#i may try to trade with someone so we can sit somewhat closer together but

[pillarmenarevoregods]

Ask: Macro/Micro Vore Pillar Men and Joseph Joestar

First off, I am so so SO sorry for how long this took. Both real life responsibilities and the double standards I hold myself to about creating “quality content” meant my answer to this prompt sat in a half-finished state for a long time. I figure I should just post what I have now and hope it’s sufficient. 

@delcaty007​ (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Macro/Micro Vore, Multiple Pred Scenarios, M/M, Non-fatal, Unwilling, Fearplay, Mentions of Digestion)

I had several ideas for this, and kind of debated which ones were worth fleshing out (or at least what I’d have the time/motivation for). This might not be fully fleshed out stories, but I hope it’s cool still.

I’m writing this in a premise of post-Battle Tendency, through some means, the Pillar Men come back to seek revenge: Kars is brought back from space, Esidisi and Wamuu are revived, and Santana is out of the Speedwagon vaults. BUT they are 30 feet tall and have no idea why/how that happened. They also find many of their abilities missing, BUT also can be in the sun! Yay! And then they find out the hard way that they can’t digest anything. Joseph’s gonna be stuck in a couple different belly jails.

I decided to write these in the order that Joseph fought the Pillar Men in canon. These can technically be independent scenarios of each other, or you can imagine it as the pillar men taking turns sending Joseph down the hatch if you want. I hope you enjoy!

Santana

He sure remembers how annoying that little primitive named Joseph Joestar was to him, and he’s going to find out what happened to him

He quickly learns about the events that transpired with his fellow Pillar Men and knows Joseph is alive

He actually wanted to seek out that Major Von Stroheim asshole first, because of well… I wouldn’t blame him. However he finds out Stroheim died and well, a little disappointing, at least there’s still JoJo to seek out

Once he locates him, Santana literally plunges his hand into the roof of Joseph’s home and grabs him

Joseph attempts to hamon him, but is shocked that… it no longer affects the pillar man. And how did he even get this large?

Santana smirks, considering it dumb for JoJo to even try using hamon when he’s literally outside in the daylight, unharmed.

Deep booming chuckle, “You idiot primitive…” and he starts squeezing Joseph in his hand, thinking it’ll be satisfying to feel his bones snap.

THEN his stomach gurgles and he has a better idea

Without another word, he quickly pops Joseph in his mouth, tilts his head back and swallows him faster than Joseph can process what just happened.

Joseph goes down Santana’s throat in shock, thrashing, trying to climb his way back up, but the muscles of Santana’s esophagus are no match and pull him down to his doom.

Joseph lands on what seems to be trees, brush, and random animals (still alive). It seems like Santana tried swallowing a LOT of different things

Somewhat to his relief, Joseph notices that nothing has really digested.

Santana, on the other hand, can’t care less about what’s happening inside his stomach. He has that annoying JoJo right where he belonged. The weight in his stomach and the occasional minor sting of attempted hamon only tickled a bit. 

Joseph wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and Santana likewise said nothing when meeting back up with the other Pillar Men.

The first thought on their minds was to find Joseph too, and Santana had to press his tongue in his cheek at knowing that he simultaneously got to stick it to Kars by eating his “mortal enemy” before he could.  

Esidisi

He remembers how he died, and while on one hand respects Joseph for winning against him, isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get his own revenge

Finds Joseph out on a solo boating trip (convenient, right?) and all Joseph can see is some massive force swimming in the water rushing towards him

Esidisi rises up like a colossal beast, picking Joseph’s boat out of the water

“JoooJooo, it’s been a while, huh? What, like 10 years?” Esidisi makes sure to smile wide and show off his sharp teeth, bringing the small boat in his hand closer to his face.

Joseph probably pisses himself (let’s be real), screaming “OH MY GOD” or “HOLY SHIT,” which is music to Esidisi’s ears, causing him to belt out laughing.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, didya?!” Joseph doesn’t even have a response, he’s just thrashing and yelling at this point

“You remember our conversation about the Art of War, yeah? Well I hope you do. Sun Tzu told me one more bit of advice that has truly been the most beneficial to me...”

He lifts Joseph up above his face, “’Keep your friends close, your enemies even closer.’” before dropping Joseph in his open mouth.

Esidisi hums in appreciation as Joseph flails on his tongue before jerking his head back and giving a thorough swallow to send him down.

He places his hand over his stomach, relishing in the sensation of pounding helplessly at his stomach walls, and feeling confident that he can go back to Kars to report that JoJo has been “taken care of.”

After a long while of walking and swimming through the ocean, he notices Joseph was still active inside him. He would have started digesting by now, right?

Esidisi figures all that physical motion may be disrupting digestion, so he finds a coast to sit on and waits it out, occasionally making small remarks to the man inside him

Gets frustrated and cries eventually because why won’t he digest?? Esidisi at first accepted that there were caveats to being alive again and being able to see the Sun finally, but come on

He already couldn’t use his blood vessels, couldn’t absorb the only advantage he had was being giant and still being able to contort his body, and now he can’t even digest someone he’s eaten?

Joseph meanwhile is yelling and pounding on the stomach walls, trying to hamon his way out. Esidisi is very pleased to see that the hamon is ineffective inside him, in fact it just tickles a bit.

The little pounding and yelling and screams eventually become annoying, though. Esidisi has some important pondering he needs to do on what his new life is now, and the squirming noisy human in his stomach keeps distracting him.

He sits down somewhere to ponder whether the trade-offs are worth it, has to tell Joseph, “Shut up and let me think!”

Wamuu

When Wamuu “woke back up” and noticed his masters had, too, one of his first thoughts was strangely where Joseph Joestar was currently.

He wondered whether Kars had succeeded in killing him and taking ascended as the Ultimate Being.

However, when he saw Lord Kars, also made giant by whatever spell or curse has brought them all back to life and made them 30 feet tall, Wamuu could quickly assume by the tantrum he was throwing that Joseph had also defeated him in some way.

While Wamuu didn’t exactly WANT Joseph to defeat himself or Lord Kars, he still believed in a fair fight and that a winner should be able to keep their victory.

Hearing Kars and Esidisi plot together to find Joseph and enact revenge on him (hell, even Santana is making comments about finding “that annoying JoJo”), Wamuu realizes if he wants to ensure his opponent could keep his honor, he’ll have to find the Joestar before the other Pillar Men did.

While locating him, Wamuu picks up and swallows a bunch of humans (he’s a nervous eater, he needs to snack under pressure you know?)

After several hours of the humans still pounding and yelling inside of his stomach, he realizes something was off… they should have been digesting by now, yet they’re still alive and active

Wamuu thinks it’s only fair to spit them up and let them go. He’s a little embarrassed and tactfully apologizes to these humans, “I did not expect for you to still be alive. Please forgive me, if I had known you weren’t going to digest I wouldn’t have swallowed you in the first place.” Thanks good guy Wamuu, very reassuring.   

When he does find Joseph (on a camping trip in the middle of the woods, alone…), he kneels down in a clearing just as Joseph is about to approach that area.

Boy is he surprised to see a giant man kneeling in the normally empty field, especially a man he killed 10 years ago… but giant

“JoJo, we meet again.” Queue the “OH! MY! GODDD!” and trying to runaway classic Joseph Joestar style

Wamuu picks him up like an ant between his fingers and brings him closer to his face.

“I am doing this for your own good, JoJo.” and he opened his mouth wide, held a squirming yelling little Joseph over his mouth and dropped him in, tossed his head back and swallowed.

Unfortunately Wamuu forgot to tell Joseph that he wasn’t going to die,  only places his hand unconsciously over his stomach, kneading his thumb into the area Joseph is pounding at 

When meeting with his Masters (who were unsuccessful at finding Joseph… gee I wonder why) still has his hand over his belly, trying to sooth the commotion inside.

Kars even asks if Wamuu is ill, to which Wamuu responds with “I ate something that isn’t agreeing with me.” Well, he’s not wrong

He will have to let Joseph out… eventually. But right now he just wants to keep him safe and hidden. When that will be? No one knows - especially not Wamuu or Joseph....

Kars

Oh, this man is NOT happy. All that time in space, going slowly insane? Yeah, he has it in for Joseph Joestar.

Just shortly after he stops thinking, he finds himself rapidly pulled back to Earth and suddenly much larger than he remembers being before.

It takes him a bit to gain all his thoughts back, but of course he’s elated once he realizes his companions are back as well.

After rejoicing the return of Esidisi and Wamuu (maybe at least a little happy to see Santana again, as well), he went about pursuing his new important goal

Joseph Joestar needed to feel the fear and despair he himself felt while drifting through space. He decided he wouldn’t kill him… yet.

He needed to see Joseph suffer the same way he had, killing him too quickly would just end that fun.

Kars wanted to take Joseph down in the most humiliating way - it’s only fair after being defeated in front of his enemies in such a humiliating way.

Joseph happened to be at his work office, doing business as usual in his life free of being a hamon warrior

Therefore, it was absolutely unexpected when a giant hand plunges through the glass pane window, grabs Joseph off-guard and holds him tightly in front of the face of the man in his nightmares.

In fact, he seriously just thinks he’s dreaming. Joseph covers his eyes and yells, “I’m dreaming! This is a dream! I’m going to wake up now in three, two, one…..”

Kars waits a beat for dramatic effect before hissing “Zero.” He licks his lips, being able to sense the pure dread and terror of his prey. Oh, it’s making him absolutely giddy

“I want you to know what it feels like, JoJo… To have all your hopes and dreams unfairly stolen from you.” Kars raises him high above his head, and watches the little man squirm. He’s definitely finding this cathartic.

“I drifted through space, not knowing if I’d ever escape that torture. All of my accomplishments going to waste, because of you! I believe it’s only fair, JoJo, that I give you a taste of what I experienced.”

Without much effort, he casually tosses Joseph high up in the air (but not too hard, because he doesn’t want Joseph to actually go into space

As Joseph falls back down from the sky, Kars waits with his mouth wide open and snaps his jaw shut once the screaming man lands in his mouth.

He doesn’t wait long before swallowing, while focusing on ever little sensation of his enemy wriggle down his throat. Finally, he’s conquered the Sun AND Joseph Joestar.

Even after several hours and realizing his stomach wasn’t digesting his prey, Kars accepted that it was poetic justice in a way that Joseph would remain alive, trapped for an indefinite amount of time in his stomach, just like he had been trapped in space

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives / Chapter 5

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she’s never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter 5/? : A Known Stranger

Previous Chapters : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Find Maids to Wives on Archive of Our Own!

May 22nd, 1619, Claire’s POV

“Dear diary, 

As time passes by here, I find myself enjoying life here more and more. I’ve been less than a week, and since arriving I’ve made a goal for myself to discover something new everyday. Whether it’s a new tree I didn’t notice before or a currant in the river. Yesterday I discovered a field of wildflowers a little aways of me and Frank’s house. I hope to go back there one of these days, maybe take Frank there and have lunch.

Frank and I haven’t had too much time to converse with each other, aside from small pillow talk at night. I ask about his day and he asks about mine. Usually he’s away during the day, in town with peers or overseeing the farms. I suppose I had an unrealistic romantic idea of marriage, that we’d be with each other more.

That’s not to say I mind. Being able to think by myself is a privilege I’m happy to keep. This whole experience has been incredibly overwhelming, so not feeling smothered by my husband is somewhat of a plus, although I’m smothered by a different thought.

The man at the docks. His red hair. His tall statue that stood over everyone else. Since last seeing him I couldn’t stop thinking of him, and guiltily I don’t think I mind. The feelings I have for him aren’t like anything I experienced before. It’s the type of attraction you read about, but never live through. He was this erotic thought in the back of my mind I could pull out whenever I wanted to escape. He was the forbidden fruit, and I wanted nothing more than a taste.

I need to stop myself. As pleasant as those thoughts were, I had a husband. A good husband who was kind and gentle, and who provided graciously for me. I had a roof over my head, and all the free time to frolic and read. I’d been doing better than many of the other women, from what I had observed. Mary was the only other one who seemed happy to be married.

I am seeing Geillis tomorrow, so I’ll ask her then. Although, I can guess her answer. From what she told me of her dream man, her current husband didn’t fit the description. He was old, bald, and fat. From what I observed from far away, she always pulled back when he kissed her. It made me fortunate to have Frank.

I suppose I should stop for tonight. Frank will be home soon, and still have our bed to make. Thank you for letting me release my thoughts.

Love, Claire”

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

May 23nd, 1619, Claire’s POV

“What are your plans for the day?” For the first time in weeks, Me and Frank were able to sit down together for breakfast. I had opted to prepare a simple meal of bread and milk, as I still had yet to learn to integrate recipes for my husband. I made a mental note to myself to start that.

“I’m visiting Geillis, my friend from the ship” Frank just smiled and sipped his milk, gazing between me and his food. I found his look charming, and I was happy to receive it. He looked at me with a nurture that was warm and inviting, that said ‘I’ll protect you,’

As he looked at me, I took the opportunity to look at him. Everytime we interacted, it seemed like I was noticing more about his features. His face was quite square, and he had these lines along his cheeks that trailed from the bottom of his jaw, and which became more defined when he smiled (thankfully, he did that a lot). He was balding slightly, but I suspected he’d be one of those men who balded nicely. He had a nice face, and I smiled to myself as I looked at him.

Suddenly the door opened, and Frank’s lesser twin came in. I hadn’t seen Jonathan for a while, as he usually kept to himself for the most part. Sometimes I saw him when I went out for a walk, but I always tried to avoid him. There was something about him that caused me to move away from his presence. It was strange, even though him and Frank looked the same, I knew deep down they weren’t the same person at all.

Frank was annoyed at his brother’s outwardly intrusion, and made no effort to hide it. “What can I do for you?” although the question wasn’t ill-spirited, the annoyed tone of his voice gave away his true feelings.

“There’s a shipment down at the docks. We need to help unload,” Jonathan returned with the same annoyed energy, and I saw the sibling tension between them. Growing up an only child, I’d always wanted a sibling of my own. Living with Jonathan and Frank rid myself of that dream.

Frank turned to me, giving a small smile. “I’m sorry our breakfast had to be cut short, we should try doing this more,” He smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. I happily returned it, and we shared a short peck before he was out the door. I hadn’t even noticed Jonathan was still in the room before I heard his voice,

“Goodbye Claire,” He said. I hated his voice so much, because it sounded so much like Frank. If any part of them shared likeness, it was their voices. Though, Jonathan’s always sounded like it was laced with something. Villainy? That’s what I suspected. 

I gave him a short nod, and thankfully he was out the door. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was keeping in, and looked around the small room. Me and Frank’s half eaten breakfast, a small table with 3 chairs, and a hearth. It was quaint, but it was home.

‘I should meet Geillis,’ I told myself, taking off my apron and looking at myself in the window. My hair was pulled up, and I was hesitant to change it as my hair tended to be untamed down. It wasn’t like I was meeting the queen or anything, I kept it the way it was.

The walk to town was longer than I was expecting. I’d only ever ridden on horseback, but figured today was a good day to take a scenic route. It was sunny, and quite warm. Some of the wildflowers I passed were blooming, and birds filled the sky and sound with their presence. Everything was peaceful until it wasn’t.

It was like a dark cloud came over everything, and the perfect day turned to something worse. Behind me, I heard the rustling of bushes, and slowly the movement of feet. I didn’t even notice my own starting to pick up the pace. A part of me wanted to keep walking. I’d be to town eventually, it wasn’t too far away. I heard the footsteps getting closer and my other thought was to turn around and fight whoever this demon was.

I chose that option, turning around and screaming, at the same time punching whoever was my chaser one. The person fell to the group, clutching his nose in his hand. It was an old man, with a bushy beard and a smell of alcohol that filled my senses quite quickly. I didn’t recognize him, and surely thought that whoever it was meant to hurt me.

Before I had time to breath, I heard another pair of footsteps being him. ‘This can’t be happening’ was I being set upon by highwaymen? Were these a band of bandits intending on stealing or hurting me? I quickly ran the opposite direction to my house, but whoever was chasing me was faster. At some point I would need to fight and that time would be now. 

I turned, and punched at whoever it was quickly. He doubled over, but didn’t fall like the other. When I looked at who it was, my breath caught in my throat. The man had bright ginger hair, and I’d only ever seen that color on one other person.

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

A/N Thank you all for reading!! I’ve been in a writing mood lately so hopefully expect some new stuff out! Have a great day yall :)

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.VI: The Forgotten One

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, HEAVY Angst, some Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, brief violence, blood and gore, character death by suicide, mentions of depression and mental illness, hallucinations and trauma, brief mentions of child abuse and slavery, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit depictions of suicide. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 7,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

A/N: This is a dark and heavy chapter.Please make sure to look carefully and closely at the warnings. Your safety and wellbeing should be your first priority. Do not read if you know it will cause you harm. Be safe and enjoy.

“I can’t believe he just left like that, that asshole!” Jinyoung holds back a chuckle at your bitter retort, unable to focus on anything aside from the furious expression along your features. He knows he shouldn’t find your anger cute, but there’s something about the way your nose scrunches inward and how your lips purse that has him melting. More so than the fever.

“I mean, what kind of self-absorbed, arrogant, heartless prick leaves his best friend to suffer…?”

“Jaebeom has never been the most compassionate person on the planet.” Jinyoung hums in response, tilting his head as to better give you access to towel away the sweat gathering across his forehead. “Even when we were children, it was hard for him to see through someone else’s eyes. But that is likely the cause of his upbringings.”

You shake your head indignantly. “We’ve all had sucky childhoods. That doesn’t excuse this petty, cruel bullshit.”

For a short moment, Jinyoung studies the forefronts of your face. This is the first time you have ever brought up mention of your childhood, and he couldn’t help but notice the rather sour tone of your voice. And while he can easily pass that off as anger toward his hybrid brother, Jinyoung wonders whether there’s more beneath the surface…

Who really are you…?

“Did Jaebeom tell you anything about his past during your time together?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess? He told me about your family, and your father—”

“What about his family?” Jinyoung notices how your body pauses, the cold cloth on his forehead freezing in place. He gives you a second to fix your composure, before leaning back into the comfort of his mattress and continuing, “Jaebeom’s parents were both killed by pillagers when he was very young, leaving him orphaned and one of the only remaining survivors in his village.

“He was taken into slavery, and traded off from one person to the next.” He explains, taking a second to cough and clear the thick bile building in his throat. “For the majority of his childhood, Jaebeom was beaten, abused, starved, maltreated and left to die more times than anyone could count. If I hadn’t found him, incapacitated and nearly dead in the forest, he would never have survived past fourteen.”

Guilt washes along your face, transmitting into your body language through the shakiness of your hands and tension in your shoulders. Jinyoung keeps his eyes trained as you dab his cheek, ignoring how the cloth does little to relieve yet another increase in his body temperature.

You murmur with a deep frown, “I… didn’t know.”

“Few do. Jaebeom doesn’t like to look back on his past.”

“But that still doesn’t make sense to me.” The hand with the cloth falls to your lap as you take the time to think. Jinyoung waits patiently, resting comfortably against his pillows. “If you two are so close… why let you go on sick rather than heal you?”

“Jaebeom and I have spent many lifetimes together, (Y/N).” He says, “Like most companions, we’ve had our fair share of falling-outs and feuds… This time was no different.”

“So he’s essentially punishing you? For not listening to him?”

Jinyoung sighs. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but Jaebeom does have a good heart.”

You scoff. “Yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“He spared you, didn’t he?”

“He told you…?” Your eyes widen in surprise, and Jinyoung can’t help but smile at how much you resemble a gentle doe.

“Not exactly…” With some needed effort, he moves his arm to your lap where your free hand rests on your thigh. He mindlessly runs the tip of his finger over the bump of your knuckles, marveling at how cool your skin feels against his own. “My brother and I got into an argument the day before you came to the cemetery, so I had a suspicion he would try and retaliate against me… When I saw you were here, with him, I knew my suspicions were somewhat correct.”

Jinyoung raises his gaze to meet your eyes. “Time is not a friend when it involves creatures like me and Jaebeom, (Y/N). We may live forever, but we also suffer and endure the same pain forever.”

“There’s really no way for you to die?”

“No. If there was, then I would have ended my life a long, long time ago.”

Jinyoung notices how your eyes seem to sadden at his answer. But he doesn’t inquire any further, enduring another coughing fit that rattles his bones from the inside out. A small barrage of blood leaves his lips to splatter across the white sheets, which you’re quick to wipe away before offering if you can do anything else.

He shakes his head. “The symptoms will pass eventually, but you need to leave. I will start to hallucinate soon and I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“I’m not just gonna leave you here by yourself.” You argue, adamantly shaking your own head back and forth. “You’re stuck with me until your ass gets better.”

For the first time, Jinyoung actually curses your stubborn nature. He releases a groan, partly out of pain and partly out of frustration, before forcing himself to sit up against all your warning protests. Once he’s in a less than comfortable position, Jinyoung reaches for your shoulder and pulls you even closer toward his bedside.

“Mark is missing, and Youngjae needs a friend right now.” Your steadfast expression falters at Jinyoung’s words.

You sigh heavily. “I just… don’t want you to be alone.”

Jinyoung’s heart seizes at your confession, but he forces his expression to remain neutral. For your favor, and for his.

“I’ve endured this fever dozens of times on my own. This time will be no different.” He reaches up to brush a fallen eyelash from your cheek, relishing the starry night that shimmers in your eyes. “Go, please. Unlike me, your friends are not immortal.”

You remain troubled for a moment, weighing the options over while nervously gnawing at your bottom lip. Before he can think about his actions, Jinyoung hooks his thumb over your lip and frees the flesh from the wrath of your teeth. Surprise flashes in your eyes, but it is quickly replaced with defeat.

You surrender with a nod, “Fine. But I’m only going because I’m worried about Mark… not because you told me to.”

“Of course.” Jinyoung smiles as you retract from his touch, captivated by the way you flail about the room, preparing him a sick care package and gathering your own belongings. After you’re satisfied, you return to his bedside, and to Jinyoung’s surprise, lean down to splay your lips across his burning cheek. When you pull back, you refuse to meet his gaze.

“That’s for saving my life… And everything else.”

Long after you’ve exited the room, Jinyoung can still feel the lingering ghost of your lips against his skin.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Raindrops cascade gracefully from the silver storm clouds above, creating a soft curtain of mist everywhere you look. The chill of the rain shower actually motivates your pace to pick up. That, and the apprehension of leaving Jinyoung alone in such a weak, vulnerable state. Though your inclination to find Mark keeps you from turning on your heel and hailing a cab all the way back to the Project Estate… yet another good chunk of money out of your wallet.

At this point, you might as well as invest in a car.

The sigh that falls from your lips disappears into the falling rain as you slip past the entrance gate of Eclipse Cemetery. Before you found out about Mark’s witch nature, you never understood why he and his friends ever chose to hang out in a graveyard—a place where you can’t walk without stepping over the resting place of a corpse. You always figured Mark was edgy like that… and just strange, in general.

Your boots sink into the earth with each step, thick mud staining the leather soles. You can’t bring yourself to really care though, too focused on reaching the mausoleum before the storm soaks you to the bone. However, just when the familiar building is mere feet away, a rather small gathering of people come into view. You recognize Youngjae’s dark head amongst the crowd and beeline straight for the group.

Youngjae notices your approaching figure and turns to greet you. Even through the fog, you can tell the younger male has been crying from his swollen cheeks and crimson-tinted eyes. As soon as you’re in reach, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug.

He reciprocates with a murmur. “I didn’t think you’d come… not after what happened—”

“None of that matters right now.” You assure, running a hand through Youngjae’s rain-soaked locks. “We’re gonna find him, okay? He’ll be home before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

After another moment or so, Youngjae pulls back from your hold. His hand remains on your bicep as he invites you into the sea of faces, where the surrounding strangers had watched your display with the young siphoner. You clear your throat, willing away the slight embarrassment brewing inside your gut.

“(Y/N)-noona, these are members of Moon Dye Bay’s resident werewolf pack.” Youngjae points to a shorter, but rather broad and muscular male with bleached, blonde hair, “This is Bang Chan, the Alpha and leader of the wolves.”

Chan’s smile is kind. “Hi. I wish we could have met during better circumstances.”

“Same here.” You reply, offering a small smile of your own.

“Kim Yugyeom is Chan’s second-in-command. You might have heard his name from—”

“Bambam.” You finish Youngjae’s sentence with a nod, noting Yugyeom’s extremely tall stature. And to think you thought that Bambam had long-ass legs… “It’s nice to finally know the face of the best friend he mentions all the time.”

Unlike Chan, Yugyeom doesn’t smile. But you can tell it’s not out of impoliteness or prejudice. The dark bags underneath his eyes and the tense lines of his cheeks disclose the severity of his exhaustion.

“The feeling is mutual.” Yugyeom hums, “Bam talks about you a lot too.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“More or less.” You make a note to smack the cashier the next time you see him as Yugyeom gestures to a young woman at his side with navy blue hair and a pretty smile, “This is my sister, Dahyun.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you.” Dahyun steps forward to take your hands between her own, “A couple of my friends are in Professor Park’s literature and history classes. They rant and rave about the aide that might as well be their professor.”

You chuckle shyly, “I’m getting there. Working on my doctorate right now.”

“Good for you.” Dahyun squeezes your hands before letting go and returning next to her brother. Through the corner of your eye, you notice another figure lingering beside a grand oak tree—obviously steering clear of the circle. His expression is cold, almost as if he had never smiled in his entire life.

“Don’t mind Changbin.” Chan blocks your view of the lone male with a sigh, “He’s in a mood, and has never been the greatest at greeting new people.”

You wave off his concern, instead focusing your gaze on an oddly silent Youngjae. Your heart practically breaks at the pure sadness and helplessness that contorts his features, but before you can open your mouth to console the siphoner, Yugyeom beats you to it:

“Is there any way we can find Mark without ripping apart the entire goddamn town? Some spell or enchantment or…?”  

Youngjae shakes his head. “I already tried a tracking spell. He’s cloaked, meaning we won’t be able to detect him with magic.”

“What about the witch?” Dahyun says, “I mean—she had to have taken him while we were dealing with the huntress, right? There’s no other explanation why he would just up and disappear—”

“Wait—” You stare incredulously at the conversing wolves and witch, “Mina took Mark? Why would she do that?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “We killed her partner. Seems like a pretty decent way to get revenge.”

“She won’t… hurt him? Will she?”

Silence is your only answer, and it unleashes an electric wave of panic through your veins. You swallow down the gathering bile in the back of your throat before getting a grip on your sanity and turning back to the group:

“My friend is close with her.” You gulp, already pulling your phone from your pocket. “I’ll call and see if she knows any place she might have gone.”

“Good idea.” Chan nods and turns to the other wolves, “While (Y/N) does that, we should start forming search parties to check the town. Dahyun, you call Chaeyoung and Ryujin and have them start at the square—”

“Why do we even fucking bother?” Everyone startles at the sudden, gruff question. It takes you a second to realize the voice belonged to the lone wolf, Changbin, who is now rounding in on the small circle with a violent sneer. You can’t help but shiver beneath the intensity of his expression.

Dahyun rolls her eyes. “Who invited this asshole to come, again?”

“Dubu, please.” Yugyeom sends his sister a pointed look before meeting Changbin’s gaze. You marvel at how calm the tall wolf seems, as if he’s dealt with this type of thing a good number of times beforehand.

His tone resembles that of a parent speaking a serious subject to their child. “We’ve already talked about this… Mark—”

“—is the fucking reason why Jackon is dead?” Changbin chuckles darkly, the soaking wet hood over his head intensifying his intimidating aura. “No matter how many times I try to tell you that, hyung—you just don’t seem to get it…”

“Mark didn’t kill Jackson!” Dahyun argues, shoving past Yugyeom to approach the furious wolf. Although she’s significantly shorter than him, Dahyun doesn’t hesitate to lean in close to Changbin’s face until they’re nose-to-nose and send him a harsh glare of her own. “When will you get that through that moronic brain of yours!?”

“And when will you realize that whatever this puppy crush, love sick shit you have on him is never gonna happen—”

“Enough!” Chan’s bellow ricochets through your bones. The Alpha shoves the two wolves away from one another before stepping in between their bodies, making sure there is no possible way for them to reach one another without going through him. He glances between the pair with a stern glare, “You two need to calm down. Changbin, take a hike.”

“But, hyung—!”

“That’s an order. Go.”

You barely manage to duck out of his path before Changbin barrels past, likely heading toward the gates of the cemetery. His silhouette eventually becomes one with the raindrops, almost as if he was never here to begin with…

“(Y/N)-noona…?” Reality hits at Youngjae’s soft call of your name. You turn back to the other figures, finding each set of eyes looking in your direction. With your attention, Youngjae continues, “You want to make that call…?”    

“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, remembering the phone between your fingers. “I’ll let you know if Sana tells me anything.”

Without waiting for a hum of agreement, you turn on your heel and make your way deeper into the cemetery. You don’t know why you have this sudden need to get as far away from the group as possible, but something in your gut doesn’t sit well with what Changbin had said.

Who is Jackson…?

The name isn’t familiar, nor do you recall Mark ever mentioning a ‘Jackson’. But judging by the tone of both Changbin and Dahyun’s voices, this Jackson is, or was important to them—important to Mark. So why have you never heard about him…? From anyone…?

And why did Changbin say Mark is the reason why Jackson died…?

You don’t realize how far you have traveled until you reach the tall iron fence highlighting where the burial grounds cease. Youngjae and the werewolf pack are long behind you, and you can’t tell whether the relief that spills through your body is a good thing or a bad thing. After wiping the droplets from the screen of your phone, you prepare to do as tasked and phone Sana for whereabouts on Mina. But just as you are about to hit the call button, something else catches your attention.

A jet black, one-winged butterfly glides through the falling rain like a tiny plane. It flutters only mere inches from your nose, playfully beckoning you with its single, rigged appendage before traversing past the graveyard fence toward the ominous forest. You watch, transfixed, as it pauses just in the mouth of the wood… as if waiting for you to follow.

Against your better judgement, you tuck your phone into your pocket and walk closer to the barrier. You somehow manage to scale the slippery fence without fault before sprinting after the deformed butterfly, which flew into the trees as soon as your feet hit the ground outside the cemetery.

The rain is lighter underneath the cover of thick leaves and branches, but it is also much, much darker. It is especially difficult to spot the black insect amongst the gloom, but as if under a spell, you manage to do so. You’re not exactly sure how long you trailed the butterfly, nor do you have any idea where you are, but you can’t seem to care—not when a large, obscure cave comes into sight.

You pause, watching the butterfly drift toward the mysterious cavern, telling you this is where you’re supposed to be.

Way past the point of no return, you enter the pitch black of the cave. Your own steps and the pitter-patter of the rain echo in your ears as you tread deeper into the obscurity, shuffling your feet as to avoid tripping over any awaiting obstacle. You eventually decide to pull out your phone, cursing yourself for not doing so in the first place, and switch on the flashlight setting.

A loud yelp sounds from your throat when your beam of light reveals something that strikes both fear and relief in your heart. Not something… but someone.

Mark lays in a heap on the dry cavern floor. If it were anywhere else, he would seem as if he were sleeping soundly… but he’s in a dark cave. Unconscious and alone.

“Mark!…” You rush to kneel at his side, checking over his body for any possible injuries. You find none, so you attempt to shake him awake, “Mark! Get up!”

Mark doesn’t even stir at your touch.

“Freaking hell, Mark…” You shake your head with a heavy sigh, preparing to grab your phone and call Youngjae, but when you turn to the spot where you left it on the ground, the device is nowhere to be seen. Chills race through your bloodstream like a wave of ice.

“What… the fuck?…”

“I believe you’re looking for this…?” You immediately whirl around at the sudden voice, protectively standing in front of Mark’s incapacitated figure. More panic and dread fill your gut at the sight of a silhouette standing in the mouth of the cave, with what seems to be your phone within their hand.  

Trying to mask your fear, you call to the figure with a growl, “Who the fuck are you!? Don’t come any closer!…”

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” The more the stranger speaks, the more you swear you can recognize their voice. You keep on your toes as they approach closer and closer, until there’s only a couple feet separating your forms. It’s not until a light appears, right in the palm of the figure’s hand, do you finally match the voice to a face.

Mina smiles softly. “I’ve been waiting for you, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

He’s running. With no destination in mind. Lungs screaming for oxygen. But he can’t stop. No matter how the rocks and branches tear at his skin. Have to get away. Warm blood spills down his arms and feet. Have to get away before he finds him. Violet and crimson bruises stain his flesh like acid. Have to get away before he finds him and finishes the job. Running deeper and deeper into the black.

Fat droplets spill down his cheeks in scarlet trails. Of terror. Of pain. More tears blur his vision. Colors of all shades meld into one single glow. Every wildflower is grey. Every leaf is grey. Even his blood is grey. He cannot tell which one of four hands is his own. Fingers outstretched. Searching for answers. Searching for comfort.

What has he done to deserve this misery? What merciless deity has subjected him to such violent torment? What has he done to deserve each slap, each broken bone, each lick against his skin? What kind of unkind universe allows a young boy to suffer at the hands of his own father?

His ankle catches in the dip of a rabbit hole. More agony erupts through his veins. Body meeting the hard earth with a pound. It hurts. It HURTS. Sobs are long past uncontrolled now. Maybe he can cry himself an ocean. And drown in the currents of his own tears. His ankle throbs. There would be no more pain. No more suffering then.

A sharp rock would do the job. One stab to the throat and he’s out like a light. It would be so easy. So easy. The stone sears his palm like a handful of ice. Its surface even colder against his neck. His father can’t punish him in death. Can’t find him when he’s gone. He would be safe. Dead. And safe. He presses the point deeper into his skin.

Who would miss him? His mother? His sisters? The villagers of his town? Do they know he’s  gone past the territory border? Do they know he’s suffered the wrath of a thousand suns? Do they even care? Will they mourn him? Acknowledge him?… Celebrate his absence?

Echoes of a shrill groan bounce through the trees. His grasp loosens. Blood pools into his collarbones as the rock tumbles back to the earth. Trembling legs bear his weight. Ankle still throbbing. He takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. His hands shake like a helpless rose in a violent windstorm.

There’s someone else in the woods. It’s another boy. Strewn among a bed of dead leaves. Laid within a puddle of his own blood and sweat. Mud clings to every available patch of skin. Like a shadow of nature. Thick pus oozes from his thorn-bounded wrists. He can’t see his face. But he knows the scent of pain.

“Help me, please.” He can’t tell if the voice is the boy’s or his own. Or maybe he’s finally lost his mind. Overthrown by the claws of insanity. Maybe death will come for him now. Bruised. Cracked. Broken. Like a piece of useless trash no one desires. Take him. End his pain now.

“Jinyoung…” The voice is clearer now. Adamant. Death has come. Sweet and merciful. Arms up toward the heavens. Fingers outstretched. Searching for comfort. Searching for relief. Something warm cradles his hand. Tears and blood mix along the canvas of his body. Another call of his name. Distorted. But real. Loving.

“You need to drink this…” Something cold presses against his lips. A sigh escapes. Death really has been his true friend all along. Sweet liquid invades his taste buds. Swallows the thickness like a greedy child. Thank you. Thank you so much.

When Jinyoung opens his eyes, the blurred forest is gone, as is the pain. He searches the dark room for the bearer of his fate, wanting to verbally express his appreciation and pledge his loyalty. However, the face that appears in his vision is neither spiritual nor resemblance of the grim reaper—it is the wounded boy from the forest. Now a man.

“I’m here, brother…” His murmur is faint against Jinyoung’s ears. Soft. His eyelids begin to droop, the same darkness, yet more tame and kind, overtaking the forefront of his mind. He can’t fight it off. Not this time.

The voice continues to lull him, calm him, as Jinyoung slips back into a dreamless sleep.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“If you’re gonna kill me, then just get it over with.” You hiss, keeping alert as Mina proceeds to pace around the wide, dim cavern. Never before have you felt such anger, such hatred toward another human being, except at this very moment. “Stop playing around like this is some fucking game. I want nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N). That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Yeah? Is that the same thing you told Nayeon before you murdered her?”

Mina’s sigh is neither one of frustration or annoyance. In fact, if you knew any better, you would have thought the sound to be something close to exhaustion.

Your shoulder tense as the witch approaches, maneuvering yourself to shield Mark who lays behind you. Still asleep. Noticing your protective stance, Mina backs off with another sigh and runs a trembling hand across her sweaty forehead.

She murmurs softly, “We weren’t always killers, you know? Momo and I—we used to be innocent… and good.”

For a moment, you merely gape at the witch, unable to conjure up a proper response. Mina ignores your silence, either uncaring or unknowing, and takes a seat across from your frozen form. Still a good amount of distance away. Her eyes glance toward Mark’s unconscious body before turning back to you with a blank expression.

“He’s alright. I put him under a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this?” Your strict, yet inquisitive tone pulls a grimace across her face.

“I knew if I took Mark, I would be able to get you alone… to talk.”  

“Why?”

Mina doesn’t answer your question and proceeds to stare off into space. “You know, I was in the foster system for years, always dreaming about the day I would finally quit bouncing from one home to the next.

“I was fourteen when I was adopted, and also when I met Momo.” The weak smile that forms across her lips stirs something inside your gut. “I had always wanted a sister, loving parents, and a home to call my own, which I finally had… It was the best feeling in the world.” She pauses to release a breathy chuckle, “It’s funny—what I would give to go back in time and feel like that again…”

You bite your lip. “What… What happened to them?”

“Our parents were killed by our town’s witch coven in a ritual gone wrong.” Mina whispers, tilting her head and fluttering her eyes closed. A single teardrop escapes her lid, dripping sadness down her flushed cheek. “It was an accident, but the damage had already been done…

“Once Momo found out about her hunter-roots, she became different—vengeful. She slaughtered those witches without so much as batting an eyelash, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to kill again and again and again. ”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Because I couldn’t.” She shakes her head, another droplet trailing down her skin. “After our parents died, she was just so—so heartbroken. I could barely get her out of bed in the mornings, much less make her eat or go out or anything…” You watch sullenly as Mina wipes her eyes before shrugging, “It was like her soul died with them, and the sister I knew and loved was a shell of who she once was.”

You release a sigh of your own. “Until she killed those witches.”

“I convinced myself that it was fair—their lives for our parents. And every other life she—we took, I tried to make up some sort of excuse that it was justified…

“But it became too much.” She says, “After Nayeon, I knew I couldn’t handle anymore death. Not even for Momo.”

Your eyes widen when you realize the shadows along her face are not shadows at all, but her veins gradually appearing in the forms of inky, spider-webbed lines. When she lifts her gaze back to your own, her pupils are dilated to slits and rimmed with jet black irises.

“I knew Momo could never stop killing, so I used every bit of my magic to strip her of her strength long enough to allow the wolf pack to do what should have been done a long, long time ago.”

“Your face… It’s—”

“Dark magic is a funny thing, (Y/N).” Mina laughs sarcastically, tracing the black veins along the back of her hand with the tip of her finger. “The power itself feels so good, like a high that never comes down, but like every drug, you don’t realize it’s killing you until it’s too late.”

Holding back tears, you shake your head. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you deserve to know what this world does to you.” Mina answers, crawling closer to reach for your hands. You don’t flinch at her abnormally cold touch, nor do you make any fight to pull away.

The witch stares directly into your eyes. “Knowing about the supernatural comes with a price. Your values, your morals—everything you know will be tested at every possible moment, and piece by piece, your soul will chip away to nothing.

“I could sense your humanity the very first time we met.” With a black-lined finger, Mina caresses a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen until then. “You’re different from other mortals… If you go down this path of darkness, then it will destroy you, (Y/N).”

“I don’t understand…” You sob, attempting to cling to Mina’s hands as she begins to pull away.

“You will. One day.” With given effort, she eventually peels herself away from your grasp and retires back to her lonely place in the shadows. She retracts something from the pocket of her jeans, but you can’t make out much through the darkness. Only the gleam of something sharp. Mina offers a weak smile— her lips as black as night.

“I hope you live a long, happy life, (Y/N). Without any of this.”

You watch in horror as the witch lifts a small pocket-knife right beneath her jaw and slices across her throat. Dark blood immediately spurts from the wound and paints her skin and the cavern floor red. Mina’s eyes keep to yours as she garbles and chokes, before the irises themselves grow white and her figure collapses to the ground. She squirms and spasms for a moment or two, then falls uncomfortably silent. Completely still.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach like a tidal wave, and you have to force yourself to look away from the vulgar scene before you vomit. Even then, the sight of the knife dragging across her windpipe and her strangled noises remain at the base of your thoughts. You’re sobbing uncontrollably, you quickly realize, gasping for air and shaking like a madwoman.

“(Y/N)?…”

The husky call awakens you from the beginnings of the anxiety attack. When you peer down, Mark’s eyes are hooded and bleary, but open and alert. He forces himself upright with a pained groan, rubbing at his likely sore shoulders before glancing around the cavern with visible confusions strewn along his features. His gaze immediately stops at the sight behind you, the confusion ebbing to terror, then sympathy.

Mark’s expression is absolutely heartbroken as he returns his focus back to you. “Oh my—(Y/N), I’m so, so sorry…” You practically throw yourself into his awaiting arms with a loud wail, curling into his body like a small child. He holds you tightly, his embrace warm and safe, while murmuring soft assurances into your ear.

“She just—just k-killed herself!.. I couldn’t-couldn’t do any-anything—!”

“Shhh…” Mark cradles the back of your head in his palm, caressing light circles into your scalp with his thumb.  “Just don’t think about that right now, okay? Focus on something else—keep talking to me.”

You sharply breathe through your nose, inhaling the various elements of Mark’s scent. Rainwater. Earthiness. His sweet cologne. A gentle hint of lingering bourbon. As you count, the panic in your chest begins to die down… but the trepidation remains.

Your tone is soft, calm when you finally speak again. “Who’s Jackson…?”

Mark’s body deeply tenses underneath your own, his hand freezing its movements upon your head. He pushes you backward to peer at your face, wide-eyed and somewhat frenzied, before humming darkly, “Where did you hear that name?”

“I met the wolf pack earlier and Changbin mentioned a Jackson.” You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I just never remembered you mentioning him and you told me to talk, so I just figured—”

“Hey…” Mark silences your rant with a finger to your lips. “Don’t apologize, okay? Jackson was… my best friend.”

“Was?”

Your companion hesitates. You can see the cogs violently turning in his brain, but before you can tell him to just abandon the subject entirely, he answers:

“He died almost four years ago.”

“Oh, Mark…” You don’t waste a second to wind your arms back around his shoulders, pulling his head tight against your chest. His form trembles beneath your touch, but like a starved man, Mark greedily surrenders to your embrace.

As you’re comforting your best friend, another dreadful thought enters your mind—almost as bad as the repetitive memory of the scenes that occurred just moments before: Mina is dead, and so is Momo.

What will you tell Sana…?

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I don’t know what we could ever do to repay you guys.” Mark shakes his head, glancing between the circle of wolves with an incredulous expression. Behind him, Youngjae and Jisung both nod in agreement while Lia offers a grateful smile. Chan responds with a grin of his own before moving forward to place a careful hand on Mark’s shoulder.

The Alpha hums, “We protect our own. No payback required.”

“Plus the huntress didn’t even put up a fun fight.” Dahyun snickers, joining Chan in wrapping a tight arm around Mark’s waist. He pats her head as she nuzzles into his chest, releasing an amused chuckle into the torn fabric of his shirt. “Good thing we weren’t in our wolf forms, or we would have literally ripped her to shreds!”

“Dahyun, please.” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, earning another laugh from his sister. The she wolf leans upward to press a kiss to Mark’s cheek and whisper a farewell before exiting the mausoleum to join the other waiting members of the pack outside. Chan follows Dahyun soon afterward, leaving only Yugyeom alone with the witch coven.

Mark sends the wolf a soft glance. “I owe you my life, Gyeom. Thank you.”

“Like Chan said, hyung, we protect our own.” Yugyeom waves off his thanks, though Mark can visibly see the younger male attempting to hold back a smile. “Whether you like it or not, you’ll always have a place with us. Jackson-hyung made sure of that.”

At the mention of his passed friend, Mark is reminded of his conversation with you inside the cavern. For some reason, the mere mention of the name does not strike the usual despair it has in the past. It actually feels good to hear it, he realizes. Maybe he should try saying it himself more often.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay? We still play beer pong every Friday at the cabin.”

“I was always pretty good at bp.” Mark chuckles at the memory, “You and Bam are always the first ones to get shit-faced though.”

“It’s not my fault Bam literally has no skill.”

The head witch tilts his head. “Kind of is… You do pick him as your teammate every game.”

“Not the point.” Yugyeom sends Mark a playful glare while shrugging on his brown leather jacket. Mark follows the youngster to the door, pausing when he directs his goodbyes to the other members of the coven. Once he’s finished, Yugyeom meets Mark’s gaze with a silent sigh before pulling the witch into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you, hyung.”

“Me too, Gyeom.” Mark confesses, breathing in Yugyeom’s familiar woodsy scent. The fragrance brings back even more pleasant memories that act to warm his heart. He gives the wolf one final squeeze before pushing him away with some reluctance and gestures toward the door. “Better go before Dubu lands herself in a fist fight with Changbin.”

“Don’t even get me started on those two.” Laughing at the expression of pure annoyance across his face, Mark watches as Yugyeom bids him one final farewell and takes off into the pouring rain. In the distance, Mark swears he can hear Dahyun’s headstrong voice telling Chan off for something. The knowledge widens his smile.

But his rush of jubilation is only temporary for Lia’s shrill scold yanks him back to reality:

“—almost got us killed, asshole! What don’t you understand about that!?”

“How was I supposed to fucking know that it was a set-up!?” Minho hisses at the female witch, rising from his perch at the small dining table to enter the disorganized circle of conversation. “You guys made it very clear that my input in everything was useless—”

“Now that’s just bullshit.” Mark interrupts the younger witch, “You were the one who stormed off and have been M.I.A. for the past however many days. The fact that you’re trying to assign blame is fucking stupid.”

Minho scoffs., pointing to Lia.  “And what the hell is she doing then!? This is what I mean when I say you take sides—when everyone takes sides! None of you ever take me seriously!”

“How can we when you go out and do stupid shit like this?” Lia growls.

“We’re alive, and the people who killed Nayeon are dead.” Youngjae cuts in, stepping in between the seething pair with a shake of his head. “There’s no reason to fight, okay? We should be celebrating and—”

“I have no desire to celebrate a goddamn thing.”

Mark rolls his eyes as Minho begins to gather his belongings, pushing past Lia with a little more force than what is necessary.

Like Mark, Lia also rolls her eyes. “Gonna run away again and live off the radar for another week or so?”

“Fuck you.”

“Enough!” Mark nearly yells, his mood now at rock bottom. He sends Lia a stern expression, as well as one to a silent Jisung, before pointing toward the door. “It’s been a long day, and we all need some time to process. Go home and sleep on it, alright?”

Lia doesn’t say a word. She only grabs her bag, storms past Mark and Youngjae, and disappears into the storm outside. Close behind, Jisung takes the time to pull on his raincoat and murmur a hushed goodbye, before following in the female witch’s footsteps. Minho goes to leave as well, but before he can make it past the doorway, Mark blocks his path.

The former addresses him in a hiss, “What the fuck now?”

“We need to talk—”

“No, we don’t. Cause I’m done.”  

Mark raises an eyebrow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I want nothing to do with you fuckers anymore.” Minho seethes with the most piercing glare Mark has ever seen, “Consider me self-exiled.”

Mark has more to say, but Minho literally shoves his way out the door. For a second, Mark debates on whether or not he should run after the witch, and convince him to reconsider his decision. But he decides against it. Minho needs time. And so does Mark.

“She used what is called the Sleeping Beauty spell to put you in a coma.” Mark tears his gaze away from Minho’s retreating silhouette and faces his remaining company. Somewhere in the midst of his confrontation with the younger witches, Youngjae had retreated to the lectern and flipped through an Encyclopedia of Spells.

Mark approaches the siphoner as he continues, “She bound your consciousness to her life force. So only when she died, you could awaken.”

“Makes sense.” The head witch collapses onto the sofa with a loud sigh, “One minute I was watching Jinyoung take a bullet for me, and the next I was in that cave with (Y/N).”

A small moment of silence passes. Mark relishes the peace, propping his suddenly heavy head on the palm of his hand. The quiet, like his positive mood, doesn’t remain as Youngjae eventually breaks it:

“How was she? (Y/N)?”

Mark shrugs. “She was… traumatized. It was a lot for her.”

“But she’ll be okay? Right?” Youngjae joins Mark on the couch, tracing the patterns of the cushions with a worried expression. “You don’t think she’ll… leave Moon Dye?”

“I honestly don’t know, Youngjae.” The head witch offers the siphoner a lost glance, trying to ignore the obnoxious pounding inside his head. An aspirin and a nice, long fifteen hour sleep sounds like a dream in heaven. “I hope not.”

“Me too.”

The silence returns. Mark takes the time to flutter his eyes closed and lean his head back into the sofa. Exhaustion immediately overtakes his mind like a vice, ensnaring his physical body in the need to rest—which is kind of ironic, since he had been in a deep, deep sleep only hours prior.

“Hey, hyung?”

Mark hums, not bothering to open his eyes.

He hears Youngjae inhale a shaky breath before whispering, “I thought… I thought I lost you…”

At the siphoner’s pained tone, Mark immediately opens his eyes and turns to his companion. Youngjae refuses to meet his gaze, finding interest in the loose threads among the couch cushions. Mark doesn’t push him to do so, nor does he really need to. With a heavy heart and an even heavier headache, he merely murmurs to the siphoner:

“You won’t ever lose me, Youngjae… Not if I can help it.”  

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You’ve never exactly known what it’s like to live a stable life.

As a child, you were stuck in the foster care system since the day you were basically born, never having met the people who brought you into the world. No one ever told you the identity of your parents, not that you ever wanted to find out. Knowing your own mother left you, a newborn barely a day old, on the doorstep of a local church is enough to warrant your fair share of loathing toward the woman. Intense loathing.

You were never adopted, but once you hit sixteen, you filed for emancipation and set out for a life of your own. For the first couple years, you bounced back and forth between cities, taking up job opportunities as they came and working toward good enough grades in order to eventually qualify for an academic scholarship. You achieved just that, attended a university remote, and graduated with both your bachelors and masters. It wasn’t easy, but you did it. All on your own.

Moon Dye Bay was just supposed to be another temporary fix, then you met Mark that day in Poison Square, and for once you actually looked forward to staying in the mysterious, little town for longer than usual…

That was before you witnessed a woman slit her own throat.

So maybe after you and Mark parted ways in the cemetery, the thought of leaving town crossed your mind. In fact, you were more than ready to pack up your bags and make a beeline for the bus transit. However, the moment you entered your apartment to find Sana sobbing on the kitchen floor… your plans changed. Even more so when she told you that Jihyo had left in a panic after ranting and raving about tattoos and magic.

Jihyo is gone. Momo and Mina are dead. Sana is devastated.

Moon Dye Bay continues to see you for another day.

You inhale the final gulp of your tea before depositing the mug back on your nightstand and slipping underneath your bed covers. Today was the shittiest day you’ve ever experienced, which is saying a lot. All you wish to do is sleep everything away and deal with the emotional baggage tomorrow. Hopefully Mina’s foreboding words won’t follow you into your dreams.

With a sigh of relief, you lean back into the pillows and curl tighter underneath the weight of the blankets. You try to clear your thoughts as much as possible while rolling onto your side. Drowsiness immediately clouds your senses the moment you reach a comfortable position. Preparing to surrender to the darkness that calls, you move to close your eyes, but something catches your attention in the corner of your room.

You peer toward the area, unable to make out much through the thick shadows. Unfortunately, you know your brain won’t rest until you discover the source of movement. It’s probably just a trick of the moon, but just in case, you reach over to your nightstand and switch on the small reading light atop its surface.

It’s not a trick of the moon… because there’s a man standing in the corner of your room, staring straight at you.

Paralyzed with a blend of fear and shock, you’re unable to do anything but stare back at the stranger. His dark eyes widen to saucers after a long moment of silence, and even amongst the shadows, you can tell his expression is one of surprise.

“Can you… Can you see me?” His husky voice proves his bewilderment, but does little to settle yours. Instead, his strange question only sends more warning bells raging throughout your head.

You somehow find your words, but they come out in little above a squeak. “Who the hell are you!?…”

“My name is Jackson… and you’re the first person I’ve talked to in a long, long time…”

[amxwolf]

Here is why conventional healthful-thinking is not working on Millennials.

Have you ever had that terrifying dream where you are stuck in a dark forest or sketchy alley, frantically running for your life from some kind of feral monster or mad man? Most of us can personally recall at least once being roused from sleep in a cold sweat because their brain had spent the last few hours perfecting the latent image of a made-to-order nightmare. While that experience is certainly not exclusive to Millennials (rather quite the opposite), the waking reaction or at least how it is processed later by this roughly categorized group of mislabeled people is unique to say the least.

For years now, people in marketing have been fervently dissecting and attempting to recreate what has been loosely categorized as "Millennial Humor". And in all of their efforts to connect with this flock of black sheep, the grand majority of them seem to be missing a key factor in the psychology at work here. For all the unwarrantable bilge that modern advertising haphazardly cobbles together, only a small percentage of the nonsense is seasoned perfectly with the secret ingredient. What is this singular spice? Well, while indulgent to profess and speculative, from someone "sitting in millennial class”, it's obvious: A touch of salt.

Never will I sit here and cry to the general public about how unhappy I am that the modern advertising industry is just not scratching my itch for the wares it’s peddling, but I think it's important for us now to look at how this systemic lack of understanding is reaching beyond the world of subliminal profiteering. Society has other significant quality-of-life effecting systems that are also missing the mark when trying to aim and reach out to help this specific group of people. Puns aside, "a touch of salt" as I quipped, is flavoring the lives of a lot of people in their mid to late 20's and early 40's. And the most frustrating and difficult to reconcile attempts that I personally have made to better myself, have been those that were guided by people who just cannot seem to put their brain into that salty head space.

For example, trying to focus on and internalize a well-organized medical presentation about the encompassing negative effects of stress or insomnia and its seemly simple solution of just "changing your thinking", is about as easily digestible as a two-decade-year-old fruitcake for someone who is imprisoned daily by the symptoms of chronic stress. While I may sit there and give listening (ironically) "the old college try", the sound quickly turns to fuzzy white noise the deeper the lecture dives into positive thinking.

You see, Millennials are not generally fluent in positive thinking. More and more of them seem to be speaking a very distinctive dialect of realism, which incorporates a robustly cultivated sense of sarcasm and a somewhat grim shade of hopelessness. A lot of millennials grew up with a laughably poetic twist on "Growing Up" and "Being Successful", which in turn has colored their day-to-day interactions and created this defeatism-culture. Millennials will openly joke about their death as a needed release, their eulogy as a retirement card, or emotionally decompile themselves over something simple like saying "you too" in a situation that doesn't warrant it.

A good percentage of Millennials were old enough to understand the destructive consequences of the most recent housing market disaster on a very personal level; At an impressionable age, watching their own parents, who may have worked excruciatingly hard at the expense of any number of personal or family goals, lose just about everything resonated in a way that cannot be unheard. Then add the borderline criminal and unscrupulous "sheep-shearing" that became common place when the generation was herded off to college, trade school, or other form of career-building education. Not to mention the fact that upon completing said programs, a proverbial "step-in-the-right direction", a substantial number of these "hopeless wanderers" were faced with yet another barbed-wire hurdle when the job market in countless fields were oversaturated with potential employees. Many positions had not been vacated as they normally would have been with the age of retirement being stretched further and further down the road due to increased cost of living and financial demands; the finish line or lap marker was just not getting any closer. To add insult to injury, Millennials, sometimes unbelievably hardworking, are frequently being listed as perpetuators of the clashing reality we have today. This being what the modern media is calling "The Great Resignation"; a dubious combination of a labor shortage amidst an unemployment spike fueled by uncompetitive wages left unchecked, the government's inability to reel in the situation, and a general devaluing of laborers overall.

Oh. And also, we were killing the diamond industry at the same time. Or was it simultaneously the marriage and divorce industry? Wait! I think it was cinema? Or no....maybe it was fabric softener. For a complete dissertation of all the things Millennials brutally murdered over the last two decades, perhaps I'll include a link below if for no other reason to drive my point home.

You have this group of people who are conditioned to endlessly swimming upstream, against the current, with nothing but chastising and bitterness to listen to. So, when it comes to something universal like learning to "sleep better" or "problem solving", the indifferent but somehow time-honored approach of saying "it's as easy as just taking control" is over time if not immediately rejected as dissonant information.

These people don't feel like they have control; some of them feel like they never had any to begin with.

Why is this a problem?

Our society is not developing a taste for "salt" at a pace in which it can prepare social-sustenance for its population. We're not getting any younger, and neither are the generations in front of us.

Millennials are already, by some definitions the mass-population of workers, voters, and other titles that we've yet to embrace. And our lack of interest is not because we do not have a passion for positive change (even on a global scale). Millennials have voiced over time that they feel they are the silent majority amidst a group of people who will not give them breathing room and don't respect the validity of their opinions and ambitions. And it is by no means restricted to one region or country on this planet. This is a global phenomenon.

I could spin a vast yarn about the political ramifications of continuing to exclude the Millennials from the metaphoric Counsel of Elders, but I'm more concerned about the neglect that is spreading elsewhere. We need our leaders in the medical and social fields to really respect and dig deep into how to incorporate "Millennial Thinking" into their treatment and development plans. A large amount of the global population is going to need carefully tailored treatment for things as old as depression, bi-polar tendencies, or schizophrenia as well as newly discovered mental encumbrances like imposter-syndrome.

While “positive-thinking” may have been easily cultivated in the past, we may need to start from a more negative approach and build from there to educate and treat a group of down-on-their-luck millions. Pumping drugs into a populace is not going to permanently patch the leak either, so there truly is precedence for a rehashing of how we should prioritize mental health in modern society.

Stop spending so much time and energy assigning blame to modern technologies and social norms. Are these going away? No? In that case, those things are much like our other daily stresses that are unavoidable. Yes, you can change your nightly routine to de-stress the same way that you can change a job or a daily commute, but there needs to be a fundamental shift in accountability divvied to circumstances out of a person's control rather than scolding them for not being able to manage it.

Do I have all the answers? No.

But this was less about offering a solid a solution and more about opening a dialogue. A starting point.

So yeah. I've had that dream of being chased through the woods by a life-leeching alien. It felt very similar to being sucked dry of my pitiful wages for an education that was at the time, barely panning out. Even now, as a 32-year-old, slightly more successful version of the starving student I've become, I still feel as though my rat race will end when my heart gives out; and all I can hope for is enough money when I drop to cover the ambulance ride to the over-crowded emergency room and a large pit to rot in. But I just hope that the generation behind me has the benefit of a system that understands how to create and sustain “Millennial Inspired” social structures that will allow them to flourish in what little we can leave behind for them.

Also, could you pass the salt?

[stormtrprinstilettos]

“Do you have daddy issues?” - (Single Dad) Roger x Reader

Summary: Mr. Taylor hires you to babysit his two kids. (For argument’s sake, Reader is 18/19/20… whatever you want her to be, so she’s legal. If I don’t clarify this someone will have something to say.)

Series Masterlist Here

[A/N: I know. I’m a bitch. No smut this time, folks. Sometimes it just be that way. And y’all know the 300 rule - it’s still in play.]

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” you groan as you and Roger sit at a table in a quaint little restaurant preparing yourself for your parents’ arrival. They agreed to this dinner, albeit reluctantly. You aren’t too happy about it either, but Roger insists on it.

He pulls your hand to him and starts to laugh, gripping it tight. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“Trust me,” you snip. “I know you haven’t. This is going to end in complete disaster.” 

“You look stunning,” he smiles, rubbing your arm trying to calm you down. “I’m here with the prettiest…”

You don’t hear a single word he’s saying. You’re nervous. Worried. Angry. Already convinced that this is going to end terribly. “They’re bitter, angry, terrible people, Roger,” you say interrupting him as you push his hand away. “And they already hate you and they don’t even know you.”

“I wouldn’t like me either if I was…” He stops before he even finishes his statement and quickly starts another. “I’ve charmed bitter people before. I’m sure this won’t be a problem.”

Ten minutes later, ten minutes of you looking around and not saying a word, you finally break your silence. “Can we leave? They’re not coming. They would have been here by now.”

“We are not leaving. We’re going to at least enjoy a nice dinner whether they come or not.” You shoot him an annoyed look and he pushes his glass to you. “Have a drink…”

You shake your head no and push it back. “Water is fine.” He keeps talking but you’re not paying any attention to what he says, especially not now. You take a deep breath, sigh and adjust yourself in your seat. “They’re here.”

You’re not happy to see them. The feeling is mutual. “Hello,” your mom tautly says as she gets to the table, both parents don’t acknowledge Roger’s hand he’s holding out to greet them with. “What’s the emergency?”

“There is no emergency,” you seethe. “I just wanted to have dinner.”

The silence at the table is awkward. No one speaks until the waiter comes to take the order, and even then, no one seems happy to be there. No one knows what to even say. That is, until your father turns to Roger and shoots him a glare that could melt steel. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

You slam your hands on the table, ready for an argument. “Daddy…”

“No,” he yells, forgetting you’re in public. “I want to know what this grown man could possibly want with a girl like you.”

Roger clears his throat and keeps his tone calm. “With all due respect, sir, she is a grown…”

“She’s not grown. She can’t take care of herself,” you father snips.

“Please stop it,” your mother groans. “Y/N, I know that you’re enjoying your fun. I know this is exciting and it’s a new adventure, but you need to understand that…”

“No, you need to understand,” you fuss. “You need to understand that this isn’t just some…”

“Sex,” you dad says. “That’s what it is. Sex. That’s the only thing he could possibly want from you.”

“Look,” Roger says, trying not to yell, somehow managing to keep his composure. “You may not see her worth, but I do.”

“Excuse me? You don’t know how I see my daughter.”

Roger has lost the composure he was so desperately trying to keep, his face is starting to turn red with anger. “Clearly you don’t think she has much to offer since you think the only thing I can possibly want from her is sex.”

“Well it cant possibly be because you enjoy the conversation,” your father chuckles. “She can’t even keep herself focused enough to play a game of Gin.”

“You were right, Y/N. This isn’t worth it.” He grabs your arm and starts to stand up.

“Wait! Don’t leave,” your mother begs. “Sit. Please.” Tears are starting to puddle in her eyes and for once you start to see that this is more than just selfish reasonings she has for disapproving your relationship. “You need to understand why we are… not exactly happy about all of this.”

You want to reason with her. You try to reason with her. “My entire life up to this point has been lived to satisfy you. I’ve done things you wanted me to do. I’ve worn the clothes you wanted me to wear. I’ve dated people you wanted me to date.”

“So this is rebellion,” your father chuffs.

“No, Daddy. This isn’t rebellion.” You reach across the table and grab his hand. “This is me being happy. Roger makes me happy.” But no matter how hard you sit here and plead, his expression isn’t changing. “This dinner was his idea, so you know, and you’re not even giving him a chance.”

He pulls his hand away and turns his scowl back to Roger. “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Taylor. I’ve heard about you and your ways and you will not bring my daughter down that road. I did not raise my daughter to go flouncing around London with some…. drummer who is almost twice her age.”

Now you’ve had enough. “No, you raised me to be some prim and proper, boring flake like mother.”

Roger grabs your arm again, trying to calm you down. “Y/N, stop…”

“No, Roger. I’m tired of this. He can look down his damn nose at me all they want but I’m not going to let him sit here and talk about you like you’re a piece of trash.” You stand up and grab your purse. “Lets go.” Roger throws money on the table and steps away.

“Where are you going?” your mother whines.

“Have sex. Hot, steamy, raw sex. Since that’s all I’m good for.”

Dinner went exactly how you expected it to. They were never going to accept this, but you had to find a way for them to. They annoyed you, but all parents annoy their children in one way or another. You were about to embark on a whirlwind adventure and you needed them in your corner.

When you pulled up at the house and got out of the car, you slammed the door and walked inside. The girls were already in bed – and that was a good thing because they didn’t need to inadvertently be subjected to your mood.

“You better fuck me good,” you tell him when the babysitter leaves. You asked him to bring you back to your flat and he refused. He didn’t want to leave you alone. Not like this.

He starts to laugh. “Can we maybe get settled in first?”

“No.” You’re not finding any of this funny and his obvious amusement is only causing you more annoyance.

He tries to pull you into a hug, but you push him away. “You need to calm down.” He’s trying to be patient with you, but you’re making it difficult.

“I will. After you fuck me.”

“You’re not getting any tonight,” he smirks.

“Why?”

“Because I feel just a bit weird thinking about how you want me to fuck you because your father pissed you off.” He gives you a sympathetic, sarcastic laugh and pats you on top of your head. “Do you have daddy issues, Y/N?” he jokes.

“You’re the only daddy I’m having an issue with right now,” you groan and push his hand away.

You walk into the kitchen and grab a glass out of the cabinet. You lean over the sink, taking deep breaths as you get some water. He brings over a bottle of wine and starts to open it. “I don’t want wine. I have water.”

He pulls you into a hug and you start to cry, unable to keep everything bottled up any longer. You’re angry. You’re upset. You’re worried. Everything has become so overwhelming. “Go soak in the tub, relax, and we’ll talk about everything, alright?” He kisses you on top of your head and holds you tighter. “We’ll get through whatever we have to get through together. I promise.” You squeeze him tighter and he doesn’t let you go. Everything you’re feeling is so much more than just about your parents now. You’re excited about the future, but you’re also petrified. And you don’t know how to tell him about any of it.

You did what he suggested. You soaked in the tub and relaxed. Well, as much as you could. Your mind wouldn’t turn off, and it wasn’t going to turn off until you talked to Roger. You need to talk to him and you need his reassurance that everything is going to be okay. When you walk back in the bedroom, he’s laying on the bed watching tv, hands behind his head, almost sleeping. You crawl next to him and snuggle up to him. “I’m sorry for bringing all of this ridiculous drama to your life.”

He pulls you closer and turns off the television. “It’s worth it.”

He doesn’t understand what you’re trying to tell him… because you’re not telling him what you need to say. “The drama is only going to get worse.”

“It’s worth it,” he sleepily grumbles. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s been a hard night.”

Liv told you she wanted her hair big this evening, so you walked out of their bedroom to grab the hairspray. These are the times you enjoyed the most you think – just you and the girls, giggling and answering their crazy questions that always seem to come out of nowhere. You’ve been feeling a lot more maternal with them lately, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“I wish she was as fun as Y/N,” you hear Birdie say before you get back in the room. “Maybe she can come with us!”

“That’s stupid,” you hear Liv say. “She needs to stay here with Daddy.”

You hurry back in the room so they stop talking about that. Their mother. It breaks your heart when you hear them say things like that. At first it only upset you to know that they felt somewhat of a disconnect with her, but as time goes on it upsets you not just for them, but for her, too.

“Y/N do you live here now?” Liv asks as you get her to sit at the vanity.

“I…” You don’t know how to answer this, just like you don’t know how to answer so many of their innocent, yet brutal, questions. “I am here a lot, huh?”

“We like you here. So does Daddy.”

“I like being here,” you smile.

“Are you Daddy’s girlfriend?” Birdie asks. “Emily says her daddy said you are.”

“I… uh…” Once again, you’re stumped. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Good.” They start to giggle and give each other sneaky grins, and you start to cringe because you know the next question is going to be a doozy.

“Are you getting married?” Birdie asks.

And just as expected, Liv pipes in with her opinion. “Princesses have to get married.”

“No,” you laugh. “We’re not getting married.”

“Why not?” they both ask at the same time.

“Because… There’s no reason to do that.” A distraction. They need a distraction. You need to divert their attention somewhere. “Do you two want to do my hair and makeup?” You thought that would do it. They were excited, and you sit on the floor and await your makeover.

You glance over to the door and see Roger leaning against the frame with a smile on his face, not saying a word. The girls don’t notice him – not at first, because they’re too occupied, not just with your hair and makeup, but more than likely trying to think of new questions to ask. Your eyes lock immediately and you stare at each other with soft smiles.

“Daddy loves you,” Birdie pipes up. “Do you love Daddy?”

“I do,” you whisper with a smile, still looking at Roger in the doorway.

“Daddy says he has to leave again for a little while,” Liv says, amazingly not bothered. “Are you staying with us?”

“Daddy! Get out!” Birdie yells when she notices him there and runs over to the door. “You can’t see her until we’re finished!” She pushes him back and slams the door. “Boys are so annoying,” she sighs as she rolls her eyes.

You wave her over and laugh. “Oh they’re not so bad. One day you might like them.”

“Wait until you see her, daddy. She’s really a princess!” Birdie exclaims as she runs down the stairs. You follow behind, looking absolutely ridiculous with your hair a complete mess and your makeup not much better

“Wow. Y/N,” he says, unable to find his words, trying not to laugh. “You look…”

“Like a princess,” Liv giggles.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Prettier than a plain old princess.”

“I think my hair is quite exquisite,” you grin.

“Who did your hair?”

“Liv did my hair. Birdie did my makeup.”

“Well I know I have the three prettiest girls in the world right here.” He tugs you close to him with a huge smile, a smile you’ve become so accustomed to seeing on his face. A smile you never want to be without.

“Can we eat dinner now?” the girls ask.

The four of you sit at the table and eat dinner in an unusual silence. Usually it’s an incessant chatter or a barrage of questions being fired off by the girls, but not tonight. And you don’t know why you’re suddenly so fucking emotional about all of it. These three – Roger and the girls – have brought you so much ridiculous joy over the past six months and you’ve never gotten emotional about it before.

That’s why when their mom comes to pick them up, you make sure you’re the one who rushes to the door, forgetting all about your ridiculous makeup and hair. All you want to do is distract yourself so you don’t start crying.

“Wow,” she laughs when you open the door. “Is this the new style?”

You pretend to be hurt. “You mean it’s not a good look on me?”

“Y/N? Can I speak to you? Please?” she asks as she motions to the living room. You step in, and she follows, and you take a deep breath, because you don’t have a clue what she wants to talk to you about. Her tone isn’t angry, just a slight hint of annoyance, and her expression is one of faux force. “You do know that I’m their mother, right? Those are my girls, not yours.”

“Then be there for them more. Not just when it’s convenient for you,” you snip before relaxing, sighing loudly and sitting down on the sofa, motioning for her to join you. “Look, they are amazing kids, and I know you love them. And they adore you. I’m not here to steal them from you.”

She knows that. She knows deep down that she shouldn’t be doing anything but thanking you for taking care of them, for being there for them when she couldn’t, or wouldn’t. “I stopped by last week and they were here with another sitter. Do you know how terrible that made me feel? That he couldn’t even trust me to take my own kids for the night?”

There is so much you want to tell her right now. You want to lash out. You want to yell at her, tell her if she was a bit more responsible, or a bit more present for the girls then Roger wouldn’t feel the need to call someone else for help. You want to tell her to be more responsible, to maybe put the girls above herself for once. But it’s not your place. She’s talking to you – so maybe she’ll listen to you. Maybe you can play mediator and try to fix whatever is broken. “Look, next weekend is some awards thing we’re going to. He already has someone to stay with them, but…”

“I’ll come get them Thursday,” she quickly interrupts with a huge smile.

“Don’t forget?” you smirk.

“No, no I won’t forget.” She grabs you into a big hug before pulling back, realizing that it a bit too much. “The girls adore you too, you know.” She grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you for being here for them, Y/N. I mean that.”

“I’m not trying to take your place with them.”

“I know.”

Feeling somewhat empowered right now, you take it upon yourself to share more of his plans with her. “He’s leaving for Munich in a few weeks.”

“Are you going with him?”

“He never asked. But if you need me to stay…”

“No. No. I’ll take time off of work. Or bring them with me. They may have fun.”

“They’d like that.”

Roger walks in, quite impressed with the dent you seem to have made. “Thursday, huh? I’ll call Kate and cancel.” The girls run in behind him and latch on to her legs. She turns around and mouths a silent “thank you” to you before Roger walks them out.

“What did you hear?” you ask him as he walks back in, a suspicious smile on his face. You’re not sure if he’s okay with everything you told her.

“All of it.” Before you can start to explain, he starts to laugh. “Maybe you can make sense to her. I’ve tried and nothing ever seems to stick.” He sits down next to you and lifts your legs to his lap. “So you’re coming to Munich?”

“You never asked.”

“I am now.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you grin. You lean your head back on the sofa and just look at him. Watch him surveying the room as he rests his hands on you, his thumb unconsciously rubbing your leg. Watching him as you wonder how in the hell you’re lucky enough for all of this. “Roger?”

“Hmm?” He turns his head and looks at you with a smile.

“I’m late.”

“Late for what?” You purse your lips and raise a brow before rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands. You hear him take a deep breath and whisper. “Oh… shit.”

PermaTags: @clogwearingspacepoodle @briansfatbottomgirl @culturefiendtrashqueen @jennyggggrrr @shutup-sorry @dontstopmemeow @letmelivetaylor @tommyleeownsme @ziggymay @drowseoftaylor @mariekuuuuuh @biscuit-barrel @givemequeen @rogmeddows @quirkydeaky @capsparrowtara @vousmemanqueez @vanitysfairr @langdonzvoid @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @thigh-your-mother-down @toomuchlove-willkillyou @lauravic @loveandbeloved29 @catch-a-deak @rogxrtaylxr @formylife-stillahead-pityme @michael-loves-chickens @fat-bottomed-babe @tenement-funstah @mydeakydoesme @onevision198091 @lokimercuri @delilahmay39 @amor-libre @brianssixpence @rogers-pink-sparkly-converse @shadycupcakefox @theatrefreakgirl @fflowerxchild @spacedust1124719 @amcquivey

RogahTags: @forbbidensunlust @maccameddows 

SeriesTags: @bohemiansweede @bismillahnah @caborhapch @rogahtaylahdrummah @c0smicdancer @killer--queenie @screamyrogerr @captainbuckyboobear @depressedpolishgirl @bismillahnah @woaholland @painkiller80 @capan-devereaux @juliarose21 @unofficialbillnye @cherries-n-rocknroll @leah-halliwell92 @stephydearestxo @rogershoe @shineedrmgrl @groovyhoundsoulbiscuit @loveinher-eyess @ellus986 @bellas2silly @benders-diamond-earring @crazy-little-thing-called-me

[lifeaftermeteor]

Private Island [location redacted] Fiji, South Pacific 17 August 211 

BANG!

Relena jumped out of her skin, half-asleep.  “Rise and shine!” Hilde cried as she burst into the room through the now-open door and jumped on the bed.

Relena groaned and collapsed back against her pillows.  She dared to glance at the bedside clock and groaned again.  “It’s three in the morning.  What the hell…?” 

“We’ve got places to go,” Sally answered as she came into view, Noin poking her head around the door jamb behind her.   

“Where—?” 

“It’s a surprise!” Hilde said. Sliding off the bed, she unceremoniously shucked the comforter off. “Come on!  Up!  Dressed!  Let’s go!”   

With great reluctance, Relena dragged herself out of bed and stumbled bleary-eyed into the attached bathroom to find a set of hiking clothes already set out and waiting. Dread slowly wrapped itself around her brain. A hike. Before dawn. Relena took a steadying breath and changed, muttering half-hearted curses to herself. 

When she emerged she found her de facto entourage in the kitchen.  Sally, Hilde, and Noin hovered over what looked like a map while her mother and Une stood nearby, filling water bottles at the sink and checking headlamps.  “We’re really going out this early?” Relena asked, stunned. 

“Only way to catch the sunrise,” Mareen told her. 

“Are you coming with us?” 

Her mother scoffed.  “Oh no. I’m heading back to bed. But you need to catch the sunrise.  Now off you go!” 

***** 

Whispers and stifled laughter alerted Wufei to the impending onslaught.  His skin itched as he allowed his assailants to draw in close, tiptoeing towards his bed. He kept his eyes shut, until he sensed a body hovering just over his head before giving himself away with a dangerous growl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Laughter met his warning and he opened his eyes to find Quatre standing over him, air horn at the ready.  Wufei’s eyes went wide even as Quatre tipped his head back and laughed, withdrawing several paces.   

“Ah damn, he’s awake already!” Duo hissed, standing toward the foot of the bed next to Trowa.   

“Can I still hit him with the horn?” Quatre asked. 

“You may absolutely not,” Wufei answered, sitting up in bed and pushing his back up against the headboard, almost defensively.  Quatre just laughed harder.  It was then that he registered Heero hovering by the door.  “Yuy, you encouraged this?” he asked, offended. 

“From a safe distance away yes,” Heero admitted. 

“From outside of the kill zone,” Trowa amended. 

“So he thinks,” Wufei answered, glaring at his once-roommate and turning his attention back to Quatre who had started sneaking in closer again. “Don’t.”  Quatre wilted, giggling. 

“Come on,” Duo said, clapping his hands before him. “Up and at ‘em.  We’ve got a lot to do today and a very strict schedule to do it in, lest we run you two lovebirds into each other.  Let’s get a move on!” 

***** 

The sun swept in over the horizon in bands of red and gold, burning away the violet twilight as the ocean shimmered beneath. A stunning sight from the highest point of their bit of land in the Pacific.  

They had spent the better part of the morning trekking through the pre-dawn forest, the hiking trail lit only by their headlamps. Still half-asleep, Relena had trudged up the side of the peak in the middle of their single-file line and had spent much of the walk wishing to go back to her warm bed.  

But when they had reached the peak and the overlook worn flat with time, Relena breathed deep and sighed even deeper. “Alright,” Relena admitted as the sun rose before them, “this was worth it.” 

“So worth it,” Hilde agreed. 

The crew set down their packs to simply watch the dawn in silence for a time, captivated. Once there was enough ambient light to see without the headlamps, however, Une unfolded a blanket and Noin opened her pack to withdraw the makings of breakfast.  Fruit and pastries and a thermos of coffee made the rounds among them while they laughed easily and stifled yawns. 

“This is fun,” Relena said, her eyes on the sky as it gave way to hints of the blue to come. 

“That’s the idea,” Noin said.  

Relena could hear the smile in her voice and it made her grin. 

***** 

Wufei’s morning had been spent weaving through the trees in parallel to the beach before turning up a path that led further inland as the early morning sky climbed higher in the sky. He and his group navigated the slick trail until it opened out onto a clearing before a waterfall and a pool that glistened as the sun crested the tree canopy. It was something out of a storybook, though Wufei would never say as much and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giving himself away. 

They had wasted no time removing their packs and clothes, dropping them unceremoniously at the edge of the water before jumping in for a swim. Before long they were goading one another to climb the waterfall.  Barton was the first and all but volunteered—repeatedly—for the honor, but others soon followed, including Wufei himself after a time.  

Refreshed and relaxed, they eventually returned to the shoreline and dried off, unpacking their supplies.  They made short work of their breakfasts, tossing playful barbs between each other as they ate. It had been a pleasant start to the day, and certainly not anything Wufei had expected when they left the plantation and its bungalows behind.  

Which made him suspicious. “I’m fairly convinced this is all a trick and the worst is yet to come,” Wufei said, eying Duo. 

“Ah, come on. Would I do that?” 

The four other men agreed unanimously: “Yes.”  The response only made Duo laugh. 

“You do have a bit of a sadistic streak,” Quatre added. 

Duo smirked.  “Speaking of…”  He pulled a piece of paper he’d sealed in plastic and checked the watch he had stashed in an outer pocket of his bag.  His grin turned devilish.  “This would be a great time to send a message to the fiancee.” 

Beside him, Heero groaned. 

***** 

“Incoming,” Sally declared with a wide grin.  

Relena looked down the line of her compatriots as they carefully made their way deeper into the forest from the rockier peaks. Up ahead she could see flashes of color between the heavy green leaves and someone darted up the trail toward them. As the runner closed in and rounded a corner, they found themselves face-to-face with none other than Heero Yuy. The man huffed as he reached them, cheeks red and skin glistening from the exertion.   

“Your boyfriends an asshole,” Une declared to him. 

“A sadistic asshole,” Noin added, sounding at least somewhat apologetic. 

“We were just discussing that, yes,” Heero told them between gasps.  He swallowed and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling it through pursed lips as he walked to Relena’s side.  When he spoke again, he seemed to have recovered.  “Message for you.” 

He passed her a glass bottle with a cork stopper. Inside were what looked like several sheets of loose leaf paper curled tightly around themselves and bound with a red ribbon. A pen rattled beside them.  Incredulous and endeared, Relena took the bottle and looked up at Heero, “Really?” 

Heero huffed a laugh. “Yes, really.”  He stepped back and withdrew a water bottle from his pack and took several large gulps. 

Relena meanwhile uncorked the bottle and shook out both the paper and the pen, untying the ribbon to see what her fiance had seen fit to send her. 

---

Rumor says your morning started much earlier than mine. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.  Try to send Heero back in one piece. 

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

---

Relena felt her cheeks warm and laughed softly, running her thumbs over the paper in her hands. How domestic and sweet, she thought. She bit her lip and considered her reply.  And then—“Hilde, drop your bag. I need to borrow your back so that my handwriting is at least somewhat legible.”  The request garnered some amused laughter from her cohort. Heero only secured his water bottle once more and started to stretch.   

---

I can assure you Heero arrived in one piece, but I take no responsibility for the state of his return.  

The group woke me at 3AM to go on a hike. I don’t plan on doing that again. The waking up before dawn piece, I mean. The hike we should do again together, once they’ve all gone. 

I don’t know where you are or where we’re going next, but if the start of the day is any indication I think I’ll sleep well tonight.

Maybe that’s part of their plan...

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

R

--

Satisfied, Relena twisted the pen shut and recurled the pages, binding them once in their red ribbon before dropping both items into the bottle. She tapped the cork into place and passed the bottle to Heero.  

He took it with a nod and turned to walk back down the hill from which he’d come. “You know where you’re going?” Noin asked as he passed. Heero gave her a half-hearted salute before breaking out into a steady run, his feet pounding the soft earth beneath him. And then he was gone, lost to the forest. 

***** 

Wufei and the rest of his escorts burst out of the cover of the forest canopy and into the midday sun on the beach. Far away from the plantation, they meandered along the beach. Low tide had left rocky outcroppings exposed and crabs scuttled across swaths of sand.  

Eventually, they reached one such outcropping that was larger than the rest and tucked up against a cliff face. Only when they reached it did Wufei realize they were staring at the mouth of a natural grotto, exposed only due to their good timing. Safely tucked away from the blistering heat, but close enough to the waterline that the shallow cave smelled like sea salt...but not oppressively so. It smelled ancient and alive. Rich. 

As the rest of the group stepped inside, chatting excitedly about the lucky find, Wufei cast his eyes to Duo. He found him watching him closely, as if waiting for a reaction. Wufei smiled; Duo winked. And then they both stepped inside the grotto.  

They spent their lunch tucked away in the cave, trading food and stories and making friends with the small sea creatures that had joined them in the cave. From the mouth of the cave they watched the waves, so far away but near enough to spot the gulls and—Wufei suspected—a few dolphins. 

As the sun dipped toward the west and the tide started to creep back up the beach in lazy waves, they ducked out of the grotto and headed down the beach once more.  But as they walked, they spied a lone figure running in their direction.  “Looks like Wufei has mail,” Quatre observed. 

The group met Sally en route, to her apparent relief. “Oh good, you’re still here!” Sally sighed, her cheeks puffing with her hard exhale.  “I was afraid I’d miss you.”  She slowed to a walk and passed the glass bottle to Wufei. “Message delivery.” 

Wufei plucked it from her fingers and opened the bottle as the others gathered together off to the side so as not to intrude. He flipped through the pages to find Relena’s new note. 

---

I’m told I’m allowed to tell you that the waterfall was beautiful, which means you’ve already been here! Who was the first to jump from the top? I have to assume it was Trowa. Hilde was our first but you would be proud: I was our second! 

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

R

---

Wufei chuckled. “She went off the waterfall?” he asked. 

Sally smiled.  “Seconds after Hilde. Seconds. She was right at her heels.” 

It was hardly a surprise, Wufei knew. Relena was as fearless or as crazy as the rest of them. Perhaps she was both: crazy and fearless. She was marrying him, after all.  That gave him something to work with.   

Twisting the pen between his fingers he asked Sally, “Do you mind.”  She nodded—clearly this was not the first time she’d served as a writing desk—and flattened her shoulders as he pressed the paper down and started to write.

--- 

Nicely done on the waterfall. It took more…“cajoling” they’d call it to get me to do the same. Not sure where we’re off to next.

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

PS: I could have deployed some horrible play on ‘taking the plunge’ or a ‘leap of faith,’ but I shall refrain.

***** 

After all the trekking through the dense tropical foliage all day, Relena was happy to see the beach and its white sand. She threw her arms to the side and closed her eyes, content to let the cool sea breeze hit her cheeks and flow through her hair. It had been a wonderful day. And ending it here, out in the open with the waves crashing and the sand sun-warmed beneath them was perfect.  Just what she needed.  

“We’ve still got some sunlight left,” Noin informed the group, checking her watch.  “If anyone cares for a swim, recommend we do so now before sunset.”  

Relena never stripped so fast.  Laughter chased her to the water, the others not far behind her as the group of them jumped into the crystal clear surf.   

Before too long however, Hilde pointed back to the beach.  “You’ve got mail, Relena!” 

Relena groaned and would have been happy to make Heero wait if it didn’t mean taking him away from his own bit of fun. “He has the worst timing,” she muttered, silently cursing her fiance. 

“I think that depends on what he wrote.”   

She begrudgingly had to give them that. It did depend. And every message in a bottle that Relena had gotten throughout the day had made her heart lighter, her smiles brighter. With a final dramatic sigh, she drudged out of the surf and back up the beach to greet Heero at their piles of clothes. 

“Sorry,” he said, as she took the bottle from his hand.  

Relena gave him a dry laugh and shook her head. “It’s fine. How are your legs holding up.”  

“Fine.”  

“Don’t tell Duo that.”   

Heero considered this and paled.  “It...it may be too late for that.” 

Relena laughed as she uncorked the bottle. “Best of luck to you then.” Sliding out the sheets of notes, she unspooled them all and read the latest.

---

Do you remember Iceland, and all the walking we did? I think I’m having flashbacks. My feet hurt so much. I would kill Duo if we didn’t need him tomorrow. 

More importantly, I think I want to go back to Iceland. Or go elsewhere really. I haven’t seen enough of the world, and I definitely haven’t seen it with you.  Come with me?

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

---

Relena bit her lip and felt her cheeks burn. “Good one?” Heero asked her, and when she looked up, she caught the knowing smile that graced his lips.  He turned then, offering his back without being asked. 

Recovering, she laughed. “Clearly a common request?” 

“Today at least.” 

Relena pressed the paper flat against his shoulders and wrote her reply.  

---

I do remember Iceland. And yes, I want to go back.I want to go everywhere with you. I can’t wait. 

Miss you. Love you. Excited for tomorrow.

R

PS: Don’t kill Duo. He’s the only legally certified minister on the island.

***** 

Wufei read the note in the middle of the trail and smiled to himself. Duo had been granted a stay of execution thanks to his fiancee and ESUN law, and he’d never know. He gnawed on his lip for a moment thinking of a reply. 

---

I think we’re ending the day on the summit, judging by the steady incline. I can only assume you spent your sunrise up there. I hope you had a wonderful day. 

Missed seeing you. 

Missed talking to you. 

Missed hearing you laugh.

I love you. Excited for tomorrow.

W

---

He slipped the paper and pen back into the bottle and handed it to Heero.  “Off you go.” 

Heero took the bottle but seemed numb and tragically disappointed. “But I just got here.” 

Wufei clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. “Are you seriously going to whine about it? The sooner you leave, the sooner you get back.”  

Their runner turned to Duo—clearly hoping for a reprieve—but Duo only returned a dark smile. “Off you go.” 

Heero glared at him. “You might be sleeping on the couch tonight,” he threatened while Quatre and Trowa snickered off on the sidelines. 

Duo made a dramatic show of his acceptance of this blow to their relationship status with a sigh and a shrug. “I’m willing to take one for the team.” 

Realizing he had already lost, Heero hung his head and turned to head back down the trail towards the beach.   

“Bye Heero,” Quatre said as the man passed. They didn’t hear Heero’s exact reply, but all four of them were confident it wouldn’t have been appropriate for polite company. 

***** 

Wine imbibed and dinner demolished, Relena and her half of the wedding party were delightfully buzzed as the light faded around them on the beach as laughter flowed freely between them. Relena tucked herself into Noin’s side, surrounded by what she imagined a sister’s love felt like. It made her heart warm and she closed her eyes for a moment to focus on the sound of the ocean, Noin’s heartbeat against her cheek, and the voices that danced around her.  

But then there was a tap at her shoulder and the group around her erupted into surprised elation. “Heero!”  

“Heero what are you doing here?” 

“They sent you out again?” 

“Want some wine?” 

Relena turned to indeed find Heero jogging their way, glass bottle in hand.  Pulling away from Noin’s embrace, she dusted off her hands and stood to meet Heero in the sand.  “They’re making you work for it,” she said. 

“You could say that,” he sighed, passing her the bottle.   

Relena considered him.  “You’re going to help me get the final word, Heero. Come Hell or high water,” she said, determined, and uncorked the bottle. 

***** 

“Hey you made it!” Duo said, causing the rest of them to turn back.  

They found Heero making his way up the last couple meters of rock to the summit to join them. On trembling legs, he crossed the remaining distance to Wufei and handed off his precious cargo. “That is the last one,” Heero said, promptly sitting down and undoing the laces on his shoes. “I’m making an executive decision. You can suffer through until tomorrow.” He then collapsed backward with a tremendous sigh, spread-eagle, to the rest of their great amusement. 

While the others laughed, Duo walked over and tapped his beau’s hip with his toe. “And you were so worried about missing out on training for that marathon you want to do…”  Heero only groaned in reply. 

Stifling his laughter, Wufei opened the bottle and slid out their notes that had accumulated over the course of the day and rifled through to Relena’s final word of the evening.   

---

The wine my cohort brought out to the beach is having its intended effect I think.

I missed you today. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe there’s something to that...

I love you.

Good night. Sweet dreams. Till tomorrow.

R

---

Tomorrow.  It really was tomorrow.  Wufei pressed his lips into a thin line to keep them from trembling, suddenly overcome with emotion. They were getting married. Tomorrow.  

As he curled the pages up and slid them back into the bottle, he became aware of the pregnant silence around him. Looking up, he found himself the center of his friends’ undivided attention. “Yes?” 

To his horror, they all responded in unison, “Aw…” Even Yuy, who still lay prone in the middle of the summit.  

“Oh please,” Wufei said but then sniffed, which didn’t help his cause. The others only chuckled and approached from the sidelines. 

They shepherded him towards the edge, high over the tree canopy below and the group of them sat down together to watch the sun set. Together. The thought reverberated through Wufei and nearly made him shudder with its force. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, and the sky lit up in reds and violets, he chanced furtive glances at the men around him. Again that word: together. Wufei smiled and let his eyes drift to the sunset. “Thank you for being here,” he murmured.  “For all of this.”  Nothing more needed to be said.

[marshunter06]

“Didn’t I”- OneRepublic (Romanogers)

AN: Shout out to @lotsofloveish for pushing me to listen to this song giving me inspiration. Tbh this should probs be a multichap fic, but I suck at those. Maybe one day I’ll actually do it...

Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I love you?

Didn't we, didn't we, didn't we fly?

Know that I, know that I still care for you

But didn't we, didn't we say goodbye?

Steve brought back the soul stone last. He has hoped that doing so would immediately bring her back, but it didn’t. He waited even with Red Skull warning him it would not work. He should have been back to his reality, but he couldn’t face it without her. It wasn’t until Clint went looking for him on Voirmir with the same somber expression that gave him the strength to leave.

“I miss her too, but it’s time to go home. Nat would want you to go back.”

——

Natasha opens her eyes, wait, that shouldn’t be possible. She should be dead, she jumped off the cliff. She sits up, observing her surroundings, still in Voirmir and indeed at the bottom of the cliff. She gets up on her feet, the motion makes her muscle ache. It feels too real for someone who shouldn’t be alive. She doesn’t understand. One thing’s for sure, she wouldn’t be able to scale the cliff and get back up. Even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to get back. If she did somehow come back from the dead, no one would know, Clint would’ve taken the ship which leaves her stranded. There has to be another option… She still had the pym particle! It miraculously survived the fall, she could use it to go back to the original timeline as long as the rest of her equipment was still working. This was her only shot, she had to try it.

——

A month has passed since he returned the stones, earth is slowly readjusting to the blip. Things have somewhat gone back to normal. Still Steve is haunted by the loss of his one true love. He tries to busy himself, but then he’ll think he sees her at a coffee shop only to be let down when he can’t find her. He’s starting to lose his reality without Natasha to guide him. She’s always been the one to point him in the right direction, he’s lost without her.

——

It worked, but she was too late. Thanos has been defeated, and Tony had to pay his life to do so. They were supposed to bring everyone back with the stones, now Morgan will grow up without her father by her side. She may have missed the funeral, but nothing is stopping her from paying her respects now.

“Thought I would find you here.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I could say the same thing about you. How did you know I would be here?”

“Where else would you be if you were alive? You’re not that hard to figure out.”

“What do you want from me Yelena?”

“A chance for you to come back home. The rest of the world thinks you’re dead, it’s the perfect cover.”

“You really don’t know me if you think I would agree to that.”

“You can’t hide from your nature Natalia, we’re black widows, we’re meant to work in the shadows.”

“Not this one. I won’t go back.”

“Suit yourself, don’t blame me for what happens next.”

“The red room is gone, you don’t have anything over me anymore.”

“Whatever helps you sleep better at night sister.”

——

It started with just seeing her, but now six months later, he swears he hears her laugh. He was headed back to his place past a packed bar scene when he heard her. He nearly dropped his takeout. There were too many people around, he couldn’t tell where it came from. His mind must be playing tricks on him again, but the sound was so real. He could recognize her voice anywhere.

——

In the end, Natasha knew she couldn’t just let Yelena get away. They were her family first, even though they’re on the wrong side, besides keeping her close makes it easier to figure out her next move. Still she couldn’t stay away from her real home for long. She really has gone soft. She used to be able to go deep undercover for months even years at a time, now she can’t help yearning to be back at Steve’s side. Just one look she would tell herself, any longer than that and she would be found out. Once Hydra is taken care of, then she could go get that life they both talked about.

——

Steve never thought he would have to go without her, but a year later Natasha still wasn’t back. He visits her gravesite often wishing she would give him a sign that she hears him. He can’t fathom a life without her even though he knows she would have wanted him to get one. Either they move on together or not at all. No one could ever compare to her.

Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I love you?

Didn't we, didn't we, didn't we try?

Know that I, know that I still care for you

Tell me why good things have to die

——

A full year passes and Natasha isn’t close to stopping Hydra. Maybe she should ask for help, she knows Sam and Bucky have been following the tracks she’s left behind. She wonders why Steve isn’t with them, but she knows the answer. He’s exhausted and with no one to stop him from being so reckless, he’s a liability to the mission. Grieving both her and Tony’s death really took a toll on him. He hasn't been able to move on. Maybe she should let him know she’s alive, but it would jeopardize the little progress she’s made here. Yelena trusts her and she’s on the inside, she can’t risk this no matter how much she wants to.

——

When word got to Steve that Hydra was starting to thrive once more he knew he had to stop them. He was in no condition though, so when Sam and Bucky offered to go check things out he didn’t fight them. He finds himself doing what Natasha did during those five years before Thanos was finally turned to dust- running the newly built Avengers headquarter. He thinks back to their many long conversations at night when they’ve both had too much to drink. They made countless plans together for when they could find a way to reverse everything. He would take her to all the places he traveled to during the war and they would trade stories. She would take him back to her motherland and give him a glimpse into her past. They would stay up late, not because of a mission, but because they could finally relax and just enjoy being in each other’s company.

Never thought we'd ever have to go without

Take you over anybody else, hands down

We're the type of melody that don't fade out

Don't fade out, can't fade out

——

He never did get to say goodbye to her, and he still won’t. He doesn’t know why he keeps on holding onto the hope she’s alive. It’s almost as if he could feel that she was still with them, did Pepper think that about Tony?

“Hey Cap, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, sorry Sam, I spaced out.”

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“It’s what she would want. It’s been almost two years now. Besides this is her family we’re dealing with.”

“She told you about them?”

“Not entirely, but I know how much Yelena means to her.

——

“So we finally meet, Captain America.”

“You can still do the right thing Yelena. You don’t have to follow Hydra.”

“I’m not like my sister, we have different ideals.”

Before he could get another word out, an explosion interrupts them. He’s thrown backwards, he gets up almost immediately after the fall, but she’s disappeared in the smoke.

“Sam, Buck, are you both alright?”

“Fine. The explosion didn’t quite reach us, in coming Sam!”

“Little busy here Cap.”

“Take care of those guys, I’m going after her.”

He makes it out of the building fairly quickly, he sees a flash of black over on the right towards the field. He immediately follows it, she couldn’t have gotten far. He gets closer and sees that she has a mask on. He didn’t think she brought a friend, but it was obvious he wasn’t chasing Yelena. There was something familiar about this person though. He nearly catches up to her when another explosion sounds in the distance.

“Steve we’ve got more company. Sam and I are on the way to you.”

He narrowly dodges a grenade Yelena throws at him. He throws his shield at her in return knocking her down. Instead of focusing on Steve, she shouts at the other widow he was chasing.

“Get out of here now!”

The masked widow runs off while Yelena gets up. Steve picks up his shield deciding not to run after the other person.

“You’re not getting away from me this time.”

“Watch me.”

She strikes first, knowing he would block it. He strikes back, but she moves out of the way. Neither of them noticed until it was too late, a widow bite shot out hitting Yelena. On the other end of it was the same person she told to run away.

“Who are you?”

She doesn’t answer him, instead she gestures for him to look behind him, another explosion ensures. It knocks all three of them back. Steve recovers first he looks for the two widows, he sees the ripped mask first then he sees her.

“Nat?”

“I’m sorry Steve.”

Smoke surrounds them in an instant. By the time it fades they’re both gone. She’s gone. Again.

We had our moments, didn't we? (Oh)

So much that we will never be (Oh)

[animetrashlord-007]

Timeout! Summer Proposal

Word Count;; 1.8k

Genre;; Smut

Pairing;; Kuroo x Akaashi

Published;; 2017-07-28

My Masterlist

KurooAka Weekend Masterpost

[Part 1]

[Part 3]

   Kuroo gazed up at the clear blue sky. Remnants of clouds long since devoured by strong winds and overwhelming heat flittered by, becoming smaller and closer to obliteration with every passing moment. A light breeze blew through the meadow, sending ripples through the long grass. While the air was thick with humidity and raw heat beat down from the unforgiving sun, the shade offered from the numerous trees scattered along the edge of the field was enough to keep Kuroo cool. All in all, it was the perfect day to sit back and enjoy the gifts that summer brought. He began to doze off with a content smile on his face.

   Akaashi, however, didn't feel like relaxing. His nerves were fried and stress itched at the back of his mind every moment of every day. He was twenty-five now and his parents both expected him to wed within the next few years, as well as produce an heir. Just when Akaashi was willing to set aside his pride and enter a loveless marriage for the sake of his family’s name and honour, he had encountered a small problem; he had found someone he cared for. While this would have been perfect for anyone else, the person his heart grew fond of was a man. The one thing his father wanted was a grandchild, someone to pass on his legacy, and that was the one thing Kuroo couldn't provide.

   He had never meant for his relationship with Kuroo to evolve beyond fuck buddies. In fact, it was meant to be a one night stand and yet here they were in the middle of a field canoodling. Akaashi sighed, flipping himself over to face his rugged boyfriend. Lifting his head to rest in his palm, he stared at the mysterious man. There was something about him that Akaashi couldn't resist, even though he knew their relationship would only end in disaster. Akaashi blamed that sly smirk that was always present on his lips.

   They had been seeing each other for a few years now. It had been on and off, their trysts often separated by the many months Kuroo spent at sea. Akaashi didn't mind spending time apart. He wasn't clingy and he didn't need to be around Kuroo twenty-four/seven in order to feel loved or to validate their feelings for each other. It just made the weeks they had together all the more meaningful. As such, Akaashi found himself zoning out as he gazed at his boyfriend. Moments like these felt eternal and he was grateful for the silence, though it never lasted long.

   “So how does your father feel about you dating someone as amazing as myself?” Kuroo asked, opening one hazel eye.

   “First of all, we are not dating. Secondly, you are not amazing. Third, he would despise you for many reasons.”

   “Aw, thanks sugar plum,” Kuroo laughed, the action soon turning into a yawn.

   “Get up.”

   “Why?”

   “I have to attend the Royal Ball tonight so I can't babysit you while you take a nap in the middle of nowhere,” Akaashi said as he stood, brushing the grass off his pants and straightening his clothes.

   Kuroo pouted, “Just stay here with me instead. I'll make it worth your while.”

   “I can't, I've brushed off too many events already. They'll get suspicious.” Akaashi groaned, rubbing his temples as he shuddered, “They may even think I have a whore, though that isn't far from the truth.”

   “I'll be your whore, Keiji,” Kuroo purred. Lifting himself to his knees, he inched forward until he trapped Akaashi between his chest and a large tree trunk. Kuroo licked his lips, his signature smirk gracing his features as he began to unbuckle Akaashi’s pants. Pulling both his pants and underwear down together, Kuroo wrapped his hands around Akaashi’s length. Blowing on his tip and stroking his shaft in one hand while the other caressed his balls, Kuroo grinned at how fast Akaashi hardened. He continued to tease the slender male, licking from the hilt to the tip and leaving chaste kisses along the shaft.

   “We don't have all day, start sucking already,” Akaashi growled, his fingers entangling within Kuroo’s bedhair.

   “So impatient, m’lord.”

   Kuroo obeyed the command, however, taking Akaashi’s entire length within his mouth and earning a groan from the now quivering man. He swirled his tongue around his shaft as he bobbed his head up and down. One of Kuroo’s hands moved behind Akaashi, pinching his tight ass before pulling him forward. Akaashi choked out a groan as Kuroo deepthroated him. Saliva dripped down from the corner of his mouth when he released Akaashi from his lips with a wet pop. Running circles around his slit with his thumb, Kuroo placed kisses down his length until he reached the base and his balls. Grabbing them with his spare hand, he gave them a light squeeze before sucking one of them into his mouth. The pleasure sent a jolt throughout Akaashi’s body and he thrusted forward, knocking Kuroo back onto his ass.

   Wiping his face with the back of his hand, Kuroo snorted, “You're always too eager.”

   “Finish what you've started,” Akaashi snapped, pointing down at his cock as it leaked precum.

   “As you wish, m’lord, just try not to knock me out this time.”

   Kuroo licked, nipped, and sucked all the right places at the right times. He stroked his erection, leaving love bites on Akaashi’s thighs to get him back into the zone. Making his way back to his cock, he used his hand on the bottom half and took the rest in his mouth. When he grew bored of that, he began to massage his ass before deepthroating Akaashi once more. The stimulation made Akaashi a moaning mess.

   With one hand on his shoulder to steady himself, Akaashi entangled his free hand within Kuroo’s hair. Holding Kuroo in place, he bucked his hips and fucked his face until he reached his peak. Using all of his remaining energy, he waited until he was finished cumming before collapsing into Kuroo’s awaiting arms.

   “Would you like me to carry you home, m’lord?”

   “I’m not a child!”

   “You sure act like it sometimes.”

   “Just shut up and let's go. We have a ball to attend.”

   After fixing their attire, Kuroo carried Akaashi to the gates of his home on top of the hill that overlooked the entire capital. To call it a house would be a gross understatement, as would the use of the word ‘mansion’. His home was in fact the royal castle and it housed hundreds of people. The only ones being worthy of note, of course, were the royal family. Akaashi’s family, to be precise. Kuroo only learned of his royal lineage as the heir to the throne after a year of secret hookups. It was at this point that Kuroo felt more comfortable informing him of his own somewhat shady career. To his surprise, Akaashi didn't care.

   Standing on his own two feet, Akaashi ushered him past the guards and onto the property. Guests were already filing in and the sound of laughter and chatter could be heard from every direction. They took a back entrance to avoid any unwanted conversation. Akaashi made a snide remark about how out of place Kuroo looked, which sparked a series of lighthearted jabs between the two until they reached Akaashi’s room. They each threw on a new set of clothes, ones that were fresh and didn't smell like sex, before heading down to the grand hall to participate in the festivities. Akaashi only needed to be seen in attendance for an hour at most and then he could slink off to the inn Kuroo was spending his shore leave at.

   To Akaashi’s dismay, his parents caught sight of him long before his hour was up. Strolling across the room, they stood beside their son while shooting Kuroo curious glances. Even though he was wearing his best formal attire, his hair was its usual mess. He didn't look like he belonged. Akaashi sighed. He couldn't help but think it was a mistake to bring Kuroo here.

   It was his mother who spoke first, “Keiji! It's great that you could make it.”

   “It's the least he could do, considering he's apart of this family.”

   “Oh, be quiet, dear! He's young and it's the middle of summer! He deserves to have some fun and these balls are such a drag!”

   His father clicked his tongue, “Anyway, who is your acquaintance? It's so rare to see you with anyone, you can understand our curiosity.”

   “This is my, uh, friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

   “It's an honour to meet you both. Please pardon my intrusion,” Kuroo grinned before bowing.

   “It’s very nice to meet you, young lad! What is it that you do? How did you two meet? How long have you known each other?” His father jumped into the questions, cautious but intrigued by this person Akaashi claimed as a friend but had never mentioned before.

   “I work with the North Wind Trading Company.”

   “The North Wind- Isn't that the smuggling group?” Akaashi’s father gasped, taking a step back.

   Kuroo snickered as Akaashi slapped his hand against his forehead and emitted a loud groan. He had told Kuroo not to mention his occupation to his parents, or to anyone for that matter, for fear of their reaction. While it was a lucrative business, it wasn't held in high regard for obvious reasons. Akaashi knew his father wouldn't approve of their friendship let alone a relationship. Kuroo was a criminal, after all.

   “Widely misunderstood! I guarantee you that I'm a respectable businessman.”

   “Keiji! Why are you associating with-”

   “Well, he seems nice, Keiji! Any friend of Keiji’s is welcome in our home,” his mother giggled, flashing Akaashi a wink while nudging his shoulder and mouthing the word ‘friend’ with exaggerated air quotes.

   “What is that supposed to mean?” Akaashi stammered, a blush crawling across his face and neck.

   “Do not worry, your Majesty, I shall take very good care of your son.”

   “Right…” His father coughed, stepping forward once more and wrapping his arm around his wife in a somewhat defensive stance. “I’m glad Keiji has a friend. He’s always been such a loner. You seem like a tough fellow, you'll be able to protect him.”

   “I promise I will protect him from any and all danger that may come his way.”

   “What a sweetheart! Such dedication and devotion toward his ‘friend’,” the Queen winked twice at Kuroo.

   The King sent her a puzzled look before continuing, “Perhaps you could convince my son of the benefits of marriage and get him to settle down!”

   “Oh? Perhaps I could indeed,” Kuroo chuckled, grasping Akaashi’s hand within his own and bringing it to his lips to place a small kiss on his knuckles. Ignoring the happy squeal from the Queen and the dumbfounded gasp from the King, Kuroo rubbed his cheek against Akaashi’s hand. Kuroo could feel Akaashi’s body heating up and he had to bite back another chuckle. Gazing into Akaashi’s widened eyes, he spoke his next words loud enough for the majority of the room to hear, “Keiji, will you marry me?”

   “Wh-what? Timeout!”

[myhockeyworld87]

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 1

Alright, here is the new series I’ve been promising. So remember the books,(and now they have apps) where you chose your own adventure? Well it’s kind of like that. I’m going to try and post this every Wednesday; I will then wait 48 hours for people to vote and tell me how the next part should go. You can do this by commenting in the notes or shooting me a message in my Ask Me Anything box if you want to be anonymous. This is either going to be a great idea I had or really dumb. I guess we will see….haha. I just thought it would be a fun way to be a little more active with everyone. I may give it an extra day since this is the first part. Anyway feedback is appreciated. It will jump from different points of views as well.

Word Count: 1630

POV: Tyler

Song Inspiration: Dreamer by Kari Kimmel

Warnings:  None

Notes: So full disclosure, I used to sing in a band for years and sometimes when I listen to those songs again; I get inspired to write. This one totally made me think of a love triangle and who better than Tyler and Jamie. Hope you guys like this. Peace, Love and Hugs Y’All!

It was somewhat exciting to finally meet the woman who had captured Jamie’s attention. She was all he seemed to talk about these days; and from the sounds of it she was really something special. So when he came to you with the idea that you two double date tonight; you had no problem saying yes. It wasn’t like you had someone special in your life, just a regular that you called on from time to time; though she liked to claim she was your girlfriend. As long as you got what you needed, and she kept you off her social sites; you saw no harm in the moniker.

Walking into the quaint little lounge with Kathleen, you saw Jamie seated at a table close to the front. Jamie’s girl was new to the area, moving here for a job; though she had a gig singing at a club from time to time. Tonight being one of those nights. “Hey guys,” Jamie greeted you. “It’s good to see you again Kathleen.” Luckily Kathleen wasn’t too bright and missed the side eye Jamie gave you. He kept insisting the doe-eyed girl was bad news; vaguely you wondered if he was right. “(Y/N) is up shortly, then after her set, she’ll join us.”

“Do you think you could get any closer to the stage Chubbs? I don’t think I can see anything from here.” You had to give him a hard time. It was easy to tell he was in love.

“Whatever Segs. Try not to be an ass tonight.”

A waitress came by and took your drink orders, Jamie knowing her name; since he’d become a regular here. “What me an ass? Never.” Mockingly you put your hand to your heart; as if Jamie’s accusations hurt you. “In all honesty I’m anxious to meet this woman, who you can’t seem to stop talking about.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her. I’m sure you’re going to love her just like I do.” Kathleen faked coughed; as if to draw attention to herself. Jamie was right you really needed to cut the poor girl loose; she was only a plus one, here to be silent and look pretty, that was all.

The lights dimmed then, a spotlight focused on an empty piano on stage; drawing the attention of the audience. Slowly band members came in focus, before a figure hidden in shadows made their way onto the stage. At that moment you could only see her hourglass figure; something that appealed to your masculine nature. As she took the seat at the piano, the details of her face came into focus; they were details that were familiar to you. It was only her profile but you would swear on a stack of bibles you knew that face; it haunted you in your dreams. Notes floated to your brain, as her fingers deftly moved over the keys. It was a sad melody, one you didn’t recognize; but then her voice broke through the fog in your brain.

Used to laugh aloud when you’re around,

now your far away

Can’t even hear me

Every other word you said to me

As I fell asleep

Are now, just fading whispers

I can’t remember

I believe we were in this together

Giving everything for a chance at forever

It all started rushing back to you. Two summers ago in Toronto, you’d met her at some boating party; she’d been a guest of a friend and had immediately captured your attention. The two of you had flirted wildly, and it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you took her home that night to your downtown apartment. From there it had been one passionate night after another. She was a fire that wouldn’t quit burning inside you; nor did you want it to die. She would work during the day and you would train; but every night was spent together. To say that you fell fast and hard, would be an understatement; you fell madly in love with her days after knowing her. It was as if you couldn’t get enough of her.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better

And I thought you had a dream here too.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better

Cause now I have to live, have to live

In this dream without you.

On the weekends, you took her to your house on the lake; where at night you would lay out on a blanket and look at all the stars. She told you all her dreams, and you’d confided yours in turn. She’d always had a passion for singing, and she had the voice of an angel; though it didn’t pay the bills. So, instead she sang for fun. She would sing in the shower, until you joined her and then instead of a melody filling the room, it was her moans; you could still hear them. Though now her voice was filled with sadness, as the song in the present continued.

With every other word you made me yours,

With every wish you breathed, and every promise.

How did ya read my mind, tell me every line that I longed to hear,

Well you were so convincing, but you left me empty.

I remember when we were both so naive,

And now you’re telling me that you never believed.

The two of you would make love for hours. Then you’d lay in bed, holding her in your arms; as you whispered how you never wanted to let her go. How you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. All those words had been true then, you believed them as much as she did. You had painted a beautiful picture of the two of you; happily married, kids running around the house. It was what you both wanted; even thought that’s where you were headed.

When did it all become too much

And couldn’t you fight a little harder for us.

You traded dreams for reality, and promises you couldn’t keep

And nothing was the way it seemed.

The words resonated in your brain. How did things go wrong? You’d made her promises of love, of a life filled with forever. But then you’d gone back to Dallas, and all those promises got thrown out the door in one night, when you’d let too much alcohol get the best of you. You’d woken up with some random chick draped across you. Vaguely, you remembered rushing out of the room and calling (Y/N), though it was too late. Mike Stud, had captured your little tryst on Instagram; the thirty seconds did more damage than you could’ve ever thought. She didn’t answer the phone for two days, and when she did, she told you to go to hell; and so you did. Drinking and partying, trying to forget the one woman you wanted to spend your life with. Until now, now you were sitting front row, while she sang what was undoubtedly a song about the two of you.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better;

And I thought you had a dream here too.

I’m a dreamer, who should’ve known better;

Cause now I have to live, have to live in this dream without you.

I should’ve known better.

Oh and I thought you had a dream here too

I’m a dreamer who should’ve known better

because now I have to live have to live in this dream without you.

As the last strands of the melody faded away, you felt a tear slide down your cheek.She didn’t need to live a life without you; you were right here. You could have everything back; only now she was with your best friend. Who when you looked over was beaming with pride, at what you were sure was the love of his life. Anger boiled inside you, it wasn’t fair; Jamie couldn’t be in love with her; not when (Y/N) was yours.

The next thought that jumped into your head, was how in the hell was she with Jamie? Your mind raced back to what Jamie had told you about her. They met at the supermarket of all places, she’d slipped or something; you couldn’t recall the exact details. Distantly you remembered him saying something about her not knowing he played hockey; but he really hadn’t gone into specifics. You searched your mind to try and recall if you’d ever talked about Jamie to (Y/N) two years ago; but you weren’t sure. The two of you had focused solely on each other, not really caring about the outside world. Of course she knew you played hockey for the Dallas Stars; so how did she not connect the dots with Jamie. There were a million questions, swirling around in your head; and only one woman could answer them. Currently, she was up on stage belting out another tune. There was no way you could sit there another second; your heart was beating fast and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Excusing yourself from the table you got up; walking straight out the door. It took you a full five minutes before you could collect yourself and go inside.

——————————————————————————————————————

Alright, now it’s your turn to make the next choice in the story. Should Tyler:

Walk back inside and go straight back behind stage to confront you.

Walk back inside, sit back down at the table and wait for a better opportunity to talk to you.

Walk back inside and pretend he doesn’t remember you.

Walk away! This was a stupid idea and I should just end this story.

The choice is your. You can send your A, B, C or D answer in the comments or to my Ask Me Anything box if you’d like to remain anonymous.

[july-19th-club]

about to just start inventing picard episodes

star trek picard episode whatever “Electric Sheep”: Cris, Raffi, and the gang beam down to pick up supplies for malfunctioning holograms. Soji and Geordi conduct an experiment on lucid dreaming. (geordi’s here because i love him and the experiment they’re doing is ‘if soji puts enough parts of her brain in sleep mode can she or geordi talk to a remnant of her dad in there’ and the result is ‘yes and there are seventeen individual lines of dialogue that will have you bawling like a baby’. then they have to pilot la sirena out of a contested patch of space together because they accidentally let her drift while they were doing weird science and everybody else is planetside having wacky market haggling shenanigans and emmett & enoch are still not online. do they sit in The Correct Spots On The Bridge? brother, it’s the only reason the scene exists)

star trek picard episode whatever 2 electric boogaloo “Dinner and a Holonovel”: Raffi and Seven go on their first official date. Meanwhile, La Sirena receives a coded message from one of Raffi’s mysterious contacts. (in this one Raf and Sev get dressed up but they’re both sort of uncomfortable doing so and they try to have a date but neither of them are enjoying themselves trying to be normal, because Raf’s an old reprobate who’s definitely forgotten how to Have Fun With Others and Sev never learned because it wasn’t relevant to her interests. but then they wind up in some trouble(maybe they deliberately seek it out sort of unconsciously bc they’re bored) and it becomes a fun bar fight date that they really enjoy. everybody else is playing twenty questions trying to figure out this weirdly-encoded message for her bc she’s busy. they come back all bruised and grinning and the whole gang looks up at them with this half-decoded message and is like what kind of life do you lead).

star trek picard episode whatever 2 the sequel “Dr. and Mr. Smith”: Raffi’s contact has asked the crew for their help in a...discreet political matter. (it’s a reverse heist episode starring everyone’s two favorite sort-of-semi-retired-?-spies (if we are spies no we are not. yes we are. no <3). julian and raffi have a very good rapport and sev and garak don’t understand each other AT ALL. yes they are together in this one. no i dont think we need much backstory on when or how it happened i will leave that to the experts and their fucking youtube plays. keep up the good work. what are they reverse-stealing? idk yet it’s just a vehicle for character dynamics anyway).

star trek picard episode we cry a lot “The Daughters”: Soji confronts her legacy when an old friend of her fathers hails La Sirena, eager to repay a debt. (although to be honest, when is our sweet girl NOT confronting her legacy? that bitch is all legacy; she’s got legacy frankly oozing out of her positronic pores. this is partly a story about soji, but it takes a while to get there. first it’s the story of Sarge, who had an imaginary friend when she was six...

she can’t pinpoint exactly when she came up with him, and she doesn’t even remember what she named him - but she knows it happened sometime around the evacuations, and when they all moved back home and the world started growing again - lush and fast from the rich volcanic soil - she used to spend hours playing around with her birthday-gift radio set, ‘talking’ to her imaginary friend. of course, she never got actual replies, but as she aged out of the phase she retained an interest in radio and communications, and her parents indulged it and bought her more and better equipment, enrolled her in science programs, fed her curiosity. until one day as a young adult doing a school project on theoretical outer space transmissions, she arrived at a theory which (she later describes it as a CLICK, like something is settling into place in her brain) could account for the existence of extraterrestrial life, just out of reach. and perhaps, she posits in her presentation, the reason no aliens had yet contacted her world had little to do with them not being there and much to do with them choosing not to respond. the goal, she concluded, was to continue reaching out - to close the gap. she wrapped up the presentation with a nod to nostalgia. “And maybe someday, those friends will be imaginary no more.”

she wins an award for the project, and begins work in her chosen field that’s extremely rewarding, but it is still years before she reaches her second conclusion: the logical leap that if future alien contact was not only possible but likely, her imaginary friend might have been a real person after all. she brings this idea up with her mother one night over dinner, and her mother is somewhat alarmed - what do you mean you think you were talking to aliens, you couldn’t do that on a child’s transmitter kit, adults??? adult aliens? what are you saying they said to you? - but she can’t answer. she doesn’t have clear memories of that time, only an unshakeable conviction that the life she may have contacted is closer than anyone could possibly imagine. and so she starts a new project. she digs out the old childhood kit, fiddles with the dials, finds the frequency she used to tune it to. in her mind’s eye there’s the impression of a clear, frank voice, but no words. she tunes her own, more modern and complex instruments, to the same frequency, and keeps listening.

one day, she hears something. this time, she doesn’t talk first. the next few months are a whirlwind of information-gathering. there are people out there. whole societies. she pieces together the basics of what she’ll eventually learn is the prime directive; enough ships pass by the atmosphere of her world that she’s able to form a working conclusion as to why the come close but never hail. they know we’re down here, she thinks, they just think we’re not ready.

and maybe they don’t have the kind of boats that could get you that far into the sky. but she’s always been resourceful. she picks up a new frequency, and starts listening to starfleet. and after a few months of listening and planning, she starts packing. she takes the kiddie transmitter kit, she takes clothing designed for all-weather wilderness exposure, she takes the kind of emergency preserved food that people used to keep by the pallet in case of earthquake, and she takes a few other trinkets she can’t live without. and when the time is right, she hails. it might be a combination of luck or goodwill, but she manages to convince a passing freighter that she is the stranded comms officer of a downed private ship, the only survivor of the wreck hiding out on a pre-warp world. they beam her up and the first few weeks are very touch-and-go, but she manages to convince them she belongs up here, that the people who look like her are very far away and not just under their feet, darting around her green little world like a hill of bugs under the eyes of giant birds. she gets off at the nearest starbase, and she starts exploring.

she takes numerous vessels to numerous worlds, gathering information all the time. she starts calling herself Sarge, instead of Sarjenka, and it makes people think she’s a military type and nobody bothers her. she stops at a library planet for a month and researches everything she can about the major governing systems in the galaxy. without much to go on - no name, only a vague physical description (tall? pale? humanoid?) - it’s hard to determine exactly what kind of vessel the Friend would have been on, if indeed he existed. the yellow clothes, one of her few clear recollections, lead her to guess starfleet, but starfleet is a massive organization and so many of its vessels have come near her homeworld that it seems unlikely she’ll be able to narrow it down like that. so she tries a different tack, searching for the other two vague faces that she can bring to mind. one is a middle-aged woman, humanoid, but the search turns up nothing; the woman is a doctor who has retired from the organization and now works at a teaching hospital near vulcan. the other is a bald man with a deep voice, humanoid, and his record turns up an absolute deluge of information. she skips past most of it; she’s inpatient now, if anyone knows about the Friend he will, and so she checks his last known location. on board the private supply-class ship La Sirena, captained by ex-starfleet officer Cristobal Rios. Rios is tall, dark-haired, and humanoid, but absolutely nothing about him rings that little mental bell. she checks his last docking location. the ship visited a reclamation site briefly, and then disappears from the record.

but Sarge is nothing if not a searcher, so she adjusts her frequencies and tries again. it’s months before they’re in proximity to one another, months in which she’s taken the opportunity to secure her own vessel, a little rented, dented passenger bucket that’s probably worth more in repairs than the price she got it for. but she trades radio repairs for ship repairs at the port where she buys it, looks up its name (Avis) and finds it acceptable, and then she’s in the sky. she tools around exploring new bases and stations, and keeps the hail open. and one day, it’s answered. a human voice answers. “Avis, we read you. What can we do for you?” they go on-screen with each other, and she sees first the captain - the bearded guy - and then...him. the old man. he is an old man, the bald guy, and his eyebrows raise when he sees her come on the viewer.

“Permission to come on board?” she asks. “I have something which might belong to one of you.”

the old man looks wary for a moment, but then he turns to someone behind him, they exchange some quiet words, and he nods. “Permission granted.”

there’s a young woman waiting for her at the transport platform. shorter than her by a good half meter, humanoid. pale. “Dr. Soji Asha,” she says, “You look...”

and Sarge could swear she’s about to say ‘familiar.’

“Sarge,” she says, and the woman’s small hand grasps her long one in a firm shake, and then waits patiently while Sarge performs greeting, letting her fingers just-not-rest on the woman’s shoulders and arms. “I’m actually looking for an old friend of mine, and I thought you might have his whereabouts. Tall, pale, starfleet officer? Ops gold. I know that’s not much to go on, but if it helps, he would have once contacted and established a rapport with pre-warp Drema IV? Humanoid, but not human. He...” It’s weird. standing here, explaining herself to this quietly-held young woman, Sarge is able to articulate better than ever before her half-formed memories. “He told me once he was a machine.” and then, like another CLICK is settling, she has a name. At last. “Data.” I knew he’d had a name.

the woman’s face lights up and falls in such swift motion it is hard to tell which comes first - the recognition or the sorrow. but they’re both there, clear and present. “Dad died almost twenty years ago,” she says. “But if it helps, I have a positronic clone of his brain.”

Sarge starts laughing; she doesn’t mean to, but the way the woman - Soji - says it, so matter-of-fact, so frank...she stops herself before it’s rude, but Soji’s laughing too. “Sorry, I -”

“No, don’t - how do you - how did you know Dad? Come on, come with me -”

“What happened? I didn’t know him for long, I barely remembered him, but I knew he existed -”

“That’s a long story. Do you want to meet the crew?”

Soji reaches for her hand, and with a feeling of mechanisms interlocking as they properly should, she takes it. they start walking. “Oh.” She’s almost forgotten. “If...if he’s not around to take it back, then this might belong to you.” She reaches in her pocket and holds it out: a small, ceramic singing bird.)

[brianamorganbooks]

Even for an all-girls boarding school, the first day of classes feels normal. I wake up a little before my alarm, anxiety roiling in my gut. No way can I go back to sleep. Waking up early turns out to be an unexpected blessing, though, as a knock sounds at the door. I glance over to the other bed, but Charlie isn’t there.

I yawn and manage to roll out of bed. When I answer the door, a security guard informs me that I have two visitors, but I’m not expecting anyone. To my surprise, two movers, both men, stand in the hallway. The security guard supervises as they haul two giant trunks into the dorm room, setting them down at the foot of Charlie’s bed.

“Here you go, Miss Masters,” one of them says to me.

With Charlie missing, it looks like I’m living in this room alone. I kind of feel like I am. I’m not so sure that Charlie unpacking will change that.

“I’m not her,” I say. “I don’t know where she is.”

The first mover grunts. “We need someone to sign for this. Do you think you can do that?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

The second mover passes me a tablet, and I scrawl my signature on the screen. He hands the tablet to his colleague and nods to the trunks. “Clothes and everything. Mr. and Mrs. Masters said if she’s missing anything, just let them know.”

That must mean they’re not coming to help her move in. As awful as she is to me, I feel a pang of pity. I may not be on the best terms with my parents right now, but at least they cared enough to make sure I’m settled.

The first mover nods. “Well, have a nice day.”

“You, too,” I answer.

Without another word, they shuffle off, talking loudly down the hall. The security nods and escorts them out.

Once they’re gone and I’ve closed the door behind them, I look over at the giant trunks—large, ornate, and ancient-looking—and wonder what to do. Charlie isn’t here to unpack them herself, and I wouldn’t dream of helping. She’d probably kill me for it.

The movers also brought an easel, a plastic storage tub labeled PAINTS AND ART SUPPLIES, and a bucket full of paintbrushes. Charlie’s an artist? Now the Monet makes more sense.

I finish my routine without touching her stuff, somewhat surprised when she doesn’t show up. My uniform is stiff and scratchy, but it doesn’t look too hideous. The Livingston standard is a red-and-gold pleated skirt, white dress shirt, red tie, and tan blazer with the Livingston crest emblazoned on the chest. As far as uniforms go, it could be so much worse. Still, my knee-high red socks and low-heeled shoes make me feel like a Catholic schoolgirl.

I sit alone at breakfast, fighting the urge to dump my tray and crawl back to my dorm room. I nurse my glass of orange juice like it’s something stronger and push my scrambled eggs around my plate with my fork.

I knew it would be hard for me to make friends here, but so far, I haven’t met a single person who isn’t in a clique. After my weird encounter with Charlie and the other girls in the bathroom, I’m less sure that was a fluke and surer that it’s par for the course. My mom thinks opening up is the key to getting closer to people, but how can I open up to anyone if I can’t get them to look at me, let alone maintain a conversation?

Not far away, Charlie, June, Billie, and Ronnie all sit together, eating and laughing. Some girls in hijabs sit at the table closest to me, also laughing. A squeal of delight cuts through the air, and I turn to see a group of black girls reenact a story. Nearby, more girls trade food items with each other.

I would give anything to know what that inclusion feels like.

After halfheartedly pushing my eggs around on my plate until my phone reminds me it’s time for class, I dump the content of my tray in the trash and sling my bag over my shoulder. Charlie and her gang are still seated, still laughing. I don’t want to bother them.

Classes are predictably boring. Thankfully, because this isn’t a movie, none of the teachers single me out for an introduction as a transfer student. None of the students pay me much attention either. I’m getting used to being ignored.

By the time my English class rolls around, I’m beyond grateful to see two familiar faces—Ronnie and Billie. Unlike June, however, they don’t seem keen on making me feel included. They don’t even acknowledge me as I slide into the desk adjacent to Ronnie’s.

“Hey,” I try.

“Hello,” Billie says.

Ronnie takes a brush out of her purse and runs it through her hair without saying a word. She digs out an eyeshadow palette and a rainbow-handled makeup brush.

Billie takes out her notebook, turns to a new page, and scribbles something across the top of it. Hand-lettering, it looks like. Fancy penmanship stuff. I bet she keeps a bullet journal.

“Have you had this teacher before?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Ronnie says. She doesn’t elaborate.

“Not me,” Billie says. “Doesn’t matter. Heard he’s easy, anyway. Also, it’s English, which we all happen to speak.”

This is probably the most they’ve ever spoken to me, and I’m not sure how to keep them talking. In my earlier classes, I didn’t dare try to even speak to anyone. My nerves got the best of me. Plus, I was too busy making sure I was in the right classroom. This school is too big.

I lean forward in my seat. “I like your glasses, Billie.”

“Thanks, Daisy.”

“It’s Rose.”

She flicks her gaze toward me. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.”

She presses her lips together. “You’re settled in with Charlie then?”

The change in topic pricks my ears. “She say something bad?”

“Not in so many words.”

I look to Ronnie, hoping for some kind of tell. She pulls old receipts and tubes of lipstick out of her purse.

“Charlie’s nice,” I say, and then feel like a giant idiot. Charlie isn’t nice. Anyone can see that, surely even her friends.

Billie quirks an eyebrow. “Is she though?”

“I… no, I guess not.”

I swear to God she smiles. “Haven’t lived with her long and you already get the gist. She’s a right terror. You’re in our thoughts.”

“I’d rather live outside than bunk with her,” says Ronnie. “You’re stronger than I am.”

“Well, so far so good.” I mirror Billie’s smile, hoping I look more comfortable than I feel.

The teacher, a man named Mr. Preston, enters the room and calls us to attention. I spend all of class trying not to look too eager, either to impress the teacher or for friendship, even though I’m starving for both. Once class ends, Billie and Ronnie get up. I start to follow them out when the teacher pulls me aside.

Billie and Ronnie either don’t notice, or they don’t care. I’m not sure which is worse.

“Uh… Rosemary, is it?” Mr. Preston begins. I can already tell from his tone of voice that this won’t be a fun conversation.

“Rose,” I say.

He falters, then forgoes my first name altogether. “Miss Abbott, I wanted to let you know… well, given what happened at your last school…”

Wait, he knows about that? My face catches fire. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not discuss that.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. I just wanted you to know, I’m happily married. And, if you want to make a good grade in this class, you’ll have to work hard, like everyone else. Any… extra credit will be announced in advance and will be open to everyone. During school hours.”

My whole body burns. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t repeat myself. Do you understand?”

All I want is for the ground to open up and eat me. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Have a good rest of your day.”

How can I do that, though, when my teacher insinuated that what happened with Nathan is my fault? That I’m a predatory temptress who lured someone saintly off the straight and narrow?

The rest of my day follows a similar pattern. I have no classes with the other girls, save Charlie in my history class. Relief washes over me when I realize that none of them see the way the teachers here treat me. If it’s any consolation, at least none of the faculty single me out during class.

I’m having a tough time wrapping my head around the idea that news of what happened has traveled over here. Sure, what happened in Salem was local news, but I didn’t think it made it all the way out here. Clearly, I was wrong.

Maybe the faculty have all seen my file.

After my classes, I head back to my dorm room. I pray Charlie isn’t there, but even if she is, it’s not like she’ll talk to me.

Meyer Hall sits sad and empty. Most of the other students must be out in classes, at the library, or hanging with their friends. I get on the elevator and head up to my floor without running into anyone else. While I fish my keys out of my purse, I consider calling my parents. It’s been less than two days, and while they’re not exactly thrilled to speak to me, at least it might be nice to hear a familiar voice.

Then again, if I call them now, it will feel like giving up. Like I’m a scared little girl who still needs her mommy and daddy. I’m not sure I’m ready to give up yet.

When I open the door to my room, Charlie is sitting on her bed. Ronnie, Billie, and June are sitting on mine. Their heads all snap up as they notice me. It might be my imagination, but I swear they all frown.

Ronnie snatches something out of Billie’s hand and holds it to her chest, hidden from me. “What is your roommate doing back here?”

“I don’t know. I thought she was in classes all day.” Charlie shoots me a look, like it’s somehow my fault that she hasn’t memorized my schedule. “Rose, do you mind? We’re in the middle of something.”

It’s the first time she’s gotten my name right, let alone tried to display any semblance of manners toward me, but anger heats my blood. “It’s my room, too. I’m staying.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow. “It’ll just take a second.”

Is she serious? Are they all so self-absorbed they think I’m not offended? This is my room as much as hers. She has no right to kick me out.

I square my shoulders. “I’m taking a nap.”

Ronnie mutters something under her breath. Billie titters. I probably don’t want to know what she said, especially as June won’t look at me or her—or anyone, for that matter. Ronnie is still holding whatever it is tight against her blazer, hidden from sight. What could it be?

I keep my eyes locked on Charlie’s, daring her to try again. Maybe it’s not wise to cross her but they’ve all treated me like shit so far and I just want to crawl under the covers and forget about the day.

Charlie blinks. Ronnie looks to her for guidance, as do the others.

“Fine,” Charlie spits. “Guess we’ll go somewhere else.”

She gestures toward the other girls. Ronnie rolls her eyes, tucks the object she’s been holding into her purse, and heads for the door. June and Billie follow. June shoots me a look so warm, it could almost be sympathetic. Even her sunflower earrings seem to smile at me. Charlie gets up from the bed and glares.

I try my best to ignore her, but she’s not leaving until she says her piece. “What is it?”

“Watch yourself.”

“What?”

From the open doorway, Billie laughs again. Charlie shoots her a look, then returns her attention to me. “You need to work on your attitude.”

Jesus. “You’re the one with the attitude here.”

She clenches her jaw, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she grabs her purse and keys and heads out into the hallway. When the door slams behind her, it rattles the hinges.

I sink down on my bed and flop onto my back, staring up at the ceiling once more. Maybe I’ll never find my place here.

I roll onto my side and stare at Charlie’s bed. It’s unmade, the comforter rumpled from where Charlie sat on it. Her belongings haven’t moved since the movers brought them this morning. Maybe she’s not unpacked yet as some form of protest. Though I don’t know her well, I can see her doing that.

Maybe she hates her parents as much as she hates me.

Keys jangle in the lock, and I sit bolt upright. Charlie rushes in, flushed and anxious. Speak of the devil.

“Forget something?”

“My phone.” She grabs it from her nightstand, pausing to look at the unpacked trunks. “You didn’t touch them, did you?”

If I weren’t so tired, I’d be offended. “Why would I do that?”

“Why would you touch my vial?” Charlie counters.

I bristle but don’t take the bait. I’m too tired to start any more fights with her. One of us needs to be the bigger person.

Charlie checks her latest-model phone, frowns down at something on the screen, and types something out. She mutters a curse. “Gods, I hate boys. They’re so stupid sometimes.”

Surely, she’s talking to herself, right? She can’t possibly be trying to strike up a conversation with me.

I don’t respond. After a second, her gaze flashes toward me, like she’s only just registered she said something to me, someone she hates.

“I’m sorry about your vial,” I say. “I didn’t mean—”

“Charlie!” Billie shouts from the hall.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” I continue.

“Don’t worry about it.” Charlie tucks the phone into her pocket and heads for the door. “Thank you.”

Once the door closes, I lie back on the bed. Despite the shitty day I’ve had, I feel a tinge of hope. Maybe Charlie and her friends will come around. If not, I can reach out to other girls, right?

tag list (let me know if you’d like to me removed/added): @lady-redshield-writes @smokescreens-n-otherillusions @cogwrites @nicholewrites @fireflys-locket

[youtubethewhatnow]

Dancing with our hands tied- David Dobrik

“We have to keep this secret David I’m serious” you whispered to David, a soft “uh huh”’escaping his lips as he kissed you with a fervor. Holding your face in his hands, keeping you closer and closer which made you feel like could be devoured by him at any moment. David not caring about you getting caught by your friends, knowing Corinna wouldn’t approve of what was going on between the two of you.

Corinna and you agreeing after going through awful relationships, you both wouldn’t date anymore until you knew you were ready. You were only friends with Corinna for the longest time, her only introducing you to the infamous Vlog squad recently. All of you clicking instantly, this causing Corinna to get tons of jokes about her keeping you from them because they’d steal you away. Everyone accepting you when you showed them how nice and accepting you were of them, but you instantly clicked with David the most. You also may have formed a small infatuation with the Slovakian Vernon Hills boy at first sight, which helped a lot.

Making you wonder where he really was all your life because you really got along with him so easily, it was insane to you. The problem was of how well you got along with him, that’s how you ended up here in David’s arms a year later and hiding from your friends. It was really only Corinna because that pact meant a ton to you, especially on Corinna’s part, but she was trying for you. You wanted to at least try for her, but it was getting harder and harder with David being involved. Soon you pushed the boy kissing you back, your chest moving up and down rapidly but that couldn’t compare to how much your heart was racing at that moment.

“Hey why’d you stop? I was really enjoying that” David remarked before leaning back in to kiss you again, shocked when you moved out of his way again in order to get lost in thoughts that were really only David. “I stopped because we shouldn’t even be doing this, I told you about Corinna and I’s pact” you argued back, not giving into him like he was used to.

He rolled his eyes before letting you step away from him, letting you sit on his bed before Natalie came in to see the two of you. “Hey David could you come with me for a second, there’s something I need your help with for Zane’s surprise. Also hi (Y/N)!” Natalie asked David and greeted you. Waving before ushering David our and leaving you to fall back into the bed, thinking about what just happened.

“(Y/N) aka little cub number two, what’s up?” Josh Peck greeted you as he stood in the doorway of David’s room while you thought about Corinna. You could easily talk to her about this whole situation and figure things out, she was pretty understanding. Yet you knew that if you started dating, she’d end up with some douche like Logan Paul again and you couldn’t have that happen.

“Hey Josh, just thinking about life. Totally fun and I definitely don’t want to die or anything” you joked to Josh, happy he got your sense of humor. You would have never made that joke in front of someone you just met, but this was Josh. Other than David and Corinna, you were surprisingly close to him and you you guys would talk whenever you could. “So I mean you’re Scotty on a scale of how you’re doing? Great okay so really what’s up? You’re over here a lot more” Josh pointed out to you.

He was completely right in saying you were over David’s more, ever since two weeks ago when you first kissed you had this need to be around David. He never minded because he seriously hated being alone, making things worse for the both of you at this point. “Yeah I mean it’s definitely fun to hang out here, there’s always something going on” You talked, slightly alluding to you and David without being obvious about it.

“That is true so do you want to do a Mukbang with David and I? We’re doing pasta night and I know you love pasta, come join us” Josh invited you, naturally you agreeing. You both walked out into the living room where Natalie was talking on the phone while David looked at her expectantly. “Whoa are we interrupting something?” Josh asked, causing David and Natalie to look at the two of you. Natalie soon going back to her conversation on the phone and David make space at his table.

“No you guys aren’t interrupting anything, we’re just talking to this brand who basically want to sponsor me. It’s just that they said they would pay money but now they changed it saying that it’d be a fair trade for them to get promoted and us their product. Which is total bullshit if you ask me” David slightly ranted. Josh smiling at David before telling him to sit because he had something to cheer him up, you sitting down next to David. Josh going to the door since he got a notification that Postmates were at David’s door.

“Hey can we talk later?” David asked you before Josh could sit down, nodding your head at him before food was set before you. “Let me just set up the- wait I need to get my camera shit one second I left it in David’s room!” Josh yelled before running back to David’s room. David looking at you before smiling and connecting your pinkies together, kissing your cheek when he noticed Natalie was turned around. A satisfied smile formed on his lips before he pulled back, just in time for Josh to come back out with his camera.

“Little cub, I know you love Olive Garden, but so does little cub number two over here. So she’s joining us today for our Olive Garden Mukbang” Josh explained for the camera once it was all set up and the camera was rolling. David and you looking at all the food you were about to eat, hungry and excited about everything in front of you guys.

“So can I just say before we start this whole thing that it’s (Y/N)’s first mukbang ever. You’ve known us for more than a year now, why is this just starting now?” Josh joked with you as you picked up chicken Alfredo on the table. You just shrugged your shoulders as you started to eat, laughing at David as he already ate way more than you. 

“Let her be Josh, we can’t scare her away already” David joked before pulling you in and letting you rest your head on his shoulder while he smiled down at you. “Well this is cute” Josh commented before giving the two of you a look which meant ‘I’m definitely asking you guys about this’ in a little bit. You rolled your eyes at Josh’s insinuation before picking your head off David’s shoulder and picked up a bread stick.  

“So are you guys two- Well you know...” Josh asked bluntly as he picked up more food to eat, giving his full attention to the two of you. You soon turned to David who just sighed before looking at Josh with annoyed look, people have been talking about the two of you recently too. This causing a strain on your relationship that just didn’t need to be there, not when the both of you were carefree and wanted to take things slow.

“No we aren’t but guys and girls can be friends which is what we are, friends” David explained as you nodded your head to agree with what David was saying. Soon you all finished off the Mukbang and questions for each other, David and you both soon headed back to David’s room in order to sleep mainly. 

“You think we’re going to get one of those David Dobrik flirts with (Y/N) videos when Josh posts that?” You asked David who smiled at you before saying a small “probably”. Soon the both of you falling into bed together, David immediately wrapping his arms around you in order to get you as close as possible. “That’ll be fun honestly I love those videos” You say out loud, hoping that David would at least somewhat agree since you really wanted to see what he would say about your relationship. 

“I feel like it’s a different story when it’s us, it always has been” David replied before playing with your hands like they were the most interesting thing in the world. A small smile played on his lips before he leaned in and gave your hand soft kisses, slowly making their way up your arm before getting to the base of your throat. “I wish everyone was gone, this could be more fun” You joked before David pulled back with eyebrows raised and a mischievous smirk playing on his face.

“You know I can do that right now, that’s no problem to me just say the words” David tempted you, making you wish that you guys were alone at that moment. You pulled back to think, just in time for Joe and Jeff to walk into David’s room which meant they were probably there to annoy David. “(Y/N) it’s nice to see you but what are you doing in here with David in bed?” Joe asked while Jeff gave the both of you an interesting look. 

“We are relaxing after the mukbang, fuck off, not all of us can stomach giant amounts of food and be fine after” David defended you as he gave his full attention to his friends. “Well (Y/N) do you want to join me for my video, Jeff and I are going for a ride” Joe asked, only to be met with a groan from David. Jeff soon smirking before slowly scooping you up out of the warmth David provided, the smirk still present on his face.

“Well since (Y/N) leaving David annoys him so much we are definitely taking her, see you David” Jeff stated before carrying you out of David’s room, yells from David could be heard from his room. Demanding you to come back to his room and Jeff to put you back so you could get some rest, Jeff just laughing before taking you out of the house. “Sorry about that (Y/N) but now you are definitely joining us” Jeff stated before opening the door to his car. 

“I honestly don’t mind, just ask first next time and I’m down” You informed Jeff before getting into the car with the two of them following behind you. “So we’re just doing some errands but also can I ask about you and David? You guys look pretty cozy in there” Joe stated as he turned to look back at you. “Here’s the tea” you paused before continuing with a  “it’s none of your business” and sitting back in the chair. 

“I forgot how feisty you were (Y/N) but then again you’re always with David so no one really knows how you are” Jeff joked with you making you fake offended. “So you kidnap me?” You joke back to make Jeff shush you silently, parallel parking on the street before all of you got out to a juice shop close to David’s. 

“I can’t get arrested again, it’s not kidnapping you but more getting you away from David” Jeff joked before pulling open the door, all three of you soon walking in. You rolled your eyes at this comment before all three of you ordered and sat at a table while you all waited for your juices.Time slowly passing as the three of you waited an unusual amount of time for even what it seemed like for pressed Juice. “Wait let me text David to see if any of them at the house want anything” You suggest before sending out a short text.

You: Hey did you want anything, we’re at some pressed juice place near your house

Davey: No but I’ll ask Natalie and Josh if they want anything

Davey: They said no but thanks (Y/N), come back soon

You: On it 

“They all said no but oh Jeff the girl called out your name” You told Jeff before he went up when you heard yelling and soon David came out and shot Jeff with a paintball gun. “What the fuck! How did you even find us?” Jeff asked David before he looked at you and then to Joe, Joe laughing slightly before he revealed it was him. 

“Joe what the fuck I thought we were friends, is that why it took so long for our drinks to get here?” Jeff asked before the cashier nodded her head, showing the $100 David probably paid her. David slowly pulling out the paintball gun to aim at Joe when he pulled you in front of him, David slowly lowering the gun. “Nice move Joe I’ll get you later, I’ll get you later but Jeff that’s what you get for stealing (Y/N) away from me. Stay in your lane bitch” David yelled at Jeff. 

“Anyways, I’m going to leave with David before Jeff gets shot again. Come on Dobrik” You pulled David away leading the both of you out of the shop. Both of you were about to get away when David soon shot Joe and leading the two of you outside. David looking at the footage he just got for his vlog, happy with the results while you laughed at the weird boy you definitely liked.

Both of you soon getting back to David’s hand in hand, David leading you inside of his house. You opened the door to see Corinna waiting for you. “Hey (Y/N) haven’t seen you,only my best friend, in about a week. Let’s talk, you too Dobrik” 

[bevioletskies]

bring it on home to me [4/5]

summary: The fight of everyone’s lives may be over, but for Nebula, Peter, and the rest of the Guardians, the search for the person they love most has just begun.

a/n: MAJOR spoiler warning for Avengers: Endgame, though I am a little vague about the events of what happened. Regardless, please don’t let me spoil it for you!

Fic title is, of course, from the song Bring It On Home To Me by Sam Cooke.

word count: 3.5k | ao3 | tag

Nebula sank down to the floor to sit cross-legged at the foot of a bed that had only recently become hers, annoyance bubbling in her stomach at the sound of the Guardians loudly speculating out in the common area of the ship. Peter had instructed them all to return to the Benatar and stay there until he came back, and had given no further instructions since. Nebula was in no mood to be in the company of the rest of them, especially since they were all pleasantly drunk off cheap Knowhere alcohol, and had instead retreated to her own bunk.

When it was just her and Rocket, it had been easy to avoid each other in times of heightened emotions. After the rest of them returned, it had become rather claustrophobic. Peter had referred to the Milano as his “bachelor pad”, as it barely had a bunk to spare and a mini-freezer that was mostly used to keep his beer cold. The Benatar, however, was intended for a team, a family, modelled after some aspects of the Milano, but far more spacious in every way. Still, it was hard to go anywhere without running into somebody, something that Nebula absolutely loathed.

“I think I liked this piece of scrap better when it was just you and me,” she had said to Rocket a few nights ago after she had gotten into yet another argument with Peter over directions. Rocket had only shrugged in return as he could no longer agree, not after the deafening five years of silence - none of Peter’s off-key singing, Groot’s video game chirping, Drax’s loud chewing, or Mantis’s saccharine-sweet giggling. It had merely been the sound of Nebula’s fingers tapping impatiently against the console and the sound of Rocket’s tools clicking away diligently at every engineering flaw he could find to distract himself with, and the Benatar had never felt so empty.

The bunk Nebula was now sitting in was a spare one that hadn’t officially belonged to anyone before it became hers, though she wasn’t naive - there was an assortment of objects here and there that suggested it was a hideaway for one particular member of the Guardians who needed her own space at times. A small music box, the only souvenir she’d found at a trading post that originated from her home planet; a spare set of switchblades that had once been polished diligently every day, now dulled and dusty due to the lack of ownership; a stack of books that covered all sorts of topics that would have otherwise been gaps in her knowledge, due to an obvious lack of educational opportunities. There was no doubt that this room had been her sister’s.

Nebula reached for one of the books and cracked it open, not caring for the way the spine protested beneath her fingers. One of the pages had been bent at the corner, indicating that she had stopped here. It was a section on medicine, basic universal remedies that could be used on many different planets without fear of contamination or other adverse effects.

“What did you want to be when you got older?” They were approximately the equivalent of Terran eight- and ten-year-olds, lying on thin woven mats that barely protected their backs from the discomfort of the ground, staring up at the Kitson night sky. It was a “wretched planet” according to Thanos, but he had business with some slippery weapons dealer who was hiding in the casinos. Everyone under his thumb knew that anything less than total annihilation of the entire casino strip itself would be a surprise.

“Why?” Nebula had immediately been suspicious, rolling onto her side so she could properly look at her sister. She had abandoned the double braids she’d worn when Thanos had first taken her, now going for a more practical upknot that kept all of her hair out of her face. It pulled her skin back taut, made the newly implanted silver in her forehead more visible, especially in the moonlight. Still, she looked more whole in comparison, not like pieces of a puzzle that had been haphazardly put back together.

“I just thought we could talk,” she had said defensively. “Father almost never leaves us alone together.”

“But we aren’t alone,” Nebula had pointed out, gesturing further away where a shifty-eyed Chitauri guard was standing with his back to them, probably wishing he was anywhere else but here. “Maybe he’s testing our loyalty. If we try to run - ”

“I used to think about being a doctor.” Gamora had folded her hands neatly over her chest, pointedly ignoring her sister’s usual speculation of Thanos’s motivations. She’d long stopped trying to predict what he wanted, and instead went with whatever would ensure she lived to see another day. “My mother was one of the best healers on my planet. When people were hungry, they would ask her how to make it stop. When they were dizzy because of the bad air, they would ask her what to do to make it go away. And...when people died, they asked her if the pain of losing someone would hurt forever.”

Nebula had been silent for a moment. “I don’t remember my mother.” Her eyes had slid shut; she was starting to feel vaguely nauseous. “I remember almost nothing.”

With her eyes shut, she hadn’t noticed her sister reaching across to press a finger to her brow bone, right where the seam of her newest implant began, stopping just before it reached her eye socket. “Father said our modifications wouldn’t affect our memory.”

“It’s not the - ” Nebula’s eyes had flown open, abruptly slapping her hand out of her face. “I was taken before I was old enough to remember things. And...Father also says the mods will make me stronger. Better.”

“Better than what?”

Nebula had fixed her with a gaze so cold it sent shivers down her metallic spine. “Better than you.”

The sudden burst of startled cries coming from the Benatar’s common area pulled a reluctant Nebula to her feet, and she stepped out into the corridor to join the others (if nothing else, she wanted to shut them up). It was only when she reached the cockpit that she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her.

Her sister was stood with her back to everyone, staring out the front window wistfully despite them currently having an unimpressive view of Knowhere. She then rotated slowly on her heel to look around at her unfamiliar surroundings, momentarily glancing down at the seat that was hers, almost as if she inherently knew it was where she belonged. Her gaze then went to her sister, and her expression softened into an undeservingly warm smile. “Nebula.”

Nebula’s eyes flickered briefly to the others, who had since calmed down and were also now staring in stunned silence. Peter was understandably the only one who seemed to have adjusted to her presence, now sitting on the armrest of his seat and watching her carefully like he was expecting her to cut and run. “Don’t tell me Quill was the one who managed to lure you here,” she said, her tone lacking the bite it usually had.

“In a way,” she said, taking one tentative step closer. “I was reminded of who I was to you, to all of you. And I remembered something else, something Father told us when - ”

“Even now, with both mine and yours dead, we can never escape thinking of him, can we?” She shook her head, scoffing derisively. “Go on, then. Do tell us what false wisdom he had imposed on you.”

“You’re gonna wanna listen to this, Nebula,” Peter said. His voice was strangely subdued. “It’s a...a big ask. For us and for her.”

Nebula’s expression hardened, though she had to admit (only to herself, that is), she was intrigued. “Fine. What is it?” ______

The Benatar was eerily silent upon reaching “cruising altitude”, as Peter often called it for no particular reason, where everyone could step away from the controls and let the ship do the work. No one seemed sure of how to walk around or converse or even breathe with her sitting in her usual spot at the table, twirling her switchblade between her fingers. Her dark eyes roamed across their faces, scoping them out and sizing them up to the expectations Nebula and Peter had set in her mind. She maintained a stoicism in her expression and body language, the way Nebula had remembered from long ago, but her face crumpled into silent devastation when she looked at Peter. Nebula honestly wasn’t sure if she wanted to know why. Nearly everyone left the room soon after, unable to bear the tension in the air.

“You’re different than my Nebula,” she mused, her voice so soft that Nebula wasn’t sure if she had meant to say it out loud. “I’m not sure how, but...you are.”

“We are one and the same, just of a different time, and now, a different universe.” She glanced down at the floor. “Yours said Thanos wouldn’t let her change. There was a time when I thought the same thing.”

“So if she had more time...she would’ve become more like you?” She smiled sadly. “It’s a nice thought, though maybe too optimistic. She was also incredibly - ”

“Murderous?” Nebula interrupted. “As am I.” At her sister’s startled, somewhat uncomfortable laugh, she added, “I could tell you everything she ever felt. Contempt...for our father. Disgust...for our siblings. Uncertainty...about you. Until the end.”

She gestured for Nebula to sit with her, her smile turning into something a little friendlier once she did. Still, Nebula refused to meet her eyes. “Tell me more about you and I.”

“We started off exactly the same. We were taken from our families within months of one another, raised to be siblings because we were closer in age than any other child of Thanos.” The corners of Nebula’s mouth twitched in grim, satisfactory remembrance of how the Black Order had gone down in the final battle - the sound of Glaive’s cries as another’s spear went through him, the devastating shout of Obsidian as he was crushed by a foot twice the size of his entire body, and the silent resignation of both Proxima and Maw when they realized they couldn’t fight their fates. The justice of their deaths, for her, was only overshadowed by watching their father crumble to dust. “It was simple, really. Every time we fought, whoever lost would get a piece of them replaced, made new, made better. And while you craved power, I secretly wanted praise. It was how you became the deadliest woman in the galaxy, and how I became your shadow.”

“It was never about power,” she protested. “It was about survival.”

“No,” Nebula said, her voice low. “You didn’t just survive. You thrived, despite the circumstances. There was no mistaking why Father preferred you over our siblings, over me. Had you decided to take a different path, Xandar would have been destroyed long ago, the Guardians would have never existed, and the universe could have fallen apart long before it did.”

“Quill told me as much,” she murmured. She glanced briefly down the corridor at the door to the bunk she and Peter had shared. Then, she hesitated. “You think I have the capacity to become...what he was?”

“I would hate to see what you could become without your morality. But you’ve proven that in any universe...losing yourself to his ways is no easy feat.” They both went quiet in meditative contemplation. Nebula glanced down at her hand, the one she’d lost, burnt, damaged beyond repair over half a dozen times. It had stopped feeling like it belonged to her a long time ago - a hand was simply just a hand, her legs and arms and fingers and toes were all just attachments, not appendages. By comparison, her sister was far less modified, less scarred. The most prominent of her implants was still those in her skeleton, her skull, peeking out slightly in the markings along her forehead and cheekbones. Nebula, on the other hand, had moments where she couldn’t remember which parts of her were still her.

“So when I defected from Father...what happened to you?”

“I tried to get him to favor me. I tried to be as ruthless as you once were. I tried…” Nebula cleared her throat harshly. “...I tried to kill you, several times. I failed, of course. Yet somehow, despite everything...we found peace. Common ground. And then I left.”

“I couldn’t convince you to stay?” Her face fell.

“You tried. But I was convinced I could stop Thanos on my hand. That’s when he captured me, lured you in, and…” Nebula trailed off; the lump in her throat wasn’t going away. It was strange how some parts of her body functioned like a machine, and others still felt so incredibly human. “Rocket and I were the only ones left after the Decimation. He can be a nasty creature, but he proved himself to be...reasonable.”

She smiled ruefully. “It sounds like, at least for a time, that you two were friends.”

Nebula shook her head, adamant. “Friendship is not a word I use lightly. And yet...it would seem you are the exception.”

Wisely, she decided not to reply, and instead leaned back in her seat with a satisfied smile. This time, their silence was comfortable, only broken by the insistent beeping of the Benatar’s malfunctioning radar system as they went on their way. ______

Nebula stumbled out of the smoking remains of the escape pod she’d used to, well, escape her previous captors, an astonishingly stupid group of bounty hunters who found her stowed away on a transport ship and thought they could fetch a unit or two after turning her over to whoever happened to be after her that day. It took her a few seconds to even recognize where she was, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun to look up and around at the unusually tall trees that rocketed far past the clouds. Dervani, then, where she and her sister had trained as young warriors. She could work with that.

She rummaged through the wreckage for anything that might benefit her - wires, spare batteries, a scrap of food if she was lucky - before turning and stalking off in the direction of the nearest town. The planet was overrun with lush foliage, practically swallowing up the horizon in every which way, but she was well-versed enough to navigate her way back to civilization, find herself another ship, and with a little luck, be on her way to kill Thanos once more.

It had been two years since she left Quadrant, left her sister and her still-relatively newfound family behind, and yet she felt no closer to accomplishing her goal. She was finding it harder to locate Thanos than she thought, what with Sanctuary being falsely spotted in half a dozen places across the galaxy, and she didn't exactly have the resources to chase him at light speed. Frustration was wearing her thin, but her determination - and anger - was what kept her going.

Her communicator suddenly beeped, a harsh, sharp noise that instantly caused some bird-like creatures to flee the treetops, shrieking in fright. Cursing, Nebula quickly found shelter beneath a large palm plant and pulled the device out of her pocket. “I told you not to contact me for another two days.”

“Hello to you, too,” Gamora drawled. It was a voice call, so Nebula couldn’t see her face, but she could only imagine the sort of smug smirk she was currently wearing. “We’re en route to Naro-Atzia for an extraction job, so I won’t be able to keep in touch for the next week or so.”

“Good,” Nebula shot back. “That means a whole week where I won’t be on the receiving end of your incredibly condescending calls.”

“If you responded to my messages and assured me you were still alive, I wouldn’t have to call.”

“And if you continue to send me messages, I will burn my communicator to ash,” Nebula growled. To her dismay, her sister only let out a low chuckle, apparently amused by the emptiness of her words.

“So where are you? Have you gotten any closer?” she asked.

“Dervani, and no.” Nebula slumped against the base of the plant with a sullen scowl. “Now you’ve revealed yourself, sister. You only called to gloat.”

“I called to check on you, as I’ve said every time I’ve called,” she said firmly. “And...Dervani? I haven’t thought of that place in a really long time. Does it still smell of fruit?”

Nebula inhaled. The sharpness of her senses guided her to a nearby shrub nearly bursting with ripe fruit. She kept herself low in the tall grass as she crawled over to it so she could take one, turning it over in her hand for a moment to examine it for poison spots before taking a generous bite. Her stomach growled in appreciation. “Yes.”

“I remember how hungry and warm we were, the first day Thanos sent us there.” She made a soft, quiet noise that Nebula couldn’t quite identify. “I had a sprained ankle, and you had three broken fingers, but still, we were to prove our worth before we were allowed to eat.”

“I have no intention of exchanging sentiments over a time in which I hated you most.” Nebula’s stomach now bubbled unpleasantly with contempt. “All I remember is you throwing the fight so you could prove it was the only way I could win.”

“I threw the fight because we were starving, Nebula,” she snapped. “You don’t get to change history to fit your vendetta. I am not the cruel, conspiring sister you make me out to be. I cared for you more than you ever realized.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?!” Her voice rang clear across the forest; if there were any enemies nearby, they were now sure to know where she was. Then, quieter, “We can have this argument over and over again, but it will not change the fact that you cannot accept your own failures. I am not the one to blame for the state of our relationship.”

“Then you’re saying I’m the one to blame for you turning out the way you did?” Her voice was thick with emotion, on the verge of tears. “That I’m the one who tortured you, took you apart, bled you dry?”

Nebula’s reply was immediate. “Yes.” She looked at the barely-eaten fruit in her hand. It was starting to go sour in her mouth. “In a way.”

Her breath was so sharp that the communicator screeched out a mess of static in protest. “I won’t apologize for wanting to protect myself. But I will apologize for not being the sister you wanted me to be.” Another noisy inhale, clearly fighting back the sob that wanted to escape her throat by now. “Come back, Nebula. We can do this together. As friends, as sisters, as honest allies. The way we were meant to.”

“No, I...I don’t think I will.” Nebula ended the call before she could protest, tossing the communicator aside in frustration. She took another bite of the fruit but could only spit it out right after, unable to enjoy its sweetness. ______

Peter poked his head into the common area, unsure of whether it was safe for him to interrupt. “Hey, uh, we’re here. Landing in two minutes.” Both heads turned in his direction, then nodded once in complete silence. He nodded back, then turned and headed to the cockpit, feeling immensely awkward in a way he never usually did.

“You seem uncertain,” Nebula observed, watching the tension in her sister’s face, the rigidity of her brow. “I would be, too, if I were about to give up my existence for another’s.”

“I’m concerned about whether this is going to work at all,” she admitted. “Quill told me of your last encounter with the Sovereign. They sound extremely unlikely to help.”

“After our role in reversing the Decimation, there’s a possibility they will be more willing,” Nebula suggested. “Or...I will make them comply with our demands.”

She scoffed. “I doubt coercion will make them any more agreeable. Their pride, if nothing else, will keep them from helping.” She then softened. “Nebula, if this works...promise me you’ll tell her everything you’ve told me. Everything you experienced growing up together, everything you experienced while you were going after Thanos...every thought and feeling you ever had for her. You’ve been alone for long enough...let this burden us both.” She reached across and gripped Nebula’s hand urgently, her calloused fingers interlaced with Nebula’s mechanical ones. “Promise me. Promise me you will.”

Nebula stared into the face of a Gamora who wasn’t quite hers but had her ferocity all the same. She supposed that, had this happened years ago, she would have yanked her hand away, would have shouted, would have even spat in her face for even implying that all their problems could be solved with just conversation. But now, simply having the chance to talk again with the one she did know sounded like everything she thought they would never have.

“I promise, sister.” ______

a/n: I tend to write Gamora and Nebula's relationship as being told from the perspective of two somewhat unreliable narrators where they can't agree on who's to blame and what really happened, so they don't quite get the happy memories that the previous chapters had, but I think in the movie (and this fic) it is made clear how much they mean to each other by now, which makes my heart happy! The final part might be a bit late, as I have an assignment and a midterm coming up, plus conclusions in general tend to take a little longer for me to be satisfied with. Please bear with me if it's not posted by next Friday!

Thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and see you next time :)

[tf-tere]

A Fallen Star - 2

(Poor little Starfall is somewhat overwhelmed by recent events.

If you’d rather leave a comment on AO3, you can find this fic under the same name and Tf_Tere. 

Words: ~1400)

Starfall came out of recharge and onlined her optics, blinking as she tried to remember where she was. This was not the ship. The sparkling pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked down at herself. For the first time in cycles she didn’t hurt. Her systems weren’t sending frantic warnings about energon levels and starvation. And there were no errors. Starfall twisted around to look at her wing, which was no longer bent.

“Carrier?” Starfall called out as she looked around the somewhat messy medical area.

“Ah, you’re awake.” A large, ground based bot came into the doorway. He had a white and orange paint job, and his optics were a piercing blue that sent a wave of terror through Starfall.

She hissed and scrambled back along the medical berth until her wings bumped against a wall. Starfall raised her clawed servos and glared at the Autobot. She remembered now, Autobots had gotten onto the ship! Well, they hadn’t killed her yet. The big one had even given her energon.

The Autobot did not look nearly as scared of her display as she wished. He lifted a hand to his helm instead.

“Optimus, the sparkling is up.”

He regarded her again and held up a cube of energon. “If I set this on the berth, will you refuel without making a mess? Or do you need help?”

Starfall felt her face flush with energon at the implication that she was some helpless new spark. Okay, the big Autobot had had to help her before. But that was just because she was so weakened from not having fuel for a couple cycles.

“I can do it myself! Stay away, Autobot.” She snapped, lifting her wings higher in a vain attempt to make herself look more imposing.

The Autobot snorted and stepped closer, setting the cube on the end of the berth furthest from where she half crouched. Starfall ignored the gurgle from her tanks and turned her nose up at the offering, refusing to budge from her spot. As if she’d trust what an Autobot gave her! Her carrier had taught her better than that.

“Suit yourself. And my name is Ratchet, by the way.” The Autobot shrugged.

A second Autobot came into the medbay. It was the big one, Optimus, that had given her energon on the ship. His blue optics looked at her with gentle compassion. It made Starfall nervous to have his gaze so focused on her. He hadn’t acted like she expected an Autobot to act. Maybe it was all a ploy? They might be after her carrier’s work.

“I am glad to see you are doing better, Starfall. You are safe here.” Optimus stopped short of the berth when the other Autobot held out a servo. Starfall was distantly grateful for that.

“I want my carrier!” She snapped, still glaring at the pair of them.

The two Autobots traded a significant glance. Starfall felt her spark tighten. How much of what she’d seen on the ship had been starvation driven delusion? She wouldn’t, couldn’t, believe that dull, grey form…

“I want my carrier!” Starfall repeated, half shrieking with her servos balled into fists now. She could feel her wings quivering, coolant gathering in her optics. This wasn’t the time to cry. Starfall knew she had to be brave and find her carrier. Then they could both escape, together.

Optimus sighed and stepped closer to the berth. “You were the only living thing on the ship, Starfall. Your carrier was already offlined.”

“No!” She shook her head quickly, not wanting to believe him. “No, he wouldn’t leave me! He wouldn’t!”

“I’m sorry. Your carrier did all he could to make sure you lived.” Optimus rumbled gently.

Starfall slumped down on her aft and hugged her knees close to her chest. Her wings hung low and quivered as she began to keen. She hadn’t wanted to believe he was gone, that she was all alone now.

“We could see if we have any records of your sire. Maybe he is still around?” Ratchet muttered awkwardly.

Coolant streaking down her cheeks, Starfall glanced up and shook her head as she worked to swallow the keening clawing up from her vocalizer. “S-sire… offlined in the fighting… before I emerged. It was just… just me and… c-carrier.” She lost control again, sobs shaking her small frame.

It seemed that was the last straw for Optimus. He reached out across the berth and lifted her up in his servos, cradling her close to his chassis. Starfall started thrashing against him, small claws leaving scratches on his metal plating and glass.

“Shush. It is alright to cry, to mourn for your loss.” Optimus attempted to rumble comfortingly.

“Why?” Starfall gasped out, vocalizer hitching. “Why are you being kind to me? You’re Autobots!”

Ratchet and Optimus shared a glance before the large Autobot looked back down at her again.

“You seem to have been misinformed; the Autobots are the good guys. We wouldn’t hurt a little sparkling. Even a Decepticon one. Well, unless you were trying to offline us I guess.” Ratchet shrugged and reached over to pick up the cube he’d set on the berth.

“We will look after you, Starfall. You are not alone.” Optimus said gently.

Ratchet held the cube of energon close to the whimpering sparkling. “You need to refuel, your frame is still vulnerable from almost starving.”  

She wanted to refuse, but her tanks chose to gurgle at that moment. Starfall wriggled slightly in Optimus’s grasp until she could take the cube from Ratchet. It didn’t take her long to finish it off, the taste bitter from added minerals. She knew they were good for her, but it didn’t mean she liked them. Her frame felt heavy and sore still. Cradled against Optimus’s chassis she was warm and the thrum of his spark was soothing.

Starfall felt her head falling limp against Optimus’s chassis. Her optics kept flickering. She turned over so her wings didn’t feel cramped and let herself drift back into recharge.

~

Optimus was gentle as he settled the sparkling back onto the medical berth. She didn’t even twitch, small frame limp. He smiled faintly and carefully moved her so she wasn’t lying on her right wing. Starfall looked adorable in sleep, her rounded cheek smushed against the berth.

“I was able to do some scans before she came around.” Ratchet muttered, looking down at a piece of tech in his servos.

“What can you tell me?” Optimus rumbled softly to avoid disturbing Starfall’s rest.

Ratchet sighed and rubbed his helm for a moment. “Plenty of evidence for long term stasis. We can assume that’s how a sparkling ended up here. She’s probably been in stasis since the beginning of the war. Judging by her frame and her spark, she’s between ten and twenty vorn old.”

“You can’t get anything more accurate?” Optimus asked with a small frown.

“I tried, but either this thing is struggling with a spark so young, or maybe it isn’t well calibrated for seekers. I don’t know. Her spark reads as a bit younger than her frame.” He sounded annoyed, optics narrowed at the offending technology. “Either way, she’s not a new spark, but she’s not much past that.”

“About the same age as when we found Bumblebee.” Optimus murmured, his gaze drawn back to the quietly resting sparkling. He could almost see the yellow sparkling curled up after crying himself to exhaustion when they’d found him wandering the streets, his creators offlined by the Decepticons.

“Yes, well, I’m putting together a feeding plan for her. She is still growing and her frame is suffering from almost starving before you found her.” Ratchet muttered. “Which means we need more energon. We have to make it more of a priority if everyone is going to stay fueled.”

Optimus’s expression became more grim. “You are right. I want someone on guard here at all times. I don’t want Starfall to wake up alone.”

“Worried she might do something?"

“I am worried both for her safety and ours. I do not expect her to trust us immediately. It may take a while for her to warm up to us.

Ratchet huffed out a breath. “Especially with whatever drivel she was told about Autobots. She acted like she thought we’d torture her or something.

“Typical scare tactics. Ratchet, I also want you to start going through the data we were able to extract from the ship’s computers. Whatever her carrier was working on may prove useful to us.

The medic considered his ever growing list of responsibilities and sighed. “I’ll get to it as soon as I can, Optimus.”

[ehyde]

Again

@acertaincritic requested Present!Su-won and BeforeTheCoup!Su-won (but already planning) meet, and discuss whether or not it was/is worth it.

This isn’t...exactly this prompt, but it’s certainly the result of it. It’s set in the same au as my other time travel fics: essentially, Hiryuu Castle is riddled with portals through time, though not many can access them. Suwon is among those who can.

Disclaimer 1: one of the other fics in this au, What We Make, contains a crackship that is...somewhat relevant...to this fic. I think this stands alone just fine, but if you want more context, that’s where to find it.

Disclaimer 2: while not technically a Suwon Double fic, I’ve shamelessly borrowed elements of @sorasan000‘s Suwon Double theory

2018 words, featuring past!Suwon, present!Suwon (technically between-Kin-and-Sei-arcs!Suwon), King Il, and time travel that makes about as much sense as the stuff in the Terminator franchise

AO3 link

When Suwon feels the familiar tug of Hiryuu Castle’s time portals, it's already too late. Upon his ascension, he'd made a promise never to visit the past again. He's learned much over the years, from eras both distant and more recent, but as Kouka's king, it was time to put the past behind him and look to the future...or not. He wouldn't have chosen to step through this portal, but he's in the past now, with no way to return home other than to let things take their course. A day or two, maybe less. The portals have always sent him home in due time.

Suwon smiles to himself. In his previous visits, he was always a student, learning from the great rulers and generals of the past. Now here he is, fresh from his own victory, one step closer to restoring Kouka to that past glory. Would history’s greats be proud of him? One man, in particular, surely would…

Now, when exactly has he found himself? If he's already here, there's no point containing his curiosity, after all. The palace is similar to the one he knows—almost too similar. The portals have never taken him anywhere so recent, but is it possible? Could he meet—? Then a familiar young man rounds the corner and Suwon’s eyes widen. This is the recent past, yes—far, far too recent.

“Lord Suwon!” Minsu’s broad smile almost hurts to see. “We weren’t expecting you this early. Shall I tell Princess Yona you’re here?”

“No, don’t—!” He takes a deep breath and composes himself. “I came early to do some business in the city,” he improvises. “Don’t tell Yona, she’ll only be disappointed I can’t spend time with her yet.” Minsu accepts this easily; Suwon has done this before.

He leaves the palace straight away. If he were to see them now… You can change things, his mind whispers to him, and why not? he wants to answer. It’s not as if he believes in some grand plan. Still he leaves. With a portal to this era, he could find himself trying to make things right forever, if he lets himself. This is why he chose to look only forward.

“Oh! Excuse me.” Ah. Perhaps he should take looking forward literally, too. “Wait. You...I…” That voice. Suwon looks up. The man he bumped into is...himself.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “You’re not expected for another week.”

“I...came early, to take care of some business in the city…” Of course. He’s done this before, after all. “But I should be the one asking you that question.”

“I discovered a new portal.” His younger self nods in understanding—he’s been exploring Hiryuu Castle’s time portals for years—but still there’s a question in his eyes. “Purely by accident. I don’t intend to make a habit of this.”

The younger Suwon looks over the elder, taking stock of his appearance. “You’re king,” he says, eyes falling on his golden hair cuff. “How long has it been?”

“Eight months, perhaps?”

“Such a narrow portal! Well, come with me, I know a place—” He breaks off in laughter. “And so do you!”

Together they walk to a quiet inn where they know they won’t be disturbed. “Tell me everything,” says the younger man.

Of course he would ask. And of course he’ll tell. “I don’t remember this,” he begins. “Meeting my older self. History is changing already.”

His younger self shakes his head. “History hasn’t happened yet,” he replies, and Suwon nods.

“Well then.” The coup must be on his mind. It’s only two weeks away, isn’t it? But he finds himself reluctant to bring it up immediately. “The most important piece I have to tell you is about General Sujin’s rebellion…”

They go over everything, or nearly. Still he doesn’t ask about the coup, and finally, Suwon can’t stand it. “Yona will be all right,” he reassures his younger self.

“...yes? None of this has anything to do with her.” His eyes widen has he abruptly remembers—Yona was never supposed to see. “Did—did something happen to her?”

“...he’s her father, of course she’ll be affected.”

“No, it’s more than that, I can see it,” he insists. “What happened?”

What should he say? He can warn himself to be more careful...if he wants the outcome to change. But what he’d thought he wanted for them—for Yona and Hak to go on all unknowing—would that really have been better?

And the other way to avoid hurting them isn’t even an option. Il has to die.

“Tell me,” his younger self insists again.

“Yona saw,” he reluctantly admits. “She knows.”

“Then I’ll make sure she doesn’t this time.”

“And then what? I know you haven’t really thought about that.” Because he hadn’t.

The younger Suwon is silent for a while. “Tell me,” he finally asks. “Does it feel as good as it should? Vengeance.”

“It feels...over.” And that will have to be enough.

His past self looks down. “That will have to be enough, he says, reminding Suwon that they really are the same person. Then he looks up again, into Suwon’s eyes, and opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes—he’s flickering out of sight. That was quick, Suwon thinks, before he realizes—the other Suwon is the only thing that’s flickering. The world isn’t shifting around him as it sends him back to his own time, it’s...sending his younger self back instead.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late. He’s alone.

He sits there frozen for nearly an hour, thinking surely the timeline will sort itself out. It always does. But nothing happens. He remains here, in the past, and—they were so close to the same person, is that why?—and he never even told his younger self where to find the portal.

Finally, he stands up. He’s not expected in the palace for a week, and he has business in the city.

The week passes. His other self hasn’t returned, and he knows he’ll have to take his place. If he doesn’t...could he change the future so much he might jeapordize his very existence? And when his future self is really his past self...no, he has to go back. Has to see them again. Has to smile at Yona and tell her how much she’s grown (and oh, how much she will grow still), has to laugh with Hak as they compare their skill. He knew what was coming the first time around—why does this hurt so much more?

Hak tells him he’ll gladly serve him as king and he knows, knows he can’t do it. Can’t let them stay here unknowing, not when he’s seen Yona’s frozen tears and felt Hak’s bloody thirst for vengeance. He can live with many things, but not with that lie.

But he also can’t let them go, and he finds himself wondering the unthinkable.

He goes to Il the night before Yona’s sixteenth birthday. “Uncle, I know we have not always seen eye to eye. And what I’m about to tell you may be hard to believe. But there are ways of connecting the past to the future—”

“So she did tell you, in the end.”

Suwon blinks. “You know.”

“I followed your mother once, after one of her secret rendezvous with King Hiryuu. Hmm,” he frowns to himself. “And she agreed you were never to know.”

Mother knew followed by Il tried to keep this from me? followed by Hiryuu. What?

“Now, I thought I’d made it clear to you that Hiryuu has nothing to do with you.”

Now Suwon is just irritated. “This isn’t about the past. It’s about the future. I could let Father rest for Yona’s sake, but your obsession with that ancient king is going to get our country killed. I’ve seen what will happen. I know what can be done—”

“No. My daughter is Hiryuu. You are not.” And his face makes it clear that nothing more will be said.

What just happened? It’s clear they were talking past each other, Il so sure he already knew what Suwon was saying. Just what did he think he knew?

Mother knew about the time portals. Mother had met with Hiryuu. And Il thought he wanted to be Hiryuu—?

No. Impossible! But even if it were true— Does he really think I’ve forgotten what he did to Yuhon? Did Il think it didn’t matter? A scream of frustration escapes him into the empty night. There will be no compromise with King Il, nor does he ever wish there to be.

The hairpin was Mother’s. She told him it was a gift. Suwon supposes it’s only fitting that Yona have it now.

He waits until the last possible minute in the place the the portal left him, still hoping against hope that his younger self will return from the future and do what is rightly his to do. What will happen if they never trade places again? He’ll live through all those months again, until...what? The portal opens, dooming him to repeat this night yet again? Is this what has come of traveling history so freely up until now?

Is this what comes of being born of two different eras?

It’s time. “You made a mistake,” he says to Il. “This was never about Hiryuu. This is for my father. For Yuhon.” What did he say the first time? Does it matter? Yona walks in, and it’s like watching someone else. The words he chooses won’t make a difference yet he has to say something, and he’s almost grateful when Keishuk and the soldiers chase her away.

At least nothing is on fire this time.

“You—it’s tonight?” Suwon had thought himself alone in the king’s chamber. Who—? He looks up. “I finally found the portal again. We can—” His younger self freezes at the sight of blood spattered on Suwon’s robes.

“I’ve killed him twice now,” Suwon says. “You won’t remember it at all. How—?”

“Yona. Hak.”

“Yona ran…”

“Clean yourself up,” his younger self commands. “I’ll go after her.”

“No, wait—!” But he’s already gone. The other man doesn’t know what happened, won’t know the right things to say—but Suwon can’t let himself be seen, not now. Powerless, he watches from an empty guard tower.

This is wrong. Hak and Yona are supposed to get away. If he’d thought they couldn’t he would have done more to change things! Where is Minsu? Why is his past self just letting this happen?

Because I told him Yona would be fine. He grabs a bow from the guard tower’s weapons rack. It’s a cheap distraction, poorly aimed, but it’s enough.

“I’m sorry,” his other self when they find each other again, when they’re alone together, when it’s quiet. “I don’t know why it took me instead of you.”

“Because we’re the same.” Or because they don’t belong in any one time in the first place. “But what’s done is done.” And that trite phrase can never hold true again, either.

“Well, hopefully you’ll be the one to go back this time. I don’t think anyone suspected—what would they even suspect?—but there were things I just—”

“What happened?”

“The Water Tribe’s daughter, are we really together? Everyone seemed to think so…”

“What? No, that’s—”

“Ah, good. She was kidnapped by Sei—but she’s safe now. Oh, and Sei will become Kouka’s vassal state. We didn’t even need to deploy the army.” He says that like it’s a good thing. “And Hak...Judo tried to kill him, even after he helped us. Have things really become like that?” He helped…? “I would have kept them out of it, I know I would have. What changed, between me and you?”

“...and you came straight back here and had to draw a sword against him. I’m sorry.” Not sorry enough, says the look in his eyes. “Someday you’ll understand.”

“...and you?” he finally asks after a sigh of reluctant acceptance. “Did everything go according to plan? Did anything change at all?”

Nothing and everything. “No,” he tells himself firmly. “Nothing has changed.”

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 2)

Weiss stepped out of the crowds, the hubbub, and the hot and stuffy air inside the Great Hall, sighing and slumping her shoulders as she came down the stairs to the greenery, the spread out crowds, and the cool, fresh air.

She scanned the path leading up there, was disappointed but not surprised to find that Ruby and Akko had already disappeared from where she’d left them earlier. “Probably off at the firing range to check weapons, or looking for Shiny Chariot memorabilia on campus...” she thought as she walked down the path.

“So, there’s about an hour before we’re all supposed to report to the Great Hall for Headmaster Lionheart’s speech; you’re alone and have no idea where the hell Akko is; and Grandpa and Grandma explicitly stated that they don’t want to see you hiding out in either of their offices, unless you’re bleeding, having an episode, or have official, school-based business with them.”

She looked around at the crowds of students milling about, some enjoying the nice day, others also heading into the Great Hall with their luggage, the rest just disembarking from the later airship trips to Haven. “You could go try and make friends again! Hope things go better than earlier, possibly even make some headway with your future teammates if you happen to be having your initiation exam at the same time as them…

“… Or you could do the realistic thing, and hide out somewhere isolated, where no one will bother you or try to strike up a conversation with you.” Weiss paused to consider her two options for a few seconds, before she made a sharp turn off the main path, to the buildings on the fringes of Haven.

Unlike Akko and many of the other students, this wasn’t the first time Weiss had ever stepped foot on the campus. Though she had been under heavy surveillance and the watchful eye of either of her grandparents every single time, there was only so much you could do to keep a young, bored, and anti-social girl from exploring her surroundings, discovering shortcuts, memorizing routes and the lay of the land in her head, until she could get almost everywhere in campus with little difficulty.

Weiss smiled as she found herself in Haven’s zen garden, walking past the wooden lattice fences and arches covered in flowers, crawling vines, and bonsai trees; watching the small woodland creatures, birds, and butterflies going about their days; listening ho the gentle burble of water fountains and the irrigation streams, and of course, the regular, distinctive “doink!” sound of a deer chaser somewhere.

She wasn’t alone there, but she may as well have been with all the people she passed by intent on keeping to themselves, so Weiss just happily strolled through the familiar paths, humming quietly to herself as she made her way to her favourite spot:

The Jennifer Memorial Tree.

Legends abounded about the massive centerpiece of the garden: that its namesake was secretly buried there, after she fell during a massive siege of Grimm and her compatriots had gone through mythical hardships to recover her remains; that the spirits of all the fallen huntsmen and huntresses of Haven eventually returned there to watch over the next generation as they trained; that some sort of incredible, secret relic of unimaginable power was buried within its massive roots, waiting for the day a worthy wielder would appear and claim it.

To Weiss, however, it was just her grandfather Nick’s favourite spot to hang out after class and before going home, where he’d tell his grandchildren and/or interested students stories about his numerous adventures and misadventures all over Remnant, until an airship arrived to take him home. Weiss hummed to herself as she stepped into the protective dome around it, stopped as she realized that someone was already standing before the tree’s spiraling trunk.

It was another girl about her age, wearing a blue shirt with the hood pulled up over her head, a spear slung across her back, its head shaped like a unicorn’s horn.

Weiss awkwardly stopped some distance away from her, her features furrowed. “Oh, great, what do I do…?” she thought to herself. “Should I leave? Should I stay and try to ignore her? I can’t just tell a total stranger to up and leave public property…!”

The hooded girl turned around, Weiss saw her face, felt her mind screeching to a halt as she stared at her. The other girl’s gaze, sharp blue eyes locked with Weiss’ own. “Can I help you…?” she said as she stepped closer.

Weiss stood there, stunned, before started blubbering and struggling for words, until she finally managed to blurt out: “You’re Diana Cavendish!”

“I am her, yes,” Diana replied calmly.

There was silence for a few, awkward moments. Diana’s face remained neutral, but Weiss could feel the ever decreasing patience she had for her, see it in those pale blue eyes.

“I’ll just be taking my leave now...” Diana said as she began to make her way past Weiss.

“Wait!” Weiss blurted.

Diana stopped, looked at her with an expression that said: “This better be important.”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “Thank you,” she said. “To your family. The Cavendishes. Without their work in medicine, my grandfather Nick would be dead by now.”

For a brief moment, Diana just stared at her in surprise, before her lips curled into a small smile. She was about to say something, before her eyes went wide. “… Wait, you’re Weiss Schnee, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes I am!” Weiss said, beaming, before she frowned. “No longer associated with the Schnee Dust Company, by the way! My grandparents and mother cut ties with the company years ago, and I’ve absolutely no interest in reconnecting them!”

“I know, and I heard,” Diana said. “I’m assuming you’re here in Haven to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps?”

“… Among other reasons, but yes!” Weiss said, nodding. “The man I regret to say is my father dragged the Schnee name into the mud, and I intend to bring it out of it.” She paused. “Ah, if I may ask, what are you doing here in Haven? Sorry, my family has been living out in the mountains for all these years, and we aren’t really privy on most news of Mistral society...”

“Much the same as you, actually,” Diana said, smiling. “House Cavendish has fallen on its own tough times.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.” Diana said. “You know, now that I think about it, maybe our two legacies can help each other out once more—what would the Cavendish hospitals and laboratories been without Schnee dust powering them, after all…?”

Weiss blinked. “You mean… you want us to be partners? Like in a team…? Together?”

“If fate decides to bind our families together in such a way, yes.” Diana said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t mind cooperating with yours, whoever they might be.”

Weiss just stared blankly at her. “Oh. That’s… very generous of you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Diana said. “Now if you’ll please excuse me, I had other things I intended to do before the Headmaster’s speech...”

“O-Oh, go on ahead, please don’t let me keep you!” Weiss said as she quickly stepped aside, awkwardly swept her arm towards one of the exits.

Diana smiled at her one more time as she left, before her face was neutral once more, her gaze locked forward as she made her way out of the zen garden.

Weiss watched her go for a few moments, before skipping to the base of the Jennifer Memorial Tree and sitting down at the particular patch of dirt Nick always favoured. “Wait till Grandpa hears about this…!” she thought as she looked up at the vibrant leaves looming above her, a smile on her face, her eyes shining.

Then, little by little, the smile disappeared, the glow in her eyes faded, till she was looking up at the canopy with a look of mute, silent dread.

The Great Hall was abuzz with activity, students flooding almost every bit of space on the floor, some of them even hanging off or sitting on the rafters up in the ceiling. Weiss stood somewhere in the middle of the crowds with Akko by her side, neither Ruby nor Diana in sight. “Ruby said she wanted to be with sister for this,” Akko replied when Weiss asked.

On the stage in the center, Headmaster Lionheart prepared to step up to the microphone, some the professors standing behind him—and to Weiss’ dismay, both of her grandparents were absent, no doubt busy with the preparations for the initiation tests tomorrow.

Lionheart took a deep breath, combed back his iconic gray mane with one hand, before he smiled and stepped up to the microphone. “Students? Students, lend me your ears for a moment, please!” When the casual chatter all around the Great Hall quieted down somewhat, Lionheart just sighed to himself, smiled, and continued. “Thank you. Now, good evening, everyone, and welcome to Haven Academy!

“Many are the walks of life you all came from. Some of you are here from the highest echelons of the city, children of celebrities, nobles, and the most affluent individuals in all of the kingdom. Some of you are from the lower levels, children of the hard workers that make our kingdom great, our farmers, our masons, our hardworking merchants hawking their trades day after day. Others still are from the settlements and the villages all over the hills of Mistral, across the seas from the other kingdoms as far away as Vacuo, or from origins they’d rather not be brought up.

“Many more are the reasons you enrolled here. Some of you are like the original huntsmen and huntresses, here to protect those that cannot protect themselves, slay the Grimm, and keep the peace in our kingdoms. Some of you see it as a means to status and glory, something to brag about to future employers, put in your resumes, or make for interesting conversation at parties. Some of you see it as just another way to earn a living, and start a new life for yourself as you enter adulthood.

“And right now, I can see your pasts and your motivations divide you, so many walls running down along as many lines as you can imagine.

“I will not lie: four years in this academy will not completely break down those barriers, and when you graduate, you may find many more than you ever thought possible wherever you go.

“But it is my and the staff’s sincerest hope that during your time here, you learn that in times of crises, in times of need, in times when all hope seems lost and the end seems to have come for all of us, these divides will cease to matter, that it will not matter if the person you are saving is member of the Council or a simple farmer, if they are also from Mistral or wherever else in Remnant, that the huntsmen and huntresses you are fighting with are human or Faunus, rich or poor, famous or unknown:

“For in the end, we are all the people of Remnant, all wanting to survive, to thrive, to live and be happy.” Lionheart smiled. “I hope to see you all here again in four years time, handing you and your future teams your licenses. Thank you, and good afternoon, students.”

The Great Hall erupted in applause, some of it honest and heartfelt, others distinctly sarcastic, the faces on the students ranging from inspired and proud, to disgusted and cynical.

“Can you believe they’re still spouting that crap year after year…?” Weiss heard someone whisper nearby.

“Yeah—we’re all equals alright, but some of us are more equal than others...”

Lionheart bowed and took his leave, one of the professors stepped up to the mic, a shy and timid looking woman with long blue hair and very plain and simple clothes. “All of you please report back here soon as soon as the sun goes down, 6PM sharp—we don’t want to see or hear about any of you getting up to any sort of trouble after dark, and Professor Schnee asked me to tell you all, and I quote, ‘Don’t even try the “I was just looking for the bathroom” excuse, or any others tall tales! I really have heard them all, kiddos.’

“Try not to stay up too late and get plenty of rest, everyone,” she said. “You’ll want to be well-rested before we send you out into the Celestial Hills for initiation tomorrow. That is all for the announcements, you are all dismissed.”

The crowds started breaking up, some staking their spots as early as now, other still heading out before curfew was enacted.

“You want to go find some of that Shiny Chariot stuff Uncle Nick was talking about?” Akko said, bouncing on her heels and raring to go.

“I’m surprised you didn’t do that while we were separated earlier,” Weiss said.

“I promised I’d only do it with my best friend, right?” Akko said, beaming. “Though, Ruby and I ran into some Shiny Chariot stuff while we were heading to the training grounds to show off our weapons—totally coincidental, along the way stuff, I swear!”

Weiss chuckled, and smiled back. “I believe you. Now come on, let’s go! Time’s a wasting!”

“Yay!” Akko cried, before she all but dragged Weiss out and through the crowds at top speed, like a missile with an unlucky hanger-on.

Hours later, when the whole of Haven was cast in a warm orange light and all the students were staking their claims out in the Great Hall or making the most of their remaining free time, Weiss and Akko trudged back through the entrance, the former exhausted from trying to keep up with her friend, the latter scowling and stewing in disappointment.

“I can’t believe they have so little of Shiny Chariot here!” Akko complained. “She’s one of the best, most amazing huntresses to ever graduate here from Haven, why don’t they even have a statue of her?!”

Still out of breath, and legs aching, Weiss only nodded and patted her friend on the shoulder.

“We should start a petition, you know, get your grandparents to sponsor it, and every single student and staff member here to sign it!” Akko cried. “We’re going to personally shove it right onto Lionheart’s desk, and then we’re going to have a giant statue of Shiny Chariot put up on campus! Made of stone, so it lasts for centuries! And right in the center of the campus, so everyone will see it, wherever it is they’re going!”

“I sincerely wish you the best of luck with such an outlandish endeavour,” a familiar voice said. Weiss and Akko turned to the side, found Diana in a night gown, a rolled-up sleeping bag under her arm. “Merely finding people who even remember Shiny Chariot’s name will prove to be a challenge, let alone ones who still have as much passion for her as you do.”

“It won’t be that difficult!” Akko snapped, scowling.  “So what if she’s taken a little break from hunting? She helped a lot of people and inspired so many more! She’s practically a legend, people don’t forget legends that easily!”

Diana’s expression remained neutral. “A piece of unsolicited advice: that seemingly boundless energy of yours might be better spent making a name for yourself, than trying to bring back someone who’s long stepped out of the spotlight—for all you know, this ‘break’ might be an unannounced, permanent retirement...” she muttered as she walked off.

Akko fumed, Weiss sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. “Just let her go, Akko, and let’s look for a place to sleep tonight...” Weiss said.

“Hmph. I hope we aren’t in the same batch as her tomorrow...” Akko grumbled as she left with Weiss.

After a few minutes of searching, it was clear they should have called off the hunt for Shiny Chariot memorabilia much earlier: all the good spots in the Great Hall were long taken, old or newly formed cliques and factions had already staked vast swaths of territory for themselves and were quite selective about who they let in, and free spots were looking far and few in-between.

“Excuse me!” they heard a girl call out. Weiss and Akko looked, found an orange-haired girl with massive, clunky glasses waving at them, an empty sleeping bag next to her, and free space enough for two wedged side-by-side nearby. The two of them smiled wasted no time rushing over to her before someone else claimed the offer.

“Yay!” Akko cried as she triumphantly rolled out her sleeping bag, round birds with a star on its belly printed all over it. “Thanks! I thought we were going to have to try and sleep standing up with our backs against each other again!”

The girl with glasses blinked. “Again…?”

“It’s a long story...” Weiss muttered as she unrolled hers, a surplus Mistral military bedroll. “Anyway, I’m Weiss, and this is my friend, Akko. You would be?”

“Lotte,” Lotte replied, smiling.

“Well, thank you, Lotte,” Weiss said as she sat down. “If there’s anything we can do to repay you, just say the word.”

Lotte waved them off. “Oh, don’t even mention it!”

“Not so fast, Lotte: this could be a great opportunity for new test subjects...” a fourth, unnerving voice said.

Weiss turned to the source, found herself scowling. Akko cried and scrambled backwards, nearly crashing into the students behind her. “You!” they both cried.

Lotte frowned as she looked at Akko and Weiss, and at the girl returning to her sleeping bag. “Sucy, you know these two?”

“She poisoned me earlier!” Akko snapped. “I puked my guts out thanks to whatever it was she gave me! Twice!”

“Sucy!” Lotte snapped, glaring at her friend.

Sucy shrugged. “She came out of nowhere and started going off about something a mile a minute, what else was I supposed to do?”

“She was trying to introduce herself and make a friend!” Weiss snapped, Akko nodding beside her.

Sucy’s one visible eye blinked. “Oh. Well, at least, I got some great observations in earlier...”

Lotte sighed. “I apologize for Sucy, she’s, well...” she trailed off, struggled to think of a word, before giving up.

Weiss stood up, looked around, and found the spaces inside the warm, sheltered Great Hall already fast running out; staff were already forcing the cliques to give up space, but she had a feeling they were going to be breaking out tents pretty soon…

She sat back down, and looked Sucy dead in her eye. “No funny stuff in the middle of the night, okay? Even without my weapon, I’m dangerous enough with just my semblance.” Weiss said.

Sucy half-heartedly put her hand on her chest. “Huntress’ honour.”

Weiss looked at her warily, before Akko and her switched places, Weiss now closer to Sucy than her.

It wasn’t exactly how either of them wanted to spend their first night in Haven, but Weiss supposed it was a good start to when they’d inevitably be sleeping in worse accommodations...