#i saw someone with an AU of Bills family and its killing me

[bugwolfsstuff]

Tiktok needs to fucking STOP with the Bill angst on my fyp

STOP MAKING ME FEEL BAD FOR HIM GODS DAMMIT

[lisbonsteresa]

You’re Once (In Any Lifetime)

🥳 🥳 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY( @eddiediaz)!!!!  🥳 🥳  (little late is better than never fingers crossed. a little something for my drew crew bestie who i have never yelled at, cajoled into watching a show, or threatened with a knife emoji. hope you like the...kind of au of the au of the - let’s just call it the 7th generation of an au 😘)

                                 ___

“She’s lingering again.”

“Call a spade a spade Bess.” George grumbled as she entered the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. “At this point she’s loitering.”

Nick glanced up from where he was reviewing that month’s order form at the prep table with a slight grin. “Don’t know if you can go that far. I mean she did pay for her dinner.”

“Oh please,” George shot back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s been 45 minutes since she paid her bill and she’s still nursing that iced tea like it’s a long island.” As if she knew they were talking about her, the redhead in the corner booth looked up from her glass and gave a small, unsure smile across the sparsely-seated dining room in their direction. She did not receive any in response.

“What I don’t understand is why she keeps coming here, of all places. I mean it’s not like our food is good.” An offended grunt came from Bess’s right, and she spun around to see the Claw’s cook pressing a burger to the grill with a wounded expression. 

“Oh no, Charlie,” she backtracked frantically, hands held out in a feeble attempt to placate the older man. “I just meant compared to what they must have at the yacht club.” 

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug, apparently forgiving the unintended slight before moving down the line where he hopefully missed Bess’s whispered  “Or anywhere else…”

“Guys, come on.” Ace cut in, voice calm and measured even as he scrubbed determinedly at a rusting lobster pot. “It’s not like we don’t have other customers keeping us here. What’s so bad about Nancy lingering a bit?” 

“The fact that she’s not just ‘Nancy’, Ace.” George admonished as she tipped her dishes into the full sink in front of him, raising the water level until it sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “She’s Nancy Hudson. You know how the hill-toppers treat us townies -”

“When they’re not wheeling and dealing in back rooms to screw us over while they’re sitting pretty in their ivory towers.” Nick interrupted, his attention still on the sheet in front of him.  

“Exactly.” George gave her boyfriend an appreciative look as she leaned up against the prep table next to him. “And now what, I’m supposed to be happy that one of them deigned to grace us with her presence?” 

“Yes, and I had to take her hill-topper order.” Bess lamented, pouting near the line window until she noticed Nick looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You know you’re a hill-topper, right Bess?”

She turned towards him, her expression scandalized and defensive. “That is completely different, Mr. Multimillionaire.” (Nick held his hands up in amused defeat). “I only just became a Marvin; I wasn’t born and raised a hill-topper, unlike some people.” 

“Besides,” she glanced back across the dining room with an insulted wrinkle of her nose, “the Hudsons and Marvins are long-standing enemies; it was humiliating to have to serve one of them.”

“The Hudsons and Marvins, maybe, but not you and Nancy.” Ace countered, leaning the lobster pot against the back of the drying rack before reaching into the increasingly murky water to start on George’s dishes. “You two barely know each other.”

Bess paused, playing with her necklace and staring into space as if considering this fact for the first time. “Well, I guess that’s true…"

“And she’s been spending her gap year here in town volunteering and helping Hannah Gruen set up a scholarship with the Historical Society.” Ace continued with a glance over his shoulder at Nick.

“I mean, that’s great, but -” Nick stopped, eyes narrowing “wait, how do you know that?”

Ace’s hands paused their motions, just for a fraction of a second, before he resumed rinsing a plate and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Must’ve seen it in the paper somewhere.” He muttered offhandedly. “And -”

“And nothing.” George cut him off, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl. “A few good deeds don’t change the fact that this time next year she’ll be 300 miles away with a full ride to some Ivy League school just because of her last name, and the rest of us will still be stuck here cleaning grease traps in an old clam shack.” Ace’s shoulders tensed more and more with every word that left her mouth. “And since when did you start defending Hudsons anyway?”

“I’m not defending the Hudsons, I’m defending Na-” Ace spun around to face the room and froze, realizing that his raised voice had turned three sets of interested eyes in his direction. (Well, four, if you counted Charlie.) “I’m not defending anybody.” he continued after a beat. “I’m just saying you can’t help who your family is, and at least she’s trying to be better than hers. It wouldn’t kill you guys to try and see that.” 

No one said anything - this was the most upset any of them had seen Ace get since the time that nor'easter put a tree branch through Florence’s windshield. “Anyway, dishes are done; I’m gonna take my break.”

He tossed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder down onto the counter and stomped down the steps towards the storeroom. The back door slammed shut a moment later, and the others turned back towards the dining room to see that Nancy had at last abandoned her iced tea and was heading towards the exit with the air of someone in a rush trying very hard to appear relaxed.

“So…” Bess began, her eyes flicking back and forth between Nancy’s booth and the door. “when do we tell him we saw them making out by the loading dock last Thursday?”  

“I say we make him sweat for a bit.” George said with a shrug as she straightened and headed out to clear the table. “Serves him right for thinking he could keep something like this from us.” Bess and Nick shared an amused smile behind her, then got back to their own work.

If any of them noticed that Ace arrived back from his break 20 minutes late with his hair in disarray, they kept it to themselves.

                                   _____

“Great. I’m going to be picking seaweed out of my hair for a week. Thanks a lot Bess.”

Bess paused her efforts to wring out her dress to shoot an incredulous look in George’s direction. “I’m sorry, how is this my fault!?”

“It’s my birthday George!” Came the response in a mocking imitation of the Brit’s accent. “Just close for inventory George! It’ll be fun George!” 

“Well excuse me for trying to enjoy a nice beach day!” Bess shot back. “How was I supposed to know we’d be attacked by that kelkey-whatever??”

“Kelpie.” Nick corrected, stopping the bickering for a moment while all three turned their attention towards the redhead kneeling in the sand and frantically running her hands over a soaking wet and slightly dazed Ace. “That’s what you called it, right?”

The second Nancy realized she was being addressed, her hands dropped from Ace’s body like they had been burned. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, a kelpie. They’re Scottish horse spirits that drag their victims underwater and devour them. That silver necklace Bess had was its bridle, and -” she paused, looking around to see the others staring blankly at her. 

“Sorry.” Her voice sounded almost sheepish. “I volunteer over at the historical society a lot, and there’s some��interesting stuff in their archives.” Another moment passed. No one’s expression changed.

“…Anyway the bridle can be used to control it, so I think it attacked you to try and get it back. And since you didn’t know what it was, it just seemed easier to grab it and toss it then try and explain why it was making the giant horse spirit angry.” She finished with a weak grin, as if she’d been explaining the weather and not the most terrifying thing most of them had ever seen. 

No one spoke for a while longer, and then Bess’s quiet  “Oh.” broke the silence. “Well…okay. For a second I thought you just really didn’t like my necklace.” 

The tension broken, the others looked at her with varying levels of amusement before she let out a gasp and turned to address Nancy directly. “Wait my cousin Cassidy gave me that last night! You don’t think…”

“I don’t think she knew what it was.” Nancy replied with an almost fond smile. “When the historical society got the request to put the necklace in one its deposit boxes, the record just said it was a Marvin family heirloom; brought over aboard the Governance.”

“And the kelpie followed it all the way here?” Nick asked, eying Nancy sideways as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

She shrugged. “There are some records that say kelpies are bound to follow their bridles, wherever they go. They can’t leave the water though, so it could have gotten into the bay and then…gotten lost, I guess.” Bess was already nodding along as if everything Nancy was saying made perfect sense. “We didn’t realize the necklace was anything out of the ordinary until Cassidy came to request it and Hannah thought she recognized it from her research.”

“Well good thing she did, or this might’ve been Bess’s last birthday.” George smirked. “Never thought I’d say this,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s offended huff and turning towards Nancy, “but I’m glad you were around, Hudson.”

“Thanks.” Nancy sounded like she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the statement. “I was looking for you guys, actually. When we realized what the necklace was, we called Cassidy and she said she’d given it to you for your birthday, and since you were coming to the beach Hannah and I were worried that getting it too close to the water might -”

“Wait, how did you know we’d be at the beach?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy stilled, her eyes darting over to a still-groggy Ace then back to the others so quickly that they might have missed it had they not been watching her so closely. “I must have overheard it the last time I was at the Claw.” Her voice was measured; almost deliberately calm. “When it’s slow there your voices tend to carry.” 

Bess and Nick gave each other an uneasy sidelong glance at Nancy’s implication, while George’s expression grew into something approaching begrudging respect. “Anyway,” Nancy stood, brushing sand off her pants and looking anywhere but in Ace’s direction, “I should get back to Hannah and let her know everything’s okay. See you around.”

She turned and started heading towards the parking lot, and Ace watched with worried eyes as his friends had a rapid fire non-verbal conversation. Bess nodded towards Nick, who responded with a shrug. They both looked over at Ace with small smiles, then turned to George; Nick with one eyebrow raised in question and Bess with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. George glanced at Ace before letting out a labored sigh and rolling her eyes as she called down the beach: “Hey Hudson!” 

Nancy turned, hands twisting in the strap of the messenger bag. “You wanna meet us at the Claw after we get cleaned up?” George asked. “We’re closed for inventory - it’d be a good place to talk about all…this.” (Bess cleared her throat pointedly.) “And we have cake for Bess’s birthday.”

The smile that bloomed on Nancy’s face was beaming, even at a distance. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

                                 ______

It had been three weeks since the kelpie incident, and for all intents and purposes, Nancy had settled in as the fifth member of their little group. She and Bess had gotten along almost immediately, despite some awkward encounters when they had run into family while together. 

Nick had warmed to her considerably once she started helping him with his plans for a youth center in town. (It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d ‘misplaced’ her grandfather’s application for the building on Spring St. until Nick’s bid had already closed). 

And while George and Nancy bickered almost constantly, they (usually) did it with smiles on their faces. If asked, they might not call each other ‘friends’, but they were definitely heading in a good direction. 

The first Friday afternoon of July found them sprawled out across the dining table of Nick’s loft, brainstorming ideas for that year’s ‘Still Summer at the Bayside Claw’ event. (Or rather found most of them. Truth be told, Bess’s focus might have been more on her online shopping.) They’d been working for an hour or so when a noise like the rapid honking of a clown nose suddenly interrupted the conversation.

“Shit,” Ace muttered, grabbing his phone and snoozing the alarm, “I’m going to be late for Shabbat.” He gathered his things in a rush, exchanged a quick “Bye” and kiss with Nancy, then froze. 

His eyes moved rapidly between the others - Nancy’s wide-eyed panic; George’s look of shock and disgust; Nick’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead; Bess’s almost giddy expression - before seeming to make a decision.

“Uh…Nick,” he croaked out before anyone could react any further, making his way over to where his friend was sitting with an air of forced normalcy and kissing him like it was something he did every day. “thank you for having me.”

“See you tomorrow, Bess.” He continued, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek, causing a giggle to escape her barely-maintained composure.

He turned towards the other end of the table, eying George the way an antelope might eye a lion. “George -”  

“Don’t even think about it.” She cut him off with a glare.

“Right. ‘Course.” He glanced around the room one last time as he backed towards the door, eyes skipping over Nancy as if he was afraid of what his expression might reveal if he focused at all on her. “Um, have a good night everyone.” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as his rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A minute passed in complete silence, then another. 

Nick looked absolutely mystified, his fingers stuck halfway to his lips like he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. George’s grimace was slowly turning into an amused smirk, and Bess looked seconds away from breaking into complete hysterics.

Another minute passed before Nancy, staring at the table with a face almost as red as her hair, broke the silence. “So…how long have you guys known?”

“Since before the kelpie incident.” George answered bluntly, while Nick shook off his daze and turned his attention towards Nancy and Bess took a calming breath and tried to bite back her laughter.

“Oh.” 

Nancy’s eyes darted between the table and the door as if trying to decide if it would be worse to try and explain herself or just cut her losses and run. “Ok, well, we were going to tell you, we just -”

“You can relax Nancy.” Nick cut in, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, but finally turned to see an understanding smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be here right now if any of us still had a problem with you.”

Bess nodded rapidly, reaching across the table to cover one of Nancy’s hands with her own. “You make Ace happy, and that’s what really matters to us."

A wobbly smile began to grow on Nancy’s face, before she blinked and turned towards George with apprehension and a bit of challenge in her eyes. 

George’s expression stayed firm until Nick cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the grin she gave Nancy was genuine.“Plus I guess you’re not horrible.”

That pulled a laugh from Nancy, even as she blinked back touched tears she knew George would make fun of. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate that.”

(To say Ace was confused when she walked into the Claw the next morning and kissed him in the middle of the dining room would be an understatement, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.)

[achliegh]

Olive and Otto

Olive and Otto

Masterlist :)

@domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

This is an AU still set in the SW universe but a little to the right and maybe down the block. I want Leo to have a little secret!

This is the 22nd chapter of this little series I have and it's a little spicy. Enjoy!

FAMILY SKATE! Part 2 and Final Chapter!

I just wanted to say thank you all for reading this, it makes me so happy because my writing feel like garbage to me but y'all treat it like its precocious and I have cried happy tears over things y'all have said. I just can't thank y'all enough.

TW/CW: Smut, Drama, Arguing, Questioning Sexuality, Food, Panic attack

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Family Skate was booming, everyone was a little taken back at the two hurricanes with adorable old timey names. Those kids tore up the ice, for only being three those kids could probably out skate most the team. Remus’ little brother, Julian, Loved Otto. Like he didn’t leave his side the entire time they skated. Olive would skate around with Kuny, she was so fascinated when he would speak Russian to her. She was absolutely taken by the giant Russian and she wanted to understand this new language so bad that Kuny taught her some bad words and Sergei told him off for it.

Sometimes the kids would be talking to someone and just randomly switch to either French or Spanish without even realizing it and then get upset when Leo or INK would tell them to “Speak English, Sweetheart”. Otto and Marc were skating together when Otto had a dizzy spell and fell over, everyone froze for a second remembering what Leo said about the little boy earlier.

“You okay?” Marc held his hand out and was looking at Otto worried because his new friend just fell over for no reason. Yeah he was younger than him but Marc had never seen someone just drop like that. Otto nodded and used Marc’s hand to stand up.

“I want to sit” They skated over to where INK was sitting on the bench talking with Eloise and Celeste, Otto was very good at knowing when he hit his limits for the day and today was the first time since his surgery that he had been on the ice for more than a few laps with his dad. He crawled up between Eloise and Celeste, he kicked his skates a little as he watched everyone skate. “Ma-maw, why can’t I live here? I could have friends.” He looked up at his grandma who was stunned by what he said and so was Celeste. “No one likes me at school at home.” He didn’t understand why it was a big deal that he didn’t have many friends. He did enjoy all the kids here though.

The Weasley kids were fun and had treated him like he wasn’t a downer. The Dumais' treated him like a little brother and some of the other kids whose names he didn’t remember played tag with him and didn’t go easy. He didn’t want to go home.

“Oh honey, you’ll be up here all summer. Then you can play with all the other kids then. Just enjoy your time here, you have three more days with your daddy before he has to work and your mama has to go to work back home.” Eloise was just trying to talk him into enjoying his time now but she wasn’t expecting him to talk about friends, he never did. He was like Leo in that sense, kept to himself but was very observant.

“If you want I can give your maman my phone number and you can call Marc anytime after school.” Celeste petted his hair and he leaned into her touch. He nodded, having a big ole smile on his face and his cheeks were a little red, he thought Celeste was so pretty.

Olive was racing Charlie and beat him for the third time, he looked exhausted but she was still revving to go. She was incredibly fast but she was also very small, she skated around the outside and caught up with Leo. She somehow got between Leo and Finn, she grabbed each of their hands and let them pull her.

“Daddy, did you see how fast I was! I beat Charlie!” She got listed up by them and laughed as they put her down, not noticing the absolutely lovesick expression Logan was watching them with. “I want to play hockey someday! I want to be just like you! Oh, daddy do you have a boyfriend yet? Mama wants to get married to June!” She looks up at him when he laughs at Finn's face who is firetruck red. She really doesn’t want her daddy to be lonely anymore, it makes her sad. She was really angry when he left but when he facetimes mama the first time crying, she wasn’t angry anymore, she was scared. She can’t take care of him so who will.

“Olive, what would you say if I had two boyfriends?”

“Whoa! That would be so cool! You would never be sad!” She smiles flashing those incredible dimples and hears Bill calling for her. “I gotta go race, by Daddy!” She skates off leaving a laughing Leo and a red Finn to call Logan over.

After the Pick-up game Olive was watching the entire time while Ott had fallen asleep with his head on Celeste's lap. Everyone got changed and showered, after they piled into cars and drove to Dumo's. INK can’t cook for shit so she was sitting on the couch chatting with the team while Leo and his mother cooked in the kitchen with Celeste. Wyatt was talking to Pascal and Arthur in the dad way, with a few signatures on his shoulder.

She was watching everyone when a pregnant redhead sat neck to her, she groaned a little and looks at INK.

“How far along are you”

“About 6 months” She smiles at INK and rubs her stomach. “I’m Lily by the way, Pots is my lover.” She nods towards said lover who is being cheered on as he chugs some kombucha. INK snorts at him and laughs. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Have twins, I can’t even imagine the strain it took on you.”

“I had to drop out of school and was bed ridden for the last three months of my pregnancy. It was really hard but Leo never left my side, the stupid idiot sweetheart.” She smiles and rolls her eyes. “I never wanted kids when I was younger because I was afraid I would end up like my parents, then Leo and I did some stuff and it was probably a less than 1% chance that I would get pregnant and it happened.” Olive ran past them with her Daddy's Jersey on her that was much to big, she almost trips on it and laughs as Adele chases her playfully. “I can saw that those three definitely saved my life.”

“Three?”

“Yeah, Olive, Otto, and Leo. I couldn’t have done anything without him. He is the best dad, and he supports those two with everything he has. We also don’t want to put them into the public eye until they can choose for themselves if they want to be followed like that.” She takes a sip of her wine and looks at Lily. “I don’t really have any advice to help you because the last few months I mostly slept and cried. If you need me to get anything for you I will though.”

“I just want to get to know you, you’re someone who has raised two adorable children and you’re still smoking hot!” That surprises a laugh out of her and Lily join in the laughing after a minute.

Leo walks out of the kitchen. “Let's eat y’all!” Finn and Logan kiss his cheek as they walk into the kitchen to eat, Pots and Nado also smack big wet kisses on his cheeks as they walk past. He shoves them and follows everyone else.

“No, Otto you know you know you can’t have that.” He takes a peanut butter bar away from him and shakes his head. “I don’t feel like going to the emergency room tonight.” Otto is allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, he seems to forget how serious it is to eat stuff that might kill him. Usually no one has any form of nuts in the house, but this isn’t their house.

The child he just took a treat away from starts to cry and he sighs, walking over to where the treats are he asks celeste what's in each one and grabs a double chocolate brownie for Otto and hands it to him. “Don’t eat it until your plate is empty, okay?” Otto instantly stops crying and nods running off to join his sister. Shaking his head he feels arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You’re so good with them” Leo smiles and looks over to his dad. He looks so proud of him, he kisses his son's head and pats his shoulder. “I’m gonna go eat with Pascal Dumais” Leo snorts as his dad giddily goes to sit next to his teammate.

As he looks around he has never felt more at home, INK and June were talking with Lily and Natalie. Olive and Otto are eating and talking at the kids tables, Finn and Logan are openly flirting and stealing cute glances at him. He felt so calm and like he could breathe.

Suddenly Pots jumps up.

“They are the picture in your stall!”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror / Six: The Musical AU (X Reader) || Headcanons

Explanation: So all the songs are being sun by different readers with different Henry’s (The Horror Villains of course) instead of one Henry. I think its pretty straight forward apart from that! I hope to make a second part to this where the readers actually meet up and complain about their times with their respective horror villains. This is fun XD Had the idea a couple months back and I posted it and one blog commented saying Six is their favourite musical, so this is basically for me and them haha XD 

Character Included: Michael Myers, Chucky / Charles Lee Ray (And Tiffany Valentine), Bubba Sawyer, Norman Bates, Mayor Buckman (And Harper Alexandre) and Jason Voorhees. 

Warnings: Murder of the readers (By respective Horror Villains and a non-explicit difficult birth in Bubba’s), birth / pregnancy, toxic / abusive relationships, sexual harrassment / maybe rape (All You Wanna Do- Buckmans), language, suggested mother / son grossness (Norman and Norma of course). 

I laugh in the face of those who would subdue my mad ideas. 

‘No Way’ (Reader as Catherine of Aragon): Michael Myers as Henry

My name's Catherine of Aragon Was married 24 years I'm a paragon of royalty, my loyalty is to the Vatican So if you try to dump me You won't try that again 

You were in a, of course, very unequal relationship with the shape of Haddonfield. He saw you one day, was completely taken by you, and decided to let you live. He would come by and use you however he liked, kill the people you loved when they got your attention over him, etc. Like any other Michael Myers x Reader.

And, years and years later (Because it’s not like Michael finds someone every day that he gives even a bit of a shit about like he does - did, - you) he comes upon a new person. Someone he, like he was you, is drawn to.

And he tries to drop you like a hot potato.

And this infuriates you. You are not about to let go! He has ruined your life! You have no friends, no family, no life, because of him! All you have, is (regrettably) him and you are going to be his for the rest of your life. That’s what he wanted, that’s what the bastard’s going to get.

(Many, many years with him has caused your courage against him to grow spectacularly. You can say nearly anything to him)

|- ‘You must agree that, baby, in all the time I been by your side

I've never lost control’

‘I've put up with your sh- like every single day’ -|

You give him one more chance- if he can tell you one thing that you have done to him to legitimately hurt him… then you’ll leave willingly.

…

But he has nothing. And he doesn’t care.

|- ‘You got me down on my knees

Please tell me what you think I've done wrong

Been humble, been loyal, I've tried to swallow my pride all along

If you can just explain a single thing

I've done to cause you pain, I'll go

No?’ -|

//

|- ‘You wanna replace me? Baby, there's

N-n-n-n-n-n-no way

You made me a wife, so I'll be queen 'til the end of my life’ -|

He ends up strangling you to death when you won’t shut up.

‘Don’t Lose Your Head’ (Reader as Anne Boleyn): Chucky / Charles Lee Ray as Henry (And Tiffany as Catherine of Aragon)

I'm that Boleyn girl and I'm up next See I broke England from the church Yeah, I'm that sexy Why did I lose my head? Well, my sleeves may be green but my lipstick's red 

Chucky and his filthy ass catches sight of you. Young, French and vivacious and he’s got heart eyes on the spot. He wants you, but he also doesn’t really want to lose Tiffany.

So... yeah, you end up living with them both for a while and its very awkward and a very hostile situation.

|- ‘Here we go

(You sent him kisses)

I didn't know I would move in with his misses

(What?)

Get a life

(You're living with his wife?)

Like, what was I meant to do?’ -|

You don’t like it. No one likes this. Chucky! Make up your mind!

|- ‘Three in the bed and the little one said

If you wanna be wed, make up your mind

Her or me, chum

Don't wanna be some

Girl in a threesome

Are you blind?’ -|

Tiffany is of course Catherine, and the fandom (The people of Britain for the sake of this AU) loves her (As we all know), so when you come along and insult her because Chucky is now your man (Supposedly.) and of course you two aren’t getting along with each other in the first place because of him … you get a bad name.

|- ‘Ooh, why hasn't it hit her?

He doesn't want to bang you

Somebody hang you

(Wow Anne, way to make the country hate you)

Mate, what was I meant to do?’ -|

When eventually Chucky is able to grow the balls to boot Tiffany out (My heart hurts writing this, trust me), he pulls a ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’ kind of shit and has no loyalty to you or respect for the sanctity of your relationship, and starts having one night stands here, there and everywhere. He tries vaguely to tell you you’re being silly and that’s not true- but he has lipstick on his shirt collars and perfume smell all over him.

Its not a nice living condition.

So you, still very much being the vivacious bitch that he ‘fell in love with’, go and flirt with some other guys. Just to make him a teensy bit jealous! I mean, its not like he’ll really care, right? You just wanna spark the fire again!

|- ‘Henry's out every night on the town

Just sleeping around, like what the hell?

If that's how it's gonna be

Maybe I'll flirt with a guy or three

Just to make him jell’ -|

But he finds out as planned… and is p i s s e d. He threatens that if you do that again, he’ll fucking kill you.

You, not going to let him talk to you like that, flirt with one more man. Just to be disobedient. 

|- ‘Henry finds out and he goes mental

He screams and shouts

Like so judgemental

You damn that witch

Mate, just shut up

I wouldn't be such a b-

If you could get it up’ -|

And you find out that he very much meant it when he said he would kill you.

|- ‘And now he's going 'round like off with her head (No)

(No)

Yeah, I'm pretty sure he means it’ -|

‘Heart of Stone’ (Reader as Jane Seymour): Bubba Sawyer as Henry

Jane Seymour the only one he truly loved (Rude) When my son was newly born, I died But I'm not what I seem or am I? Stick around and you'll suddenly see more 

You were an intended victim of the Sawyers, but like with Stretch, Bubba crushes on you instead. The difference here, is that you see the gentleness to him compared to his brothers, and how scared he is when one of them yells at him, and all the other little signs that he’s not as vicious or evil as his first impressions might convey. You have a big, brave heart, and you realise right there that its death and cannibalisation or understanding and caring for this man and you choose to love.

|- ‘You came my way, and I knew a storm could come too.’-|

//

|- ‘You've got a good heart

But I know it changes

A restless tide, untameable’ -|

So you take his hands in yours, all shaky and meaty as they are, and promise him that you will never leave him. You’ll protect him. You’ll take any mess he and his family can throw at you- you’ll always be with him. Your promise.

|- ‘But I took your hand, promised I'd withstand

Any blaze you blew my way

'Cause something inside, it solidified

And I knew I'd always stay’ -|

And he believes you, of course. Its so nice to be looked at so softly, especially by someone as pretty as you.

I- ‘You can build me up, you can tear me down

You can try but I'm unbreakable

You can do your best, but I'll stand the test

You'll find that I'm unshakeable

When the fire's burnt

When the wind has blown

When the water's dried, you'll still find stone

My heart of stone’ -|

And you prove yourself. You prove over and over again that no matter what he, or the twins, or Drayton, or even Grandpa throws at you- you’ll survive and you’ll stay, and you’ll never stop looking at him in that lovely soft way.

|- ‘You say we're perfect

A perfect family’ -|

You get pregnant of course because everyone in the Sawyers / Hewitts family has a breeding kink and you can’t tell me otherwise, and the birth is of course very difficult because Drayton isn’t about to pay for hospital bills. So you’re in their home, in all the mess and the dirt and with no sort of aesthetic, and…

|- ‘Soon I'll have to go

I'll never see him grow’  -|

You don’t make it. Your babies born fine and healthy, and you bring another strong Sawyer boy to the family, but you’re gone.

‘Get Down’ (Reader as Anne of Cleves): Norman Bates as Henry

Ich bin Anne of Cleves Ja! When he saw my portrait, he was like Ja! But I didn't look as good as good as I did in my pic Funny how we all discuss that but never Henry's little- 

So, one day, Norman decides its time to properly settle down (Long after his mother… ah… ‘dies’) and get a partner, and because there isn’t really anyone around where he lives to date or, even, who wouldn’t get creeped out by him and his taxidermy, he turns to online dating.

He meets you there. You own and run your own hotel in the next state over, you don’t mind his taxidermy at all, and your profile picture looks… hauntingly familiar (If you look nothing like Vera Farmiga go by the original movie- she was but a skeleton there so she really could be anyone).

|- ‘Sittin' here all alone

On a throne

In a palace that I happen to own

I'm not fake 'cause I've got acres and acres

Paid for with my own riches’ -|

And you two get along great over messages! You online date for a good year before Norman proposes you elope and come to live with him! You think you’ve known him long enough, and you trust him!

So you fly right over, and he meets you at the airport, and…

He’s disappointed.

Like, ‘sorry, nah, you don’t look enough like mama so this isn’t gonna work’. In a more fidgety, quiet, subdued kind of way though. He’s so awkward with communication that he even suggests that you doctored your profile picture.

I- ‘You, you said that I tricked ya

'Cause I, I didn't look like my profile picture’ -|

And, understandably, you’re p i s s e d, and disgusted! But ya’ll already got married over the internet, so theirs no stopping that! This is your husband. You realise you’ve made a huge mistake and go right back to your home and your hotel to get divorce papers drawn up.  

You’re the queen of your own fucking castle, who needs him?

|- ‘I'm the queen of the castle

Get down, you dirty rascal

'Cause I'm the queen of the castle’ -|

You are understandably, very very mad. And you say some things to Norman about he and his mother, that… may be true… but that he certainly doesn’t appreciate.

When you finally get the papers, and you’ve been separated long enough for it to be legal, you go back to the Bates Motel to get Norman to sign them and stay over a night. You’ve calmed down enough that you’re able to have a pleasant conversation with him, and you decide that you’re too tired to take the plane back home right away so you take up Normans offer to stay in one of vacant rooms (*Cough* So you basically have the run of the place. Or they do. *Cough).

Norman is also pretty calm about the whole thing as well, like you! But… Norma, is still seething.

You don’t wake up the next morning.  

‘All You Wanna Do’ (Reader as Kathrine Howard): Mayor Buckman as Henry (And Harper as Thomas)

Prick up your ears, I'm the Catherine who lost her head (Beheaded) For my promiscuity outside of wed Lock up your husbands Lock up your sons K. Howard is here and the fun's begun 

Right, so, you haven’t had good luck in love throughout your life, so you decide to give up on boys entirely. 

|- ‘So I decided to have a break from boys

And you'll never guess who I met’ -|

�� And meet a man, not much later. A man in power; A mayor. A man who’s been married before and has a beard (So you know; He’s a man. XD No little boy.). This is of course Buckman. He calls you love, and you get a job in Pleasant Valley that keeps you comfortably busy. You feel like, finally, you’re where you belong. You feel fulfilled- no committed relationships are necessary.

|- ‘Globally revered

Although you wouldn't know it from the look of that beard

Made me a lady in waiting

Hurled me and my family up in the world

Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true

That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do

He cares so much, he calls me love’ -|

But then Buckman tells you that he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more. And, though you are a little disappointed that your solitude didn’t last, you decide that he’s decent enough (’He is rather kind to me, and he does makes me smile a fair bit’, you try to reason with yourself that this is a good idea) and so you start to go out. Its not long before you’re married.

|- ‘So we got married Woo…’

Woo…’ -|

But being married to him isn’t easy. Not at all. You’re not use to politics; There are so many rules now, and he’s always too busy to help. And the rest for Pleasant Valley are a bit… odd. And you just don’t fit in. And this is wear Harper (Thomas) comes in.

|- ‘With Henry, it isn't easy

His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy

Except for this one courtier

He's a really nice guy, just so sincere

The royal life isn't what I planned

But Thomas is there to lend a helping hand

So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay

And we hang out loads when the King's away’ -|

And he’s so lovely and caring towards you (Never more then when Buckman leaves for business in other towns), helping you through the transition from your old life to this one. He’s a good friend, to you. And that is most definitely all he is, on your side of it. A friend. You don’t feel attractions towards him at all apart from that, and he doesn’t try to make any moves. Its wonderful!

|- ‘This guy, finally

Is what I want, the friend I need

Just mates, no chemistry

I get him and he gets me’ -|

… Until one day when Buckman has been away for a month, he tells you he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more.

|- ‘He says we have a connection

I thought this time was different

Why did I think he'd be different?

But it's never, ever different’ -|

Lets just say one things leads to another, despite you at first turning him away and saying no. He’s so insistent, and a little scary, and you’re lonely because your husbands’ has been away so long, and… something happens that you regret and feel gross about.

|- ‘Squeeze me, don't care if you don't please me

Bite my lip and pull my hair

As you tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair

Playtime's over.’ -|

You tell Buckman when he gets home, and you watch as every bit of warmth and love in his eye disappears, just like that.

Its not long after that that his jealousy and betrayed rage takes over… and… you die with a rope around your neck and your feet swaying above the ground.

|- ‘Playtime’s over’ -|

(Alternatively, Sheriff Hoyt as Henry and Thomas as Thomas)

‘I Don’t Need Your Love’ (Reader as Catherine Parr): Jason Voorhees as Henry (Your last love was Jason when he was alive)

Five down, I'm the final wife I saw him to the end of his life I'm the survivor Catherine Parr I bet you wanna know how I got this far I said I bet you wanna know how we got this far Do you wanna know how we got this far then? 

So, you’re like the leader of the ‘Slashers Ex Squad’ because you, unlike the others, survived your time with Jason. This is because Jason did, truly, love you (To an extent- not enough to let you go and live your life without him or be free). None of the others really did. Not like he did.

|- ‘Became the one who survived’ -|

Your story:

You and Jason had an adorable little 11-year-old puppy love relationship when he was alive. You were his only friend, and he had it bad for you because of it. Pamela loved you, too.

When he died you were of course devastated, and years later when you were 30 (Making him also thirty- not that you know that. You still think he’s dead at this point) you’re taken by the need to go back to Camp Crystal Lake and pay your respects to your childhood love / friend. Its just one of those nostalgic days.

When you go, and you set flowers down by the lake, Jason catches sight of you. He thinks about killing you… but then your features start to make sense to him. He recognises you, and for the first time since his mother was killed, he feels his heartbeat speed up and swell with hope.

Jason of course kidnaps you then, and keeps you hostage for himself. He missed you. He doesn’t want to survive anymore time without you. You’re all he has left!

… After you realise that this is Jason Voorhees, you quickly learn that this Jason is, of course, not the boy that you cared, and care, so deeply about. He’s done horrible things, and he is never going to stop; And frankly, deep inside… he scares you.

But its not like you can leave him! He would never let you, he’s made that clear. You are all he has, and now, he is all that you have.

|- ‘I don't have a choice

If Henry says "it's you", then it's you

No matter how I feel

It's what I have to do’ -|

So you write a letter to the old Jason (And your old life), saying goodbye, in admittance to the fact that you’ll never be able to get away from this new Jason. This is you letting go of your freedom and any preconceptions that anything will every be the same- with Jason, or otherwise.

|- ‘It's true I'll never be over you 'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you And now the hope is gone There's nothing left for me to do’

'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you

And now the hope is gone

There's nothing left for me to do’ -|

You never stop hating him for how he’s changed (How he’s taken your Jason away, and wont even attempt to go back) and how he’s stolen away your freedom.

|- ‘I'd say "Henry, yeah it's true

I'll never belong to you

'Cause I am not your toy, to enjoy till there's something new

As if I'm gonna give up my boy, my work, my dreams

To care for you"

"Ha, darling, get a clue”

But I can't say that

Not to the king’ -|

You eventually die of natural causes at, like, 60.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 9

9/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey | T (for now?) | 4.3k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Back in DC, Missy helps Scully get to the bottom of what's plaguing her. As Scully's journey gets a bit clearer, Missy drops a bombshell about her own life.

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

Scully’s stomach clenches as the plane touches down on the runway, jostling she and the rest of the passengers around like pawns in its game. Only forty-eight hours ago, she and Mulder had lifted off toward another mystery, another puzzle daring them to solve it. Now she is back, knowing scarcely more than she did then, with a mystery of her own to solve. She is forever chasing ghosts, and trying not to become one. 

As the winged giant rolls into its gate, Scully glances out the window. Thick clouds blanket the sky, an unending greyness rolling out over the city as far as the eye can see. So much for there’s no place like home. She’s been realizing lately that home is a feeling, not a location. Sometimes she feels like she needs a map to navigate her own apartment, or like everyone in DC knows some language she never learned. Well, almost everyone. There are a couple people who speak the same language as her.

And she’s about to see one of them now. The crowd of passengers--mostly suits who had sleepless nights-- stand up in their rows, ready to file out into the bureaucratic machine. The man on the outside of Scully’s row opens the overhead compartment and pulls down his bag and the carry-ons of Scully and the woman next to her. Scully thanks him demurely. She can’t remember the last time someone other than Mulder did that for her.

As they fall into line and shuffle off the plane, Scully wonders what her life will look like next time she boards a plane. With any luck, this will all be a fluke and she’ll be heading back to Aubrey tomorrow. Then again, even if it isn’t a fluke, she’ll still probably join Mulder back in Aubrey. She knows herself.

What would she say to him, then? Having to admit she lied about her reason for leaving, coming back with the type of news that turns worlds upside down...it doesn’t seem fair to him. It hasn’t been fair to her either, but that’s out of her hands.

She had knocked on Mulder’s door before the sun was even up. She hadn’t expected him to be awake, and so was particularly surprised when he came to the door with a towel around his waist. Evidently, he hadn’t expected her either (though who else is coming to his motel door at 6am?) because the longer she stood there in front of his barely dressed body, the more his color drained away. 

Needing a lie lame enough to be true, Scully told him that Melissa had sprained her ankle and would need some help getting around for a couple days.That she asked Scully to come home rather than go stay with their mother, because who better to be nursed by than a doctor? Mulder had nodded, told Scully to go, assured her he could handle BJ and the case. Scully is sure that Mulder knows what she told him is a lie. But he didn’t object, and that’s the permission she needed to feel settled with him and herself. 

She follows everyone off the plane, through the tunnel, and into the terminal. Moments like this remind her of her obsolescence in the universe, and she is somehow comforted by that. She is no chosen one, no messiah nor martyr, no mother of a holy child. She would like to stay that way.

She surveys the crowd waiting to pick up their beloved passengers. All of her fellow fliers, mere faces in her vicinity for an hour or two, are someone to somebody else. She is, too. They are all emerging from obscurity into a realm where they are known, for better or for worse. 

At the edge of the crowd, Scully catches her sister’s unmistakable smile and glowing red locks. She saw her sister only two mornings before, but Missy reacts as if they’ve been separated a lifetime. She engulfs Scully in a hug that just about sends the butterflies in her stomach into hibernation. 

“How are you feeling?” Missy asks, pulling away to scan her sister’s face for the honest answer she won’t give. 

Aware of this, Scully turns the corners of her mouth up. “I’m okay, really. My migraine went away at about four in the morning.”

“So you barely slept,” Missy interjects. 

Scully frowns. “Well, I laid in bed from roughly eight to six. There was sleeping involved at some point, I think.”

“How about on the plane? Did you sleep there?”

“No, you know I can never sleep with strangers around.”

“Oh, right. Did they teach you that at the Academy or something?”

“The things I saw at the Academy taught me that.”

“Oh.” Missy regrets bringing it up. As they head toward the luggage area, she holds out her hand, lets her sister place the handle of her carry-on in it. A silent apology, an acknowledged acceptance.

“So what did you end up telling Mulder?”

Scully is endeared that she has successfully chipped away at her sister’s tendency to call him by his first name.

“Oh god, you’re gonna think it’s so stupid.”

Missy laughs. “What did you say?”

Scully’s voice is rife with amusement. “I told him that you sprained your ankle and needed a doctor around to take care of you.”

Melissa bursts into laughter. “Good girl.” Scully would kick a man in the groin if he ever said that to her, but coming from her sister, it’s high praise.

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

They ignore the elephant in the room until they make it to Missy’s car. The plastic of a CVS bag rustles at Scully’s feet as she settles into the passenger seat. 

“Three pregnancy tests,” Melissa explains. “I stopped on the way.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“But I did.” That had been their father’s comeback whenever someone tried to, as he called it, ‘pity the helper.’ They both smile just a bit, their memory of him alive and well. 

“Can I pay you back?”

“No!” Missy insists. “I’m living with you rent free.”

Scully decides this is a good enough reason to let it go. She crosses her legs, watches her sister pull out of the space. She lets a question float around her head until they make it out of the labyrinth of airport side roads.

“Do you think I would be a good mother?”

Missy flicks her gaze toward her sister. Dana is peculiar in her way. Instead of fishing for sympathy like most people when they ask questions of this nature, she expects punishment. She’s practically asking to have a nail hammered into her cross. 

“You’d be a wonderful mother, Dana,” Missy soothes. “You’ve never had a bad intention in your life.”

“Haven’t I?...I killed a snake with Bill and Charlie once.”

“And you cried afterward. I remember seeing the tear stains on your face when you got home. Not to mention that you were what, five or six?”

“Well, what about Daniel? Surely my judgement was wrong there.”

Melissa sighs. “Okay, I’ll rephrase it. Any bad intention you’ve ever had was paid for with regret, and that’s not true about most people.” She frowns. “It’s always the purest souls who are the hardest on themselves.”

Scully stares through the windshield. She will expend no brainpower on her sister’s implication. She doesn’t believe it to be true. 

After a moment--“Do you remember those Raggedy Ann dolls we had, Betsy and Betty?”

Melissa smiles, nods. “Of course. Betsy was yours, and Betty was mine. We had those little wooden bassinets for them.”

“Right.”

Missy lets the memories flow back to her. “We used to sing lullabies and rock them to sleep. Actually, I’d sing, you’d pray with them. Mom and dad thought it was the sweetest thing ever, and I would get so mad at you. I thought you were sucking up to them.”

Scully laughs. This is the first time she’s heard of her sister’s woes. “Missy, I was three. There was no conspiring going on.”

“Say what you will, but your stocking was always a little bit fuller than mine.” She smirks at her sister, who blushes and looks at her lap. 

Dana has the unfortunate distinction, at least in Melissa’s mind, of being the favorite daughter. Bill Jr. always was and will be the favorite child. He molded to all their parent’s expectations of him, never deviating from the upstanding family man they imagined when holding him for the first time. Dana had done well up until she decided on the Academy. As Missy reminded her countless times, it wasn’t that they hated her going into the FBI. It just wasn’t in their vision for her, that’s all. 

Missy doesn’t fret about her place, even finds it somewhat funny. She isn’t the least favorite child per say (thanks Charlie!) but she is the least favorite child her mother is still in contact with, and that’s a title that takes some maneuvering. 

Scully laces her fingers together, rests them in her lap. “Do you remember telling me that I wasn’t a good mommy one night when we were putting Betsy and Betty to sleep?”

Melissa looks to her sister so quickly she practically forgets she needs to be watching the road. “No, of course not.”

Scully can’t meet her gaze. “Well, I know it’s a silly thing, and we were just children, but it’s stayed stuck in my brain for all these years.”

“Dana, you had probably just finished a ‘now I lay me down to sleep’ prayer, and I felt like I needed to knock you down a notch.” She pats her sister’s shoulder. “There was no truth in it, and I’m sorry it’s bugged you for so long.”

Scully shifts in her seat. The CVS bag crackles as her heels bear down on it. “I’m afraid it’s turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point.”

Melissa won’t give weight to her sister’s worries, but won’t discount them either. “The good news about a self-fulfilling prophecy is that you can always change your thinking...You don’t believe in psychics, so don’t try to be one.”

Scully looks at the dashboard, then her sister. “I would hug you right now if we weren’t doing 75,” she coos.  

Something has clicked in her head, some comfort she has long been depriving herself of. Sometimes words fill in the cracks left by those that preceded them. The right words go even further, it turns out. The right words give you permission to heal. 

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

A dreadful anticipation plagues her as she and Missy walk up to the apartment. She wants to get it over with, even if it goes badly (and she knows it very well might). She craves the relief of surviving such an ordeal. Scully imagines that this is what the French must have felt on their walk to the guillotine. Except instead of the relief of surviving, they got the release of death. Scully is not ready for this yet.

Missy unlocks the door, ushers her sister in. Dana is not used to coming home and finding things in different places than before, Missy can tell from the inquisitive look on her face. She is surveying her territory, updating her memory bank. Looking for the exit signs, maybe.

Melissa closes and locks the door. Letting her sister set the pace, she leaves the CVS bag on the side table. Dana has already taken the carry-on and suitcase to her room.

Her room, Scully finds, is a shrine to sameness, everything looking exactly as she left it two days before. Untouched and completely under her control...these are the reassurances she requires now. She lifts the suitcase onto her bed but leaves it zipped. Its fate is no clearer than hers at the moment. Then she places the carry-on on her dresser, makes a mental note to let Mulder know she made it home safely, and returns to her sister in the living room.

“Have you eaten?’ Missy asks, edging toward the kitchen.

“I won’t be able to until we get this over with,” Scully replies, making her priorities clear.

“Okay.” Missy won’t fight her on this one. She retrieves the bag off the side table, perches at her sister’s side. “Are you ready now?”

Scully screws up her face. “No, but yes. I just need to know at this point.”

Missy takes her sister’s hand with a specific kind of gentleness, like a fairy godmother about to cast a spell upon her princess. Scully is willing to be led. She follows her sister into the bathroom and sits on the closed toilet while Missy pulls the pregnancy tests from the bag. Scully tries not to think about any moment beyond the current one as her sister opens each test, lines them up along the counter. 

“Do you want me in here or outside?” Missy’s tone matches the sympathy that Scully needs.

“Outside, please,” Scully says sheepishly, wishing she could have some guts for once. If no one else witnesses this moment, then maybe it’s not happening. Flawed reasoning that even Mulder wouldn’t agree with, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Okay. I’ll be right on the other side of the door.”

Scully nods her thanks as Missy slips out of the bathroom and shuts the door quietly. Left alone, she feels the crushing gravity that has been trailing her all along. She’s almost certain that her heartbeat would be visible through her skin if she looked. 

She stands, picks up the first test, opens the toilet. Her hands shake so violently that she thinks she might drop the stick in the toilet, which would be a pretty terrible way to return her sister’s kindness. She pulls it away and takes a deep breath to steady herself, holding her arms out in front of her like a sleepwalker. All the things she’s seen, and she’s never been as scared as this moment. Never felt the life she knows and has grown to love so acutely threatened. Never balked at the future in such a fervent way.

It occurs to her that she might seriously need her sister to come in and help her. The thought of that is just pathetic enough to kick her into action. Her hands are barely any more steady than before, but her resolve is ironclad. 

On the other side of the door, Melissa listens as a long period of silence is broken. She’s sitting down, her head resting against the wood, a hand laid against the door like it’s the chest of a lover. 

Silence again, ruptured by Scully’s quiet murmur. “Will you hold on to the test, please? And read the result when it’s ready?” She didn’t know she would need this, but she does. 

“Of course.” 

Scully cracks open the door, passes the stick to her sister. “I wiped it off.” 

Missy suppresses a laugh. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t, but thank you.”

Scully closes the door quickly, not wanting to hold eye contact with her sister, not wanting to accidentally see the result herself. “Two minutes, right?” Her voice is on the verge of breaking.

“Yes, Dana. Two minutes.”

“Should I wait to do the next one?”

Missy eyes the test, waiting for it to make up its mind. “You can go ahead. It’ll take two minutes too.”

“Okay.” Scully’s voice is barely audible.

“Or you can wait,” Missy offers. “I just suspect that you’d want to check the accuracy as soon as possible.”

“Uh-huh.” She grabs the second test, wearily sits back down. 

Missy’s voice reverberates through the door. “I’ve done this before you know. For myself and for a friend.”

“Really?” Scully’s brain had tricked herself into thinking she was all alone.

“Mm-hm,” Missy confirms. “Mine were never positive, but hers were. I went to Planned Parenthood with her.”

“Oh.” There are things, Scully realizes, that she has neglected to think about. Or maybe she’s putting that off until she knows for sure. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more of an act of self-preservation. Her gut feeling is that she wouldn’t, but she never envisioned herself in a situation like this. If there’s any situation where it’s justified, it’s this, right? Not that she has a problem with it; women should be able to choose for themselves. She just always thought she knew what her choice would be. 

Melissa lifts her eyes from her watch, looks at the door as if she can see her sister through it. “It’s ready.”

“It’s been two minutes?” Scully’s voice rises.

“Uh-huh. Do you want me to come in or…?”

Scully scrambles up, lays the second test on a fresh piece of toilet paper. “I’ll come to you.”

She opens the door, kneels to be eye level with her sister. Prayer position is in close proximity. She bites her lip, her dilated pupils begging her sister to either curse her or free her.

A thin smile appears on Missy’s face as she flips the test so that Scully can read it. “Negative.”

One line. One very defined red line set against the white space. Has anyone, Scully wonders, ever gotten a tattoo of that?

“I--” Tears burst out of her instead of words. She lands in her sister’s arms, utterly unsure of what she’s feeling. Relief, yes. Happiness? Not quite. Sadness? Something like that. 

Missy smooths her sister’s hair down, holds her in the tightest hug she’s probably had in decades. “How do you feel?”

Scully is tempted to ask how her sister does that, always there with the tough questions. Instead, she gulps air until she’s calmed down enough to talk. 

“I don’t know,” she laments, tears streaked down her reddened face. “I thought I would be glad but...I just feel numb. Like I went down the wrong fork in the road and missed something important, but I don’t even know what it is since it didn’t happen.” She sniffles. It sounds like a heart breaking. “I just know it’s supposed to be there.”

“I thought you didn’t want--”

“Not under these circumstances, no. But then...when else is it gonna happen?” Her voice is a sheet of glass. “Because it doesn’t look like any time soon.”

Missy hugs her once again, rocking her back and forth. She overflows with warmth, sympathy, and love. “Honey, you have plenty of time to make your life what you want it to be.”

Scully sobs into her sister’s neck. She feels like an emotional hemophiliac, constantly hemorrhaging pain. Every time she thinks she’s bottomed out, there’s farther to fall. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she says, wiping her face. “I didn’t know I would be.”

Missy pulls her in a third time. “Don’t ever apologize to me for anything, even the things you’re actually wrong about.”

Scully laughs half-heartedly. “Oh!” She realizes then. “We still have two more tests, don’t we?”

Missy nods, smiles empathetically. “The second one should be ready by now.”

Scully is about to get up, but Missy lays a hand on her back, beats her to it. “I’ll grab it.” She strides into the bathroom, picks the stick up off the counter, and takes a look. Again, she flips it so her sister can see. “Negative.”

Scully presses her lips together, a stopgap to any further emotional reaction. “We should do the third one then, just to be sure?”

Missy detects a lift in her sister’s voice, a space she’s made for hope. “Whatever you’d like, Dana.” It seems that her sister will always end up disappointed through no fault of her own, no matter what she wishes for. This chills Missy to the bone.

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

The sisters share dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets for lunch because this is the kind of food Melissa buys when left to her own devices. Missy dunks hers in honey mustard, Scully takes hers plain. Remnants of anxiety hang in the air; Scully’s plight remains unresolved, and they are well aware of that. Whatever path they are walking, this is just the beginning. 

The phone interrupts their silent reverie, and Scully hops up to disguise the fact that its ringing made her jump. “It’s probably Mulder,” she tells her sister. “I meant to call him when we got home.” Missy nods, continues with her nuggets. 

Scully grabs the phone off the wall. “Hello?”

“Hey, is Mel there?” It’s a sweet, flowery voice, very different from the one Scully expected. She furrows her brow. Could Mel refer to her sister? She’s never heard anyone call Melissa that. “Who is this?” Missy looks up, watches her sister curiously. It’s not Mulder, evidently. 

The woman on the other line clears her throat. “It’s Trinity. Am I speaking to Dana?”

“Yes, this is Dana,” Scully says slowly, unnerved by the caller knowing her name. “Are you calling for Melissa?” Scully offers, hoping she might get out of this scot-free. 

Hearing this, Missy wipes her hands on a napkin, gets up, and rushes toward Scully, holding her hand out for the phone.

Scully ignores her, keeps the phone to her own ear as the caller speaks to her. “I am, but I was actually wondering about you. Mel told me your worries. How are you doing, Dana?”

Scully is now particularly spooked. Who is this woman, and why does she know all of her business? Missy pokes Scully in the bicep, then gestures for the phone. Scully hasn’t seen her sister this greedily desperate since she snuck out the window when she was seventeen and needed Scully to unlock the front door so she could get back in before their parents woke up.

“Um, Trinity is it, Missy--Mel wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay! It was nice to finally meet you!” the cheery voice practically sings. Scully just nods and makes her usual ‘Mulder you’re crazy face’ as she hands the phone off to her sister.

“Hi, Trin.” Missy speaks in a rush. “I can’t really talk right now, but Dana is home and all the tests were negative so she’s doing okay. I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

Scully can hear the voice on the other line, but she can’t make it out. Her sister says “I love you, bye” into the phone, then hangs up.

Scully raises an eyebrow, feeling it her duty as the little sister to pry. “Who was that…?” 

Missy puts the phone back on the wall, circles around to her plate, sits down. She answers calmly, casually. “That’s Trinity. She lives in Portland, we used to waitress together.”

Scully slides back into the seat across from her sister. “How come you’ve never mentioned her? She seems to know a lot about me.”

“Well, you’re the reason I moved to DC and all.”

“I didn’t know you were still in contact with anyone from the West Coast.” Scully picks a stray crumb off one of her nuggets, thankful that her sister is in the line of questioning for a change. 

“I bounced around the area for three years, of course I have friends from there.” She grabs her own empty paper plate, points to her sister’s. “Are you done?”

Scully pushes the plate--with two uneaten chicken nuggets--toward Missy. “With the food, yes. Not with the questions.”

Melissa takes both of the plates to the trash, then rinses her hands in the sink. “Yes. Does that answer your question?”

“Depends. What do you think my question is?”

Missy dries her hands on the dish towel, swivels to face her sister. “Is Trinity my girlfriend? Because yes, she is.”

Scully’s mouth drops open the slightest bit. She had known Missy was bi, but she had never met any of her girlfriends, not even in passing. Missy tended to keep them to herself, fearing that the Scully family might encroach on the holy ground she created. “Really?” she asks excitedly. 

“Uh-huh.” Missy sits back down at the table. “For nine months now.”

“Are you serious? That’s incredible, Missy! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Missy just raises her eyebrow. Scully feels like she’s looking in a mirror. “What? You know it doesn’t bother me.”

“Sure, but mom, and Bill…”

“I don’t think that mom would be upset by it,” Scully answers level-headedly. “Surprised maybe, but not mad.”

Missy balls up a napkin, tosses it back and forth between her own hands. “I don’t know that she would be, I just...don’t trust that she wouldn’t. And besides, nothing mom says or does will change how I feel about Trinity. So it’s not really a pressing issue. No need to cause a scene.”

“I can’t believe you moved here without mentioning her. I wouldn’t have let you leave her, you know.”

Missy laughs. “Oh, I do. That’s why I didn’t say a word.” Scully’s laugh is her first genuine one all day.

“She seems very nice,” Scully says, flicking a crumb off the table.

“Oh no, she’s a total bitch,” Missy replies. There’s a moment of silence while Scully figures out that was a joke, then they both laugh.

“Just kidding. I love her very much.” Missy’s smile could melt ice. “I’m glad you got to talk to her. Now my two favorite ladies have technically met!”

“I’m afraid to ask whether I’m in first or second place.”

Missy reaches out across the table. “I moved across the country for you, honey.” Then, with a smirk--”But I could move back any day now, so watch out!”

Scully smiles, nods. She can’t imagine what these past few weeks would have been like without her sister near. She hopes Missy never goes away again, as unrealistic a thought as it is. If there are angels on Earth, her sister is one. But Mulder too has emerged as a force in her life; no one destabilized her life quite like him, but he would be her rock if she let him, she knows this. She owes him a call. She knows that too.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Twenty 

Ron had side alonged tons of times with both his Dad, Mum, Bill, and Charlie. Sure the first time he got sick all over his fathers shoes, but by the second time he was just violently dizzy. Now it’s like nothing, uncomfortable in the moment, but not long lasting. So why did he feel so sick all of the sudden? 

A pit of dread was building in his stomach. He physically keeled over, clutching at his knees and heaving a little onto the grass, hoping to hack something up. 

A hand found his back and rubbed it for a moment, the touch startled him until he met Bill’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong Ronnie? You haven’t had that sort of reaction to apparition in years.” His oldest brother pointed out. 

Ron ignores his words, not able to find a viable excuse at the moment. Harry however, seems to catch on from his place on Bill’s left. 

“I don’t think it’s because of the apparition.” The chosen one frowned at his best friend's brother. 

Bill gulped, suddenly feeling a little guilty for not realizing sooner, but supplied a soft nod. 

“Ron if you don’t think you can do this I’d understand. No ones gonna hold it against you.” His brother whispered, bending down to meet his hunched over form. 

Soon, the ginger recovers as he shakes his head viciously and stands tall. “I have to do this. Not even just for myself but you know...” the words ‘for her’ are unspoken. 

“Okay, let’s all just take a minute.” Bill suggests noticing Harry’s pale face. 

They all stand for a little bit. Bill’s eyes seemingly searching for any threats, Harry toeing some leaves, and Ron closing his eyes to focus his breathing. 

“I’ve never been here before.” Harry comments quietly, causing Ron to open his blue eyes and meet his green ones. “I mean...” he starts. 

“Neither have I.” His friends soon clarifies, “it’s never been me who came out, always Dad, Bill, Lupin.” He lists, “feels wrong.” 

The dark haired boy nods slowly, “yeah it does.” He agrees, scratching his head awkwardly. 

Bill felt like an intruder on a private moment between the pair, but didn’t have anywhere else to go. Instead, he stood silently, not wanting to rush them. 

“I reckon we can’t stand out here forever.” Ron breaks tensely after another minute of staring at the brick house. 

“Come on.” Bill led them down the path first. 

When the trio reached the door, it was the oldest Weasley who had the courage to finally knock. 

After a small scuffle heard behind the door, Hugo Granger threw it open with. His face went from that of confusion to a beaming smile. 

It made Ron’s stomach clench. 

“Bill! What a pleasure! Oh Harry and Ron, nice to see you!” He says happily. 

Ron had met Mister Granger on a few occasions at Kings Cross and in Diagon Alley. He was always kind to Ron and his family, more than happy to entertain his father on all things Muggles.

“Is my little girl here? Jean and I told her to stay put.” He frowned a little. 

Ron really felt ill now. 

“We’re really sorry to disturb you,” Bill began cryptically, “may we come inside?” 

Hugo eyed him skeptically, it wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable with Bill in his home, but this visit was puzzling. 

“Of course.” He opened the door to them, “Jean!” He called out as they stepped in. 

“Who was it at the door?” The woman’s voice came as she walked into the foyer, smiling at the sight of the boys. “Oh! This is so unexpected. It’s lovely to see you all! Come in, come in.” Jean ushered them over to the sitting room. 

“Wait here while I get some tea, I have some made.” She tells, scurrying to the kitchen, causing Bill’s protest to die on his lips. 

Soon his older brother and Hermione’s father fell into small talk. Harry supplying a few nods here and there in acknowledgement. 

Ron however, was too busy surveying the house. 

Everything was clean and white. The dark wood floors seemed freshly polished and the pillows looked recently fluffed. On the mantle were photos of Hermione. Unmoving, but just as sentimental. 

Ones of her swaddled in a towel, her as a small baby, her in France with bushy brown hair, and many more. The one that caught his eye was her at King’s Cross from her first year, smiling widely as she sat on her new trunk. 

He had to look away. The memories of happier times becoming too painful as of late. The whole thought of her now miserable made it too much. 

Missus Granger soon returned with a tray of tea and biscuits, but no one made a move to grab anything. Not even Ron, which shocked Harry and Bill alike. 

He noticed now Hermione’s mother nervously wringing her hands together. “This is about Hermione isn’t it? I knew she’d take my mother’s death badly, but I didn’t think it would warrant a home visit. I’d assume she’d dive into her work. It’s not exactly a healthy alternative but she’s-“ the woman ranted. 

“She doesn’t know.” Ron interrupted huskily before he could help himself. 

“She doesn’t?” Hugo asked, shocked, “well we sent an owl. The white one, I think she’s yours Harry.” He pointed out. 

The chosen one nodded slowly, “we got the owl but Hermione she,” he cleared his throat, “she never saw your letter.” 

The couple eyed each other for a moment before Hugo spoke, “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” 

Bill glanced at his brother and his best friend, both were averting their eyes from the adults in front of them. 

“Hermione, she’s gone.” He says sadly, not even having a moment to elaborate before the Granger’s jumped in. 

“Oh Hugo! I knew this would happen! We told her not to come home.” She said painfully clutching her husband's hand. 

He grabbed it and gave it a squeeze before turning back to Bill, “do you know where she is? How long ago did she leave?” He asked quickly. 

Bill shook his head again, surprised to find tears stinging the backs of his eyes. Ron’s head soon found its place between his hands as Harry plucked his hoodie's zipper. 

“She didn’t leave,” he gulped, “she was taken.” The eldest Weasley said shakily. 

“Taken!” Jean exclaimed aghast. 

“I don’t understand.” Hugo said, voice quivering as silent tears began to stream his wife’s face. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have sent her off to that school. I knew it.” Her mother cried. 

This seemed to peeve Ron off, Harry too. 

“It’s not because of Hogwarts, it's because of me.” Harry informed quickly and sadly. 

“You?” Jean spat rather angrily. 

“Not Harry, me.” Ron corrected, sure of it. 

“You?” Her voice had leveled out to confusion rather than anger. 

As Ron nodded, Harry shook his head. 

“Well what is it? What’s happened?” Hugo asked anxiously, trying to keep his calm whilst his wife fell into his arms. 

Harry took a staggering breath, “my godfather, he,” he sighed sadly, “last year he was killed.” 

“Killed?” Jean squeaked nervously, worried for Hermione’s fate. 

“Yeah, you see-” The chosen one started. 

“Harry, third year, start there. Pettigrew.” Ron moaned the name painfully. He knew Hermione had stopped being honest with her parents around then. After being petrified. 

“Right...”

And so it began. The Granger’s barely had time to shed tears over Hermione, as they’d been too focused on the stories being told. Those of that night in the Shrieking Shack, of Barty Crouch Junior, Cedric Diggory, and Dolores Umbridge. Even the events of the Department of Mysteries (Missus Granger let out a terrible cry at learning Hermione had been cursed) and presently their Christmas holiday. 

“It was just over a week ago when it all happened.” Harry started nervously, palms running roughly over his denim clad legs. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” he began before Hugo interrupted. 

“The woman at the Ministry? The one who killed your godfather?” He asked voice so soft it made Harry’s heart break. Here these people were not knowing if their daughter was alright, yet felt for him after losing Sirius. 

Harry nodded, “yeah, her, well she arrived at the Burrow with Fenrir Greyback.” 

“The man who hurt you Bill.” Jean said to herself, mentally keeping tabs of all the players     

A little awkwardly, the oldest of the three nodded. 

“She came. Said some nasty things then went to leave. I-“ he began shamefully, “I followed her.”

“So did Hermione. So did I.” Ron was quick to defend. 

“You only followed because I ran in first. If I hadn’t-“ he began frustrated, hot angry tears forming in his eyes. 

“If there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s that she would do anything to protect you two boys. Please don’t blame yourself Harry.” Jean said with wet eyes, placing a soft hand on Harry’s clenched fist. 

“If I just-“ he started again. 

“If you had known this would happen to Hermione would you still have ran after her?” The woman asked, voice riddled with sadness. 

“No, of course not!” He cried out indignantly. 

“Exactly.” She soothed, retracting her hand to find her husband again, “continue.” Jean requested. 

Though painful, Ron knew this was his part to tell, “Bellatrix, she said she wanted to kill me.” He decided to leave out the part of Hermione in the witch's clutches, wanting to spare some pain. 

“Why?” Hugo gasped. 

Bill noticed Ron begin to tremble and he could at least fill this part in. “Us Weasley’s were dubbed as ‘blood-traitors’, purebloods who support Muggles and Muggle borns alike. We’re also not few and far between. To someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, if she kills one of us there’s still over half a dozen more.” 

Hesitantly, Hugo nodded in acknowledgment and understanding, but not agreement. 

“She didn’t want to kill Hermione.” Ron’s voice broke suddenly hoarse, “or Harry.” 

“But isn’t him, uh, You-Know-Who, isn’t he after you Harry?” Jean questioned. 

“Yeah, he is, it’s peculiar they didn’t try it with me.” 

“And Hermione? Why her?” 

Again, Ron and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, “your daughter is one of the brightest witches Hogwarts has ever seen. You-Know-Who, well, we reckon he needed her brilliant mind. That she may know something that could hurt him.” Bill advised regretfully. 

For now, questions from the Granger’s halted, it all was too much to take in. 

“So Hermione, she-she saved herself for me,” Ron choked, “she hid me to keep me safe and gave herself up so they wouldn’t kill me and they took her. And I couldn’t do anything. Not a thing.” Ron broke down becoming hysterical. 

Tears filled the room. Missus Granger’s sobs rivaled Ron’s as Mister Granger held her, silent tears of his own streaming his reddened cheeks. Harry had slumped over, breathing heavily, while Bill placed a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Ron stood suddenly, halting all the tears for a moment, “Loo. I need the loo.” He said, sounding almost panicked. 

“Ron, maybe you should just-“ Bill began to suggest. 

“Upstairs, second door on your right.” Hugo said with a groggy voice. 

The ginger nodded and took off, not noticing Jean throw her husband a funny look at the instructions. Instead, he just heard Bill’s soft voice floating through the room as he told the Granger’s of the measures the order had been taking. 

Ron climbed the steps two at time before being met by a long hallway with identical white doors. Spotting the second door to his right, he frantically pushed it open, ready to collapse atop the toilet lid. 

But instead he was met by a different sight. 

Blue walls. A large bookshelf tucked in the corner. Parchment stacked neatly atop a desk. Next to it was a Muggle chessboard. Pictures stuffed and tacked onto a board. And the smell. 

Roses. Lemon. Ink. 

The same thing he smelt in the Amortentia earlier in the year. 

It was all so Hermione. It was consuming his senses too much, too fast. And without even realizing what he was doing, he doubled onto her bed, silently crying. 

“I thought you might need this more than the loo.” A voice sounded from the door. 

Immediately Ron jumped to his feet, feeling like he'd done something wrong. 

“Relax Ron, I sent you here for a reason.” Mister Granger eased, moving to sit in the chair at Hermione’s desk, motioning for the boy to sit back down. 

“I’m so sorry Mister Granger, this is all my fault,” he started shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe that Ron.” He said strongly. 

The ginger shook his head fiercely, “you should. You don’t understand how much I’ve hurt her,” too many things come to mind. Lavender. The Yule Ball. Crookshanks. Scabbers. Trolls. “I could’ve done better.” He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his wrists. 

“You think I don’t blame myself for this too?” He asked a little harshly, “I get it,” he began softer, “you loved my daughter didn’t you?” He asks knowingly. 

“No.” Ron’s voice was so strong, it even startled him. “I love her.” He clarified, “Don’t talk about her like she’s gone. Like she’ll never know.” 

Hugo nodded slowly, but said nothing for a few minutes, letting Ron take in Hermione’s room with blurry eyes instead. 

“I want to understand Ron.” His voice broke the air, “I wish my daughter hadn’t lied to me. Jean and I suspected something but didn’t push it. But I need to know if there’s even something that can help. Please Ron.” He begged. 

Ron, Harry, and Bill had skimmed the surface of the chaos that has been their last six years at Hogwarts. And Ron knew more details on Hermione specifically then the other two, Mister Granger sensed as much. 

And Ron sensed the desperation in his eyes, the same look he’s been wearing for weeks. Even before Hermione was gone. When his biggest problem was chucking Lavender Brown cause he had missed her so much. 

Thoughtfully, his blue eyes found the untouched chess set. He pushed down the warmth in his chest at the thought of Hermione practicing just so she could match him. He didn’t have time to harp on it. 

“Mister Granger, have you ever played chess?” He asked, a brilliant idea forming in his head.

...

Hugo Granger pondered over the chess board carefully, studying the pieces as he placed them on the respective squares. 

“So my daughter is your queen?” He asked as Ron used tape to secure the parchment onto the white queen. 

Ron momentarily stopped what he was doing and opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air, “Er, what? I don’t know.” He fumbled. 

“The chess piece Ron, Hermione she’s the queen, is she not?” He asked, a little amused. 

“Oh,” he said, relieved , then suddenly realized he didn’t answer the question, “oh yeah, well I reckon it fits.” He says a little nervously. 

Ron was playing white and Mister Granger was black. 

You-Know-Who and Harry were the kings respectively. Hermione was the queen, while Bellatrix Lestrange was on her side. Ron made himself the knight, the protector, he felt a bit awkward about it, but he figured it would be worse if he had just written himself off. Then Hermione’s dad was sure to think he’s useless. In turn, Greyback was the knight, he debated over Malfoy, but settled on making him bishop. 

He also debated putting Draco’s name down as well, but settled for just the last name representing him and his father. Draco wasn’t guilty of anything but being a poncy pureblood prat. Well for now. 

Dumbledore was the other bishop, both ready to take over if their kings fell. The rook’s were just labeled ‘Death Eaters’ and ‘The Order’, being both were to represent the Kingdoms walls per say. 

As for the pawns it included those who either lost their lives or were simple puppets. Sirius, Cedric, Quirinius Quirrell, Peter Pettigrew, Mad Eye, even Ginny due to second year. 

Anyone else important would just have to be mentioned along the way. 

“And this woman,” Hugo began lifting up his black queen, “she’s the one who took Hermione?” 

Ron simply gulped and supplied a weak nod. Like the younger man, talks of Hermione’s captor seemed to evoke pure sadness from Hugo Granger. 

Suddenly, guilt bubbled within Ron yet again, “we don’t have to do this.” He vaguely gestured to the chess board. 

“I want to,” he insisted, “but if it’s too much for you...”

The ginger repressed the urge to groan. This man really should not be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Not after all he’s done to his daughter. Even before this. 

“Look there’s something you should know.” Ron’s eyes quickly averted her fathers. 

Hugo’s eyes pierced his, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Before Hermione,” he choked a little, “before she was taken, her and I, we weren’t speaking.” He admitted in a whisper, ashamed. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Well, I think,” he didn’t know how to phrase it, he didn’t want to, “I know I hurt her. My sister says I broke her heart.” He trailed quietly. 

And then for the first time since he arrived here, Mister Granger’s face was painted with red hot fury. Fists clenched so hard they turned white. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He told the man quickly. 

“Did my Hermione know that? That you’re sorry?” Hugo all but grunted. 

“No, I never got the chance to tell her.” It took almost everything out of Weasley not to cry. 

A few moments passed, but to Ron it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, Mister Granger seemed to lessen his rage and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t blame you Ron.” He began honestly, “I don’t blame you that those people took Hermione. I may not have known everything about my daughter, but I do know her and I know how much she cares about you.” Hermione’s father pauses, “and I know you know as much too, so I just want to ask you why?” 

And Ron knew what the ‘why?’ was for. Why would he hurt her knowing how much she cared. And for that, he doesn’t really have an answer, not a good one anyway. Nothing he can even justify to himself. 

The only thing that resonates is something he told Harry before all this, before Hermione was gone. 

“How can you love someone so much and hurt them so bad?” 

And he doesn’t know. Now more than ever. His mind is just constantly consumed with guilt, sadness, and anger. All directed at him or occasionally, Bellatrix and the rest of You-Know-Who’s followers. 

“I can’t answer that.” Ron tells him, “there’s no reason that could make it right. If I had known what would-“ a bile rose in his throat. 

“I know that Ron.” The man says softly, “I know that she knew too.” 

“Knows.” He blurted out before he could help it. 

Awkwardly, Hugo clears his throat, choosing not to acknowledge the outburst, “of course she knows.” He subtly corrects, “and I want to hear about what happened this year, but maybe we should start from the beginning?” He suggested pointing weakly to the board. 

Nodding slowly, Ron cleared his throat and thought for a moment before picking up the piece representing Harry. 

“I reckon a lot of this starts around Halloween first year. Do you know anything about Mountain Trolls...”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Dark Paradise (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: AU! With their ‘arrangement’ in place, reader and Keanu go apartment hunting. Part of the Always the quiet ones universe. Part 1 - Always the quiet ones | Part 2 - The Proposal | Part 4 - Without You

Author’s notes: I don’t know about you people, but I’m slightly addicted to this series. It’s so fun to write! As usual, feedback is greatly appreciated.

Wordcount: 4247

Warnings: Age gap; smut (dirty talk; d/s undertones; exhibitionism)

It was strange to be in the presidential suite without Keanu, but definitely something you could get used to. You took your time in a long bath, using the deliciously scented bath products from the hotel that you were very familiar with, despite never using them yourself.

You stepped out once the water turned tepid, your skin feeling silky soft and smelling amazing as you wrapped your body on one of the fluffy white robes, a towel holding your hair on top of your head. You scanned the menu for room service, your stomach rumbling. It was late and your last meal had been lunch.

Picking up the phone, you paused in hesitation. Everyone in the reception desk knew you. They would recognize your voice at the same second. How were you gonna explain this? You set the phone down again, choosing instead to order your favorite burger and milkshake from the diner a couple of streets over. They frequently delivered to the hotel guests and employees so no one would bat an eye to see them there.

You grabbed your laptop and books, bringing it to the bed with you because you had an essay for your abnormal psychology class to deliver next week and you hadn’t had time to start. Between work and all the other courses, you had been feeling overwhelmed and stressed and every time you tried to sit down to write, it was like your brain would just shut down and refuse to form any coherent thought.

Tonight, it was the first time in a while you felt completely relaxed and as you pulled out your reference notes, the text flowed easily, the essay practically writing itself as you swayed to The Weeknd playing on your earbuds.

You finished the first draft in record time, saving it on your college folder with a smile. So, this was how studying felt like when you had plenty of time and no distractions? It was amazing and the idea of not only having an apartment of your own but not to worry about long work hours and crushing debt was starting to sound even more appealing.

Pulling up a few real-estate websites, you started to browse apartments you liked which were around St. Joseph’s College, but after another moment’s consideration, decided to look for places closer to Columbia University, where you were planning to attend for Law School.

At first, you searched for an apartment with two beds two baths just like you first envisioned, but the prices terrified you. Why was everything in New York so fucking expensive? You could never ask Keanu to spend so much on you, a woman he barely knew. Then again, what would be the right price under those circumstances?

With a sigh, you got up, putting your clothes back on and moving to the balcony to watch the Manhattan lights. What were you thinking by getting in such a weird, messed up situation? You could already foresee that every single step of this would be riddled with uncertainty and self-doubt and you already hated.

You were usually so sure about your own choices. You had been sure that you needed to move away for college and even though you hated leaving your mom and brother behind, you knew it would be the only way to ease the weight of responsibility on your mother. If you stayed, she would insist you dedicated exclusively to school and she would kill herself working two, three jobs to keep your family finances afloat.

From a distance, with only phone calls twice a week, it was easier to pretend you weren’t struggling. It was easier to pretend that you were having the life she always dreamt of for you. The life Keanu was offering you right now.

And when you accepted his proposal, you had been sure too. Thinking about your future and the fact that even though you barely knew him, Keanu made you feel like no other man or boy ever managed.

It wasn’t a coincidence that, even though you knew next to nothing about him, he had been your first. You knew he was the kind of man you wanted, and you didn’t regret your decision. You were just doubting if this was the right way to go about things.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, making you start and giggle, especially when he pressed his cold nose against your neck.

“I could hear you overthinking things as soon as I stepped inside the suite,” Keanu commented, tugging you closer to his body, surrounding you with his heat and you rested against his chest, relaxing in an instant. How was this possible? “If you changed your mind…”

“No,” you sighed, turning in his embrace, your arms coming around his neck, fingers combing through the soft hairs in his nape. “I just…”

“Unsure if it’s the right thing for you?” he asked, and you chuckled because you hated and loved how he could just read your mind.

“Maybe,” you replied as Keanu rested his forehead against yours, letting out his own sigh. “I mostly wondering why you’re doing this.” He pulled back long enough to give you a look, his eyebrow arched in question and you felt heat rising to your cheeks. “I mean, you’re a handsome guy. Smart, educated, very good at…”

“Sex?” he offered with a smirk and you chuckled.

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t really what I was gonna say.” Even if you were thinking it. “My point is, you literally could just ask me or any other woman out and they most likely say yes.”

“Truth is, I’m selfish,” Keanu said with a shrug, his hands trailing softly down your back, rough fingers under your shirt, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “I have very little free time and when I do and I want to spend it with someone, I want their undivided attention. Bills and unfulfilling jobs tend to take their focus away.”

“So, you’ve done this before?” you asked carefully because you’ve been dying to know.

“Does it matter?” he asked, pulling away from you and there was a tension in his shoulders that you hadn’t seen before.

“Yes,” you replied a little more firmly because you needed to know. You needed to know what kind of future could be waiting for you.

“Twice,” Keanu finally replied, stepping closer to the railing and lighting up a cigarette. “First time, she ended it. It wasn’t what she wanted in the long run. She’s married now. With a kid.”

“And the second time?” you prodded, trying to be gentle.

“She wanted more than I could give so I had to end things. For her own good and mine.”

You could tell there was more to it but decided to leave it alone, your curiosity sated for now. Instead, you fitted yourself between his body and the railing, making Keanu smile as he looked at you. His gaze held you with its intensity and you wanted to hide, but also to expose your entire self to him because it made you feel like the only person on Earth and it was such a strange but thrilling feeling.

“It never felt like this, though,” he whispered, leaning closer, filling your nose with the smell of smoke and expensive cologne. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone the way I want you.”

“I want you too,” you assured, arms returning to his neck.

Your mouth found his and for a moment you got lost in the taste of him. Just the touch of his lips upon yours was enough to make your knees feel weak and arousal pool between your legs.

“You should eat first,” Keanu said with a soft smile. “Your burger is getting cold and your milkshake is melting.” You followed him back to the bedroom, surprised to see the takeout bag on top of a bedside table. “The delivery guy was at the reception desk when I got in, so I just brought it with me.”

“Thanks.” You grinned, your belly growling at the smell of the greasy food.

“Where are you going?” Keanu asked when you took a step to the sitting room.

“I’m not gonna eat in bed,” you replied with a snort. You knew how much of a pain in the ass it was to clean up those sheets from grease stains.

Instead, you brought everything to the small dining table in the sitting room, mouth watering as you unpacked your food. You were halfway into your burger when Keanu came in, your laptop in hands.

“Looking for apartments?” he asked, sitting next to you. “Let me see?”

“Sure. Third tab is my favorite so far,” you said licking the excess of ketchup from your fingers before you popped a fry in your mouth and tilted your head to see the screen too.

“It’s a shoebox,” Keanu complained with a displeased noise, moving to the next tab and then the following one and the one after that. “They’re all shoeboxes.”

“I don’t need much,” you shrugged and watched as he altered the search parameters, his brown eyes scanning the options, his forehead slightly creased in concentration. “Fry?”

“I already had dinner,” he said, clicking in one of the adds.

“Ok, but this is French fries,” you pointed out, waving it in front of his gaze. “The best in town.” He chuckled, before snatching it from your fingers with his lips.

“I like this,” he said and the first thing you noticed was the price that nearly made you choke on the mouthful of milkshake. “Don’t worry about prices,” Keanu assured with a smile. “Just tell me if you liked it.”

“Well, obviously,” you sighed, glancing back at the pictures and the wide window panels. “But seriously, Keanu, I’d good with a studio or…” You trailed off when you saw him pull out the real-estate agent information, take out his phone. “It’s almost eleven p.m. Keanu, you can’t just…”

He shushed you, a smirk on his face as he pressed the phone to his ear with one hand, the other traveling up your thigh, making you shiver.

“This is Keanu Reeves.”

His hand moving higher as he spoke to the woman on the other side. You tried to still his wandering fingers when they reached between your legs, but Keanu just gave you a wicked smile, his voice not wavering even the slightly as he started teasing you. You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your noises as you rocked against his fingers.

You got lost in the sensations, in his teasing and you didn’t even realize he ended his call. Not until Keanu pulled your hand away from your mouth, meeting your lips for a sweet kiss.

“We have an appointment tomorrow at noon. Can you make it?”  

“Yeah,” you assured, moving to his lap. “Now, are you gonna fuck me again, sir?”

“Yes,” Keanu replied, smirking. This time when he stood up with you in his arms, you barely made a sound. “Until you can’t sit straight without feeling and remembering me.”

----

You tried your best to focus on what the professor was droning on about, but it was hard when every time you shifted in your chair, you could feel the throb in your center, not exactly painful, but definitely making sure you didn’t forget the pounding you got last night and you had to hide your satisfied grin behind a sip of your water so not to drag attention to yourself.

You never thought sex could be quite like that. Sure, Keanu was your first real experience, everything else just awkward fumbling, but even in your inexperience, you could tell that wasn’t just good. It was unbelievably amazing.

Feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket, you reached for it and the sight of Keanu’s name on the screen made your heart speed up. It was just a text message; sending you the address for the apartment complex you’d be visiting and asking if you wanted him to send a car for you. You had no idea why you were acting like this.

With a quick reply, you assured you’d be there and that you could take the subway before you tried to get your attention back to the lecture. This was one of the toughest classes in your course, you knew only 5 percent of the class would get grades higher than B and you planned to be in that percentage.

Once the class was finally over, you put your things away and checked the time to make sure you could pop in your dorm to drop your stuff and change before you met Keanu. You wanted to look nice and maybe a little more… mature? Maybe it was silly of you, but you wanted to make sure to cause a good impression and jeans and a ratty tee wasn’t the ideal way.

So, you exchanged them for one of your favorite sweater dresses, cream-colored and tied around your waist with a ribbon. You always felt the shape complimented your curves, as well as the tone, made the earthy hue of your skin pop up.

           “You look hot,” your roommate commented, making you grin. She was hardly your favorite person sometimes, but she did have an amazing taste. “Meeting the boyfriend?”

“Never said I had a boyfriend,” you pointed out as you put on your boots.

“The hickeys told the tale,” she smirked, nodding that the bruise peeking from under the hem of your dress and you blushed, tugging it down. “No shame. Maybe he can get that stick from up your ass.” She called out from over her shoulder as she moved away, taking your charger without asking once again.

“Soon,” you whispered to your mirror self, before picking up your bag and heading out, fidgeting the entire way to Morningside Heights, the neighborhood a distant cry from your own and you felt slightly out of place as you approached the elegant building.

Keanu was waiting for you at the foyer, once again in a suit, this time all black, his hair neatly combed and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, especially with the way he smiled when he spotted you, his gaze traveling appreciatively down your body before he met your eyes again.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, letting Keanu pull you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“You’re just in time, sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes never leaving you. “We’re ready, Gwen.”

For the first time, you noticed the woman in a crisp pantsuit, her hair pinned back in a neat bun, a fake smile plastered in her face as she looked at you and at the way Keanu was holding you close, his large hand pressed against your hip, warm and possessive.

You matched her smile, daring her to say a word, knowing that she wouldn’t, not in front of Keanu anyway.

This was something you would have to get used to it. The judgmental looks whenever you were anywhere near Keanu. He seemed oblivious to it, but you could just feel eyes following the pair of you as Gwen led the way to the wall of elevators.

The first apartment she showed was one of the studios you had seen originally. Yes, it was small, but the wide windows let plenty of sunshine in; the modern concept kitchen was gorgeous, and the bathroom had plenty of space. You loved it.

“Shoebox,” Keanu whispered in your ear as Gwen droned on and on about the qualities of the place, making you giggle. “Can you show us the other one we talked about?”

“Absolutely,” the woman said, leading the way out, the elevator taking you three to a higher floor in the building.

This one was also amazing and considerably bigger. Two bedrooms, two baths, an open kitchen, the master bathroom was huge, with a tub that looked very inviting and a closet bigger than you knew what to do with.

“What you think?” Keanu asked, leaning against the doorframe, watching as you ran your fingers over the stone countertops.

“It’s amazing,” you told him with a grin, which he returned. “What do you think?”

You followed him as Keanu walked the apartment, analyzing every inch before, turning to look at Gwen.

“You have a penthouse?” The woman stilled for a second, stunned before she checked something on her phone and then looked back at Keanu.

“We do, but it’s already reserved,” she said, her tone apologetic.

“Show us anyway.” And who could resist when Keanu was flashing that charming smile, looking so suave and unflappable?

You watched as flustered Gwen raised a finger asking for a minute and scurried off, phone to her ear, probably talking to her superiors.

“What’s the point of checking an apartment someone else already getting ready to buy?” you asked, coming to stand next to him. The idea of it being the penthouse scared you a little and something told you Keanu knew.

“Just to sate my curiosity,” he said, fingers toying with the edge of your dress. “I like this look on you,” Keanu said, pulling you closer, his hands coming to your ass. “Easy access.”

You giggled and pushed his hands away moments before Gwen returned, her smile wide and you could almost see the dollar signs in her eyes as she led the way to the top floor, the elevator opening to a small hall that had only one door. She unlocked it and let you and Keanu step in first.

Your breath caught in your throat once again. This time due to the ceiling to floor window panels that showed the most gorgeous view of New York. There was a huge terrace and your heart leaped when you noticed you could see Columbia University from up there, closer than you could have hoped for. St. John’s cathedral too.

This apartment wasn’t much bigger than the other one you just visited and had all the same winning features. The biggest difference was the terrace and it was definitely something. You could see yourself having breakfast out there with Keanu when the weather was nice or cuddling at the lounge seat overlooking Manhattan and the Hudson River.

“You loved it, don’t you?” Keanu asked in a throaty chuckle, his arm surrounding you, his lips grazing your cheek, his beard tickling your skin.

“Ok, yes,” you admitted, turning your head to look at him. “But it’s too…” He silenced your words pressing a finger to your lips, his brown eyes shining bright as he looked at you.

“It’s just right. For both of us.” With a final kiss to your cheek, Keanu moved away, meeting Gwen in the living room.

You could protest of course. Insist on the smaller one but Keanu was right. This was perfect, the kind of place you had only dared to think about in dreams. The master bedroom was large enough that you could have a small home office in it and leave the second bedroom exclusively as a guest room. Your mom would die for that kitchen. It was everything you wanted, and Keanu was more than willing to buy it for you.

With much struggle, you turned your back to the view so you could watch Keanu and Gwen talking. There it was again, the flustered look confronted with his smooth ways and you almost felt bad for her. You had no idea what he was saying, but it was enough for the real estate agent to lift her finger once again and scurry off.

“Even if we love it,” you said returning to the living room, but pausing to admire the high windows. “Someone else is already about to buy it.”

“You’d be surprised what the right offer can do,” Keanu replied with a smirk. He shrugged off his blazer and set on the kitchen counter before he moved towards you, his gaze dark with desire.

“Keanu, we can’t…” you warned just as he crowded you against the window, his lips hot against your neck, his hands on your thighs, sneaking under the hem of your dress.

“Why not?”

“This isn’t our place.” Your voice turned a bit high-pitched as he nipped at your skin. “And she can come back at any moment.”

“She’s talking to her boss, who’s gonna talk to their bosses so they can find a compatible, but more affordable place to offer to the other interested part. That will take a while, so we have time.”

His hands moved to the front of your thighs, dipping in between before nudging them apart and you let him. Any resistance you had reduced to shambles when Keanu pressed a wet, sucking kiss to that sensitive point just bellow your ear that always made you soaked in seconds.

You rested your hands on the sun-warmed glass of the window, bending your body just enough so your ass was pressed against his growing erection, making Keanu smirk against your neck as he tugged your dress up, your panties down and dipped two of his fingers inside you and making you moan.

“Today you have to be quiet, sweetheart,” he said, and you could hear the noise of his buttons and belt being undone. “And I don’t have time to prep you like I usually do.”

“I can take it, sir,” you replied, voice shaking as he continued to move his fingers in and out at a fast pace, making pleasure shoot through you like lightning bolts, the surge of arousal and lust igniting your nerves.

“I know,” Keanu whispered against your cheek. “You’re already drenching my hand, your cunt desperate for my cock.”

You didn’t have time to reply nor to feel embarrassed, because he was replacing his fingers with his cock, burying into you till the hilt and muffling your cries by pushing two fingers into your mouth, his other hand positioning your hips so Keanu could better thrust into you.

His pace was punishing and soon you were pressed against the window, his hand coming up to play with your breasts as he fucked you, his grunts and curses tickling your ear, his smell surrounding you as he took you.

If there was any cognitive function left in you, you would be worried about getting caught; about someone from the nearby buildings seeing the two of you, but all you knew was the shattering pleasure spreading from your center to the rest of your body, coiling deep inside you and building like wildfire. You just knew your orgasm would be the kind that left you completely shattered and weak.

“Are you close, sweetheart?” Keanu asked, tone breathless as he ground into you, his thrusts short and angled just right. “I wanna feel you squeezing me tight when I cum inside you.”

You only nodded, bringing his hand from your breasts to your clit and Keanu started rubbing circles, his soft touch a contrast to the way he was taking you, but it worked, because in moments you were whimpering and shaking as the tension coil snapped and you came, gushing and throbbing around him.

“Fuck! I love how tight your cunt gets when you come,” he grunted, his thrusts gaining speed and losing coordination as he fucked with abandon, muffling his own groan with a bite to your shoulder.

His weight pressed you against the window, the glass smudged by your sweat as the two of you caught your breath and, in your case, also recovered the control for your lower limbs.

You were barely aware of Keanu fumbling behind you, slowly pulling his fingers from inside your mouth, wiping the spit the escaped from the corner of your lips and drying them on his pants before, pulling out his softening cock as the same time he brought a handkerchief between your legs, gathering most of the mess the two of you made.

At the sound of steps on the foyer, you hurried to fix your dress, hoping your hair wasn’t too much of a mess as the Gwen returned to the room, taking one look at the two of you and blushing bright red.

She knew. Of course, she knew. It was written on your faces. She could probably smell it in the air.

“The apartment is yours, Mr. Reeves.”

“Perfect,” he said, smiling wide, both hands inside his pockets. “I’ll have my people send all the required documents to your office.”

“Alright,” she nodded, a timid smile in her face. “Would you like some more time to… uh, look?”

You could feel your cheeks flaming as her gaze moved your direction. You quickly looked out the window, avoiding her eyes.

“Please,” Keanu replied with a smirk, and you felt his hand back on your hip. “I’d like the inspect the master bedroom a little more closely.”

“Just drop the keys at the lobby once you’re done,” she said, her eyes knowingly as she walked out of the loft.

Once the door closed, Keanu tugged you into his arms, his mouth seeking yours for a searing kiss.

“I hope you cleared your schedule because I’m planning on fucking you in each and every one of these rooms,” he said against your lips.

“I’m all yours,” you replied with a matching smirk, sucking on his bottom lip just to hear him grunt, his hands tightening over your hips.

“Don’t you forget it.”

xxx

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[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 11 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: child kidnappings mentioned

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 11

The return home was nothing but a blur. Sam’s mind couldn’t make much sense of anything until she focused on flashing lights in the darkness. Panic gripped her as the possibility those skeleton creatures followed them, but voices soon filtered through the dark trees. She called out to them in a raspy voice. At first, she thought her voice was too faint to reach them, but someone heard her.

One of the rangers came into focus as he approached her. After flashing his light over the area, he tried asking her something. His question didn’t make much sense to her, so she attempted to tell him she was okay, but the others might be hurt. Her vision swam as the ranger contacted someone on his walkie-talkie. The last thing she heard before blackness took her was the ranger trying to keep her conscious.

…

She woke up to find herself staring at a pale gray ceiling. Confused, she turned her head to get a better idea of where she was. The white walls, a single chair where Tucker was sleeping, and an IV which was attached to her clued her in that she was in a hospital. Why was she in a hospital? After glancing at Tucker again, she determined the better question was why was Tucker in the hospital? He hated them.

He roused himself after a few moments. “Hey, you’re awake!” After allowing himself a moment to stretch, he moved to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Her throat felt like sandpaper. “How’d I get here? Where is everyone else? Where’s Danny?”

“I was told the Rangers called in ambulances after we were found. We and the A-listers were taken here. We were actually the least injured – just some scrapes and bruises. The doctors said you also had a bad bump on the head. Some of the A-listers are in critical condition, but they should make it.” He glanced around before leaning closer so he could whisper, “When I was released earlier, my parents told me Danny had been found and taken here, but they’re not allowing visitors. He’s being questioned by the police because he was found in a different location hours after us and relatively unharmed. Mom said the doctors seem worried about his vitals.”

“But he didn’t do anything!” She tried to sit up only to have Tucker gently stop her.

“Hey, the only way your parents let me in here was if I promised to make sure you didn’t get up if they weren’t in the room. I’m not pushing my luck after everything else that happened.” Once he was certain she was done trying to move, he went back to the chair and wrung his hands. “Trust me. I know he didn’t have anything to do with what happened, but it looks weird to the cops that he wasn’t found with us.”

Sam wanted to argue with him just so she could vent. Danny didn’t deserve that suspicion. He was probably most affected by what happened. Remembering him in that ghostly form, she hoped he would be okay being in the world of the living. He was back there with them, so she guessed he would be okay.

She tried to question Tucker for more information, but her parents interrupted them. After a boisterous show of relief from her mother, her dad had enough tact to politely ask Tucker to give them time with their daughter. She glared at Tucker’s betrayal as he gave a half-hearted salute before he exited leaving her to try to block out her mother’s piercing voice.

….

After a barrage of tests the next morning, the doctors were confident she could be released. However, her parents wanted them to keep her for another night as a precaution. Since the doctors gave her a clean bill of health, the police came in to take a statement from her. She told them what she felt she could – that someone who called himself Youngblood killed Lester and took Mikey, and after she and her friends got separated from the others, were hunted down by someone called Plasmius. While the police seemed skeptical, they did admit her story matched up with her friends and what they could get out of Dash and Lucas.

Her annoyance at the police lessened when Tucker brought her news they were allowed to go see Danny. Her nurse was fine with it as long as she returned to her room after a couple hours.

Danny’s room was on a different floor so it took them a few minutes to get there. After knocking and entering, they found Danny sitting up on his bed and chatting with his sister. After greeting them, Jazz excused herself after giving him a searching look.

“What was that about?” Tucker questioned as he glanced back towards where Jazz disappeared.

“You know her and her psychobabble. She’s convinced I’m traumatized need to talk to someone.” Danny’s tone seemed light, but there was a notable frown on his face. “I can tell she knows I’m withholding information.”

“I think the police also think that. The cop I talked to earlier seemed upset I didn’t give him more information,” Sam admitted before she moved forward to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing considering…?” She gestured vaguely to his body. “You still owe me a date, you know.”

A chuckle escaped him. “I know I do, but they need to let me out of here first. Then we can play it by ear.” He brought his hand to his chest. “Some of my vitals are wonky because of… what happened, so the doctors want to observe me for a while still.” His eyes grew distant as he continued, “Overall, I think I’m okay, but this place makes me so uncomfortable. There is so much emotion, and… I think they’re remnants of people who died. They might be ghosts, but they seem so wispy compared to what we saw. Clockwork told me that place corrupted ghosts over time, so maybe that’s what it is. The ghosts here aren’t corrupted.”

“Dude, I feel you about hospitals being creepy. The only reason I’m here is to visit you two,” Tucker admitted as he removed his hat and wrung it. “But what do you mean by emotion?”

There was a green tinge to Danny’s eyes as he glanced at them. “I can feel… maybe taste… the fear and grief in this place. I don’t like it.”

After sharing a concerned look with Tucker, Sam gently patted Danny’s shoulder. “There are old stories that say ghosts seem to respond to strong emotions. Maybe that’s what it is.”

“Maybe.” His reply was half-hearted.

“So, how exactly did you get back? And how did the visit with Clockwork go?” Tucker questioned as he sat on the only chair in the room, leaving Sam to rest on the end of his bed.

“Frostbite brought me back after we got the report that you were attacked, he led me to a different portal as the one you went through already closed.” His head tilted as he thought about it. “Clockwork was very unsettled by the events. He’s the ghost of time, by the way, and I don’t think I ever want his job.” After catching their confused stares, Danny launched into a hushed explanation of what Clockwork told him.

“You’re telling me the ghost of time missed seeing that weird thing?” It was Tucker who finally broke the stunned silence after Danny finished. “He’s not very good at his job, is he?”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t think it’s Clockwork’s fault. From what I caught, it seems what or whoever is employing those things, they are able to move in his blind spots.”

“You said something about how those things are looking to steal kids. Do you think we have to worry about them?” Although Sam wasn’t too worried about herself, she did have small cousins that while they were brats, she had no desire to see them harmed.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t given too much information about them, and I don’t exactly have a way to try to find a way to find out either.”

“Hmm… When my parents finally allow me out of here, I’ll go through my collection of folklore and mythology. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe there’s a mention of something like what you described.”

“Oooh! That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” Tucker smacked himself on the head as he brought out his PDA. After a few quick button pushes, he held it up. “I now have a program running to see if there are any recent reports of those things? It might take a bit of filtering to get around CreepyPastas, but I think it’ll work.”

Danny gave them a trembling smile. “Thanks guys.”

Their conversation soon drifted to more mundane things like school and imagining Sam’s parents going on a rampage against the school district. Their conversation came to an end after Danny’s parents entered the room, a little more excited than normal. They clearly wanted to discuss something in private, so Sam and Tucker excused themselves. Tucker then walked Sam back to her room, where her nurse was waiting for them.

xxxxxx

The next day, Danny was release from the hospital under strict orders he needed to be carefully monitored. His temperature and blood pressure were still on the low side, but he seemed to be healthy. Uncertain whether or not that was his new baseline, they figured his parents would return him to the hospital if he took a turn for the worst. So, he would be allowed to stay home from school for about a week.

If he was honest, he didn’t think he parents would be too motivated to keep an eye on him as they had a new toy to keep their attention. While he, his friends, and classmates were lost in the world of the dead, his parents managed to punch open a hole into that very place with an invention they had been working on for decades. Most of their waking moments were spent hovering around it and taking measurements.

He didn’t understand why they would make such a thing. Its energy infected everything in the house. He doubted his parents or sister were able to feel it unless they stood in front of it, but that energy thrummed in his very core. It wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling, but it seemed to calm the constant fighting between his human and ghostly forms. He supposed he should be at least thankful for that as it helped prevent slip ups around his family.

That had been the most nerve wracking aspect of his changes. His energy often surged without warning which triggered some sort of ghostly ability that both Frostbite and Clockwork neglected to mention to him. His body parts liked to inappropriately pass through solid objects or disappear for a few minutes at a time. It often went away after a few frantic moments of trying to fix the problem. He had yet to tell his friends about it.

For the most part, he kept to himself and in his room while he was under this surveillance period. However, he still had bodily needs. So, he would venture to the kitchen for snacks.

A couple hours after dinner, he went downstairs for one such snack. He found his sister in the living room watching breaking news regarding a disappearance of a teen. As he listened to the reporter, a strange chill ran through him. That chill worsened after they showed a photo of the girl – she was an underclassman at his school.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jazz demanded after she realized he was there. Had he really been that quiet?

“Long enough. What exactly happened to her?” He moved to sit down on the couch with her.

“After what just happened to you, I don’t think you should listen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jazz, I’m fine. Besides, I already heard enough to know she went missing around the same time me and my classmates did.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes as she seemingly examined him for some unknown sign. When she didn’t find it, she sighed and caught him up. “She and her family went on a normal hike on a short trail outside the city. When she didn’t come back at the designated time, a search party went looking for her. She was found unharmed near a bend the creek that follows that trail.” She paused as she scratched her head. “It doesn’t seem too unusual, but something her parents said in an interview is bugging me. They said she seemed like an entirely different person after she was found. I’m trying to get more information to see if I have any information that might be able to help them.”

“You probably shouldn’t stick your nose in it.”

The expression she shot him went from offended to sheepish as she backtracked. “Well… I wasn’t going to directly get involved. I was just going to send a message to their doctors if I could find a psychological change that could help with their prognoses. I wonder if they’d let me do a case study on her for my class.” Jazz had received special permission to return home for a couple weeks to make sure Danny was fine. However, true to form, she had promised to work on any potential projects due the time period.

“Jazz… I’m serious. You shouldn’t get involved.” When Jazz looked like she was going to argue with him, he gave her the most intense glare he could muster. “You have no idea what might have happened to her. Getting involved when you shouldn’t, might make it worse, or you might get yourself involved in something you’ll end up regretting.”

She floundered as she tried to find her words. If he didn’t know any better, she almost seemed afraid. “I don’t understand you,” she eventually told him. “You’ve never taken such an interest in any of my previous projects.”

Danny just rubbed his temples. Jazz didn’t tend to back down from anything unless she had a sound argument. “Jazz, I’m telling you, there’s something wrong here. Don’t approach her.”

“Are you implying that her temporary disappearance has something to do with what happened to you and your classmates?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but call it a gut feeling.”

She gently patted his shoulder. “I know what this is about.”

“You do?”

She gave him a pitying look. “Because your situations are so similar, you’re projecting your fears and experience on to her.”

“What? That’s not it at all!”

“You just keep telling yourself that, little brother.” With that phrase, she effectively dismissed anything else he had to say.

Still unsettled, Danny excused himself and went back to his room to see if he could find any more information as to what happened to the underclassman and to alert Sam and Tucker to the information. While he was able to get little more than the information he heard on the news report, the feeling something else was wrong wouldn’t leave him.

[themadauthorshatter]

TOPPAT!CHARLES PART 6

HEY! HEY, YOU!

Don't scroll past this!

Why, you ask?

Simple.

TIME FOR TOPPAT!CHARLES PART 6!!!!!

Sorry if I scared you there, I'm just über excited for this one, I sincerely am, you have no idea!!! 

If you haven’t read the previous parts, you can find them RIGHT HERE: 

Part 1: 

Part 2: 

Part 3: 

Part 4: 

Part 5:

Previously on Toppat!Charles: Our pilot friend learned the hard way it's not a good idea to say 'no' to the Right Hand Man, and has accepted his offer. Meanwhile, Henry has been having nightmares of his different end selves disagreeing with his decision and chastising him for letting Charles get taken by Right.

HEADCANON/THEORY FOLLOWING OF THE CHAPTER: Watch this theory by Two Left Thumbs, and you'll know instantly. A hint, though, Ellie is dealing with this in her own way; she and Henry ARE connected in more ways than one😉: https://youtu.be/LjOCfKOqkic

Got that? FANTASTIC!!

LET'S DIVE RIGHT BACK IN!!!!

Henry walks down a hallway and toward a break room for breakfast; he, Ellie, and Charles do have an apartment, but the general wants them to stay until Charles is back home safely. 

It has been at least a few weeks since part 5, and that time, in addition to the nightmares, has taken its toll. Henry’s hair is messy, his clothes are wrinkled, and bags have formed under his eyes. 

As he reaches the doorway, someone is there to greet him. 

“Morning, Mr. Stickmin.” 

Bill Bullet sits at one of the tables, having just finished his own breakfast and is now fidgeting with his empty coffee cup. 

Henry takes a seat across from him and rests his head on his hand. 

“You doing alright? You look like Hell in a hand basket.” 

'Hard time sleeping,' Henry signs as he yawns.

"Well, don't go sleeping on me. We're moving today."

Henry looks up at him, now awake and alert.

"Some of my men saw movement from the orbital station on oir satellite. They might be paying Earth a visit."

Henry pulls a newspaper ad out of his pocket and uncrinkles it and shows it to Bullet, tapping on it.

It's an add for a museum exhibit in a neighboring city close to the one Henry robbed in StD, said exhibit being a sapphire, like a large sapphire, like the size of the diamond, ruby, and emerald. It's tempting for Henry to not steal the sapphire and slip back into old habits.

This is an excellent target for the clan.

'The Right Hand Man should be, too.'

Bullet smirks and nods. "I've got a team ready for you. We'll leave on your call."

TIME JUMP TO THE MUSEUM!!!!!

Henry and his team and Ellie enter the museum with little to no problem; Henry brought Ellie for emotional support and so he could show her the sapphire. (A small gift to her for everything she's done as his friend)

They have some close calls like Ellie almost getting seen by a guard, one of the CCC men almost shoots another guard "just in case," and another guard almost falls on yet another guard.

After that, they get to the sapphire exhibit and take out the guards in a way that doesn't get them (the guards) killed. After that, they all sit down and play the waiting game.

The CCC men do a sweep of the area and ready themselves at different parts of the exhibit, hiding in spots and ready to strike. Ellie and Henry take a seat near the sapphire itself, admiring it before focusing back on the mission.

Henry lets his mind wander, thinking about how once they save Charles, Henry will take his place in the CCC. It's the kind of thought that gives them a sick feeling, but all he can think is 'As long as Charles is safe, it'll be worth it.'

He remembers Terrence's words about how life is for living and bites his tongue.

I've seen families live together just fine with no riches, no crime, and no Toppat Clan. We really meant that little to you?

He gets a tap on his shoulder and looks over to see Ellie holding out a cup of coffee to him, a thermos, maybe two, next to her.

"I thought you could use some, since we're gonna be here for a while."

Henry shakes his head and tries to push it away. 'No thanks. I don't really like coffee. Gives me a headache.'

Ellie gives him a withering look. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

When Henry doesn't answer, Ellie smirks and holds out the coffee once more. "Yeah, thought so."

Henry rolls his eyes and takes the cup, signing with his free hand, 'Fine. When did you become my mother?'

"When you became a child," Ellie barks as she lightly bonks Henry on the head. "And when you came back from visiting your father." She leans back and puts the back of her free hand against her eyes, looking as dramatic as possible. "What they say is true: A boy really needs the love of a mother."

Henry scoffs and shakes his head with a smile before writing on her palm again with his finger. 'I already have a mother.'

Ellie sits straight, now intrigued. "You don't talk about them a lot. Your parents, I mean."

Henry raises an eyebrow and points to her as he nods, gesturing either, 'You don't, either' or 'Neither do you.' Same message, different phrasing.

It's Ellie's turn to shake her head. "They're not people I want to talk about. I doubt my dad would let me visit him, even in a situation like this."

Henry pauses from drinking his coffee.

"Your dad said life is for living. I can't say he's wrong for saying that." She turns her head to Henry, looking him in the eye even those he's staring off into outer space/zoning out. "It's just hard to live life when..." She looks away again, lowers her voice, just so the CCC men don't hear her, and clenches her fists on her knees. "When you can't stop living."

Henry nods as he goes for another sip of coffee.

Then he stops.

'It's hard to live life when you can't stop living.'

Those words make Henry slowly lower his cup and turn to Ellie, looking at her both incredulously and with fear.

"What?" He asks under his breath.

Before Ellie can answer, something is thrown into the exhibit and EXPLODES, filling the room with smoke and no one really getting too injured.

The CCC men fall one by one from being grabbed from behind and put into a sleeper hold, and the toaats responsible run over, mostly undetected because of the smoke.

Henry is seemingly tackled down by Ellie as the two hear glass breaking above them.

The sapphire's case is open.

Henry sees a toppat get close and shoots him in the shoulder, not enough to kill him but enough to get him running away.

"Good shot!" Ellie yells between coughs because the alarms been set off.

Henry points to his gun, then to his hand as he shakes his head with a "Mh-mm." 'I was aiming for his hand.'

The two go toe to toe with a pair of toppats like in the very beginning of this series, but something's different. When Henry kicks his opponent away, the toppat scurries away from the two. And Ellie's just runs when she's just started fighting.

"What's going on?"

Henry shrugs and then looks over at the sapphire.

You know that face and stance he does in Toppat King when the rocket takes off without him? Weeeeellll...

Henry's face drops completely as he holds the sides of his face, gasping loudly.

Ellie is equally flabbergasted, and a little annoyed at how well this plan actually worked in the toppat's favor.

A little too well, I'd say.

"What do we-"

Henry runs after the toppat Ellie was fighting before she can finish asking him.

The three race through multiple exhibits, the toppat throwing down trash bins and benches in order to slow them down.

Henry, however, has the power of friendship and adrenaline and keeps up with him evry step of the way.

"Stop!" He yells. "Where is he!?"

The toppat fumbles, but still continues running. Ellie picks up her pave unitl she's in front of Henry.

"Where's Charles!?"

The chase takes the two of them outside, Henry falls behind, where the toppat makes a sharp turn to the wall.

Ellie sees this a second too late as she is hit in the nose with a cybernetic hand, knocking her down, but not knocking her out, even when a cybernetic foot is put on her freshly healed rib.

"'Ello. It's been a while, 'asn't it?"

Ellie glares up at Right and tries to move his foot.

"Last time I saw you, you had to get carried in a stretcher."

"And you took our friend," Ellie sneers.

Right rolls his eyes; these kids do not play around, which he admires, but it does get annoying when he's in a playing mood.

"Charles. Our friend. What did you do with him?"

Right smirks and looks over his shoulder. "Looks like this one missed you, after all. You'll fit in perfect with the two of them now." Right moves his foot and approaches whoever he's talking to, and Ellie takes this opportunity to try to get the jump on him.

The toppat sees this INSTANTLY.

🤨... I don't know anout you guys, but I feel like I'm forgetting something here.🤔🤔

OH, YEAH!!!

Henry runs out just in time to see this toppat shoot Ellie in the hip.

If this was a movie, we would hear nothing, no music, no talking, just the sound of the gun firing and echoing as the bullet either gets lodged in Ellie's hip or goes THROUGH her hip, close to the joint of her leg. We would get a shot of Ellie's face, eyes wide, brows furrowed and widely arced, like those despair looking anime faces, and lips slightly parted as shock sets in. We would also get three more shots, one from her perspective as she sees the toppat lower his gun,one behind Ellie as she falls back, and the third being on the ground and slightly in front of her as Henry freezes where he is and watches her fall.

BUT HE DOESN'T STAY THIS WAY.

"You BASTARD!" Henry screams as he charges toward Right, who steps back and throws him into the toppat.

The sight of him not only snaps Henry out of his rage, it completely throughs him into a despaired shock.

He's lost a lot of weight in his captivity, and Henry can feel it through his suit and see it in his cheeks, jaw, neck, and eyes, which are blood shot, empty and glassy. His hair's grown longer to where it is past his shoulders and kept in a low ponytail, the rest held back by gel and his own top hat so it stays out of his face. He's gotten pale from his time in space and not being exposed to sunlight and vitamin D.

For a second, neither recognize each other, but Henry is the first to as his chest goes hollow.

"Charles!" He quickly embraces his friend, who is still quiet and nit exactly reacting, but the gears start turning in his head as he realizes who's talking to and hugging him.

Right watches ans his smirk widens as Henry let Charles go and turns to him, tears pouring down his cheeks and now angry as hell.

"What did you do to him!?"

Right looks back at Charles, prompting Henry to do the same.

"Henry?"

A smile grows on Henry's face as he helps his friend up.

"Charles, I'm so sorry! I should've-"

BANG!

Henry falls backward, but doesn't die. Instead, the ground melts away beneath him and he gasps as the bullet wound heals on his forehead. You know that feeling you get when you're falling asleep and feel like your mattress is floating on the ocean waves? Henry feels that until he's back looking up at Right.

This time, he looks at Charles to see Charles is literally about to shoot him, but he hits and throws it away before Charles flips him over and smashes his fist into Henry's face repeatedly until Henry throws him off and stands back up, Charles standing as well and glaring at him, absolutely livid.

"Why'd you do it?" Charles growls. "Why didn't you help me when I needed you!?"

The hollow feeling in Henry's chest worsens as Charles stares him down. Part is him is more than willing to break down into tears, but all the time watching the tapes Right showed him in Part 5 have made his body producing tears next to impossible.

Right only stands back and watches because, as you probably put together, THIS is plan. Not only to take a friend, Charles, away from Henry, but to have said friend destroy him.

"I'm sor-"

Before Henry can finish, Charles punches him again.

"TELL ME!" His voice is a little broken, but he keeps yelling out of frustration and sheer anger because, yes, while Henry sent the destroyers and the government to help Charles, he didn't stop Right in the jungle during the mission. "WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM!? WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME!? YOU JUST STOOD THERE AND LET ME GET TAKEN AWAY!"

Henry doesn't have the fight in him to stop Charles from yelling at him or punching him. He doesn't even have it in him to look Charles in the eye.

And that bothers Charles immensely.

"Why won't you say anything?" Charles asks. "No matter what, you've always stayed quiet."

When Henry still remains silent, Charles swings a punch into his face hard enough to make Henry fall down.

"SAY SOMETHING!"

Henry holds up his hands, revealing how much he's been crying and how hard Charles has been hitting him; Henry's nose is broken, one of his eyes his swollen shut, his lips are split, and a tooth is loose.

Physically unable to speak, Henry signs to Charles instead, 'I'm sorry.'

Charels quickly kneels down and snatches Henry's hand.

"I want to hear you say it."

Henry tries forcing those words out, but his throat tightens up and leaves him unable to speak. He tries again and his crying becomes worse as he shakes his head.

"SAY IT!" Charles screams.

Henry breaks down as he shakes his head again, signing and gesturing as much as he can.

Charles rises to his feet, his eyes going glassy and his face expressionless. "I figured as much." He kicks Henry in the mouth and turns to Right. "We're done here. Send a message back to the station. We got the sapphire."

Right nods as his smirk becomes a smile. "Yes, sir."

Henry stands up on shaky legs and stiltedly walks towards his friend.

"Ch-Charles."

Charles shuts his eyes and heaves a breath through his nose, his top hat in his hands.

"Charles, w-wait-"

Charles wheels around as he watches Henry stumble toward him.

"I... I-"

"Don't bother."

Charles holds the hand gun Henry made him drop and aims it at Henry.

"I've heard enough."

When Charles shoots, Henry does not feel the bullet when it is lodged into his waist.

Henry is standing long enough to see Right, Charles, and any remaining toppats be beamed up to the orbital station with the sapphire.

The glare from Charles stays in Henry's mind as he falls, eyes locked on the night sky as Charles's words replay over and over in his mind.

Ellie groans as she crawls over to Henry and falls on her good side, where Charles didn't shoot her.

"We tried," she says as she breathes shakily and hold his shoulder, more his shirt, but I digress. "We tried."

The CCC guards do eventually wake up and get Ellie and Henry back to the government base. Both get immediate medical attention, which leads to Henry getting surgery to get the bullet out and seeing Ellie suddenly begin to panic and shout repeatedly, "I can't feel my leg!"

TIME JUMP TO AFTER HIS SURGERY!

Henry wakes up in his own room and finds that Galeforce is sitting in a chair, hunched forward, fists shaking, and his hat off.

"General?"

Galeforce puts his hat back on and sits straight. His eyes are red rimmed and have bags underneath them now. "Morning, Henry. How're you feeling?"

Henry holds his hand out and sort of tilts it on a way to say, 'Fine.'

Galeforce forces a smile and sighs.

"Ellie's still in the infirmary. That shot form-" He gulps and coughs a little bit. "-From the toppat... did a number on her leg. She won't be on the field for a long time."

Henry sits up, even when his body aches, and picks up a pen and notepad on his bedside table.

'They got the sapphire.'

Galeforce nods. "I know."

Henry shakes as he writes on the notepad again before dropping both and resting his forehead on his knees while loosely hugging his knees. Galeforce hangs his head and lets Henry cry; he doesn't really have much to say anyway.

'Charles,' the notepad reads.

HOLY SHIT DID THIS ONE TAKE FOREVER!!!!!

But that is a really good thing😁!

I hope you all enjoyed this one because I certainly did!!

I'm probably going to take a break from this for a little bit because of how much of an emotional roller coaster this is, and so I don't get burn out. I will come back to this because I love this series, I guess you can say I'm letting my cake cool down before adding the frosting or letting the pot sit so it make good caramel or fudge.

Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much for following this series. I appreciate each and every one of you so much!

I hope you all stay safe this season, thank you again for reading and following, and HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!

[carewyncromwell]

A continuation of that POTC AU (previous part here) -- here’s Captain “Carey Weasley” (AKA Carewyn Cromwell), with Captain Orion Amari’s First Mate, the one and only Murphy McNully! This is my first time trying to draw McNully, and uh...DUDE. You make a SICK pirate, mate. <33 His outfit is inspired by Joshamee Gibbs’s (whose role he kind of fills here, alongside Quartermaster Skye), and his chair is inspired by this model used by Sir Thomas Fairfax in the 17th century, which was one of the first self-steering wheeled chairs ever made -- later in the 18th century, a nicer model called the Bath chair was developed and soon became the standard, though it remained only in the hands of the wealthy until the end of the century. (I could see Orion putting in the work to steal one for his buddy, once he catches wind of them, though. XDDD)

McNully’s carving himself a new prosthetic wooden leg, since when Orion’s pirate crew first moved to take over Carewyn’s ship, she cut Murphy’s left wooden leg off with her cutlass while trying to beat the pirates back away from her crew. (McNully lost both legs above the knee, so his wooden prosthetics are made up of two pieces with a metal joint secured together with two leather straps, sort of like this.) Fortunately things have been smoothed over a bit, now that Carewyn and Orion have realized who the other is and Orion has similarly let McNully in on the revelation too. McNully then assumed the responsibility of “watching the prisoner” while Orion, Skye, and some other crew members headed ashore to Tortuga for supplies. It didn’t take long for Carewyn to migrate up to the railing of Orion’s ship so as to get a better look at the infamous and completely filthy pirate haven, and Murphy rolled up beside her so they could talk.

“It’s funny, really,” McNully said with a wry smile. “It was me what suggested we try capturing you next.”

Carewyn glanced at Orion’s First Mate in surprise.

“There’d been a lot of talk about Carey Weasley, the youngest Captain in the entire British Navy, and the respect he’d garnered from the crown for his heroism fighting the Spanish,” McNully explained. “I reckoned capturing someone that well known would be a real blow to the Navy, and by extension, Cutler Beckett and his Company. Your capture on its own would likely hurt their morale by a good 35%.”

McNully’s expression then turned more thoughtful.

“...I almost regret it now, considering you seem to be a decent sort -- and I can’t reckon this whole thing will reflect too well on you. There’s a 42.5% chance you won’t advance in rank much further, and worse, a 15% chance you’ll be actively demoted, if they catch wind you surrendered without a fight...even if it was to save your crew, which was objectively a very noble thing to do.”

He smiled a bit guiltily. Carewyn offered him a small smile in return.

“If you hadn’t suggested going after me, though, I wouldn’t have ended up here and found out Orion was alive,” she pointed out reassuringly.

McNully smiled a little more fully. “True!”

He looked out at the horizon briefly, as if checking to see if the jollyboat was returning. Then he returned his focus to Carewyn.

“You know, though...there might be a way for us to use our new truce strategically, so that we both make it out ahead.”

Carewyn turned around, leaning her back against the railing and crossing her arms.

“Oh?”

McNully’s smile spread into more of a smirk. “You’re a well-respected officer of the Navy...and yet you’re no friend of the East India Trading Company and, more importantly, you don’t want Orion or any of us to die. We’re pirates, but our Captain is fond of you, and quite frankly, we could do with some allies, in the face of everyone trying to kill us. So here’s what I propose -- we let you escape. We sail through waters the Navy’s going to passing through, supposedly to go pick up medicine we couldn’t find on Tortuga -- and while we’re engaged in sea battle, you bust out of the brig, help the British soldiers ‘fight us off,’ and then swing over to their ship. We then retreat because we lost our ‘cargo’ -- namely, you -- and we can tell we’re losing. We keep the Navy ship from following us...but they still get one of their greatest heroes back, crashing onto the scene in a blaze of glory. If we play our cards right, I reckon there’s a 48.3% chance you might even get a promotion when all’s said and done...that is, if you think you can manage escaping the brig on your own.”

Carewyn gave a light scoff, her lips spreading into a small smirk of her own.

“Yours wouldn’t be the first one I’ve escaped. You should probably lock me in irons, for good measure -- it’ll be more convincing that I escaped, if I still have one on my wrist when I make it up on deck.”

The plan went into effect once Orion and the others returned to the Artemis and they set sail away from Tortuga. Although Carewyn had expressed confidence in her ability to escape the brig, it didn’t startle and impress Orion any less to see Carewyn up on deck after having been locked in a secure cell with both of her hands locked together in the heaviest shackles they had. She even ended up using the shackle on her wrist as a weapon, knocking out three of his men with it before she reached Orion at the ship’s railing.

Orion couldn’t help but think he’d never feel such vivication again as he did in that intense, wonderful sword fight they had upon the deck of the Artemis, parrying and slashing their swords at each other as they migrated up to the helm, leapt up into the rigging, and balanced on the edge of the Artemis’s railing before Carewyn finally got close enough that she could leap over to the HMS Dauntless.

Orion slammed his sword up against hers, pressing Carewyn back against the ropes. Although to most any clueless observer, it looked like they were still hotly engaged in battle, Orion’s voice was very soft when he spoke.

“This is your chance,” he murmured.

“Yes,” said Carewyn.

Orion’s free hand had grabbed onto the ropes to stabilize himself over her as their chests touched. His heart rate quickened, even as he kept his dark eyes squarely on hers.

Now that the moment had come for them to part, the little time they’d been able to share seemed far, far too brief...

Carewyn’s own blue eyes rippled solemnly.

“Be safe, Orion.”

And without taking another moment to breathe, she brought up her foot and kicked him full on in the stomach. The blow threw him off her with a grunt, and she leapt up into the rigging, grabbed a loose piece of rope, and swung over to the deck of the Dauntless.

Orion cradled his stomach as Skye ran over to help him up.

“Captain -- are you okay?”

A small, fond smile flickered over Orion’s face.

“Yes.”

He then shot to his feet with a much more grim and urgent expression on his face. He had to make this retreat looking convincing, after all.

“All hands, fall back! Fall back!”

Carewyn’s return to Port Royal -- as McNully had predicted -- was full of honors and acclaim, including a promotion to the rank of Commodore. It seemed that her being the only officer who had managed to escape the infamous Captain Orion Amari’s captivity made her a hero in the eyes of the British Empire. Portrait miniatures had been painted of her and sold both on and outside of Port Royal, and soon quite a few ladies were sending love letters and throwing themselves at Carewyn in an attempt to woo her, enthralled with her fame and handsome face. The overabundance of attention greatly amused Carewyn’s surrogate brothers Bill and Charlie, once they’d gotten over the anxiety they’d felt when she returned safe and sound. Percy in particular had taken Carewyn’s capture very hard, given that he’d been her Lieutenant at the time, and had resolved to make sure that no pirate ever felt bold enough to do something like that again.

The most prominent pursuer of Carewyn’s hand, however, was Port Royal’s Governor, Alphard Farrier, who was once again determined to arrange a marriage between her and his daughter, Jules. @cursebreakerfarrier With Carewyn now a well-respected Commodore of the Fleet known for breaking out of a heavily locked pirate brig and facing off against Orion Amari single-handedly, he knew it would be advantageous both to his family and to his own anti-piracy policies to have her in Port Royal permanently as his son-in-law. He even went so far as to have Jules arrive at Carewyn’s promotion ceremony in the fanciest, most fashionable dress he could get shipped in from London, in the hopes that it would catch the young Commodore’s eye. It did -- but not for the reason the Governor had hoped.

“Might I have a moment, Miss Farrier?” said Carewyn, inclining her head and back in a polite bow.

Jules rather quickly took Carewyn’s offered hand and let the new Commodore lead her away from her father. Carewyn didn’t speak again until they were up on the wall of the fort beside the large ship’s bell, looking out to sea -- in other words, when they were well away from everyone else.

“Are you all right?” muttered Carewyn. Her eyebrows had come together in concern.

Jules’s face grew much less lady-like and polite, betraying exhaustion and some irritation.

“...Not...exactly,” she gasped lowly. “But when you’re -- stuck in this kind of...torture chamber...I guess that’s -- appropriate...”

She indicated her chest, which looked quite a bit more restrained than usual, as she fanned herself a bit faster.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed and she sighed in aggravation. “For goodness sake -- ”

She glanced around. Even if she’d managed to get them away from prying ears, she could still see plenty of people watching them, even if they quickly looked away when they saw she’d noticed them -- no doubt they were trying to discern if there was an engagement in the works.

‘Damn,’ Carewyn swore to herself. ‘I can’t try to loosen anything, while everyone’s gawking...’

“Try to focus on your breathing,” she advised under her breath. “We’ll talk slowly. Bit by bit. That way you can make sure you’re taking deep breaths.”

Jules smiled slightly in gratitude. “...Thanks, Carey.”

Jules, like the Weasleys, knew that Carewyn was really a girl, but couldn’t help but call her that, even when they were in private. She’d figured it out after mentally connecting “Carey Weasley” to a young red-haired peasant girl she used to hear singing in the streets outside her window in the Governor’s mansion in the evenings.

“You were always so far off, so I never got a good look at your face,” Jules had explained with a smile when Carewyn and Bill asked her how she’d figured it out, “but I remembered your hair and how much it sounded like you were smiling, when you were singing. I hear it when you’re talking a lot of the time, too. I don’t hear a lot of people’s smiles like that.”

After that, Jules had become one of Carewyn’s closest friends. It also prompted Bill and Jules to reach out more to each other, which resulted in Bill ending up head over heels in love. Carewyn suspected Jules’s feelings were just as strong as well, but given that Bill was a priest who didn’t even have a full congregation of his own yet and didn’t come from money himself, it was likely he was biding his time to court Jules properly, until he knew he had a chance of convincing her father.

Jules took several deep breaths. Once Carewyn was sure her friend looked a bit more steady on her feet, she folded her arms behind her back in standard Navy posture and spoke again.

“Bill sends his regards.”

Jules’s dark eyes sparked a bit.

“He does?”

She took another two deep breaths before adding, “...Is...that all he said?”

“Well, he did say as an aside that he couldn’t stop thinking about you during service the other day,” said Carewyn with a wry smile. “Apparently the mention of ‘the beauty of Heaven’s angels’ kept bringing your face to his mind.”

Jules’s face flushed. Carewyn chuckled lowly through a closed smile, so as not to cover her mouth with her hand like she might normally -- she knew the gesture appeared rather lady-like.

“It’s a shame your father has such tunnel vision on me,” Carewyn said coolly. “There’s a far better Weasley to select as his son-in-law, were he only to look.”

Jules grimaced.

“I know,” she said. She took a few more deep breaths. “And well...the only reason he is so focused on you...is because you were able to escape Orion Amari.”

“Captain,” Carewyn slipped in before she could stop herself.

When Jules blinked in surprise, Carewyn turned toward the horizon with the most offhand shrug she could manage.

“Captain Orion Amari.”

Sensing Jules’s discerning gaze on her face, Carewyn kept her gaze on the sea. Behind her back, she rubbed her thumbs along her healed palms absently.

“...Carey...” said Jules quietly, “...is something wrong?”

Carewyn swallowed. She hadn’t told anyone else the full story of what had happened -- after Percy had reacted so hostilely toward her being captured, she hadn’t dared tell Bill or Charlie everything while he was present, and she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to talk to either of them alone, with how quickly her promotion ceremony was thrown together.

Her blue eyes flickered over her shoulder at the bystanders behind them. They were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear, even if they were still looking over so avidly...

“...Captain Amari...” she murmured as softly as she could, “...let me escape.”

Jules looked surprised.

“It’s a long story...but we knew each other once. I bandaged him up and hid him from the Navy, when we were young. When he discovered who I was...he and his crew agreed to let me go.”

Jules stared at Carewyn, her dark eyes wide with amazement. Then her gaze softened visibly and she smiled.

“...He must’ve been grateful for what you did for him.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes softened upon the sparkling sea. 

“It wasn’t gratitude. Orion...is simply a good man...pirate he may be.”

The memory of him bandaging her hands -- of his rippling dark eyes as they bore into hers -- floated again over her mind.

“I can’t act like I knew, or even thought seriously, that our stars would align again…but even with that…I’d imagined a life much better than this for you.”

“Well,” said Jules with a smile, “it seems like those two things...shouldn’t be mutually exclusive.”

Carewyn turned her gaze back to Jules at last, smiling wryly. “Better not let your father hear you say that.”

Carewyn and Jules talked casually for the next half-hour, with Carewyn taking care to make sure their conversation was spaced out enough that Jules could catch her breath. After a while, it seemed the length of their conversation had attracted the Governor’s attention (no doubt he was getting a bit restless, not being sure if things were going according to plan), and had asked Carewyn to give Jules and him some privacy. And so Carewyn reluctantly left Jules and the Governor alone on top of the wall of the fort.

It could only have been about ten or fifteen minutes when Carewyn was alerted by Governor Farrier’s screams. Jules -- clearly not having been able to catch her breath properly, while in the midst of a quick-paced argument with her father -- had fainted right off the fort’s wall and landed in the water below. Her heart racing with panic, Carewyn led a battalion of soldiers down to the dock below, desperate to reach her friend.

When they arrived, they found Jules choking up water on the deck, her fancy dress discarded, her horrible corset cut off, and three men standing around her. Two of them were red-garbed British soldiers -- the other was a man with dark brown dreadlocks under an emerald green bandana and black kohl around his rippling dark eyes.

Carewyn’s heart leapt into her throat when their eyes met.

It was Orion.

[headtothecoast]

jedi!geraskier au

*i am taking lots of liberties with the world of star wars

geralt learned early that he was force sensitive and was taken from his family and placed into kaher morhen - a jedi temple in the beginnings of the foundation of the republic (not the empire and vader this is set way the hell in the past). the training there was rough and force sensitivity was rare. while some were good pilots and others good at combat, geralt preferred combat. he was taught to distance himself emotionally and that by closing himself off from emotions he wouldn’t become a sith.

because the republic was just starting out but kaher morhen has been around for a long time, geralt was often sent on missions across the galaxy to settle disputes. usually, a side would approach the jedi offering why they believed they were right and the jedi would take in the scene and offe aid to those who did the least harm. they made judgements of good and evil amongst men of all species but did not seek power. (like, qui-gon was supposed to protect a princess from invaders, but also made decisions about judging other species and freeing slaves and backed up a slave over a trader so i’m making the jedi like arbiters).

one of geralt first assignments goes poorly to say the least. it was a shitshow. blaviken was a small outpost that had been the center of trade for a region. the locals had had a sort of royalty that had recently seen a conflict and geralt had been asked to go because another jedi was involved and should things come to blows geralt was a skilled fighter. when he arrived he met renfri and liked her, met irion and liked him less by tried to stay impartial. both sides disagreed with the other and geralt was unsure how to choose. before taking his leave one night renfri agreed to surrender the next day, saying she would follow the lead of a neighboring port tridam and not force a jedi to make an ultimatum she could fix. it took geralt several hours to remember that tridam had been an interplanetary incident where a sith had killed the people of a town until a jedi had surrendered. geralt rushed back to town to stop renfri from killing innocents and took out her followers and geralt realized that irion was not a jedi but a sith - his experimentations and obsession had given him away and so even though he was forced to kill renfri he chose to kill stregobor (sith name) and was stoned while leaving the outpost of blaviken. when he returned to explain himself jedi master vesemir wasn’t happy that a sith had been able to exist so long undetected and told geralt what he told many past apprentices, that right and wrong were difficult choices and that geralt needed to trust in the force.

skip forward a while. the republic is slowly building itself and democracy is spreading throughout the inner planets. there are many species of many worlds all that live very different lifetimes. war broke out on geralts home planet rivia. the royal family of oxenfurt was forced to flee and a puppet government took its place, subjugating a lot of the planets people and overall not a good thing.

while geralt was on a mission in posada, seeking the rumors of someone force sensitive to bring them to be trained or killed if sith. what geralt found was jaskier, a bard by the look of him who had an uncanny ability to sing and effect people’s emotions, leading them foot his bills. while geralt contemplated how best to approach the bard he found himself sitting across from him. jaskier tried to put as much force charm into his voice as he could but geralt was uneffected and drew his lightsaber, thinking jaskier to be a sith. jaskier asked him what the hell a sith was and said he was only trying to make his intentions as obvious as possible and be friendly to a newcomer he meant no offense. jaskier, not as in tune with the more physical aspects of the force, had instead found ways to read people’s emotional states and manipulate them to an extent. he hadn’t exactly known he was doing that but geralt could feel his honest intentions through the force and told him he had the force and that he had been sent to collect him and bring him before the jedi at kaher morhen. jaskier thought that sounded amazing and he could get off the godforsaken planet but geralt made him promise not to use his “jedi mind tricks” again until they got to the temple.

so geralt and jaskier traveled back to a space port where jaskier was invited to sing for a gathering of local nobility and he asked geralt to come with him to keep him safe from other men and geralt kinda had to go because he didn’t want to cause a problem but he ends up stepping in and it’s a clusterfuck that ends with the local law of surprise and a headache. (not entirely sure how to describe all the players and role of the force in this without magic so sadly moving on)

all the way back to the temple jaskier annoys geralt and sings about him and isn’t scared of him, he was called the butcher of blaviken and was not a highly respected jedi for a long time but jaskier didn’t seem to care.

when they returned vesemir made geralt a jedi master and jaskier got to make a decision about his training. geralt was chosen to take him as an apprentice and after training him in combat (which he sucked at and was much better at talking himself out of situations) the two set out on a mission to go find jaskier a kyber crystal to build him a lightsaber.

cue montage of geralt being exasperated and jaskier writing songs about him and geralt proclaiming that jedi don’t feel emotions and jaskier raising hell about that because he clearly felt as geralt did, they were from the same planet and surely geralt couldn’t mean that with how much he cared about helping people.

when they finally reach the remote place it is a cave that jaskier insists geralt come with him to help him pick out a crystal. he had questioned geralt about the colors and given that geralts lightsaber was yellow, like his eyes, and the only golden yellow saber he had seen at the temple he questioned him even more.

geralt explained that the gold came from his skill in combat and his strength that he used to protect others (i am going off a lot of interpretations of color none of which are accurate bear with me). bright yellow belonged to the sentinels, but his was almost an orange or brown, which spoke to his strength.

when jaskier went into the cave he came out with a light green almost yellow blade. the sort of blade forged through intrigue and belonged with someone who had skills in the force more than in combat.

but when jaskier was picking his crystal, being surrounded by the force in a way he never had been was overwhelming, he did not have proper restraint of his emotions and could almost taste geralts restraint and frustration and hurt over blaviken and so many pent up emotions. jaskier looked into the force and asked geralt if he wanted peace.

the physical backlash that jaskier faced through pulling the thorn of blaviken out of his mind and preventing it from festering knocked him out cold for several weeks. geralt wanted to be upset but whatever jaskier had done had lifted a burden, he felt more in tune with the force and more in tune with others. the healer, yennifer, noticed this sense of peace in geralt and asked him about it while jaskier slept. the two grew close and yennifer admitted to her own desires over children and inability to find peace like her master wanted.

when jaskier woke he found the two were friends and he tried to apologize to geralt about the whole crystal incident but geralt didn’t seem to mind. he felt a sense of balance and thanked jaskier for it.

meanwhile vesemir heard about the whole thing and decided to take geralts charge and teach him proper control. jaskier wasn’t thrilled but he endured. 2 years he was gone and geralt slowly realized that he had been coasting off the waves of calm and peace jaskier had left him and he had never properly said how thankful he was to not carry that pain with him every day. it felt like being healed.

when jaskier returned he was quieter. geralt didn’t like it one bit. vesemir gave the two an assignment to test jaskiers newfound resolve and slowly, geralt was able to coax out remenants of the man he knew. one day when geralt made jaskier laugh so loud he startled roach (their ride that geralt insisted on using and taking care of and jaskier swears he saw geralt sneaking her treats) jaskier froze and apologized and said he needed time to himself and left camp for a couple hours.

when jaskier didn’t return after a couple hours geralt found him sitting on a rock crying while making another rock float above his hand. it sounded like he was trying and failing to control his breathing and when geralt startled him jaskier dropped the rock but didn’t retract his hand and geralt force caught it but it was a near thing. geralt asked what the hell he thought he was doing and jaskier explained vesemir’s training.

in the cave, what jaskier did could have killed geralt. geralt who vesemir valued and loved like a son and so he taught jaskier control. vesemir would take a fish in water and hold its shape, passing it off to jaskier who would have to hold the shape of the water because if he let go the fish would die. jaskier are fish like other animals out of necessity but he wasn’t cruel. vesemir names every fish geralt until jaskier could keep the shape for hours. he would push through the crying and the shame and make sure the fish stayed alive. then they moved to other animals but jaskier couldn’t bring himself to risk hurting something so he put the rock above his hands so that if he lost control he would be the only one harmed and he had been trying so hard to do as vesemir had instructed to maintain control and balance but jaskier felt miserable and unbalanced and it made geralts heart hurt.

geralt doesn’t mind if jaskier feels everything, every emotion through the force because he doesn’t try to focus on the good or the bad, he feels it all. sith seek pleasure or pain but jaskier laughs and cries in equal measure and above all tries to help so geralt can’t see that as a fault even if vesemir thought what he did was best.

geralt says as much to jaskier and says he will never let someone else hurt him and that he’d missed him because yennifer might be one of the few jedi he’s comfortable talking to since his newfound peace but jaskier had chosen to endure his festering and pain regardless and if geralt had to choose between peace and jaskier he would choose jaskier.

jaskier allows himself to feel true happiness and he and geralt get on and when the mission comes to an end they have found a rhythm. when they return to the temple the jedi can sense their in-tune-ness, their peace and resolve and trust. they take assignments together and occasionally apart and sometimes yennifer joins them but when they work together they feel more connected and alive than ever.

then, cintra falls.

jaskier had taken a solo assignment on a planet geralt can’t remember so he turns to yennifer and the two go and rescue ciri, geralt’s child surprise from the invading army. technically, she is supposed to remain with geralt and under his care but he can feel the force that flows between ciri and yennifer is as strong if not stronger than the force that flows through him and ciri and while he would do anything for her, jaskier hadn’t finished his last mission on time and geralt is worried. yennifer pushes him to go after him and promises to take care of ciri and he believes her. that is when the temple gets news that a member of the royal family of rivia has been found and is being brought for execution. war is stirring on rivia and geralt is sent to stop it, he tried to keep his eyes peeled for jaskier but he knows that he will have to put the lives of millions above the one.

the execution is a public affair and geralt weaves his way through the crowd to get a good look at the member of the royal family that hasn’t been seen in decades. when the doors open and release a woman clothed in rags geralt comes alive not of his own volition, but because he can feel jaskiers presence in the crowd. the woman he realizes seems to be searching the crowd for something and when she sees it bows her head and smiles. it is then that geralt spots jaskier - slicing off the head of the puppet king. jaskier does not look happy so much as determined. geralt springs in to action, preventing the beast from slaying the women and he and the woman have make their way to the top of the stadium to join jaskier.

jaskier announces to the crowd that the queen and prince of rivia are home and that effective immediately all those who had been enslaved under the new regime are to be freed or face the jedi prince jaskier themselves.

geralt is stunned and jaskier leads him and his mother away from the stadium and back to the old palace where jaskier remembered growing up. there he finds people who remember him and his mother and will take care of her until he has dealt with the other dissidents in his kingdom and leads geralt somewhere private.

geralt has been silent the whole time and jaskier forces himself not to ramble but for geralt to please say something anything. and geralt asks why he didn’t tell him. jaskier says it was to protect his mother. shortly after leaving the planet his father had been killed and it was just him and his mom fending for themselves and when geralt had spotted him in posada it was because he was trying to throw puppet government goons off his moms trail and lure them away. it worked but not forever.

geralt asked him how it was possible to hide such a thing from him in the force and jaskier holds geralts hand and lets the entirety of the force flow through the both of them. geralt can feel the strength of it and is staggered. jaskier explains that he had some measure of control because if he didn’t he would have torn the world apart in grief only to reassemble it in euphoria and his mom had taught him how to shelter certain thoughts but the experience in the cave had heightened everything, including his ability to shield the single secret in the force. his mom shielded herself and jaskier promised he would do the same.

jaskier apologizes and tells geralt that it wasn’t his intention to hurt him but he couldn’t expose his mom and suddenly geralt is holding jaskier and jaskier is crying. geralt tells him that it’ll be okay and that he was hurt but he understands and geralt, after having felt the strength of jaskiers emotions tried to project his own emotions through the force to him, of calm and protection and jaskier gasps and pushed back and suddenly geralt is kissing him because jaskier was absolutely radiating love through the force and it was the freest he’d ever felt.

sure they would have to explain some things to the jedi council, and when jaskiers mother passed and left him the thrown there would be more problems than solutions on their plate, but geralt promised he would protect jaskier at all costs and he’d fight the whole galaxy if he had to to keep this man in his arms.

*okay so i haven’t seen the new star wars movies and do i really know how the force works? no. do i care? no. i know that jedi have a weird relationship to emotions, and that sith use the force for personal gain and that strong emotions *cough* anakin *cough* are said to lead to the dark side but like,,, i don’t care.

**yennifer has a purple lightsaber for moral ambiguity and ciri is blue for justice and protection. i chose gold for geralt because it was strength and skill and while i believe he has qualities of blue, it also matched his eyes which was a good benefit. jaskier felt like a mix of colors also so i chose green and feel free to disagree because again, i don’t know a whole lot about star wars cannon because it is almost as confusing as witcher cannon (timeline anyone?)

***i couldn’t think of a solid characterization for yennifer or world building place for roach, sorry they’re shaky. also - i don’t hate vesemir or anything i just think he would be over protective and i needed a way to show jaskier change i love all the witchers and if i really wanted to make thing l o n g e r i could have included eskel and lambert and everything but it already felt long so like, they are missing (from this head cannon/almost fic) but not forgotten.

finally, if you want to write this as a fic or run with the idea or just like, i really don’t care please do! tag me in anything you think would be related or something idk this got really long and i don’t know how to end it but it was fun writing it.

[kisskissbanggang]

Prowl pt. 2

[30+Min. Read/12.1K Words – Mystery Member👀 x Female Reader, Bang Chan x Female Reader,  – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Heists, Mysteries, Suspense, Blood, Questionable Coping]

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The cold, salt air tickled your nose as you watched the sun finally complete its journey beneath the horizon. You arose from your seat by the window, taking a sip from your first steaming cup of coffee for the night. However, maybe you didn't need to stay inside and hoard your aunt's coffee maker again. Maybe it was finally time to explore the town.

It'd only been about a week since that night at the library. The cops came roughly fifteen minutes after you punched the silent alarm, surprised and bewildered by the bloody and bruised girl sitting in an exhausted heap on the office floor. The paramedics arrived before you could protest, already feeling antsy about the time persistently crawling towards daybreak. A medic cleaned you up while the police looked around the library, scraping under your nails and pulling errant strands of hair that had clung to your sweater. It was difficult to feel present, to truly grasp if anything had actually happened that night. Really, it all sounded ridiculous and that only helped everything feel more surreal. The woman tending to you looked puzzled as none of the blood she meticulously wiped up revealed anything more than minor scratches underneath. A man in a suit excused her and pulled up a chair. He asked for your name, what you do at the library, did you know see anything recognizable about the perpetrators. You were almost no help, having seen no one’s faces, except…

“Well,” you carefully paused, “one of them helped me make it out alive. They were talking about taking me or maybe even… I don't want to think about what, but one of them helped me.”

The detective sat up, alert with pencil in hand and poised to go.

“Chan,” you said quietly, looking up from your shoes long enough to see the detective's eyes widen for just a second, “he said he saw me at the bar earlier. He can't be much older than me. Has a scar on his nose. He convinced the others to leave me here.”

“Do you think this ‘Chan’ had ulterior motives in keeping you alive?”

“I think he’s just a good guy working with a bad crowd,” you shrugged, eyeing the detective cautiously, “I just wish I could see him again. Ask him some questions of my own. Let him know how thankful I am.”

The detective had nodded knowingly, penciling in a couple notes and snapping his notebook shut. “Well, miss, that about settles my needs,” he said as he got up and smoothed out his suit jacket, “I understand that situations like this can take a toll on a person. I would consider seeing the school's mental health counselor… Maybe take a trip to the coast.”

“Wouldn't you want me to stay in town for questioning?” You asked curiously.

“No need. We have your phone number. Besides, there’s plenty of us around, even out there. We can find you if we need to. Or you can find us just as easily, for that matter.”

And, with that, the detective had nodded his thanks and left you alone in the office, just as Chan had not long before.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

So you went to the coast. Leaving school wasn't difficult; the counselor may as well have packed your bags for you when you explained what happened. Your aunt had lived here for years now, keeping residence in a quaint A-frame that overlooked the beach from where it sat up in the forested hills. You remembered dreamy summers spent here when you were younger, wondering what it was like to live in a sleepy town that had an off-season. You'd never been here when the leaves changed color, and you suspected that was the most exciting thing that happened the rest of the year. It was easy to hide out, telling your aunt you had a hard time sleeping at night after the incident and that you'd rather sleep during the day when you felt safer. Lying felt bad, heavy in your gut, but no one in your family knew about your condition yet. It wasn't time. You weren't sure if it would ever be.

Your aunt kept the keys for her dumpy pickup hanging by the door. She offered that you could use it to get around town while she slept, even if not many things were open late in the off-season. Her only caveat had been that you had to be careful — apparently “hooligans” had been a problem around town. However, you felt restless and you knew for a fact that the diner at the end of the main street was open, having passed it on your bus ride into town your first night here. The diner was hard to miss, sitting next to a storefront with a line of fluorescent tape barring the entrance.

The diner was lively and warm as you walked in despite the scarce patrons. The truck’s heater was shot, so you had bundled up in a coat with your bandana up over your nose. The bandana still smelled thickly of Chan, having tucked it into the pocket of your skirt before the police came that night. Even after washing it repeatedly to rid it of all the blood, it still smelled perfectly like him. It was almost a totem, shielding you and keeping you feeling safe. Even though you still had your doubts, you held onto this idea of him. As long as that smell was surrounding you, he was always near and you could face anything.

You let the bandana drop around your neck and hung your jacket on the back of a chair at the bar. The staff was sparse, only two old men who were friendly enough to make up for their speed. Apparently, these were Bill and Fred.

“Well then,” Bill smiled, “a stranger at this time of year? Who do you belong to?”

You smiled and thumbed over your shoulder to the truck parked outside and both men erupted into boisterous laughter, more than happy to share anecdotes about your aunt from over the years.

“So, young lady,” Fred asked as they finally brought you your cup of coffee, “what do you do when you’re not escaping to the beach?”

“Oh,” you stumbled over your tongue as you sipped at the hot brew, “I'm an assistant with the rare books section of the university’s library.”

“Fancy that,” Bill beamed, “you must have one hell of a head on your shoulders.”

“In fact, you probably would've loved the old bookstore next door, before—” Fred shushed himself instantly as Bill waved frantically for him to stop. However, you perked up.

“Yeah! I wanted to ask about that. What happened there?”

The two men looked warily at each other.

“You don't want to hear about that, young one,” Bill attempted. You shook your head.

“I really do. I can handle it.”

Not taking the bait, Bill folded his arms as Fred leaned in.

“We've been having a lot of vandalism going on in town this season,” he said quietly, “even some petty theft. But this is the first time in ten years someone was killed. And certainly the first time anything like this has happened. These punks—”

“They're not just some punks,” a voice behind you spoke up. A young man, barely younger than yourself, stood up from the booth he had been sitting at. He was handsome, lithe in the area’s requisite flannel shirt and a denim jacket that was probably older than he was.

“You keep saying that,” Bill shook his head, “but I—”

“I know, I know,” the stranger sighed, “nothing ever happens here. But Mr. Shepherd wasn't just robbed, he was murdered.”

“Sure,” Fred shrugged helplessly, “but where did they go? They could be down the coast by now.”

“Or they're still here,” the stranger insisted, stepping forward and pressing his hands down on the bar. “I've been noticing something weird on my way home each night. Smoke out past the trailhead. But I never find any camps or fires.”

“Then tell the police,” Bill said simply.

“You're right,” the stranger replied flatly, “why am I even bothering telling you.” He dug his wallet out from his pocket and flipped a couple of bills onto the counter. “Thank you for the coffee as always. Hers, too.”

You almost felt bad for the old proprietors of the diner, but you understood where this stranger was coming from. You had questions, just like he apparently did. From everything you understood about the business, thieves hardly ever stole books. And — considering the possibility that you were right and the detective had pointed you in the direction of Chan — then these same wolves had stolen more. Why books? Why here? Why kill the bookshop owner and not you? Chan’s voice rang through your mind, “I care about innocent people getting hurt, they don't.” Something had to have happened but you couldn't figure out what.

“Poor kid,” Bill grumbled as he topped off your coffee, “he's been working at Adam Shepherd’s place next door for a few years or so now. Even rents a room in his house. He's been taking it real hard. Hasn't had it in him to open the shop back up.”

“Can't say I blame him,” you commiserated. Fred and Bill nodded in solemn agreeance as you took a hearty gulp of your coffee. You stayed, asking about the trailhead and where it was even though you know you shouldn't, that you were only inviting yourself into a rabbit hole. But if Chan was out there and he could tell you why this was happening and maybe even help you steal back the college’s property, then maybe it was worth it. You had to admit you felt a bit humiliated, that you could let your guard down to a handsome face and electric personality long enough to be robbed blind, but something about Chan had ignited something primal in you — something that felt entirely foreign, but at the same time something you could vaguely understand the shape of.

You had to at least see for yourself. Bill and Fred were sad to see you leave for the night, but eagerly professed their excitement to have you back during your stay. You still left a generous tip on the counter despite the stranger paying for your coffee. In searching the dilapidated pickup, you found a utility knife and a hefty flashlight as far as anything useful went. However, useful was useful and at least there was anything at all. You drove up to the trailhead, making note of landmarks along the way.

As you stepped out, you pulled your handkerchief back over your chilly nose and warily observed a compact motorbike parked next to the trail map. The outlined path twisted up the hill, around the creek, and down to the beach — just as the duo at the diner had described. You gripped your flashlight and set off.

The hiking trail was well-kept, clear and fortunately illuminated by a moon in waxing gibbous hanging heavy in the sky. The ground was firm beneath your feet and gave way to sandier terrain as you neared the creek. Sure enough, there was smoke high in the forest, far off the trail. The best plan of action appeared to be to hike the trail as close as you could before venturing through the woods and brush.

A chill coursed through your shoulders and spine as you heard a branch snap in the distance behind you. You turned, refusing to click on the flashlight in your hands in case you might spook whatever had spooked you first. You burrowed deeper into your coat to shield you from the draping cold of the night and blazed ahead.

Another snap behind you stopped you in your tracks, only for a moment as you realized the sound was closer this time. You looked up ahead. Despite the supplied moonlight, you still had to squint to make out that the trail curved around to follow the creek up ahead. If you cut through the woods you could probably make it to the other side and back onto the path.

The footsteps grew faster as yours did, leaves crunching underfoot as you scrambled into the brush. You yanked your handkerchief down to breathe, to grab lungfuls of air when you smelled it. An overwhelming breeze of veal and sweat flooded your nose. Not to mention that somewhere, a some point, the rugged scent of woodsy beach fires had been here. Was your mind playing tricks on you, or was Chan nearby?

The creek came into view. It was a good bet that the trail came out somewhere on the other side, but it was a bet nonetheless. As the panting steps behind you began catching up, you vaulted over the creek, not wanting to risk falling into the cold water when you were on the run. You silently cheered yourself on as you caught a lucky break, a cursing splash erupting behind you to let you know you lost your pursuer. You sprinted ahead, dashing over rocks and felled branches and dodging low foliage when you caught sight of a figure ahead of you. The only difference was they were going the same direction you were: away from whatever was behind you. Still, one in front, one and who knew how many more behind you. Beyond the figure the trail came back into sight, with a shack and driveway attached nearby. A dumpy outpost to sell bait by the creek and beach, assumedly. You must've been nearing the road again.

You hazarded a look behind you as you ran up to the shack. Turning back to the front, the figure in front of you had disappeared. Sure enough, a modest shop sign hung above the door, and another hung in front reading “Happy fishing! See you next summer!” The season was wrong for buying bait, but it was perfect for hiding out. You ran around the rear of the modest shop and found the back door. You jimmied the flimsy screen door’s lock easily enough but the wooden door beyond proved to be more of a challenge. Thankfully, you guessed just how safe the town thought it was as you spied a coffee can sitting on the crowded porch. You kicked it over, picking up the spare key and letting yourself in.

The first step to securing a hiding spot for now was to lock both doors behind you. Next, you clicked on your flashlight. A chair was parked under a desk in the tiny back room and you grabbed it, dragging it over and jamming it under the doorknob. Now your biggest concern was getting out of here before sunrise, the clock on the wall agreeing with the time on your phone that it was getting dangerously close to sun-up. You just had to make sure you were alone so you could escape to the truck. You checked the store proper, looking between cluttered shelves in the tiny shop to check for anyone hiding when a noise startled you in the dark. You clicked the flashlight back off and considered your options. Going out the way you came seemed too easily cumbersome. The fastest option was to hide. You ducked into the back room once again and crawled under the desk. You sat as still as you could, steadying your breath to be slow and quiet when the front door crashed open with a hushed curse, the bell over the door jamb ringing the intruder’s arrival. Whoever it was breathed hard, heavy with adrenaline and fear. No scent of veal, no more than Chan’s scent hanging around your neck, but something new — something like seared venison, almost. Venison and buttercups. The figure also checked around the shop, looking around and soon enough making it into the back room. You clapped a hand over your mouth, nervous as a pair of shoes confronted you under the desk. What was the best move? You could wait, but your fellow intruder would probably check under the desk if they were smart. Then you would be cornered with nowhere to go. No, the best plan was to fight your way out now and get back to the truck. You mustered all the patience and energy and fearlessness that you could before grabbing at the ankles in front of you. The intruder cried out, falling over as you pulled on his legs. He crashed to the floor, getting his arms up to protect his face as you scrambled out in an attempt to crawl over and away from him. Your arm was snatched, pulling you down and rolling you onto your back as the figure cursed and struggled with you on the floor. One of your wrists was clutched down onto the hardwood floor in a desperate hold. Gripping your flashlight, you smacked him hard once, twice on the back, and your assailant let go of you long enough to try and snatch it out of your hand. You dug a knee into his hip, kicking him off and away from you. You clicked on the flashlight, pointing the beam right at his face.

“Hey! A bit late for a hike, isn’t it?” You breathlessly accused as you were faced with the young man from the diner. He held up a hand to shield himself from the light and you turned it back off. Even just by the light of the moon, his large eyes still shined wildly in the dark.

“A bit late to be chasing and attacking strangers, isn’t it?” He bit back as he massaged the arm he fell onto.

“I wasn't chasing you,” you defended, “I was being chased myself.”

“By who?”

“By wolves.”

You got back up and onto your feet, offering the man your hand to help him up. He looked at you cautiously enough that you could make it out in the meager moonlight streaming in through the streaked windows. Nevertheless, he took your hand, getting up and dusting himself off.

“Were you trying to find your stolen books?” The man asked. You straightened up a bit, on edge.

“I didn’t mention being robbed back at the diner,” you replied carefully.

“No, but unlike a lot of people here, I watch the news. Only thing is, the news didn’t mention anyone present at the university robbery other than the thieves themselves. But you mentioned back there that you work for the library. And if you’re here now, then you must be looking for them, too.”

You sighed heavily as you took a step closer. He took one step back. “No, it was an honest coincidence. My aunt really does live here.”

You weren't sure why you were lying, or even if it really was lying at all for that matter. You took one more step closer. He took another step back. “Quit it,” you soothed, “I hit you really hard. I want to see if you're okay.”

The man eyed you warily as you gently took his hand again and led him to sit on the desk. You gingerly slid one arm out of the sleeve of his jacket before you softly lifted his shirt to check on his back. The bruises that had erupted on his skin were just starting to darken. You lightly touched the marks, feeling for anything broken or loose. The pulse of blood rushing through him made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, you were painfully aware of how tired and hungry you were. How long had it been since you properly fed? The man winced and groaned as you thoroughly checked him, but you admired how he beared it.

“Hey,” you quietly offered, wanting to help distract him from the pain, “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Shepherd. You were close?”

He nodded solemnly. “We were close. I was a teenager. My foster parents moved us around a lot growing up, and one day I just realized… I didn’t need to be there. They weren’t doing anything for me that I couldn't do myself. So I waited for them to try and move us again. We took a quick stop on the road here, and I just ran. I ended up at the bookshop. I had no family, no money, no manners, and he treated me like a person. He was my first real friend.”

Your heart sank. It was difficult to imagine not only losing someone so close to you, but to also have the thing you shared get destroyed and ravaged? You squeezed his shoulder sympathetically, jumping as the alarm on your phone buzzed. Sunrise was coming. You shook off your odd rush of sentimentality and focused.

“Well, thanks for not being a murderer — what was your name? I never caught it.”

“Jisung,” he supplied with a small smile.

“Alright Jisung,” you smiled back, “I'm glad to diagnose you as bruised but otherwise fine, but I have to go. I’d offer you a lift but—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he waved you off, “I rode here. Are you sure I can't walk you back to your truck?”

“No, I—” your heart raced, making you trip over your words as you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon. You were so tired all of a sudden.

“Hey,” Jisung perked up, hopping off the desk as your stance wavered, “are you alright?” He followed your glance out the window and looked back at you, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“Yeah,” you smiled weakly, “I guess I just wore myself out tonight.”

You attempted to steady yourself on the edge of the desk as your vision faded. Jisung took one step closer. You took one step back, teetering as you finally fell asleep in the growing daybreak.

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It was alarming to wake up in your own bed back at your aunt's house. This still took getting used to occasionally, waking up as if no time had passed. You pulled open the curtain — your aunt's truck was parked in front of the house as if nothing had happened. How did you get back? The heavy flashlight you’d held onto all night was laying next to you in bed.

A quick shower helped soothe your worried mind, the hot water massaging your sore limbs and helping you think. You bundled up in some fresh clothes and jumped into the truck again, flashlight in hand. Your mind began winding up even more as you drove into town. Jisung’s motorbike wasn't parked anywhere near the diner or the bookshop, so you ducked in to see the old proprietors of the coffee shop.

“Hey,” you smiled, trying to look casual as you walked up to the counter.

“Nothing better than someone who’s consistent,” Bill smirked. “Nice to see you again. Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” you grinned, “do either of you know where Jisung is?”

“Ah,” Fred waggled his eyebrows at you, “so you caught up with him last night?”

“Oh, uh,” you stumbled, “I had some books I wanted to lend him.”

“Sure,” Bill laughed, supposedly knowingly, “well, if you have books to lend him, of course. If he’s not at the shop, then he should be home. It’s tricky getting up there, though; hardly any street signs out that way.”

The men were nice enough to give you directions once they were done ribbing you, and you promptly thanked them and trotted back out to the truck, all the while hoping the growing wind chill masked the blush spread across your face.

You drove back up the main street, up towards the cliffs at the top of the town's skyline. The woods grew more dense, crowding the road as the streetlights became more scarce. The truck wound its way up a woody drive, the trees finally peeling away to a clearing that revealed an immaculate, old Victorian. You found yourself gawking at the spires and weathervanes decorating the roof as you approached the porch. For some implacable reason, you felt a bit dumb ringing the doorbell of this perfect stranger in the middle of nowhere late at night. A ray of light hit the lawn from the upper level of the house as a curtain was pulled open. It took a couple of excruciating minutes for the figure in the window to warily approach the door, and then you were confronted with Jisung sizing you up on the threshold, surprised and looking much cozier than the other night dressed in a pullover and sweats.

“What’re you—”

“How did I get home last night?”

Jisung bit his in-progress retort to a pause and sighed. He stepped aside and presented the entryway to you. “It’s freezing out there. You can come inside and I'll explain.”

You thought about it, fingers fidgeting as you weighed the options. You stepped across the threshold. Jisung led you into the foyer. You spied a sitting room gathering dust just off the entryway. Jisung started up the staircase, pausing halfway to check if you were following. Cautiously, you stepped up the creaky stairs after him, finding yourself walking into another sitting room up here. Stacks of books surrounded a few pillows sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, across from a plush couch and chaise lounge. Jisung held a hand out, motioning for you to take a seat on the couch while he plopped down on the lounge. You found yourself still taking in the room. A four-poster bed sat in the corner of the sizable space. Jisung caught your attention, watching him watching you observing the room.

“So,” you prodded, “downstairs—”

“It’s in progress,” Jisung replied coolly, “there's a lot to clean up... Now that Mr. Shepherd isn’t using it. Besides, my room’s the warmest in the house right now. Didn't you want to know how you got home?”

You nodded. “All I know is I was talking to you, and then I woke up at my aunt’s house.”

Jisung simply shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. You fainted and I carried you back to the truck. We weren't far from the road. I just loaded my bike in the back and found the keys in your pocket. So I drove you back and put you in bed. Your aunt actually passed me on her way to work. She didn’t look like she had any idea, so I figured everything was fine.”

You watched him stiffly. Why did this feel hazardous, like you were crossing a rotting bridge? “Well,” you said carefully, “thank you. I appreciate it. Last night wasn't too fun.”

“It's alright,” Jisung smiled softly, “Mr. Shepherd had fainting spells, too.”

“Oh yeah?” You eyed him pointedly.

“Yeah,” he nodded soberly, “During the daytime. He was sensitive to the sun.” Jisung’s hard gaze matched yours, sizing each other up again. Were you both aware of what neither of you were saying?

“Then I'm extra glad it was you that broke into the store.”

“I passed it when we were being chased but I got cut off in the woods again. So I turned back and there you were. And I'm glad it was you and not someone else.” Jisung’s cryptic expression made the hair on the back of your neck raise, the shadows cast by the fireplace giving any nuance in his face a mysterious edge to it. The heat of the room exaggerated the smell of venison, of sun-kissed buttercups. You shook off whatever oddly inviting sensation this was and got up from the couch and swiftly turned to leave.

“Alright then, now that we cleared up what happened last night, I can get going. Thank—”

“When was the last time you fed?”

You paused, frozen despite the warmth of the fire. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why you’re hiding,” Jisung got up as well. He took one step closer. You took one step further away. “Again, when was the last time you fed? You went down too fast and too hard for it to have been recently.”

“Why do you care?”

“Look, I'll level with you. I've been a blood bag for years now, running errands for Mr. Shepherd during the day and keeping him fed.”

You watched as he lifted his pullover and the shirt underneath. Illuminated by the fire, you could see where under the line of his ribs, right above the definition of his smooth stomach, laid a thick scar.

“You’re a familiar?” You asked quietly, unbelieving. You'd heard about familiars, but only in books. They were hardly ever purported to still be around. Nevertheless, Jisung nodded as he dropped his shirt back down.

“I mean, if you want to get formal about it, sure. But what I really was, was his friend. He took care of me. I would've done anything for him.”

This made sense, now that you thought about it. An offbeat working relationship and friendship like any other, just with this added element to it.

“Alright. So I'm reading you correctly. You’re offering—”

“I’m offering to help you.”

Your fingers twitched at the thought. You’d been getting increasingly hungrier since you came to town, but with that sensation came unease. This condition had brought you nothing but trouble. “Then tell me why you want to help me?”

“Because I want your help in return.”

The answer was so simple but nowhere near satisfying. You scoffed before you could stop yourself. “Oh, so a trade? And why should I help you?”

Jisung pushed a hand back through his hair. “You’ve dealt with these guys before. You’re smart. You can help me figure out what they’re doing and why.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Look,” Jisung said quietly. He took one step closer. You stood your ground. “I've lost my best friend. Our business is in shambles. I have a chance to fix that, but I still can’t fix everything. This is all I have, trying to get back what’s rightfully mine and finding out why Mr. Shepherd had to die the way he did. It wasn’t humane. It wasn’t fair.”

The look in Jisung’s eyes nearly made your heart crumble. He truly was broken over this, and you couldn't blame him one bit. He took another step closer. You still held your ground. You could hear the waver in both of your breathing.

“My whole life has been turned on its head,” he continued, “I'm sure you can relate. Helping Mr. Shepherd was part of my routine, my consistency, and that included feeding. And now it’s gone. Now I just live in a house that's too big and the walls are full of ghosts. Let me help you. If not for getting back what we lost, then to help me regain some control over my life.”

Jisung took another step closer. You took two steps back. This felt unfair to ask of you. It felt too big, too serious. You suddenly felt like a giant fool for coming out here. Not just to this house, but to the coast. Figure you did find Chan, what could he do? Would he really just tell you everything you wanted to know? This was dumb and reckless.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, turning heel and rushing down the stairs, leaving Jisung in your wake as you ran to the truck. You refused to look back as you caught him in your peripheral, watching you from the porch as you swung the truck back around and went flying down the drive.

Back at the house, you sat on the bed by the window, watching the sun just begin to rise as you pensively sipped the last of some tea. You crawled under the covers, deep in thought. Did you want to let sleeping dogs lie?

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Waking up the following night was much more graceful, considering you laid down for a rest before sun-up. Following this method, you've found you could maintain a sort of sleep schedule that felt like your old life. You were still horribly preoccupied. You were almost a ghost, drifting around the house and aimlessly distracting yourself from your growing hunger and the constant stream of thoughts running through your head. Could you take Jisung up on his offer? Would that be any good for you, or him for that matter? Should you just go back to school? Did you even want to find Chan anymore?

One of these questions were answered as you sipped your first cup of coffee in bed, attempting to read and feel productive. You were startled as you heard a sound you hadn't heard since high school: a pebble bouncing off your window. Your fingers nervously peeled back the curtain, uncertain that you were really seeing what you were seeing.

Chan.

You crashed around the room, throwing on some jeans under your comfy flannel shirt and pulled on your coat. You ran downstairs as quietly as you could, tugging on your boots all the way. As you stepped out on the lawn, he looked so natural, just sitting on the rear bumper of the truck. You paused, taking in the sight of each other in the cold silence of the night before he rose to his feet.

“I knew you’d be here,” he smiled breathlessly. He took one step closer; the only signal you needed. You closed the short distance in an instant, your arms flung around his neck in moments. He held you tight, his nose buried in the crook of your neck and breathing you in before you took his face in your hands. A new scar had appeared under his eye, moving in next door to the one still healing on the bridge of his nose. Even though you had imagined this moment over and over, you never expected Chan to take your face in his hands as well and eagerly press a chaste kiss to your lips. The sensation made your heart leap in your chest but you excused it, refusing to get too excited over what was probably just an impulse.

You led him over to the porch swing and sat him down. His grabby hands reached back for you and pulled you down onto his lap. His fingers wandered your thighs and hips as he looked up at you expectantly. He didn’t look as if he could tell you had almost too many questions. In fact, he looked more like this was just a fun date. Well, you figured, if you wanted answers, you’d have to start somewhere. “What do you mean, you knew I'd be here?”

Chan looked down, absently focusing on his hands on your waist. “Me and the others split up around town to lay low. We move camps every two or three nights. We were right out there—” he explained, pointing out towards the dense woods flanking the property to the east, “when I saw you come home with your aunt that first night. But I didn't feel safe. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me after what happened at the library.”

It was your turn to get lost in your staring, this time at his pulse beating in his neck. You shook yourself out of it. “For a second there, I was thinking the same thing.”

Chan nearly cooed for how gently he poked you in the ribs. “Oh, come on now. After what we did that night, how could I not want to see you?” Your spine went rigid despite the set of hips under yours teasingly bucking up against you. Chan was oblivious, instead taking notice of his bandana poking out of the pocket of your coat. “Wait, is that mine?” He marveled. “What the hell? That’s so cute. You’re so cu—”

“What do you mean, after what we did that night?”

Chan scoffed lightheartedly despite your hard lean away. “Awh, come on, I'm just joking.”

You rose with a start, making him jump. “You’re joking? I’m not,” you said briskly. “I come here on some wild chance that I'll find you and, if not, at least try to get over that night back at the library. I want some closure and you just want to relive a good lay.”

“Come on,” Chan rolled his eyes, “that’s hardly what I meant. Besides, it wasn’t even the sex I was referring to. It was the feeding.”

“Fine,” you crossed your arms impatiently, “Let’s talk about the feeding. Namely, what the others were doing while it happened.”

Chan shifted uncomfortably on the swing. “I don't know.”

You laughed out loud, getting Chan to jump again. “Oh bullshit you don't know. Why the library? What did you steal?”

“I don't know. It doesn't matter.” His gaze hardened, watching you cautiously as his fists clenched and unclenched.

“If it doesn't matter, then help me steal it back.”

“Excuse me?” Chan stood now, glaring down at you. Maybe he realized how reckless he was being, getting caught up in you like this. You stepped closer to him.

“Don't act offended. You dragged me into this by letting me live,” you laughed meanly, stabbing a finger into his chest, “I feel used and lost and my pride is hurt, and I want to do what's right. Help me steal it back, whatever it is.”

Chan exhaled hard. “I honestly don’t know. The others won’t tell me. And I'm not going to help you steal it back.”

“Why not?” You asked rigidly.

“Because this is critical. I want to take these guys down. You want that, too, don’t you? Then I have to let them get away with it for a bit.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “then why prove to me that you’re here? I'm sure you figured I'd want some answers.”

“I—” Chan looked away, suddenly nervous, “I meant it about the feeding. I've been thinking about it ever since. It’d never happened to me before, but it definitely never sounded like that when people described it to me, and the closer to the full moon we get, the crazier I get about it. I feel like I'm fucking mad about it, mad about you.”

You cursed your gut for igniting at the sight of how much you could see Chan meant it. Your hunger alone almost made you fall for it, let alone everything that attracted you to him that first night. However, you tried to remain focused, instead trying to see the almost pathetic desperation, the cloying affection masking his near-addiction. If he wanted you as anything more than that, you were confident he wouldn't even know for himself unless you gave in to him first. And you didn't want to give in to him.

“Come on,” Chan pleaded, “please.” He took your hand, leading it to cradle his face again. His fingers guided yours back, back around to his hair at the nape of his neck where he led you to grip him roughly. “Help me,” he begged, “you can be in charge. I'll do whatever you want.”

“Then get out of here,” you said, trying your hardest to sound firm.

“Baby, please—” Chan whined.

“No. I'm not your baby. And if you're not helping me then I'm not helping you. Now leave, or I will.”

“Don't leave,” Chan ordered desperately, changing tactics as he grabbed your wrist. You wrenched it away and stepped off the porch.

“Fine,” you snapped, “you get one more chance. Ready?”

Chan looked at you expectantly, eyes practically glistening at the prospect.

“If you won't tell me what those assholes stole from the library, tell me what they stole from the bookstore. Tell me what they stole from Mr. Shepherd.”

And the shine in Chan’s eyes was gone. “So now you're caught up in that, too?”

You laughed again, now too impatient to care how mean you sounded. “Caught up in that? It’s not the latest town gossip or something. There’s a literal crime scene down on main street. He’s dead, Chan, and that doesn’t just affect him. People cared about him, and good people at that. Tell me what you stole.”

Chan’s fists clenched firmly by his sides. “I can’t tell you,” he said quietly.

“Alright then. Come back when you want to help me,” you affirmed. Chan watched helplessly as you climbed into the truck and started it. He vanished in your rearview as you tore off down the drive. You drove furiously, unsure of what to do and what to expect from him now.

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You pulled the truck down the alley behind the bookshop, stomping the brake and squinting in the dark for any sign of Jisung’s bike. The alley was empty and quiet, devoid of the motorbike as you searched around. You tested the doorknob at the rear entrance for the bookshop, momentarily surprised as it softly clicked open. Fair enough, you supposed, makes sense. What’s the worst that could happen? The store could get robbed all over again?

The door creaked as you cautiously let yourself in, gently shutting it behind you and taking in the shop’s backroom. The space was crowded, cozy, with spare stock lining the floor and shelves surrounding a small roll-top desk with accounting ledgers and notebooks on it. A single lamp barely illuminated the space in here. You leaned in to inspect the desk when a small sound in a minor breeze caught your attention. You turned your head to the source: a broken line of caution tape at the door that lead to the shop proper.

Stepping inside, you were immediately taken with the smell of aged books, but not without a faintly menacing hint of blood. The shop was surprisingly stuffed considering its wares and how small the space appeared to be. There could be books spanning centuries in here but it would still take you weeks — maybe even months — to figure that out for yourself. The store was truly intimate, a winding maze of shelves that gave way to a comfortable couch and some easy chairs gathered around a coffee table at the back of the floor. Like any good place to read a book, it felt like you could escape and unwind here. That is, before the place had been trashed.

The destruction was mostly contained at the center of the shop floor, but that still encompassed multiple shelves of books. Ripped pages and bindings joined ravaged books on the floor, some still dotted with errant specks of blood. You carefully stepped around the mess and found yourself at the counter. The rest of the lights were off in the store, save for one lonely floor lamp standing guard over the register, the thick shade casting just enough light over the countertop and wall behind it. A framed photo hanging there quickly caught your attention and you stooped in to inspect: a tiny, jolly old man, his crinkled eyes turned up in a smile as he had an arm slung around Jisung’s shoulders right where you stood. The caption penned in the corner of the photo in pointy script read, “J’s first day as partner.” You were suddenly incredibly curious as to how old this vampire had been. Really, Mr. Shepherd looked old enough to be Jisung’s natural grandfather, which made your chest ache. What had happened for him to turn at such an old age? More photos sat on the shelf beneath the picture frame. Jisung posing with his new motorbike, Jisung by himself pointing at their new sign that proudly proclaimed reinstated daytime hours, Mr. Shepherd smiling next to a new computer and a load of new books he never thought he could get from all over the world. A memo pad sat next to the photos, right under the phone hanging on the wall. You picked it up as you noticed the last date was fairly recent, and held it close to read in the dim store. Scrawled on top, indented with the ghosts of previous notes that had been written before, was Jisung’s chaotically neat print.

Shep,

Forgot to grab the mail today. I'll be right back to do inventory with you.

-J

“You know, that was the first time I ever forgot to grab the mail,” came a sullen laugh behind you. You whirled around, catching Jisung standing down the aisle in the doorway to the backroom. He was back in his worn denim jacket, this time over a well-used hoodie. The sudden panic in your chest dulled. “It’s weird,” he continued pensively, “how tiny things can have these giant consequences. I slept in, so I was running late, so I didn’t go to the post office, so I had to get the mail that night when I remembered... so I wasn't here. I should've been here.”

“Jisung…” You started, but you had no idea how to continue. Jisung took a tentative step over the threshold onto the shop floor.

“It's just bizarre, you know?” He continued, half-heartedly caressing spines of books as he passed. “You live this normal enough life, and something happens because of the tiniest thing and you feel like you'll never be the same again.”

“I get that,” you empathized, kneeling down to a scattered pile of books on the floor and picking them up. He watched, almost shocked that anyone could even begin to clean this mess he'd been avoiding. “You go on the wrong date,” you continued, “and the rest of your life changes and you never get to experience noon again. You swing back by the office to grab something you forgot, and you almost get whisked away by a pack of wolves.”

Jisung finally stopped watching, now squatting down next to you to help make the smallest dent in the carnage of the store. “So even after they robbed you, they almost took you?” He shook his head in muted anger. “Sounds about right.”

The hair on the back of your neck bristled. That sentiment sounded familiar. “They’re not all bad. They’re just as lost as we are. One of them convinced the rest to leave me behind. I was sort of hoping I'd find him out here. He was a good guy.”

“Well he must've moved on. One of them killed Mr. Shepherd. The rest watched. No good guys to be seen.”

You pictured the shadow of the wolf that had finally ordered the rest of the pack to leave you that night at the library. The book in your hand slipped from your fingertips, the thud on the floor making you jump. “I thought you weren't here.”

“I wasn’t. By the time I got here, he was already practically... dead.” He struggled with the words, the quiver in his quiet voice not helping much. “I got here in time to watch him die. So I may as well have not been here at all.”

You stacked the rest of the books that had sat in your arm, alphabetically by author’s last name by your feet on the floor. You hadn’t thought to ask Jisung how the store was organized, instead just doing what made sense at the moment to get things a little less chaotic. Books were easy. People, as a general rule, weren't. You found yourself unsure of how to help make Jisung a little less chaotic himself. What felt right was to gently place your hand on his between picking up books. He paused, just experiencing the sensation for a moment.

“How long have you been like this?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Only a couple of years,” you shrugged.

“Really?” Jisung’s eyes brightened with a surprised smile. “You’re practically a newborn!”

You'd laughed about it, your hand still lingering on his as you both moved to sit and relax on the floor now that there was a little more room.

“Was it hard to adjust? Mr. Shepherd would tell me he didn’t remember what it was like starting out.” Jisung still held onto your hand, now absently playing with your fingers. To be honest, you didn’t mind it.

You thought back. It felt like decades had passed since that first night. “I cried a lot,” you smirked darkly, “I grieved, you know? And you know the worst part?”

“What?”

“That asshole never called me back like he said he would.”

That did it. Jisung relaxed, letting out a hearty laugh that you hadn't heard yet. Now that you heard it, you just wanted to hear it again.

“Don't get me started,” you continued with a grin, “I hadn't even thought about those growing pains again until just now, and for good reason, apparently. The first time I fed was a disaster.”

“Oh god,” Jisung chuckled, “did you have anyone to help you learn the ropes?”

“Not yet,” you admitted, breathless as Jisung’s laughter pulled more from you as well until he paused. The shift in his focus was stark. You were taken aback as Jisung pulled your hand to turn you more towards him where you both sat on the floor. He lifted a hand to your face, softly cupping your cheek. The scent of venison and spring buttercups flooded your senses and you almost felt dizzy taking him in. You observed him curiously as he gently pulled at your cheek to look at your eyes.

“What are you—”

“Look how glazed over your eyes are,” he noted casually, now gingerly turning your chin to get a better look, “You still haven't fed since I last saw you.”

“Well, I— I mean that I— No. Not I haven't,” you admitted sheepishly, painfully embarrassed as you already felt the points of your canines threatening to emerge at the mere mention of feeding.

“Come on,” Jisung nudged you. “Let me help.”

“Jisung—” you began warily.

“Trust me. Please?”

The last time a guy asked you to trust them, you’d fallen down this entire rabbit hole. However, Jisung felt genuine to you. You nodded, nearly smitten with how his eyes lit up before you leaned in closer. Your breath barely ghosted over his jugular when he jumped.

“Wait— what are you doing?”

You leaned away fast, terrified that you may have scared him. “What do you mean, what am I doing?”

“You mean,” Jisung babbled, “you really do… That?” Eyes wide, he vaguely gestured towards his neck.

Now you were just confused. “Alright, Mr. Blood Bag, how did Mr. Shepherd do it?”

“Well, I mean, he didn’t want to make it weird for me. I showed you what he did.”

Recalling the other night, you brazenly reached for the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, startling him into falling back against the bookshelf. You rose back to your knees in hopes of getting a better look. He watched curiously as you inspected and pored over the scar before setting his shirt back down.

“So, you've never had it any other way?” You asked, almost unbelieving. Jisung simply shook his head, still observing you. “I’m trusting you. Do you trust me?” At this he nodded. You inhaled deep through your nose to balance out your breath, catching the pulse in Jisung’s throat hinting that he was trying to do the same. If he'd never had it this way, you figured, then he deserved a nice first time. You leaned forward, between his spread knees where he leaned back on the floor so that you were right back where you started, your breath hot on his throat. Jisung shivered as the tips of your canines grazed over his skin and you placed a soft hand on the other side of his neck to hold him steady. “Inhale,” you quietly instructed in his ear, wanting to do whatever you could to make this good for both of you. Jisung nodded intrepidly and you waited to hear, to feel him take in a good lungful of air before you sank your extended teeth into his skin.

His first gasp nearly set you on fire, finding it endearing as he clutched your arm for support in his shock. You were energized by such a positive sign, and even more so as he failed to bite back a low groan. The first layer of blood on your tongue hit you harder than you predicted, an uncontrollable moan from your craving escaping you and making Jisung freeze against you. In just that instant, both yours and his hands reached, grabbing onto each other as you gained more firm purchase over the skin of his neck. You weren’t seeing stars like you had with Chan, but something about the near innocence of your embrace invigorated you.

Growing dizzy in the high that blood this fresh always gave you, you felt emboldened as you crawled into his lap on the floor of the bookshop. You pulled away from Jisung’s neck, practically coming up for air. He looked up at you with something akin to impressed adoration, his own glazed eyes mirroring your own now. Swept up in all this spontaneity, you found yourself leaning in, following some force that was pulling you together — that is, until the distinct sound of a sniffle and a shaky breath perked your ears up.

“Jisung?” You asked quietly, trying to get him to look at you. “Are you al-”

“What, am I alright?” Jisung chuckled flippantly, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

You slid off of his lap, watching as he turned away. He roughly pulled the sleeve of his jacket across his face.

“Jisung—” you lightly chided, surprised as he got to his feet. He paced the floor, pushing a hand through his hair and trying to calm himself down.

“I'm fine,” he insisted with a grin. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and sigh, getting to your feet as well and following him as his pacing carried him down the aisle. You gently grabbed his hand and turned him around, pulling your handkerchief out of your coat pocket and blotting up some of the blood still wet on his neck. He stiffly pulled away like a kid from their mother when they try to pat down a cowlick.

“You’re not fine; you’re upset.” You lamented, trying not to get distracted by how appealing the congealing blood on his neck looked.

“I'm not upset, I'm angry,” he grumbled.

“Maybe you should be upset. You can't just be angry.”

Jisung batted your hand away with an exhausted laugh. “It’s not that easy.”

“What, confronting your feelings? It’s not supposed to be all the time. That’s why it’s called a confrontation.”

He side-eyed you, apparently relieved that you could keep up with him. His shoulders softened as he let out a deep sigh. Swiftly, he pulled away from you once more. He paced a few more steps to the end of the aisle, head hanging, before he stopped. You could see as he defeatedly shook his head from behind.

“I guess I haven't let myself admit that I'm really fucking lonely now,” he let out a tired chuckle, “I never realized how spending so much time around someone really affects you until they're gone. So with you around, and doing this… I guess it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Jisung,” you light-heartedly admonished as you gently took his hand again and pulled him around to look at you, “if I had realized sooner then we could've stopped. I got greedy. You gave me more than enough to get me through. I just, sort of — I dunno, I like being around you; I feel like you understand where I'm coming from, and I got carried away, and —” You let out a muffled squeak, your rambling cut short by Jisung’s hands cupping your face and his lips finding yours in the dark. You reactively pressed your hands to his chest and pushed him back. Jisung stared, embarrassed and just a bit confused.

“Oh,” he blinked, “I'm sorry. I was just — like a minute ago when you were feeding, I thought — I mean I was going to —”

You couldn’t help but grin, content enough with Jisung's apparently innocent intentions to match your own. You didn't need a soulmate or a boyfriend, you just needed someone to be close to for a bit, something you felt like Jisung understood despite his shock as you grabbed onto the collar of his jacket and yanked him close, kissing him with vigor as you fell back against the bookshelf. Jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close to him as he stepped back.

“Come on,” he urged against your lips, “you don’t have to cut yourself off; I can do more.”

He stepped back again, tripping back onto the couch in the reading nook at the back of the store and pulling you down on top of him as you kissed.

“Jisung,” you countered nervously, “I really think I'm fine, it’s enough for now--”

You were interrupted once again as Jisung scratched at the drying wound on his neck, getting it exposed again and dipping a thumb into it.

“Come on,” he pleaded again, “don’t lie to me. You need it. I need it.”

Before you could protest, his fingers delicately but firmly cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip and smudging a drop of blood along it. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. The sensation raged through you and you could practically feel your eyes dilate as your lips closed around his thumb, sucking it dry before releasing. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself away and sat up on his lap, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. His hands reached after you, holding onto your thighs as if he were afraid you were going to run away.

“Sorry,” he breathed, “I need it so badly. I need you so badly.”

“I know,” you empathized, “I just don’t want to get carried away.”

“You won’t.”

“And if I do?” You insisted.

“Then I'll stop you. It’ll be fine.”

You chewed on your lip, weighing the consequences. Your eyes wandered over Jisung, his chest rising and falling with each shaking, desperate breath. He looked up at you, eyes pleading and adoring and so, so needy. The unmistakable feeling of a developing erection pressed up against you where your hips met, and it only served to cloud your judgement further. Your eyes darted from the wound on his neck, leaking down onto his hoodie, to his lips slightly parted with each bated breath, to his eyes anxiously waiting for you to decide. And you decided.

You were still hungry.

Your fingers delicately brushed his fringe out of his eyes, caressing his face before stroking your fingers back into his hair and roughly gripping him. He grunted as you guided his head to the side, opening up the access you had to the expanse of his neck. His breathing almost stopped entirely as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands clutching tight onto your waist. When you finally pierced through him for only the second time of the night, you both moaned, grabbing onto each other and practically shivering in pleasure. Blood washed warm over your tongue, nearly making you whimper from finally satisfying your hunger. And, thankfully, you didn't feel yourself overdoing it. For as much as you eagerly scratched and languidly lapped at Jisung’s neck, you thankfully found the bloodlust in your gut die down. And, for as much as you worked him over, he let you do it. He held fast onto you, groaning and hissing through the intermittent pain. His hips rolled up against yours as you fed, a response you figured he was just as surprised with himself. Something sparked in the back of your mind, making up for the lack of stars you’d seen when you'd fed on Chan, a ghost, a shadow loosely resembling affection for the man moaning under you. It was odd to feel connected like this, to be so comfortable with someone you hardly knew, but you wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Jisung’s hands stayed firmly around your waist until you guided them to the buttons of your flannel shirt. “Wait,” he chuckled nervously, “are you sure--”

“We’re not done yet. This is still open,” you explained as you playfully poked him in the open wound on his neck, making him jump and curse, “and besides. I want it. I want you.”

He couldn’t resist, just as you couldn't before, and he slid your coat off of you before he resumed what you had led him to do with your shirt. Jisung carefully unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off of you, immediately taking notice of your skin raising in goosebumps as he admired you. A basket sat on the floor by the couch and he quickly excused himself for just a moment to lean over and rummage through it and grab a blanket to drape over your shoulders before he unzipped his hoodie. He shimmied out of his jacket underneath you and worked off his shirt, these joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor as you both kicked off your boots. You huddled under the blanket with him, the warmth of his breath on your neck mirroring yours as you nuzzled against him. Your fingers danced along his collarbones and down his smooth chest.

“How many other girls get to enjoy this blanket?” You teased, giggling against his neck with him as you lazily licked up the rest of the blood you'd let out for yourself.

“Excuse you,” he laughed, “I happen to like reading on this couch when there's no customers, and I like to be comfy while doing so, thank you very much.”

“And how often are there no customers?”

“We sell used and rare books in a tourist town on the beach. When are there ever customers? Why do you think I can afford to take my time cleaning up around here?” You shared a laugh together before you pulled his lips to yours again, your tongues mingling in a way that made him moan deep. When you finally pulled back, the blood that you'd smeared against his mouth contrasted against his skin in the prettiest way.

“Well then,” you offered, the lilt in your voice hinting at things to come, “maybe once we’re done here we can work on cleaning up some more.”

“I’d really like that,” he replied breathlessly, gasping as he felt your hand search under the blanket for his hard-on. “You seem like you know what you’re doing,” he smirked.

“It’s useful to know what you’re doing when you're trying to get what you want.” You sat back, now further down on his thighs as you worked his belt and jeans open. Your hands traveled up the lines of his taut stomach, making you both wince as your fingers brushed over the thick scar on his ribs. “Are you alright?” You asked softly.

He nodded heavily, almost like he was refusing to get emotional again in a moment like this. “Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just really glad you're here. Helps me stay focused.” Just as you were about to question what exactly he was focused on, Jisung’s hands suddenly found purchase on the waistband of your jeans, pushing them down and apparently trying to remember to breathe as he came across your panties underneath. You backed up off of his lap, shrugging off the blanket for a moment as you shuffled off your jeans onto the floor as well. A muffled exclamation sprang from him as you laid back on the couch, pulling him on top of you with another kiss. Once he pulled the warm blanket back over the both of you, his hands joined yours in pulling your dampening panties off and dropping them to the floor. Just as he went to push his briefs and jeans further down, you stopped him.

“Both of us don’t have to freeze to do this,” you smirked, “now keep me warm.”

Jisung grinned as he nodded and kissed you again, one of his hands traveling between your bodies to see just how wet you were getting for him. Pleased, he tested his hard length in his grip before you felt it nudge up against your entrance. You gasped as he smoothly slid inside you, Jisung’s warm hands all over you as he slowly, almost lovingly thrust into you. Your hands wrapped around him, your nails occasionally digging into his back when he thrust a little more roughly.

“Jisung,” you pleaded, “fuck me.”

“Anything,” he reassured you, “anything you want.”

“Awh,” you cooed, “anything?”

“Anything,” he reaffirmed, “you’re a fucking princess for how much I'd give you.”

Jisung was nearly too lost in his rough thrusts against you, but he still noticed the small grimace you made at the pet name. His hips slowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you grinned after shaking yourself out of it, “I’m just glad you’re here. You keep me focused, too.”

Jisung nodded, his smile matching yours as he tipped your chin up to kiss him again. He pulled you up against him, sitting back on the couch and setting you on his lap. You held him tight, one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair as you rocked your hips against his. Your pert nipples caught his attention from where you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as he closed his lips on your breast. A shiver ran up your spine at the apparently intimate gesture. You almost felt light-headed, the first hints of an orgasm coming to mind when Jisung leaned you back enough just to press a thumb to your clit as you rode him.

“Mmph, Jisung,” you whined for him, “you think you can cum with me?”

“No, no, wait,” he breathed, “bite me again--”

“Again?” You asked, grabbing onto his shoulders to help even out your quickened pace on his warm cock.

“Yeah,” he nodded desperately, “it felt amazing. It hurts in the best way.”

You sighed, considering if you even really wanted to say no before nodding and kissing his forehead. You leaned back, the cool fabric of the old couch meeting your back once more as you pulled him back down on top of you. Jisung kissed your hungrily, his hips bucking hard against yours as he continued massaging your clit. This time, as he moved his head aside, his lips found your neck and you simpered, loving the way he so gently pressed kisses to your pulse and grazed his teeth over your skin.

One of your ankles hooked back over his hip, your other leg spread wide so he could keep rubbing you closer to orgasm as you caressed his head to the side. Your hunger satiated, your teeth wouldn’t extend much by just willing them to, but you were still able to sink enough of the tips into his fresh wound. The sensation alone moved you to the precipice of your climax, the way Jisung tensed against you enough to push you over the edge. You pulled him to you for another brutal kiss, the copper taste of blood smearing against both your tongues as you whined into your orgasm. His hips faltered, his hand clutching tight onto you as he came along with you. Jisung’s cum flowed hot into you while he held you close, gasping for breath and whispering thanks and gratitude and sweet nothings in your ear until his hips finally stilled.

The both of you stayed like that, holding each other close until Jisung slowly eased out of you. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead -- everywhere as you smiled and took it.

“Did we really take that long?” He asked incredulously, peering out at the tall windows peeking out over the tops of the shelves at the front of the store. Over the thick valances, the first hints of orange were starting to streak in through the window.

“Oh, shit,” you grumbled, “do I have time to get home?”

Jisung rummaged around in the pile of clothes on the floor to find his phone and checked to make sure. He shook his head as he found your phone as well and handed it to you. Sure enough, you didn’t hear your phone buzzing on silent as the alarm went off.

“What do I do?” You lamented.

Jisung leapt to his feet as he began pulling his clothes back on. “You can crash here,” he gladly offered. “I'll do the same thing I did the other night and sneak the truck back to your aunt’s. If the truck is there she’ll probably just assume you’re in your room anyhow.” He shrugged on his hoodie and jacket before you stopped him.

“Wait,” you laughed, “you’re a damn mess.” You spied a scarf on the coat rack by the counter and grabbed it before wrapping it around his neck to cover the bites and blood. “So,” you prodded, “I crash here and you get the truck back… Then what?”

“Then I'll take care of my usual errands and get a head start on cleaning the shop before nightfall. Besides, maybe once I get some inventory done in here I can finally figure out what all was stolen.”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a smile, “that actually sounds great. I'd really like that.”

Jisung grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders before rummaging through your coat on the floor for the keys. “I’d better hurry; I want to get back to the diner and get some coffee before the day waitress comes.” And, with that, he kissed your cheek before rushing out the backdoor.

You bundled up in the blanket, contemplating how much you wanted to get dressed again before falling asleep as the sun slowly crept through the window. Outside, the truck rattled to life and slowly sputtered down the alley, not getting enough time to warm up. The blanket smelled thick with Jisung’s scent, making that oddly affectionate tug in your gut feel stronger. The cozy space of the bookshop felt that much cozier at dawn, welcoming the warm surroundings as you sat back on the couch when you heard a clatter in the back room. You sprang to your feet, the tiredness already starting to weigh you down as you stepped closer to see what must have fallen over. That is, if whatever fell over happened to smell like veal, like mahogany and fires on the beach.

“Well, it sure smells like you've been here--” Came a voice from the back room. You stiffened, hand tight on your phone.

Chan stepped into the shop. You took two steps back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“The better question,” Chan laughed, “is who leaves the back door unlocked? I was grabbing a bite to eat and remembered you mentioned the old man and the bookstore, so I thought I'd look for you here. Sure enough, the back door is open and all I smell is you.” He circled closer, eyeing you up and down in your blanket. “And you’ve been busy, I see,” he pouted, “is that why you wouldn’t give it to me?”

“That’s none of your business,” you spat, lacking the proper strength at the moment to struggle as he grabbed onto you and pulled you close.

“Princess,” he cooed, “baby, please, just feed on me and I'll be good.”

“I'm all full, but thanks anyways,” you glared at him. He leaned back, stunned and disgusted.

“Who the fuck--”

“Hey!” Came Jisung’s voice from the front door, the bell at the front signaling an arrival. You struggled against Chan now, who just stood his ground and clamped a hand over your mouth. Sleep threatened to take hold any moment now. “You know, locking the back door might be a good idea now that there’s someon--”

Jisung froze at the end of the aisle. The two men stared each other down before Chan finally let you go. You stumbled back a step.

“The shopkeeper’s lackey?!” He laughed boisterously, “You won't give it to me all of a sudden, but you’ll give it to him?”

Chan let out another mean laugh before Jisung suddenly drove forward the few steps it took to tackle into Chan’s chest. Both men fell to the floor as you sank down onto the couch, exhausted and fading fast. Jisung had the upper hand in making the first move, pinning Chan under him and landing blow after blow on him. Chan cursed wildly and attempted to fight him off.

“You goddamn son of a bitch,” Jisung roared, “you fucking murderer!”

You sprang to your feet, desperate to help, but both men only turned to notice in time for you to collapse.

You slept.

[To be continued.]

<prev | next>

[thebiasrekkers]

Touch In The Dark — MYG

For the @btswriterscorner​ - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Min Yoongi comes from the prestigious family of Blue Blood lineage. However, to appear philanthropic in the eyes of the public, they volunteered their son to marry someone from “humble” origins. Two years have passed since he’s been married to his poor, orphan wife. But for the first time in two years, he’s starting to take note of things about her that are causing shifts in his views of her, shaking his heart.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female OC (Kiara Townsend)

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of suicide, extreme angst, interracial/intercultural relationship, arranged marriage

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 7,936

AN: I never thought I would write a story like this. I think this is the softest I’ve ever written for the boys. I know I only have one piece of lit for the fandom, but I have to say that this project caught me a little off guard. I never thought I would write Yoongi this soft, but it’s a very non-conventional soft. So I hope you all enjoy the world I was able to build from this, hug your loved ones a little close, and know that you are always loved. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

  ~ k.t. ~

On the day she was told that she’d been chosen as the “Charity Selection” for The Lottery, Kiara tried to kill herself. 

The heavy knocks sounded like thunder inside her tiny, rundown studio apartment. She stared back at her reflection in the bathroom, a handful of sleeping pills clutched in her palm over the porcelain. She’d purchased a full bottle of the prescription strength medication off the black market. It took her months to save up enough money to buy them.

Attempted suicide was a serious offense, punishable by large fines and incarceration for three months, followed by six months of psychiatric evaluation. The global population was already off-kilter with how many people suffered losses from wars, hunger and poverty. Decreasing the numbers in any amount was detrimental to society’s ability to rebuild and stabilize its structure. 

The knocking continued incessantly. Kiara knew if she didn’t answer the door, they would just kick it in and find out what she was up to. Sighing, she put the pills back into the bottle and placed it in the medicine chest behind the smudged mirror.

Twelve paces. That’s how long it took for her to make it from the bathroom to the front door. The ratty sofa doubled as her bed and the thin, pale blue blanket could hardly be considered covers. While Kiara did not get sick often, she could not stay warm during the winter months. Central heating was a luxury she couldn’t afford and space heaters were few and far between. The yellowing paint peeled off the walls and the stainless steel door knobs, once shiny and new, were now dull and gray from years of neglect.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a man in a three-piece suit and two armed soldiers. He was an official from The Lottery office and he handed her a letter. He congratulated her, telling her how fortunate she was to have been chosen for the “Charity” portion of the Lottery. He explained that everything she needed to know about her future husband was in the envelope and that she could read it on the flight to meet him.

She’d never flown in an airplane before.

Kiara didn’t own much. All of her furniture were either hand-me-downs or things she found on the side of the road. Her clothes, what few she had, could all be stuffed into a single duffel bag. Her friends doted on her, telling her how lucky she was to have been chosen. They all pooled together and bought her a pretty sundress to wear since it was approaching Summer. Kiara promised to contact them whenever she was fully settled.

On the flight over, Kiara took a good look over the files she’d received. 

Yoongi Min. 26. South Korean. Computer programmer. His home was Daegu and he still lived with his family, as per tradition in the country. He was fluent in English, which was a relief. He was definitely handsome - dark auburn hair, pierced ears, and umber eyes that almost appeared a little withdrawn. Or was it sadness?

Was he hurting on the inside too?

At her request, one of the flight attendants gave her a tablet for her to study. She didn’t want to embarrass herself on the first day of meeting him.

If the plane didn’t crash on the way. Kiara could only be so lucky. 

Yoongi wasn’t the one who picked her up from the airport. It was someone from the family’s household staff. He was a kind looking middle-aged man and he helped her load what few belongings she had into the trunk of her car. The drive from Incheon to Daegu was long. The driver, Mr. Song, told her she could take a nap if she liked. But there were so many questions she wanted to ask and she was grateful that he was also fluent in English.

There were things she discovered about Yoongi that she felt she could relate to. He was an avid reader and enjoyed music. He preferred his solitude and when he had the time to spare, he took pictures and tended the garden at his family’s home. There were servants to handle such things as yardwork, but Yoongi insisted on raising seedlings in a greenhouse.

After she arrived at his family’s home, she was welcomed by the rest of the staff. Yoongi, again, did not greet her. His parents did, however. They were not so fluent in English, but they were kind enough to allow one of the maidservants to translate what they were saying to Kiara. She both nodded and shook her head at the appropriate questions. Nothing they asked was outside of a “yes” or “no” response.

“Are you healthy?”

“Are your parents really dead?”

“Were you comfortable on the plane?”

“You’ve never flown on an airplane before, have you?”

And finally, the question that served as Divine Intervention.

“Are you tired?”

The questioning ended when she nodded. It wasn’t that Kiara wanted to avoid her future In-Laws. She really was tired. She refused to nap on the long drive from Incheon to Daegu and the jet lag was starting to rear its ugly head. She could hardly keep her eyes open. After she was escorted to one of the guest rooms, Kiara barely took note of her luggage on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

She fell asleep almost immediately.

When Kiara awoke the next day, she found a handwritten note sitting on the nightstand. Groggy and hungry, she did her best to read the note. Her eyes quickly focused when she realized it was from Yoongi.

Miss Townsend,

I’m glad to see you arrived safely. I know this is a bit of a transition for you, but everything will be fine. I will be out of town on business until the day after tomorrow. Please meet me at City Hall on Wednesday so we can finalize everything.

~ Min Yoongi

Unsure of why, Kiara felt her heart sink. The note seemed so impersonal; business-like. She knew what kind of world they lived in now, but did it really mean that a perpetual wall would exist between them? 

Crumpling the note in her hand, she was grateful to be alone. She didn’t think she’d be able to explain the tears if anyone saw her. Mostly because Kiara, herself, couldn’t understand why she was crying.

~ m.y. ~

The days always began the same.

Yoongi woke up, showered, went downstairs and had his cup of coffee. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No cream. He hated watching television because most channels either rattled on political propaganda or spoke about the “Runners” rebelling against society’s standards for the world. He preferred the soft sounds of jazz peeling from the radio speakers. Sometimes it was purely instrumental. Other times, someone was crooning a song about heartbreak. It was an idea that he didn’t quite understand, but the tones were pleasing to the ears.

He wasn’t a fan of it originally. Yoongi only listened to it because she had it playing while she hung laundry out on the line one warm summer day. “Killing Me Softly” droned from the speakers and he could recall the look on her face when he told her to turn it off immediately. Music containing lyrics had been banned as it was a way for artists to spread their messages of love, freedom, insurrection and justice. 

She didn’t argue with him, but her expression shifted significantly that day.

In their society, love was something that could not be felt because love equaled passion and passion led to impractical thought. Impractical thoughts led to irrational decisions being made. Wars, hatred, violence: they were all ingredients for disaster that nearly wiped out the population of the world.

But mankind couldn’t very well lead itself to extinction. Population growth was necessary, so long as it was monitored and controlled. Maintaining order was paramount in this new age. The Lottery Bill was established across the world - bridging the racial and cultural divide that continued to exist until the United Nations took matters into their own hands.

The class system was determined by lottery. Blue Bloods all the way to Laborers. Everyone had their place and would accept that place. No one would strive to reach above their station as that would disrupt order and breed chaos. To regulate the classes, lotteries were also pulled for marriage. Couples were chosen from like classes to maintain balance in the system. 

But because the world’s government was not cruel, there were families chosen to participate in philanthropic activities. Every year, a small percentage of Laborers were pooled to marry into Blue Blood lineage. It was a way to show the kindness the global governmental body possessed. Most in the Blue Blood class referred to it as “Forced Charity” but they couldn’t argue against the positive impact it had both across the media and in society as a whole.

Min Yoongi’s family was one of the families chosen to participate in the “Forced Charity”. As the only son, he was obligated to be the one to represent their family during The Lottery. 

He didn’t make a fuss. When Yoongi received his Summons in the mail, he went to his district’s City Hall and took the envelope from one of the clerks. He had one week to accept the terms presented in his drawing. Since he was willingly volunteering to marry someone outside of his station, he had one opportunity for a redrawing. But only one.

Yoongi opted out of it.

He was living with his parents still and politely asked that they give him privacy. For five days they tormented him about what his bride was like. It wasn’t out of childish rebellion that he hadn’t given them an answer. It was because he truly didn’t know.

On the sixth day, he finally opened the envelope. 

Inside contained the dossier of his future bride, as well as a single photograph. Everyone who was eligible for The Lottery was required to have their picture taken at their district’s City Hall, regardless of what part of the world they were from. If his bride-to-be had to travel miles to get to him, then that was what had to be done. There would be no objections from either side.

He had no expectations. There was no reason to disagree with the marriage. Yet a part of him hesitated when it was time to call The Lottery office to have them send for her. The same part that looked at her picture and couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking when she was staring back at the camera. Yoongi wondered if he had the same expression on his face when he’d taken his photo.

Kiara Townsend. 26. African-American, German and Scottish. She had no parents and she worked full-time in a textile factory in North America. Her parents were killed during a neighborhood raid of residents who were presumed to have been involved in an underground movement of sorts - advocating free love and speaking out against the societal norms currently in place for the world. 

In the photo, her skin was a golden caramel, hair thick with large curls, and she had prominent brows and a set of full lips. Her eyes, small and hazel in tone, were seemingly endless - like she could see into the very souls of anyone she laid her eyes upon. But there was an emptiness that lingered there in her photo. 

After accepting his lottery choice, she was notified and escorted to his home country of South Korea. In three days, they were married. As a wedding present, his parents bought them their own home - a large estate in the Daegu countryside where they would have privacy. She no longer had to work now that she was married to a Blue Blood. Yoongi worked from home as a computer programmer and only went into town once a month for board meetings.

For the first month, neither of them said a word to each other. It was an unspoken rule that they had their own separate spaces in their home. Yoongi rarely slept and when he did, he slept alone. His wife often slept on the couch and he never bothered her to sleep in her own bed. 

They were like strangers who happened to share the same address.

Four months went by. Yoongi grew more and more numb to his situation. The whole point of marrying someone was to increase the population. Young men and women were fully educated in the concept of sexual intercourse so that there would be no mistakes during the coupling process. No one was truly a virgin when they were age-appropriate for The Lottery. Sex was no longer an act of pleasure in the world. It was a business transaction.

They didn’t have sex. Neither even so much as touched the other.

Six months into their marriage, Yoongi heard Kiara speak for the first time. 

“Can we send the servants home? I want to make dinner tonight.”

The sound of her voice was so soft. He was entranced and nearly forgot to speak. When Yoongi finally found his voice, he replied - realizing that his own tones sounded a little strange to him.

“Alright.”

~ k.t. ~

She hadn’t meant to be silent. There were so many things she wanted to know about her husband. But the very air around him appeared frigid and Kiara knew she didn’t want to bother him. There was a part of her that could sense his loneliness, but she never wanted to push or prod where she wasn’t wanted. The interactions they had between each other were brief, if even at all. 

Kiara didn’t have to want for anything. But was this really a life that she could grow accustomed to? It felt like the more she wanted to grow closer with Yoongi, the further he seemed to appear.

Did he hate her? Or not care about her? When he fussed at her about playing the radio, she wondered if she was simply an eyesore to him.

Wasn’t it better to simply stay out of his way?

The months bled on and while they were finally sharing small bits of conversation here and there, Kiara could sense the gap between them slowly transforming into a chasm. There were times when she caught him looking at her when she was busying herself around the kitchen or even putting away clothes. She was so used to a hard, springy mattress from her pullout bed in her studio that Kiara found it easy to fall asleep on one of the many couches throughout the house.

Their house.

But was it really her house? Could she call it her home?

Eight months into their marriage, she woke up in a bed after having fallen asleep while reading on the sofa. The warm blankets and plush down startled Kiara, causing her to halfway scramble from the bed. The room was unfamiliar to her and she felt slightly trapped. Most people would be elated to wake up in a room with pristine, painted walls, an elegant vanity table, and clean blankets and pillows. It was warm and inviting, something that Kiara saw in the pages of magazines. She never dreamed she would be able to sleep in a room like this. It was part of the reason why she couldn’t bring herself to do it in the first place.

Who could have brought her there? One of the servants, maybe?

Sighing, she took a moment to study the room she was in - the room that was designated as “hers”. It was as unfamiliar to her as the day she first set foot in this country. While Kiara understood the language and continued to learn the customs and culture of South Korea, there was a part of her that still felt strangely out of place. It shouldn’t have been the case, not with The Lottery Bill having been in effect for several years now. 

Only when her raging heartbeat slowed down a measure, did she notice the small note resting on the nightstand. With slightly trembling fingers, Kiara picked up the note and read it.

Stop sleeping on the couch. There’s a perfectly good bed not being put to use. 

You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable for no reason. 

Haven’t you suffered enough in your life?

~ Yoongi

A warm feeling slowly blanketed her entire body. Kiara pressed the note to her chest as she sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. Relief? Understanding? Perhaps. Maybe even a little hopeful.

There was the faint aroma of spices permeating into her room from the gap below the door. Setting the note down, Kiara left her room and made her way out into the hallway. The stairwell was just a few feet away, but she paused in front of Yoongi’s bedroom. Her eyes lingered a little further to the third door at the other end of the hallway - the master bedroom. It seemed that Yoongi opted to stay in a guest bedroom just like hers.

Was that out of concern for her? Did he not want to appear entitled? 

But that didn’t make any sense. He was a Blue Blood. His very lineage was entitlement, wasn’t it?

So then...why?

Her palm slid along the railing of the stairwell, her bare feet gliding over the perfectly polished wooden floor. She could hear a pot boiling as someone chopped methodically in the kitchen. When she reached the entrance, Kiara peeked her head around the corner. She felt like a small child stumbling across their parent in the middle of some adult task.

Yoongi was focused on chopping vegetables for a stew. The meat was already fully cooked in the broth and he appeared to be putting the final touches on what he was doing. Kiara gazed at his exposed forearms in awe - watching the muscles tensing as he worked. Her eye-line shifted, roving over the curve of his shoulders to the juncture of his slender neck. Sweat gathered around his temple and trailed down his jawline and with each movement, she saw his earrings twinking under the kitchen’s amber light fixture.

She couldn’t recall a time when she’d seen a man as beautiful as her husband. 

As if he’d sensed her presence, Yoongi craned his neck to look at her - his arms moving to slide the vegetables off the carving board and into the stew pot. He turned the burner down while setting the chopping board into the sink. Washing his hands, he then wiped them clean with a dish towel as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Did you sleep well?”

Kiara nodded. “I did, thank you.”

“Good.” 

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch towards the edge of forever. Just as Kiara took a step forward, preparing to offer some kind of assistance, did Yoongi finally break the silence.

“I dismissed the servants,” he offered gently, his gaze meeting hers for what she felt like was the very first time since they were married, “it’s not like they really have much to do around here.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. Unconsciously, she began wringing her hands together. She very nearly averted her gaze until he spoke again.

“I’ll probably send them back to my parents’ home.” 

Again, her eyes locked with his. His expression stayed neutral and Kiara felt a lump forming in her throat. 

“Would it be okay if it was just the two of us?”

Her eyes widened slightly, unsure of what he was implying. But it was true that the servants didn’t have much to do in their home. Yoongi hardly made a mess and what mess he did make, he often cleaned up after himself. The same could be said of Kiara. If anything, the servants were often shuffling around and attempting to find something to do so they didn’t appear to have idle hands.

Surely they could take care of themselves, right?

Kiara didn’t know what expression to make, so she kept her face from shifting too much. Maybe it was out of need to keep herself just a little more guarded because of the lack of interaction for so long. She couldn’t be sure. But appearing too vulnerable, too open, could be just as much of a mistake as being too closed off.

Taking a breath, she nodded once more.

“If you’re alright with it, then I would like that, too.”

~ m.y. ~

He didn’t shower her with gifts because of an impulsive decision. 

He bought her things because he knew she chose to go without. 

Kiara came from a world that was vastly different than his own. Yoongi could hardly fathom the idea of not having enough clothes in his closet or enough food in his fridge. But she never complained about anything - whether he bought too much or not enough. She graciously accepted everything that was given. 

What was even more puzzling, however, was how a mild feeling of irritation blossomed when Kiara didn’t utilize the things he’d given her immediately. He knew she was grateful and she rarely made a fuss about anything. The one time he ever saw her upset in the entire year they’d been married was when he’d made the comment about the radio.

Hadn’t they reached a compromise?

Biting his lower lip, he found it difficult to focus on his computer work. Everything looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics, which was saying something considering that Yoongi lived, breathed, and dreamed about coding. He became a computer software programmer out of necessity for the ever-advancing world of technology they lived in. Modern society was growing more and more dependent on smart devices, which would have been a shame had he lived in a different world. 

People often missed the world around them when their eyes were glued to a screen.

The latch unhooked from the door, causing him to shift his gaze from the computer monitor. When it slowly opened, he saw Kiara quietly enter - arms cradling a small serving tray. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers through each other as she approached. She set a plate of toast, jam, and fruit on the desk - her motions smooth and practiced. She finally set the cup of steaming hot coffee beside the plate, as well as utensils wrapped in a cloth napkin. 

“You should take a break,” she said, the tray resting against her stomach, “you’ve been working non-stop for about four hours now.”

He set the computer to hibernation mode. “I didn’t realize I’d been here that long.”

“You can leave the tray outside when you’re finished.”

Yoongi watched her turn to leave, his body reacting before his mind could process what he was doing. Before he realized it, he was out of his chair and reaching out to grasp her shoulder - stopping Kiara from leaving him. He felt her muscles tensing and Yoongi pulled his hand back immediately. Slowly, she turned to face him again.

Her hazel eyes appeared to glow from the twilight rays peeling in through the windows of his office.

His heart crashed into his chest with heavy thuds. A lump slowly formed in his throat and he made a vain attempt to swallow oxygen through the closing airways. Yoongi knew he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what that something was. He opened his mouth to speak and, again, no words came out.

All he could do was push the bubble in his throat down into the knot twisting in his chest.

Sensing something was amiss, Kiara set the tray down on the desk. “Are you alright?” 

Yoongi remained silent, studying the crease on her brow as her curls bounced around cheeks and shoulders. She reached her hand up, pressing the flat of her palm on his forehead.

“You’re a little warm, but you don’t seem to have a fever.”

Every representation of logic was screaming at him to pull away - telling him to replace the wall that existed between them for the last year. She hadn’t moved her hand from his skin and Yoongi felt his vision swimming for half a second before refocusing back on her face.

How had he missed the beauty mark at the corner of her left eye?

Taking a step back, he watched her arm continue to hover in the air for a few seconds before settling back at her side. Yoongi saw something pass over her face, but it was so quick that he wasn’t sure he’d seen anything at all.

Kiara brushed some of her curls behind her ear. “I’ll head to the market and pick up a few things. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them when I come back.”

Then she turned away from him to head out of his study, leaving him alone without so much as a second glance.

His chest hurt.

Flopping back into his chair, Yoongi carded his fingers through his hair in frustration - hands resting at the back of his neck as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

“...I didn’t even thank her.”

~ k.t. ~

The months were getting colder. Kiara wasn’t a fan of the cold, but she loved seeing the snow in South Korea. Everything was covered in a soft blanket of white. It gave her an excuse to indulge in a savory meal, wrap up in a warm blanket, and read by the fireplace. Yoongi was in Seoul for a business meeting, leaving her alone to her own devices. This was the first winter that she would get to experience without the servants around, fussing over her in case she hadn’t acclimated to the weather.

She took a warm bath, drank from a large glass of wine, and enjoyed the book she’d discovered near the back of the library. Most of the books in Yoongi’s library were reference books and non-fiction. She’d combed through most of them. But nestled in the very back, tucked away in a hidden nook, was a small collection of fictional literature. There were more than a dozen; small in comparison to the rest of his library. But the discovery of it surprised her just the same. In the year she’d been married to Yoongi, he always seemed very “by the book” and she couldn’t forget the comment he made about the music she was listening to while hanging up laundry. Finding something of this caliber was like stumbling across buried treasure.

Kiara was currently flipping through the pages of Animal Farm by George Orwell. She chose it because next to 1984 , it had the most worn out spine. It meant that Yoongi read it the most in comparison to the others in his entire collection.

Upon completing the novel, she could see why.

Politics. Justice. Equality. Inequality. A corrupt system. Broken families. Broken societies. A dream that fizzled away to greed - a dream that would only remain a dream so long as dictators felt that “some were more equal than others”.

There was a small part of Kiara that almost seemed to understand Yoongi a little bit better. He was a thinker and also compassionate. He never asked her to do more than what she needed and he readily provided her with anything she would ever need. It was the sort of life that Kiara wasn’t used to for over twenty years of being part of the Labor Class.

Yet something was still missing…

The sudden slamming of the door startled Kiara, causing her to drop the book into the bathwater. She panicked, knocking over the wine glass as she flailed to pull the book out. The pages instantly soaked - some of them were already falling out from the binding. She released a sob while pulling the plug to drain the water, clambering haphazardly out of the tub. Her heel found the bath rug by the tub and she could only cling helplessly to the pages, gathering up what remained in the bathtub into her trembling hands.

There was a knock at the door and she whirled around to face it.

“Is everything alright in there?”

Yoongi was home early. Looking at the ruined book in her hands, Kiara’s heart sank. 

“I-I’m fine,” she said, leaning down to pick up the wine glass, “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

“Take your time.”

When she heard his footsteps fading away, Kiara sighed as she wrapped a towel around her body. She used a smaller one to clean up the mess on the floor - grabbing a small plastic bowl and filling it with water so she could wash what remained to let it drain out in the center of the bathroom. She let out another sigh, brushing her fingers through her wet curls. It was better to be honest and get it over with, wasn’t it?

Drying herself off, she slid into her pajamas, grabbed the ruined book, and made her way downstairs. Yoongi poured himself a drink in the kitchen, taking note of her presence with a simple nod. He held the glass up and out toward her.

“Drink?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I had some wine earlier.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied gently, replacing the cap on the whiskey bottle. 

There was a small measure of silence that stretched between them and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, her fingers digging into the wet pages of the book currently hidden behind her back.

“Uh, Yoongi?”

He hummed during mid-sip, swallowing and then setting the glass down. “Yes?”

Slowly, she pulled the book around from behind her and held it out to him from across the kitchen island. “I was reading and dropped one of your books in the bath.”

“It’s just a book,” Yoongi said with a shrug.

Kiara bit her lower lip, her hands shaking as she continued to hold the book out to him - waiting for him to take it from her. He looked like he was about to say something, but she noticed his eyes lingering over the cover. When his eyes scanned over it, they widened slightly and it took everything Kiara had not to wince. Her shoulders visibly tensed when he snatched the book from her hands.

Without another word, he left the kitchen. Kiara followed on instinct, her eyes widening when she saw him throwing the book into the open hearth. The flames seemed to fight against the wet pages, but it didn’t take long for the book to burn. 

“I’m sor--”

Yoongi was already moving, his body disappearing down the corridor. Her legs were rooted where she stood and Kiara wanted nothing more than to disappear between the cracks - to dip below the earth and vanish into the ether. She could hear his hurried steps and the breath left her lungs when she saw him carrying an armful of books.

Books from his hidden collection.

He moved faster than her brain could keep up and by the time she realized what was happening, he’d already thrown three more books into the fire.

“Yoongi, wait!” she cried, running toward him and pulling at his shirt sleeve, “Please wait! I said I was sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Yoongi said nothing. He simply continued to throw the books into the fire. When all of those were devoured by the flames in the fireplace, he turned to head back toward the library. Kiara ran at him, wrapping her arms around his waist to stop him. He took three more steps before stopping completely.

She openly sobbed into his back, soaking his shirt as her fingers dug into his stomach to keep him tethered there.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, clinging to him as if he was a life raft, “I’m sorry…”

She felt the flutter of his beating heart against her face, drumming along her cheeks. It almost seemed manic, but his shoulders finally relaxed as she heard him taking several long, deep breaths. The flames popped and crackled in the fireplace, having had its fill from Yoongi’s literature collection. She knew there were still a few more on the shelf in his hidden nook, but Kiara didn’t think she could handle him destroying the things he clearly seemed to care so much about.

“I haven’t read those books in years,” he murmured gently, “I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.”

Her hands slid up his chest, curling so that her fingers could slip over the curve of his shoulders. Kiara took a breath, sighing through the scent of his cologne.

“But why?”

“Because they’re dangerous. They provoke dangerous thoughts.” He paused and she lifted her face in time to see his head turning slightly. “It’s why they’ve been banned.”

“They’re precious to you, aren’t they?”

“It’s not worth keeping them if they get you into trouble.”

Taking a step back, she blinked and he turned around to face her. 

“Me?”

Yoongi nodded. “You’re so curious. I should have known that you would stumble across them eventually. But it’s just like with the music. You have to be careful.”

Kiara wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she knew could tell that he wasn’t upset about her reading his books. He was upset that she had unknowingly placed herself into danger. He was concerned for her well being.

And that meant something to her. More than she would ever admit out loud.

Averting her gaze, she lowered her head slightly. “...I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing,” Yoongi said, an edge in his tone, “it frustrates me.”

She felt his hands around her shoulders, gripping them tightly. He looked like he was going to shake her, but thought better of it. Instead, he loosened his hold - letting his hands continue to rest on her shoulders. When she next looked up at him, his brows were furrowed and his pupils seemed to shake. She wasn’t sure what was still bothering him. Kiara wanted to know what she could do to make him feel less agitated.

But as she opened her mouth to speak, she lost all words of comfort as Yoongi leaned down toward her face. She was almost positive that her heart either skipped a beat or stopped altogether at that moment. Everything was so quiet. Kiara felt his breath dancing gently over her face as he pressed his cheek against hers, his lips brushing over her cheek. 

Kiara was afraid to breathe, believing that the moment she did, it would shatter whatever dream-like illusion she was currently experiencing. The second she heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, however, was when Yoongi pulled away. Blinking up at him rapidly, she was sure that her cheeks were inflamed and her hand absentmindedly went to touch her cheek as his hands slid away from her shoulders.

“...don’t stay up too late,” he said gently.

And then, just like a mirage, he quietly turned away and made his way toward the stairs. When she heard the door to his bedroom shut, she finally collapse to her knees. Kiara’s breathing came out in rushed waves and she buried her face in her hands, stifling a sob that nearly broke through the silence. She wasn’t sure if she should feel elated or devastated.

What was happening between them now?

~ m.y. ~

It had been three months since he burned his private book collection. The more innocent and bright-eyed side from his youth mourned the loss of the texts. He could always purchase them again if need be. He wasn’t exactly hurting for money. But it was the worn edges of the books, the notes he’d made in the margins, that he could never get back. 

Those would be lost forever. 

It’s probably for the best, he thought, sighing as he cradled his cup of coffee in his hands, the lessons have been learned .

He watched the sun setting slowly over the horizon from his back patio. He reflected back to Kiara’s face when he’d torched his books. She’d called them “precious” and she wasn’t exactly wrong. But she wasn’t completely right either.

There were more important things in life than the words on the pages of books. He wanted to be able to tell her that himself, but Yoongi found he couldn’t. He didn’t think the words he had swirling around his head would be enough to get his message across. 

Or maybe she already understood…

He turned to head back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind him. He peered around the main living area, absentmindedly wondering where his wife was. It was still early. Maybe she was still asleep.

As Yoongi moved toward the kitchen, the distinct sound of typing could be heard down the hallway. Blinking, he set his cup down and slowly trudged down the corridor leading to his office. He slowly turned the knob, opening the door to peek inside.

Kiara was rapidly typing at his desk, her eyes focused but clearly tired. Every few minutes, she would stop to roughly hit the tops of her shoulders, rolling her neck to loosen whatever knots were beginning to form there. His eyes wandered to the desk where there was a large stack of papers. Bundles were separated and stacked in varying directions so that there would be no confusion as to what stack belonged with which grouping. 

His printer whirred to life, shooting out page after page of whatever she’d just finished. When the next bundle was complete, Kiara pulled out a pencil and began to write on pages as she sifted through them.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“What are you doing?”

His voice clearly startled her, nearly causing her to drop the entire packet of paper she had in her hands. Yoongi closed the door behind him, approaching the desk and reaching out for the bundle of papers at the very top of the stack. Kiara made a noise of protest, but his eyes scanned the front curiously.

Then his curiosity gave way to surprise.

“This is…” he began, but realized he couldn’t finish as his eyes landed on the next bundle’s cover page.

Animal Farm by George Orwell.

Yoongi rapidly flipped through the pages of 1984 in his hands. It was written, word-for-word, from what he could remember of the book. The most shocking discovery, however, was seeing his own handwriting along the margins of the pages where he’d taken his own personal notes and written rhetorical questions to ask himself as he read. It was almost too much for him to take in.

Lowering the manuscript at his side, he looked up as Kiara stood from his chair. 

“I felt terrible about you destroying them,” she began, holding her hands up, “and don’t worry! I made sure that there aren’t any digital copies on your computer. Every time I finished one, I would print and delete it right away.”

He said nothing. He just continued to look at her; flabbergasted.

“You have photographic memory.” It was a statement of fact, not a question. 

Kiara nodded. 

“You even put all of my notes back.”

Again, she nodded.

His eyes wandered back to the large stack of papers. If it was separated by novels, then there were at least twenty books in the stack. Maybe more. And if she was taking the time to recreate his own scribbles, who knew how long this was actually going to take; how long she’d already been taking?

Is this what she’s been working on for the last month?

The ream of paper slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor. Kiara gasped, rushing around the desk in a hurry to pick up the discarded pages. He stopped her before she could kneel to the floor, his hand grasping her upper arm to keep her standing. She looked at him with wide eyes and she tried to take a step away from him. But Yoongi held fast, refusing to let her move even an inch away from her. 

“...thank you,” he whispered softly. 

He felt what tension remained in Kiara start to ebb away.

And then she smiled. It was the first time he’d ever seen her smile and it hurt to even look at her. But Yoongi continued to stare at the curve of her lips and the way they turned upward. Her hazel eyes seemed to glitter against the twilight sky pouring in from his office window - the corners crinkling up just a little in response to the smile. He didn’t think it was possible, but Yoongi swore he could hear the sound of his heart breaking and reforming simultaneously. Suddenly, it was difficult for him to breathe, but he tried anyway. It felt like tiny needles were stabbing into the organ beating furiously against his chest, threatening to burst free and fall to the floor.

The logical side of his head, the one screaming at him to run out of the office and as far away from Kiara as humanly possible, was losing against the side that Yoongi didn’t even recognize. Like a time lapse, he watched their life together zip through his mind’s eye - a grainy film projection that continuously focused on every facet of Kiara that he could remember. Everything from big to small - a simple gesture and an even simpler question.

Nothing could compare to the sheer radiance that resulted in her smile.

In that moment, Yoongi knew that he wanted nothing more than to see her smile again. To see it past today and to watch her smile every single day after this one.

He would ask for forgiveness later. He wasn’t about to ask for permission. Not now.

Tugging his arm back, he pulled Kiara close to him. Her chest crashed into his, causing them both to stumble a single step forward and backward respectfully. Her smile disappeared, replaced with confusion. He watched her brows furrow and just as her mouth opened to speak, Yoongi leaned his face in - sealing his lips over hers in a rough kiss.

They both inhaled slowly and he could feel Kiara’s hands grasping at his shoulders. But she didn’t fight him. Instead, he could feel the heavy thud of her own heartbeat attempting to chase the cadence of his. Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he tried to pull her even closer. The smell of her shampoo, her subtle body spray, and how warm and smooth her skin was beneath his touch was almost too much. He feverishly kissed her, nipping and tugging at her full lips which would be swollen from his affection.

Darkness enveloped the sky, plunging them into darkness. The only light in the room came from the computer monitor, reflecting its light against the large bookshelf behind the desk. He pulled away from Kiara’s mouth, his eyes adjusting to the dark quickly as they both took the time to catch their breaths.

“Y-Yoongi,” she stammered, her body trembling slightly in his arms.

“I know what this is.” His voice was low, his breath dancing along her skin as he curled his fingers into the flare of her hip. “This is a problem.”

Even in the dark, he could see Kiara’s worried expression. She wasn’t a fool. She knew what this was just as well as he did. And just like him, she also knew how much of a problem this was.

But it was too late to turn back now.

“I didn’t want to fall in love. I didn’t.” Yoongi lifted one hand up to brush a few of her curls away from her face, resting his palm against her cheek so he could tilt her face further upward. “But then you smiled, and that was the end of everything for me.”

Even as he continued speaking, Yoongi could feel the panic creeping up his throat, threatening to choke the very life out of him. He’d heard of things like this happening in the past, years before he was born. When marriage was a choice made between two people who loved each other. It wasn’t something to be pulled from a Lottery. 

When loving someone was a gift, not a crime. 

A crime or not, Yoongi wanted to know. No. He had to know.

“Do you love me?”

And like he’d struck something buried deep at the core of her, Yoongi watched Kiara’s eyes fill with tears. They streamed down her face endlessly. For a brief second, he believed he’d hurt her feelings; that he’d done something irreparable. 

But then, just like before, Kiara smiled up at him. He felt her hand brushing over his face, her nails lightly scraping over his jawline and resting at the edge of his chin.

“I do,” she replied gently while nodding, “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Unable to hold himself back, Yoongi kissed her again - their arms entangling themselves with one another. The need to continuously press and touch, to physically express everything they’d collected inside of themselves all this time, was overwhelming. But he couldn’t stop wanting her; wanting the woman he’d come to love little by little every single day and he hadn’t even realized it.

But they couldn’t stay like this forever.

They both pulled away to reclaim the air they’d stolen from one another, catching their breaths momentarily. He could feel Kiara’s ability to hold herself up beginning to wane. Slowly, he lowered them both to the floor - pulling her into his lap so he could cradle her against him. He took comfort in the feel of her arms around his neck, pulling him close so that he could rest his face against the juncture of her neck.

She smelled so good.

“We can’t stay here,” he finally said, his voice muffled in his own ears from the heavy thrumming of her heart, “they’ll find out eventually and we’ll both be thrown into prison.”

Her chest rose and fell as she sighed. “Where will we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

Yoongi smiled as he closed his eyes. “Anywhere but here.”

A moment of silence passed and he felt her sigh again, but her heart beat began to settle.

“Will anyone be able to help us?”

“I’m sure we aren’t the first ones to experience this.” Yoongi raised his head up so he could look at her. “And we won’t be the last.”

He watched her canting her head a little. “Is everything going to be alright?”

Yoongi gave a slight shrug, causing Kiara to giggle a little. “Even if it isn't, it doesn’t matter. I love you, Kiara.” Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Stay with me. ...please.”

As they looked at each other, Yoongi couldn’t help but drink in everything about her. Kiara’s eyes fluttered before closing and he quickly closed what little distance existed between them. This kiss was less intense, soft and meaningful - pulling and tugging at a want that perpetually nagged at him from the shadows for so long. Kiara shed light on the dark crevice of his heart - a part of him that he’d believed was simply meant to be there and to feel nothing else. To want nothing else.

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not, but he knew that he was thankful. He’d been so hollow for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel anything; to yearn for something so much that the desire itself could swallow a person whole. But it was a feeling that made him remember what being alive was supposed to entail; what it truly meant.

Love. 

Her love.

His love.

This love.

Their love.

[mx-in-words]

Minhyuk Drabble

63 with minhyuk? 💖

63. What would you do if you were locked in an elevator with me?

enemies to lovers au for real 

not exactly enemies 

you are both from the same friendship circle 

But the thing is: the SAME COMPANY

AND the SAME TEAM

Which means fighting for the promo and literally everything that can bring your career up.

Your best friend at the office is Yoo Kihyun 

which is Minhyuk best friend too 

It all started when you both entered as staffs 

young and dying to get a job, everything was a competition 

Well, you both became enemies and everyone knows that

But then the meeting of the year came

Which was the one where an intern was going to be promoted

Soo you thought should be you

Minhyuk thought should be him

Of course, you both fight for it.

Imagine, you the devil itself and minhyuk, a perfect demon, every day making each other life hell.

Kihyun, another devil soul appreciate the show tho, who doesn't?

mh: " I would say good morning but then I saw that was you and I don't know snake language"

you: " Oh honey, it's okay, I didn't know your résumé was so poor... Maybe some classes would fit well, also a shower? Trying to help you, honestly"

kh: " Oh the morning burning vibe with a lot of chaos, I don't even have to workship Satan, great"

So it's been like these for some mouths

Until your best friend got seriously sick

And you were the only one who could stay by her side at the hospital.

Which means basically you sleeping 5 hours per day, it's impossible to not see the dark circles right below your eyes and how unfocused you looked.

Kihyun started to notice how bad you were, but you wouldn't admit that you need help.

That day, you stayed the whole night with your friend and didn't sleep at all, so you fuck up with your boss and she sends you home.

Minhyuk, of course, let a note in your desk: " congrats for being so bad working" and that was the last thing you needed today

So you didn't look at his face in the last three days

When he tried to get you, you would just stay quiet doing your work like he wasn't there and he was feeling... Strange.

The BIG DAY has come and both of you looked like trash

So your boss was saying about someone who worked hard, extremely important for the company and... She announced

She announced Sinthia, the girl in the economy department.

Oh... You both souls crashed HARD!!

So as responsible grown-ups, you guys went for some driinksss

Kihyun left early because of his wife ( shownu darling )

And you and minhyuk stayed there... Just drinking in silence

mh: " why did you avoid me the whole week?"

You: " I mean, I should have done this for two years"

mh: " no, I mean seriously, Kihyun was worried and I know I was mean to you... I just, I don't know, we worked so hard... We hated each other so hard for nothing."

you:" okay since we hated each other for nothing I guess you're my colleague now. Well, my best friend is very very sick and I am her only family near so... Some nights without sleep and a lot of nights crying because she is my only family to be honest."

mh: " I am a jerk"

you: " yeah you are but I also was quite though with you so I think white flag?"

mh: " yeah sure"

So you both actually started to talk more

And drink more

And maybe, flirt?

mh: " I have to admit that sometimes when I see you screaming with the clients because they are assholes, I feel very attracted"

you: " yeah I feel the same when you look at the vice, seems like you can kill him with your golden pen or your tie anytime"

mh: " that's exactly what goes in my mind"

He is nice, you knew that your jokes fit his laugh very well and you feel glad to hear it? Are you mad? He hated you, stop

You don't even know where or how you get at the " true or dare but only true" game but

There you were

you: " so, it's it true that you have hook up with Angela in the elevator of James engaged party?"

mh: " God, how do you know that? * Laughs* Yeah, it's true."

you: " interesting "

mh: "What would you do if you were locked in an elevator with me?"

you: " this is not a true or false question"

mh: "But I want to know"

you: "well I don't know, who knows, maybe I would be like Angela and maybe not"

minhyuk eyes lighted a fire inside, you could smell the burning of your body and the sexual attraction hitting the corner and getting there too fast.

mh: " maybe. But I will give it a shot, would you?"

you: " it's better to show you my answer"

With that, you call the bartender, pay your bill and minhyuk does the same, while he was scanning your body.

You walk to the elevator, hoping he follows you, and for your happiness, he does.

You both enter the elevator, the door closes and his mouth is already in yours.

But for your surprise, he was an extremely good kisser, soft, hot and sensual kisses turning you to a mess.

But that was it.

You were too drunk and decided to call a cab and go home. Each one at their own home.

But that doesn't mean that you both don't make out all around while you pretend to hate one another at work.

And things became ... More seriously

So its Sunday morning, Beautiful sun out there and minhyuks is in your bed

Smiling at you, whispering a low " good morning princess" and since then you couldn't help anymore.

You both talked when he appears one mouth after, at your door, saying that he is completely full in love with you.

So yeah, you both demons are dating and kihyun hated it

No, he loves it but it's gross anyway

mh: " I mean, how could I hate someone so sexy?"

You: " I can't blame you, I would like to fuck me either and since you couldn't, it's okay to hate me"

mh: " I guess you being a brat will never change huh?"

you: " oh it depends on you daddy, do you like dirty brats?"

Kihyun: " ugh gross please someone kill me"

[best-enemies]

For the fandom ask meme thing can I request the whole damn alphabet or is that not very cash money of me? I’m nosy lmao I wanna know all of them!

AHDKAJSDKJAHSKDA JACK YOU’RE THE BEST

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

I’ve had my current OTP for like almost 8 years and it’s, obviously, Thoschei (Doctor/Master). My other current obsession is the Gallifrey OT4 hehehe

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

It’s funny because I didn’t ship Hannigram at first... I’d thought the idea of a cannibal having a relationship was terrifying because what if they had sex and Hannibal got hungry in the middle of the act? Lmaoooo 

But yeah they’re my endgame now. I watched the show when it first aired and I was about 14/15 years old so now you see why I thought that. Although I’m still afraid I’m gonna be reading a fic and Hannibal will suddendly bite Will’s dick off or smth AKJHSAKJSAHSASKAJ

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will (be nice)

Uhhh Doctor/Clara. Mainly because I don’t like to ship the Doctor with companions (there may be one or two exceptions but I don’t ship them enough to actually say I ship them lol) and I don’t know I just never vibed with it

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

Doctor/River. I mean, I did like it for a while years ago but now it’s just... eh. I think she has a waaay better chemistry with the 12th Doctor, but still don’t ship it. I might give it a try once I listen to the River audios but so far meh. I’m not much of a multishipper anyway.

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

God. I’ve written a couple of Academy Era (focused on the Deca) crack fanfics and I still have to translate them to English. They’re pure garbage but I love them. I have a lot of fun writing crack fics because they’re easier and I can ignore whatever piece of canon I want just for the laughs

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom

Guess it’s Doctor Who, been here (in and out of the fandom) for over 8/9 years

G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it

Uhhhh I think it was Han Solo and Leia, since I was a kid really. I wanted to marry both of them lol

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., tv shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)

I had to google what a source text is and still don’t know

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

I don’t think so, but Twitter definitively has. I remember a couple years ago I was curious to see what voltron was about and watched a few episodes, it was ok, fun and cute but the fandom was so annoying I stopped watching it for good and don’t care about it enough to pick it up again

J - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr

I had definitively forgotten about supernatural until I saw it all over my dashboard in the year of our lord 2020 lmao like in my wholock days I tried to watch the show because everyone on my dash (is it still called dashboard?) was talking about it and I watched about 8 episodes before dropping it. But seeing it again on the dash was actually a happy surprise because the memes are too funny hahaha

K -Say something nice about someone in any of your fandoms

I’m extremely shy irl and on the internet as well but I wanna say that  @janeturenne is one of the best authors ever and her fanfics are a blessing in my life; also @thebraxiatelcollection who brings awesome content to my dash and is also one of the best authors. And of course, you, Jack, also one of the best authors god I’m so BLESSED

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

Uhhh I guess I’m neutral about the current companions. They’re not my favorites but I don’t really dislike them - they had a lot of potential and chibs came up with some good storylines but did not develop them well in my opinion. I think Graham is a fun grandpa whom I’m going to miss when he leaves; Ryan is cool and could’ve done a lot more if the writers had kept a few things, it’d be awesome if he vlogged all of their adventures. He’s like the one I was curious to see more but sadly didn’t feel a connection; and Yaz, I hope she’ll keep growing and that her friendship with the Doctor will finally be developed to a level we can connect to her.

It sounds weird because with the fam it’s always ‘what I wish could have been’ because I never felt really connected to them :(

M - Say something genuinely nice about a ship that you don’t ship (or its shippers, or anything related to you)

Ok... I don’t really ship Rey/Finn but I think it’s one of the sweetest ships ever, and if they ended up together I’d be happy. They love each other and are there for each other always so, yeah :D

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

I don’t know if I got the question right but it’s three things I wish I saw more in my main fandom? Well, if it’s that, then, 3 things about the Doctor Who fandom: 1) people having more civilized or light-hearted discussions about things. Like, I genuinely disliked an 8th doctor audio I listened once that my friends loved, and they made fun of me and we joked about it. Also once we were in a live twitch video playing among us and discussing doctor who, and then we got into a ship “discourse” as a joke and nobody really cared and just laughed because everyone knew it’s fictional shit so why get mad over it? 2) Doctor Who has a titanic amount of content, it’s all canon but at the same time it’s not, so who cares? If you want to listen to Big Finish audios and if you can afford it, then lisiten; if you can’t, it’s okay, no one has the right to tell you you’re less of a fan. Just tell them to fuck off; 3) The best way to keep fandom alive is by creating content. Here in my local fandom we have several podcasts dedicated to all areas of the whoniverse (the show, the expanded universe, the audios, etc), those old fandom websites who do serious work to bring news to the fans, people who make subtitles for the classic series (we don’t have it available here so they do their best to make it accessible to other fans), accounts dedicated to promoting dr who fans who create content, and we even have people making their own audiodramas with dw characters and writing book-lenght fanfiction to help explain the show to people who’ve never watched it, and a great variety of things. I’ve seen a few of these things in the international fandom, mostly by older fans, so I wish younger fans about my age who have the means to make this kind of stuff would make it too. Maybe there’d be less twitter drama out there lol

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

“the killing moon” by echo & the bunnymen reminds me of thoschei. yep it was totally random

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

The fact that we don’t have a pride and prejudice AU for brax/romana yet is driving me insane

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why

I’ve mentioned it before but doctor/river, don’t really remember why idk I just don’t vibe with it anymore. But also because thoschei has so many different pairings in 1 ship that I don’t really feel the need to ship them with anyone else lol

R - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships

GOD I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT’S SO SPECIFIC ok fellow academy era stans gather around if you have read Divided Loyalties there’s a scene where it SHOWS that Magnus had a crush on Ushas. And NO ONE HAS EVER TALKED ABOUT THEM and the power couple they would’ve made. I write them into all my fanfics in hopes of making other people ship them but I’ve had no success so far

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

The Master is a big fan of musicals and in the 77 years he spent on earth he watched every single one ever. I’m gonna be bold and say that when he was young, still Koschei, he was an artist, and thought about dropping everything to become an actor on Gallifrey. Time Lords do appreciate art, and have their own plays, but it’s just the same old and boring ones the young people don’t care about. The Master then created a shocking performance that was way ahead of its time and the older Time Lords were so appalled they banned him from writing and presenting plays and that’s his villain origin story

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

1) The Doctor and the Master married on Gallifrey and the entire show is just them having the most litigious divorce in the universe (still isn’t final because the Master has killed all the judges); 2) Ushas/The Rani is ace; 3) The Deca was a 10 people polyamorous relationship; 4) Romana and Livia were girlfriends at the Academy and they hate each other now because the break up was baad; 5) Romana writes fanfiction; 6) Romana/Leela had a thing in Davidia I KNOW it; 7) Leela pegs Narvin; 8) Brax has a life-size painting of Romana at his collection or a statue or smth; 9) Brax’s dream in Reborn is actually REAL and he’s married to Romana, Leela and Narvin all at the same time

U - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

I don’t even think I’m in 5 fandoms but

Doctor Who: The Master, The Doctor, Romana, Leela, Sarah Jane, Bill (this was the hardest thing ever)

The X-Files: Mulder, Scully, Monica, and can I add The Lone Gunmen too?

Star Wars: Leia, Obi-Wan, Finn, Poe Dameron and honorable mention to Din Djarin and Grogu

Hannibal: Hannibal, Will, Bev, Alana, Chiyoh

V - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms

That’s hard

Doctor Who: thoschei ofc, gallifrey ot4.......... uuhh as you can see i don’t ship many pairings in the show

The X-Files: Mulder and Scully. And whatever Scully and Monica had going on because they definitively flirted

Star Wars: Poe/Finn, Han/Leia, whatever Han/Lando had going on too

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships

WHATVASHAJSKAJSA ok this is a little embarassing but I don’t have a lot of kinks for many ships... I guess I have some for thoschei like, choking, whipping, blindfolds/gagging, bondage, begging, biting, sem-public, phone sex, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, etc. Alright alright I know it’s a lot but in my defense they've shown half of these on the show

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

The Master, Romana, Leela, Brax, Narvin, Bill Potts, Martha Jones, Sarah Jane, Donna Noble, Lucie Miller. No particular order for most of them but the Master is my precious baby and I will die for this mf

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)

Not many, usually the people I follow are in the same fandoms as I am but I’ve seen some mutuals reblog some Hadestown stuff which is a play that I’ve never seen but definitively would because the protagonists look hot 

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go (prompts optional but encouraged)

I DON’T KNOW WHAT DOES IT MEAN

it took me three hours to do this but it was fun!! thank you bb <3

[empyreanwritings]

Better Together

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader (Mob Boss AU)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language, minor character death, mentions of an explosion

Summary: You were the most feared mob boss in New York City, and you didn’t need anyone to take care of you, but that didn’t keep Nat from helping out when she could.

A/N: This is a continuation of my Mob Boss AU drabble that was requested by @xoxolmj ! I’d put the link here, but apparently Tumblr hates links cause they’re dumb. It can be read as a stand-alone one shot, though, so don’t worry about trying to catch up! If you would like to read it, just search through my Natasha Romanoff drabble tag, and it should be one of the first! (: x

"I don't know anything else, I swear," Johnson sobbed. "Rumlow asked me to deliver the package, but I didn't know it was a bomb!"

You paced at the end of Johnson's hospital bed. Ash still covered some of your body, and your outfit was torn in more than one place. But you didn't care. All you cared about was Johnson being a rat. All signs pointed to it now. He had to have more information on Rumlow, and you would get it out of him. No matter what it took.

"Five of my men are dead," you seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Because of you! So, you better start talking before I cut your tongue out and staple it to your forehead."

Johnson began to sob again. Tears and snot dripped from his face, and you grimaced. You wanted to scream at him to pull it together, but there was no use. The man knew he was screwed.

"Rumlow approached me a few weeks ago. He offered me a lot of money to spy on you and report back to him every day. I swear, though, I never planned on hurtin' anybody!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. You were getting real tired of Rumlow. He wanted to be as powerful as you, but he didn't have the man power. His circle was too small, and they obviously couldn't be trusted. His own rat caved in quickly at the sight of trouble. He must have thought attacking you would somehow shake your confidence, but he was wrong.

Your men were your family. This attack ignited a fire in your belly that you hadn't felt in a long time.

The nurse that checked his vitals gave you a knowing look as she passed you. You slipped the wad of bills into her hand, and she made a quick exit.

It paid to have a hand in the hospital. When Steve first suggested you start making sizeable donations to them, you never really understood why, but you did it nonetheless. You donated so much money they were able to expand and build more research wings to help find groundbreaking cures. And now, they were willing to cover up the murder of a man for you. It paid to be generous.

"Five of my men are dead, Johnson. Whether you wanted to hurt anyone or not, you did." You moved towards the side of his bed and kept your hands firmly on the railing. "So, I need you pass on a message to Rumlow."

He nodded. His whole body was shaking. "I'll do anything! I'll tell Rumlow anything you want me to! Just please give me another chance."

You tutted and tenderly placed your hand on the side of his face. "I have a policy in my business: blood must have blood. It's a darker way of saying an eye for eye. But anyways, I don't need you to tell him anything. You are the message."

"Wha-"

You ripped the pillow out from under his head and held it over his face. He was too drugged up to fight back properly, courtesy of the nurse. He slapped at your hands and clawed at your wrists, trying his hardest to get you to let up, but you never did. You kept the pillow in its place until his hands fell limp to his side. The heart monitor flatlined, and you let out a relieved sigh.

One less rat to worry about.

The nurse walked back in and began removing any wires from his chest. You excused yourself, quietly slipping through the door without another word. The adrenaline running through your veins disappeared, and the impact of your day suddenly crashed over you. You wanted to collapse, but you refused to seem weak. Not to them. Not to anyone.

A flash of red caught your eye, and you whirled around in surprise. Nat pashed herself off the wall she was leaning against and made her way towards you. Her eyes were full of concern, and she gave you a once-over to make sure you still had all of your limbs.

"I'm fine," you sighed. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. The fire department is still trying to get everything under control over at the office." She turned your shoulder to examine the burn on your upper arm. "And that is blistering."

She brought you to an empty exam room as she snapped at a nursed to get a doctor to check on you. You tried to protest, but she wasn't having any of it. She made you sit on the bed and wait until a doctor could treat your wounds.

"Steve called. If you were curious." Nat was pissed. You could tell by her tense shoulders and the way her jaw was set. You should have been the one to call her, but you had gotten so caught up with everything that you didn't think about it.

After your first date with her, you both noticed how well you clicked. One date became another, and now six months later, you two were going steady. The merger with your weapons exchange and her strip clubs had been monumental in the underground circuit. Everyone feared you two would be unstoppable now that you had each other.

It was probably another reason why Rumlow attacked you, and Nat recognized that. He felt threatened, but you would make him regret it - together.

"Did you take care of the rat?" You nodded slowly. "Good."

She saw your face drop and quickly made her way towards you. You were born into this life. You watched your father kill as many people as he needed to make a name for himself, but you weren't like him. You hated taking someone's life. You never hesitated to do so if you needed to, but it always weighed heavily on you. Nat learned that early on in your relationship.

"Let me take care of Rumlow." She kneeled in front of you and gently grasped at your hands. "I'll make sure they all pay. I promise you. You take your time to mourn your men."

Your lip quivered, but you fought back any tears that threatened to spill. "I want him dead, Tasha. He killed my family. I want him to pay. You know the rules."

Nat nodded. "Blood must have blood."

You looked down at your hands and traced small circles in Nat's palm. She'd kill whoever it took to make sure your men were avenged. You were her life, and an attack on you was an attack on her. She wouldn't rest until she made it right again.

"I will take care of it, my love," she whispered.

You were about to respond when the doctor finally walked in. Nat backed away to give him some room, and she watched you put your mask back on. You never let anyone see you cry because you didn't trust them. It was safer to assume everyone was an enemy until proven otherwise, especially after this event, and you never let an enemy see you at your weakest.

Nat stayed silent as the doctor treated your wounds. You didn't even flinch when he began stitching a cut on your cheek. You were the strongest woman she had ever met, and it was just one of the reasons she admired you so much. No one needed to take care of you, but she would. She would do anything for you.

----------

Rumlow groaned loudly as he came to. His head pounded. He slowly opened his eyes and smirked when he saw Nat standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't here to play games. She wanted answers, and she intended to get them.

"Ooh, did I push the wrong buttons?" Rumlow asked sarcastically.

Nat brought her hand down on his cheek, relishing in the satisfying smack! that sounded through the air. "I wouldn't get cheeky, if I were you. You're hanging by a thin thread as it is."

"How many people did I get?" He chuckled. "I wish I killed that bitch of yours. Tearing down an entire empire? That would have been great."

"You do realize you're going to die, right? The more you piss me off, the slower it will be."

Nat was good at a lot of things - torture was one of them. If she promised a world of pain, that is exactly what she delivered. She had no issue with taking a life if they didn't deserve to live it. She'd put your life over anyone else's. It wasn't even a contest anymore.

"Why the attack on Y/N?"

Rumlow shook his head. "You don't even get it do you? I was sending a message to you! You merged your business with hers over mine! You screwed me over for a woman you're screwing, and I had to retaliate."

"Everyone knows she's the top mob boss in New York City. Why would I even think of merging my business with yours over hers? That would make me look stupid." It had nothing to do with you two sleeping together. Your first date had really been a business dinner. You mulled over the details and benefits of merging with Nat, and then yes, you two slept together. But that was besides the point.

"There's talk that she's only merging with you because she's getting soft. She doesn't belong in this world anymore, and the more people realize that, the more they'll come for her."

"Then let them come," your voice echoed through the abandoned warehouse. Nat smiled when she heard the sound of your heels approaching her.

You glanced over at her. "Tony called. If you were curious."

Nat rolled her eyes playfully. Of course, you'd use her words against her at some point. Clearly, you both needed to talk to your right-hand men about ratting you out to the other. They were just trying to keep you safe, but man, they were quick to tattle on you.

"You should know that as we speak, my men are storming your precious mansion and slaughtering all of your men." You smiled down at him. The fear in his eyes was evident, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "They'll tear your home apart until there is nothing left, and no one will ever look into it. You know why? Because you're no one. You will always be a nothing in this city."

Rumlow strained against the ropes and shouted curses at you until his face turned red. You smirked and looked over at Nat, who had the same expression as you. She held back a joke about pushing all the wrong buttons. For someone who dished it out a lot, he didn't know how to handle it.

You pulled the gun from your holster and aimed it at his head, but Nat placed her hand over yours and forced you to lower it. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I'll do it," she murmured as she removed the gun from your hold. "Turn your head."

You complied, turning the other way almost instantly. One shot. You knew there would be a bullet hole perfectly in the middle of his forehead. Nat never missed. She was just too damn good with a gun.

"Maybe I am getting soft," you joked.

Nat stepped towards you and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at her. "You know better than to believe what a man has to say about you."

"I know. I'm more powerful than anyone in this city besides you. I will always know that." You pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "But what if what Rumlow said is true? What if there are others who want to try come for me?"

"Then we take care of them. Together. You know we're our strongest when we're at each other's side."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around her neck, pressing lazy kisses to her face. "Together."

Marvel Tag: @killcomet @stuckysheart @steampowerednightvaler