. He could do nothing but sit in frozen horror as you launched yourself towards the door, ramming your shoulder into it with inhuman speed. Downstairs, Dixon, Annette and Samuel were yelling in confusion, and all Lance could do was watch, because every other plan that had once gone through his mind had been wiped clean.

   He had given up. There was nothing else he could do. Nothing else he could say to-

   The door cracked, snapping Lance back to reality. You rammed your shoulder into it a final time before the hinges finally broke beneath the constant battering, and you were stumbling out of the back room and into the hallway.

   “Oh god,” Lance choked out, immediately throwing himself towards the door and running down the stairs. He ran past Dixon and Annette, ignoring their questions. He had no time to explain. He needed to get to you, needed to calm you down, needed to get you out of here without his father getting his hands on you.

    He dashed down the final set of stairs, slamming into you on the staircase. You growled, fingers snapping out immediately – but you froze.

   You froze, and Lance didn't know why.

   The two of you stood in the stairwell, your fingers inches away from his throat. Your fangs were bared. You had every ability to kill Lance right now, get him out of the way so you could avenge the death of your people without the added hurdle of him.

    But you didn't.

   Your hand had frozen in mid-air, eyes softening when you looked up and met his own, and for just a second, Lance could believe that the two of you were just sitting side-by-side again, backs against the headboard of your bed, talking about the stupidest of things.

     And then you spoke, and the illusion was shattered.

    “Out of the way, Lance.”

    “I can't,” he replied, voice hoarse. “I'll get you out of here, but you need to do me a favour now. You need to-”

   “I don't owe you anything.”

   “I know you don't. I know.” Overhead, the sound of his families footsteps was growing louder and louder. “But I owe you, and I need your cooperation right now. I need you to listen and follow my lead, alright?”

   “They killed my people. They tried to kill me.”

   Lance bit his lip, shooting a panicked glance over his shoulder. “I told you I wouldn't let them do that.”

   “I don't care what you promised. This is my life, Lance. I'm not leaving it in the hands of someone who sat back and watched me get dragged from my home.”

   Lance's stomach fell, eyes meeting your own – of course you had held on to that fact. For weeks, Lance had been hoping and praying that he had somehow managed to get his guilt across to you, somehow managed to let you know that letting you get taken was the worst decision of his entire life.

   But it would never be that easy, and he should have known that. Part of him did know that.

   “So get out of my way,” you continued, voice low. “I don't want to hurt you, Lance. Not you.”

   His grip tightened on the door frame. “I don't want you getting hurt by them.”

    “I can handle it.” And then you grabbed Lance's arm and tugged. It seemed so easy to you, but Lance went stumbling, arm very nearly ripped from his socket. His foot slid against the step, and he tumbled down the remaining few, giving you just enough time to bolt out of door and into the hallway.

   Directly into Samuel McClain.

   ---

   This was him. The man who had injected you in the first place. The one who wanted you and your people dead for simply being.

   There was no hesitation in your movements when you thrust your hand out and curled your fingers around his throat. His skin was so sensitive, blood drawing just from your nails digging into the flesh. You licked your lips, resisted the urge to lean forward and devour him – he wasn't worth it. You would get something to eat from somewhere else. You didn't want this scums blood in your system.

    “Monster,” he gasped out. “Monster!”

  “Oh, shut up old man,” you scoffed, before flinging him across the hallway. He crashed into the table on the far side, giving you enough room to stroll forward oh-so-casually. Behind you, you could make out Dixon and Annette cowering in the corner – they hadn't expected you to get loose. They thought they had you all bundled up, wrapped tightly in their control purely because you had been so compliant these past few days. You didn't give them answers, but you didn't put up a fight, either. You were waiting until the right moment.

   You were waiting for Lance.

   But that plan had fallen through, hadn't it? You had trusted someone, and once again it been proven that that was the foolish thing to do. You were on your own again, had to take matters into your own hands no matter how-

    “Y/N!”

   Lance's voice froze you. Samuel's eyes flicked up, meeting his sons own from across the hall.

    You didn't turn to look at him, but instead kept your gaze firm on Samuel as he lay amongst shards of glass that had broken free from a plant pot resting upon the table he had been hurled into.

    “Y/N, please listen to me,” Lance panted. “We can go. You and I. We can leave. You don't have to do this.”

   Your fingers curled at your sides. He didn't understand. He hadn't been locked in that room, starving for the majority of the day, knowing you couldn't die from starvation but would have to suffer through the pains and the effects of malnourishment.

    “Please.” His voice was barely a whisper now, but it was closer to you. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck only seconds before his fingers gently brushed over the small of your back. “We can go.”

    It sounded so pleasant. We can go. We can leave. You and him could just up and get out of his house for good, but it would never be that easy, would it? You would be under scrutiny for the rest of your life, would be putting Lance in danger as well as yourself purely because he felt too guilty to leave you on your own.

   You inhaled deeply, taking one final glance down at Samuel McClain before you turned on your heel and pressed your palms to Lance's chest.

   “I'm leaving,” you replied. “You're staying.”

   His face fell. “What? No. No, that wasn't the plan-”

   “You can't come with me,” you said. “It's too dangerous for you. You won't be able to keep up.”

   Lance shook his head. He placed his hands on your waist, desperate for you to see reason, but your mind had already been made up. He had shown you kindness in a time when you desperately needed it, had fed you and kept you alive. You refused to be the reason behind him getting killed.

    “Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything you've done. For – For not looking at me like I'm a complete monster.”

  “You're not,” he burst out. “You're not a monster. You've never been a monster.”

   You smiled softly. “That's sweet of you to say. Your family would beg to differ.”

   Lance closed his eyes. “Please let me go with you. I promised I'd get you out of here safely-”

   “And you have,” you assured, reaching up and squeezing the sides of his neck. “You've done all you can, alright? But now it's time for me to leave. It's time for us to . . . part ways, I suppose.”

   Lance bit his bottom lip. You wanted desperately to finish this little speech off with something more, something cheesy and romantic that you had seen in the films and read in the books. A kiss, a hug, a tearful thank you before you fled into the night – but all you could do was squeeze his cheeks one final time before you span on your heel and darted towards the window at full speed, barely a blur in the mortals eyes.

   ---

   It was strange how so many months could pass, and Lance still visited the place you had once called home.

   After you had fled from his own home, he hadn't expected you to come back to your old den. That would be much too obvious, the very first place that hunters would try if they ever had another change of heart and decided to come after you again. You were smarter than that, were probably burrowed away in some cave in a whole different side of the world by now.

    Nonetheless, he never stopped visiting, just in case.

    He arrived today in high spirits. He and his friend Hunk had finally managed to close the deal on a bank loan they had been trying to get for the bakery they were planning on opening together. As Lance walked through the entrance of the den, he could imagine what you would say if he told you about it: “You? Opening a bakery? Since when could you bake?” and Lance would laugh and tell you to shut up, and you would roll your eyes and tease him for it for the next few weeks.

    He slumped against the wall, imagining your voice, just like he had done every weekend for the past four months.

    He missed you, and it surprised him. He missed you, and he shouldn't have, because he had been part of the problem for so long. You were away from him now, fled to safety – he should have been so happy for you, and yet there was still that selfish tic in the back of his mind that wanted nothing more than for you to just risk it and come home for a little while – just so he could see you one final time.

    It was the sound of a bat echoing off the walls that snapped Lance back to reality.

   The winged creature fluttered down, crashing into the concrete and squeaking in annoyance at being bothered. Lance raised a brow, following its movements – he hadn't even been making noise. What had bothered it?

   He slowly pushed himself from the wall, craning his neck to get a better view into the darkness. Sometimes, if he squinted, he was able to make out the silhouettes of things standing in the cave with him – a dog one time, a squirrel, a few kids who thought it would be funny to walk in and mess around.

    But today, he saw nothing.

   He frowned, blaming the bats odd behaviour on just random chance. He moved back into the darkness, leaned his head back against the concrete, and then-

    “And here I was, thinking I'd lost the pretty boy for good.”

   He very nearly cried out, shock stabbing through him. His eyes snapped open, head jolting to the side just as you dropped from the ceiling and landed in a graceful crouch in front of him.

   You. You, you, you, you.

   You grinned as you slowly rose up, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your oversized, stained hoodie. It was clear you had not been living in luxury, but Lance couldn't help but think you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.

    “Hello,” you said.

   And that was it.

   Lance threw himself towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you from the ground and spinning you around in that way they always did in the movies. You laughed, swinging your head back as you wrapped your own arms around his neck and clung on for dear life.

    “It's you,” Lance said against the flesh of your exposed neck. “God, it's you. What are you doing here?”

   He let you down, but refused to unwrap his arms from your waist.

   “I just thought I'd come back for a little visit,” you responded, before glancing up at him. “And I wanted to see if you remembered.”

    “Remembered,” Lance repeated. “Of course I remembered. I never forgot.”

   Your eyes glittered. Even in the darkness they were a brilliant colour, and Lance's body still reacted in the exact same way – tensing, craving, needing.

   And this time, he didn't hold himself back. There was no guilt clouding his better judgement, no reason for him to stop himself. So he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, trying once for experimentation, pulling away to gouge your reaction...

   Your hands curled in the front of his jacket, a low groan emerging from your throat before you pulled him back towards you and kissed him again.

    He chuckled against your mouth, walking you back against the concrete wall. He placed one hand at the side of your head, the other resting comfortably on your hips. Your own hands were bundled in his jacket, and Lance had never before felt so at peace, so comfortable in his entire life.

   You both pulled away, but not too far. Lance wanted to feel you against him still, kept his chest pressed against your own. He gently ran a thumb along your jaw, basking in the feel of you squirming against him.

     “I missed you,” he whispered.

    “I missed you,” you replied. “Now I'm gonna need an update on your life, pretty boy. If you're still in the business you were in when I left, we're gonna have a problem.”

   Lance rolled his eyes. “Actually, I'm a baker now,” he said before swooping down and kissing you again.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

A Shot Across the Bow 11/08

Idristan Agache moved with purpose down the path towards the beach. He had first been to the Tradehouse, but after failing to find the other Ishgardian, he had been forced to resort to less obvious methods of finding him. Fortunately, tall elezen dressed in black tended to stand out, even here. "Lebeaux!" he calls out sharply as he approaches. He's armed clearly, but his staff is still on his back. For now. The anger in his voice suggests that perhaps that might not remain the case forever, if things went badly. "We need to talk," he declares. Clearly pleasantries were not on the agenda for today.

Lebeaux Desrosiers stood calmly on the quiet beach. The Tradehouse was in an uproar about some special or another and he couldn’t even find peace in his own offices. The place that was generally avoided by anyone with any sense of self-preservation was currently occupied by a very chatty Duskwight who didn’t seem to understand that ‘go away I’m working’ meant shut up, even if he was only sitting around smoking somnus. The brief respite was broken by a sharp shout, a familiar voice calling his name with a very familiar anger. A shame. Here he was without his staff. Very well, there were always backups. He slipped his hand into his pocket as he turned, smiling serenely at the whitehaired man as he lifted a petite pistol that fit neatly into his large palm and leveled the snub-nosed barrel at the other medic. “Idristan. What a pleasant surprise. You can talk from there.”

Idristan does stop at that, his eyes narrowing as he studies the gunbarrel. His eyes occasionally flick from it to the other medic's face, before he finally seems to decide that yes, Lebeaux was probably a decent enough shot to make pressing the matter too much a risky proposition. Though then again, that had never truly stopped him before. His usual scowl seems to have deepened however. "Resorting to guns now Lebeaux?" he inquires. "Don't tell me your aether took that much of a hit." From the sound of his voice, he wouldn't be terribly upset if that was indeed the case. "Not that it matters. I'm only here because I want to tell you to leave her alone."

“Oh, that.” Lebeaux lowered the gun for the moment, but didn’t yet put it away. “You came all this way to threaten me to stay away from your little girlfriend.” He exhaled a laugh that could only be described as deeply sarcastic. “Have you already forgotten our ceasefire. If you attack me, even for her sake, that would be the end of it.”

Idristan's eyes flick briefly towards the gun once more as it moves, before resuming glaring at Lebeaux's face. At his sides his fingers curl into fists, and for perhaps a brief instant he seems deeply tempted to knock the laughter right out of Lebeaux. But then he draws in a deep breath. "Yes," he says through gritted teeth. "She would be worth it. And because," he continues quickly. "I'm sure you'd be quite happy to get rid of Lady Winter, if you thought you could manage it--and she wasn't included in our 'ceasefire'," he points out. Apparently he was fairly convinced that Lebeaux had already realized that as well.

Lebeaux moved closer, stalking slowly across the sand towards the shorter man. “I would like nothing more than to get rid of Lady Winter. And perhaps I shall have my chance.” He explained as he smiiiled at the other medic. “Someday. Strolling into Ishgard with the corpse of a dead heretic and known sympathizer would do nothing for me right now. Other than make me feel better about the situation. Hm, perhaps that would actually be good enough.” He mused as he turned to circle slightly around the other. “What luck there’s already someone who will take care of that for me. It doesn’t need to be by my hand for me to be satisfied.”

Though it is subtle, Idristan's stance shifts as Lebeaux draws closer, and he seems to instinctively tense. Perhaps the smile had something to do with it. That one always seemed to bode ill. "I would certainly consider you petty enough," he agrees. He doesn't quite turn to follow Lebeaux as he stalks around him, but instead tracks him with his eyes. He did have some pride, after all. At least, until Lebeaux's final words. At that his eyes widen, teeth clenching as he turns on his heel to look at the other medic head on. "And what," he begins slowly. "Exactly, you do mean by that?" he demands.

Lebeaux lifted his chin, smiling too-sweetly down his nose at the smaller man as he circled him before stopping with his back to the water again. “Is it truly so surprising that I would be the only one with the desire to see Lady Winter laid low?” He prodded. “The both of you are fools, to stroll along Kugane as though you haven’t a care in the world.”

Idristan moved to keep his eyes on Lebeaux. It likely looked a bit ridiculous, but at this very moment he didn't care. This topic, perhaps more than anything else, seemed to be a sensitive spot for him. "Of course not," he snaps. "But the fact that you're being vague makes me rather suspect you might be bluffing." That, in and of itself, was a bluff--one that he was hoping that Lebeaux would not call him on. "And as if you have not done the very same." As a number of unfortunate ambushes could attest to. "It's not like there are many of us here."

Lebeaux giggled at that. “That is the best part of the entire thing. This one doesn’t seem to be Ishgardian at all. She seems to make enemies wherever she goes. How fortunate for me.” He declared cheerfully. “Have you figured out who it is yet?” He teased.

Idristan actually takes a step towards Lebeaux at that. Apparently hearing the other giggle, of all things, was enough to temporarily break whatever hold on his temper he had. "As long as they're people like you," he growls. "Then I can hardly see that as a fault." Not that he likely would, even if they weren't. Poor thing seemed hopelessly smitten. However, something Lebeaux said seemed to make him pause. There was only one not-Ishgardian that immediately sprang to mind. He stares in disbelief at Lebeaux for a moment, then his eyes narrow once more in suspicion. "Surely you don't mean the duskwight," he demands, though internally his heart was sinking. That would be very, very bad.

Lebeaux didn’t flinch away from the small step forwards, but he did grip the pistol in his hand a little more tightly. “Oh, I don’t know. It can be so hard to tell them apart, can’t it.” He purred as he smirked at Idristan. “And there are ever so many around Kugane these days, aren’t there?” His head tilted thoughtfully, tapping the finger of his free hand against his own chin. “Shouldn’t you already know all of this? Don’t tell me… she hasn’t been telling you what she gets up to when you’re~ not~ looking~.”

Idristan seemed not at all impressed by this answer. "I suspect you know exactly which one I am referring to. And I would rather suspect not." Unless a certain other duskwight had done something truly stupid... He then stiffens, fingers curling as his mouth twists into a petulant scowl. "Don't be ridiculous," he snaps, lifting his nose slightly as he says it. "Of course she tells me. She wouldn't keep secrets from me." But he doesn't sound entirely convinced of his own words, even as he is saying them.

“Just as she told you when she left you all but standing at the altar?” Lebeaux mused as he took a small step backwards. He caught a small sniff of weakness there. Of Idristan not being entirely sure of himself. He had recalled the other Ishgardian’s low points and when he later ran into Idristan trying to get her back, it all sort of clicked into place. She had left him and now returned. “You have no idea, do you. You are a pathetic creature, Idristan.” He crowed brightly, waving the pistol lightly in the direction of the other man. “It would perhaps be a mercy to put you down once and for all. But then I do so enjoy seeing you miserable. I wonder, will you ask her. Would she tell you the truth? Or will you go skulk around and try to find what she’s been hiding from you all this time…”

Sure enough, that seemed to cause a crack in Idristan's attempt at trying to appear calm. Idristan snarls, fangs bared, and it appears as though he's seriously debating lunging at the other Ishgardian. Only the occasional gleam of light off the gun barrel is enough to cause him pause--and that only slightly. "It wasn't like that!" he snaps, but the pain in his voice suggests that no, it very much was. "And you're hardly one to talk! I doubt there's anyone who would even head up to the altar with you in the first place!" It was perhaps for the best he was unaware of where certain duskwights were at that particular moment. "And of course she would tell me," he adds, but his voice has grown softer--and for just a moment, he actually looks away from Lebeaux.

Lebeaux casually slipped the safety back on to the gun. If Idristan was going to attack him at this point it was unlikely that it would be anything calculated. Perhaps a slap or a punch at the rate he was going. The bastard seemed to be busier being angry with himself. Busier doubting himself and his newly rediscovered couples’ bliss. The moment Idristan looked away, Lebeaux struck. The pistol was turned in his hand and brought around to crack the bottom of it against the shorter man’s jaw with the intention of knocking him to the sand. The handle was inlaid with carved white wood and inlaid pearl, plainly made especially for the elezen’s personal tastes. “You are a fool, Idristan. You’ve always been one but now you’ve become reckless as well.”

Sure enough, Idristan was too distracted with his own thoughts to notice the gun coming towards him until it was too late to do anything about it. Wood and metal collide with flesh and bone with a loud crack. The shorter elezen half-stumbled, half-fell backwards, though it seems to take him a few moments to realize that he's sitting in the sand at all. One of his hands has gone to his chin, though whether he feared breaks or was simply in pain was an open question. Perhaps both. "Bastard," he growls, though the word is rather muffled.

Lebeaux stepped closer and gave the fallen elezen a kick for good measure to flatten him back onto the sand properly. “Pathetic.” He declared as he grinned down at the other Isghardian. “How strong must your relationship be if I can shake you so thoroughly with only a few idle musings. Is that why you felt the need to ambush me today. Playing the role of the loving partner soothes your worries and misgivings. Threatening me made you feel better, hm.”

Idristan lets out a yelp of pain and protest as a booted foot slams into him without warning (or at least, one he noticed. He was somewhat distracted at present). He looks up to cast a glare at Lebeaux, hate gleaming in his green eyes. "No," he spits. "I care about her. I wouldn't let someone like you hurt her," he insists, though there still seems to be the slightest hint of doubt. Not that he would acknowledge it. "I know what you're like," he adds, face twisting in pain and anger at the mere thought of what he could do to her, if given half the chance. "This isn't about me."

“Ohhh, I think it’s very much about you.” The medic reasoned as he walked slowly around the fallen man, looking like a professor preparing to give lecture. Yet if Idristan made the mistake of trying to get up or roll for his staff, he would earn another swift kick from Lebeaux’s perfectly polished boots. “You are angry at me for what I’ve done to you, understandable. Now here comes this relationship you so desperately want to work, this time. Because you just weren’t good enough last time. You couldn’t keep her. That will always be at the back of your mind, so you seek to be rid of any imagined threats by overreacting. Let me tell you, alpha posturing ill-suits you.” He teased, tapping the handle of the gun against his own hand to make his point. “You thought that threatening me and trying to scare me will give you some sense of security. Is it working, Idristan.”

Idristan actually flinches, though it's not quite clear whether it's at the memories that Lebeaux's words conjured, or else being told that he had failed. "No," he insists, despite the pain in his jaw. "It's very real. Inquisitor," he hisses, as if the word were a foul curse. "And she didn't leave because of me," he adds. Or at least, that's what she had said. He then falls silent, fingers curling in anger in the sand as he fumes. The teasing, however, does seem to finally do it. Greenish aether sparks around his fingers as he goes for the staff, apparently intent on showing Lebeaux exactly how well it was working. Violently.

Lebeaux inhaled sharply as Idristan lunged. The first thing he did was step forwards and bring his foot down hard, intending to catch the conjurer’s hand under his bootheel. The second thing he did was raise one hand to his ear, plugging it with a finger to protect his hearing as he pointed the pistol down and fired. The thing boomed like a cannon, the sound echoing off of the rock walls around them. He had aimed wide intentionally, to blow a hole in the sand a little ways away from Idristan’s head.

Idristan barely has time to react as Lebeaux's boot slams down onto his hand. He starts to move the other hand, intending to attack with that, only to freeze as a loud bang goes off far, far too close to his head. He instinctively closes his eyes as sand sprays, and when he opens them he can't help but stare at the new hole in he sand. It seems to have drained some of the fight out of him as he looks back at Lebeaux, back towards the gun that he seemingly had temporarily forgotten in his anger. Well, he certainly wouldn't be forgetting it for awhile now; not with the way his ears were ringing.

Lebeaux knew firsthand that Idristan would be unable to hear him for a time after that, and his ears would be ringing for even longer after that. The weapon was deceptively powerful for its size. And there were two barrels. He still had another shot before he would need to reload. The medic didn’t bother talking but rather smiled down at the dazed medic. He leaned more weight onto his bootheel, grinding it against the back of Idristan’s hand. Making his point before he removed it and took a few short steps away. Perhaps allowing him up. Perhaps waiting for him to try so he could kick him again.

Idristan bites his lip, trying to stiffle the hiss of pain that was brewing as Lebeaux ground his foot into his hand. Yes, he seemed to get the message indeed. He eyes Lebeaux (or perhaps more accurately, the gun) warily, clearly suspicious of this. Then he slowly starts to get to his feet--or tries anyway.

Lebeaux was very seriously considering kicking him back down. Yet he simply smiled and allowed Idristan to climb back to his feet. “Very good.” He said loudly. “Now tuck your tail between your legs and slink back home to sulk and brood and feel sorry for yourself.” Fingers of his free hand flicked in a shooing gesture.

@roses-and-grimoires  

mention of: @secrets-and-aetherlight

[angrydimples-blog]

DOING IT my extremely rough Timeline for my Defect FAHC AU as well as just a basic overview of the chapters and what not. Hopefully, I’ll begin chapter one soon? IDK. I fell in a slump like three days ago so maybe? 

BASIC RULES;

Killing scar lasts unless it’s an internal cause. (poison, internal bleeding, internal head trauma, swallowing a bomb and exploding from the inside out.)

Respawn is always a random location within a certain mile circumference of the city. Nude? Nude.

Body stays there until respawn, then it turns into ash and disintegrates. Leaving a mess. It’s tiring as hell to Respawn, mainly due to having to find clothes and a way back home, as well as just a general soreness.

 Geoff was the first, a farm man turned entrepreneur looking to make it big in the new town- he was there when the city was beginning to get built, as well as the first one to get the curse. His first death was getting beaten in an alley for scamming people, and the scar is three knuckle imprints on the right side of his throat.   He thankfully woke up only a couple streets away and thought he was just dragged there by the customers and had his snazzy clothes stolen. He found it a miracle that he didn’t have anything wrong with him outside getting naked. He didn’t realize this shit was fucked up until he got shot in the chest for pulling the same con, only to wake up out in the forest alive and with a bullet scar. Then it was time to freak out, which ended in another death due to a conk on the head from falling that left no scar. Waking up nearer to the town, he decided to go honest to stop doing that. Didn’t last long as he began to figure things out. While freaked out, he found this entire thing ‘cool as dicks’, and became more reckless. Though, through the years he’s slowed down as more people got under his wing. It took longer for him to notice that he stopped aging, mainly because he was reaching 50 and he looked the same as he did when he arrived. (how old are you? Old as dicks.)

Jack was second, escaping the rural south to seek medical success in the blossoming city and to continue learning. His death was a scientific one? As in he drank a concoction, a fellow doctor made to see if it helped numb the mouth for teeth extractions, and he was poisoned and croaked. No death scar. Poor guy woke up on the beach and rather confused because it was a rather painful death. He knew he died. The confusion continued all the way up when he went back to work and the fellow doctor freaked the fuck out that he was up and walking again. He applied the scientific method, though hesitantly, to the curse. Harming himself in various ways and killing himself with poison usually- the one time he decided to go out with a bullet through the jaw and up and woke up with his first ‘official’ scar on his neck/jaw- he learned his lesson and decided to keep using nonscarring ways to die. He tried his best to track the respawning but noticed nothing outside of staying within the area. Papers and papers were written in his apartment as he tried to figure this bullshit out. Geoff died under his care, which was the first time they met. They hit it off, easily taking his jokes and snark with his own rebuttals. It would have been better if the guy wasn’t dying. Internal bleeding caught too late, and the guy died as they were opening him to fix it. A couple of somber hours later he was stopped by a nurse and asked if he had moved the body. It seemed to have disappeared, but there was ash left? Jack instantly fucking knew because he had figured out the ash thing ages ago when he came back from a respawn with a pile of it and was annoyed. He hunted the fucker down, knowing he was alive and well. Jack pretty much exploded on him once he found him, finding the first person he could talk to about this shit and believe him. They stuck together like glue since then, Jack still keeping records of things to this day. (Did you use leeches? I’m not that fucking old.)

Michael was third. Somehow the guy managed to hitchhike and hide in trains to get from the east coast to the west without dying. He just wanted to escape from his home and pretty shitty life and explore. Homeless for a while, he found his money doing underground fights. The first death was in the ring, the guy had hardened the wraps on his hands, causing a harder punch. No death scar and he woke up very much confused and angry like Geoff, thinking this was a joke for passing out. He found out about the curse by getting stabbed after a match, the other was a sore loser and stuck a knife between his ribs and left him to die in some crummy corner. It caused his first scar as well as freaking the fuck out that he’s alive again. So after getting his shit together, he did what any rational person would do; find his killer and beat the shit out of him. Said killer ended up in Jack’s hospital, rambling on and on about how a guy he was sure was dead was alive and nearly killed him. Jack was the only one that took him seriously (with some salt, of course) and asked for a description of the guy and soon found himself in the middle of the underground fight club with Geoff cheering and betting next to his side. The first time they met was after the kid stumbled out of the ring, Jack excitedly talking about what had happened… Only to be brushed off and called a creep, ending up with Michael running away. (Are you still doing the underground fighting? Not really, I’m hired to do it above ground now)

Ryan was fourth. Came around the same time as Michael. He was escaping the police for a job gone bad and it was a big city he could disappear in. Jack and Geoff found him while staking out Michael, who keeps running away from the two older men who ‘need to talk to him’ and he really doesn’t fucking trust them especially since they know about the respawning thing. He smashed a bottle over Michael’s head after a solid 10 minutes of taunting him for drinking soda at a bar and killed him and ran off. After that Ryan was ‘haunted’ by the Jersian, him following him and causing him to see him in the corner of his eye. At this point Ryan was familiar with the curse, having been killed a few times doing odd jobs for mainly crooked police at the time. He took it all calmly (he didn’t, he’s a big fat liar and freaked out). Putting two and two together, mainly realizing it wasn’t a ghost because the Jersian rushed up to him saying ‘Guess who motherfucker’ and punched his throat. (and he’s never really been haunted by his kills before so it was unique). After talking Michael down, and in general explaining the whole respawn thing and finding out that yeah, they have that in common, though first Michael thought he was one of the two creepy guys that are following him. Deciding that figuring this out together was better than going at it alone (aka mainly Michael was looking for a bodyguard and also was lonely) they teamed up. The next time that Jack tried to talk to Michael it ended up in Ryan shooting him in the back of the head. Only to find a pissy looking Jack a couple of days later with a pretty bad scar in his hair. That was enough to convince them to join the two others, though hesitantly. (Do you have any regrets? Smashing that fucking bottle. Over 10 years and he still bitches about it.)

Gavin was fifth. A clueless vacationer that was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. A bit more than clumsy, a mugger grew tired of his squawking and poor attempts at finding his wallet and just shot the guy. And stole his wallet. His first scar was in the middle of his chest, though through time it’s usually hidden away by chest hair. After the usual freak out because he very much remembers dying, he kinda found… Joy? In it? At least a thrill and sense of adventure. The curse gave him a reckless freedom he had desired. There were news stories that covered the golden boy jumping off of buildings or just stealing cars and seeing what the hell he can get away with. Seeing a pattern, they soon began to stalk Gavin. He was the easiest to bring into the crew, seeing as it was a lot of what he was doing in the first place only with more structure. (you’re an illegal immigrant, you know? As if that’s the worst thing I’ve done.)

J was sixth and the newest find for them. Professional wrestler and monster truck driver, he knew his life would be a short but impactful one. It wasn’t a surprise to him that when his truck rolled over in the Los Santos stadium that it might be his last ride. It was a slow and rather painful death, his ribs crushed by metal and causing his lungs to rupture. So imagine his surprise to wake up without a single scar or wound or clothes in the middle of a park. At least his appearance is distinguished enough for him to get back in his trailer and get some clothes. He got more recognition due to his sudden disappearance from under the rubble and coming out of it without a scratch, but damn it didn’t sit with him well. So he went to research and found the tall tales of the FAHC, a group of immortal criminals tied to the history of the town. From King Pin to the Golden Boy, decades have passed and they were still wandering the place, wrecking shit as well as building shit. It all sounded bullshit, but some of the things talked about in forums sound a lot like what he had been through. It took forever to hunt one of them down to talk to them, Michael is the second easiest to come by after Gavin. It was a bar fight, which was typical, they had to be on the down low after a big heist, seeing as most of them were supposed to be dead. The red mop of hair was easy to spot, as well as the fighting giving him a big clue that it was the untrusting Wild Child he had to deal with. Following him outside, yelling his name over and over again, he nearly got his ass shot by Geoff who had been coming towards the bar to stop Michael’s bullshit. Jeremy explained what happened, telling him to shoot him if he doesn’t believe him and they’ll meet right at this same spot the next day. Geoff shot his brains out through the temple. Next day the short man was right there, exactly like he said he would be, staring down five other men who had the same curse as he did. (Do you miss the old lifestyle? What? No! I get to do the same shit and not die! How fucking cool is that!)

so that’s it. so far.