#but that is heavily offset by my confusion of this ask

[twistedsin]

sango I missed your posts! good to see you back!

whAt... 

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 8

A/N: Is it time for some much need talking? Hmm....perhaps. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions; slight language 

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

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You drifted in and out of sleep that night, waiting up several times due to the jolt of a startling nightmare. At first you almost forgot where you were or what was going on - why were you asleep on the couch? But it hit you like a ton of bricks; Frankie Morales was currently asleep in your bed. 

A few times throughout the night you’d gotten up and stretched your stiff bones and wandered to the bedroom door, opening it just a crack to peek inside. Each time, Frankie was fast asleep with Daisy next to him. It caused you to relax a little, knowing that he was okay, and you needn’t worry about an overdose or anything like that. But it didn’t ease the pain of seeing him again or knowing that he was struggling with an addiction...or something.

The universe had put an odd situation on your plate. 

Once you couldn’t sleep any longer, and had gotten tired of lying on the couch, which it had turned out was not an ideal sleeping situation, you made your way into the kitchen to start breakfast. You weren’t even sure what to do really, but it was a bit of normalcy to offset your otherwise shaken up routine. 

As soon as you started the coffee, something that was an absolute necessity, you’d left messages for your clients apologizing for the early call and canceling their appointments due to a last minute emergency. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind. As the coffee percolated filling the kitchen with warmth and the delicious smell, you reached into the fridge and started pulling eggs, bacon, and other items to make breakfast with. Grabbing a bowl and a pan, you quickly settled on pancakes, wondering if they were still his favorite. He’d always loved them when you were younger and on more than one occasion had your little date nights ended in a small 24-hour diner, where’d he chow down on them. 

The memory made you smile,  as you recalled one particular time when he eagerly topped off his pancakes with fresh fruit and whipped cream, which had gotten on the corners of his mouth. You’d reached over and wiped the whipped cream away, licking it clean from your own finger. It seemed like yesterday, even though it was so long ago. 

Sighing, you pushed the memory away and carried on preparing the batter and throwing some bacon into the oven. As soon as your coffee pot signaled that it was done, you grabbed your favorite mug, followed by another and poured the black coffee in. You finished yours off as you liked, topping the other off with a sprinkle of cinnamon. It amazed for a mere fraction of a second just how well you still remembered the things he liked. But your amazement was quickly cut short when you heard a quiet throat clear from the opposite side of the counter. 

“H-hi,” he said quietly, almost tentatively as he seemed to look anywhere but your eyes. You took the cup you had prepared for him and set it down in front of him, motioned for him to take a seat at the bar. 

“You look like hell,” you commented as he sat and clutched the steaming cup between his hands. He made a small sound of agreement as you turned back to your pan and poured some batter in, “I made it how you used to like it....I presume it’s still the same?”

“Yeah,” he said as he put the mug to his mouth and took a long sip, “thank you.”

“Mhmm,” it was a small, noncommittal sound as you focused your attention on the pancakes and eggs. Daisy came over and you offered her a treat before getting her into the backyard and preparing her breakfast. The tension in the air was palpable and you could see that Frankie was eager to say something. But he didn’t dare to be the one that broke the silence. Gods knew you were just as eager to say something, a lot of things honestly, but all of that could wait for now.

Once everything was finished, you grabbed two plates and piled them high with a spread of items, topping them off with some fresh berries on the side. Daisy had been a good girl, clambering between the two of you, so you offered her a piece of bacon and a few berries, which she eagerly took and ran off with and  into her bed to eat. 

Handing a plate to Frankie, you set down your own, as far away from him as possible at the small bar. It didn't create a huge divide between you, but the point came across loud and clear.

The two of you ate in silence for some time, the only sound in the kitchen was the scraping of utensils and a few small huffs from Daisy. She gave you an almost pathetic look a few times, and you just rolled your eyes at her. You knew she wanted to be out and in the company of others; once she'd overcome her initial fear of people, she thrived in attention.

"Oh hush," you told her before passing her another strip of bacon, "we'll go for a walk later, good girl. Or maybe you can go play  with Eddie."

Frankie remained silent as he watched you, doing his best to keep a smile from stretching across his features. But you were too quick and caught him staring.

"I've been bringing her into the office with me every day," you explained, "she likes being around the people and they often find just as much comfort in her. It's a win-win really."

"Hmm," he commented as he shoved another bite in his mouth, "office? W-what kind of office?”

"Yeah," you said softly, "I, ugh...I'm a therapist.” 

He caught your eye and offered you a slightly confused look. Never once had you ever mentioned wanting to be a therapist. In fact, you had wanted to avoid anything you had once deemed similar to your parents as a big no. Coming from a surgeon and a doctor wasn’t a far stretch from a therapist. When the barista at the coffee shop had referred to you as ‘doctor’, he had envisioned...many other things. This was very similar to things you had proclaimed you'd never wanted to be, "oh. I thought you wanted to be a zoologist. That’s what you always wanted to...study animals. UCLA-"

"Yeah," you cut him off sharply, "I did once. In another lifetime. I had to make decisions back then.. Ones I didn't think I'd make or have to make. I thought things were going to play out in a very different way but the joke was on me, right? So, here we are. I'm good at my job and it just...worked out."

"But do you like it?" he asked tentatively as you narrowed your eyes at him. No one ever really asked you that...it was just sort of assumed that you did, or if you didn't, that didn't matter one way or another..

"What does it matter, Francisco? A job is a job," you almost snapped at him, "but yes. For the most part I enjoy my job. I'm glad to be helping people that need it.”

"It just didn't seem like something you wanted to do..." he trailed off softly.

"Well, I also didn't think I'd go to college alone and have to make an entirely different series of choices. I didn’t think you’d just leave me and go into the military - and you were going to leave me in the dark about as long as you could. Remember that?" you knew it was a dig, the lowest of blows, but in that moment you didn't care. Things had ended a long time ago and at the end of the day, it didn't matter anymore, "because I do. So yeah, my life plans changed. But you know about that just as well. How did that work out for you?!"

You hated yourself in that moment, and as soon as the words left your mouth you wished you could take them back. You hated how much venom was lacing your words, how angry you still were with him. It was twenty years worth of pain and hurt bubbling to the surface all at once. And yet - the look on Frankie’s face was enough to make your heart break. Sighing lightly, you tossed the fork onto your plate and slid out of the bar stool. Tears were prickling at the back of your eyes as you held up your hands in surrender, lips trembling slightly. You tried to slick past him, but he reached for your arm to try and hold you back, "honey-"

"I gotta go," you said, pulling out of his grasp as motioned for Daisy to follow you. Nervously looking between the two of you, she trotted over and perked up slightly when you grabbed her leash, "I-I'll be back. I’m sorry.”

You dashed out the door as swiftly as possible, letting it shut softly behind you as Frankie stared at it, a heavily, weary sigh escaped his own lips. Setting down his own fork, he pushed his plate away, no longer feeling hungry. He wasn’t mad at your words, or the spite you still held for him. If anything it made him hurt just as much. He’d always been confused on why and when you finally decided to cut your ties with him, but he never blamed you. If the roles were reversed he might have done the same. But he’d never hated you for it. He could understand why you did what you did. He was just Frankie after all, he wasn’t worth waiting around for you. Just because he’d never let you go, didn’t mean he expected the same of you.

Standing up, he picked up his own plate, followed by yours and brought them to the sink. Turning on the tap, he set everything under the warm water to soak before quickly deciding to just clean up the kitchen then and there. It was the least he could do. Frankie carefully put everything away, making sure everything was going into what he was sure were the proper spots before loading the dishes into the empty dishwasher. He stopped himself when he reached for your empty coffee mug, holding it delicately in his large hands as he examined. It was a soft yellow, covered in little flowers and beehives and bees. A forlorn little smile crossed his features as he decided to hand wash the mug, drying it with the utmost care before putting it away in the cabinet.

The whole process to getting everything clean again took him some time, but by the time he was satisfied with his handiwork you still weren’t back from your walk with Daisy. It gave him pause to wonder if he should just head home or if he should wait for your return. Eventually he decided to opt for the latter, figuring it would be rude to just run out on you. If nothing else, he’d thank you for the help from the previous evening and then leave, but a smaller part of him hoped that you’d ask him to stay. To talk. There was a lot to talk about after so many years. 

And yet - there was nothing. The relationship was done. Ended. Nothing. 

He went back down the hall to straighten your bedroom up and gather his shoes, but he trekked slowly, taking a moment to study all the pictures on your walls. Some of it was more or less generic artwork, some were photos of you with friends and family over the years. He had admired each of them, how you had changed from the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with to the still beautiful woman he was infatuated with. It was amazing to him that you still looked the same after all this time - the same soft eyes, the same sweet smile, the aura of kindness that seemed to follow you everywhere. He was nothing like he once was, not in his mind anyway, instead of ragged and worn out. A sight for sore eyes.

Shaking his head to himself, he finished the walk back to your room and began to tidy up, making it a point to keep away from anything that looked personal. But in his keen attempt to make your bed, he accidentally knocked over what liked a journal from your nightstand. Groaning at his carelessness, he picked it up and attempted to set it back, but instead,  a couple of photographs fell out of it. He swooped them up and curiosity got the better of him as he studied the pictures intently.

They were of you - you and him. 

One of them was from one of the winters you shared together, the two of you were bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, Frankie’s old beanie on your head, with the skating rink visible in the background. You both looked so young, so carefree, so happy. You were smiling for the camera but his eyes were slowly focused on you, the grin on his face speaking volumes. 

The other one was from Halloween, and the two of you were dressed up as Morticia and Gomez from the Adams Family. Your feeble attempts at costumes had been laughable, but the joy in your faces was undeniable. This time he was smiling for the camera, an arm wrapped tightly around, but you were looking at him as though he was your whole world. 

You had kept the photos after all these years. He let out a long breath before tucking them back into the journal and setting it back on your nightstand. As he finished making up the bed and slipping his shoes back on, he heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Daisy’s footsteps. She eagerly nudged open the door and wagged her tail at him, trying to get his attention for pets. 

"Frankie?" your soft voice reached his ears as he gave Daisy a nervous look before slipping out of your bedroom. He stood in the hallway, nervously twist his hat in his hands as you stood at the other, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Hey," he softly as you just nodded. The two of you stood there for a moment, silently staring at each other. When you didn't say anything he started walking down the small way, "I should go..."

But before he could slip past you, you reached out and grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly firm, but gentle, manner. He turned and gave you a confused expression, "stay. W-w should talk...instead of just running every time we see each other."

"Okay," he agreed as you gave him a momentary smile before leading him outside, to the small little backyard sanctuary you had created. It was crisp and cool, the promise of fall and new hope with the changing season lingering in the air. Daisy was close at hand, bringing out a toy to play with as sat down at the patio table, Frankie taking a seat at the other end of the table. It was silent for some time before you finally mustered up the courage to talk to say anything.

"I'm sorry for earlier," your voice was quiet but Frankie heard you loud and clear, "I shouldn't have exploded like that at you. It wasn't fair."

"'S okay," he insisted. In his mind he deserved a lot more than just a few angry words. A new silence loomed over you as you watched your dog run around play, easily keeping herself amused.

"I was supposed to get married," you blurted out suddenly and Frankie's attention was hyperfocused on you, his deep brown eyes trying to decipher every expression, "in a few weeks actually."

"Oh," he said casually as he if hadn't noticed that you weren't sporting the huge engagement ring you had been wearing when he first ran into you again, "I-I figured...the ring and all."

"Yeah," you said with a scoff, looking over at him and rolling your eyes dramatically, "was going to. Completely dodged a bullet with that one."

"W-what happened?" he wouldn't deny that the fact that your engagement ended instilled a small sense of hope in him, "if you don't mind me asking..."

"A lot of things, honestly,” you shrugged lightly. It wasn’t a complete lie...there were a lot of factors that ultimately led to your decision. The fact that Frankie had appeared out of the blue, out of nowhere, was just another incidental happenstance that seemed to jog you into making the decision. But you weren’t about to admit that to him...not yet anyway, “I basically realized I was unhappy...that he was everything I never wanted and the life I was leading was the one I had wanted to avoid for so long.”

“Oh,” he completed quietly as you threw up your hands in exasperation, more at yourself than anything else. It was just…a hard situation. It wasn’t easy for anyone and with Frankie right there next to you it was hard not to picture a life with him. What would it all have been like if he had been the one?

“I was becoming...became everything I hated,” you laughed dryly at yourself, casting a quick glance over at him as he was watching you intently, “all those things I said I never would be. I ended up being them. I ended up as this quiet, pathetic excuse of a woman that just did what everyone told her to do, what everyone expected of her. I became the model daughter my parents always wanted - working in what they deemed a proper job, never speaking out of turn, marrying the successful lawyer, never straying from the line. And then...I just realized...this isn’t me. This was never me. It’s not who I’m meant to be. I knew that if I went through with that wedding and everything that came afterwards I would never be happy again. Despite the years of self loathing, I couldn’t do that to myself.”

Frankie was listening intently as you seemed to work this out within yourself as the words poured out of your mouth. He knew exactly what you meant, and at the end of the day, he was proud of you for being able to make the decisions you needed to for yourself, “so you just called it all off?”

“Yeah,” you dabbed at the tears that pearled up and slipped down your cheeks, before laughing lightly. In the moment, it had been a bold, dramatic move, one that you considered almost worthy of a cinematic masterpiece, but looking back on it, you had probably seemed like a mad woman, “basically. It was the day of my last dress fitting and it just...hit me. I was with the dress maker and her niece and they were asking me all about my fiance and asking me if I was excited and how in love we were and everything. And it hit me then and there - I couldn’t do this. So...I bailed and left. Called it off an hour later. You should have seen the poor things! Oh Frankie, they looked so surprised, but they understood. I paid for the dress and I told them to donate it to someone that deserved it.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed out as he pictured the scene. You caught his eye and the two of you started laughing together. Gods, in that moment, it was easy, so easy to just laugh and not think about anything else. It still felt so effortless with him, even despite everything that happened between the two of you, “you just did that!”

“You know what they say about mad women, Frankie,” you teased, taking a moment to collect yourself. Looking back on it now it was funny, but in reality...it had been a harsh end to your previous life and a bumpy start to your new one, “but...at the end of the day it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t marry Chad and just be Mrs. Wadsworth forever.”

“Chad? Wadsworth?” Frankie couldn’t help but snicker at the names as you nodded before hanging your head, giving him just a glimpse of that smile that always made him weak in the knees, “oh honey, you should have known from the name alone.”

“I was a fool,” you admitted with a dramatic sigh, “a self righteous fool. At the time it had seemed...right.”

“Did you love him?”

“I-I suppose I did,” you said softly, “at one point or another. I don’t know where along the line it just ended up as routine and just me going through the motions but obviously it did…”

“I’m sorry you had to do through all of that,” he said quietly as you shrugged. It wasn’t his fault...that was all of your own doing, “how did your family take it?”

“About as well as you'd think,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep more tears from flowing worth, “you know them, Frankie, they’re the same as they’ve always been. At first it seemed like my mom understood, and she seemed to care, but by the next day it was like a flip had been switched. They had seemed to side with Chad and somehow none of feelings were relevant. And all of the friends we’d had basically decided that I was the bad guy. So it kind of...left me to figure things out on my own. Luckily, I do have a few really good friends left. They helped me out a lot...even to find this house actually. Things could have been a lot worse...they were rough but they’re getting better.”

“Still,” he almost whispered at you, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. You don’t deserve it.”

“Such is life,” you looked at him and offered an almost teary smile, “but about you? Did you ever get married or anything?”

“No,” he answered quickly as you tried to ignore the small skip of your heart. He tapped his fingers against the glass top of the table for a few moments, “there was never really...anyone else.”

“Really!?”

“Nope,” he was almost nervous as he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I was in the military for a long while...overseas, special ops...never really had much chance to worry about that kind of stuff back then.”

“What about when you got out?”

“There were a few here and there,” he admitted quietly, “nothing serious, nothing that lasted more than a few months.”

“Oh,” it was your turn to be surprised. For some reason he had struck you as the type that would have settled down...the type of man that would almost yearn for domestic bliss. Little did you know he did exactly that, just not with anyone that he encountered so far. 

“Yeah,” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “it hasn’t been much of an exciting life.”

“Surely it must have been,” you insisted, “special ops? That sounds like it be one adventure after another...but it was the military…”

“I was glad to get out when I got out,” he insisted and you could tell there was a lot more he wanted to say. But he tensed up lightly and you weren’t going to push him to tell you anything. If he wanted to, he would, but as far as you were concerned he owed you nothing. And yet...a small part of you hoped he did still want to open up and confide in you.

“What...what do you do now?”

“I’m a mechanic,” he stated simply and pointedly looked away from your eyes. He didn’t know if he wanted to see the expression in them, to know if you suddenly thought him to be much lower, “it’s nothing much but I-”

“It’s brilliant, Frankie,” you insisted, quickly cutting him off and causing his head to whip in your direction, a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “you had always had a knack for stuff like that - it never made any sense to me, but you? You always had a sharp mind.”

“I was a pilot too!” he eagerly told you, and you could have died at the excited expression on his face, “in the military and…”

“And what, Frankie?” you asked, noticing the rapid change in his mood, almost as if he hadn’t meant to tell you quite that much. He stilled for a moment before looking away, “Frankie?”

“And for a while after that for private individuals,” he almost murmured, “but umm...n-not at the moment.”

“Okay,” you replied, telling him in that one word that he never needed to go past what was comfortable for him, “Frankie, I’m glad that things worked out for you...really.”

He just nodded, and gave you a weary look before silence fell over the two of you again. You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them, watching as Daisy sniffed everything before bringing her ball over to Frankie. He gently took it from her and tossed it across the yard, repeating the action several times over before she grew bored of it and went to follow around a squirrel. 

After some time, you cleared your throat, deciding that now was as good of a time as any to lay everything out on table. What was the worst that just happen? He would get mad, you would get mad and then he left? It wouldn't put you in a worse position than before. There was literally nothing left to loose, and you'd hate yourself if you didn't at least tell him. If nothing else, you would get it all off of your chest.

"T-there was another reason I called off my wedding..." you admitted and slowly shifted his gaze back to you, "umm, everything kind of...I realized how unhappy I was and that things weren't right after...after running into you. That day at the coffee shop when I spilled coffee all over myself."

Frankie tried his best to keep his expression neutral but it felt like a swarm of butterflies had just been released into his stomach. He was trying not to read too much into your words but he was loathe to deny his excitement. That meant you had felt it too; he wasn't wrong in thinking it was just him. He looked at you to go on, making a small sound in his throat, "I-I remember..."

"It set off...something," you said softly, "and that's what caused me to realize everything else."

"If nothing else, I'm glad the spilled coffee led you to realizing that you deserve better...that you deserve the world..."

"I...I never stopped loving you," the words shot out of your mouth before you could do anything to stop them and Frankie's jaw dropped and practically hit the floor, "seeing you made me realize that...there was never anyone else that I could ever love because they weren't you. Even after everything that happened, all this time, it always came back to you."

"Honey bee," the nickname flowed easily and you didn’t bother to correct him. You liked the way it sounded, you had missed it even. It was so much better than sugar plum, which still made you cringe to even think about, “you…”

“I know,” you said quietly, bringing your hands up to your face as you tried to hide and  make yourself feel smaller. You hadn’t, not in a million years thought you would see him again, let alone admit this to him or yourself, “I just...the more I thought about it, especially with Chad, I kept comparing everything to you. Even if I didn’t admit it out loud to myself, that’s one of the main things that it was. It was always you.”

“I-I don’t understand…” he said quietly, “you never...I called you and you never called me back. I thought...I thought...why?”

“I know,” you admitted, “I just...I couldn’t, Frankie. You left me and I hung around waiting for you all the time. My life revolved around waiting for to call, or email, any little hint from you. It wasn’t healthy - I was missing out on so much, because I was always waiting around for you. I couldn’t do that anymore, to wait to hear from you from an hour once every two months whenever you got the chance? It wasn’t fair to me or you. So I just...decided not to anymore.”

“But I-I came back,” he said meekly as you shrugged lightly.

“When? How many hours was your life devoted to the military? How many years were you gone for the majority of the year? It wouldn’t have been fair to me to have to wait for you, and it wouldn’t have been fair to you either, to only get to see me once in a while. Wasn't it easier to just not have to worry about it?” you tried to rationalize it to yourself and him at the same time. But as the words left your mouth you wondered if it had been easier that way. Maybe it would have been easier, maybe you would have been happier if you’d tried to make it work...but now you would never know. 

“I don’t know,” he sighed heavily as he leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his tired eyes, “I don’t know...but I do know it was hard for you.”

“You left me Frankie,” you said softly, trying not to cry again as you thought back to the day you had discovered that he was leaving for the military. It had been the worst day of your life back then. It still was to this day, “we made all these plans, our future, and you left me.”

“I did what I had to do back then,” he said softly, and while you never believed, even back then, you knew he had his reasons. You knew that the choices he made for all calculated and thought out - he was never one for rash decisions, “the choices I made helped become the man I am now. And look where you needed up - a therapist. A successful therapist. That counts for something, right?”

“I know....I know you did. I understand that now. A small part of me still thinks I would have rather have been with you, Frankie,” you said softly, turning to face him and resting your head on your knees, “even looking back on everything now. I wish you would have let me come with you -”

“So what?” he almost snapped and you jumped slightly at the sudden change in his voice, “you could have been some military wife that’s never happy?”

“I would have been happy with you!” you retorted with just as much edge as he had given you, “I would have been happy if I got to be anywhere with you. You were my everything, Frankie, and that never changed.”

“You would have been alone half the time,” he sighed heavily, “and I never...I never wanted you to have to worry if I was dead or alive or if I was coming back at all.”

You remained silent as you mused over his words. He had a point...if you had been with him, when he was overseas, you would have been wondering every minute of every hour if he was alright or not. That was a fate almost as cruel if not more so than what you were put through. 

“I wanted you to have a chance at happiness,” his tone softened as he looked at you with big brown eyes. They were full of emotion, holding so many things inside of them, “without me you had a shot.”

“I thought I did too,” you agreed, your lips trembling effort to keep from crying. Gods, you felt like you had been crying more recently than you had in many years, “turns out we were both wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“In some ways I wished I’d just gone with you anyway,” you shrugged and he made a small sound. You were both stubborn fools in your own ways, “in some other ways I wish I never met you.”

It felt like his whole world stood still as he cautiously met your eyes. Now those were words he never thought he’d hear you saying. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before stumbling over his words, “w-what? I thought…”

“If I had never met you, I never would have missed you,” you explained, “I never would have gone through the heartbreak of you leaving, of loving you and looking for you in everything and everyone else, never finding you. I would have been…”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“Yeah...but I’m not,” you concluded, “because if I had never met you, I would have never been loved by you, or gotten to love you. I never would have...discovered how to be myself. You showed me that it was okay to be different from my family, to be my own person. It worked...even if I got lost along the way and things changed. At the end of the day, it was you. And just when I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life, you came back. Out of all the times. That-that has to mean something right?”

Just like that every piece of his heart that had felt like it had hardened and decayed over the years seemed to come back to life. His heart started racing in his chest as he stared at you, long and hard, and you stared back with just as much ferocity and intensity. You were thinking the same thing he was - the timing, you both coming back together, it couldn’t be for naught. It just couldn’t. The universe was a strange and wondrous thing, but maybe...maybe this time it was getting it right…

“M..maybe…” Frankie stood up as you tried to collect your thoughts and slowly strode over to you. Extending his hand slowly, he held it out to you and you stared at it for just a moment, contemplating taking it. Taking his hand was a lot more than just the simple action of taking his hand, you were both well aware of that fact. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let him help you to your feet, and you stood directly in front of him, “Francisco.”

His large hands found your face, his touch gentle and saccharine as you relished in the feel of his soft, yet calloused skin on yours. Your lips parted slightly as he traced over the highs and lows of your features, making it a point to commit this version of you deep into his mind, just like he had twenty years ago when you were younger. His thumb swiped along your lower lip and your body was practicing screaming for him to touch you, to kiss you, anything.

“You are still as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you,” he whispered, inching incrementally closer and yet not close enough, “honey bee, I loved you then and I never stopped. I will never stop.”

“Francisco,” it was a soft plea as your hands found his wrists, gripping onto them tightly and vowing to never let go, “please.”

Please kiss me. Please don’t ever leave me again. Please just love me. 

It was so many things all in one simple word.

“May I kiss you?” he leaned in and his lips were practically ghosting over yours, his breath warm and sweet. You nodded quietly before closing the almost nonexistent gap between your bodies, weaving your arms around his neck as his hands found purchase on your hips.

It was slow, sweeter almost than honey as he kissed you, and you allowed yourself to get lost in him. If you thought kissing him back then had been amazing, this was that and then some. Every part of him melded perfectly against you, an ease to your movement like neither of you had to think or even try. It was like it had always been meant to be. In some ways, you supposed it was. It was always supposed to be you and your Frankie. 

“I love you, Frankie,” you murmured against his lips when you parted for a breath of air, “it was always you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[aromanticchair]

Glimbow x Consent

Glimmer took so long to understand that her feelings for Bow were mutual mainly because he never acted on them. He never tried to kiss her, never cuddled her when they slept next to each other, never asked to hold hands, anything!

Which would have been fine if she didn't know that Bow's main love language was physical affection. He loved giving hugs and comforting others, no matter who it was, horde soldier or rebellion member. He was kind and seemed to have no boundaries for his own personal space, most of the time.

Glimmer, on the other hand, tried to act on her feelings, but she doesn't know how to show love in the normal way. For her, love is about freedom, quality time, that sort of thing. And she does that a lot with Bow already so it's not like she didn't try to tell him about her feelings. She was just afraid of being rejected and winding up alone, all over again.

And after the battle, when they were finally letting out all they had been thinking about each other, Bow asked "Can I kiss you?"

Glimmer was too flustered at the moment to think straight. Her thoughts were all on Bow, Bow's face, Bow's lips, Bow's hair, Bow's eyes, Bow's blushed cheek, Bow's lips. Oh, Bow's lips got her attention the most, and so, she whispered "Yes" back to him and they kissed.

Only after a few days did Glimmer start being weirded out by Bow. They kissed a lot. A lot. A lot a lot, like, making up for all the years they knew each other and didn't kiss.

And yet, before every kiss, every single kiss, Bow asked if he could kiss Glimmer. He didn't miss one chance to ask her permission, and while at first it seemed sweet it just got old. Boring. Glimmer wanted to be taken by surprise with a big kiss from behind, or in the middle of a conversation, perhaps in between meetings so she could feel some adrenaline.

But Bow wasn't like that. He always had to ask, taking away that element. So she tried to make it happen for herself.

Bow was making his bed when he saw her walk in and his face lit up "Hey, Glimmer! I didn't know you were up already."

Glimmer's hands suddenly got sweaty, and so did her forehead. Her knees were wobbly and she felt her heart thumping harder while she walked up to him. There was no reason to be nervous, he was her boyfriend after all. He loved her, she knew that.

It just felt weird taking the first step. Admitting you want affection, committing to that action with the likely reality that you could be turned down, or seen as needy. It was scary to show what you cared about enough to work for it and make it happen.

She got on her toes, nonetheless, and went to kiss Bow, closing her eyes shut, trying to get rid of the nerves going through her mind once and for all. If she did it quickly enough, she'd feel more comfortable, and then she could kiss him again and again and again.

But his lips never crashed into hers. Instead, his hands went up to her arms, a little above the elbow and slightly pushed her back onto her heels. Glimmer didn't understand what was happening, but it felt like her heart was fracturing in pieces, yet still tumping on her ribcage. She opened her eyes and saw Bow's face, equal parts flustered, worried, and confused. He was leaning back, leaning away from Glimmer. Her head spun with shame, and a little flame lit up inside of her.

"Glimmer, what was that? Are you ok?"

"Yes! Of course it is! I just wanted to kiss my boyfriend" Glimmer said, a little harshly while getting up on her tiptoes again.

Bow pushed her back once again "You seem upset. You walked in here with a serious face, barely smiled." he cocked his head to the side, raising one of his eyebrows.

Glimmer rolled her eyes "It's nothing, I just wanted to kiss you" her voice was steady, her eyes were determined, but her cheeks were heavily blushed and burning hot. Her face was probably the same shade of pink of her hair right there and then.

Bow laughed "Well, if that's all you wanted you could've just asked."

You could've just asked.

Asked.

Asked.

Asked.

Glimmer's inner fire went out of control "But what if I don't want to ask?!"

Bow's hands shot away from her arms and his light aura changed to a worried one. It seemed like his natural state, always worrying about others.

"What do you mean?"

"I just wanted to surprise you with a kiss! I don't need to ask everytime if I can kiss you just like you don't have to ask me! We're boyfriend and girlfriend, that's part of being in a relationship!"

"But what's wrong with having consent?"

Glimmer groaned "Sometimes, it's sweet. Other times I just want to be surprised, ok? And asking if I want it ruins that."

Bow furrowed his eyebrows "I'm not going to stop asking for consent, Glimmer. Just because we're dating doesn't mean we're entitled to each other. Just because I'm your boyfriend doesn't mean I get to kiss you whenever I want. It's when we both want it."

"Yes I- I'm sorry I didn't mean to say I was entitled to your kisses or anything but- I always want to kiss you, so just stop asking."

Bow glared at her "I'm not sure."

Glimmer was a step away from him and still felt far from him, she didn't understand how he was thinking, which was crazy because she knew him for so long she practically lived inside his mind. She knew how he worked, thought, and acted. But this was destroying her thought process, so she just stayed quiet, awkwardly rubbing her elbow.

"I have that meeting in a few minutes, I guess... I guess I'm gonna go."

Bow looked at her with sympathy "Have a good meeting" and went right back to making his bed.

*

Glimmer's meeting was not exactly a meeting. It was more of a therapy session thing. Adora and Bow insisted she started attending those after all that had happened, since Angela died and her dad came back. She tried to act happy and upbeat like before but sometimes she couldn't. It weighed her down, and filled her with nothingness. Yes, she had her friends to support her, but it would never replace her mother.

Some sessions were harder than others. And this one was harsh. She left the room trying to hold it all in, thanking the therapist for their time and going back to her room so she could cry, hug her pillow and go to sleep.

She opened her door and Bow was sitting on the edge of her bed. He looked up, saying immediately "I've been thinking about what you said and... Oh." he looked at her face, with her red shot eyes and trembling lips "That bad?"

"Bow, not right now, I just want to be in bed." her voice cracked and Bow's throat went dry as he stood up. He couldn't stand to see other people cry, much less Glimmer.

"Can I give you a hug?"

"No, Bow, I just want to lie down!"

He looked more pained than hurt by her words "Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No!" she screamed out. He stared at her and then started walking towards the door and her mind started racing.

She didn't want Bow to hold her, she couldn't stand it when people touched her when she was in that state. She needed to feel like she was in control of her surroundings and herself. Being touched felt incredibly offsetting and confusing, and she didn't need that then. But she did need Bow.

"Wait. Don't leave." she didn't think he'd just leave the room. Just because she said she didn't want to hug him.

"Do you want me to stay here by your side?"

"Yes."

"But I can't hug you."

"No."

"Kiss you?"

"No."

"Hold your hand?"

Glimmer hesitated. She remembered how her father would hold her hand when she was little and was going through anxiety attacks. How her mother did it after Micah disappeared. Even though touch felt wrong to her in that situation, somehow, someone holding her hand always felt like an anchor to reality. So, she said "Yes."

They said nothing more as Glimmer got in her bed and was covered by the comforter by her loving partner. She held her hand out across the mattress where Bow layed down on, facing the ceiling so Glimmer didn't feel pressured by his eyes on her. He held her hand on his chest, and she felt it in her hand his steady heartbeat and rising and falling chest.

She started to weep, gripping Bow's shirt tightly. She tried to calm down but her thoughts were running through her head so fast she couldn't stop them. So her tears just kept coming out.

Bow looked at her, worried, and reached a hand for her shoulder, slowly pulling her against him. He was trying to hold her, but that was too much touching, too much for the already overloaded system that was Glimmer's body and mind. She shook against it and whispered "No."

Bow let go of her and sighed, still holding onto her hand. So that's what they did for the next half hour. Glimmer cried and Bow cradled her hand in his chest.

After a while, she started to calm down. Her eyes and nose were red, but she could finally breathe easily without thoughts intruding into her mind with no control. She started to get up, slipping her sweaty hand away from Bow as she settled against the head of the bed, crossing her legs and hanging her head down. Bow sat crossed-leg too, in front of her.

"Thank-"

"I'm sorr-"

They tried to speak at the same time and chuckled. Glimmer nodded her head for him to go first and he exhaled loudly.

"I'm sorry, for trying to hug you in bed after you said no. Sometimes I don't know what you need, and I don't want to do something wrong, so that's why I usually ask. But you were so keen on me surprising you and not asking so I thought I'd give it a try because I thought that's what you needed." shame started to seep into his voice, making it crack" I though you'd want a hug in that moment, but you didn't and I'm sorry" his lip trembled and he started rubbing his eyes, who seemed to barely be holding in some tears.

"No, Bow. You were right, you should ask, so I'm sorry. I should be more like you, respect your boundaries and tell you about mine."

"But you were right too" Bow said "sometimes you just want to be surprised, not asked. But how can I do that if I don't ask to know what you need from me?"

"I don't know," Glimmer sighed "but we can figure that out together. Maybe we could have a code for when we're in the mood." Bow chuckled "Or one of those stuffed animals that are reversible and represent your mood."

"You literally have magic powers and you're talking about a reversible stuffie" Bow laughed while sniffing and running his wrist under his nose.

"Well, at least I'm having ideas! I don't hear you making any suggestions" Bow laughed out loud, making Glimmer follow his example. It felt freeing, after all the crying she had done.

Bow looked at her intently and then at their hands. She nodded and they held each other's hand, scooting closer, staring into each other's eyes.

"May I kiss you, Bow?"

He smiled from ear to ear "You may"

[morganaspendragonss]

Hey! I absolutely love your "the lovers that went wrong" fic - ive been back to reread it several times now because i think its such a good idea and I love the relationship with TK and his mum - if only the show could give us something as good as that! - I was wondering- only if you were interested, could you write something from Carlos' pov with his parents? maybe they can see that TK is more than a friend and they talk to Carlos about him and TK and why he's feeling insecure? if not np :)

thank you so much anon, that’s so sweet of you!! i love this prompt, too - god knows the show probably won’t show us carlos’s pov. it was my pleasure to write it.

a note on the spanish - technically, i do speak spanish but it’s still very much a word in progress, so if any spanish-speakers want to correct me then please do

ao3 | 1.6k | 2.04 spoilers

Carlos can feel TK's eyes burning holes into the side of his head, but he doesn’t look around. He doesn’t want to see the confusion and hurt he knows TK must be feeling - and if that makes him a coward, then so be it. His parents’ gazes are flicking between them, so Carlos distracts his mom by pulling her into a hug, grateful for the brief opportunity to hide his face. 

Behind them, his dad is shaking TK’s hand, and Carlos’s entire brain is screaming wrongwrongwrong. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Not like this. Not yet.

He’s not ready.

His mom pulls away and Carlos forces a smile back on his face. They stand in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, Carlos feeling like he’s being scrutinised.

Then, TK speaks. “It was great to meet you, Mr Reyes, Mrs Reyes,” he says, “but I should go. I told my dad I’d meet him and I’ll be late if I don’t leave.”

The lie rolls off his tongue, smoother than Carlos’s had, and Carlos dares a glance over. What he sees is so much worse than he imagined; to any other person, TK looks the picture of innocence, smiling kindly, eyes wide and bright. 

But Carlos knows him. He can see the tense set of TK’s shoulders, the way he’s subtly put more distance between them, the hurt hidden deep in his eyes. He feels sick with guilt, but there’s nothing he can do to fix it. Not here.

“I’ll drive you,” he offers, but TK firmly waves him off.

“No,” he says, jaw clenching minutely. “My dad’s place isn’t too far; I can walk.”

“But -”

“It’s fine.” 

Their eyes meet, and Carlos is suddenly hit with the force of what he’s done. Everything he’s been so scared of - TK deciding they’re not working, running away, Carlos getting his heart broken - all of that might happen now after all. 

And it’ll all be Carlos’s fault.

TK’s hand lands on his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Carlos,” he mutters, and then he’s gone, striding back the way they came and taking half of Carlos’s heart with him.

“Is everything okay, mijo?” his mom asks, as Carlos keeps staring after TK even though he can’t see him anymore. 

Carlos doesn’t have an answer to that - the casual way they parted cut deeper than he’d ever thought possible, and he doesn’t know if it was just TK keeping up the act or his way of hurting Carlos the way he’d been hurt. Carlos wants to believe it’s the first one, but his less charitable side can’t help but wonder.

He can’t tell any of this to his mom, though, so he braces himself and turns back around, smiling. “Yeah, of course,” he says, surprised by how steady his voice is. “What are you guys doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Clearly,” his dad remarks, faintly amused, but before Carlos can figure that out, his mom is taking his arm and dragging him along with her.

“I was planning on making my chiles rellenos tonight, but your father forgot the chiles when he went shopping the other day.” She sends a reproachful look behind her, but the effect is offset by her fond smile. “You know they do the best ones here, so out we came. And here you are.”

“Here I am,” Carlos agrees through gritted teeth. He tries to extricate himself from her grip. “Look, mami, I don’t want to keep you. I’ll go, and you can -”

She stops suddenly, planting her hands on her hips. “I don’t see my only son for weeks, and the second we run into him, he wants to escape?” she demands. “No. You’re coming home with us, and you can help me with the food.”

“It’s hardly been weeks, mami,” he says weakly, knowing he’s already lost this argument. When Andrea Reyes makes up her mind, nothing can sway her.

“Psshh, details.” She waves her hand dismissively and takes his arm again, leaving Carlos no choice but to follow her to their car. He directs a wordless plea for help back at his dad, but he just holds his hands up, shaking his head. 

“Your mother’s right, you know,” he says. “We barely see you these days. Give us the afternoon, at least.”

Which is how Carlos ends up in his mother’s kitchen, silently helping her prepare chiles rellenos and trying not to wallow in his grief over TK.

He fails miserably - miserable being the operative word.

His mom is being suspiciously silent, and if Carlos had any energy left, he would call her out on it. He knows they’re going to end up having a discussion at some point, but he’s in no mood to provoke it. Easier just to let her initiate it herself.

“That boy at the market,” she starts eventually, far too casually for Carlos’s liking. “What was his name again?”

“TK.”

She hums. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

He sighs heavily. “We’re friends, mami,” he reminds her wearily, the lie coming easier this time, which is something he really doesn’t want to read in to.

“I never suggested otherwise,” she says. “He seemed nice.”

“He is.”

She sighs, clearly fed up with his reticence, and sets her knife down. “¿Qué pasa, mijo?” she asks, turning to face him.

“Nada, mami, no pasa nada,” he insists, though he’s not entirely sure why he’s still bothering to lie.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Carlos Reyes,” she says sharply, startling him. “Soy tu madre; te conozco. Now, I’ll ask again - what’s going on?”

He meets her gaze, seeing only warmth and concern there, and it nearly breaks him. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Try me.”

Carlos bites his lip, deciding how best to break the news to her. He’s still not ready, not really, but he’s made his bed. Time to lie in it.

“I’ve met someone,” he hedges, trusting her to fill in the blank of TK’s name. “I’ve known him for a while, but we’ve only been seeing each other for the last four months.”

There’s a brief silence, then, “Why did you not tell us?” she asks, her tone gentle, not at all accusatory. “Is it not serious?”

He hesitates, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I don’t know,” he admits, half-whispering. “I don’t… He… I…”

Carlos shakes his head, giving up on speech. He doesn’t protest when his mom reaches up to draw him into an embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“I’m scared, mami,” he chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the tears fall. His mom holds him tight, rubbing comforting circles on his back as he shakes in her arms. 

They stay like that for a while, until she moves her hands to his shoulders and eases him away from her. “Why are you scared?” she asks. Her eyes narrow. “He’s not hurting you, is he?”

Carlos recoils at the thought. “No,” he says, the words bursting out of him in a half-shout. “He would never.”

“Then, what is it?”

He hesitates again, the thought of telling her everything suddenly very daunting. She clearly notices, as she reaches around him to push the half-prepared food away. Carlos’s eyes widen at that; his mom never stops cooking once she’s started. She smiles ruefully, then leads him over to the couch, pulling both of them down onto it. 

“Tell me.”

And Carlos does. He doesn’t divulge all of their long, complicated history, but he tells her enough for her to understand. He talks about TK’s reluctance to start anything, his own determination to try anyway. He talks about those days after TK got shot, and the solar storm, and that night under the stars when they finally agreed to give them a shot.

He talks about his fears that it’s all just a fantasy, that any day now the rose-tinted glasses are going to come off and TK is going to realise that he’s made a mistake, and Carlos will be left behind again. And he talks about his guilt for even thinking it, the way he wants so badly to believe that this is it.

Because, for him at least, Carlos is fairly sure that it is. He just wishes (hopes) the same is true for TK.

When he’s done talking, he glances hesitantly over at his mom. She’s watching him with a small smile on her face, her hand gently squeezing his knee.

“Oh, Carlos,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”

He grimaces and nods. “I’ve ruined it all,” he says. “I hurt him, and now he’s never going to trust me again.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she admonishes. He frowns up at her, only to meet a spectacular frown of her own. “You’re going to go to him, right now, and explain everything like you’ve just done for me. He’ll listen, and if he doesn’t then clearly he’s not good enough for you.”

“He’s good enough, mami,” he says, cracking a small smile. “I don’t know where he is, though; he was lying when he said he had to meet his dad.”

“Then you’re going to go home and wait,” she says, matter-of-fact. “If half of what you’ve said is true, he’s going to want to talk just as much as you do.”

Carlos doubts that, but he supposes it’s as good a plan as any. He could call TK, but he doesn’t want to rush him. Better to let him decide when he wants to talk to Carlos - Carlos had been the one to hurt him, after all.

He leans into his mom’s side, smiling at her. “Thank you, mami.”

She kisses his temple. “Te quiero, my son. Now, go. If this boy is as good as you say, I’ll never forgive you for letting him go, let alone him.”

Carlos laughs, then gets to his feet and leaves his parents’ house, filled with a sudden determination to fix this.

He doesn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t at least try.

[footballcloud]

Like Old Times - Anyone You’d Like

this is the first thing I’ve written in about a year now, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I’m not sure how frequently I’ll post things and some might be longer than other. Happy reading my lovelies! Tell me who you imagined it with! xx

"I don't understand how someone could be on 'good terms' with an ex", your friend piped up, putting the phrase 'good terms' in air quotations, when the topic of your most recent relationship popped up in conversation. You playfully rolled your eyes given that she'd told you that a billion times already, along with several other people, but it wasn’t like the break up was messy. You two were still civil, there wasn’t any tension between you. So why couldn’t the two of you stay friends? "I don't feel the need to make an enemy out of every ex I have", you replied, earning a laugh from the other girls as you threw a wink her way since she had a reputation to be a bit of a firecracker, and everyone knew it.

"If this cocktail wasn't so damn expensive, you'd be wearing it", she retorted as you shot her a look as if to say 'yeah right'. She wasn't wrong about you still getting on with your ex though. He was still very much a part of your life. You'd text him good luck occasionally on a match day if it was a particularly big game, or if he'd scored, you even had notifications for his team turned on on your phone to see how they were getting on. His parents even sent you a card a bouquet of flowers for your birthday a few weeks ago. He became integrated into part of your routine and you didn't want to offset it. Clearly your girls were against it though, they were never a huge fan of his in the first place. Saying you could do better. Saying he wasn't the one. Saying that whilst keeping little rituals like that in your life was lovely and all, that you'd never get over him - but you were over him. Definitely. Nevertheless, they supported you through the breakup as if they'd never said a bad word about him. Although, you couldn't miss the unimpressed faces they pulled when he walked into the club with his a couple of teammates.

"What's he doing here?" One of them were quick to comment as he made his way in the direction of the bar to get in a round of drinks. "Probably come to celebrate the win", you struggled and diverted your eyes away from him in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact, that was the last thing you needed to throw you off the flow of a good night. "Of course you'd know", another one of your girls piped up and elbowed you in the ribbed mockingly, making your group laugh once again.

"I think it's mine turn to get drinks in, who wants what?" You slid out of the booth and grabbed your clutch from beside you. Your friends weren’t stupid, they knew exactly why you were so eager to get the drinks in but there was only so many times they could tell you that you weren’t right for each other.

"Passion fruit martini please" "Make that two!" "Vodka cranberry" "I think I'll pass this time, thanks" "Mines a rum and coke"

You nodded in an attempt to look like you'd remember what they'd just told you, but the second you properly laid eyes on him at the bar, their orders fell out your head almost instantly. He looked as good as he did the day you two broke it off. Dark ripped jeans, dark shirt with the top few buttons undone and sleeves cuffed a couple of times to show his arms that were glazed with a rich tan from his Dubai holiday that you'd seen plastered across his social media a few week ago, paired with silver watch that he'd bought himself last Christmas on his left wrist and grey trainers with hair styled neatly like it always was.

'Jesus Christ, keep your shit together', you scolded yourself for staring for too long but before you could tear your gaze away from him, he'd caught you in the act.

"You haven't change a bit, darling", a smug grin appeared on his face, using your pet name that you hadn't heard in months, as he rested a hand on your back, making you suddenly deeply regret your choice to wear a backless dress when you jolted under his warm touch. "Looking gorgeous, as ever", he added and leaned down a little further meaning you could smell the familiar scent of his cologne and fabric softer of his shirt when you inhaled heavily to compose yourself. You’d intended on going over to him, but the thought process hadn’t got as far as to what you were going to say to him, nor did you know why you felt the need to interrupt your girls night out to see him.

"Thank you, congrats on the win this afternoon", you replied, thanking him for his compliment that could have easily been mistaken for a flirty comment. ‘You haven’t changed either’, you thought when his arms tenced slightly when he leaned against the bar, allowing yourself a subtle glance over him - but eager to not fall for his charm a second time so changed the topic of conversation quickly. "Thanks, darling. How have you been?" You made polite conversation for a while, just like old times. With the drinks order for your group of friends long forgotten and presumably the same for him, you made your way outside with him as he guided you through a back exit, his hand still on your back.

"Seeing anyone new?" He asked out of the blue, initiating a conversation that you really didn't want to discuss with him and it confused you as to why he'd brought up the topic all of a sudden. "Nope, not been seeing anyone for months", you popped the 'p' on nope. Your response made him raise his eyebrows at you, pulling an expression that, even after an 18 month long relationship, you couldn't read what it meant. You weren’t going to tell him that he was in fact the last person you’d seen as that might give off the wrong message that you weren’t over him.

"What about you? Surely you've had girls practically throwing themselves at you?" You scoff involuntarily, sounding overly bitter. Yuck.  Clearly your comment caught him off guard because it was one of the few times his cool, calm demeanour had flaked away, resulting in you looking flustered. "No one actually, how could I when I see pictures on your Instagram of you looking that good". He eyed you up and down, shamelessly flirting with you, passing the flustered feeling over to you as you shifted under his gaze for a second as he took in your appearance better than he could when you were in the club. Strappy heels that he knew hurt your feet but made your legs look incredible, that short backless dress that he'd be thinking of taking off you since the second he laid eyes on you, hair curled at the ends so it bounced below your shoulders blades and light makeup, because you had no one to impress - or so you thought when you left your apartment.

"If you didn't like it, you know where the unfollow button is", you told him, trying not to sound defensive. "Who said I didn't like it?" He was quick to throw back his response with his signature smile plastered on his face, the same smile that had you falling for him the first time. Whilst you mustered up something to say, he began to lean in closer again allowing you to inhale the same familiar mixture of scents that intoxicated you less than an hour ago. You watched his eyes flutter shut with parted lips as his head tilted to the side, it was a natural reaction of yours to mirror his actions as you leaned in closer too. His hand on your back pressed more firmly against it to pull you closer whilst one of yours instinctively went to run through his hair and then settle on the back of his neck. The kiss was tentative, neither of you really wanted to take control in fear of losing the other one again.

“I’ve missed this”, he said as he continued to move his lips against yours, snaking his hand round to rest on your waist. You pulled away from his abruptly after that and leant your forehead on his. “Don’t say or do anything you might regret. It’s the alcohol talking”, you stated and looked at him, lips almost touching again. “You saw me walk in, I’ve not had a drink all night”, he told you and pulled away so the warmth of his body no longer comforted you as the atmosphere around you both suddenly became heavy. He was right though. You were the only one that was intoxicated after a few shots and two cocktails.

“I want you back”, he confirmed bluntly and tried to make eye contact with you but you denied him. “Okay - but we need to talk about this, not here”, you gestured to him, he nodded in agreement as a group of people stumbled out of the door, after clearly consuming more alcohol than they could handle. It had also started to drizzle slightly, the moisture weighing down the loose curls in your hair. “Come back to mine? Please?” His gaze still on you when you met his eyes but were deep in thought given his invitation. You weren’t prepared to let him smooth talk you into his bed like you knew he was capable of doing, and catch feelings again, only resulting in you tearing yourself apart again when he dips out of your life. Over the months that you’d been apart, you’d learnt your own worth - he wasn’t going to have you that easily.

“Okay”, you nodded as a grin appeared on his face. “But only to talk”, you added making him laugh and sling an arm round your shoulder. “Of course, babe. What else?” He raised an eyebrow at you and threw you a cheek wink before knocking on the window of a taxi that was parked nearby. “Have I told you how good you look in that dress?” You jabbed him in the ribs and rolled yours eyes, hoping that the dim streetlights would hide your blushes. “Don’t you dare say what I know you going to!” You warned him, knowing he was going to make a comment about how he thought the dress would look better on his bed room floor. He threw his head back as a laugh left his lips whilst a hand casually fell onto your thigh when he sat down next to you, just like it had done hundreds of times before. You laced your fingers over his, content with the company you were in.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

Dress

reputation-cressworth

so the song dress by taylor swift screams cressworth to be, the sort of mutual pining and honest love they have for each other. so i wrote a semi canon but not at all canon peice. (4k words)

                                              ><><><><><><

The night was lasting forever, time dragged on as people danced and drank and celebrated, despite there still being a murderer roaming the streets and slaughtering innocent women. They acted like they could never be injured by the killer just because of their class, when for all anyone knew the killer was in this room right now plotting. I hoped they started with me, just so I didn't have to experience this torture any longer; although it was highly unlikely seeing as they focused on lower class women. A pity, really, I could think of many who deserve it more. I could think of only one one person in this room that perhaps didn't deserve to suffer the fate three women already have. 

Audrey Rose Wadsworth.

Perhaps my only friend in this god-forsaken world. One that I cannot even spend time with, as one would like. It's an absurd notion but one that I can't ignore otherwise I've no job and I don't think Jonathan Wadsworth would take me on knowing I’m currently working for his rival, even if I quit myself and I did everything in my power to show off my exceptional talents and gain his trust. Especially if he finds out I'm madly in love with his niece; and have been for awhile. I must admit it was never my intention to do so, or to even be her friend, but when you are trying to solve the same crimes you tend to run into each. Often. And so overtime we became friends, begrudgingly on her part. Then, when we faced danger a few weeks back, and I thought I'd lose her over my actions and Oliver's inability to tell me the truth, we kissed. Since then we have been trying to navigate our feelings whilst also pretending to not know each other. It is incredibly difficult not to walk over to her now, take her hands and offer a dance. To then kiss her and watch her cheeks redden and her to smile at me. To know I made her smile. Each smile melts the coldness of my heart that I've spent years creating to protect myself. I believed I needn't ever need a friend nor wife. Yet, perhaps, someday Audrey could be both of those and we wouldn't need to freeze our hearts to protect ourselves.

 All night I've been trying to catch her gaze but her eyes refuse to meet mine, at least with my knowledge that is. I caught her staring when she believed I was otherwise engaged in something so that I wouldn't notice. I notice every time. It's been a fun game, the only good thing about this evening. It is someone's birthday, someone my father deems important enough to drag me along too. Even though he hates me, and I him. Even though I have no intention of finding a wife this way or taking over his business. Audrey Rose was an unexpected gift, at this party and my life. I hadn't realised she'd be here with her family but I should have assumed. Or asked, but we had only seen each other once since the kiss and most of that time was spent discussing corpses and the no longer occasional flirting. She is remarkably good at getting under my skin, at leaving me without words and making me want to just hold her in my arms for both our sakes. Her uncle and my boss would be furious if they found out we'd been sharing theories, but unlike my boss I want to solve the case to get a murderer off the streets and not the fame; Audrey Rose is utterly horrified by the grotesk way women are being violated. So the more we work together the faster we can solve it for good. 

‘You think they know more than us?’ I hear vaguely, I pull my eyes away from Audrey Rose and grimace. Mr. Douglas caught me staring but assumed it was over Jonathan Wadsworth and about the murders. 

“There's a high chance sir.” Mainly due to the man's ignorance and my inability to share my ideas with him. He takes a seat next to me so I sit straighter and force myself not to look at Audrey Rose. “I've heard the girl, what's her name?”

“Audrey Rose Wadsworth, sir.” I tell him as plainly as possible.

“Right, sure. I've heard she's helping him. I've no idea why such a pretty thing would waste her life pretending to be a detective but-”

“What?” I was going to strangle him. His complete and utter ineptitude towards Audrey Rose, to how women truly were versus what they are perceived as in society was astonishing. I would truly strangle him if I wasn't as shocked. And if I didn't have to hide my feelings for her. 

“I know I was baffled when I heard it too, she'll make herself unavailable if she keeps the way she's going.” he doesn't take his eyes off her as if he wanted to be the one to make her unavailable and not science. Even though that notion was outrageous. I rolled my eyes at him as a brilliant idea struck. 

“Hear me out, sir, what if I pursue her? I mean if she is one for science she will know about the case and I doubt she knows me so I can easily charm her and I can get whatever information I can to help us solve the case faster.” I try to explain my plan in a non desperate way. Hopefully he will think I believe Audrey Rose is incapable of figuring out deceit and that she'll just spill her guts to me; that I don't care about the case. When, in reality, I just want one dance with her. I'm exasperated in hiding my feelings and it's only been a few weeks. Maybe it would be a lot easier to try and beg for an apprenticeship with Jonathan Wadsworth than deal with this misogynistic self centered-

“Not a half bad idea. For once you have got a decent plan. Although maybe I should be the one to charm her, seen as your, well, you have as much charm as a brick wall to put it simply. So let me-”

“I'm more than capable.” I say and get out of my chair and start striding towards her before he can get there first. If he even opened his mouth to her she would berate him so heavily that he would have to hibernate until people forget. Not that Audrey Rose is forgettable in any way.  Maybe I should've let him try first just to see that. Alas, I need to at least have a conversation with her. I made my way to her table, her father and brother were conversing and her uncle looked about as miserable and irritated as I did. Audrey Rose just looked bored. 

She looks beautiful though, her pale green and blue dress offsets her darker features and highlights her dazzling eyes. The light reflects off her perfectly, showing her sharp features and illuminating her mothers necklace at her chest. When I finally reach her table her eyes find mine and red begins to line her cheeks and her brows furrow at the sight of me. I notice slightly her father and brother cease to be as they look at me as well. 

“May I borrow your daughter for a dance, sir?” I asked him. He looks confused but I'm sure he realized who I am. Who my father is. I'm sure his mind is filled with implications about what the title could do for him if we were to be wed. 

“Cert-”

“No.” her uncle interjects. Her father looks furious, brother amused and her aunt; I hadn't even noticed her aunt was there with I assume her cousin. 

“What do you mean no? She's my daughter I suggest you-”

“No. Mr. Cresswell, what are you doing? You do not wish to seek out my niece for the case do you? If so, leave now.”

I blink at the tone. Of course he'd see through it; however he is technically wrong. 

“No sir, I can see why you'd think that but I truly wish to dance. Your daughter is captivating.” I would rather seek the end of the killer's knife than continue this conversation. 

“I shall dance with you Mr. Cresswell.” Audrey Rose seems inclined to inflict the same fate as me. Without listening to the rest of her family she walks towards the dance floor so I follow her. She hesitantly puts her arms on my shoulders and I put my own on her waist. I feel lighter than I have all evening; as though I've had many drinks of champagne and Mrs Harvey's tonic. I give her a genuine smile and feel her own tension release. 

“I'm glad you saved me. I've been dreadfully bored.” She greets me in such an improper and Audrey Rose way that I laugh.

“I'll always be the one to save you Wadsworth. I am your Dark Prince. Be sure to think about me and my heroic nature whenever you're alone.” 

“Please.” She begins as we start to sway, “I have more important things to consider than you.” She tries to be serious but it is not her strongest ability when talking to me. 

“You look beautiful, Audrey Rose.” She rolls her eyes at me despite her blush. “The dress is magnificent, compliments you perfectly, although completely unnecessary, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of rendering me speechless without a dress on at all.”

Her eyes widen at such scandalous words and her cheeks redden even more but her eyes dazzle with the promise of mischief. “You claim I render you speechless yet you still speak? Are you lying or just horribly bad at compliments? Or, you hate the dress but need to charm me nonetheless?”

“Wadsworth, darling, please, do you really think that little of me? I'm merely stating the obvious, it's what I do best. And I don't need to charm you when you are already infatuated with me. If I were you I would be. And as much as you truly render me speechless with your brilliant mind, I adore your body too, an added bonus, but I will always be able to tell you how astonishing you look.”

She focuses on my face, searching for something, perhaps a lie but she finds none and smiles at me, the sweetest little smile, and I debate placing a chaste kiss to her smiling red lips to also show her how honest I am right now but know that I cannot. Not yet. So I pinch her waist slightly and she lets out a tiny squeak and pinches me back. 

“It is a good job you are not me then isn't it?” She recovers perfectly and has the audacity to look smug at me. I press my hand to my chest and gawk at her. I'm losing the battle of wits, unsurprisingly, so I move the conversation along to try and turn it back in my favour.

“I've enjoyed the game tonight, our secret moments in this crowded room no one knows about. Each little glance at me gives my heart a rush. Makes it worth being at this blastidly boring event. I've missed you.”

We remain in comfortable silence, my last confessions washing over us both. 

“When does this get easier?” She whispers to me, her eyes finding mine, glassy as she contemplates what is running rampant in her mind. “I want to stay with you all night, but after this we must return to our lives, I go back to being judged for my curiosity and you will go back to the animatronic villain the world thinks you are. When does it get easier Thomas?” 

I keep us spinning, holding onto her waist and not ready to let her disappear. She's right. It's a horrible wait to be away from her and having to wear my armour everyday. It's even harder for her to try and have a career in science and not have someone by her side, completely by her side. There must be something we can do, I can do, to make our lives better. 

“Wadsworth, how much does your uncle hate me?” A plan begins to form in my head. One I've been debating for a while. Her eyes narrow knowing I have a plan but she must be so tired as she doesn’t bother asking what and says: 

“He doesn't hate you, at least I don’t think he does. He- he isn't a person who gives positive opinions on anyone. Even me. But no, I do not think he hates you, just Mr. Douglas. Oh but he doesn't like that you are working against us. For him no less.” 

“It's not ideal, I despise him, he doesn't care about the cases, but of the fame; it makes me near vomit whenever he speaks about the women- or any woman for that matter.”

She hums in agreement, her uncle must have told her all this. “Audrey Rose, if I were to quit would your uncle offer me an apprenticeship?”

“I think so but why?”

“There are more benefits in working with your uncle than that egotistical man. The main one being right in front of me.” The words leave my mouth before I consider the consequences. I feel her grip on my shoulders tighten slightly, her gaze fixed intently at my eyes, seeking something, and her body has stopped swaying to the music. I smile, hoping to convey the utmost truth in my words. She sees it and begins to sway again, looking away and trying to calm her heart. I attempt the same. 

“You could talk to my uncle tonight, I'm sure he'd much rather discuss the case or anything remotely close to work rather than listening to my aunt.”

“Would you want me to work alongside you Wadsworth because if not I can-”

Her head whips up to me and I cringe, I've said something wrong, I just assumed she wanted to see me. “Do not finish that sentence Thomas. Of course I want you to work with me and my uncle.” 

“My brilliance is desperately needed isn't it? I mean you cannot resist my charm.” I smile and her own graces her face and the mere sight of her happy because of me makes my heart want to burst. I'm almost certain it will. She quickly acts unimpressed and rolls her eyes at me.

“No, I'm merely the one saving you from that- that man before he rots the only decent part of your brain.” She smirks at me and it's my turn to roll my eyes. 

“If you are the one saving me, will you be like the heroes in the books, because I do recall that they always give their saved maidens a kiss once they are saved?” 

Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn a deep red as she hits my arm lightly. I take that as yes as I laugh at her. The song is ending, and we've already had two dances. I should take her back to her table, I should talk to her uncle. I should do anything but kiss her. But I want to. 

Thankfully she has more self control and leads us back to her table. I stand awkwardly until she rolls her eyes at me and pushes the chair next to her with her feet for me to sit. I scowl at her slightly before meeting the gazes of all the males in her life and I revisit my early thought to perhaps dance with the murderer instead. Her father orders one of the waiters to bring a glass of champagne but I'd rather smoke. Not that this is a place to do so. The silence drowns me as the glass is set in front of me. My hands find the base and I begin to mess with the glass. Now would not be the best time to bring up the case because Jonathan Wadsworth is glaring at me. His brother elbows him slightly and then looks at me with a plastered smile. Jonathan promptly leaves in search of food and I contemplate what would be worse. Trying to follow him or stay. I steal a glance at Audrey-Rose but she has a smile dancing on her face. 

“So Mr. Cresswell, my son has been telling me a bit about you, what is it you do again?” 

“I'm a scientist sir.” His face drops and I look at Audrey Rose. 

“Surely a man of your title would pursue something other than that?”

“Science isn't about titles sir, it's just the pursuit of knowledge. You must want to know how things work, how things are made. I enjoy learning about the body, the world and how it works.” He narrows his eyes slightly and I feel as though I'm on a tightrope; any wrong word and he will push me off. Mr. Wadsworth looks at his daughter for a second before returning his attention back to his son. Once again I steal a glance at Audrey Rose and hers in on her own glass. So her father dislikes her pursuit of science. So he dislikes me too. I try and hide my contemptment and so I tap the table trying to get her attention and she looks up at me and I give her a warm smile, just for her. Only ever for her. She returns the sentiment and all I want to do is envelop her in a hug and tell her it is okay to want to pursue science. 

We remain in silence, I wonder whether I should go back to my own table but I cannot seem to be able to. Jonathan Wadsworth returns, taking a seat beside me. He is silent for some time so I speak before I begin bouncing my leg up and down. 

“Would it be okay for me to attend your school sir?” I look at his face and it reveals nothing. 

“Yes,” I sigh in relief, perhaps if I show my abilities there he will offer me an apprenticeship. I hear Audrey Rose also sigh, but for a different reason. I assume she has had no luck in being able to attend, and all it took was me asking. “On one condition,” Jonathan interrupts my thoughts, “you must stop working for Mr. Douglas.” It's a fair condition, he cannot have someone learning his theories on the crime and have them report back to someone. I consider asking to allow Audrey Rose to join me as my own stipulation but don't want to push my luck. Yet. I will ask in the future.

“Of course.” Tomorrow I shall resign, then make sure I spend lunch with Audrey Rose and discuss helping her attend the school. Not that she needs help, but I'm sure just offering her my assistance and giving her the choice to use it will be beneficial to her.

I return back to my table, albeit very reluctantly, and give some information to Mr. Douglas. I choose to ignore the surprise on his face over the fact I have some, despite me having had it for over a week now. I choose to ignore the look he gives Audrey Rose too. That is until I follow his now frowning gaze to where she is storming out of the room. He goes to stand, as though he could ever help, so I wave a hand at him and casually walk out after her. I find her nearer the edge of the garden, hands running over her arms and tears threatening to spill. 

“Miss. Wadsworth, is everything okay?” Cautiously I stand just behind her, ready to leave her if she asks to be alone; but she lets out a joyless laugh and spins to look at me. 

“Perfect, Mr. Cresswell. I am a woman in this absurd society so I must not dare think about anything remotely masculine. I must not be able to pick who I love but have my father arrange it without informing me.” The words she spits at me bite worse than the cold seeping into my bones. 

“Audrey Ro-”

“Blackburn. He chose Blackburn. He was never nice to me to be my friend, but because of him and my fathers scheming. If he hadn't been he would not have been this nice to me. I know I am not exactly the nicest person and that my interests disgust society but it was nice to have a friend.” She whispers the last part as though it pains her too. It pains me to hear it.

“Am I not your friend Audrey Rose?” The attempt at a joke is abysmal and I curse in my head at how bad I am at interacting with people, especially those I love.

“You are but you're different, you, I don't need to try with you Thomas. I have to try with everyone but you.”  I dare a step towards her and her eyes meet mine. We needn't say a thing for us to understand each other. 

“Wadsworth, I find it easy with you too. More than I even understand. This world is cruel and I wish more than anything to make it better for you, for it to be better in general. I- my father long ago gave up trying to marry me off, deeming me worthless and unable to love, and I still cannot figure out which is worse.” My voice becomes hoarse as I take her gloved hand in mine. “You are worth more to society than they realise, so please keep fighting for your freedom. I will forever remain your friend if that is what you wish to happen, to help you figure this world out.” I'll be more than your friend if you wish that too. I fail to add. Her hand tightens on mine and I fail to breathe properly. 

“Thomas,” she breathes out, it caresses me slightly, her voice smooth and sure, “you are not unlovable, your father is a fool. An utter fool. I want you by my side always, I fear I couldn't do this without you.” Closer she comes, impossible so, and I fear I may have to think about anything menial so I do not kiss her and inevitably ruin this. “What if, what if it was more than friends though?” Her question is hesitant, and my heart stops dead. We may have kissed, may have flirted, but a part of me never considered she reciprocated my feelings. “I- I’m sorry.” She stammers, taking a step back, misjudging my silent shock. I wince and keep her hand in mine. Her own shock widens on her face and I speak before she can beat me to it. 

“Wadsworth I'd like that too.”

There is a second of silence as it sinks in. “You would?” 

“More than anything. I care deeply about you. I shall court you like a proper gentleman if that is what you wish” I return to how we stood seconds ago as she snorts at my statement. 

“You are anything but a gentleman Cresswell.” The smile returns on her face as we both laugh. “It may be my favourite thing about you.” I flash her a devilish smile. 

“I am fully aware, love, that you love the scandalousness of my words. Would you like to go back inside or return home, I am sure I can get us a carriage to share.”

“Us? Thomas you do not live with me.”

“Yet.” I add. She rolls her eyes but does not disagree. “It would be ungentlemanly to let you return home alone; and purly scandalous to be in close quarters with you.” I wink as she retreats from me to where the carriages are. 

“Very well, you may escort me home. From a distance.” She adds with narrowed eyes and I laugh at her implications but follow her nonetheless. I follow her into what seems like a new life, new hopes, ones I never thought possible. Her dress swishes around her, sweeping around her ankles at her light steps. The green gems twinkle against the lamplights, her hair cascading down her back, covering the slight cut of the dress, hiding her skin. Devastating. Utterly captivating. Her footsteps stop as she realizes I have not moved. She turns to face me, brows furrowed. I blink and brush away my thoughts to follow her. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, falling into step with me. 

“Yes of course, I get to leave with the most dazzling woman at the party.” 

We link arms, pay for a carriage and start to head towards Audrey Roses’ house. We sit across from each other, but the carriage is small, and I happen to have quite long legs that are deliberately stretched out to brush against hers. I catch her trying not to stare at me so I nudge her and slowly she looks at me. “I am still watching for that kiss, Wadsworth.”

She blinks and I raise my eyebrows at her new forming blush. She had not listened to what I said at all. “Wadsworth?” I ask and she hums a response shaking her head slightly. 

“Cresswell?”

“My kiss? I am still waiting for it.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion then her eyes widened as she processed the words. I lean forward, even as doubt pricks at my mind that she doesn't want to kiss me and will throw me out of the carriage if I move any closer to her. But she doesn't allow those thoughts to take over me completely as she leans in too and her lips meet mine. Warmth fills me, as we press closer together, my hand holds her knee and tightens as she deepens the kiss slightly. The kiss is gentle, soft and somehow better than the first one. The one before had been rushed, a kiss to convey how much we were thankful neither one of us was hurt. This kiss held promise, one I fully intended to keep. I hold my best friend closely for a second longer before I pull back, I search for any doubt in her eyes but find none. I only find adoration in her bright green eyes, her flushed cheeks and slightly bruised mouth. No regret. No hesitancy. So I press a small kiss on her lips and lean back so we can regain our composure before we leave the carriage. 

“I should save you from boring events more often if it means kissing you like that.” Her answering smile leads me to believe that she'd like that too. 

(i love writing dramatic Thomas)

i am working on the asks sent, i have plans and ideas for them so watch on in the next few weeks for them. i also have a feysand idea that i want to do

tages:  @fangirling-again (thank you for editing)  @city-of-fae  @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black @goatahoan @kittycat2187 @loveyatopluto @goddess-of-writing @yikesitsmaddie @lovecakeandmore @boredbookwormgirl

[fenheart87]

Blue Changes

We had a fun little challenge, we picked a prompt and had 3, 15 minute sprints to write something for the prompt. Then 24 hours for light editing to finish sentences if needed, grammar etc. This is my take on the the prompt "Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are Because you really are." Dedicated to @verfound 🧡

“Marinette, where is my favorite designer at?!” Jagged burst into the studio, Fang trotting happily next to him on her leash and Penny multitasking between her phone call and tablet. Technically he was supposed to be on a plane to New York, but decided to swing by Paris on his way because he had an idea that just could not wait and wanted to check on his unofficial niece anyways. There was only one speed bump in that plan, the studio was completely empty. The chaos of fabric strewn about and pieces half cut with scissors still mid snip definitely screamed someone was working hard or trying to at least, the mannequin with a half-pinned design and ripped fabric seemed to lean toward the latter.

“Looks like she’s not here… Must be taking a break. Penny, why don’t we order from my favorite bakery and make sure something extra special for Marinette. I’m glad we came here before the next stop on tour.” Jagged poked around at the sketches laying in abandon on the desk, some half crumbled on the floor and more stacked on a sketchbook.

“Seems like she is having some massive creators block… We should treat her when we have a break on the tour.” Penny suggested, already on the phone with Tom and trying to insist they would pay for their order.

Some of the sketches were brilliant but had marks of black throughout them, others were completely marked out and you could not even tell what the design was to start with. It hurt to physically see what pain Marinette was going through, most of the ones with the darker markings were of the same style. He could clearly see the thought of Adrien in the suits and matching dresses for Marinette, the anger of the marks showing something had happened or changed. Sighing heavily, Jagged gathered the papers, Fang batting the ones further away with her tail over to her owner. One paper had him blinking in surprise.

“Penn! Pen! Lookie here! D'ya see this?!” jagged shouted, shoving the paper into his assistant’s face, not even minding when she sighed and pushed it to a proper distance. It was a one-of-kind leather jacket and a custom hoodie drawn to match it. Either could be worn seperate or paired together. The colors were a contrast of electric blue and smokey turquoise, the theme was music and snake. Jagged recognized it as a rough sketch due to the lack of color or material notes along the edge that appeared on her finished drafts.

“Why was this crumpled up? It’s a really great idea!” Penny wondered aloud, noticing that the eccentric rockstar she commonly felt like she had to babysit was scheming. “Jagged no, whatever is it the answer is no.”

The door opened and in walked the designer they were looking for, Marinette seemed stressed and a bit run down. Her hair was thrown into a messy bun, one sleeve was pushed higher than the other and her shirt was wrinkled where it was tucked into her pencil skirt. Flip flops clacked along with her steps, another sign she was worn out if the basic shoe was more preferred to her custom made and very comfortable flats. An energy drink dangled from one hand and her design tablet occupied the other. Both guests watched as she made it all the way to her desk without noticing they were there.

“I have no idea what I'm going to do! I don't have anyone that fits that one or the orange one… I could make it a dress but who would wear it?! Ugh! I’m going to fail at this rate and then I won't graduate and I'll never design again, who would want something made by a failure-” Fang chose that moment to nudge her head onto the petite woman’s lap, startling her so bad she screamed and fell out of her chair.

“Well I reckon that I would love to have exclusive rights to all designs made by my favorite niece but we all know that’s not fair to the rest of the world. Now I know you are in a pinch and you’re stuck like a boat in the desert, so you’re going to take a break, spend some time with uncle Jay and make sure that you show poor Fang some love, she was all excited and you just screamed right in her poor face. C’mere my poor baby, Marinette is so mean I know.” Jagged showed the croc in love through pets and scratches. 

“When.. How, why?” Poor Marinette was lost and couldn't believe the rockstar was in her studio when he should've been halfway around the world for the next stop on his tour. 

“Okay, the only thing we’re doing right now is leaving all this behind for a much needed break for food and maybe a nap in your case. Time to relax and stop stressing for a minute." Penny authoritatively stepped in, stacking the papers on the desk, handing Marinette her purse and phone and with the help of Fang scooted the younger woman out the door.

Marinette protested "Wait I need to finish, it has to be done! I can't take a break, I just did!"

"Negative, now it's time for chow, and you need a shower, at your parents then we need to have a little chat. Ladies first!" Jagged gently shoved the designer into the car with cheer, allowing Fang and Penny to enter before him. 

"So my little brilliant niece, we have some great news and a rock and roll deal for you! Can't tell you what is until after you've taken a break though." They grinned as Marinette grumbles as she gave fang the attention she wanted until they pulled up to the bakery.

Getting out of the car first, Marinette sighed at the smell of her parents baking, the smell melting off some stress like butter melting on a fresh from the oven croissant roll. Her stomach grumbled and she opened the door for the other guests, sneaking an excited Fang upstairs to not scare the other customers. Deciding to take a refreshing shower, Marinette went to her bathroom and put on some zen meditation music before getting in the shower. Quick ten minutes later and she was feeling much more alive and hungry. On a whim she grabbed a random outfit that she had made but never worn, pleated plaid skirt with a red checker pattern offset by the off the shoulder fitted top in a burgundy color, and threw it on before joining her guests. 

"Oi looking good! One of yours?" Jagged shouted with his mouth full, causing Penny to smack his arm as a reminder to use manners. 

"Sure is! Never worn it before but decided change can be a good thing and sometimes you have to start the change instead of waiting for it to happen." Grabbing her favorite pastry and a croissant because you can't just smell one and not eat it, she missed the concerned look her adopted guardians shared.

"So your studio was, well, you seem to be having a hard time." Pen tried to be gentle but made a face at her words.

"Yeah… Life is… Changing." Marinette mused, picking at the pastry.

"Marinette, what can Uncle Jay do to help?" Jagged's serious tone drew her gaze and his heart broke at the sight of unshed tears.

"I uhm well. I- That is, we-" With a huff, she calmed down and a look of determination shone on her face. "Adrien asked me out, on a date date in this really elaborate way. I turned him down. I have no idea what I was thinking but when he asked me I was so happy and then all I could think of was blue and how soft its is and it can be so calm or so chaotic and it’s always changing like the ocean but yet it's always the same and there this feeling of calm and I just couldn't say yes."

The quiet settled into a slightly awkward silence, Marinette was ignoring it and Penny was having nonverbal argument with Jagged on what to say next. With an eye roll that spoke louder than her shouting at him, the assistant took the lead once more. Quietly she rose from the chair she was occupying and sat next to the young designer smoothing out the crumpled sketch she had taken from the studio.

"Is this the blue you're talking about?" 

"Yeah… That’s my blue." A gentle smile touched peach lips briefly, blue eyes going soft.

"Is this the skater kid?"

"Skater kid?" Marinette blinked in confusion.

"Nah Pen it's the boat kid."

"He has a name you guys!" Marinette broke down into giggles, looking much more like herself and less like a zombie just waltzing around and going through the motions. "His name is Luka, yes the one who went me skating with Adrien and Kagami, yes the boat kid who has a heart way too big for just his mom and sister. And now me…"

"Sounds like you made a change?" Penny prompted smiling widely.

"A blue one yeah, I did."

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are?" Jagged shouted, picking up the younger woman and swinging her around as she shrieked. 

"Okay Jagged, let's not take over her whole day. We did have a reason to show up here after all." Penny handed the tablet to Marinette after he relinquished his hold. "This is what we're looking at for a surprise concert once we are back here in Paris. There's some issues I'm ironing out but I wanted to see what you think and if you would take lead on the design aspect."

"Wait, lead designer for your show?" Blue bell eyes swiveled between ocean blue and hazel sets, wide with disbelief and building excitement.

"Yup, this tablet is yours by the way. I do ask you to keep just business on it for the show, if you want more traditional sketches that's fine but once it's done it needs to be uploaded on here." Jagged explained, clapping a red clad shoulder.

"Oh you need an opening act? I've got that covered." The sparkle was finally back in her eye to match the mischievous grin.

"I agree with Jagged, are you sure no one has said it before because you really are adorable."

[katymacsupernatural]

The Right Dean

Dean Winchester x Reader

1800 Words

Written For: @teamfreewillbingo

Square Filled: Dean Smith

Summary: Y/N isn’t sure whats going to happen when Dean Smith is dropped into the bunker.

Warnings: slight spoiler mention of Season 15

“Y/N, there’s someone here,” Jack whispered, shaking your shoulder, waking you up. You shot straight up, narrowly missing his forehead with your own as you automatically reached for the gun on the nightstand.

“What? Where?” You asked, trying to force your mind awake. Jack was already tugging on your hand, but you turned to the other side of the bed, instinctively trying to wake Dean. But then you remembered he and Sam had taken off late yesterday. Something about checking to make sure Jody was okay.

“Where’s Cas?” You asked, keeping the gun in your hand as you followed him to the hallway.

“He left. Said he needed to talk to someone,” Jack whispered, pulling you towards room 28, an unoccupied room. You could hear mumbling from behind the thick door, items falling to the ground. “But Y/N, how could someone get in? I thought this place was warded!”

You pulled him to a stop. “Jack, it’s okay. Why don’t you go call Cas, and I’ll see what’s up.” Jack padded off, his socks making little sound on the tile. When he was around the corner, you took a deep breath before shoving the door open.

In your hunter’s stance with the gun cocked in front of you, you strained your eyes to see what was making the noise in the darkened room. Muttered cursing could be heard, in a voice that was eerily familiar.

Your hand shaking slightly, you stepped forward, flipping the light switch on. “Dean!” you exclaimed with relief, looking at the man who lay sprawled on the floor.

As you started to lower the gun, you noticed the black dress pants instead of the faded denim. A sky blue shirt was tucked neatly into the waistband. A blue and yellow tie was knotted tightly around his neck, a pair of fancy suspenders finishing off the outfit. “Suspenders?” You whispered. “Dean, what the hell are you wearing?”

He dusted off his pants, straightened his tie before he stood up. “What do you mean? This is my normal attire for a Monday morning. And who the hell are you?”

If the suspenders weren’t enough to have you concerned, Dean’s lack of memory had you raising the gun again. “You’re not my Dean. So I would be explaining fast before I put a bullet between those green eyes of yours.”

“Your Dean?” He muttered, glancing around. “I am Dean Smith, and I seem to have lost my way. I was on my way to the office. Where am I now?”

“You’re in my home. In Kansas,” You answered, watching him closely as he glanced around the small room. Suddenly he bent over, putting his hands on his knees as he took in deep breaths.

“No...no..what’s happening?” He asked you. “I thought it was weird waking up in this place, and now…,”

Tucking the gun in your waistband, you stepped forward, still wary. But your gut was telling you this man meant no harm. He was lost and needed your help. “Y/N, I wonder if this is a Dean from another world. Like those last ones,” Jack spoke up from behind you, making you jump.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed. “Hey, Dean..what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I remember going to sleep last night,” he thought carefully. “Had a really strange dream. There was this guy Chuck. He said he was killing off worlds? He handed me this drink, and then I woke up here.”

You turned to Jack, completely ignoring the new Dean for a moment. “Chuck wanted him here? Why?”

“I just want to go to work,” this Dean complained. “I’m up for a promotion, and this stress is seriously throwing off this whole vibe I was working on.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Listen, why don’t you come sit down in our Library, and we’ll see if we can figure something out.”

He followed you down the hallway, past your room, and into the library. “Wow, this is a crazy place you call home,” he exclaimed as he sat down at one of the wooden tables. “And you said earlier, your Dean. What do you mean?”

“I know this is confusing, but that guy Chuck? He’s God. He had created multiple worlds, but now he’s throwing a bitch fit, and killing them off. One by one,”

“My world..,” This Dean seemed shocked. “It’s gone?”

“Probably,” you answered, feeling sorry for the man.

“So, this is another world, and you have your own...Dean. What’s he do for a living?”

You weren’t sure if this version of Dean could handle the truth, but you were tired and in no mood to come up with a lie. Especially while in the bunker, surrounded by the Supernatural. “He hunts Monsters.”

Dean’s eyes grew huge as he almost tipped the chair over. “No freaking way! I knew there were ghosts, but wow.”

“You...you knew?” You shouldn’t have been surprised. This man continued to surprise you at every turn.

“Of course. Actually killed one last year. With this giant of a man named Sam. Now we’re pretty good friends.”

“Y/N, Cas called. He’s on his way back and so are Sam and Dean.” Jack announced before yawning.

“Jack, go get some sleep. Dean and I will be...fine,” you assured the young man who didn’t argue too much. He turned back down the hallway, leaving you alone with this strange version of the man you loved.

“Y/N,” he said your name as if he could taste it on his lips. “I knew a Y/N once, but she was nothing like you. She was all bite. She cared more about her own appearance than anything else. I was glad when she was moved to the Detroit branch. Even if we did have a couple of fun late nights threw in.”

It was easy to see what he meant by the late nights by the look on his face. Scooting his chair closer, his hand rested next to yours. “So you and this Dean...are you a thing, or...,?”

“We’re definitely a thing!” Dean growled from the top of the stairs. His hands clenched the iron railing while Sam tried to push past him. “Now get your slimy hand away…,”

“Dean, this is Dean Smith,” you tried calming him down as you scooted away. “He’s from one of the collapsing worlds.”

“I remember a Dean Smith,” Sam muttered as he bounded down the stairs. “Dean, remember? The alternate reality that the freaking Angels put us in? The stupid suits…,”

“Hey, I happen to like my suits,” Dean Smith interrupted. “And it cost me more than all of your outfits. Combined.”

“Don’t care,” Dean grumbled, coming to stand beside you. “But yeah, I remember that. Think it was actually one of Chuck’s worlds or…?”

“I think this guy answers our question,” Sam insisted. “But where’s Sam?”

Dean Smith shook his head sadly. “If everything is true, probably blown to bits by now.”

“Great. Another version of me to throw into this world,” Dean mumbled under his breath, his hand resting possessively against your lower back.

“Throw into this world?”

You had to feel sorry for the guy. Everything he had known, everyone he loved. Gone. “Listen, it would be really weird to have you here. But with your...office experience...you could get pretty much any job here. You’ll do just fine.”

“So, I get here, and you just toss me out to the wolves?” He pouted, staring directly at you which seemed to annoy your Dean even more. You liked seeing this possessive side of Dean, but it wasn’t helping this Dean at all.

“You can stay for a while,” you assured him, feeling Dean’s hand clench against your back. “But yeah, I think it would be better if you tried to find your way. Soon.”

He glanced between you and Dean, sighing heavily. “I’ll be gone tomorrow. As long as you’ll give me a lift?”

“Done,” your Dean agreed. “Now I’m gonna catch a couple of z’s before the sun comes up.”

Dean started to head down the hallway, but you hesitated. “Go on, I’ll be right there,” you assured him. “Just gonna get this guy settled.”

Dean narrowed his eyes but knew better than to say anything. “So, he always like that?” Dean Smith asked.

“Especially when someone is invading his territory. But come on, let’s get you to bed for the night.”

You turned to head down the hallway, but Dean grabbed your hand, turning you around. “Listen, I get it. But I envy the man.”

“You do?” You couldn’t help but notice how close he was. He smelled of expensive aftershave and mint, so unlike your Dean. It was offsetting.

“Yeah, if there had been a girl like you back in that world,” he spoke softly. “I would have done everything in my power to stay with her.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone here,” you offered, moving to the side when his hand went to brush your cheek.

“Maybe,” he agreed, refusing to take his eyes off you. You knew at any moment Dean could come out of his room, and things wouldn’t be pretty. “But why does this guy get everything, huh? This cool place to live, hell a world that isn’t dying around him. And then there’s you.”

“You don’t know me,” you argued. “True, but I think we clicked the moment you opened that door,” he started to argue, but you had enough.

“Listen, maybe on your world. But here, I belong with my Dean. The Dean that sleeps with a gun under his pillow. The Dean that drives that sexy black beast of his, who would do anything in the world to make sure the people he loves are safe. So thanks for the offer, but if you can’t understand this, then you better…,”

He threw up his hands. “No, no, I get it. It’s just been a long day, and I’m the only one left from my world. Makes a guy think. That’s all.”

“You can sleep in here,” you told him, pointing to the room you had first seen him. “Then tomorrow we can take you into town. You can get a bus ride to one of the bigger cities. You’ll be fine.”

He nodded, even though he didn’t seem assured. Shutting the door behind him, you turned to see your Dean leaning against the door that led to your shared room. “He hit on you?”

“Yeah,” you answered, holding your hand up when he started to move forward. “But I handled it.”

“I heard you,” he admitted, pulling you against him, his arms wrapped around your waist. “You sure? That version of me will probably have a mansion before we could blink. You don’t want that kind of life?”

“Hell no,” You insisted. “My five-star life is right here. Living in this bunker, knowing that I’ll fall asleep tonight with your arms wrapped around me.”

“Damn straight,” he agreed, pulling you into the room, and all thoughts of the other Dean fled from your mind.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie​ @mlovesstories​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​  @mrspeacem1nusone​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @ria132love @ruprecht0420​     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @ruprecht0420​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul​ @alexwinchester23​ @algud​ @amanda-teaches​ @andreaaalove​   @artisticpoet​ @atc74​ @be-amaziing​ @camelotandastronauts​ @caswinchester2000​ @cpag7​ @chelsea072498​  @closetspngirl​   @docharleythegeekqueen​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ericaprice2008​  @esoltis280​   @foxyjwls007​ @gh0stgurl​ @goldenolaf25​ @growningupgeek​  @heyitscam99​ @hobby27​ @horsegirly99​ @imsuperawkward​ @internationalmusicteacher​ @iwriteaboutdean​  @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @maui137 @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​ @plaid-lover-bay25​   @roonyxx​ @ronja-uebrick​ @roxyspearing​ @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee​ @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @vvinch3st3r​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

[thewildomega]

Second Chance Ch. 16

They had been in the middle of cutting down the last few trees when a sharp pain hit his chest. Standing up straight he held his chest and closed his eyes. The pain soon eased off enough that it was bearable but when he opened his eyes he saw his sons all looking to him with concern. Something felt off. More so than the time when Y/n had been in trouble before. Something was wrong.

"Po..."

"We have to get home, now." he told then and saw then all nod before moving to pack up everything. Calling over cain they quickly hooked him up to the trailer that held the logs they had managed to cut down. Helping to quickly grab all of their things he tossed the bag on his back and started walking back towards the direction his home was in. It took them a little over three hours to make it back to the village. As he came across the hill and looked towards his home he saw the lights off. It wasn't late enough for her to be in bed. That clenching had not went away the entire walk home and the longer it took the more anxious he was to hold her in his arms again. He hadn't said much to his sons on the way and so none of them questioned it when he started walking a little faster. Quickly opening the door to their home he was hit by a delicious smell. Walking towards the kitchen he turned on the lights and saw a pot on the stove along with a pan full of her homemade rolls. She had cooked him supper, the supper he had asked for. Looking down the counter he even saw a pie of some sorts sitting there, apple pecan by the smell of it. So she had been well enough to cook then what was the problem?

Glancing to the table he saw papers, a roll of yarn that had been started into something on the needles and a few other minor things like two glasses of half drunk water. Stepping over to the table he looked over the papers to see lists of things for their wedding, things left to do and such. With only three days until their wedding there wasn't much left, they both had wanted a very simple event, Izo and Zella were taking care of most of it. Offsetting his jaw he walked towards their bedroom, looking for his soulmate. Not seeing her in the bed he glanced to the bathroom door that was open with the lights off. "Darlin' I'm home." he called but heard no response. "Y/n, lass?" Moving to look into the room anyways he saw it too empty. Something wasn't right. Going to walk out of their bedroom he saw her boots and coat gone. Why would she need her coat, the weather here wasn't even cold. "Y/n?!" he yelled out one last time. Searching the other bathroom and then the living room again he quickly walked outside, perhaps she was with Zella or maybe she had went for a walk. Seeing his clothes on the line he knit his brows further. 

"Pops!"

Snapping his eyes to Vista as the man came hurrying out of Marco's house he saw his son's face serious. "What is it?"

"You are going to want to hear this." Vista told him. 

Seeing the man hurry back into Marco's home he walked over and kneeled down so he could look fully into the smaller home. Hearing crying he quickly scanned over the room and caught sight of Zella sitting on the couch with Marco sitting beside her, one of his hands on her shoulder as she cried. 

"Zel, Zella honey tell me again what happened." 

"H..he told her all those horrible things..." Zella sobbed. 

"Who did?" Marco asked.

"Y..your father."

"That's not possible, we just got back and Pops has been with us the whole time." Jozu said with a shake of his head. 

Confused he looked to the woman. "What's..." he went to ask but saw Marco hold up his finger to him, asking for a moment.

"Zel honey what did he say, you said Pops said horrible things to Y/n, what did he say? Start from the beginning." Marco asked in a calm voice. 

Taking a deep breath Zella looked up to her husband's eyes. "She went outside to hang up the laundry. When I went outside to help her Pops was already there, he looked so...cold. He told her that they weren't getting married, that they never were. When she asked why, what she had done wrong he told her that he didn't love her..."

Feeling his heart hammer against his chest he breathed heavily and shook his head. "That wasn't me, I would never say..."

"Pops, let's hear the rest of it. Then we can better figure this out." Izo said in a reassuring voice, he knew his father was upset but he had to stay reasonable.

Panting he looked back to the woman, silently telling her to continue. He didn't want to lose his patience with his daughter or make her more upset than she already seemed to be but he was desperate to find out what was going on. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath Zella continued looking to her husband, "She thought he was joking at first, at least she probably hopped he was but he told her that he didn't and he never had. When y/n asked why he had told her as such in the first place if he never meant it he told her it was for amusement but it didn't matter because he didn't want her, not as a wife or in his life or apart of his family." Zella told them and then sniffled. Swallowing thickly she felt tears roll down her cheeks. "She was crying, begging him not to. She said he promised her..."

He had, he had promised her he would never hurt her, that he would never leave her or make her feel unwanted. Hearing Zella say she had been crying, begging him made his heart hurt even worse than it already did. 

"Did you say anything?" Jozu asked a little gruff. 

"I tried to, I did but he said that it didn't concern me." Zella told them with teary eyes.

"What else happened Zel?" Marco asked, rubbing her arm. 

"He... he called her pathetic... told her that no one would ever want her..."

Shaking his head he swallowed thickly. "Where is she now? Where is Y/n?" 

Looking to the huge man she sniffed again. "She left, you told her to leave. You said you wanted her gone by the time you got back."

"It wasn't me. That wasn't me." he grit out. 

"It was! You looked the same as you do now. Everything was the same." Zella cried. 

"You said by the time he got back Zella, where did this man that looked like pops go? Do you remember?" Izo asked. 

"To...towards town I think, I... I don't know for sure I was trying to comfort y/n." Rubbing her eyes she pulled out Y/n's phone, "She told me to give this to all of you, she said she knew you all liked it." 

"What else did Y/n do before she left Zel?" Marco questioned. 

"She went and changed, she put on her clothes she had came here with. Then she told me thank you fo..for being her friend and she..." Sobbing out she licked her lips, "She apologized for bothering us. I told her she hadn't, I told her she didn't bother any of us. I tried to get her to stay but she wouldn't, she was so heartbroken." 

It felt like someone was driving a knife through his heart. Whoever this imposter was, they had hurt the woman he loved, told her awful things, things she had been terrified of hearing from him. It was like this man had made all her worst fears come true and the worst part was he had used his face to do it. Y/n was out there somewhere and as far as she knew the only person she had ever opened her heart to had just stabbed her in the back. It felt like his own heart was going to beat out of his chest, he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. "Which way did she go Zella?"

"Towards town."

"When did she leave?" Vista asked. 

"Almost four hours ago." 

Without another word he was standing and marching towards town. Searching everywhere he could think of he came up empty handed. He tried letting his heart lead his way to her like it had so many times before but all he could feel was pain, no doubt the pain she was feeling. Telling his sons to ask everyone on the island if they had seen her he started walking towards the shore, knowing she enjoyed the water. Looking this way and that he used his haki but felt nothing. "Y/n?!" he yelled as loud as he could. Walking along the cliff edge he stopped short when he saw something laying in the grass. Bending down he picked it up and quickly recognized it as her notebook. Blinking he looked back up and moved over to the edge. Searching the dark water he prayed she hadn't done what he feared most. Stepping along the hill he stopped when he saw some of the grass and soil messed up. Those were made from a walkboard. A ship had been here. Breathing heavily he heard his sons yelling his name and turned. 

"POPS!" 

It was Izo. "Did you find her?" he asked, his voice hopeful. 

"No but we found something else. When we were asking around the innkeeper made the comment about how he hadn't seen Y/n but you had came in earlier and demanded he let your friend stay the night for free. He agreed of course and this strange man had come in not too longer later and claimed to be your said friend. He said the man had been drinking and when I asked if he was still in his room he said he was. Marco and Jozu are there with him now or should I say you." 

Gritting his teeth he held Y/n's notebook in his hand and marched towards the Inn. Seeing Jozu fighting with the replica of himself he growled and hurried over to grab the man as Jozu landed a punch to his jaw. Wrapping his hand around the man's throat he held him still and bored into his own eyes. The clone instantly went wide eyed, his eyes filling with fear. "You have three seconds to tell me who the hell you are and where my woman is!" When he didn't speak instantly he added more pressure until the man was choking and gasping for air. 

"I..I'm nobody.... I swear I was just doing what that woman paid me to do, it was a job." 

Feeling the man shrink down he held him up as he turned to what he assumed was his real self. The man was a scrawny little punk with short brown hair and a deep scar over his face. Refusing to release him he stared down at him. "What woman? What job?!" Growing irritated when the man didn't talk he grit his teeth. "Speak or I will pop your head clean off your body!"

"Ah No! I don't know her name. Old bag, blond hair, short thing. Real bitch."

Bakkin. "What did she pay you to do?"

"She told me she would give me five thousand berries if I came to this island and turned into you. She said all I had to do was break it off with that broad. She wrote everything out, all of it. She wanted me to break her heart, tell her to leave and then that was it, that's all I had to do. I left after that. I swear I didn't do anything to her other than that, I don't know where she went. That lady told me to wait here until she sent the rest of the payment."

Growling he felt his blood boil. Tossing the man to Jozu he told his son to lock him up. When the man started protesting and begging for his life he cut his eyes back to him. "You think you can get away with ruining people's lives? You hurt the woman I love and if something has happened to her you can best believe I will start my revenge out on you." he grit out through his teeth. Turning on heel he took only two steps before he heard the sound of a den den ringing. 

"purururu...purururu...purururu"

Looking back over his shoulder he narrowed his eyes before he walked over and reached into the man's pocket to pull out the denden. 

"That's her."

Gritting his teeth he held the thing in his palm as he answered the call. 

"Click.."

"Well is it done?"

Saying nothing he saw Jozu slap his hand over the majority of the man's face when he went to speak.

"Hmmm judging by the silence I will take it the imbecile has been caught. So with that I will assume I am speaking to you Newgate." "I was surprised to see you still alive the other day, and back in that young body at that..."

"Where is she?" he growled, his fist tightening at his side when he heard the woman begin laughing. 

"She is out of the picture, I'm sure that bird of yours told you all about how I have been getting rid of your false family. It only makes sense that your little whore would go as well." 

"Bakkin..." he snarled. 

"I warned you and your boys, I told them if your treasure wasn't handed off to your rightful heir then I would take away the things your cared about most."

"That oaf of yours is not my son!" There was a long silence before she spoke again. 

"Be careful what you say Newgate, my Edward will likely be the only legacy you ever leave behind."

He could feel the veins in his forehead popping out, "I will ask you once more Bakkin. Where is my woman?"

"Your woman?!" She chuckled. "There was no marriage, she is not yours and she never will be. Not unless you use that fortune of yours to buy her, but then again you don't support slavery do you Newgate? Pity, don't worry though I am sure there is someone that will be willing to pay the price for a pretty thing like her. I wonder what she will be used for, labor or pleasure?"

He listened to her cackle before the call disconnected. His teeth were clenched so tightly together he was sure he heard one of them crack. Panting he felt everyone's eyes on him but said nothing as he turned on heel and marched back to his home. Slamming the door open he grabbed a bag and started shoving things inside. Grabbing the shirt Y/n wore as a nightshirt he stuffed it inside. 

"Pops..." Marco called out but his father wouldn't look to him. Watching him walk to the bathroom to grab things he took a deep breath. "You know we can't leave yet, we can't man the ship with just the five of us."

Sighing he closed his eyes, he knew his son was right. The whaleship was a large ship. "How long until everyone else gets here?" 

"Two days." 

Rubbing his face he felt his heart sink. Two days until the rest of his sons arrived, that means by the time they set out Y/n would be even further from his reach. By that time she could already be sold or worse.  

Seeing his father's pain he sighed, "We'll get her back Pops."

"We said we were going to get Ace back as well but you know how that turned out." 

"Don't do that. Ace was saved, he was freed and then he used his freedom to save is brother." Marco spoke in a serious voice. It was unusual for the old man to remain silent but he understood why. As a soon to be father and husband himself he could never imagine losing Zella or his child, knowing he he failed them. Walking closer the the massive man he took the bag from him and set it on the dresser for now. "We will get her back Pops, I promise." Seeing two tired, sad yellow eyes look to him he took out Y/n's phone and pushed it into his large hand, "Get some rest, I'll get everything ready and as soon as the others get here we'll be ready to go." 

Feeling Marco pat his arm before he left he listened to the door shut, leaving him in the home alone. Lifting his eyes to the room he looked over this and that, his heart growing heavier and heavier. It was funny, when he had built this house he had never planned on sharing it with anyone but now as he walked through the home he knew he would not be able to live in it alone ever again. Everywhere he looked he was reminded of her, from the couch where she had slept for the longest time, never taking his offer for the bed. The kitchen where he had watched her cook or clean while dancing and humming along to one of the songs on her headphones when she thought no one was watching. The dining room table where they set together, talking and laughing over meals. Looking down he realized he had been making two bowls of stew, a habit now.

Eating only because he wanted to keep his strength up and knowing his lass hated wasted food he placed everything up in the fridge. The meal he has asked for was flavourless in his mouth, he wouldn't even try her pie. Taking a shower he stood under the hot water for the longest time, long after it had turned cold. Once he had walked out of the bathroom and across the room to their bed he stared up at the ceiling, the ache in his heart making it impossible for him to sleep. Rolling over he grabbed her pillow and brought it to his nose, desperate to smell her sweet scent again. Looking out the window into the night sky he let out a long sigh, "I love you lass."

Those two days seemed to take years, for two days he was stuck unable to do anything. Marco had spoke to Shanks, asking for his aid in keeping an eye and ear out for any slave auctions. He had never liked asking for help but if it meant having his soulmate back in his arms he could care less. Hell he'd probably ask Garp for help if he knew he would be able to. As soon as his other sons arrived on the island he had left Marco and the others to explain to the wide eyes, mouth agape crew. Tossing his bag to Jozu he quickly gave the command for them all to go get the ship ready for sail, he had one more stop to make before they left. Walking up the hill he stepped up and pulled down the large white jacket. Grabbing hold of Murakumogiri he pulled it out of the stone with ease. Looking out across the sea he rose his chin, "I'm comin' for ya darlin'."

.......................................

Curling up on the cold, hard floor you heard as your chains rattled, the heavy things rubbing the skin of your wrists, ankles and neck raw. Staring at the same spot on the wall you had been for however long you had been down here you sighed, wincing when your ribs shot with pain. Your whole body was sore and weak feeling from hunger, something you never imagined you would feel again. Since you had been taken you hadn't ate at all and you were only given water twice a day. Your throat was so dry it felt like you were swallowing needles every time you breathed. Hearing one of the men come down the stairs you just ignored them, having gave up asking questions days ago. There was no point anyway, there was no point in anything anymore. Your life was meaningless. You had no home, no money, no friends or family. The man you loved more than anything, the man you had been just days away from marrying no longer wanted you. He never did. None of it had been real or at least not for him. While he had been your everything you on the other hand were nothing to him. You really shouldn't have been surprised, you knew it was too good to be true. Why would he have ever wanted someone like you? 

Still you couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was something you could have done to make him want you. Maybe if you would have made yourself pleasing to the eye. Perhaps you had been too slow when it came to physical contact. You hadn't had any experience before and so you didn't much know what to do but maybe that was something you had failed at. Or maybe it wasn't any of that, maybe it was just you in general. That was a more likely reason, afterall not even your own parents wanted you. Maybe there was just something wrong with you. 

Sniffling, there were no tears left to fall from your eyes, all of the liquid in your body used up. Feeling the ship rock and sway with the waters of the sea you closed your eyes. This hadn't been what you had in mind when you wrote ride on a ship in your bucket list. From what you had been able to gather this was some sort of pirate ship that specialized in taking people to be sold as slaves. The captain of the ship, the man that had taken you who's name you still didn't know had told you that a big man with long blond hair had told them where they could find you. Apparently he thought you would go for a high price. Everyday he had been coming down to try and get as much information out of you a possible, apparently being able to up your price if he knew more about you. To his annoyance though you had refused to say a word, even when he would turn to causing you pain. It made your heart clench even more when you thought of Ed giving you over to these monsters to be sold. Had he really hated you that much? 

"No! No Let me go! I want my mommy!" 

Hearing the sound of a child screaming you turned over some and watched as one of the men brought down something, the light from above filing the dark space. Knitting your brows you saw the man open the cell door before throwing what looked to be a small child into the cell with you. The little girl, you guessed from the way she was dressed and her longish hair instantly stood and tried to run towards the door as she cried to be set free. Noticing the man go to push her back and then let out a yell when the little girl bit him you quickly tensed when he pulled out a wooden bat of sorts and raised it above his head. "No!" yelling out even when your voice broke you hurried forward to stop him from hitting the girl. 

"Get back!" 

Grabbing the bat you were busy trying to fight him off when heavy footsteps came down the stairs. Before you knew it you were being attacked by none other than the captain who was a little bigger than you. Stumbling back when you were hit in the cheek with his fist you tripped on your chains and fell to your ass. There was no time to do anything, no time to react before he was hitting you with the bat. Crying out you turned to your side and covered your head as much as possible. When you thought it wouldn't end it finally did and he walked back over to the door. 

"You see what happens when you try and cause trouble?!" he yelled and saw the girl they had just got nod vigiorlessly. Grabbing her he threw her inside the cell and slammed the door. If I hear one sound from either of you I will beat the both of you senseless." he warned before he walked back up the stairs. 

Trembling in agony you tried to move into a more comfortable position but everything seemed to hurt. Deciding on your side you dropped your head to the floor and tried to open your eyes but could only see out of one of them, the other one swollen shut or so it felt. Breathing was more difficult now as well making you assume your ribs were cracked or broken. 

"I..I'm sorry." 

Hearing the small voice you tilted your head some to see the little girl now kneeling in front of you. She was a cute little thing, a bit dirty but there was a small bow hanging from her loose hair that matched her dress. Tears rolled from her eyes and her lip trembled as she looked down at you. Swallowing to try and get some kind of moisture into your mouth you forced the best smile you could. "Don't be." 

"But y...you got hurt... because of me." she whimpered.

"It's okay, I'll be fine." you told her. When she only looked down and you noticed the little drops falling from her chin you took a shaky breath. "Wh..what's your name?" you asked, your voice cracking a bit. 

"Enola." she sniffled. 

"That's a pretty name." 

"What's your name?"

"Y/n."

"Are we... am I going to be a slave?" 

Seeing the true fear in her eyes you swallowed again. "I don't know." you answered honestly but regretted it when she started crying more. 

"I want to go home. I want my mommy and daddy." 

Watching the little girl cry made your heart throb and you pushed over your trembling hand to rub her back, trying to comfort her the best you could. After a little while you had managed to coax her into laying down to try and sleep. 

Balling up she wrapped her arms around her small frame and shook. "Is it always this c..cold?" 

Hearing her teeth chattering you looked to the thin sleeveless dress she had on and furrowed your brows. Rolling to your front you painfully pushed your way up into a sitting position. Shrugging off your coat you got it down to your wrists before it was stopped by the cuffs and chains. Wiggling the thing under you you placed your foot against the coat and pulled, filling the small room with a ripping sound. Tossing it over her small frame you noticed it was about the size of a normal blanket on her and grinned slightly. Laying back down beside her you gave her a weak smile. "Better?" seeing her nod you hummed, "Good. Try and sleep okay."

"What if those bad men come down again?"

"I won't let them hurt you." 

"Thank you." 

Nodding your head slightly you saw her tiny eyes close and tried to take in a deep breath. With no coat, no shirt and no shoes, thanks to one of the men saying they looked to be about his size, you were now freezing. But you had suffered the cold before and it was better you than her. Moving your hands to your neck you felt the necklace that Ed had made you and felt the knot in your throat grow, felt that constant pain in your heart worsen. Tightening yoru hold on it you felt a single tear roll over the bridge of your nose as you tried to imagine you were back in his arms once again. 

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Silmarillion as a TV/Netflix Show (Part 5)

Season 5 centres on Túrin, Tuor, and Dior - and, later, Elwing and Eärendil. The last two seasons have looked hopeful for a while but ended on tragic notes (the Bragollach and the Nirnaeth); this season is going to flip things by being almost unremittingly tragic but ending on a hopeful note.

There are a few key things to do here:

1) Draw out parallels and common threads between our main characters. At first I wanted to shift the timeline a little and have key events in Túrin and Tuor’s lives happening at the same time: Túrin as outlaw, Tuor as thrall and then outlaw; Túrin in Nargothrond, Tuor in Gondolin; Túrin and Finduilas, Tuor and Idril. But it felt like there were too many big events happening simultaneously, and it was hard to fit them all in. Still, the parallels between the cousins are present.

Dior needs more characterization in order to be able to hold his own, narratively speaking; we have very little on him in canon.

2) The Fëanorians will be very important in the last few episodes of the season, so they need to be worked into the storyline of at least some of the earlier episodes to keep them in view. I’m going to go with them being based on Amon Ereb for this period; it fits some of Tolkien’s versions, and having them in Ossiriand at the same time as Beren and Lúthien and Dior would feel like a massive Chekhov’s Gun that is never fired.

So, with that in mind:

Episode 1: Túrin is going to take centre stage here, with the episode covering everything from his departure from Hithlum up to the death of Saeros and Túrin’s departure from Doriath. (And the episode will start with the Words of Húrin and Morgoth.) There will also be a few scenes from Tuor’s and Dior’s childhoods, which were comparatively more stable. Since Beren and Lúthien had such a large part in the last season it will be nice to see their experiences of parenthood. Lúthien, never having met mortal children, will be shocked at how fast Dior grows up. (He definitely ages on a Mannish scale - he’s married at 22, a king at 27, and dead at 30.)

Near the beginning, the episode will also include a scene where the Fëanorians attempt to invade Doriath and are turned back by the Girdle of Melian. It doesn’t function as a direct, physical barrier; it causes confusion and disorientation and strange visions and a loss of sense of direction, and you look around and find you’ve ended up outside Doriath again. This eerie, hallucinatory quality fits Melian’s background as a Maia of Lórien, Master of Dreams. (And hey, if you can work some subtle prophetic/ominous foreshadowing into the visions, all the better!) The purpose of the scene is to show that the Fëanorian’s aren’t idle; they do want pursue the Silmaril, but for the moment it is beyond their reach. The brothers will have varying levels of enthusiasm about the plan, with Celegorm and Curufin being the ringleaders.

Episode 2: Heavily focuses on Túrin’s time as an outlaw, from his first meeting with the bandits through to Dor-Cúarthol, the fall of Amon Rudh, and the death of Beleg. This is a lot of material - joining the bandits, becoming their leader, the first meeting with Beleg, finding Mîm and Amon Rudh, Dór-Cuarthol, and the fall of Amon Rudh and the death of Beleg. There may be a need to streamline it, with Beleg only finding the outlaws once they are at Amon Rudh, and staying with them then.

There’s a lot of good characters here, and a lot of good personality confllicts - it’s practically a short movie in itself. Particular care needs to be taken with Mîm, who cannot be allowed to become a caricature.

This episode introduces Anglachel, so it would be good to have a short Gondolin scene with Maeglin (bearer of Anguirel) to establish the symmetry. And also to keep Gondolin in the viewers’ minds. A short scene in Nargothrond showing their reaction to Dór-Cúarthol (positive: it is or was their realm, and he’s doing more to defend it that they are) will set up later events,

Episode 3: The focus splits between Túrin in Nargothrond - particularly his relationships with Gwindor and Finduilas, and his growing prominence, with him becoming de-facto in charge at the end of the episode - and Tuor as a thrall and later outlaw. Tuor’s personality really comes to the fore here: he’s patient, and steady, and kind. He puts up with considerable abuse an a thrall, escapes when there’s an opportune moment, and can’t be effectively pursued because he’s made friends with all of his captor’s hounds. (I especially like that last fact.) The episode ends with him leaving Dor-lómin by the Gate of the Noldor.

This is also a good time to build up the romance between Dior and Nimloth. Nimloth must be Laiquendi, as those are the only other people Beren and Lúthien would meet in Ossiriand; I rather like the idea of them being childhood friends, to offset some of the more love-at-first-sight romances. Dior is now in his late teens and - this is important - very, very good-looking, even by elf standards. He’s also very interested in his Doriathrin heritage, and asking his parents a lot of questions about his grandparents; that sets up his determination to be Eluchíl later on.

Episode 4: Tuor’s meeting with Ulmo and his coming to Gondolin, the Fall of Nargothond, and Túrin in Dórlomin. The fall of Nargothrond and deaths of Gwindor and Finduilas form a nice counterpoint/contrast with Tuor’s meetings with Voronwë and Idril and his arrival at Gondolin. Túrin’s impulsive actions in Dor-lómin contrast with Tuor’s approach in the prior episode as well.

Episode 5: Focus is on Túrin’s story. Journey of Morwen and Nienor to Nargothrond and its consequences, and Túrin in Brethil, through to his slaying of Glaurung and his and Nienor’s deaths.

For extra bonus irony points, parallel the wedding of Túrin and Níniel with the weddings of Idril and Tuor and of Dior and Nimloth.

Episode 6: Wanderings of Húrin through to the Sack of Doriath and Beren and Dior’s fight with the dwarf-army. (Dior isn’t mentioned as being part of this fight in the Silm, but it’s an excellent moment to include him here.) The Fëanorians reenter the scene, attempting to intercept the dwarf army carrying the Silmaril, but arriving too late. This is the best chance they’ve had st recovering a Silmaril yet - they’re not going to ignore it.

The line “while Lúthien held the Silmaril no elf would dare assail her” is typically read as it just being something no one would consider on a moral level - and that’s a valid reading - but I like the idea that the Fëanorians aren’t going after her because they’re freaking terrified of her. This is the woman who defeated Morgoth single-handedly! Holding one of the most powerful artifacts ever created! Who knows what she could do! (The Fëanorians absolutely make concessions to practicality when it comes to the Oath - otherwise they would have attacked Angband sometime in the 400 years of the Siege, or after the Nirnaeth as a way to die pursuing their oath in a decent way rather than slaughtering kin. It’s only the final attack by Maedhros and Maglor after the War of Wrath that they attempt in the face of impossibility, and by that time I think suicide-by-Valarin-army makes up a solid portion of their motivation.)

Episode 7: The refounding of Doriath, the Second Kinslaying, and the capture and treachery of Maeglin. Broad theme of the episode being Bad Elvish Behaviour all round, with elves doing Morgoth’s work either directly (Maeglin) or on their own initiative (the Fëanorians).

My idea on the refounding of Doriath, and on Dior’s title of Eluchíl (Thingol’s Heir) is that this quickly and breifly becomes the core of Elvendom in Beleriand. Dior, as Lúthuen’s son and Melian’s grandson, likely has some degree of ‘magical’ power beyond what is usual for elves. Not enough to reestablish the Girdle of Melian, but enough to provide some general deterrance against evil forces. Doriath is also, for the first time, open to all the other free peoples of Beleriand, and is the only true realm remaining aside from secret and mysterious Gondolin. Not only do the Doriathrin Sindar and some of the Laiquendi and the northern grey-elves unite around Doriath, various Noldor, remants of lost realms and destroyed armies, join them. Dior is becoming in truth what Thingol claimed to be: King of Beleriand. All the more so when the Silmaril comes to him and Doriath blossoms like a memory of Valinor in the Ages of the Trees.

And this would fit with why the Fëanorians would regard Dior as ‘proud’, this would offend them more than anything, because what he’s achieving is exactly Fëanor once boasted that he would achieve, long ago in Tirion. This would fit with the sheer visciousness of the Second Kinslaying, with the abandonment of Dior’s young sons in the forest. Celegorm’s people aren’t even thinking in terms of hostages; they just want to destroy Dior’s entire family line, because his existence, his kingship, what he’s achieved are such an affront.

But Elwing escapes, and the Silmaril is still out of their hands.

(The attack is at Yule, whuch sets up a strong and deliberate parallel - Morgoth’s earlier attacks on the Lamps and the Trees were also at times of festival/celebration, so the Fëanorians’ actions are being deliberately equated with his.)

Episode 8: The Fall of Gondolin. This is your absolutely epic big battle scene. Balrogs! Dragons! Eagles! Maeglin acting like a cackling B-movie villain! (I have not read The Fall of Gondolin, but I’ve hear that Idril swordfights Maeglin in it, and this absolutely needs to happen.) Ecthelion kills a Gothmog! Glorfindel kills a balrog! It’s tragic, but it’s also extremely exciting television (unlike the kinslaying the previous week, which was mostly just really depressing and horrific.)

The episode ends with the survivors of Gondolin making their way to Sirion, where the survivors of Doriath have already settled. I think that the survivors of Nargothrond should also be there, to keep things simple and allow for some extra drama.

Episode 9: This one starts with a timeskip, so we can have adult Eärendil and Elwing. The episode is a quieter one, mainky setup for later events: the departure of Tuor and Idril, the marriage of Eärendil and Elwing, the birth of the twins, and Eärendil’s departure to seek the aid of the Valar. The voyage of Eärendil is dramatic and can take up some of the episode.

Episode 10: The Third Kinslaying, the destruction of the Fëanorian base on Amon Ereb, the voyage of Eärendil and Elwing to Valinor, and the Valar’s decision to go to war. The nain reason I wanted the Nargothrondim in Sirion is so that we can get Celebrimbor fighting against the Fëanorian forces here, because that just increases the level of emotional drama. The whole thing’s a traumatic mess. Fëanoruan solidiers throwing down their swords and surrendering. Fëanorian soldiers switching sides to defend the people of Sirion. It’s hard to overstate how teagic this is - here is almost the last remnant of elves in Beleriand, and they are being destroyed not by Morgoth (from whom they would be protected by Ulmo’s waters), but by their own people.

But at the end of the episode, Valinor is marshalling for war, and things are finally. finally, looking like they could get better.

[giftedclairvoyance]

Lorraine/Ed (gift for you)

She is surrounded by darkness.

Lorraine blinks, and tries to get her eyes to focus, but the pitch black remains. Her muscles feel cramped, and when she tries to extend her legs, her feet hit something metal with a reverberating clanging noise. She tries to raise a hand in order to rub her temple, a strange ache running through her head, and realizes in an instant that her wrists are tightly bound, although she can’t see with what.

Memories slowly trickle in, replacing her confusion with fear when she begins to remember what has happened.

Three children had disappeared - a group of young boys who were best friends and enjoyed playing out in the forest. One of the parents had called her and Ed in desperation, clinging to a local myth about demons stealing children away amongst the trees. It had been several days already, and the police were shifting their search from a rescue to a recovery, although they were trying to be discreet about their declining hopes. It’s not a case that they would have normally taken, but one agonizing phone call from a mother missing her son made Lorraine and Ed look at each other and agree immediately, both thinking of Judy and what they would be willing to do to keep her safe.

Even so, Lorraine had not expected to actually sense anything as she walked through the forest, her rosary wrapped around her hand as she held it out, seeking anything unusual that her gift might show her. The police were stomping through the leaves behind her, with some disgruntled muttering and one or two mocking words. She knew they thought it was all a waste of time, but they were still wanting to search the area themselves, and had reluctantly agreed to allow her and Ed to join them for another sweep through.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and Lorraine had heard Ed’s voice rise in annoyance as he confronted one of the officers about what he was saying - Ed was always protective over people’s opinion of her, despite her being used to these judgments for her whole life. She had tuned it all out, continuing to walk deeper into the woods, when suddenly the connection had opened.

It wasn’t a demon, she could tell in an instant, but a human who was trying to work with dark forces that no person should be accessing. Lorraine could see the house clearly in her mind, a shining vision pointing the way to the children, and she had taken off in a sprint without another word, so focused on finding them that she didn’t even warn Ed or the police.

She doesn’t know how long she had run for, but the house emerged from the evening shadows like an ominous beacon. Perhaps it would have been wiser or safer to call for help, but Lorraine knew in her heart that the children were still alive and inside, and she had only hesitated for a slight moment before running to the back of the house, looking for a way in other than announcing herself through the front door. A window was ajar, and she had hoisted herself up onto the windowsill without a backwards glance, pulling it open enough for her to crawl inside.

The crying was obvious as soon as she was on the other side - soft sniffles that rose to a wail and back down again as another tiny voice made shushing noises. Lorraine had walked quietly through a sparsely furnished sitting room, following the noise to a large room which must have once been a dining room, but now had no furniture except for a large metal box in the middle of the room.

‘Hello?’ she had whispered, crouching down next to the box. ‘Peter? John? Michael? Are you in there?’

‘Hello?’ a small voice floated out of the box. ‘Are you here to rescue us? Can you help us before the witch gets back?’

There had been a large lock on the box, Lorraine can remember now. She remembers dashing back to the sitting room, looking around wildly for a moment before grabbing the fire iron, and then running directly back to the boys. She had smashed at the lock with all the strength she had, until it sprang apart and she could fling open the lid. She remembers three pale faces staring up at her from the depths, and how she had reached down to pull them out of the box and into her arms one by one.

She remembers the unholy screeching as the woman who had captured them stumbled into the room, her eyes burning in anger and her lips beginning to form some chant. The presence of evil had slithered into the room with her, and Lorraine had backed away, brandishing the fire iron as she pushed the children behind her and towards the open window.

‘RUN!’ she had screamed, hearing small feet dashing across the floor towards freedom. One of the boys tripped and fell for a moment, and she had half-turned to see if he was getting back up again. Her moment of distraction had cost her - she remembers a pain in her head, and then nothing beyond that point.

She shifts slightly now, raising her bound hands up until they hit a metal ceiling. She’s been locked in the same box the children had been in, and as claustrophobia begins to rise in her chest, she tries to breathe deeply. Her one solace is that the children are not in here with her, and she hopes desperately that they all managed to escape.

She’s not so sure how she’ll be able to save herself, but she closes her eyes and can hear Ed’s voice in her mind, telling her that she’ll be alright. He’ll find her.

- -

Lorraine has been missing for four hours.

There has been an icy grip of terror around Ed’s heart since the moment he realized she was missing; offset only by the anger he feels at himself for not paying closer attention to his wife. Earlier she had seemed confident enough that she wouldn’t sense anything, but that they had needed to try and help anyway. Ed had agreed - had willingly followed her on this case, but his guard was down. A young police officer had been mocking Lorraine’s gifts, and Ed allowed himself a moment to send some cutting words back at the man.

In doing so, he hadn’t seen Lorraine enter her vision, had lost her in the darkening forest.

There is a flurry of activity going on. The police have doubled in numbers and resources, now searching for ‘three missing boys and a woman’, as he hears the captain announce to the search parties. Ed stumbles along with the lead group, a police-issued flashlight gripped in his hand as he scours the trees, desperate to hear the sound of her voice calling out to him. It’s been four hours, and he doesn’t even know if she’s alive any more. He doesn’t know the fate of Lorraine or the boys, and it makes him feel sick.

Just then, there is a rustling from afar, and the police officer at the front of the group raises his hand, halting them all in their tracks. Several beams of light shine in the same direction, and then everyone is calling out.

‘Michael?’

‘Peter?’

‘John?’

‘Lorraine?’ Ed calls, moving forwards again. The rustling noise is louder now, and then three young boys burst through the bushes, one of them leaning heavily against another.

‘We have the boys!’ Someone yells out, and suddenly there is movement all around Ed as the search party surrounds the boys, holding the exhausted bodies upright and checking for injuries.

Ed pushes through the crowd, and kneels in front of the oldest boy, Peter.

‘Did you see a woman?’ he asks, his eyes searching Peter’s face for answers. ‘My wife Lorraine, she was looking for you.’

‘She saved us,’ Peter whispers, as a medic wraps a blanket around his shoulders. ‘But the witch got her. She’s at the house, I think.’

He points a finger back the way him and his friends had come, and Ed is off, running.

‘Follow him!’ he hears an officer bark, but he doesn’t care about backup right now. He just has to find her.

- -

Lorraine is determined not to die here in this box. Indeed, it’s a ridiculous notion - she refuses to leave Ed and Judy, and she refuses to be beaten by some woman dabbling in powers she shouldn’t be touching.

She’s spent the time productively as possible, moving around in the box until she is flat on her back, her feet, luckily not tied together, pressed into the floor firmly so that she can push herself up in a moment. Her knees brush the metal lid, but she’s become used to the enclosed space considering the hours that have passed, and she makes sure she tenses and relaxes her muscles enough that they won’t become too stiff if she needs to fight her way out.

Her rosary had still been wrapped around her hand when she was captured, and at some point, she must have clutched it so tightly that it’s drawn blood. She can feel the warm liquid trickle down her wrist, and she uses it to her advantage, grimacing at the pain as she works at the rope around her wrists, the blood making it easier for her to finally slip one hand free. Immediately, she flings the rope off to the side, and shakes her hands out.

It’s not much, but it’s all she can do for the moment. She’s tried pushing and kicking the lid, but it’s firmly locked again, and right now she can’t see another way to break free.

From outside the box, loud noises suddenly arise. There is yelling and chaos, and Lorraine can’t be sure what is happening. Have people arrived to rescue her? Has her captor brought reinforcements?

There is a bang against the side of the box, and she can’t help but jump slightly in fear. She thinks she can hear someone calling her name, but her head is still aching from where she was hit, and she’s tired and confused.

‘Ed?’ she whispers, and then there is light pouring into her face as the lid is raised.

Lorraine reacts with instinct, kicking both legs out and hitting someone firmly in the chest so that they fall backwards onto the floor with a loud grunt. She’s scrambling upright, half falling out of the metal box when a pair of arms wrap around her shoulders.

‘Lorraine, it’s me,’ Ed is saying, his hands gentle as he helps pull her fully out of the box. There is a surprised police officer sprawled on the floor, but she pays him no heed as she sinks into the arms of her husband, relief surging through her.

‘The boys?’ she asks hesitantly.

‘All safe. You saved them,’ Ed reassures her. ‘And the police have captured the woman.’

She wants to be strong, to let Ed see that she is fine and there is nothing to worry about, but her legs are betraying her, weak from being cramped for so long. He follows her down to the floor, still holding on to her shoulders as she rests more of her weight against him, exhaustion taking over.

‘We need a medic,’ Ed calls out, his voice tight with worry.

‘I’m fine,’ she protests quietly, her eyes slipping shut. She can feel the brush of his lips against her temple, next to the patch of dried blood from her wound, and then he kisses the fingers of her bloodied hand one by one, his breath warming them.

They separate only for the paramedics to help her to the ambulance, and then Ed holds her hand all the way to the hospital, refusing to be separated again.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 118

SYNOPSIS: When Fergus and Murtagh entered the Common Area there is pandemonium everywhere but Section cannot find the source of the breach. Murtagh heads off to Med Lab unaware that Fergus has been summoned to the Perch.

Chapter 117  and all other chapters can be found at…  https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU  to all who have been reading my story about all of the machinations that happen in Section One. Jamie and Claire are still in Med Lab, Fergus and Murtagh have found out some interesting Intel and Dougal's brother is keeping tabs on the happenings with the Riding Dragons' mission. As a consequence of finding the Intel on Jamie all hell has broken out and the chaos is escalating in Section. Thankfully next chapter we will see how Jamie and Claire are faring. Thanks for your observations on the previous chapter and for your kind words. I really appreciate that you are engaged in this story as much as I am.

  CHAPTER 118 When Fergus and Murtagh finally entered the Common Area there was pandemonium everywhere and it looked as if all hell had broken out. They shared a look realizing that they were the cause of the commotion. The two friends' innocuous adventure had turned into an all-out circus as Comm. Was crowded with Operatives running around trying to locate the intruder. Orders were flying every which way as everyone tried to find the source of the breach.  "Have we localized?" "I think I've got something around Segment 35." "The upper levels are clear ... Send security there." Fergus looked very worried as he knew they wouldn't find anything but he still quickly made his way to his station as if he had never been missing and seamlessly eased back into his tactical role while Murtagh slipped away over to Munitions. Wanting to know if there was any chance that Tactical had found anything to link Murtagh and him to the problem Fergus asked, "The depth of the breach?"  His co-worker, Marsali MacKimmie looked over at him and replied. "We don't know everything yet, but we do know whoever it is may have tried to tap into restricted files."  "What's the contingency?"  "I don't know yet." ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ A short while later Murtagh Fitzgibbons crossed over the Common Area and moved to stand beside Fergus and the other tactical operatives who ignored him and kept on working. As he listened to the confusion going on, Murtagh's expression inferred that he had no idea what all the excitement was about, but in actual fact he surveyed the happenings trying to think of a way to offset the uproar they had caused. If Operations found out that he and Fergus were in fact responsible for the chaos that now ensued then there would be recriminations for the both of them.  "Hey. What's going on? " He inquired nonchalantly. "Someone broke deep level security," one of the tactical operatives replied. "There could be a hostile loose within Section." He kept up the charade and asked, "Do they know who?" "No but Tech's all over six and seven. I've never seen it like this before. " Marsali replied. "What can I do?"  Fergus watched the interaction with the technicians and couldn't believe Murtagh had uttered those words. His eyes conveyed that very message as he said, "Stay out of the way." His buddy didn't reply to Fergus' veiled response for his gaze caught the movement of three figures entering the Common Area. He looked across to see two operatives enter with a cuffed Gavin Hayes between them, then he darted his eyes to see a furious Operations storm into the Common Area as well. By the thunderous look on his leader's face, Murtagh just knew that Madeline and Operations' meeting with Colum had not gone well and now to top it off, Section had a security breach which he and Fergus were responsible for. Dougal Mackenzie was in no mood for rational thought. Someone was going to pay for the extra pressure on Section One and it appeared that someone was a hapless Hayes who was merely doing his job.  The shackled operative looked incredulous as to why he had been escorted here. The two operatives marched him up before the head of Section and Gavin Hayes looked up to see an enraged look on Operations' face. He tried to explain the situation while trying to keep the panic from his voice.

"I didn't do anything! I was just responding to the alarm. "  Unfortunately, Dougal Mackenzie wasn't buying his explanation. He was livid. "You were in a closed zone! You must have been viewing unauthorized Intel. "  "No, I wasn't! The doors just snapped shut when we went in search of the intruder. " Operations ignored him and gave orders to the operatives escorting Hayes. "Take him to the White Room." "But I didn't do anything," he protested as they took him away. " Ask Lesley ... he will verify for me. I was just doing my job. " Operations glared over at Murtagh and Fergus before stalking back to his office. The two men shook in their boots as the look he gave them indicated that no one was immune from suspicion including them and that he was determined to get to the bottom of the breach. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ A while later Fergus walked over to Munitions with his mind churning out a dozen possibilities of what would happen to them if Operations and Madeline found out that they were the intruders and especially if they discovered they had accessed Jamie's classified file and the information it contained. He was dejected and fearful for the consequences. Approaching his friend's station where he was busy going over an inventory the young techie uttered worriedly, "Murtagh, I've got to talk to you." "Yeah?" What's wrong, amigo? " "Do you think Operations knows we were responsible?" He looked up hearing the fear in his buddy's voice. "Nah ... he may suspect but there's no proof." "But what if Joe Abernathy tells them he saw us ... hmm? What then? "  "Then I guess we face the music." In almost a whisper Fergus then leaned in and asked, "What do you think will happen with Gavin Hayes?" "I don't know, but if he's with Madeline my guess is that he's not having fun." Fergus suddenly felt bile rise in his throat.He'd been against searching for Jamie's records in the first place. They'd had one mishap after another which any healthy person would have realized was a bad omen for them, but Murtagh had insisted and now an innocent operative may very well be terminated because of them. That thought weighed heavily on his mind. "That's all I've been able to think about since they took Hayes away," Fergus admonished glaring at his friend, gesticulating with a raised voice. "This is all your fault Murtagh Fitzgibbons! This will be the ace up our sleeves you said ... something to hold over Operations ... our trump card! "  Fearful that someone would overhear their conversation; Murtagh glanced up looking each way to see if anyone was in earshot as Fergus began to rant about their escapades. "Keep your voice down. Are you nuts? Not here and not now. " Lowering his voice Fergus asked gloomily, "What are we going to do?" "I'll let you know." "When?" He replied looking like he had misgivings.  Looking around to see if anyone was watching, Murtagh pulled down his screen. "I need to check up on Jamie and Claire again first, but I'll get back to you ... okay?"  A little placated, but not totally convinced he replied. "Okay."  "In the meantime, pull yourself together Fergus. Remember, there is nothing that points to us breaching Section ... Nothing! "  He was not that convinced but nevertheless Fergus tried to be more composed although inside he was a bundle of nerves. He gave his buddy a quick glance then walked despondently away back to his post. His thoughts as usual were dark. Murtagh had got them into serious trouble this time but he wouldn't let him take all the blame if indeed they were found out. Murtagh had said to pull himself together and he would try to do that or else Operations would become suspicious. In the past when something like this had occurred, Section's Leader had called for a general inquiry. He would certainly do it again unless he was convinced otherwise. Maybe ... just maybe ... he could think of a plausible scenario that would get them off the hook.  He hastened his step to set an idea in motion.  In Operations' Why ... "Are you positive he had nothing to do with the breach?" Operations listened as his second in command gave her report from the White Room where Gavin Hayes had been interrogated. "I see." His face was grim as he severed his connection with Madeline. She'd just reported in that Gavin Hayes was in the clear after all, and that his account of the situation had been verified by Keith Lesley. Now unfortunately he was left with a problem. He was already furious with the meeting they'd had earlier with Colum and now he had the added problem of a suspected breach and no clues as to who it could be. There was much on his mind. Who was responsible for setting off the alarm? Was there an intruder inside Section One or was it a false alarm? Although concerns about the breach were his primary objective, so too were the problems that Colum's visit had caused. Who could be responsible for the Intel he had about Jamie and Claire? … Was someone sending communiqués to him at Oversight?  This had been a very trying day.  Dougal stood up and went to peer down into the hub of Section at the operatives who were busily trying to find whoever was responsible. He glared down from the Perch and happened to notice the spirited discussion between Fergus and Murtagh. The two men seemed to be arguing which was unusual. It was obvious that Fergus Claudel was very nervous about something and was not himself. Suddenly it dawned on him. Could they have had something to do with the security breach but had decided to remain silent? 

Operations studied both operatives' faces remembering that Madeline had said she'd seen the two prior to their meeting with Colum in Committee. 

Was it possible that they had been up to something untoward? Murtagh often tested the waters thinking he and Madeline were not aware of what he was doing. If they were responsible for the breach ... what were they looking for and why? Perhaps Fitzgibbons had been trying to access personal files on Claire or Jamie. The retrieval mission could have whetted his curiosity. He wouldn't put it past him to try and do that especially considering how close he was to Claire and Jamie too, for that matter. The head of Section One observed them more closely and saw the quick glance Fergus had exchanged with the older operative before leaving Munitions so he watched as Section's technical expert walked back across the floor of the Common Area to his station. 

Had Fergus assisted Murtagh in one of his harebrained schemes and now it had backfired on them to cause the chaos in Section? Or more importantly ... Had he been wrong in his beliefs and they really were responsible for sending Intel to Colum? There was only one way to find out. He would get to the bottom of this before Madeline had a chance to question either Fitzgibbons or Claudel. Dougal Mackenzie believed that it would be easy to trip up Section's computer genius to see if he had been involved. He depressed his intercom button.  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When Murtagh had crossed the main floor of Section, he'd hesitated for a moment thinking about his conversation with Fergus and what had taken place in Systems. Although his friend was worried, he had a far more important matter to attend to first for his mind was pre-occupied with the fate of Claire and Jamie in Medical. Despite this, before turning down the corridor towards Med Lab, he looked back at Technical where his buddy and the other technicians were still busily working.  He wondered if what he and Fergus had attempted to do was all worth it. Perhaps he should have listened to his friend but he was hell bent on finding the information on Jamie for their personal gain. Fergus had been well within his rights to berate him as all hell had broken out because of their little adventure. He knew what they were doing was risky but what he'd done on the mission was risky too. The adrenalin had kept pumping in his veins since his return to Section and he was still on a high about Jamie and Claire's rescue. Finding his Intel seemed like a piece of cake after what the team had gone through on the retrieval mission. He should have realized that being in Section One was profoundly different than being on a mission but his pride had gotten in the way. Consequently, they had stumbled over one obstacle after another in their quest to find Jamie's Intel and the surprise information concerning his relationship to Operations and Colum Mackenzie. Fergus' concerns were valid and he should have listened to his friend but he'd refused to do so thinking that he was invincible. The two friends had tried their best but had just fallen short at the last hurdle. Had it not been for that alarm going off, then they would have been home and hosed even though they had no Intel to barter with. Now Fergus was worried that they would be put into abeyance and it was all his fault. He had to admit that he was a sixty-year-old hippy who had never grown up. He should have known better than to involve his friend in his harebrained schemes and with the wisdom of hindsight he would have done things differently. Now the two of them could be in serious trouble if Operations were to call for a general inquiry unless he or Fergus could come up with a plan. Smiling to himself he was confident that his computer savvy friend would be sure to think of a way to spread the situation and take the heat off of them without his help. Fergus was after all; Section One's top computer expert and he would be able to come up with a number of plausible reasons why the alarm went off.  Turning the corner, Murtagh left the problems of Systems behind and made his way to Med Lab to see how Jamie and Claire were faring. His gait quickened as he neared his destination unaware of what was to occur in his absence and that Fergus would be summoned to the Perch. Knowing that it had been over twenty-four hours he was eager to know if Jamie was out of the woods and he was keen to see for himself how his Sugar was coping. Dr Johnson should also know by now how the two patients were and what their prognosis was. In no time, despite all the scenarios of his thought processes, Murtagh was finally at Med Lab and entered through the glass doors. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ "Fergus!" Operations' gruff voice suddenly blared from the intercom. He looked up at the sound of Dougal Mackenzie's stern directive. It was commonplace for Section's leader to be abrupt in his summons to the Perch but Fergus saw that he was glaring down at his station. That ... was a bad omen. With a feeling of unease, he responded, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied. "Yes sir?"  "I need to see you in my office."   ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Nervously he got up, and like a dead man walking made his way to the Perch. His mind was at sixes and sevens as to what Operations could want although he suspected it was something to do with the breach in the restricted area. Had Dougal managed to find out that he and Murtagh were involved in the breach after all? Had he spoken to Abernathy or did he just want to see if Tactical had been able to find something?  Fergus knew he would have to muster enough Dutch courage to face his leader's inquisition especially if he suspected them of being involved. It was highly probable that Operations had heard from Joe Abernathy although Murtagh seemed to think not. Fergus feared that he may have reported that he'd found them in a restricted area. He also worried about the ramifications of his bald lie. That in itself was a certain abeyance issue. Murtagh and he were lucky that Abernathy hadn't pressed the issue about who had given him clearance, but it was still at the back of his mind that he may very well have to face the music about the incident especially as he'd said he had clearance from Operations to be there. Why, oh why had he gone along with his friend's harebrained idea? After all the trials and tribulations that Murtagh and he had encountered in their quest to find Intel on Jamie, which his friend was adamant they needed but had failed to gain, he certainly hoped that that the gods of favor were finally smiling on him and that the two of them weren't skating on thin ice and drowning quicker than a lead weight. They'd had one mishap after another with the worst culminating in the phantom breach which was now using up Section's vital resources and all for naught as it had been a wild goose chase. He hoped he could think of something to stop the investigation and appease Operations at the same time.  Standing on the threshold of Operations' office Fergus composed himself for whatever may come, and remembering Murtagh's parting words to him.  

“ Pull yourself together Claudel. Remember, there is nothing that points to us breaching Section ... Nothing! "   ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Fergus entered the Perch under the guise of bravado and feigned confidence but also with trepidation of his fate. He stood silently before speaking. "You wanted to see me?" "Come in."  Operations watched his tactical technician but to his surprise he seemed more composed than before. "The security breach is unresolved. You wouldn't know what happened in that sector would you Fergus? " "Who me?" "Yes ... you. Madeline said she saw you and Murtagh Fitzgibbons in that vicinity earlier. Why was that? " Fergus stumbled over his words caught by surprise by his leader's frankness. He'd completely forgotten that they had run into Madeline when she exited the elevator and he trembled in his boots in fear of what she had told Operations about seeing them in the corridor.

"We ... we were ... heading back to the Common Area."  "What was Murtagh doing with you?" His heart began to pound. This was it. This was the time that Operations would want an explanation.  He had to think fast and replied with conviction suddenly remembering his friend's reply to Madeline. "Murtagh was stretching his legs. He wanted to clear his head and we went for a walk, but somehow, we lost our bearings while talking. With all that had happened with Jamie and Claire ... and the mission and everything ... "His voice trailed off and Fergus hoped that his superior would have some leniency in thinking that this was indeed what could have happened.  Operations studied the young techie's face looking for any body language that would alert to his bluffing. He saw none. "Well ... if I hear that you and Murtagh Fitzgibbons were somewhere without authorization then I will have no recourse than to place you both in abeyance. Is that understood? " "Yes sir. It was an honest mistake. " "Well don't make another one." "Of course." Dougal Mackenzie paced back and forth inside the Perch and Fergus watched as he stopped then turned back towards him. "Rest assured ... I  will  get to the bottom of this breach. There's going to be a general inquiry. " Knowing that would involve invasive testing which could be their downfall fall Fergus brashly asked, "Do you think that is necessary?" Section One's leader heard the assertiveness in his technician's voice. His eyebrow rose as he stared him down. "You don't approve?" "I think it's premature sir."  The IT specialist was clutching at straws to come up with a plausible reason that would appease Operations' inquisitiveness to his statement. Trying to diffuse the situation he put forward an idea of ​​diversion but the only thing he could think of was, "I'm checking to see if there has been a malfunction in the door mechanism that triggered the alarm. I'm running down that possibility now. It could be as simple as that. "  Looking intensely at Fergus he wondered if he may have read the conversation between Murtagh and him incorrectly. That room can only be accessed by Level 5 operatives "It's possible." Operations answered thinking out loud.  Pushing his advantage and gaining in confidence Fergus then asked, "Did Gavin Hayes and Keith Lesley or the other operatives find any evidence of any intruders?" "No ..." "And neither have we. There is no evidence of any intruder in Section despite the alarm. " Operations' mouth twitched at his reply while his pale gaze narrowed slightly. "And your point?" "Then is a general inquiry necessary sir, considering that they all have found nothing? There have been no casualties. Everything seems to be contained. Perhaps we should pull back until I see if there was a malfunction after all. " "What are you getting at Claudel?" "We might be chasing our tails and all for nothing. An inquiry will be time consuming and Section One is on the edge right now. We have to be careful not to stretch our resources to something that may or may not have credence. "  Section's leader was incredulous at his audacity. He moved to scrutinize his wall monitor then cast an icy glare at the young man. "You aren't going to tell me what to do are you?" Fergus managed a weak smile. "No sir ... but we are coming up empty every time. My theory is worth a shot before implementing a full-scale inquiry. " Operations thought long and hard about what he had said. He glanced down at the operatives in tactical still frantically trying to find where or who was in breach but apparently to no avail. Without looking at Fergus, he gave sanction to his explanation.

"Very well. You may go. " He breathed a sigh of relief at being dismissed. "Thank you, sir. I'll let you know of my findings. " Turning, Fergus made his way down the stairs and beat a hasty retreat from an inquisition that he had managed to diffuse ... for the time being. Murtagh would be so proud when he told him what had transpired in the Perch. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ to be continued Friday 8 th May

[the-darklings]

—𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈;

pairing: quentin beck x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: "I’m whatever you want me to be Mr Beck."

warnings: manipulation (of other people), love/hate-rivals relationship, swearing.

notes: Oh man, here we go again!! So this fic is set pre-FFH so no spoilers for the plot of that movie, except Quentin’s past occupation/characterisation. 

“unbecoming” mini-series: . . | 02 |

Life was a monopoly of good luck and bad luck. 

Which side you landed on depended entirely on you. 

That was the first thing he taught you. 

And the last thing you taught him. 

. . .

“Are you nervous?”

“No.”

Your new supervisor—a man in his late forties, already balding, and clearly cheating on his wife if the way he was keenly eyeing the female employees was any indication—looked up at you with something close to surprise. 

“Confident, huh?” he guessed—incorrectly, but you weren’t rude enough to correct him and first impressions matter—rubbing his chin, and grunting under the weight of the safety manuals he was carrying. You had offered to help but pride stopped him from accepting. “Mr Stark mentioned something about that.”

Oh, you bet he did. 

“May I ask a question, sir?” you wondered quietly, your words gentle, placid. 

The man straightened, and you had to bite back a disgusted grimace at the way he peered at you openly, affected by the mild speech pattern. Too easy. 

“Of course, of course,” he said immediately, expression open, “It’s your first day after all. Mr Stark said to give you a full tour.”

“I feel so terrible even asking. But why this division?” you questioned with a well practised awkward laugh, fiddling with your fingers. “I was under the impression that I will be working directly under Mr Stark?”

“Ah, well,” the man began, clearing his throat and you watched him closely from under your lashes. Awkward, fumbling for words—likely for an explanation that would not offend. Hmm. “The Visionary program is the one Mr Stark personally oversees. Teams of the brightest people on this side of the continent gather to build something amazing together. Each year there’s a demo presentation, and Mr Stark picks the next lead project himself. It’s a huge honour and every engineer and developer hopes to end up getting the lead project one day. Of course, it’s something highly coveted due to the scale of attention and funding the lead project gets.”

And that was that. 

Idiot. But maybe smarter than you first gave him credit for. It was harder to answer a question without giving a proper answer than it seemed. Your eyes shifted to the man, confused, lost, and he faltered upon seeing your expression. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you told him politely, nibbling on your lip. “I don’t think I really understand what that has to do with me? I’m sorry if I’m being somehow rude—”

“Nonsense,” he cut you off hurriedly, and you took another left, moving deeper and deeper into the building. “It’s just...the team you will be working on shows a lot of potential, but it’s a rather, ah, challenging project to work on, shall we say? Mr Stark believes that placing you with this team for your trial period will give you invaluable experience. Experience that—one day soon—you may even use to run your own team.” 

A challenging project, huh? 

Interesting.  

. . .

You didn’t expect a team of only three people. 

Two males and a female. 

The woman introduced herself first. Victoria, but call me Vic for short; stern-faced and polite, sporting a pair of guarded eyes and stiff shoulders. The man to introduce himself next was the exact opposite, overly cheerful and open. The type that people liked because he reminded them of golden retrievers with their too friendly, too good nature. His name was Daniel—Dan for short, please; and wasn’t that just adorable? 

The last man—the man behind the project and the invention—was called Quentin Beck.

He, unlike the other two, didn’t introduce himself, his eyes glued to the tablet in his hands as he frowned minutely at the screen. He sat hunched over it, seemingly in another world, and from the dim light of the room you couldn’t see more than his profile. 

The supervisor called him by name once, twice, making even your two new colleagues exchange looks before Beck finally tore his gaze away, standing to his feet at last.

He moved oddly—smooth, practised—but something from the moment he stood up, to the moment he came to stand before you made something inside you spring to attention. 

Most humans walked; hunched, straight, that didn’t matter. 

Others strutted; arrogant, conceited, believing that they were the gravity holding everything together whenever they moved. 

Many shuffled: awkward, misplaced, seeking comfort in a world that wasn’t going to provide them with any. 

Quentin Beck did none of those things. 

Quentin Beck prowled like a storm, a dangerous thing, across the room, his gaze a chasm. 

Oh, something hummed inside you. 

Hello.

. . .

Few things became apparent quickly. 

One, Daniel liked to overshare to a startling, almost worrying, degree. 

Within the first hour of knowing him, you already had far too much information on him that you still tucked away inside your mind. It was little pieces that make the big picture, and getting the little details mattered. 

Daniel was indeed a golden retriever. He lived by himself, loved basketball, Mexican food, reading and taking hikes. He even had a dog, and—admittedly—it was very hard to control your laughter at that one. He sounded like a bad dating website ad but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

Two, Victoria was quieter, more observative, though Daniel still managed to let it slip how she lived with her girlfriend and a cat not too far from the Stark Industries. 

“A cat and a dog person,” Daniel said with a cheery laugh and a dimpled smile, “As you can imagine, we get on brilliantly.”

Victoria rolled her eyes and you laughed too, adding just the right amount of warmth into your voice. 

“I sure can.”

However, the one person you wanted to learn more about—the whole point of this tedious process, according to your supervisor—was mostly quiet.

Sure, he made a comment or two now and again, adding only the bare minimum to the conversation, as well as an occasional hum of agreement or disagreement when a point was raised. But his mind and gaze never wandered far from the tablet in his hand. His entire focus was on it and whatever he was working on. 

If anything, the slight downward slant of his mouth and the rigidness of his shoulders told you he was more annoyed about wasting time on this exchange of pleasantries. The dark shirt he wore made him blend into the darkness of the lab, and from this angle, he appeared both taller and gaunter. Ungodly.

“Maybe we can get started?” you wondered, keeping your voice neutral, “I would hate to take up any more of Mr Beck’s valuable time with our chatter. I think we’re boring him.”  

His eyes locked with yours, and the glow of multiple computer screens surrounding him made them glow, accenting the rich blue of his irises. His mouth curled into a smile—a charming, polite thing that he had surely used a thousand times to offset the hard, glacial look in his eyes. 

Assessing. Demanding. Judging. 

You had a hard time controlling your knowing smirk. 

. . .

“Holographic illusions,” you stated slowly, dryly. “When the old man said a challenging project, I didn’t now that what he really meant was a dead project.”

Daniel fell silent mid explanation, and even Victoria’s eyes flew to you like what you said was the most horrifying thing she had ever heard.  

“Care to elaborate?”

His voice was calm; low, and perpetually pleasant to listen to. You imagined all the times he must have used it to his advantage—surely many, only a fool won’t. 

You stood next to the whiteboard delineating the invention proposal, calculations, technological advancements as well as details of the first two prototypes. Predictably both failures. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume that prototype number 3 was hardly faring any better. 

“Human brain is perceptive,” you told him with equal calm in your voice, meeting his blank stare. “It adapts with startling efficiency. The five senses alone are difficult to fool. Once the mind is exposed to something and deems it unsafe, or in any way unsettling, it rebels. Not to mention that this technology relies far too heavily on sight alone. What if I closed my eyes? How effective will this little light show be then?”

Daniel sucked in an audible breath and Victoria’s almond eyes slowly slid towards the very still Beck. The man observed you shrewdly, silent—and was that a spark of annoyance? Anger?

“Fear,” he stated, a touch colder, rising from his seat behind the table and closing the distance to you. “Wonder. Confusion. Human minds are weak and susceptible to a shift in the natural—safe—order of things. The subject can be aware it’s an illusion, but if the illusion is strong enough to hold them, then the inherent sense of fear will take over. Panic shuts down logic and major motor functions rather quickly. What does that leave us with then, you may ask? Well, it leaves us with a subject that will believe whatever I want them to believe.” 

He halted before you, and your head tilted upwards to meet his stare with a slight, benign smile, “Ah, yes. I’m sure Mr Stark will be willing to invest millions into technology that will traumatize people. After all, if I was him, that’s what I would want my company to be known for.”

Something flashed across his gaze then—something dark, something burning—and he leaned back with an easy grin. It transformed his face, only dialling the handsomeness to something near blinding. 

“That’s why it’s a prototype, honey,” he pointed out simply, a touch mocking before he turned to Daniel and Victoria, waving his hand in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, you two. By the time we’re done, the technology will be safe and people will be able to use it without side effects. That’s a promise.”

Holding back a snort, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Unlikely,” you insisted quietly, and Beck glanced back at you, still grinning. 

You returned his smile, practically beaming, and it felt like two predators baring their teeth at each other in greeting, in warning.

Hello to you too, the sharpness seemed to whisper.

. . .

The first week was a whirlwind. 

You absorbed all the new surroundings and information around you like a sponge. Through gritted teeth and clenched fists, you greeted everyone you came into contact with. It was a tedious affair, and both emotionally and physically taxing, but you had to be seen—had to be presented in everyone's’ minds as a pragmatic, friendly person. 

Reputation was everything. One had to guard it with their life if they wanted to achieve anything in this world. Being liked, respected, opened all the doors. Or at least, the majority of them. 

Your work kept you busy too. 

Beck gave you two days to get acquainted with all the data collected through the project’s lifespan so far as well as the progress of the new prototype. 

You finished it in under 12 hours. 

He didn’t believe you. 

Every question he asked—examining you like one would a bug under a microscope—was met with a flat, slightly bored answer. 

“Just to be clear,” you told him, straightforward and unblinking, but smile unfading, “I think you’re wasting your time. I’ve read the briefs, I’ve seen what you’ve done with the technology you have. It’s impressive work, and you’re smart. Yet you’re wasting your time on...this. Even if you could get it to work—”

“I know it may be hard for you to understand,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, but his gaze harsh. He blinked once, expression smoothing, and you knew it was only because Daniel slipped back into the lab after lunch, shuffling back to his spot with an awkward grin in your direction. “But this is my life’s work. You don’t make history by doing something just anyone can. You see, life is a monopoly of good luck and bad luck. You choose which side you land on. I intend to land on the good side by doing something no one has done before.”

“Are you trying to tell me that the outcome of your life is a coin flip?” you repeated slowly, disbelief colouring your tone before you let out a sharp bark of laughter. “That’s complete horseshit.”

“Not if you control the flip,” he argued, but he almost—almost—looked amused. “Not if you know exactly how to throw, turn and drop the coin. Not if you control all the variables.”

“So,” you drawled, spinning in your chair, and cutting a sly look his way, “What you’re saying is that you’re a control freak.”

You expected him to get angry—expected him to let that little something lurking behind his carefully constructed charming demeanour crack and force its way through. 

He didn’t.

He only gave you a contemplative, knowing look, “Aren’t we all?”

That, damn him, made you laugh genuinely for the first time that week. 

. . . 

Quentin Beck was most certainly a control freak. 

There was no denying it. 

He didn’t let Daniel or Victoria anywhere near his prototype. He allowed them to run and compile test data but he spent all of his time working on the improvements himself. Calculations, tests adjustments; everything was under his careful consideration. 

Daniel and Victoria were only used as glorified secretaries.  

It was interesting but not surprising to see. You had met both men and women like him before. People who respected and valued their work too much to allow for any mistakes. When it’s your life’s work, you don’t leave anything up to chance. If you make a mistake, then it’s your mistake to make. It was about precaution as much as it was about arrogance. Usually. With Beck though…

“Hey, we’re finished,” Daniel said happily, glancing at his watch and already rising to his feet. “I love you guys, I really do, but I can’t wait to enjoy my weekend. Any plans? Vic? (Name)?” 

“We have a dinner planned tomorrow,” Victoria replied reluctantly, but a small smile twitched her mouth, telling you just how much she was actually looking forward to it. “Salma wants to try that new Thai place on the 46th.”

“I heard pretty good things,” Daniel replied with a nod, his eyes flickered to you and you stretched, leaning back in your seat. “How about you? Any dates you’ll be going on this weekend?”

You shrugged half-heartedly, turning another page between your fingers, “I have a date set with a pound of cocaine.”

Daniel stared at you blankly before bursting out laughing, the loud boom of his sniggering almost making you cringe. 

“Man, you’re too funny.”

Not really. 

You held your thoughts to yourself though. People didn’t like it when you disagreed with them, especially when they were trying to pay you a compliment. It implied that not only you didn’t value their opinion but also shot own their attempt at being nice.  

Victoria too was looking at Daniel like he’d sprouted another head and was having a hard time holding back her own laughter. 

“Well come on then I’ll walk—”

“(Name) is not done yet.”

Ah yes. 

Daniel’s mouth clamped shut, green eyes finally moving towards previously silent Beck. He sat leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and the faintest glimmer of a challenging smirk across his face. 

If last week had proved anything to you, it was that Quentin Beck didn’t like his authority questioned. Ever. You made your opinion on his project clear from day one and it hadn’t gotten any better since. 

Beck started out with giving you menial tasks like he did with Victoria and Daniel. But suffice to say, he learned very quickly that they weren’t very adequate at keeping you occupied for long. The faster you finished your duties, the more work he had for you—effectively involving you in his project more than he probably wanted. 

Prideful, deceitful man; a man with a thousand faces but none of them genuine.

But he was a clever one too.

Irritatingly so. Conversations with him were as blood boiling as they were mentally stimulating.  

Then again, you refused to let him step over you, meeting him tic-for-tac every step of the way with no intention of letting up. 

It made him angry—someone questioning and picking apart his ideas and proposals, you could tell. Not that it mattered. You were part of this team. That meant you would see it succeed because you needed to succeed—it was as simple as that. If Beck didn’t listen, you would make him listen. Show him that you could contribute to his project. 

“Yes,” you agreed pleasantly, adding a touch of sadness into your slight smile, “I want to finish this tonight. You guys go ahead and have a great weekend. I’ll be seeing you both on Monday. Please give Charlie a kiss for me, will you?”

Victoria nodded—a little stiffly—peering at Beck with a slight frown. 

Clearly, the mention of her cat didn’t do much to ease the situation like you hoped. 

“C’mon, Vic, we better stop taking up valuable time,” Daniel stated, and you smiled wider at him, encouraging, “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

He directed those words only at you in such an obvious manner, you almost groaned. Idiot. 

“Sure, thanks, I really appreciate the concern.”

They took their time leaving though, both lingering on different things: Daniel on you, and Victoria on Beck—though unlike Daniel who stared at you warmly—she was giving Beck a cold look. 

The silence their absence left wasn’t awkward. If anything, the room seemed to lighten with neither of you looking at each other. 

“I was wrong,” you hummed at last, thoughtful, your eyes snagging on a ceiling tile and staying there. “That doesn’t happen often.”

You could practically feel Beck debating whether he should rise to the bait or not.

“About?” was his eventual, uninterested response. 

A slow smile stretched your mouth into something devious, “About you, of course.”

And just like that, you felt the weight of his expectant, hard gaze focus on you.

“Oh?” he questioned slowly. “How so?”

Your head turned to him and you stared at each other for a long moment, seizing each other up. It was interesting to be alone with him and see his meticulous construct of charm and control starting to crack.

“I thought it was arrogance,” you offered after another stretch of silence, watching the way his eyebrows drew together briefly. “At first, that is. Now, I know it’s not about your arrogance but rather the fact that you think they’re incompetent.”

His expression remained eerily blank, not giving anything away as he examined you from across the room. 

“You don’t really think I didn’t notice how you never allow them to do much of anything around here, right? Not to say you’re aren’t arrogant—you most certainly are—but you primarily don’t trust them to do their jobs well enough. The reason why this team only has three people—now four, of course—is due to the nature of your project and because you make it impossible for people to perform well. All the credit for the invention will go solely to you. Smart. But you’re also isolating yourself. Less smart.”

“I resent your implication—”

You snorted loudly, cutting him off, and even from this distance you could see the way his jaw clenched tightly, irked, gaze hooded. 

Idly, you wondered how much longer his act was going to last for.  

“I’m sure you do,” you told him flatly, your eyebrows jumping up in amusement. “You do realise that you’re cutting yourself off from valuable sources of information and useful workforce, right? You can get much further in life with a smile on your face than a command. They don’t need to be your friends. In fact, I hope they’re not. Your friends always betray you first because envy comes easily to them. Your enemies though...use them. Pretend if you must. You manage with me, and look how quickly we got through this test data. I read the old reports, it usually takes you a week. We did it in two days.”           

A breath; strained and short, and then, "What are you?"

A slight, sweet smile graced your face as you gazed up at him, "I'm whatever you want me to be Mr Beck."

You rose up without another word, feeling the intent—almost physical—weight that was his regard on you as you gathered up your things. 

“You’re not done yet,” his words were quiet, soft. 

Your steps drew to a halt right outside the door, your hand on the metal handle and you sighed, almost disappointed he hadn’t noticed. 

“Actually, I finished an hour ago,” you told him blandly, pushing on the door. “I just wanted to stay behind for a little chat.”

You glanced over your shoulder—just to see his reaction—and what you saw made you pause. 

Sometimes you run into people and they’re like the sun; shining and blazing brighter than anyone else in the room, warming you with their presence. 

Then, there were people like Quentin Beck. People who had ice running through they veins; people with cold eyes and wicked intentions, no matter how carefully hidden behind a mask of normalcy. 

The thing staring at you now with a sly curl of his mouth was only just human. 

There was no false charm, no carefully measured smiles or stilted compliments, there was just him and you and the empty space between you. 

“Hello, Quentin Beck,” you greeted coolly, knowingly, and watched the way his grin widened dangerously. “Nice to finally meet you.” 

. . .

an: these two are absolutely feral and the only way from here is up ayyy

Truthfully, I wrote Reader this way because I don’t see enough opportunist/cutthroat Reader stories around. I know this may not be everyone’s cup of tea but ahhh I still hope you liked it <33 Buckle up, I have some pretty interesting things planned for this one~~ 

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 8

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done. Chapter summary:  With Riku gone, and their work done, Ienzo and the others try to move on.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

With their work over… with Riku and Kairi on the other side… Ienzo and the others… had to try and move on.

The lab was a disaster storm of papers and books. After everyone was gone, and after several hours heatedly discussing whatever the hell had just happened… in an exhausted haze, they cleaned up. Even was still muttering about the ridiculousness of it all, and it annoyed him and Ansem both until finally Ansem just said softly, “Even, please, I think we could all do with some silence.”

Even just shook his head and stormed off to his own labs, not, Ienzo was sure, out of anger, but out of confusion.

Ienzo kept sweeping the papers into their piles. He felt so… heavy.

“I suppose we can ask Aeleus or Dilan to help us move the chair,” Ansem said. “We could always leave it until tomorrow, eh?”

“Right,” Ienzo said.

Ansem shook his head. “One has a sensation of “what now,”” he said.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Ansem smoothed his own pile of research. “Well, I could very much go for some ice cream. What do you say?”

“...Yes… alright.”

It wasn’t until both of them had their bars in hand that the silence broke. “He’ll be okay,” Ansem said. “I’m sure of it.”

“I know he will,” Ienzo stuttered. He watched a bead of ice cream roll down the bar; he had yet to bite. Finally, he did, only to get stabbed with a pang of nostalgia. There had been a reason he’d avoided getting one of these, despite his old love for them.

Holding Ansem’s hand walking down the hall to the labs feeling like a very good precious boy for scoring full marks on Even’s test--

“Oh,” he said.

“What is it?”

“It tastes like the past.” He felt tears welling in his eyes, and wasn’t completely sure why. “It tastes like…”

Ansem patted the small of his back. “I know.”

Weeks passed, then months.

Ienzo was never quite sure of what to do with himself. Since he’d woken as this new Ienzo, he’d always had a goal, something urgent hanging over his head. First it was trying to give Roxas a body. Then it was examining Kairi’s heart. Now… pure nothing.

He tried to do some work on the repairs, limited as his knowledge of that sort of thing was. Dilan was insufferable about it, but Aeleus was patient. “It seems like a long while since we've had more than a passing conversation,” Aeleus said. “Hand me the wire cutter.”

Ienzo did. “Yes. It does, doesn’t it?”

“You were always in that lab, or on the phone. One wonders if you even slept.”

“Barely,” he admitted. “Now I feel as though… everything’s just stopped.”

“A moment to breathe,” Aeleus said. He spliced together two wires in the wall and taped them together.

Ienzo shook his head.

“That’s not something you want?”

“I’m not used to it,” he said. “All my life I’ve been going, going, going, and now…”

Aeleus spliced together a few more wires. “Perhaps that will be good for you.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“It’s time for us to move on, which is no easy task. For you especially.”

“What do you mean?”

He shot him a look. “I can tell you feel overwhelmed.”

Ienzo sighed.

“It’s understandable for human emotion to feel like too much. We’re all on the same page, Ienzo.”

“Emotions were not nearly so complex when I last remembered them,” Ienzo said.

“You grew up,” Aeleus said.

He looked down into the toolbox. “Do you feel guilty, Aeleus?”

He paused. “I do. Yes. The memories of what we did… are everywhere.”

Ienzo nodded. Now that he had no directive to be in the lab, seeing that closed, sealed door leading down into the basement… Well. He’d started having nightmares more, about the faces of the people he’d broken, and he’d woken up sobbing more than once. How could he put it right? How could he sit here doing nothing ? But what else could he do to help?

Mixed with these memories were others. What do you think if we did this, Ienzo, is that something you’d like to do? He could see the manipulation more clearly now. I’m sorry. Master Ansem isn’t coming back. He’s gone mad.

“Can you try it now?”

“What?” Ienzo asked.

“The breaker.”

Ienzo switched on the panel. Immediately, the lights in the hallway got much brighter, and he winced.

Aeleus nodded once. “Better.” He started packing up the tools. “Ienzo--”

“Yes?”

He shut his eyes tightly. “I must apologize to you,” he said.

“Oh, Aeleus, you weren’t stealing me away from anything.”

“Not that. For… being unable to protect you better.”

“In Castle Oblivion? Aeleus, it’s all--”

“From Xehanort.”

Ienzo froze.

“I knew there was something evil about him, something wrong,” he said. “But he knew just the right way to stoke one’s ego, the… darkness in one’s heart. If any of us had been anything but selfish we could’ve stopped you from falling onto the path too.”

He sighed. “It’s alright, Aeleus.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “But regardless… I hope our own sins don’t hold you down.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say to that.

“Shall we move on to the next one?”

---

Forgiveness.

The notion of it haunted Ienzo. He felt certain he did not deserve it from others. He hadn’t thought he’d be asked to ever give it.

He tried not to be bitter at the others for what they’d done in their past, but the longer he spent here in this castle with these memories and nothing substantial to do, the more he tried to wrap his head around their lies. Tossing his father away and lying to him about it.

Ienzo made his next major task cleaning up the library. It was a disorganized, chaotic mess, and though it kept his hands busy, the silence was utterly piercing. Had Riku and Kairi arrived at this “unreality��? Had they found Sora? Were they okay? He knew he had to trust in them both, but at the same time, he worried. Given that his bond to Riku had changed radically…

He missed him.

He felt tenderhearted, and a fool. Riku was the only real friend he’d ever had near his own age, and Ienzo did not feel secure in his relationships with the others to talk about anything really substantial. It ached .

Time passed.

---

“Be careful with the nitrogen, Ienzo. I thought I’d taught you better lab etiquette.”

Ienzo sighed heavily and adjusted his grip on the canister. He was supposed to be helping put samples of… something, on ice. Even had told him what, but he couldn’t remember. Lately everything seemed to be in one ear and out the other. He felt scattered.

“Careful now.” With his hair in a cap, and the goggles making his green eyes bulge even more, Even looked a little bit like a bug. What creatures we are, Ienzo thought. “I do so miss the days of our powers. I wouldn’t have needed to fuss with all these chemicals.”

“Do you?” Ienzo asked, carefully pouring in the fluid.

“The magic,” he said, with a sigh. “As much as I try to strengthen what I have left… it will never be as it was. That’s enough. I said that’s enough. ”

Ienzo set the canister down. They both watched the steam roll as the nitrogen boiled, and Even shut the lab’s freezer.

“Indeed, what has gotten into you?” Even asked. “You were never one for absent daydreaming.”

“I’m sorry, Even,” he said dully.

He frowned. He took off his goggles and gloves and went over to the sink to wash his hands. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes. Fine.”

“Will I need Aeleus to drag you to bed again?”

He scowled. “No.”

Even took off the cap, a long braid falling over his shoulders. Not for the first time, Ienzo noticed that the ends of that hair were singed . He caught Ienzo staring and raised an eyebrow. “How have… things been for you?” he asked awkwardly.

“What do you mean? The days are the same as they ever were.”

“Are they?” Even asked. “I’ve been seeing you wander the halls aimlessly. If you need something to do , Ienzo, we can catch up on your chemistry education.”

He shook his head slowly. “With… no life or death task at hand… lately I feel as though… I’m stuck in mud.” He started shedding his own protective garments.

“That’s no surprise. I do too.” He sighed. “To suddenly be thrust back into a normal life… is to suddenly be thrust back into a normal life. After some ten years of abnormality.”

“...Quite.” He recalled when he was a child, and he'd felt quite comfortable telling Even everything.

Even, in fact, had been the one to tell him about Ansem. “What does that look mean?” Even asked.

Ienzo frowned. “I’m… curious. Why did you do it?”

“What? These samples? I’m exploring a new type of replica tech for Xion, Roxas, and Na--”

“Not that. Why did you lie to me all those years ago?”

All of the color left Even’s face, and the only audible sound was the soft hum of the machinery.

Ienzo pulled the bobby pins from his bangs. “I don’t ask this to be confrontational,” he said. “I just… truly, the more time passes, the more I want to know.”

Even squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “The truth, the whole, complete truth… is that I feared for our lives.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes.

“I mean it,” Even said in a low voice. “Even with darkness gnawing at our hearts, do you think we didn’t know Xehanort was twisted? That we didn’t know what we were doing was wrong? The thing is… with darkness… with sheer old-fashioned cognitive dissonance… we believed that the discoveries we were making… offset the human cost.” He sighed, and sat down heavily on one of the stools.

Ienzo waited.

“He wanted more subjects,” Even said tiredly. “Once we had run through our mill of the willing… then the coerced… after that, Ansem had found us out. And that he had… well. We were hungry. If Ansem didn’t disappear, and the experiments didn’t continue, he would instead use us . Namely… you. He was interested in children by then.”

Ienzo felt weak.

“It’s the hardest, and worst, decision I’ve ever made in my life,” Even continued, “Seeing we obviously became experiments ourselves. But I think the three of us were… trying … to protect you in the last way our twisted and darkening hearts could. It was Ansem or you and I chose you.”

He felt dizzy.

“I shouldn’t have lied, I know that much. Or even if I lied I should’ve told you the truth soon afterwards, when you could take it. But I was deathly afraid of word of you knowing somehow getting back to Xehanort. I’m not sure why that felt so urgent. Maybe you would’ve said something ill against him, and you were so small , I was afraid he’d…” He swallowed. “Ienzo, I’m not sure how I can impart to you how sorry I am. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. If I could go back right now and stop it all I would. I was vain, I was foolish, I thought it was… all worth it. But none of it was. Nothing.”

Ienzo had never seen this side of Even before.

“And yet somehow we’re still alive,” he continued wryly. “We’re alive. We’re whole. Somehow the town hasn’t come after us with torches and pitchforks. That has to mean something. I… plan to dedicate whatever’s left of my life to making things better, easier, for the people of this town. I know it’s some hope.”

“I see,” he said, numbly. “Thanks for that.”

“It’s because of all that you grew up a husk,” Even murmured. “And for that… I’m sorry, Ienzo.”

Ienzo realized he didn’t forgive him. Not yet. “I know,” he said.

Even stood. “I think you, out of all of us especially, get to deserve to try for something like happiness,” he said.

“You do?” he asked dryly. “But I… even I have done awful things--”

“Things you wouldn’t have done, I’m certain, if we hadn’t guided you onto that path,” Even said.

“Don’t exonerate me,” Ienzo said, with something like panic.

“It’s the truth,” he said. “You can’t expect your younger self to have magically risen above. If you’d gone against us, Ienzo, with no Ansem, where would you have gone? Would you have known how to survive?”

Something tight and hot surged in his breast and throat.

“You wouldn’t have,” Even said. “You were a… a rather sheltered child. Ienzo, I just… I hope you can learn to forgive yourself. You’re too young to suffer your whole life.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was being crushed from the inside out. He found himself being eased onto one of the stools. He was sobbing, disjointedly, an awful aching weight inside of him beginning to lift because Even was right.

“Oh dear. That made it worse, not better, didn’t it,” Even said. He offered Ienzo a tissue.

“No,” he sobbed. “I… I think I understand.”

“Let it out,” he said. “Let it go.”

So Ienzo did. Awful, and humiliating, but at the same time a weird pressure was beginning to ease. Even rubbed circles into his back. It seemed to take a long, long time, and when he was through he felt exhausted, but not as horrible as he thought.

“There we go,” Even said, in a voice Ienzo remembered from his childhood. “Better?”

Ienzo swallowed. “I… I think so.”

---

Ienzo… took time. He walked a lot, even as the fall deepened into winter into spring. He read a lot of novels and kept doing repairs and tried to understand what it meant to be human.

Ienzo missed Riku.

Nobody had heard from any of them since the last he’d seen. He thought often of their kiss, what it had made him feel. Wondered if he would ever get to do it again, or if it were just a memory. Wondered what exactly this affection meant. More than like, more than attraction. Surely not love, not yet? He tried not to dwell on it much, tried to let the feeling pass like it was a bad cold. But it didn’t.

He was dozing over a pile of books in the library when his phone rang. It was late at night, so late as to be early. Sleepily, he stirred to look at the caller ID, and his heart jackhammered into his throat. He looked--he was sure he looked absolutely hideous--he scrambled to smooth the hair over his face. “Hello?”

The lighting on Riku’s video was awful, but Ienzo could see most of his face, some of it partially obscured by hair that had gotten even longer. He looked a bit thin, and very tired. “Ienzo. Ienzo.”

“You’re back.” He couldn’t restrain the emotion anymore.

“I’m back. I’m home.”

“You’re okay?” They were nearly talking over each other.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I just got in, I just saw my parents, I knew I had to talk to you. I wanted to. I needed to. I…” He sounded choked up.

“How are your friends? Did you find him? Are they okay?”

“Sora and Kairi are fine. They’re with their families. We’re home.”

“You’re home. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He wasn’t sure if he was stating a fact or trying to comfort him.

“I’m sorry I’m so emotional--”

“No, don’t be, this is huge.” Ienzo swallowed his own tears. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too.”

A long pause. “You must be exhausted,” Ienzo said. “You should try to get some rest.”

“I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.” He wondered if he should admit it. “I’ve… thought of you often.”

He laughed. Ienzo noted it sounded quite weak. “What, did you miss me?”

“Much to my chagrin.” His heart was in his throat. “Though I guess you were too busy adventuring to think of me at all.”

His face fell just the slightest.

“I’m… I’m sorry. That was a bit tactless.”

“It’s not you,” Riku said. “It’s just… it was really… a lot, I’m still… trying to accept how it all went down.” He took an audible breath. “But I did miss you. Kairi… wouldn’t let me live it down. Guess we didn’t seem so slick.”

He laughed a little.

“I’m not even sure how long it’s been for you guys, between the… the worldines, and the unreality, and the… I’m dizzy. ”

“Six months.”

“...Oh. Wow, that’s… more than I thought.”

“I’m just so glad you’re alright. I’ve been worried. You made me worried.”

He laughed. “Well you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“I guess not.” He didn’t quite feel the relief yet, still shaky with adrenaline. “Thanks for calling. You didn’t have to do it instantly. ”

“I sorta did,” Riku said. “I wanted to let you know.”

“When things… settle, when you get some rest. Will you call again? Or write me? Tell me what exactly you’ve gone through?”

“Yes. I will, I’m just… I should… talk to my parents, my mom’s watching me out of the backdoor to make sure I don’t disappear.”

“Of course. Be with your family. Be home. I hope you can enjoy it.”

“...Thank you. Um--”

“Until next time.”

“Right. Yes.”

He hung up, and for a long time Ienzo just sat starting at the blank phone screen. He let out a long, long sigh.

Riku was back. Riku hadn’t forgotten about… whatever they’d had. He’d made it a priority.

Ienzo hugged the phone to his chest, feeling like a schoolboy.

[bave-de-crapaud]

The Darkness Within...

CHAPTER THREE

Request by: lovely @belladonnarey  A/N: very much enjoyed writing this. enjoy my loves, and as always, comments most welcome xx

Sirius x reader Older Sirius Sirius lives/ Post Azkaban Slow burn and eventual smut

Word count: +2800 Disclaimer:  all characters are assumed 18+ Warnings: light smut, NSFW, 18+,

———

Sirius POV

Sirius stood frozen as the door of Grimmauld Place closed in front of him and Remus had turned to the kitchen.

What the fuck just happened? In the space of seven hours, he had gone from excited, to tortured, to fearful, to confused and then what? A quiet admiration? All towards one person.

Sirius was a reckless man yes, but he did not let people or a person get under his skin so much. He had learnt the hard way to push down his feelings to survive, first in his family and second in Azkaban.

Yet he was at a loss for the multiple emotions swirling around his head. He tried to focus on the strongest feelings, process those and move on but the foremost emotions battling around his brain were amazement and shock, followed by a warm light tingling sensation he hadn’t had in a long time and did not want to deal with right now.

Sirius sighed and looked up at his mother’s portrait. A crooked smile played on his features as the curtains, still smoking from Y/N’s fire, fluttered almost angrily at him.

Scratching his jaw and exhaling softly, Sirius headed down the hall, calling out to Remus to pour him a drink as well. They had many things to discuss.

———

Over at your place, things weren’t as calm. You had managed to apparate onto your doorstep, landing slightly unceremoniously on a pot of ivy. The pain was increasing. It wasn’t as bad as you had anticipated, certainly not the same level as the cruciatus curse. This meant the worst was still to come. You shuddered at the thought.

Fumbling with the lock on your front door you stumbled into your apartment, legs refusing to cooperate.

“Quill, quill, parchment…” You mumbled to yourself, eyesight blurred as you struggled to glance around your living room.

On the windowsill was a strip of parchment; on top of it a quill. “Accio parchment!” It soared through the air, hitting you on the head as your reflexes failed you, falling to the floor at your feet.

Holding your temple, you gasped as your legs gave way and you dropped to the floor. You felt an out of body experience as the curse blew through you. Still you were expecting far worse than this. Reaching for your quill you tried in vain to scribble a coherent sentence your bones aching and muscles pinching you holding your movements back.

A thud behind your eyes was growing, beating a constant tattoo behind your eyelids. It made seeing what you were doing impossible.

You couldn’t move your arms to hold your head which was still smarting from the knock caused by Remus earlier. You closed your eyes and curled up in a ball, and as the tears started rolling down your cheeks the pain reached a crescendo, everything went black, and you remembered no more.

————

“We are going to want more than tea, Moony.” Sirius reentered the kitchen of Grimmauld Place addressing Remus who stood with two mugs of tea, pouring hot water from the kettle.

He looked up at Sirius and frowned before comprehension dawned on his face.

“You split Y/N’s curse didn’t you?” Sirius nodded.

“Bloody heck Sirius, you could have warned me!”

“I’m warning you now, mate. Firewhiskey’s on the top shelf over there.” Sirius pointed to a cabinet above the stove.

Remus sighed and looked at his friend, half exasperated and half proud. “So instead of doing what Y/N suggested you half cursed her, siphoning off the rest of the side effects to you and I?” “Not half.” Sirius corrected. “It still needs to be enough pain to knock her out and convince the Death Eaters she really was cursed but she won’t be out for days, more likely 10 hours as we’ll get some of the pain, minimising hers.” “Where did you learn to do that? I have read about it but heard it takes um… practice” Remus asked carefully. “My mother used to make me practise curses on animals, I didn’t want to but if I didn’t she would curse them and it would be much worse. I found the charm to measure and siphon off part or all of the curse and used to do that, pretending to curse things but really feeling it myself.”

Remus, looked down and nodded at this. Every now and then Sirius would surprise him by highlighting he wasn’t just an arrogant prankster but a kind and noble man. Deep down.

“Well I’m impressed Padfoot.” Said Remus handing Sirius a bottle of Firewhiskey and two tumblers. “Not to sound like an arsehole, but why did you drag me into this - couldn’t you have taken it by yourself?”

Knowing he was joking Sirius laughed before adding, “You sort of owe her, Moony.” “Remus stared at him. “What for?”

“She lost her dog protecting you mate! Her dog!”

“Oh I knew you would bring that up, always sensitive about the dog.” Remus smiled before a somber look took over his features. “I do feel terrible about that so fair enough.” He accepted the now full glass proffered by Sirius, but paused before taking a sip.

“So tell me, what are we in for?”

Sirius gave Remus a side smile, pointing at the glass in his hand. “Let’s just say we need to get drunk…”

————

“Ow, fuck Moony! That was a bad one!” Sirius clutched his stomach as a piercing cramp rolled through his abdomen.

Beer bottles and firewhisky littered the kitchen table where the two men had sat for the past three hours getting steadily and steadily more pissed as they waited for the phantom pains to pass.

“Sssseriously, Siriusssslllly aha Moony.” Grinned Sirius. “Thiss has gotta be worse than con-contractions!”

“Don’t say that in front of Wolly Measley!” Remus and Sirius both giggled, and then very quickly groaned aloud holding various parts of their bodies as the curse delivered more pain.

“WHEN WILL IT END?!” “You bloody made the curse Footpad. Hoo-You tell me?” Remus scoffed at his friend. “It is easing off now though, I’d hizzzard a gas mmmmm two hours left!”

“You are tobably, protally right as usssual Mooooons.”

Remus waved his hands in front of him like an orchestra conductor and took a bow. Unfortunately forgetting he was sitting and hitting his forehead on the table as he bent forward far too low.

Sirius roared with laughter, as Remus rubbed his sore furrowed brow, chuckling alongside Sirius.

They were still giggling as the flames in Sirius kitchen fireplace gleamed green and Madeye Moody stepped out.

Eying both men and the table full of booze, Moody shook his head.

“We’re fit-shaced!” Sirius exclaimed happily. “I can see that.” Moody replied as Remus tried and failed to make an inconspicuous ‘shussing’ gesture at Sirius behind his hand.

“They’ve found her.” Moody continued.

“Oh YYYY-YAY!” Remus hiccuped.

“The ‘Death Eaters’ found her.” Moody emphasised.

“Oh, so not yay.” Remus corrected himself.

“Isssshe good all? I mean all good?” Slurred Sirius

“She managed to get in her front door and look like she was trying to send a message before she passed out. I watched her house myself and saw the aftermath.”

He paused, waiting to see if Sirius and Remus were keeping up in their drunk states.

“They believe she was cursed at any rate and are on the hunt for Macnair as it became clear he hadn’t delivered her Voldemort’s parcel. Dumbledore is going to keep an eye out. She is recovering at her house now. So, congratulations on performing a convincing cover story.”

“Sold you I could to it…do it!” Cheered Sirius while Remus placed one hand over his chest, the other still rubbing his forehead.

“Huurumph.” Moody turned and stalked back to the fire place calling over his shoulder.

“The next time, don’t siphon off the curse, Sirius. I have had a headache for four hours.”

Remus, who had been attempting to take a sip of beer, choked at Moody’s words. Mouth agape and beer dripping down his chin, he pointed at Sirius who giggled sending them both into crackling laughter as Moody whooshed away into the floo.

———-

Several hours later Sirius lifted his head from the kitchen table. From the look of the light outside it was mid-morning. He groaned and pushed himself up blinking heavily.

Remus was nowhere to be seen, likely he put himself to bed after Sirius had passed out. Funny, Sirius could have sworn they moved into the living room after Moody’s visit.

He stepped over to one of his kitchen cabinets, pulled the door open and fumbled inside until his hands grasped the bottle he had been searching for; the Hangover Draught.

He quickly gulped it down and lent against the bench, head hanging low while he waited for the potion to take affect.

It had been a strange night as he and Remus had grappled with the offset of his curse.

Remus had probed into Sirius’ motivations for sharing Y/N’s pain in the first place.

Not being able to give Remus a satisfactory answer, Sirius was subject to what he used to call ‘The Moony Prefect Stare’ - an annoying smug look Remus would save for him and James at school when Remus knew they were hiding something and had a good idea of what that something was.

In all honesty Sirius didn’t know why he had decided to help Y/N. Perhaps it was somewhere in between the 5th question of her veritiserum trial and the look on her face when he read her runes.

She seemed familiar somehow and he couldn’t help but feel for her situation.

“You believe her but you still don’t trust Snape.” Remus had questioned him.

“Snape started out wanting to be a Death Eater, and I noticed no-one has asked him to take a truth potion.” Sirius snapped back.

“Fair enough.” Remus nodded in reply. “He’s a Potion Master though isn’t he - he’d see it coming anyway so regardless, we’d never know if it worked. We’ll just have to take Dumbledore’s word for it.” Sirius had snorted in a dissatisfied manner.

Did he trust Y/N though?

~Yes~ a voice in the back of his head answered.

Shaking his head he had taken a shot of fire whisky and changed the subject.

That’s how the rest of the evening passed for Remus and Sirius, pleasant laughs of nostalgia and light anecdotes punctuated by bouts of phantom pain from the curse and varying degrees of sobriety.

Something had stayed in the back of Sirius’ mind all night though, and he wasn’t sure if it was welcome.

Pushing himself off the kitchen bench, feeling marginally better, Sirius made his way down the hallway and up the staircase to bed. On his way he noticed that someone had changed the colour of his carpet to gold. Must have been Remus on his way to bed. Sirius shrugged his shoulders to no-one muttering to himself that it made a nice change from the dull blue his mother had chosen.

He reached his room but couldn’t find the doorknob to open the bedroom door. Frowning to himself and thinking perhaps he was still drunk he looked down to see the handle sitting on the opposite side of the door than it should have been.

As he reached for it, it moved up to the top of the door frame. Several moments of Sirius getting increasingly more impatient chasing his door knob all over the door he finally managed to grab it and force it to turn.

“Very funny Moony.” Sirius barked out to the door opposite his room.

He pushed the door roughly and entered his room.

Sirius had never put his shirt back on from last night so he only had to kick off his trousers but they were tight and he was having difficulty.

“Need a hand?” A voice purred from over by his bed.

Sirius started, one foot in the air trying to pull his pants off his ankles.

“What the?!”

“I’d love to help but I’m a little tied up…”

Speechless Sirius looked at his bed. There, sprawled naked, was Y/N, hands tied to his head board by his Gryffindor tie.

Sirius toppled over in surprise. Quickly recovering himself, removing the last inch of his trouser leg he stepped towards his bed.

“Y/N! What are you doing here?”

She was gorgeous. Laid out in front of him like some debaucherous smorgasbord of desire.

Beads of sweat dripping down her smooth skin. Her breasts were plump and supple, her hair strewn across his pillow added to her wanton air as she looked up at him bitting her lip and squeezing her legs together.

Sirius had mentally clocked her figure as she left headquarters last night, he had helped her up of course from her fall and felt the curves of her waist beneath his hand. Not noticing at the time he watched her until she disapparated…hang on? Something clicked.

“Y/N aren’t you suppose to be recovering still? I know I didn’t use the strongest curse on you but how did you get here?”

“You tell me Sirius.” She bit her lip again and looked at him longingly.

Sirius was sweating, barely aware he was only in his underwear.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N.” He licked his lips anxiously. Oh mother of Morgana he was turned on.

“Really? Your body language doesn’t seem to agree with you.” Y/N looked down indicating to a growing bulge in his briefs.

Sirius, never one to be shy about sex, simply placed one hand over himself and ran the other through his hair smiling slightly as he tried to control his thoughts into some semblance of order.

Was this a bad idea?

“Y/N we barely know each other.”

“That’s never stopped you before.” She winked.

“True” He smiled at her, pausing before speaking what was in his head. “A few hours ago we were cursing each other. This is rather fast don’t you think?”

“I know but I really, really want you Sirius.” She sounded pained.

Y/N tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Please Sirius, just touch me. I need you to touch me.”

Sirius’ cock twitched under his hand. He hadn’t felt this desired in a long time. Bursts of excitement were sparking up and down his body.

“Y/N…” he growled.

“Sirius.”

He walked forward until he was right next to the bed.

“Sirius.” She was getting louder in her pleas rubbing her thighs together, squirming where she was feeling the heat the most.

“Y/N” Sirius growled again. He reached out to run the tips of his fingers down her side, brushing across her nipples. She strained against the ties and arched up into him.

“Oh my Godric.” He was aching now.

He gently placed his hands either side of her head and lay on top of her, leaning closer to her swollen lips, they were brushing against his. He ground his hips down into hers and she moaned.

Sirius closed his eyes ecstasy and tried to calm his breathing. It had been a while but he still wanted to control himself and ensure she had just as good a time.

“SIRIUS!” She was chanting his name over and over.

As his lips descended on hers he felt a sudden sharp blow to his temple.

Surprised he looked down at Y/N but she was gone. He could hear her calling to him but he couldn’t see where she was. He blinked several times, the room began swirling before him.

“Wha-whats happening Y/N?”

“SIRIUS!”

“Y/N?”

“SIRIUS MATE, WAKE UP!”

Sirius’ vision stopped swimming in front of him, he opened his eyes to see Remus spread over the living room floor, holding various objects ready to lob them at him were he lay, face flat on the living room couch.

“What the fuck Moony, I was asleep!” Sirius muffled into the couch cushions.

“I know and moaning Y/N’s name over and over, it was a bit off putting mate.”

So it was merely a dream. Of course. That explained the different coloured carpet, his changing door handle and Y/N on his…he shuddered, a thrill pulsed through him.

“Anything you want to talk about Padfoot?” Remus could barely contain his laughter.

Sirius threw the book Remus had tossed at him and gave him a wry smile.

“i’m going to make some coffee, want some?”

Remus yawned and nodded.

“Got any hangover potion? I feel rotten.” Sirius smirked, stood up and heading back to the kitchen.

It was full of bottles, cigarette butts, and a half cooked pizza.

He searched through the kitchen cabinets for the Hangover Draught feeling a vague sense of déjà vu. Was he stuck in a dream loop? He would be up for that especially if waiting for him in his bedroom was Y/N.

Alas, Sirius shook his head. He wasn’t dreaming anymore he was sure of it. For one thing, there was no hangover potion left which was typical and the carpet, he had noticed, was back to it’s normal shade of dreary blue.

--

Tag list: @belladonnarey @sirius-lysad @riddikuluslypotter @emmamass24 @evyiione @mylovelykelsifer @sly-vixen-up2nogood @ashkuuuu @virgilwrites-archive @songforhema @wangmangagavroche @borbole-teias @legalyred @qwertyokok

[belmontsfate]

MoF - Awakening: Ch 1

Back against the wall, Simon let his body slide to the floor, breathing heavily as he caught his breath. He was in a living nightmare. No matter where he went it seemed there were monsters everywhere, relentlessly getting in his way. It seemed like days had passed since he crossed the threshold into Dracula's Castle, and yet the ever present moon told him otherwise. The sun had yet to rise… It was still the same night as he had come.

"I need a break. A lot of good it'll do if I drop dead from battle fatigue before I even reach Dracula," he muttered to himself.

Once his breath had evened out, he got back to his feet, his hand reaching for the whip hanging at his side. In his haste to get away from all the monsters, he had rushed into the first room he found, not bothering to check and see if the room was even safe.

The room was circular in shape with stained glass windows, offset by statues of angels adorning the walls. Much like the rest of the castle, the room was covered with cracks and dried blood stains; a sign of previous battles or a previous meal. There was no way to tell the difference in a castle filled with vampires. Either way, there were no monsters to be seen.

Then he noticed the room's sole furnishing. Standing in the middle of the room was a massive stone sarcophagus.

The sarcophagus stood on a low pedestal shaped like a star. At the base of it were four dragon statues with glowing red eyes; the symbol of Dracula himself, and along the sides were the figures of four weeping women, each looking identical with long dark hair and brown eyes filled with tears.

"Can it be?" he wondered aloud. "Is this the tomb of Dracula?"

It was clear to see that a lot of work and care had gone into crafting it. Surely such a burial had to have been made for someone important. It made sense for the lord of the castle to have such an elaborate resting place. Yet, for some reason, he got the feeling that wasn't the case.

Reluctantly he approached the sarcophagus, climbing up onto the pedestal to get a better look at the lid. What he found left him confused. Written on the lid of the sarcophagus was a name, but it wasn't Dracula.

"Alucard?"

It didn't make sense. Who was this Alucard and why did he have a sarcophagus with the symbol of Dracula carved into it? Was he a high ranking vampire in Dracula's ranks?

He was still racking his brain, trying to understand the significance of the tomb, when he felt the lid begin to move beneath his hands.

Letting out a startled yelp, Simon leapt back. He cursed himself for becoming so taken in by the sarcophagus. This was Dracula's Castle, he reminded himself. He was going to get himself killed if he stopped to ponder every grave he stumbled upon.

With his whip out, ready to defend himself, Simon watched as the lid was pushed aside. After a moment, a figure arose from inside. His eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight. Standing before him was a man, tall and broad-shouldered with long white hair and glowing yellow eyes. There was no doubt about it … He was a vampire.

Climbing out of his sarcophagus, the white-haired vampire started towards him, staggering as if he was drunk.

"Get back!" Simon exclaimed, retreating a step back.

Much to Simon's surprise, this seemed to startle the vampire. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Forgive me if I startled you, but you seem familiar to me. Do I know you?" the vampire spoke, his fangs briefly peeking out from behind his pale lips.

Simon gave him a good look-over. He had to admit that there was something vaguely familiar about the white-haired vampire, but he couldn't put his finger on why or how.

"I doubt that. You wouldn't be walking this earth if we had met before."

"Have I done something to make you hate me?" the vampire asked. "If I have, I am deeply sorry."

"Your existence alone is enough to make me hate you, vampire!"

The vampire cokes his head to the side, giving Simon a questioning look, "Vampire? Is that who I am?"

Now it was Simon's turn to be confused. Was this vampire trying to mess with him? Was he trying to convince him that he was completely clueless? If he was, it was starting to work.

"You can't be serious… You mean to tell me that you don't even know what you are?"

The vampire shook his head. "All I know is that I just woke up inside a coffin," he explained. "I can't remember anything before… I had hoped that you knew who I was, seeing as you were there when I awoke."

Simon could see honesty in the creature's eyes. His golden orbs were filled with nothing but sorrow and confusion. He hadn't thought it possible, but he actually felt sorry for a vampire.

This man had clearly just been turned. Simon didn't know much about vampirism, but he knew enough to spot a newborn one. The man seemed weak, stumbling about, gripping the side of the sarcophagus for support as if he would collapse at any moment.

It made him wonder… Was this how all vampires awoke; Sad and unable to remember who they were before?

He shook his head. That couldn't be the case. He had heard tales of vampires coming back for those who had wronged them in their previous lives to have their revenge.

No, he got the feeling that this was a special case. This man looked like a vampire but he didn't really act like one. He could have lunged at him and ripped his throat apart by now, but he hadn't. He either wasn't thirsty or possessed a great deal of self restraint, especially for one who just awoke.

"I'm afraid I do not. I stumbled upon this room by accident, but judging from the name inscribed on the sarcophagus, I'd have to guess that your name is Alucard."

The white-haired vampire turned back to face the sarcophagus. Slowly he approached the lid, crouching down and running his clawed fingers over the name.

"Alucard… The name doesn't sound familiar, but I suppose it could have been my name."

After a few moments, the vampire, Alucard, stood again and began to gaze around the room.

"I feel like I've been here before… I-I think this was the room in which I died…"

Simon had figured as much. Though he was still puzzling over the significance of the sarcophagus and its significance. If this man had been killed and turned by Dracula, it seemed unlikely that Dracula would place him in such an elaborate tomb without reasoning. Could it be that this man was somehow special to the Vampire Lord?

"Does the name Dracula ring any bells?"

At the sound of the name, Alucard's stopped dead in his tracks. His shoulders tensed and his fists clenched as he slowly turned back to face Simon. The dark look on his face said it all.

"I don't know why… But when you said that name, I felt a rush of overwhelming anger flow inside of me," he said. "I do not know how I know him, only that I want to kill him."

"Well then, sounds like we have a shared goal. I too have come to Dracula's Castle in hopes of killing him. Perhaps if we team up, we might have a better chance of doing so."

Simon wasn't sure if the idea was wise. Joining forces with a vampire wasn't exactly something he would ordinarily do. He couldn't explain it, but he felt this connection to Alucard; as if they were meant to find each other. It was as if they knew each other somehow… As if they had always known each other.

Alucard nodded his head in agreement, extending a hand to him. "Might I know the name of the man I am to be fighting alongside of?"

Reluctantly Simon took the hand offered and shook it, being careful to not be scratched by the claws. "My name is Simon Belmont."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Simon Belmont," Alucard smiled. "I hope I can be of some help to you."

Through the windows, Simon could see that the night was starting to lift. For the moment, that was good. It would give them a bit of time to prepare. He could get some much needed rest, and Alucard … He doubted that the vampire needed rest … No, he assumed that what the vampire needed to recover its strength was to feed. The thought made him tense. He hadn't thought of how or who his accomplice would be getting his food from.

"Don't worry, I won't drink from you." Alucard assured him as if he had just read his thoughts. "You can rest here and I'll stand guard outside the door to make sure nothing disturbs you."

Simon let out a sigh of relief. Ordinarily he would have been more on guard, especially around a vampire, but for some reason he believed Alucard when he said he would keep him safe. He trusted him to guard him. It was truly bizarre, but he was much too tired to try and fight it.

"I'd appreciate that."

With a final nod of the head, Alucard staggered out of the room, closing the door behind him.

A part of Simon worried that his new friend would be too weak to take on any monsters that came his way, but he quickly shook such concerns away. Alucard was a vampire. He'd be fine. He needed to focus on himself for now.

Casting another glance around the room, he searched for a place to lay down. He briefly debated over trying the sarcophagus, but ruled that out soon after. There was no way he was going to sleep in the bed of the undead. Instead, he settled for a relatively clean spot on the floor in front of one of the many windows.

Laying down, he did his best to get comfortable, using part of his fur pelt to cushion his head. Secure in the knowledge that Alucard was standing guard outside and the sunlight that would surely wash over him while he slept would offer him more than enough protection, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. He was gone within minutes.

...

Alucard collapsed almost as soon as the door was closed. He needed to feed. He knew nothing else. There was blood everywhere, slowly closing in on him and threatening to overwhelm him. He had done his best to hide it from the red-haired man, but the truth was that he had been sorely tempted to drain him dry.

He didn't know who he was, but still he hated himself, or rather the vampire that he had become. Somehow he knew deep down that he hadn't always been this way. He had to have been human before, meaning that someone had made him this way… Someone had turned him, selfishly stealing him from the life he knew before, and judging by the hatred that bubbled inside of him at the mention of this Dracula, he suspected that he was the culprit.

If only he could remember who he was. Did he have a family somewhere outside of this castle? Were they missing him? Did they think him dead? That, he couldn't answer.

Then there was the issue of his name. Alucard… Was that really his name? It didn't fit as he felt it should. There were several names that sounded familiar, but Alucard was not one of them.

Simon Belmont, on the other hand, was a name that sounded so familiar to him. In fact, everything about him was familiar, yet he couldn't place why that was. He had this unexplainable desire to protect Simon from all those who would wish harm on him. Which is exactly why he fled from the room when he did…

Alucard knew that he was going to have to get his strength back if he was to be of any use, and the only way to do that was to sate his thirst. He was determined not to hurt his new friend, or any other human beings for that matter, but that didn't leave him with a lot of food sources.

That was when the beasts started to come. Dozens of dwarven hunchbacks came out of nowhere, running at him with wooden shields and pitchforks. They came to an abrupt halt in front of him, scratching their heads and mumbling something amongst themselves before continuing on with their attacks.

He struggled at first, unarmed and weak with thirst, but then he came across a strange cross-shaped weapon lying around in the hall. Without hesitation, he snatched it up and used it to fight off the hunchbacks.

Something deep inside him seemed to come into place. He felt somehow more whole than he had before. Like the weapon was an integral part of him that he had been missing for so long. From that moment on, he fought with ease. His body moved instinctively, as if it knew what it was doing on it's own. Before long, there was a pile of fallen hunchbacks at his feet.

"Who was I in my previous life?" he asked himself, staring down at the weapon in his hands. "Was I like Simon; a warrior who came to try and defeat Dracula?"

If he was, he had clearly failed. The nagging ache in his throat reminded him of such, but it also brought an idea to mind.

Crouching down before the pile of hunchbacks, he observed them for a moment, noticing blood dripping from the open wounds across their body. Their blood didn't exactly smell the most appealing to him, but it was there and so he scooped up one of the dead hunchbacks and sunk his teeth into its wrinkled flesh, draining the tiny body dry.

He did the same with four more hunchbacks, throwing them off to the side as he finished them off. Once he had his fill, he pulled back, wiping the excess blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his arm.

"Well, at least it did the trick."

Just like its smell, its taste left some to be desired, but the constant ache in his throat had lessened to a point where it was barely noticeable. Not only that, but he felt a bit stronger from it as well. He smiled. At least he knew that he had an effective substitute. He wouldn't have to worry about attacking Simon.

True to his word, he remained outside the door, listening to the slow but steady heartbeat of the man on the other side. Hours passed and though a few more hunchbacks did wander his way, his watch was uneventful for the most part.

Eventually, he heard Simon begin to stir, signalling that he was finished sleeping. He waited patiently outside the door, unable to re-enter the room on account of the open ceiling, until the door finally opened and the red-headed warrior emerged, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"As well as you can expect when you're lying on a hard floor," Simon said with a shrug.

It was then that Simon noticed the pile of hunchback corpses scattered about, eyeing them curiously.

"I take it you managed to find some food for yourself," he stated, glancing back over at Alucard. "I'd say it helped. You seem to be in a much better state than when you first woke."

Alucard nodded. "I also managed to find a weapon for myself," he held it up for Simon to see.

"It's a battle cross!" Simon's eyes went wide. "May I have a look at it?"

Alucard handed it over a bit reluctantly, feeling a bit bare without his new-found weapon.

Simon examined the battle cross quite thoroughly as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he obviously didn't find it judging from the frown that surfaced on his face.

"Is something wrong with it?"

"No, nothing like that," Simon insisted, handing it back to Alucard. "I thought it might have been my father's old battle cross, but I was mistaken."

Alucard raised a brow. "Your father had a weapon like this? What did you call it? A battle cross?"

"Yeah, apparently it's still here in the castle. I hope to find it before I face the Dark Lord."

"Well, I'll do my best to help you in that regard," Alucard promised. "I seem to remember the basic layout of the castle from before. I might have seen it somewhere and just passed by."

"That would be much appreciated, seeing as my previous guide just up and vanished on me," Simon muttered bitterly. Clearly there was some bad blood between him and his so-called previous guide. "Anyway, we should get going. I've already slept for a good part of the day and the other night creatures will no doubt be out again when night falls."

Both in agreement with the idea, they started off into the castle's winding halls.