#do I tag this as stony target audience??

[peteypiessuperfamily]

I woke up from a dream and was possessed to ask if anyone has read a fic where a teacher at Midtown is making passes/is in a "relationship" (im using that word lightly) with Peter or someone his age that he knows about and its eating him up inside so he breaks down and tells Tony and Tony is rightfully pissed and takes matters into his own hands (either through the school or through his gauntlets i dont care) because i want to read a fic like that so bad i just dont know how to look for it or if I have to write it myself

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 19: I Will Find You

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 4.8K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

The constant drip, drip, drip of water raining from the stalactites is unnerving, and your fingers tremble as you set up the tent. Astarion wraps his hand around yours, giving it a small squeeze. He takes the metal stake from your quaking grip and hammers it into the stony earth.

“We should not have brought them.” You catch just a flit of Astarion’s crimson eyes as they flash to the side to leer at you accusingly. “Their hearts beating is like ringing a dinner bell.”

“They promised to stay in camp while you and I do the scouting,” you conclude in a clipped response.

The initial idea was for Astarion and you to go alone into the Underdark and search for the siblings whose scars did not match the parchment that was discovered in the derelict manor. You would have been able to convince Gale to stay behind with Hecat, but Shadowheart was as obstinate as ever, declaring that you would have need of a Cleric should things go south. It’s not common for you to lose arguments, but after hours of back and forth, you eventually conceded.

Gale, Hecat, and Shadowheart are all erecting their tents in a tense silence. A makeshift fire pit has already been situated in the middle of camp, crackling and popping with whatever wood you could scavenge.

“Lovely,” Astarion chirps with feigned cheeriness. “A stationary meal then, like a hobbled goat left out for wolves.” 

“I tried,” you say under your breath, trying to keep the agitation out of your voice while unrolling bedrolls and placing furs. “They are not sheep I can shepherd. If you could have done a better job convincing them to stay behind, you were more than welcome to try your hand at it.” 

He scoffs. “As if those imbeciles ever listened to me.”

“They just want to help.” You try to assuage his irritation. 

“I know,” Astarion sighs, brushing his hands together to clean off the dirt. “I just wanted you all to myself again. I miss home — our home. Gale’s is lavish, but it’s becoming rather crowded as of late.” 

You crawl into the tent, and Astarion joins you, holding his arm up for you to curl up next to him. 

“I miss home, too,” you acknowledge. It may have started out a little rocky, but those days spent lounging in bed, talking, and making love from sunup to sundown fill your heart with longing to return. It had been nice to leave behind all of this and just be. It makes you rethink your decision not to pursue the deal offered by Aldous. “It was nice, just you and me.”

“Indeed,” he agrees with a heavy exhalation. He buries his nose in your hair. “I cannot wait for this to be over, and we can return. We could buy a new residence if the other is too… painful.” 

“Maybe,” you muse on the notion. “Where would you want to live?” 

He shrugs. “It matters very little to me. Anywhere is home with you.” 

“Even this tent?” You twist, crawling further into his lap, and he cradles you in his arms with a grin. 

“Yes,” he coos softly. “Even this godsdamned tent.”

You brush your fingers through his hair and narrow your eyes mischievously. “You’re a terrible liar, Astarion.”

The crimson of his eyes burns, and he scoffs with a rumbling, deep laugh. “I said it’s home as long as you’re here. I did not say it was an acceptable accommodation for someone of my import.” He glances around. “There is very little room in here to do all the terribly depraved things I wish to do to you.” 

“That never stopped you before,” you taunt back with a giggle. 

“And it will not stop me now,” he purrs, dipping his head to mould his lips to yours. "I am a master of improvisation, after all."

Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, and he tightens his grip on you, slipping a hand into your hair to hold you to his insistent mouth. Astarion sucks on your lower lip gently and takes advantage when you gasp, slipping his tongue in to tangle with yours. 

“If you two are quite done canoodling in there,” Gale’s says from somewhere outside the tent. “The meal has been served.”

Astarion breaks the kiss abruptly to stare at the tent door with a vexed, furrowed brow. He leans close, keeping his voice low. “Canoodling? Truly? How old is he?” 

You giggle at his ire. “What’s the problem? Don’t you want to canoodle with me?” 

Astarion groans, rolling his eyes. “Decidedly not. I want to make love to you; commit the carnal sins of depravity, fuck. I do not canoodle.”

Kissing the tip of his nose, you taunt. “I see so much canoodling in the centuries to come, my love.” 

“You’re terrible,” he grunts, pushing you away playfully. “Come. We need to get you fed lest your stomach growl and keep me up all night.” 

“How bad does it smell?” You whisper.

“Bad,” he smirks. “Atrocious, if I am being totally honest. It’s times like these that I am thankful I do not have to sup on food.” 

He was definitely not lying. The food is rather bland, and you would prefer not to eat it, but it’s either this or listening to Astarion complain about your growling stomach all night, so you shove spoonfuls into your mouth and try to focus on the conversation and not the taste.

Gale, Shadowheart, and Hecat share stories, though it’s mostly Shadowheart and Gale reminiscing while Hecat is enraptured and dazzled by every tale of daring they spew. It unsettles you to let her know this much of your past, but you cannot quite see the harm in it. They know well what to keep to themselves and mostly just tell her perfunctory random things. 

“Did you really do that, dragon girl?” Hecat inquires, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Do what?” 

“Allow a servant of Loviatar to beat you bloody?” Hecat grins widely. “And taunt him the entire time.” 

You narrow your eyes at the pair, who are snickering like fools. Astarion chimes in before you can confirm or deny this. “Oh-yes. That was a splendid day,” he says dreamily. “So much blood, although a dreadful waste for it to end up on the filthy floors.”

“I seem to remember you enjoying yourself a little too much, Astarion.” Shadowheart quips blithely.

“Nonsense. There is no such thing as too much when it comes to watching others be beaten and bloodied by an imbecile in a costume,” he taunts deviously. 

Gale shakes his head in disbelief. “I must say, I am glad I missed that particular spectacle. It sounds positively hedonistic.” 

“Gods. You are truly as vanilla as they come, Gale.” Astarion laments with a smug undertone. 

Gale’s brows furrow. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

Shadowheart bursts out laughing, Hecat snickers, and Astarion cannot hide the jubilant chuckling even though he tries. 

“Do you remember that time you got drunk on blood, Astarion? You came out of the forest, stumbling and slurring your words, looking for our fearless leader,” Shadowheart says, bringing her hand to her mouth to hide her laughter. “I do not believe I ever saw you in such a spectacular mood again.” 

“My friend!” You mock him, and giggle when he shoots you a pointed look.

“Do you people even realize how much blood there is in a bear?” Astarion grunts, crossing his arms to feign irritation and jutting his chin out pompously. “It would be comparable to you drinking a barrel of spirits to yourselves.” 

“You can get drunk on blood?” Hecat asks, obviously astounded by this new information.

Her eyes sparkle with the firelight when she looks at him, and she swoons. It makes you bristle like an angry cat, but you manage to conceal it before you can scoff. 

Astarion nods. “If there is enough of it, but it’s not exactly drunk, it’s more of a euphoria.”

“It’s drunk,” you retort quickly, shoving another spoonful into your mouth. “He couldn’t even stand without tripping over his own feet. I would never have believed he possessed the capability to be so positively ungraceful. Embarrassing, really.” 

Astarion bumps you with his shoulder, making you almost spill your soup or stew. Honestly, you’re not quite sure what to call this connection.

“Ungraceful? Let’s not go throwing stones, sorceress. Glass houses, and all that.” His eyes narrow, and he tries to frown at you, but his eyes are glinting with amusement. He gets up and bows shallowly. “As delightful as his conversation has been, if you’ll excuse me, I will retire for the night before we can do any more of,” he waggles his fingers at the group. “This," he cringes. 

“Me too,” you add in, taking his offered hand. “We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”

Gale smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yes. I’m positive you’ll be going straight into your trances. Rest well, you two.” 

“Would you mind keeping it down tonight?” Shadowheart gibs with a snooty upturn of her nose. “It was a long night of travelling, and I would like to get some sleep.”

Hecat eyes rake over Astarion, and you flush, but not with embarrassment. You take what you hope looks like a normal step in front of him to shield him from her sultry gaze. In all truth, it’s less for him and more for you, but both things can be true. 

“Hmm…” Astarion muses, tapping his chin with his finger. “Unlikely. We will canoodle as nosily as we please,” he chirps boisterously. 

Shadowheart groans out loud , letting her head hang, and mumbles, “I’m going to cast Silence over your tent.”

Astarion smirks. “You must concentrate to keep that up, don’t you, flower? I wish you the best of luck. I am positive I can draw it out far longer than you can manage to stay awake.” 

Gale nearly chokes on his food, going as red as Karlach. Shadowheart pats him hard on the back with a sly grin. “Hells below. Goodnight,” she finally says, chuckling and making her way to her tent.

When you crawl into your tent, Astarion digs through the pack and tosses you one of his shirts, which you quickly hurry into and slip under the furs. 

He joins you quickly, his nimble fingers doing up the laces at the front of the shirt you’re wearing. “We cannot have you catching a chill.” 

“I do not get grumpy!” You snort.

He smiles widely, the tips of his fangs peeking out from his perfect lips. “You get downright petulant,” he jeers. “Would you like to read or rest?” 

“Read,” you confirm. 

Astarion grabs the book, lays back, wraps an arm around you, and pulls you close. “Lights, my dear.”

Tiny, pinpoint spheres float from your palm into the air, like tiny golden stars. You read the pages with your head resting on his chest, and he turns them when you tap him with your finger. Before long, your eyes begin to flutter shut despite your attempts to keep them open.

He presses a kiss on your forehead, pulls the furs up, and tucks you in tenderly. You murmur, moving to push your face into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. The orbs of light ebb, blinking out one by one, and Astarion hums low and lyrical until you slip into your trance.

The Arcane Tower dominates the horizon with its spectral glow from the lit lamps. It’s simultaneously an unsettling and welcome sight. Though the devastation of the spawn on the environment can be seen on account of the skeletal remains of creatures large and small, none have crossed your path. It’s hard to know whether to be glad or alarmed by it. The last time you were overtaken without much warning.  

“I would hear them long before they could descend on us,” Astarion assures, sensing the neurotic turbulence that’s making you grip your quarterstaff so hard that your knuckles are white and straining. “If I give the order, run and do not look back.”  

Your brows pinch, and you exhale noisily through pursed lips. “You can give the order, but I will not run,” you retort, shaking your head. “If you think I will leave you, you’re out of your godsdamned mind.”

“They are less likely to attack me.” Astarion grunts with a pronounced sigh and a rigid scowl. “I will not smell like food to them, but you smell delectable.” 

He doesn’t understand - can’t understand — how wild and raging they are because you’ve run from this conversation despite his repeated attempts to have it. 

“Tell that to Sebastian,” you murmur dryly. You don’t pay any mind to what you said until you realize Astarion has stopped dead in his tracks and is staring at you wide-eyed and slack-jawed. 

“Sebastian?” Astarion looks askance. “You saw him?”

The fondness in his voice is unmistakeable, and even though it is beyond silly, your jealousy spikes your blood with flames, and your heart rate soars on the wings of the envious monster you’ve become. 

“He saved me last time I was here when I was attacked,” you reply tunelessly in an effort to keep the resentment out of your voice. This is not the time or place to have yet another conversation where Astarion reassures you, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. “He was the only one of the spawn that didn’t seem completely savage.”

Astarion’s head cants slightly, picking up on the revving engine that is your heart. He knows, you think, and you wait for him to react in one of two possible ways. He will either chastise or soothe, depending on his mood. 

“That soft heart is what got the idiot killed in the first place,” Astarion remarks frivolously in that devil-may-care breeze he so easily encompasses.

It’s hard not to laugh at his flippant comment. Perhaps many would find it cavalier and uncaring, but to you, it’s wholeheartedly something Astarion would say. 

“Humans are incredibly slow learners,” you quip back offhandedly with a rascally smirk while continuing down the path toward the village. 

Astarion grins deviously. “That, coupled with their supremely short life spans, it’s a wonder they have not gone extinct.” 

“There’s still time,” you concur. 

“I think we should kill them,” Astarion blurts suddenly with furrowed brows, looking at his feet in contemplation. 

“The humans?” You arch a brow at him, not quite following the switch. 

“What? Hells. No. I have a casual relationship with murder, not genocide. Gods. What do you think of me?” He chuckles, smirking smugly, when you scoff at him. “The spawn. If we find them and they are beyond any hope of redemption, I think we should put them out of their misery. I likely should have done it when I had the chance. I had hoped they would be able to learn control, but if that’s not possible..." He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. “It’s what I would want should I ever find myself robbed of speech and reason again.”

You put your hand on his chest. His hands come to your waist, and his fingers firmly squeeze. “Whatever you want to do, Astarion, I support you. I will follow your lead.” 

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which are scarlet mirrors reflecting a canvas of sorrow and regret. “Thank you.”

Your footsteps on the rickety boards that make up the scaffolding in the abandoned village thump, echoing out into the cavernous crepuscule ceiling blanketing the lake. The boats that once carried you towards the old temple of Shar and the forge have scuttled themselves, lying on their sides with their masts reaching out like the arms of drowning men begging to be saved.

The village is as silent as the dead, except for the soft whooshing of waves brushing the banks of the shore. Astarion offers his hand and pulls you up the small cliff, and you both crane your necks to look at the tower dwarfing you. 

“Do you hear anything?” You ask as your heart leaps into your chest with memories of watching his siblings deliberate your fate. 

And subsequently begging them to let you die, which they obviously decided was not in their best interest.

“Nothing.” Astarion says with a frown.  “They could be sleeping.”

The idea of walking through the floors of this place fills you with nothing but dread, and you swallow thickly, your muscles buzzing with something between adrenaline and terror. Astarion’s hand snakes into yours, and he holds your shaking fingers tightly.  

“You do not have to go in there,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low in a timbre meant to soothe. “I am capable of searching the place by myself.” 

Have you really become so timid that Astarion now offers to leave you behind and retrieve you when he’s finished? There was a time when he never doubted your ability to handle a situation, but it seems those times are long gone. Is it that he cannot trust you to react in time in the face of danger? Does he think you will fold like wet parchment?

The woman you were might be a memory, but you are sick of being afraid — of being the weak link. Most of all, you’re appalled by the pity you see reflected in his eyes as he looks at you like an abused pup. 

Maybe you might not be who you were, but you have the chance to become whatever or whoever you want. For better or worse, a new you awaits, lurking just outside of the box you’ve built around yourself, addicted to this lonely kind of love that has done nothing but hurt.

She might be dead. 

But you live. 

You live.

You squeeze his hand, tugging him a little more harshly than you meant to toward you, grabbing his armour, and pulling his face down to your height. “Where you go, I go. Remember? Stop treating me like a child. You requested I stop being so gentle with you; I’d like the same curtsy.”

Astarion’s surprised expression morphs into a sly grin, and he closes the distance between you, catching your lips. You melt into him, pressing your body into his. He grips your hips, pressing them firmly into his, and grinds against you. It seems like an odd place for this sort of act, but you’re not complaining. It’s been some time since he’s taken you into the dirt.

Unfortunately, he breaks the kiss just as the throb between your legs makes you squeeze your thighs together for relief. “It’s been some time since you bossed me around like that with such delicious authority,” he grins. “I quite like it, you know,” he purrs.

Astarion turns quickly and gives you a gentle shove and a playful swat on the ass. “Come on, bossy thing. After you.” 

You roll your eyes at him with a huff, but you cannot hide the yearning smile quirking your lips up and dazzling in your eyes.

You only make it a couple of steps before you hear his taunting voice. “And Kamena? If you want me to make love to you in the dirt, you have but to ask. I would be more than pleased to throw you down, let my hands explore every inch of you, map your goosebumps with my tongue, taste you.”

How would the old you have reacted to such lewd comments? No. How would the new me react? Who do I want to be?

You pivot quickly on your feet and walk backwards while he stalks toward you like a predator. His scarlet gaze is filled with a hungry desire that makes your flesh ache.

It’s time to start reacting without thinking. You were never innocent or soft-hearted, but you were sweet once upon a time. It no longer feels right. There is a new bitterness to you — a fiery bite. 

You would rather be whisky neat than sweet tea.

“It makes me wet when you look at me like that, Astarion. If you’re not careful, I might request that you take me right here.” You purr low and seductively, and you relish the way his eyes light up. 

Hedonism suits you.

Astarion chuckles, smirking mischievously. He taps his nose. “My love, I know you’re soaked. I hope the others have rested while we are doing all the hard work. I doubt they will be getting much sleep tonight.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, darling,” you taunt, turning and hurrying toward the tower. “Gale and Shadowheart will be more than used to our… late-night trysts.”

“You’re a tease, Kamena.” He grumbles, adjusting his trousers. “This is not comfortable.”

“I’m happy to assist you out of that armour at your request,” you quip, and giggle when he groans.

“Good Gods. You’re cruel, sweetheart.” Astarion growls low and silvery, walking up to you and ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear. “Now, get going so we can get back to camp. I’m feeling rather peckish.”

Astarion drags his fangs down your neck — not enough to break skin, but it sends a pleasurable shiver cavorting down your spine with the promise of later. You don’t smother the breathy sigh that shakes out of your throat, and your core clenches involuntarily.

You groan and push forward, determined to scour this damned place as fast as you can so you can retreat to your tent. The massive front doors to the tower are already ajar when you approach, and the first floor holds nothing more than barrels, crates, shelves, and boxes. There are some signs of life with random articles of clothing strewn around, but they are covered in a thick layer of dust and sediment.

The third floor is likewise unoccupied, but there are random packs here. Astarion and you rifle through them but find very little to indicate who they belonged to. They could have been travellers, adventurers, or his siblings.  

Or aventurers his siblings ate... 

Astarion stands with his arms crossed by a bed when you glance toward him. Walking over, you follow his anchored gaze and see a doublet that he seems particularly interested in. 

“Petras’s,” he mumbles.

“Was he always such an asshole?” You ask, remembering the way he wanted to eat you to get back at Astarion. 

Astarion snorts out a small laugh. “He was always a snivelling idiot. We did not get along particularly well. Why?”

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you,” you shrug. It’s not exactly a lie. The way he talked to Astarion when you found him in the flophouse had made your blood boil, and you actually rather enjoyed watching Astarion burn him, but you refrain from telling him the whole truth.  

He regards you with a highly arched brow, reading you the way he does, so you quickly move off toward the elevator to get out of his scrutiny. There is little point in telling Astarion the specifics. It would only create more animosity, and his siblings are the only family he has. You will not be responsible for the further deterioration of whatever relationship he has left.

In the event you die, from old age or otherwise, they might be the only thing he has left. 

“Come on. We should keep moving.” 

“In a rush, are we?” He saunters over.

“I have a date with my very charming, handsome lover that I wish to get to.” You wink at him, your foot hitting the button to go up to the fourth floor. “Post haste.” 

The elevator ascends to the topmost floor. From what you recall, it’s mostly destroyed, and you doubt there would be any reason for his siblings to be there unless they were trying to watch for attacks. If that were the case, though, you imagine they would have made themselves known by now. 

When the elevator clicks into place, your heart stops in your chest when you see the pale, snake-like grin of Aldous staring back at you with several other spawn poised just behind him.  

“Sorceress,” he pouts sarcastically. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you would have been smart enough to recognize a good deal when it was offered.”  

You scoff, turning your nose up, and your teeth grate together. Astarion growls, sliding in front of you with his daggers already held, poised and ready to kill. You cast Stoneskin on Astarion out of a reflexive habit.  

“I’ve been waiting to meet you,” Aldous chimes, his voice braided with choler. “It seems the odds between us have evened out, and I cannot wait to make you watch me drain her dry just as you did to me.”  

Astarion laughs cruelly, snarling. “I enjoyed your death the first time, but I will enjoy it all the more the second.” 

This is not a good place for a battle. The floor has fallen prey to the ravages of time in too many places, with large blocks and rubble littering the pieces that remain, restricting space and movement in equal measure.

You try to find the button to descend, but Aldous notices your movement and barrels toward you. Astarion leaps into battle, and the clash of blades rings out in the air. The two are almost a moving blur of glinting steel as they grapple. Astarion’s footwork is superior, and he gains ground until the other spawn join in the fight.

Adrenaline anoints your muscles and nerves, and your heart throttles in your chest. You cannot lose him here. You will not allow it. Flames writhe over your body, your skin heating to unfathomable temperatures, driven by a hatred so intense it seems to consume all fear. You Misty Step between Astarion and Aldous to intercept the charging spawn.

Thunderwave throws them back. Your fingers dance in their perfected rhythm, and you lace the Weave into spells with quick and masterful precision. You catch a spawn by the neck to your left, and flames erupt from your palms until their screams subside. With your other hand, you summon Chain Lightning, killing some but causing the remaining ones to seize up with paralysis.

You skate through them with your quarterstaff in hand. With limited space and Astarion and Aldous moving around the battlefield with the speed of a shooting star, there are a limited number of spells you can use for range. You’re forced into close-quarters combat, which hinders your abilities.  

Clawed fingers rend your skin, sending a sharp agony radiating through you, making you suck in a sharp breath. The spawn hisses at you through their teeth, fangs bared. Before you can retaliate, Astarion is at your side, his shoulder slamming into the spawn and throwing them to the side. There is no time to catch your breath before Aldous attacks while Astarion is preoccupied protecting you.

“Astarion, down!” You shout. 

He remembers the command and leans down, flattening his back so you can roll over him. Scorching Ray blasts from your palms, buffeting Aldous and forcing him to counter and change his path on a whim. It gives Astarion enough time to get into a better position and continue pushing Aldous back while you deal with the other spawn. 

You cannot use Sunbeam in such a small area, not with the way Aldous and Astarion are moving, but you’re not merely the embodiment of fire; you’re a wildfire that cannot be thwarted. You pellet the spawn with fire that burns as white-hot as your hatred and rage. A ball of fire to the chest of one sizzles straight through them. Shatter to throw the ones to your right off the edge of the building.  

You sink into the battle and luxuriate in the ghostly-coloured death that writhes over your skin and explodes from your fingers. 

“Solicallor, switch!” Astarion snarls.

He only ever asks to switch in battle when he’s been injured and needs a moment to recover. You look back in horror at the blade buried in his shoulder and Aldous’ maniacal laughter permeating the air. 

You cast Telekinesis, throwing the spawn in your path to him off the building, and try to sprint to his side, but you’re not fast enough before Aldous instructs the spawn remaining to create a barrier.

Every spell in your arsenal jumps off your fingers and rolls off your tongue, but you cannot get to Astarion before Aldous has pushed him near the edge of the tower.  

In a fraction of a second, the spawn all sprint toward Astarion, throwing themselves off the edge of the tower to their deaths. The last thing you see are his scared red eyes and him shifting as fast as he can to grab Aldous by his armour. Aldous thrashes, trying to pull free from Astarion’s grip, and another blade sinks into Astarion’s stomach. 

“I love you, Kamena,” he smiles as his feet lose their footing. “I would have liked to marry you in this life, but I will find you in the next, thiramin.”

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes: - Chapters might be a little smaller for the foreseeable future. Sorry! - Astarion 🥺 - I smash my keyboard angrily whenever I have to write Aldous' name.

[stony-ao3-feed]

Hydra's Revenge

Read it on AO3

by QueenOfALotOfDifferentWorlds

After weeks of unrest that have put the Avengers through the wringer, everything is finally calming down. Tony is doing better, Winter is doing better and Steve has (mostly of his own free will, thanks Nat) decided that he will tell Tony how he feels.

When the remnants of Hydra target one of their own, the Avengers know that they can’t rest until they found every last one of them.

Trying to take over the world is one thing. But trying to kill one of them is unforgivable. They aren't called the Avengers for nothing.

This is angst with some fluff, and angst and some crack and angst. Also, it’s angsty. Happy Ending guarantied!

Words: 3678, Chapters: 1/26, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of Slow Burn! The Series - with eventual Stony

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Characters: Tony Stark, Winter - Character, Steve Rogers, Loki (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, May Parker (Spider-Man), Helen Cho (Marvel)

Relationships: Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Winter & Avengers Team, Loki & Avengers Team, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Tony Stark & Thor, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Loki & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Thor, (pre Bruce Banner/Thor), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, (pre Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

Additional Tags: Plot, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Crack and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Family, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, But a lot of hurt in the beginning, Team as Family, Everyone Loves Tony Stark, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone gets a Hug - eventually, Hurt Tony Stark, injured Tony Stark, different POVs, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Winter, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Protective Clint Barton, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Protective Bruce Banner, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Protective Steve Rogers, Winter is a good bro, Protective winter, Protective Avengers, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, He is literally a Sunshine, Slow Burn, slowest of burns, I'm not kidding, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, (for Steve and Tony because they haven't talked yet...), Hydra (Marvel), Post-HYDRA Reveal, Post-Avengers (2012), we acknowledge that cannon exists and then ignore it, Press and Tabloids, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't mess with Tony Stark, don't mess with the Avengers, seriously, There will be a happy ending, eventually, I'll tag more when I think of the rest, Oblivious Idiots Everywhere, Idiots in Love

Read it on AO3

[ao3feed-stony]

Hydra's Revenge

by QueenOfALotOfDifferentWorlds

After weeks of unrest that have put the Avengers through the wringer, everything is finally calming down. Tony is doing better, Winter is doing better and Steve has (mostly of his own free will, thanks Nat) decided that he will tell Tony how he feels.

When the remnants of Hydra target one of their own, the Avengers know that they can’t rest until they found every last one of them.

Trying to take over the world is one thing. But trying to kill one of them is unforgivable. They aren't called the Avengers for nothing.

This is angst with some fluff, and angst and some crack and angst. Also, it’s angsty. Happy Ending guarantied!

Words: 3678, Chapters: 1/26, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of Slow Burn! The Series - with eventual Stony

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Characters: Tony Stark, Winter - Character, Steve Rogers, Loki (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, May Parker (Spider-Man), Helen Cho (Marvel)

Relationships: Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Winter & Avengers Team, Loki & Avengers Team, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Tony Stark & Thor, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Loki & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Thor, (pre Bruce Banner/Thor), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, (pre Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

Additional Tags: Plot, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Crack and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Family, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, But a lot of hurt in the beginning, Team as Family, Everyone Loves Tony Stark, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone gets a Hug - eventually, Hurt Tony Stark, injured Tony Stark, different POVs, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Winter, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Protective Clint Barton, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Protective Bruce Banner, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Protective Steve Rogers, Winter is a good bro, Protective winter, Protective Avengers, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, He is literally a Sunshine, Slow Burn, slowest of burns, I'm not kidding, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, (for Steve and Tony because they haven't talked yet...), Hydra (Marvel), Post-HYDRA Reveal, Post-Avengers (2012), we acknowledge that cannon exists and then ignore it, Press and Tabloids, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't mess with Tony Stark, don't mess with the Avengers, seriously, There will be a happy ending, eventually, I'll tag more when I think of the rest, Oblivious Idiots Everywhere, Idiots in Love

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/29560662

[ao3feed-lokiangst]

Hydra's Revenge

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dsDLQL

by QueenOfALotOfDifferentWorlds

After weeks of unrest that have put the Avengers through the wringer, everything is finally calming down. Tony is doing better, Winter is doing better and Steve has (mostly of his own free will, thanks Nat) decided that he will tell Tony how he feels.

When the remnants of Hydra target one of their own, the Avengers know that they can’t rest until they found every last one of them.

Trying to take over the world is one thing. But trying to kill one of them is unforgivable. They aren't called the Avengers for nothing.

This is angst with some fluff, and angst and some crack and angst. Also, it’s angsty. Happy Ending guarantied!

Words: 3678, Chapters: 1/26, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of Slow Burn! The Series - with eventual Stony

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Characters: Tony Stark, Winter - Character, Steve Rogers, Loki (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, May Parker (Spider-Man), Helen Cho (Marvel)

Relationships: Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Winter & Avengers Team, Loki & Avengers Team, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Tony Stark & Thor, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Loki & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Thor, (pre Bruce Banner/Thor), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, (pre Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

Additional Tags: Plot, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Crack and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Family, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, But a lot of hurt in the beginning, Team as Family, Everyone Loves Tony Stark, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone gets a Hug - eventually, Hurt Tony Stark, injured Tony Stark, different POVs, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Winter, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Protective Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Protective Clint Barton, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Protective Bruce Banner, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Protective Steve Rogers, Winter is a good bro, Protective winter, Protective Avengers, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, He is literally a Sunshine, Slow Burn, slowest of burns, I'm not kidding, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, (for Steve and Tony because they haven't talked yet...), Hydra (Marvel), Post-HYDRA Reveal, Post-Avengers (2012), we acknowledge that cannon exists and then ignore it, Press and Tabloids, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't mess with Tony Stark, don't mess with the Avengers, seriously, There will be a happy ending, eventually, I'll tag more when I think of the rest, Oblivious Idiots Everywhere, Idiots in Love

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dsDLQL

[zenonaa]

Link to AO3

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Touko, Genocider Syo | Genocide Jack, Monokuma (Dangan Ronpa), Naegi Makoto, Class 78 (Dangan Ronpa) Additional Tags: Time Loop Summary: The morning after Monobear revealed their embarrassing secrets and hidden pasts, Togami wakes up back at the beginning of the same day. Over and over again. It might have something to do with Touko Fukawa.

Comments: I started this for tofu day but it got too long aha... but now it’s done!!! Thank you to everyone who read (most) of it over and to @otomegrandma​ for drawing the beautiful cover art. ;w; <3

***

The library in the mansion Byakuya Togami grew up in had been huge, spanning multiple floors all connected with steep, spiraling staircases. Maids regularly flitted in and out as they cleaned polished units housing books upon books upon books, and no dust particles were to be seen in the rays of natural light that flooded in during the daytime, or in the artificial breath of indoor lighting situated throughout the library.

One would expect the library at a prodigious, world-class academy to rival those of Byakuya’s childhood home or at least those in the other schools he attended growing up, yet the one that Byakuya stood in right now had no windows, and the little amount of light from the ceiling lamps bleared his vision with their lack of intensity. Dust speckled the air, adding to the illusion that he was staring at old movie footage, and the dreary shades of brown that made up most of the library’s colour scheme threatened to consume the person standing opposite him.

“As long as we’re in this place, no matter what happens, I won’t let Genocider Syo kill again,” promised Touko with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, training her wide eyes on Byakuya from behind round frame glasses. “T-Thank you, Togami-kun...!”

She dropped into a bow, but not before he glimpsed the corners of her lips quivering, teasing to curl upward. He averted his eyes, setting his gaze on the hand he had resting on the library desk. In a situation like this, where everyone in his class were locked in a school by a robotic bear mascot, enticed to murder each other to escape, he shouldn’t have taken his eyes off her for even a second. But he did.

“... Leave,” he said in a low voice, no louder than the sound of a page in a book rustling.

Byakuya saw movement at the edge of his vision, and then he heard her footsteps as she retreated. The door shut behind her with a respectful click, leaving him by himself.

Seconds crawled by. His fingers inched inward, dragging across the desk, to close his hand into a fist.

Just now, an interesting conversation had occurred. One of his opponents, Touko Fukawa, revealed to him that her body hosted an alter, and that alter was Genocider Syo. Yes. The serial killer. Touko had Dissociative Identity Disorder. She provided proof too - she showed him the scissors, the scars depicting the exact tally of victims on her thigh and a backstory that told him what picture the scattered jigsaw pieces in his hands were meant to create when they all joined together.

For many, many years, Byakuya pored over this case, determined to figure out the killer’s identity. In the end, it had been given to him in a school building caging them into a killing game by a girl with the name Touko Fukawa.

And she had given him a timer.

It was only a matter of time before that killer inside of her came out and tried to silence him, because now he knew her secret. If anyone else in the killing game found out about it, that would put her at a disadvantage. Syo wouldn’t be able to kill anyone without suspicion falling on her. She wouldn’t be able to win the game. Not only that, but like all of Syo’s victims, he was male. Even if Syo somehow didn’t know that he knew, she would be sure to target him regardless.

With people who had DID, alters didn’t always share memories. However, even if, for example, Touko couldn’t remember what happened while Syo fronted, that didn’t mean Syo had no awareness. He remembered reading that for some alters, they could observe while not fronting but they couldn’t do anything during this. Each system was unique, as was each alter and their capabilities.

And while Byakuya could always ask Touko if Syo remembered, Touko might not have known. Or even, she might lie. He couldn’t risk assuming the best.

Byakuya exhaled and took his heavy hand off the desk. Deciding to retire to his room earlier than first planned, his mind buzzing with too many thoughts to be able to concentrate, he returned the casefile he had been reading to the backroom - Genocider Syo’s, coincidentally - and left the library. He strode through empty corridors, descended down a silent staircase, but when he emerged into the dorm area, a grating voice blasted out of the speaker on a television screen hanging on a wall nearby.

Static distorted the image momentarily. When it cleared, Monobear’s face materialised.

“Ehhh, this is a school announcement. It will soon be Night Time,” deadpanned Monobear, like it did every night, and Byakuya shifted his weight, about to move on, but then, “Before that...”

He paused. Waited.

“... all students are required to attend a gathering at the school’s gymnasium!”

Monobear shuddered, and as it next spoke, its voice rippled with energy. Its body flailed.

“Emergency! Emergency!”

The screen snuffed out.

Byakuya blinked. His brow furrowed. Even though nothing remained on the black screen anymore, his gaze lingered on it for several more seconds before he changed direction. In order to enter the gymnasium, one had to cross through the trophy room. Upon arrival, he spotted some of his opponents dawdling, choosing not to go into the gymnasium yet, but he didn’t glance twice at any of them as he sauntered past. The rest of his classmates were waiting in the gymnasium, and within the next minute, those loitering outside dribbled in.

Only Monobear was missing now.

Everyone stood in silence for a while, exchanging creased looks and pallid faces as time wore on, until Kiyotaka raised a fist to his chin.

“Hmm... What does Monobear want with us this time, gathering us all in here so abruptly?” Kiyotaka pondered aloud.

A short distance away, Celes pursed her lips, standing with her fingers laced together in front of her.

“I also wonder what he’s up to,” she said. “It must be something important if it couldn’t wait until morning.”

Byakuya could have rolled his eyes at their stupidity. No one had died since Leon’s execution, which could only mean one thing. Much like the videos that Monobear gave out before, the robot had come up with another way to liven up the game and get things rolling again.

Simply put, Monobear wanted someone to commit murder.

He folded his arms over his chest. His lips twisted into a smirk. A chuckle tickled his throat.

“It seems our captor won’t let us grow bored after all,” remarked Byakuya.

The others turned their gazes to him. Hifumi fiddled with his glasses.

“Why are you always cackling? Can’t you put up a more pleasant smile? It’s like you’re about to kidnap my grandfather and put me through a series of death games,” bemoaned Hifumi.

That was a reference of some kind. Hifumi mopped his forehead with a handkerchief that had a cartoon character on it.

“For example, you could wear a smile like the one a certain housewife in that popular cartoon show flashes just before the ending credits,” Hifumi added. He tucked his crumpled handkerchief back into his pocket, still looking too hot.

That had also a reference of some kind. Normally, Byakuya would have scoffed at such a response, but he regarded Hifumi with his grin maintained. The game seemed to be about to become more interesting. Aoi looked around at everyone else before fixing a glare on Byakuya.

“He shouldn’t be laughing at all in this situation. What’s up with that?” Aoi asked.

No one answered. Her fists trembled. She almost got a proper laugh out of Byakuya but as fleetingly as it came, his good mood was starting to wane, and the ends of his lips dipped.

Honestly, other than Touko, only two of his classmates earned his attention: Kyouko, who sleuthed around and dealt with corpses with familiarity, and Makoto, who lit a spark in the previous trial. An ordinary guy like him... solving a case like that... was curious. As for the rest of them, they bored Byakuya, and even those three would bore him too sooner or later like everyone and everything else.

For once, Byakuya welcomed Monobear’s appearance, which spared him from more of their pathetic babble when it decided to finally spring out from nowhere to address them all. It stood on a podium, surveying the gymnasium with unblinking eyes, until it hung its head.

“Lately, I’ve been feeling down,” announced Monobear in a solemn tone. “My fur is thinning and losing its shine. I think it’s because of these monotonous days we’re slogging through.”

That practically confirmed Byakuya’s suspicions. He pushed up his glasses, watching Monobear as it slumped its shoulders further and heaved out a sigh.

“It’s way too boring here when no one is being killed. Therefore...” Monobear didn’t move right away. Then, it threw up its arms, suddenly energetic, and raised its voice. “... I’ve decided to treat you all to another motive!”

Most of the class tensed like Monobear had cracked a whip at them. Byakuya’s eyebrows rose, but his expression otherwise stayed as stony as before. Nearby, Kiyotaka shoved a foot forward and raised a fist.

“I don’t know what you’re scheming, but none of us are going to kill anyone ever again!” shouted Kiyotaka. He thumped his hand against his chest. “Do your worst! We won’t bend over to you!”

Monobear snickered behind its paws.

“Wow, if I could experience human emotions, I would be scared! Alas, I can only experience bear emotions.” Its red eye glinted as it brought a paw to its ear and leaned its head toward them. “We’ll see if you’re as brave as you’re acting very soon, because today’s theme is...”

It paused its speech as it vanished behind the podium. Moments later, it jumped back into view, brandishing a fan of envelopes with a different name on each one.

“Dadada! ‘Embarrassing memories’ and ‘secret pasts’!” crowed Monobear, and it held them higher. “Everyone has them. You, your neighbours, people you think you know everything about... They’re all things you don’t want anyone to know about. While you guys were sleeping, I read your minds, and here is what I came up with!”

Rather than hand them out, Monobear flung the envelopes onto the floor. Everyone approached hesitantly, like crossing through a minefield, and began searching for their name. Byakuya located his envelope and bent down to pick it up. He peeled it open and when he read the single sentence scribbled onto the paper slip inside of it, his breath caught in his throat. His grip buckled the bit of paper.

‘Togami-kun cheated his way into becoming the heir of his precious conglomerate.’

Surprised voices cropped up around him but he didn’t hear what any of them said, just the noise, as he stared down. Down at that piece of paper.

“The time limit is twenty-four hours,” announced Monobear, and when Byakuya tore his gaze away, he saw Monobear wearing a large, ugly grin.

Its expression never changed in general, but from its voice, from its body language, they could tell if its grin was genuine. And it was.

“If no one dies, I will tell everyone what is written down,” added Monobear, squeezing its cheeks as it squirmed with excitement. “I’ll send out letters to everyone you know. Publish them in magazines. Post them on popular message boards.”

Monobear tossed its head back and hacked up some wheezy laughter, clutching its stomach. Several pairs of eyes flitted over to Monobear’s quaking form. Makoto stared at Monobear with a frown, holding his envelope in both hands.

“Is that it?” he said in disbelief, which prompted Monobear to turn to him. It cocked its head to one side.

“Ain’t I a stinker?” asked Monobear.

“I mean, it’s embarrassing, but it wouldn’t make me kill anyone,” said Makoto.

It wiggled happily for a few more seconds until it realised what he had said. Then Monobear flinched.

“Eh?” went Monobear. Kiyotaka nodded fervently.

“Naegi-kun is right. It’s no problem at all. No one would kill because of a reason like this,” he informed it, waving his envelope.

Excitement seeped out of Monobear like air escaping a balloon as it slowly deflated.

“Wow, that’s so mean... I really thought I had something there,” it said. “Memories connect you to the outside world, and I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to find out. I put all my EXP toward learning to mindread and everything. I neglected my social life, and my wife divorced me and took the kids too, and for what?”

No one humoured it with an answer. Monobear turned away from them with its head bowed.

“Oh well,” it said, holding its paws behind its back. “In twenty-four hours, we’ll have circle time and share everyone’s secrets. That might cheer me up. Until then... Bye...”

And with that, Monobear hopped off the podium and shuffled away. No one said anything for a while. Most of the class returned their attention to their envelopes. Others looked around shiftily. Aoi scratched her chin, brow creased, her other hand grasping her envelope.

“You know, I was scared at first, but I think we’ve been let off easy this time,” she said, her lips quivering as they tried but failed to form a smile. “Naegi’s right... It’s embarrassing, but I won’t kill anyone over something like this.”

Byakuya was inclined to agree. People finding out what was written on his envelope would annoy him and be an invasion of his privacy, but them knowing wouldn’t change anything. After all, throughout the heir selection process, he had proven his worth to the conglomerate, and he continued to ever since then.

No, what got Byakuya was how Monobear knew about that. Monobear couldn’t have read his mind. That was impossible. Instead, it implied something more sinister. It knowing something like that required infiltrating the conglomerate. Someone betraying him. That got him.

Kiyotaka cleared his throat.

“In that case,” Kiyotaka put his hands on his hips, chin held high, “let’s just tell everyone what is written down right now. Then we don’t have to worry. I’ll start. My grandf-”

“I d-don’t want to hear anything embarrassing about you!” Touko snarled.

Her voice ripped through the air. Kiyotaka twitched and choked on his breath. Everyone wheeled around toward her. Touko stared forward, body shaking. Of course she was shaking. Byakuya knew what had to be in her envelope.

“Besides, I refuse. I don’t want to talk about mine!” she hissed. “Even if you try to force me to... I won’t say it!”

Celes bobbed her head in agreement.

“I agree,” she chimed in. “As much as I want to, I simply cannot.”

A chorus of voices rippled throughout the group as the class neared a consensus. Byakuya didn’t contribute, in thought. All he could hear in his head was a ticking. The ticking of a timer.

Now would be the perfect time to tell everyone about Genocider Syo. They were all here. Right now. He could tell everyone. Right now. Before she killed him.

So he did.

“Hold on,” he said, elevating a hand. “I have something to share with you all.”

Everyone turned to him. His features hardened.

“Earlier, Fukawa told me something. She told me... that she is Genocider Syo!”

He pointed at her. Everyone spun around to face her. Touko squawked, jumping back, and nearly dropped her envelope. She fumbled with it before hugging it to her chest. Then, one by one, the rest of the class returned their gazes to Byakuya.

“Fukawa?” Mondo said with a hard squint. He jogged his thumb toward her. “That girl?”

“Fukawa-chan can’t even stand blood,” scoffed Aoi. “She fainted when Enoshima-chan died, and she couldn’t look at Maizono-chan’s body either. How could she kill a bunch of people?”

Kiyotaka jerked his fist at him.

“That’s a ridiculous claim!” Kiyotaka concurred. Byakuya jutted out his chin, keeping his finger pointed at Touko.

“Read her secret. That will prove me right,” he said.

Touko shifted a foot back. However, no one stepped toward her. No one even looked at her. Makoto’s brow furrowed.

“That wouldn’t be fair on Fukawa-san,” he said. “Anyway, I don’t think that even makes sense.”

Celes placed a hand lightly over her lips, barely masking her amusement.

“That is because it doesn’t make sense.” She looked off to the side and now did a better job at smoothing out her features. “To me, it sounds like Togami-kun simply wants to embarrass Fukawa-san. What will happen is she will reveal her envelope and it will say something else, but she will be humiliated. How needlessly cruel... but also unsurprising.”

Byakuya jabbed the air. “She told me. She told me this!”

“I...” Touko gripped herself harder, caving in on herself. Her voice escaped her lips as a pathetic wisp, but it won the attention of the others, who craned their necks to peer at her. She hunched her shoulders. “... I d-didn’t...”

Aoi set a hand on her shoulder. “We know you didn’t. Togami’s just being a jerk to you. I don’t want to show mine either.”

“Me too,” piped up Chihiro. “I’m... I’m not strong enough yet...”

Kiyotaka bit his lip. Mondo tilted his head to one side.

“No one’s going to budge, Kyoudai. For now, we have to leave off it,” said Mondo.

“I guess...” Kiyotaka tried for a smile. Didn’t really succeed. It seemed ready to slip off at any moment. “We can talk about it tomorrow. I mean, no one is going to kill anyone over it, right...?”

That was the general consensus. Soon after, the group dispersed. While the others headed to the dorm area, Byakuya decided to go back to the library and read some more. After this new development, he didn’t feel ready to sleep. His mind was too busy, hard at work. Besides, he had to compile proof of what Touko said to him. With the new motive, Syo had more reason than ever to silence him before the time limit expired.

Once he arrived at the library, he made a beeline to the backroom, searching for the casefile again. He didn’t take long to find it - he found the casefile where he left it earlier. Like the main section of the library, the lighting in this room was poor too, and he could barely make out the text printed onto the front of the casefile.

As he adjusted the angle of it, the font glimpsed more legible, and something sharp pierced the back of his neck.

Pain exploded through his body like blood splattering. Byakuya let out a howl and stumbled forward, falling over some boxes and hurtling to the ground. He hit his chin on the edge of a shelf on the way down.

Above him, wide eyes behind round frame glasses stared down at him.

Touko.

No. She didn’t smile like that. Her tongue didn’t hang out of her mouth like that.

“I’ll scissor later!” she said, and she sounded like Touko, but she also didn’t, gruffer. Smirking. “Get it? Scissor? See ya? Because I stabbed you with my scissors!”

She flourished the silhouette of a pair of scissors. Black spots began to blot his vision. His muscles spasmed. He was helpless. Pain seared hot. Unbearably hot.

“My heart’s hurting real bad,” she said, sounding further away than she really was. She flicked her tongue. “You must have hurt Gloomy... and if you do that, I get so turned on!”

Her laughter shook his body. His whole vision faded to black, and his body didn’t weigh anything anymore.

***

Byakuya jolted awake. Darkness cloaked him and he tried to sit up, but his whole body refused to cooperate and tensed, rigid, like an invisible hand curled into a fist around him. All he could move were his eyes like flies trapped in a glass jar until finally his body thawed.

Then he sat up, aching all over, and hearing a familiar creak, he realised he was in his bed and not in the backroom at the library. Heart racing, he heaved himself to his feet. He staggered over to the light switch, turned it on, and felt his back before bringing his hand in front of him.

No blood.

All that must have been a dream. Yes. Byakuya had been reading a lot of casefiles, after all, especially that one about Genocider Syo, and it came together to make that mess of a dream. Obviously. Even if he couldn’t remember going to bed yesterday. That could be explained. He must have been too tired and forgotten what happened. Of course.

His hand closed into a fist.

Though Byakuya avoided the others at mealtimes, after what transpired last night with the motive, he had to admit he was curious how they coped... or more specifically, if they coped. Surely someone had a big enough secret that would drive them to kill.

For example, Touko did. Most people would have barricaded themselves in their room after what he did, what he exposed about her. But to do that would be cowardice. He couldn’t let her or anyone think he was intimidated or weak. That would make him a target.

When Byakuya walked into the cafeteria, Kiyotaka and Mondo had their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and they belted out laughter while their peers watched with wrinkled brows.

It seemed they had all got over their unease last night. Byakuya didn’t know what had caused those two to go from butting heads to palling around at some point, but at the same time, he didn’t care, and he walked toward the door to the kitchen.

“Male friendship is indeed different than female,” remarked Sakura. Sat next to her, Aoi released a sigh and faced her palms toward the ceiling.

“You can say that again.” She looked away from Mondo and Kiyotaka and caught sight of Byakuya, who by this point had almost made it the whole way across the cafeteria. Her tone sharpened. “Togami? What are you doing here?”

He opened the kitchen door and glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’m being held hostage here too. Do you remember?”

Aoi glowered.

“What about all that mean stuff you said about us poisoning your food?” she asked him.

“‘Mean’? Is that what you call it?” he retorted. He adjusted his glasses. “It’s called common sense. If you want to survive, you should try using some. Instead of playing friends, you should stay on your guard.”

“Ignore him,” said Mondo with a scowl, having since seated himself at a table with Kiyotaka. “He’s just trying to mess your head up.”

Aoi placed her hands either side of her head, like he meant it literally. At another table, Celes smirked, cradling a cup of tea.

“It seems the unkillable Togami-kun still needs to eat. If his food has been poisoned, I’m intrigued to see what will happen next,” Celes said, and though she talked about him, not to him, she watched him closely.

Byakuya refused to dignify her quip with a response and entered the kitchen. Metal worktops occupied the centre of the room, with bronze and silver pots and pans hanging overhead on ceiling units. To his right, boxes of various vegetables sat about, all out in the open so one could just pluck one out and help themselves. On the other side of the room, ingredients rested on shelves within a glass case, and nearby, a set of knives were pinned up on a wall, with different sizes for different uses, presumably.

The kitchen offered a range of options, but Byakuya prepared himself a bowl of cereal, unable to do much else. Normally, he would have a chef prepare his meals. Sometimes, in the morning, he would eat a French breakfast, and other times Japanese or Polish... but here, he didn’t have that choice, so cornflakes would suffice for the time being.

Of course, if he really wanted to, he could have taught himself to prepare more complex meals. In fact, he would do that today. When he finished eating by himself, he left his bowl by the kitchen sink and withdrew to the library.

Sticking to what he told himself, he browsed for a cookbook. Prior research into the school informed him that a Super High School Level Cook enrolled at the academy the year before, and the library would be the appropriate place to keep any cookbooks. Sure enough, he soon stumbled upon the section with them, mixed in with books on poisons. He plucked one cookbook off the shelf and sat down with it.

Today, he was in the mood for Beef Bourguignon. Once he found a recipe for it, he skimmed through it, and deeming it to his tastes, he grabbed some paper and a pen from the backroom and began making notes on what he would need. After he did that, he made a note of the page number and read through the rest of the cookbook for other ideas for meals.

It was as he had once said. Someone could poison their meals, so for his own sake, he needed to learn to prepare his own food. Not only that, but he needed to brush up on poisons and how to test for them.

The door creaked open. He didn’t look up, continuing to read a recipe for steamed mussels and white wine. By now, they should have realised he wanted nothing to do with them, yet just yesterday, Makoto had come here with Touko to bother him. Now someone was bothering him again. It had even been around this time when those two had wandered in, and Touko had come out with some nonsense about how she imagined him telling her to be controlled by a strong man.

“Um... Togami-kun?” said Makoto.

Great. That guy was talking to him. No, not great. Wrong word. Annoying. It seemed he hadn’t learned his lesson. Byakuya lifted his gaze, firing a glare at him, and noticed Touko hovering nearby in the background. 

His jaw clenched. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open and a line of drool streaking her chin as she gripped the edge of a bookcase across the room. Their eyes met briefly, and as they crossed paths, his insides gave a quiver while she continued to shamelessly ogle him.

After he tried to reveal her secret, she should have hated him. Was she really that deluded, to still stalk him? She had even chosen the same unit to lurk behind as yesterday. Byakuya jerked back his head.

“Are you serious?” he snapped. “Do you like the sound of my voice? I told you yesterday to leave me alone. You’re eyesores, the pair of you.”

Makoto cringed, but Touko drew forward, having been acknowledged even a slight amount and undeterred by his harsh tone. As she approached from out of the shadows, more of her details fleshed out. Her pale grey eyes, slim face, the purple tint under her eyes and the mole on her chin all bloomed into view. Byakuya watched her warily. To think this girl killed him in his imagination... this girl who stuttered, who never stood straight and whenever she made eye contact with anyone, looked ready to vomit.

She stopped a short distance away and swallowed, trembling faintly.

“Togami-kun...” Touko trailed off with a distant look on her face. He didn’t answer, but that didn’t discourage her. A smile tweaked her lips and she picked harder at her fingers. “Do you remember those words you said to me? ‘You should become a woman who doesn’t control weak men but is controlled by a strong man’...”

Byakuya gritted his teeth and struck his book against the desk. It only hit with a dull thud, but the other two recoiled.

“Do you take me for an idiot? You already tried this yesterday,” said Byakuya, heat rising to his face.

Touko blinked. “Eh?”

He let go of the book and jerked his hand, holding it aloft.

“It was literally yesterday you got Naegi to come in here with you to annoy me, and I told you then that I never said that. You even admitted to me that I never said that, and that you thought it was something I wanted to say,” said Byakuya.

His eyes bore into her. She stared back at him.

“What are you talking about?” asked Makoto, equally confused. “We didn’t come here together yesterday.”

“Is this a joke? You did. You both did,” said Byakuya. Makoto gestured to himself.

“Me? I think you’re the one that’s joking. I’m telling you, we didn’t. Not together,” Makoto said.

But they had. They had. They had to have had. He could remember it happening, yet he couldn’t spot any signs of a grin being fought down, or any telltale twinkles in their eyes. Their faces were painfully stupid but at the same time painfully honest.

He realised he was shaking slightly and stood up.

“Get out,” Byakuya said in a curt tone without raising his voice, and without looking at either of them in the eyes. “My patience has worn thin. And you... Fukawa. Go take a shower. You reek.”

She clasped her hands together.

“I-If that’s what you want, you only have to say,” she told him. Byakuya waved a hand at her like swatting a fly.

“I did. Yesterday. Now get out of my sight!” He thrust his finger toward the door. “The whole room stinks of your stench. It’s making me nauseous.”

Touko yelped, slapping her hands over her mouth, but did as he asked, shuffling away with Makoto following her out shortly after. When the door closed, Byakuya raked his fingers through his hair, his other hand supporting his weight as he pressed it down on the desk. A few seconds later, he sank back onto his chair, and he thought. He thought a lot.

Maybe his dream hadn’t been as similar to what just happened as he thought. Maybe he misremembered the dream, and after this happened in real life, what he thought he remembered from the dream were gaps that he filled in later with this experience. Otherwise, he dreamed something that ended up happening, which wasn’t impossible. Just unlikely.

Hell, he could have dreamed the entire Touko being Syo revelation. The new motive.

Still, he couldn’t shake off the sense of uneasiness that coated his skin in a prickling film.

To his relief, no one bothered him for the rest of the day. After dinner, again eaten by himself and consisting of a simple salad and cold cuts, he went back to the library and settled down with Genocider Syo’s casefile, much like the night before.

Because the library didn’t have any windows, as time wore on, the lighting remained unhelpful in informing him how late it was. However, the night time announcement hadn’t sounded when a crawling sensation crept under his skin.

Someone was watching him. He looked up and saw Touko hiding behind a bookcase with only part of her head poking out. The sight tripped him up for a moment. In his dream, she had been lurking there. A coincidence. Even so, he kept his guard up, not taking his eyes off her.

“Oi,” he said. She jumped, like her puppeteer pulled her strings taut. “I know you’re there. Get out.”

Touko slipped out from behind the bookcase, but instead of leaving, she approached him. Her feet dragged across the floor. Messy hair restrained in braids framed her pale face, which housed light eyes that didn’t quite meet his gaze. The awful lighting painted shadows like bruises on her and tinted her skin in its subdued shades. She wrung her hands together, biting down on her lip, and as she stationed herself the centre of his vision, he realised he had witnessed this very sight before, in his dream.

Byakuya sat up straighter. Touko forced herself to meet his unrelenting gaze and trembled, but she didn’t crumble away.

“Togami-kun... can I ask you something?” she said, her voice barely carrying over the short distance between them.

He leaned back in his seat. Eyed her.

“What is it?” he asked. Touko folded her arms into her sides.

“You know Genocider Syo?” she said.

Her words chimed in his ears. He stiffened. This was just like his dream.

“The others wondered if that murderer... that monster... was in the school,” she told him, hunching her shoulders, wringing her hands together.

So was that. She had said those exact words in it too. He gulped. Steadied himself.

“So?” he said quietly. “What’s your point?”

“That person... They’re in the school right now. I know this for a fact,” she said.

No.

“It’s true,” she said, even though he hadn’t said anything. She squared her shoulders. “It’s because...”

And like in the dream, she pointed at herself, and she said,

“... because she’s inside of me.”

Byakuya gaped at her. She must have taken his silence as disbelief because she began explaining herself, like she needed to. Like she hadn’t said this in his dream, word-for-word.

“We share a body. She was created when I was younger... created from an accumulation of abuse and pressure...”

Everything she said...

“... Each day I fear she will come out and strike again. And that... that she will kill again, and in this awful place...”

... she already told him...

“I don’t want to die. But most importantly... I don’t want her to kill you!”

... in his dream.

Touko stared at him. Byakuya stared back. His mouth turned dry. She went on to show him the scars on her left thigh and her holster of scissors on her right. Like in the dream. He tore his eyes away from her scars. Sought her gaze.

“Where do I come into all this?” he asked, straining his tone so it came out hushed, controlled. Like he wasn’t unnerved. Its gravelliness buried his waver.

“With your help, I can try to keep her inside. If I can’t abolish her, I can at least stop her. If I can... be with you... I can stop her,” she said. “You can give me the strength to stop her. I just need you to promise me you won’t tell... and that you’ll help me.”

Byakuya pushed up his glasses and with his heart beating faster, he turned his head away. Really, now that she had told him, neither had any choice. Touko couldn’t take back what she said, and he couldn’t wipe away from his memory what he had heard. They were in a house of cards, leaning on the other, and if one were to fall, so would the other. Her secret would be exposed. He would have to be silenced.

He lowered his hand from his glasses.

“All right,” he said, and he turned back to her. “I promise.”

The corners of her lips quivered, teasing to curl upward. Byakuya looked down, setting his eyes on the hand he had resting on the library desk.

“As long as we’re in this place, no matter what happens, I won’t let Genocider Syo kill again,” Touko gushed. “T-Thank you, Togami-kun...!”

His eyes narrowed.

“... Leave,” he said.

A beat passed, and then he heard her footsteps as she retreated. The door shut behind her with a respectful click, leaving him by himself.

Byakuya planted both of his hands against the desk. Thoughts whirled around in his head, but he couldn’t focus on any of them. They combined to fill him with noise. Was he dreaming again? He had to be dreaming again. And this time, it was lucid.

Therefore, if he waited long enough, then...

The television screen positioned on the wall began to hiss with static, and sure enough, Monobear’s face appeared on it.

“Ehhh, this is a school announcement. It will soon be Night Time,” deadpanned Monobear, right on time. “Before that... all students are required to attend a gathering at the school’s gymnasium.”

Monobear sprung to life and thrashed its arms around. Even its wild movements were the same as in Byakuya’s dream.

“Emergency! Emergency!” it shouted.

And then the screen snuffed out.

Byakuya peeled his palms off the desk. His pace didn’t falter as he took wide strides, as he left the library, as he walked through different corridors, and he only stopped when he arrived in front of the podium where Monobear would appear. The others spilled into the gymnasium behind him. He didn’t look away from the podium.

For a while, everyone stood in silence, until Kiyotaka raised a fist to his chin.

“Hmm... What does Monobear want with us this time, gathering us all in here so abruptly?” said Kiyotaka.

A short distance away, Celes pursed her lips, standing with her fingers laced together in front of her. “I also wonder what he’s up to. It must be something important if it couldn’t wait until morning.”

Unlike last time, Byakuya didn’t say anything, watching the podium while the others talked amongst themselves. Monobear soon emerged from behind the podium, and it regarded them with its shiny, lifeless eyes.

“It’s way too boring here when no one is being killed. Therefore... I’ve decided to treat you all to another motive!” Monobear declared, arms raised up high as it recited the exact same speech as before.

Kiyotaka shunted a foot forward. Anger twisted his features into the same shape as last time.

“I don’t know what you’re scheming, but none of us are going to kill anyone ever again!” He pounded his hand against his chest. “Do your worst! We won’t bend over to you!”

Monobear tilted its head to one side.

“Wow, if I could experience human emotions, I would be scared!” Monobear remarked. “Alas, I can only experience bear emotions. We’ll see if you’re as brave as you’re acting very soon, because today’s theme is...”

It reached behind its back, and moments later, it revealed its paw, brandishing the envelopes that contained their hidden secrets.

“... ‘Embarrassing memories’ and ‘secret pasts’!” Monobear waved them about like an owner trying to get their dog to perform a trick. “Everyone has them. You, your neighbours... people you think you know everything about... They’re all things you don’t want anyone to know about. While you guys were sleeping, I read your minds, and here is what I came up with!”

Monobear tossed out the envelopes, and everyone wandered over to get theirs. Byakuya glanced over his envelope, turning to Touko, who was still searching for hers on her hands and knees. If he showed everyone her envelope said she was Genocider Syo, they wouldn’t be able to brush it aside like last time.

Even though this was only a dream so it had no actual real life consequences, he would know what happened and that was enough for him. He needed to do things right, so he looked around and when he spotted hers, he pounced.

“H-Hey! That’s mine!” Touko shouted as he picked it up.

Ignoring her, he straightened up and started to open it. Touko threw herself at him and clawed at his hands. He gritted his teeth and shoved her off with his shoulder, but by this point, Sakura had closed in on him. She snatched the envelope from Byakuya and glared down at him.

“Togami, you cretin,” Sakura growled. “How dare you assault Fukawa like that! Have you no shame?”

Touko whimpered behind Sakura, cradling her right hand. Mondo grabbed Byakuya’s shirt and hoisted him closer so they were face to face. Noses almost touching. Byakuya could feel the heat radiating off Mondo’s face. Almost taste his sweat.

“Are you out of your mind?” cried Makoto, scrambling up to them, but he wasn’t talking to both of them. He stared at Byakuya. “Togami-kun, what the hell is your problem?”

Sakura held the envelope too high for Byakuya to reach, and even in a dream, Byakuya didn’t fancy his chances against Sakura Oogami and Mondo Oowada. He tried willing Sakura to give it to him, but she remained resolute. She didn’t so much as quiver.

“That girl, she told me minutes ago that she was Genocider Syo,” said Byakuya, pointing at the person in question, and Touko shrieked, throwing up her arms in front of her defensively. “She told me she lives in fear of the serial killer inside of her, who may kill again.”

Blinks scattered across the faces gawking at them.

“Geno-what now?” said Hifumi.

“Genocider Syo,” Celes corrected grimly. She looked into space like there was a camera there. “We talked about her earlier, by the way.”

Chihiro squeezed their hands together.

“You mean the serial killer? B-But...” Chihiro shuddered and hunched their shoulders. “... Fukawa-san can’t even stand the sight of blood. How can she be that murderer?”

“It’s... It’s not true,” said Touko, trembling. “My... My envelope... contains a humiliating secret... that if anyone knew, I would drop dead...”

Everyone’s eyes flitted about, flickering between Byakuya and Touko. Between a cruel man who seemed to revel in a game that encouraged murder and where one had to kill to escape, who boasted how he would be the one to survive to the end and didn’t care about hurting the feelings of the likes of Chihiro and Touko or anyone else, unfiltered and cold, and a woman who stuttered and fidgeted and stared at them all like a wild animal caught in the beam of headlights in the middle of the night. Unfiltered, cold as well, with a persecution complex.

Makoto fixed his eyes on Byakuya.

“Togami-kun... you really are too cruel,” said Makoto on behalf of the class.

“Barbarian!” Hifumi sneered, punching the air. “Harming women is unacceptable! My hair is going to turn yellow at any moment.”

Byakuya breathed loudly. His nails dug into his fists.

“We should tie him up,” said Mondo. He stretched out his arm, holding Byakuya further away from him. “I don’t trust that bastard to leave our sight, even for a second.”

“After such behaviour, I think that may be for the best,” said Sakura. She turned her back on Byakuya. “Come, Fukawa. I will walk you to your dorm.”

And so the rest of the class separated, but not before slinging scathing looks at Byakuya on their way out. The only one who didn’t was Celes, who flashed him an amused grin before quickening her pace. Mondo hardened his hold on Byakuya.

“Oi, Hagakure,” barked Mondo. “Grab me some rope and take it to my room.”

Yasuhiro stopped walking and swiveled around.

“Can do!” said Yasuhiro with a salute.

Mondo dragged Byakuya to his own dorm, not letting go even as they waited inside. Soon, Yasuhiro arrived, and the duo tied Byakuya to a chair. Yasuhiro offered a wave before leaving them alone. When the door closed, Mondo put his hands on his hips, but only for a few seconds. Then he sat on the bed and took off one of his white loafers. Byakuya glowered.

“You fool,” said Byakuya. “You don’t - ”

Before he could finish, Mondo stuffed a sock into Byakuya’s mouth.

“That’s ‘cause I can’t stand the sound of your voice,” said Mondo.

Byakuya gagged and tried spitting it out, but that just prompted Mondo to push it back in so he stopped. Mondo grinned.

“That’s better,” he said.

The ropes restricted all of Byakuya’s movements, so Byakuya could only sit still and survey his surroundings. Large flags with golden text about the Crazy Diamonds decorated the room, one against the bed, another across the desk and three hanging from the ceiling in the walkway. He cast them no more than a cursory glance, uninterested in learning anything about the gang Mondo belonged to. Nor did he care about the gritty manga spread out on the bed or the hair products across the room.

Mondo strayed from him only to lock the door, and then he sat back down on his bed. He grabbed a manga, crossed one leg over the other and started reading in silence. Byakuya tried to shimmy. The ropes didn’t slacken.

For a while, only the rustle of a page turning and the occasional cough broke the silence, until they heard a knock on the door. Mondo set down his manga and got to his feet, crossing the room with large strides. He disappeared from sight as he reached the door, but Byakuya heard Mondo open it.

“Fukawa?” said Mondo. “What are...?”

Mondo cried out in pain, and Byakuya tensed, hearing a loud thump as Mondo stumbled into a wall and collapsed. Byakuya widened his eyes and tried breaking out of his restraints. Seconds later, he saw the braids. He saw the glasses. The sailor fuku. But he also saw the tongue, the scissors and the light dancing in her eyes as she turned to him, standing across the room from him.

“Here’s Johnny!” Syo called out.

Byakuya couldn’t move. With a grin, she raised her scissors, and Byakuya could do nothing as she pumped him full of metal.

***

He woke up in his bed, paralysed. At first, he thought he was still tied up, but when he could move again, he thrashed and discovered he was entangled in his bed sheets, not ropes. His heart burned and when he finally laid his hand over his chest, it felt wet. Barely able to breathe, Byakuya staggered to the bathroom and tore off his shirt, staring at his chest in the mirror.

No blood. No wound. No incision. Just sweat. A lot of sweat. He left his room.

In the cafeteria, a familiar scene greeted him.

“Male friendship is indeed different than female,” remarked Sakura as she stared at Mondo and Kiyotaka.

Mondo was very much not dead. On the contrary, he laughed loudly, pressing hips with Kiyotaka.

Aoi heaved a sigh, resting her chin in her hand. “You can say that again.”

Without being noticed, Byakuya returned to his room and started pacing. He carved a mark onto the table then paced some more.

This time, he didn’t push it when he tried telling everyone about Genocider Syo, but rather than go to the library, he watched Touko slink into her room before retiring to his one, and for the rest of the night, he stayed there, even when he heard his doorbell fitting. He tried to stay awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, but he must have fallen asleep because he woke up lying down on his bed.

Immediately, he went to the table. The notch was gone. Byakuya pushed hair from his eyes and went to the bathroom to shower, and as he removed his shirt, he noticed marks on his arm by his wrist. Like scars.

Three of them, to be precise.

Three tally marks.

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo square: Stony Accidental Marriage

Fandom: Marvel Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton Tags: Accidental Marriage, Las Vegas, Love at First Sight, Drunk People, Humor, Fluff Words: 2.144 Sequel: Till Death Do Us Part (Complete)

Summary: Steve is drunk and falls in love head over heels with Tony. Marriage is the logical next step. Now, if only the wedding night would never end so they won't have to wake up.

---

Steve is drunk. The feeling is all the more exhilarating for how seldom it happens. He does not drink, usually, not enough to make his steps unsteady and his vision wonky. He is sensible. Most often, he volunteers to be the designated driver and everybody is happy to leave him to his sorry sober state to go and have fun themselves. They are in Las Vegas, though, and do not have a car with them. They left that at home right along with all their common sense.

“We need to celebrate,” Bucky had said, one arm around Steve’s shoulders and a wicked grin on his face, already planning their downfall.

“And you’re going to buy all our drinks,” Clint had added, not one to let these opportunities pass by unused, “since you’re going to be all famous and rich soon.”

“There’s not going to be so many drinks,” Steve had answered, but was too busy hiding his blush to properly chide them.

He is not going to be famous. Just because one gallery decided to put some of his pictures up for their next exhibition does not mean that their frugal life is over. Somewhere around the fourth drink, though, Steve begins to believe his friends that it might. Slowly, he stops worrying about the bills he needs to pay and the paintings he has to finish and the two jobs he has to struggle.

Being drunk pushes all of that away, wrapping him in a comfortable bubble where he is not afraid of anything. Not of failure, not of success, not of his art being out there for anyone to see.

The music seems to seep right into his bones, making his limbs move out of their own volition. He dances and laughs and drinks anything his friends put into his hands. They are here to look after him. He is safe.

The club is a dump. The lights are low. There are too many people crowding the dancing floor. Steve is sure no one here has ever even heard about fire safety regulations. Nobody cares either. And the more he loses himself in the feeling of being alive, the less Steve cares about that too.

Midnight must have long come and gone, but time does not matter here. Steve’s friends are somewhere. They loosely orbit each other in the club, meeting up every now and then only to disappear into the crowds again. Still, Steve is not afraid of losing them. Not here. Not with how pleasantly removed he feels from all his fears.

The sight of the man in the middle of the dance floor hits him like bludgeoning hammer right to the chest. All the lights and music and energy of the club seems to pale compared to this one man’s grace. He is short but appears larger than life. His skin is glowing under the artificial light. His hands, weaving through the air, are calling for Steve to come closer. And Steve, uninhibited by his usual reservations about strangers, feels himself drawn in.

His steps are not quite steady anymore, but he walks towards the man as if he holds his salvation, dodging bodies, eyes fixed on his target. From up close, the man is even more beautiful. Dark eyes, bright smile framed by an elaborate goatee. Steve’s fingers itch to draw him, to catch the swirl of pure energy around him.

The man does not stop his movements when he notices Steve’s stare, but his smile widens, gets a bit cocky. It is a challenge. Tonight, Steve feels like he could meet any challenge thrown at him.

“I like the way you dance. The colours all swirl around you,” Steve tells the man and reaches out with his hand, hoping to catch some of that brilliance for himself. “Wanna teach me?”

“Only if you catch me if I fall,” the man answers. There is something like humour in his voice but Steve nods, entirely honest. He is not the best at saving people but that does not mean he will stop trying.

He never notices the man move, but then their hands are intertwined and Steve is pulled close enough to the man to steal his breath.

They dance. Hours seem to fly by in which the lights never dim and the music never stops pushing their heartbeat to go faster. All of it seems to seep right into Steve’s skin and then push out in waves, pulling him this way and that. They share some drinks but Steve is not drunk on alcohol anymore but on the exhilarating feeling of sharing space with this man – Tony, as he had whispered into Steve’s ear.

If Steve were sober, he would never manage to move this way, but here and now it is the most natural thing in the world. Tony and he circle each other in perfect synchronicity.

They gather an audience at some point, pulling the entire club into their orbit. Steve is not sure whether his friends are still there, but they told him to live a little, to have fun. He is sure he has never been more alive than here, in Tony’s arms.

“You are perfect,” Tony tells him when they take a break at the bar, clutching a drink in one hand and Steve’s arm in the other.

“We should marry,” Steve exclaims, nodding with more enthusiasm than he has been able to muster for anything in a long time. “You and I. So nothing will ever separate us again.”

They are so close, Steve does not think anything could come between them. Still, it is the best idea he has ever had. Better than going out in the first place. Better than letting Tony pull him on the dance floor. Eternity should frighten Steve, but Tony is so bright next to him that he thinks he will never be afraid of anything again.

“That’s a great idea,” Tony hums, leaning even closer. “Then you can show me what else you can do with those hands.”

Their hands are intertwined again, and Steve thinks about paint, about having to touch every inch of Tony’s skin to be able to copy it on paper. Then he thinks about tracing Tony’s lips, about kissing.

“But where?” Steve asks with sudden desperation. He does not want anything to come between him and Tony.

“This is Vegas, hon,” Tony says, his voice alone is enough to soothe Steve. “Everything is either a chapel or a casino. Some are both.” He lets go of Steve to get a wallet out of his jacket and puts some bills on the bar. Before Steve knows it, Tony is touching him again. “Come on, practice your vows. I’m getting us a cab.”

They end up in a cab with two strangers. “Witnesses,” Tony tells him and Steve is glad that he has Tony to remember these things. He briefly wonders whether he should not tell his friends that he is all right, ask them to come to the most important night of his life. He has not seen them in a while, though, his eyes too fixed on Tony. They can have a proper celebration afterwards.

The cab driver lets them out at the first chapel he finds. It is a small thing, drab and dark, not at all a place Steve ever imagined himself marrying in. As soon as Tony steps into it, it begins to glow, however, made holy by his presence alone.

Someone gets them a priest, who appears tired but not surprised. He looks at them strangely but smiles back at Steve. Happiness is infectious, after all.

The ceremony itself is over very quickly. Steve can barely remember what they said or did, too mesmerized by Tony. By his smile and his hands and the way he holds himself. Tony’s hands are beautiful, more so even than his eyes. Calloused and scarred and yet so very careful, so very sure about every movement they make. Steve could watch them for hours and never get bored.  

“You can now kiss,” Steve hears the priest say through his daze.

He looks at Tony and knows that Tony is only looking at him too. Without a word, they are leaning closer, melting into each other’s warmth, their heartbeats mingling.

When their lips touch, the world feels right for the first time in years. All of Steve’s worries and problems fall away as he lives only in this moment. He wishes it would never end. Tony tastes of excitement, the fulfilment of dreams.

When they break apart, Steve feels like Tony is taking a part of him with him.

“We should have our wedding night now,” Tony says. They are still so close that it feels like they are one.  “Like, right now.”

When Steve looks up, the priest is gone and their two witnesses are making out on one of the benches. It is almost like only Tony and he are left in the world, and Steve would not mind it at all if that were the truth.

“We’re in a chapel,” Steve points out miserably, even though a voice in the back of his mind says that this is not exactly a refusal.

“It’s more like the backstage room of a seedy bar,” Tony protests, his gaze full of intensity. “We’re surely not the first.”

Steve snorts, fighting the need to get his hands all over Tony right now. “But we deserve better,” he argues, sounding not so sure about that himself. “We need to dance and we can only do that in a bed.”

For a moment, Steve is afraid his words will not make sense for Tony, but Tony only nods like that is exactly what he thought too.

“I have a bed,” Tony says, full of eagerness. “Let’s see whether that cab is still waiting.”

The cab is not, in fact, still waiting, but they simply hold onto each other’s hands and start walking. The whole world feels so small now that they are together to fill it. The walk is exhilaratingly liberating. They talk and they dance right there on the sidewalk, and when the light behind Tony’s movements fades a bit, they get a new bottle of something that burns as it slides down Steve’s throat.

He has not felt this weightless in years. Also, he has a husband now to make life easier. In sickness and in health.

By the time they reach the hotel, they cannot keep their hands off each other. Tony’s lips are so insistent that they barely make it to the elevator. From there, Steve cannot say at all how they make it to Tony’s room.

He is glad they did, though, because Tony’s bed is huge and soft and when Steve lets himself fall onto the mattress, he whoops when he is thrown up into the air again.

“This is amazing,” Steve says, full of bliss. “Come try it.”

Tony stands at the end of the bed, looking down at him with a smile that Steve knows only too well. It is the kind that questions how he got so lucky to end up here. It is the kind that speaks of the sheer happiness to be alive in this moment. He cannot believe someone is looking at him like that.

“If you think that is amazing, tonight will blow your mind.”

Steve nods, slightly impatient. Everything Tony does will be amazing. He rocks on the bed. “Let me blow yours first.”

When his own words register, Steve dissolves into giggles and then outright laughter when he sees Tony’s baffled face.

“Come on,” he beckons, “I don’t make empty promises.”

Without any hesitation, Tony lets himself fall right into Steve’s arms. Together they bounce a bit, laughing louder.

“You’re perfect,” Tony hums, snuggling deeper into Steve’s embrace. “Let’s marry.”

“We already did that, husband,” Steve says. “Now, stop talking before our wedding night is over.”

In response, Tony places a trail of kisses up Steve’s neck and over his jaw to his lips. Each one makes the fire inside Steve grow, makes his more sure that he has made the best decision of his life tonight.

“Let’s never wake up,” Tony whisper against Steve’s lips. “Real life is so exhausting.”

Tony sounds tired and Steve cannot have that. They are supposed to be happy forever. “I have a better plan,” he says with all the determination he can muster, “let’s just not sleep. Then we don’t have to worry about waking up.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, Tony hovers over Steve and looks down at him. The smile is back on his face and that is, once again, the only thing that counts in the world, leaving no place for worry.

“Deal,” Tony says.

They kiss, and Steve has never been more excited for forever to come.

---

This has a sequel (because they do have to wake up at some point): Till Death Do Us Part

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 7: Two Wrongs End in a Fight

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Sometimes good intentions aren’t enough. Sometimes no matter what there are always consequences to your actions.

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Even on opposite sides of the ring the Minotaur makes Cadence look almost comically small. Which is saying something for this height.

They circle one another; complete opposites. The Minotaur either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care that its opponent has changed. It beats hulking fists against it’s chest and lets out deep, intimidating huffs and snorts of it’s large bull head. Even with the metal between them those who end up behind the beast on the outside back off for their safety.

But it’s tactics aren’t working on the stony-faced vampire — it can tell. Ends up roaring louder and louder, so loud Taylor has to cover his ears with his palms and it still hurts.

On the outside Ryder pushes his way to Katherine with Taylor in tow. Growls out in a low breath; “What the fuck does he think he’s doing? He’s gonna get us all killed.”

Katherine snorts. “You’re not the one in the cage, Nik.”

“That may be but I gotta get the wolves outta here. Like, now.”

“Or what?” It’s enough to wrench her eyes away from the fighters and their posturing.

“I don’t know and I don’t wanna find out. But if Kristof’s boys find us…”

“Shit, he actually sent Pack into town?” Ryder nods and her grip tightens on the cage links. “Well — I — I can’t leave him, Ryder. Not now, especially.”

And if that’s his intention Taylor wants to stop that shit right quick. Grabs onto Ryder’s shoulder.

“We’re not leaving. Not until he’s out of that cage.”

“Stay outta this, Taylor. It ain’t your business.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to… I mean if we could help…”

Katherine throws him back a look. “You want to help?”

“Of course.”

“Then pick a god and pray.”

If Cadence is looking for any sign of an opening or weakness — the audience decides he isn’t allowed the luxury. One brave soul, pushed forward by other less-brave souls, jumps at the cage right as the Minotaur turns its back to him — slams his fists and rattles the metal with ferocity.

“Get to the fuckin’ fight!” he rages.

The Minotaur scrapes a hoof against the concrete — and charges.

The vampire dives away an inch too late — cries out when a strong hand wraps around his ankle and throws him across the cage like a ragdoll.

There was a phase Taylor went through early into his transition where he tried (the operative word) getting into things all young American boys are supposed to be into; cars, gym memberships, wrestling. None of them ever stuck — wrestling the most of all. There were healthier ways to work out aggression than mindlessly beating someone else to a pulp. Didn’t matter if it was ‘all staged’ or not. He’s not a fan of violence.

So when he watches those nearest where Cadence falls whoop and cheer and scream in his fallen face it takes everything inside of him not to look away in disgust.

Cade flips his messy hair out of his eyes — reaches to wipe blood from his temple with the back of his hand but only succeeds in smearing it into his locks. He tries to jump to his feet but can’t — lets out a cry and crumples to his knees favoring the right side.

“Get up!”

“Pathetic!”

“Someone bring in the wolf!”

Katherine looks ready to threaten a jeering woman next to her but instead uses her clenched fist to bang against the metal. “Come on, Cade! Set it and get up!”

And Taylor’s sure he’s not the only wide-eyed watcher as, as though she commanded it of him, the vampire stands and hammers his fist into his knee. Puts it back into place judging by the way he tests out the joint.

The Minotaur doesn’t take the time to relish its victory. Charges again but this time Cade’s ready — this time he’s waiting. This time he slides between the hairy hooves rather than trying to move aside and spins in the dirt to kick the beast in the lower back.

The Minotaur falls with a strangled noise. Catches its horns on the cage and wrestles itself out with mindless rage before whirling around and swiping its lowered head like a skilled swordsman would his blades.

Like they’re moving to the chants and calls for blood and gore as music, Cadence and the Minotaur dance around one another for what feels like forever. Every blow the creature lands is quickly healed on the vampire with only streaks of blood and torn clothes a reminder they happened at all. And while Cadence’s attacks on the Minotaur seem calculated and with intent they might as well be near misses.

But the Minotaur is smart. Smarter than it looks. And rather than letting Cadence form a gap between them to recover from a hook to the jaw it charges again, horns prone, and sinks deep into the meat of the vampire’s side before tearing away.

“CADENCE!”

Without even so much as a cry of pain he staggers back. Everyone else backs away; treats his wound like a plague rather than one made of their own selfishness and greed. Everyone but Katherine. Who struggles to try and fit her fingers through the gaps in the links. Like sheer force of will will press her through the space occupied by something else and bring her to him.

He collapses on his knees; she mirrors him without thinking. This time it’s Taylor who holds back Ryder from trying to pry her away. In retrospect he’s probably just concerned for Kathy’s safety around a wounded — no doubt starving — vampire. But something about the moment in front of them screams not to be interrupted.

Katherine’s hair obscures Cade’s face — so close they could be locked in a passionate kiss. He clutches to the hole in his side and his time the blood doesn’t stop flowing. Just another coat and color added to the already decorated concrete.

Taylor’s eyes fixate on the white-knuckled grip onto which the vampire holds the fence. Could swear it looks like the links in the rusting chain metal are starting to groan and bend under the pressure. Catches his rasping voice only because the anticipation of the inevitable kill and continued victory streak for their champion has his fans silent; practically on the edge of orgasm.

“Something’s happening, Kathy—”

Cade’s whisper sounds like a scream in his ears.

Katherine slowly — hesitantly — places her hand over his.

“Don’t fight it. Let it swallow you whole.”

“Let it…?”

“Swallow you whole, Cadence. Become it.”

“I — no — what if —”

“If you don’t you’ll die in here. And then you’ll never know the truth. You don’t want that.” And when he doesn’t respond; “I told you I’d be your last. Don’t make me a liar.”

Taylor wants to pull them apart. Feels somehow like the advice she’s giving is inherently bad — filled with unknowns and secrets he’s not privy to and probably for good reason.

There’s a fraction of a second where it looks like he’s given up — made a liar out of her anyway. But when Cadence pulls back and catches Taylor’s eye over the huntress’ shoulder he realizes almost too late how wrong he is.

Too late for him, for Ryder, for Katherine… Definitely too late for the Minotaur. Because it looked at first like this fight was going to be man versus beast. But the thing trapped in the cage isn’t a man at all. He isn’t a man at all.

He grins mouthy and fanged like he can read Taylor’s thoughts. Something cocky and righteous; no trace of the previous pain.

The tense rope of silence finally snaps to thunderous applause when the Minotaur goes in for the kill. Yanks Cadence back like it’s just going through the motions of the finish of the fight. Picks him up and hauls the smaller form over his head to let it shatter on the ground.

Only he doesn’t. He never collides with the floor.

Instead lands nimbly on his feet; dusts himself off like there isn’t a hole of gore in his side and his shirt isn’t half torn off. Takes the stunned expression on the Minotaur’s face to right himself with a gentlemanly scrutiny.

The shock wears off quickly — literally shaken aside with a huff of displeasure and confusion and twitching bull’s ears. It doesn’t know what happened. And for once it isn’t alone. But it knows so little about the world — knows only what it’s been made to do.

So it does what it does best. It charges.

The hoof raises but Cade’s already across the ring. Several jabs to the chest of the beast; ribs and around the back to the spine. Just like before, Taylor realizes — perhaps too late, only somehow different.

Before a hit sent the Minotaur stumbling. Now it doesn’t take a goblin’s heightened hearing to catch the crunch and crack of the broken spine that follows.

Over and over he moves faster than the Minotaur — and the crowd — can see. Too fast for his body to heal; judging by the cage-front watchers and the flecks of blood on their faces and fancy coats. If Taylor didn’t know better — and who knows, maybe he doesn’t  — he’d swear the vampire is enjoying his victory. Playing with the Minotaur like a toy.

Prolonging the inevitable.

In a final violent act a white-knuckled grip grabs on a horn and yanks hard enough to throw the entire weight of the creature off-kilter. A fallen feather in a hurricane.

The Minotaur lies in a slowly growing pool of its own blood. Spreading into the grooves left by charing hooves and fallen opponents and pooling in an abstract tale of the first and only defeat. The metallic smell is awful; pungent. Makes Taylor feel nauseous.

He’s pretty sure even Minotaurs shouldn’t be able to bend their arms the opposite direction at the elbow.

And in the corner; Cadence. The broken horn a trophy of victory in his grasp.

He stepped into the cage to try and right a wrong — Taylor understands that. But now… now he’s not so sure what’s left standing. What did Katherine do to him?

An unnerving silence ripples out from the victorious vampire. Spreads out to every soul watching as he walks calmly to the cage entrance. Katherine only has to gesture before the announcer is fumbling with a strange set of keys.

The Taylor from before all of this strangeness would have chocked up the thin shimmering veil that dissipates around the lock when a key slides home as nothing but heat or a trick of the light. The Taylor of now isn’t so sure.

Two bouncers rush in and around Cadence — look to each other for answers on how to go about dragging the Minotaur from the ring. Obviously something they aren’t quite used to. They end up grabbing one furry arm a-piece and drag with all their might.

Cadence keeps a tight grip on his prize even as Katherine coaxes him out. When she tries to hand him back his things he doesn’t seem to recognize them — not until she pulls the golden earring from some unseen pocket.

That he takes — pins back in place with careful precision. As though his hands aren’t stained in another creature’s blood.

“We’re leaving.” Katherine snaps at the announcer. Holds up a sharp nail at the end of a ‘not taking your shit’ finger and presses it to the man’s gaping void of a mouth. “Keep your prize money. And tell Lady Smoke what’ll happen to her next champion… to ensure there isn’t one.”

Though her confidence is unwavering, the hunter still looks back to Cade as if to ask ‘is this what you wanted?’ And hopefully she can take his silence as an agreement. Because it’s all they’re apparently getting out of him.

The Nighthunters exchange silent conversation that ends in a single curt nod; joined as if by a thread.

Nik wraps an arm around Taylor’s waist — jerks his head for Cal and Donny to follow as he starts ushering them through the crowd before it awakens.

“We’re gettin’ outta here.”

Taylor throws a look back to the pair. Watches Katherine throw Cadence’s jacket over his broad shoulders. “But…”

“No, Rookie. Not this time.”

“Nik, if you just —”

“Let it go.”

“But —”

“Let. it. go.” Clenched teeth, a squeeze on his shoulder. He’s not kidding and isn’t taking no for an answer.

He’s about to let it go. Really, he truly is.

Then he sees a distinct and familiar type of full-arm glove reaching to wipe away tears from a familiar type of face. Finds himself lurching out of the safety of Ryder’s closeness and pushing through until the cage stops him — just an obstacle but enough of one that he grasps the rusted links in his clutches and tries to part them like they’re gossamer threads.

“Vera!”

Behind him he knows they’re calling for him — “Taylor!” and “Rook!” and “Hey!” — but they don’t matter.

“Vera!” Rattling the cage like just another man losing his life savings on a bad bet. “Vera! Hey Vera! Over here! Vera!”

She’s real — wasn’t a fever dream. She was real and they abandoned her outside the cemetery but she also knew; had to have known something. Why else wouldn’t she have joined them in their fearful delirium? Why did she say what instead of who?

“Vera!”

She knows because she’s here. Here in this wonderfully hidden monstrosity of a place. She knows because she’s hidden in this secret world just like he is and that means she’s far more responsible for what happened to Kristin than he is.

God, she fucking knew!

“VERA!” Taylor slams his fist and rattles the cage. Catches a dip in the volume of the place just enough for her to peek between her delicately gloved hands and catch his eye. All the people in the place and she sees him.

Yeah, she should look scared.

Her name like an incantation falls a flat consonant when he’s wrenched back by Ryder’s strong hand. Forced to turn away from the undeniable proof he didn’t even know he was looking for to look into a different kind of proof. The kind in Ryder’s stony eyes.

“What’re you doing, Rook?” — because apparently that nickname is gonna stick — “Is it Opposite Day and no one decided to tell me? Do I gotta tell you ‘hey, let’s stay and grab a game of Blackjack’ for you to — Taylor! I’m — Don’t you run away from me!”

But he is. Is already done with hearing Ryder’s complaints because Vera’s just over there and does she know about Krissy and move so I can get to her.

Only he makes it about three-point-two steps in that general direction before Ryder’s tugging him back; this time without verbal argument.

“No—Nik no you don’t understand—Nik she’s —”

“Who?”

Who, indeed. Certainly not Vera, because there’s a gaping hole where she was standing just a moment ago that’s slowly being filled by increasingly rowdy patrons.

She’s gone.

They wrestle over ownership of Taylor’s shoulder until he gives up. Huffs and stops moving which is enough for Ryder not to manhandle him and actually pay attention to his sudden episode.

“Did you see someone?” Finally, only now it’s too late. A useless question.

Taylor’s sigh is so heavy, so damn heavy; he feels the weight of it all the way down into his soul.

“I thought… no, no I guess I didn’t.”

And of course now, when it’s pretty much the definition of too late, Ryder actually starts believing him; looks ready to question it until Taylor passes him by for Cal and Donny.

They were supposed to abandon Katherine and Cadence — not the other way around. But the crowd is still stunned enough for them to take advantage and slip away.

Away and to a service elevator the wolves sniff out from the shadows. An elevator that’s only two doorways from the almost holy taste of fresh air. Humidity or not all it takes it one breath to be a hundred times better than the stale smell of blood and sweat from down below.

“Would’a been convenient to know about this shit getting in…” Ryder mumbles — keeps it to himself so as not to spoil the rare moment of joy between the Lowell brothers as they have a proper reunion in mutual freedom.

But Taylor sees it as the gesture it is, knows for a mouthy guy like Nik it took a lot of restraint to keep that to himself, and gives him a gentle elbow of ‘I’m proud of you.’

“Now we know for next time.”

“Ha, next time,” Cal stops grinding his knuckles into Donny’s hair, “well there definitely ain’t gonna be a next time if I have anything to say about it.”

It’s a comment aimed directly at Donny. Lucky for him the boy gets it. “Right there with you, Cal. Thanks for… you know.”

“You’re my Pack and my blood, Don’. Like I was gonna let anything happen to you? We’re in this together.”

“You sure are.”

Octavia’s voice pierces through the night; makes it feel just as confining as the cage ring.

Ryder holds both hands up in surrender and Taylor doesn’t have much of a choice but to join.

Because Octavia’s part of the Pack, too. And the Pack came with.

There’s no closed doors this time around.

Kristof’s gathered the Pack around a large bonfire behind the hunting cabin. Whatever goes down; it goes down in front of everyone this time.

Octavia shoves Cal and Donny on their knees in front of their Alpha. It hasn’t rained in days but the bayou leaks into the earth, here. Stains their jeans with mud.

Ryder’s held back but has just as little freedom — held still with a preternaturally strong grip on the back of his coat collar.

“No, him too.” Kristof barks. Stops the Pack member from lumping in Taylor with the rest of the onlookers. He obeys without a second thought and pushes him to face whatever wrath is sure to come.

Cal throws a look back his way with a pained expression. “Come on, Kristof, he’s got nothin’ to do with this,” he argues — almost pleads, “hell even Ryder ain’t to blame. I bribed them to take me to Donny.”

The Alpha inhales through flared nostrils; deep and purposeful and noisy.

“Last I checked a bribe weren’t the same as holdin’ a knife to their throats. They knew what they were doin’.”

There’s a second where Donny looks ready to try and join in but one look from Cal sets him straight. Let the adults talk.

Taylor throws Nik a look. Is there anything we can do?

No, says the look he gets back — the smallest twitch of Ryder’s head back and forth, just watch and wait.

One raised hand from Octavia and the Pack goes dead quiet. No, not just the Pack. The entire bayou — every cicada, cricket, even the whistles of the willow vines. The entire bayou watches and listens.

“I don’t even know where to start with you Lowell boys,” when Kristof finally speaks it’s heavy and sigh-ful like a parent, “both’a you come to me for help and then both’a you do the exact opposite of what I tell you to do. So I’ll just ask this; am I your Alpha?”

He knows the answer. The best Taylor can figure is that he asks it to prove a point. It’s a bully tactic. Makes him want to call the man out on it — instead he just hopes there’s more to this Pack thing than he understands. For Cal’s sake at the very freakin’ least.

The Lowell brothers answer just a second out of sync.

“Yes, Kristof.”

“Of course.”

“Could’a fooled me!” His shout ripples through the whole Pack in shivers and shuffles.

Cal courts danger and chances a look up.

“I couldn’t just take a walk and do nothing, Kristof.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“He’s my brother! My kid brother—my blood brother!” If there’s more he wants to say he bites it off the tip of his tongue.

Kristof just shakes his head. “No no, see; I hear you Lowell. But what I’m hearin’ ain’t what you’re sayin’. ‘Cuz what I’m hearin’ is that you didn’t trust me to bring him home.”

“That’s not what I said —”

“Isn’t it, though? You came to me because you were — rightfully — worried about Donny.” — how they can keep talking like Donny isn’t right there is beyond him — “And I told you I’d do everything I could. Not just for you, and not just for my brother. But for the good’a the Pack.”

Octavia, up until then a stoic guard, curses something in French under her breath and rubs the back of her neck.

Whatever he’s said is enough to rile her — but leaves Taylor feeling like he blinked and missed it. Has him trying to piece together some of the puzzle until Kristof makes it easy on him; continues.

“You boys know family is everything to me — just like it was to your Pop. Weren’t no chance I wasn’t gonna take in my own blood when he passed. You know that. But one thing he always understood — the thing you boys still don’t have drilled in those thick skulls a’yers — is that no matter how important blood and kin may be when it comes to bein’ the Alpha the Pack has to come first. It has to.”

As the realization settles over him all Taylor can think is that he must have a thick skull, too. Because he definitely doesn’t understand how Kristof — how Cal and Donny’s uncle — can do this; Alpha-schmalpha.

Cal and Donny, Taylor and Ryder, Octavia and the rest of the Pack wait on bated breath for Kristof to continue. Continue justifying his choices, continue by handing down a sentence — does it matter?

It’s for the sake of the brothers Lowell that he hopes the Alpha’s hesitation is, in some part, because he’s at war with duty and family.

Instead Kristof jerks his meaty chin up; fixates on Octavia. “How much damage did they do?”

“Not much from what we could tell,” she sounds almost relieved, “and the few goblin recruiters we managed to corner made it sound like it was someone else who did all the dirty work.”

The weight of the Alpha’s frown lands on Cal all at once. “Puttin’ us in more debt around the community than we already are?”

“Ah — no, actually — if I…?”

Ryder actually waits for permission to speak. As if pigs have taken flight around the world.

Octavia nods. “Go on.”

“The Pack won’t have to worry about that, is all I’m sayin’. There were other forces at work; independent ones. They were holdin’ Smoke’s debtors in cages, Kristof.”

“Cages?” It’s the first time they seem to address Donny — takes him a breath to notice before he nods so hard his head might fall off.

Ryder continues; “Now, be mad at ‘em for all you want, but I think the one thing we can all agree on is that shit ain’t right no matter what you owe.”

“No; no it ain’t,” — there’s a ‘but’ coming — “but that don’t excuse what you did—what both’a you did. Donny, pup, thinkin’ a’yer kin’s all well and good but good intentions didn’t do much good in a cage now did they?

“And you, Cal… you made yer grave. Time to lie in it.”

Taylor throws Ryder a panicked look. It’s just a metaphor, right? Even so it’s a bad one to use at a time like this. Especially when they both very well could have ended up in the grave had they fought the Minotaur anyway!

“Wait —”

He doesn’t need to know the finer details of Pack mentality, though, to know that when Cal stands that’s not the thing to do. Makes the gathered wolves stir restlessly; the Alpha and the Beta growling at the act of defiance.

Cal seems to be done baring his neck in silent acceptance; in cut-off explanations he knows won’t be listened to.

“I’ll take both our punishments.”

“Cal no way —” Donny’s voice cracks; Cal uses it to cut him off with a hand to stay him down.

“Don’, shut up.”

Kristof isn’t forcing his nephew back down. He’s not actually going to listen… is he?

“I’m listenin’.”

“The way I see it — mercy would be banishing us both from the Pack. I get it Kristof; I do. But he’s just a kid—a pup. He needs a Pack to grow up with, not grow up in spite of.”

“Some might say he needs blood kin more.”

“Yeah well…” Cal rubs the back of his head, “he’ll have you for that, won’t he?”

“Are you tryin t’say you don’t need the Pack, Lowell?” Octavia scoffs behind him. Draws his gaze back — where it lands not on her but on Taylor. Where it stays.

“No, but there’s a future generation to think of.”

Donny tries again but knows there’s no use; a half-whispered “please Cal…” punctuated by shaking shoulders and the near-silent ‘boys don’t cry’ sniffles of youth.

There really isn’t any use. But the Alpha shifts on his workman’s boots. Maybe he’s a little glad to have the weight of decision taken off his broad shoulders.

“If that’s yer final decision.”

“It is.”

“Then there ain’t a home for you here with the Jensen Pack, Cal Lowell. And I don’t think I gotta tell you what’ll happen if you find your way here without my say-so.”

Taylor doesn’t know what to think. Tries in earnest — looking around at the Pack — to find someone just as dismayed by this as he is. Someone with the balls to step forward; to say something.

“The same goes for you Nik-fuckin’-Ryder, and yer nosy little mortal, too.” The barest hint of remorse is gone when Kristof addresses them. All that rage from the beginning of the night bubbling back with one look and a low growl. “You stay the hell away from me and mine. There ain’t a friend for you here.

“Get out, and take the stray with ya.”

The Alpha’s disgruntled return to the cabin is all anyone needs. The Pack disperses in hushed discussion. Octavia pushes past Cal like he’s — well, like he’s Nik — to help Donny up with a far gentler demeanor.

The kid doesn’t waste a second standing to rush into Cal’s waiting arms. They hug with the same ferocity, the same desperation. Reunited hours earlier only to give one last goodbye now.

“It’s not fair.” Only realizes he’s said it aloud when Ryder gives a squeeze of his shoulder.

“No; it isn’t.”

Octavia gives the Lowells as long as she can. And whatever it is — fear or duty — it’s enough to make Donny unlatch himself from Cal without much resistance. The arm she throws around his scrawny shoulders isn’t possessive. Cal even looks a little relieved.

“You got ‘til the moon’s under the trees to pack a bag,” she tells Cal.

He shrugs it off. “Won’t need that long. Just…”

They both look down to Donny rubbing his runny nose with his sleeve.

In a rare flash of emotion, the Beta’s face softens.

“He’ll be taken care of. Go on — get.”

And Cal doesn’t need very long at all. Emerges from his trailer with a single duffel slung over his shoulder and a paper bag clutched in his fist.

Before Ryder can even kick off from the side of the mobile home Cal shoves the bag in his hand. “Your Hunter’s Sage.”

Ryder doesn’t look inside; doesn’t have to… or maybe he just trusts Cal at his word finally.

“Thanks.”

“A deal’s a deal.” His shoulders heave in his sigh as he turns to Taylor; looks ready to maybe give some sort of a goodbye. Only Taylor won’t have it.

“You ready?”

He blinks. “Ready for what?”

“To come back with us —” holding up both hands, “— and don’t even try to say no. I’m sure Garrus wouldn’t mind putting you up.” Well, no, he doesn’t really know at all. But judging by the emptiness of the Shift those rooms upstairs don’t exactly have a waiting list.

This is all his fault anyway. Somehow; it just is.

Cal’s protest is stuttered, almost wordless. He looks to Ryder like the fellow loner might back him up but gets only a shrug — nothing to make his case.

“Cab’s waitin’ off the edge’a the property.”

Luckily (though it may be tied to a defeated mood, the more Taylor thinks about it) Cal doesn’t argue. Just nods and follows along with his head held high.

Well until they cross the pergola marking the Pack’s territory — then he tries his best not to let the others know he steals a glance back.

Taylor notices; pretends he doesn’t. Just ‘accidentally’ bumps Cal’s shoulder with his own to help him put one foot in front of the other.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 57 – The Turning Point

Bam!!!!!

Arrived a new challenger to the brawl staged upon Lukedonian shoreline, between the world’s most malicious spear and living shields endeavoring to protect their homeland.

Her presence embodied the blazing sun that has descended upon the battlefield.

In fact, Lunark’s entire body was blazing with blood-red aura, which gave the audience an impression that their own flesh and bones were caught in fire.

The scene was audaciously impressive enough, but they could not resist leaving a comment at the sight, for the same reason several few seconds ago, when they beheld the crimson photopillar upon the sea.

“Lady Lunark...?”

“But... This aura must be...”

“Did you get that power from...”

Lunark also knew – no, she was certain what this power is.

To whom this power would have originally belonged.

Whose voice she was talking to back in the sea.

“I don’t believe this is the most appropriate time or situation to discuss the matter.”

Every eye sharpened at Lunark’s pregnant remark.

“Very well, then.”

“We will gladly help you and...”

“No. Leave this to me, and y’all go look after the injured.”

Seira and Regis stiffened in the course of lifting the Death Scythe and gripping the Legasus, respectively, to instead gape at the werewolf.

“I have a plan. I’ll explain later. Now go. Please.”

Lunark’s speech was rushed, as if there was something troubling her within.

All heads of clans, stationed ready for a fight, exchanged looks, but they eventually loosened their muscles, reminding themselves that not a second is meant to be wasted during a war.

“Understood.”

“We wish you luck...”

Ludis, although his bow was as courteous as it could be, hinted nervousness on his face.

He was the first head of a clan to run into the Dark Spear unchained from Frankenstein’s control.

It was true that the backup like none other has obtained power that was more than like-none-other, but he could not help being anxious on the other hand.

Neither Lunark nor the other heads of clans gave him reprimanding looks.

After all, Lunark had her reasons – or rather a dilemma – for asking them to leave the scene.

She fisted her clawed fingers as tightly as she could; her hands were trembling much more viciously than she had thought.

Perhaps because she had asked for this power for just a little bit, she could feel it – she could tell that this power will serve her for a very limited amount of time.

‘I should’ve known, but this power is too great. Should I as much as blink, I will lose control of this power in less than a second. It’s actually an ordeal to hold this power from escaping my body.’

Lunark could at last feel what Frankenstein would have felt whenever he wielded the Dark Spear, although her standing is not completely identical to Frankenstein’s standing.

‘This power does not belong to me, and I didn’t even get to adapt myself to this power. If I am to fight like I usually do, there’s no telling what kind of permanent aftermath I will scar Frankenstein with. So in all... I must finish this as quickly as I can, by using this power to maximum, but not all out against the Dark Spear.’

And Lunark was aware that her goal was not to defeat the Dark Spear; it was to get Frankenstein back.

‘Even if I prevail, there’s no point if the Dark Spear takes over his body again. And I do not believe this power will stick around beyond this battle. Though I’m not sure how I can get Frankenstein back without losing him ever again... I’ll start figuring it out right now!’

That was the last thought Lunark had the moment she began her second round against the Dark Spear, and it did not take long until she learned she will have a gruesomely long way to go.

Wham!!!!!!

“Krgh!!!”

Her punch was nothing different from the usual, but it unleashed shockwave that devastated the forest at least hundreds of meters away, upon pummeling Frankenstein’s body to roll over for seemingly dozens of times.

‘That was much stronger than I had expected...! But maybe I should’ve known.’

Lunark’s forehead tightened, upon realizing that she must be much more careful than she had fathomed.

And of course, Dark Spear was not intimidated at all.

“How dare you...!!!”

Dark Spear returned with teeth grinding; it stampeded from pieces of wood and leaves back to the field.

“You’re gonna regret you refused to close your eyes in the water!”

Dark Spear ripped through the air towards Lunark, its true entity held in Frankenstein’s hand.

*****

Meanwhile, in Seoul

I need help.

If I try my best, it wouldn’t be impossible to defeat those Union agents and save the modified civilians.

But in order to stop any more sacrifice, I must put an end to this as soon as I can.

And to do that, I need help.

Until when do I have to wait to ask help from Tao and M-21?

Takio zipped his lips to the point his lips whitened, after grabbing civilians that Kornel flung.

However, one of the civilians was not very cooperative, flailing and thus wasting Takio’s time until he could plant him back to earth.

By the time Takio lifted his guns in an aim, Kornel’s fist and Helga’s heel were already running straight to his face.

‘Damn it – it’s too late!’

Without enough time to block or evade and counter, Takio clenched his jaw with a strain.

Slam!

“Kgh!”

Pow!

“Argh!”

But then Kornel and Helga were pushed back, clearly due to a strike, and Takio turn around, seeking the source of the strike.

Right afterwards, he was petrified, albeit briefly.

“Get your eyes back on the targets. We’re not done here.”

“...What are you doing here, Miss Raciela?”

“I was about to go to bed, but there happened to be some bad-mannered losers who just can’t tell playtime from bedtime. So I decided to give some noogies before sleep.”

Replied Yuigi, as oh-so-calmly as she could, before she took her spot next to Takio.

“What is the meaning of this, Yuigi?!”

Kornel rubbed his ribs as he stood, and Helga glared at the red-haired woman, her face portraying heavy amount of shock.

“...Do you have any idea what you have just done, ma’am?”

Helga’s words were polite, addressing the Union agent who used to be ranked higher than her.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but that man is an adversary to the Union. I heard from Kornel that... Oh, which reminds me, your introduction to him wasn’t very pleasant. Allow me to apologize on behalf of...”

“Cut it out. I already know everything, so no need to work so hard to win me over. And I’d thought my move was enough to tell you that I’m not here to make friends with you two.”

That was when Takio’s, Kornel’s, and Helga’s faces, full of doubt and questions, quaked as if they will shatter.

“Are you out of your mind?! You’re taking the side of the Union’s enemy! Are you saying you will betray us?!”

“Betray you...? I think you meant to say that I’ve finally learned what I must do.”

As Helga’s forehead was turning stony at an accelerated rate, Yuigi’s eyes shifted towards Takio.

As she met him in the eyes, she could picture what happened just a few moments ago.

*****

When M-21 and Tao departed to KSA, to make sure they will be there when Yuhyung returns to Korea, Takio was visiting Yuigi yet again.

His purpose of visit, at least on the surface, was to teach her the emergency protocol in case Kornel’s raid repeats itself.

Which was not what he had in mind in reality.

“...How come this is in your possession?”

Yuigi’s hands were quivering dangerously, locked upon the red-black costume Takio offered her.

“It’s a long story. And while you’re at it, you should check the document inside.”

Following his suggestion, Yuigi picked up and scanned the document inside the briefcase.

Not before long, her eyes began rattling more precariously than her hands.

“...Is... Is this true?!”

“It’s an official data from Union, earned via courtesy of a trustworthy personnel.”

Yuigi waved her head, as if she were denying what was obvious, until she broke down on her knees.

“Miss Raciela!”

Takio kneeled towards her in automatic reflex.

He, too, was beyond daunted when he first read the document, and he at the same time was outraged upon witnessing that Union had once again proved that it was Union.

‘Is this what that gigantic toad meant when he told me Union is in fact my archenemy that took away my all?!’

The reason of death of her little brother and sister as provided by the Union was that their illness worsened a few months after her enrollment as a Union specimen.

Which was far from the truth.

Union’s test subjects must thoroughly cut off their ties with their past lives, and during the process they must completely remove themselves from their families.

In order to prevent their potential future encounter, their families are put under surveillance as well.

So naturally, Arthur and Hailey were also tagged by Union eyes, but the agents who underestimated them due to their ages were not very careful with their stealth.

The children were cleverer than they had seemed; they recognized the men who took their sister, and they pled them to return her until......

The agent in charge of the surveillance fatally clubbed their heads out of compulsive annoyance.

And that was the last of Arthur and Hailey documented by the Union.

Yuigi writhed in betrayal and ultimately shed tears, and Takio wordlessly kept his position next to her.

He eventually lost enough time to make Tao and M-21 worry about him at KSA, for Yuigi silently wailed just as long.

“...Why did you tell me this?”

“...Pardon?”

“Why did you disclose this to me? And why did you hand me my suit as well?”

Now it was Takio’s turn to hush.

It was his sole call to bring these to Yuigi.

Tao and M-21, their minds in alignment with Lunark’s mind, wanted to keep these material and immaterial secrets as their secret weapon, to make Yuigi forfeit her allegiance to Union when the time comes that she opposes them.

And here was Takio, unveiling these secrets without notifying them.

“Are you afraid I’ll go back to the Union? Are you trying to apply safety measures on me in advance?”

“...No, though I doubt you’ll trust me.”

“So why did you give these to me?”

“...Because I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“...Well, I won’t be able to completely understand how you feel for losing your bona fide siblings and only family. But... At least I can guess how throbbing and dense your pain would be.”

Slowly swallowing his breath, Takio whispered very cautiously.

“My heart was wrenched out of me when I realized Aris tricked me by playing Teira. I know. Teira... I mean, Aris was not my sister. But just because I learned I must deny her ties to me didn’t mean I could deny all those times and memories I have shared with my ‘sister’ at once.”

Yuigi’s eyes wavered in the course of their intense and even vindictive stare contest against Takio.

“Which is why I felt I would be more than deceiving you if I keep this hidden from you. Now, allow me to take my leave. I have a business to attend. And don’t worry. I’ll figure out what to tell my teammates regarding this.”

Even when she was left alone, Yuigi could not raise herself back up.

Now that she knew what really happened to her brother and sister, she became even more clueless regarding her future.

So far she has stayed under the hospitality of Takio, due to push and pull from her surroundings, but now with the truth in her hands she knew there is NO WAY she could return to Union.

Nonetheless, that did not mean she could remain as Takio’s guest; she knew what Takio’s action would bring about among his teammates.

‘What am I supposed to do?’

That was when she felt a faint tremor nudging the safehouse.

She burst out through the door, fearing the safehouse suffering another attack, and she could sense the clatter of war far away.

‘That’s where the KSA HQ is... Does Takio’s business concern KSA?’

Mincing her lips, Yuigi glanced at her Cerberus suit waiting for her on the table.

She did not know what she must do for her future.

‘But... I think I know what I must do right now.’

Takio delivered all of what she received simply for her sake, and she did have a heart to tell her what is shameless and what is not.

And it was telling her to go and pay him back.

*****

Therefore Yuigi picked up her suit and reached the battle zone.

In order to make full use of her suit, however, she needed a permission.

“I need you to release me from my choker.”

(next chapter)

And this is why, ladies and gentlemen, I made Yuigi live in this fic - it was all part of a grand plan. XD However, I had trouble composing this chapter, regarding the reason why Takio returned Yuigi’s suit to her and let her learn the truth about her siblings’ death. Takio’s top and foremost priority is his current family - his team and Rai and their safety - but by returning Yuigi’s suit to her in secret, he would be putting her above them, which would be against his characterization. But in the end I couldn’t come up with a better plot for this chapter, which shows what I lack as a writer - and which I hate. :’( Anyhow, today I finished the battle between Lunark and Dark Spear. Yes, that means the highlight of this fic is over, and all that is left is the aftermath and the ending. I will do my best until the very last chapter, and thanks for everyone for staying with me!