#cross’s scarf doesn’t make a lot of sense don’t worry about it

[unknownarmageddon]

drew a scene from my fic uhh. yeag 👍

cross belongs to jael peñaloza killer belongs to rahafwabas

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch10 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~7.8K

❥ Warnings: non-con, rimming (m. receiving btwn stsg), double piv penetration, lactation kink (w/ geto), mommy kink (w/ geto), fingering (f. receiving), cunnilingus, pussy slapping

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Lately, activity has picked up quite a bit for Geto and his goons. He’s had to be absent for longer stretches of time, which gives you more time to plot. You do have the incantation and the instructions memorized by heart that Miguel has given you, and during times which he remains behind, he has coached you through a bit of the technique he’s embedded into your necklace, which is actually something called a cursed tool.

Much of this world is still unknown to you, even with the briefings Miguel has been kind enough to give you—hopefully without any of Geto’s curse spirits monitoring, but according to Miguel, most of the time they’ve had a green light on all of this.

“Initially, Geto instructed me to make it so that when you wear that necklace, it binds him to you,” he explains to you one day when Geto had been out of the city to take care of some urgent matters that you don’t care to know the details about. “It also grants you the ability to see curses, but I’d imagine he hasn’t released any around you since he hasn’t felt the need to…”

You interject, “No, actually. I… I tried to pull some things before and I saw some barely there blobs trying to prevent me from trying anything. So yeah, while my perception of curse spirits aren’t strong, I know that they’re around me all the time. Geto must keep some around to make sure I’m not up to anything that might hurt me. Before you ask, I don’t sense or feel any around me now but I figure you already picked up on that.”

Miguel doesn’t need you to elaborate, thankfully. He grunts in response, adjusting his scarf.

“Trust me, you’re not going to be stuck here for much longer. Not going to even lie to you, I’m pretty worried about Geto. Since the last family meeting, he’s been a bit…”

“A bit what?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you beckon him to specify.

“…out of character, I suppose. Have you noticed him moving differently at all?” Miguel crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares you down, waiting for a direct answer.

You think hard for a moment. Sure, he’s been a lot more hands off especially lately. He has lasted way longer than he had before. He keeps his promise of Satoru not touching you, and instead they remain focused on each other, and you’re allowed to mind your own business unless Geto requests for you to try something—gently, actually. Surprisingly gently. He doesn’t seem angry or disappointed when you refuse anything you’re not ready for, and he doesn’t even try to manipulate or charm you into it like he had in the beginning.

“…Actually yes, but I didn’t think too much of it. Just thought it was another way for him to try to get his way with me.”

Miguel draws out a sigh. “Well, there you go. Geto’s a principled guy. He doesn’t shift his gears at the drop of a hat, so either he’s thrown in the towel or something else is going on that even I can’t understand.”

What the literal fuck does that mean?

“That doesn’t…I’m sorry. I don’t think I get it. He’s still…you know. Himself.”

“You sure about that?” Miguel challenges, dark eyes boring into yours, almost like he’s piercing through your very soul. “Because had I not known any better, he gave himself up the minute he let you into his life. Of course I could be wrong.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering.

“What makes you so certain I shouldn’t take this, his motivations, at face value?”

“It’s like I told you, Miss …. He’s a principled guy. The minute he let you into his life is the minute he realized the inevitable.”

Oh whoop dee doo. More cryptic bullshit. Should you pry anymore?

“I see,” you reply, shifting in your spot. “Thank you, Miguel. For everything. I just hope that I can pull this off.”

“The chances of things working out for ya are slim, Miss …, but not zero.”

Geto seems a little distracted by something as he shuffles around the bedroom, preparing a change of clothes for the night. Perhaps it has something to do with what you overheard in a meeting you aren’t supposed to be around for and had it not been Miguel who caught you eavesdropping you likely would have been reprimanded or punished or something else right now.

But Geto doesn’t appear suspicious of you even now. You remain seated on the bed, completely bare. You feel comforted by the silk sheets against your skin as you clutch it tight toward your body. You slowly breathe out, trying to relax your nerves as much as you can around him.

You jump in your spot as he stands at the foot of the bed before kneeling to you. He’s disrobed, tied his long, luscious locks into that tight bun. He looks shockingly unthreatening, but you know better.

“I fear things may become a bit…messier in these next two or so years,” he sighs, and even you can see something must be weighing on his shoulders—what is his plan with the Night Parade? Does it matter? "I’m not sure how much longer there’s going to be.”

He joins you on the bed, and you shift in your spot, supporting your back against the headboard as you cast him a curious look. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, willing himself to relax. You grunt a bit from the added weight. He may appear skinny but he does maintain quite a bit of muscle and it’s evident in when he carries you.

“I need you,” Geto murmurs into your skin. His arms cage around the dip of your waist and you squeeze your eyes shut, biting back a sigh. God, you’re so fucking tired of this bullshit. No one’s meant to live like this, and he expects you to smile and fucking bear it.

You know, you’ve just gotten used to the idea that Geto isn’t initiating much intimacy anymore. All in an effort for you to warm up to the idea of a future with him and with the twins. But it’s not working for you, and he realizes that maybe his efforts are in vain and it all means he can still take advantage of you. While you have accumulated quite a number of small wins, you know they aren’t going to last forever. They’re fleeting, at best.

“What is it that you need, darling? Use your words.” Gods every time this feels so gross yet you don’t really have a say in that, don’t you? Even if Geto has given you a little more room for some illusion of agency you know not to let it get to your head. You snap off your bra and push out your breasts, presenting one of your stiff nipples to him.

“I need you,” he repeats, practically panting at the sight, running his tongue over his lips a few times.

Geto’s mouth hangs open a bit, his cheeks flushed, he’s been craving this for some time and you can tell. He’s kept his hands off for far longer than before, and maybe with the recent developments that you only inadvertently hear about (and by extension don’t confront Geto over because you learned your lesson the last time), you don’t protest and are a bit more receptive to what he wants. Relationships are give and take… even if he does basically all of the ‘taking’ in this particular brand of it.

His lips latch onto your bud, and you already feel the milk rushing out of your tit and spilling into his waiting tongue. He groans in delight as your sweet milk tickles his taste buds in the best way and one of his hands moves to fondle your unoccupied tit, his finger flicking the other bud to stiffness and pinching it playfully, making you inhale sharply. He laughs at your reaction; the dietary plan he’s put you on isn’t all that restrictive but he has mentioned the particular ingredients like fennel seeds, for instance, aids in producing more milk. The meds further stimulate the production and you’re more than certain some of the formula for all of this may have been imbued with that ‘cursed energy’ you hear and Gojo babble on to with each other on more than one occasion.

The glorbs every time he sucks up your milk like a suction are so audible and fucking disgusting each time. But he wants to be taken care of, that’s fine. You can do that. More like you have to do that. Your fingers scratch at his scalp, and he purrs, seeming to like that. He nips at your nipple in response and you whimper from the sharp contact. His tongue laves around the sensitive skin, and you moan low, not realizing how flushed and debauched you are yourself.

“Sugu…ru…” your voice is a bit strained but he hums in response, playfully flicking the tip of his tongue against the bud he just finished feeding off of before his mouth latched onto the other nipple. He takes both his hands and squeezes the large mounds of squishy flesh and you wriggle beneath the weight of his body. He growls like it’s a warning, sucking harder on your nipple like he needs it to survive and it might not be too far off the mark considering the recent developments. You feel something wet pooling in your groin and you know the sheets must be lightly damp by now and you aren’t ashamed of it anymore, more like on the path to true acceptance. Because it’s not going to be much longer. You’re so certain of it; soon you’re going to be free of this humiliation, and Geto can die alone and pathetic like he’s been destined to.

Your fingers dig tightly into the sheets when Geto sucks a bit harder, his wet muscle flicking off the droplets of milk that have gone astray. His lips trail between your plump mounds, feathery light but worshipping every bit of skin they touch. He stops, nips at your soft skin before lapping his tongue against the sore spot, leaving a few more marks behind. He trails down your stomach, peppering soft kisses there.

“Mamma,” his voice rumbles like a lion’s roar. “You’re so perfect for me.”

“I’m happy I make you happy, darling,” you manage to say, clamping your hand over your mouth to conceal an embarrassed shriek when you feel his tongue twist between your folds. Your body shivers and you feel a little dazed. At this point Geto knows how to make you feel good, knows how to make this not all that awful and you hate that so much. You hate that someone you loathe with everything you have has this kind of power over you.

“You make me feel the most alive I’ve ever felt,” he mumbles as his tongue laves around your sensitive core, the tip flicking against your stiff clit. “I want you to marry me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t, yet you know that even if you do, you still have a shot at getting the fuck out of there. Should you just… give in for now? Let him have another win?

Is it going to make a difference in the end? Even you admit you have your doubts. When Miguel explains the technique he’s used on your insignia, he says that there is still a chance for it to fail. In fact that there’s a higher chance for it to fail than succeed which is why you need to use it wisely. Maybe on another occasion when Geto fucks off with Gojo for a while.

A chance for it to fail doesn’t mean your success rate is completely 0. Just remember that.

“But Suguru…” you start to protest, but he cuts you off by shushing you harshly.

“Marry me and make this blasted world worth living in again,” he interjects while sucking on your folds, and your legs tremble, instinctively tightening around his shoulders. His hands rest against your fleshy thighs, massaging you gently. The wet noises from your pussy seem to echo in the bedroom, and your cheeks dust pink from more embarrassment. Even if you don’t have any potential witnesses this is so humiliating.

“But… Suguru, I…m not… ready…” you babble, you try to play up your role, but a response is a harsh slap on your pussy, making you weep a little. “Please, I just…”

Geto hushes you while twirling his tongue around your stiff clit, before closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like it’s going to burst out of your chest. Your body is clammy and sweaty and more heat pools in your groin and stomach.

“You,” he grunts, dragging his tongue down your spongy skin. “Are the only reason for me to tolerate a life like this. So marry me, Mamma.”

No.

He spits onto your pussy and dips his tongue into your hole, his eyes rolling upward to enjoy your debauched state.

“It’s not a request,” he growls low between lapping his tongue up and down your pussy. You feel like you’re floating in air; you hate that he knows how to make your body feel all kinds of euphoria when in reality you feel anything but around him. Your breathing is already labored and ragged, and that self-assured smirk on his face makes your face go red from both fury and arousal.

“Suguru…!” you shout, tightening your legs around his neck.

You see stars behind your eyes when you come, the sensation practically dizzying and you’re glad you’re grounded by the bed. Geto reacts with a string of dark chuckles, so condescending, so maddening. Your eyes peer up to meet his, piercing, twinkling from triumph.

He grins down at you, his hands still ok the fleshy parts of your thighs as he presses affectionate kisses between them. Your brain might short circuit and definitely not for the reasons Geto hopes.

He drags you down until you’re at his level, his body tenting over yours like a shield from the world. Like he wants to protect you from the horrors of it, but doesn’t he understand that all the horrors you have faced at all are all because of him?

He hasn’t even broken a sweat himself, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, syncing his breathing with yours. You try to appreciate the stillness of the moment before he decides you don’t deserve any time to breathe, but he seems pushy about the marriage bit.

His hands on your thighs adjust them so they hook around his hips. You whimper. You know what comes next.

“Marry me,” he murmurs again as his lips ghost over yours. “Please.”

No.

“Okay,” you reply weakly, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips finally meet yours, ravishing them. You don’t really kiss back but your mind drifts off to when you desired being kissed passionately like this, with someone you genuinely love and who genuinely loves you. Maybe Geto believes he’s in love with you, but it can’t be true.

“I love you,” he drawls against your lips, pulling away for a moment to slip on a condom.

Maybe he believes that he loves you. It’s fine if he does but you know you never will. His lips find the crook of your neck as his cock breaches your hole, and your throat tightens as you fight back another whine.

“No,” he commands with a yell, nipping against yours jaw. “Let me hear you, Mamma.”

“Suguru…” you reply in a weaker tone, and he growls in disapproval, sharply bucking his hips. His whole body is coated in sweat and some of his hair clings to his forehead and around his cheeks. Even in this state, he looks something akin to a powerful deity.

“Suguru!” you cry, arching your back into the mattress.

“Better,” he purrs into your skin, before licking along your neck and throat. “I want to hear more of your lovely sounds. We must commemorate today. You’re mine for the rest of our lives.”

No. You aren’t. You never will be.

“Suguru, please, I—!” You’re cut off with a kiss; he refuses to hear another word out of you now (unless it’s a preferred response). His tongue twirls around yours as each languid, smooth roll of his hips slides his length just a bit deeper inside. You feel the tip of his cock brush against it and you whine into his lips, hands sliding down his sides which makes him the one shuddering all over now.

It’s over before you know it; your walls clenching around his length and he keeps pumping inside you without stopping for a breath. His lips remain locked on yours; your fingers sink into his muscled skin and you swear your body might give out but he refuses to let up the erratic pace.

He pulls away just slightly, purring into your mouth.

“You are perfect for me, Mamma.”

You wish you could agree. But you do admit, from your focal point, the way his hair falls over his face and perfectly frames his sharp features makes him look like something from the Heavens. The way his eyes soften looking down at you, and not even with a hint of condescension, it’s… different. Whatever must run through his mind, it can’t be good, and it can’t add up for you. If he’s convinced that he’s in love with you, then you can’t change that. But you can work with it.

He doesn’t pull out for a while, just taking the time to feel you around him. To feel himself inside you. He sighs in content, resting his head between your breasts drenched in his spit, your sweat, and splotched of milk that he gladly licks up without so much as a second thought before lifting himself back up to flash a little smirk at you.

But even his smirk seems off. It doesn’t carry the same energy of someone who knows they have taken you away from everything for their personal amusement.

And you find yourself wondering what Miguel might mean by Geto officially surrendering to his fate.

Your hand reaches up to cup his face, brushing some of his fringes behind his ear. He is a breathtaking man. A devil with the face of an angel—isn’t that why demons make themselves appear angelic? To lure victims into a sense of security?

He leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. His forehead scrunches a bit as he relishes in how your walls still feel like they’re pulsating around his cock, a few aftershocks from your orgasm.

“I need more,” he says, peppering little kisses around your face down to your collarbone.

“Suguru,” you reply, your hand dragging down to the crook of his neck. “Let’s rest for a bit. You seem tired, darling. Something’s troubling you.”

“You don’t have to worry about it,” he replies between more heated kisses. “It’s politics. Between our worlds. It doesn’t concern you.”

“You keep saying things like that, darling, but don’t you just…”

“Just what?” he beckons.

“Don’t you need someone to actually…talk to?” You can’t believe what you’re doing here; didn’t you just say you learned your lesson the last time you tried to meddle into business that had nothing to do with you?

His eyebrows furrow at that. Obviously you’re in no position to ask such things of him. But it’s more of a push in the right direction, a suggestion. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to agree with you.

“Won’t change anything,” he says after a period of reflection. “I appreciate that you’re trying, my love. But your role is with the twins and I, separate from all of that. You’re with your family here.”

You will NEVER be family.

Delightfully oblivious as ever to your own wars clashing in your mind, Geto kisses your lips again. Slow. Gentle. Passionate. Like he really believes he loves you.

The kiss grows more heated again, and sometime during he’s finally pulled out, he didn’t even come, his cock still painfully hard and standing erect wrapped in that condom. This is the first time he hasn’t chased after his own pleasure once he took care of you. This time he seems fully devoted to pleasing you, making you satisfied.

He bites, nibbles your lips and moans like an actor in a lewd video into your lips that have become cracked and red and swollen from his treatment.

“Suguru…?” you manage to utter between each kiss, each one more desperate than the last.

Geto moans your name, low and needy.

“I love you,” he confesses again, “I love you.”

You find yourself unable to say it back, but you don’t get a chance to say a word anyway; his lips meet yours again. You find yourself trying to return it, at least be a little responsive or reactive, try to keep him unsuspecting for a while longer. Even if you know he carries all of his monsters or apparitions with him whenever he’s gone for longer stretches of time, you can’t help but fear the slightest chance that he has someone—or something—keeping an eye on you even if Miguel or Suda insist that they would have known all along.

You can’t afford anymore fuck-ups. You can’t fuck up your chances again.

Finding time to spare for Satoru has become increasingly more difficult. With Yaga practically on Satoru’s ass 24/7, he can’t exactly make quick pit stops to the temple anymore. They have had to find compromise somewhere, so Geto has been back to visiting his penthouse.

Even if logically nothing can be done should Gojo not follow direct orders from the higher-ups, he still can’t afford more penalties, and Geto can’t afford to raise any more suspicion from the long stretches of time he’s been hiding away from his own duties. Just for a few moments with the love of his life.

“Are you sure about this?” Gojo asks, intertwining his fingers with Geto’s as they lounge in his king sized mattress. Sure, Geto may have excused these longer absences of his own as part of his duty but it’s in reality to stay a while longer with Gojo. Gojo’s the one feeling like a burden now, but Geto won’t have it much like Gojo won’t have it every time Geto talks down on himself and how much he means to Gojo. Can’t go around being a hypocrite, right? “It’s a big step, you know! I’ve always expected you’re going to marry someone as sexy and perfect as her. I mean, I was hoping it’d be me but I understand we can’t necessarily given the situation here.”

Geto rolls his eyes a little in jest at that last comment. Of course, in Geto’s world, they’re already married, practically inseparable, but Gojo has his world, and Geto has his. And they have to act as if they don’t interlock their bodies like rabid, mating animals between everything that’s going on.

“Yes,” Geto answers, kissing into his shoulder. Gojo sighs dreamily at the contact, snuggling closer to his lover. “I’m marrying her.”

“That’s great,” Gojo replies, but there’s an underlying hint of longing in his tone. “But how does she feel?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Geto quips as he trails more kisses along Gojo’s exposed, sweaty skin, humming at the salty tang hitting his tongue. “Isn’t this what you wanted for me, Gojo? Her being here gives me more of a reason to tolerate a life like this.”

Gojo can’t help but scoff at that sentiment, eyes flickering with something akin to envy.

“So what, I’m not enough?” he mutters like a stubborn child. Geto rolls his eyes again.

“Baby, look at me—“ Gojo does, “—Of course you are,” Geto counters, pecking his lips for good measure. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Gojo replies with a longing sigh. He accepts another kiss, unable to hide the smile playing on his lips in spite of how much he feels like he’s going to miss out. “I’m sorry.”

Geto hums in response before capturing his lips again in another fervent kiss, a hand snaking down his chest to draw lazy patterns across one of his pecs. Gojo sighs again in that dreamy way, completely putty in Geto’s hands and he’s unashamed of it whatsoever. Geto is the love of his life, his one and only, and Geto feels the same except now there’s someone else thrown in the mix that they can both have fun with too.

“You’re always my forever, Satoru,” Geto swears in a whisper, his tone tender—a side to him only Gojo gets to witness. “We just have other matters to sort through now.”

Geto playfully pinches one of Gojo’s nipples and that draws a gasp from his lips, and Geto laughs heartedly, dragging his tongue along the defined lines of his muscles. Gojo brushes his long, slender fingers through Geto’s endless locks of soft hair, and Geto purrs in approval.

“I do really miss Princess, you know…” Gojo points out with that grin widening and brightening his previously sullen and worn features.

“Then come by sometime before the ceremony,” Geto suggests, “We must commemorate the occasion, don’t you think?” Geto insists with a knowing expression as he rests his chin on Gojo’s strong chest.

“Of course,” Gojo answers, that grin still plastered on his face like it’s been sewn on there. A little glint in his azure eyes suggests something a bit… worse, like there’s something else he’s plotting.

While Geto’s still off visiting Satoru, you’re still left with little time to plot your escape plan when you have to attend to the twins the majority of his absence. Both Miguel and Suda have found ways to pull you aside to give you a pointer or two but they know they don’t want to make things more suspicious to the twins but they seem so lost in their own universes you doubt it’s going to be much of an issue.

But a part of you also knows not to underestimate anything. A part of you still tries to amplify your perception of curse spirits but you don’t detect any around you at this point in time. No matter what you’re doing, whether you’re accompanying the girls during their video game sessions or when they want to opt for something else. Or when they want to go out and about—not without one of Geto’s loyal goons keeping a close eye on you while you take the twins out of the temple. You do try to see if you can pick up any during any outings with them but you have failed each time. The most you can make out are outlines of spirits, but Nanako and Mimiko has exorcised them before you can react.

That’s where you learn a bit more about what they can do. Mimiko can manipulate with that doll she carries around with her everywhere. Meanwhile, you understand why Nanako is attached to a camera—she can manipulate curse spirits through photos. You don’t understand what any of this means, but it’s interesting to watch. Even if you don’t understand the full extent of what happens in front of you just yet.

Miguel has mentioned during one of his limited coaching sessions that the first step to being a sorcerer at all is being able to perceive curses. Yet you have failed spectacularly at that part. It’s true that kids and animals are the most sensitive to their presence, and you might have recalled sensing spirits like the Hat Man or the Smiling Man from popular lore.

“All curses are human-born,” he remember him explaining to you one day. “They develop through the negative emotions of humans. That’s why we often hear that most of our struggles are self-made. It’s true, isn’t it, given what we h ave to deal with, huh? Being a sorcerer is a thankless job and often seen as a bunch of hooey to those monkeys. Let’s just say it’s worse in the more rural areas, where people like me and the twins came from.”

“I can only imagine,” you find yourself mumbling in response. “This must take a lot of self-control to master.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” he concedes with a nod. “But manipulating and controlling your cursed energy—something everyone has, sorcerer or not—takes mostly a deeply innate ability. Some people are just gifted at that stuff. Like Geto or that Satoru Gojo punk. They’re the best a small world like ours has to offer.”

“So I’ve been told,” you mutter to yourself.

Miguel rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, flashing you a smirk. “Listen, Miss …. Just remember you do have backup in case things go awry. I can’t guarantee we won’t get caught, but don’t worry about us when that happens. You need to get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

You can’t help smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re deciding to help me get the hell out of here,” you breathe, “I just can’t help but wonder why.”

Miguel gives you a non-committal hum.

“You just seem like someone worth sticking out for,” he replies, “But honestly, I don’t really have a good reason behind it. Seeing someone like you, someone who was probably minding your own damn business before all of this, going through what you are… just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not claiming to be good, like I told you before.”

“Thank you,” you tell him again. He returns your smile.

“No need, Miss ….”

“Princess!” Gojo exclaims with glee riddled all over his expression as he climbs down the stairs to greet you. “Congratulations on your engagement. It was going to happen sooner or later.”

He strides up to you, cups your face and greets you with a long smack of his lips against yours before approaching Geto and doing the same. Geto secures a possessive hold around Gojo’s hips so he doesn’t pull entirely away from him and it doesn’t seem like Gojo’s protesting, anyway. When Geto twists his neck to face you, your face falls upon realization. You know that look.

That can’t be good news for you, but when do you ever have good options between them?

“My love, can you make this final exception for the sake of celebration? Satoru does want to wish us well, you know,” Geto scoots you closer into him, his lips against your ear. “After that, he doesn’t have to touch you again, but you can do whatever you like.”

“But Suguru,” you begin, before eyeballing Satoru who’s waiting beside you with eagerness evident in those sharp oceanic eyes, deeply unsettling the longer you stare at them. Something about Satoru aside from the obvious seems… off-putting. You can’t place what it is, but you know you have heard many of Geto’s goons refer to him as some kind of God in the world of jujutsu sorcery. But he’s far from a merciful God, or even a good one.

But you do remember what Miguel says about that—that they’re sorcerers, not saints. They don’t claim to be good or right in whatever they do, and this holds true for both Geto and Gojo.

Gojo bounces his leg out of impatience, meeting your gaze full of hope and passion. He has missed having the agency to touch you, to do as he pleases…

“Please, my love,” Suguru pleads with a little growl, his hand reaching out to you and brushing his finger along the chain around your neck, jingling a bit as it moves. “Just this once. I won’t request this again another time.”

You don’t believe that in the slightest, yet you know you might not be here for much longer than you have to be. You cling onto that hope that whatever you plot with Miguel and Suda that it will work even if those chances are slim.

He promised it’s not zero, you remind yourself, that’s enough for me.

“Okay,” you concede with a weak tone, unable to wholly say no this time. If Geto swears this will be the only time before the marriage ceremony.

Tweedledum’s eyes twinkle from sheer happiness, and Geto loosens his grip on him so he has full autonomy to pounce on you and pin you to the large couch like an untamed animal. Geto laughs in dark amusement as Gojo smothers your face and neck in slobbery, sloppy kisses before he locks his body around yours; your chests pressing so tightly together you fear you might suffocate from the proximity.

“Fuck, gorgeous, I missed you, missed you so much,” Gojo babbles between playful and messy little swirls of his tongue against your jaw. You can’t even struggle or squirm; the added weight too much, keeping you secured in place and a gasp leaves your lips as he digs one of his knees into your crotch, forcing your legs apart. He digs into your crotch and grinds against your sensitive core, which you already feel some slick building and dampening your panties and his pants.

“Looks like she missed you, Satoru,” you hear Geto purr from somewhere above you but you can’t even adjust in your place. You hear Gojo groan as Geto yanks his pants and boxers down, leaning into to smack his lips against his ass and perineum.

Gojo lets out a shuddering gasp, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he whimpers and wriggles closer to the sensation.

“God you’re so fucking mean,” Gojo bites out, pathetically nibbling at your ear to try to ground himself and you hate that you’re immobile practically.

“Please… can’t breathe,” you gasp out and Gojo’s lips quirk upward as he adjusts himself ever so slightly, but still rubbing his knee into your damp crotch.

“Sorry about that, Princess. Better?” he purrs into your ear before nibbling on the lobe. You whimper in response. A slight improvement sure but you’re still immobile, just how they like it.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as Geto slathers his tongue around the rim of his tight hole, and he moans low into your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, stop…” he begs through a lewd moan. “Being so fucking mean…”

Geto’s hand comes down hard on his ass.

“Do you mean that, Satoru?” he teases, the tip of his tongue catching into his hole and making Gojo squirm under the slightest touch or sensation

“N-no,” he groans, inching his ass closer and sticking it more upward like the obedient dog Geto’s trained him to be. You keep your eyes shut, unable to witness this like you have countless times before. Gojo seeks reprieve from the torment by tormenting you; his knee still grinding into your crotch and making you whimper and whine and weep. His lips leaving behind little marks that tingle in their wake.

“Sssatoru…” you slur, your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body. He grunts in approval, plunging his slobbery lips onto yours and rolling his tongue against your shier one. He grabs one of your hands and guides it to his cock, veiny and swollen and leaking. You wrap your hand around his size and brush your thumb against his slit and he sucks in a shaky breath, approving and needy. He’s getting worked on both ends and he adjusts his position for you to have some wiggle room and you can focus on getting him off while Geto is still busy eating him out. His expert tongue laves between his perineum and his asshole and somehow Gojo can still maintain some semblance of composure.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he strains his voice through the soft moans as he fucks his cock into your soft palm. “I got you. You have nothing to worry—fuck—about.”

He peels your panties aside and dips his finger between your damp, slick folds and you utter a little whimper.

“Please, I can’t,” you plea, but Gojo only tuts at you as he draws lazy circles around your stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes you can,” he snarls, grunting as his own orgasm rushes through his body but somehow he can remain composed while he’s tending to you. Geto shuffles around in the back, before repositioning Gojo and you by extension. Gojo sits up and rests you on one of his legs as he continues to play with your soaked pussy.

Your hand doesn’t dare to leave his cock, knowing you could be punished if you did, even if Geto swears not to bring harm to you, it doesn’t mean he can’t find other ways to get his point across. Geto watches from beside the two of you as you fondle each other. Your body is coiling from the intense heat, and you find yourself bucking into Gojo’s skillful, eager fingers.

“That’s it,” Gojo praises, kissing your cheek. “I’m not so bad, right Princess?”

When you don’t answer, you hear Geto click his tongue in disapproval. Dread fills your chest at that.

“He asked you a question, love.”

“You m-make me f-feel good, Satoru,” you stammer and Gojo coos at you as he slips another finger inside you.

“Goooood. That’s all I want, Princess. I just want to make you feel good, be a part of your life. S’not fair that I don’t get my share these days but bearing the responsibility of being the strongest means I can’t be here as much as I’d like to be. Can you forgive me for that, Princess?”

He twists his fingers inside you and brushes against your spot, making you thrash in his hold. Your grasp on his shaft tightens and he sighs in delight.

“I f-forgive you b-but w-we miss you. S-satoru…!” Your free hand clutches at his wrist as you feel another wave of an orgasm coming on and you can’t take it; you splatter all over his hand and some of your arousal splashes onto the ground.

“Gorgeous,” Gojo murmurs, his tone reverent, “So fucking gorgeous on my fingers. Now you can take my cock. It’s missed your perfect little pussy.”

Geto chuckles as he tears open the condom and helps Gojo slip it onto his strained, throbbing cock. He presses a soft kiss to the tip before Gojo hoists you up like you weigh a bucket of feathers and sinks you onto his cock until just the head enters your tight, soppy heat. Your juices make it easy to slide you all the way down to the base of his cock, and Geto growls as he watches the scene unfold intently; his hand resting on his lap as his own cock strains against his slacks.

“Fuck, so fucking tight. Guess even Gsto’s cock doesn’t stretch you out for long, huh? Fucking perfect for me,” Gojo babbles as he bounces you on his cock like you’re his cheap whore and it feels so fucking humiliating yet you’re moaning because you can’t deny how good it feels. Gojo’s size doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as Geto’s does; he’s much easier to take.

“Hear that, Suguru? Man, she fucking loves me!” Gojo cackles as he bucks his hips in time with moving you up and down.

“Of course she does,” Geto replies as he pets Gojo’s hair, kissing his temple. Geto rests his free hand on your clit and rubs hard on it, making you shriek from the overstimulation. The sounds of Gojo’s cock slapping against you and the lewd squelching from your juices reverberates through your ears like a loud bass and fuck you hate it so much. You hate that it’s beginning to feel kind of good.

“You should see how fucking good you look right now,” Gojo rambles on again as he whips out his smart phone, switching on the selfie camera and recording you and him.

You hate seeing yourself. You hate what you see right in front of you—Gojo’s wide, manic grin as he oogles his long, veiny cock disappearing into your dripping cunt and your face. Your fucking face is what’s humiliating. Your complexion is reddened; your face and neck is coated in sweat. You appear limp and completely out of it—like you’ve given up though that can’t be further from the truth. You have to sell the naive damsel role because that’s what they both like, making them think they have full power over you but someday soon you’re going to stick both your fucking middle fingers at them when you’re riding off into sunset toward sweet freedom.

He stops the short recording and sets his phone aside; his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he fucks deeper inside of you, groaning as your walls clench and flutter around his length.

“You’re killing me, Satoru,” Geto laments, frowning as he palms himself through his slacks before finally pulling himself out. “Hurry before I stick my cock inside with yours.”

Your eyes widen at that in sheer horror as your head turns to Geto’s direction. His expression makes your heart sink; he’s not interested in sparing you a little dignity and really plans on bullying his cock alongside Gojo’s because he’s growing impatient.

“No no no, please, Sugu… I can’t!” you shout, shaking your head frantically as tears well in the corners of your eyes.

Geto’s frown deepens, his forehead wrinkling as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles.

“You can take it, my love,” he coos as he fists his cock into full hardness. You bite back a choked sob.

“No, no, Suguru…please it’ll be too much..!”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you protest but Geto disregards everything you say as he wraps his cock.

“Damn, Suguru,” Gojo cackles, “Can’t let it wait, huh?”

“Shut up,” he hisses as he pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy, and Gojo moans feeling Geto’s dick rub against his. The stretch absolutely fucking hurts and you weep, babbling endlessly and begging him not to go further but he doesn’t listen to you this time. Maybe he’s getting tired of being kind to you.

He manages to fit a good portion of his size inside and you’re sobbing so hard, your body is on fire and not in a pleasant way. They fill you up and stretch you out and they’re cackling together like the psychopaths they are.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Gojo growls, kissing the top of your head as he spears his cock into you with deadly precision. “Fuck fuck fuck you’re so much tighter. ‘M gonna come.”

And he follows through on his word, fucking into you with one last hard thrust before he gives you a little mercy and slides his cock out so Geto can have his way with you.

Gojo trails kisses all over your tear-strained face and ignores your continued weeping and begging to stop.

“Shhhh, we’re just getting started, Princess. We have so much making up to do before you and Suguru tie the knot, yeah? Just relax and let us take care of you. That’s all we want.”

Such fucking lies.

Geto growls as now he’s the sole cock drilling into you, and you’re stretched nice around his size. Your walls are still fluttering and squeezing around him and trying to suck him inside deeper and Geto looks down at you with a feral gaze, something you haven’t seen since the day he took you.

“Too bad I don’t have the intention of fucking a few babies into you,” he chuckles, reaching out to trace the gold chain jingling around your neck with each jerk of his hips. He tugs a bit on the chain and you avert your gaze. He frowns at that, tugging again and making you look at him. “You know I can’t afford to bring more monkeys into this world, but the idea of coming inside you is… enthralling. Perhaps we can save that for when I fuck your perfect ass.”

“Damn,” Gojo whistles, his arms circling your waist. “That’s going to be so hot. Fuck her full of cum and then have her walk around like that all day. Perfect way to ensure she belongs to you, yeah Suguru?”

“Exactly,” he laughs in response, a wicked smirk on his face. His hand comes down to smack your pussy and you scream, but Gojo secures his hold on you.

“Shhhh, Princess. Don’t squirm too much or he could hurt you. He doesn’t want to, you know?” he whispers in a mock soothing tone.

“Please, Sugu…. It already hurts,” you cry, sniffling, your eyes bloodshot and puffy from all of the tears you’ve shed.

“You can take it,” he grunts with another sharp slap on your quivering cunt. “You can do it, my love. Come for me.”

In spite of everything the world spins as you come down hard on his cock, arousal gushing out and it’s not the prettiest sight to you but it must make Geto and Gojo as gleeful as children on a Christmas morning.

“Sugu…” you murmur, body going a bit limp but you remember Gojo saying they barely begun. This is so tiring. But Geto pulls out with a soft moan, but his cock is still hard. Needing.

“What is it, my love?” he asks in that affectionate tome he’s been using so much more lately. Without the underlying condensation, just pure love, like he really believes he does love you.

As if someone who loves you would do things like this without so much as a shred of remorse. Gojo is silent behind you, sitting back and enjoying the scene unfold.

“I-I can’t,” you stammer, “Please, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he urges a bit more gently. “This is a celebration, my dear. Lean into it.”

He kneels on one knee until his mouth is level with your cunt, his eyes sparkling with need and lust.

“We just want to take care of you,” he goes on, pressing a kiss to your spent cunt. “That’s all we want.”

You shake your head again.

“Can’t,” you keep pleading, “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Sure you can, Princess,” Gojo murmurs, “You have to. It’s the least you can do. After all, Suguru’s risking a lot just to be with you.”

Huh?

“I’m risking everything just to be here too,” Gojo continues while Geto pushes his tongue into your cunt. “So do this for us, baby. Because once Suguru married you, it’ll make things easier for us to be together. You’ll understand soon, I promise.”

“B-but…”

Gojo shushes you again before silencing you completely with a heated kiss. You can’t put up much of a fight anymore, in that moment.

This will be the only time you surrender to this battle, but not the fucking war.

[yostresswritinggirl]

and, if Albedo have his own personal botanist, what about xiao have his own personal chef, or something like that? the reader working at wangshu inn as the chef or maid 👀 (this the request... If you want to make something from this absurd idea 👀👀)

Hehe I like your thought process, anon. Albedo and Xiao really just: 😏👉👉 *finger guns* 👈👈 😑 for having reader assistants in my masterlist huh.

Making this solely a personal chef/maid thing would defo make this response hella short so I added in more info and background just like I did with Albedo's, so I hope you guys end up enjoying this one too!!

It isn't an absurd idea, but I sure as hell made an absurd answer to it kek

Xiao's Devoted "Chef"

Xiao with a Reader who is not only his Personal Chef but assistant

Background (let's gooo)

The arrival of the Adepti Yaksha in Wangshu Inn was really something I've been intrigued about for a while now, but I won't make much assumptions here because his banner is coming and more info would be given to us.

Xiao had long since been residing in and spends a majority of his time in this Inn yet its owners, Verr Goldet and Huai'an, barely knows anything about the adepti or his lifestyle.

So on a sunny, quaint day like any other where calmness passes through the lands without worry, they expected the Adepti to resign himself to a moment of peace and rest too.

So color them surprised when they save the familiar silhouette of the adepti ascending to the top floor. Porcelain white skin and clear tank top glittered with fresh blood as a broken and bruised figure lays unconscious in his arms. The couple was thankful that there were no customers out and about that day, because it would be a disaster for an audience to witness such a thing. Also bad for business, but they'll hold that in at the back of their mind.

Skilled workers were quick to work with their seemingly extensive experience with such a protocol. As they tended to the victim, the Boss stayed behind to tend to and inquire with the Adepti. Yet such a conversation between them came out strained:

There were no visible wounds that require immediate medical attention but there was a look in his eyes that feels much more broken than anything they can fix. Verr's hands hover over him in an attempt to urge him to clean up his still bloodied form. His amber eyes that were usually sharp looks through a distance light-years away.

"Xiao," the woman started and the eyes snapped out of its reverie, subtly looking around to ground himself. "What happened? And are you okay?"

"Their- the parents died from a Hilichurl ambush, I was only able to save the child," his crossed arms gripped at his forearm in the realization of his utter mistake. "32 seconds."

"32 seconds?" The Mondstadtian offered a fresh set of hot towels he had taken, and he had flinched when he saw the carnage that stuck close to his skin.

"I was 32 seconds late."

Your parents were adventurers who brought you with them as big fans of traveling and nomadic lifestyle, no set home yet freely living by. You were in your younger teens and you'd clarified you had no other family to go to.

The death of your parents came as an obvious shock to your young self yet you grieved in silence and sobs, as the only person you trust hovers next to where you rest in silent contemplation.

Verr knows that look, and it was something she hasn't seen on the Adepti before. Of pure guilt and a sense of responsibility.

That night you rested surprisingly nightmare-free as your savior stands his ground next to where you rest.

Present Times

The couple had adopted you into the Inn family without a second's hesitance and you were thankful for them as you were to Xiao. You were no heavy expense or disadvantage and that made it all the more easier to adapt into your new lifestyle.

Despite no words or explanation, you were perfectly aware of the deeds your savior had done to save you and keep you alive, and with that you had sworn to serve him until the end of your time. A life for a life, equivalent exchange.

Coming into terms with being in Liyue and the Inn, your life choices were meddled with commerce and the importance of livelihood. You were young but your guilt of being under the care of such people forced you to take on any and every responsibility you can handle.

Despite your background you were expertly skilled with cooking. Your mother and father always taught you the importance of a meal for adventurers whenever you'd camped out. And your special touch on dishes that saves adventurers had drawn in many appetites.

Business boomed and the Inn wasn't just famous for being a temporary residence, but a sanctuary that offers tastes paired with the divine sense of Celestia. You became Wangshu Inn's Head Chef, with your sous-chef Smiley Yanxiao.

At times where Xiao is forced to make rounds to seize looming threats, he'd find himself picking fresh and healthy ingredients he'd find on the way back and present to you for new recipes to experiment on.

But you also pride yourself with a different title, or titles: The Adepti's Personal Chef, Tender of the Yaksha, Adepti's Devotee.

This title was emphasized by the Sigil of Permission sewn into an armband hanging by your right arm, something you proudly wear even beyond the walls of the Inn.

You found out the Adepti's favorite during your daily visit and breaks, usually done so by hanging out in the balcony with him with a brand new recipe you recently made and wanted to test out.

While he sat parallel to you, he eyed the transparent syrup and the gelatinous substance in the obvious curiousity he shows for all your new creations, silently awaiting your opinion by watching your expression: whenever you show even the slightest distaste, he'll pointedly ignore his curiousity and the dish altogether. And if you express such pride and achievement, his interest will get the better of him, if you haven't offered the dish quickly enough.

"What is this?" He'd finally ask after your delighted moans, indulging on your own creation.

"Mmm, Almond Tofu... do you wish to try it?" Without an answer he'd pick up the only spoon on the plate and tasted it himself. And just like that, he'd froze, eyes full blown in surprise and awe.

"Do you like it?" He can only hum in response as he scarfs down the plate by himself, chewing respectfully yet with a hint of vigor in every scoop. "It tastes... like dreams..." the way he looked at you, with eyes possessing such childlike wonder, you couldn't help but fall.

After that, Xiao had requested a daily plate/offering of it. It became a routine to the point that all workers heard of the favoritism and are encouraged to learn the recipe. But it's usually your dish that is served, unless special occasions calls for someone else.

There has been an influx of dormers and adventurers recently as citizens around Teyvat flock to the Liyue continent in hopes to watch the most extravagant celebration of the new year, the Lantern Rite Festival.

Your best efforts manning the kitchen together with Yanxiao took gruelling hours just to prepare for the dinner's first course even with hours of prep time available. Even both bosses had to lend some hands as your sous-chef can barely keep up with your stride. And after the dishes are finally distributed to the dining hall, you were already set in cleaning up the kitchen, and before you knew it-

"It has been an hour."

"It was a busy day, I'm sorry, Xiao." You could only muster a mumble in guilt as you kept your head down on the usual table, refusing to look at the disapproving expression he definitely wore, except he doesn't. His face has the slightest hints of worry and wonder at your deflated composure.

But his focus now was on the food he has been craving the whole day, already digging into his dessert. And you just tried your hardest not to fall asleep on the cold, wooden tabletop. Until your tummy rumbled through the silence.

A hum. "You haven't eaten?" You shake your head as you lift your head, gazing at the cute sight of your guardian tilting his head to the side in slight distaste for your lifestyle. You open your mouth to retort until you felt the cold utensil touch your bottom lip. "Here, I saved you the last bite. After this, get yourself a meal and retreat to your quarters, I don't want to hear any excuses." He softly urges a little push with the spoon so you get the hint, and you wrap your lips around it, chewing and gulping down cold dessert. He offered his favorite food, used the same spoon, and spoon fed you with it—

"Wha... don't- don't bite the spoon," you squeeze your eyes tight from the embarrassing thoughts in your head.

When people wish to have an audience with Xiao, most of the time they head to you for guidance after inquiring with Verr. They require a sigil of permission, and most of the times, your own sigil has been under fire a lot in their desperation.

An old merchant who desperately wants to hire the adepti to aid his caravan with personal security once tried to claw at your armband, but a split second after the tip of his fingers had touched the cloth, he was blown away to the nearest wall.

"What-," a pressure on your left shoulder pulls your other against a lean chest, protectively squeezing as a polearm materialized in front of you. You can feel the ragged vibrations of the Yaksha's unusually heavy breaths, his amber eyes sharp and dangerous, dilated like a predator.

"What gives you the idea that you had the authority to lay a hand on my assistant?" Black and teal embers conjure around you two as a dark shadow slowly creeps up from the ground. "That is their sigil of permission; I want nothing to do with you mere mortals."

If not for Verr and the other staff, things would have gone gruesome and unsightly for the business. Yes, business. Everyone disliked the guy enough to care more about the Inn than his actual well-being. When he'd come to, he was forced out of the Inn (he would have done so himself anyways as he was already traumatized).

"Sir Xiao, why did you do that?"

"He didn't have a Sigil, he was pretty much asking for it. And why have you gone formal?" You pouted at him and his only response was a quirked eyebrow. Walking over to stand behind him, you slowly wiggled your arms through the gap between his waist and slack arms, finding it easy enough with how thin his waist is as you wrapped him in a hug.

He tensed from the secretly ticklish feeling before letting down his guard in your arms. This was one of your leeway as his most devoted follower. Your constant exposure with the aid of the divine sigil has made you immune to the negative effects of Adeptal energy, enough to make him nigh worry about your safety around him anymore.

And him letting you hug him like this... let's just say it's from your mannerisms of comfort when you were still young and around him.

"Take an indefinite leave," Xiao broke the silence a few minutes after, forcing you to crane your head to the side to look at him. He meets your gaze with an amused glint. "You have no debt to pay here, you shouldn't be holed up in a place like this."

"It is true that me leaving wouldn't have majooor repercussions, but what's with the sudden idea?"

He huffs. "You're my only follower and yet you divide your attention serving temporary mortals that will pass by without remembrance. And besides," you tense at the sight of an upturn on the edge of lip, pearly whites subtly peeking, "personal does not mean sharing."

You were an adventurer at heart and it's time you indulge in that glorified life of excitement, with your guardian by your side. It was the only gift he can come up with for your undying devotion.

Holy - I had to cut this thing A LOT because I wrotE A HECKIN LOT WTF?! It's not even done in my mind, my goodness, there should be an adventuring unit here too but hhhh I got too conscious of the length sksksks I'm so sorry! P-Part 2-?

I enjoyed writing this a tad bit too much sksksks but now that the second to the last installation of this even is published, the next request should be the last one! And that means I'll have to stop the poll and start working on the requests for the 100 followers one! So if you haven't voted there, you should before it's too late!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, hand job, loss of virginity

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hopefully I can work on part 5 now that I have this posted.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 4:  With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees

💀💀💀

Sam left you in the same daze that fogged the entire day. The night was restless as you tossed and turned, replaying the scene over and over. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the lens staring back at you, imagined yourself on a screen, your hand moving between your legs, your pathetic mewls as you came for this man and who knew how many others. 

Well, he did say it was up to you how big the audience was.

You woke early and only checked in with your nan to fill a mug with coffee and start your day ahead of time. You needed to keep yourself busy after a night bombarded by your own thoughts and yet, you couldn’t focus enough to do more than stare at the blinking cursor.

You put on a Twitch stream to keep your mind from wandering too far but it did little to help your focus. You fidgeted, still without your phone, and again thought of the previous day and what you’d done. You’d never done that in front of anyone. You only ever joked about it online, that persona was everything you weren’t irl.

All your stupid online jokes and exaggerations got you into this. You fucked up because the line between virtual and reality was too blurred in your head. You got carried away and now you just had to deal. Well, you guessed it was a lesson no one learned the easy way.

You didn’t realise how much time passed until your stomach growled loudly and squeezed. You felt like throwing up but only had the slice of toast you scarfed down that morning to coat your stomach. You rubbed your eyes and headed downstairs to sneak some of your nan’s sugarless jelly cookies. She hated your snacking but she rarely finished a box on her own.

As you entered through the kitchen, you came to a sudden halt. You tilted your head and frowned as you heard your nan’s voice and the one that answered had you knocking your hip against a chair as you rushed into the living room.

“Just over there,” she directed as the leg of the couch scraped on the floor, “slide it against the wall.”

Sam stood straight dusted off his hands on his jeans. He stepped back and looked over the old floral sofa. 

“Definitely looks better over here,” he remarked.

“What the hell?” you blurted out.

“There you are!” your grandmother tutted, “I called up to you but you do what you always do and tune me out.”

“I didn’t-- I was working, I--” you cleared your throat and looked at Sam, “what are you doing here?”

“He’s being very helpful,” your nan praised, “how many times did I ask you to help me with this thing?”

“Sorry, I…” you swallowed and glanced between them.

“And smell that,” your nan inhaled deeply, “he’s making us dinner.”

“And I brought sugar-free dessert,” he added, “anything else I can do?”

“You’re so sweet,” she squeezed his thick arm.

“So are you… once you get past the frying pan,” he chuckled.

“I see a man in leather, I’m swinging,” she scowled, “you’re lucky you came bearing gifts.”

“Hey, look, we’re not all bad,” he smiled as she sat and he handed her the book from the small table that held the lamp and her ashtray, “I’m not like those guys who threatened your granddaughter.”

“And more honest than her,” she shook her head, “you didn’t tell me you were down at that bar. I warned you-- you really are lucky he was there.”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you squinted at them, “didn’t you just tell me the other day I should grab any biker by--”

“I’m old, I say things,” she laughed but her eyes had a glimmer of ‘be quiet’.

“Would you like some more tea, Millie?” he asked as he took her empty mug and neared you, stopping in the broad archway that opened up into the living room.

“One more, if you don’t mind,” she smiled sweetly. She never smiled.

You hid a scowl and turned to follow Sam into the kitchen. He moved the kettle onto a burner and turned the knob. He stopped and opened the door of the stove and peeked inside as a blaze of savoury hot air blasted out at him. You felt it just before he let it snap shut and turned to lean on the counter, crossing one foot over the other.

“What are you doing?” you uttered.

“I told you I’d be back,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d--” you lowered your voice and glanced at the doorway, “what have you been telling her?”

“Everything she wants to hear,” he ran his fingertips along the precise line of hair of his goatee, “and nothing she shouldn’t… but that can change.”

“I did what you wanted. End of punishment,” you put your hands on your hips.

“End? Hmmm, I don’t think I said that,” his forehead wrinkled, “we’re far from finished… and come on, we both know you had as much fun as me.”

Your nostrils flared and you sucked in your cheeks. He was entirely too hard to figure out. He was that sort of man you hated and feared all at once. You just couldn’t predict him.

“I don’t… I don’t care what happens to me, just don’t hurt her,” you said quietly.

“Hurt her? Now why would I do that?” he taunted, “I mean, right now I have no reason to do anything like that.”

You squirmed and let out a breath, “please, alright?”

“Settle down, honey, you’ve been good… so far,” he said, “you just gotta keep it up.”

“Yeah,” you grumbled as the kettle began to shake and he turned his back to you, “any chance I can have my phone back?”

He chuckled as he searched the cupboard for the tea and plucked out a bag, “you’re funny… I like that but you gotta stop acting like everything’s a joke. It doesn’t hold up.”

💀

You found it hard not to wear a look of unamused confusion as Sam served dinner at the table and your grandmother sang his praises as he poured her wine she could actually drink. Just one glass but it was enough to loosen her up. You hadn’t eaten in the dining room since you were a kid, more used to eating at the counter, sitting on the wobbly stools or in front of the television.

Sam offered for you to clean up and do the dishes. Your nan was overjoyed at that, almost mocking. When you finished, you found them in the living room, some old Robert DeNiro movie on the television. You sat on the couch, as far from Sam as you as your grandmother yawned into her hand.

“Well,” she stubbed out her cigarette, “I should really be getting to bed. That wine is kicking in.”

“It’s early…” you argued weakly.

“You kids don’t get into too much trouble,” she warned as she stood with a groan and gripped her hip, “these ears still work.”

“Trouble? Me?” Sam kidded, “you don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t been a kid in a very long time.”

She smiled and nodded but for a moment she hesitated. She looked at you and pushed her tongue to her denture.

“Good night, girlie,” she said.

“Night, nan,” you forced out as normally as you could. 

You knew if she sensed your fear, she’d act out. She was always too brave for her own good and while you admired that, you didn’t need to get hurt because you were dumb as a brick.

She left slowly and you heard her television begin to crackle and the voices of the Law and Order actors were muffled behind her door. You hunched your shoulders and rubbed your hands together as you stared at Deniro’s wrinkled forehead and that characteristic squint. 

The lamp went out as Sam pulled the cord and the screen glowed in the dark. You felt the cushion dip as he shifted closer without subtlety. He slung his arm over your shoulder and you smelled his earthy cologne as he turned the TV up a few ticks. He pulled you to him as his hand came up to cradle your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we go… somewhere else?”

“She won’t hear us honey,” he cooed, “you just gotta be good. Be quiet.”

“Let’s go upstairs. Please,” you grabbed his hand as you pleaded.

“You keep arguing and I’ll make sure to wake her up,” he warned, “now,” he twisted so that he had your wrist in his grasp and forced it down to his lap, “put your hand down my pants.”

You gulped loudly and your hand trembled. You read enough fanfic to know what to do but your lack of actual experience had you nervous. Much like many things in your life. All talk, no skill.

You turned awkwardly on the cushion, your body uncomfortably contorted as his legs stayed pressed to yours. You struggled to unhook the button of his fly and the zipper was slow to descend. You felt the bulge as your hands moved against the denim and you hesitated as your fingers pressed to the elastic of his briefs.

“Mmm,” he purred as he hugged you closer, “that’s it, honey.”

Your eyes widened and you were happy the room was dark enough to hide your face. You pulled the elastic back with two fingers and shoved your other hand blindly beneath the fabric. You brushed against his hard dick and angled your hand so that you could grip him, his smooth length felt peculiar against your palm. Was he big? He felt big but didn’t have anyone to compare him to.

“Tighter,” he groaned at the friction as you moved your hand.

You squeezed and his hot breath grazed over your hair and he pushed his head back over the couch. He twitched as you kept a steady motion, trapped in the limbo of mortification and cluelessness. Were you doing it right? What were you even doing?

“Ah, honey, you’re so good,” he said as he rubbed the back of your neck, “goddamn.”

You said nothing as you focused on your hand. He snaked his arm under yours suddenly and pulled you over as he lifted his ass. Your hand was caught in his under as he laid you down beneath him. He reached down and fixed your grip on him as he held hovered atop you, his knees pressed into the cushion between your legs.

His arm crossed under yours as he poked along your jeans and shoved his hand beneath the denim and cotton. His palm was flush to your pelvis as he slid two fingers along your folds, held snug to you by the fabric. He swirled his fingertips over your bud and you gasped as your other hand gripped his arm in surprise.

“Honey, you’re wet already,” he whispered, “you sure you haven’t been waiting for this?”

You moaned as he pushed back along your entrance and dragged his fingers back, spreading your wetness over your clit. You quivered as you struggled to keep your own hand moving. He inhaled and groaned as played with you and pressed his lips to your cheek. He trailed up to your lips and kissed you, forcing his tongue inside as he shuddered.

He drew away with a sloppy noise and withdrew his hand from your pants. He sat up on his knees and pulled your legs to rest against his torso. He gripped the back of your jeans and yanked them down along with your panties. You smothered your cry as you were shocked by the force of it and the air of the room on your bare ass and legs.

He let your jeans dangle from one ankle as he bent over you again. Your leg fell over the edge of the couch as he held himself over you with a hand just above your head, fingers tight on the cushioned arm. He wiggled as he shimmied his jeans and briefs down with his other hand and you pressed on his chest.

“Wait, wait,” you hissed, “you… please, just… slow down… I never--”

“Shh, honey, you’re making too much noise,” he muttered, “it’s okay.”

“No, no, please, can’t we--” your voice caught as he lined his tips up along your cunt and rubbed it along your clit, “I’ll… I’ll use my mouth.”

“Later,” he whispered as his tip slipped down along your entrance, “honey, I need to feel you.”

“Pl--” your voice evaporated as the head of his dick stretched you.

You whimpered as he brought his arm down and nestled it under your head. He pushed further in and you gritted your teeth as you whined at the pressure of his intrusion. With each inch, the strain grew worse as a deep pain flooded your body. He shushed you as he forced past your resistance.

He covered your mouth as you cried out and barely kept your voice under control. He kept your head on his arm as his other hand cupped your lips and smothered out your agony. He forced himself in as deep as he could and your body tensed as your walls squeezed him. Your eyes rolled back as tears welled and spilled over the corners.

“Honey, it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” he coaxed, “just like that.”

He rocked his hips carefully but it still felt terrible. He pulled back and slid back in, each time it felt like he got even deeper than the last. His breath hitched and your own grew laboured as you huffed through your nostrils. 

He growled and sped up, just a little at a time, your cunt slickening his intrusion as his pelvis brushed against your clit and sent tendrils down your thighs. Even so, the pleasure was not enough to mute the pain.

“That’s it,” he uttered, “that’s it.”

He fucked you faster and the couch shook beneath you. His flesh slapped and the noise seemed to be monstrous, so much sure that you were sure your grandmother would come out and catch you. 

You grasped his wrist as you felt your climax rising. You squeezed and arched your foot as you were overcome and crashed down harshly as the pain tore through the ecstasy once more. He turned his hand and framed your chin as he kissed you again, swallowing your murmurs as he thrust into you over and over.

He lifted his head and dipped his thumb into your mouth as he held in his voice. He quaked and his motion stuttered but kept on. You felt his release, hot and wet, inside of you, a strange sensation that made you both sickened and aroused you.

He eased up and stilled at last. He brushed his nose against yours and chuckled under his breath as he wiggled his hips and you swore at the way it made your walls squeeze him. You blinked as your vision cleared of tears and the darkness. His features were blue with the light of the television, sinister and shadowy.

You went limp under him and breathed out slowly. You shook as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip and left a line of spit down your jaw.

“We’ll have to get that on tape next time,” he said, “but I doubt you’ll forget that, honey.”

[chan-skz]

Going back the way we've come

Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Summary: You didn't want to go, but forced by your parents, you gave in. Your relationship with Hyunjin hadn't started very well, after reuniting years later, you realized that a lot of things had changed. but for some reason, you couldn't push him away.

Words: ~ 7.5k

Genre: Fluff, smut (around the end), slight angst

Warning(s): Making out, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Kinda raw language, Semi-public, Light choking, Light overstimulation, Teasing under table

Note: This is part of the christmas collab I'm doing w/ @hanflix and many other writers. I tried my best to give it a holiday vibe, but I guess I totally failed hahah.

A/N: This is the longest fic I've ever written for now, and I also tried my best in writing it, so I really hope you'll enjoy it! English isn't my first language, so I'm really sorry if there's any mistakes or non-senses.

Your fingers tightened around the collar of your coat, the cold breeze gently hitting your face. You cursed yourself for not having listened to your mother when she insisted for you to take a scarf, arguing that it would be colder than usual.

"Fuck winter." You said when you got back under the shelter of the bus stop, collapsing on the bench next to your bestfriend, where he was sitting.

"Hi to you too, Y/n." Jisung laughed.

"Sorry, really not in a good mood." You said, glancing around, noticing that besides you, there were few other people waiting for the bus.

"Do you want to talk about it though?" He continued.

"Well." You began, sitting correctly on the seat and turning to him, announcing your long speech in advance. He knew you by heart. "I argued with my mom about a stupid decision she and my dad made. They want me to spend Christmas Eve with them and some old friends of theirs! Do you realize that? I don't even know them! She told me they had a son of my age and that I was bestfriend with him when I was younger, as that would some how change my mind. Christmas is supposed to be between families, not strangers."

"Are you done?" He asked when he saw you cross your arms against your chest and sigh even more on the bench. He was really trying to keep from laughing at your despondency. "It's not funny Sungie! I'm really serious!" You complained. "How did I found myself having to spend almost a boring evening with complete strangers?"

"You could come and spend it with me if you really don't want to spend it with your parents' friends." He suggested.

"Are you serious?" You asked, suddenly straightening up, hope shining in your eyes.

"Will your parents accept, though?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No." Your mother firmly refused.

"But why!" You whined through the phone, kicking your foot at the pile of snow in front of you, in frustration

"Because Christmas should be celebrated with the family, honey."

"Family.. We don't even pass it between real family." You whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes, before setting your gaze on your best friend who was still waiting for you at the entrance of the high school.

"It's not the same thing!" She exclaimed loudly through the phone, forcing you to move your phone away from your ear. "Do you really want to stay with them on Christmas Eve anyway?"

"But Jisung offered it to me! He even told me that his parents wouldn't even mind!" You exclaimed in your turn. "You yourself know how much they love me!" You added in hope that it will change her mind.

"It's still no, the discussion is closed." She concluded, before hanging up on you. You sighed in frustration, kicking one last on the snow pile before turning back to your best friend. You weren't in the mood it was clear.

"So?" Jisung asked as you approached him.

"She said no." You answered, walking past him to enter the school. "But don't worry, I'm going to keep pushing when I get home, she says the discussion is over, but I'll keep pushing the subject."

"You really don't want to spend it with their friends, do you?" Jisung chuckled when he saw how persistent you were.

"As they say, perseverance always pays off." You gave him a smile, letting him know you weren't going to drop the case that easily.

"Yeah, but I don't think that's gonna work." Before you could answer, a group of girls down the hall caught your eye. You glanced at each other in disbelief as you approached your group of friends.

"What's going on over there." You asked curiously, as you opened your locker to deposit your things in.

"Ah, just a new student." Jeongin just shrugged, not looking away from his phone, too focused on his game.

"Damn, he's this special to create so much enthusiasm." You continued, taking your books in your arms before closing your locker and leaning against it.

"I heard he was handsome, rich, tall. The pure cliché you know." Changbin added, earning amused looks from all of you. "What? I only rehearsed what I heard, I didn't even saw the guy yet."

"My only question is who would get transfered to a new school a day before winter break? It's so unlikely." You were curious to know who this new kid was, since he already had girls at his feet when it's barely been a day since he arrived.

"I really don't know." Changbin shrugged. "But I also heard he was from your hometown. You must know him."

"No luck, I don't even remember a lot of things from back there." You were still a little surprised that he also came from your hometown, but despite all that, it didn't change your opinion of him.

"Merry Christmas!" Felix came out of nowhere, dressing ridiculously in rudolph. Totally his type. You couldn't help but burst out laughing at his outfit. The day before, you all had agreed to dress in a holiday theme, but it was clear that someone surely hadn't understood the real concept.

"What the fuck, Lix." Jeongin said, finally turning his attention away from his game to judge his friend. "When I suggested yesterday that we could dress like it was Christmas, I didn't actually mean to dress up like this."

You kinda felt bad for Felix as he looked disappointed at the judgment of the youngest.

"Rah, you are so boring." Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest before pretending to sulk.

"Okay, pass me your red nose." You added, rolling your eyes as Felix's face lit up.

"It's good now?" You asked rhetorically, placing the red ball on yours.

"Looks like a real clown now. Your makeup wasn't enough, but with that nose you really look like one now." Jisung said amused, making the whole gang laugh, except you obviously.

"I swear to you that one day I'll kill you." You threatened him, hitting his forearm causing him to whine in pain.

"Ow- damn you hit real hard-"

"Y/n? Y/n Y/l/n?" A familiar voice called you out, making everyone turn around. You then suddenly found yourself facing a guy that neither of you knew. You surely assumed to be the new student.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" You had to admit that the fact that this tall guy knew your name freaked you out.

"Don't you recognize me? Hyunjin. We went to the same elementary school." The so-called Hyunjin indicated, making you frown at his words. But your brain still didn't seem to recognize him despite how hard you tried to remember who it could be.

"I'm so sorry, but you must be wrong on the person. I really don't know you." This time you raised an eyebrow and looked him over from head to toe. You couldn't deny that he was handsome, even though you didn't know him.

"He's from your hometown, there's a chance he's right." Chris pointed, once the guy had left. You sigh in exasperation. "I don't remember him anyway. So whether he's right or not, it doesn't really matter."

You threw yourself on your bed, almost screaming into your pillow in frustration. Again, you tried to convince your parents, but it was a complete failure like this morning. They were really determined that you go with them, even though you had made it clear to them that you didn't want to. You spent long minutes looking at your reflection through the mirror in your bathroom. Did you have to wear a dress and full makeup to go to a stupid Christmas dinner? Obviously, it was your mother who forced you.

The red dress she chose for you was quite tight and followed every curve of your body. But it was either that or nothing, since you would've been allowed to wear something more comfortable. Everything had to be perfect, you rolled your eyes recalling the words of your mother, and also of your father. You didn't understand either why you had agreed to wear high heels, your feet were hurting horribly and the freezing winter cold really didn't help your situation. It was snowing and you were forced to wear these heels anyway, that's how your parents exaggerated. Luckily, there was no ice, otherwise you would've tripped and humiliated yourself in the middle of the entrance. You were torn from your thoughts when the front door opened, and revealing a quite beautiful lady about your mother's age.

"Y/m/n!" The lady exclaimed with a big smile, softly giggling as your mother returned the same energy to her. She wasted no time to make you get in and hugging your mom and shaking your father's hand. Once you got in her facial expression only lit up even more.

"Y/n! Woah, you've grown so much!" She indicated by taking you in your arms too. "You've become so beautiful, I'm sure Hyunjin would agree." She said with a slight smirk. Hearing his name made you choke on your own saliva. You tensed, but managed to fake a smile, even though you were praying inside that you had misheard. Unfortunately for you, all your doubts were confirmed when you walked into the living room and found yourself face to face with Hyunjin.

"Damnit.." You cursed under your breath, when you came to sit on the couch in front of his and according to the face he expressed, he seemed to have heard you. Lucky for you, none of the other adults next to you seemed to have heard it. You could feel his intense gaze on you, and it lowkey made you anxious.

"Dinner's not ready yet, because we got too caught up at the last minute, so sorry." Hyunjin's mother laughed lightly. "I know the kids won't want to wait here all along, so maybe they could go do something else until it's ready."

If you could think that the night couldn't get any worse, you were completely wrong.

"Stop following me." Hyunjin suddenly turned as he walked up the stairs. Making you roll your eyes.

"I 'follow' you, because I have nowhere else to go and I would rather stay with you than stay with them for a second. Their 'good old days' really don't interest me." You crossed your arms against your chest, defying him with your gaze.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes, before turning around. His room was quite large, almost double yours. You made sure to sit in the opposite side of the room. You then found yourself sitting on the sofa while he was lying on his bed, both phones in hand. Your phones keep you busy, making you forget the awkward tension.

"How could you not recognize me?" Hyunjin suddenly asked, distracting you from the video you were watching.

"Do I really have to?" You looked away from your phone to focus on Hyunjin, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed and facing you.

"Did I change that much?" He said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"We knew each other when we were kids, now we are adults, what do you expect? I can't recognize everyone I was friends with in my childhood at one glance." You said in a mocking voice. "I don't even understand why you keep pushing so hard for me to remember you, but if you really want to, just show me what you looked like when you were a baby. It would surely refresh my memory."

You didn't expect that he would actually do it. But your eyes widened when you saw the little boy in the picture. You recognized him right there. Your heart pounded at the realization, but you tried to pull yourself together. It was stupid to react so exaggeratedly just because you realized you were facing your childhood best friend, your first love. Finally you didn't really know if when you were young you really loved him, because after all, you were still kids, the meaning of love wasn't real known, nor understood.

"Stop Hyunjin, you're hurting him!" You yelled at him to let go of your friend's sweater, Chris.

"No! How dare he touch you! Only I have the right to give you a hug!" Hyunjin frowned, looking at you before quickly looking back at your friend, who just let it go, finding his jealousy quite ridiculous.

"But I was the one who gave him a hug." You started, finding his possessiveness frustrating.

You couldn't help but have a small smile forming at the corner of your lips at the flashback of this event. And you couldn't control your teasing.

"So how's your jealousy? Are you still so possessive of a temper?" You said amused, expecting him to becomes slightly shy and sulky as you pointed out his toxic trait, but what you didn't expect was for him to smile and look down on you.

"Oh, why do you want to know that? Unless you want me to show you what true possessiveness is." He smirked, looking you up and down. Your own smile faded as he watched you closely, making you feel oddly exposed to him in that tight, cropped dress.

"What do you mean?" You pulled yourself together again and asked, raisong an eyebrow.

"Well, I wouldn't have thought you would've had so many guy friends." His comment frustrated you for some reasons. After years apart, as soon as you meet again does he really have to get jealous over the fact that you have a lot of opposite sex friends? You really didn't like it.

"Does it even matter anyway?" You asked insistently. At your reaction, Hyunjin's expression changed, becoming more nonchalant again.

"Nevermind." He got up from the sofa he was leaning on and went to lie back on his bed. You took advantage of him not looking at you to detail him. You couldn't deny that puberty had blessed him, making him not only beautiful, but also extremely attractive. His hair, which he had dyed blond, was slightly messy, but enough to make it look quite classy.

"Do you like staring at me?" He asked rhetorically, but as you were about to deny, he continued. "No need to deny it, the trickle of drool at the corner of your mouth is proof of that."

Seeing your panicking face, he laughed out loud. Quickly running your hand over the corner of your mouth, you finally realized that he was only messing with you from the start. As you opened your mouth to clap back at him, you heard your mother's voice calling you from downstairs, informing both of you that the dinner was ready. Hyunjin didn't miss the glare you gave him as you sat face to face at the dining table. He could've simply ignored it, but the little smirk that appeared on your lips worried him slightly. He had a bad feeling.

Your parents were talking and laughing with each other, paying almost no attention to you two, which gave you the best opportunity to tease Hyunjin. For his part, he was frustered when he felt something caress his leg. Looking down he saw your foot caressing his leg, he wasted no time pushing you away, finding the whole thing quite inappropriate as you found yourself at the table with both of your parents. But you didn't give up, in fact you were determined to make him restless. You restarted your gesture, but this time, taking advantage of his man spread, you deflected your touching on his crotch. You knew he was going to lose his temper at this action and your doubts were confirmed when he jumped at the feeling of your heel pressing against his crotch.

"Hyunjin, are you okay?" His mother asked, slightly worried. You could see a pinkish tinge forming on Hyunjin's cheeks and you had to admit he was so cute like that.

"And yes, y-yes. It's okay, I just banged my knee against the table, sorry." He managed to convince the others. After all, he wasn't going to openly say that you were touching his dick under the table. Stop that, he mimicked, his gaze changing dramatically to become more firmer, but it only made you keep going, finding his reaction funny and extremely entertaining. Suddenly he got up from the table, apologizing to your parents and pretending he wasn't hungry, so he could get away from that family dinner. Not wanting to be alone with them, you did the same, sighing in relief when you in turn managed to sneak out of that Christmas dinner. Except you weren't expecting to be tackled by a pretty angry Hyunjin from the moment you stepped into his room. You then found yourself stuck between him and the wall, his arms placed on each side of your body, blocking you from escaping from his grip. Besides his tall figure, which made him quite intimidating, didn't help your case.

"If you were so desperate for my cock, you should've told me." He said in a dangerously calm voice.

"What are you talking about?" You manage to say, completely confused.

"Oh don't be innocent. You really think this is a game, don't you? Do you think teasing my cock around our parents is fun?" You bit your lip and your eyes widened when he grabbed your hand and put it on his bulge for you to feel it, which was quite hard.

"You feel it? Now I'm fucking hard." He said in a long sigh of pleasure, feeling your fingers trace his length. He then leaned against your ear, his hot breath giving you chills.

"From the moment I met you again, I knew straight away that I didn't want to just be friends with you." You still couldn't quite assimilate the situation you currently found yourself in and it was only when he leaned against your ear to whisper those words to you with his deep voice that you finally broke out of your thoughts. Suddenly you pushed him away, forcing him to pull away from you and step back. He looked at you completely lost, not understanding your sudden action and to tell the truth, you didn't understand what had taken you neither. You couldn't deny that this whole situation had made you slightly aroused, but it was too soon. No sooner had you met again than you already found yourself doing dirty things? It was going a little too fast for your liking.

"That-that won't work, I'm so sorry." You avoided his gaze in embarrassment. After a few moments of silence, you finally returned your gaze to Hyunjin, who was now looking at you completely detached. And to be honest, his expression hurted you, but you tried to hide it. You knew you ruined your evening, that's why you decided to end up speanding it with your parents. It was quite boring, but at least it allowed you to escape the discomfort that would've been present between you and Hyunjin, if you stayed with him.

"And? What did you do?" Jisung asked excitedly. A few days later, you had wasted no time summoning Jisung, your best friend, to tell him what had happened to you. But no sooner had the story started than he was already feeling excited, obviously expecting you and Hyunjin to have done it.

"I pushed him away." You simply said, looking as if you didn't care about it. Even though a few days later, you were still mentally slapping yourself for pushing him away so coldly. While deep down, you wished things had turned out differently.

"What did you do?" Jisung repeated slowly, his excitement fading.

"I pushed him away and even told him that it wouldn't work between us." You closed your eyes, anticipating his reaction.

"Oh my god, I have never known a girl so stupid." Jisung said in exasperation. "You literally had the chance before you and you didn't even take it."

"I know!" You pouted. "It's just that I realized this when it was too late. I was in the living room with my parents, you really expected me to go back to his room and take back everything that I said and did to him?"

You concluded ironically before crossing your arms against your chest and sighing in exasperation.

"Well that was an option that you unfortunately didn't take and which could've prevented from finding yourself in this situation." He dramaticallyraised his hot chocolate cup to face, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm seriously starting to regret telling you this story and even offering to go out. You really aren't helping me."

"It's too hard not to judge you when you literally make so many stupid decisions, sorry." He said, chuckling at your annoyed reaction. "Ah, by the way, I almost forgot to mention it, but Changbin is throwing a new year party tomorrow and he told me to force you to come."

At the mention of a party, you whined. You didn't like parties, you preferred to stay at home, doing nothing, rather than partying among people you didn't know.

"Tell him back that despite you forcing me, I'm not coming." You said directly.

"Please, for once come on. And it'll help you to forget about your night with Hyunjin." Jisung begged you. It was very rare that you attended parties organized by your friends, one because you didn't like the vibe, but you also didn't understand the usefulness of getting high and drunk. But coming to think of it, not only did you want to forget the shit you had caused, but you also felt like getting wasted.

"Fine."

You scrambled through the room, the wave of dancing people glued to each other began to make you sick. Your glass in hand, you passed through all these people, until you finally got off the dance floor. You shiver slightly when you feel the light cold breeze brush your exposed legs. You were already regretting having put on such a short dress. It wasn't really ideal to go out so exposed, but it was the only evening dress you had.

"Looks like you're bored." Felix's deep voice surprised you, making you jump.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed in surprise. almost dropping your drink. "You scared me."

You hit his forearm, making him laugh out loud.

"No, but seriously you look really bored." He said, calming down. You just nodded, it was true that you were slowly starting to regret coming. Your dress that bothered you, the alcohol that took too long to hit you, and the cold freezing were all the reason of it.

"Do you want to come with me play truth or dare? Changbin and the other boys were organizing it." He proposed to you, not failing to see you looking with disgust at the gathering of people completely wasted and grinding on each other. You accepted, telling yourself that it might change your mind. You didn't know this kind of game was still being played at parties, but you were curious enough what kind of dares and truths other players will throw themselves into. Obviously, you should've expected to see Hyunjin as soon as you set a foot in the room, which seemed to be Changbin's room, accompanied by Felix. Other than this one, Hyunjin and even Changbin, you didn't really know the other participants, but even then you cursed yourself for not thinking for a second that Hyunjin might be there too. You blushed slightly when you noticed him contemplating your body shamelessly. You thanked the lord for making the room a little dark, only a lamp on the floor on the floor litening the room.

"Y/n!" Changbin exclaimed with joy when he saw you, glad you came. Coming to hug you, only to ruffle your hair.

"Stop." You giggled. "You ruined my hairstyle." You pouted.

"Ohh, it's okay, you're beautiful the way you are." He said, making you blush. Changbin treated you like his little sister, his way to make you comfortable no matter the situation would always surprise you. Your interaction didn't go out of Hyunjin's attention. From the corner of the room he watched you silently, paying no attention to the girl beside him who was desperately seeking his attention.

"Are we starting or not?" Felix complained loudly, drawing attention to himself.

"We're just waiting for Jisung and Jeongin." No sooner had Changbin finished his sentence than your two friends entered the room, their arms laden with drinks.

"To spice up the game!" Jisung exclaimed as he placed the bottles on the ground, beside the circle you had formed. You had hesitated for a moment to sit down, your short dress really bothering you, obviously you didn't want others to have an easy view of your panties. You were then offered by Changbin his jacket to cover your lap, clearly having noticed your struggle.

"Thank you." You smiled at him, before kneeling on the floor and covering your legs with his jacket.

"Ok, we all know the game rules, right? But this time, if you don't want to answer the truth or don't want to do a dare, you're going to have to take two shots of vodka." Jeongin vaguely explained. "Okay, I'm starting."

He leaned over to spin the bottle, stopping in front of Changbin.

"Truth or dare." Jeongin asked with a smirk at the corner of his lips. It was in those moments that his inner devil was coming out.

"Truth." Changbin said. "I don't trust you enough to pick dare when it comes to you." He added suspiciously.

"What's your body count?" Jeongin asked, ignoring his friend's comment.

"Do I need to have slept with them?" He asked, waiting for the clarification of the younger. He took time to think.

"Then I think around 15, if not even more." He nodded. Hearing this number, you almost choked.

"15?! What the hell?!" You turned to Changbin, your eyes widening. "You better spill the tea, mr.Don Juan."

The game went on, you had to admit it was pretty funny seeing some people taking two shots of vodka and gradually get drunk just because they didn't want to do something, or even see some people do of ​​stupid things. Well, until Hyunjin's turn came and he had the misfortune of being told what to do by Jisung.

"Truth or dare, Hyunjin." He asked him with a smile, which the world that didn't know him might consider innocent, but knowing him very well, you knew he was up to no good.

"I guess, dare?" He answered.

"I dare you to make out for a minute with the girl you find the most attractive in the room." As soon as Jisung's words came out of his mouth, his turned gaze to you. You rolled your eyes when you had eye contact with your best friend. Seeing how the girl, who was sitting next to Hyunjin, looked quite pretty and looked so interested in him, you expected him to turn to kiss her. But you were a little taken aback, when he got up to approach you to kneel down in front of you, ignoring the complaints of the girl you think was one of his fangirls at school.

"Wait what?" Your eyes widened, completely lost. Your heart quickly started race up as you saw him lean towards you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly. You really didn't know what to add, you were literally wordless. Subconsciously, you started to nod your head gently, giving him your consent. When your lips touched, it was as if no one existed around you. The exclamations of surprise that other people around you were expressing went over your head.

Hyunjin's lips were soft, the kiss you exchanged was initially passionate, but the longer the seconds passed the hotter it got. Without thinking too much, you wrapped your arms around the older man's neck, pulling him closer to you, as he grabbed your hips. Too absorbed in each other, you hadn't noticed that the minute had already passed and it was only when Jisung called you out that you finally came out of your reverie, instantly detaching yourself from Hyunjin.

You blushed slightly when you felt a light trickle of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, you pressed to wipe it off quickly with the back of your hand. Hyunjin, for his part, just licked his lips, giving you a smirk, knowing that this action would destabilize you even more. Clearing your throat afterwards, you for sure wanted to divert the attention others had on you, while Hyunjin, sat down next to you with a big smile on his face, not caring that all the attention was on you. After all he had finally kissed you, which he had wanted to do since the dinner with your parents, so nothing else mattered. Your thoughts wandered elsewhere as the game continued its course. You couldn't think of anything other than Hyunjin's lips on yours, his kiss had made you lose your head. Your mind was engulfed in unhealthy thoughts and it didn't take you long before you felt yourself being drowned by your own mind.

"I-I think I'm going to go." You huffed, feeling a pleasant, but quite uncomfortable heat growing between your legs. You were clearly starting to feel bad. You didn't give Changbin or Hyunjin time to speak as you got up and quickly left the room. The loud sound of the music playing backwards was much more audible once in the hallway, it's precisely at this moment that you could gradually feel the influence of alcohol washing you off. Luckily for you, you found the bathroom easily.

"Y/n?" You heard Hyunjin calling you, but you didn't pay him any attention to him when he hesitantly walked in. You were propped up against the bathroom counter, staring at your reflection through the mirror, it was easily recognizable that you were not feeling well. Your cheeks were red, your breath quickened and your eyes slightly narrowed.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, approaching you, but he resigned himself when he saw you stepping back when he tried to come closer.

"Stop playing with me." You finally said, turning to face him. You couldn't help but slightly laugh bitterly when he looked at you in confusion, obviously not understanding the meaning of your words.

"Seriously Hyunjin, what do you want from me." You rolled your eyes, "You tell me straight up that you want more than just a friendship with me, when it had only been one evening that we met again. Things have changed Hyunjin, I've changed, you've changed. We're not the same as when we were still children." He was silent for a moment, looking deep in his thoughts, before he resigned himself to saying something.

"I understand that we are no longer children. And from the moment I saw you again I understood it very well. You must think I'm talking nonsense, but just seeing you and talking to you again last time, I don't know why, i had the same feelings i had when we were young."

He stopped talking to approach you slowly, making sure first that you weren't going to distance yourself from him.

"I'm very serious. I'm really not trying to play with your feelings, nor you in general." His gaze reflected a slight sadness. He was genuinely afraid of being rejected by you, even after his speech.

"How could I believe you?" You asked, hesitantly whether you should take him seriously or not.

"If you give me a chance, I swear I could prove it to you." You felt butterflies in your stomach at his words. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it immediately, you really didn't know what to say. And he looked pretty determined.

"I hope you're not going to make me regret it then." You manage to say. At your answer, his face lit up. He was anxious that you would reject him, that you would tell him that his 'confession' was absurd, but he felt a huge weight off his shoulders at your words. His gaze wandered over your lips for a few seconds, before he glanced quickly behind him.

"I-" He started slowly, looking suddenly slightly embarrassed. "Can I kiss you?"

His question made you smile for real this time, finding his reaction rather unexpected and ironic, given of what had happened earlier.

"Really, Hyunjin? You literally kissed me in front of dozens of people and now you're getting all embarrassed." You teased him. "So cute."

At your last comment, his expression changed dramatically. Suddenly, he leaned over and grabbed your chin, forcing you to lock your eyes with his.

"Me, cute?" He tilted his head to the side, his gaze languishing in your face, as if to memorize every detail. "You sure about that?" All trace of embarrassment had disappeared from his attitude. He looked more than serious and you couldn't deny that you liked this new facade of him.

"Why don't you show it to me then?" You didn't know where that line, or even that daring, had come from, but you didn't complain when Hyunjin's lips rested on yours for the second time that evening. The kiss was way more intense than the one you had shared earlier. Hotter and more eager. You gasped in surprise as Hyunjin grabbed you by the back of your thighs to lift you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Your dress, which was already short, rose at this gesture, giving him easy access to your ass. Placing yourself on the bathroom counter, you were slightly disappointed when he pulled away from you, breaking your kiss. You looked at him with puppy eyes, as he turned around to close the bathroom door and lock it.

"Just making sure we won't be disturbed." He smirked, taking full notice of your desperate look. He wasted no time before stepping back between your legs, his lips joining yours for a warm kiss once again.

"Fuck, you don't know how many times I've fantasized about being like this with you since the last time." He whispered in admiration, as he kissed the path up to your neck, where he teasingly bit your soft spot which he found easily. You suppressed a small moan at his gesture, your fingers venturing into his long curls and pulling them gently. You could tell he liked it by the deep moan he made.

"You left me so hard when you ran away last time." He straightened up to look at you straight in the eyes, the sheer desire burning through his gaze making you feel in a certain way you could describe as sinful.

"I was afraid I had done something wrong when you pushed me away. I even felt bad for getting so excited after you teased me under the table in the presence of our parents." The tone of his voice clearly reflected nostalgia.

"But don't feel bad. I just panicked at the time." You smiled at him, passing a hand on his cheek to reassure him.

"And if I'm being honest, the situation got me excited too." You confessed shyly. Your revelation relaxed him slightly, but also boosted his confidence.

"Really?" He asked rhetorically, stroking your thighs with his fingertips. Your heart race increased as he rushed to drop hungry kisses down your collarbone, wasting no time slipping your sleeve, giving him a perfect access to the base of your breasts.

"Fuck.. Please..." You moaned, wiggling lightly against him, begging him for more, which made him smirk in satisfaction. You were as desperate for him as he was for you.

"My baby is so impatient. So sweet." He chuckled, visibly enjoying seeing you so hopeless for him to touch you intimately. It didn't take him long before he decided to finally slid his hand between your thighs, easily finding your clit, his fingers rubbing it so skillfully.

"I can already feel your wetness." He bit his lower lip, his dark eyes focusing on your face contracted with pleasure. You were so beautiful.

"Lay down." You were torn from your little cloud of pleasure again, when he removed his touch from your panties to remove it entirely, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You leaned back as he ordered, leaning back against the mirror behind you and opening your legs wide for him to give him an easy access to what he wanted the most right now. You knew seeing yourself so exposed and vulnerable just for him, hugely turned him on. The visible bulge on his crotch being the proof.

"You look so fucking good, baby." He said, licking his lips, obviously pleased pf the way you were already dripping just for him, when he barely touched you. Not breaking eye contact, he knelt between your legs, gripping your thighs to keep them firmly open, before languidly licking your cunt, stickinf his tongue inside of you. Your fingers found his hair again, gripping it tightly when Hyunjin suddenly began to suck on your sensitive swollen clit. You couldn't stop a few moans from escaping, even though you were trying the best you could to not to be too loud. Your hips subconsciously bucked against his face, forcing him to wrap his arms around your hips so that he could stabilize you moving too much. He intended to make you scream his name with pleasure and he wanted to do it the right way. You felt like you were losing your mind when the way he was eating you out changed, getting much more rougher and hungrier. He then suddenly slipped a finger, then a second, inside you, touching your weak spot with every pump and strock of his fingers.

"Hyunjin.. Too much.." You moaned, squirming more and more under his grip on you with each of his moves. Your thoughts were clouded with pleasure, dizzying your mind. You couldn't think properly anymore, only your orgasm, that you could feel was getting closer and closer, was the only thing you could think about. The tension, which you could feel building in your lower abdomen, exploded as Hyunjin once again eagerly wrapped his lips around your clit. Your eyes rolled back, as your orgasm washed you away, making you moan loudly in ecstasy. Seeing you come around his fingers and his mouth didn't make him stop his movements. You had to beg him to stop when it got too much for you to handle. His mouth and chin were almost dripping with your juice, giving his lips an delicious shine. You felt empty when his fingers slipped off you, but you ignored it, straightening up quickly and pulling him back into a sloppy kiss, where you clearly tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands were hanging from the waistband of his pants, which you delicately untied during your erotic exchange. You desperately wanted to feel his cock, which you could feel was already hard enough, between your lips and at the very thought, you could feel your pussy getting wetter than before.

"My good girl is so desperate for my cock?" He whispered between your lips, the sudden nickname and the hand that came wrapping around your throat made you feel much more excited and eager for him. You moaned slightly in contentment at the pleasant feeling he made you feel just by his actions and presence. You went to answer him, but was cut off by what happened outside.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Happy New Year!" The loud mixed voices of people still partying echoed throughout the house. At this understanding, you looked at each other for a few moments, before involuntarily bursting into laughter.

"New year, new girl, which means new resolutions. That's all I can say about it." He said, giving you a wink full of innuendos. Blushing, you couldn't hide the smile that crept onto your lips.

"I think it's the same for me then." You declared in admiration in your turn, matching his vibe.

"Good, because I have every intention of making up for the lost time." He whispered seductively. "In every sense of the word." His last words gave you shivers of anticipation. You knew you were in there for a long ride. After all, maybe the special connection you had as a kid hadn't changed at all.

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 4

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

Chapter 3, Chapter 5

i have finally found the two perfect songs for this series and that’s everytime by chen & punch and talk love by k. will so go give those a listen because damn if it isn’t these two idiots.

anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Nothing is right anymore, and yet people are so quick to adapt to any sense of normalcy they can. It’s marveling to watch how, in two measly days, the refugees have quieted down and stopped fighting for food. Stopped fighting, period. Now they seek comfort in one another, a sense of camaraderie in knowing that they’ve all gone through the same thing. And holy hells are there a lot of them.

Because soon after Shiganshina was torn through because of the monster they were calling the Colossal Titan, Wall Maria itself fell. Ploughed straight through by something called the Armored Titan as though it was made of feathers. The refugees here are safe - for now - but there are countless of people who weren’t lucky enough to get behind Wall Rose, and they’re out there dying right about now. No one knows if Rose is going to hold either. No one knows anything. So with the kinsmanship comes a heavy pretense of safety, in which everyone ignores how scared they are in favor of counting themselves lucky that they get to live even a single day longer.

You’re doing what you can. Obeying orders without so much as a single complaint. Of course all rations are to be given to the refugees, so you’ve only had one eighth of a potato in the past twenty four hours, but it’s better than nothing. For once, you can’t find any fault with your situation, because no matter how terrible or hungry or scared you’re feeling, there is undoubtedly someone feeling worse.

Such as Ricky.

His mother and old sister managed to get to the boats. His father and younger sister weren’t so lucky.

The two of you had been stationed inside the base together, to watch and hand out resources to the refugees, but you’d immediately taken full responsibility and told Ricky to stay with his family. He’d pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and ran off, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Unfortunately, they’re pretty unpleasant.

Captain Erwin Smith is famed for bringing home soldiers who are still alive. That and Levi’s raw skill with his ODM gear makes you hopeful enough that he’s alive, so you try not to think of him. Frankly, it’s selfish to worry about a single person when there’s so many people at risk, so you bury the troublesome thoughts and focus on your job.

The Garrison has done a good enough job with the resources they have, but the Military Police’s presence is aggravating more than anything. They’re here to keep order, not to keep people safe, and everyone knows it. You wonder if your mother would prefer if you joined with these bastards instead of the choice you’ve made for yourself.

There you go again, being selfish. It’s always been about your life, and your absolute disdain for boredom. Out there, good people are laying down their lives. And you? You enlisted in the Training Corp as some form of self-fulfillment. It’s the first time you’re feeling this overwhelming guilt, as you realize just how ignorant your point of view is. You’ve never even so much as seen a titan, and yet you fancy yourself a soldier.

What a stupid girl you’ve been.

A tug on your uniform makes you snap out of your thoughts, and you look down to see a small girl with black hair wrapped in a scarf that’s too big on her. You blink, and try your best to smile reassuringly.

“Hey. You need something?”

The girl’s voice is quiet, soft, as though she’s trying her best not to be a bother. “They said you were giving out blankets here. May I have four of them, please?”

You nod, leaning down to check the crate by your feet. Unfortunately, you’d been swarmed by people asking for blankets just a few minutes earlier, and you’re just one short of how many the girl needs.

“I only have three left,” you begin apologetically, biting your lip, “but wait here, I’ll go check with someone else.” But you know that’ll be pointless, all the other stations have probably run out too, and if they haven’t, they’re saving for themselves. Calling them out won’t make them give it to you, that much is for sure.

Even the little girl seems to know that much. She shakes her head, taking the three blankets you offer her. “It’s alright. Three is enough. I’ll give them to the others.”

You frown. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter much. But you know that you would hardly be so selfless in the same situation. Hell, you would have wanted two blankets to yourself - these thin sheets are only going to do the bare minimum to keep people warm. The girl piques your curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

She hesitates for a second, then says, “Mikasa.”

You hum as though you’re thinking about it. “Pretty name. Who are the blankets for?”

She smiles faintly at the compliment. ���My friends, Eren and Armin, and Armin’s grandpa.”

Not her parents. Your heart breaks for her. You’re not going to pry, the girl has probably seen enough, but you admire her maturity and willingness to spend the nights cold. It must take a lot to love some people so dearly that one would give up basic comfort. To risk getting sick, which, given the circumstances, may just be a death sentence. Yes, that kind of love is truly special, and you wonder if you’ll ever love someone that much.

You want to be a little selfless, too.

“Here.” You shrug off your uniform jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “I know it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. “But don’t you need it, ma’am?”

“Eh. They can make me another one.” You shrug. “Besides, to tell you the truth, orange isn’t really my color.”

Her eyes shine tiredly at the unexpected kindness. “Thank you.”

You watch her run off, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. One person helped, out of thousands. It shouldn’t matter - you’re probably never going to see that girl again, you wouldn’t even know if the dumb uniform would do her any good. But there’s a part of you that can rest just a bit easier now, knowing that a child won’t be completely exposed to the harsh winter coming in. If the conditions of Wall Rose are anything to go by, you know that the refugees will be put to work in the fields very soon. It’s going to be a cold season indeed.

There’s been no time to process anything, which you’re almost grateful for. If you stop to think about the effect this is going to have on the fate of humankind, you might scream. There’s too much to think about, and there may be no time to think about it if things get even worse. For now, all you can do is try to help as many people as you can.

As Grumman always tries to drill into your head, it’s about dedicating your heart.

____________________

The new base and training areas are nice. That’s about all you can say for them. Losing the old one was akin to losing your home, and you know your comrades feel the same way, considering how awkward and depressing the shift has been. It feels stupid to start training again like the world hasn’t gone to shit, but you suppose it’s more necessary now than ever.

Everyone’s usual hijinks have stopped. Ophelia doesn’t cross her eyes and make faces whenever Grumman turns his back. Gunther’s habit of making finger guns every time he successfully slices a cardboard titan’s neck has ceased to exist. Even Traute, never one for jokes, seems even more morose and serious than usual. Everyone feels the loss keenly.

Ricky’s gone silent.

You don’t know how many people everyone has lost, and the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced is the relief that you haven’t lost anyone. It’s an ugly impulsive thought, but it trumps all the others in your head. Just overwhelming, horrible comfort.

It gets even worse when the Scouts return, almost three weeks later. There’s no cheers and hollers this time. Each and every single one of them is drenched in guilt and shame along with the blood coating their capes. Titan blood evaporates, you realize with a deep shudder.

The commander carries the same pain as the rest of them. Already, there’s been whispers of Commander Erwin, murmurs that Shadis is losing his touch and a younger, more clever man is needed. You don’t see how it matters who leads - titans are fucking titans, and they certainly don’t care. There’s no tactics that will make them stop being giant man-eating monsters.

You’ve been waiting for days to see Levi, but when you finally make him out, you quickly look away. The horrifying relief blooms in your chest again, and you curse and bless the circumstances that have brought you here. So he’s alive. So the constant anxiousness that has kept you up these last few nights is soothed. So what? Not everyone is as lucky as you. Things will never, ever go back to normal. You have no right to be happy about this.

When you glance at him again, you suck in a sharp breath when you see he’s gazing right back at you. There’s no brightness in his eyes, the rare spark that you’d seen in the moments the two of you shared is long gone. It seems like it was centuries ago. He’s seen too much. They all have.

There’s a question he seems to be asking you, but you have no idea what it is. You want to walk up to him, but a heavy force keeps your feet planted right where they are. All you can do is give him a confused expression, brows furrowed. It’s not like you’re telepathic. If he wants to ask you something, he’ll have to actually ask you.

But he doesn’t. He just looks away, seemingly conflicted, and continues to follow the others. When everything around him is hell, you wonder if you’re even important enough to be worth more than a couple of seconds of his attention. Thankfully, the thought isn’t painful like you imagined it might be. In fact, it’s a bit freeing to let go of this stupid, ridiculous, pointless plan. Your grudge against the lieutenant is about the least important thing in the world right now, so insignificant that you wonder how you ever thought it was worth your time in the first place. There’s no need to make yourself feel more like the foolish, self-centered bitch that you’re realizing you are.

The only problem that comes with letting go of this plan is that you’re letting go of Levi, and it’s a serious problem that the thought gives you such an aching pang in your chest.

____________________

Stephen is gently shaking you for a good ten seconds before you snap out of it, looking at him with a bewildered expression.

“Aren’t you going to go for your walk?”

You look around. Dinner is nearly over, and a few people have already filed out to go back to their dorms. You must’ve zoned out, like you have been ever since the Scouts came back earlier today. You’ve never been so unfocused in your life, simply because you didn’t like not knowing what was happening around you. This is so unlike you, but you’re not sure what to do to stop it. A dark cloud has settled over your shoulders, and you have absolutely no idea how to get rid of it.

“Yeah.” You sigh and stand up, squeezing his hand in thanks. “Ricky went to bed already?”

Stephen nods, with a concerned frown on his face. “I know you’re worried about him, (F/N). I am, too. A lot.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”

You wince apologetically, running a hand through your hair. “Shit, I’m really sorry. Look, I’m fine, I am. I’m just...thinking a lot lately, that’s all.”

The last thing you want is to have your friends take time out of their day to schedule an intervention for you. You’re not the one who needs it. It’s as though everything just makes you feel worse and worse - it’s just that you feel fucking useless all the time, and now you’re an emotional burden to Stephen, who just has to be sweet to everyone.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says kindly, “just take care of yourself, okay?

“Yeah. You too.” You squeeze his hand again and then head out, beginning your aimless walk around the grounds.

The moon is shining brightly, an unwanted beacon to the despair brewing inside you. Truthfully, you’re spiralling, and you haven’t spiralled in years, not since you decided to take control of your life. There’d been no trigger then, or maybe life itself had been the trigger, and you’d holed yourself up in your room as your head spun out of control. Cheesy questions like what am i doing here and what is my purpose and am i ever going to do anything meaningful rose to your mind then, and they do again now.

Back then, you’d decided that the answer simply lied outside of Stohess. You still believe that, to an extent. Going back isn’t going to solve anything, but...what did leaving accomplish? Your desires are fulfilled, but there’s no purpose to any of this. Not when people were and still are dying out there. Is the only way forward to dedicate yourself to the noble cause of saving humanity? There mustn't be a person alive who can give themselves that goal and actually hope to achieve it.

Well, except one.

This time, you’re the one who finds him.

He’s standing by his horse, stroking the fur gently. Somehow you’ve walked all the way to the stables without realizing. You take a step back, intending to walk away, but the selfish part of you that you’re starting to loathe doesn’t let you go any further than that. You’ve missed him, so much. You’ve missed his bad attitude, his amused smiles, his tantalizing gaze. You want it back, selfishness and selflessness all be damned. Now that he’s here in front of you, it’s too hard to resist.

“Lieutenant.”

Levi looks at you, and his shoulders droop as he stares wearily. He looks like he’s aged several years, and you consider that he probably doesn’t want to see you right now.

“Sorry to disturb you.” You take a deep breath, willing your hands to stay still by your sides and stop clenching. “Were you going for a ride?”

“Yeah.” He takes in the sight of you and then lets out the slightest of sighs. “Do you want to come?”

“What?”

Never in a million years did you expect him to offer going on a horse ride with you, and never in a billion years did you expect yourself to want to accept. You’re so taken aback that it doesn’t occur to you to note the little stool he’s using to hike himself up (as though he can’t pull himself on - it’s a formality more than anything). Levi’s looking at you, waiting for an answer, hand outstretched like he’s actually trying to live up to the fucking prince charming title you’ve given him.

“Okay,” you agree softly, not really knowing what the hell else you’re supposed to do.

You take his hand and he helps you on - really unnecessary, you can get on a horse by yourself - and you swallow when you realize he’s placed you in front. If he wants, he can observe your every reaction to him, and see...well, you don’t know what he’ll see or what you’ll do, but you know it’s not anything you’re willing to show him.

He gets on behind you, an arm snaking around your waist before he instructs you to hold onto the saddle tightly.

Neither of you speak. The horse trots peacefully, never going too fast. The poor thing’s probably done enough running to last it a lifetime. You caress the fur gently as you enter the forest, the moon now cloaked by the towering trees, stealing away your capacity for sight. It’s not something you inherently mind, honestly, it feels good to just close your eyes and relax.

But deep under the guilt and midlife crisis (probably more than midlife given the world you live in), you’re still you. And you get restless easily, not to mention you’ve been craving a conversation with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, and you don’t want to pass up the chance.

“How bad was it?”

Okay, maybe not the conversation started you should have chosen.

“Bad,” Levi answers without much hesitation, “really bad.” He releases a shaky breath and on impulse you place your hand over his, immediately feeling awkward right after. Do you grip his fingers? Pat him in a show of solidarity? You don’t know, so you don’t do anything, but you don’t remove your hand either.

After a beat, he says, “I was wrong.”

You wrack your brain about what he could be wrong about. Maybe about asking you to come with him just now. Your company hasn’t exactly been what you would call pleasant.

“About what, sir?”

When Levi responds, you feel his hot breath on your neck and you barely stop yourself from shuddering. He shouldn’t be in such close proximity to you. Doesn’t he know what he does to you when he gets this close?

“I said I wanted to see the day that smile got wiped off your face. Now that the day’s here, I wish I could take it back.”

You whip your head around, not even bothering to make sure you don’t accidentally hit him. Luckily you don’t, even though he’s not far from you at all, just a centimeter closer and the tip of your nose would touch his. In the dark, you can barely make him out, but the grey eyes that have fascinated you for so long are discernible even without any light. He’s watching you, so intently that your face burns up, and you pray to whoever’s up there that he can’t see you too well without the moonlight.

But can anyone blame you? Lieutenant Levi, the man who’d punished you for smiling, was now claiming that he missed the very smile that had made you the bane of his existence. You can’t chalk it up to his usual mood swings, because you know it’s not that. You know he’s trying to tell you something, and you’re so close to figuring it out.

You don’t even flinch when his finger curls under your chin and tilts it up just a bit so he can appreciate the view properly.

Even in the dark, you know his lips are just a mere inch away from yours. You wonder what he tastes like.

No.

You turn back around, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It’s wildly inappropriate to think about doing something like that. You can’t, not when he’s your trainer and lieutenant and humanity’s savior. Whatever this is, you have to reel it in control.

“I can’t,” you say, and then quickly clarify so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, “I can’t smile. Not when so much has happened. How can I smile when people...when they’re out there...when you and the rest of the soldiers have sacrificed everything and I’ve done nothing?”

It’s not as though you expect him to give you the most motivational speech in the world, but when he answers, “You’re going to sacrifice plenty in the future,” you feel overwhelmed with guilt, and you just want it to stop. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know your plans, your motivations, or why you’re here at all. He thinks you’re someone that you’re really, truly not.

But you’re not brave enough to tell him any of that. So you opt for the other truth, the less relevant but equally as pressing one.

“I’m not strong enough.”

“No,” Levi murmurs in agreement, “but you’re going to be.” Both his arms are curled around you, and there’s something uplifting in his tone when he says, “4 AM tomorrow, understood?”

Just like that, your goal changes.

If the lieutenant thinks that you can actually be useful, then maybe...maybe you actually can. You’ve somehow gotten in the top ten without even meaning to, so it’s not too much of a stretch to think you could be really good if you actively tried. And he’s still willing to train you - even after all that’s happened, he doesn’t consider you an added bother to his already difficult life. And you plan to value that, now. You’re going to get better, stronger, faster. No more passivity. And maybe if you do this, you can ease the guilt brewing inside before you completely drown in it.

“Yes, sir.”

Determination has risen back inside you, but a ghost of a smile only reappears on your face when you hear him yawn, something you’re one hundred percent sure you’ve never seen nor heard before.

“Are you actually sleepy, Lieutenant?” you tease quietly, “it’s not even 11 PM yet.”

“You should be happy,” he mutters, “all your efforts trying to chase away my insomnia and it’s finally worked.”

If not for the trees providing you safety in the form of the absence of light, you wouldn’t be as bold to do what you do next. Closing your eyes, you lean back and hunch down, resting your cheek against his chest. He stiffens a little at the close contact, but doesn’t say anything or push you away. You won’t kiss him, but you can allow yourself this much, just to seek comfort in the safety he provides just by being there. He’s so, so warm.

The horse rides on, and Levi keeps his arms around you and on the reigns.

Truthfully, as you listen to his heartbeat, you don’t think you’ll ever know who comforts who most tonight.

____________________

The next morning, you’re there before he is, on your fourth lap by the time he walks up. If Levi’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. He only takes his new spot on the new grounds at this new base, and watches you from afar.

Naturally, he still barks at you that your stance is sloppy when you start doing your squats, asking you snidely how many times he’s told you that you need to squat down at a ninety degree angle and just what you did in your early mathematics classes if that’s what you think ninety degrees is. He still presses you into the ground with his foot when you attempt to do a push-up without going all the way down. And he absolutely still withholds your water privileges until you’re practically dizzy from your activities.

Except this time, you have no complaints. You do what you’re ordered.

And maybe stop to give him one or two pointed glares.

When he dismisses you, you find that you’ve still got a bit of energy left. You’re certainly not sleepy.

“Will you spar with me?”

Levi raises a brow, unimpressed. “So you can get your ass handed to you again?”

“I’ve improved!” you cry out indignantly.

“Oh yeah, you’ve made great strides.” He snorts, digging his heel into the ground and raising his fists. “Okay, (L/N), give me your best shot.”

With Lieutenant Levi, the thing that matters most is the element of surprise. Last time, you went for his legs, so he’ll see that coming. You quickly scan his stance - how is it that you two have spent so much time together and you still haven’t located a single weakness of his? Not that that’s what you’re doing anymore, but it would sure be helpful in a fight. Needless to say, you need to think fast.

So before either of you can move, you cry out in pain, clutching your side. “Shit! I - I think I pulled a muscle - ow, fuck -”

Levi’s beside you in an instant, hand reaching down to inspect your stomach. Damn, you’re a better actor than you give yourself credit for. As soon as he reaches out, you grab his bicep with both your hands, plant your feet, and yank up as hard as you can.

No, you probably can’t throw him over your shoulder. But you can at least try to whirl him around you and then tackle him while he tries to regain his balance.

Well, you could if Levi didn’t twist his arm out of your grasp within a single second and grab you in a chokehold.

“Playing dirty, are we?” he whispers in your ear, “naughty girl, I should keep you here an extra hour just for that.”

Gasping for breath, you pat his elbow repeatedly in defeat. Surrender, you surrender! After holding on to lord his victory over you just a little longer, he lets you go, and you suck air into your lungs desperately.

He doesn’t make you stay any longer, but nonetheless, you certainly lose your brawl. How disappointing.

“I’ll...get you...next time…”

Levi’s lips quirk into what can be taken for a smile. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes I will!”

____________________

You lose the next time.

____________________

And the next time.

____________________

And the next.

____________________

It’s a whole two months later when Ricky laughs again.

There’s nothing funny about the situation at all - everyone is freezing their ass off in the middle of nowhere and questioning just how surviving a snowy mountain is going to improve their combat skills. No one was brave enough to ask this question before, though, so now all they can do is deal with it. The problem is that your group is definitely lost.

“Well, this is great,” Gunther groans, sinking on his knees into the snow. You wonder how he can handle the cold biting past his clothes and into his skin.

Ophelia, who’s been pessimistic since the beginning, seems to take this as her permission to sling her bag off and completely give up. “We’re going to die up here.”

You huff. “We’re not going to die, but yeah, we’re gonna lose some merit. They’ll probably send a search party by morning.”

“T-tell us, (F/N),” Gunther says in that smarmy tone of his that makes you pity his parents, “how exactly are we going to make it till morning? You got a fur coat hiding away in those custom boots?”

Ophelia snorts and you narrow your eyes at him. “If I did, I wouldn’t share it. And they’re not custom, it’s actually a very popular brand item.”

“Well, mind trading with me? All I have are these ratty ones.”

“I do mind, actually.”

Ricky hasn’t said anything, only observed your interactions with a blank expression. You let out a pained breath, filled with disdain at seeing your precious oxygen visibly. Yeah, you’ve decided you’re not a fan of the cold, not one bit. You’re already one of those people who is cold all the time, and this isn’t really helping. Apparently no one has any idea, and although Gunther was assigned team leader, you decide to step in.

“We have two options.” You hug yourself, rubbing your arms in an unsuccessful attempt to warm up. “We could try to find some shelter and stay alive till morning, or…” You sigh, not really a fan of all the work that goes into option two, but it’s still the one you’re leaning towards. “Or we get our shit together and find out how to get back to the cabin tonight.”

You’ve got something to prove, after all.

Ophelia’s teeth are chattering as she says, “W-where the h-hell will we find shelter out here?”

“Nowhere. That’s why we’re gonna go with the other idea.”

“Someone’s eager to hold onto her position,” Gunther accuses, “even if it means sacrificing her team!”

“Oh my God, who am I sacrificing? Who have I sacrificed so far? No one!”

“Yet!”

You make a rude gesture and stalk off on your own. The others call after you, but only Ricky follows, grabbing your shoulder before you misstep and tumble into the icy ground. You groan loudly, this is so not how the night was supposed to go. You have to make it back.

“You’ve changed,” Ricky says all of a sudden. “I’ve known that for a while, and I know that we all have, but you’ve done a complete turnaround. I mean…” He hesitates, considering his words carefully. You wonder if he knows that just by doing that, he’s showing that he’s changed quite a bit too. “You would have decided to give up on this by now. So what’s the deal?”

Honestly, it’s surprising that it’s taken him this long to ask. Nonetheless, these days you’re glad to hear Ricky speak at all, so anything he says is welcome. That doesn’t mean you know how to answer his question, though.

“Like you said, we’ve all changed. I just decided to…” You trail off and shiver, rubbing your hands together.

“Give a shit?”

You give him a weak smile. “Yeah.”

Ricky nods, looking satisfied enough with the answer. There’s a slight shift in his expression as he peers at you. “It’s not out of pity, right?” When you look confused, he clarifies. “Not out of pity for me. I know I don’t matter that much to you - I just mean, if you feel bad for everything that’s happened, to everyone, you shouldn’t.”

Scoffing, you glare at him, with crossed arms. “Who said you don’t matter to me?”

“Do I?” He grins, looking genuinely surprised. “Me, the outer city peasant?”

This time you allow yourself to speak without thinking. Sometimes, the moment just calls for it. “Yeah, well, we rich folk have to do some charity work sometimes.”

That’s when Ricky laughs, and oh, how you’ve missed the sound. He throws his head back, looking up to the sky like he’s praying. Snowflakes coat his cheeks, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are bright, and he’s gazing at you in the same way you’re sure he once gazed at his poor, lovely little sister who couldn’t make it long enough to see her brother step up and become a hero of humanity.

Then he grabs your arm, yanking you forward.

“Come on, twerp.” He ignores your protests that his hand is freezing. “Let’s get you off this mountain.”

____________________

Okay, Petra definitely knows that you’re trying to compete with her for the number one position. She’s just too nice to say anything, so the two of you just silently try to outdo each other in every which way. Teacher asks a question in class? Either your hand or her’s will fly up right away. Grumman walks by? Well, the two of you are saluting faster than anyone else can even ball their fist. There’s an advanced exercise at 2 PM? You both finished your exercises early and are there at 1:30.

You’re not even sure when you started competing with her, but here you are.

And to be fair, you’re neck and neck with the star student. In classes, you’re basically equal, her because she works hard and studies and you because you retain information well and can play suck up rather well. As for hand to hand combat, you pretty much top your entire Cadet Corp except maybe Traute. When people are paired up to train to steal the knife from each other, no one ever wants to partner up with you (which both hurts and is rather flattering). Yeah, in a fight, you’re pretty much secure. It’s the 3D maneuvering where Petra has you beat.

Now, you’re not bad at using your ODM gear, not by any means. She’s just a damn natural. Any maneuver that takes you five days to pull off is one she can manage in three. A part of you wishes that she actually was a horrible person - then you could at least use your dislike of her as a motivator to beat her. Alas, you’re quite fond of the other girl.

These complaints are what you find yourself telling Levi one morning, after requesting that he watch you fly through the forest. Nowadays it wasn’t entirely unusual for you to stay past 6 AM, either doing extra training or just talking to him. He’d complied, and you’d gotten gear for the both of you to use in the forest.

Seeing him in action only serves to make you even more grouchy about your own skills. Levi’s already fast enough on his feet; with the ODM gear he seems nearly invincible and you have an inkling he’s not performing to the best of his abilities just to monitor you. When you finally tire yourself out, you grumpily toss the gear off, head out into the grass, check for bugs and flop down onto your back once you’re sure it’s safe. “I don’t get it,” you moan unhappily, “why can’t I do it as well as you can?”

Levi steps in front of you, his head blocking out the rising sun. Ah, perfect. “It’s because you enjoy it too much.”

“Oh, is that your professional diagnosis?”

He sucks in a long breath, which you know translates to you’re so fucking difficult, damn shitty brat. “My professional diagnosis is that you’re a dumbass.”

“Aww, thanks, sir! But I only take medical advice from licensed professionals.”

Levi notes your position and moves out of the way to allow the sun to blind you. You wince, squinting in the sunlight, and your hand comes up to shield your poor eyes. Averting your gaze, you peer straight up. In the middle of spring, from the open grounds down below, the clouds have never looked more beautiful.

“Wanna lay down with me? It’s therapeutic. The grass feels great.” You beckon him down next to you, but he shakes his head, instead choosing to deliver a small kick to your side. You hiss - someone seriously needs to do something about the lieutenant’s violent tendencies.

“Do you think I’m doing this so you can look at the pretty sky?”

Tossing your arm over your eyes, you say, “No, you’re doing this because you’re interested in me.”

The sound that Levi lets out is so strangled that you immediately look at him, concerned. He turns away from you for a second, scoffing with his cheeks tinted slightly red, and that’s when you realize he took your statement in an entirely wrong way. You’re a bit offended nonetheless, he doesn’t have to act like it’s disgusting to even think about you in that way. People have been interested in you! It’s happened, you’re a delight! He’s just blind, that’s all.

“I meant interested in me as a subordinate.” You sit up, knees hunched to your chest. “Now that Commander Erwin is in charge, everyone knows you’re going to get promoted soon too. Get a whole squad all to yourself.” Grinning at him, you let your palms rest on the blades of grass beneath you. “Hunting for your own lieutenant, Captain Levi?”

Huh. The title rolls right off the tongue. It suits him pretty well.

He looks at you strangely for a second, before holding his hand out. As you tug yourself up, he mutters, “Please, if I was going to have a lieutenant, I’d need someone competent.”

“Well,” you drawl, not bothered, “I’m not interested anyways.” At least there, you’re being truthful. Even if the thought makes you feel ashamed.

You and him continue to bicker as you walk across the grounds to put the gear back in the shed. While you don’t exactly walk slowly, you don’t go at your fastest pace either, itching to prolong the time that the two of you share. A stark contrast to the first few weeks you trained with him, when all you could think about was going back to bed. Now, nearly a year and a half later, you’re not sleepy, you’re not angry, and you don’t hate him.

When it’s time to part ways, you pretend as though you’re studying him carefully.

“What?” Levi snaps, but there’s no bite to his bark.

“I stand by what I said earlier, about you wanting a lieutenant.” A small smirk spreads on your lips. “But I also think you just have a crush on me.”

He stares at you. A second passes. Two seconds.

Three seconds.

You burst out laughing, hitting his shoulder. “You should see your face! Did you think I was serious?”

He looks at you with his eyes narrowed crossly, only serving to make you laugh louder.

“Minx,” he finally says, shaking his head, “a fucking minx is what you are, (L/N).”

____________________

“It’s raining!”

The excitement with which you squeal those words has nearly everyone rolling their eyes, but they follow you out anyways. It’s nice of them to abandon their lunch for this momentous occasion, rain during the summertime. You feel a rush of love for your fellow cadets, specifically for the three people who are right besides you. Of course you’ve always considered Millie your best friend, but Ricky and Stephen had filled a piece of your soul that you didn’t know was empty. This is your family, and you love them.

“Stephen!” Millie’s voice comes, scolding next to you. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“He still doesn’t know what regiment he wants to join.”

“Leave him alone,” Ricky asserts, taking a swipe at her that she ducks.

“I know what I want to join,” Stephen mumbles, “I’m just not sure…”

Somehow, you know exactly what he’s considering. The rain gives you courage.

“The Scouts are wonderful.” Stephen turns to you, surprised, and you let out a giddy laugh. “They’re amazing. Brave, and heroic, and they kick ass. You’d do really well there, Stephen.”

You’re rambling, but by some miracle, Stephen takes your words to heart and makes his decision.

“Okay,” he says, with a wide smile on his face. “I’ll join the Scouts.”

Ricky coughs into his fist, something that sounds suspiciously like kiss ass. You’re too enthralled by your current environment to notice that, or Millie’s disapproving glare.

Bathing in the rain, you spin around until you’re dizzy. Droplets pour down your face, soaking your hair, your uniform, and you couldn’t be more thrilled. This, really, is what happiness is. The chance to fool around in the rainfall, to throw your hands up and feel precisely just how little of a speck you are in the vast, wide world. Slipping a hand into your bun, you let your hair down, closing your eyes as you soak up the thrill.

Everyone is chattering in groups around you. No one is mourning the lunch that has been long forgotten in the mess hall.

There’s grey eyes watching you when you open yours, a fond smile that you think he probably let slip past the tough exterior on his face. No one can resist this weather.

Maybe third time’s the charm. Even if it’s not, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?

You raise your hand and wave at him.

From the distance, still watching you closely, Levi sighs softly and then waves back.

Something you’ve never felt before bubbles up in your chest. It threatens to consume you as the others become a blur in the precipitation around you. You feel light on your feet, almost as though you’re not even touching the ground anymore. Affection? Adoration? For him?

Maybe it’s because of the stupid way he holds his teacup. Or maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the funniest, most ridiculous person he’s ever met. It might be how his touch always lingers, how he’s always warm, and how he never fails to catch you when you stumble. How about that dumb cravat, why is he always wearing that?

His sarcastic quips, always ready to fire back at you. The way he brushed your tears away that time he’d found you crying. How he never pushes you to open up more than you want to, and how truthful he is. The feeling you get when he smiles or laughs at you, knowing it’s a rarity for him. His eyes, a blend of silver and charcoal that you could stare into for hours and still never get tired of.

It’s here, dancing in the summer rain, that you realize something that really should have been painfully obvious. There’s a reason you notice all these things. There’s a reason your heart is fluttering right now. There’s a reason that time has frozen, and there’s a reason you feel like you’re floating a thousand miles up in the air.

It’s because you like him. You really, really like him.

Oh, shit.

reader on her first day: wow levi’s eyes are beautiful

reader whenever levi is in front of her: damn he is so alluring

reader every time levi so much as glances at her: does he like me?

reader for two years: if levi asked me to have sex with him i would

also reader: omg i have a crush on him??? how is that possible?????

falling for a guy just because he finally waved back at you after like sixteen months is kinda weird but you do you girl.

one chapter left! :O

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Tired - Wade X Reader

Reader is a mutant who teams up with Wade & Peter on patrols and is Wade's girlfriend.

After a particularly gruelling night out she gets overwhelmed and Wade is more than happy to provide comfort.

Warnings - Panic & stress are described / Periods & Blood mentioned

*Requests are open if anyone is interested*

It was a long night of trouble. It seems that when it rains it pours in regards to both organized and disorganized crime. They must all get their horoscope from the same paper.

“Friday night will bring great promise for your illegal business affairs. If you have been holding out, make your move, now is the time to go full throttle.”

All the lowlifes seem to flock to the center of the city like moths to a flame. This meant that while we normally work as a team, we had to split up multiple times. If Peter didn’t already look like a Mac truck had run him over & reversed back for a second go, you might not feel so anxious about leaving him.

Wade on the other hand was a tank, you had to worry about the things around him more than the merc himself.

After a particularly awful fight, you really hoped that she would be the final mob boss of the night. Being on high alert for the better part of 8 hours you were starting to feel the night's events take its toll.

Making it to the meet up spot at the top of their favourite building, you laid down on your back feeling relieved you didn’t see anything requiring your attention on the way back.

Looking up at the sky starting to change colour, your mind started to race through everything that had happened. Mind calculating and trying to make sense of every punch thrown. You had gotten your period that morning, almost failed a test at school, and beaten up at least 40 people. Absently you laid your hand on your ribs and flinched at the pain.

“Babe! You okay?!” Wade called out in panic, running across the roof top to you.

“I’m good! I’m good!” You said trying to avoid causing panic. It wouldn't be the first time you got stabbed or shot. You tried to sit up but let out a moan and gave up.

“Everything hurts! But I’m good”

“You don’t seem good. Don’t get me wrong you look hot. But I think it's past your bedtime.” Big arms came and picked you up.

"Are you okay?" you mumbled

"Never better babe, took down the baddies, saved the day, now I get to carry the princess home" You were relived that he came across genuinely happy.

“You don’t have to carry me” You whispered secretly hoping he doesn’t stop.

“Yeah but I want to so hush” His voice sounded even deeper with your ear pressed against his chest.

You loved it when Wade took care of you, but guilt was never far behind those feelings. Peter checked in and told them he was on his way back to the apartment.

The whole ride back you thought about how you were being a burden. Wade never showed it, but how many times have people snapped at you out of the blue. You were a lot to handle. You had made a lot of progress with your mental health and panic attacks in the last 7 years. You didn’t have much of a choice when your mutation causes everything else around you to shake just as hard as your body does.

Wade dealt with things much like Professor Xavier & Erik did. Growing up in the mansion Erik was by far the best person to calm you down. Somehow you always knew deep down he never saw you as a destructive or an evil force. Just someone to be cared for and respected. They never made you feel like a burden.

Now as an adult you decided to take a break from the X-men and joined up with Team Red.

“Sweetums, can you get the door.” Wade brought you back to your surroundings. You reached out and opened the front door. Wade carried you through to his ensuite bathroom and placed you gently on the marble countertop.

You had no motivation to move or speak, it was a relief when Wade started to take off your clothes for you. He looked you over for any notable injuries but so far it was just a lot of bruising.

“Babe, I love you but blue ain't your colour. I shouldn’t have left you on the docs alone” He said in a sad voice, fingers brushing over your ribs and stomach.

“It was fine Wade. The humans were a slice of cake. It was their spooky mutant henchmen that really went for the gold” You mumbled. She had been able to absorb your mutation and use it against you. You gave Wade the gory details while he got himself undressed and started the shower.

“Your shaking.” He stated while pulling you into the shower. He put you directly under the hot spray and held you tightly in his arms.

Now that you weren’t fighting or running to the next fight, you realized the more you calmed down the more worn out you were.

By the way Wade started lecturing about his favourite episode of Golden Girls you knew that he knew you weren’t okay. Looking down at some point you could see blood streaming down your legs.

“Oh. Sorry. I uh-” Embarrassment flooded your face, a sense of anxiety swelling in your tender stomach. Wade only started laughing.

“Babe. I have bled on every surface of this apartment. You bleeding is never going to bother me. Unless you're hurt.” he kissed your forehead and went back to his in depth argument.

Next thing you know he’s drying you off in a towel like you remembered people doing when you were a kid. Like being in a tornado.

He disappeared and came back with one of his shirts and a clean pair of panties. You said thank you as he headed out of the bed room.

You wanted to ask him how you could help him or apologize for getting like this, but all your words got stuck in a tight knot in your chest. Your brain put the night's evening on re-run again just to make sure you didn’t miss all the things you should have done differently. Mostly you just wished you could be sassy like Peter, or funny like Wade was. You cleaned yourself up then flopped onto his bed. Breathing in the scent of his sheets. Even though Wade normally ran hot his bed was always covered with a million of the softest blankets and quilts.

After getting nested and closing your eyes something warm was placed in your lap. It was a nice plate of cheese & chicken quesadillas. Your stomach gave a lurch that informed you that you were very hungry.

Wade hopped up on the bed and sat cross legged scarfing down the too hot meal. Suddenly you were overwhelmed with feelings.

“Wade?” you said shakily. You didn't even know what you were going to tell him. There weren't words to explain how you felt. Happy, loved, safe, tired, angry, scared, embarrassed, ashamed....

“Yeah” He said between mouthfuls

“I’m not doing okay ” You looked over at him and started crying.

“Awe puppy. It’s okay. I’m here. Peter’s down the hall. Matt is downstairs. No one’s gonna hurt you here.” His eyes were filled with an understanding that only made your heart ache more.

“I’m sorry I don’t know why I feel like this” You felt tired and no matter what you thought of you couldn’t stop crying.

“If its about that cat fight earlier, you kicked her ass once. You can do it again.”

You let out a wet laugh and got down your food.

Wade took your plate and put in on the dresser, then flopped onto the bed pulling you down into him.

"I'm sorry. I normally don't cry like this" You said with a heaving chest, pain starting to creep its way into your brain.

"Even if you cried like this all the time I'd still be here loving you." He whispered in a deep voice while settling you into a comfortable spot.

As soon as you were trapped there with a full belly tangled up in a hoard of blankets and Wade's heavy limbs. You felt your body start to relax. He ran his fingers through your hair whispering soft murmurs of encouragement. That you were his and that you were safe.

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food. 

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

~

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others? 

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

~

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night.  That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting.  Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

[bi-bard]

Through Every Nightmare...-Will Graham Imagine (Hannibal)

Title: Through Every Nightmare...

Pairing: Will Graham X Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,700 words

Warning(s): Nightmares, mentions of manipulation, mentions of mental illness, cussing

Summary: (Late Season 1) (Y/n) wanted the best for Will. Always had. So when (Y/n) gets a hint that others are fighting to tear him apart- whether they were aware of it or not- (Y/n) had to step up and draw a line in the sand. Evil can only go so far when good actually stared it in the face. 

Author’s Note: Hey... look what’s been added to the list!

Please consider supporting my Ko-fi account. It would mean a lot to me. If I know there are people interested in it, I’ll get the monthly donation part set up. 

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I happily scratched one of the dogs behind their ears as I fix my sleeping bag. The dog stepped closer, starting to lick my face, making me chuckle. 

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I looked over to Will as he spoke.

“I figured it would make both of us more comfortable,” I replied, standing up completely. 

“So the long scarf is going to be more comfortable?”

“A light piece of fabric versus a whole human body? Yeah, I think the long scarf would be more comfortable.”

“I see your point,” he chuckled. 

I waited for him to lay down before grabbing the long scarf from my bag. I tied one end around his wrist and held up my arm so he could tie the other end around mine.

“Would you mind telling me the method to your madness,” Will asked. I pulled my arm, making his move as well.

“When you have a nightmare or start sleepwalking, I’ll feel you pull on my arm,” I explained. “I’ll be able to help you sooner.”

“Where’d you get this tip?”

“An old friend did this with his mom when he started taking care of her,” I shrugged. “I just thought that it would be helpful.”

“Thank you,” he grinned at me. I nodded one before laying down and getting comfortable. 

“Goodnight Will,” I said softly, noticing him shifting with his blanket.

“Goodnight, (Y/n),” he replied. 

A few hours later, there was a sharp pull on my arm. I instantly woke up, coming to my senses. The dogs were almost all surrounding the bed, worried about their owner, especially Winston, who had started nudging me with his nose. 

“Will,” I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey, Will.”

He sweating a lot and shaking. He was still pulling away from something. I gently touched his arm, hesitantly shaking him. 

“Will,” my voice was a little louder. With a sigh, I grabbed his shoulders and gave him one solid shove. I sat back as he sat up quickly.

He was panting, trying to focus on what was around him. His dream had muddled with reality for a moment before he looked at me. The next thing I knew, I was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Will hid his face in my neck and I gently ran my fingers through his hair as I hugged him back.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, sounding like he was near tears. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” I mumbled. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Slowly, his breathing calmed down. I switched from playing with his hair to rubbing his back. He seemed to pull me even closer.

“Do you want some water or anything,” I asked. He shook his head. “Okay, let me at least get you a new blanket.”

“Don’t go,” he begged. 

I nodded even though he wasn’t looking at me, “Okay, I won’t.”

I don’t know how long we sat like that and I didn’t care. I just wanted to know that he was alright. That’s all I ever wanted. 

--Time Skip--

A few days later, I found myself at the door to Jack Crawford’s office. I gently knocked, waiting for him to tell me to come in. I shut the door behind me carefully and sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.

“May I ask what this is about,” he asked.

“It’s about Will,” I said. “I don’t think he should be in the field.”

“If this is about him becoming disoriented, I’ve been told that he’s fine.”

“That’s not it, sir,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry but I don’t think you’re being told everything. Will is having intense nightmares and he’s having episodes of sleepwalking. I believe that the intensity of these episodes are at least partly due to the work he’s doing in the field.”

“Has Will told you that he’s having trouble?”

“Does Will commonly admit that to people?”

“Agent Crawford,” I turned around to see Dr. Lecter in the doorway. 

“Dr. Lecter, come in, we were just discussing Will’s current mental state,” Jack said.

I looked away, now looking towards the floor. I didn’t have any evidence but I had a feeling that Hannibal had also been manipulating Will in some way. I noticed the startling connection between Hannibal’s therapy and Will’s behavior. 

“Sir, I was just looking out for a co-worker,” I explained. “I’m sure that Dr. Lecter and Dr. Bloom would agree that the field is taking an obvious toll on Will.”

“I have to agree Agent (Y/l/n),” Hannibal added. “The field is a dangerous place for him to be.”

“Will is saving lives,” Jack replied. “I wouldn’t ask him to do something if I didn’t think he could handle it.”

“You’re willing to risk Will’s life for others,” I asked. “Not just physically, you’re asking him to sacrifice his stability for your work.”

“I believe you’re speaking out of term, Agent,” Jack glared at me. I clenched my jaw. “Now, I suggest you leave and calm down before I get angry.”

“One more thing, Sir,” I asked. He nodded. “I’ve spent almost a week with Will. I’ve watched his nightmares and his sleepwalking episodes. He doesn’t just wake up a little sweaty. He’s cried and broken down. He’s absolutely terrified... not of what he saw but he’s scared of his own mind. I can only help so much without your support and Dr. Lecter’s support. I’m sorry for overstepping but I don’t want him to fall over the edge for you.”

“Have a good day, Agent,” Jack said bluntly.

I stood up and walked out quickly, trying to hide any emotion that could’ve shown on my face.

“Agent (Y/l/n),” I turned around to face Hannibal. “I’m glad someone else said something. Jack has yet to listen to my suggestion that the field is hurting Will.”

“I was just looking out for him.”

“I can assure you,” Hannibal grabbed my arm as I tried to walk away. It was like he could sense how I felt about his work. “We are on the same mission here, (Y/n). We both just want to help.”

“I’m sure we are,” I faked a smile before turning and walking away. I just wish I knew what Hannibal was doing.

--Time Skip--

A few days later, I was standing in the waiting room of Hannibal’s office. I knew it was risky. Something deep in my stomach made me think that this was a dangerous situation to be in. I straightened my spine as the door of the office opened.

“Agent (Y/l/n), what a delightful surprise, come on in,” he stepped out of the way, letting me walk in.

I only walked in as far I had to in order to get through the door. I simply stepped to the side to let Hannibal shut it after me. 

“May I ask what this is about,” he asked, walking towards his desk.

“I want you to know that I’m not accusing you of anything and I’m just asking questions,” I explained before asking anything. “But my questions are going to be blunt... why are you manipulating Will?”

“Well, that certainly sounds like an accusation,” Hannibal chuckled. “Why do you think I’m manipulating him?”

“His episodes,” I said. “I know the work in the field has also harmed in but it all happened so fast. I just want the truth, Hannibal.”

For a moment, I thought I saw something similar to guilt flash across his face. It’s gone as soon as it’s there, “As far as I can tell, you love Will, yes?”

I nodded.

“You’re in love with him?”

I nodded again. 

“I promise that I don’t have any intention of harming Will,” he placed a hand on my shoulder. Deep in my gut, I didn’t believe what he was saying but I couldn’t argue with him because I didn’t have any evidence. “If I’m overstepping, or I’m doing more harm than good, tell me.”

“I will,” I said bluntly. “Never doubt that.”

“I’ll be sure not to,” he grinned. “I have a patient coming in soon. I do hope that I get to see you under better circumstances next time.”

“Me too,” I nodded once before turning around and walking out. 

I was terrified. Absolutely terrified. Especially because I didn’t know where to go from here.

--Time Skip--

“Hey,” I said as I walked into Will’s place. I scratched the dogs’ heads as I walked in. Will was standing there with his arms crossed. “You look like an angry parent.”

“Why the hell did you go talk to Jack,” he asked.

“Because you’re obviously not okay and I’m tired of waiting for him to notice,” I explained. “If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to get one.”

“Hannibal told me that you saw him too,” Will added. He took few steps closer to me. “He said that you admitted something interesting along with your question of whether he was manipulating me or not.”

“What was that,” I asked, trying to ignore the shock that I felt when Will held eye contact with me.

“That you loved me,” he said, stepping even closer. “That you were in love with me.”

“And if I were?”

“Being willing to sleep on my floor would make a lot of sense,” Will smirked. I think he had just noticed how close we actually were.

“Will,” I said softly. He hummed. “You’re making eye contact.”

“I know,” he replied, grinning at me. “Can I...”

I nodded. Will leaned down and kissed me gently. I felt my cheeks heat up as I carefully touched his sides. He cupped the sides of my face. I pulled back slowly, letting out a breathy, nervous laugh. Will smiled at me. 

“Will you... stay with me tonight,” Will asked, “not in the sleeping bag but next to me in the bed.”

“Sure,” I nodded. “Of course. Whenever you want.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “For everything.”

I grinned and kissed him again. I felt like my efforts had some value. I was doing something right. I was trying to help him... and he knew that.

And that meant everything to me.

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[ddarker-dreams]

Puppet Strings. Yan Ghost Josuke x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Josuke’s temper flaring, typical yandere elements, brief alcohol mention. Word count: 3.1k

i.

You didn’t think much of it when you saw your window wide open. 

No, it wasn’t that particular moment that sent alarm bells ringing. It’s remarkable what the human mind is capable of scrounging up to justify an otherwise horrifying situation. Moving from one place to another is an exhausting effort -- you reasoned to yourself -- maybe you reopened it and forgot. That sounds perfectly plausible. Sleep came easily to you that night and all was forgotten the next morning. There were some other minor occurrences, cabinets being open, the television flickering. Nothing incriminating, nothing to worry about. 

For a time, this logic worked in your best interest. The last straw was when your personal belongings started going missing. Lip glosses, shirts, and even some sketchbooks. Contacting the police served to be no help. When they asked who could hold a vendetta against you, you had no solid leads. You’d only been in Morioh a little over a month. Earning an adversary in that short a time felt unlikely, if not impossible. Classmates were interviewed, their alibis clearing them of possible suspects, the investigation stagnant. Your neighbors hadn’t seen questionable figures lurking around your home. Days went by, and a few patrols later, the police claimed there wasn’t much else they could do. There were no signs of breaking and entering, no fingerprints, no leads. 

No peace of mind.

You’ve explored every logical avenue. Not knowing what to do next is the worst part, it’s what serves to frustrate you the most. Sighing, you dry your hands off, mulling over what to do next. Now that you’ve finished washing the dishes, there are no other chores to procrastinate with. Guess I better get started on that project, you think. God, but it’s so hard to focus anymore. 

Without noticing it, you felt drawn to the living room. Anyone would understand, that from the stress you’ve suffered, it’s fine to take a break. A distraction from reality sounds great right about now. Your PlayStation 2, which has been collecting dust, can finally get used. The multiplayer games are bugged -- a Player 2 shows up even when you play it with yourself -- so you haven’t used it in some time. Scanning over the various game choices, you never get a chance to pick one out. 

“Huh, so they released a sequel to that?” An unknown voice, masculine and lighthearted, chimes in behind you. Your immediate reaction is to whip your head back, searching for the source. Heart pounding, you realize this is exactly what you feared. That whoever was stalking you would eventually come to settle things for seeking help from law enforcement. You don’t see him, even though the voice had been close enough to assume he’s behind you. There’s no way you imagined it. Where is he? 

That’s when you see him. 

Whether or not it was intentional, he stands blocking your path to the kitchen, where your phone is. A young man of imposing size, easily dwarfing you. His style throws you off, it’s like he was ripped from another time. That hair… a pompadour? Narrowing your eyes, you stand from your kneeling position, preparing to hold your ground. He might be blocking your ability to call the police, but there’s still the option of running out the front door to alert your neighbors. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. Just don’t panic. 

“Who are you?” Is the first question that slips past your lips. There’s unfiltered hostility in the words, despite your hesitation to aggravate him. Your eyebrows furrow when he puts his hands up in defense. It gives an impression of mockery in an otherwise grave scenario.

“Woah, calm down there,” he lets out a nervous chuckle that further irks you. “You can call me Higashikata Josuke.”

This person -- Josuke -- is acting too casual about this. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s the source of your torment these past few weeks. How else could he be standing in your home, acting in such a deplorable manner? For your own best interest, you bite your tongue, that’s dying to hurl numerous insults his way. In contrast to his polite speech, he’s dressed like a stereotypical delinquent. Who knows what Josuke would do should you provoke him. You’ve heard rumors of rambunctious youths in the area and don’t want to test the validity of those claims. 

“Alright, Higashikata-san, I’m going to ask you to leave. This is my house. If you just… leave me alone, I won’t contact the police. Alright?” You feel like your proposal is a considerate one, even if you don’t intend to follow through. Once you get to safety, like hell you’re going to let this punk get away with it, he just doesn’t need to know that yet. Josuke shifts weight from one leg to another, contemplating your words.

“I can’t do that. Besides, the same way you feel this is your house, I equally feel like it’s mine.” Josuke replies, scratching his cheek. His tone almost sounds… apologetic. As if it isn’t completely within his control to leave. You gulp when you realize your approach might not work. Maybe he’s not mentally sound? That’s the most plausible solution. Taking a deep breath, you shift to a less combative posture, still hoping to talk him down.

“Is there someone I could call? A guardian, a friend? Let’s figure this out.” You will yourself to keep each word steady to lure him in. The innocent inquiry doesn’t have the intended effect, Josuke frowning as soon as the word guardian left your lips. Shit. Was that a sensitive topic? The scowl is gone in a split second like it never existed. He takes a step closer to you and you take a step back.

“There’s not much to figure out. I’ll be honest then since I’m sure you’re freaking out right now. Which makes sense. I’d be freaking out too…” he trails off, going deep into thought. Finally, Josuke manages to choose the proper words. “How do I go about this? Alright, I’ll just come out and say it.” 

“Well, to put it in simple terms, I’m dead.” 

You blink. Tilting your head, you conclude that this Higashikata Josuke is not mentally well. Getting in contact with a professional is your new top priority. Josuke picks up on your hesitant body language and rushes to give credence to his claim.

“I know, crazy, isn’t it? I’m sorry about your stuff, by the way. Felt like the best way to understand my new housemate without sending you running right away. I’ll return it now,” Josuke’s demeanor doesn’t give you the impression of a liar. Still, a spirit? You don’t know what to think anymore. He sighs at the sour expression on your face. “How to prove this to you… ah, I know. Hey, check this out.” 

Josuke points to the controller sitting on your couch. Not a second later, it starts levitating in the air, your jaw-dropping at the unfeasible spectacle. Josuke lets out an airy chuckle at your bewilderment. “Sorry, that was pretty lame. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“There’s… really a spirit, in my house.” You struggle to say it aloud. The people living in Morioh could be superstitious, a view you attributed to living out in the country. This paranoia, or sometimes reverence, never fell in line with your beliefs. There was no solid proof that the supernatural existed. It made for riveting local stories, for youths to gossip and movies to adapt, but the line was drawn there. A timeline plays in your head of the past few weeks. It would explain how no one in this active community spotted an intruder, or how the police never found physical evidence. 

“Our house, actually.” He corrects with a beaming smile.

ii. 

Maybe it’s not so bad. 

Josuke, with whom you have an unusual relationship, makes for decent company in your otherwise uneventful life. You still can’t help but feel on guard around him for his earlier behavior. As he explained it, borrowing your belongings was just a way to get to know you. He apologized wholeheartedly for the stress he put on your life. It felt genuine, but an apology doesn’t make everything go away at once. Little by little, Josuke’s grown on you, worming his way into your heart. Memories and feelings fade, your first few weeks after the move are no different. 

“Have you seen my red scarf anywhere?” You call out, peeking underneath your pillow. Josuke appears from thin air -- an element that took some getting used to -- helping to look around your room. One of your conditions for remaining here was that he’d show up in your room only when invited, a condition Josuke was more than happy to agree to. You guess everyone is lonely in their own way.

“It’s not over here,” Josuke yells from beneath your desk. “What do you need it for, anyway? Can’t you just turn the heater on?” 

“Well, I could, but that wouldn’t do me much good. Some friends invited me to karaoke tonight, and the weather report said it’ll drop to four degrees celsius.” Feeling defeated, you plop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Josuke leans over, popping into your line of sight. He’s lacking the trademark smile you’ve grown used to seeing. For such a minor change, it packs a punch. Josuke sulks like a kicked puppy.

“Karaoke, huh?” He mutters, more to himself than you. “My old classmates used to do stuff like that. Sounds fun.” 

You sit up and cross your legs. Josuke’s tone is a longing one, wishing to fulfill a dream that can never be, visage painfully bleak. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach for the insensitive comment, not realizing he has a lot on his mind too. Josuke’s bubbly personality stood on a thin sheet of ice, ready to plunge into the depths at any moment. You wrack your mind to try and appease him. 

“It really isn’t anything that exciting. I was going to say no, but they insisted. Just imagine it as a bunch of tone-deaf people drunkards belting, that’s all it is.” You console. Josuke doesn’t light up at your joke, his eyes hollow. From what you know about spirits, if they linger in this realm instead of moving onto the next, that means an obligation is holding them here. You’ve never asked Josuke why he hasn’t passed on. That leaves room for speculation, numerous hours spent ruminating over theories. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, or maybe he won’t. Either way, it’s still tragic he never got to live his life.

“Mm… guess so, yeah.” He isn’t paying attention to your words. Guilt as sharp as knives slices through you at Josuke’s gloomy mood. For a split second, you consider canceling with your friends, to stay home and cheer him up. He always loves playing games with you or just speaking over trivial matters for hours. You push the idea away. Fraternizing with a spirit on the daily isn’t enough to supply your social needs, only friends of flesh and blood can fill that role. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for mentioning it. If you want to talk about--” 

“No,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “Go ahead. Go live life.” 

You don’t offer a rebuttal. Josuke probably needs time to think, you decide. We can talk about it later.

iii. 

“What’s up?” 

You lean against the wall, payphone pressed against one ear and your hand covering the other. Music blares in the background, terrible acoustics of the crowded bar making it difficult to hear the other line. One of the workers grabbed you, saying you had a call, your guesses of who it could be next to nonexistent. You scrunch your nose up when you hear Josuke’s distinct voice on the other side.

“It’s late,” you hear him say. His voice is muffled, but the exasperated tone is hard to miss. “Shouldn’t you be back by now?” 

Sighing, you struggle to rationalize why Josuke’s pestering you like this. You never gave a time when you’d be home, not thinking it was necessary. “I was going to leave soon. I don’t have class in the next few days, so it’s fine.” 

“It’s dangerous to be out on your own--” 

“Josuke,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples. “I appreciate the concern, really, I do. But I used to live in Tokyo, remember? If I could survive the city at night, I can survive here.” 

“That’s not the point here,” Josuke counters, voice dropping dangerously low. Your patience is wearing thin at his attempts to police your autonomy. It’s not his place to enforce a curfew on you. “You don’t know what kinds of danger lurks in Morioh.” 

Josuke’s statement is full of bone-chilling conviction. Almost like he was speaking from firsthand experience. You take a deep breath, remembering that you’re speaking to someone who likely died in a traumatizing manner here. Maybe extending a little grace wouldn’t hurt. It’s a shame to cut the night short, but it’s not that big a deal.  

“Okay, I get it. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk back home. I’ll see you soon, alright?” 

Softening your voice seems to have the effect you intended. Josuke takes a second to consider, the two of you waiting in tense silence. This is the first time you’ve gone out with friends, maybe he just wasn’t sure what to make of it. You hold no intention of bending to his every whim, but this one time, you’ll offer him peace of mind. There’ll be major boundaries set up in the future. 

He sighs begrudgingly. “... Right.” 

iv. 

This is getting ridiculous. 

Josuke’s behaving no better than an entitled child, your paper-thin patience starting to give way. The circumstances you’ve been placed into were unusual enough, to begin with, but they never felt malicious, not until Josuke’s personality seemed to switch in the blink of an eye. What you can only describe as sabotage has become a regular occurrence. It perfectly parallels the problems you had upon first moving into this house, only now you know the one responsible. He’ll act none the wiser, claiming innocence in what has to be his doing.

Cut phone lines, missing shoes, personal journals disappearing into thin air, nothing has been spared. Maybe you were foolish for trusting a spirit. You’d like to have thought you were on solid terms with Josuke, your mortal mind doing its best to wrap around the otherworldly events. You’re at your wit’s end, now fully prepared to confront him on this unacceptable display. It’s a shame it came to this, you think. Confrontation is the worst.

“Josuke.” 

“[First].” 

The two of you sit in the living room, on opposite sides of the couch. Ever since the karaoke disaster a few weeks ago, Josuke’s attitude has taken an undesirable turn, as evidenced by how he’s acting now. Never did you imagine he could be so petty. You straighten out your posture, squaring your shoulders, and placing your hands on your lap. He stares at you with faint interest, cerulean eyes shining at your attention. 

“I’ve tried my best to be understanding,” you wince at how dramatic your words are. It almost sounds like you’re breaking up with a partner. “If I did something that upset you, please just be honest about it.” 

Josuke gives a nonchalant wave. “Nah, it’s not that important anymore. I recently made up my mind, so I don’t feel too concerned about it.” 

There weren’t many expectations in place for this talk, but Josuke dismissing you this fast wasn’t an outcome you envisioned. It feels like a slap to the face after you spent days dreading this talk. What did “recently making up his mind” even mean? Irritation rises in your throat like bile, words snapping out before you can stop them.

“You don’t just get to be that dismissive,” you point out with a scowl. “I know what you’ve been doing. Taking my stuff again, right, Higashikata? I’m fed up with this shit. Maybe I should just move out--” 

Your sentence gets cut off by the coffee table’s glass shattering. The high pitched noise makes you jump, shards flying in multiple directions on the floor. Glancing from the mess back to Josuke, you find the sight of him as a stronger cause for worry. He looks thoroughly unimpressed with your emotional outburst. Thick eyebrows knit together, his face contorting from friendly to enraged. You gulp when a sudden chill in the air sending shivers down your spine. With how friendly your relationship with him had been up to this point, you forgot to watch your tongue, the initial reverence wearing off long ago. 

Josuke stands up, flaunting his towering build. Looking down at you through lidded eyes, he reaches down, and you catch a glimpse of light blue and pink. Huh? What was that? A trick of the lights, maybe? As fast as it was destroyed, you watch in awe as the pieces return to their original place. Broken glass, chips of wood, screws and all, become whole as if it was a movie playing in reverse. Is this something else a spirit can do? 

“Y’know, [First],” Josuke begins with a humorless laugh. “This is great. I wasn’t sure how to do this part. Now I don’t have to worry about that, so let me cut right to the chase.” 

You feel the blood draining from your face, goosebumps dotting your skin. This is wrong. Whatever he’s doing now, you can’t stand another second of it. “Josuke, you’re scaring me.” 

“That’s fine by me.” He smiles. There’s a palpable thickness in the air, tension elevating as each second crawls by. Your mind trips over itself in search of a solution to this, but deep down inside, you’re filled with dread. A dread that this damage is beyond repair and that you’ve made a fatal mistake. Would screaming even help you? Could you outrun a ghost? Your heart pounders against your ribcage and you pray it isn’t Josuke who’s trying to rip it out. 

“You saw that table,” Josuke points to the once destroyed furniture, now neatly put back together. He frowns at your lack of confirmation, pressing further, voice increasing in volume. “Right?” 

You somehow manage to nod. Your throat and tongue are too dry to use and the room feels like it’s spinning. 

“That makes this simple then,” Josuke sits back down to his spot from before and stretches his arms. “There’s a lot I’m capable of. Way more than I’ve shown you. Breaking things apart and fixing them is my specialty, but… that last part can easily be omitted.” 

Josuke turns to face you, eyes peering into the depths of your soul.

“Threaten to leave me again and I won’t even bother to put you back together.” 

[sideblogformindtrash]

ooooo what would a trip to a pet therapist look like for sun? I am so intrigued,

it occurred to me afterwards that you might actually want to see some retraining stuff with an actual ~~pet therapist but ugh.......

masterlist

CW: pet whump; dehumanization; conditioning; low self-esteem;

He was so, so nervous. Master had told him it would be just one hour, and that he would be waiting on the little coffee shop on the other side of the street.

But what sort of retraining took only one hour? That didn’t make sense. Maybe it was a new method, and that perspective was terrifying because… Just how much pain would he undergo that could re-program him so quickly?

He whimpered, then clamped his mouth, he shouldn’t complain when Master was being kind enough to give him a chance, instead of just throwing him out.

“…Nervous?” Master said, smiling. Master seemed happy about this. Hell. Of course he was. His stupid pet would get fixed… “Don’t worry. It will be good, I’m sure…”

He nodded. Of course. This was for his own good. He would be a better pet afterwards.

Other thing he didn’t really understand was the scarf. Of course he wouldn’t protest but… Master said he had to keep it on while he was on the waiting room. Either that or take his collar off, and he couldn’t do that. Never. So, scarf it was, even if it was a warm day.

“Here we are” Master stopped the car. The place looked nothing like a retraining center but, he knew some of them were made like this – to appear good and friendly on the outside and at the front reception. The backrooms were the unsafe spot.

They sat on the little waiting room, was just a couple of sofas, a desk and a pile of magazines. Master sat with him, until his name was called. He gave him one last desperate glance…

“It’s alright, pal. I’ll be there, just cross the street afterwards, okay? I’ll be waiting”

…He nodded, terrified as he followed the smiling woman into the back, to what looked like…

Just another cozy, living-room like place. No shackles, no white tiles, no torture instruments on display.

He shot her a confused glance.

“Sunflower, is that right?” She had a bright smile “Feel free to take a sit. Would you like some tea…?”

---

…After one hour, more or less… He spotted Sun walking out of the building, as he had instructed, to where Andy was waiting

“Hey, Sun” He smiled “How was it? Did you like her?”

Sun seems… Lost. A bit disturbed.

“It… It was nice…” He looks ahead, pulling a chair himself “I wasn’t… wasn’t expecting… hm… She… She said she is… is a doctor for… people. I thought…”

And Sun lifts his eyes ever so slightly, staring Andy in the eye. He doesn’t do it a lot. He seems… so nervous, still.

“Thought it was retraining… But she just… Made hm, lots of questions… Said she wasn’t that kind of therapist...”

Andy’s eyes widen. Retraining? That’s what Sun was thinking, all this time? Hell, no wonder he was acting so weird lately, so… desperate to please. Still, he had said nothing, Andy just figured he was nervous about seeing a new doctor.

“What? Sun, no of course not. Was that why you’ve been scared lately?”

“It… would make sense… I keep… Being bad. Disobeying orders… Not… not to clean… I told… Told her I just want to be a good pet”

“I’m not worried about you disobeying, I’m worried about how that is causing you to suffer, Sun…” Andy gives him a sad smile. Damn, he should’ve caught on this earlier. Sun must’ve spent all this time stressing over it  “You are good, you know? But I want you to feel good too”

“Feel…?”

He nods.

“Yeah. You have an appointment with her for next week too, you know? If you still like it, I’ll keep bringing you here for as long as you need. She will never hurt you, I promise. And if you feel you can’t connect with her, we can look for another therapist. Might take a while but-“

“No! Hm, no, no is fine, Master. I… I think it was Nice” he looked down at the table, trembling a little.

“…Alright. Hm, you wanna order something?” Andy pushes him the menu, trying to drop the subject for now “Go ahead, pick something nice”

Hesitantly, Sun takes a look at the photos on the menu. He really hoped things would go better from now on.  

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Story of the Past

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Five

A JSE Fanfic

It’s the backstory chapter! Whoo! djaskfh Anyway, I thought we should hear more about Henrik and Jackie, start to get the details of who they were before the Masked Phantoms. And also, it’s about time we address the missing element that Chase has been noticing...and in the process introduce a new boy! :D Hope you enjoy reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was snowing for the first time that year. Chase stood in the shadow of the dragon’s bones, hat pressed to his head, and watched it fall from the sky. The snowfall wasn’t particularly thick, but the flakes were fat and clumped together. It would probably leave a respectable layer by the time it was over.

It was ten days since Chase went out on his first mission with the Phantoms, and nothing much had happened in the meantime. Jackie and the two others on the mission were alright, Elin recovering from the magical burns she’d gotten from that wizard. Apparently no other missions had gone out since then, though there were a lot of messages coming in from other locations and Phantoms who were already out. Probably the most notable thing was the approach of the winter holy days. The winter solstice was only a few weeks away, and everyone was talking about preparing the celebrations.

There was the faint sound of footsteps in the snow, and soon Henrik appeared by his side. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Chase,” he said, adjusting his scarf. “I was delayed. Many people have come down with sudden cold sicknesses and I was handing out medicine.”

“It’s alright, Henrik,” Chase said understandably. “I think you should set up more fires, not just the ones for cooking. I’ve never been in a mountain house that doesn’t have a fireplace for winter.”

“Perhaps, perhaps.” Henrik nodded. “We could cut open holes in the canvas covering the storage and the skull, so that the smoke will not fill it up.”

Chase laughed a bit. “If you did that, the smoke would come out of the skull’s eyes and nostrils. Then it would really look like a dragon.”

Henrik laughed as well. “So, now then. Onto other matters. I will keep our reading lesson short today so that we can get out of the snowfall. Can I see the board you were using?”

Most of the lesson was spent refreshing and reviewing what Chase had already learned. Even though both of them had winter coats now, it was still cold standing out in the snow, and Chase’s fingers were quickly losing heat. Still, he felt like it was actually warmer than it should have been. Especially when it was snowing. Just as they were wrapping up, he decided to point this out. “You know, even though we’re high in the mountains, I feel like it’s warmer here than it would be back home. Isn’t that strange?”

“Oh, that is probably because of the skeleton.” Henrik knocked on the nearest bone. “Dragons were very magical creatures, you know. And most of their magic was fire and heat, in some form or another. Even after this dragon is long gone, its magic is still attached to its bones, and that is probably making it a bit warmer.”

“Huh. Fascinating.” Chase pressed a hand to the bone. It was cold as stone, but magic worked in strange ways, so he wasn’t going to doubt Henrik’s explanation. “For a doctor, you know a lot about how magic works.”

“Well, you have to be prepared,” Henrik said. “You could encounter injuries that were caused by any sort of magic. And witchcraft’s potions are excellent medicine.”

“Yea, but these are some intricate details. I understand Tripp and the other sorcerers here knowing about that, but you’re not a magic-wielder.” Chase shrugged.

“I keep my ear out for new things to learn. And I learned a lot from—” Henrik stopped. “From...my studies. Anyway, I think we can stop for now. You will just need to practice more, as always. It seems you’re having trouble with—”

“Why does everyone do that?” Chase blurted out.

“...do what?” Henrik asked, visibly confused.

“Practically everyone I’ve talked to has avoided speaking about something at some point or another,” Chase said. “A person, I’m guessing. I’m not one to pry, so I’ve just let it happen, but honestly it’s pretty frustrating.” His voice slowly grew in volume. “I’ve been here for half a season now. I have my own mask, I helped out last time, I’ve even done the dishes and other chores. Isn’t that enough? Am I not considered part of the group yet?! Does no one trust me?! I—” He sighed, and continued in a softer voice. “Sorry. I...It’s...frustrating, to have this happen over and over. And it...it feels...discouraging. Like I’m not really a part of everything, and nothing I do will...be good enough.”

Henrik didn’t respond for a while. Chase started to worry that he pushed too far, but then Henrik leaned in close and put a hand on his shoulder. “Chase. It is nothing to do with you, I can promise you that.” His voice was gentle, but firm underneath. “I am sorry for making you feel that way. It is just...well, it is still a sore subject for Jackie and me. But we never told anyone that they cannot talk about him. I suppose they just didn’t want to tell you in case we did not want you to know.”

“...oh.” Chase said softly. “Is it...sensitive? No, wait, you don’t have to tell me, it’s not my business—”

“No, I want to,” Henrik insisted. “Everyone else here already knows. Because they have all been here since it happened a year ago. You are the first new person we have found, so it makes sense that you are the only one who does not know.” He paused. “But I should talk with Jackie about how to tell you. It is about him, too.”

“I see.” Honestly, Chase felt relieved that it wasn’t the big secret he’d been building it up to be in his mind. It wasn’t a lack of trust, it was just personal. “I’m...sorry about all that. I guess Lukas has just been getting to me.”

Henrik scowled. “Ignore that ass. His mistrust is to a ridiculous degree.”

Chase laughed. “Hard to do that when he’s in charge of the crosses.”

“I am issuing an official decree to ignore him. Next time he does something based on suspicion, tell him I told you to ignore him.”

“Alright, I get it.” Chase laughed some more.

Henrik cracked a grin, too. “I will talk to Jackie about the matter you were worried about. We’ll tell you about it so people can stop being ridiculous about avoiding it.” He rubbed his hands together. “Whoo. Now I say we wrap this up and go somewhere warmer.”

“Great idea.” Chase brushed the snow off his hat. “We’ll be snow-covered statues if we stand out here any longer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A couple days passed without anything extraordinary happening. Lukas tried to put him through more bow and arrow ‘training,’ to which Chase told him that he wasn’t supposed to listen to him. Naturally, Lukas looked upset about that, but he let off. Chase thought that was strange. Why was that what got him to ease up on his suspicions? But he was quickly distracted when Holly stepped in to give him some pointers on using his hunting knife in self-defense. Today, this involved her emphasizing that a knife of this design was used for cutting, not stabbing, and helping him to practice slashing a dummy with it. Chase felt he had the technique down, but it would probably be much more difficult when faced with a moving person.

Talk of winter celebrations continued. Evidently, every faith had a holy day on the winter solstice. Chase was most familiar with the Longest Night, which celebrated winter and paid tribute to the Elder of Dark, but that wasn’t the only one. There was also the Moonlight Festival, which Henrik told him was the Celestial Sisters’ winter holy day, and the Freezing, which Nemet said was part of the Temple of the Forge. So, naturally, practically everyone at Wyvernlair was excited to celebrate. Even those that weren’t faithful were looking forward to feasts and parties.

Then one night, about three days after his last reading lesson with Henrik, Chase was passing by the skull on his way to his tent, and he heard someone call his name. “Huh?” He stopped and turned towards the call. “Oh, hello, Jackie. How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Jackie said. He had his mask off and the hood of his cloak—he still wore his waist-length red one, even though the cold might call for a longer one—pulled down. “Can you...come here for a few moments? We need to talk.”

Immediately, Chase’s nerves shot through the metaphorical roof. “Yea, of course.” He followed Jackie into the skull.

The whole place was empty, which was unusual. He hadn’t been in here that often, but there was always at least a small group of people inside. Mostly sitting at the desks or the map table. Now, there was no one. Except for Henrik. He was sitting on a chair by a small fire, enclosed by a ring of stones. The fire was placed underneath one of the skull’s eye sockets, so it wasn’t exactly in the center of the room, but it was close enough. When Jackie and Chase walked in, Henrik looked up and gestured them over. There were two more chairs by the fire.

Chase slowly sat down, trying not to appear anxious. Jackie didn’t sit, and instead merely bounced on his feet, running his fingers along the edge of his chain mail shirt. For a moment Chase was distracted by the fact that Jackie almost always wore that mail armor—they had some in storage and he’d tried a shirt on, just out of curiosity, and it was surprisingly heavy. But then he got over being impressed and returned to being nervous. “So...what did you want to talk about? Did I do something?”

“No no no, it is not that,” Henrik hurried to say. “It is just—we have decided to tell you about the subject everyone was avoiding. Do you remember that?”

“Oh. Oh!” Chase’s eyes widened a bit. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually tell me.”

“Well, of course we would.” Henrik sounded a bit surprised. “It would not be fair otherwise.”

Jackie let out a breath. “Yea.” Now that Chase wasn’t worrying about what the conversation would be, he could tell that Jackie was also nervous. Or...that wasn’t exactly the right word. Agitated, maybe.

“So, you have noticed that people are talking around something,” Henrik continued. “And you have picked up that this is a person, yes?” He waited for Chase to nod. “Yes. Well, that person...was a friend of ours.” He indicated Jackie and himself. “His name was Marvin.”

“Marvin,” Chase repeated. That wasn’t a name heard often in the mountains. It sounded coastal.

Henrik nodded. “He was the other founder. It was the three of us.”

“The other...what?” Chase asked, confused.

“The...other founder?” Henrik repeated, equally confused.

“Founder of what?”

“Of the Masked Phantoms, Chase.”

“...wait.” Things started to click into place. Why Jackie and Henrik wore masks with more colorful designs. Why they always seemed so busy. Why Henrik had been able to get Lukas to back off with such authority. Chase shot to his feet. “You two are in charge of everything?!”

“Elders, did you not know that?!” Jackie said, absolutely shocked.

“No! I didn’t! Nobody told me!” Chase shook his head in disbelief. “I thought some things were strange, but I never realized—oh elders, no wonder Lukas is so suspicious of me. I walked right up into your main camp and immediately got friendly with the leaders of the whole secret resistance.” He might have reacted the same, honestly.

Jackie threw his hands up in the air, walking away for a few paces before coming back. “Elders and Sisters, Chase.”

“What?! I’m new to this!” Chase protested. “I’ve never joined a group like this before, not a guild or a hunting band or anything. I don’t know how leadership works! And you’re all flatlanders, for all I know, this was just a regional difference.”

“So who did you think was in charge?” Henrik asked.

“I don’t know. Some far-off figure who led from the shadows. You two are just...here. Interacting with everyone regularly. Jackie went on a mission with me, what if something happened?”

“We’re not kings, Chase,” Jackie said. “We like people to know we’re working with them. And trust me, nothing would have happened to me in Skytown. It would’ve been close if you hadn’t shown up, though. We might have lost Elin. And even if something did happen to me, Schneep stayed here, so we wouldn’t have lost leadership.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” Chase muttered. “So this Marvin was also a leader? What...happened to him?”

Henrik started to say something, but Jackie interrupted. “He turned into an ass.”

“Jackie, it has been a year,” Henrik sighed.

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a bastard about it,” Jackie muttered. “Prick.”

Henrik rubbed his temples as if a headache was starting to come on. “I am still upset, too, but you are holding this grudge for too long.”

“What happened?” Chase repeated.

Henrik and Jackie glanced at each other, and Chase got the distinct feeling they were having a silent conversation. “Actually...do you mind if we tell you the story from the beginning?” Henrik asked after a long period of silence.

“Um...is this something that would make me seem even more suspicious for getting you two to open up to me?” Chase asked.

Jackie laughed. “Only in Lukas’s eyes. A few people around know this story, but I will admit, not most of them. Nemet, Tripp, Ana. The ones who’ve been around for a while. But it’s no secret. I hear there are some exaggerated versions of the story traveling around other camps.”

Chase grinned a bit. “But...why tell me? What if I’m actually a spy, or what if I switch sides—”

“I do not believe you would do that, Chase,” Henrik said quietly. “I met you once before. You are a kind, open man, and you care for your family and others. You would not side with the King.”

Chase’s chest swelled with emotion—the sadness and worry he was used to feeling when his family was mentioned, but combined with a warm feeling, knowing that others had faith in him. He nodded, and said nothing, blinking back sudden wetness in his eyes.

“So.” Henrik took a deep breath. “Let us start from the beginning.” He paused once more, then started to talk. “To understand why the subject matter is still bothering us—or, well, bothering Jackie—so much, I think the beginning is essential. Everything started fifteen years ago. I arrived in Glasúil off a ship, and headed down the coast and a bit inland. My parents had paid for me to study under a doctor named Slaine, who lived in the town of Fíornear.”

“Wait.” Chase didn’t want to interrupt so soon, but he had to hear that again. “Fíornear? As in...Fíornear Field?”

“Ah, yes. See, you would know that place.” Henrik smiled a bit, amused. “I have no doubt you grew up hearing stories of the warriors trained on the Field. But I did not. All I knew about it was the town name, and that it was a big, important area of the kingdom. Luckily, it was very easy to get directions to the town. I was glad that I had already studied your language before coming here. But it was...difficult, still. At that point, I could understand everything when it was in writing, but many people talked too fast for me to keep up.

“Because of this, when I actually arrived in the town of Fíornear, I was very confused. I was expecting something fancier, if I must say. The whole town was—and still is—very, ah...utilitarian. The only place that fit my expectations was the small castle where the area’s noble family lived, and even that was fortified with thick walls. I could tell that this was a place where warriors lived and worked, and I was very confused. And sort of afraid, if I must say so, thinking I had accidentally wandered onto a restricted area in a foreign land.

“So I thought I would get more directions. If this was Fíornear, I would ask where Slaine lived. If it was not, I would ask how to get there. I entered the first building I saw on the edge of town. It was a tavern with a name I could not understand, but that I would later learn was the Flint and Dagger Tavern. I would also later learn that this was known as a place where troublemakers gathered. Warriors who were learning the trade at the Field, but who were too ill-tempered to mingle with the others. They had taken this tavern as their own.

“Now imagine a fourteen-year-old boy walking into this tavern. A bookish-looking boy who is carrying all his possessions in a bag with him, including all his money, and who is rather skinny and likely to blow over in a strong wind.”

“I think your past self would be insulted to hear that, Schneep,” Jackie laughed.

Henrik grinned. “No, no, trust me, I was very aware of this fact. Even more so as everyone else in the tavern was strong enough to pick me up with one hand. They were all giving me looks, and I immediately felt I was not welcome. But I thought I could hurry through. So I walk up to the tavern keeper, and before I could even say anything, he says something along the lines of ‘Get out of here, kid.’ The exact details escape me.

“Of course, as I said, I do not understand the spoken language as well, so I think I misheard him. And I say, very clumsily, ‘Excuse me, is this Fíornear?’ And I mispronounced it, too, calling it ‘fee-OHR-neer’ instead of ‘FEE-or-narr.’ And from there, a few of the patrons in the tavern started grumbling at each other, sitting at a table in the middle of the room so they are not even hidden.

“The tavern keeper says, ‘Why? Are you looking for it? Hoping to become a warrior?’ and he gives me a very mocking smile at that last part. And I say, ‘No, I am looking for a doctor named Slaine.’

“And before I can say anything else, the group who are sitting and grumbling stand up and walk over to me. All of them, older than me, taller, and quite a bit stronger. One of them said something that was like, ‘So you’re a fancy foreign boy, then?’ And I am very confused. I know he is insulting me, but I am not sure how, so I just try to ask if this is the right town once more. They all laugh, and say things that are too fast for me to understand, but I know they are still insulting me. The one who spoke before leans down, very close to me, and grabs the front of my shirt. ‘You’d better get out of this place before we throw you out,’ he says. ‘You don’t belong here.’

“At that moment, I understand that this is a mistake, and I apologize, trying to leave. But this taller, older boy is not letting go of my shirt, even though he wants me to get out. I try apologizing again, and I look around for help, but everybody is looking away. Until, all of a sudden, there is a shout of ‘Hey!’ and next thing I know, the older boy is hit in the head with a shoe. I turn in the direction it came from, and there is a tiny girl standing on top of one of the tables, holding the other shoe in the pair.”

“I was not tiny!” Jackie protested.

Henrik laughed. “You were a small twelve-year-old child, all your height came from the table.”

“Okay, alright, but I hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet! And I was full of righteous anger so that makes up for it!”

“Wait, Jackie, you were the girl?” Chase clarified.

“I was,” Jackie said, turning to look at Chase. “I didn’t realize it at the time this story takes place, but I was born in a different name.”

“Oh!” Chase nodded. “You’re a man?”

“Mostly, yea.”

“I see. You look good.”

“Thank you,” Jackie grinned. “But I thought you were married.”

“Hey, don’t take it that way, I mean it as a friend.” Chase chuckled a bit. “What were you doing in this tavern?”

“Oh, I was training on the Field,” Jackie said proudly.

“Really?! At twelve?!” Chase didn’t hide his surprise. Though Fíornear Field technically trained anyone over the age of twelve to be a royal warrior, there usually weren’t students that young. “How did you convince your parents?”

“Well...I didn’t,” Jackie admitted. He finally sat down in the third chair. “See, I grew up on a farm, smack dab in the middle of the kingdom. It was boring. I had siblings, two older and three younger, and I could play with them, but I just wasn’t interested in farmwork. Mam and Dad said that I could start warrior training when I turned fifteen, but I didn’t want to wait! I’d be practically an adult by then, and it seemed so far. So I...ran away.”

“Oh, elders,” Chase gasped.

“Once I was actually receiving training, I asked the armsmaster to write a letter back to them,” Jackie said. “Because I couldn’t write yet. I didn’t want them to worry, but I wanted to be sure I had a place at the Field before that happened, so it’d be harder for them to drag me home.”

“Elders, I can’t imagine being that old and going out on my own,” Chase shook his head in disbelief.

Jackie grinned. “Well, I was a tiny fireball as a kid, fierce and stubborn. I wanted to fight villains and protect people. And as you can probably tell, one of the first times I did that was by throwing a shoe at Samuel when he was harassing Henrik.” He briefly shook his head in disgust. “That boy wasn’t worthy of that name, he was a bully in every way.”

“Let me guess...things rolled downhill quickly after the bully got hit with the shoe,” Chase said.

“Well...eventually. He certainly let go of Schneep right away. I remember shouting at him to ‘Leave him alone!’ and of course, he immediately got angry. He picked up the shoe again—which was mine, by the way, off my feet—and said, ‘I won’t be taking orders from a pipsqueak mouse like you!’ and threw it back at me. I managed to catch it, which was pretty impressive if I say so, and shouted back, ‘If I’m a mouse, you’re a brute, picking on someone half your size! Fight like a warrior!’”

“And then what happened?” Henrik prompted.

Jackie sighed. “He and all his lads charged at me.”

“Ancient elders,” Chase groaned.

“It could have gone worse!” Jackie insisted. “Apparently picking on someone so young was too much for some of the other patrons, and they all jumped in to stop them. Oh, and I leapt right off the table before any of them could get there! I...didn’t exactly land on my feet, but it didn’t hurt that much, compared to being rammed by about eight or nine sixteen-year-old warriors-in-training. You know, Samuel and half his lads got denied training before the winter. Ha! Served them right.

“Anyway, then I stood up and ran over to Schneep while the other patrons were trying to hold back those lads. I asked him if he was alright, and he said he was fine. Then I said, ‘Good, now let’s get out of here!’

“Before we could ‘get out of there,’ though, Samuel shouted, ‘Get those brats!’ and about three of his lads went to block the front entrance. So I grabbed Schneep’s hand and ran the other way, into the back halls of the tavern that connects the kitchen, and the storage, and the lavatory, and whatever else was back there, I forget. By that point, a brawl was starting, so we had a head start. I knew there’d be a back entrance to the building, but I wasn’t sure where. It was my first time going there, you know, and I’d only gone out of curiosity, not any desire to visit regularly.

“So it wasn’t long before we were lost. We took a few wrong turns, and Henrik asked me, ‘Do you know where we are going?’ and I lied and said, ‘Of course!’ But he didn’t believe me. And I could hear footsteps and shouting following us, and I knew either Samuel or one of his lads would find us soon.

“But before that can happen, I hear someone say, very quietly, ‘Excuse me?’ I jump a bit, spin around, and almost punch this tall kid who’d suddenly come out of one of the rooms. Luckily, Schneep stopped me. And the tall kid says, ‘You’re the people that got attacked back there?’ And I don’t answer right away, because I’m a bit suspicious. But this boy isn’t one of Samuel’s lads. He wasn’t built enough, if you know what I mean. Instead, he was this really tall, sort of willowy boy around Schneep’s age, wearing this fancy ring that looked like real silver with a real emerald in it. So I say ‘yea, that’s us.’ And he says, ‘Alright. I’ll help you get out.’

“This boy turns to the nearest wall and stares at it for a while, like he’s trying to read invisible words. Then he pokes his ring, and all of a sudden, the emerald in it starts glowing. I remember staring in shock as he pressed the emerald to the wall near the floor, then raised it up, around, and down. As he did, the glowing light rubbed off on the wall like chalk on a board, drawing this doorway that was round at the top. Once the doorway was done, he pressed on the wall in the middle, and it just disappeared. Instead, there was suddenly the outside, even though we should have still been in the middle of the building.

“‘You have to go through first,’ this kid says. I’m a bit suspicious, but then Schneep nods and walks right through this doorway. And now I feel responsible for him, so I follow him, and next thing I know, I’m outside the tavern, on its side. The tall kid walks through the doorway, and then it disappears. And we all just stare at each other for a while. It’s a bit awkward, but I felt like we were all connected somehow, you know? So I say, ‘I’m Jackie. Daughter of Fiona,’ because, again, I hadn’t realized my name was wrong yet. Schneep introduces himself as ‘Henrik von Schneeplestein,’ and this new kid just says, ‘I’m Marvin.’”

Chase physically started. “Marvin was a wizard?!”

“And a very talented one, too,” Henrik added. “The spell he used there was a Doorway Through Walls, and I understand it’s not usually taught to fourteen-year-olds.”

“But...” Chase shook his head a bit. “You said that wizards usually side with the King. A-and Tripp told me that was because the royal family provides their magic focuses, so how—?”

“Most focuses are temporary,” Jackie said. “They get worn out from channeling magic for so long. You might get one or two years out of them before they need to be fixed up or replaced. But there are ones that can last decades. They just...cost a hefty fee.”

“Marvin stole his,” Henrik added.

Jackie laughed a bit. “Yea. He did.” But his smile was more sad than anything. And short-lived too, as he realized he was smiling and quickly dropped it into a frown.

“So that’s how you three met,” Chase said, putting together the pieces. “So...you stayed in contact?”

“It was easy to do so,” Henrik said. “Jackie was training at the Field, I was studying with Slaine, and Marvin lived in town. We would meet up as often as possible. There were difficulties, of course, mine and Jackie’s schedules were full, and Marvin’s parents did not approve of him leaving home, so he had to sneak out.”

“We had a lot of little adventures,” Jackie said, leaning back and linking his hands behind his head. “Schneep was the brain, I was the brawn, and Marvin was the—well, he said he was the beauty, but really, he was the power, with his magic. And, uh, money, actually. You don’t get a lot of coin as a warrior-in-training or a doctor’s apprentice.”

“But I think we should skip over those,” Henrik said. “I think we may have taken too long explaining our first meeting.”

“Alright, skip to the part where you decide to form a group to rebel against the King,” Chase suggested. “When did that start? The moment he was crowned?”

“No, not at all,” Henrik said. “In fact, I was quite happy for him. Though a little shocked, to be honest. I had just finished my studies, and I felt barely ready to step out into my own. Yet he was being crowned King of an entire kingdom, and he was a year younger than me!”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Jackie sighed. “Not with the last King and Queen gone, be at peace. At least he got a year to prepare?”

“Twenty is hardly better than nineteen,” Henrik huffed. “But either way, we could not have known what was to happen.”

“What started it all?” Chase asked.

Jackie and Henrik glanced at each other. “It was about three years later, or so,” Jackie said. “At that point, I was one of the royal warriors, so I was able to notice some things. Our commands were...questionable. My captain told all of us that we ‘weren’t to hold back’ against troublemakers. There was talk of shutting down dissidence, and testing the people’s loyalty. Now, keep in mind, there hadn’t even been a whisper of rebellion before this, but this sort of talk seemed to appear overnight. And a lot of my fellows, people I had considered friends, were eating this up.”

“And then the King cut the funding for medicine and doctors,” Henrik added. “You know how most of us doctors receive supplies and salaries from the royal funds, yes?”

“Except for the travelling doctors,” Chase agreed. “They’re a separate thing. You were a town doctor once?”

“Yes, so I knew we were receiving less,” Henrik grumbled. “And now, years later, it is even less. The royal fund is not paying for supplies anymore, meaning doctors have to ask for donations so they can afford what they need.”

“And Marvin was hearing rumors about the noble houses,” Jackie said. “How they were turning on other families that weren’t loyal enough to the crown.”

“All of this was so different from what the King had been doing when first crowned.” Henrik shook his head. “And the three of us talked, and we realized that he must have been hiding his true intentions. Waiting until his position was secure, and then enforcing his rule, making sure every last person in this kingdom followed him.”

“And we had to do something about it!” Jackie shouted, standing up. “Something more! Something drastic!”

“Something that we could not do as ourselves,” Henrik said. “So, we decided to use masks, to hide who we were.”

“Little things first. But you would not believe how quickly things got out of hand.” Jackie whistled. “Something about the masks inspired something, I guess. People started following us after we went out to stop injustice, asking to join. And well, more people meant we could do more to help, so we expanded. Now here we are, five years later.”

Chase didn’t say anything for a moment. It just all seemed...so much. The Masked Phantoms was created by just three people. Two of which he was starting to consider friends. But that begged the question...why were only two of them left? “What happened to Marvin?”

Jackie took a deep breath, as if holding back a rant of words. “I know I just said our plan was to do something drastic. I just said that. But...there are...limits.” The last word came out as a growl.

“Jackie, please. Sit down,” Henrik said softly. Jackie stayed standing, so he sighed, and continued. “Our goal has always been to protect people. And so, we encourage fighting to be a last resort.”

“I’ve picked up on that, yes,” Chase said. “Holly always says you should never strike first.”

“Marvin thought we weren’t doing enough. He started to say that we should strike first. And strike...fatally.”

“How could he?!” Jackie shouted. “How could he?! The King’s warriors are just people, same as us! They have families to support, friends that would miss them! They’re following orders, and shouldn’t be blamed! Even the noble houses are under the crown! Doing what they need to! Nobody should die unless there’s no avoiding it!”

“Jackie, calm down!” Henrik snapped.

Jackie fell silent. He looked over at Chase. “One day, the three of us were talking about our plans. The long-term ones, our goals. And Marvin—he—just—so casually—like it was nothing, he said we should kill the King.”

“What?!” Chase stood up as well. “You can’t do that! The royal lineage hasn’t been broken for centuries! It goes all the way back to Samuel the Green-Eyed, it’s entwined within the land itself. You can’t end it!”

“Yes! See! This is it!” Jackie shouted. “People care about the line! They care about the legend of it! They care about our history!”

“I can see where Marvin was coming from, though,” Henrik said. “The King has abused his power for years, and people are suffering. Killing him might end it, and it would mean he would never return to try and regain his rule. But we cannot kill him right away.  Not unless the people agree with that decision. And if we assassinate him now, people will definitely not agree. Half the population will immediately revolt against whatever new rule we try to establish. We must strip the King of his powers, then plan what to do.”

Chase forced himself to take a step back from the immediate indignant anger he’d felt upon hearing someone was planning to end the Glasúil line. Really, did it matter that much? Well...yes, actually. The royal family had ruled peacefully for centuries, and people loved them. Not just because of who they were, but because of what Jackie said, the history and legend. But if this King ordered villages burned down for no reason? Yes, he could see where Marvin was coming from, too. 

But Henrik was right. People would be raging at the idea. His own reaction was proof of that. Killing the King now would just lead to chaos. “So you kicked Marvin out, then?”

Jackie laughed. “Oh noooo, we didn’t do that! The bastard said he was too good for us, and stormed out! What an ass!”

“To be fair, we did have...quite a large fight, leading up to that,” Henrik pointed out. “Personal insults were said.”

“Mostly between me and him,” Jackie admitted. “Schneep tried to mediate.”

Henrik laughed bitterly. “For the first minute, yes. I got caught up in it, too, do not pretend I didn’t. I would apologize, if I could.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jackie muttered. “Not unless he does first.”

“Not even for punching him?”

“Nope.”

Chase looked back and forth between the two of them. He wasn’t about to press, but he could tell that this fight had been bad. “So...he left.”

“A year ago, yes,” Henrik confirmed. “We hear about his...activities, occasionally. A wizard in a mask, acting on his own. Mostly destroying noble property and warrior forts.”

“With no regard for casualties,” Jackie added angrily. He grunted in frustration, then looked back at Chase. His voice softened. “...sorry to dump all this on you. It’s just been so long since we’ve talked about it, I guess we needed to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chase assured him. “I understand, you can’t keep your feelings buried forever.”

“Well...alright then.” Jackie let out a long breath, then leaned in and gave Chase a quick one-armed hug. “Thanks for listening.”

Henrik stood up, gave Chase a similar quick hug, then stepped back. “We have been talking for a while. We told everyone not to disturb us, but...”

“More busy leader duties?” Chase asked humorously.

Henrik gave him a wry smile. “More busy leader duties.”

“Don’t worry,” Chase said. “I understand. And really, I’m just glad that you took the time to tell me all this. You didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to,” Henrik said. “And now, when others try to avoid the subject, you can say that you already know about Marvin, so it is not a problem.”

“Do you...think you’ll ever cross paths again?”

“I hope we do,” Jackie said. “So I can punch him again.” He hit his hand in demonstration. “But...on a more serious note, I think it’s inevitable. Our goals are the same, even if our methods are different. Eventually, we’re going to have to meet him again.” He paused. “And the more time goes on, the closer that moment becomes.”

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

The Southern Moors of Glasúil were not built for permanent settlements. They were wetlands, with watery soil that wasn’t fit to farm on, without gems or metals to mine, and with mud that could easily ruin books, art, and clothes. But still, people found a way to live there, using the resources native to the moors to trade for what they needed. Most of the time, people lived on boats that floated down the many rivers, migrating seasonally as certain areas got difficult to work with. But a few locations had become home to permanent towns, towns that floated in the middle of still water or had their buildings tower on stilts.

This was a town that fit into the latter category. Houses, shops, everything was on stilts that were at least twice as tall as the average man, built like that to avoid the rising waters that would come every spring.

But for now, in the winter, the waters were just thin streams that wound around the tall buildings, some of them covered in a thin layer of ice. But the biggest stream was unfrozen. And this night, under the light of the stars and the waning moon, a single rowboat was floating down this stream. A boy, probably around ten to thirteen years old, was paddling it to his destination. He kept glancing up at the stilted buildings, waiting to see someone on the wooden bridges that connected them. But it was late, and it was winter, and although the Southern Moors weren’t all frozen yet, it was still cold. So the boy paddled on.

Then, he glanced up at the wooden bridges again. And there he saw...a cat. Sitting near one of the wooden ladders leading down to the ground, its eyes reflecting the starlight as it stared at him. The boy stopped paddling, tied up the boat, and climbed out, grabbing the wooden ladder. Once on the solid wooden walkway around the building, the cat darted around him and across the bridge.

He followed the cat to the next building, a house, where it stopped and sat outside the door. Swallowing nervously, he pulled open the door.

The inside was filled with a wide array of candles, all of various colors, but mostly orange and black. They sat on every possible surface, even the floor near the walls, but only a few were lit. The layout was that of a normal one-room house, with a bed in one corner, a rocking chair in another, and a table with two chairs in the middle. And there was a man sitting in one of the chairs.

The cat darted past the boy and leapt onto the table. Its fur was mostly white, but its ears were dark gray, and its tail was striped gray and black. Its legs were similarly striped, though with brown and white, and the fur on its face had a pattern of brown stripes. It stared at the man with big blue eyes, and the man started petting it.

The man himself was...unusual. Most of his clothes were hidden by a thick black cloak, leaving just his gloved hands and his head visible. Though, that wouldn’t do much. His features were hidden by a white mask in the shape of a cat’s face. Colorful markings decorated the surface, red whiskers on the cheeks and green spirals in the ears, with the four card symbols in black in the center of the forehead. Brown chin-length hair framed the mask in waves.

“Um...” The boy hovered in the doorway.

“Close the door,” the man said, and the boy did so. “What did you find?”

The boy walked closer to the table, though he didn’t sit in the chair. “Um...well...my cousin, Ryenn, she works at Portmota Castle. Does their laundry and cleaning. And she...she says that the King has chosen them for his Longest Night celebration. H-he’s arriving soon, maybe within the week.”

“I see.” The cat hopped into the man’s lap and curled up, where he continued to pet it. “How does your cousin know this?”

“Well, they were doing preparations, cleaning things more than usual. And she asked why, and the others said that the lady was getting ready for the King’s visit. Apparently she got a letter in secret, saying that the celebration at Fíornear was a ruse and it was actually going to happen at her holding.”

“I see,” the man repeated, nodding.

The boy hesitated. “Um...can I...? The, uh...”

“Yes, of course.” The man reached into his cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch. He set it down on top of the table. It made a clinking sound as the coins inside rattled against each other. 

The boy stared at it, then slowly reached down, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he snatched the pouch up, checked the inside, and saw it was filled with golden coins. His eyes widened. He looked at the man and quickly nodded. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem. I should be thanking you for what you told me.”

“Right.” The boy took a few steps back, suddenly uneasy. “Uh...” Then, without another word, he turned and scrambled out of the house. The man could hear him running all the way back to his boat.

“He shouldn’t be so scared,” the man said to himself. The cat in his lap purred and sat up, stretching. He winced. “Draco, your claws.” Of course, the cat didn’t say anything. In fact, it started kneading his legs. “Ah!” The man gasped, then sighed. “Silly boy.” He picked up the cat and set it on the floor, where it whined at him. “Sorry, but you can’t be up here. I need the space.”

The man then reached into his cloak and pulled out several things. A map, some parchment, a quill and bottle of ink, and finally, a necklace with an ornate pendant: a flat, palm-sized emerald in a thin silver frame, smooth on the front but with golden patterns inlaid on the back. The man ran a finger along the edge of the pendant, and it started to glow. He flicked the light off his fingers, and it scattered, flying to all the unlit candles and lighting them, providing more than enough light to see.

“Now, let’s get to work.” The man picked up the quill, dipped it, and wrote down a name: Portmota, the noble family the King would be visiting for the solstice. He’d heard rumors that the celebration wasn’t actually going to be at Fíornear, but this confirmed it. Now, he just had to come up with a plan. Something more subtle than his usual heads-on approach. This was too important to risk.

He’d make sure the King didn’t live to see the spring.

[lemonandhugs]

Chapter 6 of Stars Align!

Chapter 6

Sam and Caitriona walked outside of Edinburgh Airport and the freezing cold Autumn wind hit them in the face, causing them to both squint and grimace. Caitriona gasped and hugged her own body, after placing her luggage on the ground.

Sam still felt extremely embarrassed about what happened on the plane, despite Cait’s reassurances. He felt guilty, and just awkward around her, which he hated. He stood quietly next to her, with his head down, burying his mouth into his scarf, his hands shoved in his parka pockets. Cait picked up on how he was acting immediately and peered over at him. The wind blew Sam’s curly hair away from his left temple and she could see the large marble-size bump and light blue-purple bruise that had developed.

“How’s your h-head?” she asked him through a quivering jaw.

He shyly looked at her, “I’ve uh…I’ve got a bit of a headache, and it’s throbbing a bit, but I’ll be fine. I’ll take something for it when we get there…I deserve it though…what happened.”

Cait exhaled, turned towards him and held on to his forearm, “Sam…please, it’s alright. There was no harm done. It’s not like your hands landed in any awkward places, none of that. You haven’t offended me, or pissed me off, or given me a reason to not trust you. It was completely harmless. Please, don’t feel bad.”

Sam looked into her eyes then, seeing the pleading in her hypnotising blue-grey eyes, and it made his insides melt like warm butter, and his tension and embarrassment melted with it. He smiled crookedly.

“Well, alright. As you say,” Sam smiled wider at her and twisted slightly so the elbow she was holding on to gently nudged her.

The worry dissipated from Cait’s eyes, as her smile reached them, “good.”

She let go of his arm and shoved that hand into her pocket and began shivering again, as she was no longer distracted from the cold.

Sam looked at her with a knowing and concerning smile, “yeah, still as cold as I remember. I haven’t been back here for a few years.”

Cait’s teeth began to chatter and her body began to tremble as she hugged herself. She nodded, “well…I s-suppose I’m going to h-have to get used to th-this. No d-doubt I’ll be wearing a lot l-less on set in those early s-scenes of block one.”

Sam’s mouth went into a straight line and he nodded, “the things we do as actors,” he cheekily smiled at her.

Cait smiled back in between her teeth clicking together, “mhm.”

“At least you dressed warmer this time, and at least it’s not raining. It would be bad if we got our hair wet, yours more than mine. The car will be here s–, oh here it is,” Sam tilted his head upwards, gesturing towards the Audi coming towards them.

“Oh, thank g-god,” Cait murmured.

Then they noticed another Audi, exactly the same and directly behind. They both looked at each other confused.

“We must be taking separate cars?” Cait questioned.

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

The two drivers got out and hurried over to introduce themselves as Sam and Cait’s drivers for the duration of Season 1 filming.

“Are we travelling separately?” Sam asked his driver.

“Yes, we always have actors driven separately, in case of any accidents,” Sam’s driver stated.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Cait nodded.

“Okay, yeah I was wondering why two cars pulled up. If you’ve got this, man, I’ll help Caitriona’s driver with her luggage,” Sam asked his driver, pointing to his pile of luggage on the ground.

“Oh, S-Sam no. You don’t h-have to do that, it’s f-freezing, get in y-your car,” Cait shook her head, and attempting to stop him after he already had two pieces of her luggage slung over his shoulders, ignoring her.

Walking quickly to the boot of the car, with Cait’s driver, he put the luggage in and opened the door for her.

“In you get before you turn into an icicle,” Sam smirked at her.

Cait both pouted and smirked at him, and playfully hit him on the arm.

“See you when we get there, and thank you,” her smirk disappeared, and she gave him a small, sweet smile.

“No worries, Caitriona Balfe, see you soon,” Sam winked at her and brushed her back gently, up, and down.

He ran over to his car and quickly got in. Cait smiled to herself as a quiver ran over her spine, from his touch.

It was an hour drive to where their trailers would be located, and where the writer’s studio was, in which they would be going to their first read through, the next morning.

Twenty minutes into the drive, after small chit-chat with her driver, getting to know him, Cait was distracted by her phone going off. She picked it up from inside her handbag and saw a text from Sam on her screen. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, and the excited feeling that formed in her stomach.

 -        Have you thawed now? :P

 -        Ha ha, very funny...! But yes, I’m quite toasty now, thanks for asking :D

  -        Good to hear. We can’t have Claire looking like those creatures in Avatar, now can we? :P

 -        :O but thank you for your concern, lol…I think Claire could rock blue skin!

  -        Mmm…you’re not wrong there. It’d make for an interesting series! Haha

 -        The stones did it :P

  -        Ah! Now THAT’S an interesting concept, Caitriona Balfe! We must tell Ron!

 Caitriona giggled quietly to herself, and she and Sam joked back and forth for ten minutes more.

‘Alright, alright. Leave her alone now. Professionalism, a respectful distance…don’t get too close off-set!’ Sam thought to himself as he typed out one last text to Cait saying that he’ll see her when they arrive.

A half hour later and they had arrived. The drivers got their luggage out of the cars and lead them towards their trailer. They came to one very large trailer that had both their names on it.

‘Sharing a trailer?!’ Cait panicked, and side-eyed Sam.

Ron walked around the corner a couple of seconds after Sam and Cait had reached the trailer. He beamed when he saw them both.

“Sam! Caitriona! How are ya?! Glad you had a safe trip. The hair looks great!” Ron exclaimed, shaking their hands.

He looked at the large trailer and back at Sam and Cait.

“So, you two will be sharing a trailer. All the trailers will be shared between two cast members. Starz could only get us a limited number of trailers, but they got us the very biggest ones. They’re so large, you will have plenty of your own space,” Ron explained.

‘Breathe, Caitriona, breathe. You’re sure to be used to him in no time now! Fuck, I hope we don’t become sick of each other…’ Cait thought, biting her bottom lip.

‘So much for a respectful distance off-set…fuck…it’s okay, it will be fine. We’ll become very comfortable with each other and it will be very good for the show and our on-screen chemistry,’ Sam calmed himself, determined to think rationally.

Sam and Cait both nodded at Ron while he was speaking. Sam was wringing his hands nervously and peered over at Cait. She caught his eye and gave him a shy smile. He smiled back but noticed the worry in her eyes. She quickly looked away and Sam’s attention was caught by Ron walking up the three steps and opening the front door of the trailer.

“Come in and have a look! Really nice inside, more modern than you would think,” Ron waved them forward, ducking his head inside as he spoke.

As Sam and Cait walked slowly towards the steps, Ron quickly climbed down.

“I’ll let you two get settled. I have to run, I have a few meetings to get to, one with Diana herself. You’ll meet her on Sunday, Caitriona. And yeah, I’ll see you two Sunday for Block One Read Through. 9am. All the cast will be arriving later, so you’ll get to meet everyone. It’ll be good. Can’t wait to see the book come to life, essentially,” Ron expressed with a lopsided smile on his bearded face.

Sam and Cait both smiled at that.

“I’m excited, this is all so new to me. It’s so beautiful here,” Cait said biting her lip and smiling, taking in her surroundings.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a hell of a journey, I think we’re all going to have a great time. It’ll be great experience for you as an actress, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot,” Ron nodded.

“Oh definitely,” Cait widened her eyes and smiled cheerfully at him.

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a couple of days,” Ron said putting his thumb up, before quickly turning and walking with large strides to his car.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, then stretched his arm out for Cait to walk up the stairs first. Cait smiled crookedly at him, looking up at him through her lashes, and ascending the few steps. Sam followed close behind, and upon switching the light on, they were indeed both surprised at how big and modern it really was. Colours of grey and white, a good-sized bedroom area that was split into two and identical on both sides, with two queen beds and a sliding dividing wall in the middle. That was the left side of the trailer. A doorway from the bedroom led out into the dining area, with a small bathroom running off just behind, with a surprisingly large shower. To the right of the dining area was a very impressive marble-top, large kitchenette.

“Wow. I cannot believe how huge this is,” Sam raised his eyebrows and looked around and up at the ceiling.

“Yeah! It doesn’t look like it from the outside. It’s lovely though. Definitely big enough for two,” Cait said as she ran her hand along the marble bench top, her back to him.

“So, uh…I…I guess we’re…living together. How do you feel about that? Since it was kind of just sprung on us…” Sam uttered, rubbing the back of his neck and carefully peering up at her.

“Well…I think…you know, we’re going to be on set together all day anyway. Sharing a trailer will give us a chance to get to know each other on another level. Which…I think will make us more comfortable with each other on set, especially in maybe the more…intense scenes. Obviously, we’ll give each other space when we’re in here. And…there’s an understanding between us. A trust,” Cait crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged one shoulder. She gave him a nervous smile through tight lips.

“That’s true. Yeah, you’re right. I promise I won’t intrude on your space, and I’ll wash my own dishes and won’t leave my clothes lying around. Oh, and I won’t leave my towels on the floor,” Sam grinned at her, rather cheekily.

Cait giggled freely and peered down at the floor before licking the corner of her top lip and looking back up at him.

“Well, ditto,” Cait nodded.

The sun suddenly crept out from behind the gloomy, grey clouds that were threatening rain, and it shone through one of the windows, catching both their eyes.

“So…if you’re not too tired, and because it’s rather beautiful outside now and the rest of the cast don’t arrive until later, maybe now is a good time I take you up on your offer on showing me around…?” Cait asked a little nervously but couldn’t help but smirk at him.

This took Sam by surprise. He didn’t actually expect her to take him up on that offer in which he felt stupid for suggesting.

“Oh,” Sam expressed with genuine shock, his eyebrows shooting up, “okay, yeah, of course. We can walk over to a park in Craighforth, and walk along the River Forth? It’s very beautiful, it gives a great view of the mountains.”

“Yeah, that sounds lovely,” Cait nodded, turning around to grab her phone out of her handbag.

They both descended the stairs of their trailer.

“I’ve got the key,” Sam said, holding up the key before shoving it deep into the front pocket of his jeans.

Cait looked back at him and smiled, “good, I don’t think Ron would be too impressed if we lock ourselves out already.”

Sam giggled, and the two walked side-by-side, hands deep in Parka pockets, out of the trailer lot, deeper and deeper into the countryside. They spoke mostly about little details of their life that they hadn’t yet shared; filling in holes of mystery about one another. They were showing more of each other, inch by inch, in the moments they spent together. Sam told Cait about his childhood spent scampering about the countryside on his own but having a ball. He told Cait about this place, historical anecdotes he was told by his family. Cait looked up at him, listening intently, admiring how his entire face lit up when he spoke about Scotland, how happy it made him, how his teeth and bright blue eyes shone in the sunlight. How he smiled so wide, she could see the creases on the corners of his cheeks.

After an hour of walking, they came to a completely open, wooden, rail-less bridge, and a wider part of the river, running wildly beneath them. They both stepped onto it without hesitation and continued to walk and talk, not really paying attention to the water beneath, or the bridge itself.

Sam, so focused on what Cait was saying, wasn’t aware enough of his footing. Being on the left side of the bridge, his left foot suddenly slipped slightly off the edge. He gasped sharply and grunted loudly. His body instinctively leaned over to the right side to prevent him from falling over the edge. His arms flailed outwards and he bent down quickly, clutching the planks of the bridge. Before he could register what had happened, before his adrenaline had stopped surging through his veins, all he heard was a petrified, high-pitched shriek, and all he saw was Cait’s body be flung, head first over the right side of the bridge, into the gushing river; not even a splash was heard. His heart stopped, his breathing ceased, he froze. His hands started to shake; all he could hear now was a painful ringing. Half a second later, and he was on his feet, looking into the water, breathing heavily. All he could see was a gushing pool of white and black.

“CAIT?!” he screamed at the absolute top of his lungs, over and over, until his throat and lungs started to burn.

He finally heard a gasping sound, then coughing, then screaming. He found Cait, already pulled twenty metres down the river in the matter of four seconds. The river was deep and had such force that she was unable to stand. She was struggling to swim properly and keep her head above the water.

“SAM HELP ME! PLEASE HE–,” Cait shrieked, and then she was gone, swallowed by the water.

Sam turned completely white, he felt physically sick as he sprinted, with everything he had, off the bridge and down the river, coming to where he spotted Cait in the water. He ripped off his Parka, threw his phone without looking, squatted, and slid down the grass, reaching the water. He dived underneath the water and let it take him downstream to Cait. Keeping his eyes open and his arms outstretched. Five seconds had passed, and he saw a dark shadow, trying desperately to fight against the stream and swim upwards; legs and arms striking against the water, but also being dragged further, deeper, underneath. Sam kicked his legs hard, hoping to reach her sooner. When he was close enough to reach her, his body slammed against hers by the force of the water before he could grab hold of her. She jolted sharply away from him, but then reached back for him, as he reached for her. Their hands gripped together so tightly, and without letting go, Sam attempted to touch the bottom with his feet and push himself up to the surface. He coughed and inhaled sharply, grunting, kicking, and fighting against the water with one arm. He pulled Cait up towards the surface, but their hands started to slip. He took in a large breath, submerged himself back into the water, reached out and grabbed Cait by the waist, pulling her towards him with one arm, then quickly let go of her hand and grabbed her waist with that same hand. Cait kicked and clutched his shoulders tightly. He pushed off the bottom with his feet again, with all the power and energy he had, and launched them to the surface. Cait coughed violently and wheezed loudly, before water gushed from her mouth. She inhaled and coughed again. Sam held her up high above the water, his hands underneath her arms. He was unable to move sideways against the water, so in one swift movement, he angled Cait towards the grassy side of the river and threw her towards it. She landed close enough to grip the grass and mud, clawing and trying to grip with her feet to pull herself up. Sam was again submerged underwater when Cait looked behind her. Sam had decided to try and dive deep down and swim sideways, where the force wasn’t as strong. A few seconds later, his hands shot up out of the water and gripped the grass, rocks, and mud on the side of the bank, ten metres downstream from her. He coughed, breathed heavily, and grunted loudly. He was able to get a good enough grip and pulled himself up out of the water. With shaky legs, he sprinted over to the side where Cait was still trying to pull herself up. He reached down, grabbed one of her wrists, strongly pulled her up towards him, then grabbed hold of her other wrist and pulled her completely out. He pulled her to her feet so swiftly, and without thinking, he scooped her legs up with one arm, and held her torso with the other and ran towards where he left his Parka and phone. She gripped around his shoulders and neck tightly, nails digging in, not daring to let go. When he reached his Parka, he bent down and gently sat her on the grass, ripped off her own Parka and put his dry one around her, then pulled her tightly against him, rubbing her back and arms vigorously. He shook and coughed as he did so before he could say anything. His brain couldn’t reach his mouth at this point. After a minute, Cait pushed against Sam’s chest, bent over to the side, coughed, heaved and more water gushed out of her mouth. Sam firmly pounded her back, hoping he was helping to expel the fluid from her stomach. Cait, still bent over, close to the earth, gasped and breathed heavily. She continued to cough intermittently a few more times, until she could no longer feel any fluid in her belly. She harshly exhaled. Luckily, she wasn’t under very long, and was able to hold her breath and didn’t inhale any water, but some did force its way into her mouth, giving her no choice but to swallow. She knew there wasn’t any fluid in her chest or lungs, as she was able to breath easily.

Exhausted, Cait’s breathing started to finally slow. Sam rubbed her back gently, and she carefully pushed herself back up to a sitting position.

“Caitriona…” Sam began with a shaky voice, “I’m so sorry! You could’ve drowned, and I…! If anything happened to you! I…Caitriona, I’m so so sorry. Are you alright, did you hit your head? Do you think anything is broken?” Sam’s hands were shaking very visibly as he held Cait’s shoulders.

Cait was trembling all over, both from the cold water and the shock from what just happened. She had her head down and her eyes closed. Sam searched her face desperately while he waited for a response, still white as a ghost, icy water dripping from the tip of his nose.

After a few minutes, Cait took a deep breath in through her nose and breathed out through her mouth. She slowly opened her eyes but kept them facing down. Sam let go of her shoulders, and continued to wait patiently, his hands still trembling in his lap.

“I…I’m alright. It doesn’t feel like anything is broken…I know I didn’t hit my head on the way down…the water was too…deep...too strong…it…” Cait described with a shaky voice and hugged herself with her own trembling hands, trying to stop the rest of her body from shaking.

“…it was an accident Sam. It’s alright,” Cait slowly moved her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, all the colour was drained from her face, and her lips were now a blue-tinted pink.

“No, it’s not alright. I’m a…fucking idiot! I wasn’t paying attention to my feet; I knew I was too close to the edge! You could’ve broken your neck because of me. And…your hair!” Sam clenched his jaw and violently rubbed his forehead with his hand, eyes shut.

“Oh! Oh…fuck,” Cait exclaimed with widened eyes and a horrified look on her face and she grabbed two fistfuls of her hair.

“Caitriona, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me…I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I mean I…” Sam broke off with a huff. He shifted away from her and held his head in his hands.

“Well, Sam, I didn’t break my neck. And…you saved my life, Sam. You risked your life to save mine. You got me out of that water just as quickly as I fell in…” Cait reached a trembling hand over and touched his bicep.

“Caitriona, I’m the reason you were in that river in the first place. Of course I was going to do everything in my power to save you…I mean…of course I would do everything I could to save you even if I wasn’t the reason,” Sam turned back towards her and shyly looked down at the wet grass between his legs, his arms resting on his knees.

Cait smiled lopsidedly, “I know. Thank you, Sam, for saving my life. All I know is that I could not, for the life of me, keep myself above the water. I was…stuck. Completely stuck underneath. If it wasn’t for you…you got to me so fast, like you didn’t even hesitate to jump in,” Cait raised her eyebrows in question.

“I didn’t,” Sam shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re alright. Well, I hope you are. That’s what we’re going to find out,” Sam stated as he grabbed his phone, scrolled through his texts with Ron to find the numbers of the drivers.

He typed in the number and asked his driver to immediately come to where they are. After he hung up, he screenshotted their location on Google Maps and sent it to his driver. His driver responded within a couple of minutes.

“My driver will be here in ten minutes, then we’re going straight to the ER. You’ve swallowed a lot of water. I want you to get checked out. I want to make sure you’re alright,” he said with a determined voice, looking at her with guilt in his face and concern in his eyes.

Cait nodded, “I…I don’t know what I’m going to do about my hair…” Cait hesitated, biting her lip.

“Yeah I don’t know what I’m going to do about mine either. I’m going to call Ron right now and explain everything,” Sam put the phone to his ear again, then reached over and pulled his Parka tighter around Cait.

She gave him a shy smile as she put her arms through the sleeves.

Sam spent the next eight minutes on the phone with Ron, explaining the whole situation. Cait watched Sam’s face closely. His different expressions, his hand movements as he spoke, the way he chewed his thumb nail when he was nervous.

‘He saved me…he jumped right into that fucking death trap of a river and saved my life in the space of five minutes. What if he got stuck underneath after throwing me over to the bank…what if he broke his own neck trying to save me…the way he held me above that water…the way he was able to pull me to him against that heavy stream…he just…he amazes me…is he real?’ Cait was completely lost in her thoughts as she watched him.

Sam hanging up the phone snapped her out of it.

“Ron is really concerned about both of us, but he’s happy we’re both alive and going to the hospital. He wants to be updated with all results, and how we are tomorrow. The read-through may have to be pushed back, depending. He’s also going to call the stylist in London about our hair. He’s going to call back later about it,” Sam informed Cait, still with a look of remorse and embarrassment.

“Alright…was he pissed about our hair?” Cait asked.

“Nah, he just said ‘accidents happen’. He was more concerned with our health. I just…this is a big deal for you, Cait, and if I’ve ruined it for you, I wouldn’t ever forgive myself –,” Sam started, shaking his head.

“Sam,” Cait cut him off, “you haven’t ruined anything. It’s fine, everything will be fine.”

Sam gave her a small, lopsided smile, “I really am sorry though, for all that water you had to throw up, for any cold you get because of this, for everything. I suppose you don’t want any more Sam Heughan tours,” Sam looked down sheepishly.

Caitriona reached back over and patted his hand, then squeezed it slightly before letting go.

“I do, just, maybe no more dangerous bridges,” Cait smirked at him.

Sam laughed, “deal, I promise,” he looked at her and smiled.

Her face broke into a smile back at him, and just like that, they were stuck in a moment. No one was able to move. Not until Sam’s phone rang, and they both flinched, snapping out of it.

“Hi, Ron,” Sam answered, a little nervously.

He spent another minute on the phone, which left Cait’s thoughts to drift again. She cleared her throat and turned her head away. She smiled to herself briefly, then sucked her lips into her mouth and looked down.

‘He really is a great guy. It’s going to be a lot of fun working with him. We’re going to be great working partners and friends. That’s it though Caitriona, that’s all he is and will ever be to you. Just a co-s –,’

“Okay so with the hair appointment, the stylist has told Ron that you’ll need to get it redone, but I don’t because my perm isn’t as intense, and because of the amount of hair I have. So, your appointment in London is in a few days. It would just be a fly there, fly back kind of day,” Sam explained, breaking Cait from her self-pep-talk.

“Oh, okay. It has to be done,” Cait nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah, only if you’re well enough. Otherwise that can be pushed back as well,” Sam reassured.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Cait half-smiled, and checked her phone for the time.

“I hope so. Oh, car’s here,” Sam said as he jolted to his feet.

He put his phone in his pocket, then reached down and put his hands out to Cait. She took his hands and he gently, but strongly eased her up.

“Are you alright? How are your legs?” Sam asked, steadying her.

Cait peered up at him, “yeah, uh…a little shaky but…I’m okay,” she nodded, looking down shyly.

As the drive to the hospital wasn’t a short one, both cars and drivers arrived. The drivers quickly got out and ran over Sam and Cait. They frantically asked what happened and if they were hurt, with concern and shock.

“It’s alright, I’ll tell you on the way,” Cait said to her driver.

“Yes, me too. We need to get her into the warmth right now,” Sam said to his driver, then looked at Cait’s.

Sam walked Cait to her car and opened the door for her. He held her elbow as she weakly climbed in.

“Are you warm enough? Do you think you’ll be sick again? I can see if they have a bag somewhere,” Sam half turned to look at Cait’s driver.

“No, it’s okay, Sam. I’ll be alright. It’s really warm in here,” Cait reassured.

“Alright, keep the parka, and I’ll see you when we get there,” Sam brushed her knee slightly, before closing the door.

Sam handed Cait’s soaked parka to her driver, “would you mind just putting this on the front seat, in font of the heater, where it can dry a bit?”

“Sure, sir,” Cait’s driver nodded and took the parka.

“You can call me Sam,” he said politely.

Sam ran and jumped into his car.

 **

 Upon arrival, Sam jumped out of his car, ran over to open Cait’s door, then held out his hand for her. Cait exhaled out of her nose and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sam, but really, I’m alright,” Cait tried reassuring again.

“I just didn’t want your legs to lose balance or anything,” Sam said, concern in his baby blues.

“Well, I appreciate it,” Cait said shyly.

“It’s the least I can do, Cait. Sorry, Caitriona!” Sam quickly tried to patch his slip-up.

‘Oh, fuck!’ Sam tensed.

Sam and Cait checked in and walked towards the waiting room.

Cait smiled widely, “you DID call out ‘Cait’ when I fell in! I heard you, even under the water, but thought I was going crazy.”

“Sorry, I…it was just quicker to say in the moment, I panicked,” Sam confessed, embarrassed.

“And now?” Cait asked teasingly, smirking at him.

“Now…well that was an accident,” Sam bit his lip and smiled nervously.

Cait giggled, “you can call me ‘Cait’. I like it. Believe it or not, I’m not often called that. My family doesn’t believe in shortening names, I guess. And it’s only a few of my friends who call me ‘Cait’, and you’re my friend,” Cait gently nudged his shoulder with hers, smiling a little too flirtatiously.

‘Thank Christ for that,’ Sam thought, feeling instantly relieved.

Sam laughed, then sighed, “well, I’m glad we’re still friends, even though I barged you into a dangerous, dirty river,” he gently nudged her back.

“Caitriona Balfe?” a nurse suddenly came out.

“I’ll meet you here when we’re done, okay? Good luck…Cait,” Sam gave her a shy smile.

Cait returned the smile, “you too, see you after.”

 **

Cait was checked over with a routine blood test, an X-ray, and an ultrasound of her stomach to see if there was any damage from the river water and how much she swallowed. They wanted to test for any lurking contaminants in her stomach, and intestines, that could potentially travel to her bladder and urinary tract. They also checked for any fluid on her lungs.

Sam needed less invasive checks but was also examined for any contaminants in his body, from the river.

They both received their results within the hour.

**

 Sam was already in the waiting room, scrolling on his phone, trying to distract himself from worrying about Cait.

‘Please let her be alright, please let her be alright, please let her be alright!’ He begged, with every heavy thump of his heart.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deep green of his parka that Cait was still snuggled into. She smiled crookedly at him and sat next him.

“Hey! Did everything go alright?” Sam quickly asked.

“Just a few tests, I’ll get the results soon,” Cait expressed.

“Me too. How are you feeling?” he asked, turning more towards her.

“A bit better, now. Not so shaky, and I’ve warmed up. I think it was just shock, more than anything,” Cait shrugged, “and, how are you?”

“Och, fine,” Sam nodded.

“Hopefully. You were in that water too,” Cait raised her eyebrows, concern spreading across her face.

“I didn’t swallow any though. I’m sure I’m all good, but we’ll find out soon enough. I…I hope you’re okay…Cait,” Sam said sheepishly, still feeling a little nervous about calling her that.

Cait gave him a look that said, ‘it’ll be okay’.

“Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe?” a doctor came out and said.

Sam and Cait stood up and followed him into his room.

The doctor information Cait that they couldn’t find any contaminants in her system, luckily, she vomited all of them out. They were both right as rain. The only recommendation the doctor gave Cait was to take a good probiotic for a week, and to have steaming hot shower, get a lot of bed rest with a lot of layers and a hot water bottle over the next 24 hours, to avoid getting a chill and then the flu.

Sam let out a sigh of such relief, knowing she was okay and that he hadn’t ruined anything for her.

‘I hope she doesn’t get sick…I’ll do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t! what if she does…what then? It would be inappropriate to kind of…take care of her…but…we share a trailer…we live together…fuck. Please don’t get sick…Cait,’ Sam struggled, then smiled, knowing he had full permission to call her by a nickname.

“That’s good news,” Sam said grinning at Cait, as they walked back towards their cars.

“Yes, see? Everything is fine. I just need to get out of these wet clothes…” Cait started, and immediately caught herself. It was too late.

‘What? What the fuck did you just say? Oh my god,’ Cait cursed herself internally.

Sam widened his eyes, then giggled quietly when he caught Cait’s face over what she just said.

“Uh…I mean…I need to put on something dry and curl up in bed…do you think there’s a hot water bottle in the trailer?” Cait asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“I’ll have a look for one while you’re in the shower. Are you hungry?” Sam asked.

“A little. Soup or broth is probably what I need the most right now,” Cait replied.

“Yeah, I saw heaps of cans of soup in the little pantry,” Sam nodded, opening the car door for Cait.

Cait smiled at him, “thank you. Alright, well, I’ll see you in a little bit,” Cait gently touched his forearm and climbed in.

Sam closed the car door and when she made eye contact with him out the window, he winked and waved, before running to his car.

Sam rang Ron and filled him in on the details.

“Alright, good news! I’m glad you’re both okay. We’ll have the read-through the day after tomorrow, if Cait is up to it, and then she’ll go to London two days following that. I’ll flick her a text now, and I’ll check in tomorrow evening. Goodnight, Sam,” Ron replied on the other end of the phone.

 **

 Caitriona wasted no time in gathering her warmest pjs and toiletries and hopping straight into the shower. The hot water took a while to heat up, and Caitriona stood just outside the shower, covered in goosebumps, arms wrapped around herself, bouncing up and down and shivering. When it was finally hot, Cait pounced underneath and lavished the steaming hot liquid covering her body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, inhaling the steam. Her fair skin was quickly becoming red, but it was a very welcomed contrast from turning blue from the icy water today. She relayed the experiences in her head, as she stood under the hot stream, concentrating on her breathing. Today was certainly a terrifying experience, being trapped underwater. However, she felt no trauma over it. All she could think about was how quickly those strong arms grabbed her before there was enough time to actually start to really panic. How quickly he got to her, pulled her from the jaws that wanted to swallow her whole. How he swept her up like she was weightless, held her close.

‘Yes, he’s very thoughtful and caring. I’ll forever be grateful for him. I’m lucky to have someone to work with who will have my back,’ Cait thought, as she lathered soap on her body, determined to not let her thoughts drift.

Cait put on her fresh, warm pjs and wrapped her washed hair in a towel and walked out of the bathroom. The clouds of steam broke out behind her. Her cheeks were rosy red from the heat. Then she saw Sam. He had changed his clothes and was now wearing tracksuit pants and a loose, long sleeved shirt. He was standing in the kitchenette sipping coffee. He turned around once he heard her. He couldn’t help but look at her from head to toe and then back up again. Cait was wearing black cuffed sleep pants, thick purple bed socks, and an oversized fleece top.

‘Adorable creature! Look at her looking so snug…no, stop looking!’ Sam caught himself and he cleared his throat and briefly looked away.

Sam stuttered and struggled to get his words out at first, “Uh…I…uh,” Sam pointed to the little dining table.

Caitriona looked over and there was a steaming bowl of soup, a mug of black coffee and some chicken bone broth, waiting for her. Cait’s eyes lit up. Then she looked back at Sam and smiled. Sam shyly looked down and smiled, taking another sip of his coffee.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043499/chapters/76290278

[screamting]

superbat highschool au - Halloween

[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]

As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening. 

--

Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.

“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.

--

Bruce began to nod, but--

“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close. 

“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little. 

“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning. 

--

“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.

Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.

--

“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”

Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.  

“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”

--

“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”

He’d never seen the city.

--

“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”

And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew. 

Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”

(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)

And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment. 

--

“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.

“So how do you usually sneak out?”

--

“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased. 

“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”

“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions. 

“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”

--

“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”

Totally within normal human standards. Yes.

--

Bruce snorted. Laughed almost. 

“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”

--

Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.

He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.

Dammit.

Keep it under wraps.

“Right.”

--

The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”

“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably. 

“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”

“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”

“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”

(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)

--

“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.

Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?

He looked pensive for a moment.

…

No. Probably not.

“Anything I can help with?”

--

Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did. 

“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”

--

Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.

He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.

--

Bruce made a distressed face. 

“...have any other hats?”

--

“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”

…

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

--

“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning. 

--

… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.

--

“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy. 

It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer. 

--

“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.

It really didn’t.

--

“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said. 

“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”

“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say. 

But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.

--

Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.

‘Small’ being relative.

Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.

And when the night arrived he followed their lead.

--

….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair. 

It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish. 

He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening. 

Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready. 

Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first. 

Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light. 

The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it. 

Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up. 

The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent. 

He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it. 

Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell. 

And they were outside. 

--

It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.

He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.

The gate though.

Ugh.

He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.

But they had made it.

… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.

--

He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice. 

That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment. 

Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area. 

--

“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.

He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.

--

“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”

Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”

“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”

“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled. 

(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention. 

It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something. 

...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)

--

“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.

Casual.

--

(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)

“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”

--

“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”

“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.

--

All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him. 

“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring. 

“....” Bruce just had that look on his face. 

“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said. 

“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”

“...”

Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”

And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again. 

The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving. 

--

“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.

“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”

--

Once more they turned, surprised. 

“You've fucked?” Tommy said. 

He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin. 

--

Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.

“N-no!! No! God.”

He was beet red.

--

“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”

Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend. 

Ice cream parlor across the street. 

Yes. 

--

“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.

--

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”

“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine. 

--

“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.

“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”

--

….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”

Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”

…

Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt. 

“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”

--

“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.

“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.

“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”

Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.

--

Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”

“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change. 

A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations. 

And ready to go. 

A night away.

--

Clark smiled back.

He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.

His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.

Shit.

He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.

--

The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter. 

“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him. 

“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said. 

(And Tommy did not.)

But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…

Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him. 

And… seemed relaxed and happy for once. 

Smiling. 

--

“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.

As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.

It was a lot of fun.

He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.

It was good.

This was fun.

He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.

Happy to see him happy.

--

Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but-- 

It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed. 

And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference. 

But here, finally, it was just fun. 

...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game. 

They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last. 

He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter. 

But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open. 

Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth. 

And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once. 

--

Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.

He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.

“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”

--

Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”

“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”

--

Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”

--

“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”

--

“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”

“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”

--

“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same. 

It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream. 

Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae. 

But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second. 

--

“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.

“Thanks Tommy.”

--

“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest. 

Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw. 

“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”

--

“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”

He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.

--

It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town. 

When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop. 

“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs. 

(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)

--

“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.

But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.

--

Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae. 

(“Hm?” Bruce said. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)

--

… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.

As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.

Nothing had changed.

--

“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before. 

There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart. 

“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”

“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”

“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”

There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around. 

--

Clark narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.

Into the boy’s bathroom.

--

He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress. 

“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”

“Prove it,” Tommy said. 

“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose. 

“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”

And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together. 

For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him. 

Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back. 

--

Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.

“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.

--

Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”

He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries. 

--

“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”

He showed him his hand.

No blood. No glass stuck in it.

“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.

--

“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”

From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over. 

(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)

--

Clark started to help too.

“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.

“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.

--

The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.

“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket. 

He pulled out a five. 

“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her. 

--

“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.

“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.

--

“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside. 

If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”

He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door. 

--

“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.

God.

Shit.

Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.

Should he ask Bruce about it??

--

Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened. 

They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over. 

Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey. 

Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell. 

They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell. 

...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”

“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”

Bruce nodded too. 

“It was a good idea.”

...he returned the hat. The shirt. 

He tugged on his night clothes too. 

As if nothing had happened. 

--

Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.

“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.

It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.

Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…

He hurried through it and climbed into bed.

--

...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice. 

Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking. 

...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual. 

Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast. 

No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.

--

Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.

He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.

Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.

“Hey, so… last night.”

…

“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”

--

There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort. 

“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”

--

Ah.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”

--

“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else. 

No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy. 

And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out. 

“Is something wrong?”

--

“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.

“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”

--

“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break,  now that it's officially November.”

November. 

Clark had made it to the third month. 

--

“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.

“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”

--

“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”

--

Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.

“... What do you do on break?”

--

“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”

--

“... Walk?”

It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.

--

...he nodded. 

“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”

He would definitely read. But. 

Even he got tired of reading. 

A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander. 

--

…

“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”

--

He shook his head. 

“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”

“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”

…

“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”

--

“Oh.”

…

“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”

-- 

Bruce turned to look at him, startled. 

“Huh?”

Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment. 

--

“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.

“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”

--

Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head. 

Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and 

(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)

“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”

--

Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.

“You got a quarter?”

He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.

--

Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious. 

--

“Nice, thanks.”

Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.

“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”

Then he paused.

“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”

He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”

--

Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way. 

He nodded and took the phone. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he said. 

--

“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.

“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.

--

“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”

--

“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”

Clark was rubbing his eyes.

--

“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”

Fine. Fine. 

He gave her the manor phone number. 

“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”

He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes. 

--

Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.

“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”

--

Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it. 

He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here. 

“No, nothing like that.”

--

“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”

--

“Alright.”

He did. Handed the phone back. 

Listened from the short distance between them. 

You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most. 

--

Clark took the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”

“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”

Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.

“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”

--

“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”

--

“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”

“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.

--

“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. 

--

“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”

“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”

--

… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that. 

“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”

--

“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.

--

“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”

He dialed a number. Waited. 

“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”

“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”

--

“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.

What. A. Name.

--

Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”

“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”

--

“Master Bruce?”

Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.

--

That one, Bruce kicked him for. 

“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”

“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry. 

“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”

“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”

“Yes.”

…

The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons. 

“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”

“It's not hard to find o--”

“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”

“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. 

And he hung up without saying goodbye. 

--

Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.

“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.

--

Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but… 

Alfred made it hard sometimes. 

“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”

--

“Left off with the Belinsky murders.”

[adrianasunderworld]

Something in your Aura

Raihans female!reader

Tired. He was so very tired. Raihan had a packed schedule most of the day. From a photoshoot in the early morning, a training session with his gyms trainers, and then overlooking some documents in the archives. By the time he left the vault, the sun was starting to set. He was ready to sleep, eat, and shower, not necessarily in that order.

    But it seemed the day was not over yet. As he walked down the street, Raihan heard what sounded like a pokemon cry. It was small yelping noise that gradually got closer and closer to him. Looking behind him, Raihan was greeted with the sight of the tiniest Rioulu he had ever seen come bounding up to him. The little one stopped in front of him, tilting its head up and staring curiously.

    Raihan knelt down at the little pokemons level and held out a hand for them to sniff. "Where did you come from?" 

   "Riii" it replied, putting its little black paws on his hand. "Rii rio!" Whatever the little one wanted, it seemed happy.

   While it was content, Raihan looked over the young pokemon. The Riolu looked clean and well fed. It had a little red ribbon tied around its neck like a scarf. At the end it had a name embroidered on the end in gold thread. Gently taking hold of the end of the ribbon, it said Aaron. 

    "Aaron? Is that your name?" Raihan asked the Riolu.

    "Ri!" Aaron nodded.

    "Where's your trainer then?" It was obvious the little pokemon wasn't one of the wild strays that wandered the streets. They clearly had a trainer that took care of them, and were probably very worried. Raihan picked up the small pokemon and stood. "How about we go find them?"

    "Riolu." Aaron nodded and happily perched himself on Raihans shoulder. It seemed the best idea was to go in the direction Aaron had come from. But as they wandered down the street, Raihan didn't see anyone who looked worried or was searching for something, and Aaron did not seem to respond to any of the people passing. He had stopped a couple of people to ask them, but all shook their heads and did not recognize the baby pokemon. 

     It was starting to get late, and at this point Raihan was starving. Aaron began to yawn from his seat on his shoulder. It did not look like they were going to find Aarons trainer tonight. So, without many options, Raihan bought himself some dinner and took his new friend home. 

     "Hey Rotom," he said, and his phone came flying out, the pokemon ready to snap pictures. "Lets get word to out about our little friend here." Rotom pointed the camera at him and started to record. "Hey everyone, listen, if anyone is in Hammerlocke and missing a Rioulu,  I've found him. He's safe. Say hi Aaron."

   "Ri!" He waved to the camera, Rotom being certain to get a good shot of him.

   "Please, if you are his trainer,or know his trainer. Message me and I will get back  to you as soon as possible. Good night." After posting the video and a clear picture of Aaron for good measure, Raihan settled down for the night as he waited for any responses. Meanwhile, the young Riolu seemed to finally grasp that it was no longer home. The cheerful little guy had curled up quietly in Raihans lap, looking a little sad. 

   Raihan scratched him behind the ear. "Miss your trainer?" 

   "Riii…." the baby pokemon nodded sadly. 

   "Don't worry, we'll find them." Raihan assured and let Aaron curl up on his chest that night to sleep.

    The next day, Raihans phone had blown up with notifications. Most of them were comments about how cute Aaron was and well wishes in finding his trainer. most of the private messages that had been sent were of people claiming to be his trainer, but most came off as shady at best. Raihan contemplated going down to the Pokemon center to see if anyone had reported Aaron missing, when he got another message. This one was from a girl, it said her name was __.

   Raihan opened the message and read it.

    Hi, my friend showed me your post about the Riolu you found last night. I'm his trainer, he ran off last night and was no where to be found. I've been worried sick. Please let me know when I can come get him.

    Out of curiosity, Raihan looked at her profile. It didn't take long at all to see a picture of Aaron, ribbon and all, curled up with a Lucario. Then another picture of him being held by the girl, both looking very happy. Raihan showed Aaron the picture and the little one pawed at the screen, crying out for her as if he could reach through the screen to get to her. That seemed to settle it.

     Raihan took one more look at the photo. "Why didn't you tell me your trainer was cute?" 

     "Ri?"

     He chuckled to himself as he messaged the girl back. Noon in Hammerlockes gym lobby sound good?

It only took a minute for her response. 

See you there.

    Sitting in the lobby, Raihan watched as Aaron played on the floor, Flygon had taken it upon themself to entertain the young one by letting him tackle their tail. Just as it was about to be noon, Raihan heard a girls voice from the entrance.

    "Aaron? Aaron!" 

    The Rioulu sprang up and happily ran towards his trainer. She scooped him and hugged him, Raihan could see her relax by the moment. Any worry immediately melting away from her face. 

   "Riri!" Aaron cried out and pointed his paw towards Raihan. 

    The girl looked over and walked towards him. She smiled. "I cant thank you enough for finding him."

    Raihan waved it off. "Dont worry about it, I'm just glad the little guy is back where he belongs." 

     She sighed in relief. "You don't know the panic attack I went through last night." 

    "I can imagine," he said. "What happened anyway? How did you two get separated?"

    "We were walking home after training in the wild area, when he just ran off." She said. "My Lucario did his best to track him down, but he got lost so fast we couldn't find him. I searched everywhere but no luck. Then my friend sent me that post you made and I messaged you as soon as possible." Then she paused. "How did you find him anyway?"

     "He just ran up to me." Raihan said, unsure of how to explain. "I don't know.He seemed so happy, like he was looking for me or something. "

      ___ nodded thoughtfully. "Hhmm…"

      "What do you mean hhmm?"

      "Well…" she paused as if collecting her thoughts before continuing. "I think… maybe it's something about your aura."

     "My aura?"

      ___ nodded. "Yeah… I mean. How familiar are you with the Lucario line?"

     Raihan shrugged. He didn't get to fight many Lucario. Though he was vaguely aware of their unique abilities. "I know they're the aura pokemon. I've read a bit about that stuff, but I can't say I know much."

    She nodded. "Okay, well, to make a long story short, aura is this energy that all living things have. And the Lucario line are unique in that that they are able to sense and use auras energy. I think maybe Aaron sensed your aura and went looking for you."

    Raihan couldn't help but chuckle at the idea. It was certainly an interesting theory. "What could possibly be so attractive about my aura that he would come running?"

     ___ looked him at and down, a coy grin in her face. "It doesn't seem that far fetched. You have a very good aura."

    "You say it as if you can see it."

     Her face went red and she looked away in embarrassment."....I-I can…"

     "Oh," Raihan didn't mean to make her feel embarrassed. Though now he was genuinely curious. "That's pretty damn cool."

      She turned back to him, Aaron seemed to sense whatever it was she was feeling and looked at her curiously. "Thanks, um...but yeah. I guess he could just sense you were a good person and wanted to meet you." she smiled awkwardly.

    Raihan grinned back and reached out to scratch Aaron behind the ear. "Well I was glad to meet him."

      Aaron seemed very happy about it too. But his mood quickly changed when ___ said, "Thanks again for finding him. Come on, Aaron, let's go home." The Riolu started to squirm and cry out. He kept reaching out to Raihan like he didn't want to leave. __ seemed equally distressed. "Aaron, what's wrong? What's gotten into you? Dont you want to see Riley?"

     Aaron only kept pointing at Raihan and looked as if he was begging not to leave. Until eventually, he jumped out of her arms and ran to Raihan wrapping his little arms around his leg and nuzzling him.

     "Oh no." He and ___ said in unison.

     Raihan treated them to ice cream and they sat on a bench, unsure of what to do. Aaron sat between them, swinging his little legs as he munched on his snack. Not caring about the trouble he had caused. Her Lucario, Riley, sat on the ground, arms crossed. Looking at Aaron as the disapproving parent he was. 

     She still seemed so quiet and embarrassed about this whole ordeal. So Raihan did his best to break the ice in an attempt to make her more comfortable. "Riley and Aaron are certainly interesting names for pokemon."

     __ looked at him shyly and grinned a little while her Lucario turned its gaze to him. "I guess so. But in my defense, Riley is named after an old friend. The one who gave me his egg in the first place." 

     "I take it that Riley taught you about Auras?" She nodded. "And what about this one?" He pointed at Aaron.

     "This one is named after Sir Aaron. Another Aura user. One of the few recorded ones in history. Definitely the most famous by far."

     Something about that name struck a cord with him. "I've heard of that guy. Stopped a war and saved the tree of beginning, that Sir Aaron?"

     ___ nodded. "The one and only. So you do know a bit about Auras." She said teasingly.

     Raihan shrugged. "We have a few documents on aura users in the vault. Some of them mentioned the guy. But that's the extent of my knowledge." He paused for a moment before adding. "You seem to know a lot though."

     "A fair amount." She replied, taking another lick from the cone in her hand before it started dripping. "Why, is there something you want to know?"

    "I'm a historian by nature, I always want to know." He then winked before adding, "especially when the source is so cute."

     __ blushed before snorting and rolling her eyes. "That has to be the lamest line I've ever heard."

    Raihan laughed. "Can't blame a guy for trying. But there is one thing I am curious about."

    "And what's that?"

    "What is my aura like?" __ looked surprised. "What's with the face? You can't just say I have such a good aura that your pokemon come running and not tell me what's so great about it."

     ___ shook it off. "Sorry, it's just that I don't get asked that a lot. I dont really go around telling people I see auras."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah…" she let out an irritated sigh as she relayed how annoying it could be. "Whenever i talk about Auras most people either think I'm going to talk about the healing properties of crystals and oils next, or think I'm going to read their auras for free and act like it's some kind of fortune telling. Needless to say I dont bring it up often."

     "Oh Arceus, that does sound annoying."

     ___ laughed and took another lick of her ice cream before turning towards him, resting her arm on the back of the bench. "But since you asked nicely…" she paused for what felt like forever, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. Raihan had never felt more exposed then in that moment. Though oddly enough, he found that he did not mind. "Your Aura is strong and vibrant. That much is certain. It's… warm and kind. Yet sturdy. The essence of a protector. If that makes any sense. No wonder Aaron ran to you. He knew he would be safe by your side." Then her lips tilted slightly in a smirk. "You're aura is friend shaped."

     For some reason that made Raihan bust out laughing. "Do I get to be your friend then?" 

     She smiled, "I'd like that very much."