#but then quickly becoming wary and stopping if it becomes something that king keeps trying to lose

[dent-de-leon]

Given that all of Molly’s spells are enchantments, has he ever wondered what that’s like on the other end…? Would he ever ask Caleb to try and charm him, just to see how it feels?

As King, would he ask Caleb for it as a distraction, an escape—something to quiet all the warring memories and haunting nightmares; all those messy, complicated feelings that keep bubbling to the surface? A way to just let himself feel for Caleb without getting caught up in too many tangled pasts, without seeing his Magician’s body lying lifeless in that ruined city?

Tealeaf, who only knows enchantments—who was a performer in all his other lives, whose become accustomed to playing a part and wearing a mask when he must, who still struggles with letting himself be vulnerable and bearing his heart. Who always loved fairytales, who still lingers on the warmth and comfort of pretty dreams. “Never trust the truth. The truth is vicious—the truth thinks you owe it something. None of that. I like my bullshit—it’s good, it’s happy, it makes other people happy…”

“Once upon a time, there was a happy family…”

Caleb indulging him at first, trying to make him happy, trying to offer a gentle distraction from all the pain he still carries from life after life.

But stopping once he sees the signs, the all too familiar, faraway look in his eyes. Caleb teaching him the importance of staying grounded, explaining what his own past means to him—why he still holds onto it and never lets himself forget. Learning to forgive himself and move forward; making peace with the boy who was once Bren, while still carrying his home in his heart.

Being there to take Tealeaf’s hand and keep him anchored.

[seths-rogens]

HERE IS THE REPEATED IMAGE OF THE LOVER DESTROYED

AO3 | Part 2

The sounds of battle were almost completely quiet by now. It had seemed, for a while, that the clanging of swords and the screams of wounded and dying men weren’t getting any quieter, no matter how far away they walked from the battlefield.

It was slow going. Stephen was unsteady on his feet, steadily losing more blood as they continued on. He only remained standing because of the weight Edmund took, hoisting his arm around his shoulder and steadying him at the waist.

One of Stephen’s hands sat clutching at the back of Edmund’s armour, while the other pressed tight against the wound on his abdomen. He could feel the warm, wet red of his blood slipping down over his fingers and dripping onto the forest floor. He had been stabbed before of course - it came as part of the job - but never quite like this. He could feel himself dying, his life slipping through his own weak grasp.

It was no longer a case of ‘if’, but ‘when’.

He hoped no one was following them, as he was surely leaving a stark crimson trail behind, and he would hate for them to catch Edmund. He deserved his freedom, not a cruel death at the hands of a man who craved power over all else.

Despite their opposing crests and colours, Stephen had become quite fond of Edmund over the previous months. He had been wary at first, of the man in the deep purple cloak who came to his chambers at night whispering the secrets of his enemies.

That was treason, he could be killed for that, people had been killed for less.

And yet, in spite of this, every Tuesday, at 9pm on the dot, when the castle was dark and the wains were sleeping, Edmund would slip in through the cracked window. He would sit at Stephen’s small dining table, a goblet of wine in both their hands, sipping idly as he detailed King Henry’s next nefarious plan. An invasion here, an execution there. His cruelty was becoming far too normal.

Stephen couldn’t tell you when their meetings progressed to more. When they moved from the table to the bed, lying next to one another like parallel streams. When Edmund’s standoffishness became tender, gentle. When they finally bridged that unspoken divide.

Edmund fantasised of a better, freer future. A peaceful one. He would whisper about it at night, under the blankets like they could hide from the world.

He believed Stephen would be the one to start and lead the revolution, to build an army and fight back. Take the crown for himself.

Stephen hadn’t been so sure. He was only a Lord, after all, presiding over a small town of a few hundred since the deaths of his parents. He didn’t think people would follow him - didn’t think they had reason to - but something about Edmund’s ferocity almost made him try anyway.

Stephen was surprised when the townsfolk rallied all too quickly to follow him. He turned to Edmund with a confused smile, receiving a told-you-so smirk in return.

They had a war to fight.

Yet now, here they were, a crown traitor traipsing through the forest with the dying would-be king half hanging off his back.

Stephen dug his heels, bringing them to a stop. “You’ll have to go on without me. I don’t think I’ll make it much further.”

Edmund stumbled, nearly dropping Stephen from around his shoulders. Stephen winced, sucking in a breath as the action tugged on his wound.

Edmund searched his face, trying desperately to meet his eyes. Stephen denied him.

“No. I cannot. We must keep moving.” Edmund grit his teeth, readjusting his grip and taking another step forward.

“Ed-Edmund… You must leave me, I am only slowing you down.” Stephen spoke desperately, avoiding Edmund’s watchful eye. It was over for him, he knew that, but he couldn’t let Edmund get caught. “If you stop me here you can still escape before someone comes looking.”

Edmund dropped his hold on the arm around his shoulders to instead grip Stephen’s jaw and force eye contact. His touch was first but still gentle. Edmund was always gentle. “I will not leave you, my liege. There is still time for you yet. Okay?”

A pit opened in Stephen’s stomach, he felt a prickle behind his eye. “Okay.” He whispered.

Stephen ducked his head. They took another step forward, then another.

“We keep walking,” Edmund grunted. “If we walk to the edge of the forest, we’ll see it. Your manor is just over the ridge. We can make it.”

He spoke with a sick sort of desperation, a refusal to be swayed ran tight like a bowstring down the line of his body. It was only a matter of time, Stephen knew, but if his presence offered Edmund comfort, then for this short while he would allow it.

They were quiet for a while - the only sound the squelch of wet leaves beneath their boots - as they made slow progress through the forest.

Stephen could feel his eyes drooping, his hand falling limp from where it clutched his side. He stumbled, falling to his knees and dragging Edmund with him. He heaved in a gasping breath as Edmund dropped to his own knees in front of him. He felt warm, calloused palms cup his cheeks, a thumb stroking softly over his cheekbone.

“You have to stand up, Sire. We’re almost there. I can see the break in the trees.”

“Edmund, I am no king.” Stephen covered Edmund’s hand with his own, wetting it with his blood. “I never was.”

“You were mine.” Edmund whispered. “You are mine.” He sniffled, biting back tears. “Come on, if you just stand up I can carry you, and we can make it. We can get you help.”

“No.” Stephen heaved a breath.

“Stephen, please.”

“No.” Stephen smiled. “It is my time. I have accepted that.”

“No.” Edmund shook his head. “No. We can still help you. I can still save you.”

“Edmund. My love. I am not long for this world.” Edmund choked out a sob. “Lay me down. If I am to pass, I would like to be comfortable.”

Stephen could only stare, taking in every feature of the other man’s face as he laid him down, as he cried for him. He was set down on a bed of leaves, soft green moss and small white flowers. It was a beautiful place to die, he only felt sorry to mar it with his blood.

Edmund knelt beside him, running tender hands through the dirty strands of his hair. “I do not want you to go. I am not ready.”

Stephen reached up, caressing Edmund’s cheek, stroking away a tear. “You will see me again.”

“Not soon enough.” Edmund cried, forcing a shaky smile.

Stephen could taste copper in his mouth, though he could no longer feel the pain of the hole in his side. He felt drunk, his movements sluggish. He smiled, but at the way Edmund flinched, he assumed it must be gruesome.

“Sunshine, my love. If I am to die, would you kiss me? Just once more? I have a long road ahead of me.” His voice was weak. Each word trailing after the other.

Edmund smiled, a beautiful sight for Stephen’s tired eyes. ��Of course, my sweetheart. One for the road.” He chuckled wetly, leaning down and pressing a hard kiss to Stephen’s red lips.

___________________

When Edmund pulled away, still cradling his lover’s face, he sucked in a harsh breath. Stephen’s bleary eyes gazed up at the sky, to where the sunlight dappled its way through the high leaves like stars.

“Can you see that, Edmund? The stars are out already.” A soft smile fell upon his face, his eyes awe-filled. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

It was daylight. Several hours from night. Stephen was fading fast.

Edmund could not pull his eyes away from the man beneath him. He held back a whimper. “They are. Just like you.”

“Oh, Edmund. You flatter me.” Stephen laughed, his breath whistling in his chest. “Would you get my dear Robin. She does so love the stars, and I think I can see a new constellation. I’m sure she would like to name it. Though perhaps I should, I did find it first after all…”

“Yeah? What’re you going to name it, my dear?”

Stephen smiled, meeting Edmund’s gaze. “Mîn frîge, sunnanscîma. For you.”

Edmund laughed, though it sounded more like a sob.

Stephen’s eyes glazed over, a gentle smile still tugging on his lips. He fell limp in Edmund’s arms.

“No. No!” Edmund near yelled, shaking Stephen’s body in his arms. “No, please, it isn’t time yet. I need more time!” His voice cracked, dropping to a whisper. “We didn’t have enough.”

Edmund curled over Stephen’s chest, as tears spilled down his face - wracking sobs that shook his whole body - and mixed with the red blood that still painted his lips.

He cried until he was tired. Until his body felt weak and empty.

He pulled away, adjusting Stephen’s limbs so he was lying straight, clasping his sword against his chest. He looked dignified.

If not for the blood, he would have looked as if he was sleeping.

Edmund surrounded his body in the flowers he found around the edges of the meadow - pink corncockle and pale bluebells. He weaved him a crown of yellow blossoms and white snowdrops, and laid it to rest upon his head.

He looked regal. Like the king he was never able to be.

Edmund wiped the blood from Stephen’s mouth and knelt back. It was easier to pretend he was asleep. That with a nudge, or a whisper in his ear, his lips would pull into a smile and he would open bleary eyes. That he would tackle Edmund into the flowers, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.

But Stephen lay still. He would not awaken.

Edmund sniffed, wiping the tears from his face. He leaned forward, cradling Stephen’s face in his palms and pressing one last, lingering kiss to his lips.

He stood on shaky legs and turned, began to walk away.

He couldn’t turn back. If he did, he’d never leave.

———————————————

aaaa hello it’s been a long time since i’ve written or posted fanfic so i hope everyone likes this!

i don’t have many steddie mutuals but it would be very cool to kinda join the gang lmao

sorry for the MCD, this came from a writing prompt i was given in one of my classes and i couldn’t help myself!

Mîn frîge, sunnanscîma = ‘My love, sunshine’ in Old English

reblogs appreciated!! <3

[cobrakaisb]

hi bestie! i’ve had this idea for a while, but i haven’t seen it. can you do like a head cannon of what miguel, robby, and eli/hawk would be like as an older brother? it can be totally based off what you think :) thank you <3

of course! sorry it took me a while but i needed to to be perfect. i also added two bonus boys at the end (hope you don’t mind). little note: i wrote this with a fem reader in mind because of the mentions of periods. 

Having the Cobra Kai boys as older brothers

miguel:

you and miguel are so close

the age difference does not affect him at all

he is very protective of you before cobra kai

but once he joins cobra kai that over protectiveness 📈📈📈

let’s just say that this kid is bothering you

miguel definitely notices and scares them off

you act annoyed about it, but you’re highkey grateful that he did that

“my brother is the all valley champ so back the fuck off”

you were so excited for him at the all valley

you wore one of his cobra kai shirts and everything

miguel is so supportive of whatever extra curricular you do

karate? yes he stans, theater? you bet he’s at all your shows, dance? you know he’s bringing you some flowers, another sport? he’s at every game cheering for you

miguel knows about periods, and he has no shame in buying you tampons/pads

“hey y/n, i noticed you were running low so i got you some more” 🥺🥺 

you wear his hoodies all the time

they are very big on you, but very comfy

you help him with sam

“i punched her in the face” “what why?”

“y/n what do you think about this?” “it looks great miguel. sam will love it”

when he dates tory you're a little on edge about it

“miguel, weren’t you like trying to win sam back two days ago?” “i like tory now” “okayy” 

johnny loves you as much as he loves miguel

y’all hang out together

his friends are your friends and vice versa

your friends definitely think that miguel is cute but “eww that’s my brother”

when miguel is in the coma you blame johnny

“he showed mercy because of you! you did this!”

but then you cry into his chest

when miguel wakes up you’re at school

you don’t find out until after school when carmen picks you up

you hug him so tight, rambling about how much you love him

“i love you too y/n now get off me”

you can’t keep up with his love life

“y/n i’m with sam again” “what?” 

overall your bond is amazing and you couldn’t ask for a better brother

robby:

you and robby both live with your mother (because we aren’t basic here)

you’re the odd one out (your mom does drugs and robby sells them)

“you got caught with molly? i thought you and sara were hooking up?” “the drug y/n”

when robby starts being friends with those punk kids, the two of you start to drift

you actually go to school, unlike him

“just skip y/n” “no robby”

it isn’t until he gets back on track because of daniel that you two start getting close again

“i’m gonna get back on track y/n i promise” and you believe him

you go to the skatepark with him

he skates while you read or draw or skate (whatever you’re into tbh)

when you’re on your period robby will buy you stuff, but he doesn’t like to

he feels so awkward about it

“um are these the right ones?” “yes thank you”

robby gives the best hugs (idk why he just does)

i feel like robby is also really good at reading emotions

like he knows when you’ve had a bad day at school or when you’re stressed about something

he also knows how to cheer you up :)))

“i know you did not just eat cereal with water???” “and what about it?”

when your mom comes back after being gone for days robby pulls you behind him

because he really doesn’t want you to be exposed to that

you cry into robby’s chest once she leaves

“why can’t she just be our mom?”

when daniel asks robby to move in with him he denies

but quickly explains that he can’t leave you

daniel tells robby that you can come too

“thanks for helping my brother mr.larusso, i really appreciate it”

you definitely walk in on robby and sam making out at some point

“hey robby- oh my god i’m so sorry” slaps hand over eyes and immediately leaves the room

when robby pushes miguel off the balcony it's the first time you’re genuinely scared of him

you visit him in jail, but it takes awhile for you to go

“i’m sorry y/n” “i know robby”

you just understand each other

when robby joins cobra kai he tries to get you in too

you agree to one lesson, and know it’s not for you

you have many arguments about this

“he’s brainwashing you!” “he knows what’s best for me, for us!”

robby feels so betrayed when he finds out you’re staying with johnny

the two of you definitely drift after that, but you find your way back to each other, you always do

eli/hawk:

okay so before he flips the script you defend eli, no matter what

you cry with him about the bullies and definitely try to fight kyler more than once

you wear his sweaters (fight me on it)

you encourage him to do karate

when he flips the script you’re very happy for him he finally feels confident in himself and you love that for him

now the roles are reversed

hawk protects you now

no one even dares to look at you because they are scared of him

i feel like he has a tattoo for you, whether that's your name or your favorite flower idk but he gets one for you

“um wow okay we’re doing that now” “do you like it or not?” “yeah but i wasn’t expecting it”

sometimes he’ll let you pick his hair color “how about purple” “maybe” 😉

he definitely flirts with your friends “hello ladies!” “hi hawk!” “get out!”

you’re the only one that is allowed to call him eli

“eli i need ten dollars?” “for what?” “a snack” *hands over the money*

“eli can i have your sweatshirt? i’m cold” “yeah take it”

“i can’t, me and eli are going to the movies today”

one day you’re sitting with him and his minions (you refuse to call them friends) at lunch

“so eli” -one of the cobra kais “shut the fuck up! you can’t call him that!” -you

hawk has a proud brother moment

anything that you do hawk is like “fuck yeah that’s my sibling!”

his friends are not allowed to look at you, talk to you, have a crush on you, or even think about you

“woah dude she’s hot” “that’s my fucking sister! stay away from her!”

“eli who’s your friend-” “NO!” 

as eli he will buy you period products but is very shy about it

as hawk he will not be caught dead in that isle of cvs

“eli i need them!” “i don’t care! i’ll drive you there and you can run in and get them”

when hawk breaks demetri’s arm you don't speak to him for weeks

you confront him about his new behavior

“this is who i am!” “no it’s not! you’re not my brother!” 

you’re crying and then storm off to your room

that breaks him

is highkey the start of his redemption

when he’s at the fight at the larusso house, and he sees demetri about to get his arm broken, he thinks of your words: “you're not my brother!”

literally motivates him to fix things

you see hawk and demitri and just know that your brother is back

you hug him so tight

“you were right y/n. i’m sorry” “of course i was. i’m always right” “gee thanks” “love you”  

bonus demetri:

he is a nerd, you are a nerd

the two of you watch star wars, marvel, harry potter, etc. together 

“daddy anakin” “please shut the fuck up”

you want to punch him in the face because he is so sarcastic 

it gets on your nerves 

bust out laughing when johnny makes fun of his pi shirt 

“stop laughing” “if it’s funny i'm gonna laugh”

even though you’re a nerd you’re cool 

like you have a lot of friends in your grade 

“demetri if i don’t talk to you at the halloween party that’s why” gestures to his costume 

listen to his rants about how eli’s changed 

you try to give him advice, but it doesn’t work out

so proud of him when he joins miyagi-do

“i'm glad you’re stepping out of your comfort zone” 

demetri tries to get you to join miyagi-do

if you do join great more sibling bonding

if you don’t join no biggie y’all are still besties

y’all go to the comic book store together

its sibling bonding time

you threaten to fight hawk after the laser tag thing 

“hey asshole you leave my brother alone!” 

you sign his cast first

you definitely write some inside joke that only the two of you understand

you see him kissing yas and do a whole 🤮

“so you dating yas?” “idk why” “just checking”

very obvious about your distaste for her

when him and hawk become friends again you’re very wary

“he broke your arm” “he apologized” “he broke your arm!!!”

eventually you and hawk are on semi decent terms

“demetri forgave you and that’s fine but i’m still not over it”

your relationship = the perfect mix of love and teasing  

bonus bonus king bert 🙌🏻:

you are older than him by like a year

but you’re still besties for life 

you’re very proud of him when he joins cobra kai

“im joining a karate dojo” “period pop off”

you always ruffle his hair 

cheer for him at the all valley

“yeah bert!”

but also like you can’t watch 

when he gets eliminated you cringe 

he’s sad about it 

“i just wanted to impress you” “im very impressed bert, you did great” 

your opinion matters so much to him

he’s such a small cinnamon roll 🥺🥺

seeing him with the older cobra kai boys makes you soft

“y/n i’m going out with hawk and miguel can you drive me?” 

bert admires you a lot, like you are his hero

y’all are the best sibling duo and that’s on period

[takuyakistall]

romeo!

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Ace Trappola from the Trappola Kingdom, there was no doubt that he was a great man that was destined to achieve glory in a few years' time. But, there was one tiny problem. Being a prince from his own country meant that he needed to marry a lady from a prominent household. With much reluctance, he ended up choosing a princess from a neighbouring country—only to find out that the Prince of the Spade Kingdom has his eyes set on her as well. Is this... Competition?

Tags: Fem!Reader, Royalty AU, mentions of death, kidnapping, anything else you would find in a romance manhwa

Note: This piece is purely self indulgent and I plan on writing more for it! But I decided to share the first chapter here. There's no action yet so this is just some build-up.

Ace Trappola was never one to abide by the silly little rules of etiquette, he always thought that they were too nitpicky and stiff ever since he was a little boy. He thought that it was useless to keep up appearances for the sake of his reputation—until he experienced firsthand how cruel high society could be to a mere child who had made a single mistake. Of course, they would never dare to utter a single word in fear that their tongues would be cut off by his Highness, the king. But he would never ever forget the cold gazes that laid upon him as soon as he turned his back.

Which is why he donned a mask. He wore it all day and night as a child, hoping that it would be indestructible as he grew up but that brought him nothing but more of the empty and hollow feeling he hated. Despite already being so well-mannered, so educated, and so charming—he was nothing more than the second prince of the country who always seemed to be overshadowed by his older brother, the first prince. He was the definition of Ace's "perfect".

"Hey uncle," little Ace referred to his butler as such as he closed the storybook he was reading. A spark of curiosity sparkling in his eyes as he continued, "how do I become as amazing as my big brother?"

A childlike innocence could easily be tainted by those with such intentions—the old butler could easily plant the wrong ideas in his head and nurture the seeds of jealousy he planted within him. He stared at him for a second before letting out a sigh, strengthening his resolve when he saw Ace's eyes full of wonder.

"His Highness does not have to do anything, you are already a wonderful child just like your brother."

"Really!?"

"Of course, I wouldn't dare lie to you. If you continue to stay on the right path, I have no doubt that you will be as great as your brother in the future." He patted Ace's head, relieved that the second prince seemed to be satisfied with the answer.

"Yeah... I will!" He declared, staring right back at his butler with an uncontrollably big grin taking over his face.

That was the last time he saw that butler.

The palace staff told him he died because of heart failure during his day off. This devastated poor little Ace Trappola greatly—demanding to be allowed to attend his funeral but was stopped by his father, saying that there was no need for someone like him to attend a servant's funeral. The hand-picked white lilies Ace took that day in hopes of paying his respects, withered inside his room as he cried his heart out.

The next day, they had already found a replacement for his butler. Someone who was far younger than his previous one and was definitely less warm—he went by the name "Rowen" and insisted that the young prince should call him that. At first, Ace put up a fight as he tried to resist everything Rowen tried to do—even if it was just a menial task such as him trying to tie Ace's necktie for him.

But, nonetheless, Ace was still a child and children, more often than not, don't know how to deal with grief. You could easily spot him crying in places he shouldn't be yet no one had the heart to tell him that, even more when Rowen asked the palace staff specifically to not approach the prince if they ever spot him like that and instead, call for him immediately.

Stuck inside the garden, Ace was barely trying to keep his sobs in as he rubbed his eyes with his sleeves.

"I miss uncle…" He cried out, perhaps getting a little bit tired of how colder the palace seemed to be towards him. A pair of footsteps suddenly approached him, Ace quickly stood up and patted away all the dirt from his clothes so it seemed like he didn't cry but his swollen eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Your Highness, I was looking for you."

"Oh, Rowen. It's you…" A dejected look took over his face, was he expecting his old butler to appear? He silently crushed his hopes as he raised a question for his new companion.

"Can I ask you a question…?"

"Of course."

"D-Do you think I can still be as amazing as my big brother?" A few seconds of silence passed by as Rowen crossed his arms.

"Forgive me for my bluntness. However, at this rate, you will never amount to what your brother will be in the future."

"E-Eh? But uncle said that—"

"Your 'uncle' was foolish, perhaps that was why he died." Rowen crouched down, his green irises staring right into Ace's eyes—there was something in his eyes that Ace couldn't put a finger on but one thing is for sure, he thought Rowen was scary during this very moment.

"What you need right now is power," Rowen pressed a finger against his lips. "And that's exactly what I can give you."

"Power? Don't I already have plenty of that, I'm a prince!"

"What you need," he pushed Ace back with his index finger, "is enough power to take the throne."

"But big brother is the only one who can take that!" Ace shouted, trying to overpower the nonsense he was hearing from his new butler.

"Heed my words and I can make it happen." Rowen's lips tugged up into a small smirk before delivering his final words.

"After all, you want to be as great as your brother, the first prince."

Ace felt confused. He clutched his chest as he thought about his words—he did want to be as great as his brother but he couldn't help but be a little wary of what Rowen might ask of him. Ace had to slap himself back to reality, there was no reason for him to think about this so seriously! There was no way he could take the throne for himself and why would he even want to do that…? Isn't he happy the way he is right now?

Ace stepped out from the garden with Rowen following him shortly behind. He stared at the castle building, the maids and butlers working about, and a few noble visitors roaming around.

That was when a little devil's voice started whispering in his ear.

Deuce Spade had been anything but happy upon growing up inside the Royal Palace. Being the sole crown prince of the Spade Kingdom, his life never consisted of flowers and rainbows contrary to what many think. If you asked young Deuce himself about his position, he would simply give you a blank stare before properly processing your question. Once he does, he’ll give you a half-hearted smile before answering with: “It’s a duty I must fulfill.”

He’d never been too fond of the fact that his life was already planned ahead of him the moment the royal palace discovered his existence in his mother’s womb. He would undergo proper education fitting for the crown prince, he would be assigned with tasks that were meant for the crown prince, and he would soon rise to the throne once his father was no longer able to rule.

Rather than inheriting the throne, he yearned for something else. Being the heir to the throne meant that there was almost nothing he couldn’t obtain but he found himself dumbfounded when his elders aggressively denied him of his desire for the first time.

His desire to become a knight.

Deuce was said to be excellent with the art of the sword, easily surpassing other kids his age. But that was not the reason why Deuce had the desire to become a knight.

One of the first things they taught Deuce was the fact that he was in a dangerous position and that there might be cases wherein other people might make an attempt on his life. He thought that it was ridiculous because, after all, who would dare try to kill the crown prince? It would be treason!

And because of that, he was too lax.

One night, the prince got kidnapped and threw the whole palace in an uproar. Little Deuce could barely open his eyes when he tried assessing his surroundings, his eyes were blurry and he couldn’t move a muscle as no voice came out from his mouth. He was beyond terrified, he thought he was going to die that night. He pleaded inside his head, begging someone to come and find him. But for days, he was yet to be found.

He thought that perhaps the Royal Palace had decided to give up on him as he lost hope himself, his eyes growing dull and duller. He had to endure the harsh treatment given to him during his abduction, the only thing keeping him sane was the single ray of hope that someone was going to rescue him.

Just as he felt as if the thread was about to snap, he saw a cloaked man barge into the place where he was held hostage with a sword in hand. Ruthlessly, he cut down the perpetrators without so much as a blink. Deuce could only stare at the scene unfolding in front of him weakly. ‘Am I… being saved?’

It took him every ounce of his strength to stay conscious. And even more when he forced himself to ask the mysterious cloaked man. He wasn’t wearing anything that could discern his homeland, Deuce couldn’t figure out where he came from. His face was covered by the hood of the cloak, he couldn’t see his features very well. Deuce was afraid that there would be no way of him figuring out his identity before he passes out, so he forced a voice out of his throat.

“Who… are you?” His voice was hoarse. The man stayed silent, sheathing his sword before walking closer to the prince and unlocking the rope binding his hands together. Deuce could slowly feel himself losing consciousness but just before he could pass out, the man finally answered his question.

“...A knight.” He muttered.

The next time Deuce opened his eyes, he was no longer in a dark place but instead, in an unfamiliar yet extravagant room. He could tell that it was not the palace in his kingdom, he felt himself panic once again as he remembered the past events. When he heard a knock on his door, Deuce flinched as he hesitantly told them to come in.

A small girl around Deuce’s age entered the room with a plushie in her arms. He told himself to calm down upon seeing her, reassuring himself that the probability of this girl doing the same thing as the ones who kidnapped him were very low.

“Are you feeling better now, Your Highness?” She asked, concern lacing her voice. Deuce clutched his arm.

“Better than before… at least. But before that, who are you?” It was only normal for Deuce to become extremely wary considering what he just went through. The young girl understood that and merely gave him a small grin.

She introduced herself as the first princess of the kingdom he was residing in. Deuce was shocked, it wasn’t his own kingdom that found him but another! Did that mean that all this time he was in a foreign country? Was that the reason why no one had found him for days? Countless questions were swirling inside his head.

The princess was the only one who was let into his room, seeing as how Deuce was more comfortable seeing someone around his own age rather than adults. She was as clumsy as she was kind, Deuce found himself being comforted by her even if most of their meetings consisted of him being gloomy.

A few days later, an envoy was sent to Deuce’s kingdom to inform them that he was safe in their palace. During that period of time, Deuce was cooped up inside his room—thinking about a lot of stuff and refused to come out for hours. When it was time for him to go, he visited the princess one last time.

“Is it possible for me to visit you in the future?” Gratitude? Attraction? Personal interest? The reason behind his words was blurred.

When he returned home, he almost gave the whole Royal Court a heart attack when he declared that he wanted to become a knight. Nobody could tell what Deuce was thinking after he was abducted, it was as if he turned into an entirely different person. But he was thoroughly denied of his desire to become a knight, in which he was highly disappointed in. But, somehow, he found a way to secretly train without anyone finding out.

Using the princess as the shield, he went in and out of your kingdom to train under the pretense of meeting her. But she was more than happy to assist him as they became partners in crime. Deuce couldn’t forget the mysterious knight that saved him and so he idolized him ever since, saying how he wanted to be someone who protected people.

“Princess!” He called out, waving his hand as he grinned at her. This was the start of their relationship with each other. Only time can tell if this was to end happily ever after or otherwise.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Been thinking about what Mordred's life in Camelot would've been like if Merlin didn't hate him and then thought about how if Morgana was around she would probably always give him her favor at every tournament (until he married) and the other knights would tease him for that so have a broad outline for a Beloved Characters Dont Turn Evil AU

Morgana discovers her magic and Merlin swears to her that he'll protect her. He comforts her when she's scared and Merlin begs Gaius to share his knowledge and suspicions about Morgana to Morgana herself. One night Morgana bursts into their quarters in hysterics, waking them up, screaming and sobbing, and it feels like Merlin's hug is the only thing holding her together but its not enough. Glass starts shattering, candles flare, chandeliers fall to the ground. Gaius decides at this point not telling her will do considerable more harm than not, to both herself and others. They stay up through the night. Gaius speaking and Morgana asking questions, Merlin with a supportive hand on Morgana's shoulder. At one point Morgana tearfully asks the question Merlin asked Gaius long ago, "am i a monster?". They all fall asleep at the table, and that morning when Gwen arrives to wake Morgana only to find her absent with her blankets thrown over the bed and several things knocked over she runs and alerts the guards. The guards initiate lockdown and the commotion reaches Uther and wakes Arthur (Merlin is once again late), and they proceed to fear she was kidnapped right under their noses without anyone knowing. Arthur runs down to get Merlin so he can prepare him for the day only to open the door to find the three of them asleep on the table.

Later Merlin organizes for Morgana to learn more than Gaius can tell her from the Druids, but she intends to stay the night at least, if not then significantly longer (anywhere from a week to several months), and they have no good excuse for her to use that would allow her to leave without Gwen and guards. They come up with some very convoluted plan, which does not end up in the raid that occurred in canon, and when Gwen catches her sneaking back she lies and says she wanted to check up on Mordred (who she did run into), to see if he was with the Druid encampment that was rumored to be nearby (which he was). She didn't learn nearly as much as she hoped in those few hours, but they at least pointed her in a direction.

Morgause comes to town, and leaves Morgana her bracelet. After discovering it stops her visions Morgana takes it to Gaius, who reveals it was enchanted and looks similar to the one Lady Vivienne used to wear. Morgana states Morgause got it from her mother, but that Lady Vivienne was Morgana's mother and wonders how the bracelet ever got to Morgause. Gaius says there was a rumor that Lady Vivienne had a baby that displayed a affinity for magic, but Gorlois told Uther their baby had died before they even named her. Gaius reveals that the baby was smuggled out of Camelot and given to the High Priestesses, and Morgause might very well be that baby. Morgana begins to long for a connection with Morgause, to meet the sister she never knew of and recover something of her dead parents. When she begins secretly meeting Morgause, she tells Merlin and then asks him to come with her when she begins receiving lessons from her. Morgause tries to convince them that killing Uther is the right thing to do, but Merlin keeps reassuring Morgana that all they need to do is convince Arthur to change the law for when he is king, and he's not ready to do that now so theres no use in killing Uther before he's ready, and that she does love Uther and Uther does love her and would try to "fix" her well before he ordered her death. Morgause still wants him dead, to rush the prophecy of magic's return. Them sneaking out every few nights cements the idea that Morgana and Merlin are secretly dating in castle gossip.

Im not sure what happens with Morgause, but i think she would still take Camelot at some point and she would spare Morgana and by extension Merlin. Morgana and Merlin make sure to get Arthur out (and Merlin probably goes with him) because they dont trust Morgause to not kill him. Morgause reveals her heritage (and makes Morgana a Princess and her Heir) despite claiming the throne for people of magic and not the House of Gorlois, and the knowledge that Vivienne and one of her daughters were sorceresses leads Uther to believe he can not save Morgana from magic that is likely in her blood and THAT is what breaks his mental state. Morgana's real heritage is revealed soon after, with Uther informing Gaius that Morgana being a Princess is actually within her birth rights. Morgause continues Morgana's training because at some point Morgana has to become a High Priestess because canon. That or Morgause switches sides (this is a Beloved Characters Dont Go Evil AU might as well make it No Beloved Characters Are Evil AU) and she trains Morgana later after Arthur is a established King.

Morgause is overthrown and the Round Table formed. Arthur as well as several people in the castle know of or suspect Morgana of being a sorceress but he refuses to banish her, first believing it to have been out of her control (forced by Morgause) and later learning that her nightmares had been magic all along (how could he punish her for something he knows she had tried to get rid of for over a decade?). Perhaps he lets her keep the title of Princess, having always seen her as a sister (and someone who is compassionate for the people in a way royalty should be) and armed with the new knowledge of her being his actual sister. Everyone expects Regent Arthur to crack down on magic, its what Uther would have done and what the people want, so he does. Morgana becomes a advocate for magic, as she had been for Arthur in private as a Prince, and it scares people in the castle. They believe her to be working with Morgause, despite her arguments being for individuals' wellbeing and how punishments fuels hatred for Camelot. Several attempts are made on her life, many stopped by Merlin and Gwen and sometimes Lancelot. Arthur often "asks" Merlin for his opinion on magic and with Morgana's voice being public he feels okay with being straight with Arthur on what he thinks. Uther dies same as he did in canon: protecting Arthur from a assassination.

Mordred becomes a Knight because canon. Morgana is ecstatic to see him again and acts like a mother who hasn't seen her child in ages when she first sees him. Merlin has learned you often make the enemies that are destined to kill you (ex. trying to stop Morgana's visions from coming true) so he ignores Kilgharrah and doesn't hate Mordred (he is always wary though). Mordred alternates between childlike eagerness around the knights and following Merlin around while hero worshiping him (no one can figure out why. Their best guess is that Morgana is a mutual friend). In the beginning he kept messing up his name (calling him "Merlin" is just weird) and they often talk in their heads and therefore just stare at each other which has led to two conflicting rumors: theyre in love or they hate each other. Morgana often invites him to dinner, and when they dine with Arthur they easily slip into mind-talking (because chewing) and Arthur is convinced that they're making fun of him every time they do it. He protects Arthur when Merlin can't, often runs off to do side quests Merlin needs to do but cant get away to do, and often tags along with Merlin on his quests. Being able to share the knowledge of his destiny since Lancelot died (if he dies in this AU) relaxes Merlin's caution and allows him to be emotionally closer to him. Mordred enjoys being around Merlin and Morgana not just because he's Emrys and she's Morgana, but because they are the closest thing to home he has: they know what he is, they understand (bits) of his culture and make it possible for Mordred to share it with them, their individual magic sings strong enough to remind him of when he lived surrounded by it. He quickly grows to love them so very much and no one understands WHY. The knights tease him about it, and Morgana forcing Arthur to take Mordred on certain missions he isnt qualified for "so he can learn" does not help. Gwaine and Percival were planning to convince him that he couldnt compete in a tournament without a lady's favor because he's the rookie and his panicked look greatly amuses them only to find Morgana giving him her's before kissing his cheek. They were relentless after that, alternating between "lady's favors dont count if they're from your mom," "Mordred has a girlfriend," and whatever the medieval version of affectionately calling him "Bambi" is. Morgana sits in the stand's throne (since Arthur is competing) or besides it if Gwen is queen, and she flashes a smile at him when he comes out (Gwen too. He's a sweet kid with a baby face, of course he's one of her favorites. He also reminds her of Merlin when she first met him: kind, awkward, cute). This settles Mordred's nerves but has the unfortunate side effect of increased teasing. Merlin doesn't let it go to far, he never does, and gives them a distraction before running back to Arthur.

And then magic is brought back to the land and Morgana continues the work of the High Priestesses and helps the rebuilding efforts and they're still adventures and problems, but everyone Lives Happily Ever After

[blu-eh]

after school summons

[AO3] 

or: Danny gets summoned. He doesn’t like it.

It starts with a tugging feeling in his very core.

Danny Fenton pauses. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last year, it is not to ignore random things that are definitely ghostly in origin. He has just enough time to place his pencil on the desk from where he had dutifully been doing his homework—for the first time in two weeks, mind you—before his vision goes white, he hears a snap, and suddenly he’s not in his room anymore.

For a moment he’s weightless, lost in the feeling of falling. Then, his body jerks and he has just enough time to think, oh fuck—before he’s slammed to the ground hard.  His knees buckle under the unexpected weight and he goes down, clumsily, and trying not to throw up what little he’d managed to eat between homework packets.

“Ow,” Danny says.

He lies there, just for a moment, taking in the cool concrete underneath him. He tries to steady his breathing just enough so his mind can process what the hell just happened in the last thirty seconds. He’s still blinking stars from his eyes when he hears the hushed whispers echo around him and a heavy pair of footsteps approaching him. All in all, very bad signs when mysterious (and somewhat painful) things happen to you suddenly.

A gruff, questioning voice asks, “A child?”

“Oh, man,” Danny says, because that definitely does not sound good. Then he forces himself to his knees and looks up.

The first and foremost thing Danny notices is that he’s not alone. He’s on some sort of altar or platform, elevated a foot or so above the ground. A couple feet away, a group of no more than a dozen people surround him in a semi-circle, faces all covered by tattered cloaks. Another cloaked figure, dressed in much more formal robes with gold trimming, stands on the platform a mere couple feet from where Danny is. They all seem to be staring at him, waiting.

Danny hastily gets to his feet. He shifts a little into a sloppy fighting stance, just in case things were to get messy.

The dimly-lit warehouse room and the head covers don’t give him much to work with in the facial feature department, but he’s pretty confident that none of them are ghosts. Mostly from the fact that none of them are glowing and/or ranting about how much of a pain in the ass he is, but it still pays to be wary. Especially when Danny’s situations tend to quickly dissolve from bad to oh my god there are ghosts lose in Amity Park and also he maybe-sort of-possibly died in the process.  

Which brings him back to his next brilliant deduction; he’s definitely in ghost form. He definitely was not in ghost form before this. His ghost form is rather obvious considering he sticks out like a glow stick in darkness of the warehouse. He doesn’t even feel the need to check his hair color, this time, but that’s more due to the fact that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the weird people who managed to summon him from his bedroom and forced him to change into his ghost form.

(He desperately hopes that they hadn’t seen him change—weird warehouse people are not people that Danny generally associates with secret keeping.)

“Is this a cult thing?” Danny asks before any of them can speak. He takes in white line that surrounds him, and the red liquid (which he very much hopes is not blood) used to paint runes and symbols that circle him, and their weird cloak-like robes, and says, “This is definitely a cult thing. Oh my god, did you summon me? Seriously—”

Before this, he hadn't even known he could be summoned. It's just the little ghostly things learned via accident, sometimes, that truly take the icing on the cake.

There’s a tiny spark of anxiety in his gut, but honestly there’s a large difference between humans threatening him and ghosts threatening him. On one hand, he’d take weird cultist over Skulker’s lair any day. On the other hand, pure white walls and experimentation tables aren’t super high on his to visit list either. Worst comes to worst—before they sacrifice him to some ancient gods, more likely—he puts on his scary face (and maybe adds a couple of explosions) and slips out before they even notice he’s missing.

“Silence, creature,” the robed man snaps. Danny zeros in on him and immediately deduces him to be leader from vibes alone. Also the gold trimming on his robe, which very much screams leader of weird cult that summons ghost kids.

“I—okay, you know what? That was just rude,” Danny says. He points to the white line that surrounds him, “Is that cocaine?”

Danny has a feeling he doesn’t want to know the answer to the mysterious red liquid and painted symbols, so he doesn’t ask.

“It’s salt,” one of the other cloaked figures answers, like it should be obvious.

(It’s not actually obvious, and actually leaves Danny with more questions than he started with. Mostly in the realm of how did a group of cultists summon him with salt. He knows salt is supposedly an anti-ghost measure, but Danny is pretty convinced it has little to no effect on him considering the amount of Nasty Burger fries he’s consumed haven’t taken him out yet.)

“Salt,” Danny repeats. He pauses, then awkwardly tags on, “That’s good, I guess, because drugs are bad. Uh, don’t do drugs.”

A cultist quietly, and a little slowly, answers back, “We, uh, don’t.”

“Right,” Danny says. His eyes catch another section of weird in this already weird, cultist warehouse. At the base of the platform sits a variety of bones, so fresh that some of the muscle still clings to them. “Are those bones? Oh my god, did you sacrifice someone? That’s not cool! Murder isn’t cool!”

“Those are goat bones,” another follower says.

“Oh,” Danny says. “Well, I mean, that’s still fucked up on a variety of levels, but I guess that’s better than murder. Unless it's considered goat murder? Uh.”

For a second, there’s silence. The nature of the interaction is so awkward and oppressing that he almost goes invisible just to save himself the scrutiny of these random people and get the hell out of dodge. His curiosity is the only thing that holds him back—that, and the fact that he’s not quite sure if any of these people are secretly hiding ecto-weapons.

Danny very much does not want to be shot tonight.

He looks around the room, eyes taking in every inch of the sparsely decorated warehouse. There’s nothing that immediately grabs his attention, nor anything that really screams danger but it pays to be suspicious of his surroundings in his line of work. A few of the cultists notice this, and start shifting awkwardly as Danny looks over them as well.

Then, Danny’s eyes flicks back to the lead cultist and he says, “I’m going to be real honest here and say that I have no idea what the heck is going on.”

The leader makes no inclination that he acknowledges any word that comes from Danny’s mouth. Instead, he brings an old, wrinkled hand up to his face, like he’s thinking about some complex problem. The leader circles Danny once, then again, and Danny feels something inside him defensively coil like a spring.

He tries not to be bothered when people treat him as something lesser—it’s not, exactly, uncommon for him to encounter. He dealt with being shoved into lockers long before he died, anyways. It doesn’t stop his shoulders from tensing just the barest amount.

Instead of showing this, he brings his feet up to his chest and crosses them mid-air, and fakes a yawn for good measure. A few of the other cultists gasp in wonder and fear. The leader simply stops his prowling and turns to face Danny.

“So this is the fabled Ghost King,” the man says, like he expected better.

Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn’t for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. “…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?”

The man pauses, and asks, “Pariah Dark?”

“Yes! He’s like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same.”

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. Danny bares his teeth in their direction, just to see them squirm. A couple take worried steps back and Danny fights off a satisfied grin.

Hey, poke a bull and get the horns. In this case, summon a ghost-teenager and get the ecto-powers.

(He’s slowly becoming more and more aware that these people have no idea what they’re doing.)

“I see,” the leader says. From his tone, he definitely does not see. “It doesn’t matter. Our book summoned the King of Ghosts and that is you, so you will do as we tell you and your pain will be lessened.”

“I am still not the Ghost King,” Danny tells him. “And no thanks. I’ve already used my yearly cult sign up and I can’t say I’m thrilled to join another. If you’re going to hold an initiation ceremony, at least decorate a bit first. Uh, not counting the goat bones and salt, of course.”

“You have no choice,” the leader snaps and steps a bit closer to him. Danny merely raises an eyebrow. “We are the Followers of Infernal. We have summoned you to serve us. You are bound to our will and bound to our grace, as the book foretold. Now bow, demon, for we are your new masters.”

There’s a very large portion of Danny Fenton that is convinced any good karma he held in life did not pass with him during his death a mere year ago. An even larger portion of him is convinced that these guys are no more serious than the GIW is. Danny does not tell the cultists this.

Instead, he squints and says, “Alright. I definitely failed US Government, but I’m pretty sure that’s not legal. Don’t you guys need like, a permit to summon undead beings of mass power?”

“It thinks it’s funny.” The leader’s face is mostly hidden by his robe, but Danny can imagine the sneer there from his tone alone.

“Trust me, I’m not the one who’s a joke right now,” Danny says. He looks back over at the dozen or so followers and grins at them. They don’t seem too keen that he’s not following their master’s orders and bending to their will. He turns back to the leader. “What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“If I follow you and stuff, what’s in it for me?”

The leader pauses, then says, “You will be spared of punishment.”

“Hmm, that’s not good enough,” Danny says. He angles his body so he's once again looking at the followers and points at one in the middle. “Hey, you! With the cloak. No, not you, the other dude. To the left. Yeah! You. What do you have to offer me?”

The follower looks so startled that he cowers for a second. Then, seeing as he hadn’t been reduced to a pile of ashes from Danny’s gaze alone, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and silver. “Uh, I have a paper clip, your ghostliness.”

“A paper clip,” Danny repeats. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. That sounds neat.”

“You’ll submit to us?” the man sounds so hopeful that Danny almost feels bad for being a jerk. Then, he remembers that they summoned him out of his nice, warm bedroom at ass-o’clock in the night and feels significantly less amounts of pity.

“No, dude, I’m not being your sack of potatoes for a paper clip. Man, you guys are stupid.” Danny rolls his eyes and floats just a bit higher. The other followers shuffle around again, uncomfortable. In front of him, the leader remains impassive as ever. “Where even am I?”

“The lair which you will spend the rest of your afterlife,” the leader says.

“Okay, this is definitely a warehouse, firstly. And secondly, dude, I meant what state.”

“…Wisconsin,” the man allows because of course everything terrible happens in Wisconsin.

“You chose the worst state to have your crappy lair,” Danny tells them. Now he has to fly a couple hundred miles home and hope he gets there by morning, all the while avoiding his creepy, obsessed arch-nemesis. He wonders if Vlad is even aware there’s a ghost-obsessed cult in his home state. Probably not. “Nothing good ever comes from Wisconsin. You can take that as, like, ghostly wisdom or something.”

“Hey,” one of the cultists says, offended. “The Packers are in Wisconsin.”

“Nothing good,” Danny repeats, firmly.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the leader says. “It’s trying to distract you because it fears control. Briar, bring me the orb.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them says.

The followers mutter to themselves and teeter around in their positions. The woman who spoke, on the end, bows and scurries off. Danny watches as she runs through the darkness of the warehouse, footsteps echoing around them, until he can no longer see her among the darkness.  

“Hey, if they already listen to you then why do you need me?” Danny asks. The leader doesn’t answer, so Danny floats a bit on his side and puts his arms behind his head. “What kind of orb are we talking about, anyways? Like one of those Spirit Halloween ones? Or is it more like orbeeze? I can’t saw I’m super excited from your ominous it fears control statement, but—"

“Silence, beast,” the leader says.

Danny huffs. “I’m just asking. No need to be so snippy.”  

The man ignores him which, rude. Danny’s just about to see how far he can test this guy’s patience when Briar comes back, just as quickly as she had disappeared. She jogs through the warehouse and up the steps of the platform. Danny can’t see her face, but from the way her hood moves to glace at him every so often, he figures that she’s probably nervous. Specifically about him lounging around in a circle full of salt.

“Father Johnathan,” Briar says and bows. In her hands is a glowing, silver orb. It really did look like a generic orb one would find in a Spirit Halloween. “The orb.”

“Your name is Father Johnathan?” Danny asks. He eyes the orb for a second, but doesn’t feel the tingle of ghostly energy from it, so he ignores it. He turns right back to the leader, not able to keep the grin off his face. “Your name is really Father Johnathan?”

Father Johnathan gently takes the orb in his hands as Briar scurries off towards the rest of the followers. Then, he sighs and says, “Yes, creature, my name is Father Johnathan and I shall be your new master.”

“Oh my god,” Danny says, positively gleeful. “I meet real life Papa John and he summons me with salt and threatens me with a Spirit Halloween orb.”

“Laugh all you want,” Papa John says. The nervous air shifts into something a bit more predatory. “You will not be laughing much longer.”

The cultists break into applause and talk amongst themselves loudly. They shift forward, eagerly, as if they want to watch the spectacle up close. They’re only a foot or so away from the platform when Papa John waves at them to halt.

Papa John holds up the orb. It swirls, the silver fog inside consolidating and then dissipating. Something inside it starts to glow the barest amount.

Danny pauses, just for a second, and watches it. There's still no tingle of ghostly energy coming from it. If he hadn’t already thought these guys are a joke, he definitely would’ve been a tad more nervous. As it stands, he thinks nothing of it—no ghostly energy means no control over ghosts.

(Unfortunately, he knows the feeling of ghost-controlling objects quite well. It’s not an experience he’s eager to repeat.)

The orb glows brighter, and brighter, swirling more furiously. The chatter of the cultists picks up to the point where they’re almost shouting, jeering at him. Papa John draws closer and closer, orb outstretched. He holds it through the salt line and touches it to Danny’s chest. The shouting from his followers almost becomes unbearable.

And then….nothing. The orb stops glowing. The fog inside stops swirling. It simply dies in Papa John’s hand.

“Was that supposed to do something?” Danny asks.

Papa John touches him with the orb again, a tad more forceful, so Danny assumes it was supposed to do something. From the panicked whispers around him, it definitely was supposed to do something to him. Danny’s honestly not sure if the outcome is due to him being a halfa or these guys being a joke.

(He’s willing to bet it’s the latter.)

“I think your LED batteries died,” Danny tells him. “Or maybe you mixed up your Spirit Halloween orbs. Better luck next time.”

Papa John stops furiously pressing the orb to his chest and if Danny could see his face, he has no doubts that Papa John’s expression would be livid.

“You will obey us,” Papa John says.

“No,” Danny says. “I won’t.”

“You will—”

Danny swings his feet down so hard that he cracks the very ground he now stands on. Dust kicks up around him as he stands tall, even though Danny’s at least two feet shorter than the leader in front of him. His eyes burn a brilliant green and he crosses his hands over his chest in an effort to look intimidating. The cult thing is interesting and all, but it's late, he still has homework to do, and Jazz has definitely noticed him missing by now so it's probably better to end this before they can get another object from a Spirit Halloween and try that instead.

It works, if the half-step back from Papa John is anything to go by.

“Listen,” Danny says, flatly. “Get a hobby and leave me alone or else you won’t like what I’m going to do.”

He makes his form flicker and the temperature drop in the room, just for dramatic effect.

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. A couple take panicked steps back. More than a few look ready to bolt for the door and leave this cult business behind forever.

Danny takes notice and stares at them, smiling wide enough that they could see his slightly-toothy grin. He makes sure his eyes flare, just a touch, and says loudly, “Boo.”

To say the cultists are startled would be an understatement. More than a few stumble back, a couple falling onto their asses. One trips on their robe and is sent tumbling. Another one yells and cowers. Papa John has no time to reign in the situation before two scatter completely.

“Peace!” Papa John shouts over the chaos of a dozen panicking followers. Those that remain do settle down enough to hear his words. “Stand down, there is nothing to fear. It is only trying to scare you into letting it free. It is trapped whilst it remains in the circle.”

Danny snorts. “I can leave any time I want.”

“You cannot leave here, demon—”

Danny raises one single eyebrow and dutifully steps out of the summoning circle.

The warehouse erupts into chaos.

The cultists are yelling now, but this time there’s only because of fear. They scatter over each other, running and tripping over their obnoxiously long cloaks. A couple trample the goat bones to the point where several loud snaps are heard over the pandemonium. It only adds more fuel to the fire as less than a dozen people scramble to get as far away from the platform—and subsequently the ghost-kid—as possible.

“Do better than a paperclip, next time!” Danny calls out to them. They only seem to run faster at the sound of his voice.

Papa John is the only one who doesn’t run. He had stumbled off the platform and away from Danny the second that Danny made it over the salt line. However, in the disarray, he had been knocked to the ground, his orb lay broken at his feet, and his robe’s hood had been yanked off and left on the ground beside him. He sits, frozen, but Danny doesn’t know if it’s from shock or from fear.

Danny takes a step closer to him.

“How…?” Papa John whispers. He’s not looking at Danny—only his old, wrinkled hands. He’s bald, with brown eyes. He looks like nothing more than any generic old man that Danny would see at a grocery store on Sunday afternoon. “We followed the book. We…we took every precaution the book said. We were supposed to have the perfect slave, bound to our every word. We…”

“That didn’t work out too well for you, huh?” Danny says and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s ‘cause you forgot the dunce cap when you decided to be the class clown.”

“Please,” Papa John says. “Spare me.”

There’s something wrong about this—seeing a human beg for his life at Danny’s feet. Danny doesn’t want to be feared. He never has wanted to be feared.

He presses his lips together and takes a single step back. Some part of him, though, knows that he desperately needs to make his point clear to avoid another situation like this (likely with more weapons, next time).

“I warned you,” Danny says softly. His voice echoes around the warehouse. The man below him shivers in terror. “Do not summon me again, or I won’t be so nice next time.” He pauses, just for a second and can't help but tag on, "Papa John."

He lets his threat linger and hopes the man takes it seriously enough that he won’t get summoned again. Then, the cool strings of invisibility wrap around his body and he disappears from sight. Danny takes one look at the man left on the floor before he shakes his head and shoots up into the Wisconsin night sky. He doesn't hear the shouted response of it's Father Johnathan from several hundred feet below him on the warehouse floor.

Danny waits about all of thirty seconds before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"Jazz? Hey, yeah, I'm fine. Yes, seriously, I'm fine but you are not going to believe what I just went through—"

[dear-yandere]

[ kinktober day 4 — devotion. ]

yandere! dio x f! reader x the world. oneshot.

summary. day by day, he’d fuck you like a man fucks his most expensive whore. a demon masquerading as a God, and you’ve come to realize that there is no true God who will punish him.

— word count: 2313. — prompts: mindbreak + size difference + degradation. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, threesome, biting), blood, religious themes, depersonalization. — art credit: @tyonoraora.

“How does it feel, little one?”

Little one—his voice is untouched silk, reserved only for when you’ve been good. Your heart pounds against its cage as if trying to reach him—it shows on your face. He lowly hums and buries his lips against the nape of your neck, easily enticing moans from your throat. The effect he has on you was disgusting at first, hearing remnants of praise for letting him violate you, seeing his body dwarf yours against the bed, feeling his powerful touch trap you against the sheets. You have no control, no freedom here—no one would come save you even if you screamed.

Sharp teeth graze the hollow of your neck, dangerously close to puncturing your jugular. Air’s trapped alongside your throat—you can’t breathe under the full weight of his body and the threat of death on your skin. Fingers hungrily knead and pull at your nipples, twisting when you don’t moan quite to his liking. “Answer me.” He hisses and nips at the skin beneath your ear.

Your throat dries up—his commanding tone enough to knock you down to Earth. “G-good—feels so good My Lord!” You bite back another moan, mind empty and gaze locked onto the snap of his hips against yours. You whimper, half wanting to look away from the way his cock disappears between your folds, the other compelling your hips to meet each thrust. Hips shamelessly and sloppily cant into his, the thrill of knowing that one wrong thrust and he could split you in two. Looking at it now, seeing his dick disappear between your thighs—it’s rapturous, addicting like ambrosia. Deep in the recesses of your mind, the thoughts strike you as foreign—that the image of dying by his hands is exhilarating. You want him to tear you to pieces, to use you as a cock sleeve until he has no more use for you.

Dying at his hands is all you’re good for now.

He says you should consider this an honor, a privilege to be personally fucked by your own God. You’re his favorite toy, he says—the other girls don’t come close, but you can’t help but question why you’re so special. Is it your defiance, your cunning? Is it how easy it is to strip it away, down to your fragile and wary bones? Or is because he gets off on how rewarding it was to break you, to hear your screams blossom from terrified to eager? Because he knows how to get under your skin, knows how to make you feel special, knows how to make you feel wanted as if you finally have a purpose in life, a purpose rewarded to you by the hands of a God himself.

Your purpose is to used.

A comfort, more than anything else. When did it happen exactly? The drugs had grown less potent, weren’t as needed when he was in the mood to take you without complaint. When was it? When did you become addicted to doing this act with him? When did you stop resisting and refusing refusing, stop kicking and biting and clawing at his thick skin? Resist has always been useless, when something so inhuman and inhumane heals before your eyes, when your hard works is all for naught. How do you fight a man who calls himself God? How do you fight a man who may as well be a God?

...You don’t.

“M-more, My Lord.” You shamelessly plead—anything to win his favor—and wrap your legs around his waist.

He stills, briefly, and watches you fall apart. “Oh?” Your whimpers of complaint are a serenade he finds himself indulging in. “How indecent. I taught you better than to beg, didn’t I?”

Your hearts hammers.

He sees the way your eyes widen and he smirks, content with the fear he’s struck into you. He’s made it clear he never liked needy women; you’re an exception only in that he enjoys fucking you most.

“Beg for me more, little dove.” He orders and begins gently rocking his hips. 

Desperate for the friction, you throw your head back and eagerly hum out countless, wordless prayers. This isn’t you anymore, not in the slightest; this is better in his eyes. And that is so much worse. But he is content, and so are you when his pace descends into harsh thrusts that leave your pussy throbbing. You take it like a bitch in heat, like a good girl, like a good concubine.

“Little dove...” You drink his praise up like water. His gaze travels downward, enraptured by how small you are beneath him. You could break in an instant. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it?” He asks—you waste no time anxiously nodding. “So full of my cock, it almost looks like it belongs there.” 

Tucked under his large body, pressed flush against the chest of a man who’d sooner leave you for dead — tears spill, but you’re overjoyed for once. He’s always loved making you cry, who are you to rob him of that? Even though your legs hurt from being pressed flat against your torso and your cunt is bruised bloody and raw, you weep and moan like you mean it. His arms are curled under your pretty legs like vipers, large hands pinning each of yours against the mattress as he buries his cock in your womb.

You can’t help but focus on the way his body presses against yours. His cock feels heavy between your folds, and he’s careful to keep his pace slow enough to drive you wild. Each harsh thrust is few and far in between, a perfect cacophony of impatience and frustration building a coil in your stomach. Dio runs his tongue over unused fangs, studying the way your features twist and contort with pleasure when his thick cock would press against your insides. He’s waiting, and you both know it; he wants to see you unfold, wants you see you whine and beg and claw at his arms for more. It’s a feeling unlike any other — his other women can’t compare, can’t beg like you can. You used to hate him, but he doesn’t see that hateful glint in your eyes anymore. You like this, you like being fucked — he’s finally broken you. This once prideful woman is his to do as he pleases with.

There’s no greater feeling in this world.

“Lean into me.” He orders like a king and you comply like a whore. Dainty arms weakly coil around his shoulders, not nearly long enough to touch each other; his body is too big, too monstrous, and the thrill of being torn apart by it only makes you want him more. He praises in hushed tones, allowing you a small, rare moment of bliss. Your face is always particularly cute when he utters such meaningless words to you, like a dog desperate for praise. It’s tempting to defile that innocence even further.

“Look how needy you’ve gotten, gripping my cock so tight I can hardly pull out,” he teases, lies right to your face. Unsheathing himself is as easy as you are, but he keeps that to himself—prefers to get your hopes up. You’re already whimpering at the sheer mention of how needy you’ve become; Gods, you’d feel so empty without him, but it isn’t your place to complain. He doesn’t have to please you, you only exist to pleasure him. And still, you can’t hide the disappointment on your features. Dio smirks condescendingly and utters assurances. “Stop making that face, little dove.” He jests and realigns himself to your cunt, not even so much as a warning when he slams into you once again. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And you did — your eyes roll back into your head when his hips slam into yours. Fangs part your flesh as easily as meat, and droplets of blood quickly well from the incision, but he doesn’t care to lap them up; you always did look better coated in blood. You hadn’t even noticed his stand, The World hovers over the mattress by your head, its cock free from pants you didn’t know could be removed. His dick, thick and grey, is as large as your Lord’s; you already knew it was to go in your mouth, you just weren’t sure if it’d fit. The image alone made you want to come apart, it was already taking all your willpower to not scream with each thrust into your little cunt.

“Suck.” Dio pulls away from your neck long enough to bark out an order. That simple command is all it took to strip you of dignity. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind another cock to please, would you?” He caresses your hips, his thumb sweeping over the raw flesh he’d gripped onto in his earlier reverie. You wince, but maintain eye contact—he prefers it like that. “Look how needy you are, little dove. Sometimes you just need the extra attention, don’t you?” He coos. “Need another set of hands on you, more skin to get your hands on.” Breathily, you nod and lean into his touch. There’s no use hesitating or complaining; you’ve turned a new leaf, after all. You’re a good girl now, and good girls don’t talk back.

Fangs return to your neck, digging deeper, harsher this time. You whimper, the new sensation of pain overwhelming when your thighs were already so chaffed and your cunt already so bruised, skin still raw from this morning’s session. But your mouth fell open anyways, the underside of your tongue pressed taut against your lower lip, ready to accommodate The World’s shaft. The creature grunted lowly, more akin to the growl of a wolf in heat, and slid himself into your tiny mouth. The feeling of being filled from top to bottom was so intense, so overpowering you feared your jaw would come apart. The World was markedly more gentle than his user, but it was hard to miss the excitement rolling off his body like waves; he’s not being gentle for your sake, he’s trying to hold himself back lest his length rip through the back of your throat. He’s excited, even if you can hardly hear his moans.

Dio chuckles but makes no further comment, too busy suckling on your sore flesh. The World stares down at you, locking eyes for only a moment before bucking into your throat. Your tongue instinctively swirls around the tip, drool soon pooling beneath your nose. Deep growls escape the Stand’s lips, and Dio feels every second of it. His cock is buried deep in your cunt and he can feel every lick and suckle of your lips.

Dio licks his lips, already feeling the bulge of The World’s cock inflate the throat he’s mercilessly sucked on. The chuckle that rumbles from his chest and into yours would be enough to send your body shaking if he hadn’t pinned it to the bed with his own. “What a well-trained whore.”

“Mm—”, you struggle to breathe out a raspy response, hardly able to formulate words when your thoughts are filled with cum and his thrusts refuse to relent. His stand’s dick press against your insides, blocking air from entering your jugular or from leaving your throat. The soft, rubbery skin of the stand’s balls stuff your nostrils — you nearly lose yourself in the bliss of being treated like a lifeless fuck toy. You could die right now and they might keep fucking you, and that alone fills you with joy. To be used until the very end... you could think of no better use for the new life Dio has given you. But, he doesn’t plan on letting you die just yet; you still have many more uses left in you. 

“Oh? Are you going to cum again? So soon?” His tone is mocking near the end, and he squeezes your hips. Fingernails rake closer to your inner thighs, coaxing you to tell him what he wants to hear. The World leans back slightly to relieve some pressure from your nostrils and throat, and you shamelessly fill your lungs.

“I’ll, aah—” A moan catches in your throat, and his Stand gives you enough space to speak. “I’ll cum as many times as you like!” There’s a spark of boredom in his eyes, but it’s gone so quickly you wonder if you’d imagined it. You...you hope you imagined it, and a feeling of realization and disgust washes over you like a cold wave. You want to cover yourself, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and die, anything to escape the way he looked at you just now. Like you’re trash on the street. A charity case he picked up out of pity. A pet he’ll discard at the drop of a hat.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, and before you can ask, your mouth is stuffed again. He watches your shoulders squeeze together and your throat bulge from the sheer size of his Stand. The tip of The World’s cock pushes against the back of your throat, pinning your head to the mattress—you would have thrown up if Lord Dio hadn’t train you so well.

“Then cum.” He orders, stuffing your mouth and your cunt full. “Cum as many times as I want. Cum until I’m done with you.”

You obediently nod. You can’t see his face anymore; whether that’s a blessing or a curse escapes you, so you stop thinking and simply oblige. Your past self would be laughing at you. Chastising you, encouraging you bite down on his cock and fight back. What happened to that girl, you wonder? Did Lord Dio tire of her? Did he dispose of her? Will he dispose of you too?

What a terrifying devotion. When did you lose yourself?

When did he become your world?

dear-yandere 2019-2020, all rights reserved.

[nobodylivesson]

Bad Boy(Pt.2)

Fandom : Marvel

Pairing : Peter Parker x Top! Male Reader

Requested? No

-Previous/Next-

 »»————>❃<————««

The incident after that spread through the whole school like a wildfire and everyone were either dumbfounded or fascinated by this but one thing they all decided was that won’t fuck with [Y/N] or his friends.

Flash also started to avoid [Y/N] like a plague.

It was so interesting and shocking to see the all arrogant Flash Thompson to meekly reply back to [Y/N].And everyone else can definitely see how much [Y/N] enjoyed seeing this while face which didn’t seem to hide his smirk.

“You purposely greet him in the corridor every morning right?” MJ asked [Y/N] during lunch causing the male to smirk

“Well it’s so fun watching him squirm under the pressure.My father did got a call from someone trying to apologize but I told him to ignore it~ I’m sure this might have caused Flash to have a very very good talk with his parents~” [Y/N] said with a chuckle

“You are a total sadist” MJ said with an unbelievable look in her eyes but [Y/N] just chuckles before saying “It’s not being called sadist but bringing arrogant filled assholes who think they are the kings to their right place”

“That a very specific line,you have done this kind of stuff before?” Peter says with a chuckle and [Y/N] smiles a little.He really likes seeing Peter smile it just has an effect on him every since he saw it the first time

“Well it seems I’m a really good magnet for assholes but I don’t mind being a sadist just for you if you want Pete” [Y/N] says before bringing out his accent to the last part and ah,how much he enjoys seeing Peter going all red over this face,neck and ears

“WHA-WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!Don’t joke about stuff like that!!Le-let’s go Ned!!” Peter says as his face burns like fire and Ned also quickly gets up before hurriedly saying “By-bye MJ!!You to [Y/N]!!”

Both of the said people waved back while [Y/N] had a teasing grin which Peter surely saw as he seemingly picked up his pace and quickly went out the room while Ned ran after him telling him to slow down

[Y/N] chuckles as he watches this when he sees MJ looking at him with narrowed eyes so says with a confused look “What?”

“Stop teasing Peter we know what you tow are but you don’t need to tease him like that ” MJ says with a sigh to which [Y/N] with a closed eyes smile while crossing his legs and keeping his left hand on his mouth “I don’t know what you mean by knowing “what we two are” but you don’t how much I just love seeing his ears turn all red and he has this cute habit of shuttering and playing with his hands when he is very embarrassed”

[Y/N] opened his eyes and his eyes lingered towards the place where Peter once sat and he just couldn’t help but chuckle more

“Sigh,you don’t need to hide it from us and you don’t understand,Peter is to innocent unlike you” MJ said 

“What the fuck are you talking about MJ?Say it clearly cause I really don’t know what you meant by ‘tow of us’” [Y/N] says with a frown as he started to get annoyed now

MJ opens her mouth but after observing [Y/N]’s face shut it with widen eyes

“No actually forget about whatever I said” MJ says while closing his book and getting ready to go from there as she tried not to make eye contact with him

[Y/N] keeps his eyes on her before saying with a shrug “Okay then whatever the fuck that was,I’m outta here.Not in the mood to attend anymore classes today” his annoyance lacing in his voice and he then just took his stuff before going away from there without saying goodbye for MJ

MJ looks at his walking figure of [Y/N] and thinks “Oh god,don’t tell me-No way.I just hope this doesn’t bring any trouble to us” before sighing

»»————>❃<————««

[Y/N] was annoyed for sure

“What the hell is wrong with MJ?? First she asking me about something between me & Pete and then she refuses to say what it is.I know it’s kinda low to tease Peter but he isn’t even gay so what’s the harm and can’t she tell me her reason of being annoyed by it.I just find finding messing with Peter very interesting......” [Y/N] angrily mumbled before he trailed of as he watched the lights of the different buildings in New York turn on

After getting annoyed,[Y/N] decided to ditch school and after searching the city for a while(also with help of the information Peter gave him),he found out a building whose rooftop he could go into without any problems.The building also gave a very decent view of the city

So what better way to blow of some stream than than sorting your thoughts out in front of this beautiful view

So [Y/N] sits at the roof while looking at New York while he started to slowly sort his thoughts one by one

Along with Peter and MJ,[Y/N] mind has been filled with father along with..........his mother and the secret between them

“No need to wreck my brain with school problems,the old man is again eating my head about giving some thoughts to becoming his successor.But I have already told him enough times that I’m not interested in it and that he can find someone more suitable,damn it!Then those bastards had put me in their club performance again without telling me.Maybe I should really have a talk with them.And then eomma’s date is also coming..........Sigh,guess I have to l look after appa and give Mr.Sung a break” [Y/N] thinks with a frown

Mr.Sung was [Y/N] dad’s personal secretary but in the boy’s eyes he looked more like a personal babysitter

[Y/N] was so invested in his thoughts that he didn’t heard the sound of someone slinging to his spot and was really startled when a voice suddenly said “Wasn’t expecting someone here”

[Y/N] looked behind to see a very curious sight of a guy in a red and blue latex suit which also had a black spider logo in his chest.He was also wearing a red mask with white eyes

“Who is this guy?Wait is he-” [Y/N] who was confused at first suddenly realized before saying “Are you The Spider-man?” with a curious voice

“The one and only neighborhood hero at you service.You must be new here,I haven’t saw you before around the city” Spider-man says while taking a seat beside [Y/N] after making sure he was okay with it

[Y/N] chuckles before looking at the hero while leaning back as a smirk adored his face and said “I don’t think you need to know everyone who goes out and in of the town.It seems to much of a work to be added after the amount of work you do”

Spider-man chuckles like he was embarrassed as he says “But as a hero I should remember people of the city I’m trying to protect.And you seemed very familiar with the city to be able find this place.So I thought how I never saw you around as someone like you......really leave a impression”

[Y/N] blinks a little before ends up laughing and puts his index finger under the mask face of the hero making him look towards [Y/N] as he brings his face close to the hero’s

“I didn’t knew that Spider-man thought I was so impressive.I’m happy that the neighborhood hero is saying these kind of things so openly.I like people like those” [Y/N] says while licking his lips making the hero immediately pull back

[Y/N] for some reason felt that the hero would be blushing like crazy and he wanted to just rip of that mask but decided to not do something so stupid

“Y-you shouldn’t tease people like that!A-and I asked to forget but who told you about me?” Spider-man says as he tries to move the conversation to something else

[Y/N] laughs but complies “Well as you had said earlier,I’m not from here and had just moved here along with my dad.And so someone who I’m close with showed me around the city.So then he told me about this new hero who had emerged.It was also because of him that I was able to catch sight of this place.I’m very grateful of him when he showed me around the city and also being a great friend”

“He seems like a good friend” the spider hero quietly says and leans closer to the Asian boy as if expecting some kind of answer which [Y/N] noticed but decided to slid it off

“Good friend......huh?” [Y/N] mumbles as he looks towards the city before with a smile says “I guess so or maybe a little bit more”

Spider-man immediately goes back and in a shuttering voice says “I-I s-see.Al-also shouldn’t you be telling all this stuff so easily?We just meet today”

“My friend told great stuff about  you and I believe him,so there’s no need for me to be wary of you” [Y/N] casually says as he goes through his contacts to message Mr.Sung to pick him up later

“I-I see” the hero replies and a silence falls between these two

“I wanted to ask this earlier but don’t you have other important things to do than talk with a teenager?” [Y/N] finally asks with a questioning look making the hero look at him

“Well I had a break and was just looking over the city when I saw you.You looked very concerned and so just wanted to make sure you were alright” Spider-man says making [Y/N] chuckle

“Well some shit has been going on so I was just thinking on how to sort them out” [Y/N] says to which the hero quietly says “Well if you want you can talk with me about it”

“No it’s fine.It’s not that important to involve someone like you to this” [Y/N] says while closing his eyes making the hero quietly look at the boy

“Well then how about your friend?If you trust your friend,I’m sure he would be happy to talk and listen to you.That’s what friends are for” the hero says making [Y/N] look at him with an unreadable look

But before the hero could say anything [Y/N] started to laugh loudly making Spider-man surprised

“Thanks so much.I guess I need something like that.I will see if I want to tell him about it.I guess you are a hero in all sense” [Y/N] says with a grin to which Spider-man replies “Glad could help you”

But Spider-man couldn’t stay anymore as he hear loud noise from a distance making both [Y/N] and the hero look towards that direction

“Looks like duty calls” Spider-man says to which [Y/N] says “I guess I should also get going”

“Well if you ever need a shoulder to cry,a ear to listen and a mouth to talk to.I’m always there” Spider-man says making [Y/N] laugh which confused the hero

“You remind me of that friend for some reason.The way you act,your voice and also you........never mind I might be wrong as well” [Y/N] says with a shrug when he sees the hero becoming a little stiff before relaxing

“Hahaha,don’t joke like that.Well see ya” Spider-man says before saluting towards [Y/N]

The hero then jump from the roof with a flip and then slings toward the direction those noises came from as [Y/N] looked at the retreating figure of the hero

“Well,that was unbelievable.Just meet Spider-man and even though it was odd,he really reminded me of Peter.Well,eh how would be possible?Am I going out of shape these days for slacking at my practice?Guess have to start following my routine again.And talk with my friends,huh?” [Y/N] thinks before looking at the sky which was dark now

»»————>❃<————««

Peter leaned against the wall of the building as he could hear loud booming noise from inside.He just couldn’t believe he agreed to come to this kind of place all for [Y/N]

“Hey Pete!So I have a performance at this club with a bunch of people I know.Don’t worry I would make sure ya don’t drink anything unnecessary and you are safe.The only problem is that Ned and MJ won’t be able to come due to some other stuff,so you up for it?” was all [Y/N] had to say to Peter before the boy with a blush on hi face agreed

Now here he was waiting for that handsome-he meant good looking friend of his!!

Peter just couldn’t help but have a blush creep onto his face for the unknown time just from thinking about [Y/N]

He was really to deep into this thing and he just remembers the conversation he had with Ned and MJ during [Y/N]’s absence

“Dude I think you are being very obvious there” Ned says making Peter ssh him

“Quiet it down Ned!I’m sure if [Y/N] were to see my face he would make more fun of it!An-and I don’t know why I’m like this around him!!” Peter whisper shouts as they make their way towards their next class

But then he sees Ned making an are-you-serious face before saying “I couldn’t believe mate!!You don’t know why?!Me and MJ thought you knew the reason” making Peter stop in his tracks

“Y-you and MJ know my reason of being like this?!!” Peter says with widen eyes before putting his hands on Ned’s shoulder and started shake him

“Come on Ned tell me the reason why” Peter says while still shaking Ned who says “A-ah st-stop sha-shaking m-me first!” before finally breaking free from his grip

 “Mate,that was really unnecessary but I don’t know if I should tell this...” Ned didn’t continue when he sees MJ coming towards them making him jump before saying “Great!!MJ is here and [Y/N] is not with her!!Let’s hear this from her yourself!MJ comes here!!”

MJ notices how frantically Ned was calling her so she goes towards them before saying “What are you two idiots-” but couldn’t complete when Ned says “Peter doesn’t realizes what he feels towards [Y/N]”

A long pause came between them but before MJ sighs and says “To the library right now” as she starts walking while Ned drags Peter towards it,their class long forgotten

“I can’t believe both of you’re so dense” MJ immediately starts after they had gotten a area good for private talk

“Why are you scolding me??I just don’t know okay!” Peter hissed to which MJ sighs

“Have you told [Y/N] about you being bisexual?” MJ asks first making Peter widen his eyes before mumbling “No,I didn’t get the right moment to....”

But both Ned and MJ heard it loud and clear so making both just sigh more

“Oh Pete,we both thought you two already became a thing and that’s why so much flirting.We didn’t knew you two were still in the pinning stage” Ned says making Peter choke at air

“WHAT?!!” Peter shouts while standing up only to be sushed by the librarian making him sit down with an embarrassed face

“I meant,what the hell are you thinking about?!Just cause I’m Bisexual doesn’t mean I would have a crush on him!I mean yeah I find him attractive and yeah he is kinda cool when he fights of bullies like a hero.But that’s not gay just friendship.I don’t think his accented voice making me hot is strange cause like who doesn’t get tat way after hearing his voice?Btw I once saw how his veins in the hands were bulging up during gym and that was sexy.But I think his laugh is really cute and contrasting compared to his other stuff-” Peter who started to ramble about [Y/N] immediately stopped and looked at his friends to see MJ with a ‘I told ya’ look while Ned just blushed with wide eyes as if he was talking about him

“That’s actually very gay kid” the librarian who came near them to stack a self was listening to all this,says nonchalantly before walking back towards his desk

Peter’s face just burns the deepest red color possible before he buries his face in his hands as a muffled “I know that was very much gay and shows how much I have a crush on him so I hope the earth swallows me up”

But his friends heard it and MJ says “Before that don’t forget to confess your passionate love to him” making Peter groan more

“But mate isn’t it better than?You seem to have more chance with [Y/N] compared to Liz since [Y/N] flirts with you every time he can” Ned says trying to be helpful

“Ned he just does it just cause of his nature and-and someone like him won’t like a nerd like me!!” Peter says while waving his hands around in the air out of frustration

MJ scoffs at this before saying “He may be a playboy but not towards you Peter.Why do you think we thought you two were a couple.He treats you different than others,it’s quiet evident.Just that [Y/N] himself hasn’t realized it.So don’t be a coward and go with this cause we two don’t want to see this stupid unrealized pining between you two anymore”

Peter blushes and peaks between his fingers before asking “Where is [Y/N]?Wasn’t he with you?”

MJ seemed surprised and thinks a little before saying “It seemed something came up which annoyed [Y/N] so he said he would ditch the rest of the classes” deciding it was good to hide her conversation with [Y/N]

“Oh...I see” Peter getting a little worried and thought he would check on [Y/N] later

“Well leaving that aside,don’t be a fool and just go for it Peter” MJ says with an encouraging smile to which Ned nodded before smiling as well

Peter smiled as his thoughts of yesterday’s conversation but he seemed to have not noticed the boy coming towards him

“Hey Pete” a deep Asian ascent suddenly says in front of him making Peter jump back a little out of shock only to see it was [Y/N] who was chuckling at is reaction

And damn,[Y/N] just looked to hot.He was wearing a low v-cut half sleeve red shirt which gave a sneak peek of his toned chest,finger less black gloves,a black trouser and black combat boots.His neck had three necklaces with them being a cross,a razor and a wire looking one,as he could spot ‘Hell’ tattooed between his collar bones.At last he wore black round retro glasses as a cigarette was between his lips

He looked to hot to be legal to Peter and he could prove it as girls along with boys who were walking pass them definitely looked back once at [Y/N] with blush or if they were bold with lust filled eyes

Not minding them at all,[Y/N] flicked his cigarette towards the side before saying “That jump was really cute and did you wait long?” with a smile

Peter feels his cheeks already getting a little hot before saying “I-I was surprised okay?!And no I didn’t wait long but where are you coming from,dressed like that?” stressing a little bit to much at ‘that’

[Y/N] smirks before asking “Like what you see?” making Peter blush more and looks towards the side causing [Y/N] to laugh

“Ehh went out with some friends of mine on my bike before quickly came here cause didn’t wanted to make you wait long.So ready to go inside?” [Y/N] says while pointing at his cool looking bike(Peter thought was just perfect for [Y/N]) before a playful smile

“I have never been this kind of place [Y/N] so I’m kinda nervous and if Aunt May were to find out about this,I would be dead” Peter mumbles nervously to which [Y/N] chuckles

“Don’t worry Pete.You are going inside under my name,so nobody’s gonna do anything and I would make sure of it along with Aunt May not finding out about it.So just trust me” [Y/N] says with serious eyes now his ascent coming out in the ‘So just trust me’ making Peter suck in some air as his blush seemed to intensify

“Okay,I trust you” Peter finally says and the answer seems to satisfy [Y/N] who smiles before saying “Great,let’s go~”

»»————>❃<————««

True to [Y/N]’s words,nobody came near Peter,he wasn't asked if he wanted alcohol or tried to talk with him in general and Peter was give a place where the stage was totally clear

Peter nervously watched as [Y/N] performance was gonna start any minute and he didn’t knew what to expect

“I heard Foxy was going to perform today” Peter hears and see two girls whispering to which the other girl replied “Yes~Oh how I wished he would sent the night with me but too bad he is gay.I also heard today he came here with another boy!”

“They couldn’t be talking about-” Peter couldn’t finish his thoughts when the lights of the room dimmed before all focused on a the stage as a man came to the stage

“I know you all already heard it but without any further wait let’s welcome today’s special appearance of Foxy with his collab performance with our favorite group Leviathan!!And today they are gonna perform their original ‘Take me to cruch’” the man said and the whole crowd cheered loudly

The curtains of the stage raised and Peter widened his eyes to see [Y/N] sitting behind a drum set which a fox logo drawn in it as some other people with instruments stand on both his sides

My lover's got humor He's the giggle at a funeral Knows everybody's disapproval

“Ehh,Foxy was [Y/N]’s stage name?B-but leaving that aside [Y/N] can sing so nicely along with being able to play the drums?!How much more perfect can he be??” Peter thought as he heard [Y/N]’s accented english through this speaker with a blush on his face.He tuned out all the other’s voices so he can give all his attention towards [Y/N]

I should've worshiped him sooner If the heavens ever did speak He's the last true mouthpiece Every Sunday's getting more bleak A fresh poison each week "We were born sick" You heard them say it My church offers no absolutes He tells me "Worship in the bedroom" The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well

[Y/N] finally started to play the drum and people just swayed like it was a concert with this phone flashlight on

  Aaa, Amen, Amen, Amen

[Y/N] looked towards the crowd and immediately his eyes made contact with Peter who just felt his body on fire under his gaze

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Good God, let me give you my life Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Good God, let me give you my life

[Y/N] kept his gaze on Peter and Peter felt as though the song was being dedicated to him.He thought that was a very stupid imagination,making Peter break his contact with [Y/N] as he looked towards the ground

Yet when he again looked up and saw [Y/N] still looking towards him,he felt a tiny bit of himself believing that maybe it could be dedicated to him.”I mean it isn’t a crime to imagine stuff like that” Peter thought as he again made contact with [Y/N]’s deep black eyes

If I'm a pagan of the good times My lover's the sunlight To keep the god on my side He demands a sacrifice Drain the whole sea Get something shiny Something meaty for the main course That's a fine looking high horse What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful That looks tasty That looks plenty This is hungry work

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife Offer me my deathless death Good God, let me give you my life Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife Offer me my deathless death Good God, let me give you my life

No masters or kings when the ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene Only then I am human Only then I am clean

Oh, oh Amen, Amen, Amen

The moment [Y/N] hit the line,people went crazy and started to sing along for what seemed as the last part of the song

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Good God, let me give you my life Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Good God, let me give you my life

The entire roared up in people’s shouting and screams which Peter thought was the right thing to do for the performance was crazy and awesome

He was happy he could record that whole thing

But then as he saw how [Y/N] bumped fist with the other people on stage with a smirk,he remembered what MJ told his causing a blush to form at this face

“O-okay Peter!!Y-you are going t-to do this!!You are g-going to co-confess to [Y/N]!” Peter thought inside him before he decided to look for [Y/N]

But sadly [Y/N] seemed to have gone down the stage so picking up his courage,Peter went inside the crowd to look for him

Peter looked aimlessly among the crowd and luckily nobody bothered to stop him

It was tough to go around these sea of kind of drunk bodies without gaining much attention but it was fine with some work all thanks to Peter’s senses

Peter made to near the stage and felt a smile came to his face when he started to see [Y/N] standing near the stage

But as Peter was about to reach [Y/N] felt his breathing stop at the sight in front of him

[Y/N] was leaning against the wall as another shorter boy was leaning on his chest while [Y/N]’s hands were wrapped around the shorter boy’s waist

Peter felt his heart never run as fast as he was feeling now and he definitely stopped breathing when he saw [Y/N] kissing  the shorter boy

Peter just stood there as he saw his crush smooch some unknown guy in the club and he freaking didn’t knew what to do

He just wanted to get out of the club but to his misery [Y/N] moves his eyes and low & behold,he made eye contact with Peter

“Peter?” [Y/N] says immediately stopping his kissing session and that prompt was all it took for Peter to start running from that place

“Peter!!” [Y/N]’s voice perfectly reached his ears in the loud club and he hates the fact that he could perfectly hear his voice among others

He didn’t stopped to apologize for bumping with people and made a beeline for the exit before rushing out of the club

Tears started to slowly come out of his eyes and he just bit his lower lips to make sure a sob doesn’t comes out of his mouth as he made his way towards hi apartment

“Of course,‘He has a crush on you’ that’s so stupid and dumb..” Peter thought bitterly as his walked towards his apartment

»»————>❃<————««

Eomma - mother and Appa - Father for those who didn’t knew

Hello everyone!! Finally done with the next chapter,wohoo!! It took time and I think this is longer than the last one?I totally didn’t used this chapter to put ‘Take me to church’,totally not!Nah uh!Lol,well jokes aside if you guys haven’t heard Hozier just check him out cause he is an awesome artist.Anyway the next chapter would definitely take time so please stick with me till then and hope you enjoyed this one

[tchallasbabymama]

Funeral

Hey y’all, here’s Chapter 12 of Playlist. Catch up on the story and read my other fics by checking out my masterlist HERE! Also, In a couple weeks I’ll be starting up “Ménage `a Trois”, a T’Challa x  OC x M’Baku throuple fic. Check out the preview here!

CW: Smut (consensual non-consent, knife/claw play, cutting, blood play). Basically if edge play bothers you, don’t read the last scene except for the verrrry end. Child endangerment. 

Word count: 10,313

The King and Queen of Wakanda, along with their newborn baby girl, stayed in the royal birthing chambers for the rest of the day so the midwife could keep an eye on mama and umntwana. T’Challa spent almost the entire time holding and talking to his daughter, only easily giving her up when it was time for her to eat.

“Challa, can I have my child please?”

“Our child,” he said as he carefully handed her off to her mother.

“I know that, do you?” she said with a look that made the king’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“O-of course, I just-”

“Shhhh, I’m kidding,” she chuckled before her face changed as Siyanda latched on for the second time since she’d been out in the real world.

“Does it hurt?”

“No it’s just...a weird feeling, but it’s good.”

T’Challa climbed in bed next to her and stroked her hair out of her face as she fed their daughter.

“I already want another.”

“Can my entire bottom half heal first, please?”

He chuckled and kissed her temple.

“I can be patient.”

Ashanti shot him another look and he changed his tune.

“When it comes to this, anyway,” he said with a smile.

When the princess was all fed and burped they felt it was finally time to let their loved ones in to see the new addition to the family.

Ramonda, Bisa, and Chidi came in first, each crying tears of joy over their baby’s baby. However, when it came time to hold her, T’Challa’s reaction surprised them all.

“I...I’m sorry, was that a growl?” Ashanti asked her husband, dumbfounded.

“...No.”

“Sounded like one to me,” Chidi said, cautiously stepping back from the bed.

“It’s just the herb in his system making him extra protective. Those panther instincts really kick into gear when you have a child,” Ramonda chimed in.

“Oh so is that why I barely get to touch my own baby?”

Ramonda nodded and reached for the baby, causing yet another deep rumbling in T’Challa’s chest.

“Down, boy,” Ashanti joked as she handed Siyanda to Ramonda and reached for her husband’s hand.

“How are you feeling intyatyambo?” Bisa asked, sitting on the bed next to her daughter.

“I’m tired and everything is sore, but I’m floating in the clouds everytime I look at her.”

“That feeling never goes away,” Ramonda chimed in as she looked down at her granddaughter. “You know, it’s too early to tell for sure, but she has N’Yami’s eyes, just like her baba.”

“That’s what T’Challa said!” she looked over to him as he followed Ramonda’s every movement with his eyes. Ashanti squeezed his hand and he broke his gaze. “Baby, stop. Nobody here is going to harm her.”

He lightly cleared his throat and nodded. Deep down, he knew that to be the case, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Ramonda walked over to Bisa and carefully placed Siyanda in her other grandma’s arms.

“Bast, she’s beautiful,” Chidi stood behind his wife and stared down at his granddaughter, too afraid to touch her out of fear that her father would rip his head off.

“Do you want to hold her?” Bisa asked him.

“That’s probably not such a good idea right now,” Ramonda noticed how T’Challa reacted everytime Chidi got close. T’Chaka had done the same thing. He had been wary of anyone touching Shuri, but other men brought out the predator in him and his territorial nature flared. It calmed down after a while, but it was the worst when she was a newborn. “In fact, I’m not sure if Daka can even come into the room.”

“Why is that?” Ashanti asked.

“Look at how he is with a normal man. We’ve never had two panthers at the same time, so I could be wrong, but I would give it a couple weeks for him to calm down...just in case.”

Ashanti nodded and kissed her husband’s cheek, his eyes still glued to their baby girl.

“I’ll go bring in Shuri and Kwame,” Chidi offered before heading out the door, a little hurt he couldn’t hold his granddaughter.

Ashanti lightly slapped T’Challa’s chest, “You hurt his feelings.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.”

“Try closing your eyes or something.”

“I’d still hear it.”

“Not with my headphones! I’ll be back,” Shuri had barely made it in the room when she ran back out, and when Kwame entered he went straight to his best friend and pulled her in for a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re a mama now! Where is the little bundle of joy?” he looked around before his eyes landed on Bisa rocking her granddaughter in the corner.

“If you want to hold her I’d suggest waiting a couple weeks, baba might attack you,” Chidi complained from the doorway.

“No worries, I don't like holding them when they’re fresh out anyway. Too delicate.”

Just then, Shuri returned with her headphones and T’Challa tentatively placed them on, turning around to look out the window as a distraction, still holding Ashanti’s hand and bouncing his leg from the anxiety of not being able to know what's going on with his baby girl.

“Ok, now try, baby,” Bisa said, handing Siyanda off to her umakhulu.

“She looks just like you did when you were born,” Chidi added, walking closer to Kwame so he could see her cute little face.

“Awwww she really is cute!”

Everyone laughed as Chidi passed Siyanda to her auntie, but it was quickly cut short when everyone noticed the look of complete adoration on the older princess’ face.

“She...she’s beautiful.”

She stared at her little nose and her little round cheeks and swore to herself that she would protect her niece with her life.

There was a light knocking and everyone looked up to see the prince, never really one to follow directions, standing in the doorway.

“Stay there, don’t come in,” Ramonda warned.

“So I don't get to see my baby cousin?” he pouted.

Shuri looked at her brother, still turned towards the window and unaware of what was happening, then to Ashanti and Ramonda. Ashanti nodded and Ramonda let out a deep breath before doing the same. Shuri walked over to N’Jadaka and placed her in his arms after taking one last look at her distracted brother.

“Wow...she’s so tiny.” he played with her little fingers as she looked up at him. T’Challa shifted and they quickly but carefully placed the baby back in Shuri’s arms. N’Jadaka stayed in the doorway as Ashanti reached to take the noise-cancelling headphones off her overprotective husband.

Shuri placed her niece in her baba’s arms and T’Challa’s tension melted away.

“I apologize, I don’t know how to control it yet,” the king said softly while staring at his greatest creation.

“You’ll get there,” Ashanti placed her head on his shoulder and he smiled, kissing her temple.

Just then, Binta and Ramla entered to check on mama and baby so the family left to give them some space. After Ramla made sure everything was safe, she allowed the new little family to return to their quarters to start their new life together.

--------

Princess Siyanda was a very sensitive and reserved child. As an infant, she only wanted her parents and would cry whenever anyone else held her. It took her a few months to warm up to the rest of the family, but she eventually got there and they were able to step in and help take care of her.

As she grew, she continued to be a shy baby. During her crowning after her first birthday, it was almost impossible to get her to stop crying, seemingly overwhelmed by all the attention. After a few more months, the princess started to come out of her shell a little bit, but she was still very cautious around new people and people she wasn’t fond of.

Siyanda was also a quiet child, and she didn’t speak until she was almost two. Now, at three years old, Princess Siyanda was the chattiest little thing to people she deemed worthy, but still very silent in the presence of those she didn’t like. Like Mala and Ode, for example. Siyanda had been coming to council meetings since she was an infant, sitting in one of her parent’s laps as they ruled the kingdom, and even then she grew anxious when the Merchant and Mining tribe elders approached her. Now she would hide behind whatever family member was closest. It had started to become bothersome to the two elders who felt disrespected by the child’s behavior, which only fueled their already deep disdain for her and her common mother.

Ashanti and T’Challa were head over heels for their temperamental little girl, so when they found out the reason for her actions they were floored that they had missed the signs.

It all started with a headache that just wouldn’t go away.

“Mama? Baba?” came a little voice from outside their door, prompting T’Challa, who was a much lighter sleeper than his wife, to get up and let in his baby girl.

When he opened the door she squinted up at him and looked as though she were seeing him for the first time. She burst into tears as her baba crouched down to scoop her up, but she wiggled out of his arms.

“What is it, sithandwa?”

By this point, Ashanti had made her way over to the doorway and stood behind her husband as he tried to calm their daughter down. Siyanda’s tears subsided for just long enough for her to speak, “My head hurts. You’re too bright.”

“What do you mean bright, baby?” Ashanti crouched down to Siyanda’s level with T’Challa, hoping to stop her baby girl from crying.

“My head hurts, and it woke me up. You’re too bright.”

“Who, baby?”

“Both of you.”

T’Challa and Ashanti looked to each other in confusion before turning back to their daughter.

“Close your eyes, baby girl,” Ashanti said as she reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her into a hug.

“Now, tell us, how are we too bright?” he rubbed her back in slow circles to calm her down, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“There’s colors around you and-and it hurts my eyes,” the little princess huffed out between sobs.

“Colors?”

“Mhm.”

The two parents were perplexed as they turned to each other with their eyebrows furrowed yet again, both unsure of what they were hearing.

“Why don’t you come to bed with mama? Baba will make you some tea to help you sleep, ok?”

“Ok mama.”

“Keep your eyes closed, baby.”

Ashanti carried Siyanda to the bed while T’Challa disappeared to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea. The princess kept her eyes closed as her mama sang her favorite lullaby and played in her soft curls that she got from her baba. Slight whimpers left her lips as a dull aching throbbed in her head, but she preferred it to the stabbing pain of the bright colors.

T’Challa returned and he set the tea down to cool before crawling into bed with his two favorite girls. “Tell us what you see, sithandwa.”

She sniffled as Ashanti wiped the tears coming from her eyes and T’Challa held her little hands in his. She tried her best to explain to them the bright purple and yellow light radiating from around them that they couldn’t see, but they just couldn’t wrap their heads around her words.

“How about we go see Umakazi Shuri tomorrow?”

“Ok baba.”

Ashanti helped Siyanda drink the tea with her eyes closed and eventually she drifted off to a fretful sleep, tossing and turning between her parents all night. They desperately needed to talk  about the situation so they texted on their beads so as not to wake their sleeping child up.

A: It sounds like she’s seeing auras.

T: Isn’t she too young for that kind of thing? A: I always thought mutations kicked in at puberty.

T: They normally do.

A: Maybe it’s not a mutation?

T: I don’t know what else it could be.

A: Me either, but I’m worried about her.

T: Me too, Kitten.

They both gazed at their sleeping daughter’s not quite so peaceful form as she slept, neither one of them getting much sleep of their own that night.

The king, queen, and both princesses were missing from breakfast the next day, leaving Ramonda and N’Jadaka to dine alone. Siyanda found that she could open her eyes as long as she didn’t look at anybody, but that proved to be a harder task than she expected so she just kept her eyes closed behind sunglasses the whole way.

As they entered Shuri’s lab, she immediately sensed something was wrong with the usually much more excited princess.

“Yaya! What’s up?” she picked up her favorite niece and spun her around, surprised by the lack of giggles. “Ok something is wrong, talk to me.”

T’Challa cleared his throat, “We think she is seeing auras.”

“She has powers?!”

“Well that’s what we want you to help us find out,” Ashanti added.

“Sure thing, it’ll only take a second,” she set Siyanda down on the table before putting a painless blood collection device over her arm and distracting her while the machine drew her blood.

Shuri connected the device to her computer and the results appeared on the screen. After combing through the data, Shuri felt almost ready to make her declaration.

“I’ll need to run some more tests, if you don’t mind.”

Ashanti grabbed T’Challa’s hand and he looked down at her concerned face.

“Challa, I don’t want her to feel like we’re experimenting on her.”

“She won’t, I promise. I’ll do it with her.”

Ashanti nodded and the four of them spent the whole morning in Shuri’s lab. It turned out that Siyanda could in fact see auras and she had most likely been empathic since she was an infant.

The adults watched her play with fake gauntlets Shuri made just for her as they spoke in hushed tones.

“So that’s why she’s picky about who she lets near her?”

“Looks like it,” Shuri swiped through the screen until she came across a picture of a brain. “You see here? This is my brain.”

Ashanti and T’Challa watched the synapses fire and light up the screen.

“And this is ubhuti’s brain,” She pulled up another projection, this one with even more synapses lighting up the screen. “The heart shaped herb altered his brain so that he could have heightened senses and panther instincts, so that’s why he’s got more going on up there...I’m still smarter.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes as Ashanti grinned at her sister-in-law.

“But this...this is Yaya’s brain.”

All three adults stood in awe as they watched parts of her brain spark in ways they hadn’t ever witnessed before.

“What is that?”

“That’s her visual, emotional, and sensory centers firing off. Now look at this scan from when I had her look at T’Challa.”

“Bast…”

“Is she...this won’t keep hurting her will it? She has a headache and it gets worse when she looks at us, I don't want her to-”

“My love,” he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“Sorry, right.” Ashanti took a breath, “Ok so what now?”

“I’m thinking: glasses.”

“Wh...glasses?”

“Yes, if I can filter out at least some of the light it’ll be more manageable for her. She’ll probably grow out of the headaches when her body gets used to her new power.”

“What if she develops more powers? Can you tell ahead of time?” T’Challa asked his little sister.

“Not unless she’s hooked up to machines when it happens.”

“So you for sure found the mutation in her genes?” Ashanti chimed in.

“Yep!” She swiped across the screen and brought up a swirling double helix before typing in a code and pulling up the exact genome. “Here it is, the X-gene.”

Ashanti’s mouth was wide open as she released her husband’s hand and stepped towards the screen, taking it all in. Her mind raced all over the place. She knew these things usually came from the mother, but as far as she knew there were no mutants in her family. She’d have to talk to her parents, and soon.

Despite her confusion and fear for her child’s safety Ashanti couldn't help the slow smile creeping up her face as she turned back to T’Challa.

“Our baby has superpowers!”

--------

“Umakhulu!”

“There’s my grandbaby!” Chidi swooped Siyanda off the ground as she giggled, but he paused when he noticed something was a little different. “What’s with the goggles?”

“Auntie Shuri made them for me because people were too bright.”

Chidi looked at Ashanti in total confusion and she waved him off.

“Yeah, I’ll get to that in a little bit. Where’s mama?”

“She should be back from closing the restaurant any time now. You know, I’m surprised you have her up this late...is everything ok at home?”

“Yes baba, T’Challa would’ve come but he got called into a meeting with the Avengers.”

“Your baba is such a busy superhero,” Chidi whispered to his granddaughter, making her giggle right as Bisa opened the door, saying hello to the Dora Milaje stationed outside.

“Well hello you two!” Bisa kissed everyone’s forehead and sat down next to her husband just in time for Siyanda to crawl into her lap and make herself comfortable. “Where’s my son in law? Somewhere getting on your nerves?”

Ashanti chuckled, “Not today mama, he’s working. Actually I’m here about Yaya...and her glasses.”

“Yeah, what’s up with these? They make her look so old.”

“They do, but she needs them until Shuri can come up with a better idea,” Ashanti took a breath, “Mama, baba...she’s an empath...a mutant.”

“What’s a mutant, mama?”

Ashanti took in her parents’ shocked faces before looking down to her child.

“A mutant is a person with special gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Mhm, like how baba and Daka can run really fast.”

Siyanda nodded and went back to playing with Bisa’s bracelets, shaking her out of her daze.

“You said she’s an empath, what does that mean?”

“She can see auras and feel people’s energy. Shuri thinks when she’s older she might be able to feel peoples’ emotions, but we can’t know for sure yet.”

“What colors does she see around us?”

“Yaya?”

The toddler looked up from her grandma’s beaded wrists and her big brown eyes landed on her mother. Ashanti couldn’t help but smile down at her cherubic face. Siyanda was her little twin, she looked and acted just like her mama, right down to wearing her emotions on her face.

“What is it baby?”

“You don’t see the colors?”

“No, that’s your gift, not mine.”

“It’s pretty, mama. You’re yellow and baba is purple. And when you’re together it swirls.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” she turned to her grandparents, “And you’re green and blue mixed together.”

“What do the colors mean, intyatyambo?” Bisa asked, her eyes wide with wonder at her granddaughter's gift from Bast.

Siyanda shrugged, taking in the swirling colors around them with a smile on her face.

“So what are the glasses for exactly?” Chidi asked. Much like his daughter and granddaughter, Chidi wore his emotions on his face and his bewilderment was still very obvious.

“The colors are really bright and they hurt her head, so Shuri figured out how to filter out the light so she can still see them without it hurting. Hopefully she’ll grow out of it.”

“Auntie Shuri said I’m a superhero like baba!” The princess jumped up and started play-fighting with her granddad, who then chased her around the living room and into the backyard.

“Those two,” Bisa chuckled, shaking her head before turning serious. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m ok as long as she’s ok. I’m just confused on where it came from. Does anyone else in our family have powers?”

“Well that depends on who you ask...the women in my family have been gifted for centuries, but it was mostly through dream work and divination, not as empaths. Though I’m not really sure what the difference is between a gift from Bast and a mutation.”

“I don’t think there is one.”

“Me neither.”

The mother and daughter sat in silence for a moment before Siyanda’s screeching laughter rang out as Chidi chased her back into the room. Ashanti scooped her up into her lap when Chidi plopped down on the couch, resting his head on his wife’s shoulder.

“I'm too old for this.”

Siyanda nodded and Chidi’s hurt face sent Ashanti and Bisa into a laughing fit. After they came back down to earth Ashanti felt her stomach growl and invited her parents to come back to the palace for dinner.

The four of them arrived just before everyone else and took their seats as the rest of their small party filed in. All except for the king, that is.

“Where is my son?” Ramonda asked.

“Yeah, where’s baba?”

Ashanti sighed and pushed back from the table, kissing her daughter’s head before sauntering out the room and down the hall towards the business side of the palace. When she reached his office she didn’t even bother knocking before she swung the doors open.

“T’Challa.”

He looked away from the documents on his screen, his tired eyes filling with worry as he took in her tone. She almost never said his whole name, so he knew he was in for it.

“Is something wrong, my love?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s dinnertime. Let’s go,” she turned to usher him out of the room, but he didn’t move.

“Kitten, I have work to do. We spent half the day in Shuri’s lab and then I spent the rest dealing with the Avengers-”

“You have to eat, don’t you?”

“Yes, I was going to have it brought to me.”

Ashanti crossed the room and rolled his chair back from the desk, sitting sideways in his lap.

“Your eyes look tired baby, give them a break from all the screens. Mama and baba are here...Yaya misses you...I miss you,” she pouted.

“I know what you’re doing-”

She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m not doing anything,” she said before kissing his cheek, then his jawline. Her lips trailed to his Adam's apple and back up to his earlobe before whispering in his ear.

“I miss you, Kumkani.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he mocked, making his wife giggle. The king let out a sigh as Ashanti kissed up and down the column of his neck. He had already made up his mind about going to dinner, but he was also very willing to see how far she’d take her seduction.

Ashanti moved in his lap to straddle him and they connected in a passionate liplock, her hips grinding slowly into his. He let her have her fun before he stood and placed her on his desk, reaching his hand up the leg of her flowy printed shorts until he made it to his destination between her thighs. She moaned as his fingers grazed her clit, slowly stroking it through her underwear.

“You come in here and distract me.” He pushed her panties to the side and ran his bare fingers up and down her juicy slit, “All you had to do was say please.”

“Please kumkani,” she begged as he continued to tease her lips and his fingers slowly made their way deep inside her. He held her gaze as he fingered her slowly.

Ashanti wanted more, she needed more.

“Fuck me.”

“What was that? A little louder.”

“Fuck. Me.”

“You are giving orders now?”

“Please baby.”

“That’s better,” he said with a salacious smirk resting lopsided on his chiseled face. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his dick so she could feel how hard he was. “You think I don’t miss you too, my love? I miss your taste-”

He planted a sloppy open-mouthed kiss on her lips.

“-your smell-”

His head nuzzled into her neck and he took a deep breath, letting out a moan as he exhaled.

“-How you feel around my dick when I’m inside you.” He had her pussy hanging out the leg of her shorts, exposed to the elements as he stroked her clit and looked into her eyes as he spoke. The next thing she knew she was filled with her husband. His hips snapped into hers and his hands found their way to her hair, grabbing a handful of her curly faux locs and pulling her head back. He licked and nibbled on her throat as he buried himself in her and all she could see was stars.

It had been about a week since the King and Queen of Wakanda had been able to have any alone time, and they were both at their limit. They were used to going long stretches without any physical contact when he was away on missions, but when they were together they could barely keep their hands off each other. A week was way too long.

Her legs tried to wrap around him, but he was in no mood for that soft and sweet shit. He wanted to tear her to pieces and she wanted him to do it.  

Ashanti’s eyes rolled back in her head and she felt the tension rise inside her as his thumb circled her clit. Her body melted into the desk and she struggled to stay up on her elbows as he leaned over her, teasing her.

“You miss me?”

“Y-yes Kumkani.”

“What do you miss?” He loved teasing her, especially when he knew she could barely speak.

“Mmm fuck. I...I miss your hands on me.”

He slowed his strokes and his large hands made their way up and down her body. His left hand found it’s home at the dip of her hip, gripping her tight. His right hand rested just below her throat as a tease, refusing to squeeze her the way she wanted.

“What else?” he slowly dragged his tip along her g-spot and a shudder went through her body.

“Your lips.”

He trailed kisses on every inch of her body he could reach, ending on her chest. His tongue brushed across each nipple as he french kissed her breasts, pulling each bud into his mouth and nibbling softly as she moaned in his ear. His hips kept a slow and steady pace until he released her from his mouth and dug deep inside her.

“Kumkani!”

“Mhm, what else do you miss?” T’Challa’s hands gripped her hips tight as he leaned over her and pulled her into him to meet each stroke. Her hips grinded up into his until he pushed her legs back further, damn near folding her in half and laying his weight on her as his hips rolled his dick deeper inside her.

“This. I miss this.”

“I bet you do, Kitten,” he chuckled before slowing down his strokes and kissing her softly. “I miss this too.”

Their tongues danced against each other as her body tightened and released around him, coating him in her juices.

“Where do you want it?” He couldn’t hold on any longer and desperately needed this release.

“Right there, baby,” Ashanti cooed as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in tight. The tension in his body rose to an alltime high and the vein in his forehead threatened to pop before his body jerked and he stilled inside her.

The two of them laughed as they untangled themselves and came back down to reality.

“You think they know?” Ashanti asked as she straightened his tunic. He twirled her around and was surprised there was no visible wet spot.

“We got lucky this time. You’re going to have to start keeping a change of clothes in here,” he slapped her ass just to watch it jiggle.

“Challa!”

“I’m sorry, let me kiss it-” he grabbed her and started kissing down her neck again as he firmly gripped her ass.

“No, we have to go,” she giggled as she struggled to get out of his grasp. “We can get back to this later.”

“But I want it now, you started it,” he whined and bit into her neck. “Let’s skip dinner.”

“Challa, I invited my parents.”

He visibly deflated and let out a deep sigh. He loved his in-laws, but he would much rather be blowing Ashanti’s back out in their quarters. He released her from his arms with a roll of his eyes and tried his best not to pout as she pulled him out the door, but his sad face was quickly replaced by one of great amusement as he watched his wife limp down the hallway.

Later that night, T’Challa was called to an emergency mission with the Avengers and was gone for a whole month.

--------

Ashanti had passed her creative genes right on down to her daughter. The little princess loved to draw and regularly surprised her parents with colorful portraits of the people in her life. They loved seeing the world through her eyes and kept every picture, even when the subject was unrecognizable. Their favorite was a picture she drew of the whole family holding hands, each one of them glowing in their different colors. N’Jadaka was red, full of passion and strength, and Shuri’s ambition came through as a vivid orange color. Ramonda was surrounded by a peaceful cloud of light blue and the bold blues and healing greens of Chidi and Bisa’s auras swirled together in perfect harmony. She even drew pictures of her favorite aunts and uncles, capturing how M’Baku’s red aura danced around Shani’s pink glow. The twins were a bright yellow with tinges of purple and blue, Okoye’s aura was the same fiery red she wore as armor, and the blue light emanating around Zina contrasted beautifully with the pink surrounding Jafari.  

Siyanda’s drawings were always so bright and colorful, until one day she surprised her mother with a much darker piece of art.

“Who’s that, baby?” Ashanti asked with concern as she looked over her daughter’s shoulder. She was drawing a dark cloud of putrid greens and browns around a group of blacked-out people.

“I don’t know. I saw it in my dream.”

“Was it a bad dream?”

Siyanda nodded as she continued to focus on her dark masterpiece.

“Tell me about it.”

“I just saw the people.”

“These people?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“No, mama, they’re just the people.”

“Did they do something in your dream?”

“They were just there. It was scary.” She reached for the black crayon and scribbled around the perimeter of the peoples’ collective aura, encasing it all in the darkness.

That night, when Ashanti’s beads trilled with T’Challa’s special tone she quickly pressed her communication bead, prompting her husband’s figure to rest in the palm of her hand.

“Something’s wrong,” she said before he could even speak.

“What is it?”

“It’s Yaya...she drew this.”

Ashanti held up the wild crayon drawing and T’Challa’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Who is that supposed to be?”

“I don’t know, she just kept calling them ‘the people’. She saw it in her dream, Challa.”

“Her dream?”

Ashanti nodded, “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

“And she never uses dark colors like that, not even for an outline...what happened in her dream?”

“Nothing. She just saw this...she said it was scary.”

T’Challa was quiet for a while, wheels turning in his head.

“And these ‘people’ aren’t anyone she knows?”

“Nope. I’m worried about her, what if this is some sort of premonition? I told you what mama said about the women in our family.”

“Kitten, if it’s a premonition I think we should all be worried. It doesn’t look good.”

“No it doesn’t...when are you coming home?”

“I’m cutting it short, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Don’t they need you?”

“Probably, but I am needed even more elsewhere.”

The next morning, a very sleepy Siyanda waited for her baba on the tarmac with her family. Shuri held her on her hip as she rested her head on her shoulder, but the second the Talon came into view she perked right up and jumped down from her auntie’s arms. She tried to take off towards the ship, but Ashanti grabbed her arm before she could go anywhere.

“Not yet, baby. Wait until the doors open.”

“Ok mama.”

Her little leg bounced in anticipation and the second the doors opened and Ashanti gave her a nod, she took off towards the ship, running almost as fast as her Baba, when she noticed he wasn’t alone.

“Daka!” She tackled her big cousin and he “fell” to the ground.

“You’re getting strong, Punkin!”

She giggled as he tickled her until a throat clearing stopped them both.

“No love for me?”

She sprung from the ground and into T’Challa’s arms, leaving a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“I missed you, baba!”

“Not as much as you missed him,” he pretended to be upset.

“It’s been longer since I saw Daka, baba.”

“It’s ok to say you missed me more. Don’t let him pressure you,” N’Jadaka said with a wink.

Siyanda giggled as the three of them disembarked the Talon and the returning Udakus were greeted by their family.

After a month apart, T’Challa and Ashanti were relieved to be back in each other’s arms. They held each other for a moment before going in for a kiss. They tried their best to keep their hands to themselves, but their kiss turned heated until Ramonda cleared her throat and Ashanti  looked up to see Shuri shielding Siyanda’s eyes.

“Sorry, it’s been a while,” Ashanti hid her face while her husband laughed and pulled her in for another kiss.

“Eewwwwww,” the littlest princess was disgusted by her parents’ display, prompting Shuri and N’Jadaka to join her in her protests.

“Yeah, ewwww.”

“Mmhm, y’all nasty.”

“Alright, alright, damn. I can’t love on my husband?”

Siyanda shook her head.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s gross!”

T’Challa chuckled and scooped her up, placing her on his shoulders as they walked back into the palace. “You just keep thinking that for the next twenty years.”

“Make it thirty,” N’Jadaka chimed in from behind them.

“How about forty? Fifty, just to be safe?”

“Sounds good to me, man.”

“Stop it, you two,” Ramonda slapped the back of her nephew’s head at the same time her son received a deadly glare from his wife.

“Ow, ok. Twenty it is.” N’Jadaka laughed as he dodged his auntie’s hand, sending a wink to his big cousin who was trying very hard to not look down at Ashanti.

“So, what have I missed, little one?” T’Challa asked his daughter.

“I rode a rhino!”

“You did?!”

“Mhm. Mama almost didn’t let me, but Auntie Okoye talked her into it.”

“Well thank Bast for Auntie Okoye,” he sent his friend and protector a smile.

“Anything for our princess,” Okoye said, trying to keep a straight face since she was on duty.

“Anything?” Siyanda’s eyes were filled with wonder as her mind raced through the possibilities.

“Anything within reason,” Ashanti interjected before she got too carried away, booping her on her nose as they continued down the hallway to the living quarters.

--------

“Your highnesses, there is a rebel faction within our borders,” explained T’San, the River tribe elder. He had asked for a private audience with the king and queen to discuss sensitive matters, and they were intrigued when he said it was something he didn’t want to announce in front of the council.

“What proof do you have?”

T’San nodded to the guards stationed at the door and they opened it to reveal two River tribe warriors with a very angry looking woman between them.

“Let me go!” she struggled to get out of their grasp, but they held tight as they walked her into the throne room.

“Thetha,” Ashanti ordered. The woman stared at her in contempt and remained silent.

“Your queen commanded you to speak. Now speak.”

“She is not my queen,” the woman spat, eyes narrowing at Ashanti, who shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She could almost feel T’Challa’s blood pressure rising.

“She is and you will respect her. Ungubani?”

The woman remained silent until the River tribe warriors squeezed her arm tighter.

“Ouch! Ok, damn. My name is Iniko, your highnesses,” she said sarcastically as she gave them a weak Wakandan salute.

“Enough of your disrespect-”

“T’San, thank you,” T’Challa cut him off, standing and slowly walking towards Iniko. “Tell me, what is it you want?”

“We want a real queen, not some common whore.”

“That is enough! Take her to the holding cells, I will deal with her later.”

The palace guards collected her from the warriors and she thrashed in their arms as they led her out of the room.

“You’ll never stop The People!”

Ashanti and T’Challa made eye contact right as the doors closed. He made his way back to his throne and sat down, taking the queen’s hand in his.

“My sincerest apologies, my queen, my king.”

“Thank you T’San. How many more are there?” Ashanti asked, still a little shaken up from what she just heard.

“She is the only one we have found so far, my queen. My warriors are questioning her friends and family as we speak”

“Good. Keep us updated on what you find, and T’San?”

“Yes, my king?”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to other council members, I will address it in our meeting.”

The elder bowed his head in understanding.

“Anything else, T’San?”

“No, my queen, that is all.”

“Well, the king and I would like to thank you for your service to Wakanda.”

“It is my honor,” he saluted them and left with his warriors in tow.

As soon as the doors closed behind him Ashanti hopped up from the throne.

“She saw them in her dream, Challa.”

“I know…”

“This isn’t good.”

“I know…” He was in a daze. Not only was there a rebel faction out to get his wife, but his daughter was certainly having premonitions.

“Yaya has another power.”

“I know…”

Ashanti turned to look at him slumped down in the throne with his head resting on his hands. She went and sat across his lap, burying her face in his neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes before T’Challa shifted to check the time.

“It’s time to make our rounds, love.”

Ashanti sighed and got up, shuffling towards the door with her husband on her heels. They made their way to Ramonda’s vegetable garden to find her and the littlest princess digging around in the dirt, harvesting yams. Siyanda looked up and excitedly ran to her parents.

“Can we go see the rhinos now?”

“In a little bit,” Ashanti chuckled. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

“Mama, these look delicious.”

“They do,” she said proudly. “We’ll find out for sure at dinner.”

“I’m already hungry, let’s go before I bite into one of these things raw.” Ashanti said just before her stomach growled. “Zana Cafe for lunch?”

“Yes!” Siyanda was always excited to see her grandparents.

“We had better get going. See you later, mama,” he kissed her cheek.

“Don’t be late for dinner, I can’t promise N’Jadaka won’t eat all the yams again.”

“Oh we’ll be there, and tell him I’m not above fighting him over food,” Ashanti said with a serious look on her face as they walked away. Ramonda chuckled and went right back to tending to her garden.

T’Challa always loved making the rounds to the different tribes, but this time he was on high alert, as were the Dora Milaje that guarded the family of three. Siyanda had inherited her baba’s love of interacting with the tribes, and while her parents took care of the business side of things, she got to play with kids all over Wakanda. They’d swim in the river, play hide and seek, ride rhinos, and sled down bunny slopes. Naturally, she liked visiting the Jabari and Merchant tribes the best because she got to see some of her favorite people in the world.

Siyanda loved her big cousin M’Bari and followed the nine year old everywhere, but she really loved her uncle M’Baku. He always joked that she was his second child, even as his actual second child was still baking in the oven. It didn’t help that “Siyanda” was his suggestion.

“You know, I am the one that named you,” he told the little princess as she threw a snowball at him before hiding behind M’Bari.

“Really?”

“Yes, your parents could not figure out what to call you, but your Umalume M’Baku knew.”

Shani and T’Challa rolled their eyes as Ashanti chuckled.

“He brings that up at least twice a week,” Shani deadpanned as they watched M’Bari show Siyanda how to make the perfect snowball.

Getting Siyanda to leave Jabari land was like pulling teeth. She loved it up there and if Shani and M’Baku had anything to say about it, she could stay as long as she wanted to, but the royal family still had to visit Ashanti’s tribe. They said their goodbyes and Siyanda pouted most of the way down the mountain until T’Challa leaned in and started tickling her, making her frown go away.

They walked through the bazaar hand in hand, with Siyanda in the middle between her two parents. They spoke to passersby as they made their way to the center of all the hustle and bustle. Before settling in at the Cafe, Ashanti decided to stop by Taj’s, which was now completely run by Zina and Jafari.

“My queen!” Zina shouted when she saw Ashanti, almost knocking her over in a hug. Jafari poked his head out the back and smiled at the scene.

“Your majesty,” he bowed sarcastically, making Ashanti roll her eyes and pull him in for a hug.

“Stop that.”

“Where’s the rest of the family?” Zina asked, looking behind her for the princess.

“Across the way, stuffing their faces. Come eat with us.”

The three of them closed the shop down and joined the Mostafa-Udaku clan for lunch. Chidi and Bisa were already seated on either side of Siyanda and Ashanti took her place between her mama and husband, across the table from her friends and former employees. The seven of them chatted for what felt like hours before the princess let out a yawn.

“Nap time?” Bisa asked the king and queen.

“A little bit past it, actually. We should go before she starts getting cranky,” T’Challa responded, already standing from his seat.

The royal family said their goodbyes and returned to the palace so Siyanda could take her midday nap. While she slept, her parents figured they could get into some grown-up fun, but just as things were heating up both of their beads trilled.

Iniko was dead.

--------

Another week passed with no leads on Iniko’s death or on The People. T’Challa spent almost every waking hour pouring over evidence that led to a brick wall every time. He decided to call in the only reinforcements he knew he could trust, and as usual they answered.

Steve, Bucky, and Nakia appeared as holograms in the middle of the room as T’Challa explained the situation to them. N’Jadaka leaned against the door and M’Baku took up most of the couch, both listening intently as the king spoke.

“All my leads are coming up short, so I’m opening the floor to suggestions.”

“I could always go undercover. It won’t be hard for people to believe I turned my back on you,” N’Jadaka suggested.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Ashanti chimed in from T’Challa’s desk chair. He nodded slowly, wheels turning in his head.

“Let’s keep that in our pocket for now. Convincing Wakandans to accept you took too much time, I don’t want to impede that progress.”

“I will see what I can get from my contacts,” said Nakia, already typing away.

“What is it they want again?” Bucky asked.

“This ‘common whore’ off the throne.”

T’Challa bristled as she said the words again and everyone grew silent.

“Do they have a replacement already in mind?”

“We don’t know, we don’t even know how they communicate, where they meet, who’s in charge...nothing. Yet,” Ashanti tried to remain hopeful.

T’Challa let out a sigh and leaned back onto his desk.

“Maybe it’s time to let the council know-”

“The only one I trust other than M’Baku is T’San. He’s the only one of them who respected her before her title.”

“That’s good though,” Steve chimed in, making everybody turn to him, confusion written on their faces. “You already know some of them are untrustworthy, so pluck 'em one by one and see who squeals. One of them is bound to know something.”

“How did ole girl die, again?” The prince asked for clarification.

“Cyanide.”

“Damn, that’s too easy to get your hands on. Did Lil Bit track where it came from?”

“Ground up apple seeds.”

“Ok so we know they’re DIY-ing it, which means they probably don’t have the resources to do anything big yet. I’d say go with Blue Eyes’ plan for now.”

“You, Ashanti, and I will head the interrogations. The rest of you, keep your eyes and ears open.”

The three holograms disappeared and a hush fell over the room.

“Challa, I don’t think I should be there when you question the council members.”

“You won’t be, but I want you to come in towards the end so I can gauge their reactions to you,” he ran his hand over his face and sat down in the chair across the desk from his.

“You look tired...you both do,” M’Baku pointed out.

The king and queen looked at each other and took in their appearances. They both had bags under their eyes.

“Yes, well, it’s been a long few days.”

“Why don’t y’all take the rest of the day off? Dr. Jekyll and I can handle the kingdom. I’ll even take Punkin for the night, I know y’all need some alone time.”

“Is the word not ‘pumpkin’?” M’Baku asked, genuinely confused.

“Not if you’re Black. Anyway, what do y’all say?”

“Shuri won’t like that you volunteered her to run the kingdom…”

“Then I’ll run it and she can take Punkin, doesn’t matter to me.”

T’Challa thought it over before he noticed the hopeful look on his wife’s face.

“Ok, we’ll take the day, but you have to tell Shuri.”

“Damn, aight I got it. Y’all go take a nap or some shit.”

And that’s exactly what they did. A couple hours later they woke up and ordered dinner to be brought to them. They lazed around in the nude, watching movies, stuffing their faces, and just enjoying their time together not having to act as king and queen but simply T’Challa and Ashanti. They laid in the bed with his head resting on her stomach as his fingers lightly traced invisible symbols into her skin.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing.”

“Challa, I know when you’re lying. You’re not good at it.”

He chuckled and sat up before sighing.

“I’m thinking about The People-”

“No work!”

“I know, my brain just won’t stop going there.”

Ashanti brought him back down to her and played with his hair as he spoke.

“I’m just worried about how you’re holding up in all this.”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I can’t say it’s easy to hear that people want me dead-”

“They never said-”

“Challa, we know...they don’t have to say it. I’m just worried about where Yaya fits into all this.”

“Her premonition?”

“Yes and no. I’m more so worried about what their plan is for her. Is she in danger too or just me? I can handle being a target again, but my baby?” Ashanti fought tears as she thought the worst. She unknowingly fiddled with her pinky and T’Challa pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

He hadn’t even considered that his little girl might be in danger, too. Just as he started to spiral down that rabbit hole he felt Ashanti move to the side of the bed and stand up.

“Come on, get up.”

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. We need to get our heads right.”

Ashanti went over to the balcony and sparked up one of the pre-rolls they had ordered from Amare, the royal grower. T’Challa came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing his chin in the crook of her neck as she held the blunt to his lips. He turned her face to his and shotgunned the smoke into her mouth before taking a hit of his own.

“More Snow Goddess OG?” He took another hit of his favorite strain before passing it back to Ashanti.

“Mmmhm, Amare must want a little prince running around here.”

“Or another princess,” T’Challa smiled just thinking about it.

“Don’t get too excited-”

“Too late,” he said as he kissed her neck.

“I mean about another baby, Challa,” she giggled.

“I know, and I mean this.” His hips thrust forward and she could feel his thickness between her cheeks.

“Oh well in that case, please do continue.”

He pulled away and she felt the chill of the night air on her back. The queen took another hit before ashing the blunt and following her husband back inside.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“Stay here,” the smile on his face intrigued Ashanti. She hadn’t seen him look that giddy in a while.

When he came back she was very confused to see he was empty handed.

“Where is it?”

He pointed to the panther necklace that he definitely wasn't wearing before, eyebrows bouncing mischievously. Before she could say anything he called the suit on.

“Ok...I’ve seen the suit before baby.”

His smile grew as the suit retracted from his body, but stopped at his waist. Ashanti watched in awe as the suit partially covered and uncovered him. His hands were exposed while his torso was covered, then the nanites fused into his mask as the rest of the suit retracted into the necklace.

Ashanti reached out to feel the fibers and sure enough, it was the same as his old suit, just a little more...flexible.

“Shuri finally did it,” she said in awe.

“Mhm, and it took me forever to convince her. Of course, I didn’t tell her why.”

She had wanted to fuck him in the suit ever since she first saw it on him in Shuri’s lab all those years ago, and now her dream was finally coming true. Ashanti was about to fuck the Black Panther.  

“Put it back on.”

“You don’t give the orders here.”

A shiver travelled down Ashanti’s spine as he circled her.

“So tell me,” he whispered in her ear as his fingertips lightly ghosted along her hips and down to her thighs before turning her around to face him and grabbing two handfulls of her ass. “How do you want it?”

“Push me to my limit,” she whispered and a deep rumbling chuckle erupted from T’Challa’s chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

The chuckling was soon replaced with a growl as he pushed her up against the wall.

“Say that shit again.”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

He attacked her lips and his tongue slithered into her mouth as his hands pressed her hips into the wall behind her.

“That’s how you’ll address me tonight, understand?”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

“Mmm...you remember the safeword?”

“Papaya.”

“Good girl,” he grabbed her by her jaw and made her look at him. “You sure you want to be pushed to your limit?”

“Yes, Black Panther.”

He licked his lips and looked down at her as he called his suit on all the way, leaving his face visible.

“Hey Kim, play ‘Kitten’ playlist,” he called out to the AI and a shiver went down Ashanti’s spine.

Send my regards to the mother and father

'Cause somebody's daughter I just fucking slayed

Blood on the carpet, it came from my heart

Once I start, I can't stop it, and now we are prey

“I’m not stopping unless you say ‘papaya’. You can say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ all you want, it won’t work. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Black Panther,” Ashanti shivered as she spoke. She could feel the wetness pooling between her lower lips. He had always been dominant, but now he felt downright dangerous and that excited her.

“Go get my kit.”

Ashanti’s eyes lit up and she damn near ran to their closet. She found the small suitcase and rolled it out to the bedroom. T’Challa was seated at the edge of the bed with his suit completely on, face covered and all. She laid the suitcase on the chair and unzipped it, splaying it open.

I wanna dive in you tonight

Wouldn't that be special? (special)

'Cause you're so fucking special (special)

And that pussy ain't a rental (no)

I wanna get you so high (high)

'Til you feel it in your mental (mental)

Do you feel me in your mental? (mental)

I'm fucking drilling in your dead soul (woah oh)

“Did I say open it?”

He was behind her in the blink of an eye, but she never even heard him move. His hand wrapped around her throat and she shuddered.

“No.”

“No, who?!” he squeezed the sides tighter, putting pressure on her pulse.

“No, Kum- Black Panther.”

“I’m glad you caught yourself, you’re still a good little slut,” he held her face still with one hand as the fingers on his other hand slapped her cheek. “Vula”

She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue, prompting him to remove the suit from his hand and stick his fingers down her throat.

“You better not fucking gag...good girl,” his helmet disappeared as he dangled his tongue from his mouth and let his spit drop into hers. “Swallow.”

She did as instructed and a sinister smile took over his face.

I lost my mind, yeah

So I made yours mine, yeah

Two souls and a dance with the de-

Only one comin' alive

“Get my favorite toys out,” he instructed and she hopped to it, pulling out her remote control buttplug and her clitoral and g-spot stimulator.

“Put them in, slowly.”

She reached for lube and put a generous amount on the plug before working it inside her. Once she was full of it, she then slid her other vibrator in and made sure it was situated on top of her clit.

“Good girl. Now stay just like that.”

She squirmed from the feeling of being filled in both holes as he dug through the suitcase, pulling out a blindfold. He stopped for a moment to press his beads and she released a moan as her buttplug started vibrating, followed shortly by the internal portion of her vibrator in her pussy.

“Don’t move.”

“Yes, Black Panther, but I-I want to be able to see you. Please don’t blindfold me.”

“Only because you said please,” he gave her a peck on the lips as he turned the vibrators up to the next level, making her moan even louder. “Bast, I love that sound. Come here.” He picked her up and placed her in the swing that had come down from its discreet hiding place in the ceiling, strapping her in and tying her wrists to the bar at the top before turning on the clit stimulator.

Send my regards to the mother and father

'Cause somebody's daughter I just fucking slayed

Blood on the carpet, it came from my heart

Once I start, I can't stop it, and now we are prey

Ashanti convulsed as an orgasm washed over her and she squirted all over the floor. He laughed at her as she came back down to earth and he continued to take her there over and over until she was a blubbering mess. Eventually he took pity on her and his suit covered his face again and uncovered his lower half. He ran his fingers along her pussy and removed her vibrator before stroking his already hard dick with her wetness and plunging deep inside her.

Go until you see the light

(Yeah)

Baby, do you see the light?

(That's right)

She stared into his eyes through the mask and struggled against her restraints as he took her there, suspended in the air and at the complete mercy of the Black Panther.  

Call the coroner tonight (tonight)

Blacked-out girl, it's a funeral (funeral)

She was dead on arrival (arrival)

Heart crossed, hand on the Bible (alright)

Ashanti  cried, she screamed, she begged him to stop, but not once did she want to use that safeword. In all the time they had been together she had never seen him so unhinged. If the bite marks up and down her body were any indication, he seemed to enjoy being so rough with her. They both looked forward to seeing her bruised skin in the morning and wondered how long it would take for the teeth indents to go away.

The one thing T’Challa didn’t expect from her was her excitement at seeing the razor sharp claws extend from his fingertips. They had engaged in knifeplay before, but it was more so his kink than hers. However, the sight of those claws flipped a switch in her, and he could tell.

'Cause I lost my mind, yeah

So I made yours mine, yeah

Two souls and a dance with the de-

And only one comin' out alive

“Tell me what you want, I see you staring.”

“I want you to cut me.”

He double checked that the first aid kit was in his suitcase before his thumb sliced a very shallow incision right down the middle of her thigh. He removed his mask and his tongue came out to lick away her blood, making Ashanti moan out with pleasure. She hadn’t expected that.

Send my regards to the mother and father

'Cause somebody's daughter I just fucking slayed

(Call the coroner tonight)

Blood on the carpet (it's a funeral tonight)

It came from my heart (my condolences tonight)

Once I start, I can't stop it (go until you see the light)

And now we are prey

When he kissed up her body and finally made it to her lips their tongues lapped at each other and she tasted the copper of her blood. It turned her on even more just thinking about it, her bloodthirsty apex predator.

He called the suit back into the necklace and undid her restraints, kissing the marks on her wrists.

“How do you feel?”

“Really good,” she smiled drunkenly. He wrapped her arms around his neck and removed her legs from the straps, wrapping them around his waist and walking to the bed. He placed her down in the center and grabbed the first aid kit.

“Challa, I’ve had paper cuts deeper than this, you don’t have to do all that,” she chuckled.

“Please, for my peace of mind.”

Ashanti sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, but placed her leg across his lap and allowed him to tend to her wound anyway. “‘Only because you said please.’”

T’Challa laughed as he cleaned her cut, “You think you’re cute, huh? Even after all that?”

“Yes, Black Panther,” she giggled out as he tickled her other thigh. “We should do that more often.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. Even that little surprise at the end,” she gestured to her leg. “Bast, I love how nasty you are.”

“And I love how you’re such a good little slut for me, Kitten.”

Ashanti bit her lip and leaned in for a kiss, but they were interrupted by a banging on the door.

“AYE, GET UP!” N’Jadaka yelled, almost busting down the door. T’Challa’s suit immediately came on as he ran to the door and swung it open.

“Wh-”

“We gotta go, NOW!”

T’Challa and N’Jadaka took off running and Ashanti just sat on the bed, confused and concerned. She only sort of heard the beginning of N’Jadaka’s sentence as they ran out the room. Someone was being held hostage, but she didn’t hear who. She got up and ran the bath that T’Challa was no doubt planning to run for her before their night got interrupted by business. She soaked in the water for a while before she heard T’Challa’s tone coming from her kimoyo beads.

“Take care of it already?” She asked before looking up at the hologram to see the unthinkable. There was her baby girl with a blaster pointed right at her temple with tears in her eyes. Her lip quivered as she stared at the man with the slimy black tendrils surrounding him, his aura unlike any she’d ever seen.

“Hello, my queen,” seethed an unrecognizable voice behind the camera. “You have ten minutes to get here before I pull this trigger...or maybe they’ll pull one of theirs.” He panned the beads around the lab and she saw Shuri, N’Jadaka, and T’Challa with masked people standing behind them holding blasters to each of their heads.

“Please...please don’t hurt them, I-I’m on my way right now. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Nine minutes,” they teased before ending the call.

Ashanti threw on whatever clothes she could get to quickest and ran out the door towards the lab. There was no way she’d make it in nine minutes on foot, so she alerted her Dora detail before hopping on T’Challa’s hoverbike and taking off as quickly as she could towards Shuri’s lab, praying to Bast she would make it in time.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall, @dersha89

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

"Remember when you told me that Demetri was always going to be your only friend?"

Her tone was sharp and Eli felt obliged to avoid her gaze, staring at his hands instead.

"I do."

"Yeah well, Demetri's mother called me to tell that someone broke his arm and she doesn't know who did it."

His silence was almost as loud as a scream.

"I know who did it. I didn't know the reason though, but then I saw those Cobra Kai kids with you outside and I put it together. You have a bunch of new friends now, don't you?"

Eli glanced at his mother and regretted it instantly, she almost looked as if she was talking to a stranger. Like she didn't knew him.

"Well, Demetri isn't your only friend now, is he?"

No.

"Was it worth it?"

No.

God, no.

Hey wow look never in my life have 142 words CRUSHED MY SOUL FASTER

This drabble punched me in the gut, grabbed my wallet, looked through it, snatched all my $20s, and then ran away mercilessly.

Legit though, it never sat quite right with me when Eli was venting to his mom in that one flashback and he just wails out “I’M NEVER GONNA HAVE ANY FRIENDS BESIDES DEMETRI!” like it’s some like...goddamn death sentence or something. Like yeah, Demetri is far from the perfect best/only friend, and he can certainly be an insensitive ass at times, but like...yo, the boy is LOYAL AF, he’s stuck with your ass and been your best friend through YEARS of bullying and tried to protect you from getting hurt, in his own little way (even if some of his efforts are kinda misguided, as they basically boil down to “just avoid engaging bullies if at all possible” and “don’t try any new activity (i.e. karate) that could cause even slight pain or discomfort and rock the boat” lol) and tried to make you laugh with dumb jokes about you being the homecoming king when NO ONE ELSE would bother, and you clearly just DON’T appreciate him??? Like the way Eli’s like “I’m never gonna have friends...besides Demetri, obviously” just reads like he’s absolutely just taking Demetri for granted and it PISSES ME OFF. Then again, I think it might just strike a nerve with me in particular, since I remember all too well being a ragingly insecure, introverted child watching my friends make other friends besides me and just being so confused and hurt, like “...am I not good enough for you?” Of course, now that I’m older I see that it’s valid to want more friends while keeping the ones you have, obviously, and I don’t think Eli was inherently wrong for wanting to expand his social circle or anything, but the way he’s just...so dismissive of Demetri’s friendship and instead focuses on crying about all the cool friends he doesn’t have just PEEVES me to no end. Like ffs, some of the kids at that school who get bullied probably have NO friends and have to tough it out alone, so maybe be like...a little more appreciative of the fact that you have a BEST FRIEND who clearly cares about you??? Again, it’s valid for Eli to want more friends--I imagine you’d get tired of only having one person your age to really talk to--but the fact that he kinda phrases this in a way that makes it sound like Demetri and their friendship is dismissable and trivial and not all that important to him has always bugged me a lot. I mean, Eli obviously DOES care about Demetri and Demetri’s opinions of him, as we see several times in the show, but like...hearing him say “I’m never gonna have any other friends besides Demetri” still makes me wince every time. STOP TALKIN BOUT MY BOY LIKE HE DOESN’T MATTER 

Yeah yeah yeah I KNOW I’m reading way too much into a simple comment okay but this statement has implications and I DO NOT like them

“Someone broke his arm and she doesn't know who did it." Oh yeah, Demetri absolutely did not tell his mom Eli broke his arm. Given how smothering and overprotective she seems (I mean, she gave him a note to take to a KARATE CLASS excusing him from EXTENSIVE ARM AND LEG MOVEMENT even though that’s ALL KARATE IS), she’d probably NEVER let Eli near him again if she knew--hell, she might even get a restraining order or make Demetri transfer schools or something. And Demetri definitely doesn’t think that’s her decision to make--and he ain’t about to give up on Good Old Eli just yet, even after everything that’s happened. Perhaps against his better judgement, he still has hope for his old friend. He just tells his mom his arm got broken by one of the newer Cobra Kai recruits, some burly thug guy he’d never seen before. He didn’t get a good look at the guy, naturally, since he was pinning his face to the ground and fled the scene almost immediately after the arm-snapping.

And oh my god how I WISH we’d gotten a scene in Season 3 where Eli’s mom just brutally calls him out like this, because god knows he needed it and it could’ve been THE wake-up call (or at least one of a few big wake-up calls) that shit...he’s getting farther away from the person he’s always been than he ever has before, and maybe...maybe it’s not a good thing after all. Maybe it’s not a good thing if his own mother barely recognizes him, if his own mother is maybe even a little scared/wary of him and what he’s become. I mean I get there was a lot going on in Season 3, and there probably wouldn’t have really been room to bring back a character as minor as Eli’s mom, but I would have loved to see her reaction to all the shit he was pulling throughout the season. She highkey seems like a helicopter parent if she’s willing to call the school over Eli being bullied, so there’s no way she was just suddenly completely disinterested in everything he was doing after school and that she didn’t at least suspect there was some sketchy shit going on. (I mean...the boy presumably came home with a MOTORCYCLE one day??? Isn’t she gonna wonder where on earth he got that??? Y’all don’t expect me to believe SHE got it for him, do you???)

Also, Demetri and Eli’s moms are absolutely friends!!! Speaking as someone who had the same group of childhood friends for like 12 years, your moms can’t NOT be friends when they’re forced to see each other that often XD It’s kinda depressing to think how much it must have hurt their moms too when they started fighting, since these women would presumably have been good friends for years at that point and now have to watch their sons, who used to be best friends, just constantly be at each other’s throats :( I love how quickly Eli’s mom puts two and two together and figures out Eli broke Demetri’s arm. Eli can’t hide SHIT from his mama haha

Also wow it’s so fucked and depressing to think that maybe, in the heat of the moment, Eli broke Demetri’s arm to LITERALLY shatter the notion of Demetri being his only friend and try to DESTROY that time completely with that arm break so he could fully embrace his new, “improved” identity as the “cool badass” with lots of awesome and formidable friends who were obviously far superior and much better for his image and his intimidation factor than nerdy little Demetri...ouch.

"Was it worth it?"

No.

God, no.

JESUS I’M SOBBING

AS SOON AS ELI HEARD THAT BONE SNAP AND SAW DEMETRI CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR CRYING HE REGRETTED ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING I AM HERE TO TELL YOU

IT WAS A BAD DAY FOR EVERYONE AND I AM GOING TO MURDER JOHN KREESE WITH MY BARE HANDS FOR SLOWLY MINDFUCKING MY BOY ELI MOSKOWITZ INTO THINKING BREAKING HIS CRUSH’S ARM WAS THE MOVE

[srhlsx]

masterlist | chapter 1 | CHAPTER 2 | chapter 3

warnings: none?

“Is the weather in Kanto much different from here, your highness?”

“Honestly Mae, I’ve never set foot in Kanto.” You turned away from the racks of hanging clothing in your closet to hand over another dress to the girl standing near you. She was only a few years younger than you, having just started her job as one of your maids a few weeks ago. She grabbed the dress from you and neatly packed it away with the other clothes you had picked out. “I think I’ll pack a little bit of everything, just to be sure.”

“A wise choice,” She nodded. You had to roll your eyes at her formality. No matter how many times you told her she didn’t have to talk to you so stiffly, she couldn’t get past it. “Your mother mentioned we’d be sending the rest of your things later.”

“Mhmm, what should I wear for my arrival?” You stepped back to get a better look across the clothing you hadn’t yet packed. Your hands rested at your hips as you mulled over the possibilities, the young maid stepping up to stand next to you and look around as well.

“Your new king’s colors are red and black, maybe something of those colors.”

You jumped, slightly startled at the new voice that came from the doorway separating your bedroom from your closet. Both you and Mae turned around quickly to see the bright eyes and sharp expression of Hoshiumi watching you.

“Doesn’t really match my aesthetic though,” You smirked at him before turning back to the array of light colored clothes you owned, “Maybe I’ll just wear white to scare the poor boy who has to marry me.”

Looking over at Mae, who had significantly shrunken in on herself with the arrival of Hoshiumi in his full soldier uniform, you nodded towards the door to signal to her that it was okay for her to leave. She scurried away, grabbing the bag of clothing that was finished packing and bowing quickly at both of you before disappearing.

“She’s quite meek,” Hoshiumi observed, turning to look at you after watching your maid leave.

“She’ll grow into it,” You mumbled. You distracted yourself with folding another piece of clothing into the open bag that was left. A thick air hung in the space you stood in, a sadness that had consumed you since news of your departure had been made known.

Your wedding was in one week and you were departing for Kanto and its capital city of Tokyo that evening. Things between you and your guard had been tense ever since you told him what your father’s plan for you was. He was quiet about it, silently stewing over the fact that you were being forced into the whole thing. You reminded him it was your duty and you could handle yourself, but he still had a sharp look in his eyes whenever it was brought up.

“Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you’re going to miss me, Kōrai.” You smiled up at him, quirking your eyebrow in a teasing manner.

He let out a bitter sounding chuckle, shaking his head and stepping into the room towards you. “Hardly,” he started. “The kitchen workers and I are throwing a celebration the minute you’re gone.”

You snorted a breath of air through your nose, turning back to your folding although now you weren’t doing a very neat job of it. “Yeah well…” You mumbled, the sad thought that you were actually leaving your home starting to hit you. You turned to Hoshiumi and gave him a thin, closed-lip smile, the action not meeting your eyes as you leaned against the table your bag rested on. “I’m sorry you won’t get to become a king.”

“(Y/n),” He stepped closer to you, reaching a hand up to caress your cheek gently. “You know that is never what it’s been about.”

“I-” Your voice was cut off when his hand that had been on your cheek drifted to the back of your head and pulled you forward towards him. Your eyes closed as Hoshiumi’s lips pressed to yours in a deep kiss. He didn’t try anything else, content with keeping you pressed against him for as long as you would allow. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had kissed by any means, but the way he held onto you made it clear he wanted the last time to be memorable. After a few moments you lifted your hands to push on his chest and create a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Kōrai, I-”

“You will always be my queen, (Y/n).” He said, his eyes held a sad but hard expression as they shifted their gaze to something over your head - anything to not look directly at you. “I’m leaving tomorrow, for Chugoku.”

“Leaving?” You questioned, finally snapping out of the haze that had gathered in your head. “I thought you were going to be here in charge of the guard? Who will-”

“Your brother has called for me, he offered me a position in his King’s Guard when he is crowned next year.” Hoshiumi stepped away from you, fixing pieces of his uniform that didn’t need fixing but served as a good distraction. Your silence made him look up at you after a few seconds, “Gao will take over here and you’ll be provided a new guard when you get to Tokyo. His majesty’s guard is known to be above and beyond in skill, I find comfort in knowing you’ll be taken care of.”

You nodded along with his words, turning back to folding your clothes. You had accepted your fate, but the sadness was still there and you let it show when you threw a piece of clothing into the bag a little more aggressively than what was needed. “This fuckin’ blows,” You said, Hoshiumi chuckling at your choice of vulgar words.

“If anyone can survive this, it’s you princess.” Hoshiumi laughed at the over-dramatic pout that had adorned your features, pulling you into a comforting hug and resting his chin on top of your head. “Just watch your temper.”

Wrapping your arms around your old friend you squeezed him extra tight, allowing yourself a little bit more time for sadness before you had to leave your home.

-

As the car pulled onto the road that led to your future home, you had to admit you were impressed. Even being in the middle of a large city, Castle Nekoma was on a plot of land that stretched far and wide with a lush lawn of green grass and scattered trees. A river snaked its way parallel to the road and eventually curved to surround the castle on two sides.

The castle itself was built entirely of gray stones, the tall towers and smooth arches that made up the structure of it were beautifully crafted and reminded you much of your own home. You’d been to many castles around Japan and even within your own kingdom, but having never set foot in Kanto you weren’t sure what you’d find for the king’s living arrangements. The royal family was known for their power and wealth so it was no surprise their castle was a sight to behold.

“Your highness?” You were pulled out of your thoughts with the stopping of the SUV, the driver looking at you through the rear-view mirror and his darkly tinted sunglasses. “We’ve arrived.”

You nodded your head and sat up a little straighter as the door next to you was opened by a middle aged man in a black suit. Taking the hand he held out for you, you stepped out onto the stone pathway leading up to the castle before you. Waiting a few feet away at the top of a set of steps was an older couple you instantly recognized as the current King, Yasufumi Nekomata, and his wife. They stood with modest smiles on their faces as you climbed the steps, your heels clacking against the stones the only sound while servants and soldiers watched. 

“Your majesty,” You put on your best smile and bowed deeply towards the old man, lifting up after a moment and repeating the greeting towards his wife. “Thank you for receiving me.”

“We are glad to have you Princess,” Nekomata said, his narrow eyes crinkling even smaller as he smiled at you. “I do apologize our son will not be joining us.”

“I understand the prince has his priorities,” You nodded politely, the smile on your face did not reach your eyes and you didn’t mean for it to. You had your suspicions that the prince would not greet you, not out of disrespect but because he had not had the mind for it. He prioritized his training, royal duties, over greeting some foreign princess he was going to marry regardless. 

You would not let this small bump impact you, but you would hold it against him. 

“Come,” Nekomata waved a hand at the servants unloading your things behind you from the car and then turned to walk into the castle, holding out an arm for his wife to grab. “Let’s give you a brief tour and then show you to your living space, I’m sure you’re wary from traveling.”

You didn’t get the full tour, really only getting shown around the wing of the castle where the living quarters were located, but it didn’t matter much as your feet were hurting and the sun signaled it was getting close to time for dinner to be served. 

A servant opened the door to a large and ornate living space, and you had to stop yourself from actually gawking at the arrangements. You knew the royal family of Tokyo was wealthy, but this was extravagant.

You took a few steps in, turning around to take it all in as the queen followed after you with a pretty girl with long blonde hair wearing a dark uniform trailing after her. “This will be your living space, I do hope it’s comparable to what you are used to.”

“Yes, your majesty.” You breathed out, taking a closer look at some of the more personal details around the room - like small trinkets on the nightstands, a tossed shirt, or a casual spear resting in the corner. Confused, you turned to her to complete your thoughts. “Um, this is very satisfactory.”

“Ah, I see Tetsurō didn’t quite clean up everything like I asked.” She chuckled, motioning towards the items you had been pointedly looking at. At your confused look she continued to explain, “These are the prince’s living quarters. Since you will be married soon we assumed it would be easiest to have you move in here now - to make the transition easier and not have you move too often.”

Pursing your lips together, you tried not to be too obvious in your hesitation over the arrangements. The queen was smiling at you, eyes closed although you got the sense she was waiting for you to protest, to challenge her. You nodded in understanding, “I appreciate you accommodating so much for me.”

“Well, dear, you will be family in a few days. We take care of each other here.” She placed a delicate, manicured hand on your cheek - her touch was light, but you felt the weight of power off it anyways. “Alisa will be your attendant, let her know if there is anything you need.”

You smiled at the girl who was waiting by the door, she bowed and smiled brightly back at you. “It is lovely to meet you, your highness.” She greeted, hands clasped in front of her tightly. “I look forward to serving you.”

As the queen said her goodbyes, you let Alisa know that you’d like to take your dinner in your room for that night, citing fatigue as your reasoning. Nodding fervently, she excused herself and went to gather up the meal for you.

Now alone, you took the opportunity to explore the living space you found yourself in. Unlike yours back home, this space was one large room. The head of the bed was against the far wall, the surrounding curtains pulled back and tied against the four posts at each corner, and an overwhelming number of dark colored pillows decorating the surface. The more you looked around you noted how seriously they took their royal colors here, everything was a dark shade of red, accented in gold, or completely black.

A closed door led to what you assumed was the bathroom and closet, but you’d explore that later. What was calling out to you most was a set of double doors, already open and leading to a balcony that looked over the large courtyard of the castle. You made your way outside, the air already starting to cool off with the setting of the sun. Walking to the ledge and leaning your weight on your elbows with your arms crossed over each other casually you could see the expanse of the courtyard.

More importantly, you saw a group of what looked like soldiers sparring with each other. You were getting married in a few days, but you were also a woman in her early twenties - it wouldn’t hurt anyone to admire what was in front of you. Leaning forward a little more comfortably, you watched the men who looked around your age, grunting and tousling against each other.

“What’s wrong, Bokuto? Giving up so easily?” Kuroo stood up from his fighting stance, leaning his weight against the blunt training staff he was holding. He shot a smirk at his friend, the teasing glint in his eyes brighter than ever in the light of the setting sun.

“Your bride has arrived,” Bokuto nodded behind Kuroo in the direction that had caught his attention. 

Kuroo stood straight and turned around, lazily following Bokuto’s gaze up to the third floor balcony that was attached to his own living quarters. Bokuto had been right, leaning against the ledge stood a beautiful creature, hair carried by the wind, gaze most definitely on the group of sparring men - on him. Wearing a pale pink dress immediately told the group you were not from around there, although yours was a face not easily forgotten anyways.

“Damn,” Bokuto chuckled. “They sure make ‘em right in Chubu. I heard she’s a real piece of work.”

“Yes, she is King Hirugami’s only daughter.” Kuroo said, sweeping his staff towards Bokuto and catching him off guard, making him stumble when his legs were nearly taken out from beneath him. “Now stop staring and fight me.”

“Yes, your highness.” Bokuto sneered at the prince, walking back into the training space they had previously been in.

Your eyes watched as the two who had been staring at you moved back to practice together some more, and you kept watching as they began moving against one another with calculated and deliberate strikes.

-

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[c4pricornc4ts]

Who Would Ever Want to be King? - Chapter One

Also on my ao3: here

--------

Eret has long decided that his loneliness is worth never hurting people again. He ruined his family, he wouldn't ruin anyone else's.

And so he lived on, and he lived on alone.

Or; two children escape a war that was never theirs to fight and find themselves right where they belong.

Eret lived alone. And not the kind of alone that a hermit or a loner might enjoy, he lived alone not by preference but forced to by his terrible choices.

Betraying the only people who stood by you tends to cause one to find oneself alone. He earned this crown through blood, but not by his bloodline.

Eret Rivera was king, and Eret Rivera was lonely.

He wasn't in complete isolation these past five years, the occasional traveler would stop for the night and tell him stories of the world and update him on the affairs of all the neighboring kingdoms.

He heard of every war, he learned of a place called Pogtopia and how L’manberg and been renamed ‘Manberg’ under new rule.

Sometimes when he hears of these issues, he feels grateful to be alone. He was tired of hurting people, of getting children involved in wars they were too young to understand.

When he betrayed his country, he betrayed war. Becoming a king with nothing to offer but shelter for the wary.

Eret has long decided that his loneliness is worth never hurting people again. He ruined his family, he wouldn't ruin anyone else's.

And so he lived on, and he lived on alone.

He's lying down on his silk sheets, reading by candlelight when it happens. It was storming out, the rain pouring in sheets with the occasional rolls of thunder. Perfect for reading. Not so perfect if you’re outside however.

"Tommy?! Oh God, Tommy?" Someone shrieks from the woods outside. They sound young, and more importantly they sound scared.

Eret snaps the book closed and hurries outside, not caring about his pajamas or the fact he had no shoes on, only grabbing his sword before rushing out the door to find the source.

"Hello?" he calls out. The rain made it almost impossible to see anything. He had to hope someone would reply.

He hears someone gasp, and then the rustle of leaves over the constant downpour. The people were scared of him.

"I'm here to help, this is not enemy territory you've found yourself in." He makes a show of lowering the sword, in case the person could see him.

A few moments later, he sees a brunette in a green shirt step out from the cover of the forest. He looks young, no older than 12. But his body was battered like that of a soldier.

Eret felt sick. He knew the people in that war, either side would've had no qualms with children fighting their battles. He probably was a soldier.

"Help him, please. H-he's not waking up I don't-" The boy is out of breath, even through the rain the king can tell he's been sobbing.

"Take me to him then." He steps forwards, the sword forgotten behind him. There were more important things than a weapon right now.

The boy jerks his head in a nod and starts to walk back into the woods, before long he is brought behind a bush where he sees another boy lying down. His clothes soaked through and his blond hair stuck to his forehead by the rain.

Upon further inspection, he realized the boy was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. It was getting washed away by the rain but there was so much blood it was still noticeable.

That, Eret decided, was definitely not a good sign.

The boy was small, not as small as his friend but still easy enough for Eret to pick up. So he does. Cradling his head gently to avoid further injury.

He turns to the other boy. "We need to get him inside, are you alright?"

The other nods in response, but Eret wasn't expecting anything more. He was shaking so badly he was afraid the younger boy would collapse.

He carries the unconscious boy out of the forest and right through the castle doors. Only glancing back to check on how the other was doing.

He lays the blond down on his bed, and gestures for the other to sit down on the left side.

He'd prepare another room for them soon, but for now he tries not to think about how his sheets were getting ruined by all the blood and dirt.

"What happened?" He was wrapping the gash on the side of the boy's head as they spoke.

"Tommy, he and-and I-- we, we uh well he- h-he tripped and- is he gonna be okay?"

"He's gonna be alright. You're gonna be alright too." The poor kid was scared out of his mind even now that he was getting help. Eret wanted to reassure him, even if he had to make promises he wasn't sure he could keep.

"Tubbo. I-I'm Tubbo. And thank you." The boy smiles but doesn't look up at Eret. Just continues to watch as the bandages wrapped around Tommy slowly turn red.

He goes over to his dresser and gives Tubbo a pair of dry clothes. Before going over to figure out how to get Tommy in something dry before they're dealing with more than a head injury. Tubbo changes quickly and goes to put his clothes on the porch outside the room.

"Are you twins?" Besides their age, they don't really seem to have much in common. Tommy was blond and tall with sharper features than the usual ten year old. Tubbo was short and had brown hair with much softer features. He knows there are thousands of more important questions he needs to and should ask the pair, but those can wait till after the storm.

"No, he's my best friend. I'm from Manberg he's- well he's not. He's from somewhere else I don't-" Eret's eyes darkened. His heart hurts to realize these were children who didn't even know where they were from anymore. He doesn't think he wants to let these two go back to that mess.

"Come help me lift him up, we need to get him in something dry." Tubbo does, he hesitantly takes Tommy's shoulder and helps Eret put a new, much warmer shirt on him. The blond stays dead to the world, which really wasn't good.

They lay him back down and Eret quickly finishes swapping his clothes. Tossing them on the porch with less care than Tubbo had previously shown.

He grabs a spare blanket from under the bed and drapes it around Tubbo's shaking shoulders. Before pulling up a chair beside Tommy for him.

"I'll watch him, you lie down alright? You don't have to sleep but just relax or your body won't warm up." He can't stand seeing the poor boy shake anymore. Children shouldn't suffer like this. He won't let them get hurt anymore.

"What's your name?" The boy lies down on Tommy's right side and props the pillow up so he's facing the king.

"Eret. I’m a king of some sort, I’m not sure if your kingdoms still speak of me.”

“Sometimes Fundy says your name, only when he thinks no one's listening though. Why?”

“I did something bad, I hurt a lot of people. But that’s the past, and everyday I’m trying to make up for it.”

“Once you’re forgiven you don’t need to keep making up for it though.” His eyes close, he’s struggling to stay awake.

“I wasn’t forgiven unfortunately.” He whispers, afraid his voice might waiver if he said it any louder.

“I think Fundy would, he really seems to miss you.” The boy yawns, and this time let’s himself fall asleep.

Eret picks back up his book and settles into the chair behind him. Prepared for a long night. He knows head injuries can be tricky. He’s not so sure he should be letting Tommy sleep right now, but he didn’t have the heart to put the boy through the pain of being awake with this injury.

Around 2 am, Tommy wakes up with a gasp. He tries to sit up to which Eret responds with a hand pushing against his chest. Stopping him from affecting his injury.

“Who the hell are you?” The boy glares at Eret, but thankfully doesn’t try to sit up.

He’s taken aback by how bold the boy is, he wasn’t expecting it after how timid Tubbo had been. Perhaps that’s how the two survived this long. The mean one to get them into trouble, the quiet one to get them out of it.

“I’m someone who is trying to help you. Tubbo’s right there, he’s fine too.” Tommy can’t really turn his head that way and still be lying down so he reaches out and grabs Tubbo’s hand before lifting it up, checking that it's him. Eret assumes it is as Tommy sets down the hand and sighs.

“Thanks, or something.” He grumbles and before Eret could respond he’s already out again.

Eret runs a hand down his face and laughs to himself, what exactly had he just gotten himself into?

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See, pt.3

Part 1 Part 2

a/n: Surprise! Next part’s here. A bit shorter but no less traumatic so don’t get comfortable. TW major character death, guns, suicide, violence, you’ve got the picture. I’ll do my best to get the final part to you in a timely manner. ~2k

The hits keep coming.

The street was quiet when he got there thirty minutes later. No ambulance or police with their colors flashing across the front of the house. He thought it was odd but it barely registered when everything in his life was a little off. He ran up to the front door and found it slightly ajar. He pushed it open cautiously, uncertain what he would be met with on the other side. It had grown dark, the sun replaced by much weaker street lamps. He felt around for the light switch, knowing he would regret this action.

He sucked in a breath when the shadows were lifted, every gruesome detail just as he remembered. The blood. There was so much blood. He reached up a hand to wipe it away from his eyes. He was numb, unable to look at anything but Morgan’s body, cold and lifeless on the floor. The scene replayed again, this time in Morgan’s entryway, the setting a little different, the results all the same. He had never been able to save them.

The thought of the others, the rest of his team who he’d watched get murdered hundreds of times, reminded him that JJ was there. She had called him, that was why he was here, not a case, not a killer. He wanted to call out for her but it felt wrong to raise his voice in such close proximity to this horror. Instead he carefully stepped around his friend, not looking for fear he would fall to his knees and try to force the life back where it belonged. If he could bring Derek back by returning every drop of blood to the emptied veins, he would spend eternity gathering what had been spilled. If only the world allowed for that kind of trade.

He made it around to the kitchen but found it empty, as were the other rooms on this floor. While he searched he called 911. He didn’t understand why they weren’t there yet, they should be there by now. When he questioned them, the dispatcher told him there’d been no reports made about that address. He quickly relayed the basic details, even more eager to find JJ and discover what had happened between her call and his arrival. He frowned as he hung up, confused. As a precaution, he pulled his gun from its holster, nerves lighting up. JJ wouldn’t have left surely. He crossed the hallway again, this time heading for the stairs. He didn’t know why, there was no reason for her to have gone up there. But there was no reason for any of this. So he climbed to the second floor, placing each footstep carefully on the polished hardwood.

He found her in the master bedroom, curled up on Derek’s king-sized bed, her back to him. The relief he felt upon seeing her dissipated quickly. Something about her form was too still. He approached, apprehensive but also hopeful that the room might dissolve around him at any moment. This had the same feeling as his nightmares, perhaps it was only that. He'd never hoped more that his mind was tricking him.

As soon as he touched her shoulder, he knew. Everything was wrong. The weight of his hand made her body fall back until she was face up, head resting on the pillows. Her blue eyes were open, blonde hair loose around her, some of it caught across her face. He brushed it back, feeling the chill of her skin, the precious warmth already fled. There was no blood but he spotted an empty pill bottle in her hand. His mind fought against what he was seeing, so far from the correct order of things. She had only called him half an hour ago. How was there even time for this to occur? He pulled the bottle from her hand and felt the world spin faster. He blinked, chasing away the errant lines crossing his vision but the words on the label remained the same. The block type informed him that it once held opioids prescribed to one Aaron Hotchner.

He couldn’t imagine how it had ended up here, couldn’t even remember when he had gotten the prescription. It could have been after any number of injuries. He never took more than one or two before his body reminded him how sick they made him feel. The pain relief was never worth the sweating weakness and nausea that accompanied it. He usually tried to decline when they were offered but somehow he regularly ended up with one or two bottles mixed in with his too large assortment of other medications. He worried about it, knowing Jack was getting older, getting taller, might become curious about such things. He knew it was irresponsible to have narcotics he was not keeping track of somewhere as accessible as his medicine cabinet. But he never imagined this would be the consequence of that uncharacteristic lapse in judgement.

He stared at the small orange bottle, dwarfed by his hand. He didn’t know what to do with this information, had no idea how to process its meaning. Stunned he backed out of the room, out of the house completely. Everything he found inside there was upside-down and he needed air. He stood on the porch, looking vacantly out at the street, gun in one hand, death in the other. He rubbed the bottle continuously with his thumb as the ambulance and cop cars began arriving. His thumb caught a little every time it met the edge of the lid, scraping his skin against it, trying to remember when he even got it. When it disappeared.

An officer approached, weapon drawn, demanding he identify himself, wary of the gun dangling from the large man’s fingers. With effort, Hotch focused his eyes on the stranger, distantly registered the man’s anxiety. He gave his name and slowly moved to pull out his credentials. Hotch tried to answer his questions but all he could remember was Morgan getting shot by Mr. Scratch. Or did he shoot him? His words veered into incoherence and the officer became alarmed. If he hadn’t seen the man’s badge, he’d have a hard time believing this was BAU Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“Sir? Were you injured? I think you need to get checked by the medics,” he said. He took Hotch’s gun from him and steered him in the direction of the ambulance. Hotch didn’t mind him taking the gun, what good was it? His gun couldn’t protect him from the phantom tearing through his life, destroying everything that was good. He doubted a medic could help either.

Hotch was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, continuing to ruminate when Dave arrived. The medic, after determining there was no physical injury to the man, left him there with instructions to stay put until someone came for him. Hotch hadn’t thought about who was listed as his emergency contact.

“Aaron! What happened?”

Hotch looked at him with wild eyes. He was terrified for Dave, certain now that this was the dream come true. Peter Lewis had gotten inside not only his mind but his life and was ripping the pieces apart slowly.

“Dave you can’t be here! You have to go,” he stood up and put his hands on Rossi’s chest, as if to push him away. Dave grabbed his wrists, eyebrows drawn together, confused by this reaction. Hotch curled his hands into fists and ducked his head. “Please,” he begged, “please Dave, it’s not safe.”

“Aaron, look at me.” Anticipating a bad reaction but doing it anyway, Rossi took hold of his face with both hands and forced the other man to meet his eyes. “What is going on?”

But Hotch was past reason by this point. The words he got out didn’t make sense to Rossi who only heard snippets about coffins and blood and Scratch—but that case was months ago, surely this was unrelated. He didn’t like to think that Hotch had been hiding something about that night for this long but he wouldn’t be surprised by it either. He thought about how Hotch’s confusion had lingered long after the doctors said the drugs’ effects should have worn off. How he had stopped asking for confirmation of details from that night yet he would occasionally lose focus, be half a step behind in conversation.

Rossi looked quickly over at the house, now swarming with officials, drawn to the crime scene like summer moths to lamps. He wasn’t needed here and Hotch very much needed to be somewhere else right now. Dave didn’t know what was happening in his friend’s mind but he knew the chaos of the scene around them wasn’t helping. He waved over an EMT to inform them he would be taking Agent Hotchner home, would ensure his safety. The medic gave no argument, there was nothing wrong with the man that they could see, only that he might be in some sort of shock over finding his colleague’s body. There was no reason for him to be their responsibility, they were happy enough to let someone else take over.

Rossi managed to lead Hotch back to the SUV, even more concerned by the fact that he didn’t resist being guided by a hand on his back. Didn’t try to shrug off the outward expression of concern. If Aaron was too distracted to notice physical contact, something was urgently wrong. Dave thought about this as he opened the door and gently pushed the other man into the passenger seat, giving non-committal responses to Hotch’s continued warnings that he needed to get away, that he needed to get everyone away.

“Put on your seatbelt,” he instructed after getting in himself and seeing it was still undone. Hotch stared at him blankly and he had to actually reach across and grab the restraint for him. Thought it bruised his heart, Dave ignored the way Aaron recoiled from his sudden nearness. He hated to see this side of Hotch, it reminded him how hard the man must work all the time to suppress his reactions, how much effort he went through to hide parts of himself he deemed unacceptable.

He straightened up and secured his own seatbelt before turning the key. He paused, not sure where to take them. Hotch was quiet now, seeming to be lost in the lights that danced across the front of Derek’s house. Dave decided to call Garcia, to update her and see if she had any updates for him. He had rushed from the office after receiving a call from a worried officer about one Agent Hotchner found disoriented at a crime scene. There had been little time to share details. Dave tried not to think about how he was using the term “crime scene” to describe Morgan’s home.

Rossi put his phone on speaker as he shifted into drive. He decided the first stop should be to Aaron’s apartment to check on Jack and see if he could get the man to calm down enough to make some sense. As soon as Garcia answered, he regretted calling her. She was in a panic, news of what had been found had reached her. Normally able to work, even through big emotions, this was all too much for Penelope. She was nearly as incoherent as Hotch was when he’d found him.

“Okay, okay, listen Penelope. I’ve got Hotch, I’m taking him home. Why don’t you call Emily? She’s supposed to have landed by now I think,” Dave was trying his best to stay patient. Honestly, he didn’t know what any of them should do but this manageable instruction seemed to calm Garcia a little.

She sniffled. “Emily, right, of course. I’ll call her right now, sir.”

“Great, thank you Penelope. Let’s just try to stay focused on getting everyone safe. I’ll call you when we get to Hotch’s place.”

“H-how is he? How are you?”

Dave looked over at Hotch who was still quietly brooding. Rossi could almost hear Hotch’s thoughts racing, trying to find a way to get ahead of whatever was happening. It was actually encouraging, he seemed more lucid than before. Dave opened his mouth to tell Garcia everything with them was alright for the moment. But that was the moment a truck slammed into the driver’s side door, sending the SUV spinning wildly through the intersection.

~Part 4~

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 8

You’re going to be offended when I tell you I’m still not done. How did this happen? How did this end chapter get so long that I have to break it in half and I still have not finished it? 

Oh right, I wrote myself into a corner and had to get myself out of it in the most outlandish way possible. Yeah that checks out.

For now please enjoy chapter 8 of what is now a 9-chapter story. Because I have no self control.

Day 8: Free Day for @taiqrowweek

Rating:  T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 6.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: Hang...

~

Qrow was thirty-two when it finally happened.

He was working out of Mantle on the cusp of winter. The bustling, compact metropolis had become a bit of a mainstay for him over the years, thanks to his connections with the Omega Alliance. The political party had formed half a decade ago, heralded by none other than Robyn Hill. The movement was quickly becoming a worldwide spectacle, with more factions forming in every major city of the four kingdoms almost every week. With the main branch strategically close to Atlas though, it had become a media-struggle to both stay in the spotlight and to silence the oppressed.

It was just the kind of thing that might turn the tides for omega rights once and for all.

However, for Qrow, the Alliance had become a bit of a safe haven. The group had welcomed him in with open arms and encouraged him to continue his work, with the stipulation the Alliance would be endorsing the rebranding efforts in their press conferences and rallies. In turn, he was given a ‘secret nesting spot’ no matter where he seemed to travel to and a donation fund that kept him so well off, Tai stopped trying to measure his waistline with his eyes whenever he came to visit. All the while, his anonymity was kept intact and his clientele full.

It seemed like an eternity since he’d been able to live so comfortably.

Which led him to where he was that fateful day. The Greenleaf Inn was a well-sized, three-star hotel that always conveniently had its mini-suite open whenever he was around. The bed alone was worth its weight in lien, but the mini-bar fridge and spa tub made him feel like he was a king. The extra space also allowed for more pleasant accommodations for his clients.

That day, he was working with a young journalist by the name of Forest. He was a chatterer and a bit of a political enthusiast, his support for the Alliance borderline fanatic. Most of their time was spent discussing current events.

“Vacuo’s press conference is all in an uproar. Pride leader Kali can’t even get a word in edgewise; no one’s listening to her. It’s all looking pretty bad – then her Alpha gets to his feet. He’s like a monster of a man – wider than a truck and tall as a house. Everyone shuts up when he clears his throat and says his mate has something to say. Then he just sits down and lets her talk. Sienna reported that Kali turned into a real lioness and took charge!” Forest mimicked the swiping of claws. “It was spectacular! But of course, the headlines are all about what Ghira did and Kali’s performance is just a side note. It’s always about the alphas – uh, no offense.”

Well maybe discussing was too strong a term. “None taken.” Qrow replied offhandedly from the floor, more concerned with getting the arch of the fox’s face just right where it curled over the shin bone. He wasn’t even sure Forest heard him anyways.

“Suppose the end result is what matters though. Vacuo was the last agenda we needed to be on. Now we’re ensured the UFK really starts discussing omega affairs this winter. And I think-”

He never did find out what Forest thought – because a rapping on the door cut him off. Qrow turned off his pen, wary as he got to his feet. It wasn’t typical he got visitors out of the blue.

Then a voice shouted from the other side. “Harbinger, hurry up!”

“May?” Forest sat upright.

Qrow was already across the room in two strides, throwing open the door. The blue-haired omega was in a state, her scent bleeding panic as she cut right to the chase, “You need to get out of here! The police are in the lobby, looking for you!”

“What?!” He barked, heart rate skyrocketing. “But how?”

May pushed him back, hurrying inside. “Don’t know. Joanna’s trying to stall, but we only got a few minutes at most before this place is crawling. What do you need? Forest, you too, get up!”

The reporter seemed to snap out of his daze, jumping to his feet. “Why don’t we just hide in another room?”

“That might work for you, but not him. They’re gonna raze this place from the ground up.”

“Then hide him. I’m going down the stairwell.” Qrow insisted, having already thrown his kit back together and snapping the case closed. He got to his feet, pulling his scroll from his pocket. “Here. Destroy it.”

She looked from the device to him, uncertain. “But I can help-”

“No.” He barely withheld the growl. “You’re a lead member of Atlas’ branch. They see you helping me and the kingdom’s gonna run with the bad press. You don’t need that, especially not with the UFK assembly so close.”

For one long terrible moment, he was certain she was going to keep arguing. But any bluster was blown out with a heavy sigh and a helpless, “Good luck.”

He was going to need it.

~

“Shit.” Qrow cursed as he caught a gander of the lobby floor from the little window in the stairwell door. The place was crawling. He could already see a pair of officers at the elevator doors. There was almost definitely one at every exit point as well.

He backed up, trying to think. There was no way he was getting out undetected and the moment they started questioning him or asking for identification, he was going to be in trouble. He thought about reconsidering Forest’s idea – but even if they played a game of Scooby Doo chase with the cops, it wasn’t going to be long before they caught sight of him. He couldn’t just go up to his room and wait for the inevitable either.

He was trapped. His only hope was if he spontaneously learned how to fly.

Unless… He tilted his head up, looking at the flights of stairs. Which went all the way up to the roof.

The buildings weren’t that far apart.

It was crazy. But, it might be his only chance.

Qrow shoved his tattoo kit underneath the last stairwell, pushing it in the corner until the black case was hidden in the shadows. It would be too heavy to take with him. He’d just have to hope no one would be able to find it in the meantime. Appeased, he rushed up the stairs, trying to take several at a time. He was about halfway up the third when he heard the first-floor door open. He froze.

“You really think he’ll come down this way?” A voice, high and reedy, floated up from below.

The other voice was gruff and masculine. “You heard the chief, Viola. She wants all exits covered.”

“Just seems excessive Taylor. All of us for a guy not even hurting anyone.”

“Rookie, I’ll give you some advice: the judgment calls are for the courts. We just need to do our jobs. And yours right now is to get to that top floor in case our perp makes a break for the roof, capeesh?”

She sighed. “Got it.”

The first footfall hit the steps.

Qrow thought about it for half a second – and then he bolted.

Surprise was on his side, because it took the officers a precious few seconds to understand before their shouts rang up and they started chasing after him. He could hear Taylor fumbling with a radio, calling for backup. By that point, Qrow was bypassing the second floor and heading toward the third.

“Stop! Police!” Viola’s voice cracked on the yell.

He felt kind of bad, scaring the newbie. Had he had any breath left, he might have shouted back an apology. As it were, all his focus went onto the stairs in front of him, trying his best not to fall as he climbed five… six… seven… eight-

Bam!

The roof access door swung open and hit the brick. He paused long enough to scope his options –apartment complex to the left, half a story lower, flat rooftop; warehouse to the right, higher, guardrail fencing on the perimeter – before he made a decision and skirted left. The ground underneath him was slippery from rainfall that had frosted over with late autumn’s crisper temperatures, so he struggled for traction, preparing to jump.

“Don’t do it!” Viola yelled just as he did it.

For a moment, as he leapt over ten feet through the air, nothing below but a sharp drop to the alleyway, he felt weightless and free.  He really was flying.

And then realty was rushing up to meet him as his feet hit the opposite roof, slipped on the ice, and slipped again when his hands weren’t enough to catch him. The impact, mostly taken on his right side, was jarring and left him a little breathless and aching. Still, he was able to stand a few moments after, turning back to look at the officers staring down at him across the gap.

“Ha! Better luck next time turkeys!” Qrow saluted them before he strut towards the roof hatch. Now all he had to do was-

Wait.

Why was everything spinning?

The distant sound of cars was fading, and as he lifted his hand to his face, he watched it double before his eyes.

Shit. He was gonna-

The ground rushed up to meet him a second time, having just enough consciousness left to land on his back.

He watched the sky above him until the last star blinked out.

~

She’d been staring at him for the past five minutes.

He could just barely see her above the pages of the newspaper he was pretending to read. He figured she would eventually go and pester her dad, just one room over and making quite a racket in the kitchen as Tai no doubt overdid it in trying to be the perfect host (and would only try harder if Qrow told him it was no big deal). But the longer he tried to wait her out, the more it became obvious his niece had a mission and he was part of it.

Eventually he folded – both the newspaper and his resolve – and turned to her, trying not to be appear as intimated by a mere child as he actually kind of was, “Something wrong?”

Yang lifted her chin up high, stomped her way over from the staircase to his little corner of the couch, and slammed a box of markers down on the coffee table. “Make me pretty.”

“Huh?”

“Like daddy.” She said with great exasperation. She climbed up beside him and with the lack of shame only children could have pulled off the shirt of her PJs and turned so her back could face him. “I want to be pretty too.”

Understanding slowly dawned on him. “Shouldn’t we ask your dad first?”

“I did, he said it was fine.” She hadn’t but Tai thought it was too adorable to be mad about it.

“Alright then.” Qrow turned, pulling a blue marker from the box. But when he turned back to face her, the pen was now black and Yang was two years older. “What do you want this time firecracker?”

“A motorcycle!” She shouted, bouncing excitedly.

He laughed, draping her long hair over her shoulder. “A motorcycle? Now what would a girl like you want that for?”

“I’ma get one when I’m older. Daddy said! I can get a real motorcycle when I turn eighteen.” She told him.

He uncapped the marker. “And that’s what you want, huh?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “He said I could get a real tattoo too, as long as I think really hard about it since this one won’t come off in the bath.”

Qrow started to outline the wheels. “That’s right. You want to make sure it’s something you want forever.”

“Once I decide, you’ll do it for me, right?”

The words halted him momentarily, overcome by the sudden fondness filling his heart. “’Course I will.”  

“You swear?” Yang turned her head, trying to look serious but only managing to look adorably pouty. “Even if they pop out your eyes?”

The snort of surprise burst out of him. “It’s scratch out your eyes – and yes, even then.” And just so she could know that he meant it, he crossed an X over his heart.

“Good.”

He pressed the marker back to her skin, moving onto the bike’s frame, when Tai called out to him, “Qrow, look!”

He rose his head, looking out across the yard to see the omega holding a square, plywood board between his hands. As he gave the nod, Yang didn’t hesitate to bust her fist right through it.

“Looking good!” Qrow called back, before turning back to Ruby. Draped over his lap so she could reach her toys, she was making little action noises with her mouth as she crushed Bastinda underneath Zwei’s massive paws. He was just adding the color to the fur of the corgi version on her back.

A sharp movement had Bastinda flying down the porch steps and a stripe of white going all over her back. Luckily, six-year-olds weren’t picky.

“Bye, bye mean witch.” Ruby waved before she started taking her wolf on a walk along his side. “Uncle Qrow, who’s your favorite?”

He wrinkled his nose, trying not to think of the shoddy reboot that was slowly destroying the integrity of the original. Still, he answered honestly, “Rosette.”

“Why?”

“’Cause she was the big hero.” He explained. “I wanted to be just like her growing up.”

Her eyes lit up. “And now you are her, right?”

He quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Daddy told me that’s why you’re gone so long, ‘cause you’re out making the world a better place.” Another stripe went down her back. She blinked curiously. “Why’d your face go all red?”

“Ah, nevermind that! Hey, you know what this needs?” He looked away, grabbing at the pink marker.

It was the same color his cheeks had been by the time he was turning back around, no longer outside but sitting up in Ruby’s room, consoling the sniffling ten-year-old the only way he knew how.

As he added to the growing chain of roses growing along her shoulder blades, he said, “Don’t let them get to you kid.”

“But it’s not fair! I’m way faster at running bases than Cardin, but they made me sit on the bench the whole time! I didn’t even get to play.” She swiped angrily at her eyes.

If Qrow listened real hard, he could hear Tai’s voice rising from downstairs. The phone call didn’t seem to be going well. “You’re right, it’s not fair at all. Do you know why your teacher did that?”

“Because,” Ruby buried her face in her pillow, the rest coming out muffled, “I’m going to be an omega and omegas don’t do great things.”

He was glad she couldn’t see his scowl. “Who told you that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t.” He capped the marker, setting it aside before shifting on his knees, brushing back her hair with his fingers. “Because I’ve met omegas from all over the world, and so many of them are doing great things every single day. Dangerous things even, all so that they can make things more fair for everyone. They’re some of the bravest people I know.”

She rose her head. “Really?”

“Really. But you know what the big secret is?” He lent back, tapping his scent gland. “It doesn’t matter what’s here.” He tapped his head. “It matters what’s in here. As long as you put your mind to it and work hard at it, then there’s nothing you can’t do.”

Ruby considered this, asking, “You’re not just saying that?”

“Hey now, take it from the alpha who can draw. I know my stuff kiddo.”

It earned him one of the few things she seemed to share with her dad – a bright, beautiful smile. But as she went to a respond, a knocking on the door drew his attention.

Qrow blinked blearily at the cell doors where the guard was banging his nightstick against the metal. “Branwen, up! You got a visitor.”

Gingerly, he pulled himself up, his healing ribs screaming in protest at the movement. It took several moments longer before he could actually stand and shuffle his way out the door, following the guard down the hall. He kept his head down, not wanting to meet eyes with any of the other prisoners.

Since he was injured, he was being kept in the protective custody side of the prison. It had its bonuses – he didn’t have to share a cell or run through the motions the general population side did. He also didn’t have to cuff up when they let him out of his cell, mostly because they couldn’t get them on around the sling. The downside was the PC side of the jail was also where the most violent criminals were kept. There was one inmate in particular who-

“Oh little bird, you’ve come fluttering my way yet again.” Tyrian jeered.

-particularly got on his nerves. Qrow didn’t look up, but that didn’t stop the fierce growl from leaving his throat. The serial killer only cackled at his display.

If this was what it was like in here, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d survive once he was reassigned into GP. A whole room full of alphas, all of them constantly competing for dominance, was a disaster waiting to happen. Not for the first time since he’d arrived, did he start wishing he’d presented differently. He’d have better chances in an omega-beta prison.

So preoccupied he was by his anxious thoughts, he’d forgotten entirely why he was out of bed in the first place until he was walking into the visitor’s area. The section was marked by a row of doors, each one leading into a small room that had nothing more than a few chairs and a wooden counter separated in half by bulletproof plexiglass. There was a metal, slated ring in it to allow the two parties to talk.

The guard unlocked the rightmost room, saying, “You’ve got one hour,” before swinging open the door.

Seeing a familiar face, even if it was only Clover Ebi’s, filled him with so much joy he could have cried.

The soldier was all smiles for him, though the cursory look over he gave him left a twist of worry at the corner of his eyes. “Hey Qrow. I’m so relieved to see you. You look… rough.”

“What gave that implication? The fractured wrist or the three broken ribs?” He replied tightly, delicately sitting down. “Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know my name either.”

“’Fraid everyone does at this point. You’re all over the news.”

He grimaced. “Internationally?”

“If I said no, would it make you feel better?”

“Not if I know you’re lying.” Gods, Tai was probably having a heart attack right now. And the girls… he wondered if they even fully understood what was going on. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Clover’s expression was one of sympathy. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Now that I’ve found you, we can get you a good lawyer, rather than the pro bono one they appointed you to. Robyn’s already running rallies in the streets of every kingdom and donation rings to hire the best in the business. And Fiona’s calling about a dozen firms a day. She’s already got-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Qrow cut him off, disoriented. “Slow down trigger. I get I’m not in a great position, but isn’t that a bit excessive for a small end criminal court case? And anyways, it’s not like I’m going to trial tomorrow.”

His flippancy only seemed to make the omega more agitated as he lent back, running a hand over his face. “Oh shit. They didn’t assign you a counsel, did they?”

“I’m not that depressed.”

“A legal counsel Qrow!” He scoffed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, now he was so off-track he wasn’t even sure he boarded the train. “Am I… missing something?”

With a deep breath, Clover schooled his features, resting his arms along the tabletop to lean forward. “Qrow, your crime is being considered as a global offense. They’re expediating your case through the process so you can be tried at the UFK.”

Realty cracked and shattered around him.

“W-What?!” He squawked, panic setting in immediately. “Are you fucking serious?!” When the other could only offer him a solemn nod, Qrow withdrew, dropping his head onto the table and curling his one good arm around his face, as if it would be enough to shield him from the future. “Oh Gods. Oh fuck.”

He was screwed. Utterly and royally.

The UFK, or United Four Kingdoms, assembly was a yearly session of the kingdom’s four heads of state and their councils. Mostly it was a peace gathering, a way to discuss the improvements or needs of each kingdom and provide support or discuss any eco-social changes that may need addressing. It was why the Alliance had been so prominent in recent months; so that the four heads might talk about potential alternations to omega rights. A discussion that had not been gaining enough, if any, traction in the past few years. That was why Robyn had organized the ‘Prides’ – a central team in each kingdom whose sole job was to attend the national press conferences and make a loud enough roar that the council would have to take notice. Each one had done a fantastic job, and the news channels had been bustling with stories about how this year’s session would absolutely have to focus on the matter of omega equality.

And in one fell swoop, Qrow had ruined that.

Trials weren’t unheard of at the UFK, but they were extremely rare. In the eighty years the assembly had been convening, there’d only been three prior cases that had gone to court there and each one had had a huge impact on universal laws. If he was tried and convicted, there was no telling what impact his case would have.

A tapping on the glass made him look up tentatively.

Clover’s jaw was set with determination. “It’s okay, Qrow. We’re here to help you.”

“No!” He sat up, gritting his teeth around the pain it caused him. “None of you should get involved! I can’t drag you down with me.”

“Qrow, think for a minute – do you really believe your arrest was just a coincidence?”

That drew him up short. “I…”

“Face it, you’re not exactly impossible to locate. Someone’s probably known where you were for a while and they were just waiting for the perfect moment to bring you in.” He indicated the air around them. “And this is it. The absence of counsel, the lack of prep time, keeping your whereabouts classified. It all adds up. They’re trying to turn you into a scapegoat.”

It was hard logic to beat. Qrow wasn’t exactly uninformed on just how messed up the legal system could be – and the more involved he’d gotten with his work, the deeper the rabbit hole just seemed to go. But to have it be twisted onto him in such a way, like he was merely everyone else’s plaything, made him feel violated.

He wondered how his mother would have felt, seeing him like this.

“So now what?” Qrow finally asked.

“Now, we fight back.” Clover replied assuredly. “Your case could be a gamechanger for omegas everywhere. We aren’t just going to lie down and watch it happen.”

He snorted. “So you’re turning the scapegoat into a martyr.”

“No.” The soldier declined, then added with a quirk of his lips, “We’re turning you into our harbinger.”

It took Qrow a moment to get it. Then he laughed.

A harbinger of change. There might just be some hope left after all.

~

Three days later, he met his defense attorneys.

Pietro was a kindly, wheelchair-bound beta with thirty years of experience. The minute the man started talking, it was obvious he knew his stuff as he lined out what to expect for the court process and what laws that may entangle them from certain kingdoms they might have to prepare for. Things Qrow hadn’t even considered, like operating a business out of a building with only a residential grade fire system – a law the more wildfire prone Mistral took very seriously.

His understudy was named Rhodes. Also a beta, as all lawyers were, the man had only a few years on Qrow himself, but he had a sharp wit and passionate aspiration for justice. He spent most of the time keeping a detailed note log on the things being said, explaining it would help them decide on the best strategy to use when they were in front of the UFK.

“The most difficult thing we have to contend with is time.” Rhodes affirmed. “Unlike most high-profile cases handled in the courts, the kingdoms aren’t going to allow the hearing to go beyond a single day so it doesn’t interfere with the other agendas they have to get too. That means limited evidence presentation and witness testimonies. We’ve got about eight hours to prove you’re an innocent man, which means every second in that room is going to count.”

Qrow swallowed hard. “What about the jury? They on a time limit too?”

“No. The jury are the councils.” Pietro explained. “The members of each kingdom’s council board will give their verdict, and it’s the majority vote of each council that decides their verdict. As long as you get a unanimous majority, you’ll be given your verdict. So, our focus will need to be on swaying each kingdom individually.”

Yeah. No pressure.

Rhodes tapped the end of his pen on the desk between them. “As you can see, it’s a bit of a balancing act. Ideally, our witness testimonies need to come from all over. If you can get us even just a moderate list of people from each kingdom you believe would be willing to speak for you then we can scope out the best choice from each one.”

“Perhaps.” The elder beta intoned, rubbing his chin. “Though Vale may not need any pushing. Our focus should truly lie in targeting the kingdom’s core values.”

“We also need to make sure to address the issues with improper due process.”

“A fine point.”

“I hope you both know I’m barely keeping up with this.” Qrow admitted.

Pietro smiled forgivingly. “Don’t worry your head about it, my boy. Just focus on giving us everything we can possibly work with to keep you out of jail. Do you have any family or friends who might speak on your credibility of character?”

There was only one person that came to mind – and there was no way he would even dare suggest Tai to spill his whole story for millions to hear.

“No.” He replied shortly.

“Not even-”

“Really. No. My old man’s a deadbeat. I haven’t seen my sister in over a decade. And unless these things come with a séance, my mom ain’t gonna have much to say either.” He lent back, shrugging his good shoulder. “As for friends, I haven’t exactly been living stably to form many close relationships. ‘Fraid I won’t be much use on that list either – never kept a detailed record to keep my clients safe. But, I know someone who just might be able to rally up a few.”

Pietro nodded. “Then let’s start there.”

Thankfully, that was the last time they asked him about family.

~

One day short of a week later, he was visited by someone other than his attorneys.

This time, the sight of a familiar face did actually make him cry, even if Tai immediately laid into him.

“You jumped off a roof?! What in the Gods’ Realms were you thinking? You could have died!” Tai smacked his hand on the table for emphasis. He wasn’t even sitting, too agitated to. Had the glass not been separating them, he was pretty sure he would have been in for the ear pinching of his life. “Are you okay, or did the fall knock out what little brain cells you have left?!”

Yet, the omega’s worry was so strong, Qrow could scent it through the little holes in the metal ringlet. It was familiar and more comforting then even a single second locked up in this awful place could even marginally hope to feel like. So, he broke down harder.

Tai sighed and gave up, dropping his forehead against the glass. Qrow struggled to reign himself in, but the days had been too long, too awful and too terrifying to stop the broken dam. The most he managed to get out was a wobbly, “m’sorry.” As he curled himself over the desk.

They hovered there, in silence.

Then, for the second time in his life, Tai purred at him, “I‘m here. You’re okay.”

It was like being draped in an extra soft blanket or pulled into an exceptionally warm hug, something he felt from the inside out. The shakes started to fade and the tears slowed to a drizzle, and then even that went away.

When he lifted his head, Qrow could almost pretend the outburst hadn’t happened at all. “Sorry, meds I’m on just make me emotional.”

“Sure they do.” Tai let him lie, finally taking his seat with the heavy gracelessness of someone who just got off an overnight flight.

While there were at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask, the most prominent came forward first: “Where are the girls?”

“In the waiting room. Ruby got scared. Somehow she got it in her head you’d be crippled.” He gave him a disdainful look, “Can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

He hid his grimace behind a smile, “Shoulda just told her birds my age can fly.”

It was the wrong thing to say as Tai scowled. “Don’t joke! Seriously, I can’t believe how idiotic that was. You’re lucky that little stunt only resulted in a few injuries.”

“Well, I ain’t feeling very lucky.” He snapped back. “Seriously what did you want me to do?”

The omega threw up his hands. “Not try to kill yourself! Do you know how terrified I was?! And then I couldn’t find you no matter how many jails and hospitals I called and I thought-!” His shoulder dropped. “I don’t know what I thought.”

But Qrow knew. He knew exactly what kind of worst-case scenarios must have played through his head when suddenly Qrow was all over the headlines after he tried to escape police arrest and was transported to a nearby care facility for his injuries, only to then disappear completely, the system deliberately hiding him to secure him for the big case. It wasn’t until he’d started meeting with Pietro and Rhodes that he’d learnt just how many infringements of his rights there’d already been. He wasn’t even supposed to be in a prison without being tried first. They were trying to work it into his case.

“If it weren’t for Robyn I never would of even of found you.”

Qrow’s confusion spiked. “Wait, how do you know her?”

“I don’t. She called me off your scroll.” So much for destroying it. “Once she got me in the loop, I took the first flight over I could.”

He didn’t know whether to feel thankful, or violated.

Wait.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Robyn was the one he’d directed his attorney team too. “She didn’t tell you anything else, did she? About the trial?”

“She just told me you were going in for it soon and that you could use some support.” Tai replied. “They aren’t really letting anyone in to see you if they can’t show that they’re family. I had to bring Yang’s birth certificate just to get in here.”

(Qrow might have cited Clover – if he wasn’t fairly certain the man could get himself into anywhere on badges and charisma alone.)

Still, relief swept through him. By whatever graces of the Gods there were, it sounded like Robyn had played him straight on this one. She must have figured out why he’d chosen not to disclose that information himself – and of that he could be grateful. He’d rather spend a hundred years in jail then let any of his family take the stand.

Now he just had to make sure Tai didn’t screw the pooch instead.

“Just be careful with that little tidbit. If the press gets a whiff of it, they’ll be all over you.” He warned.

If anything, Tai seemed insulted. “I’m not afraid of some headliners. I can handle it.”

“Can the girls?” The statement drew the omega up short. Qrow felt bad, playing that card, but it wasn’t like reporters had a moral compass. “Just being realistic. This case isn’t exactly coasting quietly under the table, and the last thing I want is my family being dragged into it all ‘cause of my mistakes.”

“They’re not mistakes.”

“Renegade behavior then.”

“You-!” Tai sighed, running a hand down his face frustratedly. “Stop that. You’re not a joke, you know?”

It was Qrow’s turn to draw up short, heart catching in his throat.

Tai barreled on, unconcerned with his organ transplant. “I’m proud of what you do. More than that, I believe in what you do. You make a difference, every day, even if it seems small. You wouldn’t have risked so much, if you didn’t think that yourself. So will you please try to trust in that, so you can tell those judges where to shove it?”

Still stuck in limbo, his heart pressed insistently against his voice box, willing him to say those accursed three words that desperately wanted to burst out. Instead, all he managed was a wheeze of laughter, and a quiet, “I will.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Tai got to his feet. “I’m going to go get the girls, okay?”

“Okay.” He watched him head for the door, calling just as he opened it. “And Tai?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.”

For supporting me.

For being here with me.

For always knowing just what I need to hear.

He couldn’t decide on what was most important to say, so it all got stuck just like before.

Tai smiled like he’d heard them all regardless. “Anytime.”

~

“Are you ready, my boy?”

Qrow looked away from the airship window, where the Amity Tower was looming, to Pietro’s kind smile. It did little to calm the storm in his stomach. “Pretty sure no one’s ever ‘ready’ for this. My whole life’s about to be decided by a bunch of rich assholes who’ve probably never used the word ‘struggle’ in their lives.”

“Then I suppose it’s up to you to define it for them.”

He scoffed, falling back against the glass. “Hate to tell you this wheels, but English was my worst class.”

That at least earned him a hearty laugh. “You know there’s a saying among us lawyers: You don’t cry until it’s all over. So for now, keep your chin up and fight hard.”

Would be an easier fight if it didn’t feel like he was armed with only a pocketknife going against a trove of machine guns. Still, he couldn’t deny the weight of that sentiment. Especially knowing there was so much more to this fight than just what would happen to him.

Momentarily, as he shut his eyes, he could see Ruby. Coming home with tears streaming down her face after being told she wasn’t good enough to play baseball like the other kids. What if her fears were realized and she did present omega? What if she didn’t and, beyond all expectation, Yang did instead? What if one day, someone decided to throw either one of them into a reformatory and he wasn’t there to overwrite the wrongs?

The idea made him sick inside.

He rose up, facing Pietro once more. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Qrow tried to hold onto that feeling of confidence as long as he could as he continued to watch Amity Tower draw near. Like a beacon welcoming travelers to its side, the building stood alone on the seaside of the most northern part of Sanus. It wasn’t really a tower – it was more akin to a concert hall in size and shape. But it got its name from the spire that shot up in the middle of the roof. The decorative piece was meant to mimic the communication towers that each kingdom built to allow for scroll communication across the nations. A display that proclaimed this place would always be a venue in which the kingdoms could speak freely to one another.

As they began their descent towards the airstrip, he finally noticed the crowd. Circling Amity like a school of sharks were dozens upon dozens of people. They were spilling out along the grand front steps and thickly congested across the massive lawn area to the point barely a patch of green could be seen.

“What in all realms is going on?” Qrow breathed. He’d expected a few news reporters, sure. But nothing like this.

Before he could answer, Pietro’s scroll began to ring. He was quick to answer it. “Ah Rhodes, got here safely then? How are the witnesses doing?”

“Everyone is settled and prepared.” He replied assuredly. “Heard you guys were touching down, so I figured I’d warn you about the protest group.”

“Group?” Qrow echoed. “That’s an army. What are they even protesting?”

“Your arrest.”

His head snapped around; eyes wide.

Rhodes continued, unaware, “They’re all omegas or omega supporters from every nation in Remnant. They’ve been gathering here for days.”

“Incredible.” Pietro declared, adjusting his spectacles. “In all my years, I’ve never seen something quite like this.”

The rest of the conversation faded to background noise as he turned back towards the window, something unexplainable but good lifting him. Somewhere inside of him, he knew they weren’t really here for him, but what he represented. He was a loose cog in the machine, a shift from the system, a shield against the onslaught of endless ammo. Or, as Clover had jokingly coined, their harbinger of change.

Yet it didn’t stop him from feeling overwhelmed with support as the doors to the airship opened and the roar of cheers started up. It was a massive, thunderous noise that shook him to his very core then solidified there like an unbreakable diamond, giving him strength he hadn’t had just minutes ago.

Even as he was led out in cuffs, barred between two officers, he found himself walking tall. Like land making way for a river, the crowd parted for them. Some were carrying signs that said things like ‘Justice for Qrow’ and ‘Branwen can win’. There was even a really ridiculous one that said ‘Uncage our bird!’, complete with an illustration of a crow in a birdcage.

They made him smile, as did the few encouragements that he managed to pick out from rumble of hollers trying to reach him.

“You got this!”

“We’re here with you!”

“Your story’s not over yet!”

He carried it all the way up the stairs and through the entrance. Yet, as the large ornate double doors swung closed behind him, it muffled most of the noise.

Silenced once more.

[lokigayforhela]

what would happen if the avengers ran into/met hela and her gf on earth??

Just to clear up any questions there might be, this is an au in which Asgard was Not destroyed, and Thor and Loki kept Hela on a rather tight leash after those events. No snap, no nothing. Just Quality Hela x reader fluff. And a tiny bit of angst.

Enjoy~

When Hela had first mentioned the idea of running away toMidgard together to get away from her brothers and all the rules they had setfor her, after everything that had on Asgard, you’d thought she was joking. You’dinsisted that the both of you knew next to nothing about living on Midgard oranything that that would entail, but Hela had been insistent, and the more shehad talked about how much freedom you’d both have to do whatever you wanted, tobe together like you couldn’t onAsgard, the more you had fallen in love with the idea, as well.

And so late one night, with one packed valise each, yousnuck off of Asgard and started your life on Earth. It hadn’t been easy.Asgardian currency wasn’t exactly easily used there, but with the gold thatHela had brought, you were able to find a quaint little cottage on a cliff inthe little town you had landed in. It wasn’t much, but you were with Hela, andthat made it home.

Before you’d known it, a year had passed, and you’d bothsettled into your lives quite nicely. While Hela wasn’t much one for answeringto others and so wasn’t as keen on finding a job, you’d easily found work, andhad kept the both of you afloat comfortably. Your little house had become theperfect culmination of both you and Hela, and you couldn’t have wanted it anyother way.

You were happy.

And that was all that mattered.

“Y/N, darling, are you ready to go into town? That marketyou like to go to is open.”

You looked up from the window, where you’d been standinglost in thought for who knew how long.

“Yes, of course, just let me fetch a shawl.”

Before you could even turn to leave, you felt the very shawlin question being settled on your shoulders.

“The blue suits you the best. Brings out your eyes,” shemurmured as she smoothed the fabric down gently.

You couldn’t help but to smile softly, settling back againsther as she wrapped her arms around your waist. “You’ve grown soft, did you knowthat?”

Hela huffed out a laugh. “I’ll have you know that’s only foryou.”

“Oh, I’m very aware, and verygrateful,” you teased, placing your arms over Hela’s as you got comfortable. “Besides…It doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re still keeping your skills sharp. I’ve seenyou outside practicing.”

“Oh you have, haveyou?” You could practically hear thesmirk in her voice as she pulled you closer, placing a kiss to the back of yourneck. “Did you like what you saw?”

“…we were supposed to be going to the market, Hela.”

“Mm… were we?” she murmured, lips finding their way to thecrook of your neck. “Can’t that wait just… a little bit…?”

There was nothing you wanted more than to let her lavish youwith affection for the rest of the afternoon, but with the use of every drop ofwillpower you had, you shook your head. “Later. After we’ve gotten thegroceries.”

Hela let go of you after one last kiss to your shoulder. “I’mholding you to that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With your hand snug in hers, you walked through the manystalls in the town square, looking over fruits and vegetables and other goodswhile Hela pretended like she was paying attention to anything other than you.

“A dozen should be fine. Thank you.” You handed a woman afew coins and began to put apples into the basket into the tote you’d broughtwith you.

“Is that too heavy for you? I can carry it,” Hela insisted,trying to take the bag from you, but you only swatted her hand away.

“Must we play this game everytime we come to the farmer’s market, Hela?” You looked up at her, expecting herto be ready to quip back, but instead you found her staring at something, or someone,at a distance, and you followed her gaze to see that she was looking at noneother than Thor, hardly noticeable in his meager attempt at modern Midgardianclothing. “…Hela?”

“Let’s go back to the house. Quickly.”

You didn’t run, but you didn’t dawdle either, and you werealmost certain Hela was going to bruise your hand, as tightly as she washolding it, but you couldn’t find it in you to care as you looked back to seeThor following you, along with a few other people who looked familiar, thoughyou couldn’t quit put a name to them.

“Hela, he’s following us.”

“I know.” Her voice was sharp, and you knew she was asnervous as you felt.

“What are we going to do?”

“Talk to them, I suppose. We have no choice.”

By the time you’d gotten back home, Thor and the others hadalmost caught up to you, and as Hela disappeared into the house, no doubt goingto find a weapon, you steeled yourself, and turned around.

“My King.”

Thor looked a little taken aback by the title, and it wasenough to give him pause as he came to a halt in front of you, studying you asthe others looked on in thinly veiled curiosity.

“…I don’t know who you are, but I’m afraid we’re going toneed to get past you.”

You nodded a bit, more to yourself than in compliance. “Whatbusiness do you have with my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? Now it’s a party.” You looked over at who hadspoken, some man in a suit with the most ridiculous sunglasses you’d ever seen.

“Stark, don’t make it weird.” That time a woman with redhair spoke, and you could see she was glaring daggers at the man who had madethe comment.

Stark.

You knew that name. Had seen it in the newspapers and ontelevisions at restaurants. All at once, it hit you, and as you looked at therest of the people with him, your suspicions were only confirmed.

Thor was here with the rest of the Avengers.

And you expected they weren’t here to play nice.

“…I was unaware my sister had a girlfriend.”

You cleared your throat, and tried to make yourself looktaller than you actually were. “Well, she does. And I’m her. And we’re happy here. We haven’t done anythingwrong, she hasn’t done anythingwrong.”

“To be fair, she did disappear without a trace,” Thorpointed out, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes, and nothing has happened since then, has it?”

Thor had the decency to at least look a little ashamed as hefiddled with the umbrella in his hand, which you were almost certain was Mjolnir.“…well, no.”

“Then…? Why are you here now? Did it really take you thislong to find us? Heimdall literally watched us leave.”

“…he never said anything. To anyone.”

That surprised you, but you said nothing, only kept watchingeveryone, making sure none of them were making any moves without yourknowledge.

“He didn’t say anything because I asked him not to.”

Everyone looked past you as Hela spoke, and you turned tofind her, a sword in hand, but otherwise looking rather calm and collected.

“Why would he do that?” Thor asked, disbelief lacing hiswords.

“Because he’s a friend.” Hela took a few steps closer, andyou could hear the Avengers shuffle where they stood, no doubt getting readyfor the fight they were expecting.

Thor said nothing for a long while, and you turned back tolook at him, half expecting to see him lunge for Hela, but instead he waslooking between you and her, obviously still very confused. “…why haven’t youtried anything?”

“Why would I need to?” Hela stopped beside you, and slippedher hand into yours, brushing her thumb over your knuckles comfortingly as sheregarded Thor and his friends. “I have everything I need right here.”

“That’s… very unlike what your brother told us about you,”someone else said that, the blonde man you knew to be who they called CaptainAmerica.

Hela only shrugged in response, and looked down at you,smiling a little. “…people change.”

You smiled, and fought the urge to nuzzle against her,instead settling for squeezing her hand as you turned back to face Thor and theothers. “We truly haven’t done anything worth fighting us over. We came here.We found a home. I work to make us money, we buy only what we need. We helpothers, when we can. Surely none of that is reason to fight us.”

“I mean, she has a point,” the red-headed muttered, and yousaw a few of the others shrug their shoulders in agreement.

Thor considered you for a long time, and then Hela, as well,and you could tell that he had a lot of questions that he wanted answered, butjust didn’t seem to know how to ask them. “…be that as it may, we can’t just…leave you here.”

Before Hela could say anything, you cut in, wary of Helalosing her temper and snapping, as she still did sometimes. “Check in on us, ifyou must. However often you think it necessary. I swear to you, you’ll find usthe same every time then as you’ve found us now. We don’t mean to make anytrouble. We’re happy.”

“Thor, I really don’t think we’ve got a leg to stand on tostart a fight,” the Captain said as he made eye contact with you, and smiledand nodded once politely.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Cap on this one, buddy.”

“That’s a first.”

“Don’t make it be the last.”

As the group bickered among themselves, you glanced at Hela,whose expression was unreadable.

“Uh… So… are we good here?” you called, hoping to get themall to agree so they would finally leave.

Everyone looked at Thor, and after a long while, he nodded. “…I’llcheck in, every so often. I won’t be a bother. You probably won’t even know I’mhere.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Hela muttered, and you elbowedher gently as a reprimand.

“Thank you, my King.” You dipped into a curtsy, and Thor bowedhis head in acknowledgment, but as the others turned to leave, still talkingamongst themselves, he approached you, looking between you and Hela again.

“…thank you. For giving my sister something good. Shedeserves that. Don’t let her know I said that.”

You could almost feelHela roll her eyes. “I’m standing righthere, you oaf.”

Thor only grinned, and patted you on the shoulder with somuch force you jolted forward a bit, and then turned to leave, running to catchup with his friends.

“That was… something,” you finally murmured once they’dgotten out of sight, and you felt Hela wrap her arms around you.

“Well, it’s thanks to you, you know. If you’d let me do thetalking, we’d be surrounded by bodies and no doubt drenched in blood.” Shepressed an innocent kiss to your cheek, as though she hadn’t said somethinggrossly disturbing.

“Hela,” youchided, turning to scowl at her, but you were grinning just a bit too much forit to come off as anything serious.

“What. I don’t practice for nothing, you know,” she remindedyou as she led you back into the house.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Now will you please help me with these groceries. Ican’t feel my arm.”

“Hey, I told you to let me carry the bag.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to be stopped and interrogated by theAvengers,” you muttered as Hela tookthe bag from you and started to put things away.

“Bit of a strange lot, aren’t they?”

“Mm. I think they were too busy bickering with each other toeven want to fight us.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Hela finished with the groceries andimmediately found her way back to you, wrapping her arms around you and pullingyou close. “Really, though. Thank you. You just likely saved both of our lives.”

You shrugged a bit. “It was nothing. I just… told them thetruth. We are happy here, and we aren’tcausing any trouble.”

Hela hummed softly. “Although, I would like to cause some trouble in the bedroom, if you’d be sokind as to join me?”

You could only laugh as Hela started pulling you toward thebedroom. “Well, I did say later.”

[runningwithhellhounds]

Three years later it becomes clear: squid-boys never stood much of a chance breathing on land.

''Is he awake? The tranquilizer is loosening. Oh, he moved. Did you see? Left fingers.''

Your shoulder – right, you hit a rock. A set-up of metal walls glistens in the corner of your vision. You can't move. Some wetness in your throat makes you despair, makes you cough, involuntary and chokey and wet. Your muscles just don't move the way you want them to.

''Hey. Are you awake? Back away, I think he's scared.''

''Binary gender is a construct,'' a voice says, light, somewhat serious, somewhat self-aware.

''Oh, I'm sorry. Are they awake.''

Fuck you, you think. This happened just fifteen minutes after waking up. If this were to happen later, maybe you would be less out of it and more situation-wise, more windbreaking skin. More teethful. Wetness should be at your side and not pool where it shouldn't. Wetness should drown things when you willed it to.

They carry your limp body into the metal box, as you knew that you would, carried to the truck door and packed away neatly. Your body feels particularly insensitive, even when gloved hands touch it, maybe in the enlightenment of death, or something death-like.

In the box, the only way to look is upwards at the glass cover plate. It doesn't move when you push against it, and none of the other walls do. When the light in the space of the truck is cut off, you stop pushing at the upper plate, because it makes you feel flattened, or something that can be flattened with force, in the way of soft-tissues invertebrates. It makes the air in your chest twist into impossible illusion shapes, looped into themselves.

And then the truck screeches to a stop. When it does, abrupt in the way of accidents, you think of the gods you've been learning to despise in the practise of eighteen years. You would think your spite is more polished by now, better refined, with how raw and disgusting it has felt. But now your ears are ringing with divine working in one's life shall become apparent as an ineffable experience; divine working—

Your ears are ringing with Andrew and eyes burning with the image of the hell-made saviour of him. You hear shouting. The truck sways with the force of something, and you go with it, like unrooted watergrass. If this is Andrew, he must be sating the hunger of his hyper-grin. A new image blazes into you: out of water, in the air of land, bloodied hands remain bloodied. You are used to water washing blood from your skin, the skin remaining stainless, shedding impurity and grime and violence right off. If this is Andrew, he must look like a terror.

But there is a godly part in this. If this is Andrew, he has brought what you have always wanted: difference without novelty and novelty's stomach-digesting discomfort. The truck sways again and you are still holding your breath.

*

It has been over a week since Andrew removed his arm from around your shoulders, and you both fell in the water of a flooded basement, comrade-like, collapsed and breathing fast in the aftermath of things. He dragged himself to the staircase and spread over the length of a step, legs up on the railing, the weight of his cement-bag body sagging. The thump of his head falling back against the wall made you want to urge forward. But you didn't. His clothes were soaked past his waist, black jeans abyss-black. His head lolled to look at you and you felt all too transparent, like he could see right through your skin and muscle, liver and intestines and all your soft organs. You were still spiked-up, body still ready to rush. Too tender when he was looking like this.

It has been over a week of you dragging your body through the ecosystem of the basement. The water is shallow enough to make the basement a crawl-space. You crawl around the pillars, wondering if you can do it in an utterly random pattern. Don't think too hard. You think you're going crazy. From aloneness. All the other beings in the flooded basement are small and timid. Don't think too hard.

Andrew comes every day, every second day, every few days. Irregularly. He brings stacks of food.

''It's not this dark outside,'' you tell him the next time his boots settle with your eye level, ''The windows are tinted. It's darker in here.''

He brings you a flashlight. You don't use it. To what, target yourself? A predator with nothing to prey on. A predator with nowhere to go.

He sticks his feet in the water and reads with your flashlight. He brings you games of multiplication and these little metal wire shapes to disentangle. You get better than him at chess quickly. It surprises him. It doesn't surprise you.  You have been thinking about mathematical perfection and formal proofs your whole life. You have spent your whole life over-chewing your people's stories; it makes you a good social learner; a learner from mistakes, yours, others'.

''I am going to promote my pawn,'' you observe. He brings his hands up, all fingers meeting in a point aligned with the centre of his chest and then he pulls his hands apart and spreads his fingers into something open and empty-handed.

''I don't care,'' he says, then huffs and laughs meanly until he swallows it down, and then bolts upstairs. You can hear him rage there, the thumping of what you imagine is hands hitting the frame of a doorway as he enters a room, pushing empty drawers shut, throwing himself on a bed. You don't understand his theatrics, or his rage.

Most of the time he is gone, though. It would be okay, that nothing ever happens, if nothing happened inside of you, too. You just feel disused, as a person. Your skin is pale without bruises and your head is empty. Andrew has brought you a waterproof phone, a metal little thing. He's been gone for days, and you've been existing amongst clutter, a being in the ecosystem, an object in stasis. This water tastes different. It leaves a dirty taste in your mouth that you try to get rid of by licking your lips. It doesn't work, but you keep catching yourself doing it anyway.

You call him.

''I feel sick,'' you say.

He brings you aspirins, more food, a radio.

He hasn't been saying much. This isn't what satisfaction looks like, you think as he expressionlessly tears a second packet of salt into his food box. His quiet leaves you feeling alone in un-novel ways, even though most of your aloneness is new. To be fair, you have only found dissatisfaction to be unkind; not intrinsically, not out of necessity, but out of something more spiteful – maybe stubbornness. Anyway. Anyway, maybe you shouldn't think of quiet as unkind. What else can you expect. Being low-maintenance feels kind of right.

*

Somebody is in the house.

When the steps come, they come slow, and with foreign wilfulness. You still. You watch your breath skate over the surface. You know that you wear suspicion the way Andrew wears the relaxed slope of his shoulders, but you're right, you're right.

You are right. After minutes of soft thudding, a corrosion-of-a-boy appears at the top of the basement staircase and deflates in front of your eyes. He peeks downwards quickly, then half-turns, his eyes again jumping around in the way of sweeping: thorough and clearing. The semi-dry sepia shrubs outside the window, the unopening front door of abandon, the end of the hallway you only saw once. He stops. He deflates. He exhales, exposing the wear of him, then covers his eyes with his wrist. He stops like that.

You are watchful. You make yourself unseeable and now that he doesn't see you by how he continues walking downwards. You watch as he crouches his anaemic-looking body on the last step above the water, looking around in a glazed way, with clumsy attention. His eyes are shadowed by the downwards tilt of his head, so you set your gaze to the tight pull of his shoelaces and the triple knots of them. Slow enough to be soundless, you lift some more of your body out of the water.

''Psh,'' you say, and the boy stills. Stops breathing, until he leans his head forward, a little, squinting, and you think about a fish hook.

''Merman?'' he asks, stupid.

He looks a thought away from bolting, a distraction away. Haunted? you wonder. Fast as someone would be if they had something sharp snipping right by their neck. For a moment, you worry that Andrew has installed cameras, but he wouldn't.

''Are you with Andrew?'' you ask, and have him scrambling up – and it rolls a terrible terrible sense over you. A sense of Andrew's hyper-grin. A sense of his red-dripping hands. An unpunctuated question of things Andrew could do.

You don't want him to go. ''Wait, wait. Do you have an aspirin?''

He stops in something surprise-like. Continues looking undecided. He looks like a person who only trusts himself. Who wonders whether he himself is trustworthy.

''Black hair,'' you address him. It seems to stagger him further.

''I don't,'' he says, then clears his throat. ''I have needles. Some alcohol?''

''Alcohol is a very ineffective drug.'' Drugs know you, you know drugs. You say this to skirt the edge of things, because some basicity is growing inside of you. Psychotropics have always meant skirting things, for you. People have always only responded to the wrong ugly aspects of you using them, and they have responded in an ugly way, when they did.

''Is he the one keeping you here?'' the boy asks lowly, with horror. Andrew wouldn't. The boy probably doesn't know Andrew specifically. He is probably just wary. Trustless. He absently wipes a hand under his nose and looks at his hand as it comes away clean.

''No, no. He helps,'' you say, throat wound up in a familiar way.

The boy's gaze doesn't linger on the un-land-suited parts of you. What must you look like? Hiding in a vacated house, now un-vacated, now a whole new ecosystem. You dragging your body around it purposelessly in the manner of dethroned kings. In religious stories, evil is described along the image of decadent, scorching beauty, or ugliness, never ordinary. What are you? Stale, now; touch this – this; ah, pfh, in the hold of gloved hands. Are you ordinary. Can you be unordinary in a good way. Please. Suddenly, you feel the crash of some alien plea, fully, mouthfully in a way extraneous things can't be.

The boy stands up, scanning the basement around you, the misplaced wooden boards and pillars and the handles of some exercise equipment above the water level. The place you scavenge. The place where electronic devices make your eyes hurt. The boy shakes his head.

''Does Andrew—'' he starts, then reconsiders, ''did Andrew—'' stares at you wordlessly, before he glances over his shoulder and grips the strap of his bag with both hands.

''Are you in a hurry?'' you ask.

His eyes are a little wild when he turns back to you, and his nodding is shaky. ''He will be back, right. Andrew.''

The air isn't right. You twist your arms under the hunch of your shoulders. ''Are you really?'' you ask after a moment.

''I don't know how to tell the truth differently,'' he evades the question; you notice things like that. You stare. You stare. He sharpens under your gaze. His grip on the strap tightens. His eyes narrow when yours do, and his face is tightening up with something wild and exposed and almost breathless.

''Look, I'm just asking, okay?'' you roll the words out carefully. ''You don't have to, I won't— It's just me here, okay? But are you— are you—do you know Wes—''

''No. No. I'm. I'm Neil and I don't know anyone here,'' he says, then runs back up the stairs, and you think: fuck.

*

''What have you done,'' you accuse Andrew right as the door at the top of the staircase gapes wider, more late-afternoon orange light seeping in. You don’t know if you should tell him about Neil. Andrew halts and untenses with a controlled exhale before he even fully tenses. He turns his head before he turns his body, the slit-eyed mechanism of it.

You watch him pull down his large brown-knitted sweater from where it has creased at his waist. This is the softest you have seen him. In his mechanical way. He walks down.

''What do you mean,'' he asks blankly. You lift your eyebrows. You don't want to prompt his answer. You want to squeeze out his hiding space until he is forced to expose himself. Something tells you he has not been sufficiently challenged, lately, that he has been glaring his way through people's curiosity until they took their questions back.

''I will stay here now. I needed the foster address to get a job. I don't need it anymore.''

''You work?'' you ask, dumbfounded.

''Warehouse stock control. I'm getting machinery training. Forklift truck. Vroom vroom'' his tone mocks himself. He doesn't answer your question. He lifts his mug above his open mouth and nothing pours out, which he must have known before he lifted it and did it anyway.

''So what did you do,'' you ask. You imagine he squints his eyes, but he doesn't do anything, really, you just see the questioning of it.

''I left and now I'm moving here. What do you think I did? Oh thee who inquires with an accusatory tone.'' He sits down, then stands up enough to pull a pen from the pocket of his black jeans. ''What will you charge me with, officer?''

''Okay,'' you say carefully, raising your hands. ''Were they bad? Wherever you were staying.''

''Sure.'' He gives a not impressed look at your raised hands, then pulls a sudoku from this jacket pocket, and you think: how can this be the thing that bores you the least. He has this unasking about him: he doesn't wonder about your life, or about its past, or about its pastness. How you sometimes wanted to be one of the little beings that scuttle inelegantly, instead of a self, and how you now drag your body around in patterns. You still don't know to where he disappeared for two years, and he doesn't ask about the gelatinous ways in which life unfolded in that time. He doesn't bite into pasts. It's very uninviting.

''So why were they bad?'' you ask, then watch him build things inside of himself. Stories, lies, napkin-houses that fold the dirty sides inwards.

''They don't read social cues,'' he says, finally. You wonder how carefully crafted this answer is. But who are you to judge? You haven't told him about Neil.

''And I read things fine, for you?'' you ask.

Andrew's eyes trace the line of your shoulders. You turn a little, into something more invisible, and Andrew nods a little.

''You wear your body like it's soft,'' he says.

You feel a strike of something pulpy. You look down at your body, water surface wavering around it. The stricken feeling is illusionary; it reminds you: Andrew's curiosity is just selective. Just one of the on-off things he switches, like his energy and benevolence. It's selective in the way of not knowing things that are easy to know, like knowing to list your body organs, and on the other hand saying, you wear your body like it's soft.

''This doesn't work,'' you say. Twitching your head sideways to indicate the space of the basement.

''I know,'' he says after a moment, taut. I'm sorry, he doesn't say.

''I can't even move.''

''I know,'' he says. I'm sorry, he doesn't say.

*

Andrew should be sleeping upstairs when you hear a crash, some crashing, and then quiet. An accident, you imagine immediately, your mind attuned to likely narratives, bad things, extrasensory things.

''Andrew?'' you ask tentatively. It's something bad. It's always something bad. But then the quiet is broken with more crashing, scrambling, the noise of something desperate. The sound has moved down the hallway, where you can hear more clearly. Andrew is saying something through his teeth, softly, melodically, always teethfully. You hear a gasp.

''Neil?'' you say.

''Neil?'' Andrew pronounces carefully. He pushes the weight of something unwilling to the basement door. A hand in Neil's hair is pushing his hand backwards, harshly, and a knife glistens by his throat artery. Andrew isn’t grinning, but you can’t unsee him grinning.

''Why did you come back,'' you say to Neil, who is forced to look at the ceiling, one hand around each of Andrew's arms.

''Come back,'' Andrew repeats blankly, looking between you and Neil.

Neil uses both hands to push at the arm with the knife and suddenly knife is held by them both, away from their bodies and struggling for a swing, both breathing hard with faces sharp. You imagine red-dripping hands. You don't want the knife to swing. You don't want it fiercely.

You open your vocal cords in the right way and a shrill blooms from the resonating spaces in your cheekbones, outwards, hitting Andrew and Neil with the force of soundwalls breaking. It's piercing to your ears, too, and you know it doesn't even compare. You're the predator, then, and they are prey-like. Neil falls down the stairs. Andrew falls to his knees and elbows, hands closed around his ears.

Neil is staggering, touching his ears, spitting water away from his lips, wild. You offer a hand and he stares at it, then moves further back. He bumps into a pillar and startles, before walking around it to take another step back.

Andrew cracks his neck sideways, both sides, glaring at you, then slowly takes two steps down to pick up the knife.

''Neil came back, Aaron? Is there something you aren't telling me? Try not to lie.''

''What,'' Neil asks, then covers and uncovers his ears again, panicked, looking between Andrew and you. His hearing. It probably hurts. It's probably disorientating.

Andrew snaps his fingers three times. Neil doesn't respond. Andrew keeps snapping rhythmically; the more times he does it, the higher up the clog of eeriness in your throat climbs. Neil pushes his hair out of his face, breathing hard at his reflection. He's cupping his ears, shaking his head, shaking the ringing out, until he looks up at Andrew, and Andrew stops snapping and drops his arm.

''What?'' Neil asks again, quick, twitchy. Andrew tilts his head. Neil takes another step back. ''Who are you on the market? Are you resistance? Is this how you know?'' he looks at you.

''The market. Food?'' Andrew says, just as you ask, ''Criminal?'' Neil is talking about the criminal market. He is talking about prized items like you. You know from stories; you just hear big names, as a lesson for avoidance. There is nothing familiar about the way Neil looks. But his hauntedness; it might look like something familiar.

''Liars, liars,'' he Andrew smiles, syllable by syllable. ''You're staying, then,'' he says to Neil. ''You have overshot your runaway runway, huh? We have something to talk about. I see we'll be dining finely tonight. The plentiful company of the three of us.''

Andrew carries himself like a punchline, when he talks. It's annoying.

''He's patronising to everyone. Don't think you're special,'' you tell Neil.

Neil smoothes his hair back and wipes the water off his face. ''Who are you?'' he asks tautly. ''Resistance? Nobodies don't hide Others in abandoned houses.''

''Your turn to share, squid boy,'' Andrew says, both reappearing and coming down. Neil is in Andrew's clothes, dark and monochromatic. Andrew ceremoniously offers a metal fork to Neil, and then hands out a plastic one to you. You pull it out of his hand.

''We are not. You both. You both say these statements. As if you knew. Nobodies don't do this. Nobody knows anything for sure, okay? Tentativity can be enjoyable sometimes.''

''Pescatarian, anyone?'' Andrew asks, pleasantly. ''Come, Neil. You can't stay in wet clothes. We'll talk.''

They disappear upstairs. In the way of denouements, you feel a resolution unfolding. Or hoping for one, anyway. You press the feels of your palms over your eyes. They will probably talk about you, too. And then Neil will appear in Andrew's clothes, dark and monochromatic, and it will make you think of the cosiness of monochromatism, of how homewise it is. It will make you think of when your cousin was glancing at you with a frown and your aunt told her, leave him, he's just brooding, and the cousin still went to him, calling out Aaron Aaron Aaron.

They keep sneaking glances at each other. Neil's dark hair and Andrew's face so much like your own make you think back in time, back to the few days before the metal box and dismal circumstance. I like your hair, you signed to the girl the name of whom you had been trying not to think, drawn to things that are too dark to shine. She was lingering by the mosaic in front of the growth of your rock opening that you had deliberately let become overgrown, something one pushes through with spicy feeling. Thank you, she signed, I like your face. That sounded like a really bad comeback. I do like it, it's very symmetrical.

Neil and Andrew's eyes meet, and you think: you two assholes are too self-absorbed to not do this staring contest.

*

Andrew's phone rings. He turns to bore into Neil's eyes. He moves the phone away from his ear, and says: ''Nathaniel?''

And Neil panics.

In the way of narrative complications, the three of you end up in Andrew's warehouse car.

You are in the backseat, covered with two blankets, feeling yourself frown as you readjust your grip on the four two-litre water bottles you are hugging to your chest.

''This is clearly idiotic,'' you inform them, again, because apparently neither of them senses the threat of a looming climax. The so many things that will go wrong, because nobody has any sustainable plans.

Andrew is loosely gripping the wheel with faux laziness and Neil glances around full-bodily, alert, before returning to zooming in on google maps on a new phone he just had in his bag. He destroyed Andrew’s.

''This doesn't work,'' Andrew repeats your words so wholly blankly that it is no-doubt mockery.

''Not nearly the stupidest thing I've done,'' Neil mutters. Andrew flicks his eyes at Neil. You squint as you flick your eyes between them. Andrew is tapping his fingers on the wheel. Neil is hunching low in his seat, scowling at the screen. Andrew reaches over to Neil's side to pull sunglasses from the glove compartment, and Neil leans away to make space without looking from the screen.

''So you two are friends now?'' you ask, something strange and foreign tinting your tone. ''Or have you guys started—''

''He's a benefit,'' Andrew interrupts. The sunglasses render his thoughts further invisible. He is a thing of well-fitting black placed within American-spaced property and nothingness. He evades the friend part with his answer. Like so often, he is making himself into invisibility and insinuation.

''You smell like excitement,'' you tell him and watch as his face jumps a little.

''You can smell feelings now?'' He snatches the phone from Neil's hands, maximally zooming into the location that Neil has been inspecting for minutes. Neil keeps looking in the empty space of the phone, hands hanging around phone-shaped air, before he drops them and buckles his seat belt. And you think: theatrics on the road.

You shrug. You can still sense Neil's panic.

''You smell like wet,'' Andrew retorts, looking who knows where. Having learnt from exposure, you know Andrew looks down on things he feels, and you soak in them. Leave him, he's just—

''Just start the engine,'' Neil says.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099911/chapters/35012867