#i hate this man i feel like breathing fire everytime i think about the decisions he made 2010 onwards

[bvckbiter]

sometimes i think about how badly rr fumbled pjo not just on the literary level but on the business level

[lnnlove]

somebody else | j.m.

summary: you and jj had only recently broken up after he wouldn’t commit to being in a real relationship with you. you’re at a party on a friday night at the boneyard when you notice him staring at you with the guy you’re moving on with. based on the lyrics to somebody else by the 1975.

pairing: jj maybank x female reader

word count: 3.3k

So I heard you found somebody else. And at first I thought it was a lie.

“Here you guys,” Kie says as she drops off some food at the table that JJ is sitting at with John B and Pope on the deck at The Wreck. It’s Friday afternoon, and they’re getting something to eat before they go set up for the party at the Boneyard.

She falls into the open chair in between John B and Pope, with her gaze falling on JJ as he starts eating. She doesn’t look away from him, but sits in silence with an all-knowing expression, waiting for him to realize that she’s looking at him. 

He finally looks up and realizes that she’s looking at him. He looks down at his shirt to see if maybe he dropped a piece of food, but sees nothing there. He wipes at his mouth seeing if there was something on his face. When he exhausts all of the usual reasons for her to be staring at him, he finally asks “What Kie?”

She exhales. “(Y/N) is here,” she says plainly, hoping not to come across to insensitive. She knows that he needed a warning before seeing you. 

“Okay... she has the right to go where ever she wants,” JJ tries to deflect, but he can’t suppress the sinking feeling that grows in his stomach. He tries to play it cool so that no one will notice. He hasn’t seen you since the fight that ended your relationship. He shakes the memories out of his head that try to creep their way in. 

“She’s with someone. They’re on a date,” Kie adds. She can’t make eye contact with him.

“What?” JJ spits out. He let go of trying to be cool. A memory of you crying in your car flashes in his brain and he feels a sudden pain like he’d just been punched in the stomach.

“That’s a lie,” he tries to laugh it off initially, thinking Kie must be joking. His fake smile fades when he sees that Kie is serious. “You’re kidding right? That can’t be true,” he says more serious as he shakes the feeling of guilt and regret back out of his mind.

John B and Pope have stopped eating now, looking around between JJ and each other, communicating with their eyes. They know that he’s not ready to see you, especially with somebody else.

“Why? You think she should still be hung up on you?” Kiara retorts. She is still a little mad at JJ for letting you go so easily. She loves you and wishes JJ wouldn’t be so stupid since all you wanted was to be able to call him your boyfriend publicly instead of messing around in private.

Yes! JJ thinks to himself. But he knows better than to say that out loud in front of Kie. How can she already be moving on when just a few weeks ago she was moaning his name in his ear and asking him if she could be his? 

“No, it’s just surprising because it feels soon,” JJ clears his throat and says quietly, almost under his breath, trying to brush it off like it’s not eating him up. 

It’s silent. No one knows what to say. Well, Kiara knows what she wants to say but she doesn’t want to kick JJ when he’s down. 

“You know what,” JJ breaks the silence. “I’ll see you guys at the Boneyard. I’m not hungry anymore.” And he leaves the table before any of his friends can interject. 

They notice that he walks the long way around the restaurant instead of going though it. 

I don't want your body. But I hate to think about you with somebody else.

JJ walks along the beach down to the boneyard in a mood that he can’t explain. He’s been wandering around for an hour since he left The Wreck, just lost in his thoughts about you. 

You don’t want her. JJ reminds himself every time he feels his thoughts slip to you. Yeah you made that very clear when you broke up with her. His deeper thoughts fire back and a flash of your face the night he told you he’d rather lose you than be only yours pops into his mind, making him stop in his tracks and sit down in the sand. He feels cold. 

JJ sits there for a long time, his mind going back and forth like crazy thinking about the night you last spoke. His mind doing mental backflips, trying to convince himself that he made the right decision and thinks to himself one last you don’t want her, not even just her body. 

But the thought of you with somebody else makes him feel an unexplainable sickness. He can’t stand to think about it any more. 

JJ instinctively reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bowl he packed for the party that night. He quickly lights it and after the first exhale immediately starts finding peace. He takes a few more hits and can finally pick himself up again, resting assured that he made the right decision in ending things with you. 

JJ gets up out of the sand and walks faster toward the party, eager to have some drinks with friends and distract his mind with something else.

I'm looking through you while you're looking through your phone. And then leaving with somebody else.

“There you are,” Kie says to JJ as he approaches her, John B & Sarah, Pope, and some other friends sitting around a fire. JJ smiles and accepts the cup that his friend is handing to him. 

“Thanks,” JJ says and takes a seat in between John B and Kiara, catching up on the conversation that they’re having. He tries to join in, but everytime he opens his mouth, he changes his mind, so he sits quietly by the fire staring off into the distance and drinking his drink.

John B notices his oddly silent best friend and leans over to ask “You okay man? You’re really quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine just listening,” JJ responds without making eye contact. John B notices that he’s looking out at the party and knows JJ better than to pry any further.

Pope notices too, he sees JJ eyes moving rapidly among the crowd, scanning the faces and thinks he’s probably looking for someone to take home when he suddenly sees them stop and his expression harden, then soften, then harden again.

Pope follows JJ’s line of sight to a log around another fire. The glow of the flames illuminates your figure, lighting up your pretty face. Oh no Pope thinks to himself. He knows JJ enough to know that he’s not as okay as he wants the other Pogues to think, they’ve just been entertaining it so that he doesn’t push them away.

“Let him look,” Kie says quietly as she interrupts Pope’s train of thought. She hopes that him seeing this will make JJ realize what an idiot he was and maybe just maybe he’ll snap out of it.

You’re sitting next to somebody else on the log, trying to keep up with the conversation around you, but can’t seem to speak up in time to get a word in. The others are talking about things that you don’t care much about and you can’t seem to force yourself to fake it like you normally can. All you can manage to do is take out your phone and scroll through your feeds, thinking about times when you were happier, and pretend that you can’t feel JJ staring through you from where you noticed he was sitting.

You can’t even force a fake smile to fool him. She looks miserable, JJ thinks to himself while he stares at you across the beach.

I’m going over there, JJ thinks and just as he stands up, a girls he’s never seen before jumps in front of him and says “You want to get a drink?” JJ accepts and just like that, now he’s leaving with somebody else. Thank god she snapped me out of that. He thinks as he walks away with the touron who reminded him that he was right to end things.

No, I don't want your body. But I'm picturing your body with somebody else.

JJ leads the touron away from the party to a spot where he’s taken tons of other girls. He hasn’t even asked her name, but the dark side of his mind likes not knowing.

She hastily starts kissing him, JJ struggling to keep up with the sloppy kisses. JJ likes her eagerness and guides her down to lay on her back as he shifts himself to be over her. The movements spark a memory in JJ’s mind of the first time he can remember laying you down like this and how his heart was beating out of his chest that night. In his mind, he’s looking at you standing on the beach with your toes in the water motioning for him to come join you. 

No, I don’t want your body. JJ angrily thinks at the memory of you, wondering why he can’t get you out of his head, trying to refocus on the touron currently tugging at his shirt and pulling his head down hard to kiss her. This is the first girl he’s tried to be with since your fight. He’s trying to prove to himself that he was right, he wasn’t ready to give this up to be exclusive.

JJ is kissing her hard, trying to fein interest when in the back of his mind, he knows that he’s not interested. He’s on top of her now, with his blonde hair hanging down in her face for her to run her fingers through. When she does, he remembers how much he likes that feeling and has been craving it since the last time he had you.

(Y/N) used to do that, he thinks as she is scratching at his bare back. And now she’s doing that with somebody else. His thoughts backfires. He shakes it off.

Things progress rapidly and JJ thinks he’s ready. The touron reaches behind her neck and starts to untie her bikini top, but JJ can’t shake the thought of your body and how it fit perfectly in his strong arms. It’s the body he wants to see right now. And it’s the body that somebody else gets to touch and kiss and please, his mind won’t let up.

Before she can get the knot untied, JJ interrupts her and says with a sigh “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that.” He can’t look her in the eye. He doesn’t want to take advantage of her like this when he’s picturing your body instead of hers.

“What? Is something wrong?” she asks. 

“Not with you. I just can’t give you what you want,” JJ responds and offers her a hand up as he stands up himself. 

Our love has gone cold. You're intertwining your soul with somebody else.

JJ walks back to the party alone, understanding now more than ever that he’s blown it with you. It’s over, he thinks. Our love has gone cold. 

He looks around desperately for you, all the places he can think you’d be at the party. You’re not on the log where you were when he walked away. You’re not dancing with your friends like you used to to impress him. You’re not sitting down by where the waves crash. You’re nowhere to be found. And neither is the guy you were with.

“They left,” Kiara approaches JJ, knowing exactly what he was wondering, and confirming JJ’s fear. She puts her hand on his shoulder and doesn’t say anything else, trying to comfort her friend because she knows he’s finally realized his mistake. 

I’m too late, JJ thinks to himself. But he realized his mistake too late. She’s intertwining her soul with somebody else. Because you wouldn’t give her that, his mind takes over now, a wave of sadness coming over him. 

JJ shakes the sadness off - avoiding it being his only defense mechanism when dealing with hard emotions. He can’t admit defeat. He takes a deep breath, puffs his chest, and nods his head. You can do this, he thinks. 

“Whatever,” he says bluntly, “I don’t want her anyway.” JJ walks off, keeping up his persona and leaving Kiara rolling her eyes and shaking her head behind him. She can’t believe he won’t let himself feel things.

I'm looking through you while you're looking through your phone.

When JJ comes back to the party, his closest friends know what’s coming. They’ve seen this before. When he is hurt, he acts out trying to prove that he’s anything other than hurt. 

JJ fills his cup, downs it, fills it again, downs it, and fills it again. Drinking to forget it one of his favorite activities. He has to build up his wall against you and he’s got to do it fast. 

JJ is not sitting quietly on the log anymore. He’s shouting stories and shotgunning beers. He’s animated, making his friends laugh. He’s getting all of his energy out that’s been pent up all of this time. I’m fine, he thinks. See? I’m fine.

After two or three hours, he finally sits down in the sand away from the fire, just to catch his breath. He looks out on the ocean and to the moon, letting his eyes wander around the beach. His attention is pulled to a bright light down the beach, away from the party. At first he thought it was the reflection of the moon on the wet sand, but it was the light from a phone. 

JJ squints, trying to see who it was, but he immediately knew once the figure stood up. He could recognize your long legs and the way you walk from a mile away. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden clarity he found about your relationship, or all of the alcohol he’s consumed, but he can see through your act. You’re lonely. 

JJ stands up and gravitates towards you. He can feel himself walking fast after you, as you walk further away from the party, looking at pictures of the two of you on your phone that you have to delete in order to move on. 

“(Y/N),” JJ calls out to you. You stop dead in your tracks, and drop your arm so that you’re no longer looking through your phone. You are scared to turn around and face him. 

I don't want your body, I don't want your body. I don't want your body, I don't want your body.

“(Y/N),” he repeats. His breathing is heavy, but not from running after you. You are still standing with your back to him, tears welling in your eyes at the sound of his voice. You can’t let him see you like this. 

“(Y/N) talk to me,” he demands. You swallow your tears and turn on your heels to face the boy that broke you just two weeks ago. 

The look on your face sends JJ spiraling. It’s the first time he’s seen you up close since your fight in the car. He feels an uncontrollable urge to take you in his strong arms but he knows he’s lost that privilege. There was a time when he would have done lots of bad things to anyone that hurt you like this, but what’s he supposed to do when he’s the one who did it?

“What?” you try to hiss out, but it comes out like a whisper. You can’t show how hurt you are so you try to mask it with anger. 

“I see you found somebody else,” JJ chokes out. He’s upset but he’s trying to act like he’s happy for you so that you can’t see. “That’s..... good.”

You ignore him. “I see you’re taking advantage of your freedom tonight,” you scoff back, hinting at him with the touron. 

It’s dead silent. Only the sound of the waves crashing on the beach offer any noise other than the heavy breathing and loud hearts beating between the two of you. 

“What am I supposed to do when I see you off with somebody else?” JJ growls in response. He’s angry now. 

“Oh so you can have your freedom to see other people but I can’t?” you scream back at him, using the reason he broke up with you like a dagger against him. You’re angry too. 

Before he can respond, you continue yelling “No JJ, please tell me why you’re allowed to break up with me because you’re not ready to give up random tourons to be only mine,” your words are sharp in his stomach, “but I have to sit around with a broken heart, not allowed to move on because I’m only yours.”

You stand there momentarily catching your breath. You haven’t torn your eyes away from JJ’s, staring daggers through them. “It must be because I’m not enough for you. Is that it?” You won’t let him get a word in because you’re scared of what he’ll say. 

You continue yelling, all the things you’ve thought for the last two weeks after JJ ending things that you didn’t get the chance to say to him then. 

It makes JJ’s head spin, realizing the pain he caused you and his doubts about his decision coupled with his cool exterior trying to show that he regrets nothing and that he was right to do it. He’s torn up. He turns away from you and brings his hands up to his ears to block out the fight.

I don’t want your body. I don’t want your body. is on repeat in his mind, trying to win over the side of his mind that wants to give in to you and admit that he made a huge mistake. 

“Really? Because you staring at me across the beach all night and following me out here and repeating that you don’t want me over and over again makes me think that you do!” You finally stop. 

JJ, instantly sober at the realization that he was saying that out loud, turns again to face you. You can see right through his act too. 

His face is flushed. He’s panting for air, and his heart is pounding. It’s like his voice is paralyzed, he can’t say anything. 

When he looks at you, you are soft again, finally quiet, and the tears that you have been choking back have spilled over, running the mascara on your eyes and catching the reflection of the moonlight as they streak down your cheeks. 

“And I still want you,” you break the silence with a whisper, your eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, bracing to be rejected again, ready to make that the last thing you ever say to him.

JJ barely heard it, but the small sound of those words coming out of your mouth finally convinced him that he made a mistake letting you go. 

He lunged forward, determined to close the space between you in this moment. In an instant, he is in front of you. You can feel his warm body and you’re looking up into your favorite eyes. It only lasts for a second before your face is in both of his hands and he is kissing you with such intensity that you have to hold on to him, to keep from falling down. You lock your arms around his neck and lace your fingers into his hair, making sure that he won’t pull away from you again. 

When he does, he can only pull away an inch or two with his forehead still pressed firmly into yours, just enough to get the words “and I only want you,” out. 

“I’m ready,” he says into your lips and you kiss him back with everything that you’ve been saving up during the days you were without him, thinking to yourself finally.

[datleggy]

I need both of your “surprise Buck was/is pregnant with Eddie’s baby and they find out because Chris finds him” anons to finish their drabbles. I need the Buddie confrontation scene with all the angst and betrayal from both sides. (Meanwhile Chris happily keeps his baby brother occupied and whispers about how he’s gonna parent trap their dads.) Please and thank you.

he anon sent more and here it is! it's wonderful, pls read!! <3

ANON: As the anon who your last ask was talking about might I just say I am sobbiiiinnnnnggggggg 😭😭😭 that was so good omg but ALSO now I have an addition to my earlier blurb 👀👀👀

Eddie is frantic, from the moment Buck called to now. Let's rewind a bit though, for context.

After running into Buck in Austin, they did meet up, without Chris, to talk. Buck had Eddie meet him at his new fire house, which. Hurt? It hurt, in a weird way that Eddie couldn't quite place at first, but he realizes now what he was feeling; jealousy that Buck has moved on and seems so comfortable here, longing for Buck to return to them, to the 118 (if he's being honest though, it's him he wants Buck to return to more than anything, but that's hardly fair after everything), regret that he treated Buck so poorly that the other man not only felt he couldn't tell him about the baby, but that he felt he had to move states.

Eddie met him there regardless, though, because ultimately it was Buck's choice. Eddie was grateful Buck chose to talk to him at all, so he wasn't going to argue over the chosen venue.

They met up, and they talked, and Buck confirmed that the baby he was carrying was Eddie's. He was in shock at the confession, upset for the first few moments, even. And it showed on his face, because the next thing Eddie knew, Buck was backing away from him, arms crossed over his stomach and tears running down his face, begging Eddie not to try and take his baby from him.

"I know I shouldn't have ke-kept this from y-you, but Eddie pl-please! He's all I h-ha-have left, I won't make it if you t-take h-him!" Eddie was shocked, and horrified at Buck's words. It took him a few minutes to calm him down, and weeks of slowly increased communication between the two of them (and Christopher, of course) before Eddie was able to convince Buck that he wasn't planning on trying to gain custody of the baby. He had explained that, yes, he wanted to be in their son's life, wanted Chris to be in his brother's life, but he wouldn't do anything to hurt Buck anymore then he already has.

It took almost the remainder of the pregnancy, but they were finally close to where they had been before everything went to shit. Not that they were lovers again, Eddie doesn't think either of them are ready for that, and Buck agrees, but they were on the fast track to becoming best friends again.

So of course he's the first person Buck calls when he goes into labor.

"I'm sorry, you're what?"

"In labor," Buck says sheepishly over the phone. "Or at least, I think I am? I mean, I'm three days overdue so I doubt these are practice contractions, but I guess there's always the possibility, and oh my god if I called you at 3 in the morning because of practice contractions, Eddie, I am so sorry oh god--" he can hear Buck working himself into a panic attack, so he cuts in.

"Hey hey, none of that. Even if these are Braxton Hicks or whatever they're called, I'm glad you called me. We agreed we would be in this together, right?" There's a pause on the other line before Buck speaks.

"Yeah. Together."

Eddie smiles at the soft tone of Buck's voice, and he can picture him perfectly in his mind's eye as though he were there in front of Eddie. Sitting at the end of his bed, both hands framing his belly (which has gotten big since the first time they ran into each other three months ago, the doctors estimating that the baby is somewhere between 8 and 9 pounds, which Buck was Not Pleased to hear, and blames Eddie for, especially when he found out that Chris was nearly 8 pounds when he had been born), and tears in his eyes despite the smile on his face at the prospect of meeting their baby soon.

Eddie takes a deep breath to steady his own racing heart and asks "So, what do you want to do?"

"Huh?"

Eddie can't help the breathless laugh that leaves him, every passing moment feeling more and more surreal as he realizes that /this is happening/. He's going to be a father for a second time, he and Buck are having a baby together and they're going to meet him soon.

"Do you want me with you, Buck? Because I can leave now, fly down there and be with you when he's born. Or we can stay on the phone, or you can FaceTime me. Whatever you wanna do, babe." The endearment leaves his mouth before he can stop it, but he doesn't try to back track.

"I--" Buck cuts himself off with a cry, more surprised then in pain, but Eddie still hates the sound. He starts to wonder, if Buck wants him there, will Eddie even be able to face seeing him in that amount of pain? He'll do it, of course he will, he would do anything for Buck and their boys, but god it might just break him. This isn't about Eddie, though.

"Breathe, baby. Deep breaths, just like in those classes TK took you to." Everytime he and Buck talk, the other man has stories either related to the baby, or related to his new family. Sometimes even both, like when he told Eddie about the Lamaze classes Buck's friend TK took him to, highly recommended from when TK went himself with his boyfriend Carlos leading up to their son being born. Eddie couldn't help but feel that ugly, burning jealousy, but he tried to sound as happy as possible over the phone. Buck wouldn't appreciate the jealousy, since Eddie lost out on what they could have been thanks to his own anger and mistreatment of Buck.

A few moments pass before Buck comes back on. "That hurt," he says with a small, pained laugh. Eddie can't tell if he wants to cry, punch something, or both, but he tamps those feelings down.

"I know, I know. But you've got this, Buck. You're gonna kick labor's ass, right?"

"Right," Buck responds weakly.

"Damn right, right. You're so strong, Buck. There isn't anything you can't do, and nothing you won't do for your kids. You've got this." He hears Buck take a deep breath, steeling himself.

"Yeah... yeah! I've got this. I've got this!" That golden retriever enthusiasm is back in full force, and Eddie grins.

Buck announces that he's going to start packing some stuff and getting his things together, so Eddie will be in speaker phone. For the next few minutes, Eddie listens to Buck ramble off random facts about babies and labor between verbalizing his hospital bag checklist. He hums in the appropriate places to show he's listening, asks clarifying questions so Buck knows Eddie isn't bored or just humoring him. Before too long, Eddie can tell that Buck has picked the phone back up, removing it from speaker phone.

"Hey, Eds?" His voice is quieter, more subdued then it has been for most of their time in the phone.

"Yeah, Buck?" His own voice is soft, curious but undemanding.

"I-- you said, earlier, that you would-would come down, if that's what I wanted? Like, to be here when the baby is born." Eddie feels his heart start to race in his chest, not sure if he's eager to hear Buck's decision or dreading it.

"I did," he confirms anyway, wanting Buck's comfort more than anything else.

"... Is that offer still on the table? You coming down here, I mean." Eddie can feel his breath catch in his chest, and he realizes that, yeah, he was eager to know what Buck wanted him to do. He feels like jumping into the air and cheering, knowing Buck wants him by his side as he delivers their baby boy into the world.

"I can leave in ten minutes, and be with you in four, five hours at the most." His response is almost immediate, and Buck laughs on the other end of the line. "Is that what you want, Buck? Me to be there, with you?" Eddie hears a sniffle and he knows Buck is in the verge of crying.

"I-- is that alright? I don't-- I can't do this alone, Eddie. I know I have everyone from the 126 here, and all of them would sit with me through this in a heartbeat, but... I need it to be you that's here with me. I want you to be here when our son is born, want you to cut the cord, be one of the first to hold him, all of it. I... I need /you/." And how could Eddie ever say no to that?

"Give me a few minutes to pack a bag and make some calls, okay? I'll call you right back, and before you know it, I'll be right beside you, holding your hand and letting you break as many fingers as you want." Buck gives a wet chuckle and agrees, but both men have a hard time saying goodbye, even if it will only be for a few minutes.

"I'll see you soon, Buck, okay? I swear."

"Yeah, I know you will, I know. I'm just nervous, is all. Having you here, even just over the phone, it helps. So much, Eddie." He knows what he means. Hearing Buck's cheerful voice after a long day never fails to make Eddie feel better, make him feel that no matter what, everything will be alright. He can only imagine how much better things will feel for the both of them once they can actually see each other, touch each other.

"I know exactly what you mean. I'll be there soon, okay? I'll call you back in a second and you can tell me more statistics about babies born in cars, or whatever." Buck snorts a laugh and Eddie smiles at the sound.

"I swear to God if you jinx this and I end up giving birth on the highway, I will kill you." They laugh together, but Eddie knows now that he has to get things in order if he wants to be with Buck ASAP. Neither man wants to say goodbye.

"I'll be with you soon, Evan."

"Yeah, okay. Eddie, I-I..." Eddie waits patiently for whatever Buck was going to say. His heart hammers in his chest.

"... Be safe, Eddie." He can't help the bitter feeling of disappointment that floods through him, but he returns the sentiment, regardless.

They hang up, and for a moment, Eddie simply sits on his bed, head in his hands. All he wanted to do as they said their goodbyes was to tell Buck that he loved him. He doesn't feel like he's earned the right to say that to him yet, though. He has to earn it.

With that in mind, he starts packing a bag, calling Hen to see if she and Karen would be able to babysit Chris while Eddie is in Texas.

Dhdhjajsiejsj so sorry about that again, hope you enjoy (and thanks again to that person who sent that other ask, bc that was an amazing blurb they sent 😌) 😭😭😭

[seeds-and-sins]

The Other Side - Part One

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, Eli Palmer x Reader

Rating: M (Language, Violence, Sexual Situations, Non-Consensual Interactions, Torture)

Description: You are the head of one of Eli's teams, and his sweetheart, then Jacob captures you.

- Part Two

- Part Three

- Final Part

War is never and will never be an easy road, especially when you are emotionally involved with the persons you fight beside. Brothers, sisters, friends, people you would do anything for, even die. That was the very case here, which made the decision of joining the Whitetail milita a double edged sword. On one end, you wanted to be near your friends so that you could protect them, but on the other end, being near them risked the possibility of failing them. You knew that failure, two tours in Iraq taught you about regret lived when someone you cared for died in the line of fire.

    So, when Eli asked you to join his crew, you were hesitant at first. You knew about the fiasco that had been going on with the cult, you would be lying if you said you didn't have to fend off the cult members from time to time. You promised yourself you'd never give into to violence ever again, and you didn't. You willed yourself to stand free, away from those harmful thoughts and memories, away from alcohol and flashbacks. Eli's ask stood against everything you had worked towards, the progress you had made since returning from overseas about seven years back. He knew that, the both of you had surely talked about it across a campfire once before. You could see it in his eyes, the hint of guilt, the desperation of having you beside him. The two of you had been more than acquaintances, more than friends after his divorce, but less than partners. There was certainly always something lingering there. That was what made you say 'yes', that was what made you hurl yourself back into the pool of demons you had ridded yourself of. Him.

   Three months in, after being a respective member of his main alpha team, you both made it official. This only seemed to make you more cautious about missions, about his safety, about the safety of the militia. It went both ways truly, but you never considered his feelings towards the matter as much as your own. This often led to arguments, loud shouting matches that never ended with a clear winner. The other militia members steered clear, sipped from their beer, conducted their surveillance ops, whatever kept them away from getting in between the two of you. One such argument took it to the next level, bordering damn near abusive at some point.

"I said, no! That's final!"

"Well, whatever you say I am still not going to listen to you! You aren't going out there!" In the past few weeks, Jacob had been getting more aggressive with his strategies, so much so, that it was starting to become too dangerous for Eli to leave the Den. Yet, for about a month Eli and you had developed a plan to cut off Jacob's weapons supplies. Such a convoy that took a path from John's region through the mountains and around to the Veteran's Center. It was a very complex, but heavily calculated plan, and you knew Eli was itching to be a part of it. Better you than him though.

"I'm in charge of this operation! Not you!"

"My point exactly, do you really think its a good idea to go out on a really important mission when Jacob wants your head on a silver platter?"

"The risks are the same now as they were then."

"Don't be ridiculous, Eli! You mean something to this cause!" You stepped around the map table and closed in on him, hands balled into fists, sweat on your brow.

"And you mean something to me." He muttered under his breath, those light brown pools not leaving your own, the tension in your shoulders dropped and you sighed. Almost instantly, the few standing members in the room began to clear out, even Tammy, who was Eli's strongest lieutenant left the room. You took a deep breath, stepped even closer to him, his head tilted down as he dropped his gaze.

"We knew what we were getting into when this started, El."

"If it was any other mission, I wouldn't mind, but this one is big." He finally raised his gaze, you grabbed his cheek and formed a sad smile on your lips, thumbs caressing gently at the scratchy skin above his beard.

"That's why I must go. I am the only one who knows this plan inside out and you are too valuable to lose."

"I hate it when you do this, (Y/N)."

"Do what?" He gripped your wrists with a sigh.

"Make it seem like I don't worry about losing you either." His eyes were like dark pools into another universe, and you wished for a moment that you could dive into them and be lost forever.

....

Thud!

     The metal bowl hit the ground, slop spitting out from its edges and pulling its weight to sit on its side.

"There ya' go, sinner. Same as yesterday's." The peggie grunted, rot shining in his steely grin as he then trotted away from the cage, leaving you to your devices. You sighed, feeling the slop become more and more appetizing each day was starting to become a concern. No matter how hard you tried not to eat, there was no denying the hunger that consumed you. In comparison to those locked in the cages surrounding you, while they starved and screamed for your meals, the food was a luxury. Yet, you could not give Jacob the benefit of the doubt.

     You eyed the tasteless grub, blotchy and red, with chunks of unknown substances stirred into its grime. It blended well with the dirt, that had turned soggy and muddy as the rain came and went. You prayed that that same rain would grace you, where it provided some shroud of comfort in this nothingless.

You committed to timing the guards on duty, understanding the cycles of prisoners as they underwent the seven days of hell that Jacob would put them through. You hadn't yet quite figured out how to get out of the cage itself, being so in the open, with an overall lack of materials, made the process difficult. It didn't help that as they days went by, one, two, three days so far, your thoughts had become more difficult to manage. Sleep was unattainable with the screams and the grime and the consistent playing of 'Only You' at the exact time every day.

   Jacob would stop by at his conveinience, you hadn't been here long enough to see him make a habit of it. He would pass through while making critiques on the work his men had been doing. He'd stop and stare for a moment, meet your solid glare with his own and then continue on. It had become no question that he knew who you were and your significance. You hoped that Eli wouldn't break under the threats you were certain that Jacob had been pushing on him. Jacob had yet to conduct any torture on you. Upon first meeting him, it wasn't difficult to distinguish who he was among the fleet of peggie scum that stood around him.

    The mission was obviously a failure, an ambush occurred, one of the Whitetails had been a traitor. You were so close to escaping before a peggie had managed to trail you down to the Henbane, knocking you unconscious. You were dragged into the prison-like walls of the veterans center, awakened by the shrill of terror echoing from the cages and the raw barks of crazed wolves. It was then that Jacob revealed himself to you. He said so little, but with his eyes you could see something stirring.

"Put her in one of the cages, I will deal with her later."

"Yes, sir." He never quite dealt with you though, although you wondered many times if he ever would. It didn't matter how. You would never speak a word to him, your love for Eli was too unconditional and strong and fierce. His authority resonated with you and you made note of it as one of Jacob's defining characteristics. He was like Eli's mirror, they would be friends if it was any other universe. For this, everytime that Jacob passed through, you conduct a thorough analysis. You would go back to Eli with all the information he would need. Not only on the compound, but on the enemy.

"Not hungry again I see?" You lifted your gaze from the bowl, so lost in your thoughts. You hadn't noticed that Jacob was coming around for his daily rounds. You hid your surprise at the fact that he was actually speaking to you today. "Is the food not to your liking?" His voice was so even, but strained, with his every breath, she could see his struggle. On the surface he was a strong man, inside he had his illnesses hidden. "I hope you don't mistake my kindness for weakness..." One of his men swiftly hurled the metal door open, grabbing the bowl and scooping its messy contents back in. "If you can't respect such kindness, then you don't deserve it." The peggie pulled away and returned the door to its locked and sturdy position. It was silent, but Jacob had remained posted at the bars of the cage, arms crossed, eyes focused. "I have decided what to do with you, wouldn't you like to know?" Those last few words were almost mocking you and taunting your existence. You could play games to, if that was what Jacob wanted from you for the time being.

"Kind of disappointed you didn't know to begin with..." You snorted and shook your head. "I thought you'd at least be somewhat prepared for this kind of situation."

"Oh, you aren't all that special. Maybe this cage has made you a bit cocky."

"Its not hard, especially when you're the person I have to look at all day." Jacob kept that composed expression, but you could tell the banter was getting to him. You felt you hadn't moved in days, but the effort to stand was well worth it. You grunted as you struggled to bring yourself to your feet, legs shaking slightly under you weight, and your head spun as you stepped forward. "Now, you might as well kill me, Seed. I am not saying a word." You inhaled sharply as you reached out for the bar not to far in front of Jacob, giving him your best smile.

"I already know everything I need to. The question is whether you are worth it or not." You smiled even further, feeling like you had won. For Eli. You knew Eli wouldn't dare risk the entirety of this militia and this operation and idea, for you. No matter how much love was worth, it wasn't worth hundreds of lives and the loss of freedom. The both of you had had this discussion before, however briefly and however painful it was to admit. The risks were a burden that hovered over the relationships, but the payoff always was worth the risks.

"I can promise you I am not. Eli knows the drill and I know my mission. I am better off dead than alive."

"Oh, you must be mistaken..." Your eyebrows furrowed and you couldn't help but swallow, your throat so dry that the sting lingered for a brief moment. Jacob's lips quirked up slightly and he stepped closer to the cage, as cool and as in authority as he was when you met him. Something was wrong. "Eli doesn't know I have you, and he never will." Your lips parted, the confusion deepened, further into your soul. "In fact, he thinks I've killed you already, isn't that somethin'?" You shook your head vigorously, not quite understanding-

"But then why am I here?! Why keep me alive?" You were the one that had become frantic, panicked, you lost your composure. Thoughts rustled through your head, all of which you couldn't control in this state, with this anxiety, and exhaustion, and hunger that coursed through you. Jacob shrugged, then so casually spun on his heel and started walking. "Wait! Stop!! I am talking to you!" You braced yourself against the bars, as tears streamed down you cheeks. Your greatest fear and you couldn't do anything about it. "Why?! Stop!" Jacob disappeared into a metal door of the veteran's center, its resounding slam emanated among the never ending chorus of screaming and crying from nearby cages.

You knew why: If Jacob couldn't get Eli to react with you alive, he would have to get Eli to react to you dead. And based on Jacob's smug glimmer, it was working.

Return to Prompts

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

Could you do a fan fiction where Nesta and cassian pretend to be dating to prank the IC but then it slowly becomes more real until the IC has no idea what the hell happened? If you don’t want to, it’s perfectly fine, please don’t feel pressured to! 🙃

I wasn't pressured, I had fun writing it, thank you! I wanted to make it angsty, but I felt like fluff. Feel free to check out my masterlist.

who are we foolin' now - nessian 💖

It started with a harmless comment at one of their usual gatherings where both had been pestered by their friends on their relationship status.

Nesta was a little drunk, and in the mood to fuck with everyone.

The plan Cassian suggested was perfect for that, and she couldn't help but grin. It would keep everyone off their backs, she could be single without her sisters' constant scheming and matchmaking and not to mention, the surprise on everyone's faces would make this more than fun. So she'd agreed, in a moment of bad decision.

In her defense, she hadn't predicted the sparks that would go off at every small touch—and how could she? She'd never touched him before, not even casual hand holding. But he shook hands with her, to seal the deal, Cassian said, and she knew she'd signed up for trouble. But she went through with it, because he smiled like a little kid and she loved hearing him talk, and god, the way he looked, like he'd stepped out of some fucking magazine with his dark, shoulder length hair and those hazel eyes that made her stomach flutter. His rough hewn features were nothing to laugh at, and she found herself looking at him more and more through the evening.

And then they went home, and he occupied her mind until the next week. Her friends all met up for another dinner, and as planned, she entered the restaurant on his arm.

She was worried he could listen to her heart beating wildly, and she couldn't care less about the fucking prank.

"They're all staring," he murmured in her ear, and she felt his hot breath on her cheek. He smelt wonderful, and she smiled at him a little, letting that normal ice queen expression down a little.

He smiled back at her—no, he beamed like a little kid. God, had she never noticed how beautiful he looked before? All of him was like someone had peeked inside her brain, seen each and every desire she had and turned into this man. But the idea of them dating is impossible, he just doesn't date. Cassian is a player, so of course their friends dismiss her hand on his arm as nothing worth speculation.

She thought the plan was over then, because they tried and it didn't work. But then he leaned towards her and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Nesta must have nodded, because then he took her hand and set beside her at dinner. All his smiles were directed at her. Sometimes, she even smiled back. It was the perfect night, and then he stood up and asked her if she'd like to go for a walk. They'd drawn some attention, but she didn't mind it too much, not when his attention was all fixated on her.

So they walked around, and he bought her an ice cream and talked about this disaster blind date Feyre set him up on. Bitterly, she wondered why her sister never set him up with her. Was it so unthinkable that he'd date her? She was so occupied in her thoughts, she almost forgot what she'd consented to until they were back in full view of the restaurant's entrance. Their friends were all shuffling out and they'd spotted the pair standing nearby.

Cassian pulled her closer and he asked again if she was sure she wanted him to kiss her. She must have nodded again, because he drew her closer and then they were kissing.

It was pure bliss, he fit so right with her, like two pieces of a puzzle. His hands travelled lower and lower, exploring every part of her body, setting it all on fire. Her lips parted in surprise, and he darted his tongue into her mouth. Her hands involuntarily cupped his cheeks, then they slipped into his dark hair. Neither of them heard the gasps of surprise, and the effusions of joy from their meddlesome friends.

He pulled back. Her face was flushed, lips swollen and her brown hair stuck to her skin. She was panting, and so overcome with desire, she was going to kiss him again—

"You think they bought it?" he asked.

Right. Pretend.

Nesta shrugged, trying to look unaffected. "Who knows? I think Rhys looks like he'll faint, and Amren looks smug, I can't see my sisters."

Indeed, Rhysand did feel like fainting, because he'd made a bet with Amren and Amren was now a hundred pounds richer woman. And her sisters, though thoroughly shocked, were examining every memory to see what they'd missed. They decided they had indeed missed some looks of longing and made their peace with it.

It was a big deal for a few weeks. Cassian's casual displays of affection added fuel to that fire inside her and soon, she was of the mind to confess her feelings.

But then Mor returned from that trip she was on, and she found out. She'd never liked Nesta much, and if she hadn't known the Cassian and Mor better, she'd have thought the blonde was jealous. Her displeased looks and bemused smiles reminded her of what she was, what she'd almost stopped feeling like—an outcast, not someone who belonged on the group but their charity case. When her sister had invited her, charity case had sounded like a good idea in favour of loneliness and she'd gotten regular invitations to every dinner since then but no one really cared whether she came or not. She'd never deluded herself.

But it hurt to think of now, so when the next weekly invitation came, she made her excuses and declined.

No one question her apparent headache, and it reinforced the belief that she was the charity case. She sentenced herself to a night alone in front of her laptop, movie after movie playing on Netflix, though she didn't pay much attention. Then the doorbell rang and she looked at the clock. It was way past midnight, and she wasn't about to open the door.

Then his voice came, "It's me, love, your boyfriend. Come now, open the door, Nessie." She hated when people called her that, but it didn't sound too bad when it came from his mouth.

She let him in with a teasing smile. "Hey, boyfriend."

He smiled again, but it was more mischievous than sweet. Then, the concern shone in his eyes. "You said you weren't feeling well, are you good now?" But he didn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and then he clicked his tongue at the bowl of popcorn beside her laptop with a "that's no healthy food."

He checked her for fever, offered to take her to the hospital (which she thought was a joke until he assured her it wasn't) and then cooked her soup.

He cleaned up around her apartment, took care of the dishes and promised to leave more medication for her in the morning if her 'headache' wasn't gone by then, and despite her many protests, he didn't let her lift a finger until he was there. When he was done, he parted with a kiss on her cheek and there was so much chaos in her head, she was surprised it didn't start an actual headache.

He came to check on her in the morning, of course, and cooked breakfast. (He gave her a strange look when she said she could cook for herself and added he wanted her to have a healthy breakfast) It was that—the sight of him in Elain's purple, flowery kitchen apron, standing in her kitchen, cooking breakfast for her that made her admit it to herself: she was in love.

So their pretend dating thing went on, this time only because she wanted to be near him, even if it was pretend.

Nesta took extra care to look pretty whenever they were to meet, and each kiss they staged was dreaded and anticipated in equal parts. She was beautiful—devastating even, but damned if she knew it. She didn't have her sister's soft features and her own exclusion from their friend group made her feel less special.

So time with her boyfriend was much appreciated, because he made her feel wanted. Even if it was pretend.

The third time she decided to take a leap of faith in him, before she could announce a thing, she saw him talking to her. Aelin Galathynius was beautiful, and so teeming with life, she looked perfect with him. It was enough reason for Nesta to hate her, and she was determined to do so until she ran into her at the next gathering and Aelin smiled at her and god, it was so hard to hate someone whose sarcasm was so fucking on point and who was so determined to make everyone like her. So there went her hatred, she couldn't resent the blonde anything but it didn't stop her from feeling envious everytime she got too close to Cassian for her comfort.

Her courage went out the window until her pretend boyfriend came to her at the end of the night and she pulled back from his embrace.

He frowned, "You alright?"

And she hated that her heart warmed at the concern in his voice, that it should affect her at all—

She ran out of the restaurant, and she wished she wasn't so pathetic to be crying after someone who was never even hers. She wished her breath didn't hitch at the thought that he followed, wished she hadn't halted.

But she did, and then turned to face him. He looked at her strangely and she kissed him because there was nothing else left to be done.

She kissed him like her life depended on it, like he was air and she was suffocating. He consumed her thoroughly, pulled her closer until she wasn't sure where one started and where the other ended—there was him, him, only him.

She was drunk on him by the time they pulled back. "No one is looking," he said.

"They aren't," she agreed, still a little breathless, panting against him. He was unwilling to let her go, and she was far from complaining about it.

"So who are we fooling this time?"

She smiled at him then. There was nothing half-ass about it. It was unrestrained and full of all the love she had. "No one. I love you."

"I love you too," Cassian said. "I have loved you since I first looked at you. Everything else has just been me becoming more aware of it."

She kissed him again, because she loved him, because she could, because it wasn't pretend anymore. It was a perfect day, because Nesta couldn't think of a single way to improve upon reality. She didn't want to either.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

tags : @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @fangirltrash74 // @julemmaes // @pixelatedpebble // @justgiu12 // @lucy617 // @robothevelociraptor // @official-kale // @bestbuddies07 // @soitsgorgeous // @curlyredqueen06 // @ribhinnog // @lordof-bloodshed // @purplerain // @xgetawaycar13 // @purple-rulez // @shadowsnstarss // @floatingfaith // @moondancer-204 // @stardelia // @sjm-things // @aprovechar-una-oportunidad // @deadlylady12 // @sunsummoner // @infinityandbeyond0503 // @rocky99 // @aesthetics-11 // @amren-firedrake //@queen-of-glass // @friendswithkevin // @sannelovesreading // @rocky99 // @awesomelena555 // @that-other-pineapple // @lol-im-obssesed // @peppermint-fae // @thesurielships // @thron3ofbooks // @queenofgreenbriar // @yafandomsdotnet // @maddymelv // @ireallyshouldsleeprn

[soukokuwu]

➤ genre: angst

➤ pairing: dazai x bestfriend!reader

➤ synopsis: dazai wishes he could meet you all over again.

➤ warnings: implied death, suicide

➤ word count: 1.7k

➤ a/n: this is just me indulging myself because of recent events. completely unedited so if there’re any mistakes please forgive me. might edit this next time into a better piece, if i can bring myself to revisit.

Wandering

Insanity and death were the angels that surrounded Dazai Osamu’s cradle and followed him through life. Insanity was in each choice he made while death lived in everyone around him. But a most foreign concept to the man is hope. Yet it brimmed the brightest in you.

This burned a desire in him, but same as anything else, if there was a fire, there would always be the possibility of it burning to ashes. And this did. But he will never make the same mistake again. That much Dazai is sure of. Because it’s simple math.

The more you have, the more you have to lose.

It’s easy to forget what loss feels like when you have it all. He never forgot what he lost, how could he? He remembers Odasaku clear as day — but the feeling? It’s easy to bury it under the happiness one feels in the moment. But emotions can resurface easily, just like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

Friends have a special place in his heart. There’s not many people he would call a ‘friend’ at all in the first place. He doesn’t use the word lightly, doesn’t throw it around like most people do. No, if he ever called you a friend, he meant it.

And as he sat alone in your room, all he could think of was everything you couldn’t do anymore; everything that he couldn’t have.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He remembered when he first met you.

You weren’t particularly striking, you weren’t the prettiest girl in the room — or at least he thought so at the time. But you had the most infectious smile. Everytime you laughed it was like people wanted to know you, to get close to you. It was a certain quality you had that Dazai admired, because he fell for it too.

Dazai might not have felt so inclined to get to know you that day, but he sure was glad he did. Because you ended up meaning a lot more to him than he bargained for. It was the slow kind of progress, the subtlety of every small thing that he grew to like, the one where he didn’t even feel a thing, but yet it’s embedded in him anyway.

You were so easy to like, and it’s not because you’re a people-pleaser — you certainly weren’t. Until now, if you asked him why, he couldn’t put it to words. You just were.

It wasn’t love at first sight. Dazai doesn’t think that exists. But even if it did, he thinks whatever he saw in you that day was even greater. It wasn’t the shallow kind of love that he envisioned people attached to the idiom. It meant much more than that, a way deeper connection that he couldn’t explain.

Dazai Osamu doesn’t throw the word ‘friend’ out so casually.

But he called you a friend within days of meeting you. And he wished he could find the rationale behind it. Maybe then he could find another you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He remembered never regretting it.

Whenever he did anything unreasonable, questionable, or even something outright wrong — you stood by him. What was it? What was the reason behind that unconditional support you gave him? He tried so hard to push you away, but you never failed him. You were always there, like a lifebuoy at sea, like the lighthouse guiding him to shore.

And he treasured you. So much. Which was why he never hid himself from you, always stripped away all his masks when he was alone with you. You were more than aware of his suicidal tendencies and his rather questionable coping methods. But you never had to say a thing. You were just there for him. And just like that, you made him want to live. Just a little. But that’s further than anyone else had made it.

Not only did he strip his masks. He had let you see him. Every single inch of him. The man beneath the bandages. Both the scars hidden under the wraps as well as the reasons why he was the way he was. The good and the bad. Dazai Osamu had let you in completely. You were such an unlikely happening, yet there you were.

He doesn’t throw the word ‘friend’ out so casually.

But it was at that moment that he ascertained — you were his best friend.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He remembered you happy.

Dazai wasn’t a terribly fun person to be around. He had his comedic moments, yes. But he didn’t have a lot of free time, or when he did he preferred to stay in. He didn’t spend much time with you outside of having the occasional dinner together. But god, he wished he had.

He just can’t help but remember the way your face would light up when he actually wanted to hang out some place other than either of your homes. Dazai knew you were a shut-in, so he didn’t bother asking if you went anywhere. He knew the answer already anyway.

You liked taking long walks in the park, just sitting and enjoying the wind, soaking in the scenery. Sometimes you got tired so easily you’d pester him to carry you. He didn’t give in, of course.

“Come on, Dazai, please?”

Dazai remembered every infliction in your tone. He remembered how sweet you sounded. He even remembered the way you pouted when he refused.

He wish he hadn’t.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He remembered the unexpectedness of it all.

Dazai thought it was something normal, nothing too worrisome. But it was black masquerading as a dark grey. The hope he carried was fleeting.

Your lids seemed heavier than usual, your movements just a tad slower than they should be. Dazai notices all of this, but what he’s wondering is do you? A string of aimless assurances escapes your lips when he voiced his concerns.

Then you started out just losing weight — he thought you were just feeling under the weather, nothing more nothing less. Your appetite got better, and so he felt relief. You even started gaining weight, you looked vibrant still, with enough energy to entertain Dazai and his antics again, enough to be able to chase after him when he splashed some water at you while you were walking by the fountain in the park.

Yeah, it‘s hard to envision, isn’t it? Dazai and those cute, warm moments, those small gestures. But that’s exactly what you were capable of bringing out of him. There existed in him a warmth he never knew there was. You not only made him realise that, but you managed to project it out of him.

Dazai didn’t completely hate it. The warmth he exuded made him feel like he was just a little bit more human than he thought. A little more vulnerable (that was the part he hated), but also... a little more like you.

And he remembered looking at you as you chased him — how could anything like you be remotely bad? In that moment, he felt like he had everything. A life, a job, a house and a home in you, his best friend. Dazai didn’t need lovers. Lovers came and went. None of them could capture his heart. Yet you did. And you did it without any of the romance, you did it purely because you were being unequivocally yourself.

Then in that moment he realised — you were beautiful. Just the slow kind, the kind that grew on you, the one you never expected coming. And when it hits you, it hits you like the waves hit the sand — it was here to stay, it would be weird without it.

But he also remembered you falling, and his heart along with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He remembered everything.

In the dining room where you’d eat takeout together and you’d pester Dazai for some of his food. The way you two squabbled about it, with Dazai refusing because “if you liked it you should’ve ordered it for yourself too.” But then you’d be able to snatch it from right under his nose anyway. He let you think it was your skill, but he purposely let you have it. He liked to see that happy little grin of yours when you thought you were so sly.

In the living room where you’d watch shows together when the two of you were bored enough. Sometimes you’d fall asleep on his shoulder and Dazai would be too scared to move; he didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful too.

In the bathroom where Dazai would sloppily put together a bath for you when you were feeling sick. He didn’t know a thing about drawing a bath, but he tried, and you always stifled a laugh at how mediocre it was.

In the bedroom where he’d accompany you when you fell really ill. He’d wait and sit by your bedside every night, talking to you until you fell asleep. It didn’t take long though, because you were so exhausted from nothing at all that you could only stay awake for five minutes tops.

But now all he can think of is the fact that no one would be arguing with him to get a piece of his food, that there’s no one to provide his shoulder for, no one to try and draw baths for, and the missing sound of your breathing as you drifted off into sleep.

There was no one else to try for.

Dazai Osamu wishes he could say you were a mistake. But you aren’t. You were the best thing that ever happened to him, but you were also the most devastating loss dealt to him. You deserved better. Much better.

He doesn’t throw the word ‘friend’ out so casually.

But you still are his best friend, even in death — that you shall remain. And the thing about mistakes is that more often than not, there’s something to learn from it. You aren’t a mistake and never will be, but one decision is made here:

Dazai Osamu will never replace you, will never get close to anyone again.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to take another loss. Besides, he can’t lose if there’s nothing left to be taken from him. All he hopes for is that wherever you are, you don’t feel lonely anymore and that some day, he will find your soul again.

You had helped him so much when you were alive. But as he looks at the blade in his hand, he wonders. If there was an afterlife, will you be disappointed if he does this? Rationality be damned as he points the tip of the blade to his wrist.

I want to be with you again.

tags: @yokelish​ @gogolparadise​ @fyowyn-writes​

[miss-choco-chips]

The worst enemy

He throws another vase at the wall, but there’s no one there to pick the broken pieces up. It’s the middle of the night and he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Who are you?!”, he screams at nothing, approaching the mirror and hating the pale face that looks back at him, those intelligent eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to get out of a daze.

He needs to find out who their rat is. Ra’s hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting their position on this war. The enemy has eyes inside their castle, and Tim is left to fend off the plots his faceless opponent comes up with with that intel. It’s tiring, he feels strung along, and there’s little he can do about that.

Warning: There are some possibly triggering subjects being discussed. Nothing too explicit, but just to be sure, I’ll be adding the warnings deep into the tags. Those who think they might be triggered can read the tags, and those who don’t want to risk being spoiled can just avoid it. 

Thanks @iphoenixrising and @the-quiet-carrotcake for giving some parts a read for me. Also tagging @animemangasoul cause you told me you wanted to read this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite his careful consideration and analysis, he couldn't quite put his finger into what bothered him so much, to the point of losing focus. Homesickness, maybe? There was something in the walls, surely. Too clean, no mold or blood splatters in sight. His old home at the Wayne Castle had been cared for, but not even an army of maids could compete with hundreds of years of violent legacy.

As everytime he thought of his life before, pain throbbed behind his eyes. It was momentary, come then gone, but it was enough to make him groan a bit under his breath, the sound echoing in the open (too open, no corners to hide if an assassin came… which was kind of ironic here, he supposes) hallway. He knew there were eyes on him, though. His guard, for one, always two feet behind and one to the side. And he was sure he wasn’t the only one sent to (observe his every move) protect him.

Damn, the headache was getting worse. It was too long until tea time.

“I’ll visit my husband”, he decides out loud, for his shadow’s benefit. A kindness they would never expect from a superior, but that he was sure they appreciated.

The only response came from just behind him. A cut out sound that he couldn't identify, but must have been some sort of laugh. Either that or a pained groan.

Smiling, he twisted to look, hands behind his back as he walked in that fashion.

-What? It’s not gross that a man wishes to meet his beloved. It’s a rare day when we meet outside of dinner or council meetings. I’m not a sap; if anything I’m a paragon of patience. 

The man doesn’t raise to the bait, as he rarely does, but he tilts his head a bit.

“Yer Highness, please mind your step and watch where y’er going. It’ll be my head on the chopping block if you fall and scrape your dainty white hands.”

He rolls his eyes at the jab, but heeds his warning and turns again to look up front. It’s not without truth, after all. 

The part of him dying if Tim were to get hurt, of course. Not about the hands. 

He looks down at them as they walk, a little confused. When did they become so though, so calloused? Sure, he must have learned some sort of self defense back when he was young, but he can barely recall it. His shouldn’t be the hands of someone used to the heat of combat, not sheltered as he had been from his birth to his marriage, and yet…

Nothing good comes from thinking that far back, anyway, he decides, shaking his head to get rid of the annoying thoughts pestering him like flies. He’d only end up giving himself a headache, and then Ra’s would send him back to bed with soup and an army of servants to observe his progress. A small smile tugs at his lips; he sure was lucky to get such a loving, protective partner. It was a wise decision, on his Father’s/

“Yer Highness”, calls the voice from behind, dragging him back from his musings rather forcefully. “We’re here.”

Any thought that’s not his husband completely vanishes from his mind. Smiling automatically, he springs into the room, straight to his husband’s open arms. The green and gold cape closes around them, and everything is okay, certain. He doesn’t feel confused, or worried, or observed. Because he’s with Ra’s right now. How could there be anything bad involved in that?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“It’s tea time, y’er Highness.”

“Ah, thanks A. I’ll be going then, my Lord. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Of course, Beloved. I just have to deal with those pesky documents and then I’m all yours.”

Tim’s laughter is like bells. It doesn’t feel actually natural, but he’s not forcing it either. It’s weird, how his voice works sometimes.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s a day like any other, when Damian comes to visit. He hasn’t seen his family in quite some time, so when a nameless ninja, covered from head to toe, detaches herself (herself? He’s sure its a her but why?) from the wall and informs him of it, he gathers his royal blue and gold kaftan in a fist so he doesn’t trip and speeds towards the throne room.

So good it’s Damian. He can barely remember Dick’s face, and the Jason from his memories is little more than a broad back, firm shoulders that would carry him all through the palace. Of his sister, he only knows she exists, and that they got along amazingly.

But that’s what loves makes to someone, he supposes. It was bound to happen, more than half a year without seeing them and devoting all his time to think about Ra’s.

But Damian… Damian, he remembers very clearly. Maybe because he can see some of Ra’s in his features, maybe because it was thanks to  him that he could actually marry his beloved King…

(He thinks of ancient portraits hanging from the walls, the eyes of Kings and Consorts of old following one’s steps, as the shadows hidden in passageways behind them take note of his every action)

“Your Highness, you can’t pass”, a figure stops him just before the room where his brother and husband are probably already talking. He accepts this for only a moment, so he can catch his breath, kinda surprised by how easy it is to compose himself again; it hadn’t been a short run.

“Step aside”, he orders, back straight and looking into the man’s mask. Ra’s country wasn’t very keen on knights, not like King Clark's Aupuni La. Even Gotham, while not as honorable, had its fair share of white horseman riding to war with honor on their shoulders (although it still maintained its fair share of ninja-like warriors, their elite and probably the only thing in common with his current home). But Alqatala had only a handful (his own A among them), found more use in the shadows that kept well out of their Master’s view while still blocking anything annoying from reaching him when they could, and fiercely obeying His commands on how to defeat them when they couldn't.

It was reassuring, knowing the entirety of the Kingdom’s fighters would lay down their lives (and anyone else’s) for their King’s sake. That meant Ra’s would be always safe… even if all their subjects had to die for it…

Distractedly, he scratched at the back of his head. Maybe the new hair ornaments were irritating the skin there.

“Your Highness, I’m under strict orders to forbid anyone from/”

“Unless your orders explicitly include me, then you should already know I’m the exception to the rule. Step aside. I won’t ask again.”

This time, the man bows deep and moves. Disobeying his Master could have dire consequences; upsetting his Consort most certainly would. And if he did transgress because of His Highness’s orders, then the King might be forgiving. 

Head held on high, Tim motioned for A to wait outside the room as he entered.

It was an open space, with long drapes of cloth flowing down the walls like waterfalls of red and gold. Golden torches, shining brightly with their perpetually lit fire, reflected the yellow and orange of their flames in whatever bit of wall left uncovered, making the cream colored stones look as if they were also burning down. 

The ground, dark and polished, looked under the fierce light like onix. Maybe it was, Tim had never asked. The flush red carpet, going from the double doors to the steps leading to the throne, completed the feeling of entering some warm, cozy place. 

A had told him once it was like setting foot into Hell. Tim liked to think differently, though he could admittedly see what his guard meant.

Looking up, his gaze landed automatically in his husband, raised above the rest of the room in his throne made of gold and rubies. The opulence suited him, and Tim loved seeing him high and mighty like this.

Agh, his head… He would need to ask A for more tea the moment this meeting was over. Maybe he could share some with Damian?

Suddenly remembering his reason to be there, he drags his eyes away from Ra’s. Jade green ones found his almost immediately, and familiar warmth takes residence in his chest.

“Brother!” he greets, happily, steps quickening until he reaches the young man. Damian has grown a lot in the past six months, as far as he remembers. Taller than Tim, shoulders twice as broad and chiseled jaw, his little sibling was now more a man than a boy, although he’d always be the latter in his eyes.

They hadn’t seen each other since the wedding; when Tim accepted Ra’s suit and became his husband, in exchange of him letting Damian return to his Father, to be Gotham’s Heir. Since he left behind his gold and ruby crown, for the onyx and sapphire one he wore now, black and blue jewels enhacing the paleness of his skin and the shine in his love-ridden eyes.

Damian completely ignores the offered hand, arms instead circling around his slimer frame and crushing him towards his chest. 

“You’re okay”, he whispers. A swallow, then. Like he wanted to keep going but forced himself into silence. 

A little confused, Tim returns the hug, eyes going to his husband over Damian’s shoulder. 

The King watches from above, cold, calculating eyes glued to them. Dread pools in his stomach in automatic response, and he shoves his brother away as careful as possible.

“Where are my manners! Brother, you made me forget myself”, a small smile, as apology, and then Tim makes his way up the steps until he reaches his husband. “ My Lord”, he greets, bowing a bit and then quickly grabbing for his arm. Ra’s allows the touch graciously, the almost hostile look in his eyes nowhere to be seen now.

“Beloved. I’m sure we can forgive your small loss of decorum, in this circumstances. Right, Grandson?”

From beneath them, Damian stays with his back to them (in the exact same place where he hugged Tim) for a beat longer. Then, he turns to face the King and his Consort, and offers them both a bow.

“Of course, your Majesty. Your Highness. The fault lies on myself, as I couldn’t contain my joy, seeing my brother after so long”, he straightens from his courtesy, eyes finding his Grandfather’s in what could both pass as a familial gesture, or a blatant show of disrespect; Tim had to give it to him, the plausible deniability was exquisite. ”So long, in fact, our Lord Father was getting worried some ill fate had befallen him.” 

Tim stills. He can’t ignore the sudden coldness in the room. Almost on instinct, he shifts a bit, so his shoulder is slightly in front of Ra’s, covering him. Unneeded, since there must be a hundred eyes on them now, their shadows ready to jump in and take any hit for their Master.

The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by his husband, though. He reaches down slightly, hand catching Tim’s. Something in him relaxes.

Damian’s eyes tracked the movement, but didn’t comment in it. Not when his last remark had yet to be answered.

“The joy of those recently joined in marriage can be blinding, Grandson. I’m sure your Oldest Brother would be able to tell you as much, with how many times he himself was wed. Timothy and myself just found it hard to part with one another for hours at a time, let alone a week long trip back to his old Kingdom.”

The mention of Dick brought color to Damian’s face; the red of rage. Tim himself felt a bit uneasy, the mention forcing his mind to come up with the face that had become quiet blurry in his memory. Richard. They had gotten along marvelously, hadn’t them? It was quiet weird they hadn’t met lately.

“I would have loved to see Dick”, he interjects, attempting to force them to look his way instead of each other. His smile is wobbly, and Ra’s hand tightens around his, but he maintains steady eye contact until Damian huffs.

“There have been some issues back home”, he informs Tim; and it’s quiet notable, the way he said the last word, as if reminding Tim that his roots laid elsewhere. Not that he cared where he was born, all that mattered to him was where he had bloomed, and that could only be at Ra’s side. “Father required his help. That’s also why I’m here.”

Something moves behind him, but by the time he turns to look at his husband, there’s nothing amiss. Ra’s seems to be deep in thought for a second, before he smiles beatifically at his grandson.

“We can talk more about this at dinner, you must be exhausted from your travels”, he decides, raising a hand. As if on cue, two shadows appear in the room. Only because he had been looking for them, Tim knows they came from under the red drapes hanging from the walls. How many more were there hidden in that place? Well, he thinks, it’s not like he cares to know either way…” Take the guest to his rooms, make sure to attend to his every need. Come now, husband”, Ra’s directs his eyes to Tim, whose insides flip automatically and smiles in thoughtless response, “we might as well spend the afternoon together.”

They descend the steps, hand in hand. Damian still hasn’t moved, head bowed in respect of the monarchs, waiting for them to leave first. The fist he has over his chest shakes a bit.

“Tea in the gardens? Should I ask for refreshments?” he asks, a little dubiously, following without complains. That’s how he usually spends the hours before dinner time…

Ra’s smile changes slightly, from gentle to hunting. He refuses to answer. 

From his face alone, one would guess his husband’s motives were far from chaste; but given that his contract marriage specified Tim was to be untouched until his twenty first birthday, he wasn’t sure why Ra’s was now acting as though he’d ever forgone that particular condition.

They are passing by his brother now, and it's because of that cercany that he can see his knuckles turning white as he hunches even further into himself, a barely refrained gasp. Then he understands.

Before he can stop and ask Damian if he’s okay, reassure him that his Father's orders were being obeyed (in regards of his third son’s marriage treaty, at least), Ra’s is tugging him out of the throne room and towards his own bedchambers. Tim is helpless to his husband’s touch, so he doesn’t resist, but can’t help but turn to him, curious, just before they reach the room.

“Was Damian…?”

“Childish jealousy, I’m sure”, the King dismisses, opening the door for him and closing after they are both inside his anter-chambers. His hand goes to unclasp the brooch keeping his cape steady, removing the garment and taking seat in the low couch in front of the small tea table. “I all but stole you from your family, Beloved. Little siblings tend to yearn after their elders are wed away. I was merely teasing my grandson.”

Tim can’t help but smile in the tea cup a servant hands him, once he’s sat opposite the King. His knight, A, hadn’t followed them inside, but Tim caught flashes of him as Ra’s guided him through the halls, so he knows the man is close by. He relaxes in the knowledge, sweetening his tea a bit before his mind catches up to him.

Why, oh why would he think of A now? He’s with his husband, perfectly safe. Why is the notion of his personal guard being near reassuring him?

Damn this stupid headache. It’s hard to think, and A is not in the room to provide with the painkiller he usually takes at this hour. Unwilling to interrupt his time with his husband by calling his servant, he powers through the pain, smiling at the intense focus being bestowed upon him.

“Damian has grown a lot”, he comments, desperate to distract himself from the throbbing just behind his eyes, “but he’s still a child. Merely sixteen.”

“You are twenty, Beloved”, Ra’s points out, relaxing back into his seat, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Tim’s face. “Although I guess you were always the most mature of your brod. The only one worthy enough to stand by my side.”

“My Lord”, he chides softly, looking at him over his cup. Just because it’s hard to remember his family, it doesn’t mean he wishes to hear them spoken down to by his spouse.

“I speak the truth. Are you denying me?”

The question might sound brusc, almost confrontative, but he’s used to those kinds of inquiries by now. As a response, he bows his head a bit, submissive and elegant, neck in display and crown steady over his temple.

“I’d never betray my husband like that.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dinner goes without a hitch, until the moment Damian mentions their family one too many times and Tim has to excuse himself from the table. Juggling his husband’s mood and keeping his brother from being outright aggressive to such an important monarch was a tiresome duty, one he couldn’t wait to shed.  Before dessert was served, he decided to retire for the evening.

A, loyal and wonderful, had the tea set ready by the time he reached his rooms. The little brown pill carefully placed on a napkin by his cup was even more enticing than the cakes and sweets the chefs must have served Ra’s and Damian.

“How did you know I was hurting?”, he wonders, sitting down in the chair by his balcony, letting the late afternoon breeze comb his hair away from his face.

“You have that look, yer Highness”, answers the man, carefully dropping the pill inside the cup  before handing it to his Master. “Is there anything else I can do for ya?”

The question sounds… charged, somehow. Tim sips his drink. What else would he need right n/?

“Oh”, he blinks, once, twice, then tilts his head up to face his guard. Meeting his eyes over the edge of his facemask, he smiles-. The afternoon feels quite lovely, I’d like to share this moment of peace with my brother. I’m sure he must have long left the dinner table by now, so go extend him my invitation to have tea together.

He can’t be sure, but somehow he just knows A smiled.

He’s careful to pace the drink as he waits. He’s not alone for long.

Damian takes the seat opposite to his, and A is careful to close the balcony doors before the room gets too chilly. The creamy green curtains, white walls and gold ornaments make the entire atmosphere bright, something Gothamites born and raised would despise for it’s unfamiliarity; a wonder that those were the colors painting the room of a noble hailing from those lands. The three of them stay in silence for a while, as the King Consort finishes his cup.

Tim smiles. Damian watches him for a second, before his own smile appears, relieved and more than a bit happy.

“I’m glad to see you doing so well, brother. You had us all worried, back home.”

A soft, almost primly, scoff, “Please. I know how to handle myself, and I’m well protected here. You know I’m never alone.”

Damian dips his head in acknowledgement, but he still doesn’t remove his eyes from him.

“Conflict is brewing”, he goes straight to the point, almost desperate; unsure of how longer will they be able to speak privately. “Father is not willing to look past his transgressions any longer.”

“It won’t reach the Castle.”

“Brother!”

Tim shushes him, letting A refill his cup. No more medicine added, though.

“Damian. Ra’s might be a little… “he doesn’t quite know what to say,” as he is, but he’s by no means dumb. He won’t allow any kind of rebellion to arise in his lands. There will be no war in Alqatala. 

Damian falls silent for a minute. A places a plate of delicious looking cookies in the table, on Timothy’s side. Neither brother makes any move to touch them.

“I’ll confront Grandfather about it, tomorrow”, the tone is almost warning. Tim’s eyes narrow.

“Do remember, brother, which side I’m on.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he watches in silence as Tim takes a cookie and bits softly into it, maintaining steady eye contact with the younger Prince.

“I suppose this is goodbye, then”, he adds, letting the rest of the desert back on his plate, by his empty cup.” I hate to cut our time together so short, after such a long time apart, but I need to rest now; it’s been such a long day. We’ll see each other soon, I promise. And don’t worry about me, silly little brother”, Tim’s smile came back, a little groggy this time.

Damian left after a shallow bow, escorted by A.

In the dimness of the falling night, Tim placed a careful hand on the glass door leading to the balcony.

...The callouses in his hand were still a mystery. Maybe he should ask his husband, tomorrow. He would know. 

Ra’s knew everything about Tim. He had too, after all. And if he didn’t, Tim would tell him.

That’s what made them such an harmonious pair, after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He’s called to his husband’s study room the following afternoon, long after Damian’s entourage parted from their Castle.

He quickly removes his sleeping camisole (he’d been bedridden all morning, stroke down by a vicious headache) and dones a green and gold Farasha, simple sandals and his crown, no other accessories needed; as the maids helping him dress often tell him, he needs no outer help to enhance his beauty. 

A walks him all the way to where Ra’s is waiting, then bows and swears to wait for him in the hallway. Not exactly his usual behaviour, but Tim can’t waste any brainpower in figuring out his guard, not when he needs to be sharp to attend to Ra’s now.

“My Lord?”, he calls, once inside. The older man is waiting, back to the door, as he watches from the window his Kingdom, buzzing with activity.

“Beloved”, he greets, without turning.” There’s a letter in the desk.”

Tim walks closer, picking the indicated piece of paper curiously.

It’s from Bruce (Father… Dad). 

It’s a complaint, a description of the fate that would befell him if Ra’s were to continue on his current path. A demand of retribution, for all the damage already done. A threat, if a veiled one.

The only mention of Tim on the letter, was to inform Ra’s that having his third son inside the Castle wouldn’t prevent him from seeking to burn it to the ground, would Ra’s ignore his generous warning.

Tim’s insides were cold. His mind screaming at him, ‘he wants to hurt our husband’. A small, almost meek part of him wants to ask about King Wayne’s accusations, but the bigger, devoted side squashes this voice ruthlessly; no threat to his husband would be allowed, not even a justified one.

“Are we going to war?”, he asks, tone dry, hands carefully loose on the paper as to not crass it. Confused. He had tea with Damian the day before, he should have noticed something from him, an indication of the dangers coming. And why hadn’t his brother warned him?

His head hurts.

It’s then that his husband turns to examine him. For a few minutes, he does nothing else than to look at Tim, deeply. He returns the look fiercely, protectively; nothing but desire to help shining through. Cold fire burning in icy eyes.

Ra’s smiles.

“It won’t be much of a war, not with one as you on my side, Beloved. Let’s get to planning, shall we?”

There it is, the reason Ra’s married him in the first place. His strategic abilities, his absolute dominance over any battlefield, overturning the board with a simple swipe of his hand. Winning wars without stepping a foot in any battle.

He never thought he’d be using it against his own Father. But Tim knew where his loyalties laid. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tim suggested they sent an ambush as soon as possible, before Damian could leave their lands. To kidnap him, and use as leverage to bring Bruce to heel. With his eldest son refusing the crown, the second lost as far as anyone knew and the third, himself, married away (and to an enemy, now, to boot), Damian was his last heir; he could not afford to lose him.

Ra’s also pointed out the Gotham King’s sentimentalism. Tim, tired and with his head throbbing, couldn’t say if that was truly the case, so he submitted to his husband’s intel and left the study to return to his quarters. Ra’s would assemble his own team to send post haste to retrieve the young Prince before he could cross the Alqatala border.

“Tea, yer Highness?” 

“Thank you, yes.”

A few sips, before Tim tilts his head to the side.

“A? You know this young guard who switches places with you during the night, when you rest?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do call her, please. I need her to fetch something for me.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I have bad news, Beloved.”

That wasn’t what he expected to hear, the second he saw his husband. Weary, he sat in front of Ra’s desk, the cushioned back of the opulent chair helping soothe his uneasiness.

“What happened?”

“My Grandson has apparently grown some brains the last few months; he switched routes, and exited Alqatala by the eastern woods, instead of through the southwestern river he used to come.”

“That trip is twice as hard, why would he choose it?”, the second he spoke, he knew the answer. ”It’s harder to track someone there, than by water. You can see a ship from a long distance, but there’s multiple hiding spots between the trees.”

“That’s what I thought, as well. I sent some of my best trackers to follow, but I have no true expectations of them succeeding; Damian was raised to know those woods like the palm of his hand. Such a rich education, wasted in that boy”, Ra’s laments. Tim moves on instinct walking to stand behind his chair and placing his hands on the older man’s shoulders.

“Damian would not actually expect us to move so soon”, he rationalized, “nor would he know where our people was waiting to ambush him. His change of tracks is more than a little too well timed. 

“Are you suggesting we have a rat, Beloved?”

Tim shrugs a little, helplessly ”I think I would remember Damian being wary. We had tea before he left, but I didn’t notice anything unusual. He must have not suspected us of being capable of that, back then. Someone must have alerted him to our intentions.”

Ra’s looks to be deep in thought. He turns a little to face Tim, who returns his look of seriousness with one of his own.

“I’ll weed out this traitor, My Lord. I can’t allow those kinds of pests around you.”

His husband smirks a little.

“I will be the one doing that, Beloved. You focus on forming a new strategy, and we’ll discuss it at dinner tonight. Show me I made the right choice, taking you as mine.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The vase crashed against the wall, and a waterfall of flowers and porcelain fell over the carpet. A maid rushed to clean up, but Timothy paid her no mind, despite the small thread of guilt twisting in his stomach.

The reports over his table spoke for themselves. Territory battles won by the smallest margin, spies derailed from their targets by very convenient distractions, specialized assassins caught and jailed before completing their tasks.

Someone good was working against them.

Tim knew, intellectually, that Bruce was a smart man. But not this kind of smart, not this quickly. There was a new player on the board, and it wasn’t on his side. 

“A”, he called, almost growling. The man stepped out of the shadows enclosing the corners of the room, “bring me parchment and paper. I have suspicions on their next move, and I have to alert our troops against them.”

The man hesitated a bit.

“Yer Highness you… don’t look well. Should I bring you tea?”

Tim waved a hand, “After I send this missive. There’s no time to delay.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Their next strike was more successful than all their previous attempts. Ra’s had been incredibly pleased, seating Tim on his lap during dinner and feeding him carefully crafted delicacies and praising his Consort’s flawless strategy. They had managed to capture one of King Wayne’s favored warriors, General Brown. Her troops had been slim, and most of them fled at the overpowered sight of Ra’s people, so only she and few loyal soldiers had been caught.  They would rott the dungeons until Ra’s needed to negotiate, or decided to execute them as an example for those who thought of going against him. Tim was pretty sure it’d be the first case, though. Brown was too valuable to just off.

The small victory tasted all the sweeter to him when no reports came from this mysterious figure trumping all his previous attempts. Hopefully, this meant they were all the more closer to winning this war without any big loses, as they’ve managed to do until now.

Later, he’s in his rooms and A brings his tea, but no food. It’s okay, Timothy is not hungry. He just drowns the entire cup before springing to his feet, gathering some documents and hiding them under his white shirt, tucked into his slim, open sided, black harem pants.

“Take me to the dungeons”, he demands, hastily throwing on a cape, “I believe it’s time I interrogate the prisoners.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ra’s is lounging in cushions and silk when Tim finds him, a few hours later. He beckons him in, a single finger crooked and a side smile.

Slowly, almost reluctant, Tim sits, his back to Ra’s, and rests his weight on the man. He can feel the strong arms going around his waist, but can’t see his face.

“Is everything alright, Beloved?”

Tim sags against him, hiding his face in the man’s shoulder. He, in turn, rests his chin above his hair, moving the crown around to make space. Tim can feel him smelling his hair and shivers a little. Ra’s hands tighten in response.

“Yeah”, he whispers. Wetting his lips a bit, he tries again, “Yes, I just came from the dungeons. General Brown… I went to see her. Try to get some information.”

The arms stiffen a bit, half a second, before the man relaxes again.

“And?”

“She seemed willing to talk, at first. I think it was the shock of seeing a familiar face”, he touches his own cheek a bit, then lets his hand fall over Ra’s wrist, carefully tracing his pulse point. “I think we were quiet close, back then.”

“Not anymore?”

A delicate shrug, “Not since I married you, My Lord. I choose my side, and so did she. As soon as she remembered we’re in different fronts on this war, she became quite tight lipped.”

Ra’s hums, hand reaching for the tray set by his side. Picking up a chocolate covered something, he offered it to the boy in his arms, smiling when he felt the soft lips closing around the food, almost kissing Ra’s palm where it laid.

“I believe she’ll start to rethink her decision, once a few more of her friends join her in the dungeons. I trust your preparations are going well?”

Timothy relaxed even further in his arms.

“Yes, My Lord. I’ve written some instructions for our people rounding on Sargeant Gordon and his daughter”, he explains, taking the mentioned papers out of his white sleeve” I’ll send the letter tomorrow after checking in some details, and by afternoon, if it all goes according to plan we’ll have two more guests joining General Brown. That means I won’t be accompanying you for lunch, My Lord.”

Ra’s reads the information carefully, and can’t help but squeeze his pretty little genius closer to his chest. Stealing him from his Father had been the wisest of his choices. Giving up his grandson in exchange was by all means a perfectly acceptable loss.

“Do tell your servant to fetch you something to eat, my dear. It won’t do to have my best strategist fall to his own ambitions and starve.”

Looking up at his husband, with the chocolate covered fruit still dancing around his closed mouth, Tim smiled.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the course of the next few weeks, Timothy’s life became a whirlwind of reading reports, scheming strategies and meeting his husband to inform him of any progress- or loss. 

They managed to capture young General Duke Thomas, Sargent Kane and General Gordon. Sergeant Gordon, the woman’s father, had escaped unscathed though, by a well timed counter attack that Tim was still unsure how they enemies had devised. 

His new sworn enemy, Wayne’s strategist, was no doubt behind any little rock in his path. Any setback, any mistake. This mysterious person seemed to be always one step ahead, and even Tim’s hard won victories sometimes seemed like they were a gift, an allowance. Ra’s didn’t seem to mind, more than happy with their slowly growing dungeons and Tim’s efforts, so he was reluctant to inform him of his fears; least the King started to regret marrying him in the first place.

He throws another vase at the wall, but there’s no one there to pick the broken pieces up. It’s the middle of the night and he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Who are you?!”, he screams at nothing, approaching the mirror and hating the pale face that looks back at him, those intelligent eyes blinking quickly, as if trying to get out of a daze.

He needs to find out who their rat is. Ra’s hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting their position on this war. The enemy has eyes inside their castle, and Tim is left to fend off the plots his faceless opponent comes up with with that intel. It’s tiring, he feels strung along, and there’s little he can do about that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“How are our guests faring?”

“Still haven’t as much as pipped, yer Highness.”

“I trust you’ve been exploring all your options while asking.”

“I’m...being very thorough. Maybe if yer Highness went…”

“I don’t know, A… Between the planning and these damn headaches that keep getting worse…”

“Should I bring the medicine?”

“Yes, do that…”

He scribbles orders for his men in parchment, gets so lost in the action he barely notices his servant’s return, merely accepting the cup with the sweet beverage when it’s offered to him.

“I’m not making any real progress like this… You are right, I do need to interrogate them myself. We’re going to the dungeons.”

“Yes, yer Highness.”

“And… be sure it doesn’t reach my husband’s ears. That place is so grim and dirty, and I wouldn't want to… worry him.”

“Yes, yer Highness. This way.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Ra’s orders Tim’s secondary guard to bring him to the throne room in the middle of the night, he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Sleep has been a luxury he can’t quite gift himself with, and his plans don’t seem to be achieving anything. Maybe… Maybe his husband was cross with him. Maybe he meant to… dispose of him.

What he’s not expecting, is seeing A’s kneeling form, bruised and curling into himself, in the ground in front of Ra’s throne steps. 

“What is the meaning of this? My lord? Why is my servant here?”, he worries, rushing to the man’s side. A might have been taking care of him under orders, but he had done it wonderfully, and Tim really appreciated his willingness to run back and forth fetching him medicine, tea and food when the pain got too unbearable, or just keeping him company as he raged at his mysterious strategic enemy.

“Don’t”, comes the order from above, cold and final, just when his hand is hovering over a obviously dislocated shoulder. Tim looks at his husband with hundreds of questions in his eyes, but the man answers just one. “Rats shouldn’t be blessed by the touch of the Royal Consort, Beloved.”

Tim shakes his head minutely, taking an automatic step away from A’s form. The guard, his knight, doesn’t even raise his head to look back at him. Tim wishes he did, so he could read the truth in his keppel colored eyes.

But his husband has already told him, hasn’t he? A’s testimony is of no worth, when the King himself is condemning him of treason.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It’s hours later, when Tim decides to go down to the dungeons once more. He picks Ra’s discarded cape from the ground by the bed and wraps it around him, gathering strength from his husband’s scent.

This... had been their first night together, and Tim laments it was under such painful circumstances. Betrayed by his closest aide, the one who had stayed by his side from the second Tim had married into the Al Ghul’s family, he had all but fallen into Ra’s arms while he watched the guards drag A away, to be questioned at a later date. Down to the dungeons, with every other enemy he had caught.

He hadn’t caught A, though. He had somehow completely missed the man sneaking information out, when said man was always a mere step away from Tim’s own shadow.

Ra’s had been perfect, in the face of his Consort’s distress. He had half escorted half carried Tim out of the room and into his own chambers. Plied him with wine (the same bottle Tim had gifted him what seemed like a lifetime away, but was just the previous night; still closed, but fresh), sharing a cup at first and then exchanging the liquid from mouth to mouth. He had gathered him into his arms, carried him to bed, and made him forget. Making him yield his body as well as his mind to his whims, dominating every inch of him; their pre nuptial contract all but forgotten in the face of such passion. Who would tell Bruce, anyway? And, even  if his father knew, they were at war with the man. 

Tim had sobbed, after it was all done with. His husband was obviously a gifted lover, and during their shared passion, he had made him drop any thought of his friend; but the second he went to sleep by his side, Tim’s eyes started to water by their own accord. 

A had betrayed him.

This stung worse than he could have expected. He needed to see A again, before Ra’s interrogated and later executed him. He… he needed to ask why.

The hallways seemed too deserted, tonight. He could usually catch a glimpse of a shadow sneaking just by the edge of his vision, something moving too fast to properly identify, but slow enough to be sure of its presence. There was none of that. No silent footsteps, no servant hurrying along in a chore, no visiting noble straying from his room in search of a nocturnal thirst with a maid. No eyes following from the portraits on the walls.

It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes one step lightly and breath as shallowly as possible, to keep from making any noise that would disturb it, draw attention to it. The kind that made him signal his guard to walk closer to his back, so the barely noticeable warmth of her presence could sooth his already frayed nerves.

The stairs to the dungeon were barely better. The sounds of chains shaking and rats scurrying around brought a light frown to his face. He suddenly wished to be back by his husband’s side, in the comfortable bed, protected by his arm around his waist.

But he needed to power through. A was just a few cells over, and he wouldn't be able to sleep without his answers.

The man is chained down, both at his ankles and wrists, as per the costum when one of their own goes rouge. Their training too intensive, too dangerous,  to leave them to roam freely, even within a cell.

He’s awake, through, despite his wounds. And he’s sitting in the middle of his ‘room’, facing the door. Facing Tim, when he came into sight.

...had he been awaiting him?

“Hey, Timmy.”

The uncharacteristic, carefree call snaps him out of it. Suddenly outraged (both at this man, so calm in his dishonored state, and at himself for being so affected by the situation; he was a King’s Consort, he needed to get it together!), he gathered himself to his full height and did his best to look down at the seated man, fists gathering Ra’s cape tighter around his shoulders, trying to pass it as some sort of royal garment, to get the extra confidence boost.

“It seems your short time in captivity has already started playing tricks on your mind, to make you believe you can address me this way. Or perhaps the certainty of your execution has made your tongue looser. It would not help your situation, but if you prove yourself useful a last time, I might consider appealing to my husband’s mercy.”

A tilted his head. Tim couldn't see his face, half hidden by the mask, half by his hair, but he knew him well enough to read the curiosity in his posture.

“Whose orders are you obeying?”

The young knight stared at him in silence for a bit, before shrugging.

“Yours, yer Highness.”

Tim couldn't help but scoff, crossing his arms and thus allowing the cape around him to part in the front.

“I certainly didn’t command you to betray my trust.”

If A had a response to that, it was halted by the sight of the King’s Consort still in his sleep camisole, hastily thrown over before heading there. The thin fabric did little to hide his neck, where the marks of tonight’s love encounter with his husband were painfully obvious, skin too pale to hide the almost purple signs of ownership.

“I’m sorry you went through that, yer Highness”, he whispered, shoulders slumping and head tilted down for the first time during their conversation.

It was cold in the dungeons, and that’s why Tim closed the cape around him again. Not to hide his marks and sudden vulnerability.

He thought, distractedly, that they must be giving an amusing show to the other captives, for them to be so quiet.

“I can assure you”, he answers dryly, ”that being loved by my husband is no hardship at all. Not like the ones you have coming for you.”

“I would disagree”, his voice sounds deeply pained, and resigned.

A throb behind his eyes made him squeeze them shut. He felt more than heard his silent shadow stepping closer, one hand supporting his arm as the other offered the small pill Ra’s had gotten for him to help his headaches, as well as a flask of something to down it with.

He held both the pill and the silver container in his hands, eyes never leaving A’s figure, suddenly a hundred times more attentive.

“You gonna take it, yer Highness?”

He hums, rolling the brownish pellet between thumb and forefinger.

“I always seem to have a muddled mind, after I do. And I think I want to remember this conversation, A. If that’s really your name.”

“’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me what it really is? Or what “A” stands for?”

“I’m a gothamite”, replied the man, who was suddenly a lot more talkative. Maybe afraid Tim would take his medicine and go sleep it off, taking with him his only chance of getting a more merciful judgement, “born and raised. But unlike all those whinny, dumb witted lords you’ve probably met, I hail from the streets. The darkest parts of the city, where only the most crooked and twisted reside. Where the monsters hide, ‘cause what’s on the street ‘s a thousand times more scary than ‘em. The slums of Arkham spit me out, half chewed and poisonous but still alive despite it all. And from there, I took my name. So I’d never forget, while I’m here, where do I came from.”

“And you still became a knight, a pawn, under the command of someone smart enough to fool even me?”, he scoffs, hand tightening and almost crushing the pain relief- They would only use you and discard you.  No, not even that, since we will be the ones doing the job. If you tell me who gave you your orders I… I can give you leniency.”

“I won’t.”

“Not even if…” he hates saying this, shouldn’t be promising it without talking it out with his husband first, but if there was a chance of catching this slippery strategist… “I spare your life?”

A only shook his head. Tim felt unsteady on his feet.

Who would even care, he thinks, before letting himself fall, sitting on the other side of the bars keeping A locked. The prisoners’ opinions weren’t important, and his shadow would not tell anyone else of Tim’s momentary weakness.

(How was he so sure of her loyalty? Why was he so despairing of A’s, his traitorous Arkham Knight, betrayal?)

“You look to be in pain, yer Highness. The medicine…”

Tim threw the goddamned pill as far away as he could, fierce eyes boring into the man.

“Why do you act as though you care for my well being? You surely didn’t when you sold me out to my enemy.”

A sighed, “The only enemy here, ‘s the man whose cape ye’r using to fend off the cold.”

“That man…!”, he stops himself, gathering his composure like one might sand between their fingers, hoping it’d be enough to get a hold of himself. He tried again. “That man is my Lord and Husband.”

“Oh Lord above, I’m so sick of this”, moaned A, leaning back into his hands and looking at his cell’s ceiling. “Yer Highess… Tim. What about we make a deal?”

“With a traitor?”

“With the only viable informant you have.”

He didn’t answer. Curious, despite himself, but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of inquiry. 

A didn’t seem to mind and straightened his back before crawling towards the bars, until he was pressed flush against them, chains clattering when they collided with the cold metal of his cage.

“If you can figure out who my master is from the clues you have, I’ll… help you fight your enemy.”

“If I could figure that out by myself, don’t you think I would have already?”, he frowns, but there’s no deceit in A’s eyes. Not that it would do he any favors; helpful or not, the only thing Tim had to lose here was time. Unsure, he decided to focus on this puzzle he had at hand.

“Think about yer hands. Think about your home, your true home, not this pit of snakes and lies. Think ‘bout… family. Why are you here?”

He didn’t want to. Those were the kind of questions that always brought forth the headache. But, he supposes, he is already in pain. What is a little more?

He turns the silver flask (that he almost forgot he still had) in his hands, thumbing the engravings on it as his mind wandered.

He was here because Ra’s had wanted to marry him, because he fell in love with Tim when/

...When?

No, that wasn’t right. Tim had made the choice, because… Ra’s had Damian captive. He had sent a letter offering an exchange…

No. Damian’s mother, Crown Princess Talia. She had asked Father… Bruce, for help. But… she had been the one who helped Ra’s take Damian in the first place…

Why had Tim offered marriage? There must have been multiple alternatives, more than one way to get his brother back. 

He loved Ra’s, that was why. Or so he thought.

He remembers… denials. Shouts. And a calm, detached voice explaining itself. Explaining…

As a lightning striking a tree and bruning it to ashes, all came flooding back into his mind. 

His hands. His home, his family.

The night before his wedding.

A cup of wine, left by Ra’s servants so he could settle his nerves before the next day’s ceremony, held tightly and steadily in his hands.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t confused. He wasn’t in love.

A cloaked figure in the darkness of his rooms, ice blue eyes staring deeply into his. 

“I’m your worst enemy”, it said, cold like the iron of his Father’s blade, and twice as sharp. 

Tim recognized it then, who it was. 

The bane of Ra’s existence. The mysterious strategist. A’s master. 

A young man, eyes burning blue fire, standing among shadows in front of a mirror.

The fog raised from his mind, as did his hand when he took a long sip of his flask. The sweetness of the beverage brought a grin to his face, as the headache faded into oblivion. No pill needed, after all.

Still shaky but feeling finally in control, he climbed back to his feet. A, on the other side of the cell, did the same, face unsure and searching. 

Cassandra, his shadow, reappeared from within them. Taking one quick look at his face, her now unmasked one brightened. She held a number of keys among her swift fingers, stolen from the no doubt unconscious guards upstairs. 

“...Yer Highness?”

Tim laughed, unbridled. A devious smirk played on his lips as he watched Cass set to work.

“Formalities don’t suit you, brother.”

Jason’s eyes widened in surprise, before savage glee lightened them. He held his hands before himself, patiently waiting for their sister to open his cell and free him.

“About damn time, Timmy.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tim had told Damian not to worry, a long time ago. No bloodshed would flood the streets where he grew up, no hard working servant or innocent peasant would see themselves tangled in the throes of war.

There’d be no war in Alqatala. Because they were going to take it from the inside.

The walk back to Ra’s rooms was done in half the time it took before. Movement all around him as all the prisoners, his people, were set free to take care of whatever of Ra’s soldiers remained in the castle after Tim sent the majority of them to fight an empty battle. He saw Stephanie’s men subduing the less strong warriors, as she and Cass took the better trained ones. Jason was carrying Barbara in his arms, probably headed to wherever Dick and his troops were waiting, somewhere just outside the castle, to act as reinforcements. Duke, Kate and their soldiers, helping the wounded and escorting the enemies to the dungeons that not too long ago housed them.

Tim didn’t focus on any of them, though. He had another matter to attend to. 

When he reached the Royal chambers, he saw exactly what he expected; Ra’s, fully dressed, standing at his balcony and observing the figures dancing below. His enemy’s troops taking hold of his kingdom as peacefully as a coup could ever be.

The wine had been chosen primarily because it’s sleepy quality was one he had gotten resistant against, after months of Jason providing him with it. So that Ra’s would be affected and sleep the night away, while Tim got his memories back and could take the last step of his carefully organized plan.

The second, less pressing (but almost more rewarding) reason was spite: the first dose of the drug Ra’s has plighted him with, all those months ago, had been in the wine he was served before their wedding.

But it wouldn't keep a man like his husband, old and well versed in trickery, down for long. Tim had only hoped for enough time to free his allies.

And he had gotten it.

“Beloved. I imagined you halfway through the land, eager to be back in your people’s arms.”

“Don’t insult either of us like this. You know I need to see this done, and I don’t trust anyone else with this particular task.”

“To take me down?”

“To properly gloat, more like it.”

“Now you are the one taking us both for fools. You don’t gloat. It’s unbecoming.”

Tim shrugs, cape flowing behind him as he steps out by Ra’s side, looking down as well.

For weal or woe, those were their subjects.

“You don’t think I deserve it?”

Ra’s does the elegant, royal version of a snort.

“More than anyone, dear one. It was masterfully played, I have to admit. I could find no cracks in your acting.”

Tim turns, back to the balcony edge. The venomous green eyes meet his, then. King and Consort, truly face to face for maybe the first time in months.

They should, by all means, be fighting. But Tim is under no delusions; he knows Ra’s physical strength is greater. His aim is to entertain him long enough for reinforcements to reach them.

Why Ra’s decided to humour him, he wasn’t sure.

“There was no act, Ra’s. Not truly.”

“As much as the thought warms my heart, Beloved, I don’t think you love me. Not like the drug intended. How, pray tell, did you manage to avoid it? I’ve seen you eating food coated in it. Sometimes, by my own hand.”

Tim just raises his flask to him.

“Your only mistakes were taking Damian prisoner, and kidnapping our people to serve under your crown.”

If he was annoyed by Tim derailing his answer, he didn’t show it. Seemingly content to play along, Ra’s gave his words proper thought.

“The first brought you into my castle, taking a vital player from the enemy’s board, the latter gave me the opportunity I needed to go to war with your father. I don’t see anything to regret there.”

Tim took another sip of the tea, now cold, that Cass had filled the bottle with.

“And your greatest overview”, he continued, “what you should have suspected from the first moment, was this:”- the drink inside the flask sloshed when he raised it-” I despise tea.

“I fail to see how this all ties together. Indulge me, dear one? Our time with each other is coming to an end, after all.”

Tim was all for gaining time. And maybe a little part of himself wanted to boast a bit, too.

“When Talia came back to her senses, after the drug you used on her to make her take Damian to you wore out, she came seeking for help to set him free.”

A yell, somewhere far away. Clash of metal and fire in the distance; Ra’s troops were back from their empty mission, straight into Harper and Cullen’s awaiting forces.

“Barbara is most likely the best alchemist out there. With Lady Thompkins’ help, she made an antidote”, another sip. “It goes perfect with tea, disgusting as it is. And Jason, taken for dead and rescued by Talia all those years ago, who nursed him back to health under your own roof without you being the wiser, already had a perfect cover built here. He just needed to say he’d been on a mission to explain the time he’d spent between leaving Talia’s care and me coming here, and then volunteer to care for me. And my sister’s presence can only be noticed by those she wants to; your men had no chance to spot the two enemies among their ranks.”

Under them, the innocents in Alqatala were hanging white bed sheets and clothes out of their windows. A beg to be spared, and show of surrender. From up there, it looked like dots of victory splashed in the canvas of a won over Kingdom.

“I could never act like I was in love with you, for months, and be perfectly convincing. And the only way you’d let me even smell the ink on your important documents was if you believed me completely besotted. So I’d take your drugs each breakfast, and break out of their power with my afternoon tea. Give out orders, converge with my spies, and then eat your food again so I’d be in perfect condition for dinner. If I could help it, each moment spent in your presence had to be drugged stupid. As a side effect of taking the drug is memory loss, every proof of my treasonous acts were hidden from my stupid, submissive, deeply-in-love other self. Truly, it was perfect. Except the headaches from taking so many corrosive substances, so often. Those were a pain to deal with.”

That wasn’t, of course, the only consequence of mixing powerful drugs. His colds were harsher and more recurrent than ever, and he feared the approaching winter with genuine horror, but that was information his enemy didn’t need to have.

Ra’s threw his head back and laughed. It was a hearty laugh, from deep within his chest and charged with unexpected affection. Tim tilted his head, and was taken back when his husband stretched his hands to pull the cape closed over his chest, fastening it with an emerald and gold pin.

“I do have a question”, he forces himself to say, unwilling to blush when Ra’s hands accidentally (or maybe not so much) bumped into one of the marks still fresh in his neck.

“You’ve answered mine, Beloved, so go ahead. Marriage is a give and take, after all.”

The irony wasn’t lost. 

“When things started to go wrong in this war, when attacks didn’t reach and our troops failed by a hair… you are not stupid. You must have known the enemy under your roof, the one planning your strategies, was the most likely cause. Why not kill me?”

Ra’s laughed again. Something in Tim’s stomach twitched.

He had won here. So why did it feel like Ra’s had been the one to take the treasure?

“We both agreed to this game, when you accepted my suit and we got married.”

“I was the one who suggested/”

“Shh, dear one. You could have backed out, told your family you regretted your choice, and no one would have blamed you. But you took the drugged wine that night, fully aware of the dangers it contained. You blushed during our wedding, and shed a tear when I took your hand and sat you on my throne to receive your crown. The stakes were high, higher than anything any of us could imagine, and you still decided to risk it. Had I discovered your siblings and drove them out, there’d been no one left to fed you the antidote that allowed this entire operation to begin with. Or I could have chosen to dismiss you to an abandoned wing of the palace, happy enough after taking you from your family and thus removing their most dangerous player, without the risk of giving you power.” 

Tim’s throat felt dry. Ra’s thumb pressed in the mark one last time, before he drew his hands away and clasped them behind his back. His eyes as he watched Tim were warm on the surface, but there was an underlying of want under them that made him nervous. The intensity rivaled the one he had felt when they shared bed and love just hours ago.

“You played the game beautifully, played by the rules, and still won. Killing you without proof, with only my suppositions, right as they might have been, would have been like admitting defeat.” 

“You still lost”, he bites out, hand unclasping the pin keeping the cape tight and letting it fall to the ground behind him, green and gold silk against dark stone.

Ra’s smile became wicked. No warmth left.

“Had I killed you when I first suspected you”, he whispers, stepping closer, and this sudden intimacy makes Tim shiver, but not from pleasure. “I would have missed the opportunity you gave me tonight. And I got a taste of the full extent of your power, Beloved.”

He closed the distance between them, hands on his shoulders to keep him still. Too shocked to even try to get away, Tim almost forgot to blink.

He had expected rage. He had expected disdain. He had expected a sword to the gut.

He hadn’t expected respect, admiration and desire, hot and piercing like a knife still red from the forge.

Ra’s breath, sweet from the wine and warm against the cold of the night, brushed his cheek as his husband bent closer.

“How marvelous it was, to witness you fight against yourself. Are you the only foe you consider worthy of your attention? Can anyone else come close to even challenge your cunning mind?”

Too late, Tim heard the footsteps approaching their location. His brothers, most likely, here to help him take care of Ra’s.

The beautiful dagger sliding into his body felt almost sensual, intimate. Like he was being touched by a lover, instead of steel. He shivered all the same, the gasp escaping his mouth making Ra’s draw a deeper breath. 

His laugh, this time, was low. Private, just between them.

“Do make sure you don’t die from this. I’ll come for you one day, and I expect a proper confrontation then. No more masks between us, dear one. Next time it’ll be just you and me, your force against mine, and my price for trouncing one as enthralling as yourself will be to properly own you, from that day and all the ones that’ll follow.”

When Ra’s hands left him, Tim fell to his knees. He heard the door slamming against the wall and his brothers’ voices, their shouts and curses as they rushed to his aid.

“Until then, my Consort.”

He saw him jumping down, to a certain death if it were anyone else, but could not make a move to follow. The knife had pierced something, he could tell, and the blood soaked his white nightgown and the green cape, still on the floor under him.

It was Dick (Oh gods, Dick, how had he missed his oldest brother, how painful had it been to forget his smile, scent and fierce protection) who gathered him in his arms, his desperate calls that made him snap out of the pain. He barely caught sight of Jason and Damian running to the balcony edge and looking down, then yelling orders to the men that had followed them into the room.

Ra’s had escaped.

But he would not stay away for long, he knew. His last words were both a threat and declaration of intent. It was a new war, one where Tim wouldn’t be fighting for him and against himself. Now, he would depend only on his wits and resources. There’d be no master plan carefully laid and enveloped in deceit. It’d be an all out war, two predators hunting each other, where losing meant death for Ra’s, and for Tim...something even worse.

Ra’s was coming.

Well, Tim thought, closing his fingers around the silver hilt of the dagger, his brothers worried voices fading into nothing as consciousness began to waver, let him come.

I’ll be waiting, my husband.

[mae-falling-in-may]

FINALLY, a new writing, I’ve been so slow on this for some reasons, but here it is !

Originally requested by anon :  Lucy x Reader, where the reader is Caspian’s younger sister? Maybe during Dawn Treader, angst or fluff? Angst is preferred.

Sailing

Pairing : Lucy Pevensie x Caspian’s younger sister!Reader

Warnings : bad ending

Summary : You are Caspian’s younger sister, Princess Y/N of Narnia. You always were put aside, but this time you decided to sail with your brother on the Dawn Treader. You meet Edmund, Lucy and their cousin Eustace, during your trip, and never felt so happy when you spent time with the youngest Pevensie sibling.

Words : 1,5k A/N : So, hum, I got confused by Lucy’s age in votd, so in this she and the reader are 17 or older, I didn’t want it to be awkward ahah. And this is also my first attempt at angst i don’t know if it’s good or something so, feedback is appreciated !

My gif!

"Caspian, please, let me go with you."

He sighed, crossing his arms.

"No, you have to take care of Narnia while i'll be sailing, I can't risk losing my sister."

"Narnia will be fine without us ! Please, I want to see the world Caspian, i'm sick of always being put aside. I want to sail with you, my brother." Once again, he sighed, losing his patience, he directed himself to the door.

"We'll see later Y/N." He then left the room, you sighed in frustration and sat on your bed.

A few months ago…

You were Caspian's younger sister. Princess Y/N of Narnia. Since young age you were overprotected, you hated it. During the war between Telmar and Narnia, you had to run away, leaving Caspian to his duties. You only got back after his coronation, not even being able to meet the Kings and Queens of Old. After these events, you were in need of adventure. Despite the disapproval of the Lords and your brother himself, you learnt how to fight with a sword, thanks to one of your friend.

You trained hard, hoping you could become useful. During a rainy day, you got back early from your training. When you passed close to the meeting hall, you heard your brother and the Lords speaking. You overheard the conversation and froze when you heard your brother speaking again.

"I'll sail to the Lone Islands, I have to find what happened to the friends of my father. I'll let Y/N rule during my absence."

"King Caspian ! She has no experience for ruling a kingdom, you can not just take this decision like this…" One of the Lords interfered. Everything went silent for a short moment.

"She grew up a lot, I trust her." Caspian sighed before continuing.

"Fine we will see later. You can go."

You heard footsteps, meaning that all of the Lords were leaving the room. You were shaken up by the new informations you learnt. You ? Ruling ? You shook your head. No, you needed adventure. You'll be sailing with Caspian, even if it will be hard to convince him.

***

You watched the Dawn Treader from afar, hand on your sword. Caspian will be leaving in a few days. He was busy, so you couldn't talk to him again. You didn't want to give up yet, you wanted to go with him. Either you could try to speak to your brother again, or you could just make your way into the ship. 

"Are you thinking of doing something that could embarrass me, sister ?"

You jumped and immediately turned around. You saw Caspian smiling a bit, next to your horse.

"Caspian… I-"

"You don't need to explain yourself Y/N. I've been thinking a lot of what you told me this day." He made his way next to you.

"I didn't know how you'd feel about everything that happened to us. I've only been thinking about myself, for that i'm sorry." You frowned.

"What are you saying Caspian ?"

"I'm saying that it would be a pleasure to see you being part of the crew."

You froze, without knowing what to say. You stayed silent for a while, then let out a loud "Thank you !", and gave a hug to your brother. He hugged you back before saying.

"You just have to promise me to be careful."

"Of course I will."

***

It’s already been a few weeks since the Dawn Treader left Narnia for the Lone Islands. Everything went well, the crew was nice to you, and you learned a lot of things from everyone. You’ve never felt so free in your life, and you loved this feeling. You were admiring the infinite beauties of the sea, smiling. A loud yell cut you out of your contemplating.

“Man overboard !” You gasped when you noticed three young people swimming close to the ship. Caspian and other men jumped into the water quickly to bring them back. You went into the quarters to pick up some towels. When you got back you saw Caspian who was brightly speaking with the newcomers. You approached them and gave them a towel and handed the last one to your brother.

“Welcome on board !” You smiled. You figured out that they were around your age, the boy maybe a bit older. You looked at the girl next to him, you almost froze at how pretty she was. You almost got yourself lost in your thoughts until you felt a hand on your shoulders. “Edmund, Lucy, here is my younger sister, Y/N.”

You realized while hearing their names, they were King and Queen of Old. You bowed awkwardly and stuttered.

"I-it's a real pleasure to meet you, your majesties." You heard chuckles.

"It's okay Y/N, there's no need for this kind of formalities. Just call us by our names." Lucy smiled brightly while you raised your head. You smiled back, a little flustered. You heard Caspian moving a bit, as he addressed himself to the crew.

"Everyone ! Welcome the newcomers, Edmund the Just, and Lucy the Valiant. High King and Queen of Narnia." Everyone clapped their hands, including you. You never thought you'll have the chance to meet the Kings and Queens of Old, you were happy. 

"Hum, your majes- uh I mean, Lucy, let's get you clean clothes."

She nodded.

"Sure ! Lead the way."

***

Days passed, you and Lucy spent a lot of time together. You didn't know if it was admiration, or anything else, but you sometimes felt flustered when she was close to you. If not, you could say you felt comfortable, safe with her. She told you how she ruled once, in Narnia, how she lived when she was in her world. You didn't know how to name the feeling you had everytime she was around, but it felt right. 

When you both almost got sold as slaves, you were more scared for her than for yourself. You felt even worse when she almost got abducted. You were furious, and afraid something else could happen to her. During Coriakin’s speech you wouldn’t let go Lucy’s hand, still shaken up by the recent events. 

The entire crew got back on the Dawn Treader, the next step was Ramandu’s Island. You had troubles sleeping this night, the sea was agitated, and you were constantly worried for Lucy. You decided to get up, and you noticed Lucy’s bed empty. Your eyes scanned the room, and you finally saw Lucy close the fire, staring at it. You slowly approached her.

“Lucy, are you okay ?” You murmured.

She jumped and looked at you with sad eyes. “Yes… I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” You put your hand on her shoulder.

“You know you can tell me Lucy, if you want to I mean…” She slowly raised her head and looked at you.

“Y/N… Do you think i’m pretty ?” You felt yourself blushing, but she couldn’t see it in the dark. You smiled to her before answering.

“Lucy… Of course you are pretty. You shouldn’t doubt yourself. You’re a Queen, you’re incredible, strong and inspiring. That’s why I lo- like you.” 

She smiled back, and whispered a “Thank you.” before hugging you tight. 

“We should go back to sleep, whatever is happening will drive us crazy, I can feel it.” She broke the hug and you nodded. “I’ll just go see the boys, I’ll be back in a bit.” She left the quarters, leaving you alone. You can not believe you almost told her how you felt. What if she freaked out ? You got back in your bed, with the thought of Lucy smiling to you, and hugging you. You eventually fell asleep a few minutes after, not even thinking of what the future could look like.

And you didn’t expect the future to be that cruel. You were so happy to spend all of your time with Lucy, that you hadn’t thought of her leaving. And here you are, with Caspian, Edmund, Lucy, their cousin, Reepicheep and Aslan. You couldn’t stop the tears while Aslan was speaking. You felt your heart sink shen Lucy came close to you, without saying a word. She opened her mouth but you cut her off by hugging her tight. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Was the only thing you could say between cries. 

“I don’t want to go either Y/N, but I have to.” She broke the hug and caressed your cheek gently.

“I’m glad I could meet you Y/N, I never felt so safe with anyone before.” You could see tears in her eyes. You stay silent before cursing under your breath and finally kissed her shyly. She was a bit surprised but kissed you back. “I love you Lucy, i’ll miss you everyday, you made me so happy the past few weeks. I will never forget you.” She smiled, kissed your cheek and eventually had to leave the embrace. You watched her join her brother and her cousin, feeling your heart break. You saw them disappear behind the water, the last thing you remembered was the sad look of Lucy watching you from afar.

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

She’s My Collar pt. 5

So I was gonna try to upload an update for both fics, but I’m still feeling yucky so have this chapter for now which I’m sorry if it’s not great, the next one will be better I promise lol.

Tag List: @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @littlemisscare-all​

“Miss did you hear me?” The officer in front of me grunts.

“I’m sorry could you repeat the question for me?” I ask shyly focusing on him and not Kevin shouting and thrashing as the other cops are shoving him into the police car.

“I asked you if you could give me your recount of the events that took place tonight.”

“Oh right. Well…”

The flames are starting the consume the curtains and spread across the carpet as Tommy and I round the corner from my bedroom. I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab the extinguisher I had luckily purchased when Nikki started lighting himself on fire in their apartment. I toss it to Tommy and he gets everything currently on fire doused with the foamy liquid. 

“What the fuck?” He wonders aloud as he reaches down picking up a broken bottle out of the mess. “River who the fuck would throw a moltov cocktail in your apartment?”

It’s like Loki the God of chaos himself is answering him when my door is kicked in and Kevin sways in full of intoxicated rage. He spots me frozen with fear against the fridge and begins to stomp towards me.

“You fucking good for nothing cunt I should’ve killed you when I had the chance” He screams and lunges towards me but is knocked to the ground by Tommy tackling him.

Tommy’s fist is covered in blood by the time I can get him pulled off Kevin and he spits on him as I get him pulled out of there just in time for the police and fire department to be pulling into the parking lot.

“We’ll be in touch.” The man hands me his card with his info on it before getting in his car and leaving.

Tommy is silent as we walk back to my apartment for me to inspect the damage done. My plants near my window scorched and my carpet destroyed is enough to send me over the edge. I collapse in the fetal position and let myself break down for the first time since the chaos began. I feel Tommy lay on the ground next to me and wrap his arms around me letting me have my moment. 

“Thank you.” I hoarsely let out.

“I told you that you were stuck with us guys for the rest of your life especially me.” He pressed a small kiss to my shoulder and butterflies filled my stomach.

“Let's get off the ground.” I sniffle the both of us sitting back up slowly and eventually clambering back into my bed. 

He pulls me against his body and rests his chin on the top of my head, the soft movement of him breathing lulling me to sleep.

“It’s the goddamn principal of the matter.” Nikki ranted as he paced through my living room while I tried to enjoy my morning coffee.

“So tell Vince you’re pissed.”

“No I can’t let him think he won. He needs to think I never wanted Beth in the first place.” He scoffed.

“Did you want Beth?”

“She gives great blowjobs. That’s why I suggested a threesome in the first place.” He plops into one of my chairs looking up at the ceiling.

“Listen Nikki I’m gonna be brutally honest since we’re friends and you would be with me, this is your fault for opening up your girlfriend to Vince Neil.”

“I hate it when you’re right you know that?”

“You’ll find a new groupie to fuck Nikki you’ll be fine. Now we gotta get to the studio you boys have photos for the album we need to take today.”

The boys had finished recording their first album by the grace of God himself. They spent the entire few days in the studio drunk and pissing off their sketchball manager, but by the end of it they had a full blown album that didn’t take much money to produce. They even got to save money on photos for the album since I was their personal photographer, which aforementioned sketchball was thrilled about. His name was Alan, but I didn’t have a good feeling about him so I rarely referred to him by his name, not to his face.

“My hair isn’t going to show!” Vince pouted in front of the (awful) white background Alan had thrown together for their album pictures.

“It’ll be fine Vinnie we’re gonna get them edited by a professional.” He quipped from beside me.

“Excuse me?” I ask unaware he was having somebody else  edit my photos.

“Well yeah sweetheart you expect me to trust the work of an amature to look good enough without editing? You’re out of your mind.” 

“Listen here you sweaty ass-” I’m cut off by Tommy’s hand covering my mouth blocking the next slew of insults I had prepared.

“Let's take 5 for a cigarette break” He says cheerfully and leads me away still covering my mouth.

“You can stop licking my hand thinking that is gonna make me move it from your mouth you know.” Tommy says after dragging me outside the building we were shooting in. I pull away from him and fix him with a death glare that he just chuckles at lighting up a cigarette.

“I don’t want someone else to fuck with my photos Tommy. They’ll ruin it, I just know it.”

“It’ll be fine Riv. Besides if it’s fucked up then next time Alan can pay you more to do the photos and the editing.”

“Yeah that cheap bastard isn’t about to pay me more for jack shit Tommy.” I roll my eyes and pace back and forth in front of him. “Are you guys sure you want him as your manager? He gives me a weird feeling.”

“I think you’re paranoid babe” Tommy pulled me close and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Now lets get through this photoshoot so we can party it up later alright?”

“As much as I hate The Troubadour sometimes, yes I’m willing to get through the rest of the photoshoot so that we can go ‘party it up’ with the boys there” I tease and lean in close to him.

Tommy’s intoxicating scent of leather, cigarettes, and the men’s body wash I’ve been getting him to use pulls me in and I tuck my face into his neck and place a soft kiss there. He hums as his hand plays softly in my hair and he pulls slightly to tilt my head up. Our lips connect in a soft peck and he pulls away to stroke my cheek with his thumb.

When I walk back in Alan was nowhere to be found, which was perfect for me so that I could get my work done faster. Vince it seems has also finished his little temper tantrum as well. The rest of the shoot goes by without a hitch and we get our final shot for the cover of the album, which was just a close up shot of Vince’s crotch. By the time we get done and piled into my car it’s about time to get ready for the party the boys were throwing for completing the album and releasing it themselves on their own record label.

“Are you Nikki Sixx?” A voice off to the side of Nikki calls and he turns from our conversation with a shit eating grin giving her a single “no”  in response.

“Oh well that’s a shame cause I was going to split this quaalude with him.” She shrugs and goes to move on, but Nikki quickly stops her and confirms he in fact is Nikki Sixx and he was just fucking with her.

I watch her smile and bite her drug in half placing the other half onto Nikki’s tongue and he looks like he just might be falling in love for the first time. I look around and see Vince and Beth wrapped up together and Mick nursing his bottle of vodka, but I can’t find Tommy. I make my way through the crowd up to the bar and I don’t spot the tall brunette anywhere. He could just be outside smoking a cigarette, I tell myself feeling the bits of insecurity start to blossom in my head. 

“Two Jack and Cokes please” I say to the bartender when I finally get his attention. I figure if I go to find Tommy with a drink in hand it makes me look less like a crazy person.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing ordering your own drinks?” The man to my left says and I have to put effort into not rolling my eyes.

“Well nothing on me is broken so I’m more than capable of getting my own drinks” I shoot back trying to walk away, but his hand comes up to block me from going forward.

“I’m just saying if you got a man he should be catering to you. What’s your name goddess?” His sickening grin shows teeth all too white against far too tan of skin. 

“Her name is none of your business.” A deep huff comes from behind me and I turn to see Mick casually leaning against the bar.

“What are you her fucking dad?” The overly bronze man snaps.

“I’m trying to help you, but if you don’t want to keep all your fucking teeth that’s your dumbass decision.” Mick chuckles and tips his head to Tommy making his way towards us already sending hate eyes to the man next to me.

“You should listen to the man.” I shrug. “He fights.” I nod toward Tommy for emphasis.

The man looks like he’s about to argue when I feel Tommy slide his arm across my shoulders.

“This guy bothering you babe?” He asks sipping the drink in my hand never breaking eye contact with the strange guy with a look that said ‘one wrong move and I’ll kill you.

I smile like a cat that just caught a mouse and sip my drink as well.

My back hits the back wall of the closet as Tommy tries to find a secure place to hold my body so he can kiss me and grind into me at the same time.

“Fuck can I get this kind of reaction everytime I stick up for you.” Tommy pants breaking away from our kissing to catch his breath.

He hisses as I grind against him while pulling his hair back to expose his neck to me. I take the opportunity to nip at the skin there and feel the rumbling of another groan pass through him. Tommy begins to unlace his pants and suddenly the realization of how public we are hits me. Right as a worker opens the closet door to be exact.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” I yelp climbing off Tommy and rushing out of the closet and out the back door. Tommy is hot on my tail quickly catching up with the help of his long ass legs.

“Come on.” Tommy begins leading me to my car. “We’re going to your apartment to finish this.

[futurewriter2000]

Euphoria - pt. 6

A/N: I don’t know what to say about this one. Just to say I know how real fear feels and it’s worse than I described it but the angsty fight could be angstier.

XX

It didn’t take James long to notice something was continuesly on your mind. 

In two days you seemed to wear baggy clothes and he couldn’t understand why. They weren’t his T-shirts. You returned all of them. They weren’t Remus’ either but when he asked around you didn’t have a new boyfriend as well. They seemed quite oversized, covering all of your body and barely leaving an inch of skin in sight. 

You kept being alone, distant. He could remember you always talked to everybody, never afraid if somebody new or old approached you. You always kept a smile on your face and whenever somebody came close, you put your book down and started up a conversation. Now? Now when someone sat next to you in the common room or in class, you just kept to yourself, nodding and simpering when they talked. 

You didn’t eat in the Great Hall anymore. He couldn’t know if you ate anything at all and he couldn’t know if you were starving yourself from your baggy clothes. 

From your perspective it was quite different. You didn’t bother with James and Remus anymore, or anyone from their friend group. They were the least important thing on your mind. All you thought about was how to not see Mulciber. How to avoid him at all costs. Every day. From the minute you woke up to the second you fell asleep. It terrfied you. It put a knot in your stomach and you walked with an odd, terrifying feeling inside of you. 

Class- dorm. Your only destinations. No Great Hall, no courtyard, no walk by the lake and definetly not library.

There was nothing wrong with you. There wasn’t. There truly wasn’t. - You kept telling yourself that. One thing you did know. You were constantly afraid. 

James was now contemplating whether he should go walk to the girl, curled up in a corner of the sofa near the fire, looking so damn adorable with the big-baggy sweater he hated and adored at the same time on you. Your eyes were gently reading the pages of the book meanwhile your fingers placed with a necklace- wait! 

He narrowed his eyes at the necklace and...and it wasn’t the necklace he gave you. It just wasnt the gentle pink heart- rather a stunning amethyst stone, hugged by thorny silver vines. 

What- why? - questions kept running through his head and he kept getting angrier because of it meanwhile you were just sitting there, reading. 

“Hey.” 

You looked up to see James standing in front of you. There was a frown on his lips and eyes looking directly at yours. 

“Hi?” you questioned with a quirk of your eyebrow. 

“Uhm... why... I mean what... what are you doing?” he kept stammering, sittig down next to you and ruffling his hair. 

“Reading.” you replied and showed him the book. 

“What are you reading?” 

Confused with his sudden decision of caring, you decided to answer quick and clear. “Book.”

“What kind?”

“Autobiography.”

“About?” 

“Henri Charriere.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

There was silence for a while as the two of you just watched each other for no appearent reason except making the air more awkward. 

“Okay, so you know I’m full of shit.” he said, ruffling his hair again and leaning back. 

“Pretty much.” you kept at your quick and clear answers. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning elbows on his knees and looking at you with concern in his eyes. 

“Nothing.” you said, opening the book again. 

“I’ve known you all my life, (y/n). I know when something is wrong.” he raised his voice a tone, showing you he was serious about all of his words. 

“There is nothing wrong. Now leave it.” you raised your voice as well, closing your book with a big thud and glaring at him. 

He threw his head in front, forcing a defeated smile on his lips and getting up. “You know... every time you said something you didn’t want to tell me but deeply wanted me to figure out on my own, you got angry. You’re doing this just now.” 

“Well, I can’t see why would you care anything about me.” you snapped, still glaring after him. “First you were all about loving me and the next was talking rubbish of me to the whole school, not even looking at me after!” you gritted your teeth with force and fury.

“That’s because I was ashamed!” he shouted. “I was drunk that night, more than I was ever drunk in my life and that was because of you!! YOU THINK I CAN TURN IT OFF LIKE A SWITCH?!?! I can’t! I’ve been trying but guys have feeling too, (y/n) and that day I felt like my heart is going to squeeze itself into disappearance.” his eyes were glistening and his hand was digging into his shirt, at the place where his heart was. 

“You told everybody I was a slag.” your eyes began to water as well. You uncovered yourself and stood up, facing him your back. “You told how easy I was! How anybody could have me if they wanted! You threw me out there like I was an object!” you turned to him.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY BEST FRIEND!” he shouted, coming closer to you and letting tears fall down his cheeks. 

This was the first time you saw James cry. 

Never. Never in all the years you have known him, James never cried in front of you. No matter how hurt he was, no matter how much it pained him, he never cried in front of you. Not a tear. 

But when he said it- how he said it; with a low voice that cracked at those last two words. You knew now. You hurt him more than he ever hurt you. 

“And all the time I wished that I wouldn’t know. All the time I wished and still wish that it wasn’t him but it was. It had to be the usual cliche best friend, roomate. Hadn’t it, (y/n)?” he kept looking at you with so much disappointment that now all the fear you always felt was covered with all the shame James made you feel at this moment. “So yeah. I spoke rubbish of you. It’s not something I am proud of but I was drunk. I was drunk on my arse, drowning my sorrow in it and feeling a bit over-prideful when I had too much in my system. I realized what I had done the following day when I woke up on a toilet. Have you realized what you have done?”

That question made you shot your head up so fast, you could feel something crack. “How dare you ask me that?! You broke me James! As much as I love you, you broke me everytime you decided to shout and yell at me for things I could not change or have any effect on! Tense and on edge everytime. Shouting at me for the smallest of things, insulting me as well! Have you ever realiyed how you have treated me in the past months of our relationship?!” you shouted and before he could reply you cut in first. “I didn’t want to cheat on you! Especially not with Remus! But he was there at the wrong place at the wrong time and everything between us was so messed up-”

“I DON’T CARE!” he shouted. “I don’t care how messed up it was between us! We always loved each other! We had more good memories than bad! Of course, we fought! Couples do that. Of course, you were tense and on edge almost every month before you got your period. You were horrible to me when you felt off and you started fights as well! You insulted me! You shouted as well! The fights went both ways and just because the last month was a bit off that doesn’t mean you get to walk away from this relationship!”  

You stood there and stared at him. He was right. He really was but the fire in you kept going and you couldn’t calm down. “I-I can’t this-” you grabbed your book and started storming away.

“Where are you going?!”

“I’m leaving!”

And everything was clear and fine until his hand grabbed yours and he pulled you to him. You crashed into his body and you heard the first few words but after that it squeezed you tight in your chest and you couldn’t breathe. The vision was black, only words echoing in your ears :

‘Such a pretty little doe with such a pretty little face.’  

‘You know I always fancied you... always thinking what you could do to me if I was your man- not that arrogant Potter boy.’

‘It’s aways the most innocent ones that are the wildest.’

His voice continued to echo in your ears meanwhile all your vision was dark. You were in a library, he was touching you, kissing you. You were frozen in your seat.

“Leave me alone!” you shouted at those malicious green eyes- slicked white hair and a grin that kept cackling. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” you screamed, feeling different hands around your but shoved yourself away from them and falling on the ground. “Don’t touch me!” you turned around on your back and started crawling away, your vision getting clearer meanwhile the cackle was still in your head. Your eyes kept themselves wide and at the boy in front.

It’s James and he was staring at you. Staring at your frightened eyes. 

You quickly got up from the floor and started backing away, feeling sickness in your stomach. “Leave me alone.” your voice trembled, your eyes looking away. “Leave...leave me...don’t touch me. Leave me. Don’t touch me. Leave me.” you kept telling to yourself and making your way to your dorm. “Leave me. Don’t touch me.” and when you were up in your dorm, you stormed into the bathroom and cleaned yourself the same day as you did when that- that monster put his hands on you, sobbing. 

And James? James was terrified and furious.

Who touched you?

[fixxofvixx]

BLOODRIGHT - JAEHWAN AU - CHAPTER 2

Hello dearies~ so I'm at home with a case of strep throat and feeling icky. I decided to go ahead and release the second chapter of jaehwan's story since the initial reaction was pretty good.

I hope you enjoy this chapter~ I'm working on all of the others so it just depends on which story the muse picks for me to finish. I hope everyone is having a good New Year so far.

Please let me know what you think~!

🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

You followed Jaehwan back to the foyer where your parents were pacing. They had their usual 'annoyed at everything' expressions on their faces until they noticed that Jaehwan was coming back. You kept back as far away as you could, hoping to avoid the eventual awkward goodbye. You also hoped that your parents didn't see your new attire. You were always instructed to wear longer sleeves by your mother because you needed to "act like a lady and a lady doesn't reveal her skin". Although, you knew the real reason for her words.

"Your Highness! I hope everything is okay! We heard something crash. We didn't want to start eating without you. After all, you have graciously taken our precious daughter in and we hope to keep a cordial relationship." Your mother looked from Jaehwan to you and you saw her gaze run over your new dress. Her eyes widened a bit but she composed herself quickly.

"Oh, you won't be eating." Jaehwan's voice had turned dark, you. noticed. It was quite different from the soft tones he'd used to talk with you.

"But, your Highness..."

"I had wanted to speak with y/n alone but the clothes she was wearing caused her to become overheated and she collasped. I had my servants bring some water and a different dress that was not so warm."

"Oh, you poor thing! I remember telling you not to wear that dress. But you had insisted! I do hope you have apologized to the Prince." Your mother over dramatically clasped her hands together and wore a look of concern. It was a look you had seen many times when she would talk to the townspeople and then gossip behind their backs when they were gone. Still, you knew the repercussions of ignoring her words.

"Y-Yes, I--"

"That is unnecessary. However, when I returned to the room I saw something rather concerning." Jaehwan turned to you and motioned for you to stand next to him. You took a deep breath to mask the fear as you moved forward. You didn't want to anger him or your parents by refusing. Once you reached him, he took your elbow and raised your arm gently. His fingers were barely there but you could feel the heavy weight of what was happening.

"I wonder if you could explain these?"

Your parents faltered a bit but then your father spoke. "Ah, yes, we should have mentioned something about that. I'm afraid our daughter is a bit rough around the edges. She tends to get into some tussles with a stable boy that we recently took in. They are always fighting. I apologize if she has been complaining to you." Your father pinned you with a stare that had you instinctively moving closer to Jaehwan.

"Yes, that's right! That boy is a bit of a problem. I assure you that we will see that he is taken care of."

You gasped suddenly, wanting to argue in defense of the boy but you stopped when you saw your mother's narrowed eyes pointed at you.

"You must think I'm a simpleton." Jaehwan spoke through gritted teeth and your parents looked at him in surprise. His body was stone still and his eyes looked as if they could spit fire.

"Of course not, Your Highness! What on Earth would give you that idea?"

"You forget that I am not human." Jaehwan released your arm and walked slowly towards your parents. His voice was calculated and menacing. You even stood in fear although his words were directed at your parents. "I am a vampire. Do you think I am not able to hear the blood that is rushing through your veins right now? Do you think I can't hear your heartbeat? Because, I can. I hear it loud and clear everytime you tell me a lie. I can hear that little pause of blood pumping through your heart. That small tell tale sign that you think it would be a good idea to tell me something that isn't the truth. I would like to inform you that bringing harm to a donor of the royal family is punishable by death."

Both of your parents gasped and then looked at you. They started towards you but Jaehwan stepped in front of them. He towered over them. He even towered over your father who you always saw as larger than life, especially when he was angry.

"Don't. She's not yours anymore, she's mine. Your existence is no longer required." Your eyes snapped up to Jaehwan when you realized that he used the word 'existence' instead of 'presence'. Your parents backed away a few steps, their faces pale and sweaty. It was a strange sight for you. "Leave before I decide to make you both into my next meal."

"Y-Yes, as you wish, Your Highness." Your father bowed and began pulling on his wife's arm to leave. Your mother, however, was a bit more stubborn.

"If I may, Your Majesty, inquire as to the matter of the compensation."

"Compensation? You mean the compensation that you received when y/n turned thirteen? That compensation? The one that you were supposed to use for y/n but instead it was sent to someone else?" You saw a look of disbelief creep over your mother's face. A look that told you she had been found out. So, Jaehwan was telling the truth. That money WAS supposed to be for you. Instead, you had received a pair of used shoes and more training. "So, yes, I will compensate you."

You mother smiled and clasped her hands around your father's in anticipation. Her joy was short-lived.

"I will compensate you with your life instead of putting you in my dungeon to be tortured endlessly until the end of your days. How would that be?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly acceptable, Your Highness." Your father bowed over and over as he dragged his wife out the door.

You took a deep breath as soon as the door closed. Everything was deathly quiet and you kept your eyes on the floor. You could barely believe everything that had happened in such a short time.

You didn't hear Jaehwan's approach but suddenly his feet were in front of you. His finger hooked under your chin and raised your head. His crimson eyes no longer held any anger and you internally sighed in relief.

"Don't lower your head in this house. You live here.....you sure as hell don't work here. You have just as much power as me in this household. You cower to no one, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"No......Jaehwan. Same power, remember? You can call me Jaehwan." When you nodded, he continued. "They're not coming back. You can live as you please here. No training. Just be yourself, alright?"

"Yes, s--.....J-Jaehwan."

"Very good."

You started to speak but stopped. How on Earth did you reverse 21 years of being trained not to speak your mind?

"Go on, I can see that you have questions."

"Can....you really hear heartbeats? You could really tell they were lying?"

"Yes, vampires have exquisite hearing. I can hear yours loud and clear. But, I didn't even have to listen to their heartbeats to know that they were lying. It was written on their faces. But that's not the only concern you have, is it? Something else is on your mind."

"I'm worried about the stable boy. My parents hate him and I would shield him from them but now I....."

You jumped when Jaehwan called for someone named Min. In an instant, the footman, who had greeted you at the door, appeared. He bowed slightly and raised his curious red eyes up to the prince.

"Go to Y/N's old house and bring the stable boy here."

"Yes, sir." Another blur and the man was gone. You looked at Jaehwan, silently questioning him.

"We have stables here and we could use another hand."

You smiled as your spirits lifted instantly. Eventually, you remembered your manners and bowed.

"Thank you so much." You squeaked when Jaehwan's hands grasped your shoulders and pulled you back upright. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were set in a line. Given all of that, he didn't look angry. His eyes still held their softness.

"I thought I told you not to do that."

"But...."

"No buts, don't lower your head. Do I need to invent some sort of contraption that keeps you from bending?"

"N-No....." You bit your lip to keep from smiling. Jaehwan's relaxed demeanor made it easy to smile but you weren't sure if you should yet.

"Good, now, are you hungry? I'm sure you must be. We'll get you something to eat and then we can talk some more. You probably have a lot of questions."

"Alright." You turned to follow Jaehwan but then noticed your bags still sitting by the front door. "Oh, I almost forgot."

You went to your bag and pulled out the box that contained the contract. You stood again and handed it to Jaehwan.

"Ah, yes, of course. Did you already read over this?" He looked very surprised and you nodded.

"Right after you sent it to our house. A messenger came last week and gave it to my mother. She said I should go ahead and sign it. I hope I did it correctly. I only had the short instructions that the messenger had brought." You held your hands together nervously, hoping you had done everything correctly. It was getting easier to speak to him but you were still nervous.

"Y/N.....I sent this to you but just to look over and read. This contract.....it's supposed to be signed after we meet. After I....." He looked really upset and you started to panic.

"I'm really sorry!! My mother said the messenger left strict instructions that we do this before we come. She said I wouldn't be allowed to stay if I didn't sign. I really am sorry." Tears threatened your eyes again and you kicked yourself for ruining yet another thing on your first day here. At this rate, you'd be back in your old bed by sundown.

"It's not you, y/n. You had no idea. My messenger was Min and he wouldn't have said that. I suspect that it was your mother's decision. I was supposed to give you the choice."

"Choice?"

"Yes, you have the right to refuse to be my donor. It's not mandatory. The choice lies solely with you. I'm not......I don't have the power to reverse it. I'm so sorry."

"That's okay," you tried to smile, "I was always told I had no choice so I came to terms with it a long time ago. I don't really have any other options anyway. You.....You are a good person, I think. So, it's okay."

"Now, I really regret letting your parents leave."

"D-Do you really have a dungeon?"

"No....but I would make one just for them."

[kristannarubbish]

learn to do it (chapter 4)

summary: princess diaries but make it norway + kristanna

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

a/n: the prospect park movie night is a real thing!!! if u ever find urself in nyc (when there isn’t a pandemic) it is a great summer night plan

“So, I guess the date went well, considering you did not come home until midnight,” Olaf teased in the June morning sunlight that was streaming into their shoebox kitchen. 

Rubbing her eyes, Anna groaned, but it sounded a tad lighter than usual. “It did,” she yawned, “it went really well.” She smiled to herself as she dug in their freezer for some toaster waffles.

“That makes me happy. Finally have someone to get some of this girl off of my hands,” he chuckled while making some scrambled eggs. 

“Oh don’t be rude,” Anna sneered. She had to squeeze past him to get to the toaster.

Then, there was a moment of silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sizzling of the pan. Olaf treaded lightly, “Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” 

“You know, the whole crown princess thing?”

“Oh, right. That.”

“Well, did you?”

“Of course not! I’m probably going to say no anyway.”

“What?!” Olaf turned to her quickly with a very confused look on his face. “You aren’t even going to consider it?”

“Of course not. I’m not going to turn my whole life upside down,” Anna said with a slight chuckle at the end. She thought Olaf was being ridiculous.

“Anna, you could be a queen. Royalty! Like real royalty!”

“I understand that. But I can’t be a queen, I can barely get out of the door in time for work!”

“Anna, that doesn’t mean you aren’t intelligent, or charismatic or any of the other awesome things you have to offer.”

“I know b-”

Olaf cut her off. “No buts. You should try.”

Anna had gotten very flustered at this point. She wasn’t exactly angry but she couldn’t see how he thought this was a rational idea. I have a whole life here, a job, a nice apartment, and a possible boyfriend. What else could I want? 

“Why?” She huffed.

“Because this would never happen to anyone else Anna. I can’t even call it once in a lifetime because it’s more like once in a million lifetimes. Don’t you at least want to see what it is like? Give it a test run?” Olaf tried to explain his rationalization to her.

“I don’t think you can just give being a princess a test run,” Anna put air quotes around the last part and rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you can,” he suggested.

“What?” she cocked an eyebrow at him.

“All I’m saying is you should ask the queen if she is willing to let her try to train you, and if you hate it? Then you don’t have to become princess and everything will go back to normal. It’s only fair if she expected you to do all of this so quickly,” Olaf stated as he handed her a plate of eggs.

Anna’s mouth was agape. She didn’t even think of somewhere in the middle. She just assumed that it was one or the other. “I didn’t even think of that,” she breathed.

************************************

On her way up to the penthouse in the secret elevator with the stoic Mattias once again, Anna tried cracking a joke to lighten the mood between them.

“Why did the sad ghost take the elevator?” Anna looked up at the man inquisitively. 

“To lift his spirit?” Mattias cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Huh. I really thought that one was original.”

“Not my first elevator ride, Ms. Anderson.”

The doors opened to once again reveal the penthouse that looked like a condensed Palace of Versailles. From the golden pillars to the painted ceilings, Anna was sure she had seen something just like this in a history textbook. She was sure if she was ever here often, if Queen Sonja did agree to her compromise, she would not mind being here often.

Anna had made sure to dress up this time. It was later the same day, so after another pep talk from herself in the mirror on how “she could do this” and a set of what Olaf called “warrior faces”, she made sure to get dressed nicely. She was wearing a kiwi green sundress with gold jewelry, her hair in a braid going around the back of her head and natural makeup. With a tiny bit of winged liner of course, because it made her feel powerful.

When the woman from last time saw her, she smiled just as she did before, “Right in here Ms. Anderson.”

This time, when Anna sat down for tea she did not slouch to make herself smaller. She sat with a straight back. She was still nervous, but she had intentions this time. When these things were on her terms, she felt way better about them. She just hoped they would stay that way.

Anna still had not processed all of the terrifying things the queen had told her about yesterday, but she had a feeling that a way she could slowly unpack all of these falsehoods about her entire life would be by seeing what her life could have been like if the car crash never happened.

So, even if she ultimately decided not to be princess, she could at least have a road map of what to do next. She wants to know who she could have been and could still be. 

Interrupting her thoughts, Queen Sonja walked in through the glittering golden doors. Anna stood up, remembering her small bit of etiquette after last time. 

“Your majesty,” the younger woman smiled slightly, hoping that the queen would approve of her more presentable self.

“Anna,” Queen Sonja said lightly, inspecting her again. “I’m glad to see your back so soon. You may sit.” The women sat across from each other in silence for a moment as china was clinked together and tea was poured.

“I came with a proposition,” Anna announced, reminding herself to sit with her back straight up. The foreign feeling reminded her of a version of herself she did not recognize yet.

“Oh?” the blonde woman raised an eyebrow.

“I would like to train to become a princess, but only if I am allowed to decide if I want to assume the role by the end. I can ask out at any time,” she made sure her words were filled with strength like the queen’s had been, so there was no room for negotiation.

Queen Sonja’s eyes widened and she looked out the window they were sitting next to. The endless view of Central Park served as the perfect picture that was framed by the tall window’s antique bordering. Anna got a little nervous at her silence.

“Very well, Anna. I agree to your… compromise of sorts,” the girl’s newfound grandmother looked back at her with a smile. Something she hadn’t seen yet.

“Really?” Anna’s face lit up. “Oh my gosh, thank you! This is so great!”

“Yes, and you already passed lesson one,” the older woman sipped her tea.

“What’s that?”

“Talking in a way while making a deal so there is no room for compromise,” Queen Sonja’s face went into a full fledged smile.

**************************

Anna had felt like she was walking on air. She had just gotten exactly what she wanted from a queen. The older woman said they would train Anna every Monday through Friday, with a few royal events in the city to serve as checkpoints. They would work together through the end of September, when the Queen was going back to Arendelle, and Anna would make her decision then.

That night at work, things only got better for Anna.

Before the evening rush started, Kristoff tapped her on the shoulder while she was making sets of forks and knives in napkins. She jumped a little, but then she smiled when she turned around and saw him.

“H-Hey Anna,” Kristoff still fumbled his words a little, not fully recovering from their romantic evening from the night before. His cheeks flushed.

“Hey Kris, uh.. What’s up?” 

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go to this thing tomorrow? It’s Prospect Park tomorrow night, like a movie picnic thing. We can pack a basket and I’ll bring the blanket if you want. But, only if you want to-” the man was rambling, which was a rarity, but he was grateful she cut him off.

“Kris, that sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to.”

“Great,” that damn high pitch was back again, so he cleared his throat, “I’ll see you on your doorstep at 7?”

“I’ll be there,” Anna planted a soft kiss on his cheek and they both got very flustered. After some glances, they both got back to work.

Throughout the night, lot’s of glances were stolen between the two. Anna’s job didn’t even really entail her coming to the kitchen often, but she took every chance she had to do so tonight.

Whenever anyone else needed to go back to the kitchen who was working the house, she did it for them. And everytime she did Anna made sure to smile at Kristoff. Sometimes he saw her, sometimes he didn’t. Which she eventually did feel guilty for because while he was cutting celery, he accidentally cut his finger. Anna would make up for it tomorrow.

The next day the both of them packed their favorite snacks. Kristoff made his at home, and Anna tried to bake cookies but thought they weren’t good enough, so she ended up buying junk food from the papi store on her block. This made her feel guilty, like she was cheating in the game of picnic basket packing, but she got over it. She was sure that the story of almost setting her apartment on fire twice would be endearing enough to make up for it. Maybe these unfortunate cookies could even lead to another date. He could say something like, “I’ll teach you how, if you want.” And of course I would say yes, hopefully not looking like a fucking tomato while I do.

Interrupting her daydream, Anna’s phone buzzed. Kristoff was waiting outside. She stuck her head out of her bedroom window that was wide open to let the summer evening breeze flow through her room. “I’ll be right down!” She yelled from 3 stories up. Kristoff squinted up at her and smiled broadly. 

In a few seconds, after sliding on her white sneakers, Anna was in front of the blonde’s eyes. Kristoff swore she looked more beautiful every time he saw her, if that was even possible. They both looked at each others baskets in confusion.

“I th-” both of the lovebirds started at the same time. They chuckled. They both thought they were the ones responsible for the snacks.

“I don’t know about you, but I have never been one to be angry at more snacks,” Anna giggled and it sounded like a song. 

Kristoff smiled once again, “I’ll take your basket if you want.”

“No, I can carry it, but your chivalry does not go unnoticed.”

“Well, I try my best.”

“Your best is better than any other kind imaginable,” she flirted. His cheeks flushed red. Anna’s great mood was making her more bold than normal.

“Oh- uh, thank you. Should we get going?” he stammered. Anna nodded.

The walk was beautiful. The skyscrapers were illuminated by yellow light, turning a concrete jungle into sunset paradise. 

Anna had told him about how much better she was feeling and he told her how happy that made him. Kristoff told her all of the funny things Sven did for months trying to get him to ask her out, though it was a bit embarrassing. She didn’t think it was though, she said it was cute. While sitting in the green park, they showed each other what they brought.

Kristoff took a mini chocolate cake out of his bag. “I know how much you like chocolate cake at the restaurant, so I made you it with my own twist.” Anna’s face lit up, “Oh you did not have to do that!”

He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks turned pink, “I hope you like it.”

“Kris, everything you make is amazing. I doubt I will not like it,” she rested her hand on top of his hesitantly. Their fingers curled together and they averted each other's eyes.

“This makes me feel bad about my bad attempt at baking.” Anna did not release his hand, but used the other to take out her cookies.

“Oh, they can’t be that bad. Let me try one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll tell you what I think from a chef’s perspective.” He mocked himself on the last two words and Anna laughed as she handed him a chocolate chip cookie. He put it in his mouth and made a grimace, but put on a fake smile.

“Anna these are…”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I feel bad,” he smiled lopsidedly. Anna burst into a fit of laughter, not letting go of his hand, pulling their union to her chest. He began to laugh as well. She keeled over onto their purple blanket that Kristoff had borrowed from Sven.

“It’s okay that these are..” Kristoff said between laughs, “not the best. I can teach you how to make the best ones ever, if you want.”

Anna smiled sweetly, “That’s exactly what I thought you would say.”

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Fourteen: Simplicity

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Fourteen: Simplicity

Note: I'd love to know what you all think of the beach ark so far! I'm having a blast writing it, so I hope you've enjoyed it so far!

(-~-)

A hush fell over the quaint seaside sitting area that the pair found themselves under as they resigned themselves to silence, their minds and hearts heavy from the matter at hand. As the salty mist provided by the bay coated the pair in much needed moisture to help combat the sun's blistering rays, a gentle breeze picked up and shook the ancient tree they sat under. There was a certain level of peace and privacy that their surroundings provided them that they would be hard pressed to locate elsewhere, especially considering their proximity to the water. So they took the opportunity to think and clear their heads, safe from the prying eyes of the world around them.

Vergil stood with his back against the tree, his arms wrapped around himself as he pondered his next move. He was not fond of making promises that he couldn't keep, and as such, made a point not to do so. But in truth, he had no idea where to start looking for Vivienne. That trail had gone cold over two decades prior. He actually had more of an idea where Nero's mother might be than anything else, and even that was a longshot. The eldest Son of Sparda would need more information to work off of than he currently possessed if he hoped to actually achieve something worth wild.

This was going to be quite the undertaking.

Over on the bench just a yard or so away, V sat with his elbows against the tops of his thighs, his chin pressed into his cupped palms and he studied the ground in silence. He was far from used to being at such a profound loss for words. With his mastery of the english language notwithstanding, V was proficient in the art of speech despite his antisocial tendencies. So to have absolutely no idea what to say for several minutes on end was rather disconcerting to the young summoner. But despite that, he was determined to do something about that. He just had to sift through the murky pool in his mind and locate the particular topic he wished to discuss with his wayward father. That was proving to be quite the challenge however. And so he failed to progress any further.

The lack of diction between them dragged on for several agonizing minutes before one of them finally found the words to express anything close to what they were thinking about. If there was one thing they shared in that moment, it was a distinct lack of knowledge as to where to start the conversation they both knew they needed to have. V's mother's whereabouts were indeed important, but there was another matter they needed to get to the core of.

"You've grown quite again," Vergil said with an inaudible sigh, now sure that this might be one of the only aspects of his son's personality that caused him irritation. Testing the waters with his eldest child was not something he desired to do, but he was going to do so regardless. " Clearly you have something more you wish to discuss. I figured as much when I agreed to speak with you on these matters. Sugarcoating your intentions will get you nowhere. And I suggest you make haste. I suspect we will soon be missed."

V leaned in further towards the ground before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes with the same lack of urgency he his respiratory process possessed. A part of him had waited a lifetime to ask Vergil this, but he'd never been able to make his vocal cords produce the necessary sounds required to say what needed to be said. Perhaps a part of him was worried that Vergil might be insulted? That he might leave him to his devices again? It was a strange hell that V inhabited where he wanted as little involvement with his father as possible, while simultaneously wanting nothing more than to speak with him and then harboring the desire to make him suffer as he had made him suffer in tandem with those same feelings. It boiled down to a situation where he had no idea what emotions and impulses to actually act on, it the metaphysical war of attrition wagering within him kept him at a stalemate that he had a difficult time bypassing. There were times when his entire existence felt like a cruel joke, and this was one of them.

"... Do you have any idea what it's like to wait for someone to return every day for your entire life only to finally encounter them and immediately be tossed aside?" For perhaps the first time ever, V made direct eye contact with Vergil as he spoke to him. There was a certain fire that flickered in his eyes, indicating to Vergil that he was being quite serious." I am unsure as to whether or not I possess the capacity to forgive something like that, but a part of me attempts to every time that I am near you. I have yet to succeed. And I have no meaningful answer as to why that is. Maybe you can… enlighten me."

The eldest Son of Sparda had to do a mental doubletake to assess whether or not he was talking to his normally non confrontational offspring. To be entirely honest, that was the sort of blunt, no nonsense response that he expected to receive from his youngest child. Being told by V that he wasn't sure he could ever forgive him was as unexpected as it was brutal and crushing, and he wasn't entirely surprised or sure as to why that cut him so deeply. He had assumed as much in the case of both of his sons. But when it came to his classically inclined child, nothing was ever simple, not least his feelings towards him. V had been the subject or motivation behind many of his shortcomings over the last few decades, but that was to no fault of his own. He had been an autonomous being, going about his own life and perseverance in spite of his own struggles. Vergil would never sink low enough to pin the blame on him for his own decisions. But he would be lying if he said he didn't contribute to Vergil's motivation to do some of the foolish things he had done. At this point, he could only hope that V was still willing to give him the chance to not be the man he already assumed he was. 

He had to show him that he was not beyond redemption. 

But how to do that when he had been largely responsible for so much of the evil and pain inflicted upon him over the years? Where to start?

Vergil allowed his arms to fall back down against his sides, his posture shifting as he stepped away from the tree and migrated over to the opposite end of the bench where the young summoner currently sat. There couldn't have been more than five feet between them, a fact that V seemed to silently note as he looked down towards the ground in an effort to avoid the frustration  and anxiety that was threatening to penetrate the very core of his being. He looked relatively calm and collected on the outside, but he was practically screaming on the inside. And Vergil could tell that just by looking at him, a fact that V was aware of but was unable to reconcile. He both loved and hated this facet of his father's personality. Vergil was very good at reading him. Maybe too much for his own good.

"You have no incentive to do so," Vergil said quietly, his voice trailing off as he made an effort to not betray the internal conflict surging within him. He suddenly felt an immense desire to kill something. He would have to find something to occupy his time this evening." Let me give you one. I owe that to both of you, I suppose."

As he spoke, Vergil's gaze traveled to the side slightly. The distant look in his eyes told V everything he needed to know in regards to who he was referring to. The younger white haired descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda leaned in and locked eyes with his father in an attempt to drive his point home. There would be no mistaking his intentions.

"Then prove that to me. I believe in the actions of those around me, not the empty promises they fail to keep" V said firmly, his temperament unwavering and his gaze unflinching. For a brief moment, Vergil knew what it was like for other people when they spoke to him. It was like looking in a mirror, and he wasn't sure he liked what he saw there; what he'd left there. V's gaze cut through him like a plasma cutter through soft steel, never relenting. He knew definitively that this was the only chance V was capable of giving him, and that it was a leap of faith that he didn't make lightly. His son was choosing to take him at his word; to trust him unconditionally. That was not something he could just push aside and hope to achieve at his leisure. Whatever V asked of him was now a priority.

"Very well, then. Tell me what you want from me. What are you asking me to do?" Vergil said, returning the intensity that V was inadvertently sending him. There was no hostility present in their exchange, only the pain that came from the vulnerability and trust they were attempting to convey to one another.

For a moment, V looked away, blinking heavily as if flinching away from what it was he wished to say. After a moment of looking idly at the traffic to the left side of them, a sad, almost pained smile crossed his face. It was a fleeting and fragile thing, nearly imperceptible and small. But it carried the weight of a lifetime of suffering with it. Vergil couldn't help but wonder what weighed so heavily upon V's consciousness; what skellingtons slumbered in the dark recesses of his mind. Anyone who looked him in the eyes could see the truth in the pain that lingered in them. Perhaps that was why he avoided eye contact with others. After all, the eyes were the windows to the soul. And the soul that Vergil caught a glimpse of everytime he looked into them was one that had suffered enough in the short time that it had existed to last a lifetime. He would do what he could to mend that. That was what he was supposed to do. And that's what his father would have done if their positions were switched. He would honor the example set before him and rectify the mistakes of his past, even if he was just doing so in the smallest of ways.

"Great things are done when men and mountains meet." 

Their favorite poet had said that once. How right he had been.

"... I want the same thing now that I've wanted from you my entire life," V locked eyes with him again, the green orbs now slightly glossier than they had been mere moments ago. He had lost none of his intensity, something he shared with both of his parents," I just want you to care that I exist. I think Nero would appreciate that as well. Don't push us aside. As it stands, you're the only parent we have. Treat us like we matter to you. I've never experienced that, and I'm willing to bet that Nero hasn't either. Can you do that?"

Vergil nodded so slightly that it was almost totally missable, but V picked up upon it. Although brief in the grand scheme of things, he and Dante had known the love of their parents and had spent meaningful time with them. But be it intentionally or not, he had deprived both of his sons the care and attention they deserved from him. He could not speak for the motivations both of their mothers had possessed when they had chosen to remove themselves from their lives, but he could speak for himself. And he could admit that he should have been there. A part of him could care less if he'd known that Nero existed or not. Those were precious moments that he would never get to experience with them. He couldn't get them back, but he could stop squandering the opportunity that he currently possessed.

"Yes. Yes, I could. "How fortunate that the one thing V seemed to want from him was the one thing he had already planned to give him." I will speak with Nero. We have much to discuss. In the meantime, we should join the others. Dante will soon devize some convoluted plan to disturb us if we do not. There are too many witnesses for me to enact a proper revenge plot if he does so, and I have no plans to forfeit victory to him."

V nodded. Vergil was more than likely correct. He would go with him to join the others. His butt was starting to get sore from sitting on the slats on the bench anyway.

(-~-)

A wave of disbelief passed over the girls as Kyrie stood before them. Patty gaped, her hands clasped together and pulled tightly against her chest as she bobbed up and down in place. The young blond was absolutely thrilled to death by what they had just accomplished. Nico stood next to her, shaking her head in quiet disbelief. A part of her was admittedly irritated that she didn't have some sort of camera that she could use to document this priceless moment for all eternity, but she was more than a little bit sure that Kyrie was happy that wasn't the case. There could be no proof that she had ever done this. Rumors were enough.

Lady and Trish were just as shocked as their cohorts, but Trish just stared in disbelief and shock while Lady cackled like an immature schoolgirl. They were so angry that they hadn't dragged Nero along for this little shopping trip. But, to be fair, there was no way that they would have gotten Kyrie into such a sexy little number with him present. The poor girl already looked like she was going to drop dead from shock and anxiety just standing in the store dressing room.

"Well… h-how do I l-look everyone? Do I look okay?" She asked meekly, too embarrassed and put off by all the staring eyes to really know how to process their feedback. She wasn't accustomed to wearing a swimsuit, let alone a halter top styled one. Sparda above, she had to be out of her mind for agreeing to do this.

"You have to wear that to the beach, Kyrie," Lady said, tipping her sunglasses. The young brunette looked absolutely adorable in the simple blue and white polka dot swimsuit, and they would die before they missed the opportunity to knock the wind and the willpower out of Nero's body. Quite possibly his legs, too. He would drop dead at the sight of her.

"You look adorable. Lady is right." Trish said, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. She could tell that the young songstress needed reassurance. She wasn't as confident as them when it came to these sorts of things. A surefire side effect of her upbringing and environment. While things were becoming more modern and less stuffy in Fortuna, it was a slow battle that would take years to see meaningful progress. Everyone was too stuck in their ways for immediate change. 

Kyrie blushed harder. She wasn't used to being in anything that wasn't a long sleeve. She knew that how she was reacting was probably silly, but she simply couldn't help herself. As she considered the kind words of her companions, Patty pulled the ponytail holder off of her own hair and allowed her hair to fall down against her shoulders and back. She then pulled Kyrie's hair up into a messy bun and bound it into place, stepping back to admire her work. The girls all giggled like teenage cheerleaders in a cheesy sitcom and ushered the young brunette over to a mirror that was near to them, eager to show her just how cute she looked in the outfit they had picked out for her. She took a moment to adjust the ruffle one piece bathing suite and fix her hair slightly before putting on a brave face and turning back towards her friends. She trusted their judgement. They would never do something unbecoming to her. It wasn't in them.

"Do… Do you really think I look good in this?" She asked earnestly, allowing her hands to fall down against her sides before taking a deep breath. Kyrie had to admit that a part of her did in fact find the article of clothing they'd picked out for her adorable, but she wasn't sure if it was for her. It seemed like something that would look better on any of the other girls she was with. After all, wasn't she too… plain for something like this? She didn't have patty's golden blonde hair, Lady's stunning heterochromia, or Trish's… well, everything. And Then there was Nico. As far as she was concerned, everything about her meant that something like this was better suited for her. She had tattoos after all. She wasn't bashful about displaying her art to the world around her. Kyrie wasn't sure if she fit into this kind of group or this kind of outfit, even if Nero never shut up about how wonderful and lovely she was. She just didn't know what all these beautiful people saw in her.

The group standing before her seemed to clue into her apprehension. Nico wrapped her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly. "Now you listen here, lil missy. You're just as cute as the rest of us, and don't ya dare think otherwise!"

Patty planted her hands on her hips firmly, nodding in approval. Her face was as serious as it was compassionate. "I agree with Nico, Kyrie! You're wonderful! Why do you think we love to hang out with you so much, you silly nilly? We all see how pretty you are. Every single one of us. There's different types of pretty, you know? Don't compare yourself to us. Just be you, Kyrie! You're great already!"

Kyrie blinked away the moisture that had begun to form in her large brown doe eyes, flustered by the compliments and kindness she was being showered in. Her friends were right! She was pretty, and so was the outfit they had picked out for her! She was going to show it to Nero, or die trying. With a determined nod, she smiled, putting on a brave face. She was going to have fun on this vacation, and no one was going to stop her. And if they did, she had a posse comprised of the toughest girls around to back her up. It was going to be okay.

"You know what… your right! I do look pretty," Kyrie beamed brightly, her smile returning as she nodded in conformation," Let's buy it. I can't wait to show it to Nero and see what he thinks!"

The girls nodded and ushered her towards the counter before she could come to her senses. They were positive they couldn't talk her into this a second time, so there was no room for error. They had to get a receipt in their hands before she snapped out of whatever spell she had just fallen under, and get her outside in the sand. Time was of the essence.

(-~-)

I hope you all enjoyed this continuation of what was going on in the last chapter! Kyrie needed a little pick me up with other girls, damn it! She never gets to feel pretty XD Stay safe out there, and I'll see you on Friday! I look forward to reading your thoughts on things so far! You're all wonderful!

[themadlostgirl]

A New Game

*We got requests up in here tonight!*

Prompt: Felix & Peter compete over Y/N

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: none

Peter scanned the camp for Y/N. He finally spotted her talking with Felix. Laughing. Since when did Felix ever smile that big? It wasn’t the grin Peter was used to seeing on his second command. It was a lot...dopier. And Y/N...was she biting her lip? Touching his arm? Is this flirting? Are they flirting? Hell no!

“Felix!” Peter shouted for him. Felix’s dumb dopey smile dropped from his face, “A word.”

Felix stalked over to Peter, “You shouted?”

“What uh…” he glanced behind Felix at Y/N again. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Who? Y/N?”

“Yeah. Y/N.”

“Nothing. We were joking around.” Felix gripped his club tighter, “Can I not talk to my friends now?”

“Joking...certainly looked like a joke. You were practically drooling on her.”

“What?”

“I’m not an idiot, Felix. You like her, don’t you?”

“Is there a problem if I do?”

“Not a problem. I just have a word of advice for you. It will never lead to anything. Not when she has me.”

“Are you two…?”

“Not officially or anything. But you see that it wouldn’t even be a choice. I’ve known her longer, I’m better friends with her, I didn’t immediately hate her when she first came to the island.”

“Oh? Is that how it is? It doesn’t matter that I make her laugh, I’m her first choice for a partner when we play games or do training, or how close we’ve gotten since we became friends?”

“I make her laugh plenty and the only reason she chooses you is because she can’t choose me.”

“The both of you sound pathetic to me.” the boys backed off. Neither had heard Devin approach. “It’s just Y/N. What are you two getting into such a tizzy about?”

“Who asked you?” Felix sneered.

“No one. But I am guessing that you two don’t want Y/N to know that you are fighting over her. Am I right?”

“What do you want in exchange for your silence?” Peter knew exactly where this was heading. Devin was one of Y/N’s closest friends and he wouldn’t just keep something like this to himself.

“One of you make a move. I am sick of watching you two fall over yourselves pining after her. It’s distracting to not only you but the rest of the camp. How are we supposed to look to our leader and his second in command when they trip up everytime our Lost Girl smiles at them?”

Felix and Peter looked at one another. Maybe they had gotten a little soft just thinking about their Lost Girl. Either one of them needed to step up or they could have an uprising on their hands. The only question was, which one? Peter knew they were both too stubborn to bow out gracefully. That’s even on the assumption that Y/N would even want to be with one of them. At the end of the day it was her decision.

“How do we do this?” Felix asked.

“A game. How else?”

~~~

This week has been...strange.

My days went on as they usually do. Training, playing, and hunting with the Lost Boys. But lately my routine was being interrupted with these moments with Peter and Felix. Not bad moments mind you. In fact they were rather sweet. I don’t think that’s a word I could have used for those boys before this week.

Peter had woken me up early the one morning and took me to the top of the Dead Man’s Peak to watch the sunrise over the island. All the soft colors and golden glow of the sun. It was beautiful.

That same afternoon Felix and I paired for a piggyback race with another group of boys. I should have known his lanky legs would have been our downfall. He tripped over a root sending us both hurtling towards the ground. He caught me though so that he took most of the impact. There we were sprawled on the ground with Felix cradling me so gently.

That night Peter pulled me into a dance around the fire. We had been pressed so close together and the way he was looked at me was so soft. For a moment I thought he may kiss me. I almost wanted him to.

I had a moment similar with Felix. We were tracking a boar for dinner one evening and the boar charged me. I dodged out of the way but landed badly and ended up hurting myself pretty badly. Felix took me aside and wrapped my hurt ankle and dabbed at the cut on my forehead. His hands were rough but I didn’t mind. If the boar hadn’t circled back around I don’t know what may have happened next.

And so the week went on. I wasn’t sure what the switch was but I was seeing them in a new light. I liked them both but I couldn’t exactly have them both. How do I choose between two great guys? They have their upsides and downsides.

They’re both great fun and can make me laugh. Not to mention they both look incredibly attractive. Peter’s got that mischievous, cocky stride and smirks that make my heart race. Felix is all tall with a lopsided grin that promises danger and fun.

Outside of their looks they can both be very kind individuals when they want to be. Felix is very attentive and goes to lengths to make sure that all is well. Peter cares but also knows when to let me take care of myself when I want to.

If I had to find fault in anything it was that Felix, while attentive and fun, isn’t very expressive with his feelings and intentions. It feels like he treats me as a good friend more than he would as something more. If I ever want to be close to him then I have to prod at him for it. Even with this week he didn’t seem all that comfortable showing any kind of affection when we weren’t completely alone.

As with Peter he makes his intentions more clear and has no problem letting me know that he wants more out of our relationship. But there is a part of him that is never truly honest. Whenever we’re together I’m happy but I can’t help but wonder if he’s keeping something from me or lying. I feel more like a pawn on his chessboard than the queen he insists I am.

It was a lot to think about. Too much for my mind alone to handle. After training the one day I grabbed Devin and hauled him away from the other’s for a chat. He listened intently as I prattled on about my problems.

“I know you probably don’t care but I needed someone to talk to about this.” I sighed, “What do you think I should do?”

“Normally I would help you but I can’t in this instance.” Devin gave me a sympathetic look.

“What? Why not?” I huffed. I know that this may be an awkward subject but Devin is my best friend! He should have something to say at least.

“It’ll affect the competition.” he shrugged.

“What competition?” I glared at Devin.

He muttered some obscenities under his breath. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him closer, “Tell me what you know or I will beat it out of you.”

“Alright, calm down,” He released my grip on his shirt, “Pan and Felix are having a competition over who gets to be with you. Whoever gets to make you swoon first is the winner.”

“WHAT!”

“I think you should be flattered. There’s two guys that like you enough to feel the need to fight over you.” Devin started to inch away, “Honestly I don’t see the mass appeal of you but that’s just me.”

I rubbed my temples trying to banish the migraine I could feel settling in. “You are such an asshole. Remind me why we’re friends.” I grumbled.

“Cause I’m apparently the one guy on the island that doesn’t want to put his dick in you.” I silenced Devin with another glare.

“As insulting as this idea of theirs is I would like to be with one of them. Lord only knows why. But I don’t want to be a prize in their dumb game.” I started pacing trying to alleviate the festering bloodlust building up inside me.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“They’re gonna play my game from now on and there will be no survivors.” I shot back towards camp. A plan already hatching in my head.

~~~

“Wha…” Peter sat up with a groan. He looked around and saw Felix laying down across from him. “Felix,” he kicked at him, “Felix, wake up.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Felix jolted awake, “What happened? Where are we?”

“I’m not sure.” Peter racked his brain trying to remember how they ended up here. Everything was normal. Peter was at the camp talking to Devin and then Y/N showed up with an apple for him. Then nothing. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Walking through the jungle, Y/N popped out of nowhere and offered me an apple. That’s it.”

“She offered you an apple too?”

“Hello boys,” Y/N’s voice drew them to a point in one of the surrounding trees where she sat with a smile that sent alarm bells blaring in Peter’s head. “Sorry about drugging you via fruit but I wanted this to be as hassle free as I could get it. Having a nice time?”

“Y/N, dearest, what’s happening?” Felix asked.

“A little birdie told me that you two were playing a game.” she smirked and the blood drained out of Peter and Felix’s faces. “Thing is it sounds like a pretty dull game. I have a much better one in mind.”

“Whatever you are thinking--”

“Peter, don’t talk. I’m about to explain the game.” she shushed him. “Thanks to a little spell book I found in Peter’s tent and some help from Devin I have created an impenetrable ring around the two of you. If you try to leave it will act as a wall. To get out you must play the game.”

“And what is the game?”

“Well, the two of you want to fight over me? Then fight over me. I was thinking to the death but after the bloodlust cleared I decided on good old fashioned beat the other into submission.”

“Seems unfair since one of us has magic,” Peter reminded her.

“I know, that’s why I also made the circle magic dampening. No spells are gonna work in there.” she propped her feet up and pulled out a canteen, ��So on my mark you two go at it.”

“And then whoever is left standing gets to be with you?”

“Nope,” she smirked, “You get to fight me. If you win that fight then you can call yourself mine.”

Peter and Felix looked between themselves. This is not what they had in mind when they started this competition. Felix took a deep breath and looked to Peter. “You ready to do this?”

“Not like we have much of a choice now, do we?” Peter planted himself into a fighting stance. Felix did the same.

“Enough chit chat,” Y/N called, “Ready, set, fight!”

---

(Part 2)

[allthephils]

Spells and Other Life Skills

Or How Dan and Phil Got Their TV Back

A cursed diamond is not forever, hopefully.

Word count: 2580 Rated G (Tiny mention of blood, magic)

This was written for @phanfictionevents telephone event. I wrote the last bit and the first two parts were written by @mctaetae613 and @itsmyusualphannie !

Read on AO3

“Uh, Phil?”

Dan’s voice made the raven-haired man look up from his laptop’s screen. His gaze fell upon his partner, who had a very confused expression on. Daniel was currently staring intently at their dining table with one of his eyebrows raised. Philip followed the brunette’s gaze towards the table. His whole face fell as he noticed what was missing.

“Where’d it go?” Dan asked as he immediately turned to look at Phil. The older man cowered under his furious glare. “Phil, where’d it go?”

Phil gulped, already imagining what was yet to come. Still, he couldn’t give up so quickly. He forced out a smile, pushing his tongue through his teeth as he always did, only this time he did it consciously. “What do you mean, Dan?” He squeaked out. “I left it there as soon as we got home. Uh, maybe it moved?”

The brunette let out a long, defeated sigh as he set his laptop down on their couch. He tended to move his arms around when he talked, and he really didn’t feel like letting his prized possession fall due to his antics. “It’s an inanimate object. It shouldn’t be able to move on its own, you do realize?”

“Well,” Phil said as he slowly closed his laptop. A grimace replaced his expression as he could already listened to Dan’s panicked screams. “The diamond…”

“I’ve known you for nearly ten years now, Lester, don’t you dare think I don’t know what that face means.” Dan slowly approached the pale man, his hands on his hips as he did so. “What the fuck are you hiding?”

Phil felt his shoulders rising and his whole body sinking down into their couch as Daniel’s voice got progressively louder. He scrunched up his eyes, raised his hands to cover his face, and squeaked out his response. “It might’ve been haunted!”

The raven-haired man waited for his partner to react. Perhaps a scream, a shoe thrown at him, a defeated sigh, or just any reaction in general. So, when no reaction was ever delivered, Phil opened his eyes and peered through the minimal space between his fingers. He was only met with an open-mouthed, very amused looking Dan. The brunette’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he tried to come up with a reply.

“Haunted?” Dan was able to make out after a split second of stuttering and shaking his head. His arms stretched towards Phil, his hands threatening to strangle him before he brought them down on the coffee table standing in their living room. “Haunted, Philip Lester? Have you not learnt a single thing after all we’ve been through?”

Phil grimaced at the sharp crack of the wood beneath the brunette’s hand. He stood up as his partner seemed to constantly keep muttering something under his breath. His right hand slowly settled down on Dan’s shoulder. The other man whipped around, his eyes carrying the clear message of murder as he glared at him. “Come on, Dan,” He said, his eyes big and pleading. “We’ve dealt with things that are way wor––”

The sudden snap of fingers and a hand resting on his own shoulder made Phil stop mid-sentence. His eyes travelled up to Dan’s sudden face of relief and realization.

“That’s it!” The brunette exclaimed as his free hand pointed at the dining table, where the diamond was supposed to be. “That has to be it, Phil!”

“That has to be it? I don’t think we’re quite on th––”

“How long have we had that diamond around for?” Dan asked, rudely cutting Phil off as he continued to go on a frantic rant. “About a month maybe? How long have we been researching about it? Holy fuck that explains so much…”

Phil watched his partner take a couple of steps away from him, his arms waving around excitedly as an expression of pure bliss, relief, and happiness settled on his features. He remained static as he watched his partner scream out in victory and curse half the deities they knew of. The raven-haired man wondered if it would be prudent of him to assume that Dan had finally lost his mind.

“You still don’t get it?” Daniel’s words had come out as a laugh rather than actual words. He took two long strides before standing in front of his partner. His hands held onto the other man’s shoulders as he shook him for a second. “Just think about it, Lester, how has the past month gone for us?”

“Not good?” Phil replied, his words separated by a very long (and very confused) pause.

“It’s been shit!” Dan said as his voice completely drowned Phil’s. “Just think about it for a second. So much has gone down, and it’s all happened with that fucking diamond here.”

Philip ran over the idea in his head. He didn’t have to do much thinking; it seemed like all the horrible things that had happened to them were bound to the diamond in one way or another. He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip as he came to a conclusion.

“So, you think everything that’s been going on has to do with the diamond? Like we set it off or something?”

“Yes!” The brunette replied. His hands cupped Phil’s cheeks as he pulled him in for a short, adrenaline-filled kiss. “Phil Lester, you’re a genius!”

The raven-haired man let out a laugh as he pulled his partner in for another kiss. He let out a laugh as he finally understood the cause of Dan’s euphoria. The past month had been absolute shit for the both of them. From their TV falling from its stand to losing their passports to getting lost in a completely different country. Everytime something particularly bad happened, the diamond was present.

“If the diamond’s really the cause of everything that’s happened,” Philip said, his smile slowly melting away as a sudden realization hit. “What are we going to do about it?”

Dan’s eyes narrowed as he considered what they were going to do. “Hmm,” he said. “Well.” With another glance at the still-empty coffee table, he nodded decisively. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to find that fucking diamond and we’re going to destroy it with whatever means necessary?”

“Whatever means necessary?” Phil echoed dubiously. He never liked it when Dan said those words. With a terrifying amount of power, though limited, literally at their fingertips, that wasn’t Phil’s favourite thing to hear.

“Yes,” said Dan. He pursed his lips in determination. “All right, let’s find the diamond. I don’t care whether you lost it or not - ”

“It moved itself!” Phil protested, but was ignored.

“ - we’re going to find it.” Dan whirled toward the kitchen. “Look under the cushions!” he called back over his shoulder to Phil. “Just in case. I’ll get the summoning materials.”

Phil sighed heavily and hauled himself up off the couch, turning to lift the cushions he’d just been sitting on to rummage beneath them. As expected, he found nothing but lint, a few coins, and - “Hey, here’s that protection stone that disappeared a few weeks ago!”

“Put it back!” Dan yelled. A cupboard slammed as he flew through cabinets in the kitchen. “I spelled it for gaming.”

So that’s why Phil had been so good at Fortnite lately. He shrugged and tossed it back under the cushions, replacing them. He headed for the kitchen. “I didn’t find anything,” he told Dan, who looked wild-eyed as he yanked various containers out of the fridge.

“I knew you wouln’t,” Dan said, shoving a jar filled with questionable, sticky-looking contents across the counter to join the other items he’d collected already. “I just wanted to keep you busy while I got stuff.”

“Rude,” said Phil absently, wandering over to look at the materials that Dan had already gotten out. “Want me to prep the bowl?”

Dan waved at him. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget the calf’s foot this time.”

“When have I ever,” scoffed Phil, distinctly remembering two weeks ago, when he’d been trying to summon a lost sock and instead had caught the sink on fire. The sink had been filled with water.

Dan ignored him again, yanking open the freezer. He paused and reached in slowly to pull out a candle, studying it. “Phil, how - never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t touch your candles,” Phil protested. He dug through their stack of bowls in the cupboard and found a decent-sized one to slap on the counter, then shuffled through the ingredients that Dan had collected. Finding the oil, he spilled a little in the bowl, then swiped the oil with two fingers to cover the inside of the bowl’s surface. “Where’s the thyme?” he asked, not finding it among the heap of items.

“We’re out, use a pinch of sage and rosemary.”

Phil frowned. “If you say so.” He did so, sprinkling them across the bowl. He maneuvered around Dan to grab the calf’s foot that Dan had just retrieved from the freezer and dumped it in the bowl. “Ew,” he said, watching it with mild disgust as it dripped blood onto the herbs. “Why does gem summoning have to be so gross?”

“Because you’re gross,” said Dan. He had a handful of ingredients and Phil stepped aside to let him drop them all in the bowl.

“Your mum’s gross,” Phil said automatically.

Dan slapped his forearm with a bloody hand and Phil squeaked. “Shut up, twat.”

“Ew!” Phil said with feeling, after recovering from the initial shock. He swiped at the smeared handprint Dan had left on his bare arm. “I hate you.”

“Good, help me finish this.”

Phil turned and shoved the table till it was up against the wall. He grabbed a handful of salt from the jar they kept on the counter and slowly poured, tracing a perfect circle as he walked. Just before joining the ends, he paused and Dan stepped in, cradling the bowl in his hands. Phil drew the last bit in salt and threw a pinch over his shoulder.

“Really Phil?” Dan rolled his eyes at Phil’s superstition as he placed the bowl in the center of the circle. The two of them sat facing each other, the bowl between them.

“Ready?” Phil said. He always started these things. There was just so much energy in Phil, it was best to lead with that and let Dan pull it all down at the end. Phil had the power but Dan had the focus.

“Wait. Should we talk about how we’re gonna kill the thing?”

“What do you mean?” Phil asked, assuming they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

“Can’t stay in this circle forever Phil.”

“Yeah ok. Um, you could explode it? It’ll take a lot out of you but it’ll be done.”

“Yeah great plan Phil. How do you reckon our kitchen will fare in that scenario?” Dan ran a hand through his curls, thinking. “We could break it into bits and sell it off to jewelers! We’ll make a fortune and it will be scattered all over England, never to be reassembled.”

“But won’t that bring this terrible luck on like every bride to be that gets a piece in a ring?”

Dan shrugged. “I mean, it’ll just be a little bad luck and marriage sucks anyway, they probably won’t notice.”

“No Dan.”

“Throw it in the ocean?” Dan asked.

“And curse the penguins?”

“Penguins? In the UK?”

“Ok, whales then.”

“We could pack it up, send it to President Trump, say it’s a gift from the queen?” Dan raises a brow.

“Be serious Dan. We can’t just dole it out. We have to destroy it once and for all.”

“OK, a guy can dream. That really only leaves one option,” Dan said solemnly.

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Ok. But promise me you won’t be grumpy.”

“I don’t have any control over that and you know it.”

Phil gnawed on his cuticle, worried out of his mind. “What if us getting lost in New Zealand led to someone getting married and now they have a baby and then the baby just...poof! Gone.”

“It’s only been a month and we didn’t really meet anyone that day. Let’s think. Did anything happen that we really shouldn’t undo?”

“No.” Phil said, looking into Dan’s eyes for some kind of reassurance. “I guess not. But we can’t know for sure.”

“And we also can’t let it stand. It’ll destroy us eventually Phil, you know it will. Or whoever comes across it.” Dan reached out and brushed Phil’s cheek with his fingertips. “It’ll be ok.”

With a deep breath, Phil reached into the bowl and Dan followed suit. They crossed arms and each one dabbed the bloody oil concoction onto the other’s forehead. Phil muttered a few words, his lip curled in disgust at the goo on his face.

“So mote it be.” Dan said and raised his left arm, hand open, into the air. The diamond came in from nowhere with a whoosh and landed in Dan’s hand like a fly ball. Wrapping both hands around it now, he spoke words he’d practiced since he was a child, in a language few people know. This magic is old.

A soft glow radiated from the diamond. It grew in intensity until it shone so bright neither Dan nor Phil could look right at it. Dan quickly moved to drop the diamond into the bowl and just as it touched the calf’s foot, it burst into a beautiful silver flame. Phil reached out and clasped his hands in Dan’s, joining in on the chanting. They looked at one another and Dan smiled.

“It’s ok Phil. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I love you Dan.” But Dan didn’t respond before everything went dark. When he opened his eyes, he was sat in a circle of salt with Dan in front of him and a pretty disgusting bowl in the center. The diamond was gone, as if it had never existed.

“Hey.” Dan said.

“Hey. What were we doing?” Phil felt the goosebumps on his arms and had no idea how they got there.

“Apparently, we were casting a spell? A protection? I don’t remember.” Dan stood and stretched. “I can’t remember anything after this morning. I was on my laptop, scrolling. And you were…”

“Last thing I remember was winning at fortnite.”

“Oh yeah, remind me to tell about the gem I hid in the sofa.” Dan said, “Phil, I feel really weak and just weird. Do you think we demanifested something?”

“No. No way. We said we’d never do that again.” Phil stood and stretched. “Anyway, what would even be important enough to warrant that?”

“Dunno. That’s kind of the point.” Dan stood too and took the bowl in his hands. “We clearly summoned something. And I don’t see anything unfamiliar so…”

Phil knelt to brush some salt aside, muttering a few words to open the circle. “No point in worrying about something we’ll never know. I’m exhausted. Let’s watch Bake Off!”

“Ooh, ok.” Dan waggled his eyebrows, “in bed?”

“No, you perv. Let’s watch in the lounge. We never put that tv to use.”

Dan cleaned up the floor while Phil grabbed snacks and Ribena. Soon, they were snuggled up on the sofa covered in a furry blanket, watching the sweetest of shows on their big television.

“Phil?”

“What Dan.”

“I love you too.”

“Wait, what?”

[islareeveswriting]

STORY PAGE

PREVIOUS | NEXT

INSTAS

What you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

Molly thought the concept of that was laughable. It seemed stupid to her that anyone could think something unknown couldn’t hurt them. Maybe that was because Molly hated being in the dark, she’d prefer the truth, even if it was a horrible truth, every day of the week. At least that way, at the very worst she knew what she was facing, and the very best she could put her fears to bed and move on. Things unknown, kept secret, hidden, tended to fester into something much greater and far harder to deal with. Once a secret was kept, it’s not just the facts of the secret, it’s the fact someone kept something from her, felt they couldn’t tell her something, that she had to face.

What Molly didn’t know was killing her emotionally, mentally. And she didn’t even know for certain if there was indeed something she didn’t know. She was running on instinct, on an assumption, but it was hard to ignore when Harry seemed to be making such an effort to avoid contact with her.

It was exactly as it had been before, when they’d returned from her parents house. He’d gone cold, quiet, and Molly was left in the dark wondering what she’d done wrong. If there was a bitterness left in his mouth from her mistakes taking Ryan home and not getting in a taxi, she could understand that, and she’d apologise and explain herself as much as she could, knowing full well the action itself and then not telling Harry about it put her firmly in the wrong. It was proof that what people didn’t know, could indeed hurt them. However, Molly was sure they’d moved on from that, and if it wasn’t the same on his side, all he had to do was say so. But Harry had been normal for days following their argument, things had been back on track, going well, with no signs anything was amiss.

Until everything was amiss, and for no apparent reason. Things had fallen off the track with no warning signs whatsoever and Molly could feel the whiplash of it ricocheting through her mind.

It was infuriating to keep coming back to square one, when Molly was sure they should have been far away from that place. They seemed to be taking it in turns to set fire to themselves before they were fully built and they were left to start from ashes all over again. Everytime Molly thought she was close it was ripped away from her, like the ocean between her and Harry kept getting deeper, wider, and shore much, much further away. But for some reason, she just wanted to keep swimming. There were far more reasons to walk away, his temper, the way he laughed any serious conversation off like it was meaningless until he had no choice but to face it, the darkness in his eyes that he wouldn’t let her into. But Molly couldn’t help herself, she was falling, and no warning signs made her want to stop.

When Molly woke up the morning after ‘girls night’, there hadn’t been a part of her that was intending on acting on Lauren’s words. When Lauren had suggested Molly go round to Harry’s uninvited Molly had literally laughed it off. But over twelve hours later and Molly was spinning back and forth on her desk chair, staring down at her phone seriously contemplating it. It was verging on three pm and she hadn’t heard a word from Harry, despite her reply to his late night text, despite her trying to call when she stopped working to have some lunch, despite the sweet text just checking in he was ok, and the slightly more salty message a few hours later when he still hadn’t contact her the way he’d promised.

There was a little fire that started inside her of, at the sound of his voicemail yet again. It came from anger, or frustration, but by that point the feelings weren’t  mutually exclusive, and they felt one in the same. It fueled her up from her chair and out of the door, with nothing but her purse, keys and phone, which she shoved into the pockets of the denim jacket she shrugged on over her hoodie. It pushed her onto the bus, and off at the stop just outside Harry’s building. It drove her all the way to the front door of his block, until she was stood outside with her finger lingering over his doorbell.

There was a moment where she thought about turning around. Harry had told her he was busy and she should respect that. But he’d also told her he’d call first thing, and not only had he failed to do that, he’d failed to answer her calls, or either of her messages, even though she could see he’d read both. Perhaps if they’d spoken, Harry had sorted something out as he’d said he would, she wouldn’t be there. As it was, Molly was feeling let down and in the dark, and perhaps Lauren was right when she’d said that Molly wasn’t being unreasonable to expect a little clarity and honesty.

Molly’s finger was seconds from pressing the buzzer, when a larger than life man pushed the door open, as startled by seeing Molly on the other side as she was by being pulled from her train of thoughts by the door opening before she’d even pressed the button.

“Oh sorry sweetheart didn’t see you there, you going in?” The man asked, his accent far from local.

“Thanks,” Molly whispered, slipping in the door that was being held open for her. Now she was inside, without even having to speak to Harry over the intercom, it felt like the world was telling her to take the steps to his flat, she’d made the right decision. Still there was apprehension in her belly - just because the world thought it was a good idea, didn’t mean Harry would, and Molly was certain there was only two ways this was going to end.

The stairwell was as cold as it was every time Molly had been there. Even as the days were beginning to get longer and the sun warmer, the winding staircase, modern, and clinical, was always cold enough to give Molly goosebumps, even through her hoodie and jacket and the fleece lined leggings she’d been keeping comfortable in at her desk. Even the battered and beaten black combat boots over her thick socks were doing little to nothing in terms of keeping her warm. But perhaps it was more than just the cold making her shiver.

The third floor seemed further away than normal, but Molly got there eventually, Harry’s door, number fifteen glittering over the wood, looking as normal and inconspicuous as ever. There was a peep hole in the door, and Molly swallowed knowing as soon as she knocked on the door, Harry would be able to know she was there, and there was a part of her, growing larger with every second, that wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to do this. Once that door was opened, if it opened, there was no going back. As much as Molly had thought she’d wanted it, she was beginning to wonder if maybe she could carry on living in peaceful ignorance. Though of course, there was nothing peaceful about it at all.

And so she knocked the door. Three gentle taps and a gulping swallow on nothing before she stood patiently with her hands in her pockets, toying with the frayed piece of pink ribbon she had tied to her key ring.

If Harry hesitated at the peephole, he did it quickly, because the door was open in no more than thirty seconds, and Molly was looking up from the scuffed toe of her boots, to someone who was very not Harry. Molly’s breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the dark haired woman. She was a complete stranger to Molly, she’d never seen her before, not even in a photo, not even in passing, but there was something that was vaguely familiar. Molly couldn’t put her finger on it at all, but there was something very slightly recognisable about the woman greeting her at Harry’s door.

“Hi,” The girl grinned, apparently not at all thrown by Molly being on the other side of the door. At least not as thrown as Molly was. Half of her hadn’t expected the door to be answered at all, but the other half certainly didn’t expect someone other than Harry to be answering the door, and Molly’s mind started to tumble unkindly into all the ways he could have been busy enough with this woman to cancel on her last minute and ignore her calls and texts.

“I was erm,” Molly started, swallowing down on nothing. There was nothing lodged in her throat, not even air, as she found she’d been holding her breath waiting for the words to come to her. “Is Harry in?” Molly asked, wrapping her jacket further around her as if it might protect her from something that was aiming for her heart.

“Oh no, he’s just popped out, he’ll be back in like five minutes, come in,” The girl encouraged with a bright grin that might have set Molly on edge if she could have had any clue as to who she was and why she was in Harry’s flat. Her mind was racing, but she was simultaneously trying to rationalise it. She’s just a friend, he might be a dick sometimes but he wouldn’t...would he? The question lingered in her mind for a second, as Molly thought about what she wanted to do.

“It’s ok, I’ll come b-”

“Molly,” The girl interrupted as Molly moved to turn away from the door and take the stairs back away from the flat, not sure where she would exactly go from there, entirely unsure what to think, especially when her name spilled from the girls lips like it had been well rehearsed.

“How do you know my name?” Molly asked, frowning, entirely curious now.

“Because you’re all Harry bloody talks about, and he’s never used social media so much in his life until he had photos of you to put all over it,” The girl chuckled. Molly lightened quickly then, doubts and fears almost, but not quite, eradicated. “I’m Ellie, I’m a friend of Harry’s,” she explained, and Molly lightened yet more with the new information. For all her initial apprehension, Molly found it surprisingly easy to trust Ellie. There was just something about her, something almost sisterly that Molly began to settle into as she stepped over the threshold into Harry’s flat.

It was warmer inside, the underfloor heating was on, Molly could tell, but there was also a window cracked in the kitchen letting some fresh air travel through the space. The TV was on, playing to itself as Molly kicked off her boots and Ellie shut the front door behind them. It was calm, and not at all how Molly had anticipated turning up at Harry’s flat would go.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Ellie asked, sliding back into the flat with her socked feet, the white fabric loose on her toes.

“No I’m good thanks,” Molly smiled,following Ellie tentatively through towards the kitchen area. As easy as Ellie was in Molly’s company, it wasn’t entirely mutual. Molly felt better than she had when Ellie first opened the door, but she still didn’t know who this woman was, and it showed in the way Molly didn’t take her jacket off and kept her hands firmly in her pockets. She looked like a stranger in the space, Ellie commanding it easily, taking the lead in this strange little set up they found themselves in, though Ellie didn’t seem fazed by it at all. Where Molly was cautious, Ellie was confident and helped herself to a mug from Harry’s cupboard as if the flat was her own. Ellie was no stranger here, and Molly guessed not a stranger to Harry at all, but Molly hadn’t even heard her name, let alone seen her face before.

There was something a little strange about it, but Molly couldn’t put her finger on it without supposing she sounded as if she thought she were entitled to know about everyone he associated with. It wasn’t that. It was just she doubted any of the friends of Harry’s she had met would let her into his flat, or offer her coffee, grab a mug from his cupboard, and she’d spent a considerable amount of time with those friends. Even received texts from Amanda to see what she was up to, how she was, if she wanted to meet up. Someone who seemed so at home in Harry’s flat, is someone Molly thought Harry might have mentioned. It just pointed to those secrets she was sure she could almost see.

“Are you sure? I was about to make coffee anyway,” Ellie told Molly, nodding at the coffee machine with it’s green go light illuminated. Molly chewed the inside of her mouth. She was beginning to wonder what Harry would think when he got back and she was sat at his kitchen counter with his friend drinking his coffee. Molly swallowed, it didn’t matter.

“Ok, go on then,” Molly smiled again, and Ellie grinned back. The coffee machine whirred to life, spitting out coffee from the spout into one of the two mugs Ellie fetched. Ellie helped herself to milk from the fridge and poured it into the jug that Harry normally kept on top of the machine, though Ellie found it in the dishwasher without even seeming to think it could be anywhere else. She gave it a rinse before she used it, and Molly wondered how many coffees she’d had at Harry’s already that day.

“He won’t be long, I’ll give him a text in a minute, let him know you’re here,” Ellie told Molly as she heated up the milk in the metal jug.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s not expecting me,” Molly informed Ellie, glancing over to her from where she’d been staring out of one of the large kitchen windows.

“Oh, he told me he was seeing you later,” Ellie said with a frown, clearly a little confused, though not as confused as Molly. Molly didn’t know what she’d missed, or misunderstood, but it certainly wasn’t Harry  letting her know that he’d be seeing her later.

“He told me he was seeing me today, but he cancelled last night, he also told me he’d call him this morning, but he didn’t, so I’ve given up listening to what he says he’s going to do, and started focusing on what he actually does do.” There was a bitterness in Molly’s voice, she could hear it and it sounded as ugly as it felt, but Ellie simply sighed, a big sigh that lifted her shoulders and let them fall again, heavily. Molly watched her suck one of her cheeks in. Maybe Molly had just insulted this girls friend, but she didn’t look annoyed, at least not annoyed at what Molly had said. In fact she looked disappointed.

“He’s a fucking dick head,” Ellie spat, and Molly felt her eyes go wide. If she’d had coffee in her mouth, she was sure it would have spluttered out thanks to Ellie’s quick, harsh words. “If I’d have known he was meant to be seeing you, I, it’s probably best he explains,” Ellie sighed, turning back to the coffee and pouring the milk into it. “Just make sure he explains, don’t let him laugh it off so you find you’ve forgotten about it,” Ellie warned placing a mug in front of Molly which Molly gladly wrapped her hands around as she smiled to herself.

“He does do that huh?” Molly chuckled before lifting the mug and taking a sip of it.

“All the time,” Ellie laughed. “Some weird defense mechanism,” Ellie shrugged. Molly nodded, rolling her lips together and looking down at her mug. This girl knew him, better than Molly it was clear. Perhaps this was someone he let in just enough so she knew how he kept himself shielded from everyone else, something Molly was still working out. “Harry and I are just very much friends by the way, just to be clear,” Ellie added, quietly, carefully. Molly shot her head up at that.

“Oh no, I didn’t, it’s fine,” Molly babbled quickly shaking her head frantically.

“No I know,” Ellie smiled. “Just there’s nothing, there never has been, well-”

“Heyyy,” Harry’s voice was sweet and sing songy as it rung through the flat behind the sound of the opening door and the sound of wheels on the floor. “We’re back,” he called again, and Molly spun on her stool, just about able to see him through the spaces on the book case, though he couldn’t see her. The push chair was easy to spot and for a minute Molly assumed it was Zak, that was until a pair of toddling feet wobbled around the bookcase and a little girl with blonde hair tied in two little bunches appeared. Molly felt taken back at the surprise of the new child, but just smiled brightly at the little girl staring up at her.

“Hi,” Molly cooed, the little girl having slowed her steps and side walking towards Ellie with an outstretched hand, eyes fixed on the stranger in the room.

“Lolly?” Harry questioned, following after the child with a deep frown on his face. “What are you doing here?” He asked, reaching for the child and lifting her up onto his hip where he started removing her little converse from her feet. Molly didn’t say anything for a second, just stared up at Harry from her seat as he stared back at her.

“She came to see you after you forgot to call this morning,” Ellie explained for Molly who was chewing her lip, watching the child grabbing at Harry’s ringlets, the thumb of her free hand finding her mouth as she continued to stare at Molly trying to work her out. Molly raised her eyes to Harry and she saw him sink, his forehead uncreasing quickly and his eyes closing for a few seconds. There was an apology on his tongue, Molly could almost hear it, but it didn’t find air, just lodged in his throat, as he decided to save it for later when they were alone. “Lola baby, this is Molly, Uncle Harry’s friend, you gonna say hi?” Ellie tried, seemingly attempting to loosen the atmosphere.

“Hi Lola,” Molly grinned, eyes back on the blonde haired little girl who couldn’t have been much over three, but Molly had never been good at guessing ages.

“Hi,” Lola mumbled around her thumb, the words clipped and not fully formed. She had the biggest doe eyes Molly could imagine, bright green and glistening in the lights of the kitchen as she continued to stare back at Molly. “M’ Lola,” Lola babbled, her thumb popping from her mouth and her hand resting by her thigh that was hooked up in Harry’s arms.

“This is Lolly,” Harry started edging closer to Molly, head twisted to look at Lola. “Lolly’s my friend, do you want to sit with her while me and Mummy get your things together?” Harry’s voice was sweeter than normal, a little higher and softer, somehow slower though Molly didn’t know how that was possible. Lola nodded and reached out for Molly, who looked to Harry with wide eyes not entirely sure how to take what was happening. Harry just nodded, a soft, somehow reassuring, smile on his face. Molly took the child from Harry resting her on his lap and looking over her blonde head to see Harry motioning for Ellie to follow him. They headed up the hallway towards Harry’s open bedroom, but the door almost closed behind them. Molly swallowed and look down at the child who was looking up at her with her thumb back in her mouth.

“You’ve been with Uncle Harry today then?” Molly asked spinning a little and placing Lola up on the work top, hands knitting together behind her to stop her moving away or falling from the edge. Lola nodded, her eyes somehow widening. “Did you have fun?” Again Lola just nodded and Molly giggled. “What did you do?”

“Went to park, and for ice cream,” Lola told Molly, looking around the room a little as she did so. The words weren’t full, syllables missing here and there, but Molly could make out the words just fine.

“Wow that sounds fun.” Molly’s voice trailed off, both her and Lola distracted by the sudden raised voices from the bedroom. “So what ice cream did you get?” Molly asked, trying to grab Lola’s attention again, but it was futile. Lola’s big green eyes were fixed on the bedroom door and her mind on the noise.

“Why they shouting?” Lola asked, eyebrows dipping a little.

“I’m not sure, maybe they can’t find something,” Molly suggested quickly, not quite sure what to say, she didn’t have the answer, and the things in her head didn’t concern Lola.

“Just tell her the truth Harry for fucks sake.”It was Ellie’s voice that called the final blow, and where before they’d been hushed, attempting to not be heard but failing, Ellie’s words were loud and clear, ricocheting around the flat like bullets sent straight for Molly. Molly felt herself tighten, her spine lengthening and shoulders rolling back, as her eyes shot to Lola. It didn’t appear that she noticed the swear word particularly, but the tone had clearly registered with her little ears and her fingers lifted to her mouth, resting on her pillowy bottom lip as her eyes blinked quickly.

“Hey, Lola, what ice cream did you have?” Molly asked brightly, picking the child back up and placing her on her knee where she bounced Lola quickly, trying to distract her from what was going on in the bedroom.

“Mummy shouting at Uncle Harry?” Lola asked quietly, lip literally and visibly trembling. Molly swallowed, not sure what to say. Could she lie? Was there any point when Lola clearly knew the answer? “Why?” Lola asked, obviously seeing the truth in Molly’s face.

“I’m not sure hunny, I’m sure you don’t need to worry,” Molly smiled, trying to catch Lola’s eyes but she was looking out of the side of her eye back at the door.

“Mummy used bad words,” Lola mumbled over her fingers again.

“It’s ok, I’m sure she didn’t mean to, hey, why don’t you tell me about the park, did you go on the swings?” Molly tried again, but the toddler was completely distracted. “Come on look, shall we see if we can find something on the TV?” Molly suggested standing up and resting Lola on her hip as she did so. Lola finally looked away from the door, moving slightly to rest her head on Molly’s shoulder, her small chubby hand finding Molly’s hair and twisting it slowly around her fingers. Molly sighed quietly, looking down awkwardly to the little girl sucking her thumb and lost in her head, reminding Molly of herself as a child, and even now. Molly didn’t think anything of pressing a little kiss against Lola’s soft blonde hair before she began flicking through channels.

Before Molly could find anything though, the bedroom door was opening. Molly turned to the noise to find Ellie heading back towards her. For the tone of her voice she looked calm, and she smiled sweetly at Molly as they caught eyes.

“Sorry,” Ellie said with a shrug. “We have to go home now Lola, you gonna say goodbye to Lolly?” Ellie asked, as Molly gently handed Lola over to her mother. Lola sat up more in Ellie’s arms, looking back at Molly over her shoulder.

“Bye Lola, I’ll see you soon,” Molly grinned, bending a little to catch Lola’s eyes.

“Buh-bye Lolly, see you soon,” Lola grinned happily before turning back to look at her mum.

“See you Molly, thanks for watching her then,” Ellie said, backing out of the room towards the entrance way and Lola’s pram. “If you have any questions, just get my number of someone and give me a call,” Ellie offered quietly. It took Molly a little by surprise and she found herself blinking quickly as Ellie left the room finally, Molly watching after her dumbfounded. Questions? Molly wondered, why would she have questions? What would she have questions about? It set her heart of racing, and she wanted to chase Ellie out of the room ask what she meant, but she could hear the response before she’d even asked. Ask Harry, talk to Harry about it, he needs to tell you. The real question was if he would actually tell her, or pretend like it was nothing, and tell her that Ellie was just being over dramatic about something that was nothing, just like he’d done when Katie had told her Harry liked to lead people on, that she should be careful, made out like Harry wasn’t good enough.

“Mummy, don’t shout at Uncle Harry, make him said,” Molly heard Lola tell her mother as she was clipped into her pram, but Ellie didn’t say anything, just shouted a goodbye into the flat that was followed quickly by the sound of the door opening and closing.

The flat fell silent and so did Molly. She took a seat on the sofa and fell back into it heavily, resting her head on the back of it and looking up at the flat white ceiling. The lights weren’t on up there, and the lamp in the corner cast an odd shadow across it. It was coasting into early evening and the sun was just beginning to lower, turning the sky a deep orange that filtered through the windows and stained everything a similar vibrant hue. Molly closed her eyes to it all and focused on her mind.

What she was supposed to think she didn’t know, but what she was thinking was that maybe she was in well over her depth with Harry. Perhaps there’d always be more to him than she could understand, and maybe she wasn’t as adept to coping with that as she’d like to think. It wasn’t even that she wanted everything from him, just an admission there was indeed something. Molly could understand if he wasn’t ready to open up and tell her all the things about himself that he’d been practicing so hard at keeping closed off, that was fine. What she couldn’t understand was pretending what she saw was what she was going get, because with each day it became clearer that might never be the case. There was never ending layers to Harry, and with each step closer to him she got, all she really discovered was another layer encasing him that Harry refused to admit, at least out loud, was there.

It wasn’t as if Molly hadn’t given Harry chances to tell her there were things about him he wasn’t ready to talk about, it wasn’t as if circumstances had kept him from telling her that, it was only himself that had chosen to make it into something else, to pretend there was nothing to him she didn’t already know. When Molly had met Harry he’d seemed so confident and self-assured, but she was beginning to think that was just a mask for someone insecure and afraid of themselves. Someone who didn’t know how to process someone else getting close to them. All his mood swings, his outbursts, his cocky, smug attitude, appeared like a coping mechanism for the fear of letting someone in, and putting a dent in his armour.

Molly was more than willing to be patient for him, if he was willing to at least admit there was something to be patient for, admit there was more than the exterior shell he let the world see, admit there was a softness, a weakness, an achilles heel to the faultless Harry he portrayed day in, day out.

Molly opened her eyes again at the sound of footsteps and twisted her head in the direction of Harry’s room. Their eyes met as he headed towards her slowly, socked feet almost sliding along the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the long curls away from his face, his eyes dropping to his feet and his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. The silence persisted, Molly refusing to say a word until he did. Perhaps it seemed stubborn, bitter or petty, but Molly didn’t want to say a word and give him an escape route through what she had to say. She wanted to hear his words, standing alone for what they were.

“I’m sorry,” Harry started carefully, quietly, hesitating at the edge of the living space. He held his hands in front of him, wrapped together pulling at this fingers. Molly didn’t say anything, just looked up at him, turning a little on the couch so she could see him without craning her neck. “For letting you down, and for not calling, and for…” Harry continued, but hesitated for a second, “that,” He finished, flicking his head back towards the bedroom door that he’d left ajar.

“What was that?” Molly asked. She saw Harry’s throat twitch, the lump in his neck bobbing under the skin as he stepped a little closer, his thighs resting against the arm of his sofa.

“Lola’s my god daughter,” Harry told Molly confidently, holding himself tall, his words laced with conviction, making himself look as strong as possible even if he was feeling weaker. Again he swallowed on nothing, flicking his tongue over his lips. “Ellie is an old friend, she called last night to ask if I could watch Lola today for a bit, I hardly get to see her so I said yes without really thinking,” Harry explained calmly, though there was a slight shiver in his voice.

“Hardly get to see her? It looks like she adores you?” Molly pointed out, finding it difficult to forget how easily Lola had rested in Harry’s arms, and how comfortable and content she’d looked resting on his hip and toying with his hair. Harry cleared his throat quietly before continuing again, looking past Molly to the window for a second, seemingly checking over his words. Molly wished he wouldn’t, but she didn’t say anything, he was talking, and that was something.

“It’s fairly new is more what I mean,” Harry added. “Ellie and I, we, well uh, we don’t exactly know each other for the best reasons,” Harry tried, scratching the back of his neck as he did so.

“What do you mean?” Molly asked, turning fully to Harry and pulling her knees up into her chest, her feet finding a home under one of the cushions that had fallen from its perch when she’d taken her seat.

“Really?” Harry winced. Molly just nodded, and Harry sighed, rounding the edge of the couch and taking a seat on the coffee table opposite Molly. She turned again to face him, still holding her knees against herself. He made it sound like Molly might not be sure she wanted to hear what he had to say, but really it was him that wasn’t sure he wanted to say it. The thing was once he let her in, took of some of the armour, it was easy for the rest to fall away, and far harder to put it back on, to ask to her leave again, to shut the door after her and pretend like the space hadn’t changed for her existing in it. Once he said it, he couldn’t un say it. “Ellie and I used to,” Harry hesitated again, looking to the ceiling, perhaps for some divine inspiration, but more likely just the best word for what it was that had happened. “Fool around,” he settled on; “years ago, years and years ago, it was nothing, stupid, at least for me, but I was a dick to her, next thing I know she’s having a baby and doesn’t want me anywhere near her, not that I blame her for that, but over the last couple of years we’ve gotten close again, both grown up a lot, we were close friends before we started, y’know, and I guess we’re in that place again so she asked me to be Lola’s godfather,” Harry explained quickly, the words reeling out of him as if he were reading his favourite story.

“Why would you not just tell me that rather than say ‘something’ had come up, I would have understood,” Molly promised, staring back at his face, a picture of regret. As he sighed his whole body moved with it, shoulders rising and falling, his lips pinching between his teeth.

“I don’t know,” Harry breathed, shaking his head and looking down at his clasped together hands, the rings making them look even bigger and bulkier than they were.

“Cause you wanted to keep me at arms length,” Molly told him with a flick of her eyebrows. Harry’s face fell instantly, a deep frown creasing his brow, his lips pouting a little more than normal and parting just slightly, just enough to let air pass, as he contemplated what Molly had said. Though he could clearly make no sense of it, as if he didn’t even know he’d been doing it.

“Huh?” He asked, his lips barely moving at all, the almost word pushing past almost unnoticed.

“It’s what you do, keep me at a distance until you’re forced to let me in,” Molly told him with a certainty she hated. She didn’t want to feel like that, she didn’t want it to be that obvious to her, but it was, and it hurt her just as much as it clearly hurt Harry, dropping his head again, curls falling over his shoulders and hovering in mid air around him.

“It’s not like that,” Harry mumbled down to his feet.

“How is it then? Because I’m really struggling to see it any other way,” Molly informed him, dropping her knees to sit cross legged.

“Ellie has only just let me into Lola’s life, she could take her away again at any moment, I…”

“Think I could be the reason she might do that?” Molly offered for him, quietly, a little saddened by the idea.

“No, no, not at all,” Harry corrected quickly moving closer to Molly his hands reaching out for her, but never quite finding her. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” Harry sighed, shaking his head and falling back from Molly again. “I don’t have a real reason for not telling you the truth, apart from I’m just used to keeping people at a distance,” Harry guessed with a shrug. If it was anything he’d ever paid any sort of mind to, he wasn’t showing it. It appeared like he was learning as much as Molly, like it was all intrinsic to him, like it was all wired into him.

“Why?” Molly asked, finding the bravery to do so somewhere deep inside. Her voice was quiet, barely audible above the constant hum of the world, but her eyes never left Harry. Harry sucked his cheeks in, beginning to chew on them as he looked back at Molly, looking for something, but Molly couldn’t tell what. Maybe the part of her he could trust, or maybe looking for parts he couldn’t, reasons not to say another word, not to let another piece of armour fall.

“Cause people I let in have a tendency to fuck off,” Harry told Molly bluntly, with a nonchalant shrug that suggested that what he was saying didn’t hurt as much as it clearly did. Molly sighed and moved forward to sit as a mirror of Harry, bending over, resting her arms on her knees and clasping her hands together so her first nearly bumped Harry’s.

“I’m not going to fuck off, the only reason I’m going to go anywhere is if you keep shutting me out all the time, or if you ask me too,” Molly promised him, holding his eyes as she said it. He stared straight back at her, his eyes never leaving hers as she spoke. He swallowed it down, literally, the corner of his mouth twitching just a touch.

“I’m not going to ask you to fuck off,” Harry sort of whispered, unclasping his hands to wrap them around hers. “I don’t want you to go anywhere,” He told her, giving her hands, how cirlcled up in his, a gentle squeeze.

“Then can you start letting me in, cause I feel like I don’t even know you sometimes, everytime I think I’ve got you figured out it ends up like this,” Molly lamented twisting their hands a little so one of hers was on the outside of one of his, her thumb gently sliding back and forth along the the ridge of his hand.

“I’m sorry, I am trying,” Harry told her.

“I know,” Molly nodded, offering a gentle, almost one sided, smile. It didn’t seem enough for Harry though, who looked down at the hands and turned his mouth down, bottom lip jutting out before he twisted his mouth to one side.

“I’m sorry for letting you down today,” Harry said, lifting his eyes just slightly to look at her again.

“It doesn’t matter,” Molly told him with a shake of her head.

“No it does, I should have told Ellie no,” Harry decided. Molly didn’t begrudge him now she knew the truth of it, she didn’t hold it against him, wanting to spend time with his goddaughter, it was fine. It just would have been nice to have been told that. There would have been no stopping them rearranging to do the fitting in the evening, if he’d only explained.

“Does Ellie have a key?” Molly asked not really sure where it had come from exactly, but knowing there was something tickling in her mind, and sure it would come back to her later if she wasn’t to ask then.

“What? No,” Harry answered, a little befuddled by the question.

“Oh, she was here when I got here,” Molly told Harry, hoping she wasn’t appearing as if what she was saying was coming from a place of mistrust or jealousy.

“There’s a spare under the mat, I told her to let herself in if she got here before we were home,” Harry explained, and Molly took one long, slow nod. “You are more than welcome to use it whenever you want,” Harry told Molly, and it wasn’t a second thought, he was simply letting her know, but Molly shook her head at that. “Why not?” Harry asked, back to confused and unsure again.

“I’m not just gonna let myself into your flat Harry,” Molly told him.

“I’d like you to,” Harry tried with a shrug.

“No,” Molly told him finally. Harry huffed and sat up straighter his hands trailing away from Molly’s. The change was instant, and she could feel the pull of that dreaded square one again, with the same minimal warning signs as ever. Molly sat up as well, her eyebrows dropping a little with the sudden change of pace.

“Thought you wanted me to let you in,” Harry huffed, folding his arms across himself both defensively and immaturely.

“Yeah you let me in, not let myself in,” Molly returned with the tiniest drop of venom.

“Is there a difference?” Harry quizzed with a flick of his eyebrows and a near sarcastic tone in his voice.

“Telling me I can let myself into your flat is not opening up to me,” Molly pointed out. Of course Harry was trying to patch things up, but being told she could use the spare key under his mat wasn’t what Molly wanted, even though it was a sweet gesture. She just wanted a little clarity, to not feel like she was paddling against the tide for a change, like she was drowning in all the possible things he wasn’t saying.

“Ok, so what do you want to know?” Harry asked with a sigh, holding his hands up, as if surrendering, giving up, hopefully realising how little of being kept in the darkness Molly could take, that he really did have to start letting her in, little bit at a time if he wanted her to stay. Molly wanted it to be on his terms, if he wasn’t ready, telling her he wasn’t ready would be enough. But then he had asked, so she took the first step into the unknown.

“How old were you when you left Manchester?” Molly asked gently.

“Fifteen,” Harry told her with a curt nod.

“Why?” Molly went on, pulling her legs back up underneath her, crossing them, and letting her hands fall into her lap. Harry nodded, and looked away for a second, swallowing on nothing. “If you’re not ready, tell me you’re not ready, but don’t tell me just because, or laugh it off, please,” Molly begged. If it seemed unreasonable, she didn’t mean it too, but if she wanted him to be honest, she had to be honest about how she was feeling too. Harry nodded, understanding, and finding her eyes again.

“After my dad died my mum kept coming down so we could see Nan,” Harry started, his voice rougher around the edges than Molly was used to. “I think Nan wanted to keep us close after Dad passed, I was a handful, went off the rails a bit after dad, I suppose that’s normal,” Molly nodded because she supposed it was too, not that she could say for certain of course. “Got in with the wrong crowd that kind of thing, I’ve always been told I was going to be staying with Nan for a weekend so mum could have a bit of a break, but when she left me at Nans that day that was the last time I saw her or Ida,” Harry finished finally, biting his jaw together and his throat clenching hard.

“Your sister?” Molly asked to be sure, and Harry nodded again. “And you were fifteen?” Again Harry nodded. He couldn’t look at Molly, he was trying to, but whenever he got close he just dropped his eyes an inch or two, looking at the rounds of her cheek and the natural rosiness of them. “Did you ever try to find her?” Molly asked, starting to chew on her bottom lip not quite sure where the line was but hoping Harry would make it known when she got close.

“Yeah, a few years ago I had a go, but I gave up, don’t think she wants to be found,” Harry told Molly, and she could hear it was the truth in the tone of his voice, and see it in his eyes.

“What about your sister?” Molly went on, cautiously.

“No idea, couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere, Nan reckons they might have gone to the states, apparently mum always spoke about going but dad didn’t want to leave the family,” Harry explained, and Molly just nodded, taking it all in and appreciating every word like it was gold dust.

“If she came to find you…?” Molly hinted carefully, not sure how that would be taken, not sure if it was even something Harry had contemplated.

“I’d ask for an explanation,” Harry started, and at last he found Molly’s eyes, with confidence, telling her it was something he’d thought about, maybe even imagined, and probably more than once. “I’d have a conversation, but I don’t know if I’d want her back in my life properly, maybe Ida because none of it was her fault, but mum, I’m not sure,” Harry admitted without hesitation or regret.

“You know none of it’s your fault either don’t you?” Molly wondered out loud, eyes narrowing.  Harry shrugged, lips pouting and eyes looking away again. “It’s not, your mum decided to leave you, it’s not your fault,” Molly assured.

“You don’t know that,” Harry pointed out, his words mumbled staring down at his knees. Molly supposed that was true, but still she couldn’t believe it could be the case.

“Why would it be your fault?” Molly asked. Harry shrugged again, sucking his cheek into his mouth, avoiding eye contact at all cost. “Harry,” Molly whispered, moving forward and taking one of his hands in hers, wrapping her fingers between his and clutching him tightly. Harry didn’t look at her, just glanced at their hands, before he started talking.

“I just always thought the way I acted, treated her, like it was her fault dad died, some of the things I did, and don’t ask cause you don’t need to know, and I’m not ready to talk about it, it makes no odds, it was just stupid teenage shit, might have pushed her away.” Molly saw it was hard for him to say, and she appreciated him telling her he wasn’t ready, as much as the rest of it. It was honest, and that’s what she wanted, more than she wanted to know what had happened, more than she wanted to know about his past, and what made him how he was, she wanted his honesty.

“But she took the final steps Harry,” Molly reminded him quietly. Harry didn’t react at all, so Molly carried on, because she couldn’t just sit there and have him think it was his fault, or that letting her in would end the same way, that caring about her, would end with him broken, alone, confused, and hurting. “Don’t blame yourself,” Molly begged, “if this is what it’s about, if you’re scared of pushing me away because of some mistakes you’ve made or whatever, you won’t, as long as you’re honest with me, about things, and you don’t keep shutting me out, I’m not going anywhere,” Molly promised him and she meant it, because she couldn’t see herself walking away. For every part of her that got frustrated at him, there were far more parts, far bigger parts, finding themselves caring about him, loving him even.

“I don’t need you to tell me everything if you’re not ready that’s fine, but don’t pretend there’s nothing to say just tell me you’re not ready, just be honest with me, that’s all I’m asking.” Harry pulled Molly closer with that, up from the couch onto his lap. She took a seat there, on his thighs and let him pull her close. Her head rested on his shoulder and he buried himself into her neck, letting out a long shaky breath into her skin, that left him limp, but still holding her tight, with all the little pieces of his broken, mending heart.

A/N Happy Friday everyone! Hope you enjoy this one. AT LAST some answers, by are they actually the answers? WHO KNOW!?

Let me know what you think, and have a lovely weekend <3