#i keep listening to “the devil wears a suit and tie” and EVEN THOUGH it has a VERY weak connection to pumpkin's character-

[insaneiceshard]

There is so much Dawnclan lore bouncing around in my head I'm BEGGING YOU to ask me about it!!! Everytime I listen to a song I HAVE TO imagine it in my universe it HURTS BRO MY BRAIN CANT THROW IT UP IM FUCKIN SICK

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy | chapter two

check out the hockey glossary here (updated for chapter two) Prologue | Chapter One

Chapter Two

“That’s a very nice suit,” Josh says instead, phone between two fingers and tap-tap-tapping against his palm. “Also I need you and Buck to do an interview for me when we get into Utah.” Tommy and Eddie both shoot him looks, although Eddie’s is significantly less polite than Tommy’s. “Why.” He doesn’t really frame it as a question, but as they approach the stairs leading up to the plane Josh continues his backward walk, seemingly uncaring of the significant difference in their heights as he keeps pace. “Yeah, you haven’t won a face-off in a year and a half —” “I haven’t taken a face-off in a year and a half,” Tommy amends, but Russo either isn’t listening or doesn’t particularly care about the details.

When Tommy was eleven, three important things happened.

The first — the most important one, had been the birth of his younger sister. He’d spent the months leading up to it pressing his ear to his mothers growing belly, giddy with possibility, talking to her for hours and hours while his mom got pale and tired. He’d been eleven, though, and she’d done everything she could to hide that from him, always happy to wrap him up in her arms when he got home from school, always ready to throw on her game face when Tommy sat on the bed at her hip with one hand pressed to the bump as he told the baby all the cool things he’d learned at school that day, and the games they’d played during recess, and the thing Robert Duncan had said that had made Tommy laugh so hard his teacher had sent him off to the principals office for disruptive behavior.

The second had been the day his mom took him to the mall and bought him a pair of rollerblades — black leather with neon green wheels, even cooler than the ones Chris Harper had gotten for his birthday. He’d spent a month eating shit up and down the cul de sac until he was steady on his feet, and then the next six months spending every weekend with all the rest of the kids in the neighborhood, two nets set up at he end of Cherry Avenue, two streets down from Tommy’s house, borrowing Judy Green’s older brothers retired equipment, setting up pick up games and driving the whole neighborhood a bit mad as they all taught each other whatever arbitrary hockey rule they’d learned watching the latest Devil’s game before their parents sent them off to bed.

And then, at the peak of it all, the day after baby Abigail had been born, Tommy’s dad didn’t come home from the hospital with her or Tommy’s mom. In fact, he barely came home at all, other than to let him know his aunt would be by in a few hours to pick him up, and then he’d been gone again.

The third, as he’d found out six hours later, anxious and fretful in the passenger seat of Aunt Stacy’s station wagon, was his mom dying.

Eleven, and a week later he’d donned his first suit and tie, feeling sad and tired and worn and grown up, peeking over his aunts shoulder at the bundle of wrinkly baby in her arms. His dad had shown up to the funeral late, drunk, and angry, and Tommy — in his infinite wisdom, six days into a world without a mom — had tried to comfort him.

Eleven, and he’d gotten his first black eye to match his first black suit.

Tommy hasn’t worn a black suit since.

Diaz catches him halfway across the tarmac, fingers reaching out to pinch at the collar of Tommy’s burgundy plaid jacket. “Snazzy,” he says, tugging, wheeling his bag behind him and matching Tommy stride for stride, which Tommy finds a little strange until he remembers that Diaz has been keeping up with Buckley’s gazelle-legged pace for going on six years now. “And here we all thought you were gonna rock the henley-jeans combo until coach called you out in a team meeting.”

“I’m not a caveman,” Tommy rebuts, shaking his head to hide the grin. “But I do have to get all my suit jackets altered before I wear them. Not all of us have trim little waists and a forgiving shoulder line.”

Eddie pauses just long enough to twist his wrists and point two fingers at himself, grin a little wide. “Hey, if Buck tries to hand you one of his little cakes, just, like, take it and pretend you’ll try it,” he says, darting a glance behind him, no doubt looking to make sure the coast is clear. Tommy shoots him an amused look.

“What’s wrong with the cake?”

“He’s been trying to crack a gluten free dairy free cupcake. They’re... he hasn’t cracked it.”

Tommy bites his lip, rolls his tongue alongside the inside of his cheek, nearly runs into Josh Russo as he shoots his own look back to try to find Buckley’s mile-long legs amidst the group trailing along behind them towards the team jet.

When he reaches out to steady Russo, the man gives him the bitchiest fucking look Tommy’s ever seen, and completely ignores Diaz, walking backwards and turning his phone screen. “It’s fine, your profile in this lighting is gonna make people absolutely feral.”

It’s a good picture. Tommy doesn’t exactly have too many hang-ups about his appearance, but he used to, and this one is getting all his best angles. He holds up a fist for Josh to bump, and Josh stares at it for a moment like Tommy’s presenting him with roadkill.

He can’t decide whether or not Josh has clocked him, yet. There’s been a few instances where he’s tilted his head a certain way, or made an off-hand comment at the end of practice while he’s mining for content, that makes Tommy wonder if he’s seeing behind all the machismo to his soft underbelly and recognizing something of himself.

“You send me a single screenshot of someone on any social media getting thirsty and I’m shaving my head,” Tommy warns, just to watch Russo’s face flicker through all the stages of grief in about five seconds flat.

Tommy won’t ever admit this, but he’s never seen anyone crack social media interactions like a gay man in a toxic cesspool of a sport, and Josh Russo knows his shit. How often to post his stupid little thirst traps, what sort of questions to ask them when they’re sweaty and tired and ready for a fucking shower, which matchups the fans are most looking forward to, when to leak not-quite-secret shit to give fans a glimpse into the humanity of everyone’s favorite recalcitrant player.

“That’s a very nice suit,” Josh says instead, phone between two fingers and tap-tap-tapping against his palm. “Also I need you and Buck to do an interview for me when we get into Utah.”

Tommy and Eddie both shoot him looks, although Eddie’s is significantly less polite than Tommy’s. “Why.” He doesn’t really frame it as a question, but as they approach the stairs leading up to the plane Josh continues his backward walk, seemingly uncaring of the significant difference in their heights as he keeps pace.

“Yeah, you haven’t won a face-off in a year and a half —”

“I haven’t taken a face-off in a year and a half,” Tommy amends, but Russo either isn’t listening or doesn’t particularly care about the details.

“—and the first one you took as an Av resulted in a brilliantly stellar wrister from our star defenseman through, like, six men in front of the net —”

“Four bodies tops,” Tommy continues, even though at this point he’d be better just accepting that he’s going to be talked over.

“—and with the fight, too, the fans are abuzz, so I’m taking the initiative to lean into some new dynamics —”

“You’re pimping me out because I look good with blood on my knuckles.”

Russo pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Yeah, it was more the absolutely manic smile on your face all the way to the box, that people were talking about. On that topic, how do you still have all your teeth?”

Tommy considers popping out his partials to show Josh exactly how many teeth he’s actually missing, but then Josh will make a face, and Diaz will feel the need to antagonize him, just a little bit, and Tommy would really like to settle in his seat and decompress. He ignores the question entirely. “Can we do it tomorrow morning?”

Russo tilts his head back and forth, considering. He eyes the cut Hen’d taped up after todays afternoon game like he’s trying to decide if he can makeup it away before he remembers that that’s sort of the draw to late season hockey players cropping up for dumb social media shit. “I’ll ask Buck,” he commits, and Tommy sneaks past him up the stairs before he can wheedle any more favors off of him.

Inside the cabin, the broadcast crew is already settled in to their seats, and he takes a few spare moments to say hello. It doesn’t do shit, really, except show respect, but he’s been around the block enough times that acknowledging the staff of any given organization has become habit.

By the time he finds a seat, the rest of the team has already boarded, and Tommy settles in next to Panikkar, who looks about ready to pass out. He’d done half an hour on the bikes after the game while Tommy iced the bruise he’d gotten courtesy the crosscheck he'd received from Eberle while they battled in the corner for the puck.

Tommy pulls out his phone to find a new message waiting for him.

Nash says you’re sticking around, the message from Sal reads, and Tommy opens up the thread to take a look at the last few messages from one of his oldest teammates.

It’s a short turnaround of a travel day, Sunday afternoon game just finished and a quick flight into Salt Lake where they’ll pass out at the hotel (Buckley and Russo willing, anyway) and then be up with enough time for an early morning practice, lunch and a nap before they head to the arena. Tommy is realizing he’s hemmed himself in to a 5 am wakeup at the latest, if Josh is actually serious about mining Tommy’s temporary fame for content.

In the seat next to him, Panikkar mumbles something, already fully asleep in the time it had taken Tommy to fasten his seatbelt and scroll up to Sal’s last few messages, and Ravi’s head is already drifting toward Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy rolls his eyes, but he still ends up shifting his weight to allow for easier landing, when the inevitable trajectory of Ravi’s slumping skull meets its destination.

A year ago, Sal had sent him a random screenshot of the infamous Seguin tweet and a link to an Oliver Peck music video, and then, three weeks ago when the news of the trade broke: See you in a few weeks

Tommy’d replied with a selfie of himself holding up a middle finger, but at the time he’d been pretty sure Sal was right. That was typically what happened — Tommy was used to being the weight that shifted midseason when contenders wanted to make a big move and didn’t have the cap space to do it. It was early — early enough that most trades were still a glimmer in the eye of most agents, the All-Star break still looming, the perfect time to make a move that didn’t mean much, in the scheme of things.

Only that hadn’t happened. The Avs were undoubtedly the team to beat in the conference this year, so he’d expected maybe a week or two up and down the lineup before they shifted him off to Loveland, only playing up if someone was injured. He was a shit defenseman but he knew enough to move from his typical forward position, and he was used to that steady grind, easy to slot in if they needed to reassess an early season injury in the ramp up to playoffs.

And he was hanging it up at the end of the year, anyway, and the foothills of Colorado were a hell of a lot nicer than —

Not the point.

Only.

That hadn’t happened. Instead he’d hopped the first flight out and found a car waiting for him at the airport to take him directly to the arena. It’d been an off day, two days in to a three day stretch of them, actually, so even the team rumored to have one of the most strenuous practice schedules in the league was off that day, when he’d been escorted through the building and straight up to the GM’s office.

Sorry, Tommy shoots off, as the plane starts to taxi. I know you were looking forward to checking out my tits in the locker room, Deluca.

Ravi’s head finally touches down against the meat of Tommy’s shoulder, and he snuffles sneepily before nosing in, a bit. Tommy wishes he’d thought to grab one of the shitty pillows from the overhead bin: Panikkar’s cheeks are sharp.

Just the left one, Sal shoots back. Keep an eye out for 27, he’s had it out for Diaz since ‘21.

Tommy is aware of this. Perhaps a little more incidentally than he knows some of the conflicts Buckley has gotten himself wrapped up in, but he’s done the research on all the little shits on this team who like to chirp and then get their asses handed to them.

He closes out of the thread in time to catch liftoff, and an up close and personal serenade of light snores from the man who has, in three weeks, gone from passive aggressively mentioning all the routines he has in place to work on his speed to being comfortable enough with him to fall asleep on his shoulder.

Two rows up, Cameron has his overhead light tilted over his latest trashy pulp fiction novel, and up another three, Greenway is sulking. He’s been on the outs for weeks, now, and Tommy doesn’t know the exact details, only that he’d thrown a quiet little fit over Tommy’s sustained minutes (all seven a game) and that Chim hates him.

Quietly, Tommy suspects that he’s the piece the front office is trying to move out before the trade deadline, but he hasn’t said a word of it yet. Better to keep his mouth shut and his head down until he’s got better feel for the dynamics. And Christ are there a lot of dynamics on this team.

In the row next to him, Diaz and Buckley have their heads bent over an iPad, one earbud each and their eyes flitting across the screen with an almost disturbing synchrony — two halves of a whole, those two. He likes them both, and not even just because they are a large part of the reason he’s getting enough ice time to justify keeping him on the bench.

Tommy’s caught staring when Buckley flicks his gaze up and over, and there’s a moment where Tommy holds his breath, just like always — twenty-year career and no teammate has ever questioned why he doesn’t have a girlfriend, a bleach blonde wife popping out kids, he’s not about to lose that streak now over an intriguing birthmark and a megawatt grin.

Buck smiles, tilts his head a little, returns to his screen. They have multiple iPads, but these two are practically attached at the hip, and he’s yet to see them reach for a second one when they could just tilt their heads together over game film and discover some weakness they can exploit that even Karen Wilson hasn’t discovered yet.

Tommy, like an idiot, doesn’t look away. He’s got a snoring Ravi nuzzling into his shoulder and he’s still nursing the bruise on his thigh, too wired to sleep and too tired to realize how long he’s been looking at the side of Buckley’s skull until Buckley is saying something softly, and Tommy watches Diaz knock their shoulders together. Too late, he realizes Eddie is shifting, turning his head — he catches Tommy’s gaze with a raised brow.

Tommy feels caught out, but Eddie just tips his chin at Ravi wheezing against his shoulder, grin going wide.

He makes an aborted half-shrug of a movement, reeling it back halfway through so as not to jostle Ravi, and misses the moment Buck turns his camera on the tableau.

Behind Tommy, Chim is in the middle of one of his batty post-game cooldown routines, and he can hear the faint sounds of whatever ballad he’s currently listening to — Celine Dion, maybe? The air is on, and Tommy’s skin feels tight, and the ambient noise is doing nothing to help the squeal of tinnitus he’d never fully lost after his last fight with Deslauriers. He chokes down the urge to reach over and snatch the phone right out of Buckley’s hand — cheeses it up instead, knowing Buck’s snapped probably twenty pictures already.

He can’t prove it, but he’s absolutely certain there are pain inhibitors in Evan Buckley’s smile. When he lowers his phone and grins bashfully, the bruise on Tommy’s thigh fees a little less achy, and the buzzing behind his ears fades enough that Tommy barely notices it.

When Buck turns away again, Tommy makes a concentrated effort to focus on the pattern of the seat in front of him.

He doesn’t grin at all when his phone lights up with four notifications in row: Buck’s curated glamour shots of Ravi drooling on Tommy’s shoulder.

---

"You're good at those," Buckley says, skidding to a halt next to him at the elevators, and Tommy tips his head side to side, twists his neck just enough to catch his profile in his peripherals.

"Twenty years in the league," he intones, trying hard not to smile at how fucking antsy this kid is, shifting foot to foot as they wait for the doors to slide open.

"No, yeah, I just mean --" Buck shifts his weight, tips his chin. "You've got, like, personality and shit, in those. I always feel like a robot trying to figure out genuine human emotions when Josh asks me to do that stuff. But it -- I mean it was nice, to just... You made it easy, is all I'm trying to say."

"You didn't seem remotely like a robot, to me," Tommy teases, watching the numbers above the elevator doors drop. He's a little startled when Buckley smacks at his shoulder, but by the time he's had the chance to do more than blink about it Buck's already moving on.

"It's like you weren't even listening to me, I just said you helped me not be."

"I mean, if you did, it was very subtley implied, actually, so you can't blame me for the misinterpretation."

At his side, Buckley glances up at the numbers, too. "Do you want to grab coffee? I feel like we should grab coffee."

"Aren't you vehemently against caffeine on game days?"

Buckley looks both pleased he'd remembered, and a little bashful, which Tommy can't parse for a minute. "Everyone has cheat days. Besides, it's just Utah."

"Famous last words," Tommy warns, but he's already turning back in the direction of the conference room they'd just left, towards the Starbucks he's pretty sure is on this level. He checks his watch - if they mosey, maybe the place will even be open by the time they get there.

Buckley falls into step beside him and without missing a beat continues the conversation. "Sounds like there's a story to that."

Tommy can see him working through the math in his head. Kid's like a Roledex for NHL facts and stats, so it doesn't take him long to divide by two and get to the conclusion that they'd been playing Philadelphia at the tail end of their worst season on record.

"First full season in the league my team went on a tear. I'm talking barnburners every other night, fifteen home game wins straight — real mensch shit. We were on top of the world. But... season’s winding down, you know, and we didn't start out great, so we're chasing every point we can just to scrape a spot in round one." Buckley's eyes are sparkling the exact same way they'd been, all through Josh's weird word association game he'd had them do for warmups before actually getting into his little question and answer session. "And me — I'm playing fifteen minutes a game against guys like Sid and Ovi, I'm one hundred percent sure this streak is never gonna end. So - two games left in the season, we're scheduled to play the Flyers."

"Coach pulls us in for a huddle before pregame warmups and he tells us to keep our heads down, shoot for the net, get back to basics, don't underestimate them. But half their team are call-ups, at that point, a good third have never played at this level before, right?"

Buck chuckles, clearly already reaching the conclusion, but Tommy forges on ahead anyway.

"So I just say it. Come right out and say the words: Coach, it's just Philly." He gestures wide, hands out in front of him, like he can conjure up the words that had been painted onto the inside of his eyelids for a good four months, after.

"So what happened?"

"We got shut out. Five nothing. By their third string goalie. Guy’d never even been on the bench as a backup before, and he stood on his damn head all game.”

Buck laughs. It’s a sweet sound, echoing off the walls of the corridor they're strolling through, and Tommy feels the edges of his grin going wide, digging crevices into his cheeks as he shakes his head at the memory. They’d scraped the two-seed that year, and gotten slaughtered in the second round, and Tommy had spent the entire summer hearing it’s just Philly parroted back to him by every single member of his team.

“Eddie doesn’t believe in curses,” Buck admits, once his laughter has died down. “He’s the least superstitious person I know.”

“Hope he doesn’t get voted into the All-Star game, then. Sid might read him the riot act.”

Buckley stops dead in his tracks, eyebrows both dancing up his forehead. It brings his birthmark into stark relief against the shitty lighting of the corridor. He shakes his head like he’s clearing a thought. “I forgot you played with him.”

Tommy has to remind himself that Buckley probably knows every team all of his teammates, current and former, have ever played for. “For a year and a half, back when the jock strap was still mostly white.”

Buck grins, again, blue eyes gleaming as he twists himself sideways, sort of grape-vining down the hall for a few moments, body facing Tommy’s. “What’s he like to play with?” he asks, and Tommy barrels on ahead, desperately reminding himself that Evan Buckley is exactly like every other long-legged, bright-eyed, shockingly sweet attractive man he’s ever played with.

Off-fucking-limits.

[yandere-fics]

Saw you were requesting some spooky. The kingdom OCs being a possessed, magical armor on reader. No matter what they can’t get them off and the only time they do is for necessary reasons (like going to the bathroom or taking a bath). But it’s right back on again afterwards. I think this would suit(hehe) Abigail since she’s a knight and would totally be gung-ho about having her soon to be wife literally in her grasp without any way to escape without her knowing. The other OCs would also probably love this situation. I’m wondering how you think they got them on or how the reader ended up trapped in them. Maybe facing the problem of reader dying?

you can totally add on to the brain rot too

So what i'm imagining is like the reader was a knight and made a deal with like a devil like entity to be the strongest and then got stuck trapped with the armor right? Like would the armor itself be talking to reader or would it be more of an irritating spirit looming over them and reminding them to put the armor back on right now? I personally like the looming spirit thing, the ghost whines at them to put the armor back on but at night they get quiet cause they like spooning the reader secretly in their sleep. I'll write a full thing for this, I just want to confirm exactly what you want before I write it.

I think they could be different objects depending on their personality.

I personally imagine Theanna would be tied to a cursed crown. Like the reader is a rebel leader who killed the previous king and was made leader but didn't realize they would be stuck tied to the most annoying ghost ever who has been trying to guide previous leaders but you were the first to actually listen to her advice.

I think Elisha would be tied to a hair tie, something simple that most people don't realize is a dangerous artifact that actively wants to murder them because they are near it's master. She always has to be worn around your wrist when you're bathing but prefers to be closer and in your hair, if you have enough hair to do that. Either that or a choker because of her clinginess.

Abigail is a glove that controls your sword and makes you be able to strike down all enemies. She was lost in a cave for years until a young squire came to retrieve treasure for their commander. You were going to give the glove to your master until Abigail started talking to you and coerced you into putting the glove on. Even if you had given her to your commander she would have likely killed the commander and forced the glove onto your hand someway.

Veronia is a coat that keeps you warm forever and always maintains your needs, you don't even need to think about food when you're wearing the coat, it somehow just always keeps you healthy. Her spirit behaves more like your companion but any time you progress more on your quest, she always somehow manages to lead you away from the danger without you realizing what she's doing.

Ainsley is a pendant filled with infinite mana that she will gladly allow you to use. It also prolongs your life forever but you don't need to know that you've stopped aging entirely. She thinks of herself as your lover so she's quite mad to find out you had a fiance back at home before your quest. It's alright though, now you'll outlive them all!

[mwexodusofficial]

Chapter XIII: The Devil's Luck

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(Music: "Devil Wears A Suit And Tie", by Colter Wall)

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"MMMMFFF!! MMFF! MMMMFFFFF!!!!"

Jimmy was blinded, gagged and bound by his hands, being dragged roughly by a host of garrison officers towards the brig. He was terrified, but considerably less so than when he'd been trapped in that room with the devil himself.

His mind didn't receive the luxury of having time to comprehend his situation, especially after being beaten nearly to the point of death multiple times. In fact, he couldn't surface any thoughts in his mind at all right now; it was too busy enjoying the flood of relief that came with being removed from such a dangerous and uncontrollable, nightmarish situation; removed from the overwhelming agony inflicted on him physically and mentally.

Rather than try and formulate a thought in his deep exhaustion, he chose instead to listen in to the conversations he could hear from around him; gathering any information he could to give him an advantage, however necessary.

"Shouldn't we have bound him by his feet, too, like Hawkes said?"

"We can do that at the brig. Where the fuck's he gonna run?"

"Yeah, fair enough."

...

...

"It's been a while since I saw him that feral."

"He's... been like that before?"

"Oh, you're an FNG."

Jimmy was silent and attentive as the garrison officers holding his arms spoke casually.

"An FNG?"

"Don't tell me this is your first year in Garrison."

"It is."

The officer holding Jimmy's right arm sighed exhaustedly, whilst the officer holding his left audibly protested to the gesture.

"Why are you sighing? I'm not an idiot, Corporal. Served four years at Edhin District with the Organized Crime Unit."

"Four years catching pig-ignorant hooligans on-world. You've never stepped off-world for a voyage before in your life."

There was a momentary silence.

"How the hell would you know that, Gavin?"

A name, Jimmy noted.

There was another momentary silence, before the officer on his left side replied: "Sorry."

What the hell was that about? Jimmy wondered half-consciously; it was still incredibly difficult to form coherent thoughts and follow conversations, but an all-encompassing hunger for superiority wracked him from the beginning of his existence. It compelled him with an unnatural force, to assert his will and dominance where possible, when possible, through any  means necessary.

Being at the bottom of the totem pole now, he needed to get a leg up however he could.

The conversation between the officers continued, with the officer on his right speaking first- this one was clearly the superior and veteran in this conversation, and the one chiding the younger, inexperienced officer on his left side.

"I know that because I've seen cannon fodder like you a dozen-hundred times over on a dozen different vessels. This ship does not take on more fresh fucks than grizzled bastards of war, but it seems recent events are... causing normalcy to vent out the airlock."

Jimmy could tell the superior officer, Gavin, was trying to keep his words as generalized as possible with awareness that he, the captive, could be listening in; which he was. 

"Alright, we're here." Gavin remarked, and Jimmy heard the sound of a door sliding across frame, being led into a new room with a different, lower temperature and a lack of air conditioning.

Woah...

Jimmy felt as if an invisible, gaseous-like force had wafted over his body and sent goosebumps rising in waves across his skin. Whatever room they had entered felt familiar, even though he never recalled being in any other room than the one he'd woken up in.

"Why are we going through the Divinity Chamber?" The officer on the left asked nervously. "We shouldn't be-"

"Watner, SHUT UP!" Gavin barked in a low yet authoritative tone. "It's the only path we have right now to brig, the renovations were last-minute and they didn't build an auxiliary hallway. Keep it going."

Why did he hush him? Jimmy wondered in frantic thought, his mind beginning to clear from the waves of guilt, terror, agony, humiliation and rage that had kept his mental faculties held hostage. This is my last chance to do something! This room might help me, somehow!

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(Music: "Red Dress", by Adrian Berenguer)

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In a desperate act of cunning, Jimmy intentionally stumbled and fell to his knees, feigning a serious cough and sobbing (genuinely) to the confusion of the officers escorting him.

"Get the fuck up!" Gavin ordered.

"Gavin, you can't sw-!"

"Watner, cuff him!"

Jimmy couldn't see anything, as he was still blindfolded, but he could read people from tone, voice inflection, and all forms of non-verbal auditory clues that gave away their mindsets and intentions. For some reason, Gavin had clearly tried to cut Watner off from finishing his sentence. Why? What was he going to say?

You can't... can't what? Can't sw... 

CAN'T SWEAR.

"FUCK!" Jimmy shouted at the top of his lungs, alarming the host of officers behind him. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUUUUUUUUCK! SHIT, CUNT, BITCH-!"

CRACK!

Jimmy cried out in pain as something rubbery and solid slammed across his cheek, sending him careening to the floor and his blindfold made uneven, allowing Jimmy's right eye to get a glimpse of the room they were in and his situation.

It was a massive chamber, with soothing-gray colored walls, ceiling and flooring made entirely out of a metal Jimmy wasn't familiar with. He barely had time to note more than that-

"GAG HIM, NOW!" Gavin barked at the officers, and Jimmy heard scrambling behind him, officers intent on pinning him down. Feeling in control for the first time again, Jimmy cackled and stumbled onto his feet, sprinting from the clumsy officers bogged down by protective gear and equipment.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, BITCH FUCK ALL OF YOU STUPID SHITS! I'LL KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU SAD CUNTS AND BURN THE REMAINS OF WHAT'S LEFT OVER! HEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Jimmy was momentarily maddened by the burst of freedom and energy he felt shooting throughout every nerve in his body. His cunning had actually worked! His plans had succeeded at something, for once in his life!

He had no fucking clue why cursing was forbidden in this place, but it was the only plan he had going for him right now, considering how insane it was that he was even alive right now. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was moving on his toes.

As he was cursing with emphasis on every syllable, almost as a celebration of his newfound freedom from the tyranny of his predicament, the officers were unholstering their electric bolas, winding them up to throw at Jimmy as he pranced around the Divinity Chamber in ecstatic glee. Gavin looked to a terrified Watner with an expression of rage and deep regret.

"GET HIM, GAG HIM. EVERY SECOND IS A RISK."

Watner nodded, stricken with panic and fear the same as Gavin. Both of them were partially responsible for this shitshow because of their own oversights, and it was only now that the implications of the Divinity Chamber and its consequences were made so apparent. 

Without wasting another second, the two of them sprinted with the rest of the garrison officers, activating their electrified bolas and slinging them as accurately as they could at the ever-dodging and ducking Jimmy, who had manage to shake off the entirely of his blindfold by this point to observe his situation.

The layout of the chamber seemed religious in its theme, though made almost fully generalized and vague as if to accommodate some broad idea of 'religion'. In the middle of the chamber was a raised altar adorned with candles, sigils and-

"Shit!" Jimmy muttered in brief panic as one of the bolas passed inches from his body, visible electric currents running through its metal fiber and wire. He noticed the other officers began to wind up their bolas and started zig-zagging as much as he could, cursing all the while.

His luck eventually ran out as one of the officers circled around and tackled him from behind, taking him by surprise; pinning him to the ground and clocking him across the face more than a few times in outrage over this whole ordeal.

"STOP, KAWAL!" Gavin shouted, running over as quickly as he could; any actions taken in this sanctified room were potential igniters for all-out catastrophe. As Corporal in charge, it naturally fell upon him. "PUT HIM IN CUFFS AND GAG HIM!"

As Kawal's punches stopped briefly, Jimmy took advantage and bit the underside of Kawal's right hand, causing Kawal to shout in pain and start punching at Jimmy's face, to the further protest of Gavin as him and the other officers closed the gap across the chamber.

Jimmy's eyes glanced over the arriving troupe of officers; he scowled with blood-soaked teeth and crimson splattered across his bruised and welted face. He made a scathing declaration even while Kawal's fists battered his face repeatedly in derision, frenzied in his search for some escape from this inescapable hell he'd been forced back into.

"PLEASE, PLEEAAASEE!!! GOD, GIVE ME FREEDOM!"

-!

BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-Vmmmmm....

Everyone in the Divinity Chamber came to a frozen halt as the familiar buzzing hum crackled across the ship, then died down. The officers turned to one another, their faces paled white in staunch terror.

The FTL Drivers had revved up on their own; immediately discernible by any other ships within 3 Astronomical Units. Gavin looked with unfettered revulsion and fury at Jimmy.

"DRAG HIM TO THE BRIG AND BEAT HIM UNTIL HE'S UNCONSCIOUS." Gavin sneered with bared teeth, watching as Kawal shoved an oily rag into Jimmy's mouth and dragged him by his binds toward the brig. Watner looked to Gavin like they'd both just committed a homicide.

"Wh...What do we do... sir?"

Gavin gazed with a defeated expression at the streaks and stains of blood matted across the ground where Jimmy was beaten, feeling a sense of saturated dread resting over his flesh.

"I'll... report to the Captain. You make sure that scum gets to the brig without fail."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Music: "I Might Float", by Syd Matters)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10 minutes ago...

"Alright, thanks for taking the time to do this mental evaluation, Anya."

Annie, Dula, Anya and Hawkes had gone into a separate break room to perform the first mental evaluation. Anya shifted uncomfortably in the fluffy chair Hawkes had insisted she sit in for this evaluation. Now that she had a relatively quiet atmosphere devoid of noise and familiar faces, she had time to reflect and think about the sordid mess causing pandemonium in her mind palace. 

Annie was sitting in a chair across from her, whilst Dula was sitting diagonally to Annie, taking notes. Hawkes was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and eyes piercing into Annie as she conducted the evaluation. 

Soothing indie music buzzed serenely through the small speaker Annie had brought into the break room, seated on the coffee table dividing Annie from Anya. Hawkes raised an eyebrow as he eyed the speaker.

"Is the music necessary?" Hawkes muttered in bemusement.

"It is. So," Annie started, looking over her mental evaluation sheet for a second. "This won't take too long. I've heard you did this, before, so I'm sure this will be a breeze."

She flashed a brief smile at Anya, whose features were unchanging in their physical presentation of immense anguish and unsettled grief. She, like every other former crewmate of the Tulpar, was broken, exhausted. Tired on an existential level. Annie cleared her throat awkwardly and looked down at her notepad before speaking again.

"So, this will be a simple mental health evaluation. I'll just ask you a few preliminary questions to get an understanding of where you're at mentally, then we can go into symptoms, side effects and other potential issues if they exist. You're in a judgement-free environment, so make sure to answer honestly and-"

"How... did you get that bruise?" Anya muttered, noticing the purple discoloration across Annie's cheek. She smiled awkwardly, trying to brush past the subject.

"I'm sure there's a lot going on in that mind of yours, and I certainly can't imagine what it feels like. But everyone on this ship wants the best for you, and we want to know as much as possible to help you all adjust to your... life again."

She took a breath to speak again.

"I've been made aware-"

"Well aware."Hawkes hissed at her, much to Annie's chagrin; a few minutes before the evaluation was set up, Annie had gotten into a volatile argument with Hawkes about retrieving the traces of embryotic tissue from Anya's womb to potentially revive the fetus that had perished inside. Being a lifelong doctor and overly compassionate soul, she had the strong and stubborn notion that all human life was worth saving from demise, no matter what laws or ethos dictated. The recent Day of Erudition only solidified this belief with titanium concrete, and pushed her to adopt a savior complex as she could now save patients, even from the clutches of death.

The interaction between her and Hawkes was brief.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Captain, it's worth trying."

"I'm going to hit you if you keep talking about this, Annes."

"I can't believe you would throw away the possibility of saving another life, no matter how it was produced, because it came from terrible circumstances! How is that justifiable?!"

"You are asking to bring back the dead fetus in Anya's womb. Do you even know what would happen? Would it appear, half-baked, on the altar, or would you create the eye-gouging possibility that it resumes her pregnancy? Are you going to traumatize that beautiful soul beyond sanity? Do you have any FUCKING empathy for your fellow man?"

"Don't give me that SHIT, Hawkes! Like it or not, everyone deserves a chance to live! We were given divine mandate to bring back those who were wronged, and that includes the child!We won't know until we try- GHK!"

Hawkes' hand shot around her throat, clutching firmly yet just barely easing off her esophagus to avoid choking. Annie was frightened, but stood her ground defiantly as Hawkes flared his blazing, malevolent eyes downward, scowling with restrained vitriol.

"How such compassion can produce such hideous ideas." He muttered. "I've seen bright minds like you orchestrate genocides, slaughter thousands with labels alone, produce weapons of mass destruction, and heap misfortune upon prosperity."

Annie grit her teeth in outrage that he would compare her beliefs to such atrocities. But before she could speak-

"One of them stands in front of you, right now."

He released his hold of her throat, backing up and gazing at her with hollow, tortured eyes. Her rage and indignation dissipated near-instantly. She knew exactly what he meant- his track record.

Civilians, families, soldiers, innocents, children, evildoers. Slaughtered, butchered, exploded, shot, stabbed. A three-decade-long resume of a child prodigy twisted into the most efficient mass murdering admiral in nearly the entire galaxy. She'd gone to the shadowy cabinet meetings he had with high-end government officials, celebrities, business magnates and military leaders, and listened in on the conversations as his confidant and aide.

Before his height transfiguration, the two of them had gotten into constant fistfights, quarrels and violent arguments over their disagreements on practically every decision that could be made. When such decisions held hundreds, if not thousands of lives in the balance, it was inevitable that the magnitude of these choices would reflect in the arguments between them.

"I am not disqualifying your compassion, Annes. But don't ever float an idea like that by me again. If the... infant was not brought back by the original resurrection, then that is how it shall remain."

Annie was not satisfied with that conclusion in the slightest, but she understood the reasoning and decided it might be better to push on this a bit later in the year. She nodded at the Captain and turned on her heel to head into the break room-

"Woah- HRK!"

She slipped on a small puddle and smacked the side of her head against a nearby table. Hawkes' first reaction was to laugh inappropriately, before asking if she was okay. She herself was sincerely bemused at his overall reaction and punched him square in the kneecap.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So..." Annie began the evaluation, pushing the embarrassing memory out of her head. "Anya, I wanted to confirm if you were aware or not that you are... currently living your second life. Well, if you had wrapped your mind around that, at least."

Anya nodded vacuously, blinking infrequently and spacing out frequently. Now that she had the silence to consolidate her thoughts, it was difficult for her to speak when her thoughts had to be rearranged from their very foundations first. Annie looked to Hawkes, who shrugged, and turned back to Anya.

"I'll, uh, take that as a yes for right now. Have you felt any discomforts during your stay on this ship? Anything that has made you unhappy at any point in time."

"..."

"It's okay to take your time."

"...N-No. Hawkes has... been very nice."

Annie smiled and nodded, scanning the questionnaire again.

"How have you felt about seeing your fellow crewmates again? Are there mixed feelings, or a swelling of emotion?"

"..."

This time, Anya was once more silent, seemingly wrapped up too much in her own mind to focus on the questions. Hawkes sighed as Annie glanced back at him.

"We'll suspend this for now," He lamented with great relief; it hurt him to watch Anya squirm and agonize in her mind while being pelted with mental evaluation questions. He'd initially thought the idea to be perfect for gauging the mental state of the four crewmates, but upon reflection it was foolish and churlish; none of them were even nearing the state to answer a set of questions coherently. "Let's just go back to the Suite and-"

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM-

The FTL drivers rumbled the ship with intense vibrations, then suddenly died out. Annie's face paled stark-white; Dula looked around in confusion and slight fear; Anya screamed and covered her head, startled and frightened by the sudden occurrence.

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! BWOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Hawkes' face contorted in confusion, then twisted into repressed fury and deep frustration as the alarms rang out through the ship's interior and in the break room, blaring red lights wafting cones of crimson distress around the room.

"What the hell is going on?!" Dula muttered. Hawkes' expression grew more and more malevolent, knowing that someone had fucked up here. He immediately thumbed his radio and changed the channel to Bridge.

"You better have the greatest fucking excuse in all of recorded human history, Sammy."

"C-Captain, we didn't activate the FTL drivers! They just started on their own! We also have an incoming vessel arriving within a few minutes, they're sending out distress signals!"

"Receive them."

"Captain... the Armada is following them."

"Are you fucking-"

He had to turn off his radio, sprinting into the nearby janitor's closet, and screamed every bronchiole of his lungs into the empty space in front of him. One shitshow after another. The inside of his mind, at that moment, was the equivalent of a madhouse filled to the brim with Tourette's-ridden psychopaths.

After going on a historic tantrum and obliterating the interior of the janitor's closet with physical force, he stormed out, ordering Annie and Dula to take Anya back to the Suite and provide a guard retinue of twenty-four garrison officers to keep watch over the suite.

It was then that his radio blared through a panicked and horrified voice- that of Gavin, the Corporal who was escorting Jimmy to the brig.

"Captain... Jimmy... escaped his gag and bindings... we were... passing through the Divinity Chamber... he... he caused this, sir..."

Hawkes stared at his radio, unsure of how he was going to maintain sanity in the next 5 seconds. He tried to calm himself-

"KILL HIM. KILL. HIM."

"W-With pleasure, Captain!"

The radio clicked off, and Hawkes was beginning to see nothing but a red haze overcome his vision. Focusing on concentrating his breaths, he sat down on the chair Anya had just been sitting in, steadying his mind as much as he could.

Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage. Rage-

He loved Anya. He loved Curly. He loved Swansea. He loved Daisuke. His family. His hope. His center. His base. He had them. He had a reason to maintain himself. A reason to contain this ineffable, poisonous, venomous ANIMOSITY.

He stood up firmly, storming towards the brig; utterly and unspeakably hateful towards himself. Hawkes had, for a short amount of time, interpreted the pig-ugly atrocities of Jimmy's actions to mirror his own; as if that were some pithy excuse to not kill him- as if there was any path of redemption he deserved. Well, now the decision was more clear than the air itself. The dilemma was solved. The decision was made.

JIMMY NEEDED TO DIE, AT HIS HANDS. NOW.

As he barreled through the hallways in growing eagerness to commit a most violent act, his radio buzzed with notifications from the Bridge.

"Captain, Sammy here. Do you want to engage in negotiations with the incoming distress vessel?"

"YOU HANDLE IT, OR I WILL ORDER THEIR ANNIHILATION ON SIGHT."

"...You got it, Cap. What about the incoming armada?"

Hawkes roared at the walls, infuriated time and time again by the dilemmas approaching him all at once, ever-recurring and always insufferably disruptive. He nearly crushed his radio into bits as he grabbed it to respond with soul-withering spite and loathing.

"I'LL HEAD UP TO THE BRIDGE, YOU CUNT. PREPARE THE FUCKING COMMUNICATIONS!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 minutes later, the distress vessel warped into sight of the Argonaut II, completely dwarfed by its immense and epic structure like an ant to an elephant. Sammy, the 3rd Mate of the Argonaut II, heard the sound of ringing from the tele-receiver, and pressed the button to receive a call from the other vessel.

"This is acting Captain of the Numia, Sal Luciano, requesting aid and refuge from an enemy armada!"

"Numia, you have some serious gall to request aid when you dragged the threat we were hiding from straight into our path! You are infinitely lucky our Captain is not on the bridge at this moment!"

"There aren't enough words in the English dictionary to emphasize how sorry we are to do this, but we were not going to sit around and wait to die. Please, PLEASE, we are requesting at the very least REFUGE!"

Sammy pressed his lips against his teeth and deliberated with more than a myriad of pressure on his shoulders. It was too late to turn them away and make a run for it- the Armada was going to arrive in less than five minutes. The very least he could do was get information on their enemy -as much as possible- before combat started.

"We will grant you temporary refuge, and in exchange share ALL the information you have on this Armada!"

Sammy heard what sounded like cries of relief from the other side of the radio before Sal's voice came over it once again.

"Thank you- THANK YOU! While we pull up to your port side, I will share what I know about the Separatists!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Music: "Raid", by Evan Royalty)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkes glared murderously out the observational window of the bridge, seeing the massive fleet of fifty-something-odd spaceships parked in front of the Argonaut II, buzzing with activity as they prepared for a confrontation. 

"The SCR, huh?" Sammy muttered, gazing at the Armada. He'd heard about this small fry who'd gotten big in a rapid amount of time; the terror of the Canaris commerce lanes, ambushing guarded freighters and stealing their military vessels after a skirmish. Their leadership was clearly more daring and organized than most other pirates traveling the system. They had apparently been chasing the Numia after being caught during a surveillance mission and had remained relentless in their pursuit ever since, and Hawkes inferred that they were seeing if the scout ship would lead them to a bigger, bountiful fleet to pillage.

Having warped here only a minute ago, the Armada had suddenly buzzed the bridge for communication and parley. Hawkes slammed the button to receive the message, and a proud, arrogant, and naive voice boomed over the speakers.

"OFFICERS OF THE ARGONAUT II! WE ARE THE SEPARATIST COALITION OF REVOLUTIONARIES. THIS IS A SIMPLE DEMAND. WE HAVE YOU OUTNUMBERED AND OUTGUNNED. SURRENDER YOUR VESSEL PEACEFULLY AND WE WILL TRANSPORT YOUR CREW TO THE NEAREST NEUTRAL OUTPOST AND ALLOW YOU TO KEEP YOUR LIVES!"

Sammy raised an eyebrow at the bold and direct statement from the enemy. No matter how many ships they possessed, taking on the fearsome and renowned Argonaut II in battle was an extremely daring feat; especially with the living legend Captain Hawkes at the helm. He glanced up at Hawkes to crack a joke, only to pale in the face and recede into the chair when he caught a glimpse of Hawkes' animated, reddened face. Without hesitation, Hawkes slammed the button once more, sending his voice over to the pirate armada with a booming, malevolent declaration.

"DIE."

[yandere-sins]

Hihi!! Could you maybe do 42 (collars) with Lucifer? Thank you :)

Of course! Thank you for requesting the devil :D

Collar - “Don’t you dare take it off, I want everyone to know your mine.” 

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

The whole day was exhausting.

Even Lucifer had to admit that as he sighed, tying his tie in front of the mirror. Working from the moment he was awake to the moment he got home late after work, only to get ready to attend a dinner with you, it strained even the best of the best, which Lucifer counted himself to. He briefly glanced at your adorable, sulking form sitting at the edge of the bed. At least, he assumed you were sulking by the hanging of your shoulders and the heavy sigh you were breathing quietly as to not have him notice. Recently, you had become so calm and mild-mannered, he always feared something was upsetting you.

Of course, whatever it was, it couldn’t have been the obvious issue of his controlling and possessive treatment of you. After all this time, you were used to being his, but perhaps putting you in yet another fancy outfit was weighing down on you. You always fretted over his spending habits when it came to you, after all.

But this time, you’d soon understand why this new garment was necessary. After all, there was a more significant, more expensive present waiting for you than just the satin you were clad in. And then, Lucifer was sure, you’d stop being so depressed.

The last of Lucifer’s personal Little Ds said its farewells with a tip to its hat in the reflection of the mirror before disappearing into thin air as if it was had never been there at all. Funny, how just a few weeks ago, you’d have cried and pleaded to the Little Ds when they came to drag you around and fit you into new clothes Lucifer wanted for you. But they never listened to your false accusations, and perhaps, by now, you understood how futile it was to fight Lucifer’s love. You’d been very naughty towards his most loyal, unbothered servants, but the only one who ever came running when you screamed was Lucifer, after all.

You only had him, and he only wanted you by his side.

This was a love story. Fate, destiny - whatever you called it - brought you two together. And Lucifer’s determination and power were the glue to your relationship, keeping the puzzle pieces connected to each other forever. He’d thrive as long as you were with him, and you’d be with him for all eternity if Lucifer wished so. Not one day would pass with you aging or him not loving you. So, why not make the time worth your while and dedicate yourself to him as well?

It was a question he often asked himself when you still had your rebellious human phase. If anyone knew about rebellion, it was him. Must be in the family, he concluded. But just like he did when he came to the Devildom, you slowly but surely accepted your inevitable fate now. Finally, his love for you must have broken through your stubborn head, and it was worth any second of trouble you two had to go through to get there. That’s what it looked like, at least, and as such, he was willing to reward you for it.

“[Name],” he called for you, a smile crossing his lips when he was finally able to catch your attention ever so briefly before you looked away again, gathering yourself to walk over to him. You certainly looked displeased, even though you were so damn beautiful in the black satin he had your clothes made of, fitting his own suit. Tapping the vanity countertop, he directed you, pushing you down onto the stool in front.

With a slight push, the palm-sized, black box slid right in front of you, and leaning over you with his hand gripping into your shoulders, he mumbled, “Open it.”

He could see his own beautiful reflection in the mirror before you as he watched you hesitantly reach up. There was no joy in your reflection yet, but Lucifer thought he could see hints of excitement in his own as you slowly but surely pressed open the jewelry box.

This, perhaps, was the most beautiful and expensive thing he ever got for you. Only the best for his pride and joy, but he couldn’t help but pat his own back for his exquisite taste. “Those are 16 diamonds from hell, virgin blood pressed into rubies and smaragds made from the eyes of dragons. Do you like it?”

Perhaps, had he not been so satisfied with his own purchase, Lucifer might have realized that every description he made caused you to cringe a little more. Yet, there wasn’t much to do when he reached for the invaluable necklace, the jewels reflecting the room light each in their own unique way as he held them up against your throat.

“It looks amazing on you,” he mused, his hands slowly but surely closing around your neck, even though you leaned back against him, which he appreciated but not condoned. “And this...” he mumbled as he closed the clasp at the back of your neck, reaching forward again to play with the tiny, golden L that was dangling down at the front. “Is so no one touches my most precious belongings.”

Chuckling as if he had just made an amusing remark, Lucifer had to admit that the demon looking back at him in the mirror almost ashamed him. His expression was so soft and loving - which he hadn’t seen himself look like in centuries - and the choker around your neck so sparkly and wonderful, it filled him with all sorts of warm feelings.

And yet, you didn’t seem to be impressed at all.

“It’s hideous,” you whispered, not even courageous enough to look his reflection in the eye. Immediately, his smile became crooked as he heard your words, heaviness weighing down onto his good mood.

“How very fitting then,” Lucifer replied, sounding still very chipper, but you were aware of the threatening undertone in his voice. “I don’t want to wear this monstrosity tonight. I don’t want to go anywhere at all,” you huffed, reaching up to unclasp it yourself, though he caught your hands before they could work on opening your new necklace.

“Don’t you dare take it off. I want everyone to know your mine,” Lucifer said firmly, staring you down through the mirror in front of you. “We’ll go to have dinner with Diavolo tonight, and you will wear it, and you will love wearing it, do you understand?”

Silence stood between you two for a moment. A moment as there were so many in the past. One in which you decided if you were going to rebel against him or accept his will. Your answer came in the form of your hands letting go of the golden thread they had held onto, letting Lucifer put them back in your lap. Yes, you’ve become so much wiser over time, even if your tongue was still sharp. But you didn’t have to worry about it; Lucifer would always be there to remind you to watch what you were saying.

“It fits because you called me a hideous monster before as well, and look what that did for you. You’ve never been more suitable to be with me than you are now.”

This time, you did look up, facing your own shell of a person reflecting in the mirror. You were but a husk of your former self, but even that was alright. After all, Lucifer would still love you even if you were only a beating heart in his hands. Keeping you wholly simply was the prettier solution to all of his problems caused by you.

“I love you,” he whispered, putting on the kindest smile he could muster. Still, even he could see the corners of his mouth flinch in mockery, enjoying the view of you fighting your inner war of giving up and accepting his will. It was him who made you what you were now, simply because you wouldn’t stop rejecting him. He, who loved you so much. And now he was the only one who could ever love you. And loving you, he did.

“Do as I say,” he reminded you, and your eyes lowered in defeat, knowing you couldn’t do anything against him without Lucifer taking even more from you than he already had. Because as long as there was even one hint of something he didn’t own about you yet, Lucifer would continue to take, take, take.

Because you were his, his, his.

[orange-waterfalls]

...Happy New Year?

Darkiplier x gn!reader x Wilford

A/N: I am so disappointed and surprised that I haven’t written anything poly yet are you KIDDING ME. Does it take me 5 months to write a single fic? No. Might take me that long to find motivation and SINCE I don’t wanna be an ASSHOLE who takes requests and then DOESN’T WRITE THEM I’m probably gonna take a bit to think and figure out what I wanna do here with the blog. Uhhh reader is a retail worker who’s just. Tired and stressed. Dark and Wil decide to comfort them because good boyfriends are good! TW: mention of weed. And suggestive phrases? Also cursing. That’s it. Rated T. Enjoy and have a happy New Year everybody!

Word Count: 2.7k

--

“Do you have to?” Wilford all but whined when you got ready for work. Except he did not whine because he does not whine because he is Wilford Warfstache, thank you. “It’s New Year’s Eve!”

“I’m fully aware what day it is, hon,” You said in a very soft voice because you knew Wilford had to be let down gently or he’d be grouchy for the next few months. “That’s why I’m not working overtime. Hopefully. Maybe I can get Sara to take over my shift, she’s not doing anything tonight. I wish I could’ve taken the morning shift, I do.” Darkiplier appeared next to Wilford, looking just as desperate.

“Can you not just… not… go?” Dark suggested, trying not to sound too needy. He knew that he failed by the look you gave him.

“I have to work, boys.”

“Do you though?”

“Wilford...”

“I can get you money.”

“Are you suggesting illegal activities, Mr. Warfstache?”

“We are not… besides stealing.”

“Wil.”

“We could pawn off Mark’s stuff, it’s probably worth a lot!”

“Both of you, stop it!” You said in a stern voice. They both looked like kicked puppies and you felt a little bad about it. “I’ll get home when I get home. You know I love you. If I never had to leave you, I wouldn’t. But I gotta, ok?”

“Kissies?” Wilford asked, tapping the tips of his fingers together. Darkiplier looked at the motion and back at his own fingers, seemingly trying to replicate it. You stared at his hands for a moment, watching the struggle with a resigned sort of curiosity. Wilford also stared at them until he couldn’t take it anymore and just put his hands over Dark’s.

“Just-Just… stop.” He said gently. Dark lowered his hands and they both looked back to you. You shook your head.

“I’ll be back before midnight. Order some takeout, please.”

“Sure thing, boss!” Wilford saluted.

“Goodbye, darling.” Darkiplier gave a little bow. You smiled warmly, walking over to the two. Darkiplier turned his head and you kissed his cheek. You tried to do the same for Wilford, but he turned his head back at the last second to catch your lips in a kiss. Additionally, he grabbed your face to keep you there. You pulled away and gently smacked his cheek before heading back to the door. Darkiplier glared at him a little. He stuck his tongue out in response.

“Bye! Love you!”

“We love you too, babes!” Wil called, wrapping his arms around Dark’s neck and leaning against him. Dark waved a goodbye to you. You shut and locked the door behind you. 

“Wil?” Dark said after they stood like that for a while.

“Yep?” Wil responded with his cheek squished to Dark’s shoulder.

“If you’re gonna cling to me we could at least lay down.”

“Cuddle time?”

“Sure. Cuddle time. Come on.” Dark tried to walk to the three’s shared bedroom, but Wilford wouldn’t let go. He quirked an eyebrow at the reporter. “Wil?”

“Yes?”

“May you… let go?”

“No.”

“Wil.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Wil…”

“No.”

“We can’t cuddle if you don’t let go.”

“Lies. Deception.”

“Wil, please, work with me here.” They looked at each other. Wilford slowly removed his arms from around the other man’s neck. Dark caught one of his hands, bringing his palm to his lips and gently kissing his hand.

“Someone’s feeling affectionate!” Wil exclaimed. Dark intertwined their fingers and gave his hand a squeeze before finally walking to the room.

The bedroom had mostly shades of black, white, and blue decor, apart from the fluffy red pillows you just had to have, along with a few stuffed animals. Darkiplier had his office with his red and black velvet and Wilford had his own… wherever he hung out, so they didn’t mind you choosing the colors. Anything to stop Wilford from painting the walls yellow of all colors. 

Wilford turned around and pulled Dark in by his waist, swaying in a little dance. 

“What are you doing?” Dark tried and failed to conceal his smile and laugh.

“Dancing with my lover, what does it look like?” Wilford nuzzled their noses together.

“I thought you wanted to cuddle.”

“I do.”

“Then why are we dancing?”

“Can’t we just dance for a bit?” Darkiplier pulled back and looked at Wil, who was currently avoiding eye contact. He sighed.

“Feels a little weird without Y/N?” He asked. Wilford hummed, still not looking him in the eye. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to.”

“We can wait until they get home, it’s really not--”

“I do want to…”

“But?”

“Mm…”

“Want to prove you aren’t absolutely whipped?”

“Excuse you?!”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“I am-- You-- Wilford Warfstache simps for NOBODY!”

“Says Mr. Hundred Dollar Pillows.”

“Listen here you son of a bitch--” Wilford backed away and held up a finger to explain exactly why he was no simp. Dark took the opportunity to push him onto the bed. “Ooh! Frisky!”

“Shut it.” He climbed into the bed next to him. Wilford draped himself across Dark’s chest, nuzzling into him. They sighed contentedly. 

“Dark?”

“Mm?”

“What did I do to deserve you two?”

“Me? You were nice and accepting. I still don’t believe either of us deserve Y/N.”

“Oh, come on, there has to be something.”

“Wil, both of us have killed multiple people. I think whatever good we’ve done will get canceled out.”

“...right.”

They lay like that for a bit, enjoying just being there. Suddenly, Wilford picked his head up.

“What’s happening? You have a look? What is that look?” Dark furrowed his eyebrows.

“I have the best idea!” Wilford jumped up and ran to the closet.

“What?” Dark sat up.

“We are surprising our lover with romance!” He threw Dark’s suit at him, picking out his own at the same time.

“...and suits?”

“Yes! Well, your suit. It makes you look sexy.”

“Wil.”

“Their words, not mine!”

“Why are we--”

“It’s New Year’s, Dark! They’re stressed! They’re tired! They deserve a surprise! Where the Devil are my suspenders?”

“Wil, I don’t think--”

“That’s right, Dark. You don’t think. You can just sit there and look pretty while Wilford Lovemaster Warfstache plans it out!”

“Lovemaster?”

“I was due for a new middle name anyways. Chop chop!”

Dark hesitantly put on his suit while Wilford looked for his suspenders. He looked in the mirror, deciding whether he looked… “sexier” with or without a tie. He eventually decided without, even popping a few buttons of his dress shirt. Wilford walked back in, wearing a hot pink button up, yellow suspenders, and a blue bowtie.

“...hot!” He said before walking up next to Dark and taking a selfie of the two. Dark looked over his shoulder and watched him send it to you with the caption ‘your two special boys!’. He caught a look at some previous messages.

“Wil, what’s poggers?”

“New-fangled lingo, don’t worry about it. Do we have roses? Ask Illinois to bring us roses.”

“Wil, what is happening.”

“ROMANCE!” He yelled, exasperated. “Romance is happening, Dark.”

“Romance… right.”

“And suits, precisely. Come on, order Chinese from that place they like.”

“...is this a good idea? Suits and chinese?”

“It’s a fantastic idea, now order the goddamn food.”

--

Darkiplier and Wilford sat on the couch in your apartment, reading a book they’d found. Wil was leaning on Dark’s shoulder with one leg draped over his. There was a little time until New Year’s, and they really wanted to spend it with you. Dark would never admit it, but he missed you. Quite a lot, actually. You’ve weaseled your way into his heart and now he’s a little dependent. Wil would proudly scream it to the world if he could. Dark would never let him.

Dark glanced up at the clock, seeing the 11:00 time. He scowled, closing the book and tossing it to the other side of the couch. He leaned his head back and sighed. He debated calling you with Wilford beforehand, maybe even just to hear your voice on the voicemail, but he was sure that would be too needy of him. He has a reputation to uphold, thank you very much.

“Miss your other lover, Darkipoo?” Wilfor teased.

“Obviously. I’m used to two heat sources, not one.”

“Oh, am I not good enough for Mr. Darkiplier?”

“I never said that.”

“You were thinkin’ it.”

“You can’t read minds, Wil, stick to your interviews.” He said in a faux-mocking manner. They smiled at each other.

Dark shot up from the couch the moment he heard your key in the lock. He adjusted his suit, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat. He couldn’t help a smile as he held a white rose, Wilford doing the same as he held a pink one.

So, of course, they jumped a little when you slammed the door behind you.

“Uh. Darling? Are you--”

“I fucking hate EVERYTHING!” You yelled. Dark blinked. He glanced at WIlford, who looked just as surprised. You paced around the living room, looking like you were about to commit murder. He shuffled closer to Wilford, and leaned in.

“Wil, what are we supposed to do?” He whispered.

“Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.” Wilford said in a voice that told Dark he was quoting something.

“Wil, I don’t know what the fuck that is.”

“It-It’s a meme-Do you just not go on the internet? Ever? Nevermind, just follow my lead.” He grabbed the roses, putting them in a nearby cup of water. He walked over to where you were and gently grabbed your shoulders. “Here, darling, sit, tell us about it.” 

He led you to the couch and sat you down, sitting next to you. He snapped his fingers at Dark, pointing to your shoulders. Dark hesitantly walked over and started to massage your shoulders. You sighed a little, relaxing. Wil nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

“There were so many assholes today, man.”

“Mm-hm. Tell Wilford about it.”

“There was this guy who kept asking where this one thing that we didn’t have was, this lady kept insisting her coupons were not expired, don’t even get me started on Jared and Melissa.” 

“Who are Jared and Melissa?” Dark asked.

“Oh, FUCK Jared and Melissa!” You suddenly got to your feet again and started pacing again.

“Y-Yeah, fuck Jared and Melissa!” Wil agreed. “Who are Jared and Melissa?”

“Hell if I know, just go with it, I’ll get the takeout.” Dark patted him on the back.

“Angel wasn’t even there to talk to today, God, I miss them so much already.”

“Angel is the coworker who…”

“Oh, they have the cats, Socks and Mittens.”

“Oh, so Angie--”

“Angie is Angelo, and he smokes weed in the back. He’s cool too. He was too high to fucking function today, though.”

“So, uh, where was Angel?” Wil looked back into the kitchen and saw Dark loading up their plates with the food. Wil suddenly remembered that he was wearing a pink shirt. He didn’t know whether the stains would be prominent and he did not intend to find out. He snuck away into the bedroom to change. Suits were a bad idea, he should’ve listened to Dark. 

He changed into a T-shirt with the design of a suit and some grey sweatpants and somehow made his way back to the living room before you’d finished your first sentence. You noticed this, because you stared at his change of clothes.

“...weren’t you wearing a suit? Like an actual one?”

“No.”

“But-”

“I wasn’t.”

“You sent me a picture.”

“The, uh… suits were… part of a different… situation…” He said, not knowing what the fuck he was actually saying to you. You seemed to get something from it because you said:

“Ah. I see.” Before going back to your rant. Wil looked at Dark as he walked into the living room. He wasn’t wearing the suit jacket, only the black dress shirt. He also had black pants instead of the white ones.

Wilford nodded and whispered “Good choice.” Dark nodded and whispered “I told you so.”, so Wilford flipped him off. Dark sat the plates down while Wil pushed you down by your shoulders. You buried your face in your hands and groaned. Wil rubbed a hand up and down your back while Darkiplier poured drinks. You rubbed your face before leaning back and letting them drop. You looked down at the food. Then at Wilford. Then at Dark.

“Am I… missing something?” You said in a small voice.

“Hm?” Wil tilted his head at you.

“I feel like something was supposed to happen. Did I ruin your plans?” You frowned, starting to feel guilty. 

“No, no, darling, you couldn’t ruin anything.” Wilford shifted closer to you and put his arm around your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arm.

“You sure? It feels like something I could do…”

“You could never because anything involving you is perfect.” Dark whispered after he gently took your chin in his hand and turned you towards him.

“Booooooo.” Wil called.

“Wha?”

“That was so cheesy, Dark.” You smiled.

“So sappy. Disgusting.” Wil agreed.

“Shameful.” You both shook your heads.

“Both of you can fuck off.” Dark huffed and crossed his arms. You kissed him, gently holding his face in your hands, making him smirk.

“Hey! How come the edgy one gets a kiss kiss!”

“You tricked me this morning, no kiss kiss for you!”

“Dark! Tell them!”

“You heard them, no kiss kiss.”

“Wh-”

“Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t we eat and watch shitty rom coms!”

“Don’t you wanna watch the clock?” Dark asked.

“Not particularly…” You looked down and the smile left your face. Wilford and Dark gave each other a look before they each took one of your hands and squeezed them.

“Ok. We can do that.”

--

The three of you laid in bed, you and Wilford cuddling into either side of Dark. Countdown forgotten, already passed a while ago. Dark still had his dress shirt and you were still wearing your work clothes. Dark stared at the ceiling, focusing on the sounds around his. 

The fireworks outside.

The clock ticking rhythmically.

The soft and constant breathing from his two favorite people.

He took a deep breath and tried his best to push down all the bad and intrusive thoughts.

What if I hurt them? What if they decide I’m not good enough? What if I’m not good enough?

No. No ‘what if’s. That doesn’t matter. What matters is they love him and he loves them. 

He looked down at you, your soft face squished into his arm, and he smiled at the warmth that bloomed throughout his chest. He looked over at Wilford and sucked in a breath when he found him staring at Dark.

“...can’t sleep?” Wilford said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

“No, I just…” He took a deep breath. “I just…”

“Wha happened?” You slurred, waking up. Dark flinched.

“Both of you should go back to sleep.”

“Why’re you awake then?” Wilford challenged.

“I was just… thinking.”

“About?” You yawned.

“About… how much I… love you two.” Both you and Wilford froze and Dark’s breathing sped up, scared he’d done something wrong.

“Awww, he wuvs us!” Wil giggled.

“How much do you wuv us, Dark?” You crossed your arms on his chest, resting your cheek against them and looking at Dark.

“...a lot.” He monotoned, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you wuv us soooo much?” Wilford batted his eyelashes.

“I’m starting to love you less and less.” Dark growled.

“Awwww he does!” You laughed

“Go. Back. To. Sleep. Please.” Darkiplier begged because Darkiplier does apparently beg, who would’ve thought.

“Yessir…” you said, another yawn taking over the word. You got back into your previous position, your arms gripping his and pressed into his side. Wilford took a similar one, just a little further up. You fell back asleep after a little bit, but the other two stayed awake.

“Happy you have both of your heatsources back?” Wilford whispered, a smile evident in his voice. Dark sighed, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of both his loves holding onto him like a lifeline. A ghost of a smile crossed his face.

“Yes. I am.”

[twistedtummies2]

Green-Eyed Devil

A silly piece of Sherliam fluffiness; nothing kinky, just sweet foolery. Summary: William James Moriarty always thought that Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson made a good pair...but he finds himself getting very jealous over just HOW good a pair they might be.

In Other Words: Liam goes into “jealous boyfriend mode.” ‘Nuff said. :P

---------------------------------------------------------

Another busy day in London. People bustled to and fro in the cool, semi-drizzly afternoon’s yellow-gray light. Paupers held out their hats in hopes of alms, while the gentry chattered, unconcerned by the rain pattering onto their umbrellas. Hoofbeats clip-clapped upon the cobblestone streets as carriages and hansom cabs went back and forth, carrying their passengers quickly but carefully through the mild downpour.

One particular carriage turned a corner onto Baker Street: a black carriage, with strange red-tinted lamps on its sides, which matched the dark, blood-colored lining of its inner cushioning, barely visible through the windows of the coach. The same deep red was painted on the wide wagon wheels. It was a nobleman’s coach, something that turned many eyes, as it was rare for a nobleman to hurry along Baker Street. While the road was by no means a slum, it was not one of the grander parts of the city either: a decent middle-class zone. Those who knew the street best smirked, already having a guess as to where the carriage would stop. They were correct...but not for the reasons they expected. In the driver’s seat of the coach was a young man, dressed in a dark blue suit, with a matching tie and hat, and wire-rimmed spectacles upon his fine nose. His blonde hair fluttered at the sides of his head, half-hiding the nasty scar upon his cheek; the only thing that marred his otherwise handsome, youthful face. A pair of strange red eyes which seemed to dimly glow in the shadows of his hat brim stared resolutely onward...until the carriage neared its destination. “Whoa there!” the man in blue called to the twin horses that pulled the carriage, and tugged on the reins, slowing the stallions to a stop. They whinnied softly and shook their heads as the driver tied the reins off, then hopped down from his seat and opened the door to the coach. “Brother William,” he said to the one inside, “We’ve arrived.” There was a pause...then, a lone figure stepped out of the carriage. He was tall and thin, his stance as elegant as his choice of clothes as he adjusted the gray top hat on his head and tucked a silver-topped cane under one arm. He wore a rich brown suit, and white kid gloves; over this was a thick black overcoat. His countenance was almost identical to that of the other man, with the same blonde hair and unusual red eyes...although his eyes glowed much more brightly, and the whole face seemed narrower, sharper, more mature and almost predator-like in shape, while still having a pleasing, downright attractive demeanor. His expression was serene and gentle, magnetic in the way the features were fixed; a cool, effortlessly composed face that seemed unperturbed by the rain, or anything else, for that matter. The lips on the endlessly calm face stretched ever so slightly into a satisfied smile as he saw the address plaque on the door only a few feet away: 221B. “Brother?” The man in brown turned to the man in blue. “Yes, Louis?” he responded, his voice the same practiced, even calm that could be seen on his face; pleasant, yet unbreakable. Louis James Moriarty squirmed a bit; he looked nervous. “Is this really wise?” he asked, and looked to the door as well. “Asking HIM to join you for dinner, I mean.” “Why not? The Cafe de L’Europe serves fabulous suppers.”

“It’s not the food that worries me,” Louis said, somewhat blandly, and gestured with a toss of his head towards the building. “HE, after all, is simply meant to be a part of your game. And if he figures out the truth through frequent contact…” Louis trailed off. William smiled a little wider. “Ah. Are you afraid the White Pawn might take the Black King, Louis?” the man in brown asked, almost teasingly. “That’s part of it, yes,” Louis answered, in a slow, careful way. William let out a puff of amusement through his nose...then reached out with his free hand, placing it on his brother’s shoulder. Louis turned quickly to face him. “Holmes is a powerful piece in our grand puzzle,” William said softly, making sure not to be heard by any passers-by. “One must know the enemy in order to reach the endgame properly. The more I study him, the more I can learn.” He paused, looking towards the door once more. His eyes narrowed as he seemed to peer through the door. “Besides,” he murmured, and his voice quivered ever so faintly with emotion. “I find him interesting. He seems a clever man...and a lucky one.” Louis narrowed his own eyes and said nothing. He paused before speaking again. “William,” he said, and the genius in brown raised an eyebrow at the use of his name as he gave his younger sibling a sidelong glance. “I don’t like it. I really don’t.” “Holmes’ interest in me, or mine in him?” William checked, voice even and seemingly uncaring. “Both,” Louis confessed. “The more time you spend with him, the more dangerous the game becomes.” “The game was always dangerous, Louis,” William said with a light chuckle, and his red eyes twinkled deviously. “Now the game is just more FUN.” “That’s my point,” Louis responded. “You’re literally flirting with trouble; you could be dining with disaster. I know you, brother. Don’t think I didn’t realize what was going on during the train trip to Durham, or the way you smiled when you spoke of his visit to the university.” William’s smile flickered, showing weakness for the first time, though he kept his eyes on the door. “Louis,” he said at length, “I know you’re looking out for what’s best for me. And I appreciate it. I do.” He turned back and smiled to his younger brother. “I will ALWAYS appreciate you, little brother,” he promised, his voice filled with firm meaning. “That is never going to change, no matter what happens in the future - in our plans, between myself and Holmes - you will always be my light. Having said that, I am not the sort of person to allow my emotions to ruin my strategies.” Louis seemed to relax...and a small smile of his own fell onto his face. His cheeks seemed to turn a bit pink. “If you say so,” he said, his own voice a bit shaky, before his eyes hardened again. “But after Enders in January, Hope in February, and the business with Mr. Bonde in March…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath before stiffening his back. “...If he continues to incommode us, I will remove him myself.” William’s smile was affectionate. He nodded. “I would ask no one else to do it, brother,” he said, sounding pleased to hear it...then added, very quietly, seemingly more to himself than to Louis, “I’m not sure I would have the stomach for it now…” There was an awkward pause, which was interrupted by Louis giving a nigh-imperceptible shiver. William perceived it, however. “How thoughtless of me, keeping you standing in the rain!” he smiled anew, and patted his brother on the shoulder. “Why don’t you take the carriage somewhere dry and get yourself a meal? I can take a hansom up to meet you.” Louis nodded and told William where he was going, then drove the carriage off. William watched his brother go, then marched up to the door of the flat house at long last. He could feel the rain speckling his own clothes, and had no desire to be soaked. He took the brass knocker and, without another moment’s hesitation, he knocked upon the door. Almost immediately, he heard footsteps coming to the door...then, a woman - a little older than himself, but not by more than a few years - answered. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, her hair an auburn shade, tied into a bun. She was dressed in a very proper-looking pink tea dress, a cream-colored apron draped over her front. The woman tilted her head slightly as she blinked up at William. “Hello?” she greeted, curiously. “May I help you?” William doffed his hat; the drizzled rain felt cool and soothing on his golden scalp. “Good day,” he greeted, in his most dulcet voice. “My name is William James Moriarty. I am a Professor of Mathematics at Durham University. I take it you are the famous Miss Hudson?” The woman’s cheeks turned almost as pink as her clothes, and she smiled. “Only thanks to Dr. Watson’s stories,” she chuckled, then frowned and mumbled to herself: “I really need to remind him it’s MISS Hudson, not Missus...yet…” She shook herself out of that thought and stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in!” she said cheerily. “No need to stand out in the rain!” “Thank you,” Professor Moriarty said with a short, respectful bow of his head, and stepped into the parlor of the flat house. He offered his cane, his hat, and his black overcoat to the landlady-slash-housekeeper, who graciously smiled as she put the items up on a rack… ...Then scowled as Moriarty began to walk across the room towards the stairs. “OI!” she suddenly snapped. William stopped short, eyes wide, a little alarmed...although the carefully constructed evenness of his voice never once gave that away. “What’s the matter, ma’am?” he asked, politely. Miss Hudson took a breath to calm herself. “Nothing, sir, nothing,” she mumbled. “Just...you forgot to wipe your feet on the mat.” William blinked, and looked down at his shoes. He admitted he felt a flutter of embarrassment as he saw he had left rain-soaked footprints on the floor leading up to the staircase. “Oh,” he whispered to himself, and smiled apologetically, his voice as graceful as his movements as he stepped back, retracing his steps carefully, and did so. “My apologies. It quite slipped my mind.” “Never mind,” huffed Miss Hudson. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Professor, just...at least you LISTEN, unlike that stubborn, skull-wearing…!” She took another breath and sighed. William’s smile became more akin to a smirk. “I take it Mr. Holmes is as trying as Dr. Watson’s publications would lead one to believe?” he puzzled. “No,” Miss Hudson droned. “He’s even WORSE. I’ve never had children, sir, but after Sherlock Holmes, I think I know what it’s like to raise one, and I don’t think it’s fun.” Moriarty chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he soothed, and cocked his own head. “Is Mr. Holmes in, by the way? May I see him?” “He is, and I suppose that will depend upon Mr. Holmes,” Miss Hudson answered, and stepped in front of the young Professor, leading him back to the stairs. “Not that I imagine he’d have any objections. He speaks of you often, you know.” William paused at the foot of the steps. “Does he now?” he questioned, seemingly more to himself than Miss Hudson, but she answered anyway. “Yes, almost as often as he rambles on about how important tobacco ash is in an investigation,” she mumbled, with a wry chuckle. “He gets so wrapped up in the little things!” “Well, the little things are often the most important,” Moriarty defended as the pair made their way up the stairs to the upper floor of the building. “That’s what he says,” Miss Hudson shrugged. “I’ve never understood it myself, nor how many different types of ashes he claims there are! Something like one hundred different varieties-” “One hundred forty, actually.” Miss Hudson froze on the steps and looked to the Professor, whose uncanny smile never once faltered. He hadn’t sounded like he was bragging or patronizing, he just...said it. “Yes,” she murmured, and nodded slowly. “That’s exactly right, I remember now...have you read that monograph he published?” Moriarty gave one of “his smiles”: the masks of pleasant sweetness where his eyes closed and his lips curved perhaps a little TOO wide to be genuine looks of happiness. “We’ll say yes,” he answered, in a chirping sort of manner. Miss Hudson raised an eyebrow at the cryptic reaction, then shrugged and led Moriarty up the steps. The Professor followed at a polite pace and distance as she approached the door at the top of the stairs, leading into the rooms of her most popular tenant. She knocked on the door, sharply rapping it with her knuckles. “Sherlock!” she called. “Go away!” a voice from the other side of the door called back. William couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath as Miss Hudson flushed with indignation. “What’s that kind of talk for?” she shouted. “You have a client!” “Tell them to go away, too; I’m busy,” was the snorted response. Then came a new voice: milder, more genteel. “Ah, Miss Hudson...ask them if they wouldn’t mind waiting? We won’t be too long, I should think…” “No more than an hour,” added the first voice, and the Professor was almost certain he heard the other voice hiss angrily: “Not helping, Sherlock!” “I don’t mind waiting,” Moriarty said, placidly. And he didn’t; there was no rush to his visitation. Miss Hudson, however, was incensed, and would hear none of it. “Like HELL you will!” she snarled, causing William to quirk his brow at her language before she glared at the door like it was the source of all the trouble in her life. “Sherlock, you cannot keep a gentleman like Mr. Moriarty waiting! He is-” “Mister WHO?!” came the first voice. “Moriarty! Professor Moriarty from Durham!” Miss Hudson answered. Scarcely had she gotten out the last word, however, than the door burst open, and Miss Hudson jumped aside with a yelp as an excited figure all but jumped through the doorway. William’s smile softened and took on a shade of amusement at the sight of Sherlock Holmes, who looked breathless and almost manic, his smile stretched wide across the handsome but angular proportions of his face. His dark blue eyes (which Moriarty noticed were slightly baggier than usual) gleamed as his dark hair - unkempt as ever - sprung out in every direction, from the curlicue cowlick to his untidy ponytail. He was dressed in his usual garb: not the deerstalker and inverness cape the public knew from the illustrations in the Strand, but a dark blue coat and trousers, along with brown leather shoes that had seen better days, and a white shirt with its top button undone. Moriarty couldn’t help but give a passing glance at the glimpse of a strong chest and collarbone that were visible through that partition… The gangly detective grinned widely, as if his whole day had just become a little sunnier, and extended a hand to William - the one that wore his silver skull ring. “LIAM!” he boomed with a jovial laugh. “You couldn’t have come at a better time! I was just about to get started on a chemical experiment, come in, come in!” Before either the Professor or Miss Hudson could stop him, the detective all but dragged the mathematician through the door. Miss Hudson blinked at the closed door after it slammed shut...then sighed and shook her head, before sniffing primly and heading back downstairs. “Mad as a hatter; he always will be,” she muttered. Meanwhile, the Professor brushed himself off briefly as he stood in the entrance area of Sherlock’s flat. Holmes smirked, tucking one hand into his pants pocket, the other scratching his chin as he eyed William critically. “So, Liam...how was your ride over here? You took your own coach, didn’t you?” “Bumpier than I would like, but not too bad,” shrugged William, not at all bothered by how easily Holmes guessed. “Well, with the weather, you might have found the trains easier. Did our case on the Paddington line make you that squeamish?” teased Sherlock. William gave another of “his” smiles. “Perhaps a little,” he lied in a sing-song way. “Ah...how do you know he came in his own coach?” Blue and red eyes turned to look at the third person in the room: another young man, in his twenties - roughly the same age as both the sleuth and the schemer - dressed in an olive-colored jacket and trousers, along with a brown vest, a neat-looking off-white shirt, and a burnt-yellow-colored ascot. His skin was very lightly tanned, his eyes were the same shade as his vest, and his hair was a sort of pale grayish-blonde color. The eyes were very wide and bright, and peered between the two geniuses with curious interest as he stepped closer. “Elementary, My Dear Watson,” Sherlock chimed, and then looked back to Moriarty. “I don’t think you properly got introduced, did you?” William shook his head, and then looked to Watson with a smile, extending a hand. “A pleasure to see you again, Doctor,” the Professor greeted in a warm but casual voice. “William James Moriarty, at your service.” “It’s nice to meet you, officially,” Watson smiled back with a nod, and shook the hand of Professor Moriarty. “John H. Watson. Thank you, by the way, for helping Sherlock with the Hawthorne case.” “Oh, please,” Moriarty chuckled, lifting his other hand in a dismissive gesture. “Say nothing of it. I’m simply glad I could help an innocent person and see a criminal brought to justice. It was exciting, playing detective, really. I’m surprised you didn’t publish that one.” “Sherlock talked me out of it,” admitted Watson, and gave an accusing look at the detective. Holmes shrugged. “It was a simple case. Too simple, too quick,” he said, boredly. “You two were the only things that made it interesting. I figured your adoring readers would like something more interesting.” “Sure they would,” Watson muttered, then looked back to Moriarty, huge eyes burning with interest. “Now...about your ride here...do you know how he guessed it?” “He didn’t guess it,” insisted Moriarty. “He DEDUCED it, Doctor. And I think I know.” “Oh?” Holmes spoke up, and smiled challengingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Prove it. Go on, Liam, what were the clues?” “Three clues, really: it was all a question of sight, recollection, and smell.” “Huh?” Watson spoke up, brow furrowing in curiosity. “What do you mean?” “First, recollection,” Moriarty explained, and began counting off the points on his fingers. “Mr. Holmes knows I live in Durham. To say that’s a bit of a walk from here is an understatement, and I do not own a bicycle. So there was no other way to get here beyond covered transportation, especially in this weather: the rain may be light sprinkling, but with that much ground to cover, I would have been soaked to the bone. This leads into sight: if I had even come in a dogcart, for instance, the mud and rainwater would have been splashed onto me.” “But you could have come in a cab!” “That’s where the smell comes in, John,” Holmes interjected, pulling up the sleeve on one of his arms and scratching at a spot there before rolling the sleeve back down as he elaborated. “No driver would take someone from Durham all the way to Baker Street; too much of a distance, and the Moriarty household is much too remote to simply hail a passing cab. Liam either would have had to catch a cab or a horsebus from the train station, or take his own carriage directly from his house. And as there is no scent of smoke from the steam engines or any crowds on him, as you would expect from the former scenario, that leaves only the option of him making the full journey in his carriage.” Watson blinked...then let out a slightly nervous chuckle. “Well...it...sounds kind of obvious when you put it that way,” he admitted, sheepishly. “That’s because it is obvious,” Holmes boasted. “Indeed,” slithered William. “Just as it is obvious Mr. Watson has been diluting your cocaine solution from seven to five percent.” Holmes gaped and Watson gasped. “H-How...how did you guess that?!” sputtered Sherlock, who looked mortified. William’s smile was simple and innocent. “Elementary, My Dear Holmes,” he answered, in a gently teasing tone...and pointedly said NOTHING else. Holmes gulped thinly, and gave a tight sort of smile. “Liam, you rascal,” he hissed under his breath, eyes dancing. “You’re GOOD at this game.” “Thank you,” Moriarty purred, with a slight bow, then looked towards the chemistry set. It was prepared on a table near the window. “So, what was the experiment you mentioned, if you don’t mind my asking?” “Oh!” Sherlock Holmes exclaimed, snapping his fingers, and gestured for both Dr. Watson and Professor Moriarty to join him as he sat down at his chemistry set. Watson stood to his left, while William paused at his right, both watching the detective check on the items he had gathered, to make sure everything was in place. “Part of a case?” William guessed. “Yep,” Holmes popped the word out with his lips before continuing: “A man in Cheshire - John Vincent Harden by name - came to us with the problem yesterday.” Watson nodded, and pulled from his coat pocket a piece of paper. On it was a list of items, untidily scrawled. “Mr. Harden’s friend is currently in the dock under suspicion of murdering the family butler,” the doctor explained. “This piece of paper - which includes the murder of the butler as part of a number of surly deeds to be done - is the only clue that can prove he might be innocent.” “I see,” William murmured, looking at the paper briefly...then nearly jumped as Sherlock snatched it away. The sleuth glanced over it before scoffing through his nostrils. “Offhand, I can deduce very little,” he muttered, placing the paper on the table and squinting down at it. “Only that the paper comes from Mongolia and has no watermark, that the one who wrote this is a drinker, and that they are probably not very rich.” Liam grinned, looking proud as a plum, and was about to comment...but Watson beat him to it. “The odor of cheap brandy, plus the weight and texture of the paper, right?” he smiled hopefully. Holmes grinned. “Very good, John!” he chuckled, and nudged the doctor’s shoulder with a light punch, making Watson squeak like a mouse before gripping his shoulder. Watson gave a blushing, shy smile as he rubbed his shoulder and Holmes all but sang out: “You’re getting better at this every day!” Watson shuffled on his feet. “It was...really nothing; you can smell the brandy part, easily,” he mumbled. This was the moment where Professor Moriarty’s usually marble-carved smile flickered faintly, and his red eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter...and not in a pleasant manner. He slowly looked Watson over, taking in the way the surgeon and former soldier stood and smiled at Sherlock. He could sense the doctor’s heightened pulse even from here...the way the pupils dilated as he watched Holmes work… It could just be happiness at being praised - the rather wide, almost childlike small on John’s face could make that clear - but, of course, it could also mean something far, FAR more meaningful. William glared...but then shook his head, clearing it. No. Not a chance. There was no reason to get worked up. Not yet, anyway. “Liam,” Holmes spoke up, catching Moriarty’s attention as he handed him the paper again. “Is there anything you can see that I haven’t noted yet?” “Black dust,” William said, without taking the parchment piece up. “The ink half-hides it; the man either works as a lamplighter, or frequently goes somewhere where gaslights that require coal are plentifully found.” Holmes nodded, humming softly in thought as he pulled his magnifying glass from his coat pocket and inspected the letter closely. As he did, Watson inched closer...and Moriarty felt his own chest tighten almost imperceptibly as he saw the doctor lean against Holmes, his head in the crook of the detective’s shoulder and neck. It was a casual sort of movement; something intimate, but not necessarily sensual. The same went for the affectionate smiles the two shared before looking back at the paper. All the same, William suddenly sensed the way his own fists tightened at his sides. He felt strangely cold, and he didn’t like it. “Well, until I put it through the chemical test, I can’t say much else,” Sherlock sighed at last. “So far, none of this helps Mr. Harden’s friend: he works at a theater with gaslights, and is, in fact, a frequent patron of a local pub.” So saying, Holmes stood up and held out a hand to Watson, flexing his fingers in a beckoning motion. “Light, please,” he ordered. Watson rolled his eyes but obligingly pulled and struck a match from his waistcoat pocket. Holmes plucked up the match, and then, grinning widely, lifted the paper, preparing to set it ablaze… “STOP!” Holmes jumped at Watson’s shout. “What now?” “You can’t just burn the whole thing!” John protested. “I can, and I will,” huffed Holmes. “He DOES need to reduce the paper to ash in order to conduct the experiment,” Moriarty put in. “Thank you, Liam!” Sherlock nodded. William smiled, a light glimmer of victory in his expression...but the victory was squashed when Watson spoke up again. “Well, burn a small portion of it then,” John suggested. “After all, this is your only sample: if something goes wrong, and you burn the whole thing, you won’t be able to conduct the experiment again, properly, will you? Plus, you’ll be ridding the courtroom of evidence!” Holmes opened his mouth to snap back something...then closed it...and blinked. “...Oh,” he murmured. “I...somehow did not consider that.” He smiled with friendly admiration. “John, what would I do without you?” he chuckled. “Well, you need SOMEONE more normal to tone down that insanity of yours,” John smirked back. Holmes laughed. William’s smile remained fixed...but his eyes narrowed. “You two are even closer than I realized,” he observed, quietly. Sherlock had just asked John to fetch him some scissors. As the doctor returned with the cutting blades, Holmes nodded. “Well, yeah. We’re pretty much inseparable.” “Yes, like two peas in a pod,” Watson agreed, as Sherlock cut a small portion of the paper off the rest. He then tilted his head and added: “I suppose more like two cherries in a bunch, actually. I’ve never liked peas.” “Neither have I!” Holmes exclaimed. “What a remarkable coincidence!” Watson grinned brightly. William felt his molars grind against one another very slightly. He breathed through his nose to relax; externally, he looked thoroughly composed, his smile still set...but inside, he could feel something bubbling up inside him, like magma in a volcano. He wanted Holmes to smile at him that way. He suddenly wanted to be the one there with him constantly. It wasn’t fair that someone else got to be around his nemesis so often. “I always knew you two made a good pair,” he thought to say, as Holmes burned the cut piece and then carefully brushed the ashes into a small bowl. “John has helped me on nearly all my cases since Jefferson Hope,” Sherlock smiled. “Honestly, it’s hard to imagine a time before he came around.” “Aww,” Watson mumbled, blushing once again. “Thank you, Sherlock.” “Oh, don’t think anything of it,” sniffed Holmes, as he poured the ashes into a beaker filled with a curious blue liquid. “After all the times you’ve bungled things, I have to stroke your ego a LITTLE bit.” “Oi! I do not bungle things!” Watson cried out. “Oh, no?” smirked Holmes sitting back and crossing his legs and arms with a supercilious smile. “And what about that case with Miss Stoner? You were so proud of yourself when you found footprints outside her bedroom window...only for us to find out they were OUR footprints the whole time!” “That...I...a-anyone could have made that mistake!” Watson sputtered, withdrawing childishly as he rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “Not me!” chirruped Sherlock Holmes. Watson glared. “Oh, no?” he retorted, mimicking Holmes’ voice and posture as he smirked deviously. “Then how about that time you let those counterfeiters go because you accidentally set the house on fire?” “IF LESTRADE HAD BEEN THERE ON TIME, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN CAUGHT!” Holmes shouted, and pouted like a sulking child. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again!” “How do you set a house on fire with a spoon, Holmes?” Watson ribbed. “Clearly, another of your many talents.” Holmes growled...then reached up and pulled Watson down - “C’mere, you!” - giving the gray-blonde soldier a noogie and making him shriek and laugh. William watched the shenanigans with utter apathy. Or at least, utter external apathy. Internally, he wished he could have such an open, joking friendship...in truth, Moriarty had never really felt he HAD a true friend till Sherlock Holmes. He’d understood what friendship was, but beyond his family, he tended to see most people - even his closest subordinates - as pawns for use in his grand scheme.                                                                                                                                                                                             “Ahem,” the Professor cleared his throat, and the pair froze...before jumping away from each other like singed cats. The reaction was so much like two young lovers being caught kissing in private that it almost made Moriarty squirm. Almost. “As amusing as these hijinks are...what about your experiment, Holmes?” “Ah!” Sherlock exclaimed, smacking his own forehead. “Thank you, Liam, for reminding me. Watch carefully, both of you…” So saying, Holmes placed the beaker under a large contraption on the table: it consisted of a glass flask, with a burner under it, and a long curlicue tube - which was patched in several places - stretching from its open top. The beaker was set under the end of the tube, and Holmes switched on the burner. The flask was filled with a bright green liquid. It bubbled and fizzed, and soon began to rise in the glass chamber, pumping into the tube. Slowly but surely, it began to make its way through the piping. Holmes watched the fluid flow intently, his feet tapping on the floor like an excited, eager child, his hands drumming his knees impatiently as he muttered to himself. “Yes...yes, good, good...c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon...hmmm, yes-yes-oop! No, no, bad, bad-yes! Good! C’mon, c’mon-ah! That’s it! C’mon, c’mon...yes, yes, yes…!” Both William and Watson leaned close as the fluid reached the end of the tube...and, after an excruciatingly lengthy wait of exactly three seconds...PLIPP. A single green drop plopped into the beaker. FWOOMPH! A puff of smoke burst from the beaker as the fluid turned red...then purple...then changed back to blue. There was a pause...then, Holmes grinned wider. He began to chuckle...and the chuckle became a giggle...and the giggle became a loud, roaring laugh as he jumped out of his chair, throwing his arms up in joy. “IT WORKED! IT WORKED, JOHN!” he almost screamed. Before either of them could comment, Holmes suddenly slapped both hands down on William’s shoulders. Moriarty stiffened almost imperceptibly; he felt his heart almost stop as he looked into the earnest, happy blue eyes of the detective. “Liam...Liam, it worked!” he gasped out. “I knew it! I KNEW it! You knew it, too, yes? Right?” Moriarty blinked a few times; for a moment his mask fell away. His eyes were very wide and seemed to sparkle faintly...but finally, he recomposed himself, and licked his lips thinly before speaking. “I did,” he confirmed with a nod. “Distilled sodium chloride, yes?” “Exactly! EXACTLY!” Holmes cheered with an extremely hyper nod. “Um...wh-what just happened?” Sherlock turned around fast to face Watson. Moriarty felt a pang in his blackened heart as he realized he missed the warmth and closeness. “Oh, you don’t know?” Holmes blinked. “Would I have asked if I did?” Watson reasoned. “Hmph. Touche,” shrugged Sherlock, and pointed to the beaker. “It’s simple, John: that reaction could only have happened if the paper was, at some point, exposed to a great deal of salt water vapor.” Watson gaped. “Then the person who wrote the paper came from somewhere by the sea. Most likely the dockyards!” Watson realized. “Precisely!” Holmes said, with a clap of his hands. “And you know what that means, don’t you?” “That Mr. Harden’s friend is innocent! He lives in a spot far, FAR from the docks; on the other side of London, in fact! Well done, Sherlock!” “Yes, indeed,” William spoke up, a little more forcefully than he usually liked. He wasn’t at all liking the closeness of the pair, in any sense of the word, in that given moment...and, he realized, he had yet to present his invitation to his nemesis. “Now, Mr. Holmes, since you’re experiment’s done, I wanted to know-” “Sherlock!” Watson exclaimed, and Moriarty realized - with no small amount of affrontation - that neither had been listening to him. Watson, however, immediately backpedaled and smiled nervously at the red-eyed guest. “Oh, sorry, Professor…” “No, no. Go ahead,” Moriarty purred, trying not to clench his teeth as he spoke. He barely succeeded. Watson nodded, and looked back to his dark-haired partner in crimefighting. “How about we celebrate with some dinner? My treat!” “Excellent suggestion, John; I didn’t eat at all yesterday, I could use something now,” Holmes admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “You need to watch that,” John warned. “I will try,” Holmes laughed weakly. “Where should we go?” “Why not the Bugle Tavern?” Watson suggested, in a tone that suggested there was some significance in the spot. William James Moriarty was by no means a snob: his upbringing and his philosophy prevented that. But with that said...he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of superiority flood through him when he heard John Watson’s suggestion. He knew the Bugle; he’d taken a witness there for interrogation during the case of the Earl of Argleton. It was not a BAD place, but it was on the seedier side of the city; the food was decent but cheap. Compared to where he planned to take Holmes, it was hardly an even match, and as the detective was his intellectual equal - a man of many similar tastes - it seemed unlikely he’d ever- “A perfect choice, John!” Holmes declared, and William’s perfect poker face very, VERY nearly broke apart at the seams. “We’ll have a quick dinner, then head to the station to speak to Gregson.” “Right,” Watson nodded as he headed to the door and picked up his bowler hat and cane. “Perhaps with the help of our evidence, and a few very simple charts and graphs, we can convince him that night follows day.” “Yes, and that two plus two will inevitably equal four,” Sherlock snickered, and pulled a cigarette from his pocket as he started to follow Watson… ...Then froze...and slowly turned around to look at Moriarty, who still stood beside the chemistry set. “Oh, ah...Liam...I’m sorry, was there something you needed?” he asked. Moriarty blinked slowly...then, gave another of his far-too-happy-looking smiles. “Oh, it can wait till another day!” he sang. “Off you go! Enjoy yourself!” “Thanks, I will,” Holmes chuckled, and turned to Watson, extending the hand that held his cigarette. “Light, please? Again?” Watson obligingly lit the cigarette. Sherlock took a long drag from it, and blew a smoke ring at the ceiling, before leaving the flat. “See ya, Liam!” he called over his shoulder with a quick wave. Watson smiled politely and tipped his hat to the Professor, before using his cane to shut the door as they departed. The instant both were gone, Moriarty’s expression became cold as ice. He slowly turned his head to look out the window - almost the way a snake might turn its head when charmed from a basket - and watched as he soon saw Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson walk out into the soft shower and down the street. He saw the doctor’s arm squeeze Holmes’ shoulder...saw the way the two inched closer… William’s red eyes blazed like burning coals from the pits of Hell. He briskly marched out of the room and down the stairs. “Ah, Professor, there you are!” Miss Hudson greeted, with an oblivious smile, and handed him back his overcoat, hat, and cane. “Did you get what you needed?” Moriarty swung on his coat and carefully placed his hat upon his head. “No,” he said, very, very softly - so softly Miss Hudson wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly - as he took the cane, gripping it so tightly the hidden sword within nearly rattled. “But I still might.” He tipped his hat and left, saying nothing else but “Good day, Miss Hudson,” as he departed the flat house and went to hail a cab.

Miss Hudson wasn’t sure, but she almost swore the red eyes had turned green.

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The following day, at the Moriarty Mansion, William was sitting alone in the study, poring over a quaint and curious volume of Egyptian lore. Louis had prepared tea and sandwiches, and the mastermind - currently dressed in his fine, gold-and-burgundy robe - was sipping from a cup of Earl Gray while he read. A knock came at the study door, and Moriarty glanced quickly at the portal before placing the thin silk bookmark on the page he was focused on. He then shut the leatherbound tome and put it to one side. “Come in, James,” he called out. The door opened, and James Bonde’s turquoise eyes soon connected with William’s. The master spy was dressed in their usual garments: a light gray suit and small homburg hat, a neatly-pressed lavender tie elegantly bound around their throat. Bonde smiled, the beauty mark at the corner of one eye crinkling slightly as they removed their hat and swept some loose strands of corn-colored hair out of their face.

“How did you know it was me?” “Two very good reasons,” William smiled. “First of all, because I was expecting you, and second of all, because I heard your footsteps in the hall, and your step is unlike any other in England.” The Napoleon of Crime waved a hand towards the seat across from him and simply said, “Please.” James Bonde took the hint, and sat down, hands in his lap, legs crossed, chin held up with cocksure pride. “I take it you have a mission for me?” “Should you choose to accept it,” William confirmed with a nod, and lifted his teacup again, stirring the tea with elegant, slight turns of his wrist. “In your...ahem…‘past life,’ you spent some time with my appointed nemesis, yes?” “Yes,” smirked Bonde, a twinkle in their eye that called back to the days when Irene Adler planned her plots. “I guess that means I have the advantage of being the only agent in our organization who’s slept with the enemy.” Moriarty froze, red eyes latching onto Bonde. “Or, at least, in enemy territory,” James corrected quickly. Moriarty smiled. “James,” he said, far-too-sweetly. “You know how I really feel about him, don’t you?” Bonde nodded slowly, their own smile faltering a bit in confusion. “Well then, please don’t make jokes like that again,” William went on, in a voice that indicated he was a hundred times more aggravated than he chose to let on. James gulped nervously as William sipped his tea far, FAR too crisply. He could almost imagine the unspoken words from the Napoleon of Crime: If you do, they’ll never find your body. “...I’m, uh...I-I’m sorry,” Bonde stammered out with uncharacteristic fear. “It’s fine,” William said with a light sigh, and shook his head as he put his teacup down. His smile settled into a look of sincere apology. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bonde. I’m...feeling a little testy today, that’s all.” Sensing he was out of danger, James nodded and smiled back sympathetically. “I take it your nemesis is what my mission concerns?” the spy said, and then turned serious, frowning. “Is he getting in the way too often?” “Not often enough,” mumbled Professor Moriarty, and shook his head again, this time in answer. “No, James, it’s not that. And it’s not Mr. Holmes I want you to deal with.” James raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Watson, then?” Bonde guessed. “As a matter of fact, yes,” William said, and sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers. “I want you to keep an eye on the flat for two weeks. I want you to pay particular attention to Watson, and whenever he and Holmes leave together for any reason, follow them. I don’t care if they’re simply going to shop for tobacco at the market: keep tabs on them both. Next Friday, you will make a final report on anything suspicious you encountered.” “Suspicious? In what way?” Bonde frowned. “You’d expect US to be the ones up to no good, after all.” Moriarty chuckled. “I will let you be the judge,” he purred, smoothly. Bonde looked confused, but nodded slowly. “Very well, I’ll take the job,” James said, and cocked his head. “But...William...why?” Moriarty shut his eyes, pausing as he tried to decide on his words. “Let us simply say,” he answered steadily, “That I’m concerned about their relationship. Take careful stock of all you see, while I deal with the plans for our next caper, and the rest deal with other matters.” “As you wish,” Bonde said, and stood up from his chair, replacing his hat. “One other thing, James,” Moriarty added, lifting a single finger in instruction. “This mission is particularly special: I’d like to keep it between us. Tell no one else: not any other member of the gang. Not even my own brothers.” James frowned, narrowing his eyes; he wasn’t sure what was so important that had William this worked up...but clearly it mattered a great deal to the Professor. The True M. “Yes, sir,” Bonde said, and tapped his hat brim. “I’ll do my best.” “Very good. You are dismissed; if you need help, inform me. Good day, Bonde.” “Good day, Professor,” smiled James, and exited promptly. The moment the door shut behind James Bonde, William sighed to himself, bowing his head quietly in musing thought. “I suppose,” he whispered to the empty room of books, “That it’s quite wasteful of me to use my Knight for such a menial job in the grand scheme of the game...one should never misuse resources…” He paused...then smirked as he lifted his teacup again, and took another sip before picking up his book to continue reading. “...Then again,” he chuckled lightly, “I’ve committed far worse sins than a little self-indulgent espionage. I AM the Lord of Crime.” He glared as he hissed under his breath: “If anyone is stealing a heart here, it’s going to be ME.”

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James Bonde stared somewhat dully out the window of the empty house across the street from 221B Baker Street. Teal-toned eyes kept a careful watch in the night on the one lit room in the house. He could see the silhouette of Sherlock Holmes, fiddling away on his violin. He could hear the detective playing, too...a nostalgic smile came to his face; he could almost remember hearing those tunes play him to sleep, in another lifetime… Bonde shook his head and lightly slapped his own cheek (more of a rough pat) to keep himself focused. He’d been instructed by William, to watch them from the moment they awoke to the moment they went to bed. The doctor had evidently retired some time ago, but Holmes was still up and about, playing his violin and tinkering with his contraptions. It had been a few days since Bonde started his mission, and Holmes had been given a case by one Mr. Cubitt from Norfolk, involving a mysterious secret code. Bonde had followed Holmes and Watson every which way they went, but so far, nothing of particular unsuality had occurred; Holmes refused to travel to Norfolk till Cubitt sent more information, and so much of their days were spent in the flat, simply trying to puzzle out what they had been given so far. As a result, the past three days had really been quite boring for Bonde. A part of him felt a pang, as it always did, and he wished William had given him a different job; the side that was still Irene Adler wished she could walk across the street and just...tell Holmes the simple fact. Certainly, he guessed she was still alive, but...that was nothing to a direct encounter. James Bonde was a professional, and held out: whatever purpose William had for this mission - be it personal, or something related to the Great Problem - his job was to keep a close eye on things and keep track of any interesting movements: from before they woke up to the moment they both clocked out. Right on cue, Holmes’ silhouette disappeared from the window...and not but sixty seconds later, the light in the room went out. Bond sighed softly, and stood up, stretching; the room in the Empty House was small, dark, and not very large. It was lonely, too: aside from getting meals, Bonde stayed here all day, and could not focus too much on any great amusements, such as reading, lest he lose focus. All he had was solitaire; Moran had been teaching him how to play cards, and it was better than nothing. Bonde grumbled to himself about the slowness of the case as he began to pack up his playing cards...but no sooner had he tucked the box back into a pocket in his jacket lining...than he froze, as he saw the front door of 221B open. From his spot in the window, Bonde watched intently, wondering what was going on. The unmistakable figure of Dr. Watson crept quietly out the door. He shut it silently, and glanced from side to side, as if checking to make sure no one on the street was watching him. The street was silent and quiet; lonely on that dark night. The Doctor twirled his cane, propping its length against his elbow, and began to stroll down the street. Bonde could make out Watson’s brown eyes; they furtively darted from side to side in a ferret-like way. Unlike Moriarty, Dr. Watson had an absolute lack of anything resembling a poker face. Bonde continued to watch as Watson approached an alley...then, after checking once again, slipped into the passage between the buildings and vanished. Suddenly realizing he’d lost track of his target, Bonde cursed under his breath and raced downstairs and across the street… ...But by the time he reached the alley, Dr. Watson was nowhere to be found. “Damn,” muttered Bonde...then took a breath, and straightened his tie and hair, which had been tousled in his quick sprint. There was nothing to be done now; the question was, whether to report this to William now, or wait? After pondering for a moment, Bonde walked off down the street back towards his own lodgings. He would wait. It’s what William would want. For all he knew, this was a one-time affair; whatever had Watson acting so sneakily, it could be resolved by morning. Then he would have no reason to worry at all. Right?

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“Six times?” Professor Moriarty repeated, blinking quickly in surprise. “Yes: six times in just two weeks. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, in fact,” nodded James Bonde, standing almost like a warrior at attention as he made his private report. He was standing near the threshold of William’s room in the manor. William James Moriarty was dressed in his usual clothes, minus his brown coat, which currently hung loosely on his bedpost. “And you’ve lost him every time?” William frowned; he didn’t sound angry, or even disappointed. He was simply checking his facts. “Not exactly,” Bonde claimed, and hastened to elaborate: “The past two times, I was able to catch up with him, but I can’t follow him beyond a certain point.” “What do you mean?” “He’s been visiting a noble’s house.” William’s eyes widened. “He’s what?” “To the Forrester estate,” clarified Bonde. “He climbs over the wall at a certain point, leaps into the yard...then, every night, after a couple hours, crawls back up and high-tails it back to Baker Street.” “Hmmmm,” Moriarty murmured, placing a finger to his lips in thought as he looked down at the floor, brow furrowing. “Have you seen what happens when he goes over the gate?” “This last time, yes,” nodded Bonde. “He doesn’t enter the house, but instead runs to a gazebo in the courtyard. He clearly knows the residence well; he knows when the night watchman comes around with his dog, and avoids them.” Professor Moriarty scowled and made a sour sound in the back of this throat.. Things were more serious than he thought: behavior like that wasn’t just sneaky, it was literally criminal. It appeared that a stolen heart was far from the worst thing he had to fear from John H. Watson. “What do you think he’s up to, William?” James asked. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Yet,” Moriarty responded. “But I intend to find out.”

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That very night, being a Friday, Professor Moriarty lay in wait behind a tree, in a park area across from the Forrester Estate. He wore a long, black, hooded cloak over his usual suit, and gripped his sword cane tightly in one hand. His red eyes glowed in the dark as he kept his focus zeroed in on the high stone walls of the mansion spot. The Forrester Family was not a bad one, nor even the most noble: they were gentry, people in the upper-middle class, who qualified among the elite but lacked the status of proper Lords and Ladies, Knights and Dames, and so on. With what they had, they were generous, and most considered them friendly. William had nothing against them, and while he sought to destroy the social order...that didn’t mean destroying the good in it. What he wanted was to eradicate evil through his own means… ...He wasn’t sure whether or not to hope he would have to do that tonight. He saw the glare of a bullseye lamp through the grates in the black iron gate that closed off the estate. The distant shape of a man with a large, black dog on a leash walked past and then disappeared: that was the night watchman James Bonde had mentioned, no doubt. Almost on cue, not long after the watchman passed, Moriarty saw a familiar figure - dressed in a green coat and a dark blue bowler hat - trot around a corner. Moriarty narrowed his eyes as Dr. Watson flattened his back against the wall. His expression was tense, worried...almost scared. He glanced from side to side, and sighed with relief; he hadn’t noticed William, and was glad to find apparently no one had spotted him yet. “It’s alright,” William heard Watson say. “What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him…” Moriarty felt his own eyes blazing as he suspected who the “he” Watson referred to was. “Soon,” Watson added to himself, adjusting his tie and then looking up at the wall. “Soon...it will all be over…” Then, without another word, the Doctor jumped up and grabbed hold of the wall’s edge. He let out a sharp yipe, and bit his lip to silence himself; as he scrambled up to climb over the wall, the sounds and motions he made reminded William so much of a big, dumb dog trying to clamber over a fence, he nearly laughed. Nearly. Not quite. From what he was hearing, he was beginning to have grave worries. Once Watson disappeared over the wall, William took his turn to check and make sure there were no witnesses nearby...then - cloak fluttering about him as he went - he raced to the wall, and leapt over it with the grace of a gazelle. The courtyard was lushly kept, with grass, small topiary trees, and little yellow flowers all around. Quaint and tended to with perfect decorum. Across the lawn of green grass, Watson saw Dr. Watson racing towards a distant red-and-blue gazebo; it was octagonal in shape, and was a closed-off affair; no door, but with thick, tinted windows on seven of its eight sides. William was about to dart forward...when he heard the barking of the Watchman’s dog. Quickly, he dove into the bushes, and crouched low. The Watchman and his dog soon hurried to the spot; both looked around, then the man mumbled something to the black hound...and the pair continued on their way. William waited till their footsteps faded...then, stole across the lawn and made a dash towards the distant gazebo, stealing across the courtyard with such silence, he might as well have been a part of that black night. The Master Criminal only paused once more; this was when he noticed he had to run past an open window, and the light was still on. Inside, he saw Cecil Forrester - the lady of the house - speaking with a maid. Both were fair women with chestnut-colored hair. The two left the room, and Moriarty continued towards the gazebo, keeping low and moving with quiet quickness; one might have mistaken him for a wolf, stalking its prey. Moriarty traced a wide path as he drew closer and closer to the gazebo; he had no desire to be spotted when he got too close. Once he reached it, he flattened himself quietly against the glass-paneled walls, and sidled closer to the open entrance. As he moved nearer, Moriarty could hear a voice; it was tremuluous, faint, and he couldn’t quite make out properly who it belonged to or what they were saying. Once he was right beside the door, that voice stopped...and he picked up the unmistakable sound of John Watson’s voice. Now, he could most certainly make out the words… “It’s too soon. I don’t want to take any risks. This is a delicate operation; one false step, and everything could be ruined. But don’t worry...if worse comes to worse, I can handle him. He won’t be a problem. We’ll get everything we want...nothing is going to stop us. I swear it.” William narrowed his eyes into crimson slits, and prepared to draw his cane sword...before whipping around the side and spinning into the gazebo. “‘Hell is empty. All the devils are-’” The melodramatic quote was stopped short as William froze in place and his eyes went wide at what he saw. Dr. Watson - who had just kissed the lips of the person with him - gasped and backed away fast… ...Leaving a young, beautiful lady standing alone in the center of the gazebo, her indigo eyes wide and bright with surprise. Her hair was the color of brass, and she was dressed in the prim, proper outfit of a governess. Moriarty and the young woman stared at each other, each equally stunned. It was Watson’s stuttered, scared exclamation that broke them out of their momentary stupor. “P-Pr-Pro-Professor M-Moriarty!” he managed to cough out...then, impulsively, he moved forward again… ...And held the young lady close, in a protective, caring way. She coiled back against him, looking startled and more than a little scared by the red-eyed stranger that had swooped into the area. “What...what are you doing here?” Watson asked, a little accusatorily. Moriarty soon regained his composure, the look of utter speechlessness leaving his face as it slid back into his usual, blank, mask-like features. “Following you,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and pointed his cane at the young lady. “Who is this, and what is going on?” Watson squirmed a bit uncomfortably at the Professor’s blood-eyed stare. He held the woman closer and then answered. “I...this is...my fiance,” he answered, and turned rather pink in the face. “Her...her name is Mary Morstan.” Moriarty blinked. His expression didn’t shift an inch. “Fiance?” he repeated, not sounding surprised, but simply questioning. “Y-Yes,” the woman answered. William realized he was still holding out his cane...and, not wishing to frighten the young lady any further, lowered his secret weapon. Mary smiled and sighed gratefully before going on: “I work for Mrs. Forrester; I live here. It’s, um...i-it’s a pleasure to meet you, ah...Mr. Moriarty.” William paused, before giving a single nod. “Mutual,” he responded, but his voice was still quite frosty, then looked back to Watson. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking out three nights a week?” Watson blanched. “H-How did you…?” “I have my ways,” William answered, smoothly. Watson flushed and shuffled on his feet. He hugged Mary close with one arm, his other hand holding hers as she embraced him. He smiled bashfully before looking back to Moriarty. “I...we proposed in secret,” he admitted. “I met Mary thanks to a case. I’ve been...I’ve been keeping this secret from Sherlock.” “Why?” William wondered. Watson frowned and looked askance. “Because I’m not sure if Holmes would approve,” he admitted, quietly, a sad look in his eyes. “He...the two of us have been inseparable, since we met, and...I’m worried about how he’ll react when he finds out about Mary and I.” “So you’ve been meeting her in secret; to rendezvous under the stars,” Moriarty romantically surmised. Watson blushed more and Mary giggled. “Something like that, Professor, yes,” Miss Morstan confirmed in a saccharine sort of way. “Is that what you were whispering about?” William presumed. “Saying you weren’t ready, that you could handle him?” “Yeah,” Watson chuckled, and scratched the back of his head. “I, uh...I-I guess wording like that could sound kinda suspicious, huh?” William sighed through his nose as Mary giggled again. “Very,” William agreed. His face remained blank, his lips still set in a straight line as he then went on: “If I may advise you, Doctor...I think you should tell Holmes soon.” Watson frowned and lowered his head; he looked amusingly guilty, like a little boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “Well...I know I SHOULD, but...I don’t want to make him mad,” he admitted, almost meekly. “Not about this. I still want to work with him, and...and he’s my friend, so…” “So,” Moriarty interrupted, “Shouldn’t you be used to sharing secrets with him?” Watson looked up, a little startled. Moriarty’s expression had become a thin, taut smile. “If Mr. Holmes is truly your friend, he should be able to handle something like this,” he reasoned. “Perhaps he’ll be jealous or untrusting at first, but that is to be expected. But behavior like this is dangerous, and it could lead to more bad than good. You shouldn’t be afraid to admit to Holmes things like this.” Watson bit his lip, and looked at Mary, who nodded back to him. He smiled, then looked back up at the Professor. “Yeah. That...I guess that’s right. I’ll...I’ll see about telling him soon. And...and no more of these...these midnight liaisons.” He looked back to his fiance. “We’ll meet on our own terms, without all this roundabout racing. Right, Mary?” “Of course,” she responded, and kissed his nose, making the doctor give a bashful, red-faced smile. Moriarty looked the pair up and down as they hugged...then turned on his heel. “Well,” he said, shortly and sharply. “Now, with that issue settled, I’ll be on my way.” Watson watched as Moriarty left the gazebo and began to walk back towards the wall. His brow knitted itself into a knot, and he paused, whispering “One moment” to Mary before kissing her forehead and hastily hustling out of the gazebo. “Professor!” he called out, and Moriarty paused. His red eyes glittered like rubies as he turned back over his shoulder, expression chilling. Watson didn’t seem scared. He smiled in a kind, amiable manner. “Why DID you follow me?” he asked, simply and bluntly. Moriarty said nothing. Watson paused before taking a guess: “Were you concerned about Sherlock?” Moriarty nodded, still saying nothing. Watson chuckled and smiled gently. “You don’t need to worry, Professor: when I hide things from him, it’s nothing sinister. Sherlock his my best friend, and one of the most fascinating people I know.” “I’m glad you think so.” “Oh, I know it’s so. Just like I know the reason why you looked so jealous when I asked him to join me for dinner.” Moriarty’s eyes widened...then narrowed again. Watson smiled humbly. “I AM getting better,” he said, in a faint, cheeping sort of voice. “You won’t tell him, will you?” William checked, voice staying even, conveying neither worry nor rage. Watson smiled a patient smile; he placed a hand on the young Professor’s shoulder, causing Moriarty to stiffen with surprise. “You just told me that, if he’s really my friend, I shouldn’t keep secrets from him,” Watson stated. “I think the same is in reverse: whatever you feel for him...I think he needs to hear it from you. No one else.” William paused...and his bangs hid his eyes from sight. “And if he doesn’t feel the same?” he queried, in a strangely business-like tone. “I think he will,” Watson chuckled. “You two are practically made for each other: you’re both extraordinary. You both live for the game. You’re both intelligent. You’re two of a kind! I know it’s not the kind of relationship our society smiles upon, but...if it’s the true way you feel, why should that matter?” He patted Moriarty’s shoulder, and then finished: “You’re two sides of the same coin. You belong together...Liam.” William was silent...then, a slick smile slithered over his lips. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll remember that. But please...don’t call me Liam.” Watson pulled back quickly and let out a nervous laugh. “Ah...heh heh...s-sorry, I won’t.” “Thank you,” Moriarty repeated, and gave a mock salute with his cane. “Goodnight, Doctor. And do apologize to Miss Morstan for me: my unseemingly dramatic entrance no doubt gave her quite a fright.” “You can say that again,” mumbled Watson, and returned the mock salute with a real soldier’s stance. “Goodnight, Professor!” William smiled a little wider...and then walked forward. His dark cloak allowed him to easily slip into the shadows...and soon he was gone. As he prowled through the city back towards home, William James Moriarty couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The Devil swore the lightness in his heart must have been what Angels felt every day.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Married with two children. Native of Suffolk. Works in a public house.” “The shoes gave it away?” “Yeah, yeah. Invalid husband; dismissed from the army for his injuries four years ago.” “Three.” “Oh, yes, of course, three! Lastly, at least one of them has a drinking problem.” Sherlock Holmes took a swig of ale from the pewter cup he held and sighed, smacking his lips as the woman he’d been scrutinizing disappeared. He then turned to the party across from him with a daring smile. “Your turn, Liam!” William James Moriarty smirked cunningly, and looked out the window. His blazing, cat-like eyes soon caught sight of his chosen prey. “Bachelor by choice,” he began, noting a gentleman in a stovepipe hat who was passing by. “Scholarly by nature; a frequent visitor to the library. Smokes far too much. Works at a very fine hotel, most likely in an administrative position.” “Birth and residence?” “Lancashire for the former, Yorkshire for the latter. I believe he’s visiting London for the sake of family, but he doesn’t much care FOR said family. I speculate his bachelor status might be the reason-ah! He’s gone. That’s all.” William smiled back at a beaming Sherlock Holmes, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table as his chin rested on the other. “How was that, Mr. Detective?” he purred. Sherlock laughed and applauded. “Liam, you excel yourself!” “I try,” shrugged Moriarty, without much modesty, and lifted his own pewter cup before taking a drink. All around the pair, the bustle and hustle of the Bugle Tavern buzzed and hummed and bellowed...but neither gave it much attention. “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation to dinner,” William said, sincerely, folding his hands on the table with a quiet smile. “Eh,” Holmes shrugged, stirring his drink in its mug as he spoke. “When we met for lunch in Durham, you were busy grading papers. I’m glad we could just have a meal together. Although…” He paused, and then gestured with a careless wave of his free hand around the establishment. “...I am surprised a nobleman would choose to eat HERE.” William smiled a bit wider, and glanced about. A few people were giving him odd looks; it was rare someone so well-to-do showed up in this place. He shrugged again and smiled to Holmes. “I am full of surprises,” was all he said. “Isn’t that the truth,” chuckled Holmes and took another drink. Moriarty watched the detective for a few moments, eyes scanning him. His crimson irises flickered vulnerably for a split second before he spoke again. “Mr. Holmes...may I be very frank with you?” “Sure,” Holmes drawled. “What’s up?” “I’m very glad I met you.” Sherlock blinked and froze, his smile fading. “Eh?” he tilted his head. “Why do you say that? I mean...I’m flattered, obviously, but...what brought this on?” “It’s...hard for me to say,” William admitted with a very soft laugh, before going on. “It’s just...while I have my fair share of friends, and a family of my own that cares for me...I’ve always felt this...disconnect from the world around me.” He glanced out the window as he went on, watching people go by. “Like you, I can look at a person and analyze everything about them...and I can do it very rapidly. While on the surface I am placid as a still lake, my mind is always racing out of control. The sheer amount of mental exertion I go through just in the span of taking a single breath can be exhausting. The rest of the world moves...so slowly. Too slowly. Everyone going about their lives, making differences in small ways or simply shambling around…their minds so rarely used to their fullest...” He tilted his head downwards. “...There are so many days where I feel...I’m totally alone in the universe. Where the mental strain becomes too great.” He paused...then looked back up at Sherlock, once again flashing one of “his” smiles. “It’s relieving to know there’s someone even more mentally fractured than I!” Holmes snorted with laughter. “Well,” he muttered, taking a drink, “We all have our problems, don’t we?” He paused...then licked his lips of some foam as he put down his ale and leaned forward on the table. “I...I have to admit...it’s good to be able to talk to someone who can work on my level,” Sherlock said, with a surprisingly tender smile. “Someone who isn’t my obnoxious control freak of a brother, I mean. I…it’s like...” He paused, biting his lip, hesitantly...then sighed and ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head. “Ahhh...I’m not good at heartfelt confessions,” he mumbled, and gave an almost sheepish smile. “I guess...I’m trying to say I feel the same way. And...it...it honestly feels really good to hear you...say all that, even in such a teasing way.” The pair smiled at each other, their eyes seemingly magnetized as they found themselves leaning and inching closer across the table. “...Holmes…” “Yes, Liam?” “I...feel there’s something else I should tell you.” “Yes?” was the breathy response. William’s lips were quivering as he moved nearer. “I...I think I might be in lo-” “GENTLEMEN!” Both shot back, sitting straight up in their chairs as a fat waiter with a bristly moustache waddled over to their table, and placed their meals - two plates of steak with baked potatoes - upon the table. “‘Ere’s yer food, gents!” he boomed. “I ‘ope ye find it t’yer likin’!” “I’m sure we will,” Moriarty smiled with a nod, his composure so fully complete it was as if nothing had happened. “Thank you, sir.” “Talk to ya later, Pete!” sniggered Holmes with a wink. The waiter winked back, nodded to Professor Moriarty, and then trundled off. “What were you saying, Liam?” Sherlock asked, as he began to cut into his steak, sawing off a huge chunk and stuffing it into his mouth. William much more elegantly carved a tiny square off his slab of beef, and hummed happily as he savored the juices upon popping it into his mouth. “I forget,” he lied through his teeth...then gave a challenging smile as he glanced to each of their pewters. “Say, Mr. Holmes…” “Mm-hm?” Sherlock grunted through a full mouth. “How much can you drink in a single sitting? Before you collapse?” Sherlock paused mid-chew...then smirked around his stuffed chompers, chewing a few more times, slowly, before gulping down his food. He stifled a burp in his fist and gave a cocksure smirk. “Probably more than you, fancy-pants,” he bragged. “Would you like to make a wager?” Moriarty crooned. “Sure! We’ll make it a race! First to finish twelve straight rounds without falling over wins!” declared Holmes. “Think you can handle that, Mr. Mathematician?” “As long as you can count that high,” was the sharp response. Holmes cackled and lifted his pewter. “You’re on, Liam! May the best man win!” William James Moriarty put down his fork and knife, and lifted his ale. As he clanked it against Sherlock’s, he answered the dare with one of his own, his eyes sultry as he slithered out his response. “Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock Holmes shivered almost invisibly, and quickly took a drink. As Liam’s seductive red glare caught his azure eyes, the criminal mastermind had no idea that the one thought on his mind was being copied by the other man at the table. Someday, I’ll tell him I love him. Someday.

The End

[ladykissingfish]

The Akatsuki at Karaoke Night

Being a group of insatiable killers is hard work, even in the best of circumstances. Like anybody else, the Akatsuki is constantly seeking out ways to unwind and de-stress during their off time. One day Konan goes out and comes back excited; a local tavern hosts a karaoke night every week. The others are reluctant at first, but this quickly becomes one of their new favorites pastimes. Drinking, eating, singing; what could be more fun than that?

Deidara

Has to be really drunk to get up on stage and sing. Like, incredibly drunk. Like how-is-he-still-standing-drunk. When in this state, there’s one song that he’ll sing and one song only: “I’m A Barbie Girl.” Nobody in the Akatsuki knows why he chooses this particular song, but everyone has to admit that it suits him. He’ll take his hair out of his ponytail and have it cascading down his back, he’ll tie up his shirt in a front knot, and, if she’s wearing them, will borrow Konan’s heels to wear. And he’ll always try and drag Sasori on stage with him to sing the parts of Ken (C’mon, Danna! You’re literally like a doll, hm!), but Sasori will only comply if he’s in a really good mood/there’s not that many people around. Despite his intoxication he’ll actually sing beautifully, so much so that he’ll receive requests for encores; which he’ll do, until the booze catches up with him and he falls head-first off the stage and into someone’s (usually Tobi’s) lap. Won’t remember a thing the next day and feverishly insist that he’s never even heard of “some weird Barbie song”.

EDIT:: After days of this being on my mind I can also believe that Deidara would sing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood(?) and stare directly at Sasori the entire time even though they’re not really dating they‘re “in a situation” and even though if they WERE dating Sasori isn’t the cheating kind but he’s listening to the lyrics and noting how intensely Deidara is singing it and his face is just 😳

Sasori

He only goes because the others insist that he does. Honestly, this guy has a severe allergy to anything Fun. Chances are he’ll bring one of his puppets with him to work on/modify. He mostly refuses to get on stage and sing any songs of his own, BUT he’ll use his chakra strings to control his puppet and have it dance along on stage to a song of his choosing, that he has one of the other members sing for the puppet (giving them a taste of ventriloquism). The song he likes his performers to do most frequently is “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Joel; this must be his favorite song because he always silently mouths along to it as it plays. If literally nobody else is there besides the rest of the Akatsuki, he sometimes “makes” Deidara join him for a duet; he’s particularly fond of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John, although he and Deidara always fight over who sings the part of the girl.

Tobi

It’s dangerous to let Tobi sing in front of people. Not because he’s bad at it, but because ... he’s good. Startlingly good. His voice changes completely from a goofy childish timbre, to very deep, and smooth, and mellow. There are sea legends about sailors being lured to their deaths by the songs of sirens, and the same principle seems to be at work here. Waitresses will drop their trays, people walking will run face-first into each other, and the area around the stage will be packed with men and women alike trying to get as close as possible to him. The fact that he sounds like that but won’t make his mask off makes him even more mysterious and alluring. His song of choice? “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers; which brings tears (and swooning) to the eyes and minds of anyone who hears him. After the song it’s like someone flips a switch, and he goes back to the weirdo that the Akatsuki knows and tolerates, seemingly completely oblivious to the chaos his singing caused. He also enjoys having drinks with his Senpai, as the alcohol makes the blonde much more friendly towards Tobi than he usually is; however he can’t keep up with the amount of booze Deidara can put away, and he feels sleepy after just a few beers.

Hidan

As with most group outings, he’ll complain about thinking everything is stupid. His religion prohibits the consumption of alcohol, so he’ll occupy himself with eating lots of food and “lovingly” heckling his fellow Akatsuki members when they get up on stage. Once in a blue moon he can be persuaded to get up and sing himself, although again this is a complete rarity. He has no real music preferences and will usually just flip through the available choices until he finds something he knows the lyrics to. Tries to pick songs with a lot of swearing in it, which he won’t bother to bleep out and will instead scream out at the top of his lungs (which often results in the whole group being threatened with getting kicked out). Sometimes, though, when he’s in a more mellow state of mind ((a rarity for Hidan)) he’ll get the urge to do a duet (because that takes the pressure off of everyone staring only at him) and can convince Konan to go up with him. Their rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” always brings the room to its feet, and gets them thunderous applause. After the song Konan will blush and kiss his cheek, which Hidan pretends to act embarrassed about (but is secretly thrilled by). His favorite song to do solo, however, is “Sympathy For The Devil” by The Rolling Stones, which he ... really ... gets into.

Kakuzu

Mostly comes out with the others as a sort of chaperone; making sure they get home safe after drinking, and trying to prevent them from blowing all their money on the “outrageously priced” food and drinks. Karaoke isn’t really his thing, and neither is being on stage in front of people. However if he’s in a decent mood, and there aren’t that many people around, he can be persuaded to get up and sing. He sings the most amazing rendition of “Ain’t No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down)” by Johnny Cash; his deep gravelly voice and slow speaking pitch are absolutely perfect for it, giving everyone listening goosebumps. Kakuzu is also a skilled guitar player, and sometimes he will sit on stage and play the guitar bits of certain songs for other Akatsuki members singing, “But I’m taking my fees out of your next paycheck.”

Zetsu

Surprisingly, this is one activity that the plant-man enjoys engaging in with the others. He’s not much of an alcohol drinker, and “human” food isn’t really his thing, either; but he loves to hear the others do their best at singing. It takes a lot to get Zetsu up on the stage himself, but when he does, he’s a fairly decent singer. He’s able to change the pitch of his voice quite effortlessly, so that it intend sounds as if two people are singing, instead of one. His song of choice is a long one: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. It takes a lot f stamina to get through this, but Zetsu always finds that half the time he can’t even hear his own voice with this one, as everyone in the place sings with him (because seriously, who alive doesn’t know this song?). But it’s not all fun and games; Zetsu will always be scoping out the crowd, discerning who the most intoxicated people are. He’ll lure these poor souls into the alley out back, and gave himself a tasty little snack. He tries his hardest not to let the others catch him doing this, though, as this is supposed to be a fun and stress-free night for all involved.

Konan and Pein

This whole thing was her idea, yet, unless it’s a duet with one of the others, she’s very reluctant to try and sing on her own. Thinks her voice is “nails on a chalkboard”, although everyone vehemently disagrees with this perspective. Never has to bring any money with her to the bar, because all of the boys will take turns buying her food and drinks. She goes crazy for fries of any kind, and can eat carloads of these alone. Konan is exceptionally beautiful, and she will be mercilessly hit on from the moment she walks in until they all leave. Well, not always — the boys ALSO like to take turns acting as Konan’s bodyguard, and protecting her from anyone who tries to come within three feet of her. They hide their more vicious tendencies for when Konan’s not paying attention, because they know she wants a relaxing evening, but still: there’s been quite a number of guys escorted out of the bar by Kisame and Hidan, that mysteriously never return. When persuaded to sing, almost anything she chooses will be an Amy Winehouse song, as this is her favorite artist. Her favorite song is “Wake Up Alone”, which moves her fellow teammates (Pein included) to tears. Joins Kakuzu as helper to make sure everyone gets home safe and sound. Pein doesn’t like singing, and does not want to sing ... but Konan always manages to convince him to be a good sport at some point in the evening. But the song he picks is disappointingly predictable: “Pain” by Three Days Grace. Expected, maybe ... but he puts real heart and soul into his rendition, nearly falling off the stage with his enthusiasm. As with all group outings, Nagato loves to experience everything through the Pein-body’s eyes, and spend time with this makeshift family of his.

Kisame

One of the biggest drinkers, but something (perhaps his half-animalness) makes it near impossible for him to be totally drunk, no matter how much alcohol he consumes. Sometimes he’ll make a deal with Kakuzu: Kakuzu will scope out other drunks in the place, inform Kisame of their whereabouts, and Kisame will hustle them for money in either drinking contests or pool games. He’ll split the money with the old guy, making both happy. When it comes to the karaoke aspect, Kisame doesn’t really like singing, or being in front of a crowd; but decides to be a good sport and do a song lIke the others. He can sing almost anything (he has a wide vocal range), but he really seems to favor love ballads. His favorite is November Rain by Guns n Roses, and the rest of the Akatsuki is shocked at how damn soulful he sounds singing it. If not singing or hustling drunks, he likes to spend some quiet time with Itachi, buying him snacks and coaxing the thin ((TOO thin, in Kisame’s opinion)) young man to eat.

Itachi

Is quiet and shy by nature, so naturally things like karaoke bars aren’t really his deal. But Kisame always insists that it’s good for him to get out ((out of the hideout and out of his head)) and socialize once in a while, so he goes. It’s the same deal as Konan, almost, where women flock to him and hit on him for nearly the entire duration of his visit. However, the group doesn’t act as a collective bodyguard for him, as the majority of them feel like he’d be better off, as Hidan delicately puts it, “If the fucker just got laid.” But Itachi doesn’t seem interested in anything like this; he’s polite to those who approach him, but so closed-off that eventually they give up. When one particularly persistent woman wouldn’t leave him alone, Itachi resorted to grabbing the person nearest him (who happened to be Deidara) and telling the admirer that he was his boyfriend. He even put his arm around the guy’s waist, squeezing him. Deidara went along with it, but after the woman left he angrily informed Itachi that he’d “blow your ass up if you ever try something like that again, hm!” That’s what he SAYS, but it should be noted that he blushes quite hard for some time afterwards. Itachi was only ever convicted to go up and sing one time, and it was a duet with Kisame. The song was “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. At the end of the song, Kisame was beaming, and Itachi had more admirers than ever clamoring for his attention. Not used to late nights so if they’re out past midnight will usually fall asleep sitting at the bar, and be carried home (and put into bed) by Kisame.

[area54writer]

New Boss In Town Part 2

Info: Welcome to Part 2 of New Boss in town! I hope u liked part 1.

Warning ⚠️: Smut (but not with Max) blood, feeding, and Max Flirting 🥵

3 Months Later (Part 2)

Michelle's POV (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

I'm sooo glad it's the weekend work is such a pain in the ass now. Ever since Max came into the picture he thinks I'm his friend. Obviously I'm not. He's nothing but a cocky blood sucking spoiled son of a bitch. He constantly flirts with me and every other girl at work. Me however don't fall for his little fake ass swag. But it's Saturday and I don't have to put up with that dickhead. Oh, I forgot to mention now that he has my phone number now he blows up my phone for the dumbest reasons.

*ding*

I look at my phone and it's the devil.

MP: Hey gorgeous I want to ask you if you wanted to hang out with me tonight at the new bar that a friend of mines just opened up. Then maybe after wards we can kick it at my place 😏

Ugh! The nerve of this asshole. I really wanna say no but I really don't have many friends...damn it. Before I could even stop myself I'm texting him back.

ML: Listen Max before I say yes we're keeping this a professional relationship no sexual activity included. I mean no touching me unless it's a brief hug or a handshake. Got it?

MP: Geez...I love it when you're being bossy. But yes ma'am I totally understand. But would you dance with me though?

I let out a sigh and typed.

ML: sure. what time are you picking me up?

MP: how about 9:30pm?

ML: that's fine. I'll see you later✌🏾

MP: see you later bbg🥰

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone on the couch. What the fuck did I just do? Here I am trying to hide the fact that I am a vampire but I'm out here going to go party with one who's my boss for god sake. Now I need to find something to wear...fuck!

»»————-　➴　————-««

It's finally 9:30 and I'm just waiting for Max outside of my apartments. I don't want him to see which apartment I stay in.

*Michelle Outfit*

I was about to call him and change my mind but a shiny black Mercedes Benz pulls up in front of me. The back seat window rolls down and I'm met with a pair of dark sunglasses. Why sunglasses? It's night time!

The door opens and Max gets out and he's wearing a expensive black suit and matching shirt but without a tie. Eh, I've seen better. "Don't you look delicious Michelle." He grins taking off his sunglasses. "Thank you...are you ready to go?" I asked getting slightly annoyed with the staring. "Yes ma'am...ladies first." He gestures me to go in the car first. He places his hand on my ass and I snap my fingers. His hand immediately cramps up and I smile in satisfaction. "Ow, that's not nice Michelle." He pouts as he gets in the car. "Stop whining...that's what you get for touching my ass." I smiled as I put my seatbelt on.

"It's not my fault your ass looks absolutely amazing in that dress. Mhm...and those thighs...those legs...ooh...you're making me so hard right now." Geez...I don't I think I ever met a vampire sooo horny before. This dude is all over the place. He scoots closer to me and wraps his arm around me. "Dude...you are incredibly too close to me." I sighed as I crossed my arms over my chest and crossed my legs. Max places his hand on my thigh and starts rubbing it very sexually. I swear this dude thinks with his dick.

"Didn't I tell you that we're just going as friends and nothing sexual attached." I sighed turning my head to him. He's staring at my neck with such hunger. I'm just surprised he hasn't smelled my vampire blood. I guess all he smell is the magic. "You have five seconds to remove your hand. Or I'll cut it off." I said very seriously. "Mhm...so feisty...mhm...I love it. But by the look in your eyes I can tell you're being serious so I'll behave myself." He finally moves over back to his side of the car and I let out a sigh of relief.

I'm actually upset that I made him move away...what the hell am I saying?! Ew! No no no no no!! I'm not falling for this asshole. I couldn't help but look over at him. He's on his phone texting someone...probably some other chick. I have to admit he looks really good in his suit. I mean he always do and it makes me feel some type of way. Theres other things about him that makes me feel weird. Like his hands, his eyes, his voice, his body, and especially his lips.

Those damn cute pouty lips. Fuck...I just know he's a good kisser. I actually wouldn't mind kissing him. "You're staring at me kitten." Max says making me snap out of my thoughts. "Shut up." I scoffed then rolling my eyes. "Aww, you're so cute when you blush." He chuckled as he put his phone back in his suit jacket pocket. "Whatever...but you look nice." I said. Once I said that Max let's out a loud gasp. He turns to me and place his fist under his chin.

"Awww!!! You gave me a compliment. That's sooo swe-." I cut Max off by unbuckling my seatbelt. "Oh, look we're here. Come on." I smiled as I get out of the car. I fixed my dress and walked around the car to Max's side. Before I could even walk ahead of him he grabs my hand and decides that we're going to walk in together. He gives me a smirk making me let out sigh. He's so annoying.

When we enter the bar I couldn't believe how it looked. I don't think I've ever seen a club so packed and vibrant. I guess everyone wanted to try it out. "Come on let's go to our section." Max grins as he guides me to wherever our section is.

https://pin.it/2xmikCL

The lighting in here is amazing and the music vibrating my entire body. I love it here already. However...I'm getting hungry. Hearing all these heart beats and the smell of people skin is making me so fucking hungry. Even though I literally drunk a whole blood pack that I got from a hospital before I left to fill me up. I still crave the freshness and warmness from the source. Max takes me to a booth I guess you would call it and there's other people there. I'm guessing it's Max's friend and his "girlfriends". They're all humans too. "Max! How are you buddy?!" The guy cheered who looks around Max age....well he looks young probably around his thirties since Max is old as fuck.

"Hey Jerry!! How's my main man?!" Max cheered loudly letting go of my hand. I actually didn't want him to let go...SNAP OUT OF IT YOU DUMBASS! Don't fall for Max!  I snapped out of my thoughts and took a seat on the pink  couch. Max and Jerry takes a seat then Jerry looks over at me. "Who is this beautiful lady?" Jerry asked Max but smiling brightly at me. I could sense the anger rising from Max which is actually cute. Jerry extends his hand out for me to shake and I shake it. I don't wanna be rude to my Boss's friend.

"I'm Michelle." I smiled kindly at him. "Mhm...you are beautiful...are you and Max a couple?" He asked with a super flirty smile. Jerry isn't ugly...he's just not my type. He looks like a hoe. He has brown neck length curly hair, a beard, nice built, pretty smile, and he dresses very casual but not raggedy. He kisses the back of my hand and I couldn't help but blush. A guy hasn't done that to me in years. "We're not a couple...he's my boss and we're...friends." I explained with smile. "Ooh, I'm shocked. Well if you get tired of this old ass vamp then hit me up." He gives me his card but I didn't even pay attention to it.

I grab the card and slowly moved my hand away. "You know what he is?" I asked Jerry and he nodded. "Yep, because he promised me that he'll turn me one day. Not now ya know...but soon." Jerry shrugged as if it's nothing. He's acting like Max is gonna get him a new car! I swear humans are dumb as hell!! "Are you sure that's something you want?" I asked him. "Yep! I wanna be a good looking bachelor and party forever!!" He cheered making Max laugh. "Wow." That's all I said. I just shook my head and let it go. "Mhm...we need drinks. I'll be right back." Jerry says getting up.

"Ladies...please keep Max well fed." He winks at the two girls making them giggle. "Mhm...thank god, I'm fucking starving. Let's see...Michelle which one the blonde or the brunette?" Is he seriously asking me?! I should slap that cute smile right off his face. "I don't fucking care." I sighed frustratedly. Max smiles at me and let's out a laugh. "Are you jealous?" He asked making me roll my eyes. "Boy, bye. You wish." I scoffed then crossing my arms.

"Yeah, okay. Hey Blondie...go close the curtains." Max grins. She gets up and do what he says. She pulled a velvet cord and the curtains fall. So no one can see us at all. Cool. Max tells the brunette girl to sit in his lap and she does willingly. He moves her hair to the side and bite her neck. I couldn't help but stare cause I'm fucking starving. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably and squeezed my legs together.

"Mhm..." Max kept humming and moaning while he drank the girl's blood. Quite frankly I'm getting turned on because of the sounds he's making. He switched to the blonde girl and as for the brunette she cleans her neck with a napkin and fucking hell I just wanna lick it up for her. Fuck! I need a drink...where the hell is Jerry?! What seemed like forever Jerry comes back with a friend and the drinks. Oooh, he's cute. He's tall and has beautiful light brown skin, perfect white teeth, a box cut hairstyle, hazel eyes, and swag! He looks good enough to eat....literally. Remember Michelle no feeding on humans! My conscious is a pain in the ass.

"Guys, this is a friend of mines Aiden. I hope you guys don't mind if he joins." Jerry says as he sits the drinks down on the table. He brought different kinds of bottles and honestly I'll drink everything. "Aiden, this is Max and his friend Michelle." Jerry introduces us and Aiden shakes our hands. Aiden sits next to me between Max and I. Me however didn't mind but Max was absolutely mad. While me and Aiden talked Max kept taking glances at us. I don't even think he was paying attention to Jerry. Me however was doing every flirt move that was created. I would touch him on his thigh or his arm, laugh at his corny jokes, compliment him, and just be sexy.

I already had three drinks and I want to dance. Because I'm getting thirsty and this liquor ain't making it better. "Hey, Aiden wanna dance with me?" I asked him and rain my long acrylic nails over his thigh. "Uh, s-sure." He smiled. "Come on." I giggled while grabbing his hand. "We'll see you guys later." I winked as I guided Aiden to the dance floor.

"Seems like those two like each other." Jerry said. Max didn't say anything but I could tell he's getting more angry. Me and Aiden is on the dance floor and we're dancing very closely to each other. My ass rubbing against his crotch, his hands on my hips, and our bodies swaying to the music. This is so much fun! Even though my thirst is about to kill me. Mhm...I have an idea. I turned around to face Aiden and wrapped my arms around his neck. "Did I ever mention how pretty you are?" He asked and I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, you have. Let's go do something fun." I grinned.

I know I shouldn't be doing this but at this point I don't give a damn.

"Like what?" He smirked. "Let's hook up in the restroom...it'll be hella fun." I just know he'll say yes. I could compel him but I'm too weak to do it at the moment. "S-Sure...let's do it." He so cute...too bad I gotta feed on him. But I won't kill him though. I grab his hand and sneak him into the women's restroom. I take him in the last big stall. Before I could even get a word out Aiden kisses me and picks me up. Well damn. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms go around his neck.

My back is against the wall and Aiden starts unbuckling his belt. I scrunch my dress up then moved my panties to the side. Aiden spits on his hand and gave his very large dick and few jerks then slowly pushes himself in me. I let out a low moan from the foreign feeling. I haven't had sex in I don't know how long. "Mhm...fuck." I breathed out as he started to thrust into me faster. "You feel so damn good. Fuck you're tight." Aiden grunted into my neck.

I couldn't believe how good Aiden is fucking me right now. The way his dick is hitting my spot over and over is making me more wet and horny. I guess it's because I haven't had sex in a long time cause I could feel myself coming already. Aiden however keeps going. "L-Let's...try another position." I said and Aiden nodded. I know what you're thinking. I can't believe she's fucking a random guy! Omfg where's your protection?! Ew, what the fuck?! That's nasty. Well that's the thing about being a vampire. I can't get any type of disease or sickness!

Anyways back to me and Aiden. He puts me down and pulls out. I turn around and bend over to lean on the rail. Aiden pushes his dick back inside me causing a soft grunt to escape his lips. I started moving back and forth on his hard dick. I speeded up faster and faster making Aiden smack my ass cheeks really hard. Damn it....I love that. After countless (what felt like hours) of fucking Aiden cums deep inside me. Then I cum too right after. "W-Wow...that was amazing." Aiden breathed heavily as he pulls out.

I stand up straight and fix my panties back to how it was. I turned to look at Aiden and he's fixing himself up. I raised my eyebrow at him as I stared at his thick neck. A terrible idea came to my head and I know I shouldn't do it but I am anyways. "How about a round 2?" I asked him as licked my lips slowly.

"S-Seriously? Max and Jerry are probably wandering where we are." Aww, isn't he adorable. I strutted slowly to Aiden now standing in front of him. Then I ran my fingers down his chest. "They'll be fine. Sooo sit down and relax Aiden..." I said in the calmest voice I could managed. He calms down and once he did I pushed him down on the toilet. "Woah, damn girl." He chuckled. I didn't say anything i just stared at the blue pulsing vein in his neck. I sit down on his lap and start kissing his neck. When I get to the right side of his neck I grab his jaw tightly. Holding his head in place. "I-I...I'm not really into being bottomed Michelle." He chuckled nervously but I could care less.

I tilt his head to the side and finally and I mean finally sink my teeth into him. "God damn it! Michelle what are you doing?!" He shouts and it's getting on my nerves so I cover his mouth. I kept drinking his delicious warm blood as he squirmed underneath me. I could feel my adrenaline going insane and my horniness has reached a whole other level. I moaned against his neck as I dig my teeth deeper into him. I feel my panties overflowing with my juices and it's amazing. That's enough Michelle...you're going to kill him. My conciseness is right but he's so fucking good! I released my teeth from his neck and took in deep breath of air. "W-Why...d-did you bite me?" Aiden asked wearily.

"W-Why is your face like that? What's wrong with your eyes?!" He kept asking questions and more questions but all I could focus on was his blood. "Mhm...you taste so fucking good. I think I had two orgasms while feeding on you. Fuck...I want some more." I grinned. I covered his mouth again and he starts freaking out. I grab his wrist with my free hand and bring it to my mouth. I sink my teeth into his wrist and start drinking his blood. "Mhm...Mhm!!" I moaned into his skin as I squeezed my thighs together. My legs start to shake as I explode into my panties. That's enough you greedy little girl! You're gonna kill him with yo greedy ass!

I let go of his wrist and drop it beside him. "I'm so sorry Aiden...I was just...oh no!" He's not moving! I killed him!! Oh my fucking God!!! Not again!! I quickly get off of him and stare at him. What the fuck do I do? I'm so stupid! Why did I do this in a public place? I couldn't stop crying, my breathing is becoming irregular, my palms are sweaty, and I can't focus. I think I'm having a panic attack! Shit!

Call Max Dumbass! I totally forgot about Max. I grab my phone from my purse that I tossed on the floor and looked for my phone. I find it and text Max.

ML: MAX!!! MAX!!! MAX!!!

...

ML: MAX TEXT ME BACK ITS A FUCKING EMERGENCY!!!!! I rlly need your help!!!😭

...

ML: MAX!!! Please pick the fucking phone up!!!😭😭😭

MP: what's wrong baby girl? U okay????

ML: NO! I did something stupid and bad and very wrong! I'm freaking out! Please come to the girls restroom. Tell Jerry you're going to the restroom to piss or sum thing! Just get in here!!!!!!

MP: 🤨 ummm okayyy otw

ML: Thank u

I waited for Max to come and it doesn't take long for me to hear the door open. "Michelle? If this is some weird Threesome with Aiden...then I wouldn't mind. I just don't like sharing." He's such a idiot. I unlocked the stall door just a little and waved Max down. "I'm in here." I squeaked like a little church mouse. "Heyyyy....what's wrong?" He asked with a concerned look. I didn't let him in yet cause I'm a little embarrassed and ashamed. My entire mouth and fingers are covered in blood. "Before you come in...please don't look at me differently." I said as my lips quivered. "Aw, sweetheart. A little blood doesn't bother me. It's natural for women to go through these kinds of things Michelle." I can't believe how nice he sounds. I've never heard him sound so nice.

I wanna laugh but my anxiety is too high for me to do so. "Trust me it's bad." I sighed as I opened the door fully for him to come in. "I've dealt with many women on their periods Kitten. How bad can it....be???" Max stops talking when he saw Aiden sitting on the toilet. "What the fuckery happened?!" Max whispered yelled. "Who did this? I sure as hell didn't!" Max exclaims now looking at me. "I-I did." I cried as I looked down at the floor so he wouldn't see my face. "You?" Max asked as he walked over to me. He moves my hair from my face then grabs my chin. I tried to move his hand away but it didn't work.

He examines my face with soft curious eyes. "You're a vampire?" He asked me and I nodded. "Y-Yes." I sniffed with tears running down my filthy face. "Why didn't you tell me? How come I didn't fucking notice it?" He asked me as he let's go of my chin. "Honestly...I don't know. I guess I didn't know what kind of vampire you was. A good guy or a bad guy. But to answer your second question my magic blocks out my vampire scent." I explained the best way I could.

"I see...but why the fuck are you so upset? You're a vampire...this is in your nature!" He chuckles making me roll my eyes. I wiped my eyes and let out a huff. "I know...I just hate feeding on humans. It's wrong and I can't control myself. Every time I feed on someone they die and I swore to never do it again. That's why I only drink human blood from blood bags that I get from hospitals. Until tonight. When I saw you feeding on those girls I got really hungry and tempted. I was gonna drink from Jerry but I saw Aiden and he's so cute and now he's dead!" I cried again slight panicky.

"You're so cute. Let Daddy fix this." He grins then winks at me. He goes over to Aiden and checks his pulse. Did he just call himself Daddy? "Ah! He's not dead...just unconscious. Damn, girl you almost drained him." Max chuckled. I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. Max bites his wrist then open Aiden's mouth. "There ya go buddy drink up." Moment later Aiden wakes up frantically. But at least his wounds healed.

"Hey buddy! Do me a favor and stare into my eyes." Max grabs Aiden face and starts to compel him. "You're going forget that Michelle bit you but you're gonna remember the awesome sex you two had in this restroom. When you leave tell Jerry that you gotta go home because of a family emergency. Bye Bye." Max lets go of Aiden and he gets up without saying a word then leaves the restroom. Max locks the door back then turns to me.

"Now you little kitten needs some tlc. Come here." Max extends his arms out for me and I didn't even fight it. I wrap my arms around his torso and let out a sigh in relief. He rubs my back very soothingly making me smile a little. "Come on let's get you cleaned up." Max suggested and I nodded. Max grabs my hand and takes me out of the stall. Thank god no one was in here. We walked over to the sinks and I take a seat on one. I looked over at the door and it's unlocked. With a wave of my hand I locked it. "That's so cool. I wish I had magic powers." Max grins as he wet some paper towels. I smiled tiredly at him. I guess from all the crying and panicking all the energy I had earlier is gone.

"When were you born Kitten?" Max asked as he cleaned my face. "1895." I said and Max chuckled. "Mhm...no wander...you're just a baby vamp. So that'll make you...125 years old. The person who turned you didn't train you?" He asked and I shook my head. "I don't even know what he looked like to be honest. It just happened." I shrugged. "I see...well I'll be happy to teach you kitten." He said giving me a smile. I smiled back and nodded.

After Max helps me clean up everything we leave the restroom. "Now, pretend you're drunk so Jerry can see why I'm leaving early." Max says making me raise my eyebrow. I let out groan and nodded. He grabs my hand then tosses me over his shoulder. "You better not be looking under my dress." I scolded. "I'm definitely not. Absolutely not....but I do love the White lace." I pinched him but that only made him laugh.

We finally made it to our booth where Jerry was. "Hey, where the hell have you guys been?" Jerry asked and that's my cue to act drunk. I started laughing and giggling at everything. "I went to take a piss but I find this one drunk as a skunk. So I'm gonna take her home." Max tell Jerry. "Why am I upside downnnn??!!! Woahhhh!!" I giggled. "See what I mean." Max sighs. Just to be annoying I smack Max's ass. He's gonna kill me. "Y-You have a nice ass!" I giggled.

Max smacked my ass and I only laughed. I deserve that. "Alright you two have fun." Jerry chuckles. Max says goodbye to Jerry and I wave bye still giggling like a idiot. We leave the club and he puts me down on the ground gently. "You little kitten are something else." He winks as he opens the door for me. "You don't know the half of it Mr.Philips." I winked at him then climbing into the car. "Fuckkkk meeee." Max groans making me laugh.

Our car ride back to my place was very pleasant and normal. Of course he constantly kept flirting with me and I even flirted back. Mhm...maybe I am looking at Max differently now.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Heyyy I hope u guys like this interesting 2nd part but part three will be coming soon maybe there will be smut 😏 who knows 🤷🏾‍♀️ and I’m still trying to find my writing style and theme but I’ll get the hang of it👌🏾

[hellotvshowtrash]

Angel

Requested by @elijahs-wife​ : Hi Ashlee!! Could you write a fic using the prompt "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"? Sending love 💗💗

A/N: TEHANI THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ily 💗 I’m sorry this took me a little bit!! I wanted it to be something worth posting! I’m still iffy on it. 

I don’t think I will never NOT be terrified to send something out into the void, so please like/reblog if you enjoyed!! and if you want to read any more from me, feel free to send me a request! I love all our mikaelson boys (except Finn tbh sorry) so i’m down to write for more than just Elijah!

Elijah Mikaelson x female!reader

Word count: 2,970

tw: kind of sad, mentions of being an orphan, not a whole lot!

credit to the gif creator!!

Elijah stood in the crowd, absentmindedly sipping his champagne while listening in on different conversations. Laughter bubbled throughout the compound at another Mikaelson ball. He sighed and made his way to find his brother. He heard Klaus from far off, bickering with Hope about the dress she had chosen for the night.

"Dad, it's my birthday ball. I should be able to wear what I want!" She huffed. Elijah turned the corner into one of the various hallways of the compound, coming around to see the father and daughter facing off.

He chuckled, "Children, please," he said, eyeing Hope's admittedly short dress. Her hair was curled and she sported a sky blue cocktail dress. "Although your father may have a point," Elijah stated, raising an eyebrow.

Klaus gestured to Elijah, "Thank you, brother!" He exclaimed.

"I'm 18! I'm going to wear whatever I want," Hope said, storming into the party with finality. Elijah walked closer to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder, stifling a laugh.

"She is very strong-willed, like her father," He said, raising his champagne flute to his lips. Klaus glared at his brother and sighed. "She has a point though. She is a young woman now. Just give her this one night to do and wear what she wants." The men turned and departed the hallway, heading back into the party. Klaus grabbed a champagne flute and headed to stand on a flight of stairs. Elijah stood at the base, looking into the crowd again.

"May I have your attention!" Klaus called out into the large room, "I would like to say a few words about my daughter, Hope." Klaus smiled down at her as he began his speech. Elijah continued to scan the room. His brother's voice faded from his ears when his eyes landed on a woman amongst the crowd, standing with his sister Freya. She was beautiful, wearing a blush coloured, floor-length dress. Her Y/C/H hair flowing down her back in an elegantly curled braid. She beamed up at Klaus as he gave his heartfelt speech about Hope. Elijah felt an unfamiliar sensation in his chest, a feeling he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

In unison, the crowd lifted their glasses and cheered, "To Hope!" The woman put her glass to her full, pink lips. The room erupted into conversation and movement, and Elijah lost sight of her. As if jogged from a trance, Elijah put his champagne on the nearest surface and began searching the crowd once more. He pushed passed strangers and friends alike to get to where he had spotted her. He broke through the other side of the crowd, looking around for her or Freya. He found the two making their way around the outskirts of the party, talking and laughing together. He took a second to compose himself, putting his left hand in his suit pants pocket. Taking a deep breath, he followed after her.

"Good evening," he said casually, coming up behind the two women. They turned and Freya greeted him with a smile and a warm hug. The stranger stood by with a polite smile on her face.

"Elijah! I was wondering when I'd see you," she pulled away and turned to the woman next to her. "Y/N, this is my brother, Elijah." Freya smiled at Y/N.

"Hello, Elijah," She greeted, extending her hand. Rather than shaking it, Elijah took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it softly. Blush crept up Y/N's cheeks as Freya's eyebrows raised.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elijah said, not taking his eyes off her Y/E/C ones. "May I have this dance?" He heard her heartbeat quicken as she gave a small nod, letting Elijah gently tug her to the dance floor.

"I guess I'll just hang out here! By myself!" Freya called after them, huffing to herself.

--

Y/N was a New Orleans French Quarter witch. That was how she and Freya had met and became friends. Y/N had started coming around the compound more and more frequently over the following weeks, becoming closer to the Original family. Rosie cheeks and stolen glances at Elijah filled her visits under the excuse of hanging out with Freya. She loved her friend, truly, but she couldn't get her mind off of the oldest Mikaelson brother. He, on the other hand, seemed to distance himself from her after his first introduction. She had hoped that she didn't offend him in some way. “Maybe I’m just not his type,“ She thought to herself.

"Y/N?" Freya's voice sounded in Y/N's head, jogging her from her thoughts.

"What, I'm sorry?" She looked at her friend, confused. They were sitting on a couch located in the library of the compound, pulling a late-night together. Her thoughts of Elijah had distracted her mid-conversation.

Freya rolled her eyes. "I asked if you'd like to come to the Halloween party we're throwing here this weekend. Hope wants it to be a big event, and you know Klaus would do anything to keep her happy." Freya smiled at Y/N.

Y/N nodded, thinking about the father/daughter relationship Hope and Klaus had brought a sad smile to her face. She was glad Hope would have the love of family throughout her life. Y/N was alone in New Orleans, growing up in different foster homes and halfway houses. Her real family unknown to her, she had been tossed from house to house because of the unexplainable things that happened around her. Until she met Vincent, back when he was still married to Eva Sinclair. He taught Y/N about what living in New Orleans really meant for people like her. He made her feel like she belonged.

"I'd love to come! Costume party?" Y/N asked, sipping tea from her mug.

Freya nodded, "Hope wouldn't have it any other way."

–

Elijah rolled his eyes. "I will not be wearing a costume. I believe I may just stay behind and let you all enjoy the fun," He said to Hope and Klaus. Hope was trying on her little red riding hood costume for the party that night when she turned and glared at Elijah.

"Come on, Uncle Elijah. Auntie Bex is! I even got dad some devil horns that he's going to wear, right dad?" She looked over at Klaus who grimaced and looked at Elijah pleadingly.

"Yes, darling, I'll wear them," He said, defeated. Hope smiled and looked back at Elijah. Elijah shook his head again, turning to exit the room.

"Y/N will be there," Hope exclaimed as he walked toward the door. Elijah stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, sighing. She knew that would get him to come. He wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was, or maybe Hope was just perceptive. Hope smiled triumphantly to herself as she turned back to the mirror to look at her costume once more, perfecting the details.

--

Y/N entered the compound, her dress flurrying around her as she was met by a large crowd of people. The sun had set and the party was in full swing. The Mikaelson’s sure know how to throw a rager, she thought to herself. She walked farther into the crowd, her dress and cloak billowing around her. She headed toward the bar, keeping her eyes peeled for Freya.

"There you are!" Freya's voice came from behind her, muffled by the music. Y/N turned and saw her friend dressed in a bright pink dress, star wand in hand with a large crown atop her head. Y/N stifled a laugh at the sight.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Y/N said over the music.

Freya frowned, "What, you don't get it? I'm Glinda! You know, from The Wizard Of Oz?" She flourished her wand in Y/N's face and laughed.  Freya was already a few drinks in. "Who are you supposed to be?" She asked, her words slightly slurred.

Y/N looked down at her costume, and back up to Freya. "I'm Sarah Sanderson! From Hocus Pocus," Y/N twirled in her spot. She and Freya giggled as Y/N spun. Mid-spin, she spotted Elijah coming down the stairs and her breath hitched in her throat. She didn't take Elijah for the costume type, so she hadn't expected him to be here tonight.

He looked absolutely regal in his black suit and tie. Large white angels wings sprouted from his back. He looked around the room while coming down the stairs, not yet seeing Y/N. Freya followed Y/N's gaze and saw Elijah.  She drunkenly put an arm around Y/N's shoulder.

"You know, I think you have a thing for my brother," She accused. Y/N blushed, turning away from the angel.

"I'm the last person he would be interested in if I was," Y/N cast one last look his way before turning back to the bar, ordering a drink. "Let's get this party started," She said to her friend, giving her a smile. She reminded herself to not get attached. Everyone leaves eventually.

--

Y/N and Freya were joined by Rebekah, but they couldn't quite tell who she was dressed as. All they could tell was that it was tight and it was spandex. The three danced and drank in the middle of the party, not a care in the world. Elijah watched from the bar protectively. Something about this woman was so magnetic, so charming. He couldn't bring himself to admit that there was a flame ignited in his heart at the sight of her. He doesn't let people in. She's a mortal witch, her life span was the blink of an eye compared to his. No, he wouldn't let himself get attached. She would see him for the monster he was. He turned to mingle with the crowd, although he never let the three women leave his line of sight.

Y/N was having the time of her life with her friends, drunkenly dancing the night away.

“I’m going to go grab more drinks!” She slurred to the other two girls. They cheered in response as she turned and stumbled toward the bar. She caught the bartender's attention and ordered. He returned with three shot glasses and she thanked him, turning to get back to dancing. Before she could take a step, she collided with someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She cried, slurring her words. She stumbled back to look at the person she collided with, finding the handsome angel she had been eyeing earlier. He pursed his lips, wiping the front of his suit with his handkerchief. “Elijah,” she gasped, “I am so sorry, let me he-”

“Do not bother, Y/N,” he said, holding his hand up. He glared in her direction, not looking in her eyes. She gulped at his response.

“Please, let me make it up to you,” She tried dipping her head to catch his eye. He turned and motioned to the bartender for more shots.

“Have a pleasant evening,” He nodded curtly at her and turned to walk away, leaving her standing there, unsure of what just happened. Anger flared in her chest as she watched the angel walk away. She grabbed one of the shots that the bartender had set out and downed it quickly. Taking the other two to her friends, she let the music take her away, continuing to party.

-

The night continued on and the party began to thin out, while the three girls in the center of the dance floor kept going, laughing and dancing. Elijah had kept his eyes on them, amazed at how the two witches could keep up with the vampire. Elijah looked around at the few stragglers left, sitting around drunkenly talking to one another. He made his way across the compound, heading towards the stairs to head up to his room for the night. The music was quieter now,  not as upbeat. Y/N saw him moving across the dance floor and stumbled as fast as she could to get in front of him.

“Elijah,” She slurred,  “Please let me apologize for earlier. Dance with me!” She scooped him away before he could object, wrapping her arms around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Y/N I-” He started, but she shushed him, swaying to the music.

“Elijah I know you don’t like me that much, and I don’t know why but I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for spilling those drinks on you and I’m sorry for making you hate me for whatever reason,” she drunkenly let her head fall on his chest while she spoke, her eyes fluttering shut.

Elijah’s eyes widened at her speech, his hands falling to rest on her back. She hummed at his touch and smiled, eyes still closed. “Y/N… I apologize for making you feel that way, that was not my intention.” He looked down at her, “I just wanted to keep you safe,” He whispered.

Suddenly Y/N slumped into him, dropping like dead weight. Elijah reacted quickly and scooped her up, seeing she had passed out. He looked toward Freya and Rebecca who had already fallen asleep on the couch, snuggling into each other. His heart warmed at the sight of his sisters together. He refocused on the beautiful woman in his arms and began to climb the stairs, heading toward his room. He gently opened the door and crossed the room, laying her in the bed and covering her up. She adjusted into the comfort of the bed, grabbing Elijah’s hand as he slid his arms out from underneath her.

“Stay with me?” she mumbled. His heart softened and he silently agreed, stripping out of his wings and suit jacket. He crossed to the other side of the bed and slid into it, careful not to touch her. She turned to him and opened her eyes slightly. “Will you hold me?” she asked quietly. Tears brimmed her eyes.

He nodded and opened his arms to her, confused and worried. “What’s wrong, darling?” He whispered.

She moved into his open arms and placed her head on his chest, wrapping one arm around the front of him tightly. He felt his shirt dampen where her head lay. He held her close, rubbing one hand up and down her back, waiting for a response. He felt her start to tremble next to him.

“I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified,” she whispered into him. She let out a small cry, scared of his reaction. “I’m terrified you’ll hate me for telling you. I’m terrified you’ll leave if we do end up together. I’m terrified of everything falling apart. I’m terrified of people leaving.”

Elijah’s heart cracked at her words.

“Y/N.. I think I’m terrified to admit the feelings I have for you. I wish nothing more than for your safety and happiness,” He kissed her hair and he felt her relax in his arms. She had fallen asleep on him, inebriated and vulnerable. Elijah held her for the rest of the night, stroking her hair and cherishing the moment.

-

When morning came, Y/N thought her head would explode. She groaned and rolled over, putting her hands over her face. The bed was empty beside her. How did she get in the bed? Her memory was fuzzy, but she remembered large white wings and strong arms carrying her. She sat up in bed, suddenly panicked, realizing who’s room she was in. What else had happened? She concentrated, squeezing her eyes shut.  “I wish nothing more than for your safety and happiness,“ She remembered hearing his deep voice whisper to her before she fell asleep. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Had she dreamt of this confession? Did her drunken subconscious trick her into hearing his voice?

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, startling her. She looked up to see Elijah holding a tray with water, aspirin, eggs, and toast. She blushed intensely, trying to brush her hair down and make herself look decent. He smiled at her warmly. “Good morning. I apologize for startling you,” He said. He crossed the room to her, putting the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed next to her.

He stared into her eyes, warmth flooding his chest. “It wasn’t a dream,” he said quietly, confirming her silent hope. He heard her heart flutter at his words.

Tears brimmed her eyes again. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “What does this mean for us?” She whispered.

He reached out and moved her chin to look at him. “It means I love you.” He smiled at her. Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she smiled and leaned forward, closing the space between them. She kissed him with no regard for the world around them. Her hands moved to his neck, tangling in his chestnut hair. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss and laying her on the bed. The eggs and toast got cold before Y/N got to them.

-

“I’ve been wanting this since you asked me to dance that night.” Y/N said, playing with Elijah’s hand as they laid side by side. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” She smiled.

He adjusted to put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her head. “You will never have to be terrified again. I am here and I’m not leaving you. You have my word.” He moved her chin with his free hand to gaze into her Y/E/C eyes. He kissed her again, hoping to convey his pent up love and lust in one kiss. He knew he’d never be able to make her understand the depths of his affection for her. Just as he knew he may never know the extent of hers for him.

She pulled away slightly and whispered, “I love you and I’m not terrified anymore.”

[psychosistr]

Steelbeak fankid- Valentino

Behold, my Steelbeak OC fankid! Art by @thefriendlyfour​ , full bio below the cut!

Physical Description: A young American-curl breed of cat with the breed’s signature curled-back ears and a medium-thick coat of black fur across his lanky body- minus a white heart-shaped spot on his torso which is usually hidden by his clothes- and is still a bit short for his age, with the tops of his ears stopping just below Steelbeak’s chest. Lost his tail when he was little, so he only has a small stump left of it until he gets adopted and his dad has Dr.Rose Gold make a prosthetic one for him that’s made of steel like his dad’s beak. Has amber colored eyes that, when paired with his breed’s curled back ears, tend to make him look like a devil when he grins or laughs maliciously.

Outfit: He’ll never admit it out loud, but he admires his dad’s sense of style and tries to mimic him while still making it his own. Wears a white button-up shirt with whitish-silver buttons and three-quarter style sleeves, a red western-style bow tie, a red vest with silver buttons that’s left mostly open with a small grey paw print pattern along the button holes and a larger paw print on the back, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and black slacks with a white waistband that blends in with his shirt and pockets lined with silver studs.

Gender: Demiboy that usually goes by male pronouns because it’s easier for others to understand, but appreciates it when others ask him if/acknowledge when he prefers using other pronouns.

Sexual Orientation: Still figuring it out since he’s young, but so far has a preference for boys given a few of his past crushes.

Age: 14

Nicknames: Val, Stumpy, Devil Cat, King, Fluffy.

Val is his preferred nickname and what most people end up calling him.

The middle three are names used by his gang and their enemies.

Stumpy= Mean-spirited nickname regarding his missing tail.

Devil Cat= How people see him when he’s grinning and showing off his sharp teeth with his fiery eyes and curled ears that look like devil horns.

King= His title within his gang and what most of his underlings call him.

Fluffy= Used exclusively by Steelbeak and he knows Valentino hates it.

Real Name: Valentino was given his name after being adopted by Steelbeak and, as far as he’s concerned, that is his real name.

Had another name he was called while in foster care, but refuses to say what it was and would refuse to answer to it if anyone ever called him that.

Background:

Abandoned as an infant and found in a cardboard box in an alleyway in the middle of winter- he was very sick from it and his survival was questionable for several weeks following his rescue.

Spent his early years in and out of foster homes and orphanages all over St Canard. This gave him a pretty cynical view about people in general after a while since they always ended up giving him back for being a “problem child” or he’d run away because he didn’t like the way he was treated.

The “problem child” comments were from him doing things like taking stuff, hoarding food, not obeying orders, and questioning authority.

The times he’d run away ranged from him finding the people annoying to cases of actual neglect or abuse-the worst experience being when his tail was purposefully slammed in a door and he wasn’t taken to the doctor until it was beyond saving and had to be amputated off.

No one ever believed him about the incident since he was the “problem child”.

Despite his personal experiences, he knows there are good foster homes and orphanages out there- he just ended up dealing with the worst of the worst in St Canard.

By the time he was eleven, he’d had enough of being caught in the city’s toxic foster care system and ran away to start a life for himself on the streets.

Ended up forming a gang with other kids and teenagers he’d met from his time in foster care, quickly taking the lead-role since he was smart for his age and good at coordinating/planning raids, pickpocketing without getting caught, memorizing police patrol routes, dividing loot appropriately, and intimidating others into listening to him.

The gang was called “The Broken Pawns”, with the higher-ranking members all having chess-related titles- he was the King.

One day, his gang executed a raid on a store that turned out to be a secret SHUSH base and they unknowingly stole some boxes containing flash-drives/SD-cards full of confidential files. They didn’t know this, though, and were extremely confused about why they suddenly had a bunch of men in suits chasing them down.

While running away, he ended up bumping into Steelbeak. The chief officer was confused about why SHUSH would target a kid, but got roped into a fight with them to avoid getting caught himself. After fighting them off, he questioned the kid and figured he must have stumbled onto something REALLY valuable to SHUSH and wanted to get his hands on it.

The kid wasn’t a fool, though, and worked out a deal with Steelbeak: His gang had a protocol when chased by higher-up authorities after a raid that involved them splitting up and remaining separated with no contact for a while to avoid everyone getting caught, so it would take a few weeks for them to get all of the boxes that were taken from the SHUSH base together again. The kid wasn’t very good at fighting on his own, so Steelbeak would protect him while they waited for the rest of the boxes to arrive at his base and he’d stay at Steelbeak’s home so Steelbeak could make sure the kid didn’t try to run away or double-cross him. Once he got what he wanted from the boxes the gang stole, Steelbeak would let them keep any other valuables and he’d part ways with the kid once he got his share.

Steelbeak agreed to the terms of the deal, though he originally planned to just double-cross or ditch the kid after he got what he wanted and either take everything or let SHUSH take him. After a while, though, he found himself getting attached to the kid because he reminded him so much of himself at that age- scrappy, conniving, clever, distrusting of others, and one heck of a pickpocket.

After a few weeks of living together, teaching the kid things like cooking, saving him a few times, and just general bonding with him, Steelbeak decided he liked the kid and wanted to keep him around and the kid, oddly, felt the same- it was weird for him to have an adult that treated him with respect without trying to change him or discourage him from doing stuff like stealing or lying. They talked it over and Steelbeak ended up adopting him, naming the kid Valentino after his deceased father.

Current Status: Lives with Steelbeak and attends school during weekdays while still running his gang after school and on the weekends when he doesn’t have plans with his dad.

Personality:

Valentino generally has a cynical and antisocial attitude towards most people, usually finding them boring or annoying. However, he can grow to like certain people if they show him respect and don’t try to control or change him- like his gang or his dad. Those people are the ones he’ll generally be more relaxed around and make jokes with or try to protect when there’s danger.

As a leader for his gang, he’s cool under pressure and won’t freak out even when there’s a gun being held to his head while also being cruel and calculating enough to know how to make others listen to him- a baseball bat to the head or clawing out someone’s eye usually does the trick.

A bit of a kleptomaniac and opportunist, Val will take advantage of any possible opportunity to steal something from, frame, and/or con someone for whatever he can get out of them.

This part of his personality doesn’t apply to people he actually likes, but he WILL still try to swipe stuff from them in a joking way.

Example of this is him constantly trying to take Steelbeak’s wallet and the two of them laughing about it every time he gets caught or almost gets away with it.

Interesting Bonus Facts:

Val’s had terrible problems with his balance and equilibrium ever since he lost his tail as a kid. He can still walk and run okay, but if he needs to make sharp turns or move quickly in different directions he tends to fall over. He’s gotten good at getting up quickly afterwards, but it makes it hard to do stuff like fight and dodge attacks.

This is slowly remedied after getting his prosthetic tail from Dr.Rose Gold and receiving combat lessons from Steelbeak.

Because the only white spot on his body is usually covered by his clothes, most people think he’s just a black cat and that he’s bad luck, resulting in general distrust and contributing to people classifying him as a “problem child”.

Has a loving but cheeky relationship with his dad- they like being sarcastic with each other and saying playfully mean things, but they know it’s all in good fun and they love each other a lot.

Val knows his dad will always support him and have his back if anyone actually tries to insult or hurt him, but Steelbeak still respects Val’s independence and pride so he allows him to handle things his way first and only steps in when it’s an emergency or if his son asks him to help traumatize someone.

Doesn’t really have a favorite weapon when fighting since he’s still learning how to fight, but in a pinch he has a tendency to bring out his claws and go for the eyes.

Enjoys messing with adults/older teens that think they’re better than him by saying something very intelligent and/or scary for a kid that makes them do a double-take and ask him to repeat himself but he just looks at them “innocently” and acts like he didn’t say anything.

“If I slashed your radial artery, it would only take you 90 seconds to die in a pool of your own blood…hm? What? No, I didn’t say anything.”

I personally enjoy imagining that Steelbeak adopted Val a few years after the canon timeline for Darkwing Duck, so Valentino and Gosalyn are about the same age and go to the same private school (it’s one of the better ones in town and Steelbeak wanted his boy to have a good education since he never got one).

The first time Steelbeak comes to a parent-teacher conference, he gets jumped in the hallway by an irritated Darkwing Duck who thinks he’s there to cause trouble or corrupt the youths of the school. He has a hard time believing that Steelbeak’s just there to meet his son’s teachers, even after Val comes out into the hall to find out what’s taking him so long (he thought Valentino was being threatened or coerced until the kid nailed him in the stomach with his backpack full of textbooks). While Darkwing argues with Steelbeak, Valentino manages to swipe his wallet and reveals Darkwing’s secret identity (“Oh, you’re Gosalyn’s dad?”). The two adults agree to a (reluctant) truce when attending school functions to keep their kids from getting suspended or expelled.

This leads to many awkward/tense but funny interactions between Drake Mallard and Steelbeak’s civilian identity “Pauly” where they constantly try to one-up and insult each other while being forced to interact within the socially-regulated confines of school events and PTA meetings.

Example: Parents are asked to contribute to a school bake-sale. Drake makes cookies that are very popular at first, but then Steelbeak shows up with something fancier like lemon-meringue cupcakes with real toasted marshmallow meringue on top and he just smirks while Drake’s seething over being dethroned as the best baker in the PTA.

Valentino and Gosalyn aren’t exactly friends, but they do think it’s funny watching their dads constantly look like they’re one step away from killing each other while arguing over whether or not a new school regulation should be implemented or not.

They run scams together sometimes for quick cash and respect each other’s skills at conning suckers out of their money.

Also, they tend to sympathize with each other since they were both orphans who ended up being the “unwanted kid” until being found and adopted by their respective dads, so they’ll stick up for each other if someone tries teasing the other for being adopted or not looking like their dads.

[sugurus-slxt]

Hiya! May I request a matchup (Ruby) for Jujutsu Kaisen for the follower event? I just stumbled onto your blog; congratulations on getting 100 followers! Let’s see…I’m 5’9” and 25 years old, I have shoulder length wavy light blonde hair (bleached), hazel eyes, pale-ish skin, and kind of an athletic body type (with a little bit of chub). I’m pretty quiet and tend to keep to myself, but if I’m around friends or anyone that I’m comfortable with, I can be pretty loud. I have been told that when I laugh, I can be heard from several rooms over. I don’t really take life too seriously, I mostly just go with the flow. I’m a pacifist; I don’t like to start arguments or fights and I HATE confrontation. However, if someone genuinely pisses me off, I will not hesitate to call them out. I get rather shaky and anxious when doing so though, as I’m not used to it. I’m also pretty open minded and I try to see things from everyone’s point of view.

I love to hike, go running, read, bake/cook, play video games (occasionally), and listen to music! I like EDM; drum & bass, electronica, trance, chill etc. I listen to other stuff besides that, if it’s pleasing to my ears, I will listen to it. I generally read stuff on tumblr, but if it’s a book I gravitate towards fiction! I’m a Libra, and my mbti type is ISFP (though some other tests I’ve taken have typed me as an ISTP, I’m in the middle with thinking and feeling). I like to stay active, as I get bored if I’m not. I mainly do trail running since I love being outside! I have an appreciation for art in any form, and I enjoy looking at what others have created. My favorite types of video games are RPGS, or anything I can get lost in. I also have a weakness for horror games, or anything horror related. I like to listen to horror podcasts, and research urban legends and creatures. I honestly would love to go urban exploring, but I don’t want to risk getting caught trespassing on private property! I also have a pretty big sweet tooth, I have practically zero willpower when it comes to desserts.

Ok, some of these are oddly specific, but some things I dislike are closed minded people, people getting in my personal space, public speaking (I would rather throw myself off a cliff), the colors orange and yellow, deviled eggs, and country music (sorry to the people who love it, ya’ll are still great, keep doing your thing 😆). I’ve had sensory issues ever since I was little (I was always over sensitive), and people getting close to me or touching me has always made me feel very uncomfortable/nervous. I struggle with showing affection, so I can be seen as rather detached or aloof at times. I’m not a very clingy or needy person; I prefer being independent. Also, I can get somewhat irritated if a person keeps offering to help me with something I can easily do on my own. As silly as this sounds, even if their intentions are pure, I feel as though they are saying that I’m incapable. Unsurprisingly, I have a lot of trouble asking for help. I prefer to work things out on my own. I prefer to stay in my comfort zone, and I rarely move out of it. However, deep down inside, I’m craving an adventure.

My style varies; I can go from looking like an up and coming professional runner to a troll that lives underneath a nearby bridge. I tend to favor a lot of darker colors, black is my number one go-to! I wear a lot of athletic leggings and sweatshirts/oversized t-shirts. Mostly because they’re comfy. I do love the cottage core aesthetic, though my clothing/room doesn’t reflect that. For who I seek, I suppose I’m looking for someone who is similar to me! Someone who I can feel comfortable with, and someone who isn’t super into PDA (or too clingy). I can be kind of goofy at times, so a sense of humor would be nice too. Some other things real quick, my dream vacation(s) would be going to Oregon or visiting the Netherlands! My dream jobs would be either a pastry chef (hell just put me in the kitchen in a bakery and let me bake), or working at a nursery/greenhouse. I like to work with my hands, so I would love either one!

I don’t exactly have any characters that I don’t want, I’m just curious as to who I will be matched with! Take your time and have a wonderful day 🙂

Personality Matchup

One 𝑅𝓊𝒷𝓎 coming right up for anon

A/Note: Hey thank you so very much for visiting THE VAULT. I hope you like your match up :) Sorry that I’ve taken so long, I’ve been preoccupied with school, and even though you said to take my time I think I took way too much. I hope you enjoy this. Love <3 ~ Sar-chan

I match you with...

Runner Up: Inumaki Toge

Here are some HCs:

Nanami definitely loves your loud side though he often comes off as reserved I think he really likes how from being super quiet outside or in a meeting to just saying what you’ve been holding back from saying. He loves hearing you talk and every time you shift from quiet to loud he lets out a soft chuckle and a smile he’ll hide away from you.

I think when Nanami is with you he’d find ways to crack jokes just to hear you laugh and he often has this running line, “I’d say I wish your laughs were all mine but I’m sure the neighbour heard it dear,” and finish off with, “I’m joking it’d be a crime not to share your laugh with the world. You and your laugh are far too beautiful to keep hidden.”

I think your personalities and natures would compliment each other nicely. I feel like both of you give a very “it” couple vibe.

Regardless of the suit Nanami wears, I think he dresses more comfortably in his free time. Larger more oversized clothes specifically sweaters and looser pants. He often lends you his sweater, he was a bit hesitant at first but seeing you in his clothes makes his lips quirk into a smile he won’t let you see.

I think Nanami enjoys reading for you especially if you lay against him (if you’re up for it) as both of you get settled for bed. If you fall asleep while he’s writing he’ll place a soft kiss on your forehead and whisper ‘I love you’ as he places the book to the side and repositions you to lay down.

If an argument ever happens to break out between you and Nanami he’ll try his best to bring it to more of a conversation he doesn’t like yelling and he doesn’t want to make you anxious.

He often accompanies you on hikes but almost always on runs because it’s also good for his physique and he gets to spend a bit of extra time with you.

Nanami favourite moments are when he gets to hear you talk about your day in the evening but he also appreciates the quiet moments where you both are just anywhere in the same room doing your own thing, he likes your presence and if the other sees something interesting and just points it out.

He isn’t clingy but Nanami gets touchy on mornings if he’s had a nightmare about you or he’s had an extremely bad day. He likes when you smiley hold him and run your fingers through his hair. He just likes knowing you're there.

I feel like you’d buy Nanami a nicer tie and though he loves you he just might refuse because he’s very accustomed to them and they are in a way essential.

Nanami isn’t the video game type but I think there might be a few select ones he’ll try out with you on the weekends and he just might get pretty addicted to one.

If you ask Nanami he might just take you to some of the places he’s exorcized curses from and as put together as he looks, he’s definitely trespassed. He’ll take you to some quite chilling places and he’ll be keeping an eye on you, however, if you do happen to get scared he will snicker just a bit. He’ll probably take you to a bakery or a coffee shop after to make up for it.

Nanami likes to watch you work in the kitchen if you’re baking up a storm he’ll probably be nearby reading a book but sometimes he’ll leave you to it because he knows you like pace as well.

EXTRA:

I hope you liked it, I apologize for taking such a long time.

THE VAULT IS NOW CLOSED, THANK YOU :)

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

COFFEE SHOP AU PT 4

SEGMENT THREE of four cause it turned out segment three is so long I cant put it in one post XD

After Cruentus had left to make the tea, Hat curled back up onto the bed, was he as bad as Vincent…with his inability to ever truly let Acylius go?

Nuzzling against the pillow Flug used to lay his head on , Amadeus whimpered softly…no if his Acylius did not…could not love him in this new life, he would never make him do anything he didn’t want to do, he could never do what Vincent had done to Flug, ever.

Now that he was the one with power he knew one thing, he would protect Acylius from ever being hurt or harmed again, if someone so much as tried to he would destroy them without second thought.

Pulling the pillow to his chest he cuddled it closer, knowing he was down there, in the town in that little coffee shop, so close and yet so far away was far more heart wrenching than anyone could imagine, to have those eyes look at him and not recognise him…a small part of him wondered if he should be in his life again…after all he had been the final piece to fall into place to set in motion the events that would lead to Acylius’s death…

Oh he knew Acylius would tell him it was always meant to happen, that it wasn’t his fault…idiot man, he could have lived and left the Elderichts to rot…let him rot in the gutters with them, if all his kindness only ended up with him being killed for it…

Hat curled in tighter feeling the guilt of that thought twist in his gut, to think it was dishonouring all Lulu had fought for, all he’d done only had him curl up tighter, often he’d wished he’d been able to save him, be there just in time and be his hero…the irony of those words…yet being a hero…was not all what modern day society made it out to be with brightly coloured suits and pulling in fans…it was about doing the right thing and stepping up…as much as Acylius had his darkness…

In his own right, to the Elderichts…he was their hero, who kept his name quiet out of respect because it was what his stupid tree had wanted…if he’d had his way he’d have built a statue, had books written about him, the finest artists make portrait galleries out of him, made the universe aware of his existence, a proclamation of love for everyone to hear spoken across time and space…

But no…that was not his Doctor Flug; his Acylius whispered like the spring breeze through the blossom trees he loved so much only becoming a thunderous fearful storm when called for, he was absolutely ridiculous at times, daft as anything to when he was in the safety of his own home…he could not forget that first morning….

(Wavy scene and flash back music, shrugs I’m just like that and finally using an old ramble of mine <3) and I will let you know when the flash back ends ❤️

Hat looked himself over in the mirror, he’d straightened out his tie and suit, even though his ears were hidden under his top hat even brushed the fur on them, made sure he was as presentable as he could be, after all he did not know what half of these fancy contraptions laid out on his…was it his dressing table.

That idiot Legion Demon just came out of nowhere and was all here have a place to sleep, a room of your own, even though you’re in heat I won’t take advantage of you or even touch you, honestly what was he supposed to do with that, anyone else would have taken what they wanted and left him there.

Hat huffed, why was he so upset that Acylius…no no he couldn’t call him that, he was Doctor Flug, Legion Demon, a creature highly sought after, if he wasn’t careful about how he spoke to the demon he might push his luck too far and be kicked out, that would not exactly be something new but…this time…even if they’d just met yesterday, he found himself not wanting to leave.

He would do what he needed to do, to placate him, to sooth his temper if he had one, most of his kind liked sex after all right, he did too honestly but…when it was consensual, but he was not above doing what needed to be done to keep a roof over his head within reason…though he still couldn’t deny he was somewhat miffed Acylius had not come in last night and just taken him, at least he would have been one of the more attractive…

Who was he fooling, he found the Legion demon beautiful, and what was he?

(This is my story and I will have hat all dreamy about the tree like some romance novel if I want XD)

A short little thing that had crawled out of a heap…he knew he deserved more, that his kind should not be living such poor lives, to be used as food, as toys or experiments, but too many of them had accepted their fates and he’d agreed to leave knowing his determination of better to rise up would only cause them problems…and well they already had enough of those.

Black Hat looked over the room he’d been given, that bed was so soft he thought he might have sunk into it never to be seen again, the on suite bathroom filled with so many different bottles of this, that and the other left him overwhelmed, usually he’d had to share baths with those he’d stayed with.

Hands on the dressers edge, his claws digging lightly into the wood, this was his chance, his first real big chance to make his place be more than what he was, to prove to all these rich elitist snobs that you did not need to come from riches to belong, that everyone was equal when things were made even and equal.

Yes when he had his stand, he would show them but for now he was going to go downstairs and show the Legion demon the respect he no doubt felt he deserved, there was no possible way there was not a catch in all of this somewhere.

He went first to the kitchen, it was silent and well no one was around and the bin seemed to need changing, stuffed full of scraps of food...with the word recycle carved into it, well no one was there yet he could find himself a bite to eat out of it, it was unlikely Acylius or his butler would serve him anything but what came from here anyway right.

Lifting the lid he didn’t even flinch at the smell, he’d eaten from worse places after all, Black Hat had been about to reach a hand in when he heard someone clearing their throat at the door way, he froze, was this it the thing that would get him turned out now, he was only taking food no longer wanted…his fingers stretched then curled, hand falling back by his side and waited.

“Sir, if Acylius saw you eating from the bins it would upset him greatly…”

Cruentus walked up by his side briskly and shut the lid

“Why because I was stealing something no longer wanted?”

Hat returned looking up at Cruentus, his gaze defiant and shoulders drawn back, he was not ashamed of finding food where he could when he needed it.

“No, because the thought he’d let you starve or feel you would ever go without food here would mortify him.”

Hat blinked as he listened to the hellhounds sombre tone, well that was unexpected

“Oh and why is that?”

It looked as if the butler had wanted to tell but his maw was kept shut on the matter shaking his head

“That is not my story to tell, perhaps the master will tell you eventually himself…now what do you want for breakfast.”

“I doubt you would give me anything with bacon.”

Hat replied looking away…this place was odd indeed.

“Do you want it thick cut? Smoked or not? Crispy or not?”

Cruentus inquired walking past him again and tied on his apron

“Th-there’s more than one way to have it?” Hat answered completely lost at that answer

“I see, I will make you a whole selection then, I assure you the master would want you to be able to learn what you like, though be warned he might pinch a piece of the crispy bacon.”

Cruentus laughed setting out the frying pans.

Pinch a piece of food from someone else’s plate? A Legion demon would never do such a thing, not a high class creature like Doctor Flug, no…it wasn’t possib- and then he saw the tall, long legged demon entering the room, scratching at his head, wearing grey sweat pants and a jumper to match, looking nothing like the being he’d met yesterday, adorned with a five o clock shadow, his hair not even brushed and fluffy slippers.

Hat stood there, slack jawed as Acylius yawned, fangs bared a moment and then just looking sleepy but happy

“Good morning Black Hat, I trust you slept well?”

Damn it his voice was that deep soft rumbling gravel …he could have read him the phone book and his ears would have perked up just to listen to each soothing syllable that left those scarred lips.

(I described it once as being like James Spader’s voice you might know the voice of Ultron from age of ultron or Alucard from Hellsing)

Of course the first thing to come out of Hat’s mouth was not exactly the appropriate answer as he sputtered

“Is this!? I mean is this how you usually live?!”

Cruentus bit his lip; forcing back the laugh that swelled within his chest, ohhhh apparently this little creature was in for a wakeup call if Hat thought he was living with a snobby demon indeed!

Acylius looked at him then opened the cupboard pulling out something akin to the lucky charms cereal only in this world it had little devils and demons and pentagons all pastel coloured

“Not when I have certain guests over, after all some demons will not see you unless you put on airs, a display that you are high class, boring stuff really if you ask me.”

He shrugged pulling now the milk from the fridge and was about to drink from the carton

“Boy, what have I told you about doing that? Don’t make me tap your ears young man.”

Cruentus pointed the tongs at him that he used to turn the bacon in the pan, snapping them at him.

Acylius’s ears went down as he smiled sheepishly, cheeks tinting pink

“Sorry Papa, I know it’s a bad habit.”

Did Doctor Flug’s butler just reprimand him, was Flugs Butler his father….what the huh?

Hat shook his head, what in all of hell what going on, standing up straight he looked up at them

“I am a guest here you could at least treat me as such, I have done my best to be proper like the rich are and…”

Acylius loomed over him, looking much like those silhouette pictures you see in animations when they’re going for the threatening look

“Is this what you want Amadeus for me to look down on you, I do not take kindly to my guests, they know visiting me and one wrong word can put them in poor favour with me…”

His eyes glowed white there was not colour in them and in that mass of black his smile grew and grew, showing off bright white fangs thin and needle like, another one appeared and another all of them speaking as he prodded him

“IS this what you want Amadeus, for me to be the monster they expect me to be?”

Cruentus raised a brow, oh so Hat liked what he saw before him did he, it was pretty obvious with how transfixed he was.

Amadeus pulled off his hat and played with it in his hands letting it fall below the waist, doing his best to subtly hide something that showed he enjoyed seeing this darker side of Acylius, Cruentus of course only shook his head and continued on the bacon, oh lord he could see how this was going to go eventually anyway.

Acylius froze, cat ears, fluffy black cat ears …Amadeus had, he wanted to touch them so much, to run his claws over them and nuzzle into the soft fur, his display disappeared, back into the grey sweats and dishevelled hair, cereal and milk in his hands and then the softest look that made Hat want to reach out and touch his face and let him know everything would be alright.

“I am sorry if I frightened you Amadeus…but you are not a guest you are a housemate and I want you to know you can be relaxed here in this place in your home if you so wish it to be your home.”

He turned and went to sit at the table about to pour milk into the box of cereal when Cruentus placed a bowl and spoon in front of him

“Stop that I know you’re just trying to be this extra lazy to vex me.”

Cruentus chuckled tapping the top of his head

“Perhaps I am, but you like knowing I still want you to do little things for me now and again Papa.”

“What kind of Father would I be if I were not there for my son hmm?”

Cruentus answered affectionately before going off to serve up the bacon.

Hat, was still standing shifting on his feet.

“Can I sit to?”

Cruentus came along with the plate and literally picked hat up by the back of the neck right where he knew he’d turn into a kitten and curl up completely compliant

“Dumbass he said you’re a house mate you can sit whenever you want.”

He sat him on the seat across from Acylius and set the plate down

“Bon appetit Amadeus, being welcomed to stay in the home by Acylius is honestly a rare thing…very rare.”

“Cruentus, can you please not do that again, I abhor when that is done to me.”

Hat ground out between clenched teeth, hands balled up into fists and ears laid back, his hat sitting on his lap, the problem he’d had was now gone, placing his hat back on, he expected Cruentus to snap at him or punish him…after all he was still…a…a sewer rat to everyone who wasn’t one of his kind…there was no reason for these demons to treat him like he…mattered.

“My apologies Amadeus, I should not have been so forward in my actions, I will not do that again.”

Hat only grumbled and started munching on the bacon using his fingers to pick it up

“Fork, Amadeus and knife if you want to start appearing proper in front of polite company.”

“Yes sir.”

“My name is Acylius, not sir, master or Doctor Flug behind closed doors and out of the ears of others, I suppose if it makes you comfortable you can call me Flug if you do not feel on a first name basis with me.”

“Really, that is a little too personal do you not think Doctor Flug?”

Black Hat sneered, after all was that not the way of the rich, to act better, to be Impersonal.

“Honestly at this rate I will leave as your actions have been highly disappointing and not what I expected of a Legion demon such as yourself.”

Was he doing it right, was he acting like the higher class do?

The room fell silent, a fist hitting the table making the cutlery rattle

“Amadeus Black Hat, you will not talk to him like that, what are you going to do? Return to living in motel rooms, drifting from place to place to be used like a toy, the next house you go into you will not come out of…except through the sewers as faecal matter.”

Acylius placed a hand on Cruentus’s arm; his father huffed and turned away

“The higher ups out there, most of them couldn’t give two shit’s they would sooner kill you…if I had not arrived Amadeus when I did …it would literally be a matter of moments before their assassins ascended on you and left your corpse in the street…”

The legion demon poked at his cereal, it’d gone soggy now and honestly he’d lost his appetite

“I’ve assigned you as my being, by law and the ways of a Legion this means they cannot touch you but only when I am with you or Cruentus is with you…I promised myself I would never do that, but I know what you are trying to do and I have already been trying to help the cause.”

Hat’s breath stilled, those eyes the way they changed hues of blue fleeting through emotions, assigned himself, he’d already been helping what did that mean he would ask soon it was clear the doctor was not done

“Amadeus outside of this home I now belong to you in their eyes like a pedigree dog, it’s what they see Legion demons as, they must treat us at least with respect and some kindness if they do not want their fortune to fall, but in this home. I am what I have always been, Acylius Flug the Free Legion, those who are on our side will know this, but I am going to use my ridiculously high class to teach you to be a refined villain and to be like them if you so wish to be a monster.”

Ah so that was what assigned meant, to be his …good luck charm to be the reason the dice fell in his favour so to speak, he’d given up his freedom in a sense for him…

“Amadeus’s I would tell you to take your elbows off the table as it is considered rude but in this place I am going to live my life as I wish to, as I want to, I only want to run a quiet little coffee shop , perhaps find a partner and live a quieter life…”

Acylius leaned back and placed his feet on the table and Amadeus’s looked along the length of those legs, holy …they were long.

“How did you find me?”

Amadeus asked quietly.

Acylius pulled a cigarette from nowhere, his thumb lighting up with a blue flame to light it, it was not a thing humans could inhale, despite it‘s sweet lavender scent, scratching lightly at his stubble he took a drag and let the taste settle on his tongue and the warmth of the smoke swirl within his lungs before exhaling, they were also not toxic but used as a relaxant with nothing that could cause harm.

“You were not exactly subtle about your notions, you let too many of the wrong ears hear your plans, your thoughts about inequality, there is always a high caste group who will detest such on goings and try to keep what they consider balance, to them you’re dangerous Amadeus…the thought that could get your kind to rise up if they feel there is reason and hope to.”

He paused again to take another puff

“Your kind were not always in the sewers, but I have not uncovered much of your history but I see you as a kindred spirit, both wanting better for our kind, I do not expect you to help my cause, but I ask one thing, if you do become some great overlord that over throws them…free the Legions from the contracts they are bound to, let them always have free choice to leave if they so desire to…once bound we cannot be freed unless our assigned master allows it.”

“I give you my word Flug, if you can truly help me, and mean what you are offering I will do what you ask…and I…I am sorry, I have had the idea all high people were the same even in their homes I forget that even those who reign in gold palaces have hearts…and own personal problems…do you all hide behind those marble masks of cold in public?”

Hat replied, offering out a piece of bacon, after all Cruentus had said Acylius did like pinching off other people’s plates and it’d seemed the doctor had gone off his cereal, it was a crispy piece so far his favourite of the lot but he wanted to share it with him.

Hat’s heart raced as their finger tips came in contact and Acylius actually took the piece and thanked him for it before proceeding to munch on it happily

“Thank you Black Hat, I can only hope you will stand to that promise, I have willingly pledged my life to you…and to answer your question, most of them do not wear emotional masks they are just that up their own ass and that cold…perhaps you have seen me around before…”

With a wave of his hand his face was cleaned up and hair tidied as well as scars hidden away he pulled a face one would expect a cold creature to pull.

“Oh dear lord you’re the one Vincent would not stop going on about…I remember him constantly talking about you, literally has a shrine of you in his bedroom…he let me stay one night after I fixed his coat for him.”

“Bah that daft obsessed Rabbit demon, often I have thought of putting him in a racing track and letting hounds chase after him, I wonder how he would feel about me then.”

He let the illusion fade and returned back to his dishevelled state letting a ring of smoke drift Hat’s way, the angle he was at made it circle the rough top hat perfectly, his ears perked up

“Ahh yes there it is, your organization shall be called Black Hat Organization, Evil is our business, and business is good!”

With a flick of his wrist a white card stood between two finger tips, he tossed it to Amadeus who caught it and saw the image, a silhouette of a top hat and a black ring with the business name under it.

“Now before we start any kind of business I will need to train and guide you and awaken such powers within you, not even you could imagine.”

End of Flash back

End of segment three

THIS PART ENDED UP GETTING SO LONG I'LL HAVE TO MAKE A SEGMENT FOUR BUT IT'S ALL TYPED UP SO NO WAITING TIME ❤️

[chaos-weekly]

“I didn’t even sleep with him!” Okay. That wasn’t accurate. Didi hadn’t sleep with Xander when he was still seeing Leah. He was one of her best friends (admittedly with great benefits), but that was a line she wouldn’t cross, and he respected that. But she definitely had slept with him other times.

“Even if I did believe you, it doesn’t matter. Your reputation is a trash fire, and as your agent, I can’t let that happen.”

Didi rolled her eyes. ���It’s not like it’ll even matter. I’m still gonna get casted.”

“For the same character. Every time. I would know, I’m the one you whine to,” Jared retorted. Her agent had a point. She did get cast mostly as the spoiled brat type, and she really did hate it. Yeah, she pulled it off perfectly, but she could do other roles perfectly, too. She felt like she’d never leave the London Tipton role, though. Sadly, Jared was right about that.

“Whatever. I still don’t see why I have to pretend to date someone just for publicity’s sake. Plenty of people sleep with other people all the time! What’s the big deal?”

Jared sighed. He didn’t exactly like Didi that much, but at least the feeling was mutual.

“Leah Cavan is the country’s favorite singer. She’s the next Taylor Swift, and currently, you’re the 2014 Katy Perry. The fact that she said you’re the one Xander cheated on her with—“

“I wasn’t.”

“Means that the world blames you for their breakup. If you really are innocent—“

“I am!”

“Then you need to play by my rules. Give yourself an alibi. Saying you and JJ from Arsenic have been secretly dating for months will save your reputation and hopefully my job.”

Wait.

Wait.

No.

No!

Didi refused to accept this. JJ? From Arsenic? She hated his guts! And he hated her! They’d made that all too clear in their Twitter subtweet wars. Everyone knew they hated each other.

“No.” She wouldn’t do this. Even if her reputation was a trash fire like Jared said—a point she refused to agree with—nobody would believe that she and freaking Jude Jackson aka JJ were secretly in love.

“Yes,” Jared told her, voice already tired. For being only 30 years old, the dude sounded way too tired all the time. Probably ‘cause he always was chugging coffee.

“No one will believe it, Jared,” Didi whined. Maybe that wasn’t the most mature thing, but she wasn’t going to agree to this! No way. Not JJ. Maybe she’d agree to fake dating someone else, as long as they were hot, but JJ? They’d only met briefly in person a few times, but each time had ended disastrously. Like when he bumped into her and made her spill her drink all over her one of a kind Dolce and Gabbana dress and hadn’t even noticed! Sure, she was never gonna wear it again—that would be tacky—but he could have at least apologized for ruining her night! And that was the lesser offense. Didi didn’t want to get into the other time she met him. It hadn’t been pretty.

“They already do,” Jared smirked.

If only throttling her manager wouldn’t land her in even more trouble. Didi wasn’t sure what he’d done, but she didn’t trust him. Even if he was great at getting her better roles and saving her reputation. She didn’t trust him, and she hated his methods.

“What do you mean?” Didi hissed.

His smirk grew. The audacity.

“A third of your fans have been following your and JJ’s supposed relationship for the last year, ever since Arsenic first went big and you two met. So now we’re making it real.” She opened her mouth, but Jared kept talking. “You’re the one who planted the seeds, Divina. Don’t argue with me when you’re the one who got us into this mess.”

She didn’t even sleep with Xander that time!

“I didn’t get us into this mess! Leah effing Cavan did!”

Jared stared at her tiredly. Ugh. She’d wear him down. She’d have to.

“Yeah, we’ll Leah isn’t my client, and it’s not my job to make sure the world doesn’t hate her. So shut up and act like you’re in love. It’s just another role, Didi. Maybe it’ll get you a role you won’t whine about.” He rolled his eyes, and Didi hoped his mother was rolling over in her grave in anger at her son’s behavior. Only she was pretty sure his mom wasn’t actually dead.

Jared pressed a button on his landline. “Jacob? Send JJ and his manager in.”

Didi sank lower in her seat. Why was the world putting her through this? Why?

The door opened moments later, and some young guy entered in front of the devil himself. He even had red hair. Could it be more accurate?

Didi stared ahead as JJ entered, but she could feel his (rather impressive) (also annoyingly sexy, based on past experiences) glare focused on her.

“No.” His tone was harsh. Didi knew he didn’t like her, but did he have to be so rude to her face? This was what Twitter and interviews were for.

“I’m not doing this, Jake,” JJ argued. Jacob/Jake gestured for JJ to take the seat next to her. Luckily for everyone’s lives and general health, he took the seat closest to the door instead.

Jared and Jake sighed in unison.

“Listen, you two are doing this. Arsenic’s announcing a new album next month, and you, Didi, need a positive image. Which means a stable, public relationship.”

Didi scoffed. Who needed stability in love? Totally overrated. Love was totally overrated. She didn’t get why Xander always fell under Leah’s spell.

But it was good to hear that one of her favorite bands was going to release an album soon. That was definitely good news. She’d just never tell anyone that.

Especially not JJ.

“I’m not doing this. Not with him,” Didi said as indignantly as ever.

“Thanks for the love,” JJ snarked in return. She turned her glare on him, matching his with every bit of fierceness she could muster. Which was a lot.

“Yes, you are, Divina. For the next seven months, you two are contractually tied to be publicly dating. So don’t screw it up, and Didi, don’t screw other people so obviously. I know you’re not gonna keep Xander out of your pants, but at least keep it on the down low.”

Oh, Didi was going to absolutely murder Jared. Throttling would no longer be sufficient.

“Xander and I aren’t like that.” Yeah, they hooked up for fun, but they were still friends. Sometimes with benefits, but still friends.

Jared gave her a pointed look before handing over a wad of papers. “Read these, sign these. You have the rest of the business day. Now shop.”

It took Didi half an hour to get through the contract. She was a fast reader and fluent in legalese thanks to her many movie contracts. That, and she was friends with Xander and often helped him when he started bending/breaking the rules. By the time Didi went back to Jared’s office, she was shocked to find JJ leaving. She was the fast reader here. Did he have a question or something? Why didn’t he just call?

“Finished already?” she asked. JJ nodded with a glare.

“So you do have a brain. Huh.” Didi kept walking, but she stopped when JJ spoke again.

“I was a CPA before the band went big.”

Oh. That actually made sense. But she couldn’t imagine him wearing a stuffy suit and tie. The image made her smile, and Didi was very glad he couldn’t see. But the idea of JJ in a suit was freaking hilarious.

“Hmph,” she muttered, not deigning you reply any further to his defense. It was time to sell her soul and date the devil.

[sagesparrow394]

Turn It Off

Fandom: Sanders Sides, The Book of Mormon

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan has a little unrequited thing for Elder Price

Summary: Elder Logan Berry is not homosexual, no matter what his newly assigned mission partner, Elder Janus Ceitful, might say. Definitely not. He is a good Mormon, one of the best, and will prove it by converting the two brothers in the neighbourhood who are ‘unconvertable’. It totally won’t backfire in any way.

----------

“Do you have any idea where they’re sending you, Elder Price?”

“Well, of course we don’t really have final say over where we get sent, but I have been praying to be sent to my favourite place in the whole world...”

Logan Berry couldn’t help but stare at Elder Price, pure admiration in his eyes, as he responded, “Well, if you prayed for a location, I’m sure Heavenly Father will make it happen. You’re like the most smartest, best, most deserving Elder the centre’s ever seen...”

It was true. Logan had lived his whole life labelled as the second best. His parents had always said to him he should be more like that Elder Price. But no... Logan knew he could never compare... Elder Price was destined to do something incredible. He was just so perfect, wonderful, handso-

No! Elder Berry, this is exactly why you aren’t as good as Elder Price! Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off...

“Elders! Form a line and step forward when your name is called!”

All the Elders quickly did so, Logan feeling his heart thudding in his chest as he found himself stood beside Elder Price. Imagine if they were put together as mission companions! Logan could finally learn from him, and make his parents proud. He hardly payed attention as the other Elders were put in pairs, now daydreaming about he and Elder Price going away together...

“Elder Price!”

“Yes sir!”

Please pick me, please say me...

”Your brother will be...”

Please please please!

“Elder Cunningham!”

Logan’s heart sunk. But... wouldn’t it make sense the best two Mormons would be put together? Then they’d be an unstoppable force, converting all the people in... where was Elder Price going?

“Uganda!”

Oh. Now Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Price. He knew that it was the other Elder’s dream to go to Orlando. Not to mention, his mission companion didn’t exactly seem very... well... sensible and focused. 

“Elder Berry!”

Logan perked up upon hearing his name, and stepped forward, straightening his tie. “Yes, sir.”

“Your mission companion will be... Elder Ceitful!”

Logan’s shoulder’s slumped, face paling. Oh no.

Elder Janus Ceitful was... well, according to Elder Ceitful himself, he did not align himself with the Mormon faith. In fact, he despised it. He’d rant about it being ‘homophobic’ and ‘racist’ and ‘a cult’. Apparently, he was only in the church because his parents forced him to be, and if he tried to leave the faith, his parents said they’d kick him out and cut him off, leaving him homeless and near broke. He claimed that the second he had a stable job and his own place to live, he was never coming to the church again.

So, in short, he would be no help to Logan on the mission.

Just great.

“And your location is... Orlando!”

They were going to Orlando? Logan knew a lot about Orlando, as it was where Elder Price always talked about wishing to go. He felt even worse now. He was living, no, stealing Elder Price’s dream...

-

Logan was extremely close to losing it.

He was waiting in the airport at the gate for his flight. His parents had long since left after saying their goodbyes, so now he was alone.

Alone with Elder Ceitful.

“I really don’t get how you can happily go along with this shit,” the Elder in question said, flicking through his copy of the Book of Mormon. “It is the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever read - and I had a friend in high school who wrote and then forced me to read a lot of kinky shit.”

This. Logan was going to have to deal with this for two years.

“Is it because you like Kevin? Is that the only reason you go along with it, to impress him? Because, I’m sorry to tell you, but the Mormon faith isn’t that fond of the homosexual lifestyle. I don’t think that plan is going to-“

“What?! I-I do not have feelings for Elder Price!”

“Please, the way you stare at him tells me all I need to know. You have a crush.”

“I am straight! I like women, just as Heavenly Father intended...”

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that...”

Two. Hecking. Years.

-

Logan and Elder Ceitful had arrived in Florida, and were currently being given a tour of the local area by their District Leader and his companion. Elder Foster was very bubbly, joy seeming to never leave his light blue eyes as he pointed out all the houses around, saying which had been converted and which still needed to be. His partner, Elder Picani, was a little more subdued, but still bright and talkative. As they walked around, Elder Ceitful was barely paying attention. It didn’t matter, though, Logan was listening for the two of them, and had a notebook out, taking notes on which households needed to be converted.

As they walked around, Logan noticed something. He frowned, before looking up to his District Leader. “Elder Foster?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“You missed out Number 46. 45 has been converted, 47 hasn’t, but you didn’t tell us about 46.”

Elder Foster and Elder Picani froze, sharing grave looks, before the former responded. “They haven’t been. But we don’t talk about that house. We don’t visit it.”

“What? Why?”

“Two brothers live at that house, and they’re unconvertable,” Elder Picani said. “The first one is bad enough. He lives a very openly homosexual lifestyle, refusing to talk to us because of it. When he opens the door to us, he just says ‘sorry, I’m a lifelong gay’, before shutting the door in our faces. And the other...”

“He’s the devil incarnate,” Elder Foster finished.

“What?” Logan raised an eyebrow in confusion while Elder Ceitful’s attention was caught by the conversation.

“He’s horrible. The first time we tried to talk to him, he said ‘I’m sorry, I’m currently busy sucking Satan’s... thingy’. Except he didn’t say ‘thingy’. Since then, he’s done all sorts of horrendous things. Told horrifying stories to the Elders, shown them graphic images and videos, and other even more disgusting things. Eventually, we had no choice but to give up. I hate to admit it, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to find salvation.”

Elder Ceitful smirked. “I like the sound of this guy.”

Meanwhile, Logan’s eyes were shining. This was it. This was how he showed he was just as great, just as incredible as Elder Price. This was how he would make his parents proud.

He, Elder Logan Berry, was going to convert the unconvertable.

-

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, a warm shower, and a little rehearsing his script to himself in the mirror, Logan found himself walking up to the door of the ‘unconvertable brothers’ at house number 46. Elder Ceitful trudged behind him. “You know this is never going to work, right?”

“Shush. I want you to not say anything, alright?” Logan hissed to him. “This is very important to me, and I will not have you screw it up.”

“Sure. It’ll be more fun to watch you completely and utterly fail.”

Logan huffed, rolling his eyes, before turning to the door. He knocked, putting on a friendly joyful smile. After a few seconds, the door opened.

“Hello! My name is Elder Berry, and I would like to share with you the-”

He was interrupted by a wolf whistle. “Well, would you look at this... They’ve sent the cutest guy they have to try and tempt me to convert, have they?”

Logan’s face burned light pink, and he looked up at the man at the door. And then his face burned dark red.

The man had green eyes that shone like emeralds in the sunlight, tanned skin, brown hair that was shown to have a slight hint of red in it when the light caught it. The only exception was a silver streak dyed in his fringe. He had a moustache that curled up at the ends that, though it seemed to be something an over-the-top cartoon villain would wear, suited him perfectly. He was tall, staring down at Logan with a sort of hungry lust in his eyes. He was wearing a crop top and rather tight shorts which showed off his toned physique.

Logan swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, the mantra he had been taught since he was 13 repeating in his head. Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off...

Both the man in the doorway and Elder Ceitful smirked, the latter leaning over to Logan. “What was that you told me yesterday? ‘I like women, just as Heavenly Father intended’?”

Logan wanted to glare at him, but was still struck by the beauty of the stranger. After a pause, he did the only thing he could think of:

Run away.

As he left, he heard the two still at the door exchange a greeting.

“Jan? Is that you? No way!”

“Hey, Remus. It’s been a while.”

“No shit! Come on in, we have so much we need to catch up on! And I have a few new fanfics I need proof read!”

“Oh, I wish I could, but I’m required to stay with my mission companion at all times. Maybe you should invite us both in.”

Logan skidded to a stop, turning to his companion. “Don’t you dare!!!”

The man, Remus, grinned. “Why of course you can both come in!” He retreated back into his house, and Elder Ceitful followed, before pausing and turning to Logan.

“Come on, Elder Berry! You wouldn’t want to break the rules, would you?”

Logan hesitated. These thoughts that he had around Remus were unholy... but breaking mission rules was unholy too! He growled in annoyance, looking to his companion, who was giving him a sickly sweet and incredibly faux smile. 

Logan couldn’t win, could he?

He huffed before returning to the house, and unwillingly followed Elder Ceitful inside.

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed -- The Conclusion

This it the Coda for The Thing That Lives Under The Bed.

Did you wonder what Peter and his friends did once they got their hands on ALL those spellbooks?  Maybe you were curious what would happen if Peter performed the spell of the Kings of the East and the King of the West, splitting Tony in two?

I will be posting one chapter a day #OnHere, in honor of the place where the story began.

                             -------------------------------------------------------

                                               Adulthood

                                   The Trap and The Bait

In addition to realizing that he is in love with the thing that lives under his bed, Peter Parker and his friends have also discovered an underground library full of spellbooks, spirits calling out to be freed and the promise of any number of superpowers.

You may be wondering what they did next.

You are getting closer to the answer.

The twenty-six year old High-High Priest could have simply run down the path, but sometimes Peter Parker was just overcome with the need to leap around like a character from a comic book.  Under any other circumstances Angel would have complimented him.  Certainly Angel had read his fair share of comics himself (from Monica’s and Peter’s childhood stashes.  Angel prided himself on the fact that he could hold up in own in any heated Bob Keen vs Alan Moore debate) but, at the moment, the only image in his mind was that of a mouse in a trap. 

Peter was wearing the same suit that he had arrived home in, the same one he usually wore on Capitol Hill when he was schmoozing senators about the Clean Water act or another EPA bill.  The tie was gone, and the shirt was opened at the collar.  The suit itself should have been rumpled from his journey through the trees, but it must have been one of the enchanted ones.  Not that Peter Parker would have minded in any case.  It wasn’t his only expensive suit.

He was devastatingly handsome in the moonlight, but Angel knew that the man was devastatingly handsome everywhere.  Everyone thought so.

The weak and infirm flocked to the Lavern Post Healing Center from far and wide.  Either they were healed by Dr. Cyprian, or they were convinced by Laura-Bee that it was their destiny to find treatment elsewhere.  But all them, every one, commented on Peter Parker and his movie-star good looks.  Even Matty, the High Priest, reluctantly admitted that, even though he stayed behind to cast the convincing-spells, it was Peter’s good looks that really opened doors for him when Peter set out for [the directions to the White House.]  Laura-Bee, of course, was always happy to tell, in loving detail, about the first time she had laid eyes on handsome Peter Parker.  About the day the first met, about how they were childhood sweethearts.

Laura’s super-power was mesmerism, and she didn’t use it very often.  

But when she told stories of her childhood, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling right into her memory.  As if you, yourself were walking home from Robert E Lee school, walking down the dirt road, desperate to hold Peter’s hand lovingly and listen to him describe every detail of Silent Spring.  Every long-time member of the Post Homestead had heard that story.  Maybe that's why every member of the Post Homestead felt like they had been in love with Peter Parker their entire life.  That Peter Parker was the only man they had truly ever loved, and that they, too, would be married to Peter if Peter weren’t married to Dr. Tony Cyprian.

And they were.  In love with Peter Parker, even if only for a little while.  Every guest seemed to fall for him too, if not romantically… well... they all seemed to be a little hot for him.  Even the guests that chose to stay in the Abe Sexton Library suites (recommended for all the straight-laced practitioners, the ones who weren’t interested in the Homestead’s attitude toward sexual freedom) lay in their beds and night and fantasized about the devastatingly handsome and dead-sexy Peter Parker.  Angel knew. 

Angel knew it all.

And Angel was certainly in love with the man himself.

Which was ridiculous, of course.  Imagine… being hopelessly in love with the Peter Parker, the man loved by politicians, Disciples and demons.  Fabulously wealthy parishioners flocked to him to be rid of their pain and their guilt, side by side with big-name lawmakers from Capitol Hill, all succumbing to his charm and openly trying to introduce him to their daughters.  Imagine a man like that even looking twice at him.  At him, a scrawny, dirty, sunken-eyed miscreant with a wild unruly hair and a perpetually bad attitude.

Of course, Peter Parker was looking at him now.

His handsome face looked perplexed, taking in Angel, the lapping water, and then the rock.  He looked back at Angel, barefoot and trembling at the water’s edge.  He didn’t look angry at all, but he did look like a man in a hurry.  He was panting a little.  Gracefully he stepped down to the sand where Angel stood.

“Angel?  Sweetheart… what are you doing?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Angel cried out.  Hating the petulant, childish sound of his voice, hating the way his throat felt too tight to speak at all.  “I won’t go.  You can’t make me.”

“What are you talking about?  Of course I could make you…”

For just a moment, Angel saw it.

Peter Parker was a handsome man with kind eyes (and he could be kind, oh he could be so very kind) but he was also a master magician, the leader of a coven of magicians, each commanding their own army of spirits.  (Any minute now Angel was expecting Plucky to turn the plants into bindweed to hold him down or Moonlight to appear and force him back to the ceremony with silent, pleading eyes.)  Peter Parker wasn’t just the darling of Capitol Hill and a brilliant environmentalist crusader, rubbing elbows with chieftains and royalty and Heads of State.  He was also a formidable wizard who had summoned his first demon at the age of 13, a man of incredible natural power, a man feared by mortals and devils alike.

For just a moment Angel saw that man, that other powerful man, flash across Peter’s face.

Then it was gone.

“But I don’t want to make you.  I’m not going to give you orders.  You’re not my slave.  But… but I don’t understand...”  His face and his voice was gentle as he stepped closer.   “Angel, please help me understand what’s happening.  You’ve never run away from a ritual before.  We called for you, but you were nowhere.  Even Anton couldn’t say where you were.  What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to… please.  Please, I don’t want to go.  I know what the High Priest wants to do to me.  I know what Anton is going to do to me – I know what the bones are for.  The black-cat bones.  The ones you keep in the back of the refrigerator  Please, Mr. Parker, please don’t make me.”

“Mr. Park…?”  Peter looked completely baffled.  He took a few hesitant steps forward, until he was almost within arms reach.

He didn’t look in the least bit out of place, wearing that expensive, glad-hander suit and standing on the banks of the lake by moonlight.  But Peter Parker never looked out of place anywhere.  He had a very convincing personality.

Angel was almost convinced himself.

“Baby, you’re confused.  Why would you be afraid of… I don’t even…why are you calling me Mr. Parker?  Oh god…”

He looked behind him at the black sky.  The moon, one day passed full, shown down on them like an all-seeing eye.  He groaned. “I waited too late, dammit I knew I shouldn’t have.  And you’re shaking like a leaf, just look at you…”

Peter reached for him and Angel started to back away, but then his bare feet splashed in the water.  He yelped in terror and leapt away from it.  That meant there was nowhere else to go, but directly into Peter’s arms.

Peter pulled him close, easily fitting Angel’s head into the crook of his neck, wrapping muscular arms around Angel’s skinny body and pulling him close.  There was no helping it.  Angel wrapped his boney arms around Peter’s body and clung to him, shivering.

“Oh god, I told them not to feed you but… I made a mistake, didn’t I?  I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed in Kenya for so long, I pushed it too far, I’m so sorry.  The things Princess Shuri told me were so huge… it was all so important and I thought I had more time.  Matty told me I had more time.  Amado,I didn’t mean to hurt you.  This is all my fault.  Please forgive me.  I should have taken better care of you.”

Angel pressed his slight body against the firm body of the taller man and held himself there.  Against that strength, he thought he could manage to stop shaking.  He even managed to pull one hand away long enough to wipe the tears away from his cheek (then snuck that hand up to touch Peter’s face shyly for a moment.)  “Did… did you?  Get to meet with Princess Shuri at the consulate?  Are we going to be protecting the black rhinos now?”

A look passed over Peter’s face, a look Angel had never seen before.  For a moment Peter looked… doubtful. 

“She wasn’t there to talk about the rhinos,” he said quietly, look away, gazing out at the moonlit lake.  “It was a trap.  Well… not a trap, but… but Shuri was definitely the bait.”

“She betrayed you?”  Angel asked in horror.  He would be angry, would be shaking in impotent rage... if he weren’t so surprised.  How could anyone deceive the High-High Priest?   How could anyone meet Peter Parker and not adore him with everything they had inside?

The strong man laughed ruefully.  “I don’t suppose it’s really ‘betrayal’ to lie to a man you’ve met twice because your brother asks you to do it. 

“Angel... Shuri and T'Challa are… well the word is “enhanced” now.  I suppose ‘superhero’ sounds too childish.  But T'Challa is just like me… we both inherited some ancient magic that was a hell of a lot bigger than we ever expected and a hell of a lot more than we ever bargained for.  Trust me, we talked for hours.  Unlike me, he grew up knowing what he was getting into… but he’s still been given a lot more than he wanted.  And just like me…”

Peter’s arms tightened around Angel has looked sadly at his domain.  He looked into the forest, across the lake, then up at Dead Oak Hill, bathed in the erie torchlight.  “… we just want to be left alone to play Comic-Books with our friends in our own tiny corner of the world that we’re king of..  Unlike me, he thinks he’s ready to join the grown-ups in the real world.  I’m not so sure.  Angel they want me to…”

He caught himself suddenly, as if he had forgotten who he was talking to.  He shook his head.  “I can’t really talk about it yet.  But it’s big, Angel.  It’s really big.  I can’t tell the others until I’ve talked to Tony.  Which means I have to take care of you first.  Look at you…”

Peter tightened his arms again, gazing into Angel’s eyes with a tender look.  He brushed his lips against Angel’s forehead in a tiny kiss.

“Angel,” he whispered, “…are you afraid?  What on earth could you be afraid of?  Nothing scares you.  You’re fearless.  Baby, please tell me what’s going on.”

Angel looked up into Peter’s face, so perfect and so beautiful in the moonlight.  He struggled to remember… he had been afraid, only now he couldn’t quite remember why.  There was something wrong with him, something terribly wrong, but now he couldn’t quite remember…

…until he did.

“Don’t let them send me away… please don’t.  I don’t want to go, please don’t make me go through the ceremony.  Please, Peter.  I can’t.  I can’t leave you.

“I love you,” he blurted, choking on the confession.  He found himself blushing, his whole body flushing at the secret words said aloud.  “I love you so much.  I know I’m not… I know I’m not anyone… I know I’m just a ragged, spoiled-rotten kid that weighs next to nothing and bugs everybody and I know I’m a constant nuisance and I know that I’m not someone important like a princess or a senator… but I love you.  I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Peter’s forehead wrinkled in concern, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Angel, Angel sweetheart, do you see?   You’re so confused baby… oh can you… oh god how is this happening?? 

“Angel, how could you forget that I love you?”

Peter’s mouth on his was sweet and gentle and warm.  The kiss was tender and loving and everything Angel had imagined it would be.  Peter’s arms were strong and solid and he held Angel as if he never wanted to let him go.  It was a dream come true…

…and that was the problem.  Frantically Angel pulled away, trying to look around him.  Maybe this was a dream… maybe Laura-Bee was there with him, holding his hand and telling him the story, over and over and over again, of how she had fled across Lovesick Lake on the darkest night of her life, and there found the man that could take all her fear away just by holding her hand. 

But Laura wasn’t there.  He and Peter were alone in the moonlight, kissing on the banks of Virgin Lake.  Peter was warm and strong and solid and suddenly all Angel could think was… hadn’t they done this all before?  Hadn’t they held each other like this, kissed each other like this, on the same night as the ceremony?  Was that why it felt so much like a memory?

“Do you remember Amado?” Peter was whispering.  “Try… try to remember.”

“I can’t… I don’t… I keep reaching for it, but it’s not there…” Angel said through his tears.  Peter pulled him close again, tucking Angel’s head in the crook of his neck and rocking him back and forth.

“This is my fault,” he said, stroking Angel’s hair and kissing his head over and over again.  “It’s because I was sick the day of the spell, isn’t it?  I was still getting over the food poisoning, I was still weak… god I should have let Matty do the spell but I was too jealous and now look what’s happened…”

Angel was so surprised he pulled back enough to look into Peter’s face.  He wasn’t sure what startled him more, the fact that Peter could get sick, or that Peter had been jealous… of Matty?  Of Matty… and him?

“I can’t believe how badly we messed this up.  It’s always gone so smoothly, but this time…

“Angel… you told us that you had to focus on eating this year.  So you couldn’t get distracted by everything else, so you could concentrate on taking care of yourself and making yourself strong.  But all we did was make you hungry and miserable all the time, and now you’re dressing in rags and lying to everybody… Angel try to remember.”  He reached up with one hand to cup Angel’s cheek.  Angel leaned into the warm touch, closing his eyes against the pain in Peter’s face.

“You told us that if we could make you forget about the world outside the border, that you’d be content, and not feel rejected or left out while the others worked.  It was your job to stay here, to focus on yourself and to get strong.  But look at you.  You’ve forgotten what you’re supposed to be doing, you don’t remember who you are.  You’ve forgotten that you are a fierce and powerful force… and, god, you forgot that I love you…”

“I do remember, I do!  I remember you love me,” Angel said quickly, grabbing Peter’s face and kissing him hard, not because he remembered, but because he couldn’t bear the sound of Peter’s broken voice.  He only wanted Peter to be happy, couldn’t stand the idea that he had made the man feel sad.

Peter wrapped one arm around Angel’s waist and pressed their bodies together.  Angel moaned at the sensation and willingly opened his mouth to Peter’s kiss. 

Maybe it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t remember.  He certainly wasn’t the first person to come to the Lavern Center to pay Dr. Cyprian to take terrible memories away, only to be extremely confused afterwards because they couldn’t remember what they had paid for.  Maybe he was even one of the wealthy clientele… (but he suspected he was more likely one of Peter’s charity cases.)  But he knew one thing, he wasn’t going to argue endlessly about it.  Year after year he had watched Laura-Bee argue patiently, then not-so-patiently, as she made her annual pilgrimage to the secret library behind Peter’s office where the reports were locked away.  That was the place for everyone else who had benefited from the Memory Therapy, but not for her.  She had never even been to that room.  Had never seen it before.  

Once a year she went to that room, arguing all the way.  Once a year she sat down to listen to Monica read all the things that had been written down for her.  Once a year she had to remember that she had never been BORN Laura Foster, but legally changed from Hortense Lovelace to Laura Foster-Beeker, the day she turned 18.  All because of something horrible that her father had done, a memory she had chosen to give up completely, a memory she never wanted returned.

And he could do the same, couldn’t he?  Ask to go to the locked file cabinets to see what he had written down, to see what he had forgotten. 

But not just now.

Just now he wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck (and all but wrapped one leg around his waist) and pressed his entire body against Peter’s hard, solid form.  He didn’t feel ragged or shaky or hungry when he was with Peter.  He felt safe and warm and strong.

Just as strong as he felt during the Great Ceremony, he was sure of it.  The one day a year that four disciples were back at the homestead at the same time, Matthew Mark Luke and John, Matty and Sarah D and Doctor Wickham and Monica, each a powerful magician in their own right, each with multiple spirits at their command.  Along with Peter and Laura-Bee they would sing their way through the spells, adding their voices to the beautiful, practiced harmonies that the second circle magicians had prepared for the occasion.  For hours they would sing until the sky was full of fairy lights, until their spirit-servants were vibrating in a counter melody until the whole forest rang with power and promise.   He remembered… how the singing would last long into the night, even after the moment of the solstice was over, even after seals were recast, even after each task was done.  How they would continue singing for the sheer joy of it, for nothing other than the pleasure they felt when they stood and created together.   How they would promise each other, NO REALLY this time they meant it, that they would come together more than once a year. Reveling in the sheer power that they had when they stood side by side, when they joined their voices together.

The Great Ceremony, that was due in less than a week.  That’s why they were saying good-bye to each other.  That’s why…

“We came here and you kissed me good-bye,” Angel murmured against Peter’s mouth.  Then he pulled away a little, looking around the moonlit hills.  That’s who he had been looking for, that was his memory.  The tall, strong man was Peter.  Peter was holding Angel in his arms.  They had come to the lake for a private moment alone before the ceremony.  He had been seeing the memory of them.

“Did we?” Peter said, his forehead creasing in concentration even as he smiled.  “Oh yes, we did.  That was two years ago.  We should do it every year. I love kissing you here.

“Angel,” he said, bringing his hands up again to cup Angel’s face.   “John and I will study the spell and we will absolutely do it right next time.  You can’t ever forget that I love you.  Of all of them, you’re the only one who ever says it back to me, and I treasure it.  You can’t understand how much I treasure it.  It means so much to me, precious.  I don’t think you know how much I love you.”

“But you don’t,” Angel said, even as Peter brought their mouths together again.

“You don’t love me.”  His arms were too weak to push a strong man like Peter with any force, but he did his best.  He pushed Peter away from him as hard as he could, fighting back the tears.

“You don’t love me, you love him.”

“What the… the hell?” Peter stammered, angry and baffled.  “What is this about?  You’ve never once had a problem with… wait… love who?”

“You love him.  You love Dr. Cyprian.”

If he weren’t so distraught Angel would have laughed at the face Peter made now.  It was comical.

“I love… Tony?  This is about Tony?  You can’t really…”

He stopped himself short and shook his head, hard.  It was a gesture Angel knew too well… it meant that Peter was looking at a long, pointless argument and deciding to skip past it and get to the end.

 “Yes,” he said decidedly.  “I love Tony.  He’s the first man I ever loved.  He’s my Significant Other, my David.  He’s my husband, Angel.  He’s my whole world, and not just because he’s the only reason why any of this works,” he said, throwing his hands out and gesturing around him at the lake, the forest, the moonlight.  “He’s my whole world because he is my best friend, and I HAVE to talk to him… I have to talk to him tonight.  I have to make the biggest decision of my life, and… look!” he said with a painful laugh.  “I’m here!  I’m here, at the center of it all, in the place where I always make the big earth-shattering life-changing decisions!  Except he's gone so he isn’t here to tell me what he thinks! 

“I have to go back and tell the others, Angel.  I have to tell them what Princess Shuri wants me to do and I can’t tell them until I talk to Tony and instead of talking to him I’m standing here arguing nonsense with you.  We’re going back now.  We’re going back and we’re finishing the ritual and when it’s over you’ll understand.” 

“Not yet we’re not,” Angel said boldly, stepping into Peter’s arms and kissing him hard.  Maybe he had been fearless once, just like Peter said.  He certainly felt fearless now as he shamelessly reached down and cupped Peter’s erection, working it with skillful fingers.  He remembered, now.  Remembered that this powerful man, the man that commanded all of them, humans and spirits alike…

…this man was his lover.  Only a week ago, just before they had left for the Kenyan Consulate, Angel  had crept into Peter’s bed and gotten everything he had asked for.  And it hadn’t been the first time, either.  More than once Peter had given in to him when he begged… and oh… what Peter gave him was so sweet.