#but to change the interior would be to change the cover and the dash marks of all three and 23 year old me doesn’t have 20 year old me’s

[the-firebird69]

That's how you get over the slope issue. It's gonna be about three inches higher and it'll be at an angle but it does look cool and you can't tell it looks cooler almost than the real Porsche because it's angular the real Porsche is kind of flat like a jaguar. And then what you would end up doing is attaching the front bumper and fenders and wheel wells and so forth redoing the suspension and brakes just by replacing them it's all bolt up and he said he doesn't want to do that right away and we agree it just replaced the tires and rims and we give you the exact tire and rim with Where's the cat. And it works that way. And yeah there's some idiots in the neighborhood and there's steaming **** looking for trouble and they ran away when he went to the window. And they're playing in ****. Loss it is no big loss. We have several other changes and modifications that would take to become a Porsche 9/11. Once the panels are on and the hood in the trunk and yeah the hood would have to have an intake manifold it would look nice you need to repair the interior yes we would have an interior package new seats and new dashboard cover and it would have a place for a couple more instruments and you have to fish them in there it's not easy and a new care shifter and console all of that takes about four days to do in a professional shop it would take one day. Boy is it fun to do and it is a great experience changing the car into a high performance vehicle that can go very very fast. As we said the performance changes

.Volkswagen beetle hundred and thirty horse original SPECS

TOP SPEED 135MPH

0-60 4.6 SECONDS

QUARTER MILE 10 SECONDS

Volkswagon beetle original hp 130 after installing the full 911 standard kit

TOP SPEED 280MPH

0-60 3.5 seconds

Quarter mile 6.9 seconds

and the handling is superb. I will make the kit and start distributing it online. Can't seem to figure out where things come from anyways but this is going to be marked clearly as they want us to make stuff in the Midwest in the middle areas of mine in Germany. And it can be ordered from anywhere and it's lightweight the whole kit weighs about£800 and keep in mind that you are taking off about 1300 pounds and you're saving yourself £500 of excess weight from the interior seats and other that wait a lot to the panels which wait too much. You don't need any enclosure it has one in it the panels are reinforced it's not metal it does OK in an accident and it actually has a rating that is only one point lower than the metal. We might put framework on it to bring that up and we'll check but this is the lower price to kit. And he said to keep the suspension and some other things parts of the dash to make it easier and simpler and less expensive and not a nightmare. Not going to take your wiring apart at all you're adding two gages and the console you unscrew it and unscrew the handle and then you put on the new one and you screw the handle back on. Really easy. He likes it and wants to do it. She does too and will probably have to do it without him sort of and he gets a lot of Flack for it. the price of the kid

the price of the kit

Price The full kit as mentioned above it is the lower lower level 9/11 it does not include the suspension springs and shocks and control arms and so forth and the interior is the basic Porsche 9/11. Starting price would be $3200 and it includes the paint already applied to your panels and everything exposed it includes the rear panel system in the glass and the clues that you need to use it's glue and the clips and attachment hardware and their bolts and they stay on because they're locked tighted and it includes lock tight and it includes two extra gages and the dashboard cover the new seats in the whole interior to match every doodad and the gear shifter and case everything you need to do this upgrade and it is a very serious more or less a wide body kit meaning that the tires and rims will be much wider and high performance than your original tires and rooms that won't look like a beetle at all the ones that come with the beetle are about 6 1/2 inches wide and with the kid they're about nine inches wide front and rear and it is a huge difference and they do protrude out and there is a wheel well that extends out and you'll see a little line and that's it and inside on the other vehicle the the Volkswagen some of the Porsches used to have it and it's not a big deal you can take it to a body shop and they can blend it in it costs a lot of money and plastic to metal never works out too good we don't suggest it some people put a bead of**** the color of the car and actually we're gonna include that is finding the color is impossible and it will look like a brand new vehicle and we give you instructions on how to place it in there usually it's not done correctly but if you do it right you can't see there's a seam. And we use an adhesive so it stays in put and it's washable and it doesn't attract dirt. We're going ahead and we're gonna produce this kit very shortly

Black God and Goddess Zues side

Black God and Goddess Hera side and we both do it both pairs. and one is vw and one p orche and hahaha caought on ok and we were first nd ok lol we see it she is always after but ok.

Olympus

we had the cr up first and you two helped. he did it mostly and then too

Black goddess Hera side

good

Black God Hera Side

we rule now

Thor Freya

need it now

Olympus we put in orders to them to produce them now

[neioo]

...

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 7 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

One month later

The Hero Awards certainly did not disappoint the second time around.

Though you’d spent the last few months in the company of some of these heroes, you couldn’t help but linger on the sidelines as they stalked their way down the walkway, staring in awe. As before, they were decked out in their absolute best, glimmering in jewel toned dresses with daring cutouts, or carving dashing profiles in well-fitted suits. Reporters and fans swarmed the sides of the red carpet, roiling like a pot reaching an agitated boil.

Their excitement was so palpable it hung heavy in the air, absolutely contagious. Maybe it was the fact that you knew some of the heroes up for awards tonight personally, but the potential of the evening simmered under your skin, a soft but constant hum of frenetic energy.

Or maybe some of that was due to the fact that this year, you’d been able to convince your boss to shell out the extra cash for the full dinner option. No longer would you need to smuggle snacks into your dress--this evening, you were a solid professional.

Which was a good thing, really, as the dress in question was not altogether any more secure or supportive than your dress from last year. You’d tried to angle for a thicker fabric and a little more of a conservative design, but several people had aired opinions on your choices over the course of the last few weeks, and you’d ended up in a thin swathe of delicate fabric that was really quite pretty, if you did say so yourself, but would support a grand total of maybe two popcorn kernels.

“You’re looking awfully forlorn over here,” someone chirped by your ear.

You startled, whirling to find Mina behind you, looking rosy and radiant in a form-fitting dress only a few shades lighter than her skin tone. Tiny pearls and clusters of glittering pink diamonds were stitched carefully into the fabric, winking at you as she moved, as bright as the conspiratorial grin she wore. She looked absolutely fabulous--she was one of the people who’d bullied you into the snackless gown, and you could begrudgingly admit that the girl had taste.

“Is it because a certain hotheaded blonde isn’t here yet?” she asked, a pink eyebrow going up.

You flushed. “Mina--oh my god, no. Not everything is about him, you know.”

She idly inspected a nail, looking supremely unconvinced. “Someone should tell him that, then.”

You huffed a laugh. The last time you’d been at the Awards, you’d said as much to him yourself. But a year later, the message was still not exactly being received.

“I’m actually thinking about dinner. I’m literally starving,” you complained, trying to divert the subject.

Mina nodded sympathetically. “I have a six pack and I still had to suck in to fit into this shit.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled sympathetically. You weren’t proud of what it was going to be like when you were finally unleashed on that multi-course dinner, but god it was gonna be worth it.

Several shrieks went up in the crowd of fans behind you, and you looked over your shoulder in alarm. Your pulse relaxed slightly when you realized it was just another pro sauntering down the walkway, but then the lights flickered off ashy blonde locks, and your pulse jumped violently. You jerked in surprise.

Mina didn’t even try to suppress her snort as you turned around fully, eyes pulled like a magnet to Bakugou as he stalked down the red carpet. Even looking like he would rather be anywhere else, and moving briskly over the carpet like he was going in for a kill, he still looked better than he had any right to. The charcoal of his suit--stitched with deep ruby flowers so dark they were almost black--brought out the piercing scarlet of his eyes, and your heart leapt into your mouth when those eyes cut over to meet yours.

His expression didn’t change, and he kept moving, but you flushed all the way from your head to your toes at the intensity behind his look.

Mina made a disgusted noise. “You’re both like a dog with a bone.”

You glared at her accusingly. “We literally just looked at each other.”

She clicked her tongue. “Please, he all but just pissed on you to mark his territory.”

Before you could reply, she called out, catching sight of Kirishima, and seized you to drag you over to say hello.

You let Mina drag you around for the next half hour, making polite conversation with her high school friends, a couple of friends from other agencies, and one fashion journalist who Mina had converted into a weekly drinking buddy. Mina kept the conversation light and easy, and you enjoyed yourself for the most part, though you almost passed out when a very distinct head of green curls materialized over her shoulder and then Midoriya Izuku--better known as the number one hero Deku--was smiling at you eagerly.

Things got even weirder when he appeared to not only already know who you were, but knew a great deal about your work, enough to ask some very detailed questions about your training model software that was going into production a couple months from now. Mina had the gall to cut into the conversation to call you both huge nerds, though she’d directly benefited from the model herself.

The conversation was unfortunately cut short when a calloused hand flung itself in front of your face and a rough voice sounded from over your shoulder. “Stop sticking your nose in my fucking business, Deku.”

You whipped around to find Bakugou glaring over your head at his former classmate. His hand closed around your shoulder and dragged you closer to him.

“I was just asking about her model, Kacchan,” Midoriya said patiently. “It’ll be great to be able to compare my movements directly with some of the other heroes in almost real time! Ojirou’s been trying out some new fighting forms and I was thinking I should try to adapt them to work into my shoot style--”

“Just because you couch it in nerd shit doesn’t mean you’re not trying to spy on me, fuckstick,” Bakugou said. “Stop poking your nose into my relationship like the town fucking gossip.”

Midoriya flushed a little, looking slightly chastened when you turned back to him in question. He gave you an embarrassed little smile. “I did want to meet you for reasons other than your model. Kacchan’s been my friend since I was little, and I wondered what kind of person could interest him so much he wanted my perspective on your work--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou demanded, but he wasn’t fast enough.

You perked up in interest. “He asked you what?”

Bakugou bristled like a cat being dangled over a bath, but Midoriya was paying him no mind. “Right after the last Hero Awards, he’d done all this research and he asked me about whether your model results lined up with some of the personal analysis that I was doing--”

“Deku,” Bakugou’s fingers tightened on your arm, growing alarmingly warm. “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’m going to punch all of your teeth straight down your throat and into your stomach.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya protested, but he was interrupted by a call on the overhead for everyone to start taking their places in the theater interior for the awards to begin.

Bakugou used the distraction to pry you away from Midoriya. In the blink of an eye, he’d gotten you across the theater and was corralling you towards the Miruko agency tables, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon. You stifled a laugh. You’d wondered a couple months ago exactly how and when he’d figured out you were quirkless, and he’d once asked if you thought you were the only one who’d done their research.

If things were anything like you were starting to suspect, your demands that he do better at the Hero Awards had apparently aroused his interest in more ways than one.

You and Bakugou hadn’t exactly settled on formal terms for your relationship yet, and he still more often than not answered any of your interest with the assertion that you were the one with the crush on him. But this was more evidence--beyond the mysterious coffees that showed up at your workstation almost every morning--that your interest was more intensely reciprocated than he was willing to own up to.

By the time you’d settled at a table and been flanked by a grinning Mina and Kaminari, the awards were getting underway. They were thrilling to watch, something you’d had to miss out on last year when you needed to sneak out with a giant hole in the front of your dress. The heroes you’d worked with this year raked in an insane number of awards, and their elation was palpable, so thick you could almost taste it in the air. The pair of men with satyr horns were named the Best Rookie Duo, Miruko was awarded Takedown of the Year, and Kaminari clocked the Fastest Fight Win for a battle last month in which he’d rendered a villain with an aluminum quirk insensate only seconds into the fight.

A very unfortunate match up, you thought.

Mina nabbed an award for Fan Favorite, and in almost no time, it was the moment that you’d been nervously awaiting since nominations had gone out. You’d cheated, doing your own calculations behind everyone’s backs just to get a clearer picture of what his chances were, and you rather liked his odds, but there was always a chance it wouldn’t go how you thought. But this was the moment that Bakugou was up for Most Valuable Hero.

You barely heard any of the words the host was saying as he trotted out the names of the nominees, detailing some of their key accomplishments. He covered Bakugou's latest slew of assists and rescues, stats that made you feel kind of weirdly warm and proud, and then your ears strained for the syllables you’d hoped to hear.

And then:

“The winner is...our explosive number six, Ground Zero!”

It took everything in you not to leap out of your seat in joy, though something like a strangled squeal managed to escape you. Bakugou gave you an evaluating look as he got to his feet, stalking up on stage with his usual intensity.

As soon as he was up there, it struck you that allowing him time for an acceptance speech was maybe not a great idea. Graciousness was not exactly a strength of his.

“Obviously I’m the most valuable,” he growled into the mic. The stage lights glinted off his hair and teeth, making him look slightly more predatory than usual. “I didn’t need you fucks to tell me.”

A choking noise could be heard from Kirishima’s seat a couple tables over, and Mina put her head in her hands.

“What’s important is that I’m number six now and it only took me a month,” Bakugou’s head swiveled in the direction of Midoriya and you suppressed a groan. “Don’t get fucking comfortable. I’m gonna wipe the floor with every one of the top five, and next awards you’ll all be kissing my ass.”

He didn’t seem like he had much more he wanted to say, which was an incredible relief as both the host and nearby security looked about ready to wrestle him offstage.

He leapt neatly down from the stage, and when he made it back to the table, he didn’t take his seat again. Instead, he grabbed your arm, hauling you out of your seat, and then he was pulling you down the aisle and through the door to the reception area.

He pulled you past the snack table and you thought he was steering you towards the stairwell again, but at the last second he took a sudden turn, shoving you through a door into the women’s powder room. You didn’t even have enough time to formulate a question before he had you backed up against the wall, your shoulders hitting the cool stone at the same time his mouth hit yours.

His kiss was hot and demanding as always, and you lost yourself in it easily. He trailed a line of burning kisses down your neck and over your shoulder, making you shudder and shake when he lingered too long over any particular spot.

It was hard to think past the press of his body on yours, but you tried your best to formulate words.

“Katsuki--it’s--we’re in the women’s room,” you panted, embarrassed by the fact that even as you spoke, you were clutching him closer. “This is--what are you--? S-someone’s gonna come in.”

Bakugou broke apart from you just long enough to level a searching glance around the room and--spotting what he’d been looking for--hefting the trashcan in front of the door with a forceful kick to stop it shut.

“There, nerd. Now stop fucking complaining,” he rasped, immediately attaching his mouth back under your jaw. You shuddered.

“What the fuck has gotten into you,” you demanded, seizing a fistful of his blonde hair to pull him back from where he was leaving what felt like a very deep bruise over your collarbone.

He leveled you with a burning, red-eyed stare. “Like you don’t fucking know.”

You looked at him in question. “...I actually don’t.”

He tried to lean in again but you gripped his hair harder. “What? You can’t just keep throwing me up against walls, especially here. What is it with you and shoving me into weird places at the Hero Awards?”

Bakugou growled. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and let me do what I want, I’m gonna burn throught this dress too.”

You froze up, then glared at him accusingly. “I literally write the code that processes your rank. If you ever wanna come within sniffing distance of the top three, you won’t touch a single thread of this dress.”

The hands on you grew hot, but not hot enough to burn. Bakugou slid a calloused hand over the curve of your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“God, the fuckin’ attitude on you,” he said, almost reverently.

You felt your face warm under his scrutiny as he leaned closer. “You wanna know what's gotten into me? I wanted to melt that entire fucking thing off you last year. You were so fucking mouthy, such a little brat to me. Wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you right in the stairwell until you forgot you’d ever even heard of numbers.”

You shivered. Bakugou smirked, eyes darkening, leaning back in to bite under your jaw. You realized you’d lost your grip on him and willed your fingers to cooperate again.

“I fucking won that stupid award because I let you boss me around. I've waited an entire year. Now you’re gonna let me do whatever I want with you.”

Your legs went out from beneath you but Bakugou was already there, catching you under your thighs and hauling you up onto the countertop between the sinks. Your back brushed the mirror, glass cold under your shoulder blades.

“Y--you know, if you actually want to be number one, you can’t make speeches like you did,” you babbled nervously as he filled the space between your thighs. “Your public approval rating is part of your ranking, right? It’s weighted right below rescues…”

Bakugou paid you no mind, fingers already searching over your back to find the zipper to your dress. He yanked it down with little ceremony, seizing the front of your bodice to pull it off of you.

“I don’t need to be fucking nice if I’m the one saving the day,” he announced imperiously, leaning down to capture a nipple with his mouth.

Your hips jerked, and he pressed a hand to your thigh, holding you back down against the counter. Dimly, you registered that the words were familiar. “N--not--ah!--not this again.”

Bakugou didn’t deign to respond, instead doing something absolutely mind-bending with his tongue. You swore loudly, catching a fistful of his jacket. “Fuck, Katsuki!”

A hot palm slid up your thigh, gathering up the soft material of your skirt until he could slip a hand underneath. Calloused fingers trailed over your core with obvious intention. You inhaled sharply when he pressed them into you, leaning up to cover your mouth with his again.

Bakugou had you squirming wildly against him in barely a minute, snorting when you tried to get a hand on his zipper.

“Want me that bad, nerd?” he asked, pressing forehead to yours in an oddly tender move.

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna finish things myself,” you threatened, though Bakugou did not look at all as if he believed you.

He helped you get his zipper down, taking himself in hand, but he stopped just as he brushed your entrance, leaning forward to bite another kiss into your mouth.

“Now it’s time for you to make good on your end of the bet,” he growled, a smirk growing over his features. “You’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You stilled underneath him, disbelieving. “Are you--are you fucking serious.”

Bakugou pressed forward, just enough for you to feel the pressure of him on your clit. You fought down a noise like a whimper. Damn him.

“I jumped two ranks,” he said. “You’ll tell me I’m the best if you want me, nerd.”

“I am not gonna beg for you like this,” you announced, though it sounded a little more like a question than you had wanted it to.

Bakugou brushed his thumb over your clit again and little sparks danced over the corner of your vision. “Mmm, you’re gonna scream.”

You felt something like a tension snap inside you. Fuck it. He was so annoying but holy shit if he wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever encountered. If he needed his ego stroked, well it wasn’t nearly as much as you needed your own stroking.

You grit your teeth. “Ugh, fine--just--you’re the best, and you were right all along. Now will you please--”

You didn’t even get to finish before he was sinking into you, narrow hips fitting flush with your thighs. You swore at the feeling of fullness, and then he was moving, picking up into a frantic pace. He leaned forward, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow all the little noises you were making. It was mere minutes before you were shivering underneath him again, moving your hips to meet his, desperate for more, Katsuki, more.

“Ah fuck--so fucking good for me,” he grunted against your mouth, giving a particularly hard thrust, and that was all it took to unravel you.

You stifled a scream in the thick fabric of his jacket, arching up into him. He cursed and followed after you with a few more short thrusts, crushing you against the counter when he let his weight go slack.

You panted underneath him, catching your breath while your fingers slowly unclenched themselves from the hem of his suit jacket. Bakugou rubbed his face in the hollow of your shoulder, radiating smug satisfaction.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, nerd?” he rasped, biting down lightly where he’d left the hickey earlier.

You pulled back, looking into his face again. He looked far too pleased with himself, but he was so handsome like this, all messy hair and a kiss darkened mouth. Your irritation with him fizzled out a little.

He flashed you a predatory grin. “You said it yourself--I'm the fucking best.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop your hand from coming up and tangling in his hair. “Shut the fuck up.”

Bakugou, predictably, did not look as if he was going to shut the fuck up at all. So you took matters into your own hands, and leaned in and kissed him again.

[killerskillercaptain]

Peace of mind part 2 / 2

pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader

word count : 3,206 K

summary : you’re the captain of your own squad, and you have a habit to go spend some time alone in a cabin located near the young recruits quarters. One day, you found Levi there who didn’t mind your company.

themes : deep talks, rain, maybe new beginnings, feelings development (on your side at least), slight interest from Levi’s side if you squint hard enough, life choices, fears, insecurities.

warnings : tw astraphobia (extreme fear of thunder), mentions of death.

You can read part 1 / 2 here

“Oi, why are you leaving? Isn’t this the place you come to for some “peace of mind” ? “Yes, but you’re here now” you replied in a quiet yet steady voice. “And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked looking at you nonchalantly. His tone was sarcastic, his eyes pressed you for an answer.

«Looks like it’s going to rain »

When the captain let out these words, it wasn’t long before cold droplets started to spill one after the other, soon the cabin was draped in watery curtains, making you and the captain take a step back to avoid getting soaked.

If you wanted to get back to your quarters, it was already too late for that, as the rain intensified rather quickly, both of you have been a bit too slow to react. But then again, who could have anticipated such a heavy rain in this time of the year.

« Dammit, i think it’s best to wait. We’ll get soaked down to the bone if we walk under this downpour»

You let out a small « yes », both startled and worried by the sudden change in weather. You were rather...uncomfortable being trapped in here with Levi Ackerman even though your mind was running with reprehensible scenarios right now .

Let’s face it, you always had a thing for the man, even if your only interactions with him consisted in you admiring him quietly from afar and frankly, you’d imagined you’d be thrilled by the idea of being stuck alone with the captain, but you were in such a state of unease right now because of the weather that you couldn't really care about that right now, because generally, heavy rain also meant-

Your thoughts were cut abruptly by the mention of your name.

You actually heard your name ?

Levi was facing you, and had just called you by your name. Not in a million years would you have thought he has it registered in his mind. He said it again as to carefully confirm he was not mistaking.

« That’s your name right ? »

«Yes » you let out in a breath, a little confused.

As if he was reading your mind, taking notes of your interrogative expression, he answered your inner pondering.

« I asked your superiors for your name not long ago. You may have heard of the initiative by now, Erwin and i are in the process of creating a special squad that i’ll be leading. Details are still confidential, but i can tell you that i have been granted complete freedom in selecting the members. »

He paused before continuing, focusing on you.

« and you might be in it »

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe and your mind went blank with the new information. You did hear something of the sort, but you did not imagine Levi considering, well, you. You'd imagined you need more than just skills to impress him. You did give your heart and soul to the cause, you chose to be a soldier, you didn't get thrown into it, you also made the conscious effort to be better and more effective on the battlefield. And right now you, were having a hard time believing that your efforts were actually paying off. Levi’s devotion and dedication served as a fuel to your own, and here you were, both of you discussing the possibility of working under his direct orders. You felt your stomach flutter, it was impossible to tell if it was from fear, anticipation or anything else.

You ignored the feeling when Levi broke the silence again.

« I’ve seen your ranking and your score since you enrolled in the Survey Corps. A few years ago your skills weren’t the impressive kind, but with time you managed to outgrow yourself. Forty titans taken down solo and more than thirty taken down in team, now that's impressive, so i went and asked for your name. »

The thought of Levi walking up to your superiors and asking specifically to be given informations about you made you feel a certain type of way you couldn’t quite pinpoint at the moment. He must also have asked Keith Shadis you thought then. That man always held you in high regards, and you were grateful for it. You never caused trouble, you were discret but efficient, you started to convince yourself that you were indeed, worthy of Levi’s interest, additionally, he did like quiet and efficient people.

The cabin was getting extremely cold with each passing minute, and you were still stuck with no sign of the downpour stopping any soon.

You started shivering, you were both in uniforms, with only your military jackets to keep you warm, neither of you brought your cloak.

If he had his cloak with him, would he offer it to you to keep you warm ?

A bright dash of light appeared somewhere far away but close enough to brighten the interior of the cabin.

Lightning ?

Your heart started pounding voraciously in your chest, and you were afraid Levi was about to witness a side of you that you were afraid might change his mind about you. Not noticing your hands that already started trembling, anticipating what’s to come, you swallowed a thick lump, trying to ground yourself on the wooden structure.

Levi seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but brushed it off. You stayed quite the whole time, you didn’t say anything at the news he just handed you.

You tried to pin your attention on the captain and what he just said, you tried to compose an answer to give him, or maybe just keep a thread of conversation going, but when you opened your mouth, a blasting sound echoed all around, followed by menacing vibrations in the air. The start of a thunderstorm, the sound was as if the sky got torn in half and soon enough, a harsh light spilled through and painted the entire scenery white for a second.

Instinctively you pressed your eyes shut at the sound. When you opened them, you were one inch away from Levi, gripping at his clothes for dear life, as if you were afraid to drown in the harsh light.

As if you were afraid to die.

Your fingers digged so hard into Levi's shirt beneath his jacket that you were positive you were leaving marks on his skin. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly backed off, body still shaking and lips starting to quiver.

« I’m so sorry Capt- »

Another thunderous blow tore the sky a second time, and this time you ducked on the ground with your two hands covering your ears, your eyes closed so hard that little watery pearls started forming at their corners.

To you, it seemed like it was going on forever, and then, you heard Levi pronounce those words you hated to hear about yourself.

« You’re afraid of the thunder ? »

Yes, yes you were

As horribly embarrassing, childish and pathetic as it was, you were.

Since you were just a child, the sound of the sky tearing up was something that made you unreasonably vulnerable. But you couldn’t help it, such an irrational fear was beyond your control and you were fortunate that a thunder erupting during a storm wasn't a very common event inside the walls.

In the rare occasions where it did happen, you felt your mind losing its grip on your body.

You didn’t answer Levi, you couldn’t focus on him, you just kept the palm of your hands pressed flat on your ears to try and hear the least possible of what was going on outside. You knew nothing was going to happen to you, you knew your body shouldn’t be trembling in this way, but you couldn’t reach your mind in these moments and ask of it to calm down, and this is what scared you the most.

That’s it. You thought

The only thought that emerged in your mind for a moment was how pathetic of a side you were showing levi at this moment. Just after he confessed he was thinking about you joining forces with him in fighting for humanity, here you were, scared out of your skull, and out of your control by the big scary sound in the sky.

He’s probably gonna review his opinion of you.

He's probably reviewing his opinion of you right now.

He probably thinks your not fit to fight under his orders.

You kill titans by the dozen.

But here you were, scared of the weather

Sitting down, you had brought your knees up against your chest now, ears still covered, you moved your hands a little as the sound seemed to have ceased only to put them back on quickly as the sky screamed and shook again. You had opened your eyes just to close them again in terror. In terror how pathetic.

You didn’t here Levi shift or make a move until you felt the hem of his jacket poking at your forehead. For a second, the sound stopped and you opened your eyes to Levi who took off his military jacket and handed it to you.

« Here, put it over your head, it will muffle the sound »

Out of surprise, and still a bit shocked from your tourment, you mechanically took his jacket and covered your head with it, pressing the fabric over your ears as the sky screamed again. It was working, you felt as if you were underwater, you still heard everything, but it sounded so far that you felt somewhat safe, only then did you realize that Levi did what he did.

He didn’t threw an insult at you telling you to get your act together

Instead, he silently offered some comfort, acknowledging your fear,

Validating your fear.

The hellish concert went on for three minutes. Three long minutes during which the sky threw a tantrum with unrealistic vibrations rippling through the air, as a shrieking wind joined in the outburst.

A lot of things happened during those three minutes, Levi coming to sit next to you on the ground, waiting for the storm to pass, and you getting intoxicated by the scent of the inside of his jacket, Levi’s jacket. This is what Levi smells like. You thought.

You were glad your face was covered as you felt it flush. Sure there was a faint note of sweat, but hey, you were soldiers, and soldiers sweat. But you could also recognize different other scents all converging into something you found extremely pleasing, almost soothing to you; a bit musk and something that resembled a type argan oil, you inhaled in silence, taking it all in shamefully. The feeling of being almost afloat under his jacket, the storm seemingly far away, as if you were cut from reality, only being able to breathe Levi's scent, the thought of him soon consumed you, leaving you feeling light-headed.

It was the closest you had been to Levi, since all these years, working together from afar; since you saw him for the first time when he proved to be everything but someone coming from the underground, both in manners and values, since the time you used to watch him ruffle Isabel Magnolia’s hair and feel that ache in your heart that grew more and more hungry.

When you watched him giving the hardest time to the young recruits

When you watched how loyal he was to Erwin, always present by his side watching over their mentees.

When you watched him from a distance, putting his horses in their stables, and staying a little longer to care about them and give them small gestures of affection

When you watched him sitting alone, by himself sipping his tea, holding his cup in his strange little way.

When you watched him accidentally sleep in the stable, on a bench, on a chair, so many times, while hesitant-and scared- subordinates would shake him shyly to wake him up.

When you watched him, from this cabin.

You liked climbing up this cabin, it was quiet, calm, but mostly, you could watch Levi all day long without him even realizing it.

You liked the cabin because watching Levi from a distance was calming to you.

You liked this cabin because observing Levi put your mind at ease.

When you found him up here, you turned heels as quickly as your heart started thumping on your chest, ready to live right away. You knew, soon enough that it wasn’t mere admiration for a comrade, it was more than that. Observing him from this cabin, you realized you wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder and tell him to go rest, the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to touch him, to feel him. There was so many things you wanted to tell him. Thank you for doing so much, you’re killing yourself go have some rest, thank you for bearing the weight of shielding humanity against its terrors, thank you for devoting your life, please take better care of yourself, we need you, we love.

I love you

Just know you have someone who cares so much for you.

Who wants to be by your side.

So badly.

But never did you approach him enough to have this much of him. Sure, you had your exchange of words and your eyes met on more than one occasion, but it was all wrapped in formalities, it didn’t feel human enough.

This

This feels human,

Him handing you his jacket felt human

You crumbling in front of him in all your pathetic glory was also human.

Now all you could think about or feel was Levi, you chewed on your feelings while trying to imprint in your head the only thing you got from him, this memory.

You suddenly felt a forceful tug, his hand was trying to move the jacket, you released your grip as soon as you realized that he wanted to take it off of you. The thunder had stopped for good, there was no roaring, no blasting echoes anymore. Just the quiet sound of the rain now. You loosened up, stretching your legs in a timid relief, your body trying to adjust to the now foreign calmness.

The captain didn’t say a word, and you stayed quiet as well.

The rain was quietly softening and the air was seemingly less cold, you realized your body had stopped shivering at all.

« I’m so embarrassed you had to see me like this Captain» you confessed broking the silence.

« Don’t be. Every fear has its reasons, even irrational ones »

You really thought humanity’s strongest would be repulsed by such a sight, he required people to be always strong or so you thought, but come to think of it, he always acknowledged human unescapable states like fear, regrets and sorrow., especially when those were almost inevitable on a battlefield. You never seen him dismiss any of those emotions when he witnessed comrades and soldiers experiencing them, even outside off the field.

« Do you...have any fears Levi ? »

You called him by his name, your question had a personal undertone to it that it required you to, or so you thought. And you couldn’t believe you actually had the courage to ask the strongest soldier alive if he feared anything.

« Regrets »

You turned to look at him, he was looking down at his jacket, his white shirt slightly wet from the rain it caught, you felt a little guilty witnessing that. You didn’t have a clue what was on his mind right now, but saying that, Levi was thinking about all the soldiers he lost under his commands, his two only companions he lost because of the choices he made, everything he lost, everything he couldn’t get back and everything he have regretted but decided not to, because he feared that if he’d let those regrets slip into the crevices of his mind, he’d never recover from it.

« I think it has been fairly gossiped about, but i lost my two truest and most loyal companions, i let them choose for themselves even though i wasn’t confident with that decision, it ended up horribly, but it was also my choice. It was my first time outside these walls, and also the last time i saw them alive. I feared regretting all of it, i feared the disappointment with myself was going to swallow me whole, but someone...someone who refused to succumb to their demons taught me once how dangerous it is to surrender to regrets, they can make everything loose its meaning in a blink of an eye. I used to fear sleeping on an empty stomach, i used to fear that stealing and killing would be my only reason to live. Now i fear everyday for my soldiers life, but what i fear the most is the regrets i could have, if you let them overpower you, they can make you believe that everything amounts to nothing.

Putting his palms on the wooden wall behind him, Levi pushed himself up, putting his jacket on, arms sliding slowly into the sleeves you were protecting your ears with just minutes ago.

« That’s why i make the choice, every waking day, not to regret any of my actions »

« So you don’t see me as a weak person ? »

« You killed forty human-eating monsters all by yourself, i don’t call that weak. As long as there is no thunder while you’re killing them i think we’re good »

You chuckled a little, your face already a bit brighter.

« It already happened Captain, and i did just fine, seems like it doesn’t affect me when i’m concentrating on something bigger and more frightening »

He was already heading for the door, your eyes following the black and white wings on the back of his jacket, he stopped just before going down the stairs.

« I’ll see you tomorrow at Erwin’s office for some paperwork regarding your new responsibilities »

You watched his figure disappear like it from your view like it always does, even though you were just been announced you’re gonna be working while being even closer to the threat now, you never felt happier. Yes you will be closer to the danger, but you will also be closer to Levi, hoping you could watch over him and maybe just maybe protect him as a token of your love. Be it from your admiration or your strong feelings, you knew your devotion to him had no boundaries. He wasn’t only humanity’s strongest in spilling blood and cutting flesh, he was also humanity's strongest for having a heart equally as great as his strength, but the world had yet to give him credit for that.

Listening to the creaking of the stairs as he went down, you couldn't help but remember when you found him in the cabin, staring at the sky. “And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked

You aren’t ruining the view

You are the view »

[letshaikyuu]

𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚢𝚘 // 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝙸𝙸

⇀ 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 ↽ ⇀ 𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚢𝚘 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 ↽

𝚊/𝚗: I’m super grateful to be a part of this collab because this server is amazing and filled the most amazing people ever, and when this collab came to mind, I was so excited to see it grow and now we’re already on chapter III !

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: none;  𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚢𝚞𝚞 𝚡 𝚐𝚗!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷.𝟻𝚔

Despite spending a full day in whatever scenario you were in and experiencing yesterday, you look around your ‘room’, still confused as ever. Were you really in a game? A game, like the ones you play on your phone for shits and giggles? That kind of game? Well, shit. You look around your room. It really looked like your typical otome game room – a pastel colored wall with posters of unknown anime and idol groups plastered on it, a simple window with a tiny plant and curtains that could hardly keep out the vibrant sunshine invading your room. It was already morning.

ding!

Flinching at the sudden noise, you look around and see your cellphone, the screen bright and colorful, indicating a new message on it. Looking closely, you see not one, but several new notifications on it. But, what caught your eye first were the large letters above all of them – Day 2. What?

“Are my days numbered or something?” You ask yourself, evident anxiety and fear lacing your voice. What would happen if you didn’t fulfill the tasks needed or don’t end up in a relationship with anyone of the possible characters? You closed your eyes, trying to remember the outcome of otome games you had played prior to this one, but it’s as if that information was nonexistent and unreachable.

Your hands shake as you open the next notification: new character! Oikawa Tooru.

And there, on your screen, was the same boy from yesterday. You could never forget a face like this one; curly brown hair that seemed to effortlessly fall and shine, dark brown eyes that are glinting with slight mischievousness, but keep pulling you in and making it hard not to get flustered at the mere sight of it �� “was I this flustered when I stumbled upon him yesterday,” you ask yourself as you lay a hand on your heated cheek.

Clicking on his profile, you see a bar – a progress bar to be exact. Not even half full, but still shining brightly as it shows how much progress you’ve made with said character – 30%. Somewhere around the 80% mark there was a star and below the bar, an explanation:

‘Progress report! This page shows your progress with each met character. Your decisions affect your relationship with each character. Fill the bar to 80% and more to, ultimately end with said character! Remember – you cannot better one relationship without it having a bad effect on the other two!’

You sigh, throwing the phone on the bed and falling back onto it. Staring at the white ceiling above, you try to figure out why only Oikawa showed up. Wasn’t there a second person with him? Iwa-chan, ye, that was his name. Why isn’t he a potential love interest? Didn’t you interact with both of them enough to have a decent enough relationship with both and not just Oikawa? Yeah, game’s never let hot side characters be an option, and that has and always will suck.

ding!

Another notification? You think to yourself, grabbing the phone and seeing another new notification – but, this time, it was something completely new. Skip school or go to class?

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan and glare at the screen, but the choices remain the same. Was this what they meant with the bolded lettering in the progress report? Neither option was completely perfect. Maybe focusing solely on Oikawa and progressing your relationship with him only would make things easier, but maybe the game didn’t want that. And, who knows, maybe you’re making the right decision with your final choice: skip school.

It happened suddenly. Transporting from your room to a crowded street. Where were you?

Looking around, you notice numerous shops and restaurants lining up on your left, but there was a blinding light in front of a specific coffee shop. You figured no one else could see it because they simply passed right over it, without giving it a single glance – am I supposed to go there?

You try opening the door to the shop on your immediate left, only to find it completely jammed. Same with the next shop, and the one after that. What made it even more confusing was the fact that other people could normally enter them, unlike you. “Sorry,” you mumble out your nth apology of the minute, moving to let other people pass and enter the shop. Your feet slowly moved to the coffee shop, stepping into the shining, bright light; and, suddenly, the door opened in front of you.

The interior of the coffee shop was anything but special. It looked like your everyday coffee shop, with a handful of customers circling around or chit chatting at the tables and counters. Were you supposed to buy some coffee? Your thoughts were rudely interrupted by some steaming hot content that happened to find its way onto your clothing. Oh boy, did it burn.

“Oh shit!” Well, there’s the culprit. “Nice going Bakageyama! Look what you’ve done!” And, there’s another one.

You swallow the stream of curse words threatening to spill out of your mouth and look up at the person who spilled their coffee all over you. Oh, oh.

In front of you was a very, very, handsome looking teen (he looks younger than that Oikawa dude from yesterday, you note down) and despite the fact that he was the one at fault here, having spilled his coffee on you, he looked way more irritated than you. There was a deep scowl decorating his features that seemed very sharp as it is, but the glare and scowl somehow, weirdly, suited him. What caught your eyes were the piercing blue pair looking at your own. Hello, Bakageyama.

“I’m so sorry! No, wait!” It was only then that you noticed his friend beside him, a lot shorter than this guy, but with very vibrant hair. He bowed at first, apologizing for what his friend did and then, as if realizing the inconsistency, shot up and roughly pushed the other guy’s back into a bow. “Hey-““We’re really sorry for ruining your shirt!”

“Uhm..,” you mutter out, not knowing exactly how to respond. “It’s okay. I, uhm, I wasn’t looking where I was going either, so it’s kind of my fault as well.” You rub the back of your neck, face flushed as the two teens straightened. The sticky, wet feeling of cold coffee damping your shit and sticking your shirt to your skin was everything but pleasant, but you felt the inability to go back home and change. What do you need to do here?

“Oh, shi- Kageyama, we’re so late for morning practice!” The bright, orange-haired guy exclaimed – rather loudly, if you might say so yourself – and made a quick dash towards the entrance. “Hurry it up!” „Hold on, dumbass,” the taller of the duo, still holding onto his only third-full coffee cup, snapped back and sighed, eyes glancing downwards to your soaked front. He placed the dirty cup on the nearest table and started unzipping and taking of his jacket, face sporting a fiery red blush.

“W-what are you doing?” You stutter out, face flaming as well. The guy shoves the jacket in front of you, waiting for you to take it. “Just...take this.” His eyes were everywhere yours weren’t, dancing across the whole interior of the coffee shop. “I’m...this is for me spilling coffee all over you, so just take it.” Now, it really did feel like your typical ‘this or that’. Take the jacket or don’t take the jacket.

“T-Thank you,” you shyly say as you take the black jacket from him. He runs off shortly after, leaving behind something between a grunt and a ‘hello’, but you’ll take it. You put on the jacket that was clearly tailored for someone of his size and built, but it did the job perfectly. The jacket smelt divine as well, there was no denying that and it was warm due to being worn for a while by the guy. Wait a minute? What was his name?

And, just like that, the coffee shop felt irrelevant. You, thankfully, remembered the way back to your house – or was it just a room? You didn’t really notice – and made your way into the bedroom. And, once plopping onto the bed, you receive a few, new notifications on your phone.

‘new message from: Oikawa Tooru’

-    Where were you at school today? The teachers were pretty upset with me for not paying more attention to you...I don’t know what their problem is sent 10:34pm

-   I’m sorry...didn’t feel well sent 10:36pm

‘Progress report! Relationship with Oikawa Tooru: 30% > 20%’

‘new character! Kageyama Tobio’

‘Progress report! Relationship with Kageyama Tobio: 30%’

You couldn’t stop the small smile dancing on your lips as you look through Kageyama’s character profile; he looked cute even on screen. Maybe skipping school was worth it, you did meet your ‘second option’.

“Now, we just wait for the third,” you murmur out, abruptly feeling drained as you snuggle under the bed covers. It didn’t feel long when your phone chimed again:

Day 3.

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @kingkageyamathegreat​, @sayakaaaaaa​, @tobubekida-yo​ @chigigami​, @sugacookiies​, @macaronnv, @cadekagi​, @raichijin​

𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎! @haikyuu-but-low-iq​ <3

[justimajin]

A Lone Wolf’s Howl ☾ Part 7

⇾ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

⇾ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Action, Eventual Smut 

↳ Werewolf AU

⇾ Words: 5.2k 

⇾ Warnings: graphic descriptions of blood and violence

⇾ Summary: Jungkook and you have been like two peas in a pod for the majority of your lives; whether it was going through the ups of downs of the horrid teenage change, to transitioning to the racing world of attempting to be adults. Simply put, you’ve been inseparable and glued to each other’s sides longer than you can remember. But one fateful day seems to completely change everything you had faith in and you begin to wonder if there was ever a time where you and your best friend even knew each other’s true colors.

⇾ Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Night settles into the bedroom, your eyes tracing over the large window and seeing drops of water splatter occasionally against the fine glass. Thoughts are racing in your mind, pulling and tugging you forward and backward, sparking even the notion that perhaps if you hadn’t fallen into these string of events, perhaps if you had been more careful during the first night of your hunt – you wouldn’t be here at all. 

Would you ever consider joining us one day? 

Joining. Uniting. Crossing that fine line and standing in front of your sister's faces with a morphed form, the pure look of betrayal being plastered onto their features before contorting into utter resentment. Shunning out who you are, what you’ve always been until this point because of a careless mistake. 

Joining the one thing you know would cast away everything you had ever known. 

But what you can’t cast away, is the reality of it all. 

Rolling over to your side, your eyes drift over and then lock onto your hands, recalling how they would once emit bright protective bursts and conjugate steel for battle. 

Now they’re capable of transforming into a four-legged creature, the very creature that you’ve learned to eradicate. 

You sit upright in the bed with a sigh, sheets ruffled around you as you press a hand against the side of your temple. 

You’re a hybrid – a cross between a wolf and a slayer.

Does that mean you’re still a slayer? 

Or a wolf? 

Where do your loyalties even fall now? 

Letting out a low exhale, you glance back at the night sky and the moon has risen in the middle, the same moon casting a light hue on your eyes. 

The moon glows orange. 

It happens within a split second, causing you to blink your eyes and hurriedly rub at them to draw out some of the sleep. Glancing up again, the moon is still covered in its yellowish hue but after a moment, it sparks orange again. 

Planting your feet onto the ground, you take the blinds and push them back, unveiling a better view. A collection of them follows, more and more orange sparking into the sky right before the moon. Walking closer, the distinctive pattern they layout feels incredibly familiar to you when the palm of your hand lays flat against the glass. 

A sudden loud thud jolts you out of your thoughts, your daze snapping within an instant as you whip around with a sharp gasp. A heavy hand is placed over your heart however your shoulders sink back down when Jungkook appears at your door, concerned filled eyes latching onto you. 

“Are you okay?” He takes rushed steps towards you, hands instantly wrapping around your arms and evoking a flinch from you at the sudden forwardness. Ignoring his actions, his words confuse you and you simply nod in which a sigh of relief escapes him. 

“There’s been an attack…” His eyes dart away, drawing astray, “By Crimson.”

You blink, wondering to yourself if you had heard him correctly. Jungkook’s hands drop from your arms and his head lowers down, causing you to take a step back. Spinning around, your wide eyes frantically trace over every single orange flash – taking in everything you possibly could, “C-Crimson…?” 

Your eyes land onto the faded imprint on the window, marked by your own hand, “I have to go.”

Fear enters your eyes when Jungkook sounds like he’s made up his mind, being firm with his answer. He doesn’t expect anything, not even mere surprise or dwelling fear from you since you had clearly stated what your future intentions were going to be. However, it catches him off guard when you turn him with those very same expressions contorted on your features. 

He looks away again, “To fight.” 

“You… and the other wolves?” He nods but containing the small smile that surfaces on him isn’t something he can accomplish. 

“My family needs me.” 

You merely stare at him for a moment, frozen until suddenly arms are wrapping around you. You flinch – not imagining Jungkook would step forward just to hug you, but when he separates from you, it’s written all over his face. 

Goodbye. 

For now.

The door closes with a thud and all your eyes can do is watch his form fade before him, constantly wondering inside your mind as to why seeing him leave, seeing him leaving to fight the people you’ve chosen to stand by until the end of time felt like a nail was slowly driving into you. 

Orange continues to burst through the window, the glass reflecting the colour onto your uneasy hands. 

***

The wood creaks when it comes into contact with your foot, the wind outside seeping in through the walls like hushed echoes. It’s not until you make your way all the way down the various steps when you hear the loud boom, almost like a massive explosion had just gone off when you immediately jolt. The sound is accompanied by a string of thuds and grunts, all coming out hovered from the thin interior of the walls. 

Attempting to get a closer view as to what was going on, the small window above the door flashes a brighter orange. The sounds only intensify, a mixture of snarls and howls hitting against shines of bronze. 

You spot a blue wolf, working its way around the dirt before launching itself in front of a dark grey wolf and towards a black-clothed fighter who seems to be pouring all of her energy on fighting the grey wolf. The blue wolf is simply tossed to the side, evoking a flinch out of you when its form hits hard against the dirt and rolling over with a whine as the grey wolf is left defenceless once again. 

It spells out something very clearly for you – a continuous trend. 

Every time a howl is let out, it’s quickly silenced with a firm hit. 

Your field of vision distorts, attempting to direct your sight to somewhere else, but that’s when it lands on the sheer amount of red scattered across the floor and the accompanied bodies following it. They still move, but many of them have scarlet spilling out various parts – arms, legs, torso’s as they desperately crawl towards the mayhem you were just observing a couple of seconds ago. 

A hand raises over your mouth, concealing the unruly stench and hushing down the harsh breaths that are threatening to escape you. The scene itself is one that you have faced before, standing by your sisters and sharing a very common goal in mind – but viewing the same scene from the outskirts, viewing the same treacherous field with fresh eyes instead of engaged ones, has an unsettling feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach. 

A loud cry breaks you out of your thoughts, whipping around to see another door come slamming open and a blood-covered, exhausted Namjoon drag himself into the premises. His eyes are frantic, darting everywhere as he huffs in bringing the body on his side into the room. 

“Hoseok! I need you in here!” Your eyes widen when Namjoon’s tone comes out as scorched and hoarse, surprise arising at never hearing him speak in such a way. His searching eyes eventually land on you and you suck in a breath at the feral gold glowing inside his eyes. He places the body carefully down and takes long strides towards you, heavy steps coming in your direction. 

You wonder what you should say, what would even deem to be correct to say in such a situation, but before you even have the chance to muster up a string of words, Namjoon simply passes by you. Your heart sinks, already being able to feel every single drop of hostility radiating off of his form as he reaches to open the door you were peeking through. 

A person comes dashing in, tangled brown locks covered with clumps of dried blood and trails of sweat running down his face. He heaves in a breath, eyes exchanging a silent look with his Alpha who nods and then turns to return to the field. 

The door closes and Hoseok sprints to the table, warm hands cupping the cheeks of the fallen member before scattering around the room, desperately pulling drawer after drawer from a cupboard. Your eyes move from the man on the table to him and you walk over to his right, pulling out drawers yourself. 

Hoseok glances at you for a mere second and pauses, before his eyes drift over to what you were doing, and he resumes searching. Soon, an array of medical supplies have been pulled out – from long white dressings to healing medication. Hoseok gestures for you to place down the supplies and he takes out a pair of scissors, hurriedly cutting them up and then wrapping then around the man’s bloody leg.

“Why don’t you leave him here to be healed?” You ask, watching Hoseok hurriedly make a series of wraps, “You can hide him here where it’s safe and go back to fight.”

“Because we need him right now, as well as me.” Hoseok grunts, pulling tightly on the white cloth until there’s no blood flowing through and soaking it, “If I leave him, our numbers will keep dropping and no one will be on the sidelines.” 

“We’ll lose.” Hoseok sighs, sending you a remorseful smile that has your insides turning before he takes some water from a bowl and splashing it against the man’s face. “Hey, Taehyung. Come on, wake up.” 

Hoseok continues to shake the man until his eyes regain conscious and then hosts him up on the table to sit as he leans against him. He heaves out deep breathes, eyes scrunching up in pain and fisting Hoseok’s shirt but attempting to keep himself upright. His eyes slowly upward, making contact with yours as he gives you the same stiff smile Hoseok and it feels like a slap to the face. 

You don’t even have an estimate, heck you don’t think anyone actually even bothered to count how many wolves have been injured or hurt by your own clan. It simply never mattered, because the objective that was always upheld never changed. 

EXTERMINATE THEM. 

To see their numbers dwelling down, to see that you were making progress and riding the world of something horrible and dangerous, to see one of them struggling to be okay so he can survive enough to continue the fight. 

Your people did this. 

No. 

You did this. 

Before Taehyung has a chance to return, the room is suddenly filling up with multiple wolves, all carrying the same look of exhaustion and sensation of being on the verge of collapsing. Your eyes frantically move around, wondering why they were all choosing to come back when the flashes outside only seem to be growing intense by the minute. 

The door slams shut, a click sounding before a familiar wolf moves alongside his pack. Your eyes widen taking him in, tracing all over his feverish state and similar feral golden eyes, before he staggers onto the ground. 

You move forward, attempting to hold onto him before he meets the ground and he clings onto you, resting some of his weight. His eyes meet you and they appear to want to say something, but the lack of energy doesn’t allow him to. 

“We had to come back.” 

You turn your eyes away from Jungkook and notice Yoongi hovering over you, sharing the same look of exhaustion mixed in with something else. 

Yoongi down-casts his eyes, uttering the same words that cause a mortified expression to twist on your features, “Because we’ve been forced to retreat.” 

***

“The attacks have been coming from the south side, they’ve defiantly identified our weak spot and their numbers have also been increasing rapidly.” Yoongi states in a rushed tone, eyes locking onto his Alpha. 

Namjoon hums, seated down and folding his hands together on the table in front of him as his eyes roam around, scanning the room that’s now filled with wolves. Some appear absolutely drained on the ground, eyelids fluttering shut at the peak of exhaustion while others chose to stand but sway as they do. “We don’t seem to be holding up any better either.”

“Injuries have been sustained.” Yoongi briefly glances at Taehyung, before his eyes move him around the room similar to his superior, “But choosing to constantly fight won’t do much for us this time.”

Namjoon’s hands fall apart and his fists tighten, sharp canines tightening, “They’ve gotten stronger this time.” Letting his hands loosen with a sigh, he rubs at his sore eyes and a sombre look sparks within them that latches onto his resting members, “It won’t be too long until they finally make their way here.”

“What are they after?” 

Your voice cuts through the silence, evoking surprised looks from both Namjoon and Yoongi alongside a collection of curious ones from the remaining members. Shaking the puzzlement off, Namjoon rests a hand against his cheek and directs his golden eyes straight at you. “I think it should be obvious at this point – you.”

You gulp, a tingle of buzz running down your body and your throat running dry when the words escape you, “Then why don’t you just hand me over?” 

“No.” The person you had least expected to answer you decides to respond and you dart a quick intrigued look when Yoongi crosses his arms and looks away, “You’re one of us now and we never hand over any one of our kind.” 

Your mouth falls agape at his firm words, wondering what he was thinking in such a way, “There’s no point though. You’ll self-destruct if you don’t hand me over.”

“Then we’ll self-destruct until we explode. You haven’t been a wolf for long so you probably don’t know, but it doesn’t matter what’s thrown at you.” Yoongi’s voice turns hoarse, eyes flashing gold, “We always protect our kind.” 

Protect? 

Why…why would they want to protect you?

 “Y/N?” A familiar voice croaks, blocking the thoughts out when Jungkook reaches a hand out to get your attention. He’s slumped down on the ground next to you and winces when raising his arm causes too much pain to cascade through his body but persists, “You’re not hurt right?” 

You shake your head, “Why would I be hurt? Those are my people out there.”

A stiff smile is on his face, like he knew something that you didn’t. “You’re a wolf. Slayers hunt wolves.”

You furrow your brows, simply staring at him when he attempts to sit up, “Isn’t it slayers job to exterminate all wolves?” 

“But they wouldn’t though, I-“ You stop in your tracks, taking in what Jungkook was saying. 

Was there really anything stopping them from killing you? Killing another wolf?

“We need to come up with another plan.” Namjoon states, his voice commanding all eyes on him as he glances over to Yoongi, “We don’t have enough time.”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes tracing over the intricate designs of the floor when his mind can’t seem to formulate a decisive plan. “Our options are limited, and they won’t stop until they’ve infiltrated us.” 

Namjoon hums in agreement, placing a thoughtful finger on his chin. 

“Let me fight with you.” 

Both heads turn, wondering if the voice they heard was truly coming from your direction when you stare at them with determined silver eyes. 

“You want to fight with us?” Despite just stating you will, Yoongi can’t comprehend why this was something you were choosing to do. “Go against your own kind?” 

“I’ll have to face them one way or another…” Standing up from the spot on the ground next to Jungkook, your eyes stray over to Hoseok and Taehyung, who was still struggling to stand up. “…and I’m part wolf now, meaning I need to protect my own kind too.” 

The silence that greets you back tells you that Yoongi was expecting that type of answer from you and it was one answer you hadn’t been expecting from yourself quite frankly either. However, something that didn’t come within your training and had to come from yourself was your sense of protection and that wasn’t going to ever dwindle no matter what side you ended upon. 

“Well then,” Yoongi smiles smugly, “Looks like it’s time for you to get in on the action.” 

***

“This isn’t a good idea Y/N.” Jungkook slowly trails behind you as he occasionally winces, watching you hurriedly suit up your boots. 

“I have to go Jungkook, none of you are going to last out there like this.” You stomp your foot on the ground, glancing at him. “I’m a hybrid now so hopefully that can give us some kind of upper hand.” 

A hand lands on your arm and stops you in your tracks. You don’t expect the sincerity in Jungkook’s eyes nor the hushed tone he uses, “Would you really do this? For us?”

You pause, fumbling on any possible words you could respond with. Truthfully the reasoning behind it all is still foggy in your mind, however, there’s something inside you that’s telling you that you can’t just sit back and relax while they hurt themselves like this. Besides, you’re starting to think it was about time you faced those orange flashes in front of your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be going.” 

A third voice causes both you and Jungkook to turn to see Jimin standing against the doorway with crossed arms, “This is our fight, not yours.” 

Furrowing your brows, you notice that Jungkook turns stiff next to you, recoiling closer behind you until his entire form shrinks. Moving your eyes back to Jimin, you wonder why he decided to even intrude on your conversation, “I’m still going.” Stating the words, the dissatisfaction on Jimin’s and Jungkook’s faces is clear alike, but you leave the room and don’t look at either of them. 

Walking across the hall, you notice that Jungkook leaves the room as well, sending an indecipherable look at Jimin before trailing behind you. You wonder if you should ask him about it, especially from how noticeable his actions could be without him not knowing, but then your eyes catch onto the members standing together at the front gate. 

They’re all lined up together, looking considerably better than before. Namjoon is talking to Yoongi and Seokjin, appearing to be giving them a set of instructions while Hoseok stands behind them with an arm around Taehyung, carefully listening but not letting him slip through his hands. 

However, the moment you take a step forward, all eyes are suddenly glued to you. The looks range from distant and wary, and you know exactly why.

You were dressed in slayer clothing. 

When you draw closer to them, they still talk with one another, but you see their eyes drifting over to you occasionally, eyes growing colder by the minute. 

Walking closer to Taehyung and Hoseok, you notice how the latter’s face isn’t as pale as before and you turn to Hoseok, “Is he doing better?” 

Hoseok smiles at you, perhaps the only member aside from Jungkook and Taehyung to do so before he nods, “Not as great before the fight happened but he can pull through.” 

Your eyes move over to Taehyung, who gives you an exhausted smile paired alongside with his droopy eyes. A hand raises from your right side, Yoongi gesturing everyone to stay quiet but to start moving out. Everyone advances together but you decide to slide up ahead, staying closer to the front of the pack. 

Jungkook joins you much to your own surprise and whispers in a low tone, “Stay near me, okay?” 

You hum, but as soon as the doors open, you witness firsthand the havoc that was ensuring outside the base’s walls. Your features completely contort when you take in the sheer amount of blood splattered all over the ground, the loud cries echoing thought the field and the pent-up rage shimmering off on the opposite side. The sheer amount of slayers before you is intimidating to view as well – you had only ever seen beasts on the other line, but seeing slayers now gives you a different kind of chill. 

It’s horrifying to look at them like this, out for blood and to kill. 

“We don’t need to hurt them, just get them to stop moving closer to our base.” 

As if Jungkook already knew what was brewing up inside your mind, you turn to see him giving you a reassuring smile. You nod, taking a deep breath and relaxing down your shoulders. 

Clasping your hands together, a flash of white shines until you spread them apart and the golden sword comes blazing through. The werewolves near you morph into their wolf counterparts, bones cracking and fur emerging, loud snarls echoing through the field. Glancing over to your right, you see a range of colours, from Namjoon’s dark brown wolf in the front to a large black and salmon pink wolf right behind him and the red and shady blonde wolves that follow. They’re all in perfect formation, preparing to launch themselves straight forward when you turn your head even more to lock eyes with your best friend, who gives you a small smile before his entire form morphs. 

It happens within a flash, his hands turning into claws and ears poking out from the base of his head. Caramel-brown fur emerges all over his arms and legs before his hands go forward and he’s instantly transformed into a wolf and running with you on his paws. Your jaw drops – not knowing how incredible the ability was until seeing it with your own two eyes. 

Jungkook’s wolf halts before a group of slayers and you grip onto the hilt of your sword, a blaze of orange instantly surging out and engulfing it. Raising the sword, the gold clashing against bronze and you whip around, defending around yourself in a circle. 

You grit your teeth, attempting to hold them back as much as you can. Sending one slayer flying back with a brutal impact from your sword, she staggers, and you glance behind you, eyes latching onto Jungkook’s wolf who is holding back his own group of slayers. Your eyes dart over, watching the entire field immersed in battle, wolves and slayers distributed along the ground and far from the base. 

Taking in a deep breath, you whip the dripping sweat off from your forehead and bring forth your arm when a sword is raised against you. You see the slayers getting up from the ground, rushing to you and you continue to swing your sword and push them back. 

However, instead of ruthlessly swinging your sword around this time, you falter when your eyes take in the looks on the faces. 

They’re represented differently on each individual, but you can them clearly reflected. 

Confusion. 

You bite your lip back, noticing that behind each face that confronts you, there’s a vicious layer of puzzlement that resides in their attacks.

The worst part is when you can understand the anguish and resentment. 

How do you tell them that what you’re protecting is what you need to kill? 

Bitterly turning away from the matter, you continue to fight and watch as similar coloured flames collide with one another. Yet after going through more and more members, your strength dwindles and you find yourself heaving, looking around to notice that you weren’t the only one. 

They were overpowering everyone. 

You raise your sword, but it gets tossed to the side when your arm can barely reach up enough to defend. The slayers advance and you can sense every single drop of furious anger radiating off of them when they walk closer to you. 

Sweat drips down your temples and your hands are clammy, but you reach for your sword, knowing you can’t give up. 

Not when everyone will be defeated. 

Taking raspy gasps, you tighten your hold on the hilt and summoning as much energy you can into your fist. With a cry, you charge forward and pounce back harder this time, gold hitting against bronze. 

Silver blazes. 

You can only stare when the sword transitions from orange to silver, a soft grey that compares to the silver brewing in your eyes. Your opponent is also surprised, watching the now two different colours clash with each other. Although that reaction doesn’t remain for long when they pull back, soon charging at you as you sink back down into a defence position. 

A scream emits from her throat. 

It pierces your ears, tearing them apart when you glance at the now fallen slayer, her hand separated from the cascading heat her sword emits with her eyes sealed shut. You glance at her and then your sword, the silver faintly touching your hands but not giving you the same tear-jerking sensation. 

Your shaken eyes remain on your sword, too occupied to notice the sword slowly coming up behind you until it's reflected through the gold. Whipping around, silver meets orange again and the slayer has the same reaction. She drops her sword, staggering away from you in pain. 

One by one, they fall before you. You don’t understand why, but when you look around yourself and notice the numbers moving father and father from the base, you decide not to question it. Soon you’re left standing with slayers on the ground, each experiencing the same excruciating pain your sword had given them. 

Leaving your fighting spot, you head towards where the other wolves are. A blur of blue flashes by you, soaring on its paws at the same speed as you and you briefly turn to glance at it, noticing that the shade seemed familiar to you. 

The wolf speeds up before throwing itself directly at a slayer in front of you, knocking her down onto the ground as the wolf rushes to pounce onto another one. It continues to do this, moving from slayer to slayer until they’ve all been eliminated from your path. 

It’s strange and becomes even more peculiar when the blue wolf sticks to you, a satisfied look on its face every time it gets the opportunity to jump forward. Snatching your eyes away from it, they instantly widen when you notice the sheer number of wolves transcending over in a distance, all covered with streaks of blood gaping out from freshly cut wounds as they get demolished within a sea of black. 

The speed in your legs accelerates, sword sparking up in a bright silver when it comes into contact with a sword similar to your own. You grit your teeth, holding onto the sword until your knuckles turn pale and the silver only intensifies. 

Before you even know it, the slayer lets out a piercing scream, dropped her sword into the dirt on the ground as if the very touch burns her. Surrounding slayers gaze at their fallen comrade with confusion before they hurl themselves towards you and the same happens to them, only with greater intensity as you summon as much power as you can. 

The rest have contorted expressions on their faces, as if they were fighting against something they weren’t prepared for and hurriedly retreat. You huff out a breath, the silver glow around your sword dimming down when you turn around to face a line of wolves simply staring at you. Just like the slayers weren’t prepared for you to launch such a havoc attack, the wolves are similar in being frozen in a state of shock from the sudden wave of flashing silver that was rapidly wiping away the large volume of slayer numbers. 

A content smile is on your lips, almost tasting victory when the slayers continue to scatter away as their numbers are significantly reduced. You glance back at the line of wolves, looking to them with triumphant eyes that are only met with grateful ones. 

That’s when a loud ear-splitting growl echoes through the grounds and you spin around, only to hear it fade down into a distant human scream that sends a cascade of shivers down your spine when you can recognize who exactly the voice belonged to. 

“JUNGKOOK!” Your voice comes out harsh as your legs are instantly sprinted forward when you catch sight of your best friend on the ground, lying in a pool of blood collecting around him as he recoils into himself. Your boots skid against the dirt when they come to a halt and you instantly sink to your knees, eyes flickering everywhere and reaching out to hold onto him as your sword slips out of your hands. 

His entire face is covered in a layer of sweat, and he harshly clenches his mouth. You glance down at his side, noticing that his hand was glued to his lower abdomen and the material of his shirt was soaking up the majority of the bloody residue. That’s when his eyes begin to flutter, slowly shutting when he succumbs down. 

“J-Jungkook…?” You don’t even realize you’re crying until harsh tears roll down your cheeks and stain his shirt. Reaching a shaky hand, you place it against his cheek, hoping that he’ll give you some type of reaction.

Slowly opening up his lids, Jungkook sucks in a heavy breath and raises his bloody hand. You lean closer to him, only to notice that was trying to point behind you as desperation leaks into his eyes. 

Your eyes immediately widened, and you whip around, unsheathing your sword from the ground and raising it high. The base of your sword is left only being a mere inch away from your nose when it comes into contact with bronze, a hooded shadow figure leaning over you. 

Gritting your teeth, you push against them with your sword and lift it, silver blazing as you’re ready to unleash havoc on the figure. 

But that’s when they lower their sword, bringing it down as your own is still held up. Confusion sparks within you when they retract their opposing hand, bringing it over to their hood and slowly dragging it down. 

From the dark silver eyes to the gray strands of hair and a dark smile, every inch that’s revealed to you only has you sinking back and has your heart rate spiking up. It violently thuds against your chest and a sickening sensation twists within your stomach when a recognizable face stands before you.

Your voice only serves to come out as a faint whisper as your sword lowers. 

“M-Mother?”

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] A Dash of Insight

Title: A Dash of Insight Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Close to Home series, Somewhere Around Episode 62 Characters: Caleb Widogast/Caduceus Clay Rating: K+ Description: In which an exchange of favors leads Caleb to come to a sudden epiphany about Caduceus Clay. For @claylebweek

Xhorhas was not home. It could not be home. Then again, Caleb Widogast did not have a home, did he? Because Caleb Widogast did not, technically, exist. Bren Ermendrud thought of the Zemni Fields as home, but Bren no longer existed either, so why not could Caleb Widogast make Xhorhas his home?

He was a human in a foreign land, a land which did not like humans. Could he make this his home? No, no. The Empire, it was still home. Rotten to the core as it was, he could fix that. He knew he could. He just needed more. Time. Knowledge. Opportunity. All of it. For now, Xhorhas would do. It would help. There were answers here. Access. The Shadowhand, Essek, he could teach Caleb many things. He could be used. This was good. This was very good. He’d made the right choice. Caleb fully believed that. As he wandered through the room he’d picked for his own, a combination library and research room, he had to believe he’d made the right choice. He hadn’t abandoned Bren or the Empire. He hadn’t abandoned the idea of home. He was still working toward that end. This was a step on the path. This was-- His door opened with a quiet creak. Caleb looked up from the bookshelf just as Caduceus poked his head inside, scanning the interior before finding Caleb with ease. He offered a smile and slipped within, bringing with him the calm he seemed to radiate. “This is a nice room,” he said, looking around, ears twitching as he surveyed with that outstanding and unusual perception of his. “You’ve really made it your own, Mr. Caleb.” “Just like you made the tower yours with that tree, eh?” Caleb replied, drawing all the tendrils of himself inward, until he was Caleb again, because Caleb he knew best. "Xhorhas might not be home, but that doesn't mean we can't make it one, since we might be here a while," Caduceus said with his usual infinite wisdom which somehow seemed to mirror and then echo some of Caleb’s earlier thoughts. That was when Caleb noticed the book, tucked under Caduceus' arm. He didn't immediately recognize the spine as it wasn't the one they read during their lessons. "I suppose you are right," Caleb said. "There's no reason we can't be comfortable while we decide our next move. I think we could all use a little bit of downtime." Caduceus nodded, his gaze lingering on the books Caleb had already collected and the paraphernalia he'd found. With time, he might have a genuine library. It was a nice thought. "You know, I always found that the kinds of things that make a home are the people living in it," Caduceus said, and he offered Caleb a smile, gesturing with the book in his hand. "Sharing meals, you know." Caleb tilted his head. "Uh, ja. That is true. We are a family, and this is our home." Caduceus lifted the book so Caleb could see the cover, and now the title. It was a cookbook, though it seemed to be Nicodranian based. "I thought, since you're so patient to teach me a few things, I might return the favor. Want to help with dinner?" "You are asking me to... cook with you?" Caleb asked, uncertain if he'd heard correctly, but not sure there was any other way to interpret the offer. "If you want. You said you weren't very good at it, and I wasn't very good at reading before you helped me, so it seemed like the thing to offer," Caduceus said, and he tucked the book back under his arm. Caleb blinked. "I mean, if you're busy, that's fine," Caduceus added. "I... sure. I mean, no. No, I'm not busy." He should be busy. Caleb had many more important things to do than spend time in the kitchen, soaking up Caduceus' gentle energy, and learning how to cook. He glanced at his books, at the papers littering his desk and the ink beside it, waiting for him to get to work. He thought about the definition of home and family, and how one could easily change their identities. "What did you have in mind?" Caleb asked. He swept off his overcoat, hung it on the back of his chair, and followed Caduceus out of the room. "Well, Jester gave me this cookbook a while back, and we haven't really been anywhere I could make use of it until now," Caduceus said as they headed toward the kitchen, the distant noise of Yasha and Beau sparring in the training room catching Caleb's brief attention. Nott -- or Veth -- was occupied with Yeza, and Caleb did not fault her that. He had no idea what Fjord and Jester were up to. Shopping, last he checked in, he thought. Jester had taken to the idea of furnishing their new home with utter glee, and had easily coaxed Fjord into being an extra pair of arms and eyes to help her. "Sounds good," Caleb said. The kitchen was warm and bright from numerous torches as though Caduceus wanted desperately to make it feel like the sun shone through the windows. It smelled of herbs and spices, and it radiated welcome and comfort, as if it had already absorbed whatever aura Caduceus emitted, so it could reflect that calm back into the world. Caduceus handed Caleb the book. "Why don't you pick something for us to make?" he suggested as he plucked an apron off the wall -- the very same one he'd used on the Balleater -- and tied it around his waist. Caleb set the cookbook on the counter and paged through it, looking for something of interest. He almost skimmed too quickly, and had to backtrack, when something caught his eye. "What about the spatzle," he suggested as fond memories choked at the back of his throat, and he had to take a moment. "It has a mushroom sauce. Or would that be too difficult?" "Hmm." Caduceus leaned over him, peering at the page. He was warm against Caleb's back, and he smelled like he'd been digging in his rooftop garden. "Oh. We could do this. Sure." Caduceus reached around him and picked up the book, placing it in a nearby stand to make it easier to see. Caleb's back felt a little colder. Which was ridiculous. So he shook himself and focused on rolling his sleeves to his elbows. He should probably wash his hands. He'd been organizing his components earlier, and there was phosphorus under his fingernails. "It's not too much?" Caleb asked. "It's perfect, Mr. Caleb. It'll be warm and filling, easy enough for beginners, and I think everyone will like it." Caduceus smiled at him as he pulled his own hair up into a messy bun at the top of his head. "Good choice." "What should I do then?" Caleb moved to the basin and washed his hands, making sure to scrub under his fingernails like his mother had taught him. Cookware clattered as Caduceus produced pots and cutting boards and utensils from all corners of the kitchen. He'd made himself at home here as much as Caleb had made the research room his. "I like to start with gathering all of the ingredients l need," Caduceus said as he started to arrange the cookware. "I've got the equipment if you want to get the rest." "Sure. I can do that." It was easy and companionable, how they moved around each other. Caleb read the ingredients off the recipe and gathered them with no trouble -- Caduceus had taken the time to label their various containers and barrels. The instructions were clear, but easier to understand as Caduceus explained the importance of mixing items separately, managing the heat of the cooking fire, and letting Caleb do as much of the work himself as possible. It reminded him of home. Of hanging on his mother's apronstrings as they baked together, or sitting on his father's knee as they plucked and cleaned a chicken. He did not view Caduceus as a parent, of course not, but the firbolg gave off such an aura of peace, it was hard not to associate the two things, his past and his present colliding and giving him a fierce ache of nostalgia and longing. "It takes patience," Caduceus rumbled as he instructed Caleb on dropping the dough into the pot of bubbling water, small strip by small strip. "But I don't think you have a problem with that." "I am a very patient man," Caleb said, and scraped another inch of the batter into the bubbling water. His skin tingled when Caduceus squeezed him on the shoulder before going back to stirring the mushroom sauce to go over the noodles, the rich liquid wafting a delicious, familiar odor. Caleb’s heart ached a little more. "You would have liked Corin," Caduceus said as he focused on stirring, everything about him radiating comfort and ease. "They are a thinker, too. Always thinking. It could be hard to get them out of their head sometimes." "Maybe one day we'll meet them." "It is a big world, Mr. Caleb. But if the Wildmother means for us to meet, we will," Caduceus said, and there was enough conviction in his voice to make Caleb a little envious. He had not been lying when he told Yussa he had faith in nothing save their little group. Caleb did not trust in a higher power. He did not trust those of higher station or those who declared themselves leaders of any kind. He'd had that kind of faith burned out of him. But he believed in people. Specifically, these seven people (because Mollymauk was dead, he was not gone, and Caleb refused to discount the mark Mollymauk had left on his life). "Family is... is a good thing," Caleb said quietly. He worked his jaw. "My mother, she could not cook very well, but this... this was a bit of her specialty. I never did learn her secret." "Was?" Caduceus echoed, one ear tilting toward him. Caleb swallowed over a lump in his throat. No, this was too painful. It was enough to let himself pick the recipe. No more, no less. "Ja. She is dead. She and my father." He pulled in a heavy breath and lifted his chin toward the counter. "Will you hand me that? I need to scoop these out." It made for a wonderful change of topic. They went back to managing their meal, Caleb studiously forming the noodle clumps while Caduceus finished off the sauce and ensured each boiled noodle was nice and browned in the skillet. They dished a very small portion off to the side for tasting, and Caleb first took a cautious sniff. It smelled edible, very much like what his mother used to make, and when he gave it a tentative lick, the flavor spilled across his tongue, savory and familiar. The dumplings were perfect; the sauce even better. It wasn't exactly his mother's spatzle, but it was close enough. Caduceus, meanwhile, had simply plopped the entire bite into his mouth. His eyebrows crawled upward as he considered before he burst into a large, pleased grin. "This is delicious," he said. "Your mother would be proud." Caleb's heart flipflopped in his chest. Warmth spread all throughout his body. Oh. Oh, no. "I... thank you, Mr. Clay," Caleb said, and hoped his voice didn't stutter, hoped wiping off his hands hid the subtle tremble in his fingers. His ears burned; his face did, too. And Caduceus was far too perceptive not to notice. Damn him. "It's only because I had such a good teacher," Caleb said, struggling to keep his voice even as the epiphany washed over him. Caduceus chuckled and gently bumped Caleb with a shoulder, though it was more his elbow given their height difference. "I'm returning the favor. I have a good teacher in you, too." "I-I suppose," Caleb said, his mouth abruptly dry, and his heart thudding so fast he felt it pulsing in his ears. "I should go get everyone for dinner, ja?" He backed away, untucking the towel from his shoulder to toss it onto the counter. "I think I can hear Beau's stomach growling from here." "Good idea. I'll go ahead and dish this up," Caduceus said. And Caleb? Caleb fled. No, no, no. This was not good. He paused in the hallway to catch his breath, his face afire, his fingers trembling. Heat throbbed through his body in a steady wave, threatening to overfill him with affection. He closed his eyes and drew in slow, steadying breaths, trying to will away the emotion bubbling up inside him. When had it started? He didn't know. It had come upon him gradually, like the slow creep of ivy over an old, abandoned house. It was pretty and decorative at first, until one realized it was too deeply rooted to remove. It nestled into every crack, every seam, and eventually, it might do untold damage, but for now, it was a pretty thing. A pretty thing Caleb knew better than to cultivate. "You fool," he muttered to himself. "You utter fool." This was no time to be falling for anyone, much less anyone in the Mighty Nein, and even lesser, someone as good as Caduceus Clay.

***

Comments and reblogs and squee in the tags are absolutely welcome, if you feel so inclined. Thank you! 

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: Origin

Mark stared at the note he had left for Bob and Wade on his pillow. It wasn’t much. Just an apology and an explanation of where he was going. Staring at it, though… he felt anger building inside him. He grabbed it and tore it up, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

If they wanted to know where he was then they could ask.

He glanced outside his dorm room, making sure no one else was out past curfew. He then stepped outside, carrying all his personal items and a small assortment of rations in a bag on his back. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to get him back home.

As he quickly walked towards the docks, thoughts raced through Mark’s mind. This was what was best, right? With his grades dropping and the scholarship being pulled, there was no way he could keep going to the Academy.

You could always work hard and get your grades back up, something inside him whispered, but Mark pushed the thought aside. He was sick and tired of being the one who was good at everything. The pressure to live up to others’ expectations for him felt smothering.

If was being completely honest with himself, he had stopped putting effort into them ages ago. His grades had been going downhill for months, and his perfect attendance score had become… well… a lot less perfect.

It wasn’t that Mark hated being here. He loved flying. It was just… all these people expecting him to be something he wasn’t. Expecting him to stay at the top, all while plodding through each day doing things he hated.

It was just wrong.

Mark needed something different.

The docks were silent when he arrived, and the only security guard on detail was fast asleep. Mark slipped inside the pod nearest to the exit.

He turned on his vessel, the engine purring silently. He’d always hated these things. The controls were awkward and allowed for little actual pilot control. The fuel was inefficient, the steering relied to much on auto, and they always smelled like sweat.

Luckily, that meant the GAAP wouldn’t miss one if it happened to go missing.

.

.

.

“Log Date I-don’t-remember-how-to-do-this-part-three: There’s a planet in sight. I’m hoping I can land there before this piece of trash runs out of fuel. Hopefully there’s civilization that has transports headed back home. Um, yeah. Signing out.”

Mark leaned back in his seat, cringing as his stomach rumbled. He should have packed more rations. It had been three days since he’d left the Academy, and rations were low. He only had a few nutrition bars left, and his water was down to a few gulps.  

The dashboard beeped, yet again reminding Mark that he was running low on fuel.

Mark closed his eyes tight. At this point, he’d be happy if he crashed.

.

.

.

Mark was not happy when he crashed.

It had happened so fast. One moment he was entering the planet’s atmosphere, the next alarms were blaring and flames were streaming out of the left engine. He braced for impact… and then something hit his head and everything went dark.

When he finally woke up, red lights were flashing from the dash, and his ears were ringing. Something sticky trickled down his forehead, and shoulder was on fire. Pain was pulsing up from Mark’s arm. Everything felt numb and far away, but the longer he sat there, the sharper it became. The sharper it became, the more Mark wanted to go back to sleep.

He groaned, looking down at his arm. It twisted in a position it definitely was not supposed to be in. Gingerly pushing the sleeve up, swearing every time it touched his skin, he looked it over.

It could be worse. No bone sticking through the skin. Just bruising and the awkward angle. It was broken, that much he could tell. Basic medical classes back at the Academy told him to put it into a splint, since there there was no bone visible.

His shoulder on the other hand…

Every time he moved was pure agony. It was dislocated. That was something he was going to have to fix before he could move. Mark had never done this before, but it couldn’t be that bad… right?

Mark positioned himself against the dash, holding his shoulder with his good hand. One big breath in and… he pushed.

It snapped back into place.

Mark screamed.

.

.

.

He had landed on Talbos Prime. Facts from classes floated through his pain-delirious brain. Dominant species: Nuxoin, an omnivorous species. Main export: lumber and other natural resources. The entire planet was forest and a few freshwater seas. If he weren’t in so much pain, Mark might have actually appreciated the scenery surrounding him.

Mark had managed to get himself bandaged up, propping his arm with a splint kit. It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing. Looking over his injuries, he was glad for once that his dad was alien.

Blood already soaked the bandages on his leg, and the ones on his head were going to need to be replaced soon. It was obvious the crash would have likely killed him had he been completely human. Having a slightly thicker skull than normal humans, with the ability to replenish blood faster, was coming in handy in this sucky situation.

It still sucked.

With the medical kit intact, he’d be able to keep himself alive until the ship was fixed. The ship was definitely fixable, but he would have to get to work soon if he wanted it to fly again. Talbos Prime didn’t have many populated towns, and the closest was over a day’s travel away. He wouldn’t make it.

Mark readjusted the splint on his broken arm and set to work.

As much as Mark hated these scrappy ships, they held their shape pretty well. He wouldn’t need to fix much, but what he did need to fix was time consuming. Hours passed as he worked. The first sun set and the second rose. A few of the local wildlife gathered to watch him at one point. When Mark was focused, though, he was focused.

The ship was already looking in better condition as the final sun disappeared below the horizon. Sealant held the tears in the wings together and covered the multiple cracks that littered the surface of the front window. The burnt engine parts had been replaced, and the fuel was slowly refilling. Thank god for GAAP adaptability fuels. As long as the planet had some form of fuel in the atmosphere, he could slowly refill.

Mark sat inside the ship now, struggling to screw a panel back in. The screwdriver fumbled in his hand, dropping below the dash.

“Fuck! Where’d you go now?” He cursed the tool as he bent over and peered below himself.

He reached for it, but in doing so pulled his injured arm. He gasped in pain, recoiled back and holding himself. Once it faded, he stared at the screwdriver with hatred. It was like it was mocking him. Too weak to grab a stupid tool. Too useless.

“I’m not weak,” Mark growled at it.

He lowered himself down gently, wincing through the pain. He took the tool and finished screwing in the panel.

“Not too bad, Mark,” he said, smiling at the interior of his ship. Only two more flashing lights to stop, and then he’d be homeward bound again. “Mark Fischbach: Pilot, mechanic, and genius.”

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.

.

“Fischbach?” the flight instructor called, sounding incredibly bored.

A young Mark stepped forward, looking confident and eager. The instructor sighed and opened the top of the small ship. The model looked and functioned similar to most GAAP standard single person vehicles, but was unable to reach half the altitude of the real things. Mark jumped inside with ease.

“Just a few laps,” the instructor ordered, glancing at his clipboard, “and then land here. Remember, this is the real test. You will be scored on your take-off, speed, control, and, finally, landing. This test is the true determinant to see if you make it into the GAAP Academy. Do your best, and good luck out there, future pilot of the Galactic Assembly of Allied Planets.”

Mark grinned, giving his friends a thumbs up as the top closed over him.

It was easy. The test flew by in a blur of whoops and speed. Mark had been flying since he could reach the controls. This was nothing. As he approached landing, he felt tempted to show off. Just a little wouldn’t hurt… right?

He increased the speed.

Just before it became to late, Mark pulled up on the controls. The ship groaned under the sudden change, but it obeyed him. Gently, he set the ship down in front of his classmates. He hopped out with a grin.

The instructor looked furious.

“Fischbach!” They stomped towards him. “That was reckless and dangerous! Your flying was beyond GAAP regulations. I am surprised you made it past the entrance exams.”

Mark clenched his fists, “I’m the best pilot in my class, sir. My stats prove that.”

“Not when you fly like that,” They scorned. “Report to your commander.”

Mark turned and stalked away, anger clawing in his gut. He was a great pilot. He knew what he was doing.

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.

.

Mark ruffled his hair and let it fall evenly over the bandages wrapped around his forehead. He was sitting outside of the ship, popping berries into his mouth as he waited for the fuel to fill back up. He figured out before he left that these ones were safe, and harvested enough to fill a small container he’d found on the ship. “Berries blue; good for you,” he hummed through a mouthful of the sweet treat.

The ship beeped and blinked to life, only slightly more jittery than it had been at the Academy.

“There you go, you piece of junk,” Mark sighed, getting to his feet to pat the nose of the ship. “Now we can go home.”

The ship rumbled as he took off, but Mark wasn’t about to complain about the ship now. It was certainly better than staying on Talbos Prime and paying off a Velm to not steal his last tank of fuel.

See you never again, Talbos Prime, Mark thought as the forest planet faded into the space behind him. From now on, it was smooth sailing to Ventos Beta.

Two days

It was going to take him two days to get back.

Once the adrenaline of crashing, frantically trying to fix his ship, and getting off that planet had faded his body finally caught up with how badly he was actually damaged. He was quickly running out of bandages, and black spots were beginning to dance in his vision.

He looked back down to his arm. He couldn’t quite tell if he set the splint correctly, but at this point a poorly set arm was the least of his worries.

“Log date... uh... I don’t even know: I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m slowly dying, which I probably am.” Mark took a deep breath in, trying to not fall asleep then and there. “If I don’t put in another log tomorrow, I just wanna let anyone who’s listening to know that I’m sorry. Sorry, mom. Signing off.”

He missed the off button several times before he finally hit it, bits of blackness taking up more and more of his vision. Leaning heavily into the chair, Mark ran his good hand through his bloodstained hair, realizing he needed to change the bandages again.

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.

.

“Log date, i-it doesn’t matter,” Mark’s words were labored and his words often slurred together. “Ventos Beta...I can see it, I don’t know if I’m gonna make it in time,” He paused, taking a shuddering breath and putting a hand on his chest. The heartbeats themselves were rapid, yet they became progressively softer and less pounding than they were in the beginning. “I-I’m still sorry.”

Mark didn’t even bother to say signing off, or even stop the recording.

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.

.

“Why don’t you go meet our new neighbor?” Mark’s mother suggested.

Her son sank lower into the couch. His lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“I heard they have a son in your year.”

Mark let out a long sigh, and changed the channel on the projected screen again.

“It’ll be good for you.”

He gave his mom a glance. She was staring back at him with a look that said “You are going take these cookies and you are going to like it.”

Fine.

Mark took the cookies, trotting over to the door of his new neighbor’s house. He rang the doorbell and tapped his foot impatiently. If they didn’t answer in the next fifteen seconds he was going to-

Before Mark could finish his thought, the door swung open. A teenage Graeldur boy stared down at Mark, a single rocky eyebrow raised in confusion.

Suddenly feeling very awkward, Mark held out the plate of cookies. “My mom wanted me to bring these over as a housewarming gift,” he said.

“Uh… thank you,” the Graeldur said, taking the plate. “My name’s Tyler.”

“I’m Mark.”  

They stared at each, the awkward moment stretching out much longer than Mark liked it. Tyler finally looked down at the cookies, back behind him, and then back at Mark.

“My parents aren’t home. Do you want to eat all of these with me?”

Mark grinned, “Sure.”

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.

.

Mark had never felt lonelier than he did now. Sitting in the pilot seat, watching the planet grow closer and closer, he felt like everything was collapsing in on him. He wanted his mom… oh god, his mom was going to be so mad at him. He could already hear his mom scolding him for being so reckless. He did completely deserve it, but that didn’t stop him from dreading it.

A sensor on the dashboard beeped at him, telling Mark that he was ready to make contact.

The autopilot on the GAAP ships might be one of Mark’s least favorite things, but now that he could barely use his limbs he was grateful. The ship lowered itself into an open field, gently setting down and then powering off.

Mark just had to use whatever bit of strength he had left to hobble over to Tyler’s place. Just get to Tyler’s house. That was all that mattered.

The sky was dark when he left. Each footstep echoed back in Mark’s brain and made the simple act of walking unbearable. By the time he made it to Tyler’s front door, he could feel consciousness slowly slipping away from his grasp.

Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Mark was able to give two, hard knocks. The few agonizing minutes it took for Tyler to answer made Mark want to let his muscles relax and slump down to the floor. In fact… he let himself slump farther down the frame. Oh, this was worse.

The handle jiggled a bit until the door opened with a far too loud creak. Mark managed to look up, meeting his friends eyes.

“Oh my god…” Tyler’s eyes went wide as he took in the state his friend was in, almost forgetting to breathe.

Mark pushed what little trace of a smile he could onto his face, “Hey Tyler.”

The world went black and numb.

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.

.

Mark was back in the ship. Something beeped periodically, but no matter how much he searched the cockpit, he couldn’t find the source of the sound. His movements felt sluggish, like he was moving through a pool of jelly. The colors were either too bright or too muted. Perspective zoomed and faded. Everything felt like it was tipping over. Was he tipping over?

“...days now…”

Mark’s head swiveled towards the sound. Tyler? When had he gotten in the ship? He was on Ventos Prime.

“... didn’t tell you anything?”

Mark’s head turned to the other side of the cabin. Mom? She certainly wouldn’t be on the ship. She- she hated flying. Why would… why would she be here?

Mark’s mind felt as slow as his movements. Exhausted, he let himself lean back in his seat. The beeping grew louder.

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.

Everything hurt. Especially his arm. He groaned in pain and tried to sit up, but as soon as he did, what felt like several pairs of arms pushed him back down, and choruses of “Please, relax,” “Don’t strain yourself, Mr. Fischbach,” and “You’re gonna be okay.”

Mark blinked his eyes open, flinching back against the bright hospital lights. God, he hated hospitals.

As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the figures of his mother, Tyler, two nurses, and a doctor standing at the sides of his bed, all staring at him. He had a few IVs attached to his left arm, and his right arm was completely bound in a translucent fluorescent green cast. Little nanobots moved around his broken arm, going into it to fix the bone. Something was wrapped around his head, but he couldn’t tell what.

Despite the results of the previous attempts results, Mark tried to sit up again. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice hoarse and nervous. “Where am I?”

The nurses gently pushed him back down again.

“His head was injured badly,” the doctor said, ignoring Mark and turning to his mother and Tyler. “He might be a little out of sorts for a couple of days. We’ll have to keep him here for a while, until then…”

Everything faded to black as the nurse turned up the IV drip.

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.

.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Tyler said, following Mark carefully down the side of the canyon.

“We’ll be fine,” Mark insisted, nearly losing his footing again. “Trust me.”

Tyler didn’t, but that wasn’t going to stop him from making sure Mark didn’t injure himself. Again.

They were walking through the cliffs where everyone was specifically told not to go. The rocky trails had led to many accidents, and were regarded as dangerous. Mark had never cared about danger, taking chances that often made Tyler feel more like the responsible adult friend.

Tyler’s heart might have stopped for a second as Mark started speeding down the trail.

“What can be so exciting that you’d risk dying and going against your mom’s instructions not to go down here under any circumstance?” Tyler asked, trying his best to keep pace with his speedy friend. It was no use. Mark was already far ahead of him.

“You’ll see!” Mark called from the bottom of the canyon. “Now hurry up!”

Tyler sighed and picked up his pace, jumping the last piece and landing next to Mark. “Okay, show me, so we can get out of here without getting in trouble.”

Mark grinned and grabbed Tyler’s wrist, pulling him behind him and through a crack in the canyon wall. The pair was plunged into darkness, and Tyler was glad Mark seemed to know where he was going. Suddenly, it was bright again.

Mark spun around and spread his arms wide, “Ta-da!”

Tyler gaped in awe, looking around the small cavern that had been invisible a moment before. A small pond sat at the center, and a crack in the ceiling let a beam of light illuminate the area. A few cliff birds chirped from their nests in the walls. Soft moss covered everything.

“I thought it could be our secret hideout,” Mark said, tossing his shoes and socks off and sticking his feet in the pond. It was so clear is was almost like glass. The ripples moved across the surface, making the pond moss wave.

Tyler followed suit, and the two let their feet drag in the shallow water.

“I like the sound of that,” Tyler said, his usually stoic face splitting into a wide grin.

Mark grinned back.

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.

.

Tyler sat in the chair in Mark’s hospital room, watching his friend with eyes full of worry. Mark had woken up several times, still mostly dazed and panicked. With the nanobots working to fix his body - including his brain - he was having horrible nightmares. Mostly he just whimpered, but sometimes he called out for Tyler… for him mom… for anyone. It hurt Tyler seeing his friend so… so afraid.

He knew Mark was reckless, but this was something else. What could have possibly caused Mark to so suddenly just abandon the Academy? He’d worked so hard to get in, and from their correspondences, Tyler knew Mark was a promising student with high grades and a near perfect attendance.

Tyler snapped to attention as Mark stirred in his bed. When Mark didn’t move again, he leaned back again.

When Mark had shown up at Tyler’s door just a few days ago, Tyler hadn’t known what to think. He hadn’t even had time to think between rushing Mark to the hospital, calling his mother, and talking to what felt like twenty different nurses and doctors. Now that things had slowed down… Tyler was just trying to make sense of it all.

Mark had always told him everything that was bothering him. He should have known something was wrong when Mark stopped messaging him as often two months ago. He should have called, checked on his friend, made sure everything was really alright.

Can’t change any of that now, he thought, letting his eyes drift closed. What’s happened has happened. For now, he just had to make sure Mark recovered. Talking could come later.

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.

.

Tyler watched from a distance as Mark’s mother yelled at him in that way only mothers could. Mark nodded along, apologizing and promising to “never do something so reckless again.”

Maybe it was just Mark still being tired, but he didn’t seem that focused on what his mother was saying. It felt more like Mark was focused on something else. He knew that stubborn look in Mark’s eye, and he’d known Mark long enough to know that was never a good thing. But maybe he was just imagining things.

Tyler really wanted to be imagining things.

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.

.

“Mark, it’s nothing,” Tyler said anxiously, having to pick up his pace to keep up with his friend. “Really, I’m fine.”

Mark didn’t stop.  “It’s not ‘fine.’ I’m not going to sit back while these idiots treat you like nothing because of me.”

Tyler felt himself come to a stop as Mark marched on. There was that fiery determination in his eyes. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing, especially anyone who would even try and hurt someone Mark cared for.

Tyler was far enough away that he only caught a few words. The one’s he did hear, he hated.

“You’re nothing, half-breed,” one of them snapped.

“Tyler would be better off with us than with a filthy grett like you,” the other added, spitting on Mark’s face.

Tyler flinched when one of the boys pushed Mark backwards. Mark said something that made the boys faces twist with anger. Mark managed to dodge the first few punches, but they were bigger than him. It wasn’t long before they had punched him out. Tyler starting running towards them the moment Mark got punched, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop them from giving him a few kicks to the stomach.

They sneered at Tyler before running off.

Tyler grabbed Mark, throwing him over his shoulder and rushing him back to his house.  

A few days later, Tyler was allowed to see Mark again in the hospital. Bandages were wrapped around Mark’s chest, and his arm was held delicately in a sling.

“I really showed them, eh?” Mark asked, laughing.

Tyler started to chuckle too before he noticed Mark buckle in pain.

“Broken ribs,” Mark said, smiling tensely at Tyler. “The nanobots are still working at fixing them.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days,” Tyler shook his head, half-teasing. The other half seriously worried that Mark would one day get himself killed.

“No, I won’t,” Mark responded. “You won’t let me.”

Mark never explained why he dropped out, and Tyler didn’t push. After Mark got out of the hospital, he had to stay home for a week to recover fully. Tyler took it upon himself to make sure that Mark actually recovered and didn’t go try and steal another ship.

Spending so much time with Mark, he saw the difference.

He knew low grades and a pulled scholarship weren’t the real reasons Mark had stolen a ship and almost died just to get back to Ventos Beta.

Usually he was a joking, amicable, jovial person, but when Tyler was talking to him, Mark felt more reserved. Like he wasn’t really there. Once or twice, he even snapped at Tyler before immediately apologizing and laughing it off as “just tired” or “cabin fever.”

Tyler knew something was wrong, and it wasn’t whatever Mark was blaming it on.

As soon as Mark could leave, he did. Tyler felt like a lost dog, trailing uselessly behind him. He wasn’t usually so focused, and Tyler began to be even more worried when Mark’s trail led down to the docks.

“It just feels good to see real ships again,” Mark said when Tyler asked him why they were there. “They hardly let us get near the big ones back there.”

That was another thing. Mark never said ‘The Academy’ anymore. Always just ‘them’ and ‘back there’ and ‘my dorm,’ and never with any fondness. In all the years Tyler had known Mark, he’d never heard him refer to something with such contempt.

“Bad memories,” Mark said, smiling reassuringly. “It’s in the past now.”

The only thing stronger than his anger at the Academy, it seemed, was Mark’s anger at himself. Every time a headache made him have to slow down, or his arm started hurting again, Tyler noticed him become frustrated and seething.

“I’m fine,” he’d insist stiffly, avoiding eye contact with Tyler.

“Just tell me what’s wrong,” Tyler said finally. “I want to help.”

But Mark only brushed him off and walked down to the docks again. It wasn’t like Mark to bottle things up, and Tyler was half convinced his head injury had done something more than make him delirious for a few days.

Eventually though, Tyler had to go back to work, and he couldn’t keep a constant watchful eye on Mark. While he trusted Mark’s mother, he knew she wouldn’t be willing to follow her son all over the city every day until he finally returned home late in the evening.

When he was able to visit though, Tyler spent his time with Mark trying to pry more information out of him without pressing his friend too much. It felt like he was interrogating a rock.

.

.

.

The day Mark got his cast off, he was out of the house almost as soon as they got back from the hospital. Tyler started to follow, but Mark turned and stopped him.

“I’ll be back later,” Mark said, but something in his voice told Tyler otherwise. He wasn’t meeting Tyler’s eyes.

A few minutes after Mark left, Tyler followed. He knew where Mark had gone.

The docks were filled with people. Traders, scavengers, GAAP agents, and regular citizens. Finally, after almost half an hour of searching, he spotted Mark. He was talking to someone. Handing that someone a card. Shaking hands. Stepping onto a ship.

Tyler ran forward, shoving his way through the crowd, “MARK!”

He saw Mark freeze and start to turn towards Tyler before stopping himself. Mark didn’t want to look back.

Tyler’s hand caught the door just before it finished sliding shut, and he forced it back open. Once he slipped inside, it slid shut behind him and beeped cheerfully. He took a step forward, and alarms suddenly started blaring around him, lights flashing red.

Mark appeared just as suddenly at the end of the hallway, his face going from confused to upset.

“I told you not to follow,” Mark said, pressing a button and turning off the alarms. “This isn’t… this isn’t smart.”

“I wasn’t going to let you run off and get yourself hurt again,” Tyler replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Who made you the protector of me?” Mark snarked, folding his arms and standing his ground.

“Me,” Tyler said. “Because I care about you, and you’re not thinking clearly.”

Mark heaved a sigh and leaned up against the wall of the ship. “Sure. Okay.”

“You have to talk about this eventually,” Tyler said, taking another step forward. Mark stared him down, but he was wavering. “I need to know what’s going on. What’s wrong?”

Mark looked back at his friend, steely determination melting into frustration.

“I couldn’t stay there any more,” Mark began, looking down at his feet. “There was always this pressure to be the best, and for I long time, I think everyone thought I was. The best at flying, at least. Even if I got in trouble for my methods all the time.”

Tyler knew that. Mark had often called him, upset that the instructors didn’t let him fly how he knew how to fly.

Mark continued, his knuckles white and his jaw tight. “It got suffocating. My teachers didn’t push me. They either gave up or thought I knew everything so why bother. Everyone looked up to me as this perfect student who could do no wrong, and I hated it. I felt like I had to live up to their expectations for me, and if I failed, they’d hate me. I didn’t want those expectations. I just wanted to blend in, not be forced into the spotlight.”

Mark gripped his arm tight, digging his fingers into the fabric of his sleeve. “So I stopped trying. I stopped doing my homework. I skipped class. I cheated on tests I already knew the answers to or just didn’t complete them at all. I let my grades drop. I could have picked them back up any time, and everyone would have just put me back on the pedestal I had jumped off of. When— The day they sent me a notice, saying they were going to pull my scholarship, I started packing right away. I hid the letter from Bob and Wade, and kept my plan a secret from them both. Once I had everything planned out, I ran away. I stole one of the student ships that they use for short flights around the school and left. I crashed on Talbos Prime a couple days later. That’s when I—”

Mark glanced down at his recently healed right arm. “Yeah. I did my best to keep myself alive while I fixed the ship, but I think my anger at crashing kept me alive better than any bandages or medicine. Once I got off of Talbos Prime, I flew back here, and, well, you know the rest of the story.”

There was a moment of silence between them as the story sunk in. Then Tyler closed the space between them. He pulled Mark into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of Mark’s arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, pulling away. “We could have talked about this, or at least found a better way for you to leave the Academy than running away on a stolen ship.”

Mark shrugged. “I needed to do this on my own,” he said. “I had to make a decision for myself instead of just letting myself drift through life without a purpose. I couldn’t stay here either. If I stay here… I stay stagnant. I become a farmer or I just… ugh, Tyler there is nothing here for me!”

He met Tyler’s eyes with fury. “As much as I love Ventos Beta, my life isn’t going to go anywhere here. It’s out there! Out among the stars!” Mark’s eyes lit up as he spoke, passion building. “I want to see new worlds! I want to meet strange species, make new friends, learn new things! I can’t do that here, or at the Academy. I need to do this, Tyler. You have to understand.”

Tyler shook his head, and Mark’s face fell.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever understand you,” he began, “but I’m not going to stay on Ventos Beta and let you go out there and probably die.”

Mark’s excitement began to return. “Wait, really? You want to come with me?”

“Someone has to watch your back,” Tyler chuckled.

Alright,” Mark said, already beaming. “I guess this is our ship then?”

Tyler allowed a smirk to crawl onto his face. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

[lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr]

An Angel’s Sacrifice

My first Jimin fic!

Guardian Angel!Jimin

2K

angsty

kind of odd, if I’m honest but worth the read

Warnings: mentions of blood and death

The cold, silent air seems to press down around me. Suffocating me. The light breeze carries a few stray leaves, dragging them across the empty streets. I don’t expect to see many people. It’s nearly midnight after all. Yet, as I walk the back streets toward home, I find it unsettling just how quiet it is. Even the dogs along my route are silent tonight.

A full moon shines brightly above me, lighting my path. A few stray clouds drift past, but they’re not even worth noticing. They do nothing to obscure the light.

My feet quicken their pace. A chill runs down my spine but I doubt it’s from the chill of the evening. I feel as if I’m being watched, though there’s no one else around. Even the homeless man who spends his nights on the bench alongside the walking path, isn’t there.

As I round the corner, home only being a block ahead, something catches my eye. To the left, down the stretch of road that ends at a field, is a house I’ve never noticed before. I stop, staring at it. I walk these streets every day. How have I never seen it? My feet move without my consent, leading me toward the unknown building.

Standing before it now, I have to marvel at its beauty. Grand french doors sit in the center of an elegant porch. I count fifteen windows simply on the front of the mansion. Some are domed with a balcony of their own, while others are taller than I am.

I gape at the magnificence of it. Though the mansion is beautiful, it’s clearly been forgotten for many years. The beautiful white walls are chipped and fading to a dull yellow. A few of the windows are broken and it appears as though someone has carved markings into the wooden doors.

I’m so sure that I have never seen it before, and yet something calls out to me. Moving me forward in a trance. The place feels familiar. Like a memory I can’t quite place.

As I ascend the broken stairs toward the doors, I become frighteningly aware of the silence. Even the wind has stopped blowing. The only sound is that of my own jagged breathing and racing heartbeat.

I swallow hard as I reach for the door handle. I’m not sure why I’m about to enter. If I were in my right mind, I would turn and run, putting as much distance between myself and the mansion as I could. However, something’s telling me it’s alright. I can enter.

No.

I need to enter.

Swallowing hard, I pull the door open and a blast of wind barrels into me. I’m prepared for the scent of mold and must that comes with old buildings. What I’m met with instead has me confused. The air is scented sweet. A scent I can’t identify but one that is so very familiar.

I close my eyes and breathe in deep. The sweet scent takes over my senses and for a moment, I believe I can hear someone singing. The voice of an angel. A voice so familiar, it draws me inside and the door swings closed behind me.

The singing stops as soon as I open my eyes. The interior of the mansion is bare. Cobwebs are the only decorations. A thick layer of dust covers every surface, yet it does nothing to mask the beauty of the elegant foyer.

Laughter sounds from the room to my left. The dining room. I’m not sure how I know, but I’m sure of it. I can’t figure out why I’m still there, yet I allow my feet to carry me through the foyer and into what is indeed the dining room. Indents remain in the plush rug from where the table used to reside.

The light from the moon filters through the large, floor to ceiling window, illuminating a dark spot on the floor. My curiosity has me moving forward before I can stop myself. I crouch down to examine the dark spot and it isn’t long before I come to horrifying realization - it’s blood.

Images flash across my vision. Memories of sort. They don’t make sense and they cause my head to spin. Across the images, the only thing that remains constant is a man with soft blue hair and a radiant smile. The singing, the laughter and the sweet scent - they all belong to him.

Swallowing hard, I look up toward the window. The man is there. He’s leaning casually against the edge of the window sill, watching me with curiosity. His pink top flutters lightly in the breeze coming through the open window. The man is ethereal in his beauty. I’ve never seen anyone like him before.

He runs his hand through his blue hair in an attempt to move it away from his face, but it simply falls back into place. His eyes are soft, but I detect a hint of frustration behind them.

Jimin. That’s his name. I know him, yet I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before. Still, I know I’m safe around him.

I slowly rise. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He retorts.

“Why is there blood on the floor?” I decide to ignore him, instead voicing my own question.

He lifts a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “There’s a reason you aren’t supposed to be here.”

“What’s going on here, Jimin?”

“You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?” His lips curved up in a small smile. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before there’s trouble.”

“But you never let me come see you.” I whine. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed your house before. It’s huge!”

His smile grows a bit as he pushes himself off the wall and strides toward me. “Maybe that’s because I didn’t want you to see it.”

I roll my eyes at him. “What is that supposed to mean? It’s not like you can hide an entire mansion from view. That’s not possible.”

“Anything’s possible if you believe hard enough.”

A large gust of wind suddenly blows the front doors open, forcing our attentions. Jimin’s face grows pale and he nervously wets his plush lips. His hand reaches out and grasps onto mine.

“We need to leave.” He says, panic lacing his voice. “Now.”

I don’t know why he suddenly seems so afraid, but I follow him without question as he turns and runs through the door on the opposite side of the room. Jimin quickly maneuvers us through the kitchen and out the back door to the gardens. He glances back once before dashing for the gate.

We’re nearly there when a force crashes into me, causing me to fall to my knees. I gasp at the sudden impact and Jimin is quick to help me back up to my feet. He looks around for whatever it was that hit me, and eventually his eyes land on something I can’t see. I’d always known Jimin was special. He could see and hear things I couldn’t. His touch alone is enough to ease any pain I have.

I realize it’s happening again now. He seeing something I can’t. There’s something, or someone here with us. Before I can blink, he’s grabbed my hand once again and is pulling me along behind him. We’re racing along the edge of the garden wall. Occasionally, Jimin will abruptly change direction, as if avoiding something. I do my best to keep up with him.

Before I realize what’s happening, we’re back inside the mansion. Jimin looks as confused as I am as to how we got there. We’re back where we started. Inside the dining room. We rush around the table, back to the door but again, we’re brought back to where we started. My heart stops as I realize - we aren’t going anywhere.

I clutch onto Jimin’s arm and cower behind him as the truth settles over me. I know what’s here. I’ve faced the demon before. The last time, he nearly killed me. If Jimin hadn’t shown up when he did, I wouldn’t be standing here now.

Jimin is tense, yet he does his best to appear calm. “What do you want, Mortem?”

The demon slowly shimmers into view. The grin on his face is dangerous. Just as I remembered, his eyes are as black as the death that his name speaks of. “Jimin, who’s your guest?”

“She’s just leaving.” Jimin responds stiffly.

Mortem clicks his tongue. “Now, now. Don’t be rude. Allow me to greet the guest in my own home.”

His home? I look to Jimin, confused. I thought he lived here.

“Move out of the way, Mortem.”

The demon shakes his head, grinning. “You know the rules, Jimin. Any mortal that wanders into my home is mine to do with as I please.”

Jimin shakes his head, his voice wavering slightly as he pleads, “No, Mortem. Please. She wasn’t meant to come here. It wasn’t even supposed to be visible to her.”

Mortem chuckles. “It is my house. It knows when its master is hungry. Now be a good little angel and hand over the girl.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches and he holds his head higher. “No.”

The demon scoffs. “There’s a reason they banished you. You refuse to follow orders.” Mortem is quickly growing angry. “You may not be tied to this building, but you are tied to me. You do as I say. I will not tolerate any more disobedience from you.”

Jimin pushes me back as Mortem steps toward us.

“Give me the girl.” Mortem orders.

Jimin simply shakes his head. He turns to me once, smiles lightly, then returns to facing the demon. “Her soul is pure. I will not allow you to take it. Feed on me instead.”

The demon stares at the angel for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. “How very noble of you. Perhaps they were wrong too banish you after all. Very well then.”

I bite back a scream as the demon’s eyes turn from black to an angry red.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of devouring an angel’s soul for many centuries. I am going to enjoy this.”

Several emotions cross Jimin’s face in that moment. Yet never once do I see regret. He doesn’t regret offering his life for mine. I don’t know whether to cry or scream in anger, because it’s in that moment that I realize - Jimin is my angel. He is my guardian angel and he’s doing what he’s meant to do. Protect me.

Mortem gives me a small nod. “It is time for you to leave.”

Jimin looks to the sky once before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He won’t look at me. I’m not sure I would be able to keep my composure if he had. Instead, I drop my head to stare at my feet. I don’t do anything to stop this. I don’t try to save him. I allow him to sacrifice his life for mine.

A single tear escapes my eye and runs down my cheeks. When I look up, I’m alone. There is no demon. My angel is gone. I’m left alone in the empty dining room. The memories from that night flood my mind and I wish. I wish I would have done something. Anything to save him.

I stand and there’s a gentle breeze that prods my back, urging me forward. Telling me it’s time to leave.

I smile. Maybe, just maybe, the other angels took pity on him. Perhaps he’s still out there, watching me. Protecting me.

The breeze prods my back again and I comply, quickly leaving house.

Once I’m through the gate, stepping off the property, I turn back around. The field stretches out before me, empty and bare. I was so sure there’d been something there just a moment ago, but I suppose my eyes have been playing tricks on me again.

Turning back to head for home once again, I feel a slight breeze caress my cheek and for once, I don’t feel so lonely as I walk the bare streets back to my house.

[velvetchen]

Bruise | pt. viii

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Scenario: Boxer!AU, Ceo!AU Pairing: Baekhyun/Reader, Suho/Reader Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: love triangle, angst, mentions of assault, mentions of gangs/gang violence and alcohol

Summary: You have your life laid out in front of you, everything planned: from the clothes you wear to the man you have to marry. There’s no escape - or so you think.

<< previous part x next part >>

You were drawing stares, and there was no way to avoid it. 

Finding the right street hadn’t been much of an issue. The roads had become increasingly deserted as you drove out towards your destination, until you entered an area of the city filled with buildings clamoring for space, garish neon signs flashing in your eyes, and eventually the road grew so narrow that Junmyeon’s car no longer fit through. Not that you wanted to continue much longer by car, since almost everyone was watching you with interest. You stood out.

To your displeasure, that didn’t change even after you got out of the car, your formal attire drawing looks that were most definitely unwanted. You wished you had something to cover your bare legs  - anything to shield yourself, anything that would let you continue on your way as if invisible. 

You crossed your arms tight over your chest. Where is it…

The Eclipse advertised itself rather ostensibly for the level of illegal activity you knew went on inside. The door was placed front and center - easily visible to anyone passing by, and easily identifiable thanks to the giant sign that spelled out ECLIPSE in intimidating red neon. Below, the entire glass front was marked by a glowing red crescent. 

You sucked in a deep breath, adjusting the front of your dress yet again. I’m doing this for Junmyeon, you reminded yourself. He needs me. 

It was only as you were pulling on the handle that you thought that this might be a trap - too late. You had already taken your first step into the instantly dimmer interior, and you figured if you were walking into a trap, it was too late. You were already here, and you were in plain sight. They knew. 

I’m doing this for Junmyeon. That was the only thing that was keeping you from booking it out of there immediately. The minute you found Junmyeon and got the hell out of there, you were done. Done with this underworld and everything it brought with it. You didn’t know what you were getting into when you agreed to join Seohyun that night - when you placed that bet, when you let Baekhyun take you home that night and set things in motion. Certainly you weren’t expecting this near nightmare, with you dragged too far into something you weren’t sure you could get out of, with your and Junmyeon’s lives at stake. 

The inside of the Eclipse was smoky, lit with strobing red lights that swept around the room, bouncing off walls and weaving in between the throngs of people that collected on the floor. At this time of night, things were only just starting for the night. As you stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, trying not to look like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, the doors behind you continuously swung open and closed, letting in all kinds of people. People whom you would never associate with if it weren’t for this…situation. 

You wanted to turn around, to dash outside and back to Junmyeon’s car and get out of here, but the growing crowd pushed you further inside, until you were moving just to avoid drawing too much attention. Not that you weren’t drawing any attention in the first place: your relatively clean look and the fact that your discomfort was obvious singled you out among the throng of people who were obviously here for a purpose.

Only just stopping yourself from giving into the urge to cross your arms tight across your chest and attempting to shrink into the floor, you instead straightened your shoulders and tried to seem like you knew what you were doing. Blending in as part of the crowd was not an option, so faked confidence was all you had.

Which would have worked well if you actually knew where you had to go, whom you had to find. Instead, you were constantly looking out for an ambush, for someone to grab you by the wrist and pull you into a darkened alley, to tie you up and put you in the back of a truck. You had no idea what was in store for you. 

If you could even find Junmyeon. If you could even get out of this alive.

Your phone started to ring from your bag. Hands trembling, you reached inside as quickly as you could, shoving your way closer to the wall so you could stay out of the way.

Kim Junmyeon is calling.

Heart pounding even harder now, you answered. “Hello?”

It was a miracle you managed to hear the chillingly familiar voice over the boom of the music and the shouts, but the moment he began speaking, every hair on your skin stood up on end. 

“Hello, Y/N. I see you’ve arrived - good. Punctuality is an important habit to have.”

You growled. “Tell me what the fuck I’m here for and just let us go.”

“All in good time,” the man chuckled. The sound elicited the phantom feeling of hands crawling across your skin once again, and you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply to calm your racing heart as he continued. “For now, I want you to go over to the bar and order a black adder. It’s one of the more popular drinks, I’m sure you’ll love it. On the house, of course.”

Your teeth dug painfully into your bottom lip as you restrained the sudden rage that his flippant tone unearthed. 

“Sound good? I’ll see you in just a few minutes. Don’t worry, I can’t wait, either.” With another half-chuckle, the line clicked dead. 

You ripped the phone from your ear, staring down at it in disgust. You were going to meet this man - if you could even call him one - face to face. And he wanted - what? He was asking you to come to him, wanted you to seek him out. To talk? To negotiate? To hold you ransom, as well?

There was only one way to find out, and as much as the thought nearly paralyzed you with fear, you had to do it if you were going to find Junmyeon and get out of this, once and for all. Steeling yourself, you slid into the depths of the crowd again, trying to navigate further in. You had no idea where the bar was, but following the movement of the crowd was a good enough indicator.

There was an empty stool at the bar, right in the middle. It was surprisingly unpopulated. The only other occupants were a woman in all black, clutching a cigarette as she smirked up at the bartender, and two men seated at the opposite end. Here, no one made an effort to pointedly look at you.  Either they were too drunk, or there was no reason to stare: they already knew who you were. You desperately hoped it was the former. 

Your legs stuck to the stool as you sat uncomfortably upon it, leaning one elbow against the table, holding tight to your phone with your other hand. You scanned the room behind you for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. For anyone focused on you. Nothing stood out, and before you could give things another once-over, your eyes began to lose focus from the flashing lights and you turned away to face a man on the other side of the bar. 

Is that him…? But no, he didn’t seem to recognize you. Of course, he still gave you a lewd once-over from head to toe before leaning too close for comfort. “Can I get you anything, miss?”

You only just kept yourself from recoiling too obviously. “I’ll have, uh, a black adder.” You cursed yourself for the stutter. Don’t show weakness. 

The change in his expression was instant as he cast a quick glance back at the crowd behind you before turning around to pull a glass from the shelf. So it wasn’t him, but he definitely knew who you were now. The drink was some kind of message. He worked quickly behind the counter, his movements hidden behind a small shelf - but you were quickly distracted from what the bartender was doing when the stool beside you was suddenly occupied by someone. 

He leaned casually over the bar toward you, and you knew. The breath froze in your throat as you waited for something to happen, and you took in his appearance at last. This was the man who had pinned you down in your car that night, who had threatened you, who had almost... 

The man who had taken Junmyeon. Who had dragged you into this mess. 

You balled your fists, clenching the hem of your dress tightly in them as you fought the urge to throw a punch and pummel him to the ground. You certainly felt like you could - you could see yourself standing, sending a hard knock to his cheek. Could see him fall to the ground, blood dripping from a freshly split lip.   Could almost feel the resistance of bone against your knuckles as you thought of sitting over him, striking his face over and over until his face was a mash of red. The rage was coming to a boil, ready to burst. 

And then you saw the unmistakable matte black of a gun at his hip, and fear immediately quenched any hopes of exacting revenge. He knew, too, and the smug expression told you everything. 

Once again, you were at his mercy, and this time, he hadn’t had to lay a single finger on you. He knew, he knew you knew, and you hated it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” he said, that voice even more chilling when not over the distance that a phone call offered, and in such a casual tone. A harsh difference to the last time you had heard his voice, an almost animalistic snarl in your ear. Let me teach you a lesson, bitch. To think that he was so close now, his hands a single thought away from landing on you, or on his gun…

“Why did you bring me here?” you said, and you absolutely hated how timid your voice sounded. Like you were already surrendering. Like you were giving in. Where was the fight you knew you had in you? “You said you would answer my questions. Why am I here? Why did you take Junmyeon?” 

He gave a short, amused laugh. “This is only a simple business negotiation, Y/N. I’m sure you’re familiar with those?” 

You pressed your lips tight. He was mocking you.

“This is, of course, in your best interests. Everything will turn out well for both you and us. It’s just a little bit of an agreement, and then we can both go our separate ways.” He looked up as the bartender set a tall, narrow glass of something in front of both of you, so deep red that it was almost black. You eyed it warily. 

“You can trust me when I say we’ll never contact you again, and your reputation will stay intact. And the drink is perfectly safe. No adulterations, I can promise you.” He gave you a half-wink before taking a slow sip from his.

You clutched the glass, the cold condensation seeping into your skin. “We?”

“Ah. Me and my…team, you could say.”

“Why would I trust you?” You nearly spat the last word, fingers clenching tight around the column of the glass. 

He took another sip. “Like I said, this is in your best interests. You should definitely try the drink.”

Exhaling sharply, you forced yourself to take a sip. It was painfully sour, but also sweet, and the amount of alcohol in it would probably be enough to make you pass out with just one glass. “Exactly how is this in my best interests? Assaulting me, kidnapping my fiancé?” The title slipped out without you thinking and you wanted to swallow it down. 

“There are some things you don’t know about Bruiser and his followers,” he continued. “We just want to help you get out before you’re in too deep with him. Some counseling, if you will. All we ask in return for our information, and our protection, if you need it, is that you keep tabs on him. Tell us where he  is, where he goes. That’s all.” 

So it was about Baekhyun. Of course it was about Baekhyun. “Help me? Right. I don’t know if I can believe anything you say. Give me one reason to trust you.” 

“There, we’re making progress,” he smiled, exposing his crooked teeth -  crooked, you realized, from being hit and replaced multiple times. Only then did you notice the scars that were visible over his arms and face. So he was a fighter, too. Or something of the sort. A hitman?

He drained the last drops of his drink. “Firstly, it would be wise decision if you want your fiancé back alive. If that’s not enough motivation, I’m sure you’ll be plenty surprised to learn about some of our contacts. How about I let someone more qualified do the explanation?” 

The completely flat tone in which he said if you want your fiancé back alive sent ice rocketing down your nerves. You hadn’t doubted for a moment that they didn’t care if either you or Junmyeon got hurt. Much less if you died. You fisted your hands so tightly the nails dug into the palm of your hand. 

He stood, nodded once to follow him, and stood. Only then did you notice a door, stood very slightly ajar, to the far right edge of the wall. He headed over, resting his hand on the door handle before looking back at you. “If you want answers, then come with me. You’re free to leave, of course, but I can’t say that would end very well for you or your fiancé.”

Whatever lay beyond the door was in darkness, obscured from view. But if you wanted out of this nightmare, you had to go. 

Leaving the cursed drink behind, you stood, and entered the doorway with as much bravado as you could muster. Which was a surprising amount, given the situation. You were just glad that when the door shut behind you, the darkness hid the way your entire body trembled. 

What if this was a trap, after all? To bring you here to this dark room, to continue where he had left off the last time? Fear gripped you tightly. You stood, frozen in place, waiting to hear that dark laugh, expecting the feeling of a cold hand on your skin. To hear, so naive, Y/N. You believed me so blindly. 

But to your surprise, a click sounded as another door opened and dim fluorescent light flooded the room - which you saw was a janitor’s closet - from beyond. He slipped out, then held the door open for you to follow, leading you down a flight of bare concrete stairs. The lights flickered and dimmed, and the further you got to the basement the more the walls and floor were covered with mildew and dust. You kept your distance, ready at any moment to turn and run back up. 

Another door at the bottom led into a similarly lit and empty corridor, which snaked around the corner of the building and ended at three doors. One was padlocked. From the other, you heard laughter and voices. The steady thrum of the beat from upstairs permeated the ceiling, drifting down, covering the echo of your footsteps as the man led you down into the last door. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting inside, but what actually lay behind the door was not what you would have thought. 

The first thing the opening door revealed was Junmyeon, seated on a fraying couch in the right corner, unhurt and unbound. 

You sagged. He was alright. He was alive. And he looked up and saw you, and you knew the relief in his face was mirrored in yours. 

“Y/N,” he gasped, standing instantly to take a step forward and wrap his arms around you tightly. “You’re here.”

But in your ear he whispered: “Just do what they say. Please.”

He let you go, moving back and giving you a nod. Only then did you realize you weren’t alone in the room - at the other end, behind a broad wooden desk, sat another man. He was flanked on either side by two others, dressed like the man that had brought you here - in utilitarian black, with the telltale bulge of a gun at the waist and, you were sure, a few other weapons tucked elsewhere, judging by the way they were standing. Watching you carefully, his hands steepled over his desk. 

You glanced at Junmyeon, alarmed, but his expression, placid as always, instantly calmed you. It was just something about his aura that could soothe your tension anywhere. Even here. Even when you were unsure if your very next movement could get you hurt or worse.

“Y/N,” the man behind the desk said after a long moment of silence. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You know, I’ve heard a lot about you from my sources. I can say you don’t disappoint.” 

You stood, silent.

“Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. You can call me the Cardinal.” He smiled, and it reeked with just as much insincerity as the other man’s. “As my associate must have told you, I’ve brought you here to discuss a few agreements. I’m sure you’ve already told her the terms, Jiho?” 

The man who’d brought you here - Jiho - nodded. “Yes, sir.”

So this Cardinal was the leader of this…whatever this was? “You want my help?” You asked. “Why me? Why not any of Bruiser’s other-” again, you weren’t sure what to call them “-followers?”

Irritation flicked across his face at your interruption. “We need you, specifically, because you are closer to him than any of the others. And because you can be trusted, based on the recommendation of one of my good friends.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Who?”

He smiled tightly. “It might be better if you spoke to him yourself. It must have been a while since you last talked, hmm?” He pulled out his phone, quickly dialing a number before holding it out to you and beckoning you forward.

Unsure, you reached for the phone, checking the caller ID  - no name, unfamiliar number - before pressing it to your ear. Involuntarily, your heart pounded in your chest as the phone rang once, twice, thrice. And then it stopped when you heard the voice that answered, so familiar yet so unfamiliar that you nearly dropped the phone in utter shock.

“Hello?” You would recognize that voice anywhere. The last time you had heard it…

Your breath came out ragged, shaky as you closed your eyes. “Chanyeol?”

A clatter. He’d dropped his phone on the other end. A second later, when he picked it up - “Y/N? Is that you? What the hell, why are you calling from this number? Are you alright? Is everything alright?” 

“I…I’m fine.” 

His voice dipped lower. “What the fuck. I’m serious, Y/N, are you alright? Have they done anything to you?”

“What’s going on, Chanyeol?” From behind the table, the Cardinal cocked his head, studying you. “Why are you…how do you know these people? What’s going on?”

He let out a long, angry huff. “I should have probably explained things to you long ago. This would have happened sooner or later. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, but Y/N, you need to get out of there. Don’t agree to anything. Just get the hell out of there as soon as you can. I’ll explain everything later, okay?” 

“Okay, but Chanyeol-”

“Listen to me,” his tone grew urgent. “The minute you get out, they will track every movement, every phone call. This doesn’t end here. I don’t know how much you know or how far you’re involved, but this is nowhere near over. Be safe, okay? I’ll find some way to contact you, I promise.”

“How do I-”

He cut you off again. “Like I said, don’t agree to anything. Tell them you’ll think about it. I promise you they will not harm you today, but the next time, I can’t be so sure.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” he said. “I miss you. I miss you so much. Fuck, I thought I was protecting you from this, you weren’t supposed to find out…Are you alone?”

“No, I’m with Junmyeon,” you said, meeting his gaze for a brief moment.

“Junmyeon-” He hissed. “Both of you…Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ll get both of you out of this, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you said again, and the blood rushed in your ears, drowning out everything else. “But Chanyeol, tell me - are you alright? Where have you been?” 

If these people were the reason he left… The possibilities flashed over you. Was he being held hostage? Or was he involved with this in a different way? Was he on their side, maybe? You didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m fine. Right now, we’re worrying about you. Got it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. The Cardinal was still watching you carefully, his cheek rested on one hand as one corner of his mouth quirked up in something close to amusement. 

Your gaze clashed with his as Chanyeol said, “You know what you have to do.”

The line went dead. 

The Cardinal held his hand back out for the phone, and you reluctantly gave it up, dropping it in his palm without bringing your hand into contact with his. A tense pause passed. Even though noise carried from overhead, you were isolated here, far from the surface and anything else. Right now, all you knew was this room. All that mattered was getting out. If Chanyeol was right, and these men were even more dangerous than they seemed, even more so because of Chanyeol’s involvement with them, then leaving safely tonight was your first priority. 

“Please, sit down,” the Cardinal said at last, gesturing to the empty seat beside Junmyeon. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Unwilling to break eye contact, you settled beside Junmyeon. Instantly, his hand slipped onto your lap to enclose yours. You squeezed, once. It only then occurred to you, in a flash. This was the first time Junmyeon was hearing of Chanyeol’s existence since that phone call months ago. His first proof that his friend was still alive somewhere - and the news that he was also involved with some sort of underworld. You could only imagine what was running through his head right now.

You squeezed his hand again.

“So?” You said. “What do you want to negotiate with me?” 

“As you know, the Underground Dark Leagues are coming up soon,” the Cardinal said. “Do you know if Bruiser will be contesting?”

Of course, you were about to say. Then you remembered - you had no place taking sides. “Why would he tell me something like that?”

His faux politeness dropped like a stone as his eyes flashed. “Don’t fucking lie. We know you’re a student of his, that you’ve been to the Underground. We have people watching everything you do down there. We know you’ve seen his matches, you’ve been inside his rooms. Evidently, he trusts you.” He tapped the table once. “Why, is the question.”

Trusts me? As if. You swallowed. “And I have no idea whether he’s contesting or not. I said what I said.”

He calmed, but you saw a vein continue to pulse under his jaw. “I see. And do you have any aspirations to contest?”

“How does that matter?”

Slam! His hand came down hard on the tabletop. “Answer the fucking question.”  

“No, I don’t,” you said, and Junmyeon lightly stroked circles on the back of your hand to calm the warble in your voice. “I don’t.”

The Cardinal nodded sharply. “Good. We don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“Why, because you care about me?” The retort forced its way out, and you wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, a mix of fear and incredulity. “What’s this about?”

“Like we said,” he hesitated, the throbbing of the vein in his neck growing more insistent, “we will give you protection, if necessary, if you can give us updates on Bruiser’s plans.” 

“If he trusts me - your words, not mine - why do you believe I would come over to your side so easily? What makes you think I would need or want your protection, if I have his?” 

The Cardinal forced a laugh that trailed off as he raised an eyebrow at you. “But do you trust him? What do you even know about him? He’s not who you think he is.” 

“It would help if you told me,” you said dryly.

He laughed again, a gritty sound that was more condescending than humored. “Don’t try to be funny. Maybe you should find out who someone really is before you go around getting yourself involved with them, hmm?”

“Which is why making a deal with you is such a good idea,” you muttered under your breath. “You know what, your offer seems promising, but you’re right. I want to find out what exactly I’m dealing with before I get involved. I’ll think about this.” 

You weren’t exactly sure how far you could trust Chanyeol that these men wouldn’t harm you if you told them you’d think about it, but it was the only plan you had. 

The Cardinal waved a hand aside. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” you said carefully. “I said, I’ll think about it.” Please, please let me stall. 

“Of course. We respect your decision.” His thin lips pulled back in an even thinner smile. “Likewise, I hope you understand we will have to take the appropriate course of action in case you reject our offer.”

You didn’t want to know what the ‘appropriate course of action’ was, but you could guess. With a similarly contrived smile and your heart thudding so hard you were sure everyone could hear, you nodded once. “I understand.”  

“We’d appreciate it if you gave us a response quickly,” the Cardinal said, but his eyes were flashing with something. A threat. A ticking time bomb. If you didn’t answer them, you would pay. 

“I plan to. Pleasure doing business with you,” you said, only a few degrees of sarcasm keeping your tone from being flat-out mocking. “Can we go? I have someplace to be. You interrupted my date with my fiancé.” 

He made a shooing gesture towards the door. “Please, by all means, go ahead.”  

Jiho, still standing next to the door, shook himself out of an expression of boredom, eyes darting over you and Junmyeon and your clasped hands before opening the door. You stepped out, still not letting go of Junmyeon’s hand as you exited, heart still pounding. Still awaiting a trap. Were they really going to let you go so easily? Was that all it was?

Once you were out, Jiho pulled the door shut. “You’re free to go,” he said, but not before you noticed the predatory glint still in his eye as he faced you. An expression that said, I’m not done with you yet. Goosebumps rose all over your skin. 

You and Junmyeon continued in silence back down the empty concrete corridor. Yes, he was silent now, but you knew he was going to demand answers, and you were going to have to give them to him. 

You emerged into the dank night air outside the Eclipse, taking a deep breath before pulling Junmyeon in the direction you’d left the car. “This way.” 

The both of you attracted even more attention now, later at night and with Junmyeon still in his cleanly pressed suit. By now you were too tired to care, and you figured anyone putting a target on you both could possibly surpass the trouble you’d just found yourself in. So the walk to where you had parked the car was uneventful and silent, and so was the car ride as you drove back - only after you exited the less-than-savory district where the Eclipse was, and the roads once again morphed into the clean, familiar, landscaped lines that you were familiar with, did Junmyeon speak.

“Y/N,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice. “Do you want to explain to me what’s going on?”

The softness of his tone was what did it. Abruptly, you pulled over to the side of the road, and before you knew it you were choking up, face turning blotchy and wet with tears as you gripped the steering tightly and tried to regain control of yourself. “Myeon, I’m so sorry,” you sniffled. “I didn’t know any of this would happen, I swear. I didn’t want to get dragged into this, and I just wanted some place to get away from it all. And now I’ve put you in danger, and Chanyeol is involved somehow, and they might kill us if I don’t agree to spy on Baekhyun…” 

Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something, but you held out a hand to stop him. “You know what, I’m just going to say this. It’s my fault. I owe you an explanation. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to get involved under the promise of a way to hide.”

“And you’re right,” he said gently, surprising you. “You’ve made some bad choices, but we all make bad choices. This one just happens to be a little more dangerous than others. But we’re in this now, and…if we have any chance of sorting things out, you need to explain what exactly is going on.” 

You shook your head to clear it, pulling a tissue from your purse to blot away the tears and now-streaking makeup from your face. “I…It’s a long story. I…”

“Start with what you know,” he said. “And we’ll fill in the gaps.” 

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay.”

You were back in Junmyeon’s penthouse, curled up on his sofa in a blanket, a mug of tea clutched in your hands as you watched Junmyeon pace back and forth across the rug. He held his phone tight in his hand. Minutes earlier - just after you’d gotten home, you’d gotten a text from Chanyeol. He wanted to contact you, and he had a way to do so where the Cardinal’s men wouldn’t be able to tap into the conversation. 

Your phone rang first loudly, splitting the silence. With a jump, you looked up at Junmyeon, and he gave you a meaningful look before settling down next to you. You heard him take a deep breath, too as you answered the call. 

“Hello?” you said, voice barely a whisper. 

“Y/N?” Chanyeol said. Of course it was him. You would know that voice anywhere. Even after more than a year of not hearing it in person. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Where are you now?”

“My apartment,” Junmyeon answered. “For now.”

“Good,” Chanyeol said. “But you’ll have to move somewhere else, somewhere safe. They’re likely watching you as we speak.” 

Instinctively, you cast a glance towards the broad windows overlooking the nighttime cityscape. Could they see you? Were they outside the building right now, waiting for one of you to leave?

“Chanyeol, who are these people?” You pulled your legs up onto the sofa, tucking them under you and leaning further into Junmyeon’s side. Automatically, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, drawing you a tiny bit closer. “Why are you involved with them?” Are they the reason you left? Because if they were…

Chanyeol hesitated. “Where do I begin? Gold City has a massive underworld. There are groups called syndicates- basically gangs, mafia, and whatever you want to call them - clans of people who are aligned under a single leader and commit organized crime all over the country on a mass scale. The men you met today, the Cardinal and his men? They’re part of a syndicate called the Jade Wing. The biggest syndicate in the country, one of the biggest and most powerful in the world.

“As for how I’m involved with them…It’s a long story, and to make it short, I’ll just say that I found myself owing a very large debt, and to pay it off, I’ve had to do some things that I’m not exactly proud of-”

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon interrupted, “are you referring to…”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, voice firm, but you heard the shame creeping into his tone. “I am.” You cast Junmyeon a confused look. Whatever it was, it must be hard for Chanyeol to admit to Junmyeon, his oldest friend and one of the only people whom he looked up to. You didn’t want to pry. 

“Go on,” Junmyeon said gently. “What’s done is done.”

Another pause. Chanyeol let out a long exhale. “Yeah. I’ll…that’s my job to sort out now, hyung. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve cleaned things up well enough.” 

“Of course. I trust you.”

“Right.” Chanyeol cleared his throat. “As I was saying, you met one of the leaders of the Jade Wing. The Cardinal. I’m actually surprised they sent such a high-ranking member to meet you, and for you to come out so easily...what did they tell you?”

The question was directed at you. “I, uh, I think I should give you some background information first.” 

“Go on.” 

So you proceeded to tell Chanyeol the whole story, every detail that you had just told Junmyeon. From the first day that you’d walked into the Underground, cast a bet, how that had led to Baekhyun dragging you down into his world for good. How you had thought at first that this was safe. Just boxing lessons and a man who was completely different from everything you’d ever known. The intrigue. The promise. You wanting to fight in the Underground. And your final meeting with Baekhyun. 

“I told him I wanted nothing to do with him anymore,” you finished. “But I guess that’s impossible now.” 

Chanyeol, who’d been silent the whole time as you talked, hummed in agreement. “You’re right. You have to find a way to get yourselves out of this mess before you owe the syndicate something, or before word gets out and the company’s reputation is tarnished. God knows it’s tarnished enough. This guy, the one you met in the underground, what’s his name?” 

“His underground alias is Bruiser,” you said. “Real name Byun Baekhyun.”

You heard Chanyeol stop dead. “Y/N, are you sure?”

“Very sure,” you said, but your voice trailed up in a question. 

It was a few seconds of heavy silence before Chanyeol spoke again, at last. The words sunk deep. “Bruiser. Of all the people… Y/N, I think you’re in the middle of a syndicate war.” He paused again. “And I don’t know why, but I think you’re the pawn for both sides.”

a/n: sorry no baekhyun in this part, but we’ll see him very soon ~ thank you all for being patient with the updates! it’s been a busy month and now that things have calmed down updates should come more regularly! 

as always, i love to hear what yall have to say about this chapter! 

[a-table-of-fics]

Cull Goes to Octo Canyon, Chapter 1, Draft 2

Feedback is appreciated, of course! In this draft, I attempted to add more of Cull’s workplace, and him making an effort to assist before going on to the plot.

               The warm lighting. The relaxed acoustic music playing over the speaker. The brick and mortar look of the interior. Headspace was one of the few places in Inkopolis that was close to what Cull’s home was like. Just like he did when he was a kid, he was now lying down under a table with a pencil, doodling and humming to himself. He was still amazed that Flow let a new employee like him do this in the break room, but he could see writings and other drawings under there, and it looked like everyone else before him had respect for everyone else’s space – Cull was lucky to find enough room to sketch a simple goldfish.

               The beaded curtain that hung across the doorway rustled somewhat, as if the wind somehow came through. A small voice shouted “BEAN! BEAN!”

Cull jumped in alarm, bumping his head on the table. He rubbed his head briefly before turning to look at Flow’s shrimpy assistant Craymond swimming in the air all around him.

               “Ships sailed in! Ready to unload, Bean?”

               Cull looked up at Craymond, nodding quickly as he crawled out. He adjusted his beanie and dusted his work apron off before going out to receive the shipment of hats Craymond was talking about.

               “Early worm!” Craymond remarked.

               Cull nodded absently. While he agreed the delivery was earlier than usual, he was more focused on how much slower Craymond was going, and he wasn’t as loud as he usually was. Maybe it was just an off day for him.

                He was, once again, glad the shrimp signed for the hats already. While Craymond couldn’t lift the boxes or sort hats efficiently, he could at least greet the delivery guy without mumbling, and while making eye contact. He was strange, but definitely a people pleaser, especially when paired with Flow.

               He set a box in front of one of the shelves and turned to see Flow staring out towards the back door. The orange-haired sea slug’s baggy clothing and large red hat was always a welcoming look, but she didn’t have the same smile she usually did. Cull suddenly realized she had been talking a lot less these past few days…

               Flow turned, and her green eyes met his pink ones. She started, before smiling weakly.

               “Ah, Cull, thank you for bringing those in, dear. Please make sure to put that Jungle Hat on the side there; it’ll help keep the room’s calm vibes.”

               The store was plenty calming already as far as he was concerned. Still, he nodded, and placed the wide-brimmed hat on the end of the shelf. As soon as he placed it on the mannequin head, he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, as if a weight had come off his shoulders. He never understood how she did that, but it was simply incredible.

               Still, Flow’s expression did not lift.            

               “Thank you,” she said, softly, before her eyes slowly guided her head to the back door once more.

               Cull looked back at her every so often while he stacked the shelves full of new headgear. Finally, when he had emptied the package, he walked over to her.

               “Um, Flow, ma’am? Is… is everything all right?”

               She took a breath. “Yes, thank you. I… I just wonder where Miffens is. I hope he’s okay.”

               “I…I’m sure he is,” Cull said, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder. He thought about it, and knew she was right; it had been a week since they saw the Zapfish, when he used to visit every day. Come to think of it, it had been a few days since Cull saw any Zapfish around the Square.

               Hmm.

               “Well, I’ll keep an eye out,” he promised, moving back to clean the shop floors. He looked back one last time, to see Craymond gently nuzzling his friend. He sighed, hoping Miffens came back soon. It was going to be a long shift seeing his employers down like this.

*   *   *

               The cool blues of the shade. The muffled music coming from the Square. The dismal little drips of water. The back alleys of Inkopolis weren’t exactly fresh, and Cull knew that perfectly well. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to go out to the main square, apart from when he put those hand-drawn posters everywhere, making sure anyone who spotted a Zapfish with a frayed whisker knew who to contact.

               Hopefully, that would be enough. He had done all he could think of to help in some way. Now it was time to do what Flow told him to do a month ago and always encouraged him to: Get out, make a name for himself, and “find his energy”, as she put it.

He wasn’t sure how he could participate in the sporting events that everyone bonded over. He was an artist, not a fighter.

               Besides…Cull looked from side to side and shifted his beanie, ensuring it covered his hair.

               No, he could find a different way to make a name for himself. Hopefully he would make his art stand out from the rest, and he could get respect that way. Yes. His graffiti. In a major city. In the back alleys. Unsigned.

               He sighed, checking his phone. He would never live down that unsigned piece over by the studio. The angular crab was one of his worse works, and of course it would be the one publicized and praised by Off the Hook. Cull silently thanked Cod that so many others tried to take credit for it. They could have it for all he cared.

               Shaking his head, Cull looked around. This alley wasn’t exactly prime canvas material. Not only was it a dead end, but it was way too cramped, and too far from where people actually were – even by his standards. Really, the only reason he came this far was so no one got hit by his Slosher. Even if it was just mashed-up plants, and not the ink that could be used as a weapon, that was one panic he didn’t want to start. Even with the respawn points everywhere, it would be a nightmare.

               Well, maybe the wall over by Grizzco was cleaned by now. It was a little close to the Battle Lobby, but if he could get there unnoticed and paint over the stencil, he could get recognition for a good work of his. He already had the white and blue paints with him; all he needed was to remember the order of his stencils to make the freshest whale Inkopolis had ever seen!

               Cull looked around, thinking of the quickest route there. Hopefully a discreet way, but so long as he got there quickly, it should be fine. He sprinted forward, leaping before briefly turning to squid form whenever there was an opening to the Square. So long as he moved fast enough, and shifted back before he landed, he figured he could get there unnoticed. He couldn’t help but adjust his already-snug beanie, though; even if he wasn’t the freshest, he was certainly going to keep what looks he had.

               Luckily, there weren’t too many hanging around Grizzco. Aside from that one sketchy-sounding bear radio, there wasn’t really much business for anyone back here. Still, Cull could make out some fresh art people had made with their own ink. Even if the ink would evaporate, he had to respect the detail and quality of the pictures while they lasted. He gently ran his hand against the wall, marveling at the art and having some doubt about the piece he was going to add. A reassuring piece of prose, promising all Inklings who cared to see it that they would have better days. A picture of that one mythical figure, that red human with the strange mark on his hat, proudly shaking hands with an Inkling. A shockingly detailed picture of the Off the Hook duo.

               Almost as if on cue, the jumbotron on top of the Battle Lobby played the familiar song to announce more news from Pearl and Marina. Most people, Cull included, didn’t even bother to look up to see the stages available. Everyone enjoyed hearing the two’s quips and tips for the locales, but for many, it became background noise.

               When the music skipped a beat, and there was the sound of distant yelling, however, everyone looked up, to see the two top idols of Inkopolis similarly baffled. Cull nearly dropped his stencil as Pearl hollered out to stop the show from cutting.

               Marina barely contained a gasp, quickly hitting a few switches to bring the B-roll onto their monitor. It was live footage of the tower above them. All the Inklings in the Square murmured to each other as they looked above the screen; something seemed to be missing.

               “THIS JUST IN! The Great Zapfish has just… disappeared?!”

               Cull gaped, seeing the complete absence of the giant catfish on the tower.

               “Th-there’s more…?” Marina spun a record, and the image changed from the Zapfish-free tower to a picture of a young woman in a sun hat, with black hair and a playful grin, striking a forever iconic pose. The image on the screen flickered briefly but managed to stay on long enough for recognition to set into most squids. Cull, however, only recognized her vaguely. Maybe he saw her in a movie or show somewhere, but that was as far as he knew.

               “Pop superstar Callie of the Squid Sisters has gone missing!”

               “NOOOOO!” Pearl cried out, dashing over to her partner-in-crime. “Not Callie! Marina, do something!”

               “Uh, r-right! I’ll put together a search—”

               And then the jumbotron faded to black, the sound going with it. Many of the lights and adverts around the square began to power off as well.

               Cull never thought he’d hate the sound of silence this much. He looked at his stencils and shook his head. With so much happening right now, his art didn’t amount to a hill of plankton. He quietly put them away and started to head home. Maybe he could salvage some of his food before it all went bad. To say nothing about the forecasted heat wave…

               He froze dead in his tracks when he had the feeling he was being watched.  He tugged his hat down as he spun around just in time to see someone disappear into a grate in the ground, leaving light green droplets in their wake.

               Cull blinked. He had been around Inkopolis Square for around three months, and he had never seen such a strange hole in the ground. It didn’t mesh at all with the general Inkopolis style, being an ugly orange lump, and it didn’t look like it would be much good for collecting rainwater or anything.

               A horrible thought occurred to him. Was someone sucked down into there, to who-knows-where? If so, what, or who¸ did such a thing to some poor Inkling? He peered into the grating, but he couldn’t see much. He could hear what sounded like someone swimming in the distance. There was no way to be sure if that was the Inkling who went under. Shouting a “hello” didn’t seem like a good idea either; not only would it be a little mortifying to be caught shouting into a random drain, but if this other person was caught by something, drawing its attention might cause issues of its own.

               He gulped and looked around to made sure no one else was looking at him. Luckily, everyone was too focused on the energy crisis. He took a deep breath, turned into a squid, and dove in. It was slow going, but Cull found that this was a linear pipe. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to lead to any sewers, but that just raised the question: where was he going?

               All he could hear was his echoed breathing as he traveled through, and the awkward chatter of the others in town fading away. It was far too dark to see anything, but the walls of the pipe felt surprisingly smooth, even when they started to get thinner and squeeze on Cull a little bit. It was almost as if they were meant to be moved through…

               Finally, Cull saw a light up ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not only could he breathe easy, getting out of squid form and this tight tunnel, but he could also be happy that nothing was in the sewers attacking Inklings.

               Still, where did this lead…?

               He emerged, swiftly turning back to kid form. He squinted in the sunlight, looking around. This didn’t look like any place he had ever been. If the floating rocks weren’t a dead enough giveaway, there was also the fact this place looked like it was carved out of a mountain over a century ago; it was a far cry from the modern comforts of Inkopolis. Mossy, mostly stone, and a lot of gargantuan tentacle statues. All this ancient architecture made the relatively new flags and somewhat beat-up shack stand out. Was that a red barbeque grill over there?

               His eyes settled, and he saw someone with their back to him, obscured by a green oil-paper umbrella. Slowly, the umbrella moved, and the Inkling behind it turned around. Clad in a well-kept kimono, she had a beauty mark and gold, starry eyes, (not unlike Pearl’s), and she had grey tentacles tied into a bow behind short hair.

“Hey!” She smiled slightly when she saw him, with the well-trained look of a comedy actor performing after a messy divorce. “You showed up! As soon as I saw you wandering around in the square, I knew you were the one…”

“Uhh…” was all Cull managed in response, as he took a step back.

“I’m Marie,” she said, putting a hand up. “I know you’re probably a bit starstruck, but I need you to get over it. Yes, I’m that Marie.”

She let both of her wrists go limp, in a manner not unlike Off the Hook did to conclude their broadcast.

“Y’know…from the Squid Sisters.”

After a few seconds of looking from side to side awkwardly, Cull tilted his head.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of me?” Marie asked, eyes widening. “For eel?”

“Ah, see, I don’t really watch TV…” Cull said, tugging his hat down slightly. “Sorry…”

Marie huffed. “Well, you’re obviously not very cultured, but you’ll have to do. See, I’ve got a little… thing I need help with.”

“Not very cultured? I mean, I…do art…” Cull mumbled, trying to sound indignant.

“The Great Zapfish isn’t just lost…it was squidnapped by the Octarian menace, and--”

“Um, are you sure?” Cull asked. “It…seems unlikely that anyone could just grab the Zapfish like that…”

Marie shrugged. “Fair point. But I’m not just an absurdly talented pop star; I’m also Agent 2 of the New Squidbeak Splatoon – a secret society of heroes who save the world from Octarians!”

Cull swallowed. “O…kay, then…”

He looked down at the grate he was still standing on, and back up at Marie.

“I know this sounds unbelievable,” she sighed. “But believe me, I’ve been keeping an eye on those slimy Octos for some time, and I’m sure they’re behind this!”

If only Callie was here to back me up… she thought.

“Huh?” Cull asked.

Marie blinked, realizing she said that out loud. She shook her head.

“Ahem, as I was saying, I need your help to recover the Great Zapfish. What do you say? Are you in?”

Cull looked again at his feet. Most of him wanted nothing more than to run home and hope he wasn’t chased down by this madwoman. However, the rest of him thought of Flow. She had done so much for him; given him employment, advice, a back room to hide in, a shoulder to cry on… What kind of friend would he be to turn away from a possible lead to the Zapfish? To Miffens?

If Marie was right…

“…I’m gonna take your awkward silence as a ye—"

“Yeah,” Cull sighed, not lifting his head back up. “I’m in.”

[brideofviolets]

What Only You Can Provide (2)

Cross posted here cause Tumblr appears to be hiding my posts on my other blog even though I’m not flagged. 

Prompt Firsts | Lasts

Also on A03

Content Warning at the end of post

Three weeks after Catra and Adora defect the Whispering Woods leads them to a village coated in a thin layer of ash. Adora has seen ruins in the woods before, but all of them within the woods that they are consumed by the trees. The roots pierce through everything when given enough time. Like river water, they find any and all cracks and fill and stretch and open and enter. Every ruin they find is nothing more than crumbling walls half-buried under the ceaseless advance of the woods. The woods remind her that this is how it expands itself, by taking the old wreckage of war burying it deeper and deeper into the soil. With each, it blocks another path to Bright Moon. And takes another of the world’s scars into its greenery.

The Whispering Woods asks her to follow it from their home, claiming that it was time that she saw something that could no longer be hidden from her. Dread follows the words, making her feel ill with tension long before they see the first grey and black structure in the distance. They slow, walking between the quickly spreading roots to see the span of it all. She cannot help but note how small the village seems. From her best guess looking at the burnt-out structures and toppled roofs of the porous buildings these are little more than the homes of those who lived in the village. The outskirts are bare of any defense. No perimeter fences. No guard towers. No installed weaponry. Nothing here is or was defensible.

It couldn’t hold up to cannon fire. The first building Adora sees has an entire wall blown away, the edges of it blackened from the heat of what could only be the discharge of a laser cannon. To its left she spots what must have been a small hovel or perhaps a storage shed that has exploded outward, its roof gone completely and the very bottoms of its walls were all that still stood. Artillery. And with just a measuring stick she could find what class it was and how big the shell would have been.

Adora walks quickly out of the tree line and Catra is quick to follow, dashing up to her and pushing her into the bushes around the edge of the village.

“What are you doing!” she hisses, “Did you even check to see if there was anybody still around?”

Adora shrugs Catra’s hands from her shoulders. “There’s no one here besides us.”

“How do you know that for sure?” She says, scanning the buildings around them.

Adora brushes her hand against the leaves of the bush and they curl around her fingers, affectionate and gentle as the whispers fill her mind in clearer detail. She closes her eyes, shuts out the world for a moment and breaths in the world through the woods’ lungs.

“The closest person to us is a mile away, headed away from here towards Bright Moon,” she says, without opening her eyes, “and the closest animals are only a few birds and squirrels. Catra, we are the only ones here. The woods doesn’t lie.”

Catra growls softly, “I hate it when you do that. Fine. But we can’t stay here too long.”

They exit the bush. The leaves slowly uncurl from around her finger tips and through her own eyes she inspects the damage. She looks into the collapsed wall, sees the exit hole on the other side. The shot cleaved some kind of furniture in half, leaving multiple drawers on the ground and one hanging by a caught wheel in the middle row. Clothes are strewn about on the ground, intermixed with bits of shattered glass from a mirror that fell from the wall. There are two beds she can see, on either side of the room, and the covers are lightly tossed. She steps inside, careful of the glass and walks over to one of the beds. It is small, barely four feet on the long side. The covers are a light blue with swelling aquamarine waves that fold seamlessly into the cloth. She rubs the fabric between her finger and her thumb and the feels the grainy ash between the fibers.

“Adora,” Catra calls from the hole in the wall, “come on. There’s nothing in here for us. We need to find whatever’s still useful in this place and go.”

Adora balls up the cloth in her hands, and tries to wipe out some of the ash. Catra huffs and enters the room with her, stepping lightly around the glass.

“Come on, Aodra,” she urges her, leaning her head into view, “that blanket’s filthy. Just leave it alone.”

She sets the blanket back down on the bed, and meets Catra’s eyes. Her own are watering, she can feel the sting. And the way Catra’s face goes from hard to soft to hard tells her that she can see it too.

“Why would they do this, Catra?” The other girl doesn’t respond, unable to meet her gaze. “This is a civilian town. There’s no way they could’ve been a threat to the Horde. They don’t have any weapons here. It’s not a major trade route or part of any kind of supply chain. These people didn’t have anything to do with the war. This doesn’t make sense.”

Catra crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the still standing portion of the wall. “Since when did the Horde need a reason to blow something up?”

“We always had a reason, Catra! Tanks and artillery of this caliber are strictly for use when confronted with armored enemy units or where siege tactics are necessary not for occupations.” Her voice carries as she speaks, a shrill note, “We don’t just blow up towns for fun! We were supposed to be brining order to Etheria not murdering innocent people!”

“And how do you know that’s true?” Catra says, glaring. “Because Shadow Weaver told you so? Did you just believe everything Shadow Weaver told us?”

“Shadow Weaver was our mentor, Catra. She was teaching us the right way to—”

“Shadow Weaver isn’t here, Adora!” Catra approaches, hands at her sides clenched and trembling, “and she was never teaching us the ‘right way’ to do anything. Of all people she’s probably the one who planned this attack in the first place.”

Adora pulls the blanket to her chest, “She couldn’t have. I-I know she didn’t. I asked her and she said we would offer villages that couldn’t defend themselves a home in the Horde and they always said yes.”

“She lied, Adora. She was lying to us from the very beginning…I thought you knew that.” Catra takes her face in one hand, forcing Adora to look her in face. “Did you never think about what might happen if someone said no the the Horde.”

“They wouldn’t.” Her words are steady, but she can no longer believe them as she speaks.

“Look around you, Adora. They did. And this is what they got.”

Catra releases her, and its as if her touch was the only thing that kept Adora on her feet as the moment her fingers break contact Adora falls to the ground, fighting back against the feeling welling in her throat. Catra spares her a brief glance before she turns, tail brushing against her head as she walks out of the hole in the wall.

“I’m going to take a look around. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Time passes. She isn’t sure how long she stays there on her knees clutching the ash covered blanket but by the time she looks up the sun is making its way back towards the tree line on the other side of the village. She catches a glimpse of herself in a piece of shattered mirror. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red but she did not cry. She couldn’t. To feel sorrow here would be a betrayal to all that she ever knew. This was the Horde’s work; the evidence was all around her but this couldn’t be what she was meant to do. This wasn’t what they trained for and it wasn’t what Adora trained for and Shadow Weaver would never let something like this happen.

Right?

She walks out of the building and makes her way further into the village with the blanket in hand. The damage is worse on the outskirts where the artillery hit. The central buildings were mostly intact though all of the walls were striped with black scorch marks from laser blasts. From the angle of entry, the size of the marks, and the partial disintegration she can infer the model of laser baton they used. Horde standard is for laser batons of a stun grade be used in cases where they are expected to be discharged at civilians, unarmed combatants, and their own personal. Those batons aren’t strong enough to disintegrate any organic matter, like those that would have made these marks on the walls. She studies the pattern for a moment. In the Horde, batons are typically fired in volleys when a squad is together and facing a unified enemy. They have a tight pattern, that accounts for aim and the movements of a target or group of targets to ensure that there is no escape from the volley. Should a soldier fall, the pattern changes to accommodate. She counts three complete patterns of eight that are present on the side of one building.

All the rest have gaps.

Adora enters a medium sized building near the center of town. It is two stories tall, with a green tint to its outer walls. Above the door there is a sign in the shape of a swan with its wings outstretched and beak open wide. Below it, in simple letters, is written “Laughing Swan Inn”. She opens the door, and the rancid smell reaches her nose. She peaks her head in, holding her hand over her mouth and nose as she looks around the interior. She finds nothing inside but overturned chairs and shattered bar stools. The smell comes from a door to the left of the bar, and she spots a coppery stain peaking from underneath the door frame. She does not open it. She cannot open it.

She looks behind the bar and finds a large book stashed near the register. It is a ledger of sorts, though the figures are strange to her. She does not know what it means for each of these names to be assigned a value though she assumes from the convention that it must be some form of debt that each person owes the inn. In the back she finds a list of addresses, which include the inn’s. She learns that this village is named Thaymor.

Thaymor is a military stronghold for the rebellion, one of the few remaining gaps between the Horde and their inevitable victory over the rebellion.

Thaymor is a civilian village on a road that will be swallowed by the Whispering Woods, far out of the way of the Horde’s quickest route to Brightmoon and the inn keeper of the Laughing Swan Inn dismissed the tabs of two people and listed the reason as a simple act of good faith.

She exits the Laughing Swan Inn, ledger in hand and her knuckles turn white from the strain she places upon its spine. It does not take long for her to find Catra, who is on her way back to the ruined house where she took the blanket. Upon seeing her approach Catra turns, shifting the bag she holds over her shoulder.

“I thought I told you to stay put, Adora. Why do you still have that blanket and what’s with that book.”

Adora thrusts the book at her, pages open to the very back and she points to the address of the inn. “Thaymor. This is village is Thaymor.”

Catra pushes the book aside, eyebrow cocked, “Yeah, and?”

Adora steadies herself, bites into her lip to keep the stinging pain in her eyes back. “My first assignment. When Shadow Weaver promoted me to Force Captain. My first assignment was to destroy the rebel fortress Thaymor, Catra. This is Thaymor.”

“Adora…” Catra says softly, setting the bag aside and all the fire that had filled her eyes in that ruined building is absent as she grips Adora’s arms. Adora realizes then that she is shaking.

“I was going to lead this assault, Catra.” She says, and she can no longer hold it all back. “This, all of this, Shadow Weaver wanted me to do this. She told me Thaymor was a fortress Catra…. And she lied to me.”

Catra says nothing as Adora collapses against her. They fall to their knees in the ruined streets of Thaymor and Adora sobs, deep and mournful into Catra’s shoulder. She chants, between the hiccups and the sobs, that she is sorry. And she is unsure if the words are for the people of Thaymor, Catra, or even herself. She is lost, utterly so, and for the first time she cannot see the way forward. But despite that, she can feel the warmth in the arms around her and the gentle tug at her hair that releases it from the tie and soft feeling of Catra’s fingers running through her hair. It is not enough to soothe this hurt. But it is a comfort all the same.

CW:  Mention of blood and reference to an unseen dead body

[snowbellewells]

CS Role Reversal: “The Case of the Heart in Armor”

Here is my submission for the @csrolereversal​ event.  It is written from the inspiration of this brilliantly intriguing art by @courtorderedcake​. So make sure to send her all the love for her work!! :)

(Her imagery very strongly reminded me of both Sherlock Holmes and also a bit of Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, and so I ran with it, with @courtorderedcake​‘s blessing of course.  Now, I LOVE Victorian literature, so this of course got out of hand and will now be more than one part. Oops? (How do I keep doing this to myself?!?)  I hope you all won’t mind, and I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long, but I’m not even going to try to guess how many parts anymore. I’m giving that up...  Anyway, I hope you enjoy this opening segment!) 

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog... “The Case of the Heart in Armor”

by: @snowbellewells​

Part One

Almost instantaneously, Killian “Holmes” Jones knew something had happened. There was very little that escaped his notice - ever - and the fact that someone had just nicked the gold pocketwatch he always wore was immediately evident, despite their having one of the lightest touches he had experienced in his time walking the seedier London streets. An expectant hush lingered in the air, as if his very surroundings waited to see how he would proceed, and if he could pinpoint just who had divested him of his valuable.

At first glance, the dingey, fog-shrouded and mostly deserted street looked the same as it ever did. There were distant sounds of carriage wheels and horses’ hooves clopping along the cobblestones a street over, the echo of vendors crying their wares, and the distant puff of trains pulling in and out of the station at Marylebone, but in the street where Jones stood, not far from his favored pub, where he was to meet Graham Watson and his older brother, once Liam had left his cushy government office for the night, to share some dinner, things were comparatively calm and still.

That was, until a flash of golden brightness caught his eye, winking from the drab surroundings of brown and grey. The flower cart girl just behind and to his left had not caught his attention when he passed, had not seemed of any particular interest. Even now that the arresting color of her blonde tresses were peeking out of the rather flat, bedraggled hat atop them, she seemed to be busy at her own work, not noticing him at all. And yet, there was something almost too casual about her stance - a marked avoidance of his gaze, as if she were carefully watching him without wishing to seem so. Perhaps some movement had tipped him off unconsciously, but whatever the reason, Killian sensed she was his culprit. Or, if not, she had at least seen something she would rather not share.

Striding purposefully toward her cart of flowers for sale, Killian’s mouth formed a stern line as he prepared to confront the slip of a woman for her thievery. She was still concertedly paying him no mind, though he was certain that she tracked his path warily from the corner of her sparkling jade eyes.

Opening her mouth, she called out the flowers she had on offer along with their prices, pointedly turning away as he came to stand before her. Her voice rang out across the cobblestones clearly, if somewhat tangled by the thick Cockney accent that lay heavy on her tongue. Even if he normally cringed at the harsh sounds of the street vendors and ruffians of the area, he found himself somewhat charmed by the unabashed and almost proud bit of rough he sensed in this one.

Reaching out, he snatched the handful of carnations from her grip, and turned abruptly as if to leave, knowing it would get a rise from the intriguing guttersnipe.

“Oi! Get yer bloomin’ ‘ands off me merchandise if ya don’ mean ta pay!” she cried, her temper riled like a hellcat on the turn of a dime, much as Jones had expected it would be.

Swinging back to face her, which brought them practically nose-to-nose , as she had begun to charge after him, Killian waggled his brows insolently, making the challenge plain, even before he spoke. “Perhaps I might return them… in exchange for my watch, eh Lass?”

Jerking backwards, the impudent young woman eyed him warily for a second as if trying to gauge the true meaning of his words, to discern if he were just fishing for information, or if he really knew what she had done, and then she narrowed her pretty eyes at him, slamming a wall down over the openness he had glimpsed for a moment, allowing him to see past the scruffy interior to something more vulnearable, something (if he were even a bit more gullible) which might have seemed sweet. “Lookit Mister, don’t think that fine hat and pipe and your sharp suit gives you leave to muck about with foolish accusations. I ain’t about ta take none o’ your guff, an’ I don’ ‘ave your filthy watch, so just move on along why don’cha?”

Whether she realized she was doing it or not, the blonde had stepped right back into his space, nearly as soon as she had pulled away. The ridiculous chit actually had the pluck to act like an offended innocent, when Killian became all the more certain with each passing second that she had his pilfered watch hidden on her person even as they spoke. Her pointer finger jabbed into his chest next to the top button of his waistcoat for emphasis, and she wasn’t backing down an inch. She had fire, he would give her that; he was almost as impressed as he had initially been irked.

However, now that his challenge had been taken up, Jones felt his competitive nature roar to life within, and he intended to prove her wrong, to show her just whom she had trifled with and that he was not her average fool. He leaned forward as well, his lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “Perhaps you’d allow me to search you and verify your statement?” Allowing his eyes to rove down from her face slowly before trailing back up again, his tongue poking into the inside of his cheek suggesting the sort of shameless liberties he would never actually take with a lady, no matter what her situation or social status. He might play at a bit of dashing roguishness, but he still considered himself a man of honor at his core.

Those green eyes flashed the same sort of warning color the sky out over the Thames took on when a storm was rolling in and the wise knew to run for cover; the sickening chartreuse of a deep, bruised wound and every bit as risky to provoke or fail to heed. Snatching back the finger that had been pressed against his breastbone, his beguiling nemesis raised her hand, clearly intending to strike him for his cheek - which, admittedly, he quite probably deserved - if he had not caught her wrist in a firm grasp that stalled the motion.

“Easy now, Love,” he murmured, enjoying her gumption too much to leave well enough alone. “Let’s not have you doing something we’ll both regret.”

“I am NOT your love!” she spat back, wriggling in his hold and looking livid enough to claw his eyes out if he let her free to do so. “And if you don’t unhand me…” she hissed, the threat clear now, even as a glimmer of fear also surfaced beneath the fire in her gaze. Killian had no doubt that she would follow through on whatever threat she was about to make, but that flicker and the slight quaver it allowed him to hear in her sharp voice told him she also didn’t know what might happen to her in the meantime, before she could make good on her words. And that hint of trepidation, that she didn’t know his true intentions and felt in herself in danger, quickly doused the fire he’d felt rising in his blood and his own fun in their back and forth.

Quickly, he retreated a step and released her arm, though his boxing reflexes were at the ready, knowing he might well be ducking a slap or punch in the very next moment.

To Killian’s surprise, however, the infuriating lass pulled herself up to her full height, smoothed her rather bedraggled skirts, and eyed him disdainfully as was possible under the circumstances. “Right wise choice you made there,” she snarked, huffing her annoyance as if she hadn’t been the one to start the whole debacle by picking his pocket in the first place. The very real worry he had sensed in her only seconds ago had vanished as if it were never there. “You’d be sorry had I gotten me brother on the case. He’s Chief Inspector, and he don’ take kindly to blighters like you harassing me.”

“Wait a minute now,” Killian interrupted, holding up a hand as he considered her rant, for the first time in their entire interaction feeling a bit out of the loop. “You don’t mean Chief Inspector Nolan? Of Scotland Yard?”

“The very same,” she snapped, arms crossed in front of herself. “What of it?”

Killian’s mind - rarely ever puzzled or caught by surprise, and so all the more intrigued by the seeming anomaly before him - struggled to catch up with and match this saucy baggage before him with the straight-laced knight-in-armor type he sometimes counseled in particularly complex criminal investigations. Inspector David Nolan was as by-the-book, simple and solid as they came, not by any means dense, but certainly not possessed with as cracklingly sharp wit or tongue as the angry sprite squared off before him. The Inspector had also never mentioned any family whatsoever beyond his sweet, fresh-faced wife and newborn son, but then again, it wasn’t as if they were ‘mates’ either. Jones couldn’t exactly see himself kicking back for a pint of rum with the man, even if they did tolerate each other in the name of justice from time to time. 

He was about to tell the feisty harridan before him that he didn’t bloody care who her brother was, he would be having his watch back, when she stunned him once more, her chin jutting up imperiously as she added, “What? Din’ think a street rat like me ‘ad friends in higher places, eh?”

“On the contrary, Love,” Killian countered, purposefully emphasizing the endearment he had simply used out of habit before but now meant to annoy her, as he tapped the brim of his hat in the semblance of a bow. “I think you must have some remarkable friends indeed, or someone would have taught you a lesson in manners by now.” Her mouth opened and closed, floundering for a sharp retort no doubt, but he wasn’t yet finished. “Like it or not, I know you have something of mine, and I will see it returned.”

Nearly growling in frustration, she whirled away from him, turning her back and quickly moving away with the rest of her wares.

Jones watched her go troubled, curious, and stirred all at once; a curious cocktail he hardly recognized it had been so long since last he felt it. Though he didn’t have time to stand there long before he hurried off to meet Graham and Liam, sure that he would now be the one late instead of his elder sibling.

He didn’t notice - yet one more uncharacteristic slip in his usual near-omniscient awareness - the strange rosy glow in the twilight darkness of the now deserted street where he and the flower cart thief had argued. From around the corner of a packed nearby alley, narrowed dark eyes had watched the entire encounter, tracking either Holmes or the girl with avaricious interest. The reddish light glowed brighter for an instant as the excitement of its possessor swelled, so bright that for a moment if anyone had still been present it could not have been missed. Then, the red beacon was shuttered, going out like an extinguished flame. Once more there was only a nondescript London street, and the unseen watcher off on their sinister mission, having seen what was needed, unbeknownst to those who were observed.

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @hollyethecurious​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @laschatzi​ @drowned-dreamer​ @aloha-4-ever​ @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @therooksshiningknight​ @snidgetsafan​ @shireness-says​

[sarahbethimagines]

Chapter 4: Fast Cars and Freedom

Chapter Log!

The sound of clanging metal and rattling chains violently pulled me from my sleep the next morning. The sounds of iron smashing concrete and car doors echoing shook the sleep from my eyes before I even had a chance to fully open them on my own as I slowly sat up in my bed, scratching my still throbbing head in complete and utter confusion. "The Hell?" I finally muttered aloud when not even a brief second passed before more rattling came from outside my windows, followed then by muffled voices I couldn't even begin to make words out of through the insulated walls of my home.

I glanced quickly at my clock, reading the borderline disgusting time of '9:21 AM' in red digital letters as I kicked back my comforter and swung my petite legs over the side of my bed. My limbs fought me with every move I made as I slowly rose to a standing position. Goosebumps punching through the entirety of my skin's surface in protest as I made my way towards my window despite the warm air swirling through my bedroom. But it was too late, I was awake, and far too curious about the ruckus going on just outside to hide under the covers a second longer. Not like at that point I would actually be able to fall back asleep anyway. Slowly but surely, I found myself at my window, and after having to finesse my blind just a little I managed to get the thing to snap and roll up enough to unveil the origin scene of the commotion that had stolen the first peaceful sleep I'd gotten all week. The unfortunate part of it all was, once I looked down into my driveway, instead of gazing upon answers like I had anticipated, I was only met with even more questions and a more thickly laid layer of confusion to swim through. Below me then I could easily spot the shining exposed skin on the top of my father's head as he stood beside an older, two-toned pickup truck I knew did not call our driveway home. But that wasn't what truly had me scratching my temple just then. Hooked to the back of the gray and white truck, a transport trailer was latched. And as I looked down on my father trailing the side of the large hunk of equipment, I could physically feel my eyes widen so much so the lids of my eyes had begun to press into the underside of their sockets at the sight of the most beautiful car I'd ever seen in my entire life. Large blue irises followed in my father's slow path as they scanned every inch of glistening candy apple paint before suddenly dipping to the tail end of the car where they shifted from the glossy coating to a sloppy mop of brown hair I'd sat beside no more than twelve hours before. I knew it instantly, in my mind and my gut for a change exactly who those soft brown locks belonged too. And I watched the slender boy wrap to meet my father behind almost four thousand pounds of pure muscle and steel. Scrunching my eyes, I watched with more confusion than before as Alex and my father began to exchange words by the tail end of this vehicle. And almost instantaneously I felt the urge to run down the stairs and be a part of their inaudible conversation. I didn't even have time to really think about what it was I was actually doing before I was stripping off my plaid pajama pants and makeup stained sleeping shirt. In exchange for some high waisted denim shorts and an only slightly wrinkled pocket tee from the floor. Slipping my feet into my beaten old converse and slipping through my door, not caring how much damage I was probably doing to the heels of my sneakers as I swiftly made my way down the fall and patted down the staircase. In leaps and bounds, I descended the hardwood, for the first time in well, as long as I could currently remember, I was filled with an almost strange level of excitement as I landed hard on my feet in the entryway when the sounds of an engine roared from just beyond the front door. The pure power of the mechanism turning over and firing up shook the large wooden portal in its frame where it had been left just slightly ajar. I was quick then to head running for the driveway, making my way down the two small front steps of my porch in time to see the car be slowly backed off the transport trailer and onto the level asphalt of my street. Eyes wide and heart unpredictable as it pounded in my chest with the rippling sounds of the car's powerful engine I watched as my dad carefully directed the long-legged boy behind the wheel in the taxing task at hand. Soon the car was back on all four wheels being pulled slowly into my drive right before my knees and the engine was killed. As far as I was aware, I wasn't a huge car fanatic, but something about that heavy piece of machinery had my eyes dazed in amazement as I stood completely motionless. Watching and listening to the clang of latches and the echoing of the hollow metal door as Alex stepped from the low riding vehicle and rose to his staggering height just feet from me. "IT'S ALIVE!" I heard my dad joke as he weaved between the car and the trailer, laughing loud and clear as he made his way towards me. "Hello sunshine, glad you could finally grace us with your monstrous presence!" I looked at him as the smile I didn't even realize had been plastered on my face widened, not even caring at him picking fun at my admittedly unfortunate bedhead. And instead, I just continued to smile in awe as he slid a hand down the hood of the vehicle in passing. "What is this?" I asked, my excitement building inside me as I looked my senior in the eyes. He chuckled then, exchanging a look with Alex who had begun to follow in suit taking strides towards me. "You tell me," He said plainly, his tone dripping in both sarcasm and amusement. "If anything is going to jog your memory, I'm almost certain it's going to be this beauty!" I turned back then from Alex's cheeky grin only to see my father sporting a similar expression as he smirked down at me. Eyebrows slowly began to sew themselves together on my crinkled forehead as I stared, which of course only gained more amused chuckles from the two men. "Alex, pop the hood and let her take a look!" More laughter erupted as the confusion painted on my face began to sink so deep into my expression it could have been mistaken for the Grand Canyon. But still, I stepped forward towards the car. Watching silently amidst my dad's hysterical laughter as Alex pulled the pins from the hood before sharply pulling a lever over the license plate, unveiling the source of the earthquake that had shaken my entire house just moments before. "Wow" I breathed out as I stepped up beside Alex, shoulder to elbow and looked down on all the glistening metal and hectic wires sprayed out before me. "Tell me about it." Alex laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck as neither of us dared to take our eyes off the engine before us, pristine and perfect. I couldn't even begin to fathom words at that moment, something inside me had been churning for a while, mixing all the excitement and curiosity into a concoction of nostalgia as I stood there in silence for what felt like forever, breathing in the subtle scent of rubber and gasoline. "Go on..." My dad suddenly added, breaking both Alex and me from our silent states of utter infatuation as he placed a large hand on my shoulder. "Tell him about it." At that small remark, My eyebrows retreated together once again, returning to their ever-confused expression as I turned my head to see my dad smiling yet again. His wide grin exposing the small calcium deposits on his teeth and his deep smile lines beside them. "He already knows everything." I said simply, without even realizing it which only caused my own confusion to spread as I went cross-eyed looking down at my own lips. Curious about where those words had just innately come from. "Humor me!" My dad chuckled lightly smacking my shoulder, blatantly ignoring my obvious disorientation. And I thought for once it best to as well when a headache began to twitch above my right eye. I looked back at the engine and squinted for a moment, my palms slowly growing clammy as though this car were my second-grade crush or something. And then I opened my mouth, and with no control or warning, words began to spill from my lips as though I'd recited them a million times before. "Well, it's a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 454, restored with all original steel body panels." I cooed, and it almost started to feel in that instant like I was having an outer body experience. Words were leaving my face, and if they hadn't been floating through the air in my sleep-soaked voice I would have been certain I wasn't the one saying them. But I was, and I just kept on going. "It has an LS6-454 mark four V8 big block engine with an aluminum intake manifold," because I somehow knew what that was or all that meant! "450 horsepower, which can get it from zero to sixty in about six seconds flat and averages in the thirteen second time range for a quarter mile." My head was aching now, but not from any hint of an oncoming memory. Just from the pure fact of not understanding a single thing coming from my mouth as any attempts to shut it completely proved futile and I made my way around Alex and towards the driver's side of the car. "She has fourteen by seven-inch wheels with F70 tires and beautiful heavy duty F41 suspension underneath her," I muttered, beginning to smile to myself despite the total war going on inside my brain between everything I knew, and what little I remembered. Sticking my head through the open window I somehow continued, as though I hadn't said enough already. "All original round gauge dash and black leather interior, complete with a Muncie M22 rock crusher four-speed manual transmission." And if you thought I was done there, you and I both would be so painfully wrong. Because then I pulled my head from the window, lightly tracing a hand down the roof of the car as I smiled at the flecks in the paint glistening back at me. "Her two-door coupe style body is perfect – if I do say so myself..." I smirked, "With just a single repaint of stock, true to the year colors of cherry red with pristine, airbrushed tuxedo black racing stripes and chrome-tipped dual exhaust, it's as though you drove her off the lot." I took a step back then, gazing at the white 'SS' insignia stamped on the rear rubber bumper panel for a second before I looked up. Staring over the slick roof of this car I'd just completely reconstructed without skipping a beat and met my father's eyes. Their bright blue-gray color that resembled mine could hardly be seen in their squinted state he'd been smiling so hard just then. "What?" I basically snapped, laughter playing on my lips as I wrapped back around the side of the car and advanced towards the older man. Something inside me then, be it the giddy smile that had subconsciously plastered itself across my lips, the look in my father's eyes as he pulled me quickly into a bear hug or the light almost butterfly-like feeling that consumed my stomach told me that the car I was already re-infatuated with was mine. Or was pretty damn close to being mine at the very least. "You may not remember, but there are some thing's you'll never forget." My dad muttered in my ear then, crushing my rib cage into my spine he was holding on so tight. "It's like riding a bike... sometimes in order to remember how to do it, you have to get back on the seat!" I couldn't help but laugh then, a light-hearted, warm laugh as I squeezed my dad a little before we both let go. And I looked up at him with large wide eyes, and a devilish smile pushing out my cheeks. "Is that your way of telling me I get to drive this thing?" I giddily asked. In the second he released me, I took a step back and watched on as my father quickly looked over at Alex, a silent exchange of nerve-wracking looks happening between them. And something slowly began to dawn on me as to why that exited proclamation of my idea seemed to settle in all the wrong places. I watched Alex slowly jingle the keys between calloused fingers as he bit his lip and my head began to throb, a literally painful reminder of why it was so astonishing I'd remembered anything at all about the car now beside me. I knew enough from skimming my hospital report that the accident that caused my loss of memory and everything else I've endeavored wasn't my fault. That I wasn't even the one behind the wheel when it happened. But still, it went without saying why my father and I guess friend were so painfully hesitant to hand the keys over so soon after getting me back in any condition at all. Let alone the one I was in. I was mere seconds away from revoking my foolish request when my father released a heavy sigh, the engine still ticking softly under the hand he gently placed on the frame. And without any warning, he said something I would have never expected nor anticipated. "Only if Alex rides along." He said softly, shaking his head as though he was fighting himself to not drop the hood like he was and latch it back shut. But my arms and my body didn't give him a second to contemplate taking it back before I was throwing myself into his side and holding on for dear life. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I squealed. Jumping up and down causing his round body to shake rather violently. Untangling my arms from his stomach and back, he jokingly muttered for me to get off him with a laugh before I looked at Alex who was silently and hesitantly extending the keys over to me. "be gentle with her!" My father warned next, running a hand down his face and shaking his head before turning back towards the house. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me about the car, or to Alex on my behalf. But I didn't care to examine my father's few words as I all but snatched the keys from my old friend's hand and ran around to the driver's side door. The clang of our doors echoed in succession as we both climbed in and the sinking leather of the seats wrapped around the undersides of my exposed thighs perfectly, as though they were molded for me long ago. Hands ran softly over the groves of the wheel filling me with excitement and joy that felt fitting and perfect in that instant. It felt nostalgic of days I didn't remember but could feel in the sting of the sun-heated metal. With the click of our seatbelts and the rattle of keys, the engine between my thighs roared to life with a mighty growl and I couldn't help the ginormous, almost kid-like grin that spread across my lips at the sound. A sight which of course only gained a small chuckle from Alex as I put it in reverse and glided from my driveway. The car was a beast in itself and that was for certain. It revved loud and proud with a tap to the gas and would have had us flying down the street in seconds had anyone else been behind the wheel. But in that instant, just with navigating my house, or knowing where to find forks, my hands and my feet knew this car better than I knew myself. Which was almost a too literal analogy. But my limbs worked together in a beautiful symphony just then, knowing exactly when to release the gas and press the clutch and shift the gears with seamless effort. Like second nature it came and I couldn't help but laugh at the indescribable way driving that car made me feel. Alex laughed too then, causing me to take my eyes off the road for no more than a second as I squinted at him. "What?" I dared to ask, which only resulted in him shaking his head from the edges of my eyes as we pulled to the stop sign at the end of my street. "What?" "Nothing..." He laughed on which resulted in an innate growl to surface from the back of my throat which only elicited more laughter from the young adult beside me. "It's just funny to see you like this, it feels like the day you got your license all over again!" "It does?" I questioned, pulling out into the street and pressing the gas, letting the tires spin and shriek for a second to feel it beneath me before letting it die. "Why is that?" "Because from the second your dad brought this car home as nothing more than a rusted body and frame, all you ever – ever, wanted was to get behind the wheel of this thing. And for some crazy reason not even hours after passing your road test he let you, on one condition-" "You came with me." I smiled, running my hands over the wheel again as we took off down the back roads. "You remember?" He suddenly asked, his tone dipping down dramatically to a soft, careful one. I smiled softly to myself, not realizing I must have some way or another just then. "I guess so." I shrugged. "In a way." And I could see him nod in my peripherals, the answer I guess was enough for him in the meantime. But something was tickling the back of my mind. "Does this thing have any music?" Alex laughed, and loudly at that as he reached between his feet. At the first red light, I glanced and found him sifting through a decently large cardboard box I hadn't even noticed between his bent knees, overflowing with CD cases and cassette tapes. "You never went a second in this car or any car for that matter without blasting something!" He chuckled as he pulled a small tape deck from the box, every possible inch coated with masking tape to the point I wasn't certain it would work and slid it softly into its respected slot on the dash. Something I'm sure had been added in after for my use, and probably the only thing on this car I could spot as modified. 'DO NOT PLAY BEFORE 4/12/2003' was written on the only exposed part of the deck which I managed to read just as the light turned green and I rolled onto another side street. Almost instantly music began to pour from the static of the speakers at a ridiculous volume, just as quick as Alex was to begin flipping through the tracks as best he could on the makeshift sound system jammed in the plastic. He said nothing as he found the track he wanted, track seven to be exact and sunk softly back into his seat. Smiling to himself from what I could make out. No more than a second passed before hauntingly familiar riffs began to pool into the car. Floating between the two of us as I tapped the beat on the wheel, my thumbs having a memory of their own. Something inside me had begun to stir as I smiled to myself and slowly rolled to a stop sign just as Ryan Key's voice filled the air. And almost as quick as that smile came, it faded as fast as that car could go, replaced with a splitting headache that had me pressing down on the breaks for dear life as a memory sucked me in at what couldn't have been a worse possible time. "TRAVEL BACK IN TIME WITH YOU, TO WHERE THIS ALL BEGAN!" I screamed, the lyrics of Yellowcard's brand new album flowing from the speakers and through my long, wind-tangled hair as I ripped it from the stop sign and down the backroads of my town. Laughing loudly at the sensation of the engines power and the freedom flowing through my veins, I looked over at Alex as he clung to the window frame of my car for dear life, trying his hardest to smile through his fear. "Oh, loosen up ya tightwad!" I laughed, daring to take my hand off the transmission to poke my dear friend on the cheek which nearly caused an audible shriek to rip from his pinched lips. "I passed my driving test with flying colors!" "Yeah, and the colors of my stomach's contents are about to go flying out your window!" He all but whined as I reluctantly slowed to a halt at the next stop sign and smiled at him almost too calmly. "If you throw up on my car, I will murder you in your sleep and make it look like an accident." I said softly, daring my grin to widen more than it already had. Since to widen as large as Alex's eyes had grown in that instant would be humanly impossible for even a clown. "You're absolutely crazy!" He managed to laugh, knowing all too well my threat held no validity as I pulled from the corner and managed to control my lead foot from gassing it down yet another street. "I can't believe your dad actually let you drive this thing!" "Own it." I corrected. "As of tomorrow morning, the title to this beauty will be in my name and no one – not even you Gaskarth will be allowed behind its wheel." "You're not going to let me drive it?" He proclaimed, sitting forward now on the still glossy leather seats, getting comfortable inside the steel frame slowly but surely. "Not a snowflakes chance in Hell, kiddo!" I laughed almost maniacally. Pulling down my favorite dirt road which skirted the most perfect large field I often fund myself whenever I got stuck in my ways. Finally taking off down it like I'd been dreaming about since me and my dad had started to rebuild this thing from rust to the glory it now was. "Well if I can't take it anywhere, where are you going too?" Alex challenged, throwing his elbow onto the small center console nestled between us. "Wherever the road takes me, my dear boy," I practically sang, barreling down the empty road as I smiled up at my rearview mirror. Watching in awe and amazement as the dust and gravel kicked up into a dust storm behind me. "And you're coming with me." "Oh, is that so?" He laughed now, nudging my arm ever so slightly as I giggled back at him, only trying for a second to purse my lips at my pal and nod. "Who else would I trust to be responsible for my life now that I can operate a vehicle of this caliber?" I asked, cocking a brow at the road before me as its end came into sight and I eased my foot off the gas with heavy reluctance. "You've been keeping me in line for almost three years now, and I think that if anyone in this state can come close to handling me it's going to be you!" "I sure as Hell can't handle you Dee." He said matter-of-factly as he shook his head, which of course I laughed at with pure amusement dripping from the sound. "Well no shit Sherlock, no one can!" I snickered, "I said if there was anyone close to being able to, it'd be you!" He smiled at me when as I glanced over, rolling to a stop at the line in time to see the biggest grin spreading on his still chapped lips. Eyes glistening with delight as he stared at my careless beam and wind-whipped hair. Not a care in the world between us as we sat on the corner of Gibbons and Fountain street just smiling at one another in a blend of Yellowcard lyrics and the fresh spring breeze. "So where are we off to now?" He asked, never letting his eyes waver from mine as my wide grin only grew at his daring inquiry. "Honey Bee's" I stated with certainty and a brief nod. "I'm in the mood for a cherry coke!" "Aren't you always?" He all but cackled looking at me with a look I could only describe as astonishment. Well, that's at least what I chose to describe it as most might have chosen 'disgust' as a better fitting term. But I'm not most people. So, I shot him my biggest grin before turning forward and readjusting in my seat. "Exactly!" "Kennedy?" Alex's voice called me back from my thoughts as I blinked violently and came too. "You've been sitting at this sign for almost ten minutes now, I'm shocked no one's come up behind you, what's going on?" "I- I don't know..." I managed to stutter out and looked down at the display on the cassette player and saw 'TRACK 9' click to 'TRACK 10' and heard their song Inside Out start to play. I couldn't think of anything to say for a second as my hand traveled to my growling stomach and I looked at Alex with the utmost look of confusion adorning my face. Cocking my head, stumped by myself I said, "But I think I'm having a craving for a cherry coke." His head dropped after that remark, inner corners twitching ever so slightly as I watched the tanned boy closely. "Aren't you always?" He couldn't seem to help himself from asking aloud. Smiling softly down on his lap I took in the joy on his lips and the subtle pain in his eyes before turning back to the front and placing my hand on the wheel. "Exactly..." I muttered, pulling out onto the main road and going in whichever direction it took me.

[dipulb3]

2021 Ford Mustang Mach-E first drive review: A very good EV, just an OK Mustang

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-ford-mustang-mach-e-first-drive-review-a-very-good-ev-just-an-ok-mustang/

2021 Ford Mustang Mach-E first drive review: A very good EV, just an OK Mustang

Of all the years for Ford to slap the Mustang name on an electric crossover, 2020 seems about right. Subverted expectations are the name of the game and while the nomenclature might not sit well with everyone, rest assured that the 2021 Ford Mustang Mach-E is a lovely little EV that speaks of great things to come.

The normal Ford Mustang’s M.O. is pretty straightforward: It’s meant to deliver balanced handling with power that has the capability to overwhelm the rear end. To that end, my First Edition tester holds the party line. With about 332 horsepower and 417 pound-feet of torque, there’s definitely enough go-juice, but with the majority of the powertrain’s heft located as low as possible, it takes a whole lot of brute manhandling to unsettle the Mach-E. As expected, the instantaneous electric torque makes for exciting starts, but it’s not enough to rip your toupee off your scalp. Even in its sharpest vehicle mode, there’s still plenty of sensible right-pedal modulation on offer, making it easy to power out of one corner and into the next.

Aside from the exciting starts, the Mach-E feels somewhat tame, as if Ford is aiming for more of a grand-touring-style experience. The suspension’s standard fixed dampers err toward softness, with a bit of body roll in corners and a surprisingly well-cushioned ride on the highway. Magnetorheological adaptive shocks are on the docket, but only for the upcoming GT, which seems like a missed opportunity — not only to milk a few more bucks from buyers, but also to offer a slightly sportier experience without requiring the full chunk of change the GT variant will command.

The Mustang Mach-E’s regenerative brakes don’t exactly command a sports-car level of precision, but that doesn’t make them bad. The one-foot-driving mode is stellar, with the right amount of lift-off deceleration making for easily controllable stops. My issues only become present when the left pedal is actually required; the blend point between regenerative and friction braking is incredibly obvious, with a marked shift in deceleration as I push further into the pedal’s throw. Some more linearity would inspire more confident braking and make for more Mustang-y dynamics, so I’m hoping that this gets sorted out on the GT.

The Mach-E offers three different vehicle modes. Whisper is my favorite, taking advantage of the car’s inherent on-road smoothness with a numb accelerator and comfortably light steering feel. Engage, the middle-child option, sharpens throttle and steering while the sportiest mode, Unbridled (groan), ramps the response up even further. Each setting also has its own volume level for the fake “engine” noise that Ford pipes into the cabin, which is more of a low-pitched thrum that actually sounds pretty good — better than the usual spaceship-like low-speed noises that most automakers rely on. You can turn it off if you don’t need to pretend you’re driving something nonelectric, though.

The First Edition before me has an EPA-estimated range of 270 miles from its 98.8-kWh battery, but Michigan’s cold ambient temperatures have sliced the onboard computer’s estimated range down to 220 miles and driving with a heavy foot can bring that number down even further. While the battery can accept up to 150 kilowatts of charging power, a trip to a 50-kW charger delivered just 35 kW of max power, requiring a whopping 45 minutes to add about 18% of juice.

Mustang Mach-E Range

For a bit of context, EPA range estimates vary from 211 miles on the low end, representing AWD variants with the standard-range 68.8-kWh battery, to 300 miles on the high end, which covers big-battery versions with rear-wheel drive.

Impressive tech abounds in the Mach-E and it’s obvious from the first glance at the dashboard. The standard 10.2-inch digital gauge cluster focuses only on the most pertinent information, limiting itself to a speedometer, range estimates and the current gear. Enabling lane-keep assist or turn-by-turn directions will add those to the screen, as well, but everything has a distinct place and is easy to reference with a quick glance. It will also change its background in different vehicle modes, which is a fun little touch.

I sincerely hope that Ford puts this screen — and this system — into as many future vehicles as possible. It’s really, really great.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

Mustang Mach-E Sync 4 infotainment

The real meat and potatoes of the Mach-E’s cabin tech comes from the honkin’ 15.5-inch portrait display centered on the dash. It’s running a modified version of Ford’s Sync 4 system, so it’s responsive and easy on the eyes, with both light and dark motifs available. The top half of the screen is devoted to a single thing, whether it’s a navigation map or audio info, while a series of tiles just beneath allows for quick swapping between various corners of the system, and you can see it all with just a quick glance away from the windshield. Climate controls are at the bottom and, while I miss having physical switchgear for these, the touchscreen controls are easy enough to use at stoplights. Apple CarPlay, Android Auto and Waze integration are all included, as is a 4G LTE Wi-Fi hotspot running on AT&T’s network. Charging comes by way of two USB ports (one Type-A, one Type-C) per row.

There’s one part of the central display that deserves an award, though. There’s an incredibly powerful settings menu that’s accessed by hitting the Mach-E in the top left corner of the screen. Unlike most menus of this kind, which just sort of expect you to know what everything means, each setting has an information icon that, when clicked, gives you a plain-English explanation of what the various modes or settings do. It’s little things like this that I love and I’m sure people new to the EV experience will also appreciate a bit of handholding to ease the transition.

Mustang Mach-E interior

While some parts of EV life might take some getting used to, the Mach-E’s interior proves that some electric-vehicle benefits are easy to live with. A lack of mechanical bits under the body means there is so much space on offer and it’s only enhanced on my tester thanks to a glass roof that makes the cabin feel quite airy. Usable space is everywhere, with two levels of storage (including a wireless device charger) just under the screen, in addition to sufficiently deep door pockets, another cubby under the armrest and a trunk that, despite the cut roofline, is deep enough for a family’s worth of golf clubs or groceries.

There’s no such thing as having too much storage space.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

The Mach-E’s interior is mighty pleasant, with supportive front seats that aren’t so tight as to be uncomfortable for more Rubenesque occupants. The fabric interior trim is a lovely touch that zhushes up an otherwise straightforward and sorta-plain dashboard design, and I like that the same trim also covers the speaker housings to bring it all together. I’m hopeful that some of the hard plastics on the A-pillar and lower center console of my preproduction tester are upgraded before reaching buyers, because those parts don’t really feel at home on a car that starts at $43,000. Second-row occupants are in luck, too, because that coupe-ish silhouette doesn’t impugn much on headroom and there’s plenty of legroom available, to boot.

If anything, the closest connection between the Mach-E and the actual Mustang is the exterior design. The coupeover roofline and the fat rear haunches would look just as appropriate on a regular ‘Stang and the rear taillights are pretty much plucked straight from the real deal, albeit with new protuberances that bridge the visual gap across the tailgate. The front end’s “grille” bears a slight Mustang resemblance, as do the headlights, but worry not — with a new Mustang generation on the horizon, something tells me the differences between EV and pony car will dwindle.

While I believe that some connections to the actual Mustang do exist, the Mach-E is more of a grand-touring-focused EV that can be a little sporty when it wants. Considering its price range, which starts around $43,000 and tops off near $60,000 for a First Edition, that seems like the right place to be. Yes, hardcore variants like the GT are on the way, but as it stands, the Mach-E also offers daily usability in a way that most Mustangs don’t. I think the Mach-E is a sign of great things to come from Ford — not only for its most precious nameplate, but for every future EV the automaker produces.

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[velvetchen]

Spellbound | oneshot

[ back to masterlist ]

Genre: Fluff/angst, supernatural!au (witch!reader, vampire!jongdae) Pairing: Chen/Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: extremely flirty jongdae, deliberate miscommunication for the sake of plot

The moon climbed higher in the sky. If you had had any plans of going to bed early, they were dashed now. You grumbled at your decision to experiment more tonight instead of in the morning - but you needed the crescent moonlight for the spell to work, and besides, the curiosity was eating at you. This spell had been flummoxing you for weeks, and you’d only just realized you were missing an important ingredient.

An ingredient you didn’t have.

So that’s why you were hurrying through the dark streets at half past eleven, pausing in between to yawn and blink the sleep away from your eyes. You can sleep all you want tomorrow, you told yourself as you climbed the steps to Madame Mothair’s Grim Grimoire. You pushed open the door to the dingy interior, the familiar scent of dust and Madame’s many magic candles - deer musk, petrichor, summer grass, snow - flooding your nose.

“Back so soon, Y/N?” Madame said, looking up from her hands, which were dusting the shelves, her one eye looking at you with amusement.

You grinned sheepishly in response. “Yeah, I forgot something. I’ll be just a minute.” With that, you darted past to the far end of the store, where neatly labeled jars of various teeth sat waiting for you on the shelves. Humming to yourself, you grabbed a small cloth pouch and filled it with the one you needed.

Things caught your eye on your way back: a discount pack of owl gizzards, another of hexagon-cut tourmalines. A Hangover Hex: miraculously cures hangover in seconds! You shook your head, deciding you’d come back for those.

When you got to the register, someone was already there. The pale skin and cartons of blood on the counter marked him as vampire. You wrinkled your nose. Vampires came to Madame Mothair’s often enough - she always had blood stocked in the freezer section. And you saw them often enough on the streets. They were hard to miss, with their standard red-and-black capes and perfectly creased suits: they all had a liking for everything to be neat, just so. This guy, though, had on a black t-shirt and jeans. Intrigued, you eyed him as you slid next to him in line. You’d never met a vampire who wore jeans before.

“Hi,” he said as he noticed you, giving you a wide grin that exposed his fangs. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

You looked at him warily, then at Madame Mothair as she spoke up. “This here’s my best customer. Buys me out of my stock of boysenberry cordial every time it comes in.” She eyed your hands. “Good, none of it today. It’s expensive, you know.”

You blushed, looking from Madame to the vampire next to you, not saying anything. Madame held out her hand, and you dropped the pouch into it. She tipped it out onto her hand, raising her brow at the contents. “Horse teeth? What are you up to?”

“Horse teeth?” The vampire repeated, copying Madame and raising his brow. “Gross.”

“Says the guy buying six liters of A positive,” you retorted, looking down at his haul. “Gross.”

“It’s delicious, pumpkin,” he grinned again, leaning on the counter as he watched you try to look deliberately away from him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat the horse teeth.”

You rolled your eyes. “No. And pumpkin? Really?”

He shrugged. “Witch? Pumpkin? Get it?”

“No,” you said again, rummaging in your pocket for spare change. “Then I’ll call you Fangs. Get it? Vampire? Fangs?”

A dry look settled on his face. “Ha ha. Hilarious. Couldn’t have thought of it myself.”

You traded the coins for the pouch Madame handed back to you, slipping it into your pocket and turning to leave. “See you, Fangs.”

You didn’t mean to return so soon, but here your were at Madame Mothair’s for the second time in as many days, scouring the shelves for an ingredient you weren’t sure you’d even be able to find. The horse teeth hadn’t been right at all, setting you back further. And that meant another sleepless night.

You crouched by the back shelves, running your fingers over various jars and bags and boxes of items. You didn’t know what you needed - just hoped it would jump out at you when you found it. So far, that approach was doing nothing to help and everything to confuse you even further.

Footsteps sounded in the aisle behind you, shattering your focus. The maker of the sound turned to corner, stopping when he saw you. “Oh, hey, Pumpkin. You again.”

“Fangs,” you nodded, watching as he stood beside you to peruse the shelves. “I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

He smirked. “You seem pleased about it.”

“Am not.” Blushing again, you turned your attention back to the shelves, looking but not really looking. “Why are you back so soon, anyway?”

He answered by pulling something out of the shelves, holding it up for you to see. “Powdered blood.” He licked his fangs exaggeratedly. “You’ll never know how delicious this stuff is.”

You made a face. “What do you even use that stuff for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Pumpkin. Sorry, that’s a clan secret.” He wiggled his brows.

“Actually, I’d rather not know what it’s for. Knowing you vampires…” You stood, brushing off the dust that seemed to collect on your clothes no matter what. “I’m not going to like it.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just like I have absolutely no desire to find out what the horse teeth were for.”

“Oh, those,” you said nonchalantly. “I ground them up and fed them to my cats.”

He looked more horrified than you had expected, and you stifled a laugh. “You what?”

You grinned. “They’re high in calcium, you know.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” He followed you into the next aisle, frowning.

You wanted to keep teasing him; the look on his face was priceless. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You winked, continuing to walk down the aisle, looking through the shelves.

“So…” he was still following you. “Your cats. That’s such a witch stereotype.”

“Should I be offended?”

He raised his hands in mock defense. “No, no. Just an observation.”

“Mmm. And I bet you have a bat.”

“I do, actually.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “You have a bat? An actual pet bat?”

“From what I hear, it’s not uncommon. His name is Batty and he’s very mild-tempered. He likes bananas. The blood thing is a myth.”

You blinked at him. “You named your bat...Batty.”

He shrugged. “He didn’t complain about it.”

You let out a long exhale, shaking your head as you moved on, continuing your search for the elusive ingredient, which so far had yet to reveal itself. Although that could be owed to the fact that you were distracted by a certain vampire.

Who was still following you.

“Do you need something?” You asked politely, turning to face him. He was leaning casually on the shelves next to you, examining his fangs in the face of a silver spoon.

“You know,” he said, not looking away. “I never got your name.”

“That’s because I never gave it to you.”

“Oh. Ouch,” he clutched his chest in mock pain. “Okay, I’m asking you now.”

“It’s Y/N.”

He nodded. “Y/N. A very witchy name indeed.”

You rolled your eyes, moving on to the next shelf.

“I’m Jongdae,” he said, moving along with you. “Even though you didn’t ask.”

“How gracious of you to tell me.”

“And I’m still going to call you pumpkin.”

“Why?” you asked boredly.

“It suits you.”

“Last I checked, I wasn’t orange. Or round.” You reached up for a glass bottle on a high shelf. “Or a vegetable.”

He plucked the bottle from the shelf with ease after you struggled to reach it, handing it to you. “Thanks,” you muttered.

“Pumpkins are cute,” Jongdae said, grinning again, the tips of his fangs pressing into his bottom lip. “You’re cute. I see a common factor.”

“Pumpkins aren’t cute. Neither am I.” Turning around quickly to hide your blush, you started to walk towards the counter, not even caring if the bottle you held in your hand was the right one. You wanted to leave, get away from him, and the way he made your heart thump erratically, making you feel like you were lit up from the inside.

He followed you to the register too, setting his bag of powdered blood down next to your bottle. Madame Mothair gave you a knowing look, one tinged with laughter. She likely knew exactly what you were feeling. Your blush deepened, and you let your hair fall in front of your face, hoping to cover it.

You paid quickly, stuffing the bottle in the pocket of your dress. As you left, you heard him ask Madame, “Is she always like this?”

“You wouldn’t believe,” Madame replied.

The third time you came back was after you’d finally succeeded in finishing the spell: a tracking spell, one that would let the caster find anything their heart desired - if they could keep up with it. It turned out you hadn’t needed horse teeth, but the hair from a horse’s mane, for swiftness, so you returned to Madame Mothair’s once to stock up on it. You hadn’t seen Jongdae that time, though, and you hated to admit that you were actually disappointed.

This time you were there to pick up something to bottle the spell in, so you were - relatively - relaxed about your shopping, singing softly to yourself as you looked for a flask that was the right shape and size. You settled on a round one with a long, narrow neck, which would show off the spell’s lovely deep red color while keeping it from spilling out. Like many spells had done before. You shuddered at the last one and how you’d had to hide the tentacles for weeks.

Gathering three of them into your arms, you started to make your way towards the counter, only to get the feeling that your head felt lighter than usual. Stopping, you reached up to pat the top of it, confused when you touched hair and not the pointy tip of your black hat. “My hat!” you cried, almost dropping the flasks. Wincing, you gingerly replaced them on the shelf, then started to retrace your steps through the shop, looking for it.

It wasn’t in this aisle. Nor was it in the next. In the third aisle, a voice stopped you. “Looking for something?”

You glanced up to see Jongdae dangling the hat from his fingertips, a mischievous look on his face. Your brow furrowed. “Give it back!”

“Someone’s protective of their hat,” he said, smile widening.

“I worked hard to earn it, that’s why,” you growled. “Give it back,” you paused, then added, “please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he relented, striding forward and dropping it on your head. The tip flopped over to cover your eyes. You frowned, straightening it.

“Now that I’ve given it back, you owe me something,” he said. “Hmm, what will it be?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” you grumbled. “You took it. You didn’t do me a favor.”

“Oh, is that so?” He followed on your heels as you strode back to the shelf with the bottles. “I found it lying on the ground, obviously forgotten about by a very preoccupied witch, and decided to do my good deed for the day in giving it back to her.”

“If you say so.” At the counter, Madame Mothair rang up your purchases without a word. You glanced down at Jongdae’s empty hands. “Why are you here if you aren’t buying anything, anyway?”

At that, he looked sheepish. “I was, uh, just hanging around.”

“He was waiting for you,” Madame corrected. It took a moment to register, but when it did, both you and Jongdae flushed deep red, and she cackled loudly at the sight. “Oh, I miss being a kid. Have fun, you two. No funny business in my store, I’ll lose the customers.” She ushered you both out the door.

The second you were outside, you turned to face Jongdae, who had recovered from the embarrassment and was now giving you a look that made your cheeks burn even more. “I wonder what she meant by funny business, hmm?” He asked. “Want to go try it out?”

“No thanks,” you said, trying your best to ignore him as he followed you down the road like a puppy. “If you follow me back home, Jongdae…”

“Is that an invitation?”

“I’m serious! I...I have anti-vampire jinxes all over my driveway! You can’t come in even if you try!”

He chuckled. “Oh? This is a great opportunity for you to test if they work, then.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he matched your stride. “No need to thank me, I’m always happy to help.”

You bit your lip, frustrated. Maybe giving him the silent treatment would work? You said nothing all the way back to your house, ignoring his comments about the weather and questions about whether witches “really brew stuff in cauldrons.”

At that, you had to break your silence to laugh. “Do even you know anything about witches?”

“Only that you wear pointy hats and cast spells on things,” he said.

“Fair enough,” you laughed again. “All I know about vampires is that you drink blood and you’re all neat freaks.”

“Neat freaks?” He scoffed, and pulled his t-shirt away from you to show you a negligibly small red spot. “I have a stain on my clothes! You call that neat?”

“Okay, maybe not you.” You hid a smile.

“Oh, yeah. I’m not your average vampire, pumpkin.” He flashed his fangs at you. “In more ways than one.” You didn’t humor his gaze, keeping yours trained straight ahead. He was quiet for a while after that, but as you expected, the silence didn’t last long.

“So, can I see your cauldron?”

You choked. “Is that an innuendo?”

That smooth smirk returned as he leaned close to whisper in your ear. “Do you want it to be?”

“I...No! Definitely not!” You spluttered, drawing away. “And no! I’m not letting you into my house!”

“Why? Worried I’ll steal something?” His eyes grew wide, faking innocence. “You’re right. I’m planning to steal your heart.”

“Not happening,” you gritted out, but that was a lie. He was already halfway there. As if he knew that he was, he quieted, a triumphant grin the only thing he had to say in response. You were silent the rest of the way, which wasn’t very long at all, and before you knew it you were at your door.

“Hmm, there aren’t any anti-vampire traps around,” he noted, looking around. “Unless...is that iron?” He burst into laughter, while you stood there, looking confused.

“We’re not affected by iron,” Jongdae said, still guffawing like he’d heard the funniest thing on earth. “We literally drink blood, pumpkin. What else do you believe? Garlic? Silver bullets?”

You frowned, looking away at the slug of iron hidden beneath your front step. “I’ve never actually met a vampire before,” you muttered.

He looked surprised at that. “You haven’t? But there are so many of us!”

You shook your head. “I see a lot of you around, but you’re the first one I’ve...talked to.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t know. The coven always said you were bad for us, that we weren’t supposed to associate with you. Witches and vampires...just don’t mix.”

“Is that why you won’t talk to me?”

“No,” you snorted, “I don’t talk to you because you’re annoying.” And because you make me feel things I don’t know how to handle.

He wasn’t offended at that. “I’ll grow on you, pumpkin. Just wait.” Grinning again, he backed away, hands in the pockets of his jeans, before turning and walking away.

This was an easy spell to cast. Still, you frowned at your spellbook, squinting at the measurements. A handful of dried white dittany, and a length of red silk thread three times the length of your forearm. That seemed about right. Closing the jar, you held it and muttered the words of the spell.

As your worked, the ingredients in the jar started to give off a bright pink smoke. It swirled around inside, glowing brightly in the dark. Taking a deep breath, you twisted the lid of the jar open, letting the smoke seep out and disappear into your skin. Hopefully, it would work.

A protection charm. To protect you from all the things you felt about Jongdae: the thumping heartbeat, the butterflies in your stomach when you saw him, and lately, the late-night thoughts you’d been having about what it would be like to have him-

You stopped yourself there, not daring to think any more. For the charm to work, you had to have a clear head, and not be thinking about running your fingers through his hair and over his shoulders as you -

No! You groaned, the last of the spell’s smoke seeping into your body. You put the jar down, deciding a good night’s rest was what you needed. You would wake up in the morning with sensible, rational thoughts. None of this nonsense. You lay down on your bed, curling up around your pillow, your cats purring gently by your feet. Sleep found you quickly.

You woke up feeling...odd. There was no other way to put it. It was like something was missing, like you had to find something. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Groaning, you stumbled out of bed to wash your face and get ready for the day. It was still early morning, before dawn, the sun barely touching the horizon. The wind that blew through your open kitchen window was cool and pleasant.

The odd feeling didn’t leave.

Had the charm worked? Was that it?

You rubbed your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Maybe you were hungry. On the kitchen counter sat the three bottles of tracking spell you’d finished the day before last. Bypassing them, you reached for the basket of eggs. And your hand slipped on the way back, knocking one of the spell bottles down to shatter on the floor.

You swore, staring down at the red smoke billowing from the bottle. It would dissipate soon, a wasted effort. You had nothing you wanted to find. But to your shock, when the red smoke cleared it revealed a small, pulsing red light that flew up, hovering in front of your face before zipping away.

The light paused at the door, as if waiting for you to follow. You deliberated before setting the eggs back down and lifting your skirts up to follow, out of your house and down the road that led to town. You had to run to keep up with it, and it shot forward, almost as if it was laughing at how slow you were.

It led you down new streets and into a part of town that you hadn’t been to before. Here you slowed down, wary. What were you doing here? Where was it leading you? All the while, the same odd feeling grew in your chest, as if it was trying to tell you something.

The small light finally stopped in front of a door to a house, hovering there until you too stood in front of the door. Then it winked out, leaving you with no explanation of why you were here or what you were supposed to find. The odd feeling was strongest now.

You swallowed. The only way you could find out why it had brought you here was to ring the doorbell. So you did, and clasped your hands behind your back nervously as you waited. You didn’t know what to expect.

The door swung open to reveal the last face you expected to see.

It was like the sight of him flipped a switch in you. “Jongdae,” you said, but it wasn’t you speaking now. Something else felt like it was controlling you.

“Y/N,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “What are you doing at my house? I was just about to go to bed.”

You-but-not-you smiled, leaning forward, clasping your hands “I wanted to see you.”

“Uh. Who are you and what have you done with Y/N? The Y/N I know never wants to see me, ” he said, the corners of his lips twitching up as he looked down at you. “Is it because I drink B positive now? I know that makes me smell delectable.”

“No, I just felt like seeing you.” You smiled again.

“Okay, something’s definitely wrong with you.” Jongdae’s grin widened, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Do you want to come inside?”

You nodded, following him inside. “Is everything all right, though, Y/N? Is something wrong? Did you need a favor?” He raised a brow, gesturing at his couch for you to sit down. “Or maybe you finally realized you’re head over heels in love with me, hmm?”

“Maybe,” you said, and your voice was sugary sweet as a serene smile lit your face. What was wrong with you?

He seemed actually taken aback by your response. “I’ll...uh, do you want anything to eat? I’ll get you something to eat.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, then turned to walk towards the kitchen, stopping halfway as he realized something. “Crap, I don’t - I forgot to stock up on human food. Unless I can tempt you with some blood? It’s fresh.”

“I don’t need anything,” you said, your voice again painfully sweet even though you were grimacing on the inside. “Will you sit next to me?” You patted the seat next to you to demonstrate, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I...okay,” he said, looking perplexed, then came back and sat on the far end of the couch from you. At this, the part of you that was acting weird smiled again, moving closer to him, your heart involuntarily starting to thump. “Y/N, as much as I’m happy you’re here, I’m pretty worried now,” he said, watching you warily as you moved even closer, closing the distance between you until you were nearly on his lap.

“Worried about what?” You asked sweetly, and put your hands on either side of his face. His perfect, gorgeous face. Where did that thought come from?

“Worried about you acting like-” You cut him off there by letting your lips meet his. He softened, letting his arms wrap around you gingerly, afraid of touching you even as you leaned closer, finally fulfilling your fantasy of letting your hands run through his hair and down the back of his neck, just as soft as you’d imagined. His skin was cold, his hands uncertain, his fangs just a tad too sharp against your mouth - but to you the sensation was perfect, like your heart was bursting, a thousand flowers blooming in your chest -

Flowers.

The realization hit you and you sprang away, eyes wide in horror. The spell wore off the second you realized what you’d done.

You touched two fingers to your lips. “I put dittany in the spell, didn’t I?”

“Dittany? What spell? Y/N, what are you…”

You buried your face in your hands. “I made a mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake.”

“You can’t just kiss me and say it was a mistake,” he said, his tone hurt.

“I’m sorry, I…” You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face him. You’d cast the opposite spell. A love spell. And now that it had worn off, the embarrassment hit you full force. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Y/N!” He started to follow you to the door, but stopped halfway, watching you pull open the door and take a quick look back at him. The confusion was still written all over his face. You’d gone from falling all over him one second to pushing him away the next, with no explanation at all for why you were here in the first place. You wanted to tell him what you’d done, but at the moment all you could do was run and hide.

“Sorry,” you whispered, and slipped out the door.

You avoided going to Madame Mothair’s for the next two weeks. Your stocks were running dangerously low, some of your more important ingredients already out. But you knew that if you went, your chances of bumping into Jongdae were too high. Not inevitable, but any chance more than zero was too high. And you knew two weeks was more than enough time for you to get yourself together and tell him what had happened. Tell him what you felt.

Still, you weren’t ready.

You couldn’t sleep. It was nearing midnight, and you paced back and forth, wearing a trail into your carpet. Next to you, your cat Daisy sat on the bed, watching you as she licked her paws clean.

“I just don’t get it, Daisy,” you said, throwing your arms up in the air. “Why can’t I just go tell him I like him? It’s three words! Maybe five if I stutter.”

“Meow.”

“I’m scared? Maybe I am scared. Scared he’ll, I don’t know, reject me. He wouldn’t, would he?” You paused, giving your cat a worried look.

“Meow.”

“No, no, you’re right. He’d let me down gently. He’s not the heartbreaking type.”

“Meow?”

“I know, I know, I’m stupid, I just…” You frowned. “Okay, you know what? I’ll do it. I’ll tell him. So what if he rejects me? I have you, right?”

Daisy stopped licking herself clean, giving you a blank look before standing and leaving the room. Sighing, you walked over to your mirror, you placed your hand on its surface and muttered a quick spell. The surface of the mirror rippled, showing you a fuzzy image of Jongdae...walking into Madame Mothair’s.

This was it. This was your chance. Grabbing your coat, you didn’t stop for any second thoughts as you flew out and onto the road, tracing the familiar path back to the shop. You burst inside, scanning the empty aisles for a minute in panic before Madame gestured to the back of the shop. “He’s back there,” she said. “Been coming in every day hoping you’d show up.”

You bit your lip, suddenly guilty, and made your way down the aisle that led to the freezer section, peeking around the corner. He was there, reading the label on a bottle of blood, his expression blank, brows furrowed. He looked up from the bottle, sighing, checking his watch, reaching to put it back.

Any hesitation you had vanished. You stepped around the corner into his view, your chin tucked down and hair covering your face.

He’d started to turn away, but froze when he saw you approaching. “Y/N.”

“Hi,” you said meekly.

“Hi,” he said, face blank.

“I think I have some explaining to do,” you said.

“Yeah.”

“It was really just a honest mistake.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, “if you don’t like me, I get it. Just say so. I’m not wasting my time on you anymore.” With that, he shook his head, striding past you and towards the exit, hands shoved in his pockets.

You froze. He hadn’t even let you explain. You heard the front door shut and panicked, bolting forward, leaving the store and chasing after his retreating form. “Jongdae!” You yelled. “Wait!”

He turned around, eyes wide. You caught up, panting. “I’m sorry,” you breathed. “You didn’t let me finish. I like you, Jongdae.”

His eyes widened further. “Don’t tell me this is a joke.”

You shook your head vehemently. “No, it’s not. See,” you took a deep breath, and the words came tumbling out. “It wasn’t you, not at all! I cast the wrong spell. I was trying to charm myself so I wouldn’t think about you and your stupid smile and stupid perfect hair and how you make me feel butterflies all the time but instead I cast a love spell. A love spell. And this wasn’t supposed to happen, it’s all my fault and because I’m a bad witch and can’t read my own spellbook right when it clearly didn’t say one handful of white dittany for a protection charm-”

“Y/N, slow down,” Jongdae said, leaning closer to you. “I get it. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! I made a mistake and I was too embarrassed to admit it, and you had to go through two weeks of waiting for me in the freezer aisle before I got up the nerve to deal with my feelings and tell you, and oh, gosh,” you stopped, burying your head in your hands. “I made it a mess.”

“It’s okay now,” he said, reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders to calm you down. “Hey, wait. What did you say before that?”

“I messed up a love spell?” You looked up, peeking at him from behind your fingers.

“No, no, before that,” he said, smiling again. “About my perfect hair.”

You flushed when you remembered what you’d just blurted out.

“So I did grow on you,” he said, his smile much wider now. “You just admitted it. And I know enough about love spells that they only work if you already like someone. So…”

You dropped your hands. “You’re enjoying this.”

“It’s not every day the witch I’ve been chasing after for a month admits she likes me back.” He smirked. “And kisses me. Even if she was under a spell.”

“I…”

“Don’t be shy about it,” he said, putting his hand at the back of your neck as he brought his face close. Too close. This time, without the spell, the sensation was real, the butterflies in your stomach threatening to burst out at any moment. You swallowed heavily as you saw his eyes flick from your eyes back to your mouth.

“Jongdae?” You whispered.

“Yes, Y/N?” The corners of his lips flicked up.

“You’re still annoying.”

“I know.” And then he pulled away from where his lips had been teasingly close to yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from biting your lip in frustration, and that was enough for his full-blown grin to come back.

“Just proving you right.”

a/n: i know i’m on hiatus, but here’s my valentine’s day gift to all of you! i wasn’t able to get the epilogue for dynamic out, but this is just as good? hopefully? sdfjsfjngsj