#he thinks they will offer the actual job i want for $17 but i am. doubtful lol

[guinevereslancelot]

you would not believe the job listings indeed.com is recommending to me. for $14 an hour....

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (19)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering) A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

.

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Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[hkruu]

Can you write a cold and distant yandere CEO with everyone but a total puppy to the reader?

“NOTICE ME.” — hkr

\\ yan ceo , loser behavior behind doors lmfao , implied favoritism , stalking , mention of murder and violence , slightly sadistic (?) , not my usual style of writing but I tried !! //

Keith was loosing his mind, do these worms that work under him not understand English? He swears that anyone could drop dead and he wouldn't care except for that worker (you) that he always seemed to favor out of anyone.

Of course everyone that worked on the company was aware.

"Seriously, how do you even gain the favor of boss? I swear he's a tough ice." One of of your co-workers had asked, you could only shrug in response. You of all people didn't know why Keith favored you among the best, I mean just why? There was Kayla who was employe of the month, Seth who was his assistance so what could you offer?

Keith who somehow gets jealous of everything and anything, you try to interact with the newbies? Huh, when did they become so busy with a lot of paper works? It's only their first day . . . If you want answers you might wanna turn to Seth.

Keith who really likes seeing you working hard, it reminds him the times where he watched you study hard for your degree during September 3 at 3:17 am — you're asking why he knows that? Well he's Keith, a normal guy trying to make business.

When Keith is alone, you might mistake him from another guy. Behind the doors of his office room, you're greeted with the warmth of his affection and a soft tone going “Good day".

Keith acts like a total puppy around you and he doesn't care, if you want to change your schedule it's already done in a swift! Want to be an air-conditioned room? Already done and dusted. You murmur wanting to be employee of the month? Oh would you look at that, you're employee of the month!

Of course, he'd always find a way where it's always related to him. He did want his name engraved into your head. . . .

Keith's love language is definitely act of service and gift giving. It's one of his strong suits since it came so naturally over him, he'd always remind you that he only shows this side to you because you are special to his eyes. Of course, some employee who overhead it will be the one who's flustered instead.

You two don't have a label in your point of view, but in Keith's? He practically thinks it's your 4th anniversary! He just loves you so much, why can't you just accept his love and let him trap you in his safe space? You won't have to work, do chores and even lift a finger. Keith would happily do anything you wanted, your needs mattered more than his.

Keith is the type to let the situation defuse by itself but when dealing with someone getting in his way to finally make you his — he's not above to resorting to violence. Even if Keith soft to you, he will never hesitate to resort to bad behavior just to make you stay by his side, like an actual loyal partner.

Murder wasn't a second choice, it was always the first choice. It didn't matter if it was a simple misunderstanding or a little trouble, there was no harm in ending lives when it came to you. Keith doesn't find blood dirty, he finds it fascinating. Blood keeps your heart pumping, blood runs through your veins at this very moment, it's something he likes feeling, touching.

That CEO is no psychopath, he calls it affection. Can't you see all the efforts he did just so that you could be in a higher position? Did you not acknowledge everything he did to you during highschool? During middle school? College? Do you not remember Keith? It was a shame, but this time he would make sure that you'd remember him for the rest of your life.

Even if you run away, quit your job, live in another country. Keith will always follow in any shape or form, he'll engrave the memories you spent together in your stupid brain, he'll carve his name into your skin and watch it bleed with your blood.

Keith is a normal guy. He's distant and cold, he keeps everything to himself, and he certainly doesn't like sharing.

\\ sorry if it's short ><!! I thought I was free the whole day but uhhh my schedule said no and sent me to a writing frenzy irl again!!//

\\ grrr request now cus I AM SKIBIDI //

\\ tysm for requesting anon, I hope I didn't go ooc 😞 (I did) //

[peanutbubba]

This one might make me a freak but "I'm cringe but I AM FREE" is like my slogan at this point so popping off I will be again.

I am half awake

Younger Law, 20-22, finally loosing his virginity after trying since he turned 17. He'd gotten close with plenty of people before, it's just that he'd either get cold feet and leave his partner confused and with a leaf in their bed or he his expectations weren't met so he pushed them away. Personally I don't label Law's sexuality, don't care much for labeling sexuality in my headcanons much, so he has tried attempted with both sexs but because I want to (I don't think I could type what I wanna so I'll let you figure out what I was gonna say) I'm thinking of a scenario where he looses his virginity to a dude, maybe just amab, I feel like virgin Law would be scared of a strap.

Guy's probably older by maybe 3 years, and it makes a difference, first person to get Law to calm down enough to not instantly ghost them once more than a shirt comes off, first person to make Law want to be heard by the neighbors, first person to fuck Law so sweet and good he almost considers offering them a place on his crew cause god all mighty the dick is that persuasive. Also, as a treat, they switch at some point or a few, still a lot of his partner talking Law through it and giving him special attention for doing so good at fucking them. I feel like Law is a default soft top/sub top, he can lay pipe when asked but bro just wanna be praised for doing a good job fr. Jesus christ if you've seen some of the other shit I say in people inboxes I love the aftercare scene like the most. Law is doing nothing after he cums!! Doesn't matter, carry him or push him off if you must but he is not participating in the movement of his body unless you're injured. Image you get done plowing Trafalgar D. Water Law and he pouts when you expect him to help clean up or he lies on you chest (BOOBY ENJOYER LAW TRUTHERS RISE) after plowing you and is pouting when you mention you guys need to get up.

This is not nearly as freaky as I had first thought it to be. Another day then I will bring you something that make Deadpool and Wolverine fans blush.

- ✨️💀✨️

Virgin Law being afraid of a strap is the funniest thing to me, like I can just imagine him making that face he usually does when he’s in complete shock, except now it’s also mixed with a touch of terrified because this colorful piece of silicone is threatening to destroy his hole. It also probably freaks him out that it isn’t real.

Anyways, as for my input, imagine marine hunter, or solo pirate reader actually being the one that helps him get over his fear. He already doesn’t have a good rep with either, but you’re able to smooth talk him enough to get him in a hotel room with you (bonus points if reader has an accent, or is just really fucking good with their words.), only to see how tense and awkward this man is.

You spend like a good 10-15 minutes just calming him down and setting up some boundaries with him, and he’s surprised as fuck because A.) you’re this super dangerous person but you’re actually super sweet?? And B.) you’re one of the first people to take the time to check in constantly with him.

Except at some point it pisses him off how nice you are, you’re balls deep in him and have already checked in with him 3 fucking times! If you don’t just make him scream your god damn name!

And now the fun part is that because you’re a marine hunter/solo pirate you’re usually just wandering from island to island with your own agenda, sometimes you just stop by wherever the fuck Law is now because you’re both in this unlabeled relationship with each other.

Sometimes you get him coins, medical books, more coins, just any gift you’d think he’d appreciate because you like seeing that stupid grin he gets when something he likes is in his hands.

As a thanks he always takes you to his captain quarter, the next morning you’re stumbling out completely dazed and fumbling with your ship as you mumble sweet flustered goodbyes, mean while he looks perfectly fine like you two didn’t spend the entire day exerting yourselves in his bed.

It’s always something new with him too, for a once virgin he can get down and freaky!

But one particular day you guys decided to switch roles, instead he’s on top now and good golly is this man so gentle. It can’t even be considered fucking anymore, this man is practically making genuine love to you.

Not that you’re mad about it, especially when you spew whispered praises about how he’s doing so good, or how he’s filling you up so well, and you can see his skin prickling with goosebumps in a good way.

Whimpering as he melts under your soft words, the soft sex somehow becoming even softer?! It’s great.

And when both of you are satisfied and done he’s laying his head on top of your chest and just resting, burying himself as far as he can between your tits. If you even try to protest this 6 foot almost 200 pound man just gets grumpy, plus all it gets him to do is close his arms around your waist and pull you even closer to him, burrowing himself even further in your chest like he’s trying to fuse with you.

It’s kind of cute, but also nasty because you’re both so sweaty, plus your legs are dripping with drying lube and cum and you terribly badly want to shower.

The only way you’re getting him off of you is if you physically pull him off and carry him to the bathtub. Yes you have to fill it with water, yes you have to wash him, and yes he is once more all up on your fucking boobs again.

It doesn’t matter if you’re on his lap or he’s on yours, either way you’re dealing with this until you have to clean your chest, or his face.

Best believe afterwards all he’s doing is putting some boxers on, you have to change the bedsheets and after that his cozying himself all up on you, he is the little spoon no objections.

On a side note, this idea get even 10x funnier if instead reader is already apart of a crew. He knows that you’re loyal to your captain and all but like… c’mon, he’s so much better!

It’s even WORSE if your captain is Luffy or Kidd, this man is not accepting it. What do they have that he can’t literally do 100x better 😒.

Join him instead… pretty please… with a cherry on top??

—

I love this freak, please never stop talking about him with me 🙏.

Also as a Deadpool and Wolverine fan I take this as a challenge, hit me with the freakiest shot you got.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 17

Damn, how did this get to a part 17????

Here's the promised WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday)!

I had a lot of fun writing this part. The words just flowed so easily.

If you didn't notice, I now have the first arc posted on AO3. It covers the first three parts I've shared here along with some extras that I never did.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.9k

-----

By the time morning had rolled around, Tim had also signed them up for a 7:30 AM and a 6 PM TV interview. Hopefully they could do enough damage control to mitigate the worst of Walker’s bad PR, whatever that turned out to be.

Tim nudged everyone awake at 5 AM. Conner and Cassie got up the easiest.

“Morning, Rob,” Conner said through a yawn. “Time to prepare for our interview?”

“Yep. We’ll be going in uniform since this is an interview for the Young Justice.”

“Great,” said Cassie. “We’ll be ready.”

Tim went to Danny next. “Hey, Danny.” The boy didn’t move, so Tim shook his shoulder slightly.

“Wha…?” Danny blinked his eyes open. “Wha’s goin on?”

“Me and the others are going to our interviews. We’ll be back in a few hours, kay?”

Danny just blinked at him and Tim laughed fondly.

“I’ll leave a note.”

Tim skipped breakfast on their way out, though Bart offered him some breakfast bars.

“It’s too late to be up,” Tim yawned.

Conner laughed as he hugged Tim and wrapped him in his TTK. They rose several feet into the air. “You should not have pulled that all-nighter.”

“How else was I supposed to be awake in time?”

Tim could feel the way Conner shook his head. “Just tell me where to go. I’ll get us there.”

Tim pointed to an area in town. “It’s over that way.”

Bart grinned. “I’ll meet you three there!”

“We won’t be long,” said Cassie.

With the benefit of flying, they were at the radio station within fifteen minutes. Sometimes being friends with metas made life so much easier.

As soon as they entered, a team of people greeted them.

“You were actually serious!” exclaimed a tall, white man. “Thought for sure it was a joke when I got your email last night. I’m Steve and I’ll be your interviewer this morning.”

Tim shook his hand. “Good morning, Steve. Robin at your service, and these are Superboy, Wonder Girl, and Impulse.”

Then they had to be introduced to all the producers, sound engineers, and assistants. If it hadn’t been for his parents’ gala training, Tim was certain he would’ve forgotten all the names instantly.

The employees knew how to do their jobs, however, and despite everyone wanting to meet the heroes, in less than twenty minutes, they were set up in the recording studio.

“So,” said Steve. “I just want to make sure I get this right. You, Robin, have been friends with Phantom for a while now and wanted to tell our listeners the truth about him. That he’s actually a hero and not a menace.”

“That’s right, Steve. I knew him before… Well, he’s a ghost. You know what before implies. He was there for me when I first became Robin. Now I want to be there for him when he’s dealing with similar struggles.”

“That’s not what any of the experts believe.”

Conner snorted. “The so-called experts in this town want to completely destroy any and all ghosts. Don’t think they’re unbiased.”

Bart nodded. “Yeah. We may not have known Phantom as long as Robin, here. But he’s a good guy. Helped us out when we got stranded here.”

“Stranded, eh? Mind if I ask you more about that on air?”

Tim laughed. “You can ask whatever you like. But I can’t guarantee we’ll answer everything. Secret missions and all that, you understand.”

Steve sighed theatrically. “It was worth a shot. Now, we’ll be going live in about five minutes and we’ll have three segments of eight minutes separated by two minute ad breaks. For a total of thirty minutes in the studio. Anything in particular you want me to ask?”

Tim pulled a sheet of paper out of his utility belt. “I wrote some down, if you don’t mind. They should be engaging and broad enough to please your audience and personal curiosity.”

“I won’t ask only from this list, you understand,” said Steve as he took it.

“Of course not. The first three are ones I do request that you ask, however. Beyond those, they’re just suggestions.”

Steve skimmed the list and nodded. “I can work with this.”

Beyond the window, the sound technician made a signal.

“All right, everyone. That’s the one minute mark. Let me introduce you before you say anything, capiche?”

Tim gave a thumbs up and the others added their assent.

The “on air” light turned on and Steve spoke in a voice much more performative than the one he’d been using. “Good Morning, Amity Park! This is Steve Boyce here to help you bring in the day. How are you early birds doing? Have I got a treat for you today! So last night I got absolutely no sleep because at nine thirty, shortly after our newly implemented curfew, I got a surprise email. From no other than the heroes who helped us out the other night when we were attacked! That’s right! The one and only Robin from Gotham emailed my and asked to come on my small, local show. So he and the Teen Titans are here with me. Let’s give them a warm Amity welcome, what do you say?”

Cassie laughed. “Thanks for that introduction, Steve. I’m Wonder Girl and I’d like to clarify one point. The former Teen Titans have kept the name Titans even if they’re no longer Teens. So we’ve decided to go by a new name.”

Bart nodded. “Yep. We’re the Young Justice now.”

Steve laughed. “Looks like I’ve already put my foot in it. Let me correct myself, let’s give the Young Justice a warm Amity welcome.”

Tim put on the happy gala voice his parents had drilled into him. “Not at all! It’s a new change and we’ve never really operated out here before. Even back home in San Francisco or Gotham we get called the Teen Titans more often than not. We’re just on a crusade to get the name change to stick.”

“Well I’m sure all of my listeners will be sure to get it right going forward. Now, let’s get down to business. We’re all thrilled that you were around to help us out the other night, but what brought you to Amity to begin with? Mayor Montez has publicly stated he never even had a chance to reach out for help before you were on the scene.”

“That was all Robin’s doing,” said Conner. “He’s friends with Phantom, you know.”

“Yep,” agreed Tim. “We were in the area when our transport broke down. Impulse figured out where we were and I knew of Amity due to my friendship with Phantom. Since we weren’t on a time limit, we decided to pop into town for a visit. Imagine our surprise when our very first evening here, we experienced a ghost invasion!”

Cassie laughed. “Oh, come on, Rob. With our lives, it really wasn’t that surprising.”

“Yeah,” said Bart. “We’ve totally had weirder things happen to us.”

Steve leaned forward and pitched his tone lower as if conspiring with them. “Well, I’ll definitely be asking for some of the details on what those might’ve been later. But first, I have to ask. Robin, how did you meet Phantom? He’s that ghost in the black-and-white jumpsuit, right? As far as I know, he’s only ever been seen in Amity. And you’ve certainly never been here before.”

Tim took a breath, this was the moment. “Yep, that’s him. And, well, it may be strange, but I knew him before he was ever Phantom.”

“Before he was Phantom? Do you mean…” Steve let his voice trail off.

Tim let out a low sigh and closed his eyes. He really had to sell this. “Yeah.” He made sure his voice was rough. “Yeah. I knew him before he died. He was one of my best friends growing up and we’ve known each other for years.”

Conner put a hand on his shoulder. “Rob…”

When even Steve needed a second to figure out how to reply, Tim figured he did a good enough job. “So you know him when he was alive,” Steve said. “Who was he? Where did he live?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” said Tim. “He was young when he died and his family don’t need people harassing them. They’ve been through a lot. And I know Phantom’s reputation isn’t the best.”

Steve let out another put-upon sigh. “And there you go being reasonable when all I want is the hot gossip. Fine, no questions about who Phantom was. I’m sure you were thrilled when you found out he came back as a ghost, though.”

Tim laughed and was glad Steve was able to change the mood of the interview so quickly without him doing anything. “Oh absolutely. I near about had a heart attack when he called me up out of the blue to say he was a ghost now! This was my first opportunity to visit him since, you know.”

Conner nudged him. “So he brought us along for the ride.”

Steve hummed. “So for the rest of you, this is your first time meeting Phantom?”

“Yep,” said Bart. “I like him. He’s cool.”

“So, Impulse, you think he’s trying to help us. Because it seems like whenever he shows up, things get broken and we have to spend days or weeks and tens of thousands on repairs.”

“Robin knows more about it than I do,” said Bart, “but I guess what let Phantom cross back over to Earth is allowing other ghosts to cross back over. Phantom just wants to spend more time with his living family and friends. The others ghosts…”

“They want more than that,” finished Tim. “Phantom’s explained it to me a bit. They all have something driving them that can only be fulfilled on Earth. And they don’t care what they have to do to satisfy that drive. So Phantom steps in to try and prevent them from causing too much damage or hurting anyone. Then he forces them back to the dimension they come from.”

“In fact,” added Cassie. “We spent all night talking with Phantom and we got his side of the story on several of his fights since he first came to Amity. We’ve written it all up and submitted them to the local paper, so look in the OpEds over the next few days if you want to know the truth.”

“Oh, well now you’ve definitely got me intrigued! I think I will. Anything you'd be willing to share with us now?”

“Do you remember how a month or two ago, a giant robot was seen in Amity?” asked Tim.

“Not something I’m likely to forget!”

Tim laughed. “I’m sure! Well, what you don’t know is that he crossed over to Earth from the Ghost Zone about three or four days before you ever saw him. Phantom kept him from gaining a physical body for days before Technus was able to get past him.”

“Really? So you’re saying that without Phantom, we would’ve been dealing with that robot for a lot longer?”

“Yep.”

Steve asked several more questions about Phantom. Some serious: How does he plan to decrease property damage going forward? We’re coaching him on how to move a fight and deescalate conflict. And some light hearted: So I heard he’s a dog person? Oh, absolutely. A ghost dog adopted him a few weeks ago.

Then the questions turned more personal as he moved on from Phantom and asked about their lives and exploits. And before they knew it, the interview was over.

“Thanks for reaching out,” Steve said as soon as they left the recording studio. “You are by far the biggest guests I’ve ever had on.”

“Thanks for agreeing to have us on so last minute,” said Tim.

“How could I possibly say no?”

-----

Next

Hope you enjoyed the interview! I probably won't go into detail for the TV one since it'd just be rehashing the same information.

I no longer do tag lists, but I do have a Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

🦐 to recognize my post

Am I the asshole for asking my grandmother if I can move in with her?

This’ll be one of your classic reddit-style family dramas, I think. Back in late 2019 just before COVID, I (freshly 18 at the time) had run away from home with my mom and moved in with my best friend (R, 17 in 2019) and her (60s, deeply depressed) dad. Her dad and I were on good terms for a long time, but respectfully, he has a tendency to repress any issues he has with someone until they build into a bigger issue. Near toward November of 2020, he kicked me out on account of ‘not keeping a job and not doing anything around the house’ (I washed stagnant dishes often, took care of their several animals, and took out trash whenever I could, R and I think he was projecting his shitty roommates from when he was 20 onto me), so I needed a new place to move.

My own beloved father lives ten hours away, and offered for me to live with him. For months, I was preparing to pick up my entire life from the hometown I had lived in since I was 2 years old to move to a new state, and in the last month, I got cold feet and said I couldn’t make such a large change like that. My dad completely understood, and I went to look for a new place to stay, still living with R and her dad at this time.

During this period, I was getting closer with my grandmother on my mom’s side again. She was one of the few family members I felt comfortable with, and we often went to Panera for lunch dates to catch up on things. I won’t go super deep into why I’m so anxious about the rest of the family, because that would require an entire several page google document to explain (especially now that we’re actively banned from holidays).

It was around this time I asked my grandmother if I could move into one of her five or six spare rooms upstairs. My grandfather had died in the last couple of months, and I was confident that if she needed any help (she’s in her mid eighties) moving things upstairs or cleaning the house, I would be beyond glad to do it for her. She then hesitated and said it may be a better idea for me to move in with my dad after all (which was odd, because she hates my dad’s guts, as does the rest of my family), and I let it go after that. I didn’t push, I would just need to find a new place. 

Well, word got around, and she told my aunts and older cousins in passing. I don’t remember if I got sent anything in specific, but one of my aunts (mother’s older sister who I'm genuinely terrified of) absolutely fucking exploded on my (54 at the time) mom, giving her a several paragraph long shitstorm of a message saying she was a terrible mother for letting me take advantage of my grandmother, calling her horrible things, slurs, and insulting her wife, and it got back to me somehow. I was fucking shredded apart emotionally.

Since then, I have moved back in with my mother out of necessity and we have totally reconciled our relationship in the three or so years I’ve been home, and my entire mother’s side of the family- aside from my grandmother- has completely cut contact and don’t invite us to holidays anymore, for significantly more ridiculous reasons than me asking my grandmother what I did.

My mother’s side of the family ostracized her, myself, and my sister since my mother first married my dad 25ish years ago, and has just never treated her the same since, which explains some of the hostility (I want to specify, I’m confident that my mother did nothing outright wrong for this, my family is extremely far-right and EXTREMELY judgemental, and my mom bore unnecessary vitrol for everything she went through), but I need to know if I was actually the asshole for asking to move in with my grandmother, who even now still cares about me as family and lives alone. I could give less of a shit what my aunt thinks now (she lives an entire day’s drive away, in a different state as well), but I can’t help but shake the fear that I was actually taking advantage of her kindness or something of the sort. Was this a wrong thing to ask? Was this actually too much, and should I not have bothered?

What are these acronyms?

[vodika-vibes]

A Healer's Touch

Summary: As the official for the ARC Knights, you have a difficult job, only made more difficult when ARC Captain Alpha-17 refuses to listen to you. But when things take a dangerous turn, there's no one you trust more to keep you safe.

Pairing: ARC Knight! Alpha-17 x Healer!Reader

Word Count: 4401

Warnings: Canon typical violence

A/N: So this does not have any specific fairy tale it's based on, simply because I couldn't think of a single fairy tale that would work with Alpha-17.

Divider by saradika

“Are you, perhaps, dumb, Captain?” You ask as you set your hand on your cocked hip, “Or perhaps you suffer from selective hearing. Because I’m fairly certain, Captain, I told you to stay off your feet until your ribs healed.”

“Hm? What was that? I wasn’t listening, Doc.” Alpha-17 drawls as he pulls the ice pack away from his ribs.

You take a deep breath, “Captain-”

“You know,” He interrupts, “When you say my rank it sounds an awful lot like Fuck You. Why is that?”

You slam your hand on the table, “Alpha!” You snap, and then you turn away from him and take a deep breath, “Alpha,” You repeat, once you were sure that you weren’t going to try and rip his head off, “Your ribs are broken. Broken ribs are bad. You have to let yourself heal.”

“Eh…no thanks, Doc.”

“Are the things I’m saying just going in one ear and out the other?” You ask, annoyed.

Alpha’s gaze drags lazily across your face, and then he flashes a slow smirk, “I want a second opinion.”

“Yeah, and I want to smother you, but we don’t always get what we want now do we?” You counter as you fold your arms over your chest, “You need to rest, or I will go over your head and make you. Am I clear?”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” Alpha hops to his feet and tosses the ice pack at you, a cocky smirk crossing his face as you fumble with it, “I’m not going to listen, Doc, but I hear you.”

“You-”

“I’ll see you later!” He calls over his shoulder as he leaves your infirmary. 

“No…Alpha!” You poke our head out the door to yell at him, but he’s already gone. “Ugh, why do I even bother?” You ask the empty hallway, before you turn back into the infirmary and walk over to your desk, and grab the file for Alpha-17.

You make a mark, indicating that he is not cleared for duty, and then drop it in your ‘to be filed’ box, and you drop in your seat and rub your forehead just over your eyes.

The side door cracks open, and your assistant pokes her head in, “Is the Captain gone?” She asks nervously.

“Why are you skulking around like that?” You ask.

“Um…Captain Alpha-17 intimidates me.” She admits, “I can’t believe that you can actually yell at him.”

You scoff, “Someone has to yell at him, it might as well be me.”

Your assistant shakes her head, “You’re braver than I am.” She whispers, “Also, I finished the inventory. We’re solid on everything.”

“Good to know, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She shifts, “Can I go home?”

You cut your eyes towards her, and then roll them, “Yeah, yeah. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you!”

You’re absently aware of her gathering her belongings and then hurrying out of the infirmary, and soon enough, you’re alone with your thoughts…and the pile of charts that need to be filled, and filed.

It’s the start of another very, very long night.

You have been the Head Healer for Mandalore for less than a year at this point, and you’re beginning to think that the only reason you were offered the position at all was because you’re the only healer who isn’t the least bit intimidated by…anyone?

The position did come with a nice raise, nice enough that you bought a house closer to the palace, but the position also came with a massive jump in responsibilities…and a headache in the form of one Alpha-17.

You can handle him, you’ve been his personal healer for several years now, but you would like for him to not fight you about his medical care, at least once. 

Of course, it’s never going to happen. Alpha fights and bickers as easily as breathing. The only time he doesn’t fight you on medical stuff is when he’s not awake to do so. It would almost be a relief, if the sight of Alpha still and quiet didn’t make your heart twist painfully in your chest.

Yeah, you don’t examine that too closely. 

You flip through the charts on your desk, and release a sigh. 20 charts, fifteen minutes a piece…this is easily going to take you hours. 

You stare at the pile of charts for a moment longer, and then sigh and push to your feet. You grab the stack and slide them into your bag, and then sling it over your shoulder. If you’re going to be working until midnight, you might as well do so from the comfort of home.

You step out of your office, and lock the door behind you with a touch of magic, and then you poke your head into your co-workers office, “I’m out for the night.”

“Lucky you,” He replies without looking up from his own charts, “I can’t wait until we switch shifts so I’m working day shift.”

You laugh, “It’s only a few more weeks before we switch, don’t worry.”

“True, true. Good night.”

“You too.” You wave at him, and side step his assistant as she rushes into his office, babbling about something, and you decide to leave before you get dragged into whatever emergency is brewing.

You make it through the palace and just outside the gate when you hear heavy footsteps behind you. “Well now, isn’t this a surprise.”

You sigh and turn at the familiar voice, “Alpha. You’re meant to be resting.” You say pointedly.

“I’m walking, Doc. Nothing strenuous happening here,” He retorts easily, “You taking off for the night?”

“I,” you reply, “am going to get dinner, and then I’m going home.”

He falls into step next to you, “Oh yeah? Hot date, doc?”

You scoff, “As if I have time for that.”

“Come on, pretty lady like you? I’m sure you have men lining up for a chance to date you.” Alpha replies dryly.

“I’m not talking about this with you.” You say with a shake of your head.

“Hm. Sounds to me like you just don’t want to admit that you have a string of boyfriends.” 

You shake your head, “Believe what you like, Alpha. But I legitimately don’t have time.”

“There’s more to life than work, doc.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, “Said the pot to the kettle,” You retort.

He smirks at you, “I take plenty of breaks. In fact, I’m going clubbing with some of the other Alphas.”

You stop in your tracks and you pin Alpha with a serious glare, “You have three broken ribs!” You hiss.

His smirk grows, “I’ll club gently.”

You take a deep breath, “You know what. You’re going to end up with a punctured lung, and I’m just going to let you die, you stubborn asshole.”

“No you won’t,” Alpha says confidently. 

“Watch me.” You snap.

He drapes an arm over your shoulder and you stumble into his side, “Oh, cyare.” He coos annoyingly, “You’ve spent the last four years keeping me alive.”

“Maybe I should have stopped after the first time,” You grumble, “Why are you touching me?”

“You’re always touching me,”

“I’m a healer! I’m your personal healer, even! It’s not the same thing!” You sputter.

“Hm.” He doesn’t reply, but his arm around your shoulder tightens slightly and you feel his fingers trail against the skin of your throat, “you’re so soft-” His voice is barely a whisper, and you get the feeling that you probably weren’t supposed to hear that.

You swallow hard, “Alpha.” You keep your voice very calm, “Can you let me go, please.”

His gaze locks on your face for a long moment, and you feel his fingers pause on your throat, “Am I making you nervous, doc?”

“Never,” You answer honestly, “But I still need you to let me go. You have plans, Alpha. And I need to get home.”

He slowly pulls his fingers away from your skin, as though it physically pains him, “You should come clubbing with me, Doc. I’ll show you a good time.” Alpha says as he finishes pulling away from you.

“Not this time, Alpha.” You say with a shake of your head, and you take a step away from him, “Have fun, but be careful. I don’t want to have to patch you up because you overdid it.”

“But you will.” 

“Well, that is my job.” You smile at him, fondly, “I hope you have fun, Alpha.”

“It’d be more fun with you, doc.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be.” You reply with a shake of your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you then.”

You feel Alpha’s eyes on you for a while longer, though by the time you reach the city proper, he’s not standing outside the palace anymore. With difficulty, you put all thoughts of Alpha out of your mind, and you focus your attention on getting food.

You stop at a food cart, deciding to make life easy for yourself, and you’re considering what to order for yourself, when a young woman hurries over to you, “Excuse me! I’m sorry for bothering you,” She says with a bow, “But…you’re clothes…are you a healer?”

You release a silent sigh, and push your hunger to the back of your mind, as you turn to look at the young woman, “I am, are you hurt?”

“Not me,” She says as she wrings her hands, “No, but my father is badly injured and…please…I don’t want him to die.”

“Alright,” You smile soothingly, “Why don’t you show me where he is.”

“Oh, thank you! He’s this way.”

The young woman leads you through the busy streets, down several side alleys, until you’re on the outskirts of the village. There, sitting on a tree stump with his back towards you, is an older gentleman with gray hair. “Your father?” You ask.

She nods rapidly. 

You frown slightly, “Alright…” You’re confused. The man doesn’t look badly injured, and the girl passed four other clinics who see people on an emergency basis all the time. Something about this doesn’t feel right. “Sir? Sir, I’m a healer, may I come over to you?” You call.

The old man sways, almost drunkenly, “Oh…” He slurs, “Oh yes…I hurt so bad…”

You frown a little more, and you slide your hand into your pocket, and you grip, and prime, your panic button. With the button primed, it’ll activate and alert everyone if you release it without deactivating it.

You walk over to the man, and you move so you’re standing in front of him, “Sir? What seems to be the problem?”

The man lifts his head, and you take half a step back when you see golden eyes. “Hello, my dear.” He says in a crisp accent, “I am sorry for the deception, but I’m afraid you need to come with me.”

“...no thank you.” You reply as you take another step away from Count Dooku.

“I’m afraid this isn’t an invitation you can turn down,” He says gently, as though he wasn’t a known terrorist. “Hands out of your pockets, please.”

You slowly release the panic button, and pull your hand out of your pocket. You’re able to feel the swell of magic that’s associated with the panic alarm being released, and you feel the magic latch onto you. 

But if you can feel it, so can Dooku.

“Clever.” The older man muses, “The distress beacon latches onto you, rather than the item you’re carrying, so the people looking for you can find you. And you triggered the beacon as soon as you entered the clearing, I’m guessing.”

“She passed four other emergency clinics to find me…as if she was looking for me specifically.” You whisper.

“And as the personal healer of the ARC Knights, you’re suspicious by nature.” Dooku continues with a small nod.

“...yes.”

“Hm…a shame.” He murmurs.

And for a terrifying moment, you think he’s going to kill you. But instead he turns to the young woman who lured you here, and with a snap of his fingers, she bursts into flames.

A cry of horror falls from you and you reach out, your own magic lashing out to try and save her, only for Dooku to grab you by the arm and jerk you back next to him. 

You press your hand over your mouth as Dooku stays until the young woman is no longer screaming…and then continues to remain until the fire has gone out. 

“Ah look, that calvary.” Dooku murmurs as his gaze is drawn to the alley, where a group of ARCs are sprinting your way, led by Alpha. The men fill the clearing, leaving a wide berth around the smoldering body.

“Dooku,” Alpha-17 says, his voice a snarl, “Release the Healer.”

Dooku smiles and jerks you tighter to his side, “I’m afraid I need her more than you do.”

“There are a lot more of us than there are of you,” Another ARC growls from behind you and Dooku.

“True. But, you see, magic is the great equalizer.” Dooku replies, “Time to go, my dear.”

You can feel the swell of magic around you, and you try to twist out of Dooku’s grip.

You fail.

Your gaze locks with Alpha-17’s. His jaw is clenched, and he looks absolutely furious, “Alpha-” You whisper, and then the magic swell breaks, and you’re ripped through a maelstrom of magic, protected from the buffering power only because Dooku doesn’t want you injured.

You stumble when there’s suddenly solid ground under your feet again. You take a chance to look around yourself, and you feel a chill. Serrano. Dooku’s home nation, and the nation where he’s the sole ruler.

“Follow me, Healer.” Dooku orders as he leads you through the streets, his grip is still tight around your arm, so it’s much less that he’s leading you, and more that he’s dragging you.

He drags you to the palace, a dark and cold looking building filled with dark wood and deep burgundy accents. “Where are you taking me?” You ask as you half run to keep him from actually dragging you across the ground.

“You will see.” He replies.

Dooku leads you through massive halls, and down into the deepest pits of his palace, and he only releases you after he pushes open a door, revealing a very well stocked infirmary.

There are three Zabraki men in the room, and at first blush you assume that they’re either brothers, or close cousins.

“Introductions,” Dooku says coolly, “Savage Opress,” He motions to the largest of the men in the room, “Feral Opress,” He motions to the slender young man who is watching you with frightened eyes, “and Maul Opress.” He motions to the badly injured man on the bed. “You are here for Maul. Take a look.”

You move closer to the bed, and look him over, carefully lifting the blanket to see the full extent of his injuries, “He’s been bisected.” You say blankly.

“Yes, I’m aware. Can you fix him?”

“I…maybe?” You say faintly.

“Hm…do your best.” Dooku replies, “Feral will help you, he’s been learning some healing.” And then he looks at Savage, “With me.”

And then you’re alone, with a critically wounded man, and his younger brother.

Feral smiles at you kindly, “I shall try not to get in your way, Healer. But I would appreciate anything you have to teach me.”

You clench your hands to stop them from trembling, and you smile politely at Feral. “Alright then. Can you tell me what has already been done for Maul?”

***********

Two weeks later, you’re still in Serrano.

It’s much colder here, than in Mandalore, and you eventually were forced to ask Feral for thicker clothing, and he ended up just giving you some of his cold weather gear, all while telling you that you’d adjust to the cold eventually.

Feral’s not built like Savage, but he’s still much bigger than you, so you’re swimming in his clothes, even while you work.

You like Feral, he’s a good kid, for all that you’re pretty sure he has a few years on you. He’s innocent, almost. And he’s got an excellent work ethic, and he wants to learn to heal. 

Savage is quiet, and intimidating, but he mostly just comes down to the infirmary to check on Feral. You wouldn’t say that you’re fond of Savage, not like you are of Feral, but you’re not uncomfortable around him.

And then there’s Maul.

He’s much more tolerable when he’s unconscious, to be honest, but you’re a healer and you will do your duty, even if this whole situation feels like you have a blade hanging over your neck. 

Maul is polite, if nothing else. But he has a tendency to think that he knows best about all things. Including medical care. Fortunately, Feral is able to handle Maul when he’s at his most disagreeable.

“He seems to be healing nicely,” Feral notes thoughtfully as he watches his older brother carefully stumble around the room on the prosthetics you crafted for him.

“Yes, I agree.” You reply as you make a note in Maul’s chart, “I’m impressed, actually. Most people aren’t up and walking on their prosthetics so quickly.”

Feral laughs quietly, “Well, he has a very stubborn personality.”

You shake your head, and Feral laughs again, “He’s not the only one I’m impressed with.” You note as you tilt your head towards Feral, “You’re picking up some of the most difficult theories of Healing Magic faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

He ducks his head with a blush, “Well…you’re an excellent teacher. The books I read never made much sense, but it all makes sense when you explain it to me.”

“Hm…” You turn to Maul, “Alright, that’s enough for now.” You say to him, “Back in your chair.”

He scowls at you, but moves to sit back in the chair, “I can still do more,” He insists.

“I’m sure you can. But too much can hurt more than help,” You point out, “How do they feel when you’re walking on them?”

“A little awkward, something feels a little off in the left foot.”

“Oh, I can take a look at that!” Feral says enthusiastically, “Um…can I, healer?”

“By all means.” You reply. You step back and allow Feral to kneel at his brother’s side, and start a diagnostic scan, “What do you see, Feral?”

“Mm…it looks like a screw came loose.” Feral replies after a moment, “I can fix that! Let me get my kit!” With that he gets to his feet and hurries into the next room.

“...you’re good for him.” Maul notes, his yellow eyes piercing.

“He’s a good kid. Smart, kind. He’ll be a great healer, if he’s given the chance.” You say with a shrug, “He has the right personality.”

Feral hurries back into the room before Maul can answer, and he immediately sets about repairing the broken screw in Maul’s foot, “...and…there! Try now.” He scurries back as Maul stands and walks around the room.

“Much better.” Maul replies, “Am I able to walk now or should I still use the chair?” He asks you.

“I would prefer you to use the chair, but since I doubt you will, just make sure you don’t overdo it.” You warn.

“No promises,” Maul replies. He nods at his brother, and then walks out of the room, something that had been impossible only a week earlier.

“Amazing!” Feral beams at you, “Can you heal anything?”

“No, not at all. Dooku was clever by grabbing me. I’m a trauma specialist. Injuries like what Maul had are what I decided to focus on.” You reply, “You’d make a fair pediatric healer, Feral.”

“Oh, no. I probably should focus on Trauma as well.” He replies, “To keep my brothers healthy.” He pauses, and shifts guiltily, “But, I’m afraid I have to return you to your cell now, Healer.”

“I know Feral. It’s okay.”

You allow him to lead you down the halls to the small, cramped, cell that has been your room for the last two weeks. “Ah, new blankets.” You note.

“It’s meant to get cold today, so I asked for extra blankets for you.” Feral says, “I’m sure if you swear allegiance to Count Dooku-”

“I’m not going to do that, Feral.” You step into your cell, and pick up a blanket to pull it around yourself, “Thank you for the blanket.”

“You’re welcome.” Feral shuts the door, “I’ll bring you your dinner later, Healer.”

You nod and turn to settle yourself on your cot. You probably could escape, if you wanted to. But you’re no warrior, and your oaths prevent you from knowingly harming another person, so you’re stuck here, having to wait for someone to come for you.

It’s several hours later, after you’ve eaten dinner and have already drifted off to sleep on your cot, when you’re jerked awake by the sound of a massive explosion. 

You scramble to your feet, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, and you press yourself into the corner of your cell. You wince as you hear another explosion and the sound of shouting, and your cell door is wrenched open, revealing Feral on the other side.

“Come on, you can’t stay in here!” He says, hurrying into your cell and taking your hand. He pulls you out of your cell and to the stairs at the end of the hall and starts dragging you up the stairs.

Feral pulls you through burning halls, and then helps you out a broken window, “Where are you taking me?” You ask as he pulls you through waist height bushes.

“We need to get to the lake, Maul and Savage are waiting for us there.” Feral replies.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” You squeak when a strong hand grabs your arm, and you’re jerked, unceremoniously, against a set of armor. “She’s not going with you, kid.”

You blink up at the very familiar helmet of Alpha-17 and you slump against him, relieved. And when his arm, the one not holding a weapon, wraps securely around you, you have to fight the urge to cry.

“I…Healer…”

You turn to look at Feral and you offer him a small smile, “You should go to your brothers, Feral.” You offer, “I’m not in any danger here.”

Feral looks between you and Alpha for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “I wish you the best, Healer. Maybe we’ll meet again in the future.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And then Feral is gone, and Alpha is carrying you up the slope to the Mandalorian encampment. He ushers you to a tent painted in his colors, and he gently sits you down on the table and tugs the blanket off of your shoulders, and then he stops.

For a moment, you don’t think he’s even breathing. “Um…Alpha?”

“Where are your clothes?” He asks, his voice a low rumble.

“Probably still in my cell,” You reply, “They were far too thin for the temperature here-”

“Whose clothes are those?” Alpha interrupts.

“Um…Ferals? Though the top is Savage’s.” You say after pausing to think a moment.

Something dangerous flickers across Alpha’s face and though you don’t, quite, understand what he’s so angry about, you reach out and place your hand on his chest plate, “Alpha, I’m okay. They gave me some of their clothes because I was going to freeze.”

He rips his gloves off, and he cups your face with his hands, tilting your head so he can see your face clearly. He scans your face, taking note that you have no bruises, or any injuries at all. “They didn’t hurt you?” He asks.

“No. Not at all. They needed me.”

His fingers twitch against your face, “For what?”

“Healing. Maul needed healing.”

“And you did?”

“I had to!” You defend your actions, with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey. You’re not in trouble.” His voice is soft and almost soothing, “You did what you had to. That’s a good thing.”

You stare at him with wide eyes, “Thank you for coming for me.” You say after a moment.

His smile is very small, “Of course…you called for me after all.”

“...yeah, I guess I did.” You whisper.

You don’t realize how close Alpha is standing to you until you feel his nose bump against yours. There’s something warm in his gaze, and it makes you feel warm to the tips of your toes, “I’m going to kiss you now, ner baar’ur.” He murmurs.

You lick your lips, nervous, and his gaze snaps to the flash of pink that is your tongue, something hot entering his gaze, “Okay.” You whisper.

His lips crash against yours. The kiss is as demanding as Alpha, and you’re helpless to do anything but submit to him, your fingers lightly curling against the ridges of his armor.

You start when you hear a throat clear near the door, and your face flames when you see Fordo standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face, Alpha, for his part, merely sets his hands on your shoulders and pinned his brother with a furious glare, “What.” He barks out.

“Dooku escaped,” Fordo replies gleefully. Far too gleeful for the situation, “But we found something weird that we’re calling the court wizard in on.”

“Great. Get out.” Alpha snaps, as he turns his gaze back towards you.

“The vod’e are waiting for their orders. Surely you can hold off on kissing your pretty baar’ur for long enough to get us out of this hellhole.” Fordo says, with a growing grin.

Alpha releases you and turns on his brother, a string of curses falling from his lips. “Fine!” He snaps, and then he turns to you, “Are you good to work, ner baar’ur?” 

You hop to your feet, your face still burning red, “Yes. Of course.”

His gaze softens, “Good girl,” Alpha murmurs, his fingers coming up to brush your cheek again, “We’ll talk about this,” He motions to the pair of you, “Later.”

“Alright.” You whisper.

“The medical tent is a little further back, white and red.” He says quietly, “Oh, get yourself into clothes that don’t belong to other men. Please.” Alpha adds, “It really, really bothers me.”

A quiet laugh bubbles from your lips, “I’ll see what I can find.” And then you duck out of the tent. You’re not supposed to be a frontline medic, but trauma is trauma, so you’ll do the best you can.

[autistichalsin]

I got upset at my mom and came across really passive aggressive. And I didn't mean to, and I regret it. I just... she does this thing that makes me so mad

She brags all the time about how she was such a great mom. But her examples are, for some MYSTERIOUS REASON, only ever things she did for my older brother and sister. She had his friends over all the time and they called her Mom too! She drove him to football! She drove my sister to over 10 orchestra-related events a week until she got so burned out she banned us all from doing any activities that required a ride the next year!

She mysteriously never has any such stories for me.

This time she was going on and on about how she was such a great mom because when my brother was 17 he got his first job washing dishes at a restaurant and she'd drive across town at midnight every night to pick him up from work.

Meanwhile, when I was 18 and wanted to get a job, she told me I was to go to college (and she wouldn't hear any of that "I don't want student loan debt" nonsense because EVERYONE gets loans and I needed to just suck it up.) Despite her always insisting we were welcome as long as we got a job or went to school, she changed her tune for me and me only. She threatened to kick me out if I got a job. I asked if I could stay long enough to save money for my own place, and she snapped no, I couldn't use her like that. So I went to college, when I didn't want to yet, and predictably am in massive amounts of debt that it will take me most of my life to pay off. She would later go on to say she never actually meant it about kicking me out, she just wanted me to "do what I was meant to do" and needed a push to "get my life together." Because getting a job means your life isn't together, apparently.

But she gave my older brother rides from work. So she's a great mom. The best mom ever.

I got really angry when she did this yet again and kind of laughed but made it sound lighthearted. She said back something like "oh you laugh but you know I was a great mom."

So then I just said, well, when I wanted to get a job, you told me you'd kick me out if I did it.

She went quiet and gave this weird guilt trippy non-apology about how she's soooo sorry about what she did but she still feels she was a great mom, she just had some issues when she was drinking.

I feel bad for being passive aggressive about it, but I can't stand when she does this. She wants me to tell me she was a great mother because she was capable of treating her golden children well. And she wants me to judge her based on that and not how I, the scapegoat, was treated.

Like!!! She got drunk and told me she wished she could kill me. You never get to call yourself a good parent again once you do that. Not even if it was only once and you were drunk and you actually WERE good before that (which she really wasn't). And you especially don't get to claim that TO the child you said it to.

She drove my older two siblings to all these things, and then never showed up to a single track meet of mine. When I complained to her about it at the end of the year, she said, "you know, I've heard of 40 year olds who tell their parents it hurt when they didn't do that, but I've never heard of someone complaining while they're still young." She rarely came to any of my orchestra performances unless my sister was also there.

In fact, she asked the whole family to help out with money to send my sister on a music department trip, and then the next year, when I was old enough to do it, said they couldn't ask the family twice because it would be weird, and then told the rest of the family that I only did music because I wanted to be like my sister, guaranteeing none of them actually would think I WANTED to go on the trip so they wouldn't help me. I asked if I could do a program the school offered where I could help out at concessions at the sports events so I could save money to go, and she snapped "they shouldn't be making you work so you can go." So I didn't get to go.

So yeah, if you judge her by how she treated her golden children, she was pretty fucking stellar, I guess. If you judge her by how she treated the forgotten child (my little brother) she was alright. But if you judge her by how she treated me?

And then she fucking wonders why I'm closer to my dad.

God I'm so fucking mad.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. All of these are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Love is Better the Second Time Around

This is officially my favorite bl currently airing. I loved this second episode a lot. I appreciate that while the first episode gave us a really solid grounding in who Iwanaga is, the second let us get to know Miyata in all his contradictory glory. That entire sequence from his failed proposal to him demanding Iwanaga take responsibility was glorious. He is still nursing a wound from their high school days and hearing Iwanaga sincerely apologize for his immaturity in making the bet back then seems to have given him some of his power back. I love that he's making Iwanaga work for it, and judging by that smile at the end of the episode, Iwanaga loves it, too.

My Strawberry Film

Yet another week focused on the het love rhombus, this time with a double date. I was spiritually with Ryo sitting on a rock by himself, headphones on and gazing at the sea in mild despair. The plot continues to move at a glacial pace, and I am not nearly as interested in Minami or her secrets as the show wants me to be. She is just not a compelling character. I did appreciate the show making it clear that Hikaru's crush on her is based more on a fantasy of who she is than the reality. And I felt for Chika a lot in this episode and was glad she aired things out with Ryo; she needed his rejection to move on. I wonder if, as @bengiyo suggested, this show will play better as a binge, because it's kind of torturous as a weekly viewing experience.

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka

A nice ending for a show that didn't quite come together for me. I liked both of these characters a lot, but the writing for their romance was kind of all over the place and we spent a lot of time on frustrating plot diversions instead of building a stronger relationship foundation that would leave us feeling confident about their future (apparently a lot of that extra plot stuff was added to stretch the simple manga story to 10 episodes, and it sure felt like it). I didn't at all buy Mizuki suddenly reappearing and trying to help them get back together. The way the show used his character was perhaps the most frustrating part of all; he felt more like a plot device than a person. But I'm glad Soga and Sakae decided to try again at the end, even if I wish we would have spent the back half of the show seeing them actually work through these complications instead of just talking about them constantly only to end right where they started. Not one that I will be rewatching or that will stick with me, I think.

Bonus: Call Boy (2018)

I have been meaning to watch this film for ages, and finally got around to it this week. Before I am accused of false advertising, let me clarify that this is not a bl or a romance at all; rather it is a story about a disaffected youth who gets offered a job as a sex worker in a high end club and finds purpose and satisfaction in bringing others pleasure. Our lead Ryo is (mostly) het, but he does have one extremely memorable sexual encounter with a male colleague (played by my beloved Izuka Kenta!), and this is in general a film exploring sexual kink and stigma, so it earned its spot on ql corner.

This movie is surprisingly great, and its themes are very sex and sex work positive in a way some other recent shows have claimed (and failed) to be. The narrative is all about Ryo coming to understand the purpose of sex work, finding his own pleasure in fulfilling his client's needs, and working through his childhood trauma in the process. It's very well done and I highly recommend it for anyone who can handle exceedingly NC-17 content. It's on Viki for rent (and also in the grey).

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series I:XVII

Act I: The Way He Looks at You Chapter 17: The Way He Follows You

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

Cal begins his new hunt after his plans go awry. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.7K

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The darkened sky is changing as I clip my lightsaber back to my utility belt. The job is finally complete, though I waited until the last possible moment, a teenage boy lies dead at my feet. I had tried for too long to convince him to join the Empire; showing him the power that can have as an Inquisitor. But his heart was unfortunately in the right place and I can show no further mercy.

I stare at his face in pity; the feeling is annoying and unexpected. Since becoming an Inquisitor, I have enjoyed hunting others who are Force-sensitives. The Jedi were easy kills for my conscience, a clear enemy and threat to the Empire. But as their numbers dwindle, we now also hunt those who were born after the purge. It hasn’t been a problem as I find myself furious that they would reject the power of the Dark Side when I so nicely offer them a choice.

That’s why I prefer working alone, I can present a choice; though it hasn’t worked, I sleep easier knowing I tried. I don’t have the same blood lust as several of my Brothers and Sisters. Still, I did like killing those that spat in my face and rejected my offer. But since meeting her, I almost feel bad for the boy in front of me. It didn’t help that he was polite about it, telling me he understands why I must kill him. The interaction makes my blood boil, and I roll him over with my foot, placing his face down against the sand.

I shake the lingering feelings of guilt and turn my attention to think about her as I begin the journey back on foot. I really need to figure out what to call her, I don’t know her real name, it’s safer that way. Mine? Makes her sound like nothing more than an object. She is mine, but I don’t want to reduce her to just that. Though it has a nice ring to it.

Perhaps my love? She looked so pretty when she confessed her love, all while letting me claim her tight cunt. The name would fit and I’m sure she would like it. She’d probably blush and give me a big smile the first time I use it. If I say it to her each time she cums, I could make her even more needy just by calling out to her. Make her body crave me whenever I whisper it against her ear. She is already so easy; only requiring that I give her eye contact and her lustful mind does all the work preparing her body for my taking.

It’s why I kept her to begin with, I like the way she thinks about me. I did not know how badly I wanted submission, specifically submission without having to ask. It is contrary to the rest of my existence where I have to fight for everything. But not with her, from the moment I met her and peered in her mind, I saw she wanted me; wanted to submit to me, to belong to me. I’m sure the Force brought her to me, though I’m not sure why I would deserve her after the atrocities I’ve committed.

The sky is lighter, but the sun remains hidden, if I am late, she may already be gone. Though the thought of her actually leaving at dawn causes the corners of my mouth to raise. She has proven her loyalty and there is no doubt in my mind that if I were late, she would still wait for me.

Though I may have to punish her for not obeying my command, bend her over my knee until she is begging for the pain to stop. I imagine she would like it despite the pleas; each strike causing her body to weep for me. Perhaps I’d rub the red skin tenderly between blows, maybe dipping my fingers down to stroke her slit once or twice before raising my hand again. I almost want to be late just for the opportunity of seeing her so broken in my lap.

The walk is now significantly more uncomfortable as I have to adjust my hardening cock in my pants. Her lustful thoughts are rubbing off on me, I thought little about such activities before her arrival. When I had carnal needs, I would find a willing enough woman and take what I needed, then return to my work. But now, I need her; I find it difficult to think about much else.

I take care to be as kind as I can, but the things she thinks; it makes me hungry to overpower her, own her, consume her. I desire her more than I thought possible, but I try to resist the needs for her sake. She seems to prefer when I am more gentle. I don’t want to hurt her, however I so badly want to lose control each time I fuck her. I am hoping over time to expose her to the other side of my lust, the side that she created with her thoughts.

A small part of me dislikes her kindness and loyalty, if only she would resist enough to give me the opportunity to be rough with her. While her thoughts are bad, she is so good; even betraying the Jedi for me. While I don’t like him, it is nice to not have to kill one of the few remaining parts of my past life. However, I hate that our time together was less than it should have been, but she more than made up for it with her words the other night.

The walk is tedious, but the time passes quickly enough, the sinister thoughts of tricking her into disobeying are a pleasant distraction. The edge of the city nears and I jog to get there faster. Despite my dark desires, I feel giddy with excitement at the thought of holding her in my arms. When I am close enough, I use the Force to reach out, trying to feel if she is awake or not since the sun is on the verge of rising.

Odd, I felt nothing, perhaps I have not meditated enough recently. Entering the dim lobby I continue to feel for her. There is no sign of her life, and I break into a sprint up the stairs, taking several at a time and using the Force to propel me upwards. Terror floods into my veins as I run, every worst-case scenario enters my mind. In one motion I unlock and open the door, hoping I’ve lost my connection to the Force and not her.

I am horrified to find that no one is inside. The first thing I see is the curtains shoved to one side by a dresser that is now blocking the window. I look around carefully, searching for any evidence of what transpired here. There is no doubt in my mind that the Jedi is the cause. The fear quickly turns to anger as I search the room.

She made the bed, meaning they did not steal her in her sleep. Her belongings are gone as well, she either left me or was already heading out for the day. The window makes me believe it was the latter; they trapped her in this room, and she didn’t have a choice. Then I see a piece of crumpled paper near the edge of the bed. Rushing over I recognize it immediately as one of her folding papers. I reach out to pick it up and the touch causes my mind to transport elsewhere.

I see the memory of her holding it, her face filled with joy as she reads the note. It warms my heart to see her smile. I would do anything to keep her happy, she’s so cute when she smiles, or does anything really.

The expression turns to fear as she opens the door to an attack trapping her in the room. The memory cuts and switches to the Jedi glaring at the note while she stands beside him, her face streaked with drying tears. Then I see it, his arm around her waist. I am filled with more hate and rage than I have ever felt. How dare he touch what is mine! I let him live and this is how he repays me?

The echo ends and I am holding my activated lightsaber; my body preparing to kill a man who is not here. I immediately deactivate it and clip it back to my belt to use both hands to open and smooth out the crumpled note. A clear boot print sullies the message I had left for her as a reminder of the night we shared and the important words that were exchanged. The sight increases my rage tenfold, I will make him pay, I will remove the Jedi’s head from his shoulders.

It takes all my strength to stay calm and continue to search the room. I do not know where he took her; I need more information. The rage threatens to cloud my judgment but I close my eyes to refocus my mind. I must treat this as another mission, another hunt. If I allow myself to be consumed by the thought of revenge, I risk missing important evidence needed to enact it.

Calming slightly I get to work, overturning every item in the room, looking for something I missed. I start at the front door and work my way inside, touching everything, hoping for my psychometry to latch on to something I’ve missed. The entire room is empty of information to locate her, I am becoming frantic.

I enter the bathroom at the back of the room and I don’t have to search at all. There is an obvious tin on the counter, I approach it and am provided another echo at the touch.

I see her speaking to a Gree woman in a bookshop; a shop I remember passing on the way into town. The Gree woman explains the contents of the tin and I realize the conversation that they are having. I feel a flush of embarrassment warm my cheeks. It feels so strange for someone to know about the intimate parts of my life and be willing to help them along.

I tuck the tin into my utility belt, trying to remind myself that I am an Inquisitor, not a Jedi who would be shy of such things being discussed openly. Checking the bathroom quickly for anything further but I am sure now that I have all I need. I stride outside heading quickly toward the bookshop.

It doesn’t take long to find it and since it is barely dawn; the shop is understandably closed. I use the Force to slide the lock open and pull the glass door towards me; it makes a noise, warning of a customer entering. Though at this hour, on can assume that I am no customer. I hear small footsteps pad across the upper level; I watch their passing above me and wait. Sliding the lock back into place as the door closes behind me. I move further into the store and a small Gree woman comes around the corner of a large bookshelf. I stand at my full height and start down my nose at her, one hand gripping my lightsaber menacingly.

She seems surprised but not fearful, only eyeing me carefully. “Three days is a lot.” Is all she says.

I falter, my eyebrows furrow and my posture slightly. “What?” is all that I say in response.

“Well, she was here the night before last, and the day before that, and now you’re here. I rarely have such loyal customers. Terrible customers you are, since I assume you aren’t here to buy anything.” The small woman picks up a stack of books on the ground and begins arranging them on the shelves.

“Where is she?” I say, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“Second time someone has asked me that.” She says simply, “I assumed she had returned to you that night.”

“She did.” I say slowly, feeling angry that this woman does not fear me as she should. “I left early the following morning and it would appear he took her since then and now.”

The woman stops what she is doing and turns to face me. “Perhaps she left?” There is a hint of concern on her face.

I shake my head, “There was clearly an altercation, he blocked the window to prevent her escape.”

The woman looks more worried and whispers to herself, “Oh dear.”

“Did you see her walking past with someone else, a Jedi?” I demand, my voice raising.

“I did not see her with the Jedi, Inquisitor.” She hisses back, obviously annoyed with my tone.

I try to calm myself before speaking again. This woman became close with her in just a couple days, it is the only connection I have right now.

I try again, more softly this time. “Can you help me find her? Anything is helpful, something you saw, someone who might know something. Even something here that she touched.”

The Gree woman nods and beckons for me to follow her, leading me to a door at the back of the shop. I follow her inside to see the walls lined with various tech; mostly dismantled devices that the public has access to, but some stolen from the Empire. I decide to look past it in exchange for her help.

There is a datapad in the center of the workbench. Without asking I pick it up, examining her work, remembering how much I enjoy tinkering. Though her work is far beyond my skill level, I find myself impressed, almost forgetting the reason for the visit. I turn back to face her and she is staring hard at me, as if expecting to be robbed of her work. I place the datapad back down, trying to show that I am not a threat to her creations.

“I sold her one of those, for reading.” She explains, “if she still has it with her, I can send a message.”

My face lights up, “Really? Can we track her location too?”

“Perhaps, though I can’t promise a precise location, I did not design it for that.” She explains, “I might get you a general area, but there could be many planets and moons included.”

I watch as she fires up the datapad on the workbench and types out a message to be sent. I try to grab the device but she smoothly pulls it out of immediate reach and gives me a harsh look.

“You cannot send the message, we risk losing her if they see your words. Perhaps they will destroy my device as well and we’ll have no ability to find her.” She warns.

I nod and pull my hand away, allowing her to work. She sends the message then gets to work tracking the device’s location. I wait, barely able to breathe, hoping for a quick response.

“How long will it take to get a location?” I ask impatiently.

“As long as it takes.” She responds, “Go make us some tea while I work.”

I am stunned by the order, “Absolutely not, I will wait until you have found the location.”

“I work better after I’ve had some tea, though if you’d prefer to extend the process, I understand.” She shrugs as she dismantles the device and tinkers with the small parts.

I glare at her but she does not appear uncomfortable. It feels as though I have no power here, which is not true, I could easily end this woman’s life, destroy her home, her business. Still she is calm and I realize she has the upper hand. She is the only one who can narrow my search.

I sigh heavily and grumble, “Where’s the kitchen?”

“Up the stairs. Bring two teacups with the pot.” She says without glancing in my direction.

I begrudgingly turn and try to find the kitchen. I hope that this humiliation pays off.

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Next Chapter: The Way He Changes for You

[demon-witch-cat]

Guess who's gotten into Rottmnt/Tmnt 2012! Me!!

And you know what that means?

I've created an crossover AU between the two!

I've actually been working on this AU since September, and have been posting a bunch of art videos of it on my tiktok (demonwitchcat is my username on there too if you want to check them out, though I am going to try to post the ones I can here soon) I just haven't really gotten the chance to post it here since it requires me to type so much, lmao XD

Anyways, here's the first art piece I did for it! Some of the designs are a bit outdated, since I've changed them up a bit after getting the hang of drawing them, but for the most part it's all still cannon, lol

The AU is a ROTTMNT and TMNT 2012 crossover AU called "Wrong Home" and it takes place during the ending of the Rise movie & about a week after the first two episodes of the 2012 series. Age wise, this makes Rise!Raph(Rafa) two years older then the 2012 bros(17), Rise!Leo(Leon) & Rise!Donnie(Dee) both one year older(16), and Rise!Mikey(Angelo) the same age as them(15). This is kinda important.

So what happens is instead of Angelo being able to make a portal to bring Leon home, he accidentally and unknowingly sends Leon to the 2012 universe. The 2012 Brothers are alerted by some sort of tracker that Donnie has that some big mass of energy suddenly appeared in the streets of New York. Thinking it might be the Kraang, they go and check it out. They end up finding Leon passed out and injured in an alleyway. They take him back to their lair and patches him up. They also come to realize that Leon is from another universe, and is essentially another version of Leo. After Leon wakes up and the whole shock where's off, Master Splinter tells him that until they find a way to get him home, he can stay with them as long as he'd like.

Leon takes him up on the offer, and ends up become a sort of older brother to all of them, offering all sorts of advice and, once all healed up(atleat physically), helping out on missions and patrols. He makes sure to take a backseat role though, so that Leo can get the necessary practice he needs at being a leader so when it comes to making the harder choices, in the harder fights, he can.

Problem in the Rise universe though... They all think Leon is dead(or at the least they have no way to get to him in time before the Kraang kill him) and they mourn him. Over the course of the first month following Leons "Death", Rafa and Dee both end up isolating themselves in their grief, leaving Angelo alone most of the time. April notices this and convinces Rafa to let her, Cassandra, and CJ take Angelo out either to the hidden city or through New York in an attempt to help him. Rafa agrees, and this ends up becoming a common occurrence. April even gets him a cloaking broach with the help of Sunita.

However, a month later(2 months after the kraang invasion), while on their way to meet up with the Casey's, something ends up triggering Angelo and he has a panic attack so bad he activates his mystic powers and sends himself to the 2012 universe. Leaving April to tell the others that he's also gone.

Angelo's not as lucky as Leon though, and ends up getting found by the 2012 Kraang and taken prisoner. There, they experiment on him and force him to use his mystic powers. He's trapped there for roughly around four months before escaping on his own.

After escaping, he immediately goes into hiding, going undercover as a human using his cloaking broach. Not even a few hours after escaping though, he ends up meeting the Casey of the 2012 universe, who finds him in an alleyway coming down from another freak out. Thinking he was just some kid who had just been attacked by some gang or something, Casey takes him back to his place to get him patched up. After that night, Angelo finds an abandoned building and takes up shop there, getting most supplies/furniture from the junkyard and stealing what he couldn't(he'll later take odd jobs and similar things in order to get money to actually pay, but he can't do that right off the bat).

A week or two after meeting Casey, Angelo starts going to the same school as Casey. They re-meet and end up become close friends. Angelo even considers telling Casey of his mutant status, but decides he can't risk it.

Back in the Rise Universe, Dee and Rafa are devastated after learning about Angelo's disappearance. Having now lost two of their brothers, Rafa and Dee end up becoming extremely close and rarely ever leave the others side. They also rarely go out and fight crime anymore, both to scared to lose their last brother. They spend most of their time in Donnies lab. When their not in the lab, their out in the hidden city, not being able to take being in the rest of the lair as just about everything reminds them of their brothers. Splinter, April, Cassandra, CJ, and Draxum all try to help them, but they can only help so much.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part twenty) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: cursing, talk of sex, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: okay so like technically this is the last chapter BUT... I have an epilogue shit in mind (different events that I want to write within this universe). So, no worries!!! I didn't intend this to be the end at all, but like I was writing it and was like.... oh shit. So epilogues to come lovelies!!! Don't you worry!!! Enjoy :))]]

Richie wasn't exactly sure why it started, but it did. There could be a myriad of reasons, honestly (all of which Richie had debated thoroughly at this point), but it did start happening. Not that Richie was complaining.

It was the day after Bev started helping, and she had said she couldn't do much more (with her stream schedule), but she'd do what she could. Richie had actually posted that he'd be back on stream by next week (which was fittingly flushed with '🍝' because his fans seemed to be obsessed with Eddie just a little less than he was), so, they weren't exactly on a timer, per se, but they did kinda have a deadline. Technically.

Richie was currently pulling out some of Eddie’s personal shit. Mostly because a lot of the stuff Eddie intended to do himself, like clothes, for example, he had to color code them -so, it was essentially no use for Richie to hang them up. But things like his toothbrush, his hair products, shampoo, conditioner, and plates (shit that already had a spot essentially) were fair game. So, that's what Richie was doing.

That being said, he was sitting -rifling through a box in the living room (DVDs and games -that he never had the console for but Richie did), and Eddie was in the kitchen. Organizing the pantry. Well, he thinks anyway, Eddie was doing a lot in the kitchen, so he really could be on any task at this point.

This, this was when it started.

"Hey, Richie, honey, where do you keep the canned shit?"

He answered naturally -thoughtlessly, "In the cabinet to the right of the fridge, Eds."

He chimed a sweet little thank you, that made Richie grin a little. And nearly instantly, Richie went back to shuffling -on a mission.

It took a minute to process, and he was pulling out a movie (a Garfield cartoon that Eddie had most certainly bought for him) when it hit him.

"Honey?" He questioned, mostly to himself -laughing a little.

Slipping the DVD into the cabinet (Richie already had them alphabetized, thankfully), he stood and slowly pattered over to the kitchen.

Eddie was staring at the pantry in intense focus (bingo), brown deadset on them like if he looked away they'd unsort themself somehow. Richie loved him so much he might explode. He figured they both could use the break anyway, so he spoke.

"Did you just call me honey?" Richie asking, teasingly.

Eddie jumped, spinning to him before flushing a red that Richie knew well, "Yes, why, dickweed?"

"I should be asking you that, Spaghetti," Richie slowly made his way to Eddie's side -his big brown eyes were soft on him (betraying his pinched frown).

"I'm your boyfriend," Eddie offered, frustrated, "-Am I not fucking allowed to call you pet names?"

"You're allowed," Richie laughed, now right in front of him (long strides are really helpful sometimes), "-but you've literally never done that before."

"Well," Eddie actually fucking pouted, and Richie near immediately kissed him (like it was a fucking Pavlovian response and you know, maybe it was) -Eddie's frown quirked up for a second, "-you have all this shit for me, I wanted to... try some out."

Richie grinned big and bright, pinching his cheek, "Awe, Eds loves me-"

"Shut up," Eddie shoved at him, "-of course, I do. You're lucky I don't call you fucking 'goose egg' or some shit."

Richie snorted, "Goose egg?"

"It's better than fucking Spaghetti," Eddie pointed out.

"First off, maybe later," Richie winked (Eddie's frown set even deeper), "-but secondly, there's nuance to it, Eddie my love. It's a nickname of another nickname that I've given you. There's layers, like an onion-"

"Cool it, ogre," Eddie retorted, "-Aren't you supposed to be sorting shit?"

"Ogre?" Richie hummed -playfully acting thoughtfully, "-Now that's a thinker, Eds. Totally could be a winner."

"Shut up," Eddie repeated, shoving him (but not before kissing him solidly once), "-Go do your fucking job, Tozier. Make yourself useful."

"I can think of a few ways I can make myself useful," Richie hummed, moving his eyebrows -suggestively.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but did in fact say, "Maybe later, dickweed."

And that was the end of that. Well, technically the start of something (more than one something but you didn't hear it from Richie).

It didn't stop there. Eddie kept trying them.

'Love' when they woke up in the morning -wrapped into each other (it was cute, but Eddie definitely didn't like it when he said it), 'darling' when he didn't want to move off the couch to get the remote (Richie had straight-up burst into laughter at that one, it just wasn't right), 'babe' as he rambled about different things putting up his clothes (that one actually sounded pretty good, but it didn't quite achieve his goal of flustering Richie), 'sweetheart' when Richie had given him his homemade dinner (that one was cute, but again there was a prerogative), 'lovebug' when Richie was being a little too clingy -not that Eddie was complaining (that one just didn't sound right in his mouth), 'dear' just saying it to see if it worked (Richie pointed out his bit and Eddie had promptly dropped it), 'bae' in a similar way as babe but much more purposeful (Richie and Eddie started at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter).

All that to say, Eddie was trying. Richie personally thought it was the cutest thing in the world. He wanted it to maybe go on forever, and maybe he thought maybe it could go on forever-

Well, until Eddie found the perfect one.

They'd done it, every box unpacked -Eddie was totally and completely moved in. Richie was fucking ecstatic, personally, (although... he would miss the way Eddie's arms flexed when he was carrying a particularly heavy box) because Eddie was officially living with him. Eddie could wake up in the morning, get his toothbrush and toothpaste, go to fucking... his closet and get his clothes. God, Richie was over the fucking moon-

That being said, they were physically letting themselves rest (at Eddie’s insistence, naturally). In a similar position to how they slept, actually, Richie as a human blanket with their legs intertwined. The only thing different, now, was that Eddie was partially sort of sat up. It made it so Richie was a touch lower than he'd usually be, and his arms circled his lower waist instead of around his ribs. It did mean, however, that Eddie could smooth one hand mindlessly up and down Richie's back and the other thread gently through his hair.

It was probably the best fucking cuddling Richie had ever been a part of. It was no wonder he was getting tired, Eddie was safe and warm and comfortable and his fingertips were gentle and soft. Richie should've been knocked out as soon as he'd laid onto Eddie's chest-

"You ready to go to bed, lover?" Eddie hummed, soft and gentle -affectionately teasing.

Richie blinked. Lover?

"Rich," Eddie continued, more persistent. At no response, he moved his hands to pull Richie's face up to match his eyes.

He must've looked some sort of cute because Eddie's face softened considerably -brown eyes shiny and soft. It made Richie's head swim that he was looking at fucking him like that.

"You tired, lover?"

Richie was not sure if it was the name (lover? what the fuck-), the tone, or maybe his eyes, but it made some splotchy red climb up his collar. Eddie's eyes hinged on it for a second, eyebrows furrowing for a second -before something settled across his face, a glint in his eyes.

Was this what it felt like with 'Eddie baby'?

"You like that one?" Eddie asked, smiling -thumbs brushing against Richie's face (he kinda wanted to lean into it), before teasing, "-Lover?"

Richie pressed his lips together.

"Or maybe," Eddie added, still smiling and moving to peck his lips once (Richie kinda felt like he was in paradise), "-loverboy?"

He blinked, red shooting up his cheeks, Eddie grinned. It made Richie's heart skip a beat, even now. But at the moment, he felt a little speechless.

Richie just shoved his head forward into the crook of Eddie's neck -drowning in strawberries. Eddie laughed and it rattled through Richie's head.

"Really?" Eddie hummed, pressing a kiss to his temple, and moving a freehand to thread through his curls again "-Those are the ones that get you?"

"I dunno," Richie breathed out against the skin of Eddie's neck, "-there's just something about the teasing of loverboy. And the fucking... sincerity of lover. Because, yeah, you do fucking love me. And that's sick as fuck-"

Eddie laughed again, before humming -softly, "You do still get pretty fucking affected when I say 'I love you'."

As if on cue, his skin burned brighter, "Well, yeah, because you fucking... love me."

Eddie giggled, and tugged his face up again -brown matching his own, "You're so fucking cute when you're tired, loverboy."

Richie frowned, cheeks pink, "This is not fair, I'm tired and vulnerable and you're so pretty it makes my brain hurt-"

Eddie pulled him forward and kissed him, effectively shutting him up. Slow and sweet, fingers sliding back to push curls behind his ears and palms on his cheeks to keep him there. Richie felt like he might physically faint, being treated so preciously. He always felt that shit when Eddie was like this, all soft and sweet and genuine. The times where he just genuinely showed Richie he loved him, without the poking and the prodding.

Don't get him wrong, he lives for the poking and the prodding, but these moments? They are right fucking there with them. Richie wanted them to feel this way forever, to never lose the warmth twisted around his heart, the bursting love in his chest any time he looked at him.

God. He was so fucked.

Richie woke up to two things that next morning, the thrum of Eddie's heartbeat under his chest, and the buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand.

He blinked, leaning up slightly. With a breath, he moved to press a kiss to the hinge of Eddie's jaw -soft and sweet, and pulled himself off of Eddie. It took a few seconds, but he did it eventually, slipping on his glasses.

'Staniel 🐦😤😠 is calling'

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing the time: 9:37. What the fuck-

Before he could think anything of it, Eddie stirred a little, and Richie felt the need (instinctive) to soothe him.

"Just a sec, Eddie baby," he hummed, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

Eddie shifted, rubbing at his eyes, "Where are you going?"

"Stanny's calling," Richie hummed, voice scratchy, "-if I don't answer, he'll kick my fucking ass."

"Stanley?" Eddie sat up, and Richie frowned.

"Eds, you can go back to sleep," he motioned dismissively, "-I'll figure out what he needs, and-"

"No, I don't want to," Eddie echoed out, yawning -stretching slightly (Richie's eyes unwillingly hitched on the skin of Eddie's stomach for a moment), "-it fucking sucks without you, and I want to talk to Stanley and Patty-"

Richie blinked.

"-Now c'mon, asshole," he pat the bed, "-answer the fucking phone."

Richie did as told -scooting in close to Eddie and throwing an arm around his shoulders (Eddie snuggled into him, naturally).

"Stan?" Richie called out, putting him on speaker.

"Richie, I've called you like three fucking times," Stanley spoke up through the phone.

"It's 9:37 am here, Stanley," Richie argued, yawning within the sentence, "-I just woke up to your call. Well, we just woke up to your call, actually-"

"Oh my god, Eddie!" Patty piped up, and Richie could physically hear the grin on her face, "-Hi, sweetheart. How's California?"

Eddie laughed, maybe a little nervous (Richie squeezed him closer to his side), "It's still fucking polluted, but-"

Patty laughed, and Eddie's eyes hung on Richie for a second -Richie wanted to bathe in it like it was fucking sunlight.

"-it's a lot fucking better. I'm happy as shit."

Richie grinned, turning to kiss his cheek (Eddie swatted at him but didn't push him too far away). So fucking cute.

"I'm really glad," Stanley added, softly. It was unusual but not unfamiliar.

Something flickered along Eddie's face, taken aback a little, Richie could tell.

"Alright, Stanthony," Richie hummed, "-to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Actually," Stanley hummed, "-I wanted to talk to Eddie."

Richie blinked, and eyed Eddie for a second -his eyes widened in response (maybe nervous, Richie itched to soothe).

He squeezed Eddie again, fingertips dragging along his arm -in a comforting motion.

"You gonna put him through the wringer again, Stanthony? Really?" Richie laughed.

"No," Stanley answered flatly, "-You guys are stupid in love with each other, I could see that from like 1000s of miles away. It's disgusting."

Richie rolled his eyes, teasing, "Sometimes I worry for Patty."

Patty snickered over the phone.

"Very funny, Richie," Stanley continued, unphased, "-Look, I want to talk about my wedding."

Shit, right, it was maybe two months away. He and Eddie had talked about it a little bit, and Eddie wasn't sure if Stanley would want him there. Richie disagreed, strongly, and told him that every time they talked about it. Because it was just so fucking obvious to him. Stanley, at the least, loved Richie and Richie loved Eddie. So, by proxy, he was going to the wedding.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, curiously.

"Well, I have a big ass wedding party, already but-"

Eddie's eyes grew wide, and Richie watched him for a second with a baited breath.

"-you're a Loser now. Not even just because of Richie. You're one of us. So, I wanted to ask if you'd be one of my groomsmen?"

Eddie blinked, his mouth screwing up into something Richie recognized -something a little teary. Richie kissed his cheek again, and Eddie leaned closer to him this time.

"What the fuck," Eddie laughed, a little teary, "-Yeah, of course, Stanley. What the fuck-"

Richie laughed, rubbing his hand up and down his back. Eddie was grinning, smooth against his side, and Richie thought that's where he was meant to be. That they fit perfectly together, that it was always supposed to be this way in the end-

Patty hummed, soft and sweet, "It just wasn't right without you in our wedding, Eddie."

"Shit," he sniffled, and Richie wiped at his tears with his freehand -before his breath started to pick up, "-thank you. Are you... Do you have a suit for me? Or should I fucking get on that? What are your wedding colors-"

"Eddie baby, relax," Richie interrupted -trying to catch his eye (keyed in on the Eddie-ism), "-let 'em speak, yeah? Don't worry about hypothetical shit."

Eddie took a breath, brown eyes focused on Richie. He watched him for a second, making sure his breaths slowed and the tension slid out of his body-

"You guys are disgusting," Stanley interrupted, promptly, and it made Richie snort out a laugh.

"Shut up," Eddie huffed out, and moved to wrap his arms around Richie’s middle.

Richie laughed even harder.

"To answer your question," Patty spoke, sternly, maybe to the both of them, "-just send us your suit size, honey. We'll get it. We still have time. No need to worry."

"Okay," Eddie paused, "-if you guys need anything else, let me know. I'm great at planning-"

"I bet," Stanley snickered, Richie physically heard the smack on his chest (love ya, Patts), "-honestly, just wish you were here before we paid for a wedding planner."

Eddie laughed then too.

"That's why we called," Patty confirmed, "-but if I don't get to talk to Eddie for a while, I will fly out and kick your ass, Richie."

"What the fuck, why me?"

"Please," Stanley leveled, "-she'd never kick Eddie's ass. He's her favorite."

"What?" Richie let out a faux gasp, dramatically leaning back against the headboard, "-My dearest Patricia, I swore we had something special-"

"Don't worry, Richie," Patty hummed over the phone, "-I think you're a package deal. I just don't have the years of Eddie that I do with you."

Richie pouted, as if she could see him, and Eddie laughed at it and even just the noise made the act falter.

"Yeah, whatever," Richie huffed out -playfully.

Eddie was on the phone (he’d switched to his own) for about an hour and a half, he'd turned it off of speaker (for whatever reason), and because Richie was a clingy motherfucker, he stayed close to him. Like didn't move a single limb, fingers brushing through his hair or trailing along his skin. It was a little like he was memorizing him, understanding that he was right fucking there. Eddie, right there with him, his boyfriend.

It was easy to forget sometimes that Eddie was here with him, that he'd found Eddie at all. Because he'd gotten used to life without him, without someone, but now... fuck, he can't even remember what it was like before Eddie. And he doesn't fucking want to. Ever. He'd do everything in his power to keep him. Everything-

Wait.

Richie paused, switching on his phone as Eddie mindlessly talked to Patty -he dove into one conversation in particular.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

best way to make a date about seeing the golden gate bridge

go

Richie paused for a moment, drumming his fingers along Eddie's skin -right under his shirt sleeve. Even now, it still made his head spin to get to fucking touch him.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

this your idea or his ?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

his

he wants to see the bridge but like we should do some other shit

shouldn't we?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

you know you don't have to do huge fucking gestures right?

eddie will probably love it either way

Richie smiled, and pressed a kiss into Eddie’s temple, Eddie nuzzled further into him in response. Jesus fuck, Richie loved the shit out of him-

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah I know

it's just like some of his first dates ever

I want to do right by him

he deserves the fucking best

reddy.bevvy ✔️

you know it might just be 'the best' to him if it's with you right?

Richie paused, pressing his lips together, eyes darting to Eddie who was sunken into his side. Completely wrapped up in him, playing with one of Richie's hands as he mindlessly spoke to Patty. Casual affection (because he loves me). Something in Richie wanted to cry, and the other part wanted to kiss Eddie until he couldn't breathe.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah I know

I just want it to be perfect

I love him so much bev

reddy.bevvy ✔️

I know, Rich

let me look around for you

we're gonna make this shit amazing

Richie laughed, softly, moving his head to come through Eddie’s hair. His Eddie. My Eddie. Jesus.

Bev eventually got back to him, with a slew of answers. The best places to see the Golden Gate Bridge, the best places physically by it. Restaurants and cafés and stores, she'd had it all covered. And then finished it with:

reddy.bevvy ✔️

enjoy yourself rich xoxo

So, that brought him to now, watching Eddie get ready. It was the cutest thing in the world.

He pulled out a shirt on the hanger, eyed it, and then another, and physically moved them back and forth. Richie had the spare thought that any other person would probably rush him, but he just wanted to pull up a fucking chair, lean his head on his hands with big-ass heart eyes. Partially because Eddie was LIVING here, and partially because he loved him so much he might explode-

"What do you think?" Eddie suddenly turned to him, holding out a short-sleeved baby blue button-up with a white tanktop underneath it and a simple brown polo.

Richie hummed, curiously, "Isn't red your favorite color, Eds?"

"Well," Eddie pursed up his lips, "-yeah, but-"

"Would wearing red make you happy?" Richie interrupted, tilting his head.

Eddie pulled the two shirts back to himself, gnawing at his lips, "I... I guess so."

"Then wear red, Eddie baby," Richie offered.

"I don't even think I fucking have red," Eddie pointed out, sliding his shirts back into their spots.

"Well, lucky for you, my dearest Spaghetti," Richie hummed, tugging him by the wrist to his own closet, "-You are dating a man made up of literal fucking color vomit-"

"Ew," Eddie scrunched up his nose, Richie leaned forward and kissed it (Eddie's frown quirked up for a split second).

Opening his closet, he motioned toward the assortment as if he were unveiling a new exhibit at a museum, arms open and wide.

"Take your pick, Eddie my love."

Eddie laughed only a little, before stepping past him into his closet.

On the surface, it was overwhelming, Richie could acknowledge that. Even after Eddie sorted it by color (because he wanted to, and Richie would give him the world if he could). But he could definitely say he has every color in his wardrobe, which is fun. Good, probably.

Red is actually more in Richie's wardrobe than expected. Mostly because there we a lot of strange button ups in red, but also because Bev had told him he looked good in fucking... 'maroon'. So, she'd typically get him something on the red spectrum.

Eddie fingered through the fabric, thoughtfully. Richie watched him again. If there was a career in watching Eddie Kaspbrak, he'd probably be the fucking CEO. He'd be the best of the best because he could just watch him. Which was weird as fuck, because normal Richie couldn't even wait for a loading screen in a game without chattering about fucking any and everything (great for streaming, but still). But with Eddie... he could just watch. And he could listen. Richie was usually fucking talking his ass off but when Eddie was talking, god all Richie wanted to fucking do was listen. Even about the most mundane shit in the world, Richie would never be bored. He could watch his mouth curve around the words, the way his eyes glinted differently depending on how he was feeling, the way his nose scrunched up when he was disgusted. Eddie was the most expressive person in the fucking world, and Richie wanted to know all of his expressions so bad it ached.

Fuck, he was so fucked.

Eddie pulled out a simple t-shirt with the champion logo in blue on the front, toward the right side. He showed it to Richie.

"Is this too fucking simple?" Eddie pursed his lips, "-This is like our first official date, and I know you fucking put effort into it, and I'm just gonna wear a fucking sports t-shirt? That feels so shitty-"

"I really fucking love you," Richie interrupted, smiling -affection bubbling up his throat (I wanna keep him forever).

Eddie's lips snapped shut, and a red bloomed onto his cheeks (like it was the first time Richie had ever said it, which it decidedly was not). His big brown eyes flicked between quite a few different things, some that Richie could name and others he'd learn to.

Finally, he spoke, soft, "I love you too, Richie."

"That one's nice," Richie hummed, leaning forward and pinching the fabric between his fingers, "-I think it'll be fucking great for today."

"But-"

"It's gonna be hot, Eddie baby," Richie moved forward, smoothing his hands down his arms, "-and you really don't have to fucking try hard for me. Just be comfortable and happy. I'll still makeout with you later, your shirt won't-"

Eddie shoved at him, "Shut up."

Even still, he pulled it off the hanger without hesitating. After quickly changing his shirt (and Richie maybe being a little distracted by the shown skin), they were on the streets of San Francisco.

Richie had suggested they walk, and Eddie had promptly pulled out some sunscreen. Richie wasn't going to complain, Eddie's hands all over him? Yes, please-

"Where are we going?" Eddie interrupted the thought process, thankfully.

Richie grinned, and poked his nose, "Wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy?"

Eddie scrunched of his nose, "A vine, really?"

"Uh, yeah, really," Richie enunciated, swinging his arm over Eddie's shoulder and tugging him close (Eddie didn't even hesitate with the motion, tucked against his side), "-that shit shaped a whole generations humor, it should be in fucking textbooks-"

Eddie interrupted him, pouting, "Are you seriously not going to tell me where we're going?"

Richie laughed at the expression, pulling him close and kissing his temple, "Don't worry Eds, you'll figure it out."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but stayed tight to Richie's side, hand moving up to grab his that was hanging off his shoulder -effectively pulling them closer. Richie felt like he'd never loved someone more in his life.

"Hey, Eddie my love?"

Eddie hummed, in response, eyes wandering along all the buildings.

"What are you willing to eat from a food truck?" Richie asked curiously, eyeing the upcoming section of food, "-If the answer is nothing, that's fine, but we could probably fond somewhere eat-in-"

"You'd-" Eddie started, "-You'd do that? Find somewhere else?"

Richie paused in his step, moving his arm to face Eddie fully -big brown eyes on his own.

"Eddie baby," he started, leveled but still somehow through laughs, "-I am balls deep in love with you-"

Eddie scrunched up his nose and shoved him, "You're fucking disgusting."

"-picking a different restaurant doesn't mean shit to me. As long as you're happy and comfortable, I'll find shit I like."

Eddie eyed him, flickering over his face -hinging on his facial features, like he was trying to memorize them. Richie did it a lot when Eddie was still asleep (if he woke up before him), and he could tilt his head up and count the freckles across his nose (which the sun, in fact, brought out more). It was 13, 6 on one side and 7 on the other (Eddie would despise it), if you were wondering-

"I think you might be the love of my life."

Richie blinked.

"Like forever kinda shit," Eddie added less eloquently, "-Like I don't think I ever get past you. I think... I think this is it. I think you're it."

Richie blinked again, mind running 100 miles per hour.

"I just, um-" Eddie continued, nervously, "-You should know that. And I know we've only really been dating a few months, but I just... It makes sense. You, Richie, you make sense. You've... always made sense."

Richie heart felt like it might literally explode. And he had half an idea that Eddie might fucking pull out a ring, but he knew better than that. Eddie, if he was proposing, he'd be stressing over the words, trying to recite them. Be perfect. And Richie would force him to break it, to be imperfect-

Fuck, if he asked, he'd say yes. What the fuck does that mean-

"Jesus, Eds," Richie laughed a little teary, "-Where the fuck did that come from? What the fuck-"

Eddie shrugged, completely certain in his words -not a shred of him embarrassed, as he moved his hands to cup Richie's face naturally (thumbs brushing away any tears), "I just really fucking love you."

"God," Richie laughed, teary, "-I love you too, you little shit. What the fuck? You can't just say that shit out on the street, while I'm trying to fucking figure out if you'd eat from a shitty taco truck-"

Eddie giggled, still cradling his face.

"-I'm not fucking ready for that. I might need days in preparation, honestly. Fuck, man."

Richie tried to wipe at his own eyes, laughing lightly, "It goes without saying, Eds, I think you're it for me too. Just fyi."

Eddie grinned brighter, a teasing twinkle in his eye, "Yeah, I kinda figured."

"Oh, fuck you, Kaspbrak," Richie laughed harder, pulling himself out of his grip, "-You're such a little asshole. The fucking whiplash I get from dating you, you should start paying my medical bills-"

"Shut up," Eddie chased him back, moving to cradle his face and kiss him. A soft and sweet one, the kind that Richie wanted to curl up under and absorb like a cat in the sunlight. He could fucking kiss Eddie forever. He'd suffocate, yeah, but what a way to go-

Richie pulled back, but held their foreheads together, grinning. God, he was so happy. So, so happy. Eddie grinned right back at him (like maybe he was so, so happy too).

"God," Richie let him go, intertwining their hands, "-fucking Eddie Kaspbrak-"

Eddie laughed, following Richie's guide as he navigated to a little sandwich shop that Bev had pointed out. They were still a little ways to being at The Golden Gate Bridge, but it was definitely pretty big on their horizon. They ended up getting sandwiches, both relatively light, nothing too heavy for the evening (Eddie wanted them to eat an actual meal later like you were 'fucking supposed to'). Richie would do literally anything he asked.

"Favorite season?" Richie asked, sandwich in one hand, and Eddie's hand in the other. They were tossing through 20 questions again, it was just nice -getting to know each other more (Richie wanted to know everything about Eddie so badly it burned).

Eddie hummed, chewing a bite (no way in hell he was talking with food in his mouth) and swallowing, "Maybe fall."

"Why?" Richie asked, following.

"Not as much to worry about," Eddie leveled, "-no fucking allergies as bad as spring's, no severe chance of hypothermia like in winter, and no stupid fucking sunburn and heat stroke chance like summer."

Richie hummed, thoughtfully.

"You?" Eddie's eyes flickered to Richie.

"Summer," Richie answered, "-obviously."

"Obviously?" Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"Eddie, my love," Richie laughed, "-look at me. I'm just... It's summer. I can't explain it. Although, I fucking love Halloween-"

"Now, that is fucking obvious-"

Eddie faltered off, then, as Richie guided him to the bridge, stopping as his steps did. The sun was just beginning to set, and Richie literally thanked god that it had lined up that perfectly-

"The bridge," Eddie spoke, a little lost.

"Yup," Richie popped the 'p', disconnecting their hands to throw an arm around his shoulders, "-per your request."

Eddie paused, eyes stuck on the setting of the sun, "I don't think this would be as cool without the sunset."

Richie snorted, "Which is why I am converting to Christianity in a few hours and thanking Jesus personally-"

"Shut up," Eddie elbowed him, and Richie jumped slightly, "-you're ruining it, dickwad."

"Yeah, yeah," Richie rolled his eyes, but still stopped talking.

His eyes hung on the setting sun and the bridge. It was kinda beautiful. Okay, no kinda, it was beautiful, the shine of the metal, the slightly cloudy skyline, the oranges. It was all beautiful. Very beautiful. Richie hadn't felt that way about San Francisco in awhile, but Eddie... Eddie brought it out of him-

Eddie leaned onto his shoulder, interrupting his thought process. And a fondness that only Eddie had ever achieved swam over Richie's skin.

He peeked at Eddie out of the corner of his eye.

And fuck, he was beautiful. Forget the fucking bridge-

His eyes were glittering in the golden hour way (Richie was looking at it in person now), and the setting orange highlighted the features of his face -the tip of his nose, his jawline, the individual curls (waves kinda) of his hair, even his fucking eyelashes. And he was so close that Richie could individually count his freckles, while his whole face was washed in a glow. An evening glow. He wanted to commit this to memory, this fucking vision of Eddie. And this whole day. These fucking feelings, ever since he'd gotten Eddie, he wanted to memorize how he felt every stage of the way. Remember it until he was old and fucking grey.

Richie let the thought settle in his head for a second.

In a year, he could buy a ring. Perfect for Eddie, maybe engraved with something unbelievably stupid. Gold maybe because of this moment now, because of the way he fucking simmered in the sun. Golden. And then finding the perfect time, the perfect moment, and maybe fucking it up. Maybe tripping up on his words, or crying too much to speak, or dropping the fucking box. But he'd still ask. And maybe...

Maybe Eddie would say yes.

Richie quietly leaned his head on top of Eddie's, and held him as close as physically possible -warmth against his entire side. He reveled in the fact that Eddie didn't even flinch at it, just nuzzled closer. Like he fit. Like he was always meant to be there.

And you know what? Richie thinks he was.

Yeah, okay, his mind hummed, one day. We can do it one day.

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 17: Beginning of the End

There's a fork in the road that everyone reaches before they die. A right path that offers you everything you've ever wanted, luring you in with sweet scents and the voices of everyone you've ever loved. This road is said to guarantee happiness and peace.

Three types of people approach these paths: the majority, who don't bother looking at the left path, those who see the left path, consider it, but ultimately choose the rightward, happier, easier, way, then those who see both paths, and, for some reason go left.

March 2006 Two hours later.

A knife could cut through the tension in this classroom right now.

Mariko and I sat at the furthest opposite desks, letting the boys fill the space as they pleased. The only one who dared to make a noise was Haibara when he awkwardly cleared his throat, gaining the courage to ask "Did something happy while we were gone?"

I sink further into my seat, arms folded in protest.

"You don't understand being the strongest—having your life sold to Jujutsu. You could leave it all behind and no one would even care!"

Mariko doesn't move, only scoffs largely.

"You know, you and Gojo-san really are perfect for each other. You're both full of shit."

Neither of us bother to answer, though. To admit our faults.

"Okay..."

"Let them be," Nanami says. "They can figure out their petty feuds by themselves—"

"It's not petty!" Mariko and I exclaim at the same time. Our eyes lock momentarily, only for us to force our gazes back towards the front of the room. Then we fall into silence again.

Another five, maybe ten, minutes of this passes, until an assistant supervisor rips the door open, "Uematsu-san, Yaga Sensei is requesting you in room 6."

"What for?"

"Tengen-sama has specially requested you for a mission," she says. "As well as Gojo and Geto-san."

"Of course," Mariko scoffs once more. "Leave all of us weak people behi—"

There's a teacher's desk at the front of the room. One that breaks in half against my fist as I pass by. Mariko—all of them—cannot help but stare in shock at my dramatic gesture. Their expressions are similar to Nanami's from the night of our mission together. I ask myself, "Why have I become so hostile?"

Even the assistant supervisor's hand trembles slightly as she passes the cream folder. "You will be escorting Amanai Riko for her assimilation with Tengen-sama in two days."

"Assimilation?"

"Yaga Sensei called it an," she hesitates, "Erasure."

The folder is filled with an endless amount of documents regarding Amanai Riko. Everything from her upbringing—dead parents and no family left to claim her, her role as the "Star Plasma Vessel" being the only thing keeping her out of an orphanage—to invasive details about her daily routine, along with a long list of organizations that will be interested in her bounty.

There's a picture of her clipped to the top of the stack. Mussy black hair and wide eyes. I frown. "She's only 14."

"Tengen-sama has personally chosen her—"

"A child."

"She is most compatible—"

"She's a child."

The assistant supervisor stutters helplessly. "Sh-she's only a couple years younger than yourself, Uematsu-san."

"And I'm not a child?" I think. "Isn't that why I'm still in school?"

To this, she cannot answer at all.

I shut the folder and put it back in her arms, letting my misplaced anger subside. "Room 6, you said?"

Turning to head down the hallway, the supervisor finds her voice again, "I'm just doing my job."

I look back, noticing her gaze is drawn to the floor. "I know."

"I don't want a child to be sacrificed, even if it is for Tengen-sama."

Stepping closer, I see how small and young she actually is. She couldn't be more than twenty, neat brown hair cleanly tied back into a plait, barely tall enough to reach my shoulders, sharp and beautiful hazel eyes. Imprisoned by this world as much as I am—as we all are. "I know that too."

"We don't have a choice, though. Do we?"

"No, we don't." It nearly makes me laugh. To think the strongest, shackled in chains such as these.

"If you were me," I suggest, "Would you do the same?"

She thinks for a moment. "I suppose I would do whatever I was told. Then again, I've never been the strongest before. Maybe I would do whatever I want."

The sentiment is wild, irrational, going against everything I've ever worked and dedicated my life to, but not impossible.

"What's your name?"

She seems taken aback. "Chihiro. Tanabe Chihiro."

"I like the way you think, Chihiro," I say, half in jest. "If I don't decide to do whatever I want, I might start requesting for you to escort me on missions."

"If?" Her face reddens with a blush. "I don't want to be credited if you go berserk, Uematsu-san."

"Relax," I nudge her arm a little too forcefully. "I don't plan on going berserk yet."

From within classroom 6, I can already hear them discussing. Suguru's gentle voice is explaining a large amount of what Chihiro had shown me in the file. "...All the Jujutsu schools, the barriers that form the foundation of Jujutsu society, the many barrier techniques of the assistant supervisors. They're all being strengthened by Tengen-sama. Without the aid of his power, we could hardly maintain security or clean up after missions. In the worst-case scenario, Tengen-sama could even become a threat to mankind...."

I wait behind the screen door, and listen closely. Everything Suguru says is true; these are worst case scenarios that could occur if we do not carry out this mission. Sacrificing Amanai is a necessary evil.

"That's why, every 500 years, he finds the Star Plasma Vessel—someone who is compatible with him—and assimilates them, overwriting the information of their body. By renewing his body, he resets his cursed technique back to the start and avoids Evolution."

Yes, a necessary evil. One that, in effect, could save so many others. But she's just a kid. Kids dying, is that ever truly necessary?

A second voice silences all these swarming thoughts in my mind. It's gruff, but comforting, warm. Possibly my newfound favorite voice in the world. "I get it. It would be fine if he turned into MetalGreymon, but we can't have him becoming SkullGreyman. So we have him start over from Koromon."

I find myself smiling at the frame of the door.

"What? Yeah, sure, that works."

Finally, I slide the door open and the wood shifts with a loud snap. "Sending in all three of us is a bit much," I say. "All to transport one kid."

"This mission is of the utmost importance," Yaga Sensei grumbles, arms folded tightly above his chest. The vein in his forehead seems to be bulging a little larger this afternoon. "I have doubts that even the three of you combined are up for it."

Satoru pulls a stool from the desktop, and sets it on the ground for me. Another small gesture that resonates with far more meaning than intended.

"The Star Plasma Vessel's location has already been leaked. Right now, there are two major groups after the young girl's life." He spins his laptop around for us. "One is the Curse User Group Q, which seeks to upend jujutsu society with Tengen-sama's rampage. The other is the Star Religious Group, also known as the 'Time Vessel Association,' which worships Tengen-sama as a god." The dire look on Yaga's face truly sets in now. "Tengen-sama will assimilate the Star Plasma Vessel two days from now. You are to protect the girl until then and ensure that she reaches Tengen-Sama. If you fail, the effects will ripple throughout even normal society. Don't forget that."

∞

"Buy me a soda."

Satoru's finger prods into the flesh of my cheek. I slap it away, pulling the coins out for him regardless.

"What happened with Mei-san?" I try to ask casually, digging my hands so deep into my pockets that I fear they might burst through the fabric.

"Nothing." He tosses the coins repeatedly, letting them fall back into his palm. "They were trapped in one of those barriers that alter time—didn't even know they'd been gone for two days."

"It would have been pretty efficient if they sent you in," Suguru adds. "You would have sniffed the barrier out in a few seconds."

"She doesn't care about that part," Satoru laughs, "She's all sour over Mei-san."

"I am not!"

From the look on his face, Suguru knows exactly what kind of answer to expect, but enjoys fanning the flames, "What's wrong with Mei-san?"

"Nothing! Give me my coins back!"

Satoru refuses happily, pushing me away with a single arm.

"You do seem tense, Kaede-chan?" Suguru takes a concerned tone. "Did something happen while we were gone?"

He seems to catch on to a stiffness that I myself had yet to notice. My shoulders finally lower, and I let out an overdue breath. I wonder if it might be good for my peace of mind to talk about my argument with Mariko, the hateful words we exchanged. But I know Satoru won't take well to being called "full of shit." Besides, the context of the conversation is far more alarming, the crude things I wondered about the boy standing just to my left, still playing with the coins I'd given him. "No."

"She said she doesn't like Mei-san because she flirts with me."

I grit my teeth, "I did not say that."

"Really?" Suguru hums. "Well, she did ask you if you would comfort her if she cried."

I do my best to keep my expression neutral, to not frown or accusingly look up at Satoru, who, in reality, owes me nothing.

His smirk is more prominent than ever, though. "Your face is starting to match your hair, Kaede-chan."

"I don't care about Mei-san or whether she flirts with you or not," I defend. "We have bigger things to think about."

"The mission?" Satoru asks. "You said it yourself, the three of us are more than enough."

"And if I don't want to succeed?"

Each of us pause beneath the shade of a tree, staring at one another quietly.

Suguru frowns, "What do you mean?"

"Transport and erase some kid we don't even know," I sigh. "I have my reservations."

"What if the Star Plasma Vessel wants to be assimilated?" Suguru suggests.

"And if she refuses?" I counter.

"Then... the assimilation's off!" Satoru declares suddenly.

Suguru laughs before I can think to respond, "Are you sure about that?"

He's almost offended by our hesitance. "Huh?"

"It might mean fighting Tengen-sama, you know."

"You scared?" Satoru merely scoffs. "It's fine. It'll all work out somehow."

"Fighting off Tengen-sama and anyone else who stands in our way will most likely result in us being kicked out of the school, and shunned away from Jujutsu society," I continue, eyes narrowing at Satoru who I'm not sure has thought through all of the consequences, "Even set for execution if it comes to that."

He shrugs. "Fine with me. You two are all that I need."

My mouth parts in disbelief. I turn to Suguru, expecting to find our voice of reason, some sensible hesitance, but even he smiles, "We give our all, and at the end of it, we follow through with whatever the Star Plasma Vessel decides, agreed?"

To give up the only world I've known on a whim, for the sake of following these two into the utter dark. "Agreed," Satoru and I answer at once. Because a life like that sounded okay to me.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches And Wizards Job 29-30

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TWENTY NINE

"Hardison has the most dangerous entrance," Ford had explained to them all. "He goes in first. I want you all watching to make sure he gets in OK."

Lucille 2.O and the U-haul van were parked side by side on the visitor's lot of the apartment complex that abutted the back wall of the gracious Roughan manor grounds. Nate stayed with Lucille; Eliot and Dresden walked sedately away from the U-haul van along the street, nearly invisible in the dark except when a pair of headlights passed over them as a car came to, and occasionally went from, the party.

Ahead of them, down an elegantly curved driveway and up a stately set of steps with wrought iron railings, Hardison was offering his invitation to a very large woman in a well-fitted tux. "You'll not find it under my name. I'm the replacement for Bartholomew Harrington." His voice was low, pleasant, elegantly British as he offered a business card that read "Alexander Worthington the Third' and 'Christie's of London - Acquisitions.'

The woman examined both card and invitation. "Where's the other man?" she asked.

"Where his delicate sensibilities won't get in the way of keeping the Sokolov portrait from being lost," Mister Worthington (the Third), replied with the most pointed disapproval in his cultured voice, pushing up his glasses with fastidious precision. Mister Harrington was actually sleeping off a hefty dose of sedatives in his hotel room. "I'm sure there's someone you can call to confirm my credentials," he suggested politely.

The woman gestured for him to wait and took a step back, speaking into her own earbud.

A call was made.

Nate picked it up in Lucille, where Hardison had already rerouted most of the normal phones belonging to the security team. Overkill, but a necessity, since he had to be feet on the ground for the job. "Lawrence Billings." His British accent wasn't nearly as elegant, but the burr on it was on purpose. No one liked speaking for long to someone they could barely understand. He listened to what was asked of him. "Well, I'm not about to tell you what our man is there for, obviously. But yes, he's a trusted agent of our organization."

Mister Worthington (the Third) was waved on.

"Don't lie," Dresden had told them all. "Dance around the truth, give it halfway. Omit. Hide. But don't outright lie unless you know for sure you're talking to a human."

Eliot and Harry moved up the steps. The hitter could feel the wizard all but vibrating, so tense was he. "Harry, are you alright to do this?," he murmured.

"Not even a little bit," Harry admitted. He was gritting his teeth so hard a muscle along his cheek had started twitching and wouldn't stop. His eyes kept losing track of where they were and what they were doing.

The wizard was elsewhere, Eliot realized, and whatever he was seeing, it was his own personal hell. "Do you want to call it off?"

"No. I'll be fine once I start talking to people." The wizard stared at his feet. "Once I can focus on what's going on here."

Eliot stared a little longer at the man. He knew what it was like, when the dragons of your past rose up and waited for you in the present. "Alright," he said mildly. "You know, you may not have a lot of sense, but you're all heart, wizard."

Dresden lifted his bandaged hand and grinned humorlessly. "Dangerous thing to be."

"Worth it?"

The wizard chewed long and hard on the question. "Yeah. It was." They climbed up the stairs and three very large people in suits immediately blocked their path.

"I think they know who we are," Eliot commented mildly.

"I think they think they know who we are," Harry replied just as casually.

"You were not invited, wizard," the woman told him stonily.

"And yet here I am," Dresden replied cheerfully, offering an invitation. "Harry Dresden, Professional Wizard. And my, uh, my bodyguard. On behalf of the Lord of Weekend Deliveries."

The woman glowered at him, eyed the invitation with utmost jaundice, examined the both of them and the piece of vellum closely. "Get Letty," she told one of the men with her, who was only slightly shorter, and somewhat broader across the shoulders.

Letty, it turned out, was a twitchy little man with very short, clumpy red hair, dressed in the most ill-fitted attempt at a bouncer's suit. It looked like he'd been chewing at the sleeves, and he was missing one shoe. His socks were slowly rotating around his feet, too big to stay in place. He squinted blindly at Harry with mismatched eyes, one brown, one yellow, the one larger than the other. "Wizard," he rasped at the woman, scrabbling at her arm with plucking, long, bony fingers.

She shoved him, caught the back of his neck and held him in place. "Tell him again," she instructed Harry.

He gave her a deeply bored look, then stared at Letty until he looked down with a little whine. "Harry Dresden, Professional Wizard. On behalf of the Lord of Weekend Deliveries. And my bodyguard, Eliot Spencer."

Every bouncer there took a long step back.

"He speaks truth, fairy truth," Letty rasped.

The woman struggled to peel her eyes off Eliot. It took a solid effort, but she managed to face Harry once again. "You packing?"

"Yes. And I'm gonna continue packing unless you tell me you went in there and defanged Ying Ying and put thumb-knots on the Blackbird."

She scowled at him, but stepped back and out of his way with ill grace. "I'll be watching, wizard. Give me a ghost of a reason."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," Harry declared jauntily. He was a study in contradictions, in elegant dress pants and fine black shoes, wearing a high-necked shirt stitched with rims of black feathers along the wrists and chest, and an elegantly embroidered black vest, all of it tucked under his battered leather duster. Eliot at least looked like he belonged, in a fine indigo tux, hair caught back in a half pony-tail. "And we're in," the hitter murmured as they both moved up to the door. "I thought you said we couldn't lie to them."

"You can't."

"Then who the hell's the Lord of Weekend Deliveries?"

An honest, sheepish little grin twitched at the corners of Harry's mouth. "The official title is Pizza-Lord. And I am."

A silver Rolls Royce purred up the driveway and to the bottom of the stairs. From the shotgun door, Nick managed to squeeze himself out. He had on a plain white suit and looked very put together, and generally amused at the universe in general and particular. From the opposite side of the car, Vanya Fedorov slipped out. The Russian enforcer was very much the dapper creature in darkest charcoal gray and deep green, his eyes ever watchful. He came around the car, opened the door, and offered a hand to his companion.

Ekaterina Yegorov took the offered hand and stepped out into the night.

Eliot heard Harry choke on a breath, and smiled. He had to, because for a moment he'd forgotten to breathe as well.

Miss Yegorov was a jewel, wrapped in frothy layers of seven different shades of indigo; the changes in hue were so subtle it was impossible to tell where they ended or began. The silk gown both hugged her body and hid it, promising everything and nothing, revealing all treasures and taking them all away with her merest motion. Her black hair cascaded down one side, pinned back on the other with an elegant clip done in platinum and black diamonds. The Rosalind diamond sat over her collarbones nestled on a double chain, the first loop tight around her neck, the other much longer. She carried a small black purse that probably fit one credit card and the hopes and dreams of most men and a few of the women watching her.

"Breathe, Harry," Eliot murmured.

"Yeah, that's me," the wizard mumbled.

Fedorov leaned close, whispered something, and Ekaterina laughed. They went up the stairs; the bouncers barely even checked the invitation, all smiles and bows, even after Fedorov pointed out his bodyguard was also coming with him. He even, all courtesy, pulled his jacket away to show the gun there in its underarm holster. He was troubled over none of it.

The trio didn't even look at Eliot or Harry as they swept by and into the manor.

"Sophie and Nick are in," Eliot murmured.

The little shard of the enchanted mirror pinning his tie in place carried the message to the shard Nate had on a platinum ear-clip.

"Here we go, then," the mastermind declared mildly. He checked on the bud tucked into the other ear. "Parker, you in place?"

Parker was sliding gracefully along a vertical stone shaft. "So this was for bringing food up and down?"

"Uh, a dumbwaiter, yes."

"Why'd they stop building houses with them?"

"Because of thieves."

"But they're so convenient!"

Nate, who knew to a nicety the humongous extra fee that a house incurred in insurance premiums when it had a working dumbwaiter, could only reply, "Yes, for thieves. Have you found the portrait yet?"

"Not yet." Parker looked at her wrist. She had a toy compass attached to it, the sort you could find in a cereal box, or buy for fifty cents. The needle on it danced uncertainly between two very specific points. "I think there's one of those tracking foil things on it. I'm not close enough for Harry's compass to beat it completely."

"Alright. Parker can't find the portrait," he relayed, "so it's up to you guys, then."

"Oh, this is something else," Sophie's voice murmured into the linked mirror shards. Her own were tiny, secured to the hair clip among the black diamonds, and to the decorative clasp on the chain holding the Rosalind diamond.

"What, what is it?"

Eliot, who'd just stepped into the main hall of the manor with Harry, gritted his teeth. "It's a Mona Lisa," he growled low. "I count three portraits in this room alone."

"There's two in this one," Sophie added, turning slightly, her arm tucked around Vanya's. They'd made it all the way to a dining room, where a slim buffet and a vast bar were set up. Nick made a little plaintive sound, and a smile ghosted over the Russian enforcer's features before he nodded minutely. His so-called bodyguard immediately made a beeline for the food.

"One more upstairs," Hardison informed them.

"There's duplicates of everything, even the ugly flute thing, there's three of those in this room alone," Sophie protested.

"It's a test," Harry murmured. "By magic or skill, the buyer's going to have to be able to tell the real one from the copies. It's not the seller's fault if they can't."

"Dresden," Nate asked. "Were the copies made by magic?"

Harry hesitated with a startled look. Yet again, Nate had caught him by surprise in throwing the word out so readily. He rallied, walking up to one of the items in display at the room, a flute carved out of a long, blackened bone larger than a femur, but thinner. He ran a hand over it, not quite touching, murmuring under his breath.

A little breeze made the flute hum mournfully, barely audible.

"No. Unless I found the one real one among all the copies, they're real, inasmuch as they can be. Magic won't tell you which ones are fake."

"Please don't touch the cursed artifacts," a woman's voice said from behind Eliot and Harry with a touch of dark humor and a very slight accent. "No one here needs another mad wizard situation."

Harry threw the hitter a warning look, and they both turned slowly.

Ying Ying Amarin was a beautiful, fragile-seeming creature, with a mantle of black hair and skin so fair it could have passed for eggshell porcelain. Her eyes were almond-shaped and the sweetest chocolate brown, and her mouth was a delicate pink blossom. She was wearing a very elegant black dress and a long string of blood-red pearls with matching earrings. "Wizard Dresden," she greeted, her voice pleasant. "Much is said of you among the circles I frequent."

"Miss Amarin. All of it bad, I'm sure."

She gave him a half-smile. "Most of it. Tell me, how does a wizard secure the services of Eliot Spencer as a bodyguard? I understood you barely keep the lights on in your home."

"Even the most careful man can end up owing favors where he doesn't want to," Eliot said mildly, belying the sudden, inexplicable and altogether terrifying hunger that had slammed into him at the sight of the woman.

"The flute, is it yours?" Harry asked.

"Interesting. The flute? No. We are not selling, merely buying. There is a Bag of Winds somewhere around here that my Hong Kong associates would like me to acquire for them. I hope we will not be competitors?"

Harry shook his head readily. "I'm only interested in one thing, so far."

The wizard didn't notice, but the hitter did. Ying Ying's shoulders shifted minutely, the corners of her mouth eased. She blinked twice. She smiled.

She'd been worried. About Harry.

"That's good to know." Then her attention came to rest fully on Eliot. He felt her power slam into him like an avalanche, calling out to the most primal parts of him in a scream that begged to be answered. It roared hunger, for food, for blood, for flesh, for breath, for anything and everything. "Perhaps later mister Spencer will tell me all about this… favor?"

The hitter tucked a hand into his jacket and closed it around one of the pins in it. The metal went immediately soft, blisteringly hot. "Perhaps," he replied, smiling automatically. He saw smug triumph and a hint of appreciation on those pink, perfect lips and walked away powered strictly by pain and self-control, Harry by his side.

"Shake it off," the wizard told him once they were far enough away. "Breathe. You did fine. It's gonna linger, but you did fine."

"That is some kind of…" Eliot didn't even have the words. "She's a vampire?!"

"Yes, of a sort. Not all of them feed on blood. She's Jade Court, so I have no idea what she actually eats."

The hitter brought out the misshapen pin. "We only have so many between Hardison and me, Harry."

"Why do you think I'm staying up here, away from everyone?" the hacker pointed out. His listening shard was hiding on the leg of his glasses. The speaking shard was pinned to his ascot.

"Vanya's uncle's here," Sophie suddenly said, and everyone quieted.

"Vanya!" Fedorov's uncle rushed up to him. He was dressed just as sharply as his nephew, and he looked vaguely flustered. He took one look at Ekaterina and he ended up completely flustered, mouth working emptily for a long moment before he switched to Russian altogether. "I didn't think you were coming."

"Your advice has never steered me wrong," the Russian mobster said. "If you believe meeting these people is important -"

"No, you don't understand, Vanya!" His uncle interrupted him urgently. "I didn't think you were coming at all, someone had to represent the family's interests -"

"Yes. You, then?"

"No. Me." A man, taller and leaner than Mikhail Sagorov but carved along much the same hard, unforgiving lines, stepped around Fedorov's uncle and spoke in English.

Ekaterina felt the man next to her go rigid, the fingers of his free hand twitching. "Father."

"Vanya."

All six members of the team immediately focused on that one discordant exchange.

Fedorov, who apparently was as shaken as everyone else, turned to automatic courtesy. "Allow me to introduce miss Ekaterina Yegorov," he said, freeing his arm from her grip and sliding his hand to hers. "An art expert, among many other things. My father, Ivan Sagorov."

Ekaterina smiled. A shard of light caught the diamond she wore as she stepped forward. Both older men stepped instinctively back, but she merely offered her hand. "It is always a pleasure to meet men who know not just how to build their power, but to hang onto it."

Ivan Sagorov looked at her with infinite wariness. He eventually relented to take her hand in his, but rather than shake it, he kissed her fingers lightly. "One finds the definition of power very subjective in this place and among these people. Miss Yegorov flatters me."

Ekaterina chuckled richly. "I do not. Perhaps there are many here that discount the power mortals have. I am not one."

Ivan grinned minutely at that, but then turned a hard look on his brother, and an even stonier glare on his son. "I did not realize I was my brother's second choice of representative at this gathering."

"You should have guessed," Mikhail replied tersely. "We both know what you think of these sort of people."

"I think they are no one's future, least of all ours." He shot Ekaterina a brief, apologetic glance. "No offense meant."

"None taken," she replied graciously.

"But it is good to know what the heir apparent believes," he added with icy sarcasm and bitter, controlled fury, "of such alliances."

A muscle showed along the line of Vanya's neck. "A wise leader considers all the tools at his disposal."

"Don't shoot my words back at me like you ever cared about them," Ivan snarled quietly in Russian. "No one here's a tool unless it's you."

Fedorov surged forward. Ekaterina caught his arm. "Vanya."

"Do you know what they are? What your uncle brings you in the guise of a gift?" The leader of the Eastern Seaboard Russian mafia stepped forward until he could just hiss at his head enforcer. "They're a noose around our neck. If it weren't because I know they'd take us all down with you, I'd wish them the joy of you."

"The sort of man who'd give his own son to the wolves is not the man I'd trust to have anyone's best interests at heart except his own," Vanya gritted out. "In the end greed always wins out with him."

The conversation might have escalated to parts both bloody and violent, but another voice joined the conversation. "Please, please!" The avuncular, condescending tone was full of cheer. "Why such long faces, this is a party, please. Drinks! Food! Bring some of those delightful little toast things for my friends here. Mikhail, please, introduce me, shan't you?"

"I find I am not hungry," Ivan ground out, stepping back. "I thank you for your hospitality, Koshan, but I think my mood and my patience are worn too thin for companionship."

Koschei gestured grandly with his glass, the brandy in it darkest gold, and stepped back, clearing the way. "Please. It was a pleasure to see you even this brief while, Ivan Sagorov Barevich. Do give my regards to Minke, won't you?"

The elder Sagorov lowered his head like a bull considering a charge, his expression gone black and implacable at those seemingly harmless words. He finally breathed out slowly through his teeth and stalked away.

THIRTY

"Goodness, what a temper," Koschei commented casually. He was wearing much the same outfit he'd worn for his portrait: fine, blousy riding pants tucked into pointed embroidered boots, the complex designs worn in silver. He wore a black shirt with the neckline decorated with tiny emerald chips, a silver sash and a long, heavy coat stitched with black ravens and white wolves. "That man needs a therapist," he said the last word in English, jarring among the fluent Russian.

"My father needs many things," Vanya noted calmly, switching seamlessly to the new language. "He cares to acquire none of them."

Koschei whipped around. "Ah, you must be Vanya. Your uncle has spoken glowingly of you." He offered his hand.

Fedorov managed a smile, just barely, and shook the offered hand. "The gentleman has me at a disadvantage."

"Koschei. Immortal, wizard, your humblest servant." The man bowed. When Vanya merely cocked a brow at him in disbelief, Koschei laughed. "Is it so hard to believe, considering those all around us? Or the company you are currently keeping?" He gave Ekaterina a pointed look, one black brow going up.

Ekaterina's smile was even thinner than Vanya's when she offered her hand. "Ekaterina," she said simply.

Everyone within sight of her held their breaths.

Koschei took that hand and lingered over the kiss. The diamond glittered. Ekaterina took her hand back, since the wizard seemed rudely unwilling to let go.

"Enchanting," he purred. "It's not often my curiosity is piqued."

"Ekaterina is here to help with our exchange. That is, if my bid is amenable," Vanya wrapped a possessive arm around Ekaterina's waist.

Koschei's smile grew. "Of course. That is only sensible. As for your offer, mm, well, it buys you the same as it does for everyone here. A chance to pick up one of the portraits. Whether it is the real one or not, I suppose only an expert could tell."

Upstairs, Hardison put a hand over his ascot pin. "Nate, I do not like this. We don't know how long he's had to make the copies. For all we know he got Sokolov himself to make them."

Back in Lucille 2.0, Nate winced. The earbuds were holding - at least the ones not close to Dresden. But Hardison was surrounded by just enough magic that there was some unpleasant feedback whistling through his line. If not for the shards of the enchanted mirror, more than half the team would have been flying blind. "It's Sophie's call and Sophie's show. Keep an eye on her."

Ekaterina glanced around her diffidently. "Well, we'd have to find the room with the real one first, I suppose," she pointed out archly.

Koschei laughed in delight. "Just so. Are you, ah, permanently attached to Vanya's office, Ekaterina?"

"My services are his tonight," she replied delicately. "They happen to include my company… and my protection."

The wizard examined her closely, but she knew better than to look into those poison-green eyes. "Just so. Very important, to be protected when purchasing such powerful artifacts from such powerful people. But perhaps I could borrow him for a little while to introduce him to a few friends of mine? They would be delighted to make his acquaintance, to watch him rise in power and esteem. That is, after all, what every man desires, no?"

"My desires and my goals are two very different things," the Russian replied mildly. "Unlike most men, I have no problem keeping them separate."

"As one should!" Koschei agreed enthusiastically, then gestured to the room at large. "May I?"

"Kate, see if you can find the real portrait. She has, of course, freedom to roam the premises?" Fedorov asked.

"Of course. The bidders and their agents may go wherever there are more copies to be examined."

Ekaterina smiled.

"Good. Nick!" The bodyguard left the buffet table and sedately made his way over, still looking like the world was a grand joke for him to enjoy. "You're with me."

Nick smiled broadly. It was deeply, deeply unsettling, and wholly aimed at Koschei, but the wizard rallied swiftly and led Vanya away.

"There goes a brave man," Ekaterina murmured.

"I did not realize he already had friends among you people," Mikhail said. "I would not have risked this invitation if I did."

"Do you not want him to make alliances here?" She asked, arching a brow up.

Mikhail was already walking away, visibly struggling with himself.

"Nate," Sophie murmured. "This isn't right. This isn't just an auction of magical artifacts. Sagorov knows something."

"Eliot."

The hitter threw the wizard a questioning glance. Harry nodded. "I'm fine, go."

"Um, Nate?" Parker said into the earbud line.

"Yes, Parker, did you find something?"

"Yes." Parker had found the space between the walls where the old pipes had run, and she'd wormed her way even further into the house, until she was flush with the floor of a large, lavish and very modern bedroom, looking out through an HVAC vent. "I found the old lady."

"You found Grandmother?" That carried to both lines of communication, since Nate was connected to both.

"Yes. And there's a bunch of those rabbit-people watching her." Parker shifted to get a better look past the grate. "They've got guns."

"Armed leshy?" Hardison, also privy to both sides of the conversation, frowned. "Why would they need weapons, so far the only ones to use them have been the humans with them."

"It would make no sense anyway," Harry pointed out, quickly piecing together what bits of the situation he was hearing. "Leshy are thugs. They are nowhere near her power level, she should be able to waltz right past them, guns or not."

"Probably. Unless hearts aren't the only thing you can cut out of people." Nate was thinking very fast, the gleaming fractal trees in his mind coming together faster and faster, facts and suspicions, knowledge old and new, weaving together into a cohesive whole -

"You'd be surprised how many things out there think we're just convenient little walking snacks."

Then there was the night the alkonost had shown up -

"There was a trap in the heart, a means for him to steal her power, if she had agreed."

- and the morning of Dresden's arrival -

"He cut out his own heart and hid it - he hid it so well that no one can find it, not even death."

It all came together with the memory of the Russian enforcer at the loft, comfortably slouched on a couch they'd purchased just so everyone could sit comfortably while they spoke to the wizard, holding onto an oddly shaped, oddly carved wooden cup, drinking vodka and telling them all ancient Russian fairy-tales - not the modern, sanitized versions but the old kind, full of blood and casual violence, where victory was measured by how badly your enemies died.

"Sophie, is Koschei gone?"

"He's introducing Fedorov around. You'd think he was the star of this show."

"Dresden?"

"I'm fine. I think no one wants to be seen with me."

"Eliot?"

Eliot had trailed Sagorov to a small sunroom. "He's on the phone yelling at someone." The hitter kept back, to the shadows just outside the solarium's door, and stiffened when he realized what he was hearing. "It's him. This isn't just an auction of artifacts, Sagorov's selling Fedorov to settle a debt of some sort. Nate, he's selling future control of the entire Eastern Seaboard chapter to one of these things!"

"Of course he is," the mastermind whispered, another section of the puzzle coming together at last. "Sophie, are Nick and Fedorov still with Koschei?"

"Yes," Sophie confirmed as Ekaterina examined idly some of the items displayed, aloof and graceful, speaking occasionally to those she found nearby. "He's just been introduced to the toad-person."

"Dresden, where are you?"

"At the bar, like you told me to be?"

"Nate." Eliot's voice sounded exceedingly tense. "Problem."

"What is it?"

Faced with two incoming bouncers, the hitter had detoured into what seemed to be a combination conservatory and library, a room of dark, rich, velvety tones. It was closed to the general public, and the only artwork present seemed to be reassuringly normal. There were no lights, which made the door off to one side, past the shelves, painfully obvious. And one quick peek had Eliot trying not to swear at the fact that, magic or not, everything was still conspiring to throw the job off the rails. "I found another Grandmother."

The team reeled to a halt, wherever they were. Back in Lucille, Nate pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. "Of course you did."

"Um." Hardison sounded deeply hesitant. "Not to rain on anyone's parade, but I just found another Grandmother upstairs." The hacker was peeking around a corner and down a long hallway into a private office. He could just glimpse the old woman past the two armed guards at the door, left open to allow a young woman in the severe uniform of the staff to bring in a tray of tea.

"What? No! I found her, she's right here!" Parker, able to hear that bit through the earbuds, protested in an irate hiss.

Sophie paused. "Nate," she breathed as she realized what was happening.

"Yup." The mastermind sighed. "She's part of the auction, too."

"Now what, Nate?" Eliot demanded. "How can we get her out if we can't find the real one?"

"Nothing has changed." Nate clipped out. "Sophie, find the original portrait. Dresden, is there any way to tell which is the real Grandmother?"

"Uh, um…" The wizard rubbed his forehead. "Her shadow. Look at her shadow."

"Parker, check her shadow," Nate relayed.

She wriggled behind the vent. "It's an old lady shadow."

"Then that's not her," Harry replied when Nate repeated that.

"Hardison? Eliot?"

"Normal, uh, old lady shadow here," the hitter reported hesitantly.

"I'm not close enough to see," Hardison warned them. "Do you want me to risk it, Nate?"

"Not yet. Dresden, go pick a fight with Sophie."

"Wh- Me? I thought you wanted me to keep a low profile as long as I could!"

"Hold that thought," Sophie breathed. Ekaterina, having wandered further away, into an elegant breakfast solarium, could feel a gaze burning a hole between her shoulderblades.

"Spider silk, right?" A rough voice asked behind her.

Ekaterina turned. "Isvinee?"

There were two men and one woman behind her. All of them were short and wiry, and they all wore matching gray suits with red ties. Their hair was cut razor-short, the scalp showing pink through for the youngest of the two men, who was very blond. The older man, flanked by the other too, was slouching easily, hands in his pockets. "The duds," he said. "Spider silk, innit?"

"Oh, trial by fire of the Veil," Harry whispered so the words were barely audible; the shards, while serving the same purpose as the earbuds, were nowhere near as quiet. "Conversation's about to get crude, Sophie, this isn't an insult, it's how it translates for them."

"It is, yes." Ekaterina replied simply.

"Well, you look fuckin' gorgeous, gal. Even if it ain't yours." He tapped two clawed fingers to his mouth and blew her a kiss.

Ekaterina smiled. "Spaseeba. Thank you. You would not believe what it cost, and you are the first to say anything, nearly an hour after I come through the door."

"No shit?" The man frowned. "Now there's a fuckin' crime." He looked at both his colleagues, who nodded stoutly. He was perhaps in his late thirties, with sharp gray eyes under heavy brows, stubble on his angular cheekbones, and uneven teeth. He smelled strongly of expensive, pine-based soap, and managed to look both profoundly at ease with his surroundings and incredibly uncomfortable in his clothing. He offered his hand after a moment's thought. "I'm Classy."

Ekaterina took and shook it without hesitation. "An unexpected pleasure to meet you and your companions," she purred. "You can call me Ekaterina, or Kate. I hope we are not to be competitors?"

Classy looked utterly surprised at her casual friendliness. His grip was dry, warm and strong, matching Ekaterina's but mindful not to overpower or hurt her. His nails were short, sharp, curving gray claws and he was very careful not to hurt her, his palms heavily calloused. "Oh, no, no. We're sellin' most of this crap, gal. You, uh, buyin' anything?" He reached for his pocket, but the woman elbowed him mildly and he sighed in exasperation.

Ekaterina gestured to one of the vast glass doors leading to the grounds outside, and began to walk. "My employer is only interested in one item."

"Yeah, everyone's here for that fuckin' painting." As soon as they stepped outside the man lit up a cigarette. "Had to jump through the Blackbird's fuckin' hoops, when this was our to-do first."

"Well, that is, uh, what is the word. Bullcrap."

"Innit?" Classy looked terribly pleased at her empathy. "We don't give a shite over all this, the copies, right?" He waved his hand vaguely at the house. "Who the hell cares. Buy the thing, get out. Eh." He sighed. "Bloody won't give our rightful property back, either."

"I am sorry, did I hear right," Ekaterina put a light hand on Classy's shoulder. "Did the Blackbird steal from you?"

"Not yet he ain't. And he won't if he knows what's fuckin' good for him," Classy declared. He'd started minutely at the touch, but he didn't look insulted or wary, merely pleased. "Look, gal. Between you and me?" He leaned close. "The portrait's not here."

"It is not?"

"Nah." He threw the butt of his cigarette down and crushed it underfoot. "He don't trust nobody. I wouldn't, neither." Wordlessly he moved to stand by her side and dipped his head toward the sound of the surf and the elegant boat-house a stone's throw from the mansion itself. "He'll be bringin' it in at some point, I suppose." He gave her a wicked grin. "'less someone calls 'im out on it."

She grinned back at him and bumped him lightly. "Excuse me," she purred, walking back into the house.

"Nice gal," the woman said as all three watched her go.

"She was," Classy agreed. "So nice. Didn't expect that."

"What is she?" the young man asked.

"I dunno," Classy admitted readily. "Smells scary, though. Let's go find our fuckin' property."

Sophie stalked through the breakfast solarium. "Nate, did you get that?"

"I did. Did everyone else?"

"I didn't!" Parker hissed; Sophie couldn't have an earbud active while carrying the diamond.

"The portrait's not in the house," the mastermind summed up. "It's out in the boat-house."

"Oh." The thief paused. "I'll go get it, then."

"No. No, Parker, n-" Nate sighed. "We need the portrait to disappear in front of everyone. For that, it has to be in the house."

"Well, why can't we put one of the fake portraits in place of the real portrait and then have the man in black bring in a fake portrait instead, wouldn't that be even more embarrassing?"

The most profound silence welcomed that impatient question.

"Dresden."

"Yeah?"

"Go pick that fight."

"Ah, Hell's Bells," the wizard sighed resignedly.

[levis-coffeecup]

chapter 20| Through the Storm

WC-4.9k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

Hi guys!

It's been long. And I am incredibly sorry for promising to publish chapter by Sunday, yet doing that today. I feel incredibly guilty, like I've been taking everyone who reads this story for granted.

I've genuinely been quite busy. I have my college, my part time job and I also have to cook and clean for myself. And in all honesty, I've also lost my interest in completing this fic. So i have to push myself, rather than actually looking forward to writing it. But I'm not giving up on it yet, I've promised a few people that I will get it finished, and so I will.

@musumusuhasi a huge reason for one of the scenes in the chapter is because you told me Mae was always very cutesy, and never strong. I hope I've made that better, and if not please do let me know! (And if you don't read the fic anymore, then that's understandable too:)

Also since I've posted after a long time and if you've forgotten what happened in the previous chapter; here's a recap. Mae and Levi attend Ivan's wedding. Mr. Mendes is still mad at Mae and yells at her about Levi being a bad decision (ends up revealing that Levi is an underground thug.) Mae feels defeated because Levi didn't tell her this and starts losing faith in their relationship. She talks to Ivan, and Ivan comforts her, and lets her know that Levi still loves her, and their love for each other is pure.

Song for this chapter is I can't help falling in love with you.

Chapters

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Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

JAN 847

The wind growls, as it blows harshly. The morning sunlight barely reaches the ground. 

In the stroke of a night, the rain has turned into snow. The first snow of Mitras, but it seems more like a storm. And Mae is not prepared at all.

Her fingertips have gone numb, and the ache in her head seems never ending. Her dress is wet from all the snowfall. And she shudders as she walks through the snow covered ground. 

It feels like death is close. Her entire body shivers, almost violently. But a certain fire inside her keeps her going, despite the odds.

The world seems abandoned, people stay cooped in the warmth of their houses. And pellets of snow hit her head, as she walks ahead. It’s been hours since she’s been on the road. And she swears she wants to cry tears of joy when she finally spots the two-storey building with the Military Police symbol painted on it.

Her pace fastens, and with the last of her energy she pushes past the gate.

And everyone at the police station looks up, as they see a young lady on their door. Drenched from head to toe, turning blue from all the cold.

“I-I h-have a missing c-complaint to file,” Mae speaks in between shudders, leaning against the doorframe, tired enough to collapse at the moment. 

And the officer in front gets up. He decides he doesn’t think too highly of her. For one it's way too risky walking out in the snow so underdressed. She could have died in some corner, and no one would have even noticed.

Nevertheless, he takes one of the coats hung on the wall and offers it to her. “Here, you’ll die in the cold if you dress up this way, miss.”

And Mae still shivers from the cold, But her eyes are resolute.

“Sir Ellias, “ she reads the badge attached to his shirt. “I have a missing complaint to file.”

And Ellias gawks back at her, sizing her up. 

He doesn’t understand what brings her here. Wearing no gloves and a light jacket in a fucking snowstorm. 

And so he wraps the coat around her trembling shoulders, and leads her towards his desk.

“Levi… his name is Levi.” Her voice comes out raw and vulnerable. 

Levi has disappeared. She has checked everywhere. He wasn’t in their hotel room. He wasn’t anywhere near the wedding location.  And he wasn’t even around all the popular tea shops in Mitras. 

His wallet lays on their hotel bed, long forgotten. And the suitcase, packed with half his clothes, remains untouched too.

It's been 8 hours since Mae’s talk with Ivan, and there is still no sight of Levi. She has waited for him the entire night, and now the snow on the ground is at least a foot high. 

It's too late… She worries something must have happened to him. 

A young lady places a tray of warm tea on the table. Its smell wafts through the air, and Mae’s eyes well up. The drink warms both her throat and her heart. 

She just hopes Levi is alright wherever he is.

“The name is Levi you said?” Elias reconfirms as he puts it down on paper.

 “Mhm,” she nods vigorously. “He is quite short but his build is strong. His skin is pale and his eyebags are really big and prominent. His hair is black and he works in the Survey Corps… He also has-”

Elias stops writing. Face morphing into one of confusion. ”Wait…” he cuts her off. “Are you talking about Humanity’s Strongest? Captain Levi? Or is this someone e-”

“Yes.” Mae answers, exasperated. “It's him, he’s gone missing.” 

Hope glimmers in her eyes. 

People know Levi, and she’s one step closer to finding him.

But disbelief settles in Elias’s. 

Slowly it shifts to mirth. A beat of silence passes by, and then a soft chuckle escapes his lips.

“What the hell, why are you laughing?” Mae scoffs, eyebrows scrunching in disapproval. ”This is a serious matter.” 

Her words only makes him laugh louder. It adds to Mae’s temper.

“EXCUSE ME.” She bangs her fist on the table and gets up. And even though exhaustion is heavy in her voice, her eyes burn bright red.

“Have you ever seen that guy? Is this some sort of a prank?.” He speaks in between laughs. “Even death would be scared of him.” 

“So you are telling me he couldn’t have been caught up in this snow storm and might need help?”

“He is fully capable of protecting himself… you’d know that if you’d met him.”

And Mae’s lips tremble as she remembers the last time she saw him.

He wasn’t even able to meet her gaze. He looked so vulnerable… Like a kitten left astray. 

“He’s not made of stone.” her voice comes out as a whimper.

“But he’s got a heart of stone,” Ellias rebuttals as he crumbles the missing form and tosses it towards the bin.” Humanity’s strongest can look after himself… There’s a reason why he’s Humanity’s Strongest…”

And Mae gapes. Her head throbs, with the texture of pain. Her body aches for a minute's rest. But somehow she finds the energy to create a scene.

And she leans forward towards Elias, with her hands placed on the table and her arms stretched straight

“EXCUSE ME…” she sneers. “I’m here to file a missing complaint and it's your duty to look into it. Instead you’re telling me that I’m lying... Just because you’re a lazy bum who can’t get himself to work… people like yo-”

The door is yanked open with a bang, Mae flinches and Elias looks towards it. 

Out comes a tall - middle-aged man, wearing a large black overcoat and a… bowler hat even though he’s indoors.

His jet black hair is gelled to the black. And his face sports a pronounced scowl. “OI!” He calls out. “What’s all this ruckus this early in the morning?”

The atmosphere suddenly changes, and Ellias straightens himself. Slightly scared.

“Sir…” his voice trails off, a lump forming in his throat. 

“I have a missing complaint to file, I’m afraid it’s not being taken seriously.” Mae beats him to it, as she pushes her chair back..

“He doesn’t work in that department,” Ellias pokes in, but Mae moves ahead regardless

And Kenny smirks in glee at the sight of her. 

Missing complaints are not something he concerns himself with. He’s here to work for the King,, not to solve some minor civil problems and save some damsel in distress. 

But he’s bored, and she’s a wreck. It will be good entertainment. 

 “Sir… Captain Levi has been missing for the past 8 hours, and we all know how harsh the snow storm is.” Mae explains , hoping she receives the help she’s here for her.

And Kenny’s eyes blow wide, more with concern than surprise. 

Captain Levi. The title sounds pleasant to his ears. 

Now he can’t help but stay.

“See, I told you she is crazy” Elias sputters to cover up. “I think the cold has gotten to her head or something… which maniac walks out in the cold like that.” 

“THE COLD HAS NOT GOTTEN TO MY HEAD.” Mae’s eyes flash dangerously at Elias, and she shifts her attention towards Kenny. Deeming him more competent.

But Kenny only lets out a snicker. “He’s strong, he can take care of himself very well.” 

I’ve made sure of it. He wants to add. But some things are better left unsaid.

“AND HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? YOU DON’T KNOW HIM? HAVE YOU EVER EVEN MET HIM?” She yells, absolutely appalled at the insensitivity of these men.

And Kenny takes a step towards her too, towering a foot above her. His nostrils flare in anger, and he glares at her, his aura almost threatening. Not a lot of people have had the audacity to speak to him in such a way. “Who are you to him?” he seethes through clenched teeth.

But Mae doesn’t back away either. 

“I’m his lover.” she spills out, without an ounce of hesitance.

Sheer surprise flashes in Kenny’s eyes for a second. Slowly it fades and the creases under his eyes melt into that of laughter. “Aah, that runt grew up finally.” he chortles

And Mae looks at him, appalled and disgusted. “And who are you to him?” She counters . Half in mockery. Half in contempt. He doesn’t even wear a badge that tells his name. She’d be surprised if she’d find even one reliable officer in this damned place.

And Kenny falls silent for a millisecond, face conflicted.

“….Nothing.” He lets out a weak laugh. “Just go back home, you’ll find him there.”

And then he takes a step back in resignation. A little emotional, a little exhausted. “Take good care of him.” he mutters under his breath, before he coops back into his cabin.

—--------------------------------------------

A heavy sigh falls from Levi’s lips as he steps into the premises of the Survey Corps headquarters. The midnight moon shines over.  And the stone walls embrace him, it's cold grays have never seemed so inviting.

It’s been an entire day on horseback. Nevertheless he should be grateful the stable manager at Mitras recognised him, and rented him a horse, free of cost.

And as glad as he is to be here, there’s also a  heaviness in his heart that he can’t shake off. 

It's the kind of pain that only Mae is capable of causing.

She isn’t next to him. 

He left without a thought. Running away from the haunting unhappiness in her eyes. And now he’s left with only his feelings to keep him company. Cold and empty.

He wonders if the marriage went out as planned? Were the celebrations as grand as the decorations? And was the buffet as large as they were setting it up to be? 

Most of all he wonders if Mae is okay? He wonders, if just like Kenny, that was the last time he saw her as well?

Memories of yesterday trickle into his mind. The disappointment in her eyes, and the complaints in her mind. And he sighs, exhausted. Wondering if the heaviness in his chest will alleviate.

He needs tea, he tells himself.

The torches on the walls flicker, dimmed by the constant breeze. Winter is just around the corner and darkness engulfs the hallways. 

And Levi relaxes a tad bit. Finding solace in his darkness, it’s what is familiar to him. 

He rounds the corner and enters the kitchen. Sadly for him, a familiar brunette is already seated on the dining table next to the kitchen.

Hange. His features twist into a scowl.

They are the worst person he could possibly find at this time.

And Hange swivels as the sound of his footsteps reaches their ear.

“Levi!” They exclaim. “You’re back early.”

And Levi looks at them coldly, completely ignoring their existence.

He was so close to sulking. But now he looks emotionless again. It's like something has shifted in his head. And now the person next to him will only face his anger, never his sadness.

He makes his way to the kettle. And he prays that Hange stays put in their chair.

But Hange is relentless as usual. Hyperactive, and curious. They spring up from their seat and follow Levi into the open kitchen. Ready with their barrage of questions.

“So how was the wedding?” Where is Mae?” It's probably the dim candlelights that impairs them from seeing the scowl on Levi’s face. A few moments more and he will snap. Hopefully in a tame way.

“Don’t tell me you dropped her back home, this late at night?” They wiggle their brows suggestively, as they linger behind him. Watching him boil the water from over his shoulder.

And Levi doesn’t even turn to look back at them, as he puts his hand on their shoulder and pushes them backwards. “Fuck off, “ he threatens

Hange’s lips part. Usually with Levi, they can never tell when he’s mad, because he always looks mad. But tonight, the anger in his voice is primal. 

And they can only head back to the table, and shove their head back into their research books. Looking over occasionally to give Levi a onceover.

He looks at the pot of boiling water a little too hard. His jaw is clenched tight, and his footsteps are a little too loud.

His hands shuffle through the cabinets. Banging the shelf doors shut. And Hange doesn’t understand how Levi doesn’t recall the spot he’s specifically designated to his beloved tea. None of the other Survey Corps seniors are even allowed to touch it.

Frustration fills him up, and he curses, rather loudly.

And the Levi in front of Hange, is completely unlike the Levi they’ve always known. 

The Levi in front of them is messy and unorganized. Grabbing a hot vessel bare hand, and then hissing at the burn.

The flipping of their pages stops, and all they see in front of them is a problem to be solved.

There’s an obvious tension in the air that drowns in all the quiet. And Levi finds himself falling into the endless pit of sadness inside of him, again.

He tries to forget the disappointment that he saw in her eyes. He tries to forget the things that Mr.Mendes said about him, harsh but so true, they still make his heart hurt. But its all too recent, all too fresh in his memory.

Mae was close to crying back then, he could tell by the way her lips shuddered. 

He doesn’t understand why he still feels so sad. After all he knew that things between them were bound to end. He doesn’t understand why he always gets his hopes up, when he has a habit of losing people left and right.

And he doesn’t understand why he sits on the same table as Hange, taking the farthest chair from them. When he can easily take his tea to his quarters.

Maybe it's the fact that he’s been left alone again. And being in the vicinity of someone, even if it's someone as annoying as Hange, seems comforting. 

Even if that comfort is temporary.

He’s so much of a disappointment.

Sometimes he wonders why Erwin and Hange keep up with him?

It's probably because of his strength.

The smell of tea floats through the air, but Levi doesn’t touch it. 

And Hange notices. “I can’t wait for the day when you’ll marry Mae as well.” They chirp out of nowhere. Hoping to make him feel better.

And Levi does manage to throw one of the harshest stares at them, before he winces.

“She found out.” The words slip out of his mouth. Accidently, perhaps. It's one of the rare times where his emotions run so wild, they can’t help but take charge.  

“She found out what?” Hange repeats. Their ears practically flying over. 

Slowly they shift to the chair next to him.

And Levi sits rigid, holding his head where it hurts, it feels like the walls in his brain are caving in.

And yet, he fights. 

He fights Hange’s company. 

He fights his needs, his desires.

He fights himself. Adding fuel to his own struggle. 

It’s what he has done his entire life.

It has left him worn out. 

To the point where he doesn’t have the strength to resist anymore. 

The walls around his heart are slowly crumbling down.

He’s lost her. His world feels dark. 

“She found out that I’m an underground thug.” His voice comes out weak… barely above a whisper. The position life has put him in is hard to believe. Because here he sits, opening up to Hange of all people.

Kenny would disapprove so much of the emotional bastard he still is. Losing hope by a mere person leaving him behind. 

But he does it for Mae, he tells himself. 

And Hange’s eyes widen, surprised that Mae didn’t already know about this. It's abnormal, and unhealthy. They were pretty sure Mae was the person he was closest to. 

A silence spreads, its claws fatal. 

Levi takes Hange’s silence for judgment, and decides to go back into his invulnerable shell. “Doesn’t matter, things were going to end anyways,” he mutters coldly, and then he loudly slurps his tea.

And Hange still sits in shock. She found out, his words echo in their head. Which means he didn’t even tell her himself.  “LEVI!,” They urge, breaking out of their stupor  “Till when were you going to keep this hidden from her!”

Forever if possible he thinks to himself. He can always keep a few parts of him hidden.

And his silence tells. 

“You weren’t planning to tell her, were you?” They question, but they know it's true. 

The quake of his heel never fades , and his shoulders still slouch. They’ve never seen him look so defeated. He’s too afraid of disappointing. He’s too afraid of being abandoned. And he’s too afraid to voice out that he didn’t want Mae to know, because he was afraid she’d leave him.

“Why would you not tell her Levi….? Hange racks through the potential possibilities. “Was it because you were treated harshly by the soldiers when you first came in….”

Everything comes off as a surprise to them. They could have never guessed that all the taunts thrown his way were something that bothered him. Not by the look on his face anyway. Guess he’s a little more sensitive than they had anticipated.

“You were discriminated against in the Survey Corps, because it's the military and rules are important here. You broke the order, you broke the regulations so obviously people didn’t like it. Also your first impression was HORRIBLE…And just because everyone in the military condemned you, doesn’t mean Mae will too… You can’t pretend to be someone else and hide parts of yourself from someone who is in a sense your life partner Levi?” 

There is a stiffness in the air that constricts. And Levi feels like he’s being put on the spot, when he’s caught vulnerable. He feels angry, he wants to yell, he wants to push Hange away… or maybe– or maybe he’s just scared.

And he sits there forcing his eyes shut as Hange’s words sink in. He’s repeated this mistake before, fitting himself into the likes and standards of Kenny, just to please him. So much so that sometimes he doesn’t even recognise the softer, more emotional parts of him.

“To love, means to accept the person for what they are…” Hange places an arm on his shoulder, and he looks at them, his gaze tender. “And if she doesn’t… then good for you. At least you know she wasn’t the one.” 

And Levi does find Hange’s thoughts beautiful. But he also knows that no one will go to such lengths for him. He knows that he’ll be abandoned by the Survey Corps as well, if one day he wakes up weak.

He tears his gaze away from them. Knowing that if he looks too long, Hange will see through all his imperfections. 

They have a habit of not keeping their nose in everyone’s shit anyways.

But Hange’s mind is already working at a speed that he should be afraid of. And they almost jump from their chair, as a realization strikes. “This is the problem isn’t it Levi!... The thought that she might leave you…. You ignored her because you knew she was bound to leave you or be disappointed in you in some way... You thought she was better off with Ivan, then you taking the pain of losing her.” 

Levi’s eyes widen. They are threateningly close to knowing him.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?”, he seethes as he grits his teeth. Half embarrassed that Hange knows about his pitiful behavior with Mae when Ivan was here.

“I… I  have assumptions,” they gulp. Fearful for once

The clock ticks, and slowly his features soften “Mae told you everything, didn’t she?” he sighs, as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Well but I’m always open to hear your perspective as well.’

“Oh fuck off Hange.” He sneers as he gulps his tea down, and pushes the cup to the side.

He feels horrible, so out of character, and vulnerable. But he doesn’t feel unsafe. 

And he has a shit ton of problems that he knows he can’t solve by himself. Especially when it comes to Mae. 

And what's the point hesitating now, when his pride has already been tossed into the bin.

“I don’t know how to keep her Happy Hange… It's not the same anymore, she’s unhappier, doesn’t talk with me too much.” He looks down, his voice somber.

“Says you Levi… the person she used to smile just at the sight of?” Hange’s voice is soft, their eyes full of genuine concern.

And despite his uneasiness with discussing his personal life out loud, and getting his behavioral patterns dissected by none other than Hange, he settles into his chair.

The night is long and Hange seems welcoming,

—--------------------------------------------

Heavy gray clouds conceal the midnight sky. The rains are relentless, boisterous with thunder. And fog wraps around the tall trees like a blanket.

The winds blow fast, Levi can hear it rattle against the glass windows.

His quarters are warm though, fire crackles in the hearth, casting an orange tint. And his cloak  is leisurely draped over his shoulders. 

Scented candles are lined up on his window sill. 

And lavender tea he brewed for himself has now run cold. Halfway finished

It's something Mae made him do, when sleeping was becoming difficult.

She crafted a whole ass routine for him, to help him relax and sleep longer.  

He drums his fingers on the table, sitting idle, Frustrated that he’s done with all his paperwork.

It feels so damn lonely. Like those days, when she’d quit her job from the Survey Corp and he was haunted with thoughts of her..

The sound of thunder fills up the space.

The temperature has dropped all of a sudden. Surely it must be snowing in the interior. And Levi feels guilty for leaving Mae behind so thoughtlessly. 

None of them were prepared for snow. 

Another round of thunder reverberates around. Lightning strikes and Levi shivers. The night is uncannily similar to the night when he lost Farlan and Isabel.

Just another testament of how he is not made for happy endings. 

And he can only watch as every second painfully passes away.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

The fire cackles

Tick-tock, tick-tock

The wind  whistles.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

The lightning feels blinding.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

A distant sound adds to the mix. It's rushed and heavy, pounding closer to his gates.

And Levi is pulled out of his reverie, as then the door barges open

In front of him stands Mae, with her hair partially drenched, and her dress splattered with mud. 

The closed umbrella in her hand, makes a pool of water on the floor. Dripping wet.

His eyes widen. 

And so do hers. 

“Levi,” his name slips past her lips. And for once she didn't overthink. The umbrella in her hand drops to the floor, and the door behind shuts close, as she leaves everything behind and darts towards him. 

She doesn’t hesitate, as she sits on his lap, and throws her arms around his frame. Surrendering to the intensity of emotions in her heart..

Levi's body tenses at instinct. His heartbeat picks up the pace and the butterflies in his stomach come alive once again.

It's just been 4 days, but he’s missed her so damn much. For a moment he wonders if he’s still daydreaming

And it's only when he feels her shivering against his chest, that he gives in. “Y-you’r-re c-cold,” he stutters, as he wraps his cloak around her. His hands splay over her back, rubbing it to warm her up quickly.

And she too, huddles closer to his warmth. The sound of his low baritone, brings her so much comfort, and she shuts her eyes close, to pause this moment. 

Their breaths mingle, hearts beating in sync, together. 

In this moment they are so vulnerable. 

She cries, into his chest. And he’s made sure that nothing in his life is important enough to make him cry. But for god's sake does his heart sob with joy. 

He looks at the messy trail of mud her shoes have left behind. And her fingernails that are dirty with grime. He looks at her shuddering shoulders and her hair, wet and cold. 

She’s traveled through the storm for him.

She’s come back to him. Despite everything

And he doesn’t know what the future holds for them, or even if she'll be alive the next day. But he does know that no matter how cruel and brutal this world gets, his heart will forever be labeled hers.

Her hands leave his chest, before they slowly come up to his cheeks. She cups his face, as she pulls back and looks at him. Silence stretches between them. Or maybe it's the pause one takes to admire something beautiful.

And fresh tears fill up her eyes as she strokes his cheek.“Why do you make me worry so much? Couldn’t you have told me that you were leaving? I-I was so scared something happened to you.”

His knees feel weak at the thought. Like he’ll shatter to the ground, if not for her holding him so close.

And his breath shudders, sodden with emotions. “I-I’m s-sorry.” he gulps. Voice heavy with guilt. “I-I thought you would be u-upset. Wouldn’t w-want to n-near me anymore.”

“I would have wanted to hear about your past from you. I was more disappointed in the fact that you didn’t tell me, when everyone else knew about it... I am your lover Levi… I consider you my better half, then why is it that I know so little about you?”

In her questions, Levi feels a kind of reassurance. Perhaps it's the fact that she’s still making an effort to stay with him.

It's a feeling he can't put into words.

As if his sun-burned body has finally found the cooling shade of a tree.

As if his directionless quest has finally found a destination.

There is such a prickle in this moment, and the way she holds him, tightly, yet with gentleness. It makes him question all the nasty thoughts he has had about himself.

Because he was convinced that he was way too crooked for anyone to find any beauty in him. And yet she dares to sit on his lap, so close to him. Cradling him as if he’s something precious. 

Words fail him. And he can’t help but think if he could just kiss her, and pour all his love into it. If he could kiss her and express all that his speech never could. They all seem so beautiful in the romance novels he reads.

If only he could kiss her and not succumb to his overthinking head.

And so he brings her hand closer to lips. His heart hammers, almost violently in his chest. And his hand shudders with nervousness. Yet he dares to take her knuckles and kiss it. 

Hoping it conveys everything he can’t spout out loud.

That he’ll fight for her. Even if it's parts of himself that he’s up against. “I;m s-sorry…I’m s-sorry, I thought you’d h-hate me”

And Mae smiles as she looks at him. The first genuine smile she’s given him in months. “We’ve got to work on a lot of things to make this work,” Her words are blunt, but the way she delivers them is so gentle.

And Levi blinks up at her. Grateful that she has not given up on him yet. “We do…” he hums.

There’s fear in both of their eyes. The fear of messing up. The fear of losing one another. So many things still remain unexpressed. So many fears, desires, wishes. If only they were given a voice. Both Levi and Mae would know that their love for each other is boundless.

“You promise you’ll tell me everything and we’ll talk about us tomorrow?” Mae says as she tries getting out of his lap. Desperate in need of a shower

Surprisingly, his grip around her waist tightens. He holds her there, listening to the sound of her breath. 

And despite the wreck Mae is, she finally feels so wanted. The butterflies in her stomach tumble. And she can barely contain her happiness.

“I will… “Levi presses a kiss on her forehead. “Now go take a shower, I’ll set up the bed for you.”

“Will you sleep on the bed, next to me?” she asks on her way to the shower.

And Levi never sleeps on the bed.

Because Levi lives every moment with the unsurety of whether he’ll make it to the next. He lives every moment considering the possibility that the titans might break in.

Yet now as he looks into her warm brown eyes, he can’t help but wonder if for one night he just lets loose.

The worst thing that could happen is that the titans breach the wall, and he ends up dying with her.

Indeed that sounds like a soft epilogue. To die in each other’s arms, to not die alone. 

Everyone comes to this world on their own, and they die on their own, because inherently everyone is alone. And yet to hold on to each other, as they take their last breaths. To have a moment of bliss before death separates them.

“Levi!” Mae prods again. A brow raised in question. “Will you sleep on the bed with me?”

And his lips quirk up a tiny bit, as he timidly nods a yes.

[pawsitivevibe]

Okay I am so conflicted about this job I applied for. I won't hear back for a few more days, but I feel like I need to make a decision now in case they offer me it. I think the interview went well and I have a lot of relevant experience compared to their typical applicants ...

Anyway, it's for essentially a dog grooming apprenticeship.

The problem is, they only pay minimum wage ($15). But typically you might have to pay thousands to attend a grooming school. Or like if you go to the PetSmart grooming academy you have to "pack back" that training by working for them for a certain amount of time. Apparently if you quit before then you have to pay back whatever you "owe" for the schooling. So this apprenticeship is instead paying me to be there, and not charging me anything for the valuable training. So I can see minimum wage making sense to them, right. Considering offering this training is an expense to them because of the time commitment, but they are doing it because they want it to pay off by providing more groomers for their business.

I make $17 an hour right now at the barn. Which isn't like huge, but that extra $2 an hour does go places. I'm not sure I can afford to take the paycut. Especially when my partner is being really cagey about it. Like yeah he says do what I want, but like what does he ACTUALLY think about a losing some money??

BUT I could really make a career out of dog grooming I think. And I could make a lot more than I do now once I make commission and tips. The guy who interviewed me did say that it would likely take around a year to get to that, though. So I might be making $15/hour for a year.

BUT once I'm working there for a year I would be expected to start buying my own grooming kit. So uh a few thousand dollars worth of stuff, right. I would get a discount from their supplier and be able to have it come off my paycheck. But it will still be a big expense. I would get to keep all that stuff forever though....

Another thing too is that I just won a lifetime subscription to all the content from an online dog grooming and showing academy. So I will be watching a bunch of courses and seminars to learn some specialty show grooming stuff. So if I did become a groomer, I could potentially one day offer specialty breed specific grooms and stuff like coat stripping.

Now ... I just don't know if I can take the risk. I do think it could really pan out into a career. But the paycut up front would be a problem. Especially when, like, I can't afford to pay all my bills as it is. I'm constantly broke. I am supposed to be looking for a job that pays more. I have a Communications degree, I'm supposed to get like an office job or something. But nobody wants to hire me for a job like that. Or all the listings for ""entry level"" positions want 3-5 years of experience in the field. That ain't entry level! Tbh I would hate that kind of job anyway. But I always kinda thought I would have to settle for something I hated. I have just been avoiding it for a while by working shitty jobs I kinda like. This grooming thing I could actually love. BUT there's just no money up front. So I don't know what to do. It's probably just too late in life for me to take this chance, I think. I have bills to pay.

Anyway. Advice welcome. Just mostly looking to vent.