#i feel like a hermit drawing too much sighs... i should take a break is too much ideas

[kinos-fortress-2]

ok before i continue to do the other 11 stickers... still not sure what you guys think about this...

the theme for the stickers was just like how i explained in my other post, just ugly beheaded heads of the tf2 characters... im just planning to do 14 stickers because hell nah that idead of making all tf2 characters was crazy from my part (still 14 is more insane ha)

and well... uhuh.

oh yeah

DONT REBLOG THANKS.

[redorich]

For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

[winterscaptain]

infirmity.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: part four of our 100 arc, covering 5x02, haunted! I forgot how much i love this episode, so i really leaned into this one. it’s a labor of love!! i can’t wait to hear what you all think (i crave feedback and affection) and if you reblog, i’d love to see your cheeky lil thoughts in the tags!!

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 4.3k warnings: language, bad decisions

summary: “a friend should bear his friend’s infirmities” - william shakespeare, julius caesar.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You knock on the door at 8:30 sharp. Almost thirty seconds pass before he answers, and you note the hand on his holster as he opens the door. 

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you chirp. “Ready to go?”

He turns, gathering his things. “What do we know about this case in Kentucky?”

Thrown a little by the lack of greeting, you follow him into the apartment. The sight of the Foyet files on his desk aren’t foreign to you, nor are they a surprise. They’ve been there every time you came over during his leave (in fact, you’ve sat on them more than once), so why you expected them to go away once he was back you had no idea.

“Um, no connection between Call and his victims. They’re canvassing, but no sign of him so far.”

“Start with his recent history. Find the stressor.” His voice is flat, impassive, and you frown. 

He was just getting better…

You’re about to head back toward the door when -

“Don’t move.”

Right. The alarm. 

He stands by to arm it. “Ready?”

“Are you?”

+++

You arrive at the tarmac, Hotch in the passenger seat of your car. He looks a little resigned, but straightens and takes a breath before he opens the door, settling into his role as he steps out and straightens his suit jacket. 

It’s always a little funny to watch him transform. You’re honored you get to see it, even if he’s in rough shape. 

Especially then. 

You climb the stairs and follow him in, settling in your usual place. 

“Good to see you,” Dave says as Aaron scoots down the aisle. It makes you smile. 

“You, too.”

Aaron gets settled and you shift, trying not to hover but finding it difficult to be separated from him after his weeks of absence. He greets the rest of the team, exchanging pleasantries and checking in with Reid about his knee. 

“Any other attacks?”

JJ shakes her head, while Spencer elaborates. “Call’s proven hard to track. He’s never had a driver's license so he’s probably still on foot.”

“Or public transportation,” Emily notes.

You hum. “He wouldn’t take the bus. His face is everywhere.”

“Has anyone found a stressor?” You weren’t sure if Aaron’s brusque affect was going to continue once you made it to the plane, but his tone just about answers your question. 

Stepping back into authority quickly, there, Aaron. 

“He just lost his job,” Garcia supplies. “He’s worked at a factory since 1990. Made appliances since forever and not a single promotion.”

Derek tilts his head. “That’s a long time to be bitter.”

“Or he doesn’t care?”

JJ looks at Spencer and shakes her head. “Not if he’s got a family to feed.” 

“Actually, he’s of the hermit variety as far as I can tell. He’s got no one. No wife, no kids, no parents.” You watch Garcia’s eyes flicker around the screen as she talks to you, doing what she does best. 

“Nothing to live for.”  Derek’s looking a little too pointedly at Aaron for your taste, but your evaluation is interrupted. 

“So why hasn’t he killed himself yet?”

Your brain sputters at Aaron’s offhand delivery. “What?”

“Sprees usually end in suicide. If he’s got nothing to live for, why hasn’t he ended it?”

The energy in the room grows uncomfortable, fast. Aaron’s voice is still flat - you might go so far as to say it sounds dead, but that inspires a kind of heavy sullenness in your chest you’d rather not subject yourself to. 

You wish Haley was around for no other reason but to kick his ass. 

You’re thankful for Spencer when he answers Hotch’s question. “Because he isn’t finished, yet. We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim.”

“Well,” Aaron continues, “the stock boy represents someone. We need to know who.”

You meet Derek’s eyes and you can tell he’s trying to read you - trying to see if you’re as concerned as he is. You don’t give him the satisfaction. 

+++

Later, you corner Morgan on the plane before landing, keeping your voice low. The case is in your lap so there’s a valid distraction when you need one. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

He stops and turns. “I thought Hotch was cleared to drive.” 

“He is.”

“Then why did you pick him up this morning?”

You shrug. “I wanted to.” His eyes bore into the side of your head and you look up with an exasperated huff. “What?”

He sighs. “He’s only had a month off.”

“Well,” you say, aware that you’re being pedantic before you even get there, “thirty-four days. That’s a little more than a month.”

His stare is withering, but you’re impervious. “And you think that’s long enough?”

“Are you asking me as his coworker or as his friend?”

“Is there a difference?”

You shrug. “Maybe.” Yes. “But if you don’t think he’s had enough time, you should tell him.”

He scoffs. “No thanks. I like my job.”

“You like him more.” A little smile crosses your face. “Though, I know you don’t like to think so.”

“No. I like you.” Derek corrects. “He also happens to like you, so I tolerate him for your benefit.”

“Much appreciated.” You return to your work, but Derek’s eyes linger. You don’t look up as you ask, “What?”

“What if he has PTSD?”

Still writing, you answer with a general air of nonchalance. “He was evaluated.”

“Oh, come on. We wrote those questions. Hotch knows exactly -“

You slam your pen down and lean back with your arms crossed. You draw Spencer's eyes and lower your voice again. “So, what? Are you going to pick at me until you get me to say something you want me to say?” You let out a sardonic chuff, settling back to work. “If that’s the case, you’re gonna be here a while.” You tip your head a little toward the little table by the window. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

You admittedly feel a little bad for being short with him, but everything seems to be testing your patience today. 

And if you’re honest, you’re worried about Aaron, too. 

After a few minutes of work in silence, you call out to him again. There’s the smallest of apologies in your voice. “Derek?”

He looks at you, dark eyes open and yielding - concerned and forgiving. “Yeah?”

“He’s back because he has to be. He needs to know we’re here for him.”

“He knows that.”

You offer him a small smile. “Don’t let him forget it.” You pause, your head wavering a little bit as your tone turns a touch facetious. “I can’t do all the heavy lifting around here.”

You get a laugh out of him - just a little one - and it’s enough. “Don’t push it, kid. I remember when you were dead weight.”

You roll your eyes. 

That’s enough, for now. 

+++

Even your seemingly-endless patience with Aaron rapidly wanes as you spend more time at the crime scene. It’s frustrating. 

“He was on an antipsychotic?” You ask with a little frown. 

The pharmacist nods. “Well, that’s why I wanted him to calm down. He’s been off of them at least a month, now.” 

“And when were you going to tell us this?” Aaron asks, harsh and sharp. 

You look at him, your frown deepening. 

What the fuck is that attitude?

“He’s armed, he’s delusional. Who’s his doctor?” Hotch’s tone grows even pointier, somehow, as he pushes harder. 

“I don’t remember - my computer…” She gestures behind the desk, where the computer has been fried by a bullet. 

“Great. That’s great.” He walks away, already making a call. 

“Excuse us,” you say in an attempt to recover. Derek echoes you and you try to avoid running after Hotch as he strides down the aisle. 

Long-legged asshole. Slow down. 

“Hotch,” you call. He doesn’t listen. 

“Call JJ and tell her about the meds.” He’s still walking. You’ve caught up. 

Derek chimes in, gesturing back at the pharmacist. “This is not her fault.”

Aaron turns on him. “Morgan, he’s in a psychotic break. It changes everything.”

“You want to talk about this?” Derek asks, taking another step closer. 

Squaring up to Derek’s shoulder, you’re ready to pull them apart if they get really heated. 

Wouldn’t be the first time.

In some ways, Morgan’s admission on the plane was truer than he let on. You are the link between Derek and Aaron, almost like a balm. You see things in them that they can’t see in each other. It helps. 

With a pang, you think of Haley, for some reason. 

You miss her. 

“No.” Aaron’s interruption is sharp and it startles you out of your thoughts. “I want to find him - Garcia,” he turns, continuing on his warpath forward, “he’s been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?”

Your mouth drops open and Derek’s about to deck Aaron while his back is turned. You push in front of Derek, getting between them to give him a chance to cool off. The last thing you want is to handle more wound dressings - for either one of them. 

Aaron hangs up and walks out after what you imagine is a rather unilluminating update from Penelope. You turn, putting your hand on Derek’s shoulder and looking him in the eye. 

Still think he’s alright? His eyes ask.

 You grit your teeth. I don’t know. 

+++

The psychiatrist and patient lay dead on the floor, Call nowhere in sight. Derek directs the local officers to check the perimeter, just in case. 

You look at Hotch, who still doesn’t look completely checked in, himself. 

Or maybe he looks too checked in?

I don’t know. 

You’d be lying if you said his behavior didn’t freak you out. Though he’s standing beside you, you miss him. 

Come back to me. 

You miss the man who pliantly sat under your hands as you washed his wounds and brought him takeout and forced him to take naps in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. 

You miss the man who fought you for the remote and stole far too many of your fries, who would change the channel if you made the mistake of going to the bathroom on a commercial break. 

That man was with you as late as Saturday. Returning has brought something else out in him, the part of him that spent (often very) late nights looking for Foyet has risen to the forefront. 

“We’re too late.” 

Before the rest of you can do anything, Aaron leaves the room, pushing past Dave in his haste to leave. 

Emily calls after him, but he’s long gone down the hallway. They look at you. 

All you can do is shake your head with a downturned curve of your mouth. 

+++

After a little while, you go downstairs and find Hotch outside. Before you can say anything - 

“I should have seen the blinking on the video.” 

You huff at him. “Hotch, it could have been a nervous tic. You couldn’t have known - none of the records were available, yet.” 

“But it wasn’t a tic. It’s a classic sign of long-term antipsychotic use, and I missed it.”

You step in front of him, squarely meeting his eyes. “We all missed it.” 

He’s got another pessimistic jab that you choose to ignore just before Emily and Dave arrive with news from Garcia. 

Oh, Aaron. 

+++

The officer huffs. “I don’t care why he took him.” 

Aaron had, once again, escalated the situation with local police. Tensions are high, and you only hope he can get his shit together at some point. “You should.” 

Goddamn it, Aaron. 

He continues, advancing on the police captain. “Call’s memory is no longer suppressed. He’s reinventing his past and unless we understand how, we’re not going to find either of them.”

“Well, I’m not gonna just sit around and speculate.” 

It’s an old-fashioned Western standoff, now. 

Who’s Clint Eastwood?

Well, Hotch has the looks but -

Quit. 

Fine. 

“Then don’t.”

The captain turns to you, Emily, and Dave. “You don’t think we should chase him either?”

“We need to get ahead of Call,” Dave answers evenly. 

The captain looks at Aaron once more before storming off. The rest of you approach Hotch, and Emily’s a little frustrated when she reminds him, “There’s a kid missing.” 

“They don’t need the extra manpower.” 

You squint at him. “Since when?”

“If we had studied Foyet’s initial crimes -”

Oh for the love of fuck. 

“- we would have known that a survivor didn’t make sense.”

“What does he have to do with this?”

Great question, Emily.

“All we had to do was stop and look at Foyet’s history. But we didn’t, and we lost two couples and a bus full of people. I am not making that mistake again.” He leaves the three of you stunned in his wake. After a moment, you follow him. 

You always do. 

+++

“Let’s go.” 

You’ve got the address to the unsub’s home and you take the car with Aaron, the rest of the team following behind you. 

He drives fast, but that’s nothing new. He throws the siren and floors it. You call SWAT yourself, getting Derek prepared for staging. 

When you get out of the car, you throw your vest on, helping Emily with the straps across her shoulders before she can reach them themselves. 

“Prentiss,” Aaron says, putting his earwig in. “Check in with the lieutenant, see if there’s anything we can use.” 

She nods. “Yes, sir.” 

“You good?” You ask, looking over at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

You throw your head to the side, and he takes your flank as you get closer to Emily. Her briefing with this particular lieutenant could go sideways, but you don’t want to leave him feeling trapped. 

“...The kid’s in there. We got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits. He’s still focused on the old man.”

Emily squints, adjusting her comm. “For now, but we’re gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out.”

“I’ve got a team in the back and one on the way. We’re going to infiltrate.” 

“You do that and someone else dies.” The balance of firm and collaborative rests delicately on her tone. She’s doing well. 

“Either Call or a child murder. Flip a coin.” 

His tone frustrates you, but you leave Emily to her devices, checking your magazines for the third time. Your sidearm is in place, as is your backup. 

“It doesn’t have to end like that. We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die.” She pauses, and a streak of white flashes in your peripheral. “Hotch!” 

You whirl, ready to sprint after him as he walks decisively past the rest of you, past the gate, and into the house. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a break for it. A wall of arms stops you, and you know Derek’s behind you when you hear, “What the hell is he doing?”

No vest...Is he even carrying his gun? 

“Let him go.” 

You turn on Dave, your face plastered with fear and fury. “What do you mean let him go. Rossi -”

“I’m not letting him go in there solo.” Derek pushes against Dave again, but to your surprise, he’s locked in tight. 

“We have to trust him.” 

That cools Derek off, but not you. You thrash, freeing yourself from one of the local cops. “The hell we do.” 

“Kid - wait, no.” The roles reverse, and Derek catches up to you and locks you in his arms before you can breach the perimeter. Your elbows don’t land against his vest, but you sure try. “You’ll get him killed.” 

There’s only stress and silence as you stop struggling. All you can do is wait. 

Derek keeps his arm around you, but you almost feel like the contact is for both of you. You take deep breaths, trying to slow your heart rate. It’s through the roof. 

“What’s he doing?” Emily asks into her mic. 

Dave leans into his comm. “Stalling.” 

You can almost feel Derek’s jaw tightening. “He has nothing to lose.” 

He has everything to lose. 

You have everything to lose. 

Don’t be a hero, Aaron. Don’t do anything stupid. 

You hope that he can hear you somehow. 

Too late. 

Hotch appears in the window, followed by the boy. 

There’s a quick SWAT conversation in your ear. 

“Do you have the shot?”

“Negative, negative.”

He’s blocking the shot. 

Goddamn you, Aaron. Goddamn you. 

“Bringing the boy out,” a faceless voice on the radio says. The hostage runs down off the porch and you catch a glimpse of Aaron before he disappears behind the door again. 

You turn your head a touch, keeping your eyes on the door. “Get him out of there.” 

Dave shakes his head. “That’s his call.” 

Your body is wound tighter than a coil and you’re not sure if you’re ready to storm in there or just start walking home. 

There’s a gunshot, and you’re out of there like a bat out of hell. You launch yourself over the short fence and attach yourself to the first SWAT agent you see, remembering your training at the last moment. 

You breach the house and find Aaron cuffing Darin, whose father is dead in the armchair in front of him. Your jaw has never been tighter. 

Once you confirm that he is in fact still alive and still only has nine holes in him, you turn on your heel and you storm out of the house. You don’t stop until you’re leaning on the front of one of the cars, trying to catch your breath. Your hands shake and you don’t trust your knees to hold you up. 

The relief wars with something hot and unpleasant, leaving you more exhausted than you’ve been in weeks. 

You keep your head turned away from Aaron as he approaches you. It’s petty, but you also don’t want him to see the fear on your face. 

He calls you with a sigh in his voice and it finally ignites the fear into anger. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you spit. Your voice isn’t loud, but it certainly carries. JJ’s eyes flicker to you from the other side of the yard. “What kind of stunt are you trying to pull? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” 

His jaw tightens. “Let’s not do this here.” 

Your brow draws across your eyes and your mouth opens, indignant. “Let’s not do this here? You’re fucking kidding me.”

In his current state, nothing is off the table. His temper is running short and you know you’re capable of pushing him until he breaks. It hasn’t happened yet, but today might be it.  

Much to your surprise, a sigh leaves him, and he knows he’s stepped in it. “It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You scoff, shaking your head. 

His remorse only stokes your anger. Go figure. 

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry. You could have died, Hotch. What you did was so beyond protocol I don’t even know if I should start with the necessity of your life because we need you as our unit chief or the importance of your safety as my friend -” You cut yourself off and look away from him, frustrated you even got that far. 

He has nothing to say to that. You’re completely right. The guilt might as well be written across his face in Sharpie. 

His absence fucked with you, to say the least. It felt awful, empty, in the field without him. And then when you were home - well, back at the apartment, he was only ever in pain. 

Overall, your anxiety regarding his health and safety is riding high. 

Much to your frustration, your eyes water, and your lower lip shakes - angry tears an ever-present threat. Your arms cross over your chest. “I can’t even look at you right now.” 

He reaches out for your arm, but you throw him off before he can make contact, turning your head. You stare at the ground, watching him flounder out of the corner of your eye. 

“Go. Go do your fucking job, Hotch.” His nickname is acid in your mouth. It feels like a punishment, a lash of a whip. He doesn’t move, and you turn on him, meeting his guilty brown eyes with your flinty ones. “Go. Make the arrest. They’re waiting on you.” You throw your chin to Derek and Emily, who are indeed waiting for him on the porch with the unsub. 

With another heavy sigh, he turns and rejoins the rest of your team. 

You stay where you are, directing coroner and local law enforcement personnel to relevant staging areas as the crime scene is processed and handled. Aaron’s eyes try to find yours, but you avoid them, focusing on someone, anyone else with crisp professionalism that hardly belies your fear. 

You’ve never been so angry in your life. Even if you have, you can’t remember it feeling this wretched.

+++

He sits beside you on the plane once you’re up in the air and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. The rest of the team sleeps scattered around the cabin, but you suspect that at least one of them is faking it, waiting for some kind of spectacle or spectacular blowup between the two of you. 

You haven’t spoken to Aaron since leaving the crime scene. You drove back to the precinct with Emily and Dave, staying close to JJ and Spencer while you packed your things. There’s a part of you that feels bad for creating what Strauss would call a “hostile work environment,” but the other part can’t bring itself to care. 

You can’t even begin to articulate the fear that coursed through you as you waited for him outside that house. You couldn’t begin to explain the extent of your fear, but after the stabbing and the removal of Haley and Jack from your lives, the prospect of losing him in the field was beyond unbearable. 

It’s frustrating to feel so comforted by his proximity while you’re still so angry with him. The familiarity of it all hardly blunts your anger. If anything, the relief at having him back at your side sharpens your anger into something that scares you. 

The impossibility of it is beyond measure. You’ve known for some time now, but this is the first you’re willing to admit it. 

I love him. 

Fuck.

You love him. You love his son. You love his wife. 

You love the weird look he gets on his face when he has to say “penetration” while he’s delivering a profile. You love the way he tries not to smile when Emily beats Spencer at chess. You love the way he twiddles with pens when he’s thinking or nervous or both. You love that each of his smiles feel like a gift just for you. 

There’s nothing you don’t love about him. 

Except, of course, the way he, with profound idiocy, endangered his life today for no particular reason in addition to his generally asshole-ish behavior. 

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m sure you know that.” 

You do.

He waits on you, quiet and still. 

You take a deep breath, finally looking at him. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

He nods, his jaw flexing. 

“Don’t do it again.” 

He blinks once, slowly. You know he can’t promise that, but you appreciate his acknowledgment nevertheless. There’s quiet for a moment. 

“Aaron…” You look at him, nothing but concern in your tone. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“I was just going to say…” You swallow, trying to find better words but coming up short. “We’ll get him.”

+++

Derek’s voice echoes down to the bullpen as you finish up the last few pieces of your paperwork. “I will not stand by and watch this man kill himself.” 

Aaron’s door is closed as he works. You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if you’d rather he hear it. You can’t really hear Dave - not that you’d want to, you’re almost as pissed at him as you are at Aaron - but it doesn’t matter. You know what he has to say. 

Derek’s voice drops lower than you can hear. Dave drops his head. 

Moments later, Derek flies back down the stairs, grabs his jacket, and takes his leave with a cursory goodbye thrown in your direction. Dave returns to his desk and Aaron’s door finally opens. 

You look up as his lights turn off, gathering your things at your desk. With a little sigh that looks a bit like defeat, he stops at your desk. The smugness doesn’t completely leave your tone. “Need a ride?”

Of course, he does. “Please.” 

You rise and walk to the elevators together. In the silence, you tell him, “I’m still really mad at you.” 

A sigh. “I know.” 

+++

You walk him upstairs and take care of the alarm while he removes his suit jacket and throws it over the couch. 

“Do you think Call’s gonna be okay?” You ask, still facing the alarm. 

“I don’t know.”

“He got his answers,” you note, turning to him. “He killed the man who haunted him.” 

His eyes are fixed on a spot on the carpet. “And what else is there?”

“Years of torture.” You both know you’re not talking about Call anymore, but it’s nice to pretend. It gives you the opportunity to say things you wouldn’t - shouldn’t - say to him. “Fear. Grief.”

“Think he’ll get over that?” 

“How could he?” A humorless smile pulls at one corner of your mouth. “But at least he doesn't feel like he’s alone.”

He finally meets your eyes. “He doesn’t have anyone.” I don’t have anyone, his brow says. 

“He has Tommy. He’s not alone.” 

You have me. You’re not alone. 

His brows pull low over his eyes, and you take another opportunity as it comes. “Do you want me to stay again tonight?”

“No, I’m alright.” He takes a little breath and you round the corner, pouring him a couple fingers of whiskey before making a slow, purposeful trek across the room. “Thank you,” he says, taking it. 

“Of course. Anytime.” Now, you both know you aren’t talking about the drink. 

Nevertheless, you pat your pockets for your keys, phone, and various federal paraphernalia, finding them all where they belong. “I should head out, then. Call if you need anything.” 

He nods, watching you with quiet eyes as you close and lock the door behind you. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @sageellsworth05​ @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 23

masterlist 

Hello darlings! I’m back very briefly to give you a short chapter that was already have finished before my tests. I still have a bunch of school work to do, so I’ll be back to hermitting directly as college kills my soul, but please! Send asks! This story is very quickly drawing to its conclusion (probably only 10 or so parts left), and I’d love to know who you all would like to see in my next fic! Love you all!-- chaotic puff 

Jin found them there sometime later curled up on the sofa with Namjoon in one corner and Y/N resting against his side a blanket tucked around her legs and Moni settled happily next to her as the trio watched some sort of drama on the tv. The dog had perhaps missed her more than Namjoon had. While Moni was Namjoon’s dog, in the short time that Y/N had been there, she’d come to be the fluff ball’s favorite person which could have had everything to do with how much she spoiled him.

Namjoon couldn’t find it in himself to be jealous of the animal though. Moni made her happy, he was comforting to her, and Jin’s words rang through his head. She needed comforting things in her life now. She needed security, and Namjoon had every intention of providing it.

“How is the patient doing?” Jin asked almost sorry to break the peaceful moment as the pair had so few of those.

“She ate some of the porridge and drank a full cup of tea.” Namjoon reported with a tired smile, before the smile fell again morphing into a more concerned look. “She hasn’t had anything else though.”

It was bothering him. He was relieved she was awake, but she wasn’t herself. She had eaten so little too. He had hoped she’d finish the whole bowl of porridge, but she’d picked at it finishing maybe a quarter of it before she declared herself done.

“I’ll set up another saline bag to make sure she stays hydrated until she’s feeling a little better.” Jin nodded coming over to check that the IV port was still good on her arm. “Some exercise would be good to if she was up to it, just a walk in the garden though, nothing strenuous.”

“There’s something else.” He sighed eyes them both warily. It wasn’t news he wanted to give, but someone had to. “You have visitors.”

Namjoon stiffened though Y/N barely seemed to register the news.  “What visitors.” He asked in a low growl jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper under control.

“Jackson Wang and Mark Tuan. They’d like to see Y/N.”  Came the reluctant reply, but this time earning a reaction from the woman. She stiffened before straightening up one hand anxiously knotted in the fur on the back of Moni’s neck.

“I don’t want to see him.” She whispered her eyes fixated on the floor.

“No one will make you.” Namjoon assured wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder and leveling Jin a hard look clearly displeased by the news and the fact it had been stated in her presence. “I’ll deal with them.” He murmured into her hair. She nodded mutely keeping her eyes on the floor as she anxiously ran her fingers through Moni’s fur. “Jin, could you have Jungkook come up and stay with her?”

“Jungkook’s here?” She asked her eyes flying up to meet his.

“He got back the other day. He wanted to see you, but you were still sleeping. He’s been staying in one of the guest rooms.” The smile that Namjoon sent her was warm, indulgent. He was far too relieved to see her displaying some sort of emotion that he didn’t even care it was directed towards another man. “Would you like to see him?”

“Yeah.”  

Namjoon smiled placing a soft kiss to her forehead as he stood up. “I’ll be back after I deal with this.”

“Okay.”

Namjoon and Jin walked out together leaving her curled on the sofa with Moni. The drama still played softly in the background though both men knew that she wasn’t really paying attention to it. She wasn’t herself, and they both knew it.  

“Has she spoken at all?”

“Not much more than you heard.” He sighed leaning against the wall outside of the room. “She asked me to stay.”  He huffed out a laugh with a sad smile. “You and I both knew she wouldn’t do that unless something was wrong.”

“She’s been through a lot. As much as she doesn’t like you, you are familiar at this point. Her entire world just got turned on its head. She needs familiarity. You, me, Jungkook. She needs people who care for her right now. She’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s, Y/N. She’s tougher than she looks, she’s just a little fragile right now.”

“Who let those bastards in the house?” He growled pushing off the wall to go deal with the pests that had invaded his home.

“They demanded entrance, claimed they had business with you. Hoseok’s with them now.”

He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well let’s see what the bastards want. Can you send Jungkook to sit with Y/N?”

“Of course.” Jin nodded. “I’ll hook her up to a new saline bag as well. We’ll see if Jungkook can get her to eat anything else.”

“Thank you, hyung.”

Namjoon was practically seething by the time they got to the parlor where Miss In and Hoseok stood guard over the two unwanted visitors. Miss In might not have looked like much, but she was nothing if not loyal to Namjoon. She ran the house with an iron fist so that Namjoon could run his business in the same way without worrying over his home. Hoseok would not hesitate to put a bullet into the heads of the other gang’s members. He was a loyal to Namjoon more so than any of his other men.

“What can I do for you gentleman?” Namjoon asked leisurely strolling into the room giving them a cold smile in greeting.

Jackson stood up whirling around to face Namjoon. “Where’s Y/N?” Namjoon ignored him choosing instead to settle himself into a chair across from the two men. “Where is she?” Jackson repeated glaring at the other man.

“Y/N doesn’t want to see you.” He drawled taking pleasure in the man’s clear annoyance.

“Of course she wants to see me. You can’t keep her away from me.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Wang, that Y/N does not want to see you. She’s been unwell and hasn’t wanted any visitors, especially not you.”

Jackson frowned clenching his fists. “Y/N would never refuse to see me, and what do you mean she’s been unwell?”

“She’s been unwell.” He shrugged purposefully keeping his answer vague partly to protect Y/N’s privacy and partly to annoy the other man.

“You said. What’s wrong with her?” He gritted out trying to restrain himself from jumping on the other man, but this was RM’s domain, and it would do no good to cause problems when Y/N’s safety was dependent on this man.

“I don’t think she would like you to know.” He smiled the expression dark and cold. “You did after all betray her.”

“I did no such thing!” Jackson shouted jumping up from his seat only to be pulled down by Mark.

“Control yourself.” He sighed. “Yelling isn’t going to get you any closer to seeing Y/N.”

“I’m afraid that neither of you will be seeing Y/N today. She has very clearly requested not to see you.”

“Where is she?”

“That is none of your concern.” Namjoon drawled. “She has asked not to see you. I intend to honor that request.”

“You can’t keep her away from me. She’s my sister.”

“And what kind of brother fails to protect his little sister?” Namjoon shot back cruelly.

“She was never supposed to marry you.” Jackson hissed. “She never should have been here in the first place. She never should have met a bastard like you.”

Namjoon froze the tension in the room rising as he levelled Jackson with a dark look. “She was always meant for me.” He smirked the expression cold, almost feral in nature as he stared at the other man. “Do you really think you could protect her? You? She’s better off here with me than she ever was with you.”

Jackson scoffed and leaning forward with a manic twinkle in his eye. “You think she’ll ever love you?”  He grinned the expression lacking any warmth or humor. “She won’t. She’s too good to degrade herself like that.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed dangerously his grin almost feral as he looked at the other man. “You think she would be any better off with you?”  The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he spoke. “You couldn’t even manage to get her more than an hour away before your bumbling attempt at a rescue was foiled. Did you really think you could take her away from me? The only reason you aren’t dead is because she didn’t want you dead. The only reason your bumbling crew was given the time of day was because you had the audacity to claim her as kin.”

“I want to make something perfectly clear to you, Mr. Wang. Y/N has never been and never will be your kin. She is my wife, and once the wedding is over, you will never see her again.”  

“You have no right!”

“I have every right! You may not like it, but Y/N is my wife. She will remain my wife, and you will fade into obscurity especially after your spectacular failure of a rescue. She was willing to sacrifice herself for you, if only you hadn’t lied to her.” He sighed false sympathy dripping from his tone. “She was quite heartbroken you know.”

“You bastard!”

“Is that any way to talk to your betters?” Namjoon quirked a brow unamused by the man across from him who was practically vibrating with anger.

“Just let me see her!”

“No. Out of the question. I won’t have you upsetting her any more than you already have.”  He scoffed elegantly crossed his legs leisurely leaning back in his seat. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’ve outstayed your welcome. Hoseok!” He called and almost instantaneously the red haired man was by his side. “Could you escort our guests out? And make sure that the gate knows that they are not welcome at the estate again.” He turned his cold gaze on the two men again sending them a smile that sent chills down both of their spines. “If you have any further business with me, you can do it through official channels, not at my home.”

part 24

[reytaliation]

「 to my youth. — kaminari denki 」

‣ genre — fluff, friends au

‣ w.c — 1,1k

‣ warning — none

‣ synopsis — you and denki have a talk about your future at the beach because you’re just as clueless as each other about who you are and what you need. 

denki sits on the beach, eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. he lets out a sigh, an exhale of relief when a breeze passes by him, tousling his hair as he buries his feet deeper into the primrose-colored grains. the briny aroma that exists in every fiber of air makes him feel at ease, as though unknotting all his angsty-teenager worries with grace. he feels a bit better, partially because his fever has already gone down when he shook you out of your half-asleep state at four in the morning. 

“why?” you ask without turning your head after sensing his tense posture.

denki looks confused, a little startled when you break the silence. “why what?”

“why the long face?” you unknowingly exhale too, stubbornly gazing forward. “thinking about something?” for some reason, you’re too...scared to even spare him a small glance. this isn’t you, did his fever rub off on you or something?

to your dismay, his sudden inquiry catches you off guard. “high school is going to be over in a year, have you thought about what to do?” 

you open your mouth to protest with something along the line of he’s overthinking again and there’s still an entire year ahead to make new memories but when you’re about to utter the first word, your mouth automatically snaps itself close. it’s like you have an entire masterpiece planned out in your mind but when someone tosses you a blank canvas, you’re standing there in defeat like the biggest idiot. denki is serious this time, you know it’s not because he’s lightheaded after riding out the fever. 

“honestly?” you breathe out. “no, i haven’t. god, i don’t even want to think about it, the future scares me a little.”

upon the mossed rock and vibrant horizon, comes the sun rays that are promised by the starlit sky. it makes you both a little breathless, not exchanging a single word nor moving a muscle for a while. 

until, “fine, it scares me a whole lot,” you confess, gaze cast downward as you hug your legs closer to your chest. “it sucks because everyone seems to have their lives together, jiro is finally taking her interest in music seriously, todoroki is planning on being an actual hero, and midoriya is...i don’t know, but he’s definitely onto something. point is, everyone is already one too many steps ahead of me, i’m just..here, stuck. and i don’t feel like i have-”

“a lot of time left.” denki finishes your sentence, prompting you to look at him this time. his delicate features shine under the cracking lights of dawn, starry eyes twinkling and lips outstretched into the smile that you absolutely adore. he has such a contagious type of smile that it makes you feel a little less dead inside whenever you see it. but your heartbeat also grows a little more ecstatic. 

a hearty chuckle. “you’re not alone, you know,” he says while not breaking away from the eye contact, this makes your throat grow dry. “i still have so much to do, so much to...say yet too little time. so yeah, don’t think about it too much, i’m never gonna leave you behind no matter what.”

you have to hold back a playful scoff at that; and to think he was the one who brought up this sappy topic. “if anything, you’re the overthinker in this relationship,” you tell him with a nudge on his rib. “but if you’ve already had my back, then you should know that i’ll always have yours too.”

because what would you do without an overthinker like denki? drawing your sorrow by stress-eating in the middle of the night? bottoming out on questionable drinks to end up like mineta or sero? winging every single important choice that can potentially flip your life upside down in either a good or bad way? not in a million years. he knows that you need him as much as he needs you, harsh truth but you still hate it either way.

you both don’t look forward to the future, like at all. 

you’re too apathetic and overall just a big ‘meh’ about it. you’re the type of person that goes with the flow, letting life toss you around like a ragdoll until you finally snap at some point to fight back because you know where the line between giving up and knowing that you’ve had enough is. meanwhile, denki is rather anxious about things. if a piece of paper with a pencil can draw out the map of his entire destiny ahead then he’ll have it finished in one night. but he’s grown out of his middle school self to know that things don’t always go as planned.

guess if things turn out to be shit, you’ll still have him.

“does that mean if we’re still single in our thirties, you’ll marry me like how our parents always joke about?” denki cracks a shit-eating grin this time, one that makes your heart swell but for the most part, you wanna whack him unconscious with a pillow. 

you sneer in return, “sure, but you’ll have to fall for me first.”

there’s a pang in denki’s chest, it’s so loud and evident that he’s afraid you might hear it. you really didn’t have to slap him in the face with that seemingly harmless statement. “hmm, who would even fall for a stubborn hermit crab like you?” he jokes to hide the nervousness that’s crawling upon his spine. his ears are probably bright red right now. “although...that wouldn’t be a problem with me.” because he’s already fallen for you, a little too hard actually.

“what does that even mean?” you only hum after questioning his statement, nothing makes sense right now since you’re getting a little sleepy because a certain someone wanted to watch the sunrise which simply lasted for about two minutes after two(ish) hours of waiting.

“i don’t know,” denki laughs before standing up, dusting the sand off of his jeans. “you go figure it out, smartass.” with that, he runs off with his converses dangling between his fingers, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of the beach like a total dimwit. slowly, within those five seconds of making eye contact with your best friend again, his words zero in on you like a wakeup call. 

urgently grabbing your sneakers, you chase after him. “hey- wait! get back here!” by looks of it, you’ve probably figured it out now. it’s not like he’s trying to be subtle either.

denki feels like he just gained strength from spewing out that indirect confession, and it gives him a tiny ray of hope that he still has his entire youth before his eyes to tell you how he really feels. or his whole life if you don’t start resenting him for crossing the line that no one dares talk about when they have a thing for their best friend. 

either way, as long as denki sees your presence side by side with him at every ups and downs, he’s home. 

[falseroar]

Is This Your Card? Part 16: Alone with the Seer

((The table quickly turns on the District Attorney, but Celine proposes an idea, a way that the attorney could help her discover what’s really going on in this house. Despite some objections from the others, Y/N decides to take her up on her offer if it means possibly getting to the truth.

(This part contains a couple of references to Silent Watch, and changes up the relationship between the DA and the Seer from canon.)

Here’s a link to the masterlist for the whole au and to the most recent part.))

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Watch as I betray them all”

The words on the card had an immediate effect on the table, and feebly you said, “I don’t…This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” Celine asked when you hesitated, and you swore you could hear the taunt in her voice.

But you couldn’t answer her, couldn’t just admit that your card was the bloodstained one lying in the middle of the table, the word “werewolf” an accusation and condemnation all in one.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time, Y/N,” Celine pressed further, and you could feel the energy ripple around the table, the accusing stares that you met one by one as the others piled on.

“With those beady little eyes,” Chef said, his gaze going to your bruised eye in particular.

“And wearing those rags?” Benjamin scoffed, leaving you to fight the urge to look down at your wrinkled and disheveled clothes from last night’s party.

Your gaze went to Abe next, saw his eyes flicker over you before he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted someone so god damn gorgeous.”

Wait, what?

In between you and him, the Colonel seemed to realize that it was his turn to speak up, but he only waved a hand and said, “I’ll pass.”

On your other side, Damien remained silent and tense, his eyes on the card in front of you. You couldn’t be sure what was going through his mind, whether he would have spoken up for you if he knew a way to do so without causing more trouble—or if his sister wasn’t here.

“This card doesn’t mean anything,” you said. “It sounds more like a taunt than an accusation, doesn’t it?”

“…True,” Celine said, surprising you. “It’s as though someone singled you out, to observe what’s happened here this weekend. As I suggested earlier, I believe this is just one part of a bigger story, and I sense that you have a far greater role to play in all of this. I trust you can help me find an answer, Y/N. Will you help me?”

“…I want to know what happened to Mark, the same as everyone else at this table,” you answered, and she smiled.

“Perfect. Come with me.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Abe said, before she could rise from her chair. “How exactly do you expect them to ‘help’ you?”

“There are ways to find the answers we seek. I am a practiced seer, and with that comes experience with the arcane arts. Believe me when I say that I have seen things that you could not possibly begin to understand,” Celine said, drawing herself up to her full height to better glare down at him.

“Try me,” Abe muttered under his breath, before raising his voice again as he stood. “So what, you’re going to drag my partner off to do some ritual that will most likely lead to their death?”

“No one said anything about dying,” you said, ignoring the way the butler and the chef both looked at the “Death” card lying right in front of you.

“This isn’t up for debate, partner,” Abe said without looking at you, his eyes still locked on Celine.

Partner. Abe’s second card was just barely visible underneath his “Hermit” card, but you didn’t have to see it to remember the long list of names typed on it.

Before you could think of anything reassuring to say to him in front of everyone else, the Colonel stood as well, both hands flat on the table.

“Well, I trust Celine with all my heart! I don’t see any reason why anyone should doubt her!”

While Abe and the Colonel glared at each other, Benjamin raised a finger and said, “Well, I have to agree with our hunter. This just doesn’t seem natural.”

“Yeah, like any of this is ‘natural,’” Chef countered. “We might be dealing with a werewolf, have you all forgotten that?”

You wished you could forget, same as you wished half the table wouldn’t look at you when he said it.

“If it makes you feel better, you guys can stand watch outside the door,” Celine said. “But my work cannot be interrupted.”

“Oh, believe you me, I’ll be keeping a close eye on every single one of you.” Abe stared around the table. “Doesn’t matter how natural or not all of this is, I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse.”

That apparently settled, Celine gestured for you to follow her and walked out of the room, but you weren’t the only one to rise from the table.

Damien, who had been silent this entire time, passed you at the door frame and caught up to Celine at the foot of the stairs with a cry of, “Celine, wait!”

“Yes, Damien?” Celine asked curtly, her tone suggesting that she only stopped because her twin brother had blocked the way up the stairs.

“Are you alright? I know this news can’t be settling well with you.”

Celine brushed past him, her voice empty of emotion as she said, “I’m fine for now.”

You and Damien locked eyes, briefly.

Celine had been Mark’s wife, up until the fallout earlier this year. You didn’t know the details, you doubted anyone outside of the couple and perhaps Damien did. Even the tabloids had failed to pick up anything beyond baseless rumors and swirling gossip as Mark retreated away from the world at the same time. You’d barely seen him after the divorce.

Of course, you had barely seen him before the divorce, too.

Leaving it up to Damien to chase after Celine and try again, saying as he went up the stairs, “But all of this talk of the occult, I thought you had—”

“Given it up after I married Mark?” Celine answered as she paused at the top of the stairs.

“Well, yes,” Damien said. “I just thought…you wouldn’t become wrapped up in all of this. We don’t know what’s going on here, Celine, someone sent those cards, they knew us and they mur—Mark is dead.”

“There’s more to this world than you could ever hope to imagine. I just had my eyes opened to a small portion of it, and I can’t just close them now, little brother,” Celine said. “Especially not now, when it could help us find out who killed Mark.”

She turned and continued on down the hall without waiting for a response, and after a moment to sigh and run his hand through his hair, Damien called after her, “Just be careful!”

You reached the top of the stairs and glanced at Damien, who failed to meet your eyes. You could have asked him why his sister would be here, or if he knew why Mark’s card said what it did. You could have asked him why he had said nothing at the table, when everyone else turned against you.

But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer any answers.

Instead, he just added softly, “You too.”

Like you would follow Celine into yet another small room that you had never seen before or shut the door behind you if you were trying to be careful.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it, Y/N?” Celine asked as she opened a black leather bag and began placing a series of items on top of the small table in between you, starting with a tattered, square piece of fabric whose corners hung down over the side of the table. “Since we had a chance to talk alone like this.”

“Couldn’t have anything to do with what you said you would do if I ever set foot in this house again, would it?” you asked. “Something about a fur rug, wasn’t it?”

Celine gave a fond smile at the memory as she lit the last of several candles, which did little to break the darkness in the room. The flickering flames caught her eyes and sent a shadow over her face as she said, “Well, it certainly didn’t stop you, now did it?”

“I didn’t think you’d care, all things considered. Why should it bother you who your ex-husband chooses to invite to some party?” You crossed your arms and sat back in your chair, fighting to appear calm and collected even though every hair on your body felt as though it were standing on its end.

“What bothers me is that I warned you, I warned you something like this would happen when I told you to stay away from Mark and my brother,” Celine said, her voice rising slightly before she regained control of herself. “And you didn’t listen to me.”

There were more items on the table now, besides the candles. A large crystal ball, several strange, wooden shapes covered in markings you couldn’t understand, a couple of dark, pitted stones that seemed to absorb the light from the candles. And, clenched tight in her right hand, a silver amulet.

“I had nothing to do with Mark’s death—”

“Oh, and it’s just a coincidence that he had your cards on him, just before he took a silver bullet to the chest?” Celine asked. “I knew, as soon as I saw you for what you were, that you would mean nothing but pain and ruin for Mark and Damien if I didn’t—”

“What does Damien have to do with this?” you interrupted, your own hands clenched tight to fight back the urge to change, to get out of this room.

“What do you think would have happened, if someone had found that werewolf card on you? If your little secret left this house?” Celine asked, her voice lowered and trembling. “The district attorney, friend to Mark Iplier and the mayor himself, revealed to all the world to be a werewolf. And suddenly everyone’s wondering how much they knew, if Damien was simply ignorant of the true nature of the monster he backed and helped put into office, or if he knew. Everything he worked so hard for, ruined in a single weekend because he just wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You told him to stay away from me, too,” you said. It wasn’t a surprise, just another confirmation of how much the Seer hated you.

“For all the good it did,” Celine muttered. “Instead, he just went and offered to hide you away in his own home every full moon. Like keeping you safe was the problem here.”

“…What about Mark?” you asked. “Did you ever…?”

“Tell him you were a werewolf?” Celine laughed without a trace of humor. “No, it never came up. His work kept him busy enough that he didn’t have time for anyone else, so that was never a problem.”

Was that a trace of bitterness in her voice? Or maybe you just imagined it.

Your eyes ran over her fingers again, noting that there wasn’t even a line to mark her missing wedding ring anymore.

“Why are you here, Celine?”

Celine paused and then sighed, her breath nearly extinguishing one of the candles closest to her before she opened her eyes again and met your stare.

“I couldn’t shake the feeling I had about this party, ever since I heard about it. I felt, I knew that something terrible would happen this weekend, I tried to warn...But it happened anyways, and I don’t think it’s stopped happening, not yet.” She ran her hand over the two cards in front of her, and with a start you recognized the bloodstained cards Abe had placed on the table earlier. “You can feel it, can’t you? There is something at work here, a presence that…that reminds me of you.”

“What?”

She pointed at your chest with the hand still holding the silver amulet and said, “That curse that clings to you, it reeks of the same darkness that lurks in these walls. It’s how I knew there was something wrong with you, the moment I met you.”

You reached up and gripped your shirt, remembering that night in the woods. Those solid black eyes that had taken your friend, the silver touch that left you reeling until the moonlight changed your life forever. The night you learned that there were things out there, entities that would do anything to enter this world, cruel beings that didn’t care who they hurt along the way to whatever goal they set their sight on.

There was something that clung to the air of this house, that pressed down at every moment, leaving you with the itch in the back of your spine that screamed it wasn’t safe, that left you feeling so close to changing at every moment. If there was even a chance that Celine was right, that there could be something like that in this house…

“What do you think we could do?” you asked. “To stop it?”

Celine tapped the crystal ball with her finger and said, “To start with, we need to know what we’re dealing with. I believe that your curse means that you already have a connection with things not of our world—”

She cut you off before you could protest and continued, “Whether we like it or not, you’re the best option we have right now. I’ll do what I can to help, but I need you to concentrate and tell me what you see.”

She waited until you reluctantly nodded and then spread her hands out over the cards, the silver amulet still tucked between two fingers as she closed her eyes. Her lips moved, but you couldn’t hear any words, only feel the darkness begin to gather in the corners of the room, threatening to snuff out the light of the candles, whose sputtering flames illuminated the swirling mists within the crystal ball at the center of the table.

You found your eyes drawn to the crystal ball, to the images that flickered within the mists inside echoed by the shifting shadows in the corners of your eyes.

The images grew stronger the longer you looked, until it was like you were there again, standing in the foyer looking up the stairs as Mark spoke to the small gathering with his drink in hand.

“—surrounded by such close and trusted friends—”

His eyes met yours, his words twisted and broken by the memory of his body on the floor until you wondered if they had always sounded so hollow and bitter.

“I locked the door to your room once I was sure you were safe and sound in bed,” Damien’s voice said in your head, contradicting the image in your mind of reaching the open bedroom door just as the butler rounded the corner, tray in hand.

The next image that floated up was Damien and Abe arguing in your bedroom, their voices muffled and distant. You watched in confusion, wondering when this happened until Abe’s voice swam into focus and you heard him say, “—have a little voice in the back of your head that whispers every time you’re around the attorney that maybe today’s the day they—”

His words drifted back into the muffled haze that surrounded you, leaving only another layer to the sick and twisted ache in the center of your chest and you shut your eyes, not wanting to see the words on his lips or Damien’s response.

You stepped back and found yourself looking down at the Colonel, seated on the bench outside with his eyes hidden behind his glasses, his smile wistful as he said, “I guess we both needed someone to keep us this side of sane. I had hoped she would help me—”

You saw the Chef, knife in hand as he spoke of his failed restaurant, heard Benjamin’s lament about a partner who betrayed him, too many voices swirling together until, suddenly, you found yourself standing outside again, this time in darkness.

You could hear a voice, muffled and going in and out too much to make out any individual words, only the rise and fall of the speech of a man you had never seen before, leaning on a shovel as he spoke to you and Abe and the Chef, his eyes alight with urgency. Something important, something…

You blinked, the room returning to focus as you whispered, “The gardener.”

“The what?” Celine asked, her biting voice cutting through the mist that still seemed to fill your head. “Did you see something? Someone? Tell me!”

“The gardener, he’s seen this before,” you said softly, dreamily as though you were still half-asleep, but you felt certain you were right about this. The gardener would know what to do.

Celine, on the other hand, only seemed to grow angrier at the sound of your words, like you hadn’t given her the answer she was looking for. “Is that it?! No, you need to go back, there has to be more—”

It must have been the remaining haze in your mind, that made you ignore the obvious presence in the room growing stronger with her every word, how the darkness in the corners had left the flames of the candles like pale echoes of any real light, that made you think now was an okay time to ask your next question.

“The Colonel’s Lovers card. Who else knew you two were having an affair, besides Mark?”

There was only a moment, barely a second to register the surprise on the seer’s face, before it quickly turned to rage.

((End of Part 16. In Celine’s defense, she genuinely wants to do what she believes is best for the people in her life. The DA just...doesn’t line up with her idea of “what’s best” though.

Link to Part 17: The Groundskeeper.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch))

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 10

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 7,783

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

It’s times like these that I really do wonder which is more nerve-racking: being thrust into a social interaction unwillingly with a whole bunch of people? Or unwittingly with just one single, solitary person?

With the large group, it was definitely and without a doubt overwhelming. Just finding the strength alone to speak up and join in the conversation was a skill that still escaped me. And even if you did manage to get so much as two words out, that meant all eyes were suddenly on you. What if you talked too much? Or too little? What if you forgot what you were saying at all? Or worse, what if you said something stupid? What if you embarrassed yourself so bad that there’d be no showing your face ever again in the light of day, much less to another human being?

Which, if I’m being totally honest, I would probably find kind of amazing.

Hermit for life, yo.

But then, there were also advantages to the crowd. The biggest one being that an antisocial, cave-dwelling troll like me? More often than not could get away with saying nothing at all. Everyone else could handle all the chit-chat while I simply faded into the background and soaked up the ambiance. That way, I could just make an appearance and give the illusion of being socially active without actually being socially active.

One-on-one exchanges, on the other hand? Now those were a whole other beast. No, make that whole other species.

There was no fading into the background here. There wasn’t even a background to fade into. All there was was you and the other person. A person you were expected to carry half of the conversation with. When put on the spot like that with someone I barely knew, forget having a back-and-forth dialogue like a normal and well-adjusted friggin’ adult, I was lucky if I got anything out of my mouth more sophisticated than “uh” or “um.” Then there were the awkward silences where I’d frantically try to come up with something, anything to say only to have my useless lump of a brain play possum and draw a total blank. I died a thousand and one deaths in those damn silences.

And okay, sure, this was Lea we were talking about. An individual who by now I’d shockingly, and on more than one occasion no less, made reasonably successful small talk with. But a few minutes of a lunch break here or some brief, friendly banter while I was taking his order as my customer there was completely different than now finding myself alone with him in a booth at some random pub on a Friday night.

And besides, it was Lea. Lea, who I’d seen shirtless and slathered in ice cream. Lea, whose lips my lips had thrown themselves at within the first five minutes of meeting him. Lea, who-

Damn it, brain, really? Was now really the best time to be playing the highlight reel of Elsa’s Greatest Embarrassing Hits?

Needless to say?

I.

Was.

Terrified.

Anna Fryse, if you could please report to the table in the back right corner, your older sister is waiting for you and is in desperate need of someone to hide behind right about now.

Also, Anna, if you were ever planning on developing the ability to psychically read thoughts, particularly mine, now would be the time to do it.

...of course, for her to hear that message, she’d need to already be psychic.

And if she was, that meant she was ignoring me.

Which she totally would do.

Brat.

Checking back into reality momentarily, it was in this second that it came to my attention that I was staring at Lea without realizing it. Well now I realized it. Particularly because he was looking back at me with a smile. My heart flatlined, my face paled and my eyes darted away.

Oh god, I had been staring. Did he know I’d been staring? ...of course he did, Elsa you dope! That’s generally what two people do when they're sitting together at a table talking.

Talking. Right. That was a thing I should be doing.

Alright, brain, I know you’re doing your best impersonation of the sound of a mime convention in there right now, but I’m going to need you to work with me here. Think of a word. Any word. Just something to get the conversation rolling. Oh yes. I can feel it. Here it comes. And that word is…

Flamingo.

...seriously, brain? Hadn’t we already said all that there was to say on the subject of flamingos earlier during the little palm notes debacle? Need we bring that back up again? I mean, I do see where you’re coming from - once you ask a man what he does in his flamingo, what else more is there to discuss with him, really? Might as well just-

“Fabracadabra?”

Lea’s voice broke through my thoughts, drawing my eyes back to him.

Wow. Now that was a really good word.

Way better than my lame word. Pssh, flamingo? What was that even about?

Wait… his word was also the name of another one of our ice cream flavors.

He took a swig from his ale as he studied me for a second, cocking his head before at last shaking it. “Nope. Too fruity sweet. You’re the type o’ gal who likes something with a lil more...” he clicked his teeth together with a smirk, “...bite to it.”

I blinked, some of my tension relaxing. Then my lips were doing something strange. Was it that crazy thing all the kids were doing nowadays, what’s it called? I believe the term was… grinning? “You’re… still trying to guess which one is my favorite?”

“Just you wait and see,” he scooched around the booth to sit closer to me, sliding the Ifrit bottle along the table with him, “I’m gonna get it. Mark my word.”

Turning my head slightly, I gave him some side-eye. “...you seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“With good reason! I’m twelve-and-oh, baby. Haven’t been wrong yet. Trust me, your top pick off the Ice Palace menu is as good as called.”

“Who ever said it was an Ice Palace signature flavor?”

His head rocked back at that, then he narrowed his eyes, “You play dirty.”

I hid a smile behind my fingers. “Want a hint?”

“Nah,” he leaned back, propping his elbows on the high back rim of the booth and stretching his long legs out under the table, crossed at the ankles. “Hints are for game show contestants and lame-os who lack self-confidence.”

“And you certainly have no shortage of confidence.”

He beamed, closing his eyes. “Nope! Who has two thumbs and is one cocky ass mofo?” Said two thumbs pointed at himself. “This guy.”

A soft snort escaped me and I shook my head. “No doubt about that,” I murmured as I looked away.

You know what? Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad afterall. Actually, it was turning out kind of... nice.

My gaze settled on Anna and Kristoff out there. It was all the poor boy could do to keep up with my sister on the dance floor. She even tossed him out into a spin at one point, much to his surprise if the face he made was any clue. But he seemed to be coming around to the whole experience. It even looked like he might be, dare I say it, having fun. They both did. Watching the two of them had me feeling an upward tug at one corner of my lips.

“So how ‘bout it?” I heard Lea ask.

I looked back at him, quirking an eyebrow. “How about what?”

His eyes crinkled as he nodded towards an open spot out in the middle of the pub. “Wanna dance?”

Cue sound of shattering glass.

“Ack! My drink!” Rayne yelped from the booth behind me. “Sorry, I’ll pay to replace the cup!”

As for me? I’d choked. On what? My heart launching itself up into my throat would be my guess.

“W-with you?” my mouth blurted out without consulting me first.

“No, with Grand High King Fuddy-Duddy over there sporting the scar,” he tapped a finger to the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, with me.”

Why? Why would he ask-? What could he possibly be- Oh! Oh I get it now! He was just being nice! Yeah, that had to be it. He just wanted to make sure I had fun tonight. That I felt included. He was being a good friend. He really was a very sweet guy.

But me? Dance with Lea? Me? Who cowered and fled at the first sign of any form of human contact? Nope. Couldn’t do it. Quite simply no way, no how. Dancing with Lea meant I’d have to get close to him. That I’d have to touch him. Er… not to say that there was anything wrong with touching him! I mean, it actually might be quite pleasant to-

Wait, what?

Uh… let’s just put a pin in that wayward thought there and come back to it later, like say, oh I don’t know… never. In the meantime, Lea was still waiting on my answer.

I opened my mouth to give it.

All that came out was a squeak.

...let’s try that again, shall we?

Clearing my throat and snatching a wisp of my hair to tangle around my fingers, I at last got out a hasty, “No, I don’t think so.”

Was that harsh? It sounded harsh. Ugh, this is why I don’t do people!

He tsked and sighed. “It’s cuz I’m ugly, isn’t it?”

“What?!” I blanched before quickly shaking my head. “No! No, no, no! That’s not it! Not because you’re ugly! I mean, you’re not! Ugly, that is! Not at all! Far from it, you’re very-” I slapped both hands over my mouth, face roasting.

Shut up. Shut up right now.

I watched him bend forward, planting one elbow on the table and chin in his palm as he now eyed me with a wide, cheshire grin. “Do go on, I’m all ears. I’m very…?”

Oh this smug, son of a…

My eyelids drooped and I lowered my hands. “...very manipulative in fishing for compliments.”

“Guilty,” he snerked, leaning back once more and slouching a bit into the cushions. His grin twitched wider, “So, that’s a hard no then?”

I couldn’t help a tiny smile of my own. “Sorry. I... just don’t dance.”

“No worries. Figured you might say something like that. But couldn’t pass up the chance to ask either,” he winked, taking another sip of his drink. Then he paused, pursing his lips to one side and rubbing the nape of his neck. “...so what is your story anyway?”

Brow furrowing, I asked, “My story?”

He struck up a finger, “You’re twenty-two. Fresh outta college. Guessing Ivy League no less just by the look of you, but total shot in the dark there. And you just got your first job… in a mall food court. Which, ya know, absolutely nothing wrong with that, but it’s the type of gig that only teens, university students, and college dropouts go for. Take it from me, a dropout twice over now, but back at it again for round three hoping it sticks this time,” up the hand went again, now with index and middle digits crossed.

“Why didn’t it the first couple times?” my head tipped to one side.

Who, me? Trying to take focus off myself? Deflecting? Psssh, I would never!

He splayed a hand out over his chest, “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always the well-adjusted, level-headed and responsible individual that you see before you today.”

“Really?” I snorted, squinting at him. “Is that what I’m seeing before me? I hadn’t realized.”

“Shush, you. Trust me, six, seven years ago? I was a real punkass troublemaker. The kind of boy you don’t bring home to your parents, all about the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll scene, ya know? That whole college thing sounded lame to me, but all my friends were doing it, so figured hell,” he shrugged, “why not give it a shot? But me and college didn’t really play well together. I didn’t take it seriously, not really. So eventually decided it wasn’t for me and kicked it to the curb. Few years later? Thought myself older, wiser, ready to give the big ol’ four years and a diploma deal a second chance. But I was just fooling myself, I hadn’t changed one bit. Wasn’t long before we were parting ways once again.”

I folded my arms on the table, “So what’s changed? Why is try number three going to be different?”

Lea frowned up at the ceiling. “I guess you just hit a point in your life when you realize you don’t want to be slinging pizza dough at minimum wage forever. Even a screwup like me’s got dreams. Nothing too fancy... just maybe something like owning and operating my own place. Maybe a lil ice cream parlour by the beach, a real mom and pop kind of store.

“Ah, it’s silly,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “but either way, I know jackshit about running a business. And that’s why I’m back to hitting those books once again and this time I’m doing my damnedest to hammer some knowledge into this thick skull of mine,” he pointed to his temple. “I’ve really buckled down and, uh…” his eyes darted away, “...shall we say, kicked some old habits.”

“You sound like you really want to make it work this time.” I propped one elbow next to the Shiva, leaning my cheek into my hand. “I haven’t known you that long, but based on what I do know about you, I’m guessing there isn’t much you can’t do once you’ve really set your mind to it.”

“Thanks!” he laughed. Then his smile turned a shade wry, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to change the subject on me.”

...fudge.

He went on, “You got my story, now I’d love to hear yours.”

“I told you already,” I frowned, my hands reaching for a napkin to start twisting between them. “My, er… my major didn’t work out. This job… it’s temporary and-”

Lea cut me off with a wave of his hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know what ya said. I’m more interested in what wasn’t said.”

I grimaced, my fingers strangling the poor paper napkin harder. “It’s… a long story.”

“I got time. Loads of it. Only if you want to talk about it though. No pressure, it just looks like you need it.”

Did I? What was that supposed to mean anyway? “...It’s kind of personal. I’m not even sure if it’s something I really should be talking about.”

His forehead wrinkled. “What, like it’s a secret?” Then his face brightened. “I love a good secret! Okay, how about this. Let’s do a trade. I’ll give you one of my secrets, you give me one of yours. Could be anything, big or small, just whatever you want.”

I blinked at him.

Apparently, he took that as a yes, for now he was hunching forward, bringing his face closer to mine and whispering, “So here’s one that only one other person knows and only cuz he’s known me since he and I were in diapers. Not even the kiddos are in on it. Okay, so, my first name?” He gave one more quick glance around to make sure the coast was clear before lowering his voice even further, “Not actually Lea.”

My eyebrows knit together. “It’s not?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Middle name. Go by it cuz I hate my first name.”

“Which is?”

His face pinched. “Axel.”

“...Axel,” I repeated flatly, one eyebrow arching.

“Yup. Apparently, my folks were total diehards for Guns n’ Roses. But the real kicker? The couple o’ useless junkies that gave me life were apparently too high off whatever drug o’ the week they were on to even make sure the name was spelled right on the birth certificate. So instead of having a rockstar singer for a namesake, I’m named after a goddamn skateboard trick all thanks to one stupid E that wasn’t s’posed to be there,” he grumbled, throwing himself back into his seat and slumping down, crossing his arms.

I just stared at him for a second, silence stretching. Then I spluttered and burst out in laughter, trying to smother it behind my hands.

“Wow, rude much?” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, I really am! It’s just, with the name and that whole story and your pout…” Oh gosh, that pout! I thought he was supposed to be twenty-five, not five. Still giggling but sobering somewhat, I continued, “I just couldn’t help myself. I really am sorry though, I know I shouldn’t have found it funny.”

“Bah, it’s fine,” he brushed off with a grin. “I’ve had my whole life to get over it and yeah, it’s a lil funny. But now it’s your turn, Missy. Gimme a secret. Anything’ll do. And don’t worry, I’ll be a lot nicer about it than some insensitive clods at the table,” he gave me a pointed look, smirk still in place to show he was only teasing.

Oh. Right. That. I’d almost forgotten. Though technically, I’d never agreed to anything. Then again, he did just kind of bare his soul to me. And I did just kind of ridicule him when he did. So maybe… in a way, I sort of owed it to him?

“I…” My voice wavered as I hesitated, hands mangling the napkin again. I gnawed my lower lip, looking down, hearing the thudding in my ribcage get louder. Finally, I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth, not fully sure what was going to come out. “My parents… have no idea where I am right now. They haven’t for a while.”

His eyes widened slightly at that. Whatever he’d be expecting, apparently it hadn’t been that.

Hey, same boat here, buddy.

“Oh… I see,” was all he said at first, taking another slow pull from his drink now as he turned this new little tidbit over in his head.

And that wasn’t even the half of it. I hadn’t mentioned the type of family I was from. Or that’d I’d been in a relationship, no, engaged with a fiancé. Or that’d I’d left him at the altar on my wedding day. Or that when I had, I’d made the split second decision to abandon the only existence I’d ever known and was now stumbling through life with absolutely zero clue as to what the frick I was actually doing.

...yeah, that would have been a lot. Perhaps a bit too much for sharing time. I think I’d made the right call with dropping only this one tiny piece of the puzzle. At least for now. And who knows? He seemed pretty perceptive, maybe it’d be enough for him to read between the lines and answer some of his questions about me. Then again, maybe not.

At last he leaned forwarded onto his elbows, one arm tucked behind the other, and said, “Alright, I’m gonna take a crack at this and you can let me know if I’m right. Or not. You don’t even have to say jackshit, you can just let me blather on like the big lunkhead that I am who likes the sound of his own voice too much, which I’m used to so no worries, totally your call.” He paused, steepling his fingers to his lips as he seemingly gathered his thoughts. Then, “Up ‘til now, I’m guessing you’ve probably led a pretty sheltered life. One where you were maybe used to having all the decisions made for you. But then, for whatever reason or other, you recently decided to cut the cord. So now you find yourself out in the big, bad world that no one really prepared you for, scrambling to find a foothold, scared shitless and just trying to figure out what the hell to do with yourself, let alone with your future.”

Holy… how on earth did he…?

Swallowing hard, I fiddled with the straw in my cocktail and mumbled, “Wow, you are good. Ever consider becoming one of those windup psychics in a box that spits out fortunes on little cards?”

He snorted. “Sure did, but was too dang tall to fit into the glass case. Too bad, those lil dudes have it made.” Then he tilted his head. “...want some unsolicited advice?”

I shrugged, now absently stirring the blue liquid of my drink. “Sure, why not.”

“Get out there. Explore. Try new things. Right now, I’m guessing your worldview is very small, so you need to expand it. It’s the only way you’ll figure out what to make of your life. Cuz as glamorous as it is, I suspect you’re like me and don’t exactly want to be working the food court all the way up into your golden years.”

Now I looked up at him, a crease forming between my eyebrows. “...are you telling me to get out of my comfort zone?”

Lea chuckled, scratching his cheek, “Sure, I guess that’d be one of way of putting it.”

“That’s actually something I’ve been hearing a lot lately,” I sighed, sinking further down into my seat. Sure, it sounded good in theory. But in practice? Easier said than done. “...any suggestions on where to start?”

He gave a low hum, rubbing a curled knuckle to his chin. Then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. “Got just the thing! Be back in a jiff!” Then he sprung up to his feet, one hand on top the table to catapult himself over it and out the booth. As soon as his shoes hit the floor, he raced off, disappearing into the bar crowd.

...okay?

Should I be afraid? Yes, I think I should be afraid. Very, very afraid.

My eyes squinted, scanning the crush of soberly-challenged people out there, searching for that distinctive fiery head of hair. Should have been easy given Lea was a living embodiment of Mount Fuji, but even so, I was having trouble spotting him.

A sudden blur darted out of the throng and landed hard on the cushion beside me, crashing into my side and distracting me from my hunt.

Said blur was Anna. Surprise, surprise.

“Whew!” she puffed out happily, sweating and fanning herself with one hand while the other crammed fries into her mouth. “That boy… Kristoff, was it? Man oh man, would he be in trouble if I didn’t already have a boyfriend!”

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead.  “Boyfriend?” That was news to me. “Since when?”

She froze mid-bite, shoulders stiffening and eyes going round. Then she snatched up her drink, slurping it down as her eyes shifted rapidly about. Then with a loud gulp, she at last let out a weak laugh, “It, uh… it’s new! Yeah, we… met… at the wedding! Sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t want to say anything because I, er… felt bad! With, ya know, your love life all in the toilet and the bombed engagement and whatnot, so… heh…”

“Oh,” I averted my gaze with a tiny frown. At the wedding, huh? Was it someone from his side of the family? Or maybe a friend of his? Regardless, it didn’t really matter I supposed. I directed a soft smile her way, “I’m fine, really. There was no need for you to hold back. You know you can always tell me anything.”

“I know that!” she laughed, flicking one hand dismissively. “But please, it’s me. I have a new beau like every other week, so it’s hardly anything to stop the presses over! No, the real scoop here is what’s the deal with you and Lea? I wanna know everything!”

“Lea?” I creased my brow, making another quick visual sweep for the guy in question. Still no dice, but I did see Yuffie across the way playing a game of Darts with Meg and Terra. Though… could it still really be called Darts when the projectiles being used were more of those little ninja stars? Either way, it came as little to no shock when next a scowling Leon could be glimpsed making a beeline for the trio. “What about Lea?”

“Don’t play coy! I saw you two getting all cozy-like in this booth here all by yourselves just a minute ago!” her eyebrows waggled.

I scoffed. “There was nothing cozy about it. We were just talking.”

“And smiling. Like, a lot.”

“So? People smile when they talk.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, people. You don’t. Except for with me and Ray-Ray.  Plus,” and here she got in my face, jabbed a finger into my collarbone and paused with all the drama of Sherlock Holmes about to reveal the key piece of evidence at the climax of an epic murder mystery.  “...you laughed.”

Eyelids drooping, I grumbled, “I laugh all the time.”

“Nu-uh! And not like this, you don’t! Gawd, it’s been… I don’t even know how long since I heard a noise like that out of you. You can’t fool me, there’s definitely something between you two. A… a spark!”

A half groan, half huff escaped me. Anna was always like this. She’d binged one too many romantic comedies in her as of yet short existence on this earth. I’d been considering telling her about the Kissident, but now? Bad idea. Like, in all the history of bad ideas, it would just be the absolute worst. She’d have a field day with that one. Better to keep it on the hush-hush for the time being. “There is no spark! There’s not even a… a flicker! Or a glimmer! Or a glint! Not even a fizzle, okay? We’re just friends. Besides, I just broke up with a fiancé not even a month ago, so alleged sparks are the furthest thing from my mind, understand?

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” she slyly brought the Golden Chocobo back up to her lips.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, I cracked my knuckles, “Methinks if the little sister doth enjoy breathing, she’ll knoweth when to zip it.”

“Methinks the little sister is zipping it forthwith!” Anna chirped with a two finger salute. There was a lull as she plucked another fry to give it a nibble. Then, “Sis, can I just tell you how amazing this is?”

My head dipped to one side. “What is?”

“This!” Her arms spread out wide before bringing both hands in to gesture at me, “You! Being out in the real world! Making it on your own! Meeting new people! Having a job! All of it! You’re different! It’s a good different! And this is just the start too, I can already see it, you’re gonna do great things. I’m so proud of you,” she cooed, pinching my cheek.

I swat her hand away, “Great things? Please, Anna… I scoop ice cream at a mall.”

“Yeah, for now! But that alone was a huge step for you. I mean, c’mon, if someone had told you a year ago that you’d be out from under Mom and Dad’s tyrannical thumbs and doing the whole independent thing, you’d probably would’ve just thought that person was spouting crazy talk.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I murmured, feeling the hint of a grin pulling at one side of my mouth. “I guess… I never knew what I was really capable of.”

“Well, now you’ve had just the kick in the rear you needed to find out!” Her smirk then slowly faded into a tiny grimace. “Listen… I’m so sorry about what happened. If I’d known how unhappy you were, I never would’ve let you get all the way up to the day of wedding bells before-”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” I shook my head, putting my hand on top of hers. “It wasn’t your job to save me, it was mine. I just… should have done something about it sooner. Then maybe things wouldn’t be the disaster zone I imagine they are now back at home,” I puffed out a heavy sigh.

Anna laughed, “You got that right! Mom and Dad? Still hella pissed! So any thoughts on when you’re gonna talk to them?” I winced, looking away. She hastily tacked on, “No rush or anything! And you don’t have to worry about me spilling the beans to them either about where you’re laying low! Take all the time you need. I just think-”

“Sorry to interrupt ladies!” We both jumped slightly in our seats as Lea made a sudden reappearance, skidding to a stop beside our table, eyes bright and ear-to-ear grin splitting his face in two. “But I’m gonna need to borrow El here for a minute!”

“Of course!” Anna giggled, standing up from the booth to clear a path out for me. “She’s all yours!”

Um… excuse me?

Don’t I get a say in this?

“Thank you!” he singsonged before snatching my hands in his and yanking me up out of the booth and onto my feet. “Come on, we’re up next!”

Up? Up where?

He started to turn but stopped, tapping a finger to his pursed lips. Then the smile was back with a vengeance as he picked up the Shiva and shoved it into my hand. “Lil liquid courage never hurt!” he gave a firm nod before taking my other hand in his once again and sprinting off, me doing my best not to spill the drink as I stumbled and tripped after him.

I had a bad feeling about this.

“Where are we going?” I called out as we weaved a path through the crush of people, ignoring the soft, weird buzz I was feeling where my fingers were interlaced with his.

Not breaking stride, he turned his head just enough to glance at me out of the corner of his gaze, eyes crinkled. “You’ll see.”

My bad feeling now had an added side of gut-wrenching dread thrown in on the house.

Particularly because I was pretty sure we were heading straight for the-

“Next up on the karaoke stage,” a female voice suddenly rang out over the speakers high above while the music coming from the jukebox faded away, “we have Elsa and Lea here to sing a duet for us! Please welcome them with a round of applause, everyone!”

The room erupted in cheers and clapping as we at last broke out of the dense crowd to find ourselves directly in front of the stage.

Aka my worst nightmare.

Well… at least at the moment.

My nightmares had a tendency to pass around the highly coveted and sought after “Worst” title, depending on which one was most pressing at any given second of the day.

There wasn’t that much to it. The stage was made of dark, polished hardwood with maroon, heavy velvet curtains hanging behind it to decorate the back wall. There were a couple of stands for the cordless mics accompanied by a lone barstool between them. And of course, the karaoke machine itself, front and center with a large screen on top of it for displaying the lyrics. As a whole, it was almost deceptively innocent looking in its simplicity.

But I knew better.

I’m on to you, you miniature torture chamber cleverly disguised as fun for the whole family.

“Surprise!” Lea beamed down at me. Then another tug at my arm and I was staggering to keep up once more as he brought me around to one side of the stage and up its stairs. I tried to put on the brakes, but my legs had turned to jelly, rendering them useless. Instead, it was all I could to stammer and splutter as he chipperly explained, “So as far as available songs go, it was slim pickings when it came to duets, nothing but cheesy love songs. But I think I picked the best one of the bunch, super energetic, should be loads of fun and-”

“No!” I at last managed to get out, jerking my hand free, whirling on my heel and marching back down those steps at warp speed.

He was quick to follow, grab me by my shoulders, spin me back around and guide me up again, still with that stupid grin in place. “Aw, c’mon! You asked me for ideas on new things for you to try! So here you go!”

“Who says I haven’t done this before?” I hissed, feet now scraping across the stage as he slid me along it.

Lea snerked through his nose. “I took a wild guess.”

“That was awfully presumptuous of you.”

“So what, you telling me you’ve sung karaoke?”

“No, but that doesn’t make you any less presumptuous!”

We came to a stop now next to the mics. He stepped in front of me and bent down to my eye level, his hands still firmly gripping my upper arms to keep me from bolting. “Come on, El! Do it for me! As a favor to a friend!”

I shot him a deadpan look. “Fun fact: we’re no longer friends.”

“Since when?”

“Since ten seconds ago when you dragged me up here against my will.”

“Pfft, you don’t mean that,” he finally released me, ruffling my bangs and rolling his eyes before stepping over to the mics, unblocking my field of vision. That’s when I saw it.

All.

Those.

People.

Watching. Murmuring. Waiting. I’d already known the bar was packed, but now, up here, sensing every single last one of those eyes on me, the place seemed to be all but bursting. There were just… just so many! I-

Wait, was the crowd shrinking? And not as is thinning out, but were the people actually getting... smaller?

“Oof!” I wheezed out a surprised grunt as my back collided with something.

Oh.

That’d explain it.

Apparently without me even realizing it, my feet had taken it upon themselves to back me away from the edge of the stage, away from the people and straight into the curtained wall behind me. My hand started groping about, looking for the edge of said curtain, latching on when I found it and sweeping it out for me to hide behind. Everything went dark.

I am stealth.

A ghost.

A ninja.

Sneakiness personified.

Unseeable, unknowable, and-

The curtain whipped away and I winced as light returned, revealing Lea standing before me. He laughed, “There you are!”

I squeaked, grabbed the curtains and yanked them in front of me once more.

Now where was I? Ah, that’s right… ahem! Unseeable, un-

The velvet curtain flew to the side once more and Lea hooked his hand in my elbow, pulling me out and back towards the karaoke machine. “Trust me, you’ll be fine!  You got nothing to worry about! I’ll be there the whole time, hamming it up and just in general making a big idiot outta myself, so no one's even gonna be looking at you. All you gotta do is stand there and sing your parts when they come up, 'kay? Song’s super short too, so it’ll be over before ya know it!”

My lips parted to tell him exactly where he could take his “super short song” and stick it, but was interrupted by the spotlights suddenly flicking on. One zeroed in on Lea, the other blasted me like a paralyzing ray and I just stood there, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth hanging open and alcoholic beverage still in hand.

Another wave of applause went up for us as Lea tossed me a mic. Frozen stiff, I made no move to catch it, instead just watching it dumbly as it arced up through the air before streaking straight down in front of me to clatter against the stage. He snorted, bent down to pick it up and put it in my free hand, pressing my numb fingers to close around it before he moved to stand in front of the other mic.

My breathing was shallow, my heart was a jackhammer and my feet no longer seemed to work, now just glued to this spot.

Oh god, was this really happening?

 That’s when the music started.

Apparently, yes. Yes it was.

The tune was led in by a quirky, rubbery bassline and a playful piano. Wait… I knew this song. Yeah, it was from a musical. The one full of leather jackets, summer lovin’ and grease lightning. Musicals were a good thing. Musicals were a thing I knew. Kind of a guilty pleasure of mine. Used to sing along with them all when I was little. It could actually be considered kind of pathetic, the sheer percentage of my brain that was still to this day crammed full of all the words to famous Broadway hits.

All that said though… it did absolute friggin’ zilch to calm me down.

“I got chills, they’re multiplying,” Lea started off, dipping his mic stand dangerously low and giving it a wide sweep around before straightening back up and removing the mic from the base. He was no Travolta, but his voice actually wasn’t half bad. “And I’m losing control,” he sang on, spinning on one foot once, twice, three times before abruptly stopping to point at me with a smirk, working some hip action. “Cuz the power you’re supplying… it’s electrifying!” His whole body spasmed from head to toe as he fell to his knees then full on faceplanted at my feet, causing me to jolt back a step.

 ...hamming it up? Please, more like going whole hog! Jeez!

My part was coming up in about five seconds. I could hardly hear the music anymore over the thundering of my heart or the hiss of breath hyperventilating in and out of my nose. That’s when it happened again.

Everyone and everything around me was suddenly in slo-mo.

Man, I really needed to get a handle over my powers of time control!

It was in this uncanny second of my wildly burgeoning mutant ability (ha, if only) that I spotted them. Rayne and Anna, in the front row of the crowd with big smiles to root me on. As I locked eyes with one then the other, my sister gave me an excited nod of encouragement while my roommate was mouthing something to me. Couldn’t be sure, but it looked suspiciously like the words ‘comfort zone.’

Then I looked down at my hand holding the Shiva.

...liquid courage, huh?

...fine. Let’s do this.

Nostrils flaring, I raised the drink to my mouth, knocking back several gulps before slamming the glass down on top of the barstool. Still shaking, I jerked the mic up to my lips, knuckles white around the handle. Like a dam bursting, the words started flooding out before I could even think them. “You better shape up,” oh gosh, was that a quiver I heard in my voice? My free hand down by my hip clenched tightly. “Cuz I need a man, and my heart is set on you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lea still flat on the floor but now propped up on his elbows and gawking at me. I looked away, heat flooding my face. Come on now, I know it’d been a while since I last sang so I was rusty, but I couldn’t be that bad. Stubbornness flaring, I took a deep breath and continued, words stronger now, “You better shape up! You better understand to my heart I must be true…”

“Nothing left, nothing left for me to do,” Lea came back in with a fierce grin as he scrambled up onto his feet. “You’re the one that I want!” we both sang the chorus as he landed to my right, doing the iconic dance from the scene in the movie, with a thumb hooked in the waist of his pants and swinging his hips to and fro. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” In a shuffling side-gallop, he passed by in front of me to my other side and repeated the move. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” Again with the side-gallop, this time behind me, and again with the little jig. I was biting back a smile. Well, at least he was true to his word… he really was making a big idiot out of himself. It was getting harder to stay mad at him. Harder… but not impossible. “Oo-oo-oo, the one I need, oh yes indeed!”

Lea now moved several steps over to his side of the stage, giving me room as the song shifted in preparation for the second verse that I was going to be starting off. I tensed, spine ramrod straight as I recalled what the next lines out of my mouth were going to be. Feeling my blush creeping all the way down to my toes, I wrung the mic in both my hands now as I stiffly brought it back up and squeezed my eyes shut. “If you’re feeling affection,” I wasn’t here, I wasn’t me, “you’re too shy to convey.” No, I was Olivia Newton-John at the school carnival, oozing confidence in a smoking, skin-tight outfit showing off her killer bod. “Meditate in my direction.” Oof, the next part. How did Olivia pull off that breathy purr? Maybe something like, “Feel your way.”

Harsh feedback screeched through the speakers, making my eyes snap back open. Apparently it had come from Lea’s mic, which he was clumsily fumbling to keep from dropping it. Now having it firmly back in grip, he brought it back up in time to croak out, “I better shape up!” He cleared his throat, banging a fist to his chest and now looking a little red in the face. I guess all that prancing around must have been catching up to him. “Cuz you need a man…”

“I need a man who can keep me satisfied,” I sang back, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Whatever his malfunction had been, he was now bouncing back, face brightening as he ran into a knee-slide, stretching a hand up towards me, “I better shape up if I’m gonna prove-”

“You better prove,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head at his antics, “that my faith is justified.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, hopping back up before my voice joined with his, “Yes, I’m sure deep down inside! You’re the one that I want!” The chorus started again and Lea grabbed my hand, catching me off guard and twirling me into a spin. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” Now he pulled me up against him, flashing me a cheeky grin as one hand wrapped around my waist and the other took hold of mine, mic sandwiched between them. “Oo-oo-oo, honey, the one that I want!” Unable to resist any longer, a laugh bubbled out of me as he swept us around in circles in time with the upbeat music, bringing his mic up between our lips whenever we needed to sing the next line. “Oo-oo-oo, the one I need, oh yes indeed!”

The chorus repeated a couple more times, Lea continuing to dance us about the stage the whole time. Once when I was able to catch a glimpse out into the audience, I even spotted Rayne and Anna busting a move themselves on top of one of the tables, Riku on the ground frantically gesturing for his wife to get down. When the song finally started to fade, the room erupted in applause and whistles. Lea released my waist, but didn’t let go of my hand, instead tugging me towards the edge of the stage. There he raised my arm up high before he bent into a flourishing bow for the adoring fans, pulling me down into one as well. As we both straightened back up, a smile tugged at my lips and I breathed a sigh of relief as my heart rate finally began to calm down.

I’d done it. I’d actually sung in front of all those people and lived to tell the tale.  And oddly, I was even... almost kind of giddy about it? It couldn’t be that I’d actually enjoyed that? No. No way. That was just the adrenaline talking as it still coursed through my body which was finally getting to relax now that the danger had passed. I was just happy it was over with! Yeah, that’s all it was. It had to be.

As the bar quieted down once more, Lea returned the mics to their holders before jumping down off the front of the stage and pivoting around to smirk up at me, “Damn, El, why didn’t you tell me you were packing a gorgeous set o’ pipes on you?”

There that blush was again, creeping back up my neck. I gave a soft harrumph, “Stop, I do n-”

I was startled into silence as he picked me up by the waist, my hands hastily going to his shoulders as he lowered me down off the stage and deposited me on the floor beside him.

Okay… so that happened.

“I’m serious!” he pulled his hands back, planting them on his own hips as he hunched forward slightly. “You’re trying to figure out what to do with your life, right? Well, I think we hit a ringer here! Ever consider being a singer?”

I turned my back on him with a snort and walked away, heading towards our booth. “Oh, sure. I’ll just have to hire professional wranglers to drag me kicking and screaming up to the mic for every performance.”

“Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” he caught up and fell into step beside me. “You had fun and really got into it, I could tell!”

Only because Lea had been distracting me the whole time. “It doesn’t matter either way, only fools try to make a career out of singing. Do you know how hard it is for most people to make it big in the music industry?”

“Yeah, but most people don’t have a voice like yours.”

I groaned, “Please, can we just drop it?”

“Fine, fine, dropping it,” he raised his hands in surrender.  Then, “So… are we friends again?”

I side-eyed him, wrinkling my nose. “...probationally.”

One corner of his mouth twitched upward and he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’ll take it! And hey, at least something good came outta our lil musical adventure.”

I gave him a questioning look, to which he grinned wider.

“I got to dance with you after all.” 

Author's Note: For those who don't know it, the song they sang is called "You're the One That I Want" from the musical "Grease" - a rather problematic musical at that (as I discovered from rewatching the movie while writing this chapter after not having seen the movie in over a decade) but I still love this song and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands xD Also I may or may not have watched 50 (thousand) youtube videos of couples singing this song at karaoke for IMPORTANT RESEARCH reasons before writing up this chapter. I must say, just simply writing the karaoke scene felt almost as mortifying as if I'd actually had to go up on stage and physically sing the damn song myself! I don't normally write songs lyric for lyric in my stories, but I just figured with what an anxious bundle of nerves Elsa is in this story, it was kind of important not to just gloss over and hand-wavy the karaoke. So yeah, I don't usually write singing scenes, but hopefully this one turned out halfway okay? Anyhoo, on another note, Elsa is a lot better at this whole holding-a-conversation thing than she gives herself credit for… once she gets over her crippling anxiety at the very idea of stringing more than two words together! And lastly, I found a way to give Lea both his names in this fic, woooooooo!

Next chapter, this thrilling night out continues! What further adventures in Friday night drinks await our hermit heroine? Is a career in singing ACTUALLY on the table for consideration or will it forever remain a pipe dream? Will Elsa ever perfect her ninja skills, which seriously leave something to be desired currently? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you hit that like button last chapter, seeing that always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[kshitij1997]

Welcome back!

Well, the die has been cast, and Europe shall endure the consequences. Or will it?

Onward with the story :)

All Frozen and Tangled characters belong to Disney. All I own is this retelling and some original characters.

Chapter 10: Felino the crooked nose

 

February the 5th, 1828,

‘You’re a frigid, wormy piece of shit, you know that?’, growled the recently anointed Tsar at the Arendellian Monarch. Not a good sign for the conference the concert of Europe had arranged; the Monarch of Arendelle was hellbent on closing his country yet again, and no one was willing to budge on their stance.

‘I care not for the impression you choose to have about me, your majesty. I have my reasons and my fears to support my decision. I have to do what I feel is best for my kingdom, as would you if you faced a decision of a similar magnitude.’ Agnarr stated his position calmly, even as he felt no genuine respect for the Russian Monarch. Unlike his late brother, Tsar Nicholas the first had no great capacity for empathy and understanding. He had chosen to keep himself and his people ignorant. After all, what could one say of the sovereign who treated his highest officials and closest advisors like the serfs he saw them to be, and the holy synod under him bragged openly about how it was their god given duty to keep the downtrodden as they were. Oh, how their man, Sergei Uvarov, the Tsar’s minister of education, openly declared: “If I can extend Russia’s childhood another fifty years I will consider my mission accomplished.”

Oh, the Tsar saw himself as a god, and a jealous one at that. Agnarr understood that and knew that as a fellow sovereign, the Tsar could do little but rant in his face for the insult. Even if he would want to wage war upon Arendelle, he wouldn’t wish to give up access to the only warm water seaport he had. Still, Agnarr’s worries were far greater than some disgruntled people in power.

Elsa had lost control of her powers and was crippled in her fear, Anna had been forced to selective amnesia from Grand Pabbie, leaving no trace of Elsa’s powers and Olva...well she hadn’t been so fortunate. Against the advice of Grand Pabbie, he and Iduna had insisted on the procedure of wiping her memory clean of Elsa’s powers and the accident. The hermit warned of the consequences he was facing now with Olva, but how was he to know in his panic and desperation? Now the poor girl had begun experiencing fits and severe headaches, along with bouts of fainting for several minutes. He hadn’t slept this past month properly in the worry of what could happen to his family. Now he had a solution, and he would not back off from it. He must protect his family in any way possible. He must.

‘Your majesties, please don’t antagonise each other. This concerns all of us. You’re not the only ones troubled here. King Agnarr, you’d best explain yourself.’, queen Sophia spoke firmly as she presided over the conference. Agnarr’s declaration had shocked everyone, and he was yet to provide an explanation.

‘Thank you, queen Sophia. I have no intent on stepping on anyone’s face or insulting anyone. This sudden policy of isolation is a measure of precaution. I have it on reliable sources and personal knowledge that there are elements of revolution and insurgency brewing up in my kingdom. I can’t ignore it like the previous bourbon king of France in his time, god rest his soul. I must deal with these rebels quickly and with extreme prejudice. Because if I don’t then Arendelle falls forever, and if Arendelle falls, all northern Europe shall sink along with it.

And before you decide on persecuting war against me, ask yourselves this. Haven’t we had enough of war? We saw 2 decades of war followed by a decade of relative peace. If you ask me, I’d rather prefer the latter. I make this tough choice for the safety of all Europe, please understand.’

He paused to size up the room, who could be his allies and enemies hereafter. Corona and Austria-Hungary were definitely his allies; he knew Reginald would support him in the end. Weselton and the English would be against it; his partnership with them and America would be at risk, he’ll have to accommodate them somehow. Same was the situation with Russia. Maybe the Ottomans had to be brought in to keep Russia in check? Spain and the Southern Isles could be neutral; the Spanish could not care less, their main rivals were the English and the French, they would only vote as a formality. As for the Southern Isles were represented by queen Paulina, for the king had taken ill. On the surface, Paulina looked pleasant and charismatic, yet Agnarr knew that she would be a formidable and dangerous foe if he didn’t play this right. He began to speak again but was rudely interrupted.   

‘And what would be these insurgent elements? The Northuldra?’, asked the duke of Weselton. The room tensed at the duke’s blatant attempt towards badgering the king of Arendelle. Agnarr had to fight a very strong impulse towards bashing the duke’s head on the wall. After composing himself mentally, he replied with barely concealed intentions ‘Why, yes. They have been neglected for far too long. I must attempt to bring them up with the kingdom. They are too obscure and are getting discontent.’

‘Just the language your father used, didn’t he? And where is he now? Lost like the rest of them. I’m telling you; this country is a lost cause. The Northuldra are ‘discontent’? Don’t make me laugh. They’re out for your and your family’s blood. They have been for years.’, the duke was clearly enjoying himself at Agnarr’s expense.

‘And if I hope to pursue a peaceful solution and keep Europe out of the mess, what is so wrong with that, duke?’, Agnarr nearly spat out the last part.

‘It’s always something personal. What, a problem with your kids now?’

‘Why, your uncouth son of a-‘

‘ENOUGH!’, the presiding queen roared. ‘That’s the second time you have tried to lay discord in the concert on purpose, duke. Once it was over my kidnapped child and now this. I swear, if it happens again, you’re going to meet your maker without warning, in front of everyone!’

‘I can’t believe you’re still going on about your bloody kid. She’s fucking dead! I always get enraged how the kings of Europe are disturbed about such trivial matters, and I’m to be punished because I call out the bullshit for what it is?! Fine. Hang, draw, and quarter me all you want, that does not change the fact that once again, some people are sullying the good name of the concert for their own interests.’, the duke spat venom without a care.

‘I’ve heard enough. Marshals, break the duke’s kneecaps.’, an enraged Sophia gave the cold order to her personal guard. The duke’s bravado melted away instantly, and he shrunk in his stature as the marshals came to deal with him.

‘Sophie, stop!’ King Reginald shouted.

‘Pray tell, what now, Reginald?’ his spouse was beyond annoyed by now.

The king of Corona whispered in his spouse’s ear ‘We’ll get the coward some other time. I need to talk sense into Agnarr somehow. I advise you to break for recess.’ A rare sight for the usually tempestuous king to calm down his calmer, more pragmatic wife.

Queen Sophia sighed heavily and announced a recess.

Once they were alone, Reginald confronted Agnarr ‘What’s gotten into you, Agnarr? You’re supposed to be the sensible one amongst us two.’       

‘I’ll tell you what’s sensible. I should invade the fucking duchy of Weselton, lay it to fucking waste, burn it to the fucking ground, and salt the fucking remains barren forever!’ Agnarr snarled with uncharacteristic murder in his eyes.

‘Oh, calm down, crusader. I hate the duke much more than you do, believe me. Nevertheless, even I must agree with that poltroon over your course of action. It’s drastic and uncalled for. Tell me honestly what’s bothering you. We’ll make it right. Tell me.’

‘You don’t believe me? I told you every reason I have for doing this. My kingdom has only just recovered from the previous war. I can’t risk another. I certainly can’t afford it to become a pan-European conflict. At the end of the day, I just want my heir to inherit a stable state. An agitated group of people is not the hallmark of a stable state. Even if it takes me years, I must resolve this once and for all.’

Reginald spoke empathetically ‘Alright, but it still is a visceral reaction to the situation. I think foreign aid would only help more. Are you sure about it?’

Agnarr thought about telling the truth to his best friend, but ultimately decided otherwise; he couldn’t let the secret get out in any circumstance.

‘Yes I am. I also believe that those so-called insurgents are supplied by foreign powers themselves; they would like nothing more than to make my kingdom their colony. And that fucking Weselton shill... I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s behind the whole damn thing.’

‘That may be true, but without solid evidence, we can’t deal with him effectively. We must be sure.’ Reginald advised him.

‘Alright, but I can’t back down from my position. Yes, my kingdom will suffer in the short run, but I know we’ll be secure and united eventually.’

Ultimately, the concert decided that Arendelle would only keep one point of access open to the outside world; the main port. Only diplomats and special traders would be allowed. Every other traveller, from tourist to student would have to be barred from entering the country. It may cause uprising among the international students in his kingdom, but he’ll have to deal with them on his down. To preserve the security, the red tape for the traders and businessmen became very harsh. All, in service towards protecting my family; Agnarr thought.

A week later

A craven figure along with half a dozen guards floated in a rowboat towards one of the northern shores of Arendelle, beyond the mist. A hooded figure in silhouette waited for them on shore, heavily dressed to protect them self against the bitter February cold. Upon reaching the shore, the hooded bowed in respect and said ‘Welcome, honourable duke of Weselton. I hope your journey was pleasant enough.’

‘As pleasant a trip I could hope in stormy, waning winter, thank you for asking.’, the duke removed his cloak and coat to make his face more visible, and gestured his guards to disembark and stand around. The scrawny man took a moment to stretch himself, and at length, spoke ‘How many instances of forbidden people wandering into your grounds?’

‘Not as many as before, however a group of the Iceni tribe were intercepted in the valley of death during patrol two months ago and dealt with without exception. No survivors that we know of.’

‘Good, the illegals are dwindling, soon they would be no problem. However, as long as Arendelle stands, you’ll never be safe. We’ll have to confront them once and for all.’

‘Let’s continue our discussion on the way to camp, honourable duke.’

The Northuldrian camp was twenty-five kilometres inland from the seashore, but the spirits had grown very erratic in recent years, so the Northuldra had to find new routes to their homes every few weeks. The latest incident was particularly severe; a landslide had destroyed the usual detour they took, so they had to take the tributaries by another boat, a slower but safer way of travel.

‘Forgive me, honourable duke. I know travel by water does not agree with you.’

‘I’ll live. Tell me, how is everything holding up north of the mist?’

‘We’re eking out a living somehow. As you know, the rivers have been gradually changing course towards the south, our arable lands are going barren as a result. Adding to the problem, the rains are becoming scarcer with every passing year bit by bit. I regret to inform you that the poppy plantation is facing a loss, the raw material for the heroin would be short this time.’

‘It seems you’ve lost the plot, haven’t you? How will I get you your weapons if your end of the bargain is low? Weapons, armament, lumber and steam technology for ships don’t come cheap, you know?’ the duke said with the faux humility that masked grave threats underneath, and the hooded figure knew well what those threats were. Nevertheless, a low yield was not the biggest problem.

‘There’s more, honourable duke. Arendelle has tried to sue for peace and is willing to cooperate.’

‘Yes, I heard. We both know it’s nonsense.’

‘I’m not so sure. The terms they have offered seem rather reasonable.’

‘I’m sure they are. They may be too reasonable, I’m afraid. Implying something between the lines. The implication being disastrous for the Northuldra. If you ask me, I would never take any terms Europe offers at face value.’

‘I’m a fair sceptic of the south, just as you are. But since the rise of the mist, they have not engaged in any big skirmishes.’

The duke sighed and said ‘It pains me to say it, but you lack an ocean of imagination. There are uncountable ways to fight a war of attrition, and Arendelle has chosen the most insidious way.’

‘What do you mean, duke?’

‘I’d rather tell this to everyone at once, instead of making it a poor game of translation errors.’, with that, the duke fell silent, knowing full well that the hooded figure’s doubts had been flared up.

After a voyage of two hours, the party reached the camp. A huge crowd had gathered upon the riverbank where the canoe stopped. The hooded figure removed his hood and stood beside the Northuldra leader as her most trusted vassal. The Northuldra leader went by the name of Yelena, a woman moving towards middle age, standing barely above the duke in stature, but those aged eyes had seen many ups and downs. The leader slightly prostrated herself before the duke; the Northuldra way of showing respect towards authority.

‘Welcome, o duke! I hope your voyage was pleasant.’

‘As much as I could hope it to be. I must say, the Northuldra’s native lands grow more beautiful every time I venture up’ the duke said.

‘Your grace flatters us. I believe my trusted vassal has given you the lowdown for everything that has happened in the past three months. We’ll be happy to discuss a compromise for the goods you need.’

‘Thank you, your excellency. However, my worries include the survival of the Northuldra as well.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You may have received terms from the king of Arendelle for a peaceful cessation in the past few days, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, they are more reasonable than I expected.’

‘I feared so, for if you paid attention, you’d realise that the terms are too positive. They’re willing to overlook the massacre of the group of Iceni that happened two months ago. Not to mention the fact that they may have stumbled about the truth about our trade operation as well.’

‘Speaking of the trade operation, what we may be short of in terms of goods, we’ll make up in plunder in the North Atlantic. I have sanctioned three fleets for the same purpose later this week.’

‘That is encouraging, but I must warn you, the plundering operation would become very difficult very soon. What with the king of Arendelle sealing the kingdom’s maritime and overland borders.’

‘Excuse me, come again?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.’

‘No, I didn’t. Please enlighten us, your grace.’

‘Well, your excellency, the king of Arendelle has decided to isolate the country, and I quote his speech: “This sudden policy of isolation is a measure of precaution. I have it on reliable sources and personal knowledge that there are elements of revolution and insurgency brewing up in my kingdom. I can’t ignore it like the previous bourbon king of France in his time, god rest his soul. I must deal with these rebels quickly and with extreme prejudice. Because if I don’t, then Arendelle falls forever, and if Arendelle falls, all northern Europe shall sink along with it.” Now you tell me, is this the language a man would use while suing for peace?’

Yelena became quiet for a moment, taking in al the information. At length, she asked ‘What are the possible ramifications of this declaration?’

‘They could be numerous, but I’ll tell you the most obvious one. Within a month at the latest, the coasts would be dotted by the Arendellian navy, putting a blockade through which nothing except their own ships could get in or out. You can imagine they would be only too happy to hunt down your pirate ships before you’re able to secure any loot at all. You can’t raid through the land, as the mist is your most powerful jailer. It will surely be a stifling experience; I won’t deny it.’

‘What if we do sue for peace? If we sincerely send an envoy to the south?’

‘Aye, you could try that. In fact, I suggest you try that without fail.’ Interrupted a tall, dark man as he made his way inside Yelena’s tent.’

‘Mathias, just because the mist forces me to tolerate and learn to like your presence doesn’t mean you interrupt me in meetings about the matters of state.’ Yelena bristled with annoyance.

‘Believe me, once the mist lifts up, I’ll ride south, first thing on my to-do list.’

‘Mathias, you look familiar. Tall, dark, muscular, good posture. Does your Ethiopian father still till the grain and tan the leather shoes?’, making harsh, cutting remarks was a talent the duke used well.

‘No. Does the honourable duke take me for his wretched bastard slaves in the Congo?’ Mathias growled.

‘Gentlemen, please. Your grace, please don’t mind Mathias. Yes, he’s a southerner. He was in king Runeard’s personal guard from what I gather. He may look brutish and imposing, but he’s harmless and dare I say, a halfway decent man. He doesn’t usually interrupt one of my meetings, so this instance must be special. Tell us big boy, what should bother us?’ Yelena finished as she turned to Mathias.

‘I’m sorry. I’m not willing to entertain the stories of a deserter.’, the duke said nonchalantly.

‘As if your pip squeakiness has ever been in a battle to judge a trapped prisoner of war?’ Mathias seethed.

‘See, even he agrees, we’re at war.’ Oh, they were all playing right into my hands, the duke thought with glee.

‘Yes, and now peace must be made. Yelena, this is not the time to go on the offensive. Trust me.’ Mathias faced Yelena as he settled down beside her.

‘Maybe, but it is a peace we would be forced into. We want it on our own terms, Mathias. I understand you’re homesick, but we haven’t had a home to go back to for decades. We will assert our terms onto the king, and he will have to accept it. If he doesn’t, it’s war.’

‘Lofty words, your excellency. Alas, there’s no substance or weight to back your words. You’ll be blockaded soon, and travel by land is impossible anyhow. I suggest you make a permanent settlement here and be done with it.’, the duke laid the bait.

‘And perpetually disturb the peace of the spirits by claiming their sacred forest? Never.’, and Yelena took it.

‘Well, I can’t negotiate such a big difference in your quantity of goods. You’ll have to offer me something if I must continue supporting your struggle. What about lumber from the forest?’

‘You must be reading a fucking comedy. When we refuse to make a permanent settlement in the forest, YOU PROCEED TO SUGGEST SOMETHING FAR WORSE?!’, Mathias had half a mind to strangle the duke right there, when he was stopped by Yelena.

‘Sit down, Mathias! We’re in desperate times. We’ll have to do what we must in order to survive.’

‘Making a bad situation worse is survival?! Can you imagine or fathom withstanding the rage of the spirits if we cut down the forest?! How can you even consider this, Yelena?’

‘If I may ease your concerns, I’ll vouch for the fact that a sacred relic commands a lot of value in the market. Especially amongst those who are powerful, proud, wealthy and don’t ask too many questions. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll introduce a tiny amount in the market. People would recognize it as sacred or magical with plenty of history behind it. Once I do that, I can manipulate the price for it and bring you all the money, all the weapons, all the ships you need.’, the duke reassured the Northuldra leader.

Yelena spoke at length ‘Alright, I agree to the venture. Let’s begin with ten logs.’

Mathias hung his head in defeat and nursed his forehead, which had begun to throb. This is not going to end well.

Yelena tried to comfort him after the duke left ‘Listen, for every tree we cut down, we’ll plant ten, I promise.’

‘Even if you do that, it won’t be the sacred forest of the fifth spirit anymore.’ Mathias said ruefully.

As the duke made his way to the ship waiting off the coast on his rowboat, one of his taciturn guards asked him ‘Your grace, why do we need these bunch of sheep worshippers?’

The duke grinned darkly ‘When a rival nation is at war with itself, best let it consume itself.’

Around the same time, somewhere in northern Greece

‘Rider, move your ass and get over here!’ A portly man called out as he wiped a greasy hand on his apron.

‘Coming, Elios!’ Flynn came running in. He was now a man of seventeen; having seen a fair bit of the world by now and had been working with Elios for a few months. Elios had hidden Flynn to save him from ‘The Hawk’, a notorious smuggler who had trapped him in his ring. In return, Flynn agreed to work for him in his front business.

‘Why must I go through this fucking chore every time? To have to call you up like a fucking parade float to just do your blessed job?’

‘I’m sorry for being two minutes late. I already did the prep for tonight; the bar has been cleaned and stocked. I just took a nap, calm your tits.’

‘I’ve heard that many times, give me something new Flynn’ Elios rolled his eyes.

‘What do you think I’ve been doing? Making merry around the city square? Come on, I know better than that.’

‘Don’t bother lying to me. I swear, one of those women is gonna make you the sacrificial goat someday.’

‘Alright, I heard your speech. Got it, can we move on?’

Elios wiped some sweat off his forehead and asked, ‘You know who’s coming tonight?’

‘Yeah I do, friends loyal to the Greek cause.’ Flynn answered without faltering

‘Not just any friend, mind you. The Gent is coming along with the Sicilians.’

Flynn’s ears perked up at that piece of news. The Gent was a legend in Northern Greece, almost singlehandedly forming the on-land resistance against the Ottomans in the Greek war of independence. He had been involved in the resistance for nearly seven years now and was lobbying for foreign support.

‘Wow, that’s a hero if I ever saw one.’

‘I told you I’ll introduce you to him soon. Today’s the day.’

‘Now, why would he visit an affluent restaurant filled with Turks day in and out, I’m sure I don’t know.’ Flynn stated incuriously.

‘Hey Flynn, let his people worry about it. I’m sure his people would be clever enough to figure it out.’ Elios was a practical man who knew the streets well, however, forethought was not his strongest suit.

‘No, Elios. Hear me out. If the Gent is ambushed here, we’re done for. Everything will be up for grabs and I know neither of us would like the prick of the cold sabre chopping our necks. And if we know The Gent is coming, the officials certainly know. And if the Sicilians find out, you’ll end up wearing concrete shoes, old boy. You may know the gutters and the roads, but I know loyalty.’

‘What do you suppose we do now? We can’t really serve them in public view.’

‘That is true. Tell you what, let’s clear the cellar for their dinner. I’m sure they don’t want any outsider to hear what they are discussing amongst themselves. Also, I think you should serve them personally, Elios.’

‘No can do. I’m the front. If I don’t stay there, they’ll investigate. You’ll have to serve them yourself. I’m sorry Flynn. The Gent trusts me, if he sees that I consider you worthy, he’ll be comfortable.’

But I don’t know the first thing about him and the others. What if I offend them without meaning to?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Flynn. We both know you know better than that. If the service is good, they’ll fill your pockets with enough dosh to set you up for years. If I truly know you, you wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.’

‘Alright, I’ll do it. Say Elios, what if I warm them personally first about the last-minute change of scenery?’

‘No. I’ll have to warn them myself. Set the cellar up. I did contact them two days ago; I’ll do it again.’

‘Just make sure you’re not followed.’

‘Hey Rider, who knows the street better?’

‘You do, clearly.’

‘Yup. I’ll be back soon.’

A few hours later, a party of people showed up. There was the Gent, a tall slender man, worn down by the hiding and fighting. His face was warm enough, save for the green eyes that could bore holes through the Earth, and a crooked mouth that had a scare across the top lip. Still, he felt like a man who could fight forever. As for the Sicilians, they were something else entirely.

It was a band of seven people. The man most fancily dressed, along with the ruby ring on his little finger and the gold watch and chain, was obviously the leader. The six were presumably his bodyguards, each one burlier and more imposing that the last, looking like killers happy to kill a priest in the middle of a sermon. Ruthless and royal. Dressed to the nines up to their plug caps.

Flynn suddenly felt dwarfed and puny.

‘Gentlemen, this is Flynn, he’s been working with me for a few months, he’ll be serving you tonight.’ Elios gave a short introduction and left. Flynn gave a short bow, not sure how to address these powerful men.

‘What’s your name, green boy?’ The Gent asked.

‘Flynn.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Going to be seventeen next month.’

You’re not from around these parts, are you? Your accent tells me....Austria Hungary?’

‘No sir, Corona. The Rhinelands, to be exact.’ 

‘Uh huh. How’d you end up in Greece?’

‘War orphan from the Napoleonic wars, pushed around all of Europe, ended up here.’ By now, Flynn knew the story by heart.   

‘My condolences. Ok Flynn, you’re going to undergo something unpleasant. Forgive me, just the nature of these times. I need to be sure of your loyalty.’

Before Flynn could reply, one of the goons was upon him, almost choking him with his weight, pressing down on his spine. Even if Flynn had any wind left him, he couldn’t yell.

‘Answer me, why was the room changed at such short notice?’

‘When the Gent asks, you better fucking answer, figlio di sfagato!’

‘Get off him, let him speak.’ The goon got off at once.

Flynn coughed and gasped for air. When he could breathe normally, he said weakly , ‘Mr. Gent, it was Mr. Elios who suggested it.’ Flynn barely finished his sentence before receiving a punch in the gut, knocking the air out of him.

‘That’s a lie. Elios is not that big a thinker. You seem to be smarter than you let on. Why’d you try to protect us from the Turks?’

‘I didn’t want them to kill you here. That would be underhanded and filthy. I’ve heard....heard that you believe in engaging them head on, I didn’t want them to ambush you. You’re a hero around here, would be a shame if I couldn’t do my bit for your cause.’ Flynn was hit yet again by the goon, this time in his nose. Blood had begin ebbing from his mouth and nose.

‘You’ve said enough. I can guess the rest of the story. Either betray the Turks and face the sabre or betray us and face getting shot in the face. Why choose us over them?’

‘I gambled here.....I’d rather be loyal to someone fighting the slavers for freedom than the slaver themselves.’ Flynn braced himself for another hit, but the hit never came.

Instead he could hear a chuckle from the Sicilian leader, who had gestured his goon to stand down. He approached Flynn and held him by the cheek, saying in thick accent, ’Felino. That’s your name from now on. Felino the crooked nose. Drinks on the house, all night. Keep the drinks up, you’ll be richer than the sultan come morning. Good boy.’

The leader, or don as they were calling him now, lightly tapped his cheek and went back to his place, settling down with the Gent and the other goons. Flynn left the room and almost crumpled on the floor. I could’ve died there, he thought for a second. Nevertheless, he composed himself and put on his charm; Felino the crooked nose had a job to do.

Ha, the duke of Weselton’s such a bastard, always stirring up shit wherever he goes lol. I love the potential his character has.

Our Man Flynn is serving the big boys now! What could happen?

Thanks again to those who continue reading this silly story :P

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome!

[downspiral-dreamer]

an excerpt from METANOIA; it may or may not be included, as it is part of the timeline a year or two before the actual happenings of the novel. 

                                                          ~ * ~

Flynn drew in a deep breath, standing outside of his room on the roof, lit by nothing but the full moon and the faint glow of a streetlight beyond the front yard fence. He only hesitated a moment before walking to the edge of the roof and stepped off.

The landing was cushioned by the trampoline below, where he had moved it the other day, still unnoticed by his parents. He bounced high, then landed square on his feet when he came down again, waiting only long enough for his balance to steady before he jumped off and into the grass, running to the front gate and pushing it open. It clunked shut behind him as he sprinted across the road without looking both ways, cutting through a few yards until he reached the main road. A dog barked at him from someone’s porch; he ignored them, hopping the yard’s fence long before it caught him - if it were trying at all.

Chest burning, Flynn finally slowed, wandering down the sidewalk in town. The convenience store glowed up ahead, only one car parked across from the gas pumps. Probably the attendant inside. He walked past it, mind set on something a little stronger than he could find there, at a gas station store. 

The town seemed dead. Crickets chirped and frogs croaked from the shadows beyond the streetlights, and that was all. No cars coasted past, no other human walked down the street. When Flynn approached the local market, he almost expected it to be as empty, but a handful of cars lingered in the lot, both of employees and of late night shoppers, grabbing their last items before the store closed.

He went inside, walking with purpose, as a man who knew what he needed. He brought a bag of chips to the self checkout, scanning it through and paying for it. He left the market, bag of chips under his arm, and shoplifted bottle of rum tucked inside the inner pocket sewn inside his jacket.

His walk continued, taking him through the frame of a house, still under construction but abandoned for the night. He paused to take a breath, and to take a few swigs of the rum. It burned down his throat and he squinted his eyes at the sensation for a few moments before taking another sip.

His footsteps echoed against the walls of the unfinished house as he exited it a few minutes later, bag of chips aimlessly held in one hand, the bottle dangling from his other. This was the quieter part of town, away from houses and businesses and any potentially lurking cops. Here, there was simply a vast empty lot upon which houses or apartments would be built soon, along the edge of which grew a tall and dark forest.

Part of him almost left his path, to venture into the woods and never return. Whether to die or to become a hermit, after tonight’s events, he didn’t much care. But he didn’t, instead continuing to wander like a blue haired ghost through the desolate streets, passing only a few houses before he reached the lake.

It was closed, a gate attempting to bar people from entering afterhours. Flynn ignored it entirely, climbing over the gate and breaking into a run again, heart thundering in his chest, thoughts a whirlwind in his head, stopping only after he reached the playground. It sat on a hill, overlooking the dark, churning waters of the lake. In the morning, when the sun rose, it would look far more welcoming. Flynn planned to be long gone from there before that happened.

Settling finally, into a swing, he tore open the bag of chips and listlessly ate a few before setting it down, deciding instead on another drink. He lost track of time, swinging slowly, staring at the water, staring at his hands, staring at the ground.

Hurried footsteps tore him from the hold his mind had on him, and he twisted around in the swing, half falling and half jumping out of it, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed most helpful.

Once he saw who jogged up to him, he relaxed. “Don’t fucking do that. You scared the shit outta me.”

Teagan rolled her eyes. “How do you think I feel, you fuck? One minute you’re panicked and sending message after message about how you want to die, about something awful happening, and you ignore my phone calls, and then you just go silent?” Her accusatory tone grew a bit gentler. “Look, c’mon. Talk to me, Flynn.”

Flynn sighed, kicking at the wood chips that made up the ground of the play area. “He dumped me, T, what do you think.”

A moment of silence fell. “Bentley broke up with you?” She spoke quietly, moving a bit closer. “I mean… I know he did, but it’s been a few weeks. Did something else happen?”

Flynn scoffed, drawing the back of his hand roughly across his face. “He has a new boyfriend already. Skinny fucker with a fancy ass car.” He kicked the ground once more before beginning to walk, away from the playground and toward the sandy shores of the lake.

Teagan followed him. “Why did you keep stalking his social media? I told you it would only hurt you more.”

“I’m a glutton for punishment or something, I don’t know.” Flynn swallowed another swig of the rum, silently offering it to Teagan. She obliged, taking a small sip. “He was probably sleeping with this guy before he even broke up with me. He’s probably the reason Bentley broke up with me.”

“You can’t start thinking about that stuff, Flynn.” Teagan sighed, reaching down and scooping up a handful of sand, to watch it filter from between her fingers in a faintly hissing cascade. “Bentley was a piece of shit. It hurts right now but a few months down the line, it won’t, and he can go and continue to ruin all of his future relationships without dragging you into it. That’s what’s gonna happen. All that bullshit he told you about his exes being ‘abusive’ and ‘toxic’ probably wasn’t even true. He liked to play the victim.”

That much was true, and Flynn hated to think about it. He didn’t say anything for a long few moments, continuing to wander down the shoreline while Teagan walked quietly at his side. The two of them eventually stopped at the large tree that had fallen during a storm, cutting the shore in half. Flynn clambered up, finally perching in a spot where two branches forked off. Teagan joined him, sitting on a branch across from his own.

“Did it hurt this much when Victoria broke up with you?” He kicked his feet in the air, avoiding eye contact in favour of looking out at the water.

“No. But she was also a lot more physically abusive,” Teagan replied softly. “It’s a little easier to heal from a break up when they were knocking you around. Not so much when it was emotional manipulation.”

“Ugh. I hate that word.” Flynn snapped a twig off from beside him, breaking it over and over again until the pieces were too small to go any further. “Mostly because it’s true. I should have noticed so much longer ago. I’m so stupid.”

“No, people like Bentley are just very sneaky.” Teagan reached out and made a grabby-hands motion. Knowing immediately what she wanted, Flynn passed her the bottle. “Don’t feel bad for yourself. Feel bad for the new guy. Bentley will probably screw him over just as badly as he did you.”

Flynn shrugged, saying nothing. He didn’t want to feel sorry for the new guy. He wanted to be angry at them. He wanted to pretend that they had seduced Bentley, and that they were the reason everything had fallen apart. He knew it wasn’t right. Sure, maybe the new guy was prettier and skinnier and more well off, and Bentley had decided he wanted an upgrade. Still wouldn’t be that guy’s fault. Just Bentley’s.

But it was easier to be angry.

He remained silent. Teagan turned on her phone, putting one of Flynn’s favourite bands on shuffle. She noticed the small smile that flickered on his lips, and said nothing.

The two sat for over an hour, saying nothing, and watching the waves of the lake while music played to fill the otherwise silent night. Eventually Flynn shifted, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. Whether or not he had been crying, he would never admit, and Teagan would never mention. 

“My ass hurts from sitting on this damn tree. Let’s go home.” Flynn began to climb down to the sand below. 

Teagan followed him, then gasped as her hoodie caught on a protruding branch. Flynn hurried over and tugged it free before promptly shoving the hood down over her eyes and darting away before she could slap him.

As they left the lake, climbing over the gate, Flynn hesitated before voicing his thoughts. “Hey, uh, Teagan?”

“Yeah?” She glanced over, smiling.

“Wanna sleep over at my place tonight?” The company would bring him some sort of peace of mind at the very least. He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.

“But your parents--”

“Forget them. They never check on me in the mornings. When we wake up, you can sneak out the window and I’ll go downstairs and distract them.” He paused. “Please?”

Teagan laughed. “In spite of better judgement, of course I will, dummy.” She playfully shoved him before interlocking her arm with his. “C’mon. Let’s go home. I wanna watch something stupid on TV. Like, bad reality TV stupid.”

Flynn managed a brief smile. “Deal.”

The two of them continued on down the street in a companionable silence. And for that moment, Flynn felt okay.

[dungeons-and-hermits]

Too Late

Mod Lori here bringing y’all the first official fanfic of this AU!

Genre: Angst I guess? Characters: Joe, Xisuma, Cleo (mentioned) Summary: Cleo’s thinking of doing the unthinkable Word Count: 793 Author: Mod Lori

It’s the middle of the night when Xisuma approaches him.

Joe is kneeling at Cleo’s sickbed, as he’s come to do every night for the past two weeks. She’s sound asleep—which, come to think of it, he should be as well, but she needs tending to, and he’ll stay at her side until he’s no longer needed.

But he can take a break for five minutes, certainly, to speak with X.

X takes him out of the tent, away from the fire where the hermits keeping watch are sitting and laughing together, and even further away from the tents where the rest are asleep. Joe knows X, he can tell that whatever he’s been brought out here for isn’t going to be something trivial.

“We need to talk about Cleo,” X begins, “and her little project.”

Joe can feel dread creeping into his heart at X’s words. He and Cleo haven’t been keeping their research a secret, really, but they both know that multiple people in their group—X included especially—would be less than thrilled by it.

“What about it?” Joe is smiling, and he hopes that his friend can’t tell how forced it is.

X looks down, regret evident on his face. “You know that I care about Cleo. She’s my friend, too. I want you to keep that in mind while we talk. She’s my friend, and you know that I don’t want to lose her as much as anyone else here.”

“Of course.” Joe’s voice wavers. He can feel his eyes pricking with tears, knows where this is going, knows what X is going to say next.

“But Joe, we-“ He cuts himself off before pausing, glancing to the side, and then taking a shaky breath before continuing. “We need to think about what she’s doing, Joe. What this means, how we’re supporting her.”

“I am supporting her,” Joe responds, and perhaps it’s a bit too sharp.

“You’re enabling her,” X corrects. “She’s messing with powers that shouldn’t even be thought of, under any circumstances. You’re the only one who she’ll listen to, and you won’t talk her out of it... why? Because—“

“Because I can’t lose her, X,” Joe responds, voice taught with emotion. “You know that. She’s my best friend and she’s dying and I can’t help her! It’s my job to help her and I can’t!”

“So you’re letting her break rules that shouldn’t be broken?” X throws up his hands in exasperation. “You’re just sitting back and watching, and not only are you letting her do this to herself, you’re actively giving her the energy to do it?”

“Neither of us gets to decide what she does with her life, X.”

“And she’s leaving us with the responsibility of cleaning up after her, Joe.”

“And what if we don’t have to?” Joe knows it’s a stupid question made on pure dumb faith, hardly logical at all, but he has to hope. “What if it all turns out okay?”

X shakes his head. “Too many people have taken that risk, and too many have paid the price. We can’t let her pay it, too. Stop being selfish and realize that what you’re doing—what you’re letting her do—is dangerous.”

“It’s not selfish,” Joe insists, but even he knows that it’s a feeble defense. “I’m being a good friend, X.”

“This isn’t being a good friend, Joe.” X raises his voice some. “This is foolhardy encouragement of a friend’s dangerous actions.”

“She’s always been a necromancer. She’s always going to be a necromancer. Why is this where you draw the line? Even if something happens, she’ll still be Cleo.”

“Will she, Joe? What if she loses control? What then?” X sighs, and steps closer. He places a firm hand on Joe’s shoulder, face grave and voice sober. “When Cleo isn’t Cleo anymore, someone is going to have to end it. Will you have the strength for that someone to be you?”

Joe blinks back tears. He’s right, and of course he’s right, because X is always right. He drops his head.

The hand on his shoulder lets go, gives a comforting pat. The gesture is hollow, and Joe feels like his knees might give out. X is right and that simple fact hurts more than seeing Cleo in that bed every day for weeks.

“You’re a good man, Joe,” X says. Joe knows that the sorrow in his voice is genuine. He’s been mourning Cleo for as long as she’s been hurt, but he’s been given time enough to have a clearer head about things. “I’m sorry that it had to happen like this.”

There’s another pat on his shoulder, and then X is walking away.

“X?” Joe calls, and the tiefling pauses.

Xisuma turns around, brows furrowed. “Yes?”

“What if it’s too late?”

[triple-a-enderdragon]

And so it begins...

Next

A forest at night. Dark and silent, save for the movements of those not yet asleep. Two shadows break the stillness, edging gingerly forward, as if avoiding detection. The second shadow pauses, in thought.

"Are you sure this is the right way, Iskall? Xisuma mentioned they were headed towards the river. I'm pretty sure this is not towards the river."

The first shadow comes to a stop, a small blue light blinking to life to look back at the second.

"Python? Do you remember why we're here?"

The second shadow squirmed slightly in anticipation. "To take out the hoppers before they establish a foothold; I wasn't sleeping through the briefing."

The blue light dimmed as the first shadow returned to his task of scouring the forest floor. "They've been here a few days already; if they're smart, they would have set spawns. Right now I'm trying to find where that would be."

"That does make sense."

Iskall grunted, half as an acknowledgment and half as a warning to stay quiet. The three people he was tracking had made no visible effort to conceal their passage. Even if they had, it wouldn't have made a difference to the keen eyes of an experienced tracker, especially one with the help of a mechanical eye. Following the tracks with ease, he and Python ghosted through the trees, moving ever closer to their goal.

After about half an hour, Iskall came to a stop, Python close behind. The latter moved slightly to the side to get a better view of their target. Before them was a small campsite, empty.

"Bingo," said Iskall with a small grin.

"You don't think they have newer spawns set? They're not here tonight, maybe they've moved on." Python scanned the campsite, noting the single chest surrounded by three beds.

"You could be right, just by looking at the campsite." Iskall stared into the forest, blue eye flickering. "Unfortunately-" He turned back to Python, "-Concorp's drones tell a different story. They were here last night; it seems tonight they're chopping wood. A lot of it."

Python looked up from his bed destruction. "Cub really lets you view the live drone footage?"

"Temporarily, yeah. I tried to get more, but he said only X could make him grant me access, and only when necessary."

Suddenly, Python hissed a warning. Iskall, sorting through the one chest, barely had time to react before his friend vanished and three strangers walked into the clearing. They seemed just as startled to see him as he was.

One of the women was the first to react, pulling her sword and leveling it at Iskall. "Back away." He did as told, eye flickering through the drone footage. The woman addressed her companions. "Nova, I thought you said this world was uninhabited."

The man just sighed. "I didn't have time to scan a large enough area to get an accurate reading; just a few hundred blocks radius."

"Obviously you picked the wrong hundred blocks, idiot," the second woman scolded.

"Oh well, how was I supposed to know? If you guys had given me enough time, we wouldn't have this problem."

Iskall had locked eyes with the first woman, standing at a stalemate; each could not move without the other reacting in time. But though all the confusion, the trio didn't notice a mirage ghosting behind them, but the eagle-eyed hunter did. Waiting for Python to get in position, Iskall interrupted the argument before it got too far.

"Regardless of how you got here, you're going to have to continue on your way. This world is taken."

The woman staring him down snorted. "Really? By you and your twenty friends? I see they're all here to help take care of the problem."

Iskall dissolved into a fit of laughter, pulling himself together to say, "Yeah, something like that," before giving the signal.

Instantly, Python was out of the bushes and cutting the man down, who exploded in a shower of items. In the same instant, Iskall had his glaive drawn and was locked in an intense and deadly dance with the woman in front of him. She was good, but she wasn't False. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Python slip under the guard of the second woman after a brief exchange, reducing her to a pile of items.

A particularly brutal swipe brought Iskall's attention back to the fight. This definitely wasn't False, this was Biffa; but unrefined and sloppy. Switching tactics, he feinted to the left, drawing her attention away from Python's location. Then, as expected, a leg came crashing into the back of her knee, just in time for the butt of Iskall's glaive to collide with her jaw, throwing her to the ground. A swift strike from the glaive took her out.

The world was silent, save for the light breathing of the two hermits.

Python broke the silence. "Well, they certainly were gathering wood. Seems all their inventories were full of it."

Iskall was staring off, still cycling through the drone footage. "Apparently they started heading back right after I checked on them. Dang it!" He started kicking through the wood. "And they were collecting birch! Why birch!?"

Python had a different idea. "You think we can sell this to Ren? This is a hefty amount of wood."

Looking back at the piles of logs, Iskall had a new gleam in his eye. "Maybe," he muttered. "Maybe."

~~~

It turned out Ren was happy to buy all the birch logs, but at a much lower price than the two were expecting. Iskall even tried some of his tried and tested flattery; Ren's price didn't budge, but he gave them both a discount for their next purchase at Big Logs. Satisfied, Iskall and Python flew off to Xisuma's base to give him their report.

It took them a bit longer than expected to get ahold of him, but they chalked it up to admin duties. Yet all throughout the report, X kept getting distracted. To the point where Python asked, "Is something bothering you, X? We can come back later, if that would be better."

X waved his hand, dismissing the idea. "No, it's fine. The Nether's been acting up again, should be nothing. I've gotten all I need from you two, you're free to go."

Iskall shared a look with Python before saying, "Are you sure it's nothing? Last time you said this happened, you weren't this...distracted. We're here for a reason, X. If something is wrong, we can deal with it."

Again, X dismissed the idea. "Thanks, Iskall, but there shouldn't be a need. I'm sure it's just a matter of cleaning some data and resetting some chunks." Then he met the gazes of the two concerned Strikers. Resigned, he amended, "If I need the team, I'll contact False, okay?" That seemed to satisfy them.

~~~

Leaving X to his thoughts, the two flew in the direction of the main island. Coming up on Grian's base, however, Iskall veered off; he could tell Grian was hiding something from him, and watching the builder squirm was too much fun. Python continued west to the shopping district, before finally heading to Tower Bay.

Touching down on his red skyscraper, Python looked over the work of the man he just visited. Did Xisuma really have the Nether situation under control? As Iskall had pointed out, X wasn't reacting in the same way to this one. On the other hand, had there been anything server related that the admin hadn't been able to handle?

Gazing at the sun, not yet at its zenith, Python realized how tired he was. He eyed his half-finished purple tower, then his bed. The bed was more inviting. Climbing into it, he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding encroaching on his consciousness. These world-hopping incidents had gotten more frequent; he knew Iskall had had to deal with three of them, and Python himself had dealt with another. Was this uptick in incidents indicative of anything greater?

Oh, he had no idea.

[scralettlfox-blog]

Chapter One 

Read on Wattpad

Terror Nova

Chapter Two: The Dream

She woke in the Black Valley, jolting awake with a hammering heart. The black sand beneath her feet was warm enough to feel through her combat boots. The Clochian forces were firing from the other end of the valley. Odd that she was on the ground. Valia had been a pilot in her military days. Her missions focused on sabotage and hit-and-run tactics carried out in a small, nearly undetectable one person craft. That also meant that when she went down she was alone and in enemy territory.

A bomb exploded in front of her. After years of these nightmares, she barely flinched as her ears rang and smoke filled her throat. The world flew by and she was in a trench. Screams echoed around her, the cries of agony from her fellow soldiers chief among them. Mech suit pilots stuck in crumpled exo suits, foot soldiers shot with homing bullets, and those cut with laser weapons frantically trying to save themselves.

Valia looked around her. The smoke and blood crowded her vision. Her ears rang from weapons and screams alike. This is the environment she had met T’Shan and Kylie in. T’Shan had downed her during a supply run, but not before his own ship became too damaged to fly. They’d nearly killed each other on the ground. Then, they realized the war was pointless and they didn’t want to die for it. So they had worked together to survive. They were rescued together, though T’Shan was taken prisoner. Kylie had been the one to treat her. Even defended her treatment of the enemy.

Kylie had never approved of the war. Only agreed to serve if she could treat both sides. She thought the war for Volantis One was pointless. She even turned out to be right, as Volantis 2 had been discovered after a couple years of fighting. By then, the casualties were great enough that the two peoples had to come to a treaty. All that death, for farmland that could be shared.

Valia took a step forward, perhaps to storm off. Then she was falling. She landed next to T’Shan at the ceremony where they were presented their commendations for honor during wartime. They were seen as the first to have “found peace.”

They had bonded over how much they hated those awards. T’Shan had no choice in attending, the Generals who lead the Clochian people had invited him. The first thing everyone learned about Clochian culture upon landing on Chrysalis was to never disobey the Generals. Valia could have avoided the ceremony, she had already put in her resignation by the time the Peace Accords were announced. Kylie had convinced her to go. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to let T’Shan suffer alone.

Kylie attended the Volcanis Peace Accords, which ended the war, and the Joint Planetary Agricultural Initiative ceremonies by her side. The only support she had left, once she was no longer a soldier. Kylie had also put in her resignation. They had tried to hold onto her more than Valia, though. Doctors were much more valuable than soldiers.

It was on Chrysalis that they’d had their first date. As she reminisced, the scene in front of her changed from stuffy officials giving speeches to Kylie singing offbeat in a Clochian dive bar. After a few cocktails, they had decided to stay in space. Kylie teased her about asking to go steady on the first date. She’d teased back that no one calls it “going steady” anymore.

She’d drunkenly called T’Shan about their plan to stay among the stars. He agreed almost immediately.

They hadn’t meant for it to turn into a smuggling operation. But, someone offers you enough money to sneak passed a government you don’t like in the first place…

Well, you take it.

Valia remembered the annoyed look T’Shan had on his face through the entire ceremony. His violet eyes had looked like they were trying to burn a hole in General Sh’massa’s back. Maybe he had been planning a way to get back at them the entire time.

Kylie moving towards her drew Valia out of her thoughts and back to the dream. She smiled. Kylie was stumbling, holding a glass of Clochian yasha, and moving toward her with intent. She remembered, surprisingly considering her own intoxication, that this was their first kiss.

“I don’t know how you drink that fermented…” Valia tried to remember what yasha was made out of. It flew out of her mind.

“Milk from a mountain something or other.” Kylie finished for her. She downed her drink. “I’ve had worse.”

“Not a glowing endorsement.” Valia teased.

“No, no it’s not.” Kylie agreed, a smile on her face. She leaned towards Valia. “You know what is a glowing endorsement?”

Her voice was a whisper. Valia was happy to experience a good memory for now, and let the scene play out. They both leaned in for a kiss.

Then an alarm sounded. Dream Kylie jumped away from her in alarm. It took Valia a moment to remember she was, in fact, asleep. The alarm likely meant dinner. She woke up to a very real Kylie toying with the alarm on her gauntlet and grumbling in irish. She was still pressed into Valia’s side, though a bit more twisted than she likely would have been while asleep.

“I thought you had work to do?” Valia rolled completely to her side to hug the doctor to her. Kylie let out a contented sigh that warmed her heart.

“I finished an hour ago.” Kylie kissed her shoulder before sitting up. “You looked upset, darling. Want to talk about it?”

Kylie could always tell when something was bothering Valia, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Valia loved that about her. Did make it hard to hold everything in until she exploded, which was her normal way to handle emotions.

“I was dreaming about the war, again.” Valia entwined their fingers, distracting herself by drawing patterns on Kylie’s skin.

“I’m surprised you still get those dreams.” Kylie rubbed her forehead. “I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t remember my dreams.”

“I would say I wished it never happened, but some good things did come from it.” Valia nudged her before letting go of her hand and standing.

“Like T’Shan?” Kylie teased, following her out of bed.

“Exactly.” Valia rolled her eyes. “You know, I try to be sweet.”

“I know.” Kylie assured her. “But you’re easy to tease, love.”

Luna’s voice over the intercom drew their attention.

“Captain, Jack wishes to inform you that dinner will be served in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Luna.” Valia fixed her hair. “Tell him we’ll be right there.” “He also wanted me to tell you that the ‘new kid’ might need a hero.”

“I knew he would be trouble.” Valia mumbled. Kylie took her hand and lead her towards the mess hall.

“Let’s go save the wee lad before Amara eats him.”

Valia let herself be led on the short walk to the mess hall. Most of the crew hadn’t arrived yet. Only the officer’s tended to arrive early to meals, which was fine by Valia. She liked the crew but too many people and she felt suffocated.

T’Shan and Allen were at the furthest table from them. Kylie weaved her way through tables and crew members. When they reached the table, she let go of Valia’s hand. Jack waved as he ran by, curly hair bouncing with each step. Helper bots, a gift from Valia the last time they’d finished a big job, tried to keep up. Their frantic beeping almost sounded worried for their master.

“Captain, hope you’re feeling well enough to eat.” Jack ran past them again, beeping bots in tow. Before Valia could answer, he was gone again.

“I’m starting to think he takes the helper bots presence as a challenge.” Kylie watched as he ran by, shaking her head. “He needs to slow down.”

“Good luck getting him to.” T’Shan commented through a mouth full of toasted nuts. “I don’t think he’s taken a break since he was a little kid.”

Valia took a seat to T’Shan’s left and Kylie sat next to her. T’Shan acknowledged them both with a smile and passed a small bowl of nuts towards them. Valia took a handful before observing Allen. He still looked uncomfortable, though much less so. Perhaps Amara had calmed down. Or T’Shan had stuck to the poor boy’s side this entire time.

“So, you’re the unfortunate wee suit who is with our crew a bit, yeah?” Kylie asked. Though he was confused, Allen nodded. “Great to meet you. I’m Kylie McBride, crew calls me Cure, though. I’m the ship’s doctor.”

“Best in the galaxy.” Valia added.

“She’s biased.” T’Shan commented.

“Why wee?” Allen asked. He looked to T’Shan for help, but the Clochian simply shrugged.

“Apparently, everything is ‘wee’ in Ireland. That’s where she’s from.” Jack answered as he approached the table. He gave out utensils and cups for the officers that would be showing up.

“I think she called you a ‘wee suit’ because you’re an apprentice, though.”

“Mhm.” Kylie affirmed through a mouthful. “Not a full suit, yet.”

“That’s...odd.” It seemed like Allen struggled to find the right word. “It’s like I’m some kind of baby animal.”

“Wee lamb.” Kylie agreed, smiling at the poor boy. She was going to torture him.

“Or, like a turtle coming out of it’s shell.” Valia suggested. She should help him a little.

“Don’t turtles stay in their shells? It’s part of their body.” T’Shan asked. He promptly turned to a helper bot to order a drink. “

“Then where does the phrase ‘coming out of your shell’ come from?” Valia countered. The helper bot came for her order next and she placed both her own and Kylie’s.

“Hermit crabs? They leave their shells and find a new one as they grow.” Kylie suggested. She patted the helper bot on the head as it passed her. It let out a happy beep before moving on to Allen.

“I think it is about turtles. When they’re scared they hide in their shells. They still come out in a way, though.” Allen added, a thoughtful expression on his face. An insistent beep got him to turn and place his order.

“Don’t we all.” Valia quipped. Kylie elbowed her in response.

“Not funny.

“Yes, I am.” Valia countered. Kylie just rolled her eyes.

Allen smiled and nearly let out a laugh at their exchange. Valia thought he seemed like a nice kid. Despite his relations.

The rest of the crew and the officers filed in as they continued talking. Amara glared at Allen as she walked past, but otherwise he wasn’t paid any mind. When all the officers were gathered Valia decided that introductions were in order. She clapped her hands to get everyones attention. The table went silent.

“Alright, Allen. Now that everyone’s here we can get some introductions out of the way.” Valia started by gesturing to Skull, who had taken a seat next to Kylie. “You’ve met Skullcrusher, or Skull. He’s Novarrian, four-armed and dangerous.”

“Very dangerous.” The red hulk of muscle agreed.

“Almost as dangerous as me.” Valia joked, nearly elbowing T’Shan who spit out his drink in laughter.

“Agreed.” Skull conceded, before turning back to his mill and chugging half a pint.

“He’s our security officer, for obvious reasons.” Valia gestured even further down her row, where she could see a spotted tail next to Skull. “Next to him is Amara Lost, our resident Armaxian.”

“We’ve met.” Amara leaned forward. Valia could see her spotted fur, red eyes, and the collar that became fashionable among Armaxians following their introduction to humans.

“Engineering officer, right?” Allen asked. After Amara nodded he looked between the two very different felines. “Novarrians and Armaxians share a common ancestor, right? Do you get along?”

Skull answered “No” at the same time Amara answered “When we need to.”

“Armaxians like to say that it was the Novarrian ancestor who led to the downfall of their shared, original civilization. And vice versa.” T’Shan explained to a confused Allen. Valia had to clap her hands again when it looked like Amara and Skull were about to fight it out.

“Anyway, at the end of the row is Squid. They are Varmaxi and no, Squid is not their real name. Varmaxi don’t have names so much as feelings attached to them as a being. They serve as the Morale Officer.”

“What is a Morale Officer?” Allen asked, turning to Squid.

Squid answered in sign language as well as telepathy, as he did not have Allen’s permission to connect their minds yet someone else would likely need to translate.

I monitor crew emotions and well being. Normally, the First Mate does that but my talents are a bit more suited. The Captain created the position for me.

Squid’s various tentacles were frantically signing the symbols in Intergalatic Sign Language as he projected the information. Their signs were a little rusty. Valia was preparing to translate when, to her shock, Allen started to sign back. He spoke along with it, though he had to know it wasn’t necessary.

“I wish we had officers like that on our company ships.” Allen responded. “Maybe I could create the position if I get high enough in the company.”

“You know ISL?” T’Shan asked, clearly as surprised as Valia. Squid’s bioluminescent patches were glowing happily, so he clearly enjoyed the surprise.

“I dated a Leorian who was deaf.” Allen explained, continuing to sign along. “He taught me so I wouldn’t need to wear those translator contacts.”

“You don’t have to sign everything, they can hear you.” Valia explained. “Though, I’m sure Squid appreciates the gesture.”

“They aren’t used to people outside our crew being so suggesting.” Shoto spoke up from his seat across from T’Shan and next to Allen. Then he offered his hand to Allen. “Shoto Arakawa. Equipment Officer. Fancy way of saying I make sure everything is in stock.”

“And that it gets where it needs to go when the time comes. Like a pirate attack.” T’Shan added.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Allen shook his hand.

“Kids got manners.” Shoto cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit he had in social situations apparently. “Business world is going to eat him up.”

Allen looked like he wanted to respond, if the frown was any indication. Landon beat him to it by lightly smacking Shoto upside the head.

“Don’t listen to this jerk.” Landon leaned forward and waved at Allen. “I’m Landon, by the way. Operations Officer. I keep everything running, despite other peoples best efforts.”

“He also makes sure everyone gets paid, is up to date on all their paperwork, and a bunch of other paperwork.” Valia added.

“He and Kylie are basically the parents of the ship, making sure the rest of us don’t die.” Jack finally arrived, distributed food, and took his seat next to Landon.

Kylie and Landon both took offense to that. It lead to a quick argument between half the table about who was and wasn’t responsible. Valia focused on her dinner.

“You lot sure are lively tonight.” Jack smiled after the noise calmed down. He reached his hand in front of Landon and Shoto for Allen to shake. “Jack Grimes, Nutrition Officer. I keep everyone from starving. If any of these goons get on your nerves, you can hang out with me in the kitchen.”

“I may have to take you up on that.” Allen answered as he shook Jack’s hand. “I really would, the only other sanctuary is with Luna up on the bridge. She’s not great at communication.” Kylie suggested. She turned to Amara. “Can you do something about that, like upgrade her? Maybe add a humor module?”

“She’s an android not a gossip.” Amara growled. “You shouldn’t be such a - what do you call it? - whinker.”

“It’s whinger.” Kylie corrected. “And how dare you.”

Amara and Kylie continued their rather ridiculous debate as the helper bots began serving dessert. Kylie took a break from arguing to order herself a cup of tea. A look from Valia had her requesting decaf. When the helper bot came around to her she ordered a cup of green tea and some cookies. They were going to go bad soon, if they weren’t already stale. Once the bot happily ran away, Valia opened comms up on her gauntlet and contacted Luna.

“ETA to Omega Prime?” She asked, not bothering with the pleasantries Amara hadn’t programmed in anyway.

“We are 5 hours out, if speed stays consistent, Captain.” Luna responded quickly. Valia thanked her and closed the comms. Allen was looking like he wanted to ask a question.

“Staring isn’t polite, kid.” Valia ran her fingers through her hair. Allen opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the helper bots delivering their orders.

“He’s probably wondering about Omega Prime.” Kylie suggested, before stealing one of Valia’s cookies. She playfully batted her hand away, though it only earned her a grin.

“Never heard of it or never been?” Valia asked, before sipping her tea.

“Everyone’s heard of Omega Prime.” Allen shifted in his seat. “But I was told it would be unseemly for an officer in the corporation to be seen there.”

T’Shan snorted at the last comment and shot a look towards Valia and Kylie. They all knew that the people who loved Omega Prime the most were suits.

“Well, Omega Prime is everyones paradise. Stay out of the shady bits and you’ll be fine.” Kylie sent Allen a reassuring smile, before continuing to pilfer Valia’s cookies.

“I thought it was a giant den of crime?” Allen commented.

“That too.” Valia nodded. “But, it also has some of the best restaurants and entertainment in the galaxy. Criminals enjoy the finer things in life, too, ya know.”

“There are also a lot of unpleasant things. Just stay in the right districts, you’ll be fine.” Kylie waved her hand dismissively. “Not like T’Shan will let you get into trouble. He’s practically adopted you at this point.”

“Not by choice.” T’Shan commented, then turned to Allen. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Allen said, offended.

“Shoto and I can take the kid off your hands.” Landon offered. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “We’ll show him all the safe and fun spots. Like the Virtual Arcade.”

“Did you just volunteer me?” Shoto asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you not want to go to the arcade with me?” Landon asked, looking a bit like a kicked puppy.

“You should definitely do that, if for nothing else then to watch Landon tear it up on a rhythm game.” Kylie suggested. “It’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, but Shoto and I have to continue our Blood Warrior V challenge first.” Landon lightly smacked Allen on the shoulder. “It’s this awesome fighting game. We play each other every chance we can get. It’s 65-64 right now, and I’m in the lead.”

“What?” Shoto interrupted. “No, I’m at 65 and you’re at 64.”

“You losing your memory in your old age?” Landon suggested. “I was winning.”

“I think you’re the one getting old.” Shoto grumbled.

“So, what were you planning to do T’Shan?” Allen turned to the Clochian, likely unsure of how to react to Landon and Shoto.

“Probably hitting up the shooting range.” Jack suggested. He had been reading a book on his gauntlet through most of the arguing, but never missed a chance to tease the First Mate.

“Actually, I was thinking of going to the Opera.” T’Shan countered. He turned to Allen. “You’re welcome to join me. It’s a galaxy renowned production of the Lonely Soldier.”

“I think I’ll stick with the arcade.” Allen decided. Landon gave him a hug from the side and assured him he wouldn’t regret it.

“Are you willing seeing an opera that’s set in a war you fought in?” Valia asked, shaking her head.

“It’s supposed to be very well written.” T’Shan defended his decision. “Besides, it’s probably based on someone we knew.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wouldn’t want to see it.” Valia mumbled into her tea.

“Why?” Allen asked. “I remember watching you both receive your commendations, you’re war heroes.”

Valia couldn’t stop herself from glaring, at least until she felt bad for making Allen sink down in his seat.

“That opera’s main character is a ghost of a fallen soldier trying to get his comrades to stop the fighting.” Kylie explained, much more kindly than Valia was capable of. She had a tight grip on her tea cup and was staring into the liquid as if it held the secrets to the universe. “It hits a tad too close to home.”

“Sorry.” Allen looked both apologetic and extremely uncomfortable. “I had no idea.”

“It’s not your fault.” T’Shan assured him. He put a hand on the boys shoulder and squeezed. “I suppose we are still fighting demons, just in our own ways.”

“On that note, I think I’m going to go sleep some more.” Valia smiled apologetically at Allen. She drained her cup, stood, and held a hand out to help Kylie up. “Care to join me?”

“I suppose.” Kylie teased.

The pair waved goodbye to the rest of the officers. They passed by some of the crew on their way out and made sure to exchange pleasantries. A quick walk and a quicker elevator ride had them up in the officer’s quarters. The Captain’s quarters were a few stairs away.

Valia enjoyed her quarters. It had it’s own starshield where she could watch the galaxy pass her by. It was also spacious enough that she didn’t feel cramped. Her room here was much better than the one she’d had on their previous ship, the Vega. That one had been destroyed by the pirates they’d taken this ship from. A win, depending on your definition.

“You aren’t actually going to sleep are you?” Kylie asked, making herself comfortable on the large round bed Valia had obtained from a client who had gone back on a deal. He’d unwillingly provided most of the nicer things on the ship.

“Too awake now.” Valia responded. She took a seat in an armchair by the starshield. “You go ahead, liebchen.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Kylie promptly spread out across the bed and wrapped the blankets tightly around herself. Within minutes her breath had evened out, indicating she was asleep.

It seems Valia wasn’t the only one overworking herself.

She smiled at Kylie before pulling up a search on her gauntlet. It may be last minute, but she could still plan a nice anniversary with their small advance.

The stars and planets and endless black void sped by as she planned, barely paying attention to the galaxy.

To be continued...

[wonkookiemon]

Supply Closet

Member: Yoongi  x  Reader

(feat. Jimin)

Prompt: Office work can be hectic and boring..... how about a little workroom fun.

Warnings: mature content, mature language, oral, public sex, dirty talk, quickie,masturbation, straight filth. 

Working at  Kim Advertisement had its good days and bad days. Good that the pay was somewhat great and because your company was one of the most sought out companies in the industry therefore giving you great hours at the job. Only downside is THE HOURS YOU SPEND A THE JOB. Yay! how fun.

You’ve been here since eight in the morning and haven't stopped working since. dying for a break you peeked over your cubicle and spotted your work friend Jina doing the same.

“Off for a break already” Jiso raised a perfectly plucked brow.

“Yeah, I’ve been hear since eight.” looking down at your watch, “Its twelve, I’m not a hermit”

“Yeah whatever, just don't take to long. I need those papers by five” Straightening her skirt Jiso walked back over to her office, with all eyes following her backside from all the male workers in the room.

“Skank” Jina rolled her green eyes while popping a fruit snack  in her mouth.

“Do you want us both to die Jina” you hissed grabbing her shoulder.

“Hey it was just on-”

“No eating in the workroom ladies” A low gruff voice spoke up behind the two of you. Slowly turning around your head held in shame and your heart beating unbearably fast. Min Yoongi. Min Fucking YOONGI. Your panties automatically began to dampen in his very presence.

“It was just me sir, she warned me not to” Jina stood tall, unfazed by Yoongi’s presence. In all honesty you tried the whole trying to be confident around Yoongi for 2 years and it has failed each time. There was just something about his smoldering brown eyes that held no emotion at all, or the way he scolded you when you fuck up his concentration, or even when he walked up to you to give you a copy of the schedule. You payed attention to almost everything little detail when it came to Yoongi. It wasn’t an obsession but he became an itch you can’t scratch. 

“If I have to tell you two again, Jiso will make your life hell” Yoongi stepped closer.

“She seems to be doing that already”  You mumbled looking up hoping no one herd.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi’s voice was on edge. You could tell he was on the verge of telling you both off. 

“Thank you Mr. Min, wont do it again-bye” Jina grabbed your hand and scurried to the break room. 

Once the two of you settled down you burst out into fits of laughter. “You should have seen his face when you said that shit y/n”

“I didn’t even expect that to come out of my mouth, I’m serious Jina-guess I was just sick and tired of his BS” Jina nodded in agreement.

“He’s such a prude sometimes. I herd he’s nothing like that outside of work though-”

“You’re kidding right?” you whispered.

“No, Jeni from cube nine saw him at the bar with friends, said he was piss drunk, laughing AND smiling with his friends. Jina shoved yet another handful of blueberries in her mouth.

“You’ve gotta find another way to eat man” you grimaced, the girl didn't know what a fork and spoon were.

“Whatevah- he was smiling y/n! do you think he has straight teeth?” 

“Look that's besides the point, I generally just want to get in his pants.”

‘-so what's stopping you?”

“Uh the fact that he hates me” you looked down at your unfinished plate of pasta, ashamed at the fact that Yoongi most likely has nothing to do with you.

“He’s a fool you know?” Jina smiled softly.

“Yeah?”

“For blowing you off that night, I think he hasn't gotten over the fact too. He frustrated with you y/n.”

“I don’t believe you” you laughed.

“He’ll given soon, just you wait”

Later that night you settled in your bed after a warm bath. Mind still racing from the events of today. Yoongi never ceases when it comes to getting under your skin. Later that day while he wasn’t aware of your presence per usual, you watched him type of this weeks finance report. What made this ordinary act so sexual was the fact that it was done by Yoongi. His tongue would dart out his mouth to lick his lips, when he tongue wasn't out he was then biting his lips. You could see some of the frustration etched on his face the way his mouth cutely pouted. Then there was the phone calls he made. Hearing his deep voice as he talked to the whomever was the highlight. It was the slow draw of his voice that made moan at the thought of it.

“Fuck” you moaned softly as you let your hands trail into your thin underwear. You’ve held off for so long, you simply couldn't wait any longer as you began to feel your body heat up.

“Fuck min Yoongi”  you groaned caressing your slick folds.

You imagined his sweaty form above you, knuckles deep into your heated pussy. Whispering how much of a dirty slut you were, while his other hand wrapped around your small throat giving you just what you wanted.

A familiar ringtone began to play causing you too stop in your tracks. Speaking of the devil you grabbed your phone and saw Yoongi’s name on the screen. Straitening up in your bed you answered the call.

“H-he- Hello?”

“Y/n yah” Yoongi drawled lazily.

“Uh- yes Sir” you squeaked, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“We’re not at work. its Yoongi”

“Oh-Uh-Knew that”

“Listen, I need your help with something” 

“Uh, what it it?” you asked softly.

“I’m outside your door”

“What?! How did you-”

“Open the door. y/n”

You got up quickly from your bed, adrenaline running through your veins. You fixed your hair and gripped the knob. ‘this is crazy’ you thought. Opening the door, there stood Min Yoongi and boy did he look good. he wore a black tee that hung low on his chest giving him a more sultry look, to top it off was a pair of light blue ripped jeans and black sandals. Glancing up to look at his face you tried your best to smile.

“Hey what’s up”

Yoongi cocked his head to the side his eyes trailing the cloth-or what little cloths you were wearing. His dark eyes finding yours so you could barely look away. Everything about this moment made your body scream. He keeps toying with you and he knows it. Without a word Yoongi began to walk towards you making you step back with every inch he took till the door was shut and your back pressed against it.

“Yoongi-” you whimpered, feeling your heat clench around nothing. You needed him so bad, and he knew it making him chuckle. Your jaw clenched in frustration at Yoongi’s dismissal. Yoongi them lifted his hand to caress your heated cheek, he let his thumb travel to your plump lower lip.

“You’re so whinny” Yoongi mumbled huskily.

“You keep playing games with me, I can find someone else who is more capable of giving me what I need.” You gritted out. Yoongi responded by gripping your chin harshly and raising it so that you can meet his eyes which were burning with desire. 

“No one can fill you up the way I do baby, so watch yourself”

“I’ve been waiting” You licked your lips knowing his thumb would end up getting wet by your tongue as well.

“I need you to do one more thing for me” Yoongi asked, his full lips inching into a breathtaking smile.

“Yoongi I swea-” Yoongi dropped to his knees and trailed his warm hands up the length of your long legs. You bit your lip at the sight of him on his knees in front of you. “Enjoy it while it last y/n” Yoongi planted heated kisses up your thigh till he paused right before planting an open mouth kiss on your clothed clit. Your knees nearly buckled at the shot of pleasure that flowed through he body. Yoongi chuckled again making you grab his hair.

“Cut it out” you moaned when you felt his through the fabric. His hands hooked to the sides of your panties and he gently pulled them down your legs.

“Fuck you’re so wet” Yoongi groaned. He trailed his fingers down your wet  entrance and watched as his fingers come back soaked. Yoongi pulled his two fingers into his mouth.

“So sweet” Yoongi smiled with his eyes shut in pleasure. 

“Yoongi” you begged still gripping his hair.

“Lean back” Yoongi opened his eyes with a smirk. Doing as he asked you leaned back into the door, and gasped when his lips wrapped around your clit. Yoongi sucked harshly, your hips bucked into his mouth wanting more. You could feel his smile on your clit, before he licked a long strip between your folds. Without mercy his used his tongue at a relentless pace as he sucked your clit between his teeth. You could no longer hold in your screams at the abusing of your clit. Your legs were almost about to give out before Yoongi pushed back breathing in air deeply. Your head fell back on the door as you sighed in relief which became short lived when Yoongi shoved three fingers in your pussy.

“shiiiiiiiiiii-” You moaned with a smile.

“Don’t you just love being filled up by my fingers” Yoongi rasped.

“Fuck yes” you body trembled when Yoongi picked up your leg and threw it over his shoulder giving him a new angle. He hit your g-spot each time making your body limp with pleasure. The build up in the pit of your stomach began to rise and you could feel your body getting closer to the edge.

“Faster, Yoongi I’m going to cum” you gripped his hand.

“Then cum” Yoongi growled, and attached his lips around your clit once more, bringing you to the edge, your body shook in pleasure, as Yoongi to out his fingers and let you ride out your high on his mouth. You then felt Yoongi’s fingers slide back into your heat and you squirmed at the over stimulation. You felt his fingers leave yet you still felt full of something. Your mind then clicked and you saw the satisfying smirk that came on Yoongi’s gorgeous face as he took the remote out of his pocket and flipped the switch. 

“I hate you” You hissed as your body sunk to the floor. The vibrator Yoongi put inside you buzzing at a low speed. Standing up Yoongi grabbed your hand and made you stand to your feet.

“Don’t you dare take that out of you okay?” Yoongi held your hips in his hands firmly to make his point. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Yoongi.”

“I have a lot in store for you y/n, get some rest I’ll see you in the morning” Yoongi glanced back over his shoulder before making his way out. 

Tomorrow you’ll finally get what you want.

[dragonfics]

Summary: A short background fic to Argent Night detailing the events of Rus’s past - particularly pertaining to how he became a vampire, and the years following his transition.

WARNINGS: This chapter contains graphic rape - please do not read it if it’s something you’re not comfortable with. The events of Argent Night will still make sense without this fic--so please do not feel obligated to read it.

Chapter two will not contain rape, and can act as a standalone. (It does still deal with some mildly disturbing themes, however).

Tags: Underswap Papgore,  Rape/Non-con, Non-consensual biting, blood and magic, Vampire AU

Detailed trigger warnings are in the tags

Papyrus pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders as a chill breeze stirred the night air, swaying the long grass of the open fields that stretched for miles around him. Creeping shadows and dark, lifeless shapes loomed over the rocky pathway, and he kept his head bowed, trying to ignore the feeling of watchful eyes on his back. The gnarled branches of the scattered barren trees creaked in the wind, and Papyrus shuddered. He began to walk a little faster, unsettled by the eerily quiet night. The dim glow ahead promised a warm fire and a hearty meal, and Papyrus was more than eager to escape the desolate wilderness of the Ruins.

In the distance, beyond the small cottage shrouded in a grove of decaying trees, cold silver moonlight touched the peaks of pale mountains. By the time Papyrus reached the small garden that encased the cottage, he was shivering—both from the cold bite of winter and the deadly fright of the darkness.

The curtains had been drawn over the cottage’s windows, but Papyrus could see a golden light filtering through the seams that promised warmth. He knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, before curling back in on himself, his bones rattling.

The door opened almost immediately, and Papyrus felt some of the tension leave him at the sight of the large figure standing on the threshold. “asgore,” he breathed in relief, grinning up at the enormous, furry monster through the chattering of his teeth. “h-hey.”

Asgore seemed stunned for a moment. “Papyrus? I wasn’t…” But gathering himself, his face broke into a wide smile. Unexpectedly, he wrapped his arms around Papyrus, enveloping him in a crushing hug. Papyrus squirmed a little as he was pulled against Asgore’s chest. “How wonderful of you to come! If I had known, I would have made preparations. It’s been so long since…” He trailed off, quickly shaking his head. “Listen to me rambling! You must be freezing. Please, come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

Asgore guided Papyrus inside, his large arm still wrapped around his shoulders. Papyrus was greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire in the hearth, and the smell of fresh mint leaves stewing in a pot on the stove. He glanced up at Asgore. “sorry, am i… interrupting something?”

“No, no, not at all,” Asgore assured him. “I’ll always have time for you, Papyrus. Always. Here, take a seat, I’ll bring your tea to you—oh, and can I get you a blanket? You’re still shivering!”

Papyrus smiled, but shook his head. “there’s no need. thank you, asgore.”

“Are you certain?” Asgore probed. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Laughing softly, Papyrus gave another shake of his head. “really—i’m fine.”

“Well, if you insist… I’d better get your tea brewing. I won’t be long!” Asgore wandered into the kitchen, still muttering to himself. Sitting on the large sofa in front of the fireplace, Papyrus pulled his knees to his chest, letting his eye sockets fall closed. The warmth of the fire made his bones tingle pleasantly, expelling the lingering chill of the night air outside. He could hear Asgore bustling around in the kitchen, the sound accompanied by the chink of porcelain crockery.

Papyrus had been a little nervous about visiting Asgore again. It had been months since he’d last made the long journey from Snowdin to the Ruins, and part of him had feared Asgore had forgotten him.

But now that he was here, it felt like being home. He and Asgore had been friends for years, and Papyrus had long held a special fondness for the strange hermit. There was widespread belief through the kingdom that no one lived in the Ruins—but for small, insignificant scavengers among the rocks and in the mountains. But here Asgore dwelled—alone in his quaint cottage. Papyrus had been quite surprised when he’d stumbled upon it—but he was thankful he had. Asgore was a dear friend.

When Asgore re-entered the room, he was carrying a tray holding a steaming floral teapot, and a warm mug. He placed them on the table in front of Papyrus. “Oh no—don’t worry yourself,” he said quickly, as Papyrus reached for the teapot. “I’ll do it for you.”

“oh—uh, thank you,” Papyrus said, leaning back. Asgore beamed at him as he poured his tea. Handing him the mug, he sat beside him on the sofa, watching closely as he sipped it.

“How does it taste?” he asked eagerly, his crimson eyes bright.

“great,” Papyrus said, grinning. “mint? and…?”

“Honeysuckle,” Asgore told him proudly. Papyrus blinked, and Asgore laughed. “I know how fond you are of sweet things—I’ve had it sitting in my pantry for months.”

“that’s… awfully kind of you,” Papyrus said, taking another long sip from his mug. The warm liquid travelled through his bones, quenching the cold ache the journey had left. He sighed, sinking back into the soft cushions of the sofa. “so, how have you been?” he asked. “i—i’m sorry it’s been so long since i’ve visited. my brother…”

Asgore waved him off, shaking his head. “Oh, there’s no need for that, Papyrus. I’m only glad you’re here now. I have truly missed you, my dear friend.”

Much to Papyrus’ surprise, Asgore leaned close, looping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him against his side. Beneath his thick robe, Papyrus could feel the hardened muscle of Asgore’s body. Strangely, he emitted no warmth. But his embrace was comforting nonetheless, and Papyrus leaned into the touch, an involuntary hum of contentment building in his chest.

He remained beneath Asgore’s tender hold as he drank his tea, nothing breaking the silence between them but the crackle of the warm fire, and the howl of the wind outside. Papyrus could feel himself slowly drifting into a pleasant doze, the warm mug of tea resting on his lap. He’d been certain Asgore had fallen asleep too, until he interrupted the silence by asking, “Are you alright, Papyrus? Are you warm enough? Can I get you anything to eat?”

“don’t bother yourself,” Papyrus said softly, snuggling closer to Asgore. Something pleasant blossomed in his chest as Asgore rumbled softly, holding him tighter. “this… this is nice,” Papyrus whispered.

Asgore murmured his agreement, pressing his muzzle to the crown of Papyrus’ skull. Papyrus could feel his warm breaths against the bone, shivering as he dipped his head and pressed his mouth into the nape of Papyrus’ neck. His soul fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nerves, Papyrus went still, swallowing. “You smell good,” Asgore purred, his voice barely audible above the crackling fire. “You are good, Papyrus… so good…”

Papyrus could feel his face heating at Asgore’s words, magic rising to his cheekbones. He couldn’t hide his small smile, lowering his gaze as Asgore pressed himself closer. “It’s always wonderful having you here,” Asgore went on. “Stars, I’ve missed you, Papyrus. I’ve missed you so much.” His voice had taken on an almost guttural edge, and his breathing had become heavy.

Papyrus was still holding his mug of tea—it seemed to be the only thing preventing their bodies from being flush against each other. Asgore had Papyrus pressed against the sofa’s arm, and he was leaning over him with no room for personal space.

Papyrus was almost inclined not to mind—but the press of Asgore’s mouth against his neck drew him to a halt. “a-asgore—maybe we should slow down. i’m not sure if—” Papyrus broke off with a gasp as he felt something wet slide across his cervical vertebrae. Asgore grunted softly, cupping Papyrus’ skull in one of his large paws.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, Papyrus,” he murmured, his face still buried in Papyrus’ neck. “You’re perfect.”

Papyrus laughed softly, though the sound was tainted with a hint of anxiety. He attempted to shift away from Asgore, but the large monster had him trapped in his arms, his grip gentle, but tight around Papyrus’ back. “asgore, i—” Papyrus’ breath hitched as Asgore’s tongue caught on a sensitive notch of bone. “i think this m-might be too much. i—i don’t…”

Asgore hushed him, drawing back slightly to look at Papyrus. The red of his eyes seemed somehow brighter, and he wore a heated expression. Carefully, he pried Papyrus’ mug from his shaking hands, placing it on the table beside them. He ran his thumb over Papyrus’ jaw, cupping his face in his large hand. “It’s alright,” he whispered, sliding a hand beneath Papyrus’ legs to lift them onto the sofa. “It’s okay, you have nothing to worry about.”

Asgore dipped his head again, resuming his gentle laving of Papyrus’ neck. Papyrus, now completely pinned beneath Asgore’s body, began to panic a little. He attempted to push Asgore away, but Asgore barely seemed to notice. “asgore,” he whispered, a hint of urgency creeping into his voice. “i don’t think we should… i mean—this is nice—but i’m not sure if i’m ready t-to…”

“Relax,” Asgore breathed, his sharp canines catching on Papyrus’ vertebrae. “I’ll be gentle, Papyrus—don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

Papyrus started to struggle, writhing beneath Asgore desperately—but in vain. Asgore wouldn’t budge. “w-wait! please, asgore. i don’t—”

“Quiet, dear,” Asgore growled softly, running his thumb over Papyrus’ cheekbone. “Now, this may hurt a bit—but it’ll only be for a bit, I promise.” He leaned in again, his teeth grating over Papyrus’ collarbone. “Goodness, you smell nice—you smell delicious. It’s been so long since I’ve—” Asgore broke off, inhaling deeply. “Try to relax, my love. It’ll make it a lot less painful.”

Before Papyrus could even begin to question what Asgore meant, an abrupt, crippling pain lanced through his neck. He tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by Asgore’s large paw pressing over his mouth. As Asgore’s fangs pierced his bone, a sickening crack echoed off the walls of the small room, and Papyrus squirmed, fruitlessly trying to pry him off.

‘stop,’ he tried to say, but no sound but a stifled gurgling escaped him. He could feel something wet oozing down his neck, accompanied by more pain as Asgore changed the angle of his bite, sinking his teeth deeper into the bone.

Asgore groaned softly as he drank the magic leaking from the throbbing wound at Papyrus’ neck. He lifted Papyrus from the couch, enveloping him in his thickly muscled arms and holding him tightly against his solid chest. Papyrus’ struggles had already begun to weaken, his limbs growing heavy and slack. His whimpers were faint and his head ached as he lost more and more magic.

Just as he’d begun to slip into unconsciousness, Asgore released his neck, cradling his head as he withdrew. Through his clouded vision, Papyrus could see his own magic staining Asgore’s fangs (had they always been so sharp?). He choked out a whimper as Asgore leaned down to lick the spent magic from his neck, humming gently as his tongue pressed between Papyrus’ vertebrae. Sighing in satisfaction, Asgore closed his eyes—now a dull yellow. “Thank you, Papyrus,” he breathed.

Papyrus couldn’t move. His bones felt like they were made of lead, and his head felt as if it was full of sand—harsh and grating against the inside of his skull. He let out a hollow groan of protest as Asgore leaned down to kiss him. His tongue pressed into Papyrus’ empty mouth, finding every ridge of bone and soaking it in his saliva—mingled with Papyrus’ own magic. When he withdrew, he was smiling—the same smile he’d given Papyrus when he’d arrived on his doorstep not twenty minutes ago. The same smile he’d always given him.

Asgore wrapped his arms around Papyrus and hugged him to his chest. “Oh, Papyrus—that was amazing,” he whispered, exhaling in contentment. “Your magic is… it’s perfect.” Asgore lifted Papyrus into his arms, carrying him across the room and into the passage. “Come. Let me clean you up. I’ll take care of you, my love. I’ll look after you.”

Papyrus was limp in Asgore’s arms, with no strength remaining in him to fight back. His mind was a haze of pain and horror, and he could still feel magic dripping from the wound at his neck. He groaned quietly as Asgore lowered him onto the bed, but his voice was weak and barely audible. He tried to sit up, but found himself virtually immobile.

The room was dark, and Papyrus could only make out Asgore’s silhouette above him. He was standing still, looking over Papyrus, as if in thought. Slowly, he moved his hand downward to rest on Papyrus’ hip. It was only when his touch shifted lower, that Papyrus realised his magic had manifested itself.

Mortified, he tried to speak—to argue, to protest, to beg—but no words came out, only a soft, gargled moan. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, Papyrus,” Asgore said, gently, tilting Papyrus’ chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. His yellow eyes were tender, and his smile was soft.

Papyrus felt sick.

“It’s a common reaction to a vampire bite—and my venom is quite potent.”

Vampire bite?

Horror struck Papyrus as quickly as panic did, and he began to sob—the sound leaving him as nothing more than weak, strained gasps. He tried to writhe out of Asgore’s grip as he rested his hand on Papyrus’ ilium, stroking Papyrus’ magic tenderly through his clothes. “It’s alright, hush now, I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, Papyrus. I’ll take good care of you.”

Papyrus tried to shake his head, but he could barely move, the venom in his system draining every shred of his strength. He wished the bite had been enough to render him unconscious as well, but his mind seemed stuck firmly in the dull state between sleeping and waking—paralysed, but aware of every unwanted stimulus prickling across his bones.

Asgore carefully removed Papyrus’ pants to reveal the soft glow of his summoned cunt. He smoothed a finger over the folds, and Papyrus twitched. Asgore looked up at him, his eyes bright and smiling. “It’s lovely, Papyrus. It’s perfect.” He climbed onto the bed and knelt over Papyrus, unbuckling his pants. Papyrus groaned desperately, his words stuck in his throat. He felt helpless. Pathetic.

Disgusting.

Through the faint light, Papyrus could see Asgore’s cock. It was huge. Far larger and far thicker than anything (or anyone) he’d ever experimented with. He whimpered brokenly as Asgore leaned over him, running his tongue over Papyrus’ parted teeth, and slowly dipping into his mouth. His cock rubbed lightly over Papyrus’ labia. Papyrus wanted to cry out—to plead with Asgore to stop. It wasn’t going to fit.

It only occurred to him then—with Asgore bearing over him—how massive Asgore was. A beast of a monster—with arms like sturdy pillars, strong enough to crush Papyrus’ bones into dust. Papyrus could feel the solid muscles of Asgore’s chest through his shirt. He was taller than Papyrus too—and at least three times as wide.

Papyrus felt pathetic. Incapacitated or not, he was completely at Asgore’s mercy

Asgore lifted Papyrus’ legs, holding them over his shoulder with one hand. In the moments he took to line himself up, Papyrus began to cry, wet tears trailing down his cheeks without so much as a sob escaping him. Asgore’s yellow eyes fixed on Papyrus’ face, and he thrust in with a grunt.

Papyrus screamed.

Or at least, he tried to. All that left him was a faint choke—pained and hopelessly weak. His magic was dry, and the stretch of Asgore inside him burned. Pain shot through his pelvis as Asgore began to thrust, his movements punctuated by deep, rumbling growls. Papyrus felt like a ragdoll in Asgore’s arms, his body slack and useless as Asgore took him at a brutal pace. His magic felt as if it was going to tear, sharp jolts of agony wrenching his entire body.

Asgore moaned, holding Papyrus against him. “Oh—oh, Papyrus. Oh, you feel wonderful—you’re perfect, Papyrus—you’re perfect.” His words were broken and heavy, carnal grunts leaving him with each vigorous thrust. His thick arms encased Papyrus’ body, their grip tight and crushing.

He halted for a moment, adjusting Papyrus so that he was seated on his lap, before he began to bounce him rigorously. Papyrus fell limp against his shoulder, his head hanging heavily against Asgore’s neck. Something wet trickled down his femur, but he had neither the fervour nor the desire to consider what it might be.

Outside, Papyrus could hear the rustling grass and the branches of the old trees creaking in the wind. Through the window, he could faintly make out the pale glow of moonlight kissing the tips of the faraway mountains. He could see shadows creeping across the windowpanes. He could almost feel the wind’s chill.

Inside, Papyrus could hear the rustling of sheets, and the creaking of bedsprings. He could hear Asgore’s animalistic grunts, along with the dull slap of skin on bone. He could feel Asgore’s tongue on his neck. He could feel the light touches of Asgore’s fingers over his spine. He could feel Asgore inside him, splitting him apart.

Papyrus barely noticed when Asgore sank his teeth into him again, fresh magic spilling onto the bedsheets and staining them a murky gold. The warm liquid seeped down Rus’s ribs and spine as Asgore drank. Papyrus’ entire body was engulfed in pain—dull, aching pain; sharp, piercing pain; cold, empty pain.

Asgore suddenly released a predatory growl, clinging to Papyrus until Papyrus thought he might break. Warmth flooded his cunt, and fresh tears fell from his eyes. Asgore moaned, whispering his name desperately as he held onto him, planting kisses down his cracked neck and collarbone.

“Stars, Papyrus—oh, Papyrus. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. Oh, thank you, Papyrus. Thank you.”

Papyrus prayed for the release of sleep, but his soul ran erratically in his chest, refusing to allow him to slip into unconsciousness. Asgore gently slipped out of him, and Papyrus felt something bitterly warm seeping from his stinging cunt. Looking down, he noticed a hint of red mingled with Asgore’s seed.

His own blood, he realised.

Carefully laying him down on the bed, Asgore tucked a pillow under Papyrus’ head, kissing every inch of him he seemed able to reach. Papyrus lay still and closed his eyes. He vaguely felt the bed moving as Asgore climbed off it, and heard him padding across the room. The sound of a door closing was followed by cold silence.

Even if Papyrus had been able to move, he wouldn’t have. The slick drip of magic down his neck and femurs left every bone in his body crawling. Everything ached, and his throat felt dry—despite the fact that he’d barely been able to make a sound the entire time. He heard a rattling sound that he took to be the wind at first—only to realise that it was his own bones, shaking.

His magic had yet to dispel itself, and Papyrus could still feel Asgore’s seed leaking out of it as it throbbed and twitched. The bites littering his neck and shoulders stung and itched, and his entire body ached from magic loss. He lay there, covered in filth and the salt of his own tears until Asgore returned.

He felt Asgore’s hands on his chest, resting there for a moment. His touch was tender and soft, his thumb stroking soft patterns over Papyrus’ sternum. Then he began to unbutton Papyrus’ shirt, until his ribs were bare, the chill of the night air weaving between them and making Papyrus shiver.

Papyrus wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes shut against whatever further defiling Asgore enacted upon him. He wanted to fall unconscious; to lose his sense of feeling; to disappear. But when Asgore moved to kneel over him again, Papyrus opened his eye sockets to look at him.

A sick bubble of nausea pulsed in his chest.

Asgore wore a gentle smile, his eyes bright yellow and tender. He cupped Papyrus’ face, stroking the tears away from his cheeks. “Summon your soul for me, Papyrus,” he ordered, quietly.

Papyrus stopped breathing, and his mind came to a screeching halt. He stared at Asgore, disbelieving. This… this was too far. No. He wouldn’t do this. Surely—

“Papyrus. I’d rather not have to do it for you—but I will.”

Papyrus tried to shake his head; tried to move; to scream; to fight; to do anything that might put a stop to this. But he was helpless. His body was paralysed, and his words couldn’t form.

Sighing, Asgore lifted his hand, and Papyrus felt something sharp and cold wrenching at his chest. He choked sharply, the sound weak and strangled. His soul hovered above his ribcage, its glow dull.

Asgore stared at it, his gaze frighteningly intense. Something primal flickered in his eyes, and his hold was firm as he grasped Papyrus’ soul. Cold dread filled Papyrus as he stared at Asgore and his bones quaked violently. Tears seemed beyond him.

Asgore was no longer smiling—he barely even looked at Papyrus as he brought the soul to his face, breathing in the scent of it. Papyrus shivered at the touch of his cold breath on its surface. Asgore’s lips pulled back over his teeth, a snarl curling his muzzle. His fangs extended, dripping with vile saliva.

When Asgore’s teeth pierced the surface of Papyrus’ soul, a harsh jolt rocked Papyrus’ entire body. His back arched off the bed, and he screamed—this time, not even Asgore’s venom was enough to keep the sound sedated. The noise of his cries sounded foreign to him—like those of a wounded animal in the night. Papyrus writhed and fought, his body involuntarily twitching at odd angles.  The pain was white hot—and yet somehow freezing cold at the same time.

Magic sprayed from the delicate organ, leaking onto Papyrus’ ribs through Asgore’s teeth. Asgore seemed enraptured, his eyes closed as bliss overcame his features. He sunk his teeth deeper—deeper—deeper. Papyrus felt as if he might shatter. Blood and magic filled his mouth as his soul was drained, and he coughed and choked weakly.

As his soul slowly turned translucent, his struggles became faint and inconsistent, the strength seeping from his limbs. When at last his conscious mind caved to the pain, his body went still, and the world turned black around him.

 ****

 The first thing Papyrus noticed when he awoke, was how cold he felt. He tried to wrap his arms around himself—only to find them pinned to his sides. Something large and heavy was pressed against his back, enveloping him tightly. He soon relinquished his struggles when he realised he would not be released any time soon.

It was only when his mind slowly regained its coordination that he became aware of the grating ache in his chest. His soul felt empty and raw—as if someone had taken a knife and scraped all the magic from it; and his bones felt dry and withered, lacking any true essence. He grunted softly in discomfort as the heavy arms tightened around him.

Something gruff rumbled against him, and Papyrus shuddered at the warm breaths on the back of his neck. “Good morning, Papyrus,” Asgore hummed.

Papyrus stilled, dread soaking his withered soul. Instinctively, he began to fight against Asgore’s hold, kicking and writhing in an attempt to escape. “Shh, it’s alright,” Asgore whispered, holding him steady. “Calm down, Papyrus. You’re alright, calm down.”

“y-you…” Papyrus swallowed and went limp, squeezing his sockets shut. “you killed me.” He choked on a sob, terror clutching his empty soul. He could still feel his own dry magic caking his neck and ribs—his body was covered in it. His soul throbbed desperately, a burning ache surging through his bones. “ah—i-it hurts,” he whimpered. “w-what did you do to me?”

Asgore hushed him gently, rubbing soft circles over Papyrus’ jaw with his thumb. “You’ll be fine, Papyrus. You’re just hungry.”

“n-no,” Papyrus said, frustrated. “i’m not—i should be dead.”

He felt Asgore’s grip on him relax slightly, before the great monster released a tired sigh. He turned Papyrus over, holding his gaze steadily. “You’re not dead. You’re in transition.”

“t-transition…?”

“You’re becoming a vampire, Papyrus—just like me.” Asgore smiled, as if Papyrus ought to be thrilled by the fact. He leaned in and touched his lips to Papyrus’ forehead in a soft kiss.

But Papyrus was frozen. His soul—his dead soul—was cold with dread. He could feel himself shaking, and again, his chest clenched painfully, reminding him how hungry he was. He couldn’t move or speak—couldn’t breathe (did he even need to breathe now?).

When Asgore carefully lifted him into a sitting position, Papyrus let him. He didn’t react as Asgore began to dress him in fresh clothing—far too big on him, but it was hardly important. Even when Asgore’s fingers grazed his pelvis, Papyrus barely flinched.

Everything hurt. His head, his bones, his soul—dull, burning pain scorched his entire body. A sick, churning feeling ignited in his chest as Asgore pressed their mouths together, running his tongue along Papyrus’ clenched teeth (Papyrus could feel a strange twinge in his canines—a sort of itch). “Come. Let’s find you someone to eat,” Asgore said at last, taking Papyrus’ hand and guiding him off the bed. When Papyrus didn’t move, Asgore turned, offering him a consolatory smile. “There’s no need to be afraid, Papyrus. You’ve been reborn—today marks the first day of the rest of your life.”

[spn-ficfanatic]

The One Moment- Ch2: Love Is The Rhythm, You Are The Music

SERIES MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 3

Chapter Summary: Jared walks you home and takes the opportunity to get to know you a little better. 20 questions anyone?

Genre: Fluff, a teensy bit of angst

Words: 2570

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Fun Fact! Chapters 1 and 2 used to be big one 5000 word one-shot that started this whole fic, and I decided to split them when the story took control. They flow nicely so y’all get a special treat and I’m posting Ch 2 now! Part 3 might not be out until early next week, but I’ve included a little preview at the bottom xo

The song was over and the crowd was cheering. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins and you were grinning like an idiot. You had been quietly annoyed with Lucas for pulling you up here at first but now you were so grateful you had. You pulled him in for a hug and whispered a thank you in his ear before affectionately slapping his face. He smiled back and helped you off the stage, to a heap of pats on the back and ‘well done’s from the crowd. You thanked them all as you blushed, trying not to run back to the safety of your table and your friends. You were pleased to see Jared and Jensen looked a little shell-shocked as you approached Lacey who gave you a hug.

“Oh my god babe, I haven’t heard you sing in ages! I nearly thought you’d forgotten how!” she laughed, kissing you on the cheek. You thanked her and turned to the boys, waiting for one of them to talk. Jensen decided it would have to be him, because Jared appeared to have lost his voice.

“So, you can sing and dance. Can you act? Are you a triple threat? Should Jared and I just start looking for new work now? Because I’m pretty sure Eric will have a breakdown if you leave him for a career in Hollywood,” Jensen asked in mock seriousness. You pulled him in for a hug, laughing as you did, and patted him on the back.

“Thanks Jay,” you said warmly, blushing slightly. You started to wonder if it was possible to blush too much. Would blood soon start rushing from your nose and ears? He finally saw you looking at him and he cleared his throat.

“Um, wow. That was... that was something,” he said, and you smiled as you gave him a hug.

“My god Y/N. I’ve been searching for the last 3 years and apparently YOU were the key to shutting him up all along!”

He told Jensen to shut up, pulling you closer and braving a quick peck to the top of your head. You looked at Lacey who wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and you poked your tongue out at her.

“Well,” she started. “I think it’s time to call it a night. What do you think Jay?” she asked Jensen, staring at him pointedly so he’d understand the hidden meaning behind her words. He obviously got it, and cleared his throat.

“Um, yep. Yep I think it’s getting pretty late. Better get you home!”

“Such a gentleman,” you laughed, winking. He blushed, actually BLUSHED, and you laughed even harder. You gave Lacey a quick peck on the cheek and waved her and Jensen off. Kevin had left with his dance partner before you got up on the stage so it was just you and Jared left, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward.

“It IS getting pretty late, did you want to get home too?” he asked you. You sighed.

“I suppose so. I need to get out of here at least, it’s getting a bit warm.”

Jared led you out of the club, his hand placed on the middle of your back. As you pushed the door open you relished in the fresh air; it was warm and you were grateful to not be carrying around a bulky jacket tonight.

“I guess I should be getting home as well,” Jared commented. There was no suggestion in his voice, no silent beg for an invitation back to yours for “coffee” and for that you appreciated him a whole lot more. You had to laugh though.

“I think you better check your phone Jared. Hate to tell you but Lacey never brings guys back to our place.”

Jared raised his eyebrow just as his phone vibrated. Sure enough, he read the text Jensen sent him and put his phone away sighing.

“So, apparently Lacey doesn’t bring guys back to her place,” he reported.

“Yer, I had heard that somewhere,” you giggled. “Lucky for you, I do. Cummon.”

You stopped dead in your tracks and your eyes widened in horror when you realized how that sounded. You turned to face him, to see him smirking at you.

“Um, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I don’t ever bring guys home I swear. Not that I’m a hermit or anything, I’ve had s- been with guys before. And it’s not that I’m not good, I’m amazing, I just don’t sleep around oh my God shut up Y/N,” you scolded yourself, holding your hands over your face. Jared meanwhile was shaking from laughter, using a nearby post to hold himself steady so he didn’t go completely over.  Try as you might you could help join in, and pretty soon you were both howling from laughter and wiping tears from your eyes. Calming down you held out your hand to Jared, “sorry, let me introduce myself. I’m Y/N, and I have verbal diarrhea when I get nervous.”

He cleared his throat to compose himself and smiled, reaching to shake your hand. As he shook it though he surprised you by yanking you toward him, and smashed his lips into yours. You melted into him immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. You felt his hands drift up your back under your top, caressing your skin gently, while your hands found themselves running through his long hair. You had never experienced a kiss like this before, your entire body was jittery with anticipation and you could feel the heat building between your legs already. You could feel Jared’s pants become tight, and suddenly realized where this was going. You pulled your lips back, but didn’t dare to shift your body from his.

“Um,” you started, licking your lips. “Not that I’m not enjoying this IMMENSLY, but…”

Jared brushed his fingers across your face and gave you a gentle peck. “It’s ok, I understand. But for what it’s worth, I definitely want to pick this up again someday.”

You hummed and nodded in agreement, and peeled your body off of his with a sigh. You looked into his eyes and offered your hand for him to take, smiling as he did.

“Let me lead you to my castle,” you told him, starting the journey down the street.

“You live nearby?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“About 4 blocks from here. I’m assuming with your freakishly long legs you’ll make it without breaking a sweat,” you replied with a wink.

“So, I guess we have some time for 20 questions then?” he asked you quizzically. You raised a questioning eyebrow and nodded, allowing him to continue uninterrupted.

“You don’t drink?” he asked. You were surprised that was his first question, and that he even noticed.

“No, I don’t. I like to be prepared in case Eric ever needs anything on the fly,” you replied. It wasn’t the whole truth but you felt it was enough to not have him push the topic further, and you were right.

“OK… so how do you know the band? You and the singer seemed to be kind of chummy,” he said, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“We hooked up a few years ago but we’re still good friends. We’re not interested in each other like that and mostly just stay in touch over social media. I occasionally bump into him at bars and clubs though.”

Jared nodded, notably more relaxed upon hearing that. You smiled and continued to walk, allowing him the chance to keep asking questions. You were mostly an open book so you’d take just about anything he threw at you.

“Alright, I know I said 20 questions but really I only have one more,” he said, tightening his grip on your hand. “Why am I only meeting you for the first time tonight, when we’ve been working practically side-by-side for the last 6 months?”

You slowed your pace, trying to decide how much to tell him at this point. He noticed and slowed down too, concern flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, did I ask the wrong thing? You don’t have to answer, I’m just curious I guess…”

“No it’s ok, it’s a fair question. I know how I am at work so it’s only natural for you to wonder.”

“So… that IS you doing it on purpose?”

You nodded, and stopped walking entirely so you could face him. “The job I had before Eric hired me… I loved it. I mean, really loved it. I worked for a really kind lady, even though she was extremely successful she wasn’t snobby and she always had time for me. Would allow me time off whenever I asked, on the rare occasion that I did. She was a CEO and spent most of her time in the office so I saw a lot of her employees. One took an interest in me and, well,” you stopped, not entirely sure how much to tell him. You were having such an amazing night with him and didn’t want to bring that down. “I told him I wasn’t interested, he didn’t really take that well and eventually I decided it was better to leave. I don’t want to say he scared me off but things weren’t really the same after that,” you told him, taking his hand in both of yours for just a little extra comfort. Not that it was necessary though as he pulled you in for a hug. You tucked your head under his chin and leant against his chest, listening to his heartbeat to try and calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have asked.” You pulled away to look at him.

“No, it’s ok, I’m glad you did.” You were past the serious part of the conversation so felt comfortable moving again, and continued on your way down the street with him in toe. “After that, finding a job like this where the LARGE majority of cast and crew are male, I decided to play it safe. Not draw attention, try and stay invisible. And it’s definitely working; I was all prepared to introduce myself to you tonight when I came up for a hug.”

“Haha, no. For what it’s worth, I notice you at work. Your smile caught me within the first week but then I started seeing you help out around set and it was hard to NOT notice you. I may have had a little crush,” he admitted, blushing. Your stomach started flip flopping with that confession. Jared Padalecki, star of a hit TV show and pretty much 10 feet of drop-dead gorgeous, actually had a crush on you?

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slightly. “Nothing I guess. Just, you know, making a mental list of all the jackasses in high school that made fun of me, that I now need to call and brag to.” Jared laughed at that, and let a comfortable silence fall between you as you walked.

After a block or so you struck up conversation, and the rest of the time was spent discussing a million little things. Nothing serious, all the regular stuff like family and friends and past jobs and such. Stuff that would normally bore you to tears on a date that Jared somehow made sound so interesting. You would be sad to reach your apartment, you realized.

~~~~~~~~

It took you a moment to remember where you were when you woke up. You rolled over and saw a pile of scrubs on the floor and it started coming back to you. Jared took your bed, you took Lacey’s, and Lacey definitely took Jensen’s. You smiled as your thoughts drifted to the gorgeous giant sleeping in your King size bed right at that moment, and decided you wanted to make something nice for him for breakfast.

You threw on Lacey’s slippers and snuck down the hall to the kitchen. It was fairly silent as you plod past the kitchen counter to where the pots and pans where kept, and let out a scream when you saw a figure crouched down in front of you. Jared jumped up suddenly, letting out a yelp of his own, holding up his hands in defense.

“Jesus Christ Jared!” you cried, holding your hand to your chest feeling your beating heart go a mile a minute. “You scared the crap out of me, I thought you were asleep!”

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I uh, woke early so I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast,” he replied.

“Well, you definitely surprised me, I’ll give you that,” you told him, taking a couple of deep breaths.

“Pretty sure you won’t need a coffee now,” he tried to joke, giving a lopsided smile which you couldn’t help but love.

“I wouldn’t say that. Don’t say that,” you replied seriously, taking the empty mug he was holding and walking over to the cappuccino machine. You set the mug down and turned it on, before turning back and surprising Jared with a deep passionate kiss. He returned it hungrily, holding your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. You pulled away saying “surprise,” with a cheeky grin.

“That was better than my surprise,” he said quietly, gazing into your eyes while still holding your face in his hands. You were interrupted by the coffee machine and you groaned. “Oh god, how do I choose? The man of my dreams or the coffee I dream about?”

“Man of your dreams huh?” he asked you, his face lighting up. You blushed and started to pull away, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back for one more quick peck. “For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I was dreaming about you long before last night.”

He let you go and you gave a happy shudder, moving over to make your coffee. You and Jared made comfortable small talk while you drank and made pancakes, which continued as you settled down to eat. “Um, what are you doing?” Jared asked with a raised eyebrow and grin. You stared blankly at him while putting your topping of choice on your pancake. “Is that, um… are you putting pancake mix on your pancake?”

You laughed, “Have you ever tried it Mr Judgy-Pants?”

“Well no, but, it’s kinda wei-“ you cut him off by shoving your fork into his mouth, covered in pancake mixture covered pancake.  He chewed slowly before breaking out into a big grin.

“Ths’s ‘mazing,” he said, reaching over for the bowl and pouring it all over his pancakes.

“Hey hey, don’t bogart my topping,” you laughed, taking it back and adding some more to your plate.

“So, I wanted to ask you something,” Jared started, licking mixture of his fingers.

“Fire away,” you replied with a full mouth.

“I just wondered, well, I’d like to take you out sometime,” he said, looking at his plate nervously. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Aw sweety, are you asking me out on a date?” you lightly teased. You raised his chin with your hand and give him a kiss, resting your forehead on his. “Of course Jare, you didn’t even really need to ask you know.”

“I guess I wanted to do it right,” he replied, lifting his head to look into your eyes, before pulling you in for another kiss.

Part 3 HERE

PREVIEW:

“Y/N isn’t here,” Jared confirmed to Lacey. “What’s going on? Is she ok?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied with a groan. “It’s just I’ve come home and she’s not here, her hot chocolate’s on the floor, it looks like she left in a hurry and I just… I have a bad feeling.”

“Everything” Tag List - @angelsandwinchesters , @grace-for-sale

“The One Moment” Tag List - @pansexualmoose , @winchester-writes

[umbrellalery]

The Dreaming Keys 4/?

Deputy Danes is scratching the back of his neck and Miko thinks it is adorable and he wants to bring Danes home and feed him soup. And other things. Gah, teenage hormones. Miko has a lot of them and they are not helping him focus.

"Hey Keren," Danes says, nodding his greeting to her. "And yeah, it is a, pardon the language, shitstorm. How in the hell is that thing radioactive?"

Lady Hashirah looks at him and makes a sound. "Apologies, deputy, but the corpse is not actually radioactive. I had Miko use his abilities to make it appear so."

In response, Miko waggles his fingers at Danes and then mouths "ta-da!" at him. Then he decides he wants to die because that it is, without a doubt, the dorkiest thing he has ever done. He can already hear Miranda shouting at him 'how the eff did you think that Bring-It-On spirit fingers was a valid seduction move?!'

Danes widens his eyes slightly, likely in confusion at the fact that Miko is still waggling his fingers. He clears his throat and Miko interprets that as 'I don't know how to politely say that you are a loser so I'm going to pretend that I didn't see anything'.

Miko takes back his treacherous flesh sausages and resigns himself to being the janitor in a nunnery. He'd be a nun but wimples make his face look poofy. He probably wouldn't live long in a nunnery anyway since history has demonstrated that the Catholic Church's feelings on magic usage tended to be on the burning side.

Danes shakes his head slightly and looks at Lady Hashirah. "Anyway, Keren. So, if the corpse isn't radioactive, does this mean we can look at it now?"

Lady Hashirah shakes her head, "no, Deputy, I'm afraid not. While the corpse is not genuinely radioactive, it is far more dangerous. The corpse is actually a demon and is leaking its corruptive essence everywhere."

"What?!" Danes says and reaches for his radio, undoubtedly to report that everyone should evacuate the surroundings.

"No need for fear though," Lady Hashirah continued. "The ring of petals and statues are preventing the essence from spreading further but I will need to look at your deputies who have stayed the longest inside the ring to see if any of them are suffering from being exposed to the corruption too long."

Danes nodded and reached for his radio while walking away, already asking his men about how long they stayed inside. While he was doing that, Lady Hashirah turned back to Miko and, because she was the greatest troll of all time, said, "the spirit fingers were too much."

"Oh my god, I know!" Miko says, clawing at his face. He is such an embarrassment. He yanks the hood of his hoodie over his head and pulls the string shut, covering his entire face. He should have never been let out in public.

"There, there, my boy. I'm sure he didn't think much of it," she said, patting his shoulder.

Miko doesn't know whether she's sincere or not but he'll take whatever comfort he can get. He's still not getting out of his turtle-hermit hoodie maneuever because he's still too embarrassed about the entire thing. He'll stay in here forever and abe a hoodie hermit crab, a hoo-rmit crab. He'll eat through a straw and live in a gigantic hamster ball.

"Oh, Deputy Danes is coming back," Lady Hashirah says and Miko spells his hoodie to snap open so instantly he can see Danes jogging back. No amount of desired hoo-rmitude is ever going to override Miko's burning need to see Danes' thighs in his uniform.

"Right," Danes says when he comes up to them. "Longest one in the scene was O'Malley. Thirty minutes, give or take five minutes. Is that long enough for him to catch something?"

Lady Hashirah shakes her head. "No, thankfully. Tell him to expect to feel lightheaded in the next few days but he will be fine."

Danes lets out a sigh of relief. "Great, that's great." He looks at the direction of the corpse. "I gotta say, this demon business? I'm way over my head in this."

Lady Hashirah smiles at him, a warm, lovely smile. "I know, Deputy. It is exactly why I chose you."

Danes looks at her, trying to see something in her smile but finds nothing but fondness. "Okay, well, the reason why I cam over is to tell you that there's actually a second corpse."

In an instant, Lady Hashirah loses the smile and is alert, hands tights on her dragon cane. "A second one? Where?"

"Maybe about a hundred meters to the west of the quarry," Danes says. "C'mon, I'll show you."

Danes leads them through trees and the undergrowth. Dead leaves crinkle under their feet as they make their way to the other corpse. They arrive at the corpse and Danes stops them short.

There is a child crying over the corpse.

She's wearing a red jacket with the hood drawn up and Danes starts to make his way toward her, already making soothing noises, when Lady Hashirah reaches out, lightning fast and grabs his wrist in an iron grip.

"That is not a child," she says, eyes burning with warning.

The child suddenly stops crying and starts giggling. A high-pitched giggle which no child could ever humanly make.

Before Danes can react, it jumps towards him, hands with too many fingers ending in black claws outstretched towards his face.

Lady Hashirah is already there, sword gleaming brightly as she parries those dangerous hands, spins and slashes upwards in retaliation. She draws a bright red line across the creature's chest and the creature hisses, mouth suddenly elongating into a snout with too many teeth. It screeches at Lady Hashirah and then gathers itself for another attack.

Miko has already placed himself in front of Danes, gathering his magic and hearing the whisper of his magic, primed and ready to strike. He keeps his eyes on the child as Lady Hashirah blocks its wicked claws with her sword before striking back, waiting for the chance to help her with his magic.

He would have missed the corpse, rising up from the ground and walking on its hands, rushing towards him if not for Danes' warning "look out!"

A hundred magic lessons ago, Miko's mother had told him: the first offensive spell taught to any caster does not require any incantation or preparation. The first and most basic offensive spell a caster learns is simply taking your raw magic and hurling it any enemy. The magic immediately takes form on its own and, because it is the most natural expression of magic, this spell was a caster's most instinctual spell, their first and last defense.

Faced with an abomination charging him, Miko had instantaneously delved deep inside himself and hurled a torrent of magic at the corpse. A large silver lightning bolt leapt from his outstretched fingers and hit the corpse dead in the center, making it fly a good fifty feet away where it crashed loudly into a large tree.

The blood was still roaring in Miko's ears as he looks around for any more surprise corpses, never letting his eyes stray too long from the corpse creature twitching by the tree.

"Wow."

Miko's eyes snaps to Danes who is looking at the lightning still crackling around his fingertips. Miko wants to preen but now is seriously not the time. He digs his phone out of his pocket, throws it into the air and slaps an magic bubble around it.

In response to Danes' inquiring look, he says, "I've lost too many phones in these kind of fights and my mom is not willing to buy me a new one anymore."

A few feet away from them, Lady Hashirah was still fighting the child creature. The creature had moved on from trying to claw her to spitting balls of black flame at her. Miko was careful to avoid those. Wherever the black flames exploded, be it tree or ground, withered on contact as if touched by a hundred years of decay. He shudders to think of what kind of damage it could cause to a human being.

Lady Hashirah, on the other hand, didn't use her sword to deflect balls and was, instead, slapping them out of the air with her bare hands because she was absolutely boss that way. The sword she used to strike at the openings she created for herself.

"Where's the corpse?" Danes asks.

Miko's eyes snaps towards where he last saw the corpse and he swears loudly when it is no longer by the tree. He barely manages to slap up a barrier before the corpse demon is already on him and Danes, bashing its too-long limbs against Miko's barrier. It screeches at them, continuously pounding on the shield, each blow like a hammer strike to Miko's head as his magic absorbed the attacks.

He hears the cocking of a gun before Danes unloads his gun at the creature from behind the barrier. It screeches with each shot, barely showing any damage but it was distacted enough for Miko to collect himself, drop the barrier and shot another lighting bolt at the creature. It was thrown back into the air once more but, this time, it was ready and easily landed on all fours before running again towards Miko, the mouth on its clacking together, teeth chattering together hungrily.

Miko falls to his knees and he knows from the wetness above his lips that his nose is bleeding. Too much magic expenditure. Danes continues to shoot at the oncoming creature, aiming carefully but his bullets doing little damage. Miko is breathing heavily but he gathers himself once more and shoots another lighting bolt, watching in horror as the corpse demon readily jumps to the side and avoids it, never breaking its momentum in its mad charge towards them. Next to him, Danes' gun clicks dry, out of ammo. He hears Danes cursing before he gets another clip from his belt to reload.

Not enough time and Miko is too tired and Danes' gun does very little damage.

Then suddenly, Lady Hashirah is standing in front of them and, in her hand, was the Dreaming Keys.

"I, Keren Demonbreaker, who has been given right to wield the Dreaming Keys do hereby invoke the New Covenant."

The Dreaming Keys stirred awake in her hands, hearing the words that heralded their quickening.

In front of her, the corpse demon was still charging but Lady Hashirah stood steadfast and stared at it, her eyes burning with an ancient wrath. "In the name of the Godborn, I declare you Fallen! And by His will, I cast you into the Deeper Darkness!"

There was a muted flash and, suddenly, Lady Hashirah was holding a large ringblade with a dozen keys extending from it to form its blades.

When the demon met her, Lady Hashirah struck it at its center. Whereas her sword cut, the Dreaming Keys burned and seared. The corpse creature screamed in pain and fury, trying to collect itself and put distance between itself and Lady Hashirah's deadly weapon but she was relentless. Again and again, she struck. When the demon lunged at her, she would parry its limbs with the Keys, burning more of its foul flesh. When it tried to step back, she chased it and struck with her weapon.

Miko searched for the child demon she was fighting earlier and he saw that it was pinned to a tree like a butterfly display by Lady Hashirah's sword. It was trying to claw at the sword and pull it free but the sword was embedded almost hilt-deep.

Another loud screech of pain brought Miko's attention back to the fight and he saw that it was nearly over. The corpse demon was crawling away from Lady Hashirah who was calmly walking towards it. When she reached the creature, she whispered something, flipped the Keys once in her hand and brought it down the creature's midsection, cleaving it into two.

There was no blood, no fluids. Instead, the two corpse pieces simply turned into black smoke and was sucked into the Dreaming Keys. Miko could almost hear panicked screeching from the smoke before it was completely absorbed into the weapon. Lady Hashirah then made her way to the child demon and, without ceremony, neatly decapitated it. As with the other creature, it also turned into black smoke and was absorbed into the Keys.

Finally, she looks at them. "Miko, my dear, are you alright?"