#forwards a little‚ but this is still a fairly slow and subtle thing. most of the joy is in seeing an assembled cast of this quality; most

[mariocki]

All Passion Spent: Episode 2 (1.2, BBC, 1986)

"You really must not speak as though my life has been a tragedy. I had everything that most women would envy; I had position, comfort, children, and a husband I loved. Truly loved, Mr. Fitzgeorge. I had nothing to complain of."

"Except that you were defrauded of the one thing that mattered, face it, Lady Slane: your children, your husband, your splendour... were nothing but obstacles that kept you from yourself. Perhaps you were too young to know any better, but when you chose that life, you know, you sinned against the light."

"You're right, of course."

"Course I'm right, old Fitz may be a comic figure, but he retains some sense of values."

"Don't scold me any more, Mr. Fitzgeorge. I assure you that if I did wrong, I paid for it. But you must not blame my husband."

"Oh, I don't. According to his lights, he gave you everything you could desire. He merely killed you, that's all. Men do kill women, and most women enjoy being killed - so I am told."

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 2.7K

Despite the anxieties he had accumulated over the preceding weeks, the births themselves had been fairly straightforward. The kittens had been delivered safely, with some assistance from Nines, and were now peacefully nestled against their mother—indulging in her warmth as they fed. This was the case for all but one kitten, who did not appear to be adapting to its new environment as well as the others. It rooted blindly against Tiffany, trying to latch, but with no success. 

Setting aside his concerns for the infant, when a guiding hand reached down to help, Gavin sharply pushed it away. "You shouldn't touch them yet", he insisted. 

Nines retracted its hand, though it proved a shallow gesture of compliance, as it promptly reasserted itself. "I am incapable of carrying any harmful infections or diseases. I assure you, he will be fine." 

"He?" 

The kitten was becoming increasingly agitated. Twitching limbs sprawled wildly as it let out a string of desperate mewls. The android looked to its partner, seeking permission, as the sounds of distress became more than Gavin was able to tolerate. With a defeated grunt, he nodded slowly, gesturing towards the infant. Nines acted fast, holding its hand to the kitten's head and gently guiding it forward. With some perseverance, the animal was finally able to latch alongside its siblings. "He is the only boy—the rest are female."

Gavin leant over the bath, sighing in quiet relief as he attempted to get a better look. Furry backs had formed a mural of varied colours and patterns. The male was the smallest of the four and most closely resembled its mother, with speckles of white adorning a coat of inky black. His heart swelled in adoration as he addressed the tiny creature. "Guess we're outnumbered, hey little guy?" 

As the kitten fed, Nines used its knuckle to run encouraging circles along his back. The animal curled into the touch, purring appreciatively. A contented smile graced the android's lips as it continued the gentle motion. Gavin watched on, equally content, until he realised it was no longer the kitten demanding his attention. 

He looked away, endlessly grateful that Nines was otherwise engaged, as his blatant ogling had gone unnoticed. "I think he likes you."

Nines withdrew its finger, albeit slowly and with visible reluctance, "Best not to encourage too much at this stage. Tiffany may get jealous." 

A strained hush settled between them, intruded on only by the ambient sounds of the newborns. Squashed together in the minuscule bathroom, there was no room for physical distance. With each subtle movement, their bodies brushed, sending shivers down Gavin's spine. Despite the proximity, the dissonance between them felt gaping.

Since its arrival, the android had shown nothing but polite consideration, but in a way that felt stilted and forced. It was clear that it had little intention of stirring up further animosity, and Gavin realised that if they sought to resolve the unspoken tension, he would have to take the first leap. Staring pointedly into his lap, he gulped back a shaky breath.

"Look, Nines, what I said at the station—"

"You don't need to explain yourself."

He considered leaving it there, using Nines' dismissive response as an excuse to omit clumsy apologies. He realised, however, that without a resolution, their relationship could be damaged irrevocably - and this was something he did care about, despite any claims to the contrary. 

"I don't hate you." The confession came quick and sharp - like ripping off a bandaid. 

The silence felt even more tense as he anxiously awaited his partner's response. Nines stared into space, LED spinning yellow on a seemingly perpetual loop. This strange, dissociative state endured for an agonisingly long period as Gavin despaired over what it might be thinking. Given the taut pinch of its brow and cold look of rumination, he reasoned nothing good.

When Nines finally decided to speak, it did so with ill-concealed frustration. "I realise that. So, other than my identity as an android, is there any reason you continue to antagonise me?"

It was far from the verbal lynching Gavin had feared, but it was hardly a question he embraced fondly. There was much that he could speculate on in terms of what he felt for Nines—but there was little he could say with certainty. His body seized up as he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "I don't know, maybe it's jealousy." 

Nines appeared less than convinced. It huffed in annoyance, swivelling in place as it turned to address him. "Since Day One, you've been very transparent on how you feel about my kind. I can hardly see why you'd feel jealous now."

Gavin did not appreciate the wording. Feeling like some awful, bigoted monster, he was forced to an uncomfortable impasse with nowhere else to go. Reluctantly, he pressed on: "Come on, Nines, don't make me say it. You already know you're—"

Intelligent. Hardworking. Dedicated. 

Funny. Good With Animals. Distractingly Sexy. 

"Great," he finished lamely, ignoring the myriad of unhelpful suggestions his mind had presented. "At everything you do. It isn't fair." 

Nines seemed less than enamoured by the backhanded compliment. It crossed its arms combatively, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure any desired self-improvement would be well within your reach, Detective. Provided you invested some effort." 

This stirred something within Gavin. A long-held resentment that fueled much of his animosity towards his partner. He cursed Elijah and his perfect machines. How he could never live up to the precedent for greatness his brother set up for him.

He glared at Nines with bitter frustration. Knowing that it wasn't their fault, and he had no right to blame them for any of it. "It's not about making an effort. You're better than me by fucking design. There's nothing I can do about that." 

"Don't be ridiculous." 

The detective laughed back mirthlessly, baring his teeth in a forced smile. "Yeah, that's me. Fucking ridiculous." He jabbed his thumb to his chest. "Even as humans go, I'm a piece of work. Rude and confrontational, never listening—" 

"I suggest you start by listening now", Nines interrupted, voice heavy with disapproval, "Because you're wrong. About everything." 

"Nah, I think this is one of the few times where I'm right on the money." Gavin threw up his hands, gesturing to the room around them. Bringing attention to the littered floors and grime-covered surfaces. "Let's face it, I'm a mess. A complete waste of space."  

"And you mean to suggest that I am any less flawed?" Nines dug its nails into the bathmat, eyes scrunched together in frustration. "Deviancy has changed me in ways that I still struggle to grasp. I let emotions rule my decisions, clouding my judgment. In my absence of logic, I say things I don't mean and do things I come to regret." 

"I call bullshit. You always seem pretty sure of yourself." 

"I am far less assured than you think."

"Okay, give me one example of something you've said that you didn't mean."

Nines closed its eyes, nostrils flaring as it inhaled deeply. "When I told you that you were incompetent—and that I felt nothing but disdain for you." 

The words struck Gavin like a blow to the chest. An unwanted reminder of the fierce hostility they had shown each other just weeks prior.

"Our partnership came as an inconvenience, and I felt inclined to express those frustrations." It picked at a loose thread on the mat, refusing to make eye contact. "I passed judgment before I had given you a chance to prove yourself. Not only that, but I have never apologised for the harm this may have caused." 

"Sure you have." Gavin rolled his eyes, snorting crudely. "What about all that psychoanalysis bullshit about how I'm secretly a good person?"

"Disrespecting your emotional boundaries hardly constitutes an apology." As Nines pulled the thread, the stitching unravelled, causing a fray to form in the mat. "While I never behaved in a way that was intentionally disingenuous or manipulative, I can certainly understand why you might think that." 

The detective sucked in his cheeks, gnawing the insides of his mouth. There was only so much humanity a machine could replicate. He'd seen enough raw, unfiltered emotion from his partner to know it wasn't false. 

"I didn't mean what I said," he concluded, an admission to himself as much as the android. "About you pretending to feel." 

"I was designed to have perfect deductive reasoning. Incapable of being corrupted or making mistakes." Nines stalled, temple illuminated red, as its body shook with gentle trembles "I struggle to admit fault. If I do, it leaves me feeling…compromised." 

More than a little put out at seeing his companion so meek and defeated, Gavin attempted to lighten the mood, albeit in his usual tackless manner, "No one likes to admit when they're an asshole. Seriously though, there's nothing wrong with making mistakes, all that means is you're…." He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"Human beings are complex", Nines straightened up, seeming to compose itself. "It is something I am just now beginning to appreciate. Regardless, I let my harsh preconceptions shape many of our formative interactions. I gave you ample reason to antagonise me, and for that, I am sorry."  

Gavin rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how he ought to respond to this. The divisive character he was, it was rare to be on the receiving end of an apology. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I was a dick to you back at the station."  

"It is okay, I am quite used to you being a dick."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's nice. What the hell happened to you not judging me?" 

"I will allow you some liberties", Nines explained, smirking playfully. "Within reason, of course. I have no qualms in telling you off when I consider it warranted." 

The playful exchange helped to alleviate any of the lingering tension between them. Gavin reclined against the bathroom wall, finally able to relax. Nines seemed equally pleased with the outcome, leaning back beside him. There was a moment of peace between the two until the android spoke again:

"I would like to talk about the man whose nose you threatened to break." 

Gavin felt all comfort dissipate, and he sunk limply against the tiles. "Can we fucking not."

"He was able to recite my serial number," Nines continued, ignoring the protest. "information he should not have been privy to. However, this was information that I did share with the owner of Mikey's Electronics." 

This was enough to re-engage its partner's attention, who shot back up, head perked with intrigue. 

"Following our visit, it would appear he made contact with another member of his organisation. I suspect this person was likely the one he sought to protect in his initial questioning. Having run a background check on my assailant, I can confirm he has an extensive history of soliciting violence against androids - and involvement with prominent hate groups." 

"Oh shit." 

"My thoughts exactly." Nines seemed pleased with this response, chest extended pridefully. "Truthfully, it is rather convenient that the attack occurred, as this in itself justifies arrest. In light of the new circumstances, Captain Fowler has also agreed to a more extensive questioning." 

"This is amazing," Gavin applauded, giddy with elation. "I could kiss you right now." 

He had not implied actual invitation, simply a hyperbolic expression of gratitude. Nines, ever the literal thinker, was taken completely off-guard. It looked at Gavin with wide eyes as its mouth flapped open and shut. Eventually, it was able to articulate itself, its response a far cry from what he could have expected. 

"Perhaps later, when we have concluded this case." 

There was a seductive resonance to its tone, like a promise of something more. It had Gavin hopelessly enticed as his mouth ran dry with apprehension. A quiet plead slipped from his lips as he struggled to keep his more explicit thoughts at bay.

"I mean, why wait?" 

It had been whispered to himself as a sort of hopeful introspection, so it wouldn't have come as a surprise if Nines had failed to hear him. However, the look on his partner's face assured him that it most certainly heard. Any hint of teasing was gone, replaced with something much more serious. It studied Gavin for a moment, flitting between his eyes and his mouth, but made no attempt to move forward. It was as though it were giving him a warning. One final chance to back out.

Gavin refused. He was tired of running away, allowing anger and resentment to rule his decisions. As the android leaned in to close the gap, he raised his shoulder in a dismissive half-shrug. 

Fuck it. 

Nines' lips were the perfect balance of soft and firm, free of imperfections. While the contact alone was bliss, there was a closed-mouth chasteness to the kiss that implied some lingering uncertainty. Leaving no room for speculation about how much he wanted this, Gavin grabbed him by the back of the head and pushed forward, deepening the kiss. His partner made a noise of surprise before it transformed into something else. Low and growling, with a charge of electricity. 

Before he knew what was happening, Gavin had been pinned to the bathroom wall, wrists held firmly above his head. Teeth grazed his lower lip, and the detective groaned in satisfaction as a tongue slipped deftly into his mouth. While it had all the weight and forcefulness that would have been expected, its movements were a little too controlled. It was how he'd imagined kissing would feel as a teenager, watching the climatic love scene in one of his mom's terrible soap operas. 

As they continued to kiss, Gavin realised just how right Tina had been about the 'android experience'. Everything Nines did seemed measured and purposeful as if carefully planned to maximise pleasure. Arousal coiled in his stomach, the prospect of going to bed together becoming increasingly appealing. 

Without warning, Nines pulled back, allowing his partner a chance to breathe. Gavin whined at the absence, bucking his hips in shameless protest. The android made no secret of how much he enjoyed this, staring down at him with darkened eyes. He leant down to pepper kisses along the expanse of the man's neck, interspersed with the occasional nip. "Tell me what you want."

The rich tones tickled his skin with enticing reverberation. Gavin shivered at the sensation, mind reeling with possibilities. "Please."

What he was begging for was unclear, but Nines seemed keen to find out. His lips travelled from his neck, trailing along his collarbone as he sought more of his exposed flesh. Gavin shuddered in anticipation, arousal coiling in his stomach. That was when a vibration rang out from the linoleum floor, interrupting the moment. He looked down at his discarded phone and watched as a series of messages popped up on the screen. His partner followed suit, seeming curious, and everything went to shit:

 

[New Message] Alex

Hey yourself. It's nice to hear from you.

I'm not usually one for booty calls, but you're cute, so I'll make an exception.

Can I take you out to dinner first?

 

The bindings on his wrists were relinquished. Nines pulled away, shoulders stooped in limp disappointment. Without warning, he shot to his feet, grabbing his jacket as he did so. "I think it's time I leave. I'm sure you can manage things from here."

With the dizzying pleasure he had just been experiencing rapidly fading away, Gavin realised what his partner was implying. In a moment of weakness, he reached out, beckoning him to sit back down. "Hey, you don't need to run off…you can stay a while. If you like." 

"I'd rather not, Detective Reed."

Gavin recoiled at the callous words, sinking into himself before backing down completely. While he was no stranger to rejection, there was something about it coming from Nines that he found exceptionally painful. The android fluffed his lapel, ignoring the man's dejected appearance.

"I have already informed the Captain of your situation. If you require some leave from work, I am sure he will be willing to accommodate."

Nines quietly surveyed the bathtub, ensuring the kittens were still doing well, before nodding in a detached goodbye.

[delimeful]

you cant go back (3)

warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh  

-

When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.

It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.

He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before. 

It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?

They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.

And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.

He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.

After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.

They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.

He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.

“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”

His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.

The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.

It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.

Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.

He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.

The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.

The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.

Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.

Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.

Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.

It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.

The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.

The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.

“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.

The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.

There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.

Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.

He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.

Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.

First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.

Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.

He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.

The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.

Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.

At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.

He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.

After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.

(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)

Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.

This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.

Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.

The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.

Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?

Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?

He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.

“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.

The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.

Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.

The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.

They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.

Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.

They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.

Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.

Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.

It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.

“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.

It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!

The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.

Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.

Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (1/5)

part one of the The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 6.3k 

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, eventual smut. 

a/n: at the end. @tiffdawg​, I finally did it.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Your alarm buzzes, and you roll over groggily. 

0615.

Goddamn. You flop a pillow over your head, blocking out the early morning sun, and wonder if three hours of sleep is any better than no sleep at all. 

Somehow, you kind of doubt it. 

The alarm blares again, a failsafe you’d been wise enough to set up after round two had led you to the shower. You gather your still-damp hair, wincing at how gross that feels, and elbow Peña in the shoulder. 

“Morning, sunshine!” You toss your soggy pillow onto his face. 

He grunts pathetically, cracks an eye just enough to send you a sliver of resentment, and lifts a middle finger vaguely in your direction. 

You’re completely unsympathetic. “Not my fault this time, Peña.” 

He curses you in Spanish as you flick on the lights on your way to the kitchen. Coffee is your first order of business. 

You’re not sure exactly when Agent Peña became a fixture in your apartment.  Oh, you can nail down the general timeline pretty well - a night out with the Search Bloc boys had ended with Peña coming to your place, and things had unfolded naturally from there. The sex was good. Very good. You’ve always had a high drive, and Peña is a man who can deliver. You’re pretty creative, and he’s fairly open minded, and neither of you seem to care to make things complicated with Labels and Conversations. Somewhere down the line, wild nights out evolved into even wilder nights in, and then, before you knew it, you’d let Peña borrow your spare key when he’d left his wallet on your coffee table. 

That had been at least two months ago. The sex is still good, and Peña is still leaving his shit everywhere, so neither of you bothered to say anything about it. 

It works. That’s all that matters.

You’ve just sat down with your drink in your hands as the doorbell buzzes. “What the fuck?” You glance at the kitchen clock. It’s not even 0630.

The doorbell buzzes again. 

You eyeball the gun that Peña has left lying on the kitchen counter. Nobody should be looking for you this early in the morning. 

“Hey!” Somebody is knocking now, and shouting, and ugh, you recognize that voice. You leave the gun where it is - somewhat reluctantly - and slam open the door with a ferocity that sends Steve Murphy stumbling into your kitchen. 

“Good morning,” you say serenely. 

“Good morning to you, too, Ears,” Murphy grimaces up at you. 

“That’s not my name,” you remind him for the thousandth time. Not that it will make any difference. Ever since you’d made the mistake of introducing yourself as Centra Spike’s new liaison by saying, “I’ll be your ears,” the Search Bloc boys had leapt at the opportunity to tease. You’re pretty sure most of them don’t realize that you have any other name. 

Somehow, it irks you more coming from Murphy. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask as politely as your temper allows. Murphy has never been your favorite person, and your caffeine definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.

Murphy rights himself, fixing you with a glare that doesn’t threaten in the slightest. “I’m looking for Javi,” he says. He has the audacity to glance around your tiny living space, as if he’d come with a search warrant.

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly aware of your too-thin nightshirt, and lift a brow in Murphy’s direction. “And what makes you think he’d be here?”

Murphy pins you with an ‘I see right through your bullshit’ expression. “Call it a hunch.” 

Right on cue, footsteps clatter down the kitchen stairs. Murphy smirks. You don’t bother to hide a sigh. 

Fuck. 

“What are you doing here?” Peña echoes you unconsciously. You try not to cringe at the smug glance Murphy throws your way.

 Instead, you turn to glare at Javi, and oh god. 

His shirt is buttoned all wrong, hanging lopsided and displaying half his chest, if he’d just given up at the top. 

Subtle.

Murphy apparently doesn’t have the stones to address it, because he waves a manilla folder in front of Peña’s face. “Special delivery,” he says, dropping the file on your coffee table with a smack. 

Peña dives for it, brow furrowed. Whatever he sees must be good, because he snaps his head up to stare at Murphy. “Where did you get these?” he asks, thumbing through the pages.

“My contact in Medellín.” Steve rests his hands on his belt ever so casually, as if daring Peña to question him. 

Peña does. “Since when do you have a contact in Medellín?” 

You wonder the same. Partners are usually aware of each other’s informants, unless it’s that kind of contact. Isn’t Murphy married?

“Not important.” Murphy shuts him down quickly. 

“Verdugo,” Peña breathes.

You shoot a questioning glance at Murphy.  In the three months you’ve been in Colombia, your Spanish is rapidly improving, but Murphy has been here longer, and some things are still beyond you. “Butcher,” he translates with a grimace. “Or executioner. One of Escobar’s top sicarios.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lovely.”

Peña glances up, surprised to hear you speak, as if he’d forgotten that he’s standing in your living room.

Murphy doesn’t acknowledge you. “He’s in Medellín, Javi.” He stretches, then makes for your front door. “I’m gonna turn in for a bit. Late night.” 

Peña grunts, settling on your sofa with the file as Murphy sees himself out. 

You sidle up behind him, curious.  He knows you’re there - your hair is falling over his shoulder and you’re doing nothing to stifle your breathing, but Peña’s only acknowledgement of your presence is to shift his body ever so slightly to the left, unspokenly granting you access to the file.

You bite your lip, pleased and a little unnerved at the implication. You suppose that Peña wouldn’t be Peña unless he’s breaking the rules. He certainly has a reputation for it.

It hits a little differently, though, knowing that he’s committing a felony just to satisfy your curiosity. And on your fucking sofa, too.

You shake the butterflies away. Peña is flipping through a series of grainy photos, each showcasing the same guy. Somebody, Murphy probably, has circled his face in red ink, and there are further notes in the margins, written hastily. Landmarks, you guess. Peña is reading too fast for you to decipher much, but you spot a map of what you assume is Medellín in the shuffle. It is similarly annotated with scrawling red ink.

Peña flips through the file once, and then again, slower. 

You brace yourself on on your forearms, glancing at the clock. You aren’t expected at the embassy until eight - you can afford to be patient. 

Whatever this is, it’s big.

Deciding you’ve gleaned all you can from the file, you turn your attention to Peña. He’s leaned forward on your sofa, arms on thighs, lost in thought. Every muscle is tensed, as if he could spring up at any moment, his gaze is narrowed, his brow furrowed in a way that tempts you to lick it. 

The thought startles you. You aren’t a goddamn animal.

Are you? Your mind drifts to Murphy, smirking with his arms folded in your kitchen like he could see through your nightshirt, right into your fucking brain. 

A stone sinks in your chest. Landing this position with Centra Spike had been your first big break in a lifetime of frustrations. You’d joined the army fresh out of school, angling to be an analyst with the special forces. The good ol’ U. S. of A. had gladly foot the bill for your education in exchange for you signing your life away, and you’d chugged through a mind-numbingly boring double major of mathematics and computer science, all on the sage advice of your recruiter. 

The reality of active duty was a kick in the fucking teeth. The brass had taken one look at you - a wide-eyed, idealistic woman with a big hair and bigger goals - and promptly slapped you with a desk job. You’d spent three more years rotting away in a forgotten back corner of an office building in Kuwait, filing reports and delivering messages. Occasionally, they’d throw you a bone and hand you a code to rewrite. Your commanding officer got all the credit, and you were just a glorified secretary.

By the time your contract was up, you’d been sidelined, interrupted, passed-over, underestimated, scoffed, and just flat-out ignored enough to be thoroughly fed up with military life. The glass ceiling in the U.S. Army is raised just high enough to suffocate its victims slowly, and you were sick sick of being stifled. 

Being recruited by the CIA for analyst work in the hunt for Pablo Escobar had been pure, dumb luck. Right now, you might just be a liaison, but this is your shot. Your last one, probably, and you’re not willing to give it up just to get laid.

Not even for the best lay of your life.

Peña slaps the file shut with gentle smack, startling you from your thoughts. He reaches for his boots, moving with a single-minded determination that you’d find sexy if it weren’t so damned inconvenient.

“Peña.”

He doesn’t react, just gathers his badge and keys from the end table as if you aren’t even there.

“Peña.” You say it louder this time.

“Hmm?” 

“Javi!” You call his name without even realizing it, and it works. His head snaps up, eyes wide, staring at you as if he’s just now seen you for the first time.

You have his undivided attention now. 

“Yeah?” He blinks, all wide brown eyes, and fuck it all, you can feel yourself flushing under his gaze. 

You swallow hard, push past the strange flutter in your chest. “We’re getting too predicable.” 

His brow furrows. “Come again?”

You decide to take the high road, but you can’t stop your lips twitching at the obvious joke that he’s left himself open for. He’s quick to follow your though process, though - his eyes sparkle with laugher, daring you to call him on his blunder. 

Shit.

You press on. “This,” you start, grimacing. He’s still looking at you, and his expression is warm. Flirtatious. “What we’re doing…” Goddamn, your face is aflame. “I mean, we’re not exactly subtle.”

He draws back, expression shuttering instantly. “Don’t worry about Murphy,” he says firmly. “He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

The ‘if he knows what’s good for him’ is clearly implied.

“It’s not just Murphy,” you press. You can’t exactly put into words what it is that you're trying to make Peña understand, you just know it's important that he does.

“What are you suggesting?” He’s standing now, still holding the file against his chest, as if to defend himself with it. 

You shake your head. “I think,” you say slowly, trying hard not to catch his eye, “that we need to cool it.”

Silence. You can feel his raised eyebrow.

You step forward. You’re focusing hard on finding the right words without revealing too much, but your hands are desperate for something to do. “We need to stop fucking around.”

There, you said it.

“Oh?” There’s something amused in his tone, but you shrug it off, still refusing to look at him.

“Yeah,” you answer hotly. “Isn’t this fraternization? Shouldn’t we be worried about our careers, or some shit? We both have a lot to lose here.” You glance up, emboldened by your speech. “Do you want to catch Escobar or not?”

He’s looking down at you, not taking you the least bit seriously, expression damn near indulgent. 

Indignation sets a fire in your chest.

“You think you can just quit me, cold turkey,” he asks in a voice as smooth as silk.

Goddammit, he’s mocking you.

“Absolutely.” You look him firmly in the eye, former awkwardness forgotten, more determined than you’ve ever been. 

He huffs directly in your face. “You won’t last a week, Ears.” He cups your cheek in his hand, skimming your jawline with his thumb. “I know you, remember.”

Oh, the bastard. “You think you can go longer?” You counter, stepping into his chest. You’re pissed now. Peña is a well-known man whore, and you know, know, that you are exactly his type.

He laughs now, openly and genuinely amused. “Longer than you,” he says, glancing down at where your hands are absently fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. 

Oh, fuck. 

“I’m fixing you, you absolute asshole,” you hiss, beyond grateful that you’ve yet to undo his last cockeyed button. “Unless you want to show up at the office all freshly fucked and lopsided.” You hold up the hem of his shirt, clearly displaying his mismatched edges.

“Oh.” At least he has the grace to look abashed. 

“Yeah,” you swallow dryly, suddenly aware of how close he his, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, sex and the scent of your own bedsheets. 

Goddamn, you want him already. 

You push it all away, patting him condescendingly on the chest. Two can play this game. “Just looking out for your career, Agent Peña.”

He sighs somewhat theatrically, but you can see the conflict warring in him. 

“Well, then, Ears,” he says after a long moment. He rebuttons his shirt properly this time, fingers working quickly. “Guess I’ll see you around.” 

You meet his gaze evenly. “Guess so.”

The door shuts behind him, and you sink to the sofa. It’s still warm from where he’d been sitting.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

♠

You’re not watching, you’re not, but you can’t help but notice when Peña comes swaggering into the office at ten am, wearing those sunglasses and those fucking too-tight, dark wash jeans, chugging a cup of coffee like he knows that his exposed neck is a weapon. 

You make eye contact through the glass, just for a moment, and he winks at you.

You smirk back, a plan forming in your mind.

This means war. 

♠

You retaliate by letting your hair curl wild over your shoulders and squeezing yourself into a leather skirt that is just barely work appropriate. The Search Bloc boys bombard you with whistles and winks and catcalls all day. 

It’s worth it, though, to see Agent Peña’s eyes go wide and blinking, to watch him swallow so hard. 

“Fucking tease,” Murphy hisses as you glide past his desk. 

You flip him off in response. 

♠

Your apartment feels strangely empty. 

It’s Saturday afternoon. Search Bloc is investigating a tip in Medellín, and Centra Spike doesn’t need you in today. You briefly consider going out, but that would involve changing out of your sweats, and besides, aside from the Search Bloc guys, you really don’t have many friends in Colombia. 

You sit down on your sofa, drawing the coffee table toward you, and deal yourself a hand of solitaire. The cards had belonged to your dad before he passed them down to you, and they are comfortable in your hand, worn soft with age. There’s a trick to shuffling a deck this old, and something comfortable in the practice. 

The hand you deal is a losing hand. 

Frustrated, you stomp down the stairs to the little pharmacy below your flat. “Hola, Emilio!” you wave to the older man working the counter. Emilio doesn’t speak much English, and your Spanish is improving slower than you’d like, but you mostly manage to communicate just fine. 

You make your way to the little display of liquor bottles and ponder it for a minute. There’s nothing remotely recognizable on the shelves, but you’re not exactly committed to buying anything, anyway. 

There’s nothing more pathetic than drinking alone. 

 A presence at your shoulder makes you jump. It’s just Emilio. He smiles at you, and reaches for a bottle of clear liquor whose packaging reminds you a little too much of antiseptic hand spray for comfort. He presses it into your hands. “Guaro.”

“This is what I need, then?” you ask him. “Este? It’s good?”

“Guaro.” He’s nodding and grinning, rattling something in rapid-fire Spanish that you’re far too slow to translate. The enthusiasm behind it is hard to miss, though.

“He says it’s good and strong. Respect it, and it will respect you.” Emilo’s daughter winks up at you. She’s bent over, stocking shelves, and you’d missed her, distracted as you’d been by your conversation with Emilio.

You smile gratefully. Ana must be home from university this weekend. You’ve only met once or twice, but she’s kind, and doesn’t mind translating for you. You think you might have been friends, if she was around more.

“Gracias,” you tell her, and mean it. “Aguardiente,” you sound out slowly, frowning down at the bottle. “Sugar water?”

“Something like that.” Ana rises, leaving the box of chicharrones on the floor. “You’ll find that most of the locals just call it guaro. It’s a staple in Colombia. Hard to find anywhere else, and even transporting it between cities is dangerous.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, as if to say, ‘what’s new?’ 

“But it’s just liquor, right?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Alcohol, sugar, anise…” She shrugs, and laughs. “Simple, but there’s something magic about it. You don’t want to go too hard with this. Sit down and have a small glass with a lime. Slower is better.” 

You frown. Anise. It jogs something in your memory, some long-forgotten fact…

“Trust me.” Ana is at your elbow now, pinning you with an earnest stare. “It hits hard, and fast. Papa wasn’t lying.”

You laugh. “Is that the college experience speaking?”

“Oh, yes. Seguro.” 

Ana follows you as you take the bottle of guaro to the register. “And how are your classes going?” you ask as Emilio rings you up. 

Ana grimaces, shaking her head as she cuts her gaze to Emilio. “It’s good to have a little break,” she admits. 

You sympathize with that. You hadn’t cared too much for the tedium of higher education either. Emilio hands you a little paper bag, and you wave goodbye to him with a smile. “I’ll have to catch you when you’ve got a free weekend,” you tell Ana as you head toward the stairs that lead to your flat. You hold up the liquor suggestively. “You can teach me all about how to respect this guaro.”

Ana laughs. “What are you doing this evening? We close up at eight.”

Your face breaks into a grin. It’s hard making friends in Colombia just with the language barrier alone, never mind that your work with Centra Spike forces you to keep so many secrets. Without Peña around, life here is lonely. But Ana seems innocent enough, and it’s just a drink. “Perfect! I’ll be here.”

You walk up the steps feeling much lighter than when you descended them.

♠

Ana doesn’t stay long. She looks around your apartment, carefully assessing, then nodding as if satisfied. 

You let it go.

She teaches you to tap the bottom of the bottle to expel the liquor, almost as if you’re pouring ketchup from a glass container. Looking at the contents, they don’t seem particularly viscous. When you ask her why this is necessary, Ana shrugs.  “It’s a mystery,” she tells you, and you write it off as one of the eccentricities of Colombian culture, paying rapt attention as Ana begins explaining one of only three acceptable ways to serve the guaro.  

♠

“I’ve got something for you,” you announce brightly, slapping both hands firmly on Javier Peña’s desk and leaning in just a hair too close to be strictly professional. 

“Oh?” His face breaks into a slow smirk, and he tilts back in his swivel chair, stretching just enough to give you a good view of those too-tight jeans as he hooks his fingers behind his head. “And what’s that?”

Smug fucking bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. You cool your jets and wink at him, teasing a manilla file for him to see. “We thought you might like this.”

“We?”

“Okay, fine, Jacoby caught some chatter, but I vetted it,” you press on, refusing to let him derail you. This is huge. “It’s Verdugo.”

Peña glances up at you, suddenly intense. “You sure?”

“Well, it’s not him personally,” you admit. “At least, not his voice. But,” You slam the transcript down on his desk. “We caught an entire conversation verifying his presence at a safehouse in Medellín.” You pause for full dramatic effect before going in for the kill. “A specific safehouse in Medellín.”

Javi reverts to Agent Peña instantly, all flirting forgotten as he leans forward on his elbows. “Show me.”

You bend over, noticing absently that your hair is once again falling into his face as you tap your finger over the address. Peña settles in to read the full report as you watch, his eyes darting back and forth over the pages at a rate that is truly impressive. When he glances back up at you, the ferocity of his gaze is startling. 

“They’re getting ready to make a move.” There’s something like a spark of hope in his eyes, tiny, but growing stronger as he processes the information you’ve given him.

“Yeah,” you say, throat suddenly dry. He’s looking at you with earnest gratitude, and it tugs at something deep in your chest.

“This is big,” he breathes, and just like that, he’s on his feet, gathering the file, punching a number into his desktop telephone. 

“This is Peña,” he says as the call connects. “We’ve got something.”

♠

It’s dark when you finally get home. Claudia Messina, head of DEA operations in Colombia, had cornered you in her office for hours, going over and over the information you’d vetted. You brain is absolutely fried, the victory of the discovery stifled by having to defend your work again and again. 

You just need a drink. 

“About time!” a voice startles you as you turn to shut the door behind you. You jump, barely suppressing a shriek, and whirl around. 

Goddamn Javier Peña with his goddamned spare key.

He’s smirking at you from your sofa, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Any other day, you’d have noticed his presence instantly just from the smell. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice is more of a whine than you’d like, but dammit, you’re tired, and dammit, he’s gotten one over on you. 

He knows it, too, the smug bastard. “Expecting somebody else?” he asks, sauntering toward you with a devastating smile that manages to be both possessive and suggestive all at once. 

“No,” you answer somewhat grumpily. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

Given your sulky attitude, you’re surprised to see that his smile brightens a bit. You frown at him, still confused as to why the fuck he is here, and he bustles into the kitchen, clinking around, pouring you a drink. 

You sigh and relax onto the sofa. At least you’ll have that.

He comes back, a tumbler of clear liquor in each hand. Ah, so he’s found your guaro. You suspect that he’s helped himself to at least one measure already. He hands you a glass, and you take it gratefully, sniffing at the contents. 

He’s drinking it neat, apparently.

“So!” he says, settling beside you on the sofa, close enough that your thighs touch. He pins you with an intense stare. You raise a brow in response, intrigued and a little confused. 

He smiles. “Your tip from this morning was a gold mine, Ears.” He eases back, propping his feet on your coffee table in a way that you should probably reprimand him for. He sips, sighs, leans in to bump your shoulder playfully, then settles with his hands at his waist, long fingers fiddling with the glass he’s cradling. “Martinez wants us to go for Verdugo tomorrow,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “Based on your information.” 

“Really?” You can hardly believe it. Most of what you do is verify things that others have found, or carry files from Centra Spike to Search Bloc. Same old, same old. Even though you’ve trained for this for years, you’ve never been integral in interpreting and locating a conversation before, especially not for a target as high level as Verdugo. 

Javi twists to smile up at you, a real smile. “Really,” he says, pointing a finger in your direction. He watches you fight back a grin. “Go on, be smug. This is big.”

“Wow,” you mouth, somewhat awed that you’ve contributed anything, let alone this, to the hunt for Pablo Escobar. 

The reaction isn’t lost on Javi. He sits up, wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes gently. “Pretty much. You gave us enough information that we feel confident about initiating a sting in Medellín.” He reaches up with both hands, catching your face at the edge of your jaw and drawing you close. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Ears.”

Ears. Yours are burning at the heat of his touch. You’re acutely aware of his palms cupping your cheeks. His eyes are dark, too dark, and open, looking at you as if you’ve single handled handed Escobar to the DEA on a golden platter. 

You suppress a shudder, leaning in to him as he pulls you in for a hug. Christ, his body feels so good as it cradles yours, arms snaking around your back, stubble gritting awkwardly into your cheek, the scent of smoke and liquor clouding you -

You wonder, abruptly, how much he’s had to drink.

“Peña,” you say swiftly, pulling away from him to stand. The way he’s looking at you right now, giddy and awestruck and openly hungry, well, it’s not going to last. You know it won’t. It can’t. 

His face falls, as if he’s confused at your sudden rejection. 

You shake your head. Peña is just drunk. You guys aren’t like this. You don’t hug and share and hold each other. It was only ever sex, and it’s not even that anymore. 

You’re overwhelmed, suddenly and without warning, at how desperately you want him. 

Not just the sex, though honestly, you have missed that. No, what you want is - 

You shove that thought down, locking it away so deeply that it will never see the light of day. 

You cannot have feelings for Javier Peña. 

“Ears?” he questions, tilting his head just so, managing to look more sober than he has all evening. 

“I just need another drink,” you say as you sidestep him, making your way to the kitchen. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as his gaze follows you. He seems to take your deference at face value - he’s lighter than you’ve seen him in weeks, excited, almost chipper, if you can believe it. The meeting with Martinez must have gone very well. You snort, contrasting his meeting to yours with Messina. The dissonance is enough to wonder, offhandedly, if some not-so-subtle sexism is at play. 

You shake off that thought. It’s not helpful, just depressing, especially here in Colombia. Instead, you turn to look at Javi. 

He’s still flopped on your sofa, his original drink in his hand, hunched over the stack of playing cards that you’d left out last night. 

Your dad had taught you to play solitaire from a young age. There’s a variation for two players, a game which one will inevitably win, but the real challenge is for the single player, in which triumph relies equally on skill and luck. Last night, after Ana had left, you’d played a long, brutal game, ultimately finding yourself blocked, helpless to do anything but shuffle the deck over, and over, and over again. 

Losing two games in a row is just shameful, and you’d left the cards on the table, eager to look at them again with fresh eyes. 

Javi eyeballs the game with a furrowed brow. You’d managed to make it quite far. Had the cards fallen in any different order, you’d have won easily. Carefully, Javi flicks over one card from the stack, frowns, then another. This one is a red queen, and he plays it eagerly, shuffling the black jack to its new position and opening up another space. 

“Hey!” you protest. He glances up at you, bemused, and you shove a newly made drink into his hand as you settle beside him. 

“You missed that move,” he explains, pointing exaggeratedly with the pinky finger that holds the tumbler. 

You roll your eyes. “I play draw three,” you correct him. You reshuffle the cards to their original places, this time drawing three from the deck: a five of spades on top, Javi’s red queen in the middle, and the ace of spades below both. The top card, the five of spades, has no place to be played, so you flip all three cards into the discard pile and draw three more from the deck. 

Javi frowns. “Seems like you’re making it a lot harder than it has to be.”

You sigh. Men. “Single draw solitaire is for kids,” you counter with a vicious smile. “Just for them to learn to play the game. Real players draw three.”

He huffs, “Oh, really?” he’s smirking up at you, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Are you the kind of woman who likes a challenge, Ears?”

He’s just dying to prove you wrong. 

“I’m the kind of woman who refuses to cut corners just so I can win a dumb card game.” you inform him sagely.  

“Hmmm,” he says, staring contemplatively at the cards. You let him shuffle through the deck twice, each time verifying what you already know - the game, played as it is, is unbeatable. 

‘Seems a little silly to me,’  he teases, bopping you on the nose. “Letting your ego get in the way of winning.”

Of course Javier Peña would see it that way. You kick back, letting your feet settle at the edge of the coffee table. “Go on then,” you tell him, siping at your drink. “Swoop in and save my game with your kiddie version, you fucking hero.”

He laughs overtly at that, eyes sparkling, and something clenches hard in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so open, laughing and flirting and playing stupid games after a long day at work. 

It’s nice.

You settle in to watch him work his magic. He’s making plays at an alarming rate - it seems like no time at all before the deck is empty. 

You glance at the clock, biting back a sigh. Less than five minutes. 

He’s smirking up at you, all mussed and smug, eyes alight with warmth, and suddenly, something swoops dangerously in your belly.

That hair, those eyes, his laugh. Warm skin in the dim glow of the lamplight, his body sprawled over your sofa, just begging to be teased. 

You wonder again why he’s here. You’ve made it clear that there’s no more sex, so…

Oh, god. 

Glancing back down at him, tousled hair and crooked smile, ridiculous mustache, plopped indelicately on your sofa, you suddenly realize. 

Javier Peña had sought you out for your company. For no other reason than that he’d had a good day, and wanted to share it with you. 

And oh, oh god.

You’re still so caught up in the sex and your fucking feelings that you can’t divorce that from your friendship, which is obviously important to him. He’s not out celebrating with Murphy - he’s here, in your apartment, with no expectation other than to kick your ass by cheating at children’s card games. 

The realization takes the breath from your lungs. 

You’re the problem here. Just like with the fucking card game, you’re the one making it complicated. 

Javi needs a friend. 

Javi needs a friend, and he’d sought you out so that you can just chill together, and all you can think as he shuffles those damned cards is how the callouses of his fingers would catch deliciously against your clit as he dips them inside you. 

And, and…

You cut off that dark thought. You are not going there.

Jesus Christ, what kind of friend are you?

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” you say. It’s a beat too late and obviously hollow, but Javi doesn’t seem to notice, and you’ve managed to keep the tremor out of your voice, so that’s a win. You rise, making for the kitchen, desperate to do something with your hands. You find yourself pouring Javi yet another drink - is this his third? Or fourth? You aren’t sure - and making yourself a second, much lighter version. 

The last thing you want is to do something stupid.

Javi meets you at the kitchen bar, and you slide the tumbler across to him. He eyeballs it speculatively, raising it and tilting it to view the contents in the dim kitchen light. 

“Goddamn, Ears.” He snorts. “Are you trying to poison me?” 

The denial falls from your tongue as he tilts back his glass from earlier, his second, - or third? - the one that you’d made. He swallows, pushing the empty glass back into you hand, and stands, catching himself on the edge of the table as if he’d moved too fast.

“Alright?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath, then straightens, slowly letting go of the countertop. “Fine,” he says, cocking a brow at you. “But what is that stuff?”

You laugh. “Emilio, you know, from downstairs, he found it for me. Says it’s a Colombian staple, and I can’t leave without having a bottle at least once.”

Javi blinks one too many times, then giggles. Despite your best effort, you snort at the sound. "Well then,” he raises his full tumblr to your half full one, and they clink awkwardly. “To local rotgut and poor life choices,” he toasts, as solemnly as he as able.

“Salud!” you counter, managing to sound a just a hair more sober. Javi is swaying as he stands, and suddenly, you’re concerned. “When did you last eat?”

He glances at you, tilting his head as if your question makes no goddamn sense, and you sigh heavily. Idiot man.

“Okay, hold off on that one,” you warn him - he looks as if he’s about to toss it back, too. “Let me at least make you some eggs first.”

“Eggs?” 

You’re already bustling around your tiny kitchen, pulling a pan from below the stove. “Yeah, moron,” you tell him, unable to stop the grin that catches your lips. “Eggs and salsa. Best food for staving off a hangover that I’ve found so far.”

Javi throws back the rest of his drink anyway, then comes to press his body to your side. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a fucking science,” you counter, unable to resist slamming your hips into his to nudge him out of the way as you reach into the fridge for the butter. 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I be of assistance?” he purrs into your ear, and suddenly, it’s very, very hard to concentrate on cooking. 

“Sit. Down.” You hiss, slapping his butt with a dishtowel. He yowls more than strictly necessary, the drama queen; you’re an excellent towel-popper, but it shouldn’t hurt that much. 

Still, you rub his ass in compensation, matching his lecherous grin when he fixes it on you. “Have a seat,” you tell him again, kicking a barstool vaguely in his direction. “And watch the magic.”

♠

Javi cleans his plate enthusiastically. “So what’s the secret?” he asks, mouth full, still staring up at you like your shitty scrambled eggs are the best meal he’s ever eaten.

You snort. “No secret, Peña.” You hold up your stick of butter, much lighter than it’d been before, and toss it back into the fridge. “You literally just watched me cook them.”

He grins loopily.

You shake your head, biting back your own smile. How could a man as competent and independent as Javier Peña forget to do something as basic as eat? 

Well, it hardly matters. Even with the food you’ve made, he’s going to have a massive hangover in the morning. Ana had cautioned you several times to go easy on the guaro, and you trust her judgement. Emilio’s shit, in particular, is cheap, potent, and deadly. 

Well, he’ll pay for it tomorrow. You shake you head, watching him bumble around the kitchen and drop his dirty plate in the sink. Javi stands at your side, warm and solid as you draw just enough water to let the dishes soak. 

He reaches for your dish soap, and you stop him with a hand on his arm. Javi glances down at you, still a little drunkenly, but his eyes are warm, his lips parted just slightly, and you pull away from him as if burned.

“I’ll get them in the morning,” you manage hoarsely.

He shrugs, brushes your shoulder with his hand as he bumbles away, and you take a moment to lean against the sink and calm your racing heart. 

God, what is with you lately?

Javi has already crashed on your sofa, shoes kicked off, legs sprawled, grinning lazily in your direction. 

You manage not to oogle at him, but it’s a near thing.

Instead, you flop down on his opposite side, allowing your legs to tangle in the middle.

He makes a big show of yawning, tilting his wrist up to glance at his watch. You crane your neck to look at the kitchen clock. It’s only 10:33, but you’re both feeling a little lit - Javi more than you, thankfully - and you both have a big day tomorrow. 

You sigh, reaching down to collect the empty glasses and discarded playing cards, slipping Javi’s keys in your back pocket while he’s not looking.

He scoffs.

Oh. You whirl, realizing he’d been watching you all along. 

“So, am I staying over, Ears?” He grins up at you, a little tired, but still in an excellent mood. 

“You are definitely staying over, Peña,” you tell him firmly, trying not to laugh at the wounded puppy expression on his face as he reacts to your tone. His eyes have gone so wide, pout so pathetic that you can’t help but grin, even as you toss a throw pillow haphazardly over his lap. 

That seems to get a rise out of him. He sits up, frowning at the pillow. “I’m on the sofa?” he whines. 

“Yup!’ you say happily, enjoying the power dynamic for what it is. Putting Javier Peña in your bed tonight would lead straight to…

Well, you’re both drunk, and even if you weren’t, you’re not willing to give up on your bet. Not with the nasty realization that you’d had tonight, for sure. 

Javi must follow your thoughts, because he sobers instantly. “Okay,” he says softly, settling back down and cramming the pillow beneath his shoulder.

You’re kind enough to tuck him in, which really just consists of dragging your comforter from you bed and draping it over his ass and shoulders. His boots are lying haphazardly on the floor - you decide to leave them for him to trip over in the morning - and you don’t bother to cover his feet, knowing that he sleeps with his socks outside of the blanket, the weirdo.

Just as you turn away, a single brown eye catches your gaze. He’d been watching you again.

The thought sends a tremor down your spine. “Need anything else?” you ask clinically, trying to ignore the urge to either kiss him, or scream. 

He huffs contentedly, rocking against the cushions like an animal sinking into a burrow. His eyes drift closed, and you can’t help but just notice how dark his lashes are against his cheek. “Can’t think of anything,” he murmurs, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Okay. Good night,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder as you pass by to turn out the lights.

“Night, babe.”

You choke. Well, maybe he won’t remember. 

Fat chance. He’s drunk, but he’s not wasted. You decide to raise him, because any other response from you will be awkward, forever.

“Good night, honey,” you answer sweetly as you flick off the light. 

In the darkness, you hear him snort.

♠

author’s notes/confessions: 

I have never written Javier Peña. I have never written in second person. I have never written decent smut. I speak no Spanish. Advice and criticisms, if delivered kindly, are very welcome. 

Yeah, I realize that I wrote Javi a little lighter/goofier here than he’s probably typically depicted. Hang tight, guys. He’s not taking this seriously yet, but he will be. Just wait. 

Guaro/Aguardiente a legit Colombian liquor, and I tried to depict it as accurately as possible for never having tried it. The anise thought that reader has is a reference to absinthe, which is a trip if you’ve ever managed to acquire the real deal (something that’s kind of difficult if you live in the States, unfortunately). Also, I’m unsure if you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy liquor in Colombia, but hey, just go with it. 

This started as a conversation with Tiff and turned into... well, this. I am so, so sorry. Expect about 20k and three chapters. Probably. 

Not beta’d. you get what you get, my friends. 

At the risk of sounding pathetic, your feedback absolutely inspires me to write faster. I don’t make the rules, guys. I just write.

This installment is (mostly) complete, but I’d love to hear what you like and what you don’t, and what you want to see next. My inbox is open. I welcome messages. I want to make friends.  

Love you guys big, and happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating!

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E4; Chapter Four, The Body - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.

WARNINGS: Cursing. Homophobic comments from Tr*y [his in script use of the word fa*ry once] Reader fucking SNAPS.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The five of us rode our bikes down the road to school, El on the back of Mike's bike as usual. She seemed eager to soak in everything around her like she would never see it again. Wind brushed the wig aside and she clung tightly to Mike.

Mike was beginning to slow down, the group of us all growing tired from the ride. Soon enough, however, we were walking through the back doors to the schools. Mike was in the lead as he turns to speak to us as we walked.

"Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

'He is still missing, isn't he?'

My thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the speaker.

"Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period."

I looked to the ceiling at the mention of my best friend and by the time I looked ahead, we had made it outside the AV room. Mike was attempting to open the door but it must be locked.

"It's locked." Mike confirmed.

"What?" Lucas asked.

"Hey, El, is there any way for you to open it?" I ask.

Before she could respond, we all jumped at the voice of Mr. Clarke and froze.

"Boys? Lady." He nodded towards El.

"Hey." Lucas breathed, obviously startled.

"Assembly's about to start."

"We know. We're just, you know..." Mike works a solemn look on his face as he spoke and the others seemed to join in, including me although it wasn't that difficult.

"Upset." Lucas nodded, dropping his nervous smile.

"Yeah, definitely upset," Dustin muttered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better to say nothing at all and even looked down to the ground. Channeling all my emotions from just hours before.

"We need some alone time."

"To... cry." Dustin hesitated.

"Yeah, listen... I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh? And then," Mr. Clarke reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

He tossed the key to Mike who caught it upon instinct.

"the Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?"

We all looked to each other, wearing subtle triumphant smirks. It couldn't have been that easy, could it?

Mr. Clarke seemed to finally notice that he had no idea who El was.

"I don't believe we've met. What's your name?"

El seemed shocked and began to say 'Eleven' when Mike panicked and cut in.

"Eleanor! She's my, uh-"

"Cousin!" Lucas jumped in.

"Second cousin," Dustin added.

I started to laugh but caught myself just in time to play it off as a cough. I pretended to clear my throat as I looked to Mr. Clarke who was looking a bit confused.

"She's here for Will's funeral." Mike sighed.

Mr. Clarke seemed content with this answer as he shrugged and turned to her.

"Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances."

She looked to us and Mike, then turned to Mr. Clarke nodding her head. "Thank you."

A small smile fought its way into my face. She was doing great.

"Uh, where are you from exactly?"

El shook her head, sighing exasperatedly. "Bad place-"

"Sweden!" Dustin cuts in.

"I have a lot of Swedish family."

"She hates it there."

"Cold!"

"Subzero."

Meanwhile, I had fought back another laugh at the whole exchange and I had to play it off as a cough yet again.

"Are you alright, Mr. Henderson?"

My head snapped up, but luckily I was fairly quick on my feet this time.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I woke up with a fever, haven't been feeling well all morning. But I insisted on coming. For Will." Mr. Clarke seemed satisfied with my answer and dismissed our odd behavior.

"Shall we?"

"Yep!" We all follow Mr. Clarke to the gymnasium in silence.

As we get closer, I can hear the principal speaking from inside.

"At times like these, it is important that we come together as a community. We come-"

Dustin swung open the gymnasium doors far too hard and the loud bang echoed throughout the gym that had drawn the attention of the crowd. I elbow Dustin. I feel him shifting on his feet beside me as panic sets in.

"Abort." He whispers, turning to leave.

Thankfully, Lucas stops him and shoved him forward.

"We come together to heal... we come together to grieve..."

As the principle continues his speech, the five of us wander into the bleachers to find a seat.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Will Byers' death is an unimaginable tragedy. Will was an exceptional student and a wonderful friend to all of us. It's impossible to express the hole his loss will leave in our community. I'd like to introduce you to Sandy Sloane. She's a local grief counselor from the church over in Jonesboro."

While the principal carried on, the five of us all looked to each other, all sharing the same thought.

'We need to get to that radio. And soon.'

"I just want those of you who are having trouble dealing with this tragic loss..."

"Look at these fakers." I heard Mike whisper.

"They probably didn't even know his name till today." Lucas scoffed.

My head whipped to the side when I heard hushed chuckling. I wasn't surprised to see Troy and his friend as the source of the laughter. I glared daggers into them and my hands gripped the edge of my seat until I was sure my knuckles would tear.

The boys and El seemed quick to follow my gaze because soon enough, we were all leaning over glaring at them.

"Who is interested in this? This is so stupid." He laughed.

I grit my teeth as my vision filled with red.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

"Y/n..." Lucas warned, reaching out for my arm. I wasn't paying attention, but for some reason, I felt his hand leave my arm almost as soon as he grabbed it.

"'Oh, he was such a great student. Oh, he's going to leave a hole in the community.'" Troy mocked, beginning to fake sob.

I began to shake with rage, wanting nothing more than to stand up and scream 'fu-'

"Y/n,"

"What?!" I hissed at Lucas, my head whipping around to face him, my jaw clenched.

I saw fear in his eyes as he glanced between my eye line and my hands. I looked down at my own hands to see the dangerously strong grip on the wood. I yanked my hands off the bench and rubbed my hands together, keeping to myself.

I was shocked to see the faintest imprint of the most vaguely shaped hand on the bench. It was hardly noticeable and I had to do a double take.

'What the hell?'

El was leaning over and she met my gaze. She briefly looked at my hands, seeming to dismiss whatever thoughts she had. Then looked to Troy.

"Mouth breather." She whispered.

I let out a strained chuckle and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, mouth breather." I whispered, looking back and Troy.

Eventually, the bell rang, dismissing the assembly. Even though Lucas and Dustin seemed to have let it go, Mike and I were not finished.

"Hey! Hey! Hey Troy." Mike called.

I could tell he could hear us because he barely slowed down but was clearly laughing. I stomped towards him and called him out, loud and clear.

"Hey, jackass!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. He seemed like he wanted to be mad, but almost like he was happy he got a rise out of us.

"You think that shit was funny?" My voice never wavered and the boys and El seemed just as shocked as I was feeling at my newfound courage.

"What'd you say, orphan?" He asked, dumbfounded.

He only called me that when he was really pissed at me.

"You heard me! And how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not an orphan if I was adopted, you dumbass! Now what the hell is in that tiny brain of yours that would compel you to laugh at someone dying, huh? I mean, shit, you must really be sick in the head. I feel sorry for you." I spit out my last few words, my voice dripping with malice.

By now I was in his face, finally letting out all the pent-up aggression I've harbored for years. And it felt good.

"Get the hell outta my face, freak!" He yells shoving me back.

I get ready to strike but Dustin grabs my arm before my fist can collide with Troy's face. I struggle to get free but my brother was determined to hold me back, with the help of Lucas of course.

"Control your 'brother', Toothless. Or he just might lose a few teeth of his own." He glares at me and I still attempt to break free.

Mike seems to have found his voice as all of this happened because he was the next to speak.

"H-Hey, he's right! Laughing like that? That's a pretty messed up thing to do."

Troy, glares at us as his minion speaks.

"Didn't you listen to the counselor, freaks? Grief shows itself in funny ways."

"You little shit-" I attempt once more to get a right hook in but Lucas stops me.

Troy laughs at me struggling.

"Besides, what's there to be sad about, anyway? Will's in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay!"

Lucas loosened his grip on me, silently letting me go as Troy began dancing around, mocking Will.

I swung my fist and I felt it collide with his nose with a satisfying crack. He stumbled back and grasped his nose in surprise, he pulled his hand away to find a few drops of blood on his hands. The crowd that had gathered while all of this unfolded, gasped in surprise. I even earned some scattered cheers among the students.

I seemed to realize the consequences of my actions, but I was prepared to face them. It was worth it. I watched as he stormed towards me, blinded by fury.

"You're dead, freak!" He stomped towards me at a shocking speed and I stumbled back, bracing myself for the inevitable retaliation but it never came.

All I felt was a sudden pair of hands on my right arm, harshly pushing me out of the way. I looked in time to see it was Mike who pushed me out of the way. I gakwed in confusion at what happened next.

Troy had just begun to raise his arm as he was only inches from Mike when he froze.

He completely froze in place.

He seemed just as confused, if not more than anyone. That confusion quickly bubbled into fear as his eyes scanned the room as much as he could without moving his head.

It finally dawned on me and I spared a quick glance at El, who was laser-focused on Troy, head tilted down and the smallest hint of blood dripping from her nose. I smirked and looked back to Troy, a smug smile on my face.

I couldn't hold back the laughter as I saw his pants begin to dampen with urine. A stream of it began pooling at his leg, and it even soaked into his socks and shoes. Other students caught on quickly and one boy in particular, began laughing.

"Dude, Troy peed himself!"

The circle of kids erupted into laughter as Troy stood frozen in a puddle of his own pee. I turned to El, who wore a devilish smirk on her face as she glanced between Mike and me. She quickly wiped her nose and started walking away. The boys and I enjoyed this brief moment of bliss.

"Hey! What is going on here?" The principle shouted.

"Come on!" I whisper, gesturing for the boys who all had the same idea. Before people could start asking questions we grouped together and made our way to the AV room unnoticed.

[jojoboisimagines]

Johnny Joestar x Reader :: Wait for It :: Chapter 7

Previous chapter      Next chapter

Summary: Gyro is hospitalized, and now Johnny has no one to turn to. That is, until a former female rider shows him a little compassion. 

..::..

The atmosphere out in this grassy field felt much better to say the least. Probably the most comfortable you’d been throughout this whole race. No fighting, no people, and plenty of roaming space for your horse.  

You and your riding partner, aka Johnny, had mostly eaten your leftovers in silence. He had devoured the meal a lot faster than you thought he would. He’s still growing, you guessed.

Laughing to yourself earned a side-eye from him, before wiping his hands of all the leftover crumbs. Johnny heaves a content sigh, staring at the empty to-go box. The man did a couple of arm stretches, seems like the food really wore him out. Or made him sleepy.

Now that you had a chance to unwind today, you couldn't help but realize how calm he was around you. He wasn’t wary or suspicious of you as far as you could tell, and he wasn’t really pushing you away when having conversations. He was just..doing his own thing.

Perhaps he was too busy missing his riding partner to even attempt to start any real conflict on his own. 

Before you knew it, Johnny was back on his wheelchair, wheeling himself towards Slow Dancer to mount again. You were pretty much done with your own food as well. It was good, but not nearly good enough to start a bar fight for. 

Standing on your feet, you dusted any excess grass from your pants. You knew you were probably gonna miss this spot, but it was better to go ahead and move on. There was still a lot you needed to learn, according to your ‘mentor’.

A cool, satisfying breeze passed by as you walked back up to your horse Soarin’. It really was a nice day out. You glanced over to Johnny, but he wasn’t on his horse yet. Actually, it looked like he was a bit angry. Furious even, if his face getting slightly red was any indication. 

You looked up to see a familiar face, yet one you haven't seen since the beginning of the race. 

What was his name again, you thought...DJ...Damon...oh, Diego.

You had practically no idea who this guy was, aside from the fact he was British and had stolen the lead for the majority of the race. You didn’t particularly know him because he was a foreign racer, you mainly focused on the popular riders in your own country.

Yet it seemed like Johnny had some prior business with him, evident by him almost literally seething in his seat.

"The hell do you want, Dio, leave us alone!" He pointed at the taller man, hoping itd emphasize how he wanted him to back off.

"Hmm..Where is the Italian idiot anyway? It's almost strange seeing you without being latched to his side like a Chihuahua." Diego said, dismissively of Johnny's threat.

The ex jockey gripped the handle of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles might turn white in a matter of minutes. Though his face said something different, like he was trying to keep his cool but his body couldn't help but demonstrate his frustration.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"None of your business. Don't you have anything other to do than bother me?"

The Brit opened his mouth to say something else, before you caught his eye. The blue orbs quickly scanned you before looking back at Johnny.

"Oh? Having other racers aid you? Are you that desperate for help since you can't do anything alone?" 

Johnny sneered. Did this guy get off on confronting someone just to insult and degrade them? There was nothing stopping Johnny from punching Diego in the face (except for onlookers, which he could care less about honestly) so he wasn't sure where he thought his hubris would get him, but if Jojo has any say in it, it'll get him in the hospital.

He had been so far in his own mind after that remark that he hadn't even realized your presence beside him now. You had already spoken up before he got the chance to tell you it wasn't worth it.

"Actually, I'm not helping him, he's helping me." You corrected the arrogant man. 

Raising an eyebrow at you, he places a hand on his hip in a way that implies he really didn't care about what you said.

In that case, you wouldn't hold back either.

Dio puts his hand on his chest like a petty rich girl in high school.

"Who are you again? In all my time in this race I haven't seen you."

You knew that was a subtle jab about him being first and you being so far behind you were barely noticeable. Fists almost automatically balled up at that, but you'd control yourself for now.

"I'm sure you hardly look at anyone except your mirror. By now it's probably been splotched in horse manure by now, so really it's showing you what you've looked like all along."

Johnny snickers, and it's probably the cutest thing you've seen all day.

..in a friendly way of course.

His lip twitches, showing his teeth, a fang pointedly sticking out. Weird, you thought. You hadn't seen anyone with a fang in years.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dio tried to interrogate, but you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were just getting started on this guy.

"It means you look like horse shit, duh." Johnny answered, folding his arms. A small smirk still on his face.

“Watch it, Joestar.” Diego sneered. For someone who dished it out like second nature, he sure couldn’t take it. “One wrong move and I can ruin your standing in the race, AND your reputation--or at least, what’s left of it.”

You roll your (e/c) eyes. You’ve had enough of this guy, what was this, a playground?

“Dude shut up, if you want to prove anything then win the whole damn race and stop talking like you already have.” One more retort and you’ll fly off the handle at him.

Diego stays silent for a moment, before leaning in to your face, his nose inches from yours.

“I already have. You’re welcome to join me when you’re done playing in the mud with poor Jojo.” 

Before you could reply, he reeled back and turned on his heel. You wanted to punch him so bad, how dare he talk down to you and your friend like this..

“Don’t do it (y/n).” You hear Johnny behind you. “As much as I wanna see it happen, he’s not wrong about being able to sabotage both of us.” 

You grunted. “What could you possibly care about our ‘reputations’, Johnny? That was pure disrespect, and I can’t let it fly!”

“...”  He was looking at the ground now, seeming like he was trying to find whatever reason he could to prevent you from firing off. Johnny sighs.

“Look, I’ll be straightforward with you. I’m not in the race for money or status.”

You turned around at that, fairly confused.

“I’m in this race to..learn a technique from my friend, Gyro. I could care less about the stuff Diego desperately wants me to so he can have ammo to bug me with. However, you seem pretty set on trying to prove yourself that you can do this. I’ve seen it when we train.”

“..Seen what?”

Johnny pauses.

“Your determination. This is probably gonna sound dumb, but your eyes, they’ve been different. Like there’s some kind of fire in them now. Honestly, since joining this race, I can relate. Its part of why i’m still deciding to help you after you’ve..” His eyes become sarcastically half lidded. “Gotten me into almost two fights now.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What on Earth was this man saying anymore? Though you wouldn’t deny, it was a bit encouraging to hear.

The scoff was a bit off-putting to him, and he took another pause. He looked a little...flustered? You weren’t sure what that meant. Did you make him feel stupid on accident?

“That’s why...I’m not letting you take the chance to have Diego potentially ruin all your chances. This training would be for nothing.”

Something inside you suspected there was another reason, but you wouldn’t question it. Walking forward to him, you bent over to meet his eye level in his chair.

“Fine. I’ll beat up Diego after the race is over. Let’s get to our horses.” You take the wheelchair handles and starting walking towards Slow Dancer.

You couldn’t see it but, Johnny had a faint smile on his face.

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part two

Friends!!!!! I’m here! I’m back! 

I can’t apologize enough for the long wait! It certainly wasn’t intentional, but alas that is the life of a college student and unfortunately school comes before upstead as much as I wish it didn’t!

I hope part two gives you all the feels and makes up for the long absence, however, I do have something to share with you that may make you want to kill.

Part two turned into part three...

So, SURPRISE! This isn’t a two-shot; it will definitely be a three part story and I am happy to say that part three is written (mostly, I have to tweak a few things) so that will be up sometime next week depending on my school schedule.

Thank you again for your patience and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter that contains no real plot, a lot of fluff and mutual pining!

As always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias

Let me know if you want to be added to this list for part three!

Read on AO3

The next few days are filled with mandatory walking sessions, pain meds every four to six hours and Jay’s smiling face. He was the only reason why she wasn’t absolutely losing it because while she despised hospital stays in general, hospital stays in another city filled with people she didn’t know were downright insufferable.

But he’d made it go from something akin to glorified torture to slightly tolerable.

The bullet wound was starting to heal and the incision from where they’d had to remove her spleen was looking great according to the nurses and everything seemed to be on the right track healing wise, but anything regarding this thing that she and Jay had going on? She had no idea.

One would think getting shot in a different city, causing one partner to literally drop everything and come rushing to the other partner’s side would end in heartfelt confessions and relationships born at hospital bedsides.

But that’s not what happened, and Hailey was seriously starting to wonder if she and Jay were ever going to be on the same page. Or at least read the page aloud because she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her that she felt about him.

Because just partners don’t fly eight-hundred miles to be by your side even if you are hurt.

Right?

And it didn’t help that he was there with her almost twenty-four seven, giving her no time alone to process what he was telling her without words because before this, it had just been subtle glances and warm smiles, teasing words and affectionate eyes.

But this. Flying eight-hundred miles. It was tangible and real, and she couldn’t quite believe it was really actually happening, but then he was there, bringing her her favorite foods from restaurants she’d found during her time in New York and barely going back to her hotel room for sleep, staying by her side to keep her company and catch her up on five weeks’ worth of Intelligence news.

He was there for every lap around the hospital floor and every dressing change. He was there to shoo out the nurses when they were starting to get on her nerves and he was there, rubbing her hand softly when the pain of her bruised ribs made it hard to breathe.

And then there was the way she was constantly being referred to as ‘Jay’s wife’ instead of her own name much like when she was back in grade school and her teachers would call her ‘Sam’s little sister’.

He’d made quite the impression on the nurses and for some reason neither she nor Jay had set the record straight on the actual status of their relationship since that first day when he was mistaken as her husband.

(It was probably the same reason that they hadn’t talked about what Jay flying to New York meant. And to be honest, Hailey was sort of hoping that Jay would set the record straight on their relationship, if only to let her know where they stood.)

And she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the dangerous little thrill she got from hearing herself referenced that way or think about what it would be like for real. Nope, not a chance or she might never come back down to reality after having narcotic-induced dreams of three little words, ‘I do’s’, freckled little faces and laughing green eyes.

But then it’s so close, she can almost taste it and it should scare her, but it doesn’t.

Because she can feel it in the way he grins at her and in the way he tells her goodnight at the end of a long day of keeping her company. It’s in the way his arm brushes hers when he’s helping her sit or stand and it’s in the way his eyes hold hers for far longer than he should; his green eyes swimming with hints of the things she dreams.

But until she hears it. Until one of them gathers the courage to actually say the words and put a name to what they already know and feel, then she’s going to wait and guard those dreams carefully because she knows deep in her heart that when they return to Chicago, it will have either worked out or it won’t at all.

She’s not sure exactly when the pieces will fall into place or if they’ll even fit together but she knows they are at the point of no return. And honestly, that scares her the most because no matter what happens, it will always be Jay for her.

Because he was her home, and he had a place in her heart no one else could ever have and that terrified her because she knows that she’ll never get over him if for some reason it doesn’t work out between them.

She tries not to think like that because she’s pretty sure what she’s seen in his eyes is something that looks a lot like love, but it’s hard to be totally optimistic when it seems like the universe is always keeping them not necessarily apart, but not really together. At least not in the way she’s pretty sure both of them want.

So, she sits in her hospital bed, watching him laugh at her attempts to renegotiate her discharge date with the nurses and listens to him chatter about what Will’s been up to and how much he hated being tossed between Kevin, Kim, Adam and Vanessa while she’d been gone even if he liked working with each of them.

They’d been flying crooked he told her and that her not being there threw them all off so he’d be happy when he could take her back home and so would everyone else. In fact, they’d told her as much when Kim had facetimed Jay the day after he’d arrived in New York to get proof of life and see for themselves that she was truly going to be okay.

It was sweet and nice, and it made her realize how much she really did miss her team turned family even if she already felt like she was home just because Jay was beside her.

He was beside her and he was there with her and every time he looked at her over the beeping of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, everything else faded from view. The facetime calls with their friends, the friendly nurses checking up on her every few hours, the general hustle and bustle of hospital life happening outside her room.

It was just them and she’d be lying if she wasn’t looking forward to her discharge date for reasons other than just being out of the hospital because she knew then, she and Jay would truly be alone stuck in a hotel room in a city that neither one of them knew.

And that, she knew, would be the true test.

*

On the morning of the third day she’d been in the hospital, Hailey was given the news that she’d be released by that afternoon. If she was physically capable, she’d be jumping for joy but because of the dozen stitches in her side, she’d had to settle for celebrating internally.

Moving was still slow-going and she still felt overly tired far too early in the day, but she was confident that a night in her own bed (or at least the bed she’d been sleeping in for the past several weeks) would do her a world of good.

And she wasn’t going to think about how Jay being potentially next to her would probably make her sleep better than she’d ever had.

She didn’t know exactly where Jay had been disappearing to when he’d left the hospital at night, but she’d given him the key to her hotel room and he always came back looking well-rested so she felt safe assuming he was sleeping in the same queen bed she’d been occupying for the past five weeks.

Hailey wasn’t quite sure what would happen tonight when it was time for him to go to bed, but she wondered if this was the day they were going to finally get it right, nestled under the bed covers, whispering dreams and promises, her side aching but her heart so full.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Her gaze flicked up to Jay who had entered the room and was walking towards her, his hands already reaching out to help her pull on her coat. Hailey looked up at him as he focused his gaze on putting her left arm carefully through the sleeve of her jacket.

She wasn’t sure if a person could have reversed déjà vu, but the action brought her right back to another hospital room in a different city when she was still reeling from the panic she’d felt surrounding Jay’s terrifying brush with death.

When she’d helped him pull his familiar, worn black jacket over his sling right before she almost told him she loved him.

And now here they were again, except this time it was him helping her and this time she knew they weren’t going home without having the conversation they should have had then.

“Thanks,” She murmured softly, trying to ignore the way her heart raced when he briefly squeezed her hand.

Hailey gingerly sat down on the side of the bed, already worn out and sore from the morning’s activities of getting ready to leave.

“I called a taxi. It should be here any minute,” He grabbed her duffle and sat it beside her, “You sign the discharge papers?”

“Yes, thank God,” She muttered accepting the pair of Sperry’s Jay was handing her.

He chuckled softly, “You are so impatient.”

She shot him a look, “I’m sorry. And who was the one practically begging me to spring him from the hospital the minute he was awake and talking?”

He had the wisdom to look sheepish, but he couldn’t hide the wide smile threatening to take over. Clearly, they were both happy to be leaving the hospital room behind.

As Jay busied himself with packing the last few items into the duffle he’d brought Hailey the day he’d arrived in New York, he can’t help but watch her. She’s moving slowly, but she seems pretty alert for someone who got shot and had relatively serious surgery only four days ago.

Her eyes are bright if not tired and her hair is haphazardly thrown up in her signature high pony, but Jay still thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and he almost tells her just that.

His mouth is open, forming the words when she turns to him after sliding on her shoes, catching his gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

And he thinks this is why he can never tell her how he feels. She’s always taking the words away with a flash of blue and a dash of blonde because he wants his future to look like her so badly, it terrifies him. And even when he does finally find the words, he knows he will never be able to tell her with words just how much she means to him.

His lips quirk and he shakes his head, turning his attention back to the duffle to zip it up before nodding towards the open door of her hospital room, “No reason. You ready to go?”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to push, and they are going to have the conversation they need to have right here and now, but then she doesn’t and some part of him feels disappointed that they are making themselves wait once again.

He’s not even entirely sure why because nothing is holding them back now. Not really. They are finally both in the same city with no kidnappings, rigged elections or anything else threatening to tear them apart and yet, they are still walking that very fine line of partners and best friends to something openly affectionate and loving and real.

It’s almost too perfect because while he rushed here in a state of panic, not knowing what he would find, Hailey, for the most part was okay and now they were stuck here with basically nothing to do but wait till she could fly without risk of infection or complications from surgery.

He’s not sure if he should be worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop or thrilled that the universe seems to be giving them a hint that it was finally time to take that leap of faith from partners and best friends to something more.

*

“Hailey, you are clearly in pain.”

After the short taxi ride from the hospital, they were finally in the hotel room and now firmly engaged in a battle of wills.

Hailey was currently giving him a glare that reminded him of the way she would silently warn him from across the bullpen to not do something he might regret or when they were down to the last couple of fries during a long stakeout and he was reaching for them.

Generally, he didn’t win the fights when she wore that look but today, he was determined to stand his ground.

“Jay,” It was practically whined and while he understood her reluctance to take the pain meds she’d been prescribed, he couldn’t stand watching her in pain.

In the few times that Hailey’s been injured during their partnership, it hadn’t been too serious, and she usually had a good attitude about doing what she needed to do to recover. So, seeing her like this, pale and tired and just not her normal, spunky self, broke his heart and he wanted to do everything in his power to fix it.

Starting with the meds she’s determined not to take.

He was happy to at least see the trait that was so undeniably Hailey in her eyes because otherwise, she looked like a lifeless shell of the badass detective he knows she is. The oversized pillows she was propped against makes her seem so tiny and she almost blended in with the sheets she was so white.

If he was being honest, she was starting to look worse than she did when she was in the hospital and that definitely concerned him enough to possibly make him take her right back there or at least call Will for his opinion.

Sighing, he uncrosses his arms to move from where he’s been standing a few feet away from the end of the bed holding the prescription bag in a clenched fist.

Her eyes track his movements as he comes to gingerly sit down at the edge of the bed, leaning over on his forearm to look at her closely, “Hailey,” He shakes his head, “Please just take them. At least so you can get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

For a second, he thinks that she’s going to keep fighting him, but then he sees the weak mask she’d had in place slip, the dull look of pain and exhaustion becoming clearly present in her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” She sighs out wearily, and he’s a little surprised that she conceded that quickly even if he knew he’d already won, but then she cocks her head slightly, “What do I get in return?”

Yeah, he didn’t think he’d won that easily.

Jay pushes the flirty and slightly suggestive response that instantly pops into his head to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time for that later, or at least he desperately hopes so because he knows that now is not the time to start anything of that nature.

When he tells Hailey what she deserves to hear, he wants her feeling halfway decent and looking healthier than she does right now.

If they were in Chicago, he would bribe her with Bartoli’s, but they weren’t. They are in New York and she’s already made it quite clear that the pizza here is a tragedy, so he doesn’t think she’d want that particular food even if he could find a copy-cat deep-dish place.

So, he goes for the next best thing, “What about some Greek? It probably won’t be anything like Greek Islands, but I’m sure I can find a decent place. I could grab you some Pastichio. What do you say?”

The way her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip sticks out adorably makes him want to kiss the pout away, but he doesn’t.

She shakes her head, “I don’t want Greek.”

Jay bites his lip briefly and refrains from making a comment on the childish tone of her voice as he regards her carefully for a quiet second.

He would never admit it, but he knows he’s a much worse patient when their positions are reversed so he’s more than willing to put up with her stubbornness because he knows it’s just a way to cope with the pain.

And besides, he loves her. He would do whatever he could to make her feel better.

“I’ll get you whatever you want as long as you take your medicine, so why don’t you tell me what it is you’d like to have,” He pushes himself up off his forearm to sit upright, but he still holds her gaze.

She sighs carefully, picking at the covers before answering him, “A Snickers bar.”

Jay raises his brows.

In the years he has known her, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat a candy bar. She could down a piece of chocolate cake at an event, or the random chip bag she’d found during a stakeout, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat the overly processed candy bar before.

“You like Snickers bars?” He can’t help the slightly disgusted tone of his words.

Hailey’s expression instantly morphs into a defensive one, “A girl can have guilty pleasures, and this just so happens to be mine. Now, you said you’ll get me anything if I take my medicine, so you’re lucky it’s not something like a new gun. Or a car.”

Jay rolls his eyes and Hailey desperately wants to swat him but she’s already in a significant amount of pain so she doesn’t think that would be the wisest decision.

“Relax, I will get you your Snickers bar. I promised, didn’t I?” He smirks a little as he moves off the bed to grab his coat that’s thrown over the back of the desk chair, “I just can’t believe I didn’t know you liked candy bars.”

Shrugging a little, she tries not to wince at the pain that small movement caused her, “I don’t indulge in them much; only when I’m not feeling good or if there’s literally nothing else to eat.”

After gathering up his wallet and phone, Jay stops in the middle of the room to regard her for another moment. He shakes his head, “What else don’t I know about you, Hailey Upton?”

She gives him a little smirk of her own, “Lots of things, I’m sure. I was once told I was aloof about my personal life.”

“And just when I thought I was getting to know the person under that tough exterior,” He feels the smile creep over his face, and he doesn’t care that he probably looks like a man hopelessly in love because he is.

He watches as her own expression softens and for just a moment, their eyes meet. A thousand words of unspoken love pass between them and he can see his entire universe in those captivating, blue orbs just as she can see a million promises in his.

Hailey shifts and winces at the sharp pain it causes her, cursing herself for ruining the moment. Those pain pills she’d tried refusing were looking pretty good right about now as the throbbing intensified around her still tender ribs.

Jay noticed her discomfort. He always does, and she could see the concern so clearly on his face it made her heart swell in love. He’s the most caring man she’s ever met, and it’s one of the things she loves most about him.

“As soon as I get back, you’re taking your meds,” Jay frowns, rubbing his thumb briefly along his hairline before dropping his arm, “I’d give them to you now, but I’m not sure I should leave you alone with narcotics in your system just in case. And besides, you need to take the antibiotics with food, so I’ll pick up something while I’m out.”

She just nods, picking up the remote for the television, “Sounds good. I’ll be here watching whatever trash I can find on TV, so hurry back.”

Jay gives her one last smile that warms her from head to toe before he opens the door and walks out.

*

When Jay walks through the hotel door about an hour later, he has the overwhelming urge to call out a ‘Honey, I’m home’, but he doesn’t want to wake Hailey if she’s sleeping and he’s not sure how she would respond to the term of endearment even if it is said teasingly.

It’s funny how that is the thing he feels would be crossing the practically non-existent line they have towing for the past several days. Or weeks really if he’s honest with himself.

As it turns out, she’s not sleeping but still in very much the same position he’d left her in. The TV was on, a rerun of ‘Happy Days’ playing quietly but she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, she’s looking down at the phone in her hand, clearly scrolling through something before glancing up at him.

Her eyebrows rise as she takes in the various Target bags he’s carrying in both hands. Hailey let her phone drop in her lap, more interested in what Jay had bought because all she’d sent him out for were Snickers Bars, “Did you buy the whole store?”

He frowns at her as he finds the bag of take-out Chinese he’d ended up getting for their late lunch-early supper to set on the nightstand, “No, I did not, but I did get real food and,” He holds up the other bags he was carrying, “I got you your Snickers.”

Whatever else he’d bought was forgotten as she beamed up at him, already reaching for the candy bar he was digging for throughout his purchases. When he finally found what he was looking for, he tossed it to her, and she immediately ripped open the wrapper.

He makes a face as she bites into the sugary chocolate, “I still don’t know how you eat that crap.”

She responds with an eyeroll because her mouth was too full to make a witty comeback.

“You could at least wait till you ate actual food first,” Jay arched a disapproving eyebrow, his nose wrinkling as he watched her make an obvious display of enjoying her treat. He shakes his head and deposits the Target bags on the lower end of the bed to pull out the bottles of vitamin water he’d bought for her.

“Here, I got your favorite and a couple of new ones for you to try,” He handed her the blackberry flavored one before retrieving the pill bottles that were sitting on the nightstand beside their bag of food.

He read the instructions on each bottle then opened the oxycodone to dump one out, “Okay, you can have one right now and,” He checked his watch, “One at around seven then another at eleven.”

Hailey frowns, but takes the pill out of his outstretched palm anyway, “I hate the way these make me feel. My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t think clearly.”

Jay gives her a sympathetic smile and offers a simple, “I know” because he does know, but he also knows that if she has any hope of getting rest tonight, she needed to be well medicated.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try going all day without pain meds, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good night’s rest tonight since it’s your first night out of the hospital,” He tells her as he shakes out an antibiotic pill and then the iron supplement the doctor had prescribed her with for the next few days to hand to her.

Nodding, she knocks the three pills back and takes a swig of her vitamin water. Meeting his gaze, she reaches out to grab his hand and gives it a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Jay.”

The heavy tension that settles over them is now a familiar one and it’s almost comforting in a way as she tells him with her eyes how grateful she is for him.

After a few moments of silence, she clears her throat and withdraws her hand, turning her attention to the bags of stuff piled on the bed, “So, what’d you get?”

Jay blinks, shaking himself out of the trance they’d just been in as he rifled through the things he’d bought, pulling them out to show Hailey, “Well, I did some research and according to WebMD which was confirmed by my brother, weighted blankets can help with muscle soreness and speed up the recovery process.”

“I also got some ice packs,” He dumps out about a dozen before reaching in yet another bag, “And I picked up some of your favorite movies as well as a couple of pairs of fuzzy socks because I know you didn’t pack any and the hospital socks are terrible.”

The tears that spring to her eyes aren’t unexpected because the fact that he knows and remembers how much she loves wearing fuzzy socks when she’s at home decompressing tells her how much he cares even if he hasn’t really said it out loud yet.

The research, the weighted blanket, the movies, the treats, the socks; it’s slightly overbearing, but it’s sweet and it’s so undeniably him that it makes her heart hurt with the love she has for him.

She gives him a soft smile, “For someone who claims to not know me, he sure does take care of me and brings me all of my favorite things.”

“Well, after four years I would hope to know some things,” Jay smirks at her before moving to put the ice packs in the small fridge/freezer combo they had in the room.

He looks back at her over his shoulder, “But, I somehow missed your Snickers habit and it makes me wonder what else I should probably know, but don’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she watches as Jay moves back over to the bed, going for the food he’d sat on the nightstand.

“You know you’re not exactly an open book,” She points out with a wry smile.

He’s not an open book, it’s true, and even though she’s teasing him about it, she knows him better than anyone. Maybe better than even Will knows him. Maybe better than he even knows himself, and it’s ironic because the way she knows him better than anyone is more so through his actions and not his words.

She knows his heart through his acts of compassion. She knows his mind through his steady emotions. And she knows him because he lets her see the deepest parts of himself, unspoken secrets swimming in his eyes and dark memories whispered over drinks.

She knows the things that matter and the same could be said about the things he knows about her, but now that it’s being brought up, she does wonder if there are any meaningless habits she hasn’t bared witness to.

If her mind goes straight to those of a personal nature such as nighttime routines and shower preferences, then she’d never admit it.

“Well,” He handed her a container of Shrimp Lo Mein, “We’re stuck in this hotel room with basically nothing to do so,” Jay sat down on the bed, facing her with his own container of Chinese, “Let’s play a game.”

Hailey arches a skeptical eyebrow, “A game?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods as he takes a bite of his own Lo Mein, “Like one of those ‘get to know you’ games since we apparently don’t know much about each other.”

She frowns, a little unconvinced at this plan and what it could entail, but she’s curious and the slight woozy feeling she feels from the pain meds makes her ask, “What kind of ‘get to know you’ game? Like truth or dare?”

Smirking, he shakes his head, “No. Although, that could be extremely entertaining.”

“Uh-uh. No way am I drinking a bottle of hot sauce or jumping off the balcony or some other insanely difficult thing that you would think was easy,” She takes a bite of her food, trying to shake back the loose hair that keeps falling into her face, “I just had surgery.”

He’s full-on grinning now, chuckling at her impassioned response, “Nothing like that. I was thinking more along the lines of 21 Questions.”

Hailey tries to take another bite of her food, but her hair gets in the way again. She’s starting to get frustrated at the locks that keep falling into her eyes and mouth, making it hard to eat.

Sticking her chopsticks into the take-out container, she uses the now free hand to push her hair behind her ears as she shrugs, “Alright then. We don’t really have anything better to do other than watch movies and eat takeout anyways.”

The way his eyes sparkle at her answer is worth all the cheesy questions she’s sure he’s going to ask.

He stands up, shoving a used napkin into his now empty takeout container and she’s always amazed at how quickly he can down food when he wants to, “We can alternate asking questions and we don’t have to ask exactly 21 questions. It can be more, or it can be less.”

He throws his trash away and starts cleaning up the bed, moving all of the empty Target bags and the stuff he bought off to one side, “Is there anything off limits?”

She hesitates before saying no, shaking her head because while her natural inclination is to keep everything close to the vest, she knows there is nothing that she wouldn’t share with Jay if he asked her.

He makes her feel safe, and she’s constantly finding herself telling him things that she’d never said out loud before anyway, so she already knows that he will guard her secrets and feelings and thoughts deep in his own heart as if they were his own.

It’s like he knows what she’s thinking because the way he smiles at her is so gentle and the secretive sparkle in his eyes is what tells her that the same goes for him.

“You wanna go first or do you want me to?” Jay cocks his head, looking at her as he tears into the weighted blanket.

“You can go first,” She goes to take another bite of food when her hair falls into her face for what feels like the hundredth time.

She sighs internally, her frustration going unnoticed by Jay who had turned back towards the movies he’d bought, opening each of them as he tells her he has to make this first question a good one.

Pretty quickly after waking up from surgery, Hailey had found putting her hair up in its typical ponytail an almost impossible task because every time she raised her arms to gather her hair up, her stitches would pull, and her ribs protested loudly.

After several failed attempts that left her eyes watering, she ended up having a nurse put it up for her and she continued to ask for it done in the mornings before Jay arrived at the hospital to keep her company.

But now, there was no nurse to gather up her long, annoying hair when it keeps falling in her face and even though she’s stubborn enough to try it, Hailey knows if she pulls on her stitches or possibly breaks one, then she’s going to be paying for it tomorrow all because she wanted to put her hair up herself.

She sighs again, this one audible as she sets her Chinese container on the nightstand, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

Hailey bites her lip sheepishly as she snaps the elastic band around her wrist against her skin, “Can you put my hair up?”

He looks surprised for a moment before he smirks at the slight blush dusting her cheeks at having to ask for help with a task this simple, “Of course I can, Hailey.”

She hands him the ponytail holder as he walks over to the side of the bed, “But I will warn you. I’ve never done this before.”

She wants to tease him. Maybe tell him he’d better start practicing now if he ever hopes for a daughter one day, but it feels too on the nose when she wants that daughter to be hers too.

So instead, she smirks at him as he moves behind her to start gathering her hair up in awkward chunks. Hailey glances at him out of the corner of her eye, fake gasping, “Don’t tell me that the brave and noble Detective Jay Halstead, the man who jumps over moving cars and shoots sniper rifles doesn’t know how to put hair up in a ponytail.”

“Oh, shut up,” He grumbles good-naturedly, still trying to smooth her blonde hair into his loosely closed fist on top of her head, “It’s not like I’ve really had the opportunity or need to practice.”

Chuckling, she lets him concentrate on pulling her hair through the elastic and tries not to get lost in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and the warmth radiating off him. Her eyes flutter close and she marvels at how gentle he is even with the strength of his hands, well-conditioned in the act of squeezing a trigger.

And just like when making those shots, the precision in which he does everything is still there as he carefully tightens the elastic, securing her hair into place.

Hot breath hit the back of her now exposed neck and she can’t help but shiver. Before he’s stepping away, she swears she feels his hands brush her skin and she wonders if he’s equally as affected as she was by his closeness.

But before it can turn into anything, he’s smiling and settling back into his spot at the foot of the bed, gesturing to the ponytail he’d just completed, “It’s not as good as you do it, but I think it’ll pass.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jay. It’s out of my face and it’s not like anyone will see it,” She grins at him as she picks up her food, intending to finish it off now that her hair won’t get in her way.

Jay frowns teasingly, “Hey, and what about me? Am I not someone?”

She smiles softly in amusement, “You’ve seen me in worse states and you’re not just anyone, you know that. You’re my best friend, Jay,” She hesitates because she knows that’s not strictly true. He is her best friend and he’s her partner but he’s also the man she loves, and it would be so easy to let the truth slip out.

Looking at him, she sees something in his eyes that looks like hope or maybe anticipation and she wonders if he thinks she’s going to tell him the one secrete she just can’t seem to get out. Maybe she would have told him if they sat there for a few seconds longer, but his phone buzzes and the moment is gone before it really even began.

Hailey wonders if phones are going to be their downfall.

She thinks she sees disappointment flash across his face, but she blinks and he’s looking at his phone with a serious expression.

“Is everything okay?” Her brow furrows as she watches him type out a quick response and put the device back into his pocket.

He shakes his head, sighing, “That was Kev. The Latin Players are on the verge of waging war against a new up and coming gang called The Jets.”

Interjecting, Hailey raises a brow, “As in West Side Story?”

“Yep,” Jay lets out a wry chuckle, “Anyway, the team flipped someone on The Jets’ side, and it looks like they are possibly willing to play ball so Kev was asking for some background info on my Latin Player connect because Intelligence is going to attempt to negotiate a truce before it can escalate to a full-blown gang war.”

She groans quietly, all too aware of the potential complications and ramifications that come from this type of violence, “That’s just what the city needs. A gang war.”

He huffs in agreement, dropping his head in disgust and she can see the tension in his shoulders. Even eight-hundred miles away, the crime and the innocent people that inevitably gets tangled up in it affects him.

Hailey frowns, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She reaches out a hand to lightly touch his bent knee, “Jay.”

He looks up at her and the empathy she sees in his eyes makes her heart swell in what’s becoming a familiar sensation. Love and pride and admiration and respect for this man she has the privilege to know.

Her eyes soften and she smiles gently at him, an earnest look on her face, “If you need to go home, go home Jay. I’ll be alright here by myself. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed at the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, clearly not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

Recovering, his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head adamantly, “No way. They can get along without me. I’m not leaving here without you and I don’t care if you think you can take care of yourself because who’s going to help you change your bandages or make you take your medicine or keep you company?”

He challenges in a slightly playful manner, but the eyebrow he raises dares her to contradict him and she knows he is serious, “Besides, I need to be here if I want to keep my own peace of mind. I don’t work well without you, so I’m not sure how much help I’d be anyway.”

She knows that no matter the circumstance, Jay would always perform above and beyond the call of duty, but she also knows that this is his way of telling her that he needs her and the way he was willing to stay with her in New York makes her heart stutter in yet another way.

Before she can dwell on the feeling any further, he’s smiling again, his eyes crinkling with mischief, “Now back to the game. I think I have the perfect question for you.”

Sorry it ended in a bit of an awkward spot, but I decided to split it into two parts when I hit 10,000 words and I still wasn’t done yet lol so I didn’t know this was going to be the ending of a chapter.

I’d love to hear what you thought and stay tuned for part three!

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 2: Suspicions

AN:  Yeeaaahhh this one’s pretty much all from Levi’s POV.  Get ready for some cat and mouse, guys.

Also I’m working on a playlist.  hehehe. I love my playlists.  Some songs just fit SO WELLLLL!!!!

Characters:  Levi, Vampire!Reader, Erwin, Various BG Characters

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Language

Word Count:  5102

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

Levi leaned against the stone wall beside him, arms crossed over his chest and the shade of the roof mostly hiding him from view as he stared pensively out at the open field.  The horse training was finished for the days, and the horses were being allowed time to roam in the open field for the time being.  One individual, however, was spending some one on one time with a mare, walking through some common techniques to get a horse to trust you.

At first, he’d wondered why she was using such a long rope, since he was fairly certain the distance between a horse and a potential rider during this exercise wasn’t supposed to be that far.  Quickly Levi realized that if she got much closer, the horse was not having it.  It was truly afraid of her, though she appeared to be making some headway, if she was able to lead the horse around on the long rope while the other horses stayed clear.

Horses that had been trained and bred to retain nerves of steel and ignore their fears, especially in the presence of Titans and the chaos of a battle, and apparently all of them were at least skittish around her.  That’s what he’d heard from the stablemaster, anyway.

Not a minor detail to be overlooked.  And a problem, if she couldn’t get around it.  Clearly, though, she was putting in the effort and time to fix it, and she didn’t mind going at the proper pace instead of trying to rush it.  From what he’d been able to observe, she was also approaching the situation with an admirable amount of patience, no outward signs of frustration or anger when she reached a setback and had to back up a foot or so on the rope instead of shortening it a little more.  Her approach changed slightly each time, too, attempting to adjust to fix whatever she’d done wrong the previous try.

Well, at least she had some positive character traits to be discovered alongside the worrisome fact about the horses he wasn’t going to ignore.  So he could give her some merit while his suspicion raised a little more.

“Captain.”

Levi turned at the sound of his title, noticing the individual approaching him from the main building, a file in hand.  He snapped a salute when he reached Levi, then held out the file for him to take.  “You asked for the file on Cadet Y/N L/N.”

Levi nodded and took the file from him.  “Thanks.  You can go,” he said in a distracted tone, already opening the file as the soldier walked away.

His eyes scanned the information in the file, which was surprisingly scarce.  Her place of residence was formerly Wall Rose, there was no living family, no record as he thought there might be after their spar.  She ranked sixth in her class--which didn’t at all match the spar they’d had, and gave further credit to his belief she was purposely holding herself back even when it mattered for placement.  Maybe she wanted to avoid the spotlight?  She wanted her talents to be recognized, but she didn’t want them front and center since she was still trying to scrape by without her full potential being noticed.  She excelled in individual evaluations, especially the physical and instinctual, but seemed to have some problem with others.  It was noted in her file that she was a loner and outcast during training, suggesting teamwork might be a point of issue with her.  The opinion of her classmates might shed some light on that matter--it could have easily been the other party and not necessarily her that was the issue.  Some of her classmates had joined the Scouts as well, if he remembered correctly, so there were some around that could be asked.

Levi reached the end of the file far sooner than he expected.

There weren’t any official documents giving age or place of birth, just an inked in note marking that she was in her early twenties--older than most new recruits, strangely enough--and the name of the town she was born in.  There weren’t any legal documents, and no visible records of her existence before she started leaving a trail behind in Wall Rose two years ago, with a rented space in her name and her official application to join the Cadet Corps the only real official documents here.

That shouldn’t have been possible.  Of course, if she lived in the Underground beforehand, it would make perfect sense for her to have no trail until she surfaced, but it was right here in ink that she was born within Wall Rose.

Had she lied?  Had she somehow managed to get topside without official immigration and slipped right through the fingers of the authorities?  The Underground would have fit a little comfortably in his working picture of her--loner, exceptionally skilled in combat and other physical areas, not having a record before two years ago, the street fighting skills…

He wasn’t going to write off the Underground yet, but how she might have gotten topside needed some fleshing out before he could consider it more seriously.

Appearing out of the blue and an unknown past only made Levi’s unease grow.  Maybe if there was more, he could have deduced what her reason for joining the military--hell, joining the Scouts--was.

More questions, and not much in the way of answers.

Dissatisfied, Levi returned to his position resting against the wall with the file now tucked under an arm, watching as the speckled grey horse with the black to white mane gradually came closer to her as the rope slowly shortened, but it’s caution and unexplained fear still kept it out of her arm's reach.

The new recruit in front of him was so nervous he was trembling.  He might have thought he was hiding it well, but it was plain as day to Levi, who was leaning against the wall sipping on his cup of tea with eyes fixed forward on the recruit sitting on the other side of his desk.  He’d called the young man in as a sort of character reference for L/N, asking him to state his opinion on the young woman’s abilities and if they were an asset to the Scouts.

His final question, however, had caused the recruit’s suddenly shifty demeanor, and Levi’s gaze narrowed slightly at him when he hesitated.

“Are there any qualities you feel she possesses that would be harmful to the Scouts?”

The recruit across from him couldn’t look Levi in the eyes, on the brink of saying something, but for some reason holding himself back.  Levi waited for several moments before there was a spark of impatience starting to grow in him.

“Spit it out.”

The recruit’s shoulders hunched slightly, and he started to haltingly speak.  “She doesn’t exactly get along with other people.”

Well, that could mean a lot of things.  Levi wasn’t the friendliest person in the world, but that didn’t stop him from doing his damn job.  Antisocial didn’t necessarily count as something that negated her ability to perform in the field.  This kid needed to be more specific.

“Does she start fights with her comrades?” Levi asked bluntly.

“No, but she has been in a few--”

“Does she fail to communicate in the field?”

“Never, though--”

“Is she incapable of working as part of a group?”

“Not really--”

“Does she take actions that could cause harm to other members of the team in the field?”

“I haven’t--”

Levi let out a slow sigh.  He kept interrupting the recruit because he didn’t need long winded answers that spun the narrative a certain way.  He already knew he couldn’t entirely trust the feedback this kid was going to give him, because either he would downplay her abilities and up-play her flaws to make himself look better, or vice versa to make her look better, all based off the assumption Levi was asking because Levi was looking to have her join his squad.

It wasn’t too far off the mark, but Levi was considering adding her less and less the farther he dug into her background.  And while he knew he couldn’t trust much of what the kid was going to say to his face, that wasn’t the point.  It was what came after this that mattered the most, and it still gave him something to work with to get a little further in his investigation.

She communicated and worked just fine in a group, and while she had been in fights before, she hadn’t been the one to start them.  It was starting to look more like harassment of some degree on the other side that kept her from interacting much with her peers.  Aside from the pretty much confirmed antisocial behavior outside of the field, of course.

“You have to be more specific than ‘she doesn’t play well with others.’  I don’t always get along with other people--that doesn’t keep me from doing my job,” Levi deadpanned.

The recruit was really struggling to get it out now, his face all twisted up as he tried to rework his words.  “While her skills are undeniable, socially, her relationship with her peers is...poor.”

Is that really what this amounted to?  No one liked her because she wasn’t friendly enough with them?  “Your complaint is that she’s not a social butterfly?”

“It’s more than that, sir, she’s not…”

Levi waited another five seconds before he decided this wasn’t being productive anymore.  Time to kick him out of the office and go on to the next part, then.  “Either come up with a solid answer, or I’ll take your silence as a no so you can leave to take care of that constipated look on your face.”

The recruit looked put out and frustrated, but he ended up standing from the chair and leaving, Levi watching him silently from over the rim of his cup and eyes lingering on the door after it had closed.

This sneaking around behind the scenes getting dirt on people was usually more Erwin’s speed, but Levi had been around Erwin long enough to pick up a few tricks of his own to use when necessary, like in moments like this.  Levi could be subtle when he wanted to.

A few moments after the recruit walked out his door, Levi finished his tea, set down the empty cup on his desk, and followed after him, keeping far enough back that he wouldn’t be noticed.  Just as he’d suspected, the recruit found his way back to another pair of recruits and proceeded to go about cathartically bitching about the situation.

Levi missed the part where the other two asked why Levi wanted to talk to him in his office, but since that wasn’t the important part, Levi wasn’t too concerned, stopping just around the corner and pressing his shoulder against the wall to listen in to what they really had to say about L/N when it wasn’t being filtered by the intimidation of speaking with a superior.

“Of course miss ice princess is being considered for Captain Levi’s squad.  Why wouldn’t she?” the recruit who had been in Levi’s office was fuming.

“I don’t get why you two are so upset--if Captain Levi’s already asking about her, surely that’s because she has the potential, right?” asked the young woman in their group.

“You didn’t train with her--you didn’t see how downright infuriating she was!  If it wasn’t for the occasional lost spar round or missed question on a test, or a margin behind someone else in an endurance test, whatever it was, she still somehow managed to look perfect.  Even if you were ahead of her, it was like she was right there behind you!”

“Not to mention she didn’t even seem to try,” the third one muttered.

“Exactly!  We’d work our asses off, and then she would waltz in and do whatever they asked her to as if it was as natural as breathing!  It was so--so--so infuriating!”

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” the woman surmised.

“Wouldn’t you be upset?  She didn’t even try!  Then to make matters worse, she always acted like she was above us.  Yeah she usually beat us all in everything, but she didn’t even try to be nice about it.”

“Yeah--I know this girl who tried to be friends with her part way through training.  But she was always treating her like a plague--she’d move further away from her, or she’d ignore her attempts to talk to her or actively dodge her.  She made it pretty damn clear she wasn’t in the Corps to make friends.  And she was like that with everyone--she never let anyone get closer than necessary to her.  Sure, she’d give you some tips in the middle of training, but it was always just what was necessary, and she never let the conversation move to anything personal.  She’s a bitch,” the friend added.

“I figured all that time spent by herself, she was just focused on her training.  It got me certain that she was going to be top of the class--some say she should have.  Hell, I thought she’d be pissed when she got sixth, but I swear she looked pleased.  Pleased!  And I thought she wanted to at least make the top five with how fucking perfect she seemed.”

“Okay, so she was antisocial in training and she’s good enough at what she did that it made you all jealous.  I still don’t see anything that would make you hate her so much.  I’ve seen her around a few times and she doesn’t seem nearly as frigid as you all say.  Distant, yeah, but she seems...warm, if a bit melancholy,” the woman said thoughtfully.

“Don’t let it fool you.  She’s probably just trying to make a better impression now that she’s where she wants to be and is about to get placed--possibly in the best squad, now, too, apparently.”  There was the sound of a boot scuffing the stone, then a thwack of a broom handle being thumped against the offender’s head.  “Ow!  And she’s not warm and she’s not innocent.  I don’t know what she was doing, but she was up to something during training, even if we couldn’t prove it.”

“Oh?  And what was it?  She managed to get an extra loaf of bread on her plate?” the woman asked almost mockingly.  Clearly she wasn’t convinced by their ranting.

“One of the most infuriating things about her was how she could break the rules and still get away with it!  She used to sneak out all the time at night while we were in the Cadets, but no one could ever catch her.  Even when we gave the instructors a warning that she would be sneaking out again soon, she still wouldn’t get caught, and we’d get in trouble for lying about a classmate.  Not once was she caught, and we had classmates that could attest to her not being in bed at some point in the night, so we knew it was happening!  But we could never prove it.  It still drives me nuts to this day!”

“If you kick this floor again, I’ll hit you even harder--you are not messing up the cleaning job I’ve been working so hard on!” the woman fumed suddenly, and there was a bit of a scuffle before things calmed down again.

“I swear, if Captain Levi puts her on his squad I’m going to be so fucking--”

“Look at the bright side, you probably won’t have to deal with her anymore if that happens, because you’re nowhere near that league,” the friend teased.  It sounded like there was going to be another scuffle breaking out, so Levi finally stepped around the corner to make himself known.

“Oi.”

The two boys immediately panicked, while the woman snapped to attention, eyes flickering to a fresh scuff mark on the stone with a clearly upset face to see the two were already back to mucking up her hard work.  Levi ignored the two who were scrambling to their feet and trying to snap to a salute, walking past all three without even glancing at them.

“Get back to cleaning.  And find another place to bitch about superiors,” he added before he continued down the hall and out of earshot once more.

Idiots.

There was nothing wrong with a little bitching to get it out of your system, but at least have the decency to do it somewhere less public where anyone could find and hear you.

However, Levi officially had some honest first hand accounts of her relationship to her peers, and a lead he could follow further into this mystery.

She snuck out a lot at night when she was in the cadets, huh?  He wondered if she was still doing that now…

It seemed he had something to do now in the hours insomnia kept him from sleeping.  He could keep an eye out to see if she was sneaking out, and try to figure out where she was going on these little escapades if they were, in fact, continuing after leaving the Cadets.

The more he looked into her, the more uneasy he became.  He was already at the point where he knew he was going to have to bring up his concerns to Erwin, but he was going to make sure he’d gone as far as he could with this investigation of his before he went to Erwin.

For the first few nights after hearing about L/N’s nightly escapades in the cadets, Levi didn’t catch anything amiss.  He was well aware of the best spots in this building to sneak out at this point, and had several points he liked to retreat to for some alone time that just happened to give him a good view of the surrounding area.  He was fairly confident that if she tried to sneak out, he would be able to spot her as long as he was looking--which he was.

By the fifth night, he seriously considered the possibility that if she was doing something shady such as meeting a co-conspirator in the the night, the wise thing would be to cut all communication once she was inside the Scouts.  If her nightly actions were something dastardly like that, then it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t see her sneak out because she wouldn’t make the attempts now in such a high risk area.

Still, Levi kept an eye out, always near a window at night so he could peer out into the darkness and see anyone trying to slip away if it did happen.

At long last, almost three weeks after the recruits had first arrived, he managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a hooded figure moving in the darkness away from the building.  Believing it to be L/N, he got up from his seat immediately, taking the less forgiving but more direct route of climbing out the window and down to the ground so he could close the distance before she left his sight entirely and he lost track of her.  Going through the building down to the ground floor and to a proper exit would have taken him too long, so his unconventional route was one he didn’t second guess.

Landing quietly on the paved stones, Levi crept forward at a walk that was barely restrained from becoming a jog for the first few moments, keeping to the shadows like his quarry as he attempted to follow after her.  He wasn’t armed in case there was trouble, mostly because he didn’t get the luxury of enough time to grab a weapon--he’d only caught a fleeting glimpse, so he’d had to act instantly.

Levi managed to catch up to where he would want to be on a tail after two streets, feeling himself settle down internally once he was the desired distance away.  She didn’t slow down, plowing forwards with a purpose that told him she knew exactly where she was going and she was going to waste no time getting there--he just had to keep up.

Yes, she.  He didn’t have confirmation that it was her, but he was operating off the assumption it was between the story he’d heard and the fact he’d been waiting for something like this to happen and her to be the culprit.

He continued to follow her street after street, taking several corners, occasionally losing sight of her before he caught movement again and continued on the path.  After a few minutes, however, he realized these direction changes weren’t exactly pointed and purposeful, but random.  They happened too suddenly and without warning for them to be planned.

She knew he was following her, and she was trying to shake him.

Hoping to make her think that she lost him, Levi slowed down his pace, allowing her to pull a little further ahead, far enough away it would be more difficult for him to follow, but at the same time it would give her the impression that he was too far away and that she lost him.

Levi managed to make it a few more streets this way, catching the edge of a cape or a flash of movement as she turned a corner to give him a direction, until suddenly, he realized he couldn’t hear footsteps or any other sound in the night, and he no longer had even a fleeting visual on her in order to give him a sense of direction.

That wasn’t possible.  Pulling back had been risky, yes, but he’d been sure he could still keep track of her.  And he should have at least been able to hear footsteps in the distance, because she would have had to speed up to lose him so suddenly.

Did she have ODM gear hidden under her cape?  Had she taken for the skies to get out of visible range of the streets?

Wanting to test the theory before she could get too far, Levi used window sills, boxes by stalls, wooden awnings, whatever he could to climb up to the roof of one of the buildings, turning around swiftly with his head on a swivel as he tried to catch a glimpse of movement, a figure moving through the night either on ODM gear or on the streets down below.

Nothing.  It was just him standing alone on this roof in the night’s silence.

Where the hell had she gone?

“Levi...why didn’t you bring this to my attention sooner?”

Levi scowled, meeting Erwin’s serious expression head on before he turned to move again, occasionally crossing the floor at an extremely slow pace, stopping for a while before he would turn around and move again.  Considering Levi usually remained stationary, it counted as a sign of unease.

He had just come to Erwin with what he knew about L/N, which admittedly wasn’t much.  For the most part, he was simply telling Erwin about his concerns and a bad feeling that he’d been harboring since meeting her.  He did have some legitimate red flags, like her apparent trips out into the night that were continuing here at the Scouts and her lack of a record from before two years ago with nothing to show she might have been from the Underground.

“Because it was just basic curiosity at first, but the more I heard, the more I had to be concerned about,” Levi said pointedly, lips pulled down in a prominent frown as he mulled over everything in his mind.

“Well, based off what you’ve been able to find out, if she is a threat, how much of a threat would she be,” Erwin asked patiently, his eyes continuing to track Levi as he moved about the room.  Levi stopped, turning his head slightly in Erwin’s direction.

“Erwin...she had me.  In that spar on the training grounds.  But at the last second, she shifted and threw the match,” Levi explained quietly.

“...I see.”

Levi turned around all the way to see Erwin sitting forward in his chair, hands laced together in front of him and pressed against his lips, eyebrows furrowed together in contemplation.

“Don’t mark her as an enemy in your mind, yet, Levi.  Let this play out a while longer, first.  This may be a situation where we need to spring the trap after it’s set to truly know the situation.  So far, she hasn’t done anything to hurt humanity’s mission regarding the Titans.  I don’t like how many unknowns there are with her, either, which is precisely why we have to approach this correctly.  There’s as much a chance we could be wrong as there is that we can be right about her intentions.”  Erwin’s hands carefully folded back over one another on top of the table, Erwin turning his gaze on Levi with that expression of his that usually appeared when he was mentally calculating a gamble.  “Continue your investigation as you see fit, so long as you don’t outright antagonize her.  We don’t want to risk driving her off, if these skills your glimpsing are as strong as your intuition tells you they are.  She could still be a great asset if she’s truly on our side.  Keep an eye on her, try to figure out at least if her intentions align with our own or run against them.”

“And you?” Levi asked suspiciously, looking to see if that gambling air about Erwin was tipping over into the dangerous side of things.

Erwin hummed.  “I’ll do some digging of my own, see what I can find.  Of course, if you can’t find anything concrete by the next expedition, going beyond the walls will allow you to get not only a stronger grasp on the skills she’s bringing to the table, but will help with figuring out her general intentions.”

“I don’t like the thought of having to babysit while we’re out there,” Levi returned flatly.  Expeditions were far too unpredictable as they were without adding a mysterious woman of unknown capabilities and intentions along for the ride with the task to keep a sharp eye on her and evaluate her every move.

“Then perhaps you’ll want to find out if you can trust her out there or not, first.  I know you can’t guarantee finding the answers to all of your questions in such a short amount of time, but you could at least find out if she will have the back of her fellow scouts on the first expedition,” Erwin said with a pointed look.  Levi could already tell this mess might get a little ugly, but at the very least, knowing he could trust her not to turn and kill someone on the expedition would go a long way in making his job digging into her background a lot easier.

After Levi gave a nod of confirmation, Erwin continued.  “In the meantime, I’ll make sure she’s placed in the formation so that she’s within your sight at all times.  Considering the rumors you’ve stirred up that you might be looking to recruit her to your squad, it would only make sense for you to be watching her out in the field to see how she does.  It’s also a nice excuse for you to make a few more direct inquiries to L/N, herself.  You’ve done plenty of work in the background, I think it’s safe to say you can start approaching her as well.  Subtly, of course.”

“After she shook me last night, she might already be on edge,” Levi pointed out.  She had to have known someone followed her.  There were no guarantees that she knew it was Levi, and he didn’t think she’d had the chance to confirm who was following her any more than he’d had a chance to confirm if he was following her.

“Then be careful about it.  But whenever you come to a decision about whether she’s a danger or not, I want to know.  This will go a lot smoother and faster if we’re sharing information.”

“I’m not stupid, Erwin,” Levi said with a long-suffering sigh, straightening up.  “Anything else?”

Erwin’s lips twitched upwards towards a smile, his hands moving to a drawer to pull out some paper and ink.  “Have fun making a new friend.”

Levi scowled again, turning to leave after it was clear Erwin was ready to move on to the next thing.  He was a little worried about this task to test L/N’s intentions to help the scouts before going out into the field, especially because he knew that look of Erwin’s meant he would set it up and Levi would simply have to observe.

But, he did have his own ways of testing her out as a person, and some people he could get to help without having to inform them of everything behind it.  He was already observing her from a distance and could safely continue to do so.  With the rumors going around he was looking to take her in under his wing, he could use that to his advantage to ask a few questions and approach her at the right times.

Yet, despite the fact he knew he would have help in prodding at her to see a bit more of what she was made of, he couldn’t help but notice that his sense of unease that had been tickling in the back of his mind was not shrinking.  If anything, it only seemed more prevalent.  As long as he continued to have this feeling of unease about her, he wasn’t going to let the matter rest.  He was going to figure out what she was hiding, if only so he could assuage or confirm his suspicions before they grew wildly out of control.

At least it seemed Erwin shared his concern, confirming it wasn’t all in his head, and there was cause to worry.  He only hoped they could figure out what was going on here before they had to spring the trap, as Erwin had suggested.

Levi shook his head.  He could worry about that, later.  First, he had a recruit to get a feel of before they went outside the walls, and he had to make sure he didn’t spook her while learning what made her tick.

Thankfully, he already had a pretty good idea where to find her in her down time, with all the work she’d been putting in to fix the one glaring flaw in her ability to go outside the walls.

The stables.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo

Wings in the Dark Tags:  @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

*sigh* I entertained the cursed thought of Evil!Leon and now it won't leave, so fuck it: bullet point frame work

Warnings for blood, temporary character death, graphic injury, murder, attempted murder, angst with a happy ending, magic reveal

First of all this is also immortal Leon, because I could

Morgana is discovered by a patrol headed by Leon and he's the only one of the round table there.

For some reason or another Morgana is having a really bad life day and completely obliterates the patrol in her rage.

And for narrative purposes/ the man is very sturdy, Leon somehow survives the assault, but he's not in good shape

Morgana, in her full sadistic glory, offers a painfully dying Leon a second chance, he need only pledge himself to her and she would heal him

Leon, while chocking on blood, defiantly glares at her, declaring "You're wasting your time Morgana, I will die before I betray Arthur"

And at this something hardens in Morgana's eyes and she lunges forward with a dagger and plunges it into Leon's heart, twisting it violently while hissing "so you shall" before pulling it back out

This, obviously, kills him

And for some reason or another, maybe its a part of why Morgana is having a no good very bad terrible awful day, she sticks around the site of the massacre for a bit rather than immediately leave.

Which is how she witnesses Sir Leon, whose heart she plunged a dagger into not an hour ago, take a gasping breath

This, quite understandably, scares the shit out of both of them

It scares the shit out of Morgana because she knows she killed him, there is no way he's alive

And it scares the shit out of Leon for much of the same reasons, he knows she killed him, why the fuck was he breathing (he did not know he was immortal before this point)

And while Morgana is still in shock, Leon asks angrily what she did to him, why did she bring him back (while he is scrambling for his sword and to rise, because that worked soo well for him the first time)

Morgana tilts her head at him, a slow sinister smile spreading across her face as she replies "I did nothing my dear knight"

And it is in this moment that Leon realizes he fucked up

Morgana probably kills him again for good measure, to see what will happen, and sure enough, he's back again in a little while.

Leon is freaking the fuck out and Morgana's day just completely turned around because she has Arthur's most loyal knight, his first knight, and he can't die

To make a long process short, she kills him for transport to where ever she's hiding, kills him a few more times because she can, and as she does so she formulates a plan. Since it has become quite obvious that Leon was not aware of his allergy to death, Morgana reasoned that no one back at the castle would know either. And if she could control Leon... well. Camelot and Arthur's head on a platter was as good as hers.

Since her last attempt to kill Arthur by proxy through a creature ended poorly, Morgana decides on an enchantment.

I’m thinking maybe the spell has a caveat, the only way for it to be broken is if Leon was killed by another Immortal's hand, something Morgana is certain is impossible, and is sure to gleefully inform Leon of this so in his last moments of free will, his hope and spirit would break

When Leon returns to Camelot, he doesn't act strange. A little haunted maybe, but not outwardly out of character

He says he was the only person to survive the attack by Morgana, and he barely made it away with his life (she either roughed him up to make this believable, or he did it himself)

Everyone is relieved he’s safe and back home

Arthur makes a light hearted joke about how this was the second time Leon was the lucky sole survivor of an attack, and he really needs to stop scaring Arthur like this, he’s starting to think he's doing it on purpose

And in the first indication that something might be off, Leon smirks at this, his laugh much darker than usual, and he makes a returning dark joke. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing that couldn't be explained as him having survivors guilt and being exhausted and in pain

And for a while everything seems fine.

Everything is not fine.

Leon is a much more subtle assassin than Merlin was. Much more patient as well. His first attempt is in a patrol in the woods, where he tries to catch Arthur off guard.

Arthur notices in time and fends him off, expressing confusion, and Leon pulls what he pulled in Servant of Two Masters when he finds Arthur behind the tree: awkward apologetic smile (much more sinister this time, his eyes are much colder)

He apologizes profusely, being a bit self depreciating as he admits that he was still a bit jumpy from his last trek through the woods and was on edge

Arthur accepts this and just tells him to be more careful, though ultimately there was no harm done

Arthur turns away and Leon frowns/glares

Maybe Arthur makes a passing mention of it to Merlin, asking him if he noticed Leon jumpier than usual, and Merlin replies that he hasn't really seemed jumpy per say, but definitely quieter and more closed off

Again, this isn't a huge red flag considering that he went through, but Merlin starts to pay closer attention to Leon, just in case

Leon seems fairly normal. He's a little quicker to temper, and his humor is much darker than usual, and his smiles are more smirks than anything, but he's not really treating anyone any differently

His behavior isn't suspicious, he's not in questionable places, he's just Leon with some survivors guilt and trauma. So Merlin relaxes.

When a mystery assailant keeps setting traps and ambushes for Arthur in cleaver and subtle ways, Merlin is at his wits end trying to figure out who it is. And he’s getting worried, as the last two attempts very nearly succeeded.

Leon is a very patient assassin. This drives Morgana nuts

She demands he meet her outside the castle walls one night when he's on solo rounds of the castle to demand what is taking so long

"Do you want him dead or not?"

"Of course I want him dead, I want him dead NOW. Stop dragging your feet and kill him already!"

And let me tell you, Morgana may have taken control of his loyalty and twisted his motivations, but she could never rid Leon of his sass

"Morgana, this is why you've never managed to kill Arthur. No patience. No attempts on Arthur's life have ever succeeded for a reason, I'm avoiding those mistakes. You can have it done quick or done right, I'm trying to do it right."

In the end, Leon had a valid point, as it was Morgana's impatience that demanded Leon sneak away from his rounds to meet her, and caught Merlin's attention as he saw Leon sneaking into the woods

Merlin follows Leon and sees him meeting with Morgana and every alarm bell goes off in his head. Because Leon despises Morgana, and he would never betray Arthur, never. Not willingly at least. So Merlin figures out that Leon is compromised, and all those near misses on Arthur recently that Merlin couldn't figure out the source of must have been Leon's doing.

Leon tells Morgana she just needs to wait one day more, as he plans to kill Arthur the following night. Morgana hisses at him "see that you do" and leaves

Merlin follows Leon back to the castle where the knight continued on his rounds, prompting Merlin to run to his and Gaius's quarters.

Gaius isn't happy to be woken in the middle of the night, until Merlin explains what he saw

"Leon? Working with Morgana? Are you certain?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. I heard Leon tell Morgana he was going to kill Arthur tomorrow night. Leon would never betray Arthur, especially not to Morgana. She did something to him, I know she has"

They quickly rule out a femora and eventually conclude that it must be an enchantment. One so powerful to bind and manipulate one's loyalties and will would have to have a very specific condition to break it. The only way to stop/ save Leon and protect Arthur is for Merlin to figure out what it is so he can break it

He does not manage to figure it out

So when night comes and Leon is acting shifty as he heads in the direction of Arthur's chambers, Merlin has to do something, prepared or not

He comes up with an excuse or another to get Leon to come with him, its urgent, blah blah blah

Merlin pulls Leon into an empty room where no one would be likely to find them or interrupt them. And Leon tolerates Merlin's rambling excuse for pulling him aside for a few moments before he's had enough and brushes Merlin off, trying to leave

And Merlin doesn't let him, blocking the exit.

Leon is still trying to maintain his cover, but his patience is finally beginning to run out

He tells Merlin to move, he has duties to attend to, and Merlin cuts to the chase. “I can’t let you hurt Arthur, Leon”

And Leon studies Merlin, nods, and breaks out into a wide smirk. “Took you long enough to figure out. What gave me away?”

And Merlin is thrown by the sudden shift in behavior, but as long as Leon is talking he isn’t killing Arthur, so he’ll take it. 

“I saw you talking to Morgana. I heard you plotting to kill Arthur.”

And Leon nods, tutting. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that Merlin.”

And Merlin is in desperate ‘try to reason with him’ mode, which is obviously not working because Leon is under a powerful enchantment. And while it was amusing at the start to toy with Merlin, Leon has had enough.

All patience has run out. 

"Merlin, if you do not get out of my way and keep your mouth shut, I will kill you, and do so gladly"

Merlin of course does neither of these things.

Leon attacks Merlin, and Merlin barely dodges the sword. Merlin is, understandably, pretty scared. This is someone he considers a close friend, a brother, and he's currently trying to kill him. Merlin tries to talk Leon down, but its not working. There is taunting involved, and some very evil smirks

All the while Leon is swinging at Merlin with his sword, coming very close to hitting Merlin.

The final straw is when Leon knocks Merlin down, stands over him with his sword to his chest, and taunts Merlin that he is going to kill him, and then he's going to kill Arthur, and there is nothing Merlin can do about it

Well. Yes. Yes there is.

Merlin's eyes flash gold and before his eyes can even widen in surprise at this unexpected development, Leon is thrown backwards into a wall. Hard.

His head hits the wall with a sickening crack and collapses into a still heap.

Merlin is very much panicking as he scrambles up and over to Leon, feeling for any sign of a pulse.

He can't find one.

Merlin desperately tries to cast a healing spell but its not working. Leon's dead.

Important note for the record: Merlin did not know Leon was immortal. Merlin also did not know the stipulation that would release Leon from Morgana's enchantment.

So Merlin thinks he just killed a man he viewed as a big brother

He takes this about as well as could be expected: absolutely horribly.

He’s crying, babbling definitely, the words "I'm so sorry" "I didn't mean to" "please wake up" are mixed in there and repeated a lot

And then, lo and behold, Leon woke up

Its hard to say who was more surprised: Leon or Merlin

It would be fair to say Merlin, as his brother he accidentally killed ten minutes ago was sitting up in his arms, definitely alive

But it would also be fair to say Leon, who decidedly was himself again, free of Morgana's enchantment. Which should have been impossible, save from dying at the hand of an immortal. So not only is Leon dealing with being himself again, but he's also processing the information that apparently Merlin is immortal. And oh yeah: killed him by using magic

So they are both freaking out

And Merlin stammers out a mess of words that boils down to "what?? How are you alive? You, you were dead, I know you were dead! Oh gods, you were dead, I killed you, I swear I didn't mean to, you were trying to kill Arthur, you were trying to kill me, I was just trying to stop you, I didn't mean to kill you..." and he's clinging to Leon during this, and is totally not still crying

And Leon eventually manages to get a word in and halt Merlin's rambling with an exasperated and slightly hysterical "Merlin, I'm not dead!"

"You were!"

"Can we focus on that later? Is Arthur alright?"

And now Merlin is instantly back on alert, drawing back a bit to study Leon's face, but still holding his shoulders. "He's fine." At Leon's sigh of relief, Merlin asks slowly "Do you still want to kill him?"

And Leon is instantly horrified and shaking his head vehemently declaring "No!"

And then he stops, thinks, and realizes he truly meant it. He no longer felt any distain towards his friend and king, the sickly poisoning influence from Morgana's enchantment gone

Which was only possible at the hand of another immortal.

Leon's brain is going a million miles an hour, his often misused or missing brain cells taking longer than they should to come to the obvious conclusion, but in his defense, he had a lot to process, and it is a pretty unbelievable conclusion

"Merlin, you said you killed me?"

And the guilt is right back with Merlin apologizing and defending with "I swear I didn't mean to!"

"But you're sure YOU killed me? Absolutely positive?"

And Merlin's starting to get a bit annoyed, why the fuck would he lie about killing a man he viewed as a brother? "Yeah Leon, I'm pretty sure. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it"

If this had been normal circumstances, Leon may have comforted Merlin, but these were most certainly not normal circumstances, because if Merlin killed him, that had to mean one thing:

"Merlin, since when are you immortal?"

What ever Merlin was expecting Leon to say, it sure as fuck wasn't that (friendly reminder that Merlin doesn't know he's immortal at this point)

So it is with very real confusion that he says slowly "I'm... not?"

"Clearly you are, or I would probably be trying to kill you to get to Arthur right now"

This is clearly the wrong thing to say, because Merlin now thinks this is an elaborate trick, and somehow, has come to the conclusion that this isn't even Leon, or if it is, he's a Shade like Lancelot was.

So Merlin scrambles to his feet, grabbing Leon's sword and pointing it at him. Leon raises his hands in alarm and also to placate Merlin (he’s still not used to being immortal and forgot that the sword can’t actually do him permanent harm)

"Merlin, I'm not going to kill you. The enchantment Morgana had over me is gone, you broke it" ("with magic" is screamed loudly in his head, but one earth shattering topic at a time)

"I don't believe you"

"The enchantment had a condition to it: the only way to escape Morgana's control was if another immortal took my life. You killed me, and now that control is gone. I have no desire to hurt Arthur or you, or anyone else in Camelot." I swear to you on-" he goes to say his life and realizes that maybe that wouldn't mean as much anymore and adjusts "I swear to you on my honor as a knight of Camelot."

Merlin doesn't know what to believe. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. So he makes Leon explain everything, which he does. Leon still has all his memories, though some of them seem a little distorted and distant, but still there are the same

When Leon finishes, Merlin puts down the sword, approaches Leon and makes him promise again. He does so, and Merlin finally believes him

He collapses into a sitting position next to Leon, looking exhausted but relieved. They are silent for a bit until finally...

Leon eventually decides its time to address the elephant in the room: "Merlin, how long have you been practicing magic?" It’s said in a way that aims for nonchalance and misses by several miles

Merlin, naturally, goes pale and plays dumb

"Merlin, I saw your eyes glow gold and then I was being flung across the room. That's magic"

And Merlin's still denying it, fiercely, and Leon has had a very long day and an even longer month

"Merlin, I'm having a hard enough time knowing what's real and what's not right now, please don't make me question this too"

And what was Merlin supposed to do? Continue to deny what Leon clearly figured out?

"I was born with it" is whispered, a scared admission

"I didn't think that was possible"

"Yeah well, I'm special"

"I could have told you that Merlin"

This is going much better than Merlin thought it would. He expected anger, yelling at least. Not teasing, as tired as it sounds

"Are you going to tell Arthur?" Is asked in that same scared voice from before

He should. Leon knows he should. As a knight of Camelot, it was his duty to uphold the laws of the kingdom, and magic is against those laws.

But it was also his duty to protect the king, a duty, through no fault of his own, he had abandoned and gone against. Where as Merlin did his job for him.

That and he could not deny his friendship to the younger man, the protective nature he felt for him

Seeing Merlin stare at him with fear and resignation, like he had already been condemned to death, Leon realized there was really only ever one possible response he could give:

"No. I'm not"

Merlin did not expect this.

When he sees Merlin's surprise, Leon gently bumps Merlin with his shoulder. "Merlin, I know you. You would never hurt Arthur, would never do anything to put Camelot in danger. Magic or not, that doesn't change. I would not risk condemning you to exile or death when you have done no harm"

At Merlin's pained look between Leon and the wall, Leon sighs. "I'm fine Merlin. I'm more than fine, you broke Morgana's enchantment. It was not... ideal, but it was the only way"

Merlin shakes his head "Leon, I didn't know. I didn't know you'd come back. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have. I killed you, using magic. How do you not hate me?"

"Merlin," Leon waits for Merlin to make eye contact, putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Magic has saved my life, in the past. And as far as I'm concerned, it saved my soul today. Am I wary of it? Yes, because I have seen the harm it can do in cruel hands. But I also know that it can protect and heal in kind ones. How many times have you saved Arthur's life?"

Startled by the sudden question, Merlin answers honestly "I've lost count"

"How many times have you used your magic to protect, to save?"

"Always"

Leon ruffles Merlin's hair with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I could never hate you for upholding the same ideals I live by Merlin, regardless of your methods of doing so."

And finally, finally Merlin gets it. He's not going to be imprisoned, he's not going to be outed as a sorcerer, Leon is alive and himself again and has no intention of hurting him, and Merlin doesn't have to worry about losing his friend anymore because apparently he's immortal and he is too but he is not about to deal with that right now (and also let's be real, he’s still going to worry about Leon)

It is with this that Merlin finally relaxes for the first time in a long time, shuffling closer to Leon and leaning against him, the knight putting an arm around him and pulling him close, each taking comfort in the presence of the other

It's a lot to take in, and it will take many conversations and explanations over the next few days and weeks to even begin to unpack and comprehend it all, but for now, each man was left with the relief and knowledge that they were safe with the person beside them.

The end! This is not at all what I thought it would be when I first started to write it, but I'm okay with that. If anyone wants to write this into a proper full length fic feel free to do so, I just ask that you please credit me and send it to me so I can read it!

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 39: Rebel Song

The gang returns to the war-torn Orlesian countryside, and the welcome they receive is far from warm. Banter and action, this time with even more terrible jokes because Sera has come with :’D

Read on AO3! Or read from the beginning

Tristan rubbed his eyes with a yawn. The steady rocking of his horse and the thick, humid heat was making him sleepy. His backside wasn’t at its best either, admittedly: they had been riding for the better part of the week, and this day was already drawing near its end.

The journey through the Orlesian countryside had been everything that Tristan had expected, and worse. So, so much worse. His advisors had warned him that things would be different from when he had last been to the place, but even their expectations had been inaccurate, by a fairly large margin.

He and his party had followed the Imperial Highway for as long as they could- the only road, really, that was still accessible to travellers for the most part. Most other great roads, as the various Inquisition agents at the outposts they had stopped along the way had informed them, had been closed off by the barricades set up by either Gaspard’s or Celene’s armies, or were unsafe for small groups to traverse. That, too, was new: the number of outlaws and bandits had increased tenfold during the months Tristan had been away- and it hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing the last time, either. Last time around it had been bands of Freemen roaming the land- this time, it was men and women that evidently had even less than the deserters from the armies to lose and preyed on whoever was poor or desperate enough to travel the countryside alone without arms or protection. They were vicious, but cowardly, never taking on large or armed groups, and swore no allegiance to anyone at all.

Which raised the question: where were the Freemen?

“There haven’t been any sightings in weeks, Ser,” an Inquisition scout informed him, when they’d stopped for the night at an Inquisition camp just past Lydes. “After word has spread of your victory in the Emerald Graves, most of their camps were deserted soon after. Some say that they’ve returned to their homes, those who still had one, while others claim they have all moved out of the plains and gone to the West, where there are still empty places for them to settle, and no one to come after them.”

“The West?” Tristan had asked the young woman in curiosity. “There’s nothing past here at all, and all western roads lead to the Badlands. Even the Freemen that are left cannot be that desperate.”

The scout had simply shrugged.

It didn’t make much sense to Tristan- but then again, not much of what the Freemen did made sense to him. For the next few days, as they steadily trudged along the Imperial Highway, alongside throngs of refugees and the occasional merchant caravan that was still bold enough to brave the war-torn countryside, they kept passing by abandoned camps, or the old manors and watchtowers that had been claimed, rummaged, and then left to ruin by the Freemen. Apart from the occasional travel weary and worn down infantry division from either Celene’s or Gaspard’s armies, whose officers merely pretended to keep an eye over the towns and villages that had been claimed during the war, the only other people they encountered were beggars or tired and scared men, women and children with dirt smudged faces and clothes that were about to fall off their skinny shoulders.

Orlais really, really couldn’t get much worse than this.

With a sigh, Tristan straightened on his saddle, rolled his shoulders, tilted his head this way and that. Travelling on horseback all day did not agree with him, and the devastation all around him did nothing to lift his mood. He could feel his stomach churning and his head throbbing ever so slightly as the rays of the setting sun fell straight into his eyes. The only thing that settled his upset stomach on those days was his fine Antivan brandy, though he had been careful not to drink too much. He needed to stay alert, and the humid heat that surrounded them like a blanket took most of the edge off all by itself. Tristan could already feel his eyelids drooping, and it wasn’t even nightfall yet.

Well. One swig couldn’t hurt much, could it?

From atop his bay gelding, Dorian shot him a curious look when he saw him tipping his flak over his lips. Tristan swallowed the mouthful of brandy, then raised his eyebrows at him in question.

“How come you still have enough of this?” Dorian asked him in a low voice, steering his horse so he was riding beside him. “I thought you would have finished it days ago.”

“I’ve been careful with it,” Tristan replied as he carefully screwed the flask’s cap shut. “I only brought the one, and we still have weeks ahead of us. What?” he asked when Dorian blinked.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just… impressed that’s all.”

“Are you? I don’t know whether to feel proud or concerned that you think my resolve so brittle.”

“Brittle?” Dorian chuckled softly, “Not at all. I don’t know anyone that’s more stubborn than you are, in fact.”

“Except for you, you mean?” Dorian rolled his eyes, and Tristan grinned. How he liked to tease him. His lips that pursed ever so slightly, his eyebrow that lifted just a bit, the rueful little glances he shot him out of the corner of his eye before he looked away. How he managed to be irresistible even when irked, Tristan could never understand. It made him want to tease him all the more.

“In any case,” Tristan said casually, slipping the flask back in his coat pocket, “if you wanted a sip, all you had to do is ask. I’ve seen how you keep eyeing my flask.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “Trust me, amatus, your flask is the last thing I keep eyeing.”

“Yeah, amatusss, your ‘flask’ is the last thing he’s been eyeing,” Sera snickered from the next horse over. “The first thing he’s been eyeing is your—”

“Sera,” Dorian hissed in warning. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare.”

“What? I was only going to say his arse.”

Dorian turned to glare at her, outrage writ all over his face. Sera burst out in wicked, high pitched laughter that made several of the weary travellers that were trailing alongside them on the Highway stop and gawk at them. Tristan bit his lip down hard to stop himself from laughing as well, but it wasn’t long before Dorian’s murderous glare was directed at him.

“You, too?” Dorian asked him pointedly.

Tristan gave him an apologetic little smile, still trying to stop himself from following Sera’s example, who seemed incredibly amused at having riled Dorian. “I mean,” he said in a strained voice, trying his best to keep a straight face, “she’s probably right. You’re not very subtle.”

Dorian clicked his tongue and punched him lightly on the shoulder, just as Sera slapped her thigh and cackled even more loudly. She laughed until her brown gelding whinnied in protest to her jerky movements and tossed its head back, causing Sera to almost lose her balance.

Dorian sniffed in disdain, then kicked his horse forward, his back straight and his head held high in defiance.

“Oh, come on—” Tristan laughed, following him with Almond. “It was just a joke!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Sera cackled after them both. “I call them like I see them!”

“Not listening!” Dorian replied with a wave of his hand, his golden rings glittering in the disappearing evening light.

From atop his horse, Iron Bull let out a deep, throaty chuckle. He stood almost two heads taller than everyone else, sitting tall and straight on the enormous draft horse Master Dennet had managed to find for him. It was a tough and calm mount, slow but sure footed, meant to draw carriages and plough carts rather than being ridden, but there had been no other horse suitable for the large Qunari.

It’s no Asaarash,  Iron Bull had said when he saw it, but it will have to do. Better than my own legs could, anyhow.

“With all the racket you three keep making," he said, "I’m surprised no Freemen have come crawling out of their hideouts to attack us. I would kill for some entertainment right now.” He winked at Solas, who was riding beside him on his chestnut coloured hart, “Get it, Solas? Kill for entertainment?”

Solas let out a small, exasperated sigh. “Yes, I do get it, Iron Bull. Unfortunately, the jest continues to be lost on me, as it has been the last five times you said it.”

“Ah, that’s ‘cause none of you can appreciate a good joke,” Bull laughed with a dismissive wave. “I tell you, those guys are just hiding in the bushes, waiting for us to lower our guard.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Want to bet on it?” Bull grinned.

Solas only frowned and looked ahead of him.

After this, they rode for a while in blissful silence, with Dorian’s annoyed pout relenting only after Tristan promised not to tease him again, then proceeded to peel an apple for him and carve it in the shape of a duck with one of his sharpest knives. It didn't look particularly good, but the apple was still sweet and crisp, and a soft blush had crept up Dorian's cheeks when he'd accepted it, so Tristan couldn't complain much.

Darkness fell all around them, and with it heavy clouds gathered overhead and a thick layer of mist covered the earth. The terrain changed slowly and steadily, with the tall grasses giving way to small thickets dispersed through the expansive land, and the flat plains rising in low, rolling hills. The air was so thick and humid that it made Tristan’s clothes stick to his skin, and the horses’ movements slow and sluggish. It wasn’t long before a droplet fell on his head, then another. Soon, raindrops were gliding past Tristan’s collar and the openings of his boots, warm like sweat.

“We’ll need to find shelter soon,” Tristan told them all, squinting in the half dark. The people travelling alongside them had dispersed with the approaching dusk and the rain, until it was just the five of them on the wide, hard packed dirt road. They should have reached the Inquisition outpost close to Verchiel a good two hours before, but the barricade that had been set up by Celene's soldiers at the Fleurcolline passage had greatly delayed them. Now they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, and with not much hope of reaching the outpost until dawn came.

“We can’t ride for long in this weather," Tristan said, gathering his coat around him, "and it’s dangerous to travel after dark.”

The rest of his party didn’t seem overly pleased to continue travelling like this either, with Dorian muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped himself in his leather overcoat, and Sera’s gelding tossing its head back in annoyance whenever the elf fidgeted on the saddle, which was a near constant occurrence. Bull and Solas seemed far less perturbed by the foul weather, yet no less tired.

“Shall we set up camp?” Solas asked, looking around.

“If you can find a decent spot,” Tristan grumbled. There was open space all around them, with only a few thickets of miserable trees that would probably not provide any shelter from the rain. The ground, too, was covered in mud, and he didn’t relish the notion of sleeping in a soddy tent, or having a miserable dinner of hardtack and cold cheese. Even Dorian’s and Solas’ magic couldn’t keep a fire going for long if there was no dry wood to be found.  

He let his gaze wander off into the distance, and was rewarded when he saw flickering lights, not too far ahead. A glance at his map confirmed his hopes; there was a small town nearby, one that the agents of the Inquisition they had last met had said was amongst the last standing this side of Orlais.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Sera asked when Tristan drew all of their attention to the village. “On we go, chop chop! Been dying for a mug of ale for hours.”

Solas glanced at the lights warily. “Do you know who is in charge of this town?”

“No one, as far as the scouts knew,” Tristan answered. Horville, as the place was called, used to be a crossroads town, meant for merchant caravans to stop and rest their horses and riders. Most of the buildings were inns and shops, with only a few houses for the people who worked there. After the war had broken out, it had been primarily frequented by the infantry and cavalry divisions that crossed the plains from time to time, staying only for a short while before moving on to the next post. It had been intentionally kept as a neutral ground of sorts, with no one army claiming ownership over the small town and its businesses.

Solas’ expression darkened. “No one that we can see, perhaps.”

Tristan considered Solas’ words for a few moments. Perhaps it was somewhat reckless to walk into a town that they knew so little about, but in the end his hunger and exhaustion seemed to overcome his suspicions. Dorian and Sera were none too quick to agree when he suggested they all ride to the small town in search of an inn to spend the night. No matter who was in charge of the village, they would hardly deny some weary travellers some rest, especially those with coin to spend. Right?

“Who are you, and what business have you?”

The guard standing behind the oak and iron-wrought gate had a gruff voice and an ever gruffer appearance, only partially illuminated by the lamp he held before his face. It was half hidden by his dark hood, but Tristan could still see the unkempt beard and the pock marks on his cheeks. Despite his rough appearance though, his cloak seemed sturdy and well made, and the leather handle of his sword hilt freshly worked. Business was going well in Horville, it seemed.

Tristan pushed his own hood back, and in his best Orlesian, he said, “We’re travellers, looking for shelter from this rain. A warm meal, too, and some drink to wash it down. Are you not going to let us in?”

The man squinted at them. “Don’t get many travellers like yourselves around these parts. Not anymore.”

“It appears you have now.” He let his lips curl in a cold smile, willfully ignoring the man’s hand that was already straying to his sword. His own hand slithered within the folds of his coat, pulling out his coin purse. “We’re not going to be any trouble. I assure you.”

The gold coin that Tristan tossed in his direction flipped in a small arc, catching the light of the lamp before it was snatched in the air by the guard’s practiced hand. The man’s beady black eyes widened when he beheld the coin, then his gaze flicked to each one of them in turn. After a few brief moments of intense scrutiny, he sniffed and jerked his head to the side, signalling for the men behind the gates to let them in.

“Keep an eye on your beast,” he said gruffly as their horses passed him by, shooting a baleful look at the Iron Bull’s horns. Tristan turned to glare at him, but the man only sniffed again and spat on the ground.

“Sour tit,” Sera mumbled under her breath, glaring daggers at the man over her shoulder. “Should have looked at his own ugly mug.”

“Pay him no mind, Bull,” Tristan told the Qunari in a low voice as he led his horse down the narrow cobblestone street. “Most of these people have never seen a Qunari before in their lives.”

“No worries, Boss,” Bull said, his lips widening in his usual, easy smile. “I’ve heard worse while sparring with the boys. These guys have probably seen their share of trouble. Can’t blame them for being cautious.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[eliemo]

The Little Things

Now that they’re getting to know Virgil, welcoming him as family, the other sides begin to notice behavior they hadn’t picked up on before. Patton just wants him to feel safe. 

Words: 3,698

TW: Brief panic attack, Virgil thinks he’s gonna be punished or hurt for a few minutes. Also like one swear word 

They noticed the little things first. 

Logan was likely the first to notice how jumpy Virgil really was now that they were all spending more time together, how sensitive he was to loud noises and sudden movements, but Patton was fairly sure he was the only one to see beyond that. 

It wasn’t hard for Patton to pick up on how quickly Virgil would tense if he thought one of the other sides were in a particularly bad mood, how he would go quiet if someone raised their voice whether it was directed towards him or not, how he would reach for any excuse to retreat to his room if he thought something was wrong. 

It hadn’t been like that before they’d accepted him. He hadn’t been so scared. 

Or maybe...maybe he had, and they just hadn’t bothered to notice. 

Living either in almost total isolation or with the other dark sides his whole life, it was obvious Virgil wasn’t used to their way of life. He wasn’t used to the kindness and understanding they were offering. 

But that was ok. They would help him. He was family now, and he was learning. He was safe. 

But then...then the small hidden things became a bit more obvious, and it was clear this wasn’t just Virgil’s general anxiety. 

It was the ‘mug incident,’ as Patton had internally dubbed it, that had finally clued them in to how bad it really was. 

Roman, as kind and caring as he was, and how hard he tried, was never one to pick up on subtle signs. 

It was mid afternoon, Virgil perched on the armchair while Logan and Patton stood by the TV mulling over movie options, when Roman stormed in from the kitchen, a broken Disney mug in his hand, deep frown etched on his face. 

It wasn’t genuine anger, Patton knew Roman well enough by now to know that. It was just frustration amped up for the sake of dramatics. 

They all should have realized Virgil wouldn’t know to pick up on that yet. 

“Do any of you want to tell me why,” Roman announced, holding the pieces of the mug in the air. “My beloved Disney mug was left destroyed on the counter?” 

Logan turned to face him, unaffected, adjusting his glasses. “I assume because it broke.” 

“Obviously! Which one of you broke it?” 

“I did the dishes this morning, kiddo,” Patton said, smiling sadly at the broken mug. “It wasn’t broken when I saw it.” 

Logan sighed. “I did not go anywhere near your mug today, Roman. Besides, can’t you just fix it on your--” 

“It’s the principle of it!” Roman whirled around to Virgil, who had been silently watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Alright, emo! Confess to your crime!” 

Virgil actually jumped, fingers curling into the cushions of the chair, shoulders curling up to almost reach his ears. Roman was clearly expecting to banter back and forth, and Patton knew that in any other situation that was exactly what he would have gotten. 

“I-I didn’t break it,” Virgil said, stumbling over his words a bit, refusing to look Roman in the eye. “It wasn’t me.” 

Roman groaned and Patton frowned as Virgil went rigid. The creative side didn’t seem to be picking up on anything unusual, and Logan had gone back to flipping through channels. 

“Oh come on, Virgil! Obviously it was you, you’re usually the last one in the kitchen. It’s not even a big deal, why didn’t you just tell me it was broken?” 

Virgil shook his head, curling further into himself like he was hoping for his hoodie to swallow him up, and Patton slowly rose to his feet when he saw something far too close to genuine panic in his eyes. 

“I didn’t break it,” he said again, somehow even quieter than before. “I didn’t...I-I’m not lying, it wasn’t me, I’m...I haven’t been in the kitchen.” 

“But you--” 

“Roman,” Patton said, forcing his tone to stay light. “I was in a hurry this morning, maybe I just left it balancing on the shelf weird. And if not, I’m sure it was just an accident, right?” 

It was a bit too pointed to be taken as entirely casual, and Roman cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, clearly picking up on Patton’s worry. 

But before Roman could hopefully change the subject, Virgil was speaking again, his voice now shaky and almost...desperate. 

“I didn’t...I didn’t do it, Roman I swear it wasn’t...i-if I had broken it I would have cleaned it up or-or fixed it I promise, I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t have-have left a mess.” 

Roman’s brow furrowed, and he briefly glanced back at Patton and Logan, whose attention had been recaptured by Virgil’s rambling. 

“I...I know,” Roman said carefully. “Virgil, I...I wasn’t gonna--” 

He took a step towards the armchair, freezing when Virgil flinched backwards, eyes impossibly wide and clouded with fear. 

“I-I didn’t break it!” It was louder this time, still small and trembling, staring at the other side like he was wielding a deadly weapon. “I’m not lying I swear I-I didn’t, I…” 

Patton could only stand there, looking helplessly between the two of them, Logan just as lost beside him, while Roman carefully set the mug down and slowly dropped to a crouch in front of the chair. 

“It’s ok, Virgil,” the prince said, soft and slow, and Virgil’s rambling abruptly cut off. “I’m not mad, see? It’s ok.” 

Virgil didn’t relax, didn’t move, just glanced briefly at Patton and Logan before turning back to Roman. “You...you were. You were mad, and you--” 

“I wasn’t,” Roman promised gently. “Even if you did break it--” 

“I didn’t,” Virgil insisted, then stiffened as if just realizing he’d interrupted Roman. But the prince just smiled again, extending an open palm. 

“I know. I believe you. I’m not mad, I was just messing around. I’m so sorry, Virgil. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

It took a moment for anything to change, Patton sending reassuring smiles and Logan quietly counting out a pattern for Virgil to regain control over his breathing. Roman didn’t move, knelt beside the chair with his arm outstretched and waiting. 

When Virgil finally began to relax, his eyes clearing a bit, he let out a shaky sigh and warily took Roman’s hand, still visibly tense like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Kiddo?” Patton called after a moment, taking a careful step forward. “You alright?” 

He saw Virgil nod, swallowing roughly. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Sorry for...sorry about that.” 

Logan frowned, moving to stand beside Patton. “I fail to see what you could have to apologize for, Virgil.” 

Virgil shrugged and rested his chin on his knees, but he still held on to Roman’s hand like a lifeline, and the Prince made no move to pull away. 

“My sincerest apologies,” Roman said. “It wasn’t my intention to scare you. I mean, I’d be a rather lousy excuse for creativity if I couldn’t fix a little broken mug, right? It wouldn’t have been a bother even if you had broken it.” 

It got a small, unsure smile from Virgil, but the anxious side still didn’t look particularly calmed. 

“Besides,” Logan spoke up, something unreadable in his expression. “A broken dish is nothing that should cause you distress. I’m sure you know you can always inform us if an accident happens without consequence.” 

It took a moment for Virgil to answer, hands clutching the cloth of his new hoodie, but he eventually nodded, not looking like he entirely believed what he was being told. 

“Yeah,” he said, voice strained. “Yeah, I just thought...I don’t know. It’s whatever, you guys. I’m fine.” 

They begrudgingly dropped the subject after that, seeing as how keeping the spotlight on Virgil was only succeeding in making him more uneasy, but Patton was sure to make very clear that his door was open if Virgil ever wanted to talk about it. 

It had been a little over a week now, and no one had mentioned the incident again, instead going back to focusing on making sure Virgil felt safe and included like they had since learning his name. 

They were all getting closer, even in the short time since accepting him, and Virgil was visibly relaxing. He was still anxious and withdrawn, but less so everyday. Things were getting better. 

And then…

And then things got worse. 

Virgil was having an off day. They could all see he was a bit extra jumpy and unfocused throughout the day. 

It made sense, Thomas had been particularly stressed and Virgil, as his anxiety, was handling the brunt of it. But he hadn’t locked himself up in his room like he would have done a week prior, and Patton considered that progress.  

Virgil had finally started eating with them regularly as well, more often than not hanging around long enough to help with prep and cleanup. 

The four of them were cooking dinner tonight, careful to keep the atmosphere calm and lighthearted, and Patton wanted to squeal with happiness each time he saw a tentative smile cross Virgil’s face. 

Patton and Logan were handling most of the food while Virgil and Roman washed, dried and put away dishes as they went, the prince humming Disney songs loud enough for everyone to hear. 

It was nice. They were finally a family, just as they should be. 

Honestly, what happened next was entirely Patton’s fault. He hadn’t even been thinking about how the other side might interpret it. 

The kitchen was roomy but it wasn’t huge, and it was a bit crowded with all four of them working in it at the same time. Patton was moving away from checking the stove just as Virgil was moving to put a clean plate away and ended up bumping into his shoulder as he made his way back to Logan. 

It happened so fast, Patton didn’t even get a chance to try and catch the plate as it slipped from Virgil’s hands and hit the ground with a crash, shattering into pieces. 

It wasn’t a big deal. Things broke all the time. In the mindscape, especially with Roman, they could clean it up and snap a new one into existence in moments. For a second, Patton didn’t think anything of it. 

“Whoops,” he said, stepping away from the glass shards. “Sorry about that, kiddo. You ok there?” 

There wasn’t an answer, and when Patton looked up he realized Virgil wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring at Logan. 

Logan, who had turned around at the sound of the noise, knife still in hand from chopping vegetables, watching with a mix of concern and confusion. And Virgil’s expression held more terror than Patton had ever seen. 

“Virgil--” 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he managed, Logan only seemed more confused when Virgil only seemed to focus on him. “I-I didn’t...It was an accident.” 

“We know Virgil,” Logan said carefully, but the reassurance only seemed to panic Virgil more, wide eyes moving now to all three watching sides. “We are not--” 

“Lo,” Patton called softly, heart breaking when he saw where Virgil’s eyes kept landing. “You need to put that down, kiddo.” 

Logan cocked his head slightly, eyes widening when he followed Patton’s gaze to the knife still clutched in his hand. “My apologies, Virgil. I hadn’t realized.” 

And maybe Logan moved a bit too fast, maybe Virgil was too far gone in his panic to hear the apology, but moving to set the knife down on the counter behind him only seemed to break the dam holding back the last of Virgil’s fear. 

He jumped back, Patton wincing in sympathy when his back collided with the edge of the counter, but he didn’t even seem to register the impact. 

“I’m sorry, I-I’m so s-sorry, please, please I-I’ll clean it up! I’ll clean it up right now y-you don’t have to be mad I won’t...please, I can fix it, I can--” 

Patton would hate himself for it later, but in his desperation Virgil was lowering himself towards the broken glass, eyes never leaving Logan, moving like he was going to grab the shards with his bare hands, and parental instinct took over. 

“No!” Patton hurried forwards to stop him, and while he did get Virgil away from the glass, the outburst and sudden movements were definitely not what Virgil needed. 

The anxious side’s eyes filled with tears as he scrambled as far back as he could get, breathing quick and erratic, words coming out in frantic gasps. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to...I’m so sorry I just thought--” 

“No, no it’s ok!” Patton’s vision was beginning to go blurry with his own tears. “I just didn’t want you to get cut on the glass!” 

But Virgil wasn’t listening, pressed up against the wall, hands moving to protect his face like he expected someone to hurt him. 

It was so much different from the Virgil they’d gotten to know, scared and anxious sometimes but refusing to let himself fall apart in front of anyone, always holding himself to some standard of composure. 

Roman was clutching Patton’s arm, keeping him from rushing forward again, the prince pale and frozen. Logan had set the knife down, clearly doing all he could to compose himself and understand the situation. 

“Virgil,” the logical side said after a moment, more hesitant than Patton had ever heard him. “It was just an accident. Nobody is going to be upset with you. And I assure you, nobody here would ever have any intention of causing you harm.” 

“Of course not,” Roman said, Patton quickly agreeing. “What on earth made you so frightened, Stormcloud?” 

Virgil didn’t answer, gaze still jumping from one side to another, tense and trembling as he seemed to struggle to understand what was being said to him. 

“I...I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. It seemed to be his go-to phrase tonight. “I didn’t m-mean to ruin things.” 

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton said, still unable to move forward, furiously wiping tears from his cheeks. “You didn’t ruin anything. I promise.” 

“I…I’m s...I’m sorry.” 

“Perhaps,” Logan said suddenly. “It would be of benefit to you to discuss this outside the kitchen. Do you require assistance getting to the living room?” 

Virgil was still trembling, curled into a ball, eyes red and jaw clenched tight. “I...I think so. Sorry, I just--” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, kiddo.” Patton glanced at the glass scattered across the floor, then at Roman, the only side still wearing shoes. “Will you--?” 

“I’ve got him.” 

It took a minute, Patton moving to stand by Logan while Roman carefully made his way to Virgil’s side like he was approaching a wounded animal. 

Patton didn’t miss how badly Virgil flinched when Roman lowered himself to the floor, how tense he went when the prince made a move to touch his arm. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Roman said softly. “You have my word. Can I carry you to the couch, please?” 

Virgil nodded, hesitant, and Patton’s heart broke at the quiet whimper that escaped when Roman carefully lifted him bridal style from the kitchen floor. 

“You’re alright,” Princey promised, sending a worried glance over his shoulder as Logan turned off the stove. “You’re safe, you’re ok. We’re almost there.” 

They made it to the couch quickly, Patton and Logan following closely behind, the three of them allowing Virgil his own space as soon as he was set down on the cushion. 

He instantly took advantage of it, pressing himself as far back as he could, knees pulled up to his chest, refusing to look any of them in the eye. 

Logan was seated on the coffee table across from him, Patton carefully lowering himself onto the opposite end of the couch, Roman perched beside him on the arm. 

Logan cleared his throat, hands folded in his lap. “Virgil--” 

“I-I don’t know,” Virgil said, still horribly small and shaky. “I’m sorry I just...thought y-you would all be angry with me. Again. If I...I-if I messed up and then I did and I thought...I thought--”

“Nobody’s angry,” Patton said. “Never over something like this Virge. And even if we were...you don’t ever need to be afraid of us.” 

Virgil hunched his shoulders, staring resolutely down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I should have...I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok, we--” 

“I just-” Virgil took a breath, knuckles turning white in his grip, the three sides falling silent as they waited, hoping silently. “I just don’t...I don’t want to leave.” 

Logan tilted his head, confused, looking to the others who were equally perplexed. “Leave...where? We of course would never force you to go to your room if you’d prefer company.” 

Virgil shook his head, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, and Patton’s chest clenched in sympathy as he watched him fight to get his thoughts together. 

“I mean I don’t...want to go back. This has all been really great. You’ve...you guys have been really great. And I know you-you didn’t really like me before and now that you know you n-need-need me you could...you could do whatever you want to me if I f-fuck up or...or make me leave and I don’t want to...to lose this.” 

“Oh, baby…” Patton scooted forward, unsure how to respond, feeling his heart break in two. “Can I...Virgil, can I hug you?” 

Virgil’s gaze shot up from his lap, shocked, but he nodded and let Patton wrap his arms around him, cringing at how badly he was shaking beneath his hoodie, pulling him against his chest. 

The anxious side’s breath hitched, and Patton just held him tighter as he finally dissolved into sobs, clutching at Patton’s shirt like he thought he would be ripped away at any second. 

Like Patton would ever let him go. 

“It’s ok, kiddo,” he promised. “It’s alright. You’re family now, remember? Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” 

“Indeed.” At some point, Logan had gotten up from the coffee table to sit beside them, carefully putting a comforting hand on Virgil’s back. “Even if we were angry over something, it would be an issue we could easily work out. Together. You never need to be afraid of losing us.” 

The logical side began to rub soothing circles along Virgil’s hoodie, a clear attempt to help him settle down, while Roman cautiously scooted forward and placed his palm over Virgil’s hand, Patton still holding on tight. 

“You’re one of us now,” Princey said. “Which means I am sworn to protect you! As long as I live and breathe, you’ll never be alone again! No harm shall ever--” 

“Alright, Roman,” Patton said, gazing fondly at a now smiling Virgil. “I think he gets it.” 

Virgil gave a small nod, pulling back slightly from Patton’s embrace, breaths still tiny, hiccuping sobs. “Yeah. Uh, thanks, you guys for...yeah. Thank you.” 

“No need to thank us for stating the truth,” Logan said. “However, based on your reaction tonight, and the fact that this is not the first time something like this has happened, the logical conclusion is that this mindset is not a new occurrence. Am I correct?” 

Patton thought about the broken mug, how terrified Virgil had looked when he’d thought they were upset with him, how he’d practically begged Roman to believe him when the prince had advanced. He thought about how tense Virgil would get whenever someone would raise their voice. 

It was becoming more and more of a struggle not to start crying again. 

“I guess so,” Virgil murmured, cheeks flushed red. “I mean, I’m literally Anxiety. I’ve had some, uh, bad experiences, I guess.” 

“Kiddo--” 

“No, no it’s fine!” Patton didn’t miss how tightly Virgil was squeezing Roman’s hand now. “It’s my fault, it’s...I should have said something. I should’ve...warned you guys, and I’m r-really sorry.” 

Roman leaned forward, brow pinched. “Warned us?” 

“About all of this,” Virgil said, like it was something obvious. “I’m not...easy to deal with. You guys know that already but it’s not just my function, it’s...it’s just me. I’m difficult and I-I don’t know how to fix it and I’m really s--” 

“But we don’t want you to fix it,” Patton exclaimed before Virgil could apologize again. “We care about you, kiddo! Everyone’s gonna have flaws and setbacks. All of us, but that’s why you have family!” 

“We do want you to feel safe here,” Logan added. “We’re all willing to assist you in feeling more comfortable. But we have no desire to change or fix you. I for one, have quite enjoyed getting to know you properly.” 

Patton and Logan agreed without hesitation, beaming when Virgil hesitantly met each of their gazes. He looked like he was seconds away from bursting into tears again, but this time it would be from something much different than fear and devastation. 

“Oh,” he said, small but hopeful. “I...ok. Uh, same. To the...to the getting to know you guys thing. It’s been...it’s been really good.” 

Patton smiled, giving Virgil one last squeeze before scooting back, clapping his hands together. 

“I’m glad, kiddo,” he said. “You still up for dinner? Logan might even let us have ice cream for dessert!” 

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil managed, Roman leading him to his feet while Logan rolled his eyes with a fond smile. “I-I’m good.” 

“Excellent!” Roman was already making his way back to the kitchen. “I’ll clean up the glass and then we can continue!” 

“I can help if you--”

“Nonsense!” Roman disappeared  around the corner, already belting another Disney song, and Patton carefully took Virgil’s hands in his. 

He was still a bit wary, but Patton could practically see him fighting against it, battling every instinct screaming at him to pull away, isolate himself out of self defense. 

But he was still here. Still learning to love. 

Patton couldn’t be more proud. 

“Come on,” he said, pulling him towards the stairs. “No bare feet tonight, just to be safe. Don’t worry, I’ll let you borrow some of my fuzzy socks.” 

[guccybangtan]

keep going - jung hoseok x reader x park jimin

pairing; hoseok x reader x jimin

genre; smut, college au, frat au;

rating; 18+

disclaimers; threesome (hickies/neck kissing, palming, mxm kissing, penetrative sex, blow job/dick sucking, face fucking (its pretty mild), nipple play, hoseok gives off dom vibes but its subtle, hoseok fucks y/n and she's dating jimin (totally consensual Jimin’s there its a vibe) Let me know if somethings missing;

word count; 2.6k

a/n; this was commissioned by an anonymous donor through ChangesWithLuv in support of the Black Lives Matter movement

listen to: whatever sexy song you want, I listened to daddy issues (slowed w reverb) on repeat solely bc I liked the vibes;

“Just come with me to the party this one time! Please, baby girl,” Jimin begged you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

His words were punctuated by a wiggle of his eyebrows, signature toothy smirk on full display as his eyes formed mini crescents.

You had been in a relationship with Jimin for the better part of two years, having originally met during Intro to Chemistry. It had been the first day of the semester and you, regretfully, were placed in the 8 am class.

You were taken aback when Jimin and all his energy plopped into the seat next to you, slamming his books and coffee onto the table, effectively deeming himself your lab partner for the entirety of the first semester.

While you dreaded attending Intro to Chem in the beginning, you found yourself looking more and more forward to it as time went by, beginning to enjoy the time spent with your new friend.

Jimin may have been a bit strange, but he was actually quite endearing.

He started bringing you coffee from the campus cafe when he stopped for his own, swearing you looked like the walking dead every time he saw you. He also looked at you like you held the stars in your eyes when you explained molar calculations to him, claiming ‘’no matter how hard I try Professor Robertson just doesn’t make any sense!’’

You knew something was up when Jimin walked into class empty-handed one morning, but all of the pieces clicked into place when he held you back after class was dismissed.

“I know things were a little weird in the beginning, but I really enjoy your company,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you maybe, I dunno, wanna come grab a coffee with me? Get to know each other outside of chemistry?”

Of course you’d agreed, and the two of you walked hand in hand down to the cafe, giggling like teenagers as you stared at each other over the lips of your cups.

That one date turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into Jimin asking you to be his girlfriend a few weeks later.

Even though you said yes, you’d had your reservations. Early on in your courtship, you’d learned Jimin was a part of Bangtan, the fraternity known to throw the most crazy rager parties. How this fact had escaped you the first 8 weeks of you knowing him, you weren’t sure why, but now that you did know it made you nervous.

“Why does me being in Bangtan make you nervous?” Jimin asked you over coffee one morning after class.

“It’s just- the reputation your frat holds.” You shrugged like that explained everything.

“Care to enlighten me?” Jimin was perched on the edge of his seat, acting as if you were about to tell him the juiciest bit of drama all year.

“That you all fuck anything with legs just to get your dick wet.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Is that why you think I’m after you?” Tongue in cheek, Jimin cocked his eyebrow, looking almost bored as you threw these accusations at him.

“Well... No. Not you.” You shivered under his intense gaze. You’d never brought this up in conversation before, afraid of the possible repercussions.

“What makes me different, then?” Your only response was to stare at him.

What did make him different? You didn’t really have an answer, but you trusted Jimin.

He hadn’t attended any of the parties since the two of you got together, totally understanding of your apprehension.

This party was a special occasion, though, which is why he wanted you to attend so badly.

Hoseok was one of the members of Bangtan, and the party was for his birthday.

The fraternity was notorious for going all out in regards to their members, so this was expected to be one of the best parties of the year, considering how popular Hoseok was.

This party would be no different. You’d seen the info floating around on Snapchat, meaning anyone and everyone was invited, something unusual for Bangtan, because usually you had to know someone to get in the door.

“You know how I feel about parties, Jimin,” you replied from your seated position on the couch.

Jimin had been persistent on your attendance since he’d heard about the party, but he’d been especially antsy since he returned home from his last class.

“I know, Y/N, but think about it! It’s Hoseok’s birthday!” Jimin made his way around the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of you.

He took the book you were reading out of your hands and set it on the table next to him.

“He’s your friend, Min, not mine.’’ You shook your head, reaching back out for your book.

Jimin was quick to grab your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm as he gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Pleaasseee!’’ he whined.

“Only for like, two hours,’’ you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a deal!” Jimin exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

He quickly scurried off to your shared bedroom, muttering about how he was going to let the others know you would, in fact, be in attendance.

-

The day of the party arrived sooner than you would have liked. Considering the rest of your week following the conversation with Jimin had been filled with tests and essay revisions, it was really no surprise that it was Saturday already.

The weather was warm enough that you opted for a spaghetti-strapped dress with delicate flowers scattered across the white fabric.

It was sheer and silken, like something you’d see in the middle of summer. It rested against the middle of your thighs, providing enough coverage to be modest, but not so much you felt swamped in fabric. It seemed perfect for the occasion (even though it appeared you’d have to prevent Jimin from ripping it from your body).

Even though you and Jimin arrived fairly early, it seemed as if the party was already in full swing.

You made it inside, albeit difficultly, and began the hunt for the birthday boy to offer him your congratulations.

Somewhere along the way you had been handed a solo cup filled with a mysterious liquid that smelled an awful lot like fireball and coke. If you were anywhere else you would have questioned the drink, but considering the fact that Seokjin had been the one to hand it to you, you weren’t too worried.

After searching for Hoseok and not finding him, you and Jimin settled onto the couch with Jimin’s best friends, Jungkook and Taehyung, who were also a part of the frat.

Conversation flowed easily between the four of you, and time was passing by quickly. You found yourself enjoying the party more than you originally thought you would.

“You still wanting to leave?” Jimin’s words were whispered directly into your ear, plush lips gently brushing against the outer shell.

“I don’t mind staying,’’ you shrugged.

“Well, uh- I don’t mind either but, there’s a bit of a problem.’’ He glanced down to his lap where a bulge was beginning to form.

Without even having to look, you rolled your eyes. “What!” Jimin exclaimed, glancing at his friends to make sure they were still oblivious to your conversation, “You look so hot in that dress, baby girl.’’

“So? You can’t wait until we get home?” “Please, Y/N,’’ Jimin purred, “humor me.’’

Sighing again, you stood up, bidding farewell to the others and tugging Jimin down the hall.

“Where to, loverboy?” You asked.

Jimin swung the first door open and pulled you inside, slamming it shut and flicking the lock.

“Where were we?” Jimin turned to you with a smirk.

“My bedroom,’’ another voice rang out.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden sound.

Hoseok was lounging on the bed shirtless, his feet kicked up.

“To what do I owe your lovely presence?”

“We were just-’’

“Gonna fuck in my bed?” Hoseok cocked his eyebrow.

“Well-’’

“I could’ve at least gotten an invite,’’ Hoseok tsked, “it is my birthday, after all.’’

“Invitation sent.’’ you said.

“Bring it on.’’ Jimin smirked.

“Remember you asked for this.’’ Hoseok snickered as he stood up, looking amused at your lover's words.

“Kneel. There,’’ he barked at Jimin, pointing to the patch of carpet near the foot of the bed.

The blond was quick to follow orders without hesitation. Who knew your lovely boyfriend would submit so easily?

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” Jimin rolled his eyes, causing Hoseok to scoff.

“Pretty dress,’’ Hoseok cooed as he sauntered over to you, lips brushing the edge of your jaw, “It’d look better off, though.’’

He wasted no time and ripped the garment from your body, exposing your soft skin to the chill air of his bedroom.

Hoseok smashed his lips to yours, mouths sliding fervently against each other.

He feathered kisses across your jaw, working his way down the column of your neck and down your chest, finally reaching your breasts.

‘’Hoseok,’’ you gasped as his mouth latched onto one of your hardening nipples, fingers winding their way into his soft red locks.

He laved his tongue over the rosy bud, while he massaged the other with his deft fingers.

After a moment he switched, offering equal attention to both mounds.

“Hobi… mm- want more. Please. Touch me,’’ you whined as he sat up.

He stared at you as you squirmed on the bed, lips parted as pants fell from his mouth.

“I won't touch you unless you beg.”

You spared a glance at Jimin.

Seeing him on his knees next to the bed, pupils blown wide as he palmed himself through his jeans was enough to send another gush of wetness into your panties. It was obvious he was just as into this as you were.

“Please, Hoseok!’’ You mewled, ”I’ve been good,’’

“Hm,’’ Hoseok hummed as he caught you staring at Jimin, “not good enough.’’

Your eyes widened, ready to plead more when any words you had died in your throat.

Hoseok had turned his back to you, moving all of his attention towards Jimin.

“Baby boy’s been a bit neglected, hasn’t he?”

You watched on with labored breaths, enthralled by the scene unfolding in front of you.

You couldn’t hear what Hoseok muttered to Jimin over your own breathing, but Hoseok pulled Jimin to his feet and immediately locked his lips with the blond, tongue swiping gently over his lips.

Jimin’s hands gripped the loops on Hoseok’s pants, pulling the older male flush against his body while he began to mouth at his neck, letting his hands move to caress Hoseok’s hardening dick through his shorts.

You were sure your panties were saturated with your arousal by this point, feeling the fabric stick uncomfortably to your dripping cunt.

“Not fair,’’ you whined, sitting up, ”you’re hogging.’’

You nudged Jimin, attaching your lips to the side of Hoseok’s neck, painting blossoms of red and purple across his supple skin, while Jimin made similar moves on the other side.

As you moved more toward the center of his throat, you found yourself knocking heads with Jimin.

“Now who’s hogging?” Jimin mocked you as he nuzzled his nose against your own.

You momentarily turned your attention from Hoseok to Jimin, letting your lips meet. No matter how many times you had kissed Jimin, his hot lips always made you weak in the knees.

You moaned as he pulled away, wanting nothing more than to ravish him right then.

Hoseok’s hand on your waist brought you back to reality, turning your attention back to him.

“It won’t be long before someone comes looking. If we really wanna have fun we should hurry a bit.

You and Jimin both nodded dumbly, entranced by Hoseok.

“How do we wanna do this?” Hoseok asked as he pulled off Jimin’s shirt, nipping at his jaw.

“You can fuck her if you want, long as you’ve got a condom.’’

Hoseok quickly rummaged through his nightstand, proudly whipping out the foiled package.

“You okay with that?” Jimin turned to you, taking his time to run his hands over your curves, fingers sliding against your soaked panties.

“Please. Hurry.’’ You nodded, grinding onto Jimin’s palm.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Hoseok laughed as he stepped out of his shorts, tearing the wrapper open and rolling it down his thick length.

Jimin made his way around the bed, kneeling next to your head.

You reached up and wrapped your hand around his cock, giving him a few strokes while you waited for Hoseok to line up with your entrance.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,’’ Hoseok breathed as he began to push into you. “Wanna taste you next time.’’

“Oh, god.’’ You cried as he bottomed out.

He stilled inside of you, giving you a few moments to adjust to his size before he was pulling out and rocking back into you again.

Hoseok was longer than Jimin, but not as girthy. Still, he managed to reach places inside of you that had your toes curling as you felt the familiar knot already tightening in your stomach.

You felt the tip of Jimin’s cock nudge your lips and without hesitation you opened for him.

Jimin began thrusting into your mouth in tandem with Hoseok.

“Hng- Fuck, Y/N.’’ Jimin moaned, “ 'm close. God, your mouth.’’

You relaxed your throat, allowing Jimin deeper access to fuck into you.

It wasn’t long before you felt his warm cum coating the inside of your throat.

He pulled out gently, and you turned your attention back to Hoseok who had begun working your clit as he continued to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“ 'm not gonna last long,” Hoseok grunted, “wanna feel you milk my cock.’’

Hoseok's words were enough to throw you over the edge into ecstasy, walls clenching around his cock as he stilled inside of you, spilling his seed into the condom.

The two of you laid there, catching your breaths before Hoseok pulled out, discarding the used condom in the wastebin.

“Thank you for that,’’ Hoseok smiled as he pulled his shirt back over his head.

“Not a problem,’’ Jimin said, helping you redress.

“It was fun,’’ you added.

Reaching out, you pulled Hoseok into your arms, trapping him in a hug.

He tensed, but returned the gesture nevertheless.

“You just had your dick in me, a hug won’t kill you.’’ You giggled, releasing the man whose face was now as red as his hair.

He shook his head at you, giving Jimin a bro hug before following you to the door.

“Talk soon?” Jimin said to his frat-mate.

“For sure, let me know when you get home. I’ve got more party things to attend to.’’ He rolled his eyes.

You and Jimin left soon after, beginning the short journey home.

“Is it bad I want to do that again?” Jimin broke the silence.

“No, I want to too.’’

“I never took Hobi as a Dom,’’ Jimin pondered out loud.

“Have you seen the man? He screams dom,’’ you disagreed.

“Maybe we can call him for your birthday.’’

“I’m down.’’ You reached out to Jimin for the door key.

Wordlessly, he handed it over.

The silence remained until the two of you were settled into bed.

“Y/N?” Jimin asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you like Hoseok?”

You looked at Jimin with uncertainty.

“Of course I do, he’s your friend.’’

“Yeah but… nevermind.’’ He shook his head.

“O-okay?” You responded.

“We’ll talk in the morning, baby. Get some rest.’’

Rest didn’t come easy, and when it did, you dreamt of all the possibilities the morning held.

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

-

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

[bngtanah]

I’m (not) With The Band. | o7

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: idol!Yoongi  x OC

word count: 4.5k genre: drama, romance, smut(eventually)

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual attraction, ambw, developing relationship, light angst, making out.

a/n: hey. sup. it’s been forever lmao.

"No, no, I want there to be a subtle kind of...sexiness even without the lyrics"

"But I thought we agreed to go for a different feeling?"

"We did...then I changed my mind"

"So, I guess what I want doesn't matter?"

"For this song- no. No, it does not."

Yoongi wanted to be annoyed by her dismissal and deep down he mostly was, Andy was being unnecessarily difficult with the direction of their latest music-related venture, and although she had shot down nearly all of his ideas today, Yoongi still found himself bowing to her will instead of arguing with her like he usually would whenever she batted those big green eyes at him. He was fairly certain that she wasn't doing this on purpose, enticing him so that he would continue to remain entranced by her attractive features and intoxicating smile, even if she wasn't aware of what she was doing, the results were still the same. She already had him wrapped around her finger without even realizing it and Yoongi hated being so damn malleable. 

Today was another day off for the group but with the limited time and amount of preparation they still had to go through t in order to be ready to release their album on time, no one in the group had the luxury of lounging around doing nothing  like they had been doing the past few days. Everyone was either practicing, giving interviews or helping out with lyrics for the few songs that were already completed and approved leaving Andy and Yoongi alone in an empty dorm to get some actual work done. They opted out of working at the studio since it was already crowded with Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok using the computer and mic, Yoongi knew that the dorm would be empty for most of the day, so it gave them a chance to work in peace.

"Look," Adrienne sighed and leaned back on her elbows, they were seated on Yoongi's bed and much closer than they needed to be "I'm sure whatever you're thinking is great but if you guys really want to go for a more mature image with this album you need a song like this. The kind of song that will give you the confidence to strip and give your boyfriend a lap dance even if you can't dance for shit." Adrienne exhaled sharply and glanced up at the ceiling, looking wistful. She wasn't looking at Yoongi, and she hadn't been since she started speaking, but if she was she probably would have noticed the way his eyes ping-ponged between the slight amount of cleavage peeking out of the top of her v-neck and her plump lips that curled into a seductive smile when she spoke that last sentence.

Something about the way she said the previous sentence, however, must’ve given too much of her desire away, because he froze when she exhaled, just to stare her down. When Adrienne finally did glance to the side she flinched slightly under his intense glare but didn't back away.

"Sorry, was that too much? I talk without thinking sometimes..."

"No... that's not-"

It seemed Yoongi hadn’t truly been paying attention to what she was saying before, but now he would have been hanging on her every word if she had the courage to say anything else, instead, they just stared at each other, neither one moving an inch until one of Adrienne's braids fell into her face and Yoongi raised his fingers and brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek to put it back in place.

His movements were gentle, so gentle that Adrienne could barely breathe– the moment stretched out for so much longer than seemed appropriate, allowing Adrienne to become lost in her thoughts and the realization of just how much she wanted his lips on her to hit her with a heavy awareness. Andy broke under the thought and found herself leaning forward to just do it, to just kiss him like she had wanted to for so much longer than she cared to think about. Yoongi leaned forward as well, the hand that was caressing her cheek moving down to her neck to securely keep her head where he wanted it to be. Eyelids hooded and lips just a few inches apart, their breathing intermingled as they drew closer and closer to their intended goal. Weeks of flirting and mutually explosive tension bubbling just under the surface was just seconds from reaching its peak....until hearing the door handle jiggle broke apart their fantasy.

Suddenly the front door opened, and the sound of Jin's voice blending together with Jungkook's caused the enamored pair to spring apart, quite literally, with Yoongi rolling further into the center of his bed and Adrienne tumbling from the bed to the ground, landing flat on her ass.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asked quickly, peering over the edge as Adrienne nodded and rubbed the sore spot on her hip where she landed.

"I'm fine, just a little bruise-" She responded with a groan then looked up, the moment between them was long from being forgotten and that was evident in the way Yoongi still peered down at her like he wanted to devour her right then. But, Jin and Jungkook making their presence known in the hallway outside Yoongi's bedroom made them break contact and swiftly pretend to be working, Andy grabbing her notebook off the edge of the bed and Yoongi mindlessly pressing keys on his laptop as the two young men hovered around the entrance and inquired about how their work was going.

"Yoongi's being stubborn, and I am making amazing music, so it's just like always," Adrienne commented from the floor, earning a chuckle from both Jin and Jungkook and an agitated smirk from the target of her jeer.

"Ah, well we won't distract you, keep working hard!" Jin stated as he began to usher Jungkook out the door, who was on the verge of complaining.

"Oh no! You can stay!" Adrienne replied, too quickly, and shot out her hand to stop them from leaving "It would be nice to hear some feedback." She wasn't too certain about being left alone with Yoongi after what had almost happened just a few seconds earlier, even with her sitting on the floor now there was no guaranteeing she wouldn't lose her senses again and do something stupid like try to kiss her coworker.

"Are you sure won't we be in the way?" Jin asked in part, allowing Jungkook to finish off the question even though he was already walking back towards Jin's bed and sitting down. Both of them glanced back and forth from Adrienne to Yoongi for an answer, before finally settling on Yoongi.

"It's fine," he grumbled from behind his laptop screen, "Just try not to make too much noise."

They, of course, did the opposite of what he asked.

Yoongi slammed the door of the Bangtan room so hard Adrienne swore she could hear the frosted glass crack and shatter when he entered the room. She didn't even bother swiveling around in her chair when she heard him come in since she already knew what was bothering him. Yoongi had a meeting with the boss today about a few songs he'd submitted on his own for approval and, judging by his reaction, it probably hadn't gone well.

It was always interesting (terrifying) to see Yoongi so genuinely angry, he was usually so calm and unconcerned by small or big things, but when it came to his music he quite literally wore his emotions on his sleeves and it barely took much to ignite a blaze of fire within him.

"Yoongi-ssi?" Adrienne called as she heard his pacing back and forth behind her.

No answer.

"Are you alright?" Adrienne decided to ask once again when he took a seat on the couch and began running both of his hands down the length of his face. 

"Do I seem alright to you?" Yoongi snapped with his face still buried in his hands, his knee was bouncing up and down so quickly it warbled his voice and Adrienne couldn't even find herself becoming offended by his curt reply.

"You don't," Adrienne answered as she spun around to face Yoongi, "That's why I'm asking if you are. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but don't come in here disrupting my time with your bad vibes if just going to be an asshole."

Yoongi puffed up almost immediately, his chest inflating with arrogance and his lips twisting into an aggravated scowl. He looked up, ready to dispute his right to be an asshole whenever he wanted to be, but once his eyes met Adrienne's he deflated and glanced to the side with a heavy sigh. He shouldn't be putting his anger off on her, she wasn't the reason he was upset.

"He said no- again!" Yoongi finally replied with an answer that Adrienne already knew, but she nodded anyway, her gaze never leaving his as he began to rant about not being taken seriously. 

"They still look at me and talk to me like I'm still the same kid that auditioned here three years ago, it's fucking humiliating!"

"Did he at least give you some constructive criticism?" Andy asked, trying to remain positive.

"That's not even the point," Yoongi huffed, rising up from his seat, "If it was just about my song not being good enough, I could change that. I can always make better songs but I'm not growing as an artist if I'm constantly being told to write about the same thing in a slightly different way! There are only so many similes and metaphors you can write about someone not loving you the way you love them."

Adrienne frowned and nodded because she understood how he felt. Even when she felt like she didn't know Yoongi as well as she wanted to, it was always very obvious to Adrienne how much his music meant to him, that was something they had in common and it was probably the reason for most of their music-related disagreements. Neither of them would put their name on a project that they didn't know was their absolute best effort.

Yoongi was still pacing  back and forth the length of the small studio room in an attempt to work off all the anger that was building up inside him. He stopped abruptly once he felt Adrienne's arms embrace him from behind and her cheek rest against his shoulder, she was wearing platform sneakers that made her as tall as him.

"Do you really think your boss doesn't respect you?" She asked after a few seconds passed and his harsh breathing had calmed some.

"He's not acting like he does," Yoongi muttered over his shoulder.

"You know that's not what I asked, do you honestly think he doesn't respect you? Would he have given you the responsibility of producing an entire album for your group if he didn't appreciate your talent?" Adrienne inquired and picked her head up off of Yoongi's shoulder.

"...Technically he didn't, he hired you to produce it with me." He said quietly, followed by a pained hiss when Adrienne flicked his earlobe.

"Yah! We're getting along, don't ruin the moment!"

Yoongi smiled, it was small and short-lived but it was the first time he hadn't been scowling since he walked into the room and Andy counted that as a win.

"In all seriousness, I know for a fact that he doesn't think you're still the same kid you were when you were training. You should hear the way he talked about you before I met you guys, it was nauseating. I think he recognizes that you've grown which is why he allowed this opportunity, he also knows what's going to sell so try not to take the rejection too personally."

Yoongi exhaled and pressed his lips together, he knew she was right. He may have been taking this a little too personally, but his music was an extension of him, how could he not? After a second of contemplation, Yoongi turned so that he was facing Adrienne and looped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him in a tight hug.

"Thank you," He said gently as they pulled apart and Adrienne smiled widely in response, her grip on his forearms reluctantly growing slack. A moment of charged silence passed between them once again when they were no longer hugging, and Adrienne felt a fleeting sensation of recklessness pass through her once again. They still hadn't talked about what had happened a few days earlier in Yoongi's room, Adrienne was waiting for him to bring it up while being too cowardly to do it herself and Yoongi felt the same way. 

"You should do something," Adrienne spoke first.

"What?" Yoongi asked, clearly confused.

"Your song," Adrienne clarified and backed away to save her own sanity. "You should do something with it if you really like it that much. Maybe you can't put it on an album, but you can always release it for free? Your fans would like that"

"Ah, I don't know about that" Yoongi shook his head and returned to his seat on the couch, "The big reason it can't be included on the album is because of the subject matter....it's kind of suggestive."

Andy shrugged and leaned against the back of the office chair "But it would be nice! Think of your fans."

Adrienne pouted and Yoongi caved.

"Fine, but I need you to sing the chorus, and we can't release it anywhere."

"Me? Why? Can't you use Jimin?"

"He's busy, and I doubt he would be comfortable singing some of the lines."

Adrienne's curiosity was piqued but understood what he meant once they actually began recording the song. The word 'suggestive' would have been the last adjective on Adrienne's mind as she read the lyrics as well as she could and sang along with Yoongi's direction; explicit would have been her first choice. It was a catchy song, that was definitely true, but Adrienne understood immediately why it couldn't be included on the album. They finished the song in just a few takes and quickly got back to working on the album like they were supposed to be. It was well into the night before either of them left for home and Adrienne made a quick stop to one of the few cubicles that were still occupied with someone working. It was an assistant name Soo-Bin whom Adrienne wasn't overly friendly with, but she still knew her by name. She quickly asked to post the cover she'd mixed and arranged for Jungkook before she left for the night since she was going to be there a lot longer than Adrienne was. Soo-Bin agreed, reluctantly, and once it was time for her to go home quickly published the first song that seemed to match the specifications Adrienne described.

She wasn't in the mood to double check.

The next morning Adrienne got ready for work with a heavy heart after waking up to a message from Bang Sihyuk requesting her presence in his office, the second she got to work. She hadn't had a one on one meeting with him since she was hired, and she honestly couldn't think of anything they needed to talk about. She wasn't finished with the latest batch of songs and there was still time for her to send them in, so she knew he couldn't have been moving up the deadline, and anything else pertaining to the album was usually just relayed to her through Yoongi or one of the other staff members. There was only one logical reason Andy could think of for him wanting to meet with her alone and that was to tell her that she was fired. The thought alone nearly made her hyperventilate.

Slowly, Adrienne trudged her way towards Bang Sihyuk's office when she was finally inside the Big Hit building. She paused once she was a few feet away from the office door and noticed a familiar face leaning against the door frame.

"Yoongi-ssi?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd get here, you're late today."

"It took me a while to get ready..why are you here? Do you have a meeting today too?"

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, right now. He wants to talk to both of us."

Adrienne sighed a small breath of relief once Yoongi turned and entered the room before her. If he wanted to talk to both of them at once, then the chances of her being fired seemed to be a lot smaller. Andy soon followed after Yoongi and immediately bowed at a complete 90 degree angle once she was inside, the rules of engagement when it came to her superiors were still foreign to Adrienne, and she wasn't sure if she had to bow once she entered his office, but she didn't want to run the risk of possibly offending her boss.

Bang Sihyuk was in the middle of a phone call when they walked in but motioned for them to side down anyway. Andy and Yoongi exchange a short confused glance but their attention was brought back to their boss once he hung up and cleared his throat.

"I'll be quick about this, I'm sure you're both wondering why I called you here," Andy and Yoongi both nodded simultaneously, "The reason is simple really, I need to have a conversation with you about the nature of your relationship and the easiest way to do that is if you're both here together."

Adrienne was confused, she was sure she heard him correctly but the way he said 'relationship' didn't make sense to her. 

"Now while I suppose I can't outright stop you, I can strongly discourage you from openly dating so early into Yoongi's career. The group is finally gaining some ground in the music business and a scandal like this could derail all the hard work that-"

"I'm sorry, did you say dating?" Adrienne interjected, trying to sound as respectful as possible but she just had to stop him before all his words began to blur together.

"PD-nim, we're not dating" Yoongi spoke up once Bang Sihyuk answered Adrienne's question with a firm nod.

"Are you sure about that? The song that you put up on the blog yesterday seems to very explicitly suggest otherwise. You don't have to lie to me,Yoongi. Honestly, it's better if we get it out in the open now that way I can protect you if I need to in the future." Bang Sihyuk countered with genuine concern in his tone.

"Song? What song?" Adrienne muttered underneath her breath before the wheels in her head finally started turning "Aish! Soo-Bin must have uploaded the wrong song last night, I asked her to upload Jungkook's cover. She must have gotten the files mixed up" She said to Yoongi who nodded and shook his head.

"That song was never meant to be released to the public, sir" Yoongi explained, "It was just something we recorded for fun but I can promise you that we are not dating or anything like that."

"Truthfully, we are not. I don't have a reason to lie to you" Adrienne tacked on.

Bang folded his arms across his stomach and leaned back into his comfy office chair "Good," he said after a few seconds of tense silence "We've already taken the song down but both of you need to be more careful in the future, you can't afford a mistake like this."

"Yes, Sir."

They both thanked him for understanding before he excused them and allowed them to leave. Adrienne dramatically sighed and slumped into the sofa once they reached the studio.

"I can't believe I thought I was going to be fired today."

"Why would you think that?" Yoongi asked from hovering over the computer console.

"I didn't know you were going to be there, I thought he wanted to talk to me alone and that could only mean one thing."

"You shouldn't take things so personally" He snickered, proud of himself for being able to use her own words against her.

Adrienne rolled her eyes, "This not the same thing, my reason is totally valid" She scoffed "Can you believe he thought we were dating, though? There's no way that would ever happen."

Yoongi stopped fidgeting with the keys on the keyboard just long enough to look back at Adrienne who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, her statement had struck a chord in him "No way, huh?"

"Hm? Oh! It's nothing against you I just....I don't think I'm your type" Adrienne said with a humorless laugh as she got up to take a closer look at the books on the shelf against the far wall.

"What does that mean?"

"It...means what I said, I'm not your type," Adrienne answered over her shoulder, completely unaware of the utter disbelief written all over Yoongi's face.

His hand latching onto her wrist took her by surprise and Adrienne gasped softly as she was suddenly being pressed against the wall next to the bookshelf, her body sandwiched between Yoongi and the plaster. His knuckles softly grazed over Adrienne's cheeks just like they had days before but this time, there were no braids obstructing her view to excuse his actions. His move was deliberate, and he made that notion clear as his gaze never left Adrienne's face as his hand moved down to her jawline and the pad of his thumb lightly traced Adrienne's' sharp features.

Yoongi only wanted to make a point; that there was no possible way she wouldn't be his type. However, being so close to her. Feeling her chest rise and fall against his body each time she drew a shallow breath he found it hard to stop himself once he'd started. As if of its own accord his head dipped, and he pressed his lips to hers. His free hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there gently. His kiss was soft and almost chaste to start off with, not forcing Adrienne to give any more than she wanted to, but she soon found herself getting lost in their kiss, her lips returning his actions with as much vigor as she could muster. She couldn’t quite explain the feeling that she had right now, it was as if all the blood had rushed from her head and that she was flying, she felt light and grounded all at the same time. Whatever it was she definitely knew she had a word for it now; right.

As much as she tried to ignore it and push her feelings to the back burner for the sake of her sanity and now career, kissing Yoongi felt right and Adrienne could no longer deny that fact. Her arms gripped tightly around his back as she pulled her head back momentarily to catch her breath, she looked up into Yoongi’s eyes and it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. The slight redness in his cheeks made her grin playfully as she sent her lips plunging back to his, her head shifted to the side with precision as she snaked her tongue past his lips. Yoongi no longer felt the need to be gentle, he put his all into the kiss now, and he let her in, tongues massaging and bodies wrapping up in one another as his hand slid down Adrienne's torso to firmly grasp her hips and hold her steady.

The feeling of her fingernails dragging across the skin of his neck ignited a five-alarm fire within Yoongi and just as quickly and unexpectedly as their kiss started, he ended it. Detaching his hands from her waist and immediately backing away like Adrienne was radioactive.

"I'm sorry," He said breathlessly with his hand covering his slightly swollen lips. "I shouldn't have done that" Yoongi croaked, that one moment was validation of something he'd wanted for such a long time, but he couldn't allow himself to completely abandon his self-control.

"Please, don't apologize," Adrienne answered, still trying to catch her breath "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to kiss me."

"No, I have to because I can't.....we can't...we can't do this Andy!" Yoongi frantically exclaimed, pushing the hair away from his face roughly.

The strength of his response made Adrienne flinch slightly, he wasn't yelling but there was a temper behind his words that she didn't fully recognize, "Okay." She nodded and adjusted her top so that it laid flat over her stomach again. 

"I don't want to sound desperate but why?"

"We just can't," Yoongi exhaled and hung his head low.

"I-is it because I'm black?"

He spun around quickly to face her with his expression contorted in confusion, "What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

Yoongi sighed heavily and took a seat on the sofa then patted the seat next to him and gestured toward Adrienne "Come here."

Adrienne followed his command and occupied the seat next to him, he took both of her hands in his once she was seated.

"You heard what PD-nim said today." He started softly, his thumb gentle caressing the back of her palm. "I have a very demanding job. It's not that I wouldn't want to be with you, but I also want to have a successful career and I don't know if I could handle doing both. I know that seems selfish but I've given up so many things in my life to make sure that I can do this to the best of my abilities and I can't become lenient now, no matter how tempting the thought of this is." He accompanied his words with another gentle stroke against Adrienne's cheek.

"If we got together I wouldn't feel right unless I was giving you every part of me and I can't do that and be good at my job, Andy" He frowned and cradled her face with both of his hands "I have so many goals to accomplish before I can give my heart away and I can't just ask you to wait for me...that wouldn't be fair."

Adrienne bit down harshly on her bottom, she understood where he was coming from. Honestly, she did but still didn't stop her from feeling like he was just admitting to being too afraid to take a risk. She didn't voice her opinion, however, he was bearing his heart to her and accusing him of being a coward would undoubtedly only ensure that he would never do that again.

"I understand," She responded with a tight, forced smile; her palms smoothing up Yoongi's forearms until the rested over his hands "I don't totally agree but I understand, your job is important to you and it wouldn't really be fair for me to ask you to put it on hold." Adrienne leaned forward and pressed her lips against Yoongi's cheek long enough so that her lipstick transferred to leave an outline of her lips against his pale skin.

"If you change your mind you know where to find me."

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E4; Chapter Four, The Body - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Gender Neutral!Reader Series

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.

WARNINGS: Cursing. Homophobic comments from Tr*y [his in script use of the fa*ry word once]. Reader fucking SNAPS.

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The five of us rode our bikes down the road to school, El on the back of Mike's bike as usual. She seemed eager to soak in everything around her like she would never see it again. Wind brushed the wig aside and she clung tightly to Mike.

Mike was beginning to slow down, the group of us all growing tired from the ride. Soon enough, however, we were walking through the back doors to the schools. Mike was in the lead as he turns to speak to us as we walked.

"Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

'He is still missing, isn't he?'

My thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the speaker.

"Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period."

I looked to the ceiling at the mention of my best friend and by the time I looked ahead, we had made it outside the AV room. Mike was attempting to open the door but it must be locked.

"It's locked." Mike confirmed.

"What?" Lucas asked.

"Hey, El, is there any way for you to open it?" I ask.

Before she could respond, we all jumped at the voice of Mr. Clarke and froze.

"Children," He nodded.

"Hey." Lucas breathed, obviously startled.

"Assembly's about to start."

"We know. We're just, you know..." Mike works a solemn look on his face as he spoke and the others seemed to join in, including me although it wasn't that difficult.

"Upset." Lucas nodded, dropping his nervous smile.

"Yeah, definitely upset," Dustin muttered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better to say nothing at all and even looked down to the ground. Channeling all my emotions from just hours before.

"We need some alone time."

"To... cry." Dustin hesitated.

"Yeah, listen... I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh? And then," Mr. Clarke reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

He tossed the key to Mike who caught it upon instinct.

"the Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?"

We all looked to each other, wearing subtle triumphant smirks. It couldn't have been that easy, could it?

Mr. Clarke seemed to finally notice that he had no idea who El was.

"I don't believe we've met. What's your name?"

El seemed shocked and began to say 'Eleven' when Mike panicked and cut in.

"Eleanor! She's my, uh-"

"Cousin!" Lucas jumped in.

"Second cousin," Dustin added.

I started to laugh but caught myself just in time to play it off as a cough. I pretended to clear my throat as I looked to Mr. Clarke who was looking a bit confused.

"She's here for Will's funeral." Mike sighed.

Mr. Clarke seemed content with this answer as he shrugged and turned to her.

"Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances."

She looked to us and Mike, then turned to Mr. Clarke nodding her head. "Thank you."

A small smile fought its way into my face. She was doing great.

"Uh, where are you from exactly?"

El shook her head, sighing exasperatedly. "Bad place-"

"Sweden!" Dustin cuts in.

"I have a lot of Swedish family."

"She hates it there."

"Cold!"

"Subzero."

Meanwhile, I had fought back another laugh at the whole exchange and I had to play it off as a cough yet again.

"Are you alright, there, Y/n?"

My head snapped up, but luckily I was fairly quick on my feet this time.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I woke up with a fever, haven't been feeling well all morning. But I insisted on coming. For Will." Mr. Clarke seemed satisfied with my answer and dismissed our odd behavior.

"Shall we?"

"Yep!" We all follow Mr. Clarke to the gymnasium in silence.

As we get closer, I can hear the principal speaking from inside.

"At times like these, it is important that we come together as a community. We come-"

Dustin swung open the gymnasium doors far too hard and the loud bang echoed throughout the gym that had drawn the attention of the crowd. I elbow Dustin. I feel him shifting on his feet beside me as panic sets in.

"Abort." He whispers, turning to leave.

Thankfully, Lucas stops him and shoved him forward.

"We come together to heal... we come together to grieve..."

As the principle continues his speech, the five of us wander into the bleachers to find a seat.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Will Byers' death is an unimaginable tragedy. Will was an exceptional student and a wonderful friend to all of us. It's impossible to express the hole his loss will leave in our community. I'd like to introduce you to Sandy Sloane. She's a local grief counselor from the church over in Jonesboro."

While the principal carried on, the five of us all looked to each other, all sharing the same thought.

'We need to get to that radio. And soon.'

"I just want those of you who are having trouble dealing with this tragic loss..."

"Look at these fakers." I heard Mike whisper.

"They probably didn't even know his name till today." Lucas scoffed.

My head whipped to the side when I heard hushed chuckling. I wasn't surprised to see Troy and his friend as the source of the laughter. I glared daggers into them and my hands gripped the edge of my seat until I was sure my knuckles would tear.

The boys and El seemed quick to follow my gaze because soon enough, we were all leaning over glaring at them.

"Who is interested in this? This is so stupid." He laughed.

I grit my teeth as my vision filled with red.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

"Y/n..." Lucas warned, reaching out for my arm. I wasn't paying attention, but for some reason, I felt his hand leave my arm almost as soon as he grabbed it.

"'Oh, he was such a great student. Oh, he's going to leave a hole in the community.'" Troy mocked, beginning to fake sob.

I began to shake with rage, wanting nothing more than to stand up and scream 'fu-'

"Y/n,"

"What?!" I hissed at Lucas, my head whipping around to face him, my jaw clenched.

I saw fear in his eyes as he glanced between my eye line and my hands. I looked down at my own hands to see the dangerously strong grip on the wood. I yanked my hands off the bench and rubbed my hands together, keeping to myself.

I was shocked to see the faintest imprint of the most vaguely shaped hand on the bench. It was hardly noticeable and I had to do a double take.

'What the hell?'

El was leaning over and she met my gaze. She briefly looked at my hands, seeming to dismiss whatever thoughts she had. Then looked to Troy.

"Mouth breather." She whispered.

I let out a strained chuckle and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, mouth breather." I whispered, looking back and Troy.

Eventually, the bell rang, dismissing the assembly. Even though Lucas and Dustin seemed to have let it go, Mike and I were not finished.

"Hey! Hey! Hey Troy." Mike called.

I could tell he could hear us because he barely slowed down but was clearly laughing. I stomped towards him and called him out, loud and clear.

"Hey, jackass!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. He seemed like he wanted to be mad, but almost like he was happy he got a rise out of us.

"You think that shit was funny?" My voice never wavered and the boys and El seemed just as shocked as I was feeling at my newfound courage.

"What'd you say, orphan?" He asked, dumbfounded.

He only called me that when he was really pissed at me.

"You heard me! And how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not an orphan if I was adopted, you dumbass! Now what the hell is in that tiny brain of yours that would compel you to laugh at someone dying, huh? I mean, shit, you must really be sick in the head. I feel sorry for you." I spit out my last few words, my voice dripping with malice.

By now I was in his face, finally letting out all the pent-up aggression I've harbored for years. And it felt good.

"Get the hell outta my face, freak!" He yells shoving me back.

I get ready to strike but Dustin grabs my arm before my fist can collide with Troy's face. I struggle to get free but my brother was determined to hold me back, with the help of Lucas of course.

"Control your 'sibling', Toothless. Or he just might lose a few teeth of his own." He glares at me and I still attempt to break free.

Mike seems to have found his voice as all of this happened because he was the next to speak.

"H-Hey, they're right! Laughing like that? That's a pretty messed up thing to do."

Troy, glares at us as his minion speaks.

"Didn't you listen to the counselor, freaks? Grief shows itself in funny ways."

"You little shit-" I attempt once more to get a right hook in but Lucas stops me.

Troy laughs at me struggling.

"Besides, what's there to be sad about, anyway? Will's in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay!"

Lucas loosened his grip on me, silently letting me go as Troy began dancing around, mocking Will.

I swung my fist and I felt it collide with his nose with a satisfying crunch. He stumbled back and grasped his nose in surprise, and he pulled his hand away to find a few drops of blood. The crowd that had gathered while all of this unfolded, gasped in surprise. I even earned some scattered cheers among the students.

I seemed to realize the consequences of my actions, but I was prepared to face them. It was worth it. I watched as he stormed towards me, blinded by fury.

"You're dead, freak!" He stomped towards me at a shocking speed and I stumbled back, bracing myself for the inevitable retaliation but it never came.

All I felt was a sudden pair of hands on my right arm, harshly pushing me out of the way. I looked in time to see it was Mike who pushed me out of the way. I gawked in confusion at what happened next.

Troy had just begun to raise his arm as he was only inches from Mike when he froze.

He completely froze in place.

He seemed just as confused, if not more than anyone. That confusion quickly bubbled into fear as his eyes scanned the room as much as he could without moving his head.

It finally dawned on me and I spared a quick glance at El, who was laser-focused on Troy, head tilted down and the smallest hint of blood dripping from her nose. I smirked and looked back to Troy, a smug smile on my face.

I couldn't hold back the laughter as I saw his pants begin to dampen with urine. A stream of it began pooling at his leg, and it even soaked into his socks and shoes. Other students caught on quickly and one boy in particular, began laughing.

"Dude, Troy peed himself!"

The circle of kids erupted into laughter as Troy stood frozen in a puddle of his own pee. I turned to El, who wore a devilish smirk on her face as she glanced between Mike and me. She quickly wiped her nose and started walking away. The boys and I enjoyed this brief moment of bliss.

"Hey! What is going on here?" The principle shouted.

"Come on!" I whisper, gesturing for the boys who all had the same idea. Before people could start asking questions we grouped together and made our way to the AV room unnoticed.

[wonwoosthetic]

Goddess Of The Underworld | Part Two || Geralt of Rivia

My masterlist is linked in my bio :)

PART ONE is advised to be read before this :)

Jesus guys, I got so much positive feedback from the last part, THANK YOU!! It genuinely made me soooo happy, so I hope that you will enjoy this part just as much! :)

Request: Hiiiiii can I please request a Geralt fic, where the reader is like Yennefer but more powerful

!!A/N!!: I’m thinking about re-naming this series, I’m not too happy about it... just don’t feel like it fits the way that I want to take this story, so if you have any suggestions, please let me know! :) I’m sure, you guys are a LOT more creative than me, when it comes to this!!

Warnings: cursing, slight mention of blood

Word Count: 2.198 words

She was born as Hella, the Gentle, but after that fire, her hair turned black and suddenly she was known as Hel. No one knows why.

Goddess Of The Underworld | Part Two: What’s Lost Is Found

Even though the last day he had spent in the village was fairly warm, the way through the forest was a lot colder than he expected. On his way he came across a few villagers sitting around fires they had built themselves or snuggled up under big furs – it interested him how the temperature could change that quickly, but he was thankful that he couldn’t feel the cold. Day one of his journey was slowly coming to an end, Geralt noticed the colour of the sky changing into a warmer tone. The pathway became harder to see, so the Witcher reached behind him in search for his Cat* potion. He dived his hand deep into the bag, rattling it around hoping to feel the glass bottle but without success. “Fuck”, he breathed out in annoyance, I should have remembered to get another few bottles, just in case, he thought. With the sun slowly setting, he could still find his way around as much as any other human being could, in a forest they had never been to. Roach was getting tired as well, noticeable by the way he held his head and his slow steps, either that or he could feel something coming. After travelling a little further, always making sure to follow the dirty earth-path, Geralt stopped his horse, “Hold on, Roach”, he jumped of its back and went around its frame to come face-to-face, gently running his hand up and down the space between the eyes, “we should take a break, you’re tired, it’s okay. Tomorrow’s another day.” He grabbed the rope he always kept in one of the backs attached to the saddle, made a knot around one of the reins and tied the other end around a big, strong-looking tree, next to a free space where Geralt decided to rest for the night. After giving the horse an apple as a good night snack, the Witcher walked around the spot, that had weirdly no grass growing, to look for something like a wooden log to rest his head on and use as a sort of pillow. Within a few minutes he had found one a couple feet away from Roach. He was walking back when a sound of a bush rustling rushed through his ears – it sounded like something or someone was watching him, he could feel it. The Witcher dropped the piece of wood, reached to his back to grab a hold of his sword... that was supposed to be there... Quickly he patted his back with both of his hands to feel if it maybe had moved, but no, there was no longer a sword attached to him. He turned around as a gush of wind went past him, “Show yourself!”, he shouted in an angry voice. How could he not have felt something taking it from his back?

It had already gotten so dark, he wasn’t even able to see his companion anymore, only suddenly hear him whinnying. The white-haired Witcher was quick on his feet, trusting his instincts to get him back to the place he had left all of his belongings before, but without luck.

Geralt was stood in the middle of nowhere, with no sword, no potions, nothing but him and his armor, and his instincts that he felt like, he couldn’t trust anymore.

Accompanied by another subtle wind, a high singing voice echoed through the woods. He turned his head in all directions, looking left and right as a sense of paranoia spread in his stomach – this was more than just unusual for his kind. As soon as the voice stopped, the wind stopped as well and Geralt was left alone with the thoughts running through his head. He was only able to hear the sound of a few leaves scrunching beneath him while turning around in circles, trying to make things out in the dark.

“Who are you?!”, his voice got a lot deeper. A whimpering sound emerged from behind a bush, “Please, no! I-I just-“ “Just wanted what?! Steal all of my stuff?”, the Witcher interrupted the much smaller creature. “No!”, it stood up straight and with the help of the moonlight, Geralt was able to make out the silhouette of a small-looking boy – he couldn’t have been older than twelve years old.

The older man looked at the kid in confusion, “What are you doing out here? Alone.” “My family is over there”, he pointed somewhere in the dark, “but I wanted to warn you”, there was a slight shake in his voice. “Warn me?”, Geralt wanted to know more. “Yes”, the boy got closer to the Witcher, “You shouldn’t be here... it’s not safe for... your kind.”

“So, you know who I am”, his deep voice sent chills of slight fear over the young boy’s body. “Of course. Everyone does. You’re Geralt of Rivia, THE Witcher. Word travels fast... even for elves.”

The last word made Geralt’s head shot up, “Elves? You’re an elve?” And as quick as the young elve showed up, he was gone again. He got scared and sprinted back to where he came from. “No, wait!”, in annoyance, the Witcher puffed out a big amount of air through his teeth.

Great, his stuff got stolen and all he knew was, that he definitely was not welcome here but why... he didn’t know. Deciding, there was not much else to do, as he was still not able to see much, he got down on the floor right next to Roach and tried falling asleep.

The sound of a singing voice woke him up a few times during the dark night.

Sleeping was hard, Geralt wasn’t able to get a good rest – that explained his even worse mood the next morning. After feeding his horse with a few apples, he got on his back and found a small river just a few minutes into his journey, where they stopped and Geralt filed his water bottle while Roach enjoyed the water right from the creek.

Last night’s encounter with the elf kept the Witcher uneasy – and the fact that he had no potions and no weapons anymore.

After a while on the horse’s back, he decided to walk for a bit after finding interesting “foot”prints on the mudy ground. Geralt had never seen any like that, normal feet but with dark prints, possibly ash, and something that looked like a trail that dragged right behind the footprints. I must be getting closer, he thought. He continued the rest of the journey through the woods on his feet.

As soon as the trees stopped growing, the footprints vanished as well. Geralt’s eyes trailed the path further into the distance, only to come to sight with dead trees and bushes. Not one green growing thing in sight... The ground turned from a muddy brown colour to deep black, raven black. He crouched down to the floor, dipped his fingers into the ground and smelled them right afterwards.

Ash. He was right. He was close.

Whatever was beyond this border of death was not going to be safe for Roach. Therefore, Geralt looked for a big tree and tied the horse’s reins witch the rope around it, said goodbye, and gave him one last apple before continuing the walk on his own.

After a few minutes of walking, the Witcher noticed that he was no longer able to see his own feet, from his knees downwards everything was covered in thick dust. The sky had also turned from its normally blue into a white colour, probably covered in clouds. The dead trees had become less and less, slowly there was absolutely nothing anymore. Suddenly, a cold shiver ran down Geralt’s back. He quickly whipped his head around to see what had caused it, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything was gone. The path he had been following, the few dead trees – everything.

He turned back around, only to see the exact same emptiness. The only thing he was looking at at that moment, was the colour white.

And there it was again. The singing voice from the night before. It startled Geralt, “What do you want from me?!” But he got no answer. His first instinct was to just run, and so he did. He tried following the voice, but it came from everywhere around him. He ran and ran, his pace quickened but he was going nowhere. There was no point. The singing became louder, slowly and slowly. Geralt ran even faster. The voice followed him. With every step he took, the singing became louder and most importantly higher. The Witcher’s ears started hurting as the voice was almost just an incredibly loud and painful whistle. He had to stop and hold his ears. His knees gave in and he fell to the floor. The voice didn’t stop. Geralt started feeling a warm fluid coming out of his ears as it trickled down his neck. The ringing became louder and his vision darkened.

The first thing he felt were warm hands and something wet on his left ear. The person was very gentle but yet it startled the Witcher. He shot up from his lying position and stood straight with a furious look on his face, “What the fuck are you doing?” “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I swear- I didn’t m- I just wanted to help you.” In front of him, on her knees, next to the bed he had just been lying in, was a young woman, maybe even a girl. She had raven black hair and piercing eyes. Her clothes were just as dark as her hair... this could be... “Who are you?”, he didn’t want to wait. She reached forward to a blanket lying on the bed and handed it to the Witcher because what he didn’t notice was, that he in fact, was butt-ass naked. She contemplated for a short while whether or not to tell him who she really was, “Hella.”

Geralt’s face softened up a slight bit as he looked her up and down, “You? You are Hella?”

Uncomfortably, she crossed her arms in front of her stomach, “So... you’ve... heard of me...” Her eyes drifted everywhere but to the Witcher, who scoffed at her answer, “Yeah, you burnt down an entire village”, he stated in disbelieve. “I didn’t!”, she shouted, startling the man in front of her slightly, “It wasn’t me!”, her breathing quickened and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes, “I swear, I didn’t do it.”

She looked so fragile and lost as Geralt looked closely at her. Her arms, her neck, and even her feet were covered in scars – they looked like burns, terrible burns. Looks can be deceiving, but this girl... no, there was no way.

“How did you find me?”, he wondered, as he realised that there was nothing around him when he passed out. “I was looking for some berries and all of sudden you were laying there”, she calmed down, she didn’t want to cry in front of a Witcher, “You looked dead”, she made the bed and then walked over to the small kitchen, where Geralt was able to lean on the counters, “I couldn’t just leave you out there.”

There it was. Way too kind. Just as he was about to answer, a neighing came from outside. No way. He knew that sound only too well. “Oh yeah, your horse is not-”, Hella wasn’t even able to finish her sentence as the Witcher was quick on his feet and ran through the entrance door outside, holding the blanket around his waist. “Roach”, he breathed as a burden fell off his shoulders. The horse turned his head to where the sound of its owner’s voice came from and bumped his nose with Geralt’s face making him smirk. “I know. Good boy.” His hands went up stroke its neck.

“Why did you leave him alone?” He didn’t notice the young woman following him outside with an apple in her hand to feed Roach. “The path looked too dangerous, I wanted to go alone first”, he explained before turning his full body to her, “how did you find him?” “I didn’t”, she started, “he found me. After finding you, I brought you here and he was just suddenly... also... here. I saw the crest”, she pointed to it, “Witcher.”

“Thank you”, he said and truly meant it.

With a smile, she was about to turn around and go back in, when a thought stopped her, “Wait, you... you said the path looked too dangerous... what did you mean by that?” “Are you serious? There was nothing in sight, everything was dead-“, he stopped as he had just gotten time to look around where he was. Still in the woods. Everything was green, not a dead bush or tree in sight. “Wait a second, how-“, Geralt wasn’t able to process everything fast enough, it didn’t make any sense... There was no possible way of... “Oh no”, the small voice from the young woman next to him brought him back. “What?”, he scrunched his eyebrows as he noticed her shaking form.

“They got you too”, she stated and looked at him in fear. 

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Sooo, this was part two, I hope you enjoyed it :), I’m sorry that it took me so long, but I took part at a musical and had the lead, so I had quite a lot of work to do... hihi

TAGLIST is also still open!

Thank you for all of the love you’re showing towards this series! <3

Hope you have a great day/night! :) <3