#i was not willing to narrow it down any more than this so have 16

[t-u-i-t-c]

Toku Wrapped 2023 │ Top 16 Characters

Racules Husty - Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger - Ohkuwagata Ohger Gira Husty - Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger - Kuwagata Ohger Jeramie Brasieri - Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger - Spider Kumonos Hymeno Ran - Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger - Kamakiri Ohger Kento Fukamiya - Kamen Rider Saber - Kamen Rider Espada Storious - Kamen Rider Saber - Kamen Rider Storious Jugglus Juggler - Ultraman Orb Mei Sudo - Kamen Rider Saber Ikki Igarashi - Kamen Rider Revice - Kamen Rider Revi George Karizaki - Kamen Rider Revice - Kamen Rider Juuga Fuwa Isamu - Kamen Rider 01 - Kamen Rider Vulcan Hana Natsuki - Kamen Rider Revice - Kamen Rider Aguilera Sougo Tokiwa - Kamen Rider Zi-O - Kamen Rider Zi-O Sasuke - Ninja Sentai Kakuranger - NinjaRed Fumiya Hoshikawa - Chikyuu Sentai Fiveman - FiveBlack Tsubasa Inuzuka - Avataro Sentai Donbrothers - Inu Brother

(In no particular order)

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 28

Heyo! How would you feel if I said that I finally have details of the ending basically ironed out the way I want and have about 20 more chapters planned for you? Honestly, I'm kind of stoked, because I think what I have planned is pretty great. When I first started writing about Drunrag and Altan, it was supposed to be just a couple of short chapters of fluff and nothing more, but my own journey figuring out my sexuality and stuff opened up a door that made my curious mind and heart wonder, "But what if there's more to Drunrag? What is there's more to Altan? And their story?"

And so here we are, basically writing a novel at this point for a small but lovely group of people who all say really nice things about my boys even though I never consistently schedule out my chapters and have spent more time writing about our boys apart than together. (I'm so sorry for all of that).

Someday I hope to be better at interacting with you guys because you all are so funny and sweet and I think we'd all be friends irl.

Take care and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

I was used to the weight of my brothers laying on top of me. It was a comforting feeling to be weighed down by Robin’s warmth. Only his soft breathing cut through the quiet of the night. Everything was dark and simple, formless shadows in my vision. I could make out the shape of the guard who stood at the door, but nothing more. I had been lying awake for what felt like hours, just listening, thinking, and imagining. I had spent countless nights imagining while laying in this bed, tonight I couldn’t stop myself from pretending the weight on my chest belonged to Drunrag’s arm as he held me in his sleep and the soft breath tickling my neck was his. I could see his rough hands brushing against my arm, as he pulled me closer to him. He would be warm next to me and I would be helpless to not be drawn to it.

Drunrag had to be alive. I didn’t feel it in my bones like I hoped, but I held onto that belief, it was all I had.

I heard the cracking of a door opening and suddenly a strip of light exposing the torchlight from without, in the hallways. I did not move, but watched with narrowed eyes.

Selhar slipped in, and I heard him give a sharp retort to something that the guard had said to him. The door closed and the room returned to darkness again. I heard the guard resettle into his position in front of my door and then felt the warmth of Selhar sidle into the space next to me.

“Everything alright?” I whispered.

He hummed softly.

“Good news?”  I asked.

He hummed again.

“Well?”

I felt his hand tap me on my side and I reached for it. I felt a paper drop from his hand into mine and I grasped it tightly. I held it to my chest and willed sleep to come quickly so that I could read it in the morning.

Yet, in the morning, I was awoken to my doors being banged open and my father’s shouting voice. 

“What’s going through your head, son?” I blinked up blurrily and felt Selhar and Robin’s bodies tense next to me. Feeling that shot me awake and I rose up, keeping the paper crumpled tight in my hand. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

I raised my chin and held his gaze. 

“What you’re demanding cannot be done.” My father continued. His posture and his facial expression reminded me of a snarling beast, a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth and chomping to dig his teeth into me.

I put a hand on Robin and Selhar, each on either side of me and shifted to sit myself in front of them. “What exactly is so impossible? He is alive, isn’t he? I don’t find my request all that unreasonable.” I kept my voice light, but I knew my father caught the hardened expression on my face. He hated me, and while that used to be the thing I feared most and went through painful obstacles to prevent and avoid accepting, I finally exulted in that reality. We both understood where one another stood, and that gave me power. 

“Selhar, Robin, leave the room.” My father didn’t look away from me when he growled the demand.

“No.” Selhar said, his voice was venomous. 

Robin said nothing, but I could see his head shifting between myself and my father. He was too young to understand, and too young to be subjected to this version of my father. 

“Selhar,” I said softly, “Take Robin outside.” I turned my head and I saw the silent pleading on my brother’s face.

“Altan.” He breathed.

I shook my head. “I’ll be alright. Go.”

Selhar’s eyes darkened and he looked behind me to where our father stood. He grabbed Robin by the arm and pulled him off the bed and towards the door. The guards that stood there silently moved aside. 

“A moment with just my son, please.” The Duke said to the guards and they followed my brothers out the door.

I remained sitting, the paper in my hand, my heart pounding, but my face passive. It would be alright. Soon the dam would burst, and it would be over. 

“I had believed that we were on the same page when the Red Hunters brought you to me. But I see that you are more spiteful and ungrateful than ever before. Why do you resist this? After all I’ve done for you?”

“Talking about this doesn’t fix things. It never has.” I answered calmly. “I’ve told you what I want. The wedding will not happen unless you bring me Drunrag alive.”

“No.” He said. “That will never happen.”

I had to hold my face together, had to remain strong like stone. “Then for the safety of our people, I cannot agree to this wedding.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” He exasperated. “You keep speaking about the safety of our people. From what?”

I blinked slowly before answering. “It wasn’t obvious to you what I meant?” I smiled meekly. “I mean you, father. You are no longer fit for your position. And you may think that because I am your son that that means my witness means nothing, that the council will simply laugh me off my theatrics as an ungrateful, spoiled child. But I am prepared for that, and they will listen to me.”

“You’re threatening me.”

“Yes. If that’s how you wish to see it.” I said. “I already told you the games would end. I won’t subject Selhar or Robin to what you did to me.”

“What I did to you?” I caught the way his entire body was slowly clenching, like a wild cat ready to pounce. “I did what I had to!  Do you forget the debts I’m trying to pay off? The measures I’ve gone through to prevent economic collapse to our people? I let your mother coddle you because I thought it was what was best, I had to fight bigger battles than that and yet I’ve been proven again and again I was wrong to do so.”

“My mother at least told me she loved me.” I said, and I saw his eyes flash with disdain, “To her I was her child, her son. But you were more concerned about how I could benefit you in your plans and what you could do to cover up the flaws that made me undesirable for them.”

I finally slipped off the edge of my bed and walked towards him. “Without repeating myself too much, this isn’t really a conversation that helps either of us. We know one another 's motives. I know you wish me to be your pawn to pay off the debts you accrued and I want the prisoner Drunrag - wherever  you have him - brought  before me and the Council where a decision will be made that protects us and his people and benefits both sides.”

That was when my father smirked, “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish such a feat? As you said, the Council will hear me before they will ever listen to you.”

I lifted my chin. “We shall see.”

“Your plans won’t work, son.” He said, and he sighed. 

“This is what you wanted from me, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’m finally taking charge and doing something. You should be proud that I’m finally taking responsibility..”

“Son, this is not what I meant.”

I smiled wryly, ‘I’m aware, but I’m not really afraid of what you think you can do to me.” I yawned and raised my chain as I regarded him. “Was this all you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Altan.” His tone felt like a warning.

I lifted my eyebrows, “Yes?”

He held his tongue and held my gaze for an uncomfortably long period of time before he sighed and I saw his body release a portion of his tension. He stepped back, “You will learn the hard way it seems.”

He walked out of the room with no other words. 

I unwrinkled the paper from my hands and recognized Commander Gideon’s untidy scrawl,

I cannot return to the Great Hall, but I am safe. Your brother was very clever in finding me - and just in the matter of time. Thank you for the information you gleaned from the Lady of Triel. I agree with her that this evidence is enough to topple the powers that be. I trust the Gods are on our side and our efforts will not be in vain. 

Doxxah believes they are familiar with the herbs that Lady Allara may be under and is researching for an antidote that may help Allara resist the effects on her mind.

I believe I was able to locate the Red Hunter’s hideout, or at least one of them. There is no guarantee that Drunrag will be there, but I promise I will not give up until he is found. I do not know how long I will be, but if you are in an emergency and need refuge, you will find allies at the Soaring Elk. It’s near the edge of town and few guards ever travel there. You will be safe there for as long as you need.

Selhar said quite confidently that he believes you will win this battle, and I believe him to be right. Whatever the future holds for you, I know it to be good. For you, and for your beloved.

My loyalty goes to you,

G.G.

I folded the paper again just as Selhar returned, sans Robin. “What happened?” He asked urgently.

I shook my head, “Nothing yet. I don’t think father is ready to make the next move yet.”

“What are you going to do next?” He asked. “Father knows you’re opposing him, he’s going to fight back.”

I nodded, “Yes, but I think he still misunderstands me and won’t expect my next move.” I sighed. “At least I hope that’s true.”

“I think you’ve definitely rattled him.” Selhar’s voice lowered. “I think if the guard hadn’t been there, he would have hurt you.”

“He didn’t.” I said. “And he won’t. Not anymore. Have you had any luck finding that vial?”

He shook his head, “Nothing, I’ve been through Father’s office twice. There’s nothing.”

“How do you get around so easily?” I exclaimed. “You’re honestly terrifying.”

He grinned. “Mum taught me.”

I felt like my heart softened. Of course she did. I reached and tussled his hair. “I’m going to be summoning a meeting with the Council, would you join me and bear witness to father’s crimes?”

He let out a breath, one that felt like the release of something, “It would be my honor.”

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[tired-truffle]

Something’s Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Part 16 - Confessions

"You will never be clean from sin. Rotten children don't deserve heaven. There is no god who could give you your purity back." - Unknown

Masterlist

Rae had successfully rescued Hawke’s warden friend from the clutches of his fellow wardens and ended one of the largest Fade rifts outside of Haven in one fell swoop. Crestwood was saved from its murderous mayor, and Alistair Theirin - a decorated warrior who aided in ending the last Blight - was unharmed and more than willing to lend his aid to the Inquisition. Especially if it was in exchange for finding his lady love who’d disappeared months ago in search of a cure for the death sentence of being a Grey Warden. Ash had known little about the organization, but a thirty-year expiry didn’t entice her to it any further. 

“I think it’s sweet how much he loves her,” Ash argued, seated at a table as Dorian perused the library for a book he hadn’t already devoured. 

“You didn’t have to hear him last night, lost in his cups at the Herald’s Rest, lamenting about how much he misses her.” Dorian crinkled his nose and pulled his lips back in a disgusted sneer. 

Ash leaned back, her chair creaking beneath her with the movement. “I’m partial to a man who adores his lover so much it turns him pathetic now and again. It’s very romantic.”

“On that, we disagree.”

“Right,” Ash drawled, flicking her hand lazily. “Your idea of romance is riding the Bull until you can’t walk the next morning.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, his mustache twitched irritably above his lip. “Must you be so crass?”

“Must you scream his name at the top of your lungs when he—“

“Alright, enough,” he hissed and Ash grinned triumphantly. “I get the vividly painted picture. But, speaking of romantic exploits, you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Commander Cullen lately.”

Her blush betrayed her as she squawked indignantly - and perhaps that betrayed her too. “There’s nothing romantic about that.”

"Oh come now," Dorian teased, "you can't blame me for being curious. The dashing ex-Templar and the wild Dalish mage? It's practically the plot of one of Varric's romance serials."

"There's nothing to be curious about," Ash insisted. "We're just friends."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Friends who spend an awful lot of time together. Friends who make each other blush and stammer like schoolchildren."

"I do not stammer, and he’s the one blushing all the time like a Chantry virgin," Ash protested, then immediately cursed herself for playing into his hands.

"Ah, but you don't deny that you’ve been spending copious amounts of time in his office.”

“You're impossible,” she pouted.

"I prefer to think of myself as charmingly persistent," Dorian replied with a grin.

“Is that how you got Bull into your bed?”

Dorian groaned. “Not this again.”

Ash placed her elbows on the table, propping her chin up in her hands. “He does make you happy, does he not?”

Dorian blinked, a frown marring his lips. “In bed? I believe we’ve already established that he is well accomplished in that department.”

“Well, yes, obviously, but…” Ash pursed her lips, unsure where exactly she was going with this. “Outside of your physical exploits, does he make you happy?”

With a deep and dramatic sigh, Dorian plunked himself down into the seat opposite her, having given up on his perusal. “Must there be anything outside of a roll in the hay, as the Fereldans would say it?”

“No.” Ash tilted her head to the side, mimicking Sweetpea’s favourite gesture - or was Sweetpea mimicking her? “But there is something between you, isn’t there?”

“Perhaps,” Dorian glanced out the window before returning his gaze to her. “And that - something more between Bull and myself - wouldn’t…bother you?”

It was Ash’s turn to frown, her nose crinkling as she scanned her memory for anything at all that would indicate she wasn’t more than happy for Dorian to be with Bull. But when his eyes followed her frown, or rather, the dot-like scars around her lips, it all clicked into place. 

Reaching across the table, she placed her hand atop his, her smile gentle, though she struggled to get it to reach her eyes. “No one from the Qun did this to me, Dorian. And even if they had, I wouldn’t hold it against Bull.” 

He blinked rapidly, his eyes darting nervously to the faint, raised scars that encircled her lips. She was accustomed to this reaction from people, as she had met very few who did not curiously gaze at the dots and wonder about their origin. But rarely did they ever ask, instead choosing to silently ponder and speculate. She doubted that Dorian would have ever explicitly brought it up, but it was entirely obvious to her where his thoughts were headed, and she believed it best to cut them off with precision. 

“I-I…” he stuttered before he gathered his composure. “I apologize, I should not have assumed, but I am…too familiar with what the Qun do to their mages.” 

The Saarabas were treated as worse than livestock among the Qunari, their fear of demons so all-encompassing that they wouldn’t risk for even a second that one of their mages would become possessed. Instead, they were bound and subjugated, forced to use their magic for their master’s bidding, to further the Qun. It was a fate similar to Tranquility, though with all one’s emotions left intact so they could feel the true extent of their suffering. 

“Inspiration may have been taken from the Qun,” Ash admitted, her fingers trailing over the familiar scars, “but it was regular men who did it. The men I told you about, the ones who tried to kidnap me and Rae.” 

Dorian’s face paled and Ash regretted her words. It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about, not necessarily because of the painful memories - though she didn’t like those much either - but because she hated the pity that swam in people’s eyes when they knew even a fraction of the abuse that she had suffered her that night.

She withdrew her hand from his and smiled, wide and genuine as she said, “That is to say, I hold no hard feelings for Bull and I would be delighted if you found all the romance and happiness you could ever wish for with him.”

A spark of affection flickered in Dorian’s dark eyes, but he was not so quick to feign positivity. “You have become a dear friend to me, Ashvalla. I only wish to ensure that whatever I have with Bull will not come between us.” His gaze hardened. “Those men, did they get the punishment they deserved?” 

Charred flesh, acrid smoke, blackened bones across seared dirt. “Yes, they did.” 

Dorian nodded, opening his mouth to speak once more, but Ash’s ears perked at the faint sound of Rae’s drawl coming from the rotunda below. 

“-never done anything like that before, on a number of levels.”

Ash held up her hand to shush Dorian, to which he gave her an irritated huff, their heart-to-heart conversation snuffed out in an instant. But when she motioned for him to listen, she watched with satisfaction as his lips curved into a delighted grin. 

Solas chuckled, low and more lighthearted than Ash had ever heard from him before. “I apologize,” he said, though he didn’t sound necessarily sorry. “The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

Jaw dropped and eyes widened, Ash froze momentarily in her seat, still as a mountain in a hurricane. She’d been well aware of her sister’s feelings for the apostate, but to discuss a kiss so openly… 

Ash scrambled to the edge of the rotunda, vaguely aware of Dorian crouched behind her as they eavesdropped. 

“You say that,” Rae laughed, not at all offended by the mildly condescending words that Solas had thrown at her after their, ugh, kiss, “but you’re the one who started with tongue.”

Dorian made a startled choking noise, but managed to muffle it under the shuffle of his boots as he rebalanced himself. Ash suppressed a prideful grin, good on Rae to keep a man on his toes by stating the explicit - even though the mental image it conjured had her slightly nauseous. 

“I did no such thing,” Solas protested, offended at even the suggestion that he hadn’t been in control. Ash was pleased to hear that Rae had gone after what she wanted, and perhaps gotten more than expected. 

“Oh, does it not count if it’s only Fade-tongue?” A freaky magic kiss. Rae had exceeded even Ash’s expectations. 

“It has been a long time, and things have always been easier for me in the Fade. I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.” The hesitation with which he spoke had Ash’s suspicion rising. Why wouldn’t he want to be with someone as amazing as Rae? He was a fool.

“What, is there something you’re afraid of? Or rather someone?”

Solas chuckled again. “Your sister does not frighten me, if that is who you are referring to.”

Ash held back an irritated scoff, not that he should be afraid of her necessarily, but a healthy dose of wariness couldn’t do any harm. 

“Good to know.” Rae softened, still bold, but less teasing. “I’m willing to take that chance, if you are.”

“I… may be, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations.” 

What was there to consider? Rae was the best that uppity elf could ever get, what else was left but to say yes and devote his whole heart to her? Rae deserved nothing less. 

“Take all the time you need.” Rae had not gotten her patience from Ash or their mother, she had always taken after their father in that regard. 

“Thank you. I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams. But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Rae echoed his words back at him, and with what was likely a sharp turn of her heel and a hungry look in her eyes, her boots padded across the ground, exiting before Ash could get a good look at her. 

But that didn’t mean she was going to be far behind. 

“Our little Inquisitor, all grown up.” Dorian wiped a fake tear from his eye and pushed himself to stand, offering Ash a hand. 

Ash accepted his offer, her cane abandoned at the table and unable to help. Brushing off her robes, her gaze was pulled to where Rae had disappeared. “Don’t let her hear you say that, you’ll get a smack upside the head.”

“That is why I said it to you.”

Ash bid Dorian farewell with a playful wink before she hurried down the spiral staircase, her boots and cane clicking against the stone steps. She emerged into the great hall, weaving between the nobles and dignitaries milling about. The midday sun streamed through the stained glass windows, painting the floor in a rainbow of colours.

She pushed open the heavy wooden doors leading to the battlements, stepping out into the crisp air. The wind whipped at her short hair and a pang of longing shot through her as she missed her waist-length braids.

Her eyes scanned the ramparts for any sign of her sister. There - a flash of shaggy blonde hair vanishing around a corner.

"Rae, wait up!" Ash called, hiking up her robes in an indecent but practical manner to jog after her - cane tucked under her arm. Her sister paused and turned, one eyebrow arched expectantly as Ash caught up to her, slightly out of breath.

"What's got you in such a hurry?" Rae asked, the mountains stretched out endlessly behind her, snow-capped peaks glinting in the sunlight.

Ash grinned, her scars framing her lips. "Oh, nothing much. Just heard an interesting bit of gossip and thought I'd come straight to the source for confirmation."

Rae narrowed her vibrant green eyes. "Gossip? About what?"

Ash couldn’t stop her impish grin from spreading across her face. “About your romance with Solas.”

“What?” Rae spat, her teeth barred in a snarl.

Ash linked her arm through Rae’s, bumping her hip against her sister’s, unperturbed by her anger. “You weren’t exactly quiet or subtle about it. If you didn’t want the entirety of Skyhold to know then perhaps a more private location would have been wise? Or did you want everyone to know that Solas kisses with tongue?”

Rae’s face turned so red she could have been mistaken for a large tomato. “Shut up,” she hissed, attempting half-heartedly to pull her arm out of Ash’s grip, but Ash wouldn’t let go. 

“No, I don’t think I will. Was kissing in the Fade different than in waking life?”

This time, Rae shoved Ash hard enough to dislodge her. Ash stumbled but caught herself on her cane before she tumbled off the edge of the battlements. 

“Come on, Rae,” she pleaded with almost sincerity to be believable. “I’m only asking for the sordid details? I’ve so often provided you with mine, it's only fair.”

“That is because you lack tact,” Rae sniffed. “Besides, if you did listen to our whole conversation, then there are no more details for me to share. That was all it was, a kiss in the Fade and a promise to think about it.” 

From the sour twist of Rae’s lips, Ash's heart sank with the realization of where she had gone wrong.

“He would be a dahn’direlan not to care for you as you do him. Whatever he decides, it is a reflection on Solas, not you.” 

Rae scoffed, though her muscles loosened as she looked out over the horizon, lost somewhere in her memory. “Maybe,” she sighed, uncharacteristically dejected. “Either way, there’s more important things for me to focus on. I cannot let my dalliance with Solas cloud my mind.” 

Always so serious, so motivated. Ash only wished that among all that duty and burden, Rae could find moments for herself. 

“Speaking of which, I believe Sera said she was looking for you,” Ash lied, though Rae did seem to perk up. “Something about a prank she needed help with? It sounded very important.”

“You’re right,” Rae said with mock solemnity, her smirk giving her away. “I must see to this immediately. If you’ll excuse me.” 

Ash bowed her head, and Rae departed, taking the stairs two at a time down towards the Herald’s Rest where her friend resided.

Her little sister, the Inquisitor, saviour of Thedas, getting tangled up with the likes of Solas. There was an aloofness to him, a distance he kept from everyone, even Rae it seemed. What kinds of secrets was he hiding? It took a secret keeper to know one, and whatever he was squirrelling away, Ash had no doubt it was big.

She released a long exhale, her breath fogging. Skyhold rose proudly from the mountainside, ancient stone walls and soaring towers proclaiming the strength and resilience of the Inquisition. The castle teemed with life - soldiers training in the courtyard, messengers hurrying across the battlements, the distant clang of metal from the forge. It was a bastion of hope in a world teetering on the brink of ruin.

And at the center of it all was Rae. Strong, passionate, determined Rae, who had been thrust into a role she never asked for but shouldered the burden with grit and grace. Ash's heart swelled with pride even as it ached with the knowledge of how heavy that burden was. Rae deserved every scrap of happiness she could find, every stolen moment of laughter and levity amidst the crushing responsibility. If Solas could provide even a glimmer of that, then Ash supposed she would tolerate his enigmatic ways. For now.

Nodding resolutely nod to herself, Ash continued, her robes swishing around her ankles as she strode along the battlements. The ancient stone was rough beneath her fingers as she trailed her hand along the parapet, feeling the history etched into every weathered crack and crevice.

As Ash walked, her thoughts drifted to the Commander of the Inquisition's forces. Cullen - a man forged by duty and tempered by a past filled with pain. She wasn’t clueless enough to think he didn’t have secrets all his own, though he was much less adept at hiding them.

Her steps quickened, carrying her along the windswept battlements toward Cullen's office. She could picture him inside, hunched over his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over missives and troop movements. Always working, always pushing himself. Did the man ever take a moment to breathe?

She would have to make sure he did.

Ash reached the heavy wooden door, pausing for a heartbeat before knocking against the weathered surface.

“Come in,” Cullen called from within, his voice tight and clipped. 

Briefly, Ash debated turning around and fleeing, but ultimately decided against it. Knocking and then ditching would likely only irritate him further, and she wasn’t sure she was fast enough to make it back to the Herald’s Rest before he swung open the door to find the culprit. 

The hinges creaked as she entered, taking immediate note of the darkness that filled the room. The curtains had been drawn over the windows, the only light coming from the now open doorway and the candle perched precariously at the edge of the desk. Cullen sat hunched over its surface, hand fisted around a quill as though he was trying to wring the words from it. While he appeared to be well groomed - his hair remained in its usual slicked-back style, his face shaven, and his clothes unwrinkled - the tightness around the corners of his eyes gave him away. Ash had had enough of her own blistering headaches to know how they outwardly appeared. 

Strong enough now to lift the spare chair to her usual spot, she quietly took her seat, watching him carefully as he too watched her - guarded and almost suspicious in the narrowing of his eyes. 

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to a stack of missives. 

He nodded, giving her an affirming grunt. The headache must have been killer if proper and sophisticated Cullen could do little more than make animalistic noises - not that she minded, of course, only that she’d prefer to be the cause. 

Ash turned her attention to the pile of missives, carefully selecting the top one and unfolding it with a crinkle of parchment. The flowing script stuck out to her as she scanned the contents - a report from Leliana's scouts about dangerous activity on the Storm Coast. She set it aside in a new pile, mentally categorizing it as a matter for the spymaster.

The next letter bore the seal of a minor Orlesian noble, the wax imprinted with a fleur-de-lis. Ash resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she skimmed the contents, a long-winded and thinly veiled request for the Inquisition to settle a petty land dispute. She placed it on top of the previous missive, making a note to have Josephine draft a diplomatically worded response.

As she worked, she could feel Cullen's gaze on her, heavy and assessing. She kept her eyes firmly on the papers in front of her, the scratching of his quill the only sound in the room. Questions burned on the tip of her tongue - about his well-being, his duties, the way he drove himself to the brink of exhaustion. But she bit them back, knowing that he would bristle at her concern, interpreting it as pity or doubt in his abilities.

Instead, she sorted and organized, the piles of parchment growing steadily as she worked through the backlog of correspondence. Her fingers were smudged with ink and her eyes ached from straining to read in the dim light, but she didn't dare disturb the fragile peace by rising to open the curtains.

A sudden movement from Cullen caught her attention, and she looked up to see him opening his mouth as if to speak. But then he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grimace before bending over his work once more.

Disappointment sank like a stone in Ash's stomach, but she ruthlessly pushed it aside. It wasn't her place to pry, to demand his trust when he was clearly not ready to give it. She had to respect his boundaries, his need for privacy.

Just shut the fuck up, she scolded herself sternly, keep your big mouth firmly closed. He doesn't need your meddling or your pity.

“Why…” Cullen spoke, drawing her attention. He pressed his lips into a thin line, tilting his head as he regarded her. “Why are you so quiet?”

Ash hadn’t expected him to ask outright, but she saw no issues with answering truthfully. “You have a headache, and contrary to popular belief, I am capable of shutting up when the situation calls for it.” 

The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “That’s not—“ He sighed, long-suffering but not angry. “Was it that obvious?”

“The lack of light, squinting, and grunting were enough for me to put the pieces together. Are you getting sick?” 

“No,” he dismissed her. “I’m alright.”

Disbelief arched Ash’s eyebrow, and Cullen propped his elbows on the surface of his desk, balancing his chin on his steepled fingers.

“It will pass, I promise,” he insisted, and for now, Ash was willing to let the subject drop. However, it did not stop her from wondering what exactly was happening with the Commander. This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed a headache brewing behind his eyes, pounding at his temples, making him irritable and short - though not typically to this extent. Nor had she failed to notice the days when the pallor of his skin was ashen, when the bags beneath his eyes deepened. But it was none of her business. He tolerated her and they were friendly, nothing more. Pushing him, especially in this state, would only turn him against her - and she couldn’t have an ex-Templar on her bad side.

“If you’re so keen on talking, then you could always tell me how you knew that man working with Corypheus.”

Cullen blinked hard, sitting straighter as he struggled to process Ash’s proposed topic of conversation. 

“You said you knew him,” she prompted, “I was only wondering how you’d come to know a man like that.”

A darkness formed in Cullen’s eyes, unfocusing for a beat. “Raleigh Sampson. I met him back in Kirkwall before he was expelled from the Order.” His shoulders slouched. “He was a good man, back then. I roomed with him, I knew him. I cannot fathom what pushed him towards such evil.” 

Ash took a moment to absorb what Cullen had told her, letting her mind work over his words to avoid saying the first crass thing that came to mind. “Why was he expelled?”

“He was delivering letters from a mage to his lover.”

Creators fucking forbid a mage trapped in the Circle find a small modicum of happiness, some love amongst so much hate. 

“Seems like a harsh punishment,” she said instead of screaming about how much she despised the Chantry. “I imagine the mage received a less lenient sentence.”

Cullen had left the Templars, but he still held loyalty to them. It irked her, but she had yet to figure out what she wanted to do about it - other than a quick fuck to get him out of her system once she was feeling up to it. 

He furrowed his brow, watching her carefully as she tried to disguise the myriad of emotions that had risen in her, spurned on by Love’s burning rage over lost love between a mage and non-mage she had never met. “Maddox was made Tranquil.” Ash’s heart sunk into her stomach like a lead pipe. “Meredith made mages Tranquil for less. It was another sign I willfully missed that she was…not fit to lead.”

Cullen shook his head, banishing the memories. “But this is why I cannot understand how a man like Sampson could betray those who trust him in such a way. He risked everything for Maddox, and suffered through lyrium withdrawal for it, yet he has sided with Corypheus? It doesn’t make sense.”

Ash rubbed her chest as Love bashed uncomfortably against her ribcage, unease churning in her gut. “Are we truly so terrifying that a few love letters should get us stripped of all personality and will?”

“No,” Cullen said quickly, and with a little too much force. “No, you are not. I have…treated and thought of mages unfairly in the past and I have much regret. I am doing everything in my power to right those wrongs and make amends. Though I’m not sure it will ever outweigh the harm I have caused.” 

“Probably not,” Ash crossed her arms over her chest, keeping Love contained and catching the sorrow that flitted over Cullen’s face. “But it’s better to try than to do nothing. Even a little good is better than leaving it all bad.” 

He nodded shallowly, his gaze averted. “Sometimes I wonder how you sit here, knowing what I allowed to happen to the mages under my care. The stories of Kirkwall supersede me.” 

Were vulnerability and insecurity symptoms of a headache? Ash had never heard him sound so downtrodden before. Leaning forward and placing her hands on the edge of the desk, she said, “Because I enjoy your company. It was an indescribable shock to find a former Templar pleasant to be around, but it was a fact I could not deny. While healthily suspicious of me at first, you’ve only ever treated me with dignity and respect, even when I perhaps did not deserve it.” She grinned, and the corner of his lips twitched. She took that as a good sign. “You have moved past your hateful beliefs, tolerating me is proof enough of that, and I would never discourage someone from trying to change course and do good.” 

He heaved a heavy sigh, though a flicker of light had returned to his sharp eyes. “You are more gracious than I am worthy of.” 

“I am curious though,” she began before she could stop herself. “Why did you hate mages so much?” 

The light in his eyes was snuffed out in an instant, a haunted emptiness taking its place. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and Ash waited in tense silence - sometimes she wondered if she was cursed to overstep, or if it was a natural skill she possessed. 

Silence answered her first, and then he found his voice. “What do you know of Kinloch Hold?”

“That’s the Ferelden Circle, right? I’ve done my best to stay away from Circles, so not much. But I heard that it was attacked during the last Blight. Something to do with blood mages. I stay away from those too, in case you were wondering.”

Possession was difficult enough to conceal, she didn’t need to add blood magic to it.

Cullen hummed his approval, not that she needed it. “Rogue mages used blood magic to summon demons and take over the tower. It was…bloody and of my fellow Templars who were trapped with the mages, I was the only one who survived.” He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a curl. Sympathy filled her throat, but she remained silent, allowing him to continue. “I began to fear that all mages would become like the blood mages from Kinloch, and I let my fear control me. It took me a shameful amount of time to realize this.”

Ash nodded, mulling over his story as his gaze remained on her, searching and guarded. It added perspective for her, and while it was clear he was holding back important details, what he had told her was enough for his feelings toward mages to make sense - and the remorse that coloured his tone settled her. 

“Fear makes people do a lot of things they come to regret, but I am glad that you no longer hold those ideals. I’d be terribly bored without you to annoy, scaring you would be a lot less fun.” Ash considered this, tapping her chin. “Or maybe it would be.”

A half-smile formed on his lips despite the shadows that still clung to his eyes. "I assure you, attempting to frighten me would not end well for either of us."

Ash grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Is that a challenge, Commander? Because it sounds an awful lot like one to me."

He shook his head, exasperation and amusement warring across his handsome features. "Maker's breath, woman. Must everything be a game to you?"

"Not everything," Ash conceded, her smile softening. "But life is too short and too full of darkness not to find levity where we can."

Cullen studied her, his amber eyes intense and searching. For a long minute, the wind whistled against the building outside and the muffled clatter of activity from the courtyard rose from below. Finally, he sighed, his broad shoulders releasing the remainder of their tension.

"Perhaps you’re right," he admitted, low and rough. "I’ve been so focused on my duties, on atoning for my past, that I have forgotten how to simply...be."

Ash's heart clenched at the weariness in his tone, the bone-deep exhaustion that seemed to seep from his pores.

"Well then," she said brightly, injecting a note of mischief into her tone, "I suppose it falls to me to remind you. Prepare yourself for terrible jokes and ill-advised frivolity, Ser."

"Andraste preserve me,” Cullen groaned. “I fear I may come to regret this."

Ash winked at him, delighted by the hint of a blush that rose to his cheeks. "Oh, undoubtedly. But it will be worth it, you'll see."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head ruefully. Ash propped her feet up on the corner of Cullen's desk. He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't comment on the impropriety. Progress.

"You know," he said slowly, as if testing the words, "if you truly wish to bring more levity into my life, perhaps I could return the favour by teaching you some sword fighting techniques. A bit of self-defence, as it were."

Had he really just offered to teach her how to wield a sword? Her - the mage who could barely walk without a cane? She had only just begun to train with her magic again, and the thought of adding sword fighting to it did not fill her with confidence.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, escaping in an undignified snort. "Ah, no. No way. That's a terrible idea."

Cullen frowned. "Why? I thought you might enjoy the challenge. And it never hurts to have a few tricks up your sleeve, even as a mage."

Ash shook her head, still chuckling. "I appreciate the offer, truly. But can you imagine? Me, stumbling around the training yard, trying to swing a sword? I'd probably just end up crying in frustration and then everyone would know that you made the Herald’s sister cry."

His frown deepened. "What? Why would you cry?"

"Because you're always barking critiques and corrections at your soldiers.” She smiled as she said it, hoping to lessen the blow. “I can hear you from clear across the keep sometimes. 'Shield up! Feet apart! Thrust, parry, slash!'" She imitated his clipped commands in an exaggeratedly deep voice.

Cullen had the good grace to look a bit sheepish. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

Ash quirked a brow. "You can be quite…intense. Which is good for training soldiers, don't get me wrong. But me?" She gestured to herself, to the cane propped against her chair. "I already know what I'm doing wrong. I don't need someone else to berate me for it too."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a flash of something that looked suspiciously like sympathy. Ash's hackles rose instinctively. She didn't want his pity.

But when he spoke, his voice was gentle, devoid of condescension. "Ashvalla, I would never berate you. Critique and correction are necessary for improvement, yes. But there is a difference between constructive feedback and cruelty. I would not be cruel to you."

Her eyes darted over his face, searching for any hint of insincerity or placation. His amber irises were like molten honey, shining with earnestness and sincerity. A knot in her chest loosened.

"I…" She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "I'll think about it. The sword fighting lessons. But no promises."

Cullen nodded, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. "Of course. The offer stands, whenever you feel ready."

Ash returned his smile, a tentative thing that felt foreign on her face. She cleared her throat, desperate to change the subject before the strange fluttering in her stomach could take root. "So, Commander, tell me - what's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you on the training field?"

"Maker's breath, you would ask that.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Weren’t you only moments ago trying not to aggravate my headache?”

Ash grinned, unrepentant. "It’s too late for that now. Come on, spill. I promise I won't tell a soul." She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

He was weak to her charms and with an exaggerated sigh, he said, "Very well. But if this gets out, I'll know exactly who to blame."

Ash found herself in Rae's quarters the next day. Her sister had been suspiciously absent at dinner, and worry gnawed at Ash's gut. It wasn't like Rae to miss a meal, especially not one where she could regale the inner circle with tales of her latest exploits.

Stepping into the spacious room, her eyes roamed over the organized chaos that was so distinctly Rae. Books and scrolls were scattered across every available surface, interspersed with strange artifacts, dirty clothes, and glimmering treasures from her travels. Twin daggers sat on her desk, ready at a moment's notice. The bed was haphazardly made, rumpled furs and silken sheets betraying Rae's restless sleeping habits.

"Rae?" Ash called softly, moving further into the room. "Are you in here?"

A vague sound of acknowledgement drifted from the direction of the balcony. Ash picked her way through the clutter, careful not to disturb the delicate order of Rae's belongings. She found her sister leaning against the railing, her gaze fixed on some distant point in the mountains.

"Hey," Ash said, coming to stand beside her. "Everything okay? You missed dinner."

Rae shrugged, a jerky motion that made her distracted thoughts clear. "Not hungry."

In all their years together, she had never known Rae to not be hungry. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's going on?" she pressed gently. "Talk to me, Rae."

Her sister sighed, her breath clouding in the nippy evening air. "It's nothing. I'm just…tired."

Ash raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Nugshit. I know you better than that. Something's eating at you, and I'm not leaving until you spill."

Rae shot her a baleful look, but there was no real heat behind it. She turned back to the mountains, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

“I shouldn’t—” Rae began, but Ash was quick to interrupt.

“Whatever it is, it's weighing you down enough to make you turn down dinner. I promise I won’t tell anyone, you know I wouldn’t.”

Ash waited patiently, the silence stretching between them like a vine pulled taut. The sun dipped below the jagged peaks, covering the sky in fierce streaks of orange and red.

"It's Cullen," Rae admitted finally, lowering her voice to a low whisper.

Ash's heart stuttered in her chest, Love flopping along with it. "What about him?"

Rae’s head shook, her shaggy hair falling into her eyes. "He's trying to quit lyrium. Has been for a while now. But the withdrawal…it's bad. You’ve probably noticed. He’s worried it will affect his work, affect the Inquisition. Or worse, that it could kill him."

Where her heart had stuttered before, it almost stopped entirely. She knew a little about lyrium withdrawal, that it could drive even the strongest of people to madness. It was a constant threat of torture that kept the Templars in line should their supply be cut off and they be subjected to the whims of withdrawal.

"Fenedhis," Ash breathed, running her scarred palm down her arm to soothe the goosebumps. “That…actually makes a lot of sense.”

The headaches, the snippiness, his wane complexion and the bags under his eyes were the signs she had attributed to long hours or sickness, when instead they belonged to the pull of lyrium at his fraying willpower. And it…well, she wasn’t entirely sure how it made her feel about his ex-Templar status, but it didn’t hurt, at least.

“I’ve known for a while, but yesterday I caught him arguing about it with Cassandra, he was asking her to replace him, but she refused. She’s been keeping an eye on him and she has yet to doubt his abilities.” Rae gripped the railing of the balcony and leaned back on her heels, face turned towards the cloudy sky. “I gave him an order to stay away from lyrium. It was what he wanted, but…what if I let my friendship with him cloud my judgment?”

Ash turned to face Rae fully, her brows knitting together. "What do you mean, 'cloud your judgment'? You think ordering him to stay off lyrium was the wrong call?"

Rae pushed off the railing, pacing the length of the balcony with quick, agitated strides. "I don't know! I mean, I want to support him, of course I do. I respect his choice. But what if I'm putting the Inquisition at risk by allowing him to continue as Commander in this state? What if his withdrawal jeopardizes our mission?" She raked a hand through her hair, frustration rolling off her in waves.

Ash fell silent, taking a minute to contemplate her sister's words. Rae felt the pressure of her responsibility keenly, the constant need to make the right choices, to put the needs of the many above her own desires. It was a thankless task, one that left little room for personal considerations.

But this was Cullen they were talking about. The man who had stood by Rae's side from the beginning - despite the lack of Chantry support - who had worked tirelessly to build the Inquisition's forces into a formidable army. The man who, despite his past with mages, had proven himself to be honourable, dedicated, and fiercely loyal. If anyone was worthy of Rae's support, it was him.

Ash reached out, gently grasping Rae's elbow to halt her restless pacing. "Rae," she said softly, waiting until her sister met her gaze. "I think you did the right thing."

Rae's eyes widened fractionally, a flicker of hope sparking in their depths. "You do?"

She squeezed Rae's arm reassuringly. "I do. You can never tell him I said this, but he’s not just the Commander, he's our friend. He deserves our trust and support in this."

Rae searched Ash's face, vulnerable and making Ash's heart ache. "But what about the Inquisition? What if—"

"The Inquisition will endure," Ash interrupted gently. "We've faced worse threats than one man's personal battle. And he's not alone. Cassandra’s watching out for him, right? And the rest of us too. We'll make sure he has whatever he needs to see this through."

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Rae's posture, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled.

"You're right," Rae said, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face. "Of course you're right. I just…I worry, you know? About making the wrong call, about failing everyone who's counting on me."

Ash pulled Rae into a tight hug, talking over her muffled protest. "You could never fail us, Rae. You're doing an amazing job leading the Inquisition. We're all behind you, one hundred percent."

Rae patted her back, about as close as she ever got to returning Ash’s embrace. "Thank you," she mumbled into Ash's shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Crash and burn, probably," Ash teased, earning a watery chuckle from Rae. They pulled apart, and Ash was relieved to see some of the darkness had lifted from her sister's eyes.

"Alright, enough of this sappy shit," Rae declared, straightening her spine. "I'm starving. Race you to the kitchens?"

Ash snorted. "As if. You know I can't run."

"Excuses, excuses," Rae sing-songed, already bounding towards the stairs. "Last one there has to do the other's laundry for a week!"

"Hey, no fair!" Ash called after her, walking as briskly as she could to catch up. "You got a head start!"

Rae's laughter echoed up the stairwell, bright and carefree, and Ash couldn't help but smile. Her sister was resilient, a force to be reckoned with. She would weather this storm like she had all the others - with grit, determination, and the unwavering support of those who loved her.

Including Ash. Especially Ash. 

Next Chapter

A/N: A much-needed talk between Cullen and Ash to shed some light on his past and Dorian uncovers more about Ash’s run-in with slavers. 

Now the question is, what will Ash do with her new knowledge of Cullen’s lyrium addiction? I'd love to hear your predictions!

[midnightshard06]

Fictober Day 16: "No, I'm not okay"

You can check it out on ao3 here if you prefer.

Summary: Shadow gets an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night in the form of Super. The hedgehog seems oddly tired.

Set in my Chaos Uncontrolled AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~800 words

Shadow stopped dead in his tracks as he stepped into the room. There sitting on his couch, something Rouge had forced on him after complaining he had nowhere for guests to sit, was Super. The golden hedgehog didn’t seem to notice him as he entered the room. What was he doing here? It was currently some time in the middle of the night. A time when most people would be asleep. Should be asleep. Shadow crossed his arms. “What are you doing here Super?”

That got a slight reaction. Super sluggishly looked behind him to lock eyes with Shadow. While typically direct eye contact like this unnerved Shadow, right now he felt nothing. “Sitting.” Super responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. He sounded tired though and Shadow couldn’t help but think about the time the two of them had gotten trapped in that cave together. Even the golden glow he gave off seemed dim.

“You know what I meant.” Shadow narrowed his eyes. Super didn’t say anything, just turned around and ignored him. Huffing Shadow walked up to stand beside the couch. Admittedly Super looked as tired as he sounded, and definitely out of it. The hedgehog has his legs pulled to his chest, his chin resting on them. “Should I be expecting any other visitors tonight?” 

“Nah.” Super sighed. “Sonic and Tails are both asleep.” He shifted. “Tails shouldn’t even know I’m here I… disabled the tracker thing.”

That confession had Shadow feeling slightly more on edge but it was an easy feeling to push away for the time being. As loath as he was to admit it he had become rather good at reading Super and his moods. Hours spent together helping Super get a tighter grip on his chaos powers made sure of that. Right now he stood no threat to anyone, except maybe himself. “What happened?” Shadow glanced over at Super.

“Couldn’t sleep I guess…” Super was quiet, so unlike he usually was when Shadow interacted with him. 

“Are you… alright?” Shadow felt as if the answer was obvious just based on Super’s appearance but he could gauge how bad it was depending on how Super answered.

“I-” Super growled and cut himself off. His ears pressed flat against his head. “No, I’m not ok.”

It was very bad apparently, if Super was admitting it willingly. “You came here and didn’t go to someone closer to you like Tails. Why?” Shadow kept his voice even. He’d seen how volatile Super could be when emotionally distressed.

“Needed to get out of the house. Get away from… everything as much as I could.” Super mumbled. It was a partial answer, but Shadow knew there was more to it. Though he would have to wait for Super to volunteer the information, pushing him very seldom worked. Shadow was willing to bet his patience would last longer than Super’s. After several quiet minutes he was proved right. “Just my stupid brain not letting me rest. Keeps making me think about stuff that either I know is not true or is not anything I can do anything about.” He huffed. “Got to be too much tonight so I waited for Sonic and Tails to fall asleep so I could… go clear my head I guess. For some reason first place I thought to go was here.”

“It’s a more… neutral ground.” Shadow frowned. “It doesn’t have a connection to whatever is going on probably. You’ve come hoping that the change in environment will get your thoughts to calm down.” 

“I guess so.” Super hummed before glancing over at Shadow. “You’re not gonna try and kick me out?”

“Despite me wanting to kick you out I am well aware I would not be able to stop you from just coming back. It’s far too early to be getting into a fight. Besides, I'd like to keep my home undamaged.” Shadow huffed before walking off. Opening a nearby closet he grabbed a blanket out of it. By the time Shadow walked back over Super was watching him with mild interest over the back of the couch. Shadow got some satisfaction out of throwing the blanket at Super’s face and watching the chaos entity fall backwards off the couch. “Use that or don't. I don’t care. Just don’t break anything and you can stay for the night. I will not be explaining to Sonic what happened if you happen to overstay your welcome here.”

Super watched Shadow curiously as he picked himself up from the floor, collecting the blanket as he got back onto the couch. With one swift motion Super pulled the blanket around his shoulders. “Fine. Now go get some sleep edgehog.” Shadow gave Super one more glance before heading to his room. What an odd night.

[klarolinexluv]

ur argument is fcking stupid because yea obviously drarry and dramione and snily are disgusting too. romanticising any fascist is disgusting behaviour and all you freaks need to get tf out of the fandom

HAHAHA. No. I’m sorry. I won’t be leaving the fandom because I enjoy certain fictional ships. It’s very closed minded to think that none of these characters had flaws and opinions and all these other character traits that make them unique. Simply narrowing them down to the fact that they were death eaters is incredibly closed minded.

These characters are so much more than just death eaters. I’m going to talk about Draco here because we know more about him than Regulus but Draco was 16 when he got the mark. His father was in Azkaban. Voldemort was living on his house. If you think Draco had any other choice but to accept the mark than i dont what to say, to be honest.

Draco didn’t have a support system to turn to to get him out of that situation. Narcissa did all she could to protect her son but at the end of the day she was just as stuck in that house with Voldemort then Draco was.

Yes! Draco was not a good or nice person for as long as we have known him, however we don’t know his actual opinions.

We know that Canonically Draco was scared. He was terrified of Voldemort, of the death eaters.

Morally Grey characters exist and have always existed. It’s war. People die, people get hurt. People kill.

Think of it this way. In real life, there are wars. People fought in these wars. Some people fought against their wills. These people were fighting for their lives, it was kill or be killed.

If you think it isn’t the same as war in a fictional world then that is mind boggling. ITS FUCKING WAR. People make decisions to keep themselves alive, others make decisions to keep themself and others alive. People kill. People die. It’s war.

Yes, they were death eaters. They made certain decisions to get there. At the end of the day, we don’t know all the facts. These people could have been forced into it, coerced, manipulated, they could have joined of their own free will. WE DONT KNOW WHY OR WHAT HAPPENED.

It’s unknown why these people did what they did. If I want to take these characters and give them reasons in fanon then I will.

JKR treats her characters terribly. There are so many unfinished stories. Untouched stories. Abandoned stories. Most of her characters had so much wasted potential and I’m sorry that I want to explore that.

I’m going to continue exploring these characters, death eater or not, order member or not.

At the end of the day, the marauders fandom is made from scraps. It is built up by fan fiction. You don’t have to read something if you don’t like it. You can disagree, you don’t need to send other people hate for their own opinions.

When I’m talking about these characters I’m more than likely referring to the fanonical versions of them. If I’m talking canonical then I say so.

I know I’ve gone a bit off topic but supporting a character, enjoying their character, writing about them, giving the character depth AND supporting the death eaters, supporting Voldemort are TWO VERY DIFFERENT THINGS.

I hate Voldemort. I hate the death eaters. I hate the pureblood fanatics.

I don’t support Voldemort and what he was trying to do.

Draco, Regulus, Snape. They all made bad decisions. They were all death eaters. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to explore uncharted territory of their character depth.

Snape we know so much about. BUT ITS SECOND HAND.

Again, we know so much about Draco, BUT ITS SECOND HAND.

We know so little about Regulus, but the things we do know ARE ALL SECOND HAND.

I’m not sure we’re I’ve gone with this rant but at the end of the day, my point is to ship whoever you want. Love whatever characters you want.

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 16: I GO DOWN WITH THE SHIP

Happy Valentine's Day! I love double updates! I'm so close to being done again!

HPHPHPHP

Thalia read the new chapter title with a pit of dread already lodged into her no matter how silly it seemed. She knew Percy was fine, he was sitting right next to her, but there weren't a lot of nice ways to read that without her mind once again showing her distraught sister begging her to help find Percy...

"Thalia!" Like the annoying little brother she missed every day, Percy waved his hands in front of her eyes to get her attention.

"I'm going, I'm going," she huffed, swatting his hand away impatiently.

"You'd think he'd run out of rocks," I muttered.

"I would not actually," Alex shrugged, "you're on an island, it would be weirder if he did."

"I'd just be grateful he's not throwing the sheep at you," Magnus nodded.

"Swim for it!" Grover said.

He and Clarisse plunged into the surf. Annabeth hung on to Clarisse's neck and tried to paddle with one hand, the wet Fleece weighing her down.

Jason whistled in appreciation for Clarisse making that swim weighed down like that, and wished he could shove one of those boulders up Ares's nose.

  But the monster's attention wasn't on the Fleece.

"You, young Cyclops!" Polyphemus roared. "Traitor to your kind!"

Percy ground up his teeth and wished to lob any number of retorts back, but there was no need. He knew Tyson wasn't falling for this.

Tyson froze.

"Don't listen to him!" I pleaded. "Come on."

I pulled Tyson's arm, but I might as well have been pulling a mountain.

Thalia's face twitched unpleasantly, leaving Percy to wonder for a bizarre moment if he'd ever tried to do that.

He turned and faced the older Cyclops. "I am not a traitor."

"You serve mortals!" Polyphemus shouted. "Thieving humans!"

Polyphemus threw his first boulder. Tyson swatted it aside with his fist.

"Not a traitor," Tyson said. "And you are not my kind."

"Death or victory!" Polyphemus charged into the surf, but his foot was still wounded. He immediately stumbled and fell on his face. That would've been funny, except he started to get up again, spitting salt water and growling.

"I never understood why prat falls were supposed to be funny away," Will sniffed, "stupid banana," he trailed off into mutters about the Stoll brothers and their stupid speaker sound effects, but Nico couldn't help but notice he wasn't really upset about whatever this was apparently about as he still smiled.

"Percy!" Clarisse yelled. "Come on!"

They were almost to the ship with the Fleece. If I could just keep the monster distracted a little longer ...

"Go," Tyson told me. "I will hold Big Ugly."

"No! He'll kill you." I'd already lost Tyson once. I wasn't going to lose him again. "We'll fight him together."

"Together," Tyson agreed.

Percy couldn't have been more proud of his little brother, the same guy who'd been afraid of Matt Sloan was now narrowing his calf brown eye with the only dislikable expression Percy had ever seen in his kind-hearted face upon Polyphemus. Percy had to keep reminding himself not to grip his sword, not to charge into battle as he smiled along.

I drew my sword.

Polyphemus advanced carefully, limping worse than ever. But there was nothing wrong with his throwing arm. He chucked his second boulder. I dove to one side, but I still would've been squashed if Tyson's fist hadn't blasted the rock to rubble.

I willed the sea to rise. A twenty-foot wave surged up, lifting me on its crest. I rode toward the Cyclops and kicked him in the eye, leaping over his head as the water blasted him onto the beach.

Jason had total confidence this was going to be perfectly fine for Percy. He'd defeated Ares once, Polyphemus was nothing in comparison.

"Destroy you!" Polyphemus spluttered. "Fleece stealer!"

"You stole the Fleece!" I yelled. "You've been using it to lure satyrs to their deaths!"

"So? Satyrs good eating!"

"The Fleece should be used to heal! It belongs to the children of the gods!"

"I am a child of the gods!" Polyphemus swiped at me, but I sidestepped. "Father Poseidon, curse this thief!" He was blinking hard now, like he could barely see, and I realized he was targeting by the sound of my voice.

'Blitz and I should never go against this guy,' Hearth smiled mockingly. Their friend would spend the whole battle critiquing that wool wardrobe and they'd never get out of there.

'I wouldn't have it any other way,' Magnus fervently agreed.

"Poseidon won't curse me," I said, backing up as the Cyclops grabbed air. "I'm his son, too. He won't play favorites."

Polyphemus roared. He ripped an olive tree out of the side of the cliff and smashed it where I'd been standing a moment before.

"Is virgin olive oil in that mango recipe?" Alex smirked.

"Remind me to send you to Hell's Kitchen," Percy scowled.

"Humans not the same! Nasty, tricky, lying!"

Grover was helping Annabeth aboard the ship. Clarisse was waving frantically at me, telling me to come on.

Tyson worked his way around Polyphemus, trying to get behind him.

"Young one!" the older Cyclops called. "Where are you? Help me!"

Tyson stopped.

"You weren't raised right!" Polyphemus wailed, shaking his olive tree club. "Poor orphaned brother! Help me!"

Percy finally started to feel a little bit of regret for his actions, almost letting Polyphemus live before, if he was about to pull the same trick on Tyson now. Please, please don't let this brute hurt my little brother, he prayed directly to his father, but there was no answer from Poseidon this time.

No one moved. No sound but the ocean and my own heartbeat. Then Tyson stepped forward, raising his hands defensively. "Don't fight, Cyclops brother. Put down the—"

Polyphemus spun toward his voice.

"Tyson!" I shouted.

The tree struck him with such force it would've flattened me into a Percy pizza with extra olives.

Alex definitely made another inappropriate comment under his breath over there, something about Annabeth feeling better, but only Magnus heard and flushed neon red to give it away.

Tyson flew backward, plowing a trench in the sand. Polyphemus charged after him, but I shouted, "No!" and lunged as far as I could with Riptide. I'd hoped to sting Polyphemus in the back of the thigh, but I managed to leap a little bit higher.

Even Thalia winced along with all the boys in the room at the prospect of getting, ahem, a scratch there...let alone that!

"Blaaaaah!" Polyphemus bleated just like his sheep, and swung at me with his tree.

"You almost deserved that one," Jason muttered, though he still wished he could leap up and help any second too.

I dove, but still got raked across the back by a dozen jagged branches. I was bleeding and bruised and exhausted. The guinea pig inside me wanted to bolt. But I swallowed down my fear.

At least Nico didn't burst into hysterical laughter at the idea again, but there was certainly a new air about him. The feeling of awe, longing, even envy for Percy had diluted enough he just chuckled a bit at the idea before pressing his lips together so Thalia could keep reading.

Polyphemus swung the tree again, but this time I was ready. I grabbed a branch as it passed, ignoring the pain in my hands as I was jerked skyward, and let the Cyclops lift me into the air.

Magnus leaned close to Alex this time and muttered, "I wondered where the whomping tree was this book."

"And Percy even made an effort to mess up the roots," he added salaciously, causing Magnus to close his eyes and turn away lest he burst into hysterical laughter next.

At the top of the arc I let go and fell straight against the giant's face—landing with both feet on his already damaged eye.

The collective wince around the room and spastic blinking, even Thalia rubbing her own eye for a moment before she could keep going wasn't exactly the sympathy pain Polyphemus deserved after all he'd done, but involuntary all the same.

Polyphemus yowled in pain. Tyson tackled him, pulling him down. I landed next to them— sword in hand, within striking distance of the monster's heart. But I locked eyes with Tyson, and I knew I couldn't do it. It just wasn't right.

Jason had never looked at Percy with a stranger expression. Percy stared back defiantly and just knew this guy was forming a whole lecture in his head about what an idiot he was, how it was just a monster, and Percy was still prepared now like he had been before to defend his choice every step of the way.

He didn't though, just turned back to watching Thalia read with a stubbornly straight face, eerily like the one's she got when she was keeping her thoughts from Percy what was about to happen. Percy didn't know what to make of it and wondered if Jason himself did. If something in his past he didn't even know about was bothering this about him, the poor guy probably wouldn't even know.

"Let him go," I told Tyson. "Run."

With one last mighty effort, Tyson pushed the cursing older Cyclops away, and we ran for the surf.

"I will smash you.'" Polyphemus yelled, doubling over in pain. His enormous hands cupped over his eye.

Tyson and I plunged into the waves.

"Where are you?" Polyphemus screamed. He picked up his tree club and threw it into the water. It splashed off to our right.

I summoned up a current to carry us, and we started gaining speed. I was beginning to think we might make it to the ship, when Clarisse shouted from the deck, "Yeah, Jackson! In your face, Cyclops!"

"Silence is golden and duct tape is silver," Will groaned, thinking he might have to have a roll on him if he ever found out Clarisse went out on a quest again.

"You think that girl would learn her lesson," Nico agreed, maybe she needed to rip her own arm off and shove it down her throat to take a hint.

Shut up, I wanted to yell.

"Rarrr!" Polyphemus picked up a boulder. He threw it toward the sound of Clarisse's voice, but it fell short, narrowly missing Tyson and me.

"Yeah, yeah!" Clarisse taunted. "You throw like a wimp! Teach you to try marrying me, you idiot!"

"Clarisse!" I yelled, unable to stand it. "Shut up!"

Too late. Polyphemus threw another boulder, and this time I watched helplessly as it sailed over my head and crashed through the hull of the Queen Anne's Revenge.

Percy gasped and spluttered out a no, but Thalia wasn't giving him much time to freak out as she kept reading in a blur. She was already reading with that same stubbornly straight face. Whatever worries or fears she might have for her friends, she was keeping it all in check until they were out of there.

You wouldn't believe how fast a ship can sink.

"Didn't it take the Titanic three hours to sink?" Alex asked.

"Different kind of ship," Percy reminded grimly, "she sunk in five minutes, easy, and was going to take us all with her."

The Queen Anne's Revenge creaked and groaned and listed forward like it was going down a playground slide.

I cursed, willing the sea to push us faster, but the ship's masts were already going under.

"Dive!" I told Tyson. And as another rock sailed over our heads, we plunged underwater.

"Shit, shit, how do we abort the mission," Percy muttered, whishing he could shake Thalia to make her read faster or just launch himself into the wreck to get them all and knowing neither would do any good. So he was just left to sit here and do nothing, which was somehow as terrible a torment as listening to this!

My friends were sinking fast, trying to swim, without luck, in the bubbly trail of the ship's wreckage.

Not many people realize that when a ship goes down, it acts like a sinkhole, pulling down everything around it.

"A fun fact I hope I'll never need," Magnus whispered. Annabeth had to be carried out there, she was doomed if something wasn't figured out, now!

Clarisse was a strong swimmer, but even she wasn't making any progress. Grover frantically kicked with his hooves. Annabeth was hanging on to the Fleece, which flashed in the water like a wave of new pennies.

I swam toward them, knowing that I might not have the strength to pull my friends out.

Worse, pieces of timber were swirling around them; none of my power with water would help if I got whacked on the head by a beam.

We need help, I thought.

Yes. Tyson's voice, loud and clear in my head.

I looked over at him, startled. I'd heard Nereids and other water spirits speak to me underwater before, but it never occurred to me ... Tyson was a son of Poseidon. We could communicate with each other.

Magnus had so many questions about how that worked, but mostly he felt bad for Tyson. If he'd tried calling out for Percy like this after Clarisse's ship had blown up and been so scared to find no answer from Percy.

Rainbow, Tyson said.

I nodded, then closed my eyes and concentrated, adding my voice to Tyson's: RAINBOW! We need you!

Immediately, shapes shimmered in the darkness below—three horses with fish tails, galloping upward faster than dolphins. Rainbow and his friends glanced in our direction and seemed to read our thoughts. They whisked into the wreckage, and a moment later burst upward in a cloud of bubbles—Grover, Annabeth, and Clarisse each clinging to the neck of a hippocampus.

"I am giving that horse-fish all of his favorites when we get back," Percy flopped back into his seat like a dying fish he was so exhausted constantly thinking everybody he cared about was about to die! Why couldn't it just be him, he knew he was alive!

Rainbow, the largest, had Clarisse. He raced over to us and allowed Tyson to grab hold of his mane. His friend who bore Annabeth did the same for me.

We broke the surface of the water and raced away from Polyphemus's island. Behind us, I could hear the Cyclops roaring in triumph, "I did it! I finally sank Nobody!"

I hoped he never found out he was wrong.

"See, I was hoping for the opposite," Alex challenged. "I want to know how he leaves the island, and if he comes after you surely you can just defeat him again."

"I'll stick with Rainbow," Percy shook his head vigorously.

We skimmed across the sea as the island shrank to a dot and then disappeared.

"Did it," Annabeth muttered in exhaustion. "We ..."

She slumped against the neck of the hippocampus and instantly fell asleep.

Percy's hands twitched. To hold her steady, to pull her close, to wrap the fleece tighter around her. She was okay, Tyson was alive, Grover was traumatized but still kicking, even Clarisse had survived. They did it. They really managed to pull this off.

I didn't know how far the hippocampi could take us. I didn't know where we were going. I just propped up Annabeth so she wouldn't fall off, covered her in the Golden Fleece that we'd been through so much to get, and said a silent prayer of thanks.

Which reminded me ... I still owed the gods a debt.

"You're a genius," I told Annabeth quietly.

Percy laughed hardest of all, but the others had their share of fun giggling along Percy had kept his promise. Technically. Nobody said she had to be awake to hear it, and they liked to think Annabeth would be kissing her idiot right now for this.

Then I put my head against the Fleece, and before I knew it, I was asleep, too.

"That one was short," Thalia said with a sigh of relief as she got up to hand the book to Nico.

"Technically everybody went down with the ship, and Nobody," Nico smiled as he took it without a second thought.

[simmetrycal]

gill

wc: 6.4k

odessa places a firm hand on gills chest, stopping him from walking any further. if she hadn’t, gill would have blown right past and put his son in headlock.

they were at some grand ceremonial event for a product release, and hades being the hotheaded one out of odessa’s three personal bodyguards, had just gotten in someone’s face. it wasn’t not well deserved, but hades has a certain tendency to use inappropriate language in professional settings, which isn’t good for odessa’s image. his twin brother on the other hand was more reserved and respectful. gill wishes hades was a lot more like zeus so he didn’t have to chew him out for every mistake.

he could always just decide to let it go, but gill wasn’t the type of adoptive father to be passive. he was strict. the twins learned early on what tough love was. gill wasn’t cuddly or really family driven, nor was he ever willing to talk about feelings. this may have something to do with the shark that he is.

“i oughta pull you boys both out of this job.” gill seethed at his boys when odessa finally let him go talk to them behind the stage. it took him a second to calm himself enough to convince her to let him go.

it was dark back there, casted shadows fell over the men, especially over gill and his mean brow with a scar running through and all the way up into his hairline. he had many scars, but the most prominent ones were that one and the one ripping through the left corner of his upper lip.

gills short and jagged silver hair suited his vibe and matched his usual slate grey blue clothes.

“what? me?“ zeus brought his hands up in defense. “i haven’t done anything!”

“yeah. haven’t done anything about this knucklehead of a brother you got. you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on him.”

hades huffed an annoyed sigh like a child as if gill was overreacting. but gill continued.

“you want to talk about being responsible? it’s up to you to keep yourself and your brother in check.”

gill is harder on zeus than he is on anybody. and it’s because he expects the most out of the strong young bull orca who’s come of age. hades has too, the both of them at 25, but their levels of maturity are on vastly different scales, making gill lean more towards zeus to pull their weight.

“as for you,” gill huffed at hades, placing his large rough hand on the boy’s trapezius. “i don’t want any funny business from here on out. otherwise you’ll be staying with your great aunt franny for another week.”

hades shuddered at the mention of their great aunt. she was half mako shark, old as bones, and had the most crooked, fucked up teeth one could imagine. her thin frame and serpentine swimming patterns weirds everyone out, even gill. she’s tough as nails though and runs a tight ship. literally— she lives in a sunken, abandoned pirate ship at the edge of a ravine. not very much sunlight reaches that area.

hades gets sent to her every so often when gill has trouble dealing with his behavior and he comes back on the straight and narrow.. at least, for a few months.

there was a time when hades spent nearly three weeks with aunt franny. he was maybe 16. during his time there he was in optimal shape. never talked back, always cleaned up after himself, made the beds, did the dishes, took out the garbage. he even took out her eel on swims every morning, going all the way to the reef to say hi to neighbors. her eel was old and didn’t ever have energy to swim back so hades carried it, returning to the ship with it in his arms. franny would grill him on where he was and what he doing out for so long, not recognizing that he was trying to be on his best behavior. she never liked the twins, more so hades, and probably never will.

hades being gone for those three weeks had its ups and downs. at home, gill and zeus bonded better. they shared more time with one another and got along in silent respect. but it was too quiet, without hades there was no fun. no commotion or laughter or anything like that, just mutual silence existed in their household. zeus found himself falling into a lull, constantly being unimpressed and uninterested in everything. his daily routine was as solid as concrete and he did nothing out of the ordinary. but as soon as hades got back— the second his twin brother entered their home again with gill on his tail making sure he swam straight, zeus got his mojo back. from then on it was hard to separate them, as if it wasn’t already hard before.

the two are each halves of one whole, and to honor that, zeus shaved off all of his brothers hair, per hades’ request. hades sat on a chair wearing a trash bag with a hole cut out for his head, having all his silky long white hair sink down to the floor. all except one lock.

the long white strand that zeus ceremonially cut off got braided into his own hair, which was chest length and black. they were truly yin and yang.

“got that?” gill stated, letting go of his son. hades straightened out his shirt and blazer, fiddling with his gold chain after nodding in agreement. but once gill leaves, he’s quick to mutter profanities under his breath, loud enough for only zeus to hear.

“what’s his fuckin’ problem with me?”

zeus rolls his eyes and stands up from leaning against the alley wall, tossing one of his two braids over his shoulder. “he loves you.”

“thats his problem? love?” hades scoffs and trails after his brother, coming back into the crowd. the music is louder, lights are flashing, odessa’s getting reading to go on stage escorted by gill, and people are clamoring around to see her and ask questions.

“yes. love, care, family, all of the above. he does it because he wants you to be—“ zeus got cut off by his brother.

“better? more like you?”

“no, that isn’t what i’m saying.”

“but it’s what you’re thinking.”

“you don’t know what i’m thinking.”

“i bet i can guess what you’re thinking about right now.” hades jeers.

“and what is that?”

“wieners.”

zeus lets go of his stoicism and laughs, pushing his brother. “shut up,” it’s not hard enough to shove him to the ground but enough to jostle him. “i was not.”

“but you are now!” hades pushes him right back.

“yeah but it doesn’t count because you put the idea in my head!”

breaking them out of their goofy moment was a fan of odessa’s screaming loudly with a sign in hand, trying to get past the velvet ropes.

zeus steps in cordially, excusing the person away and asking folks to back up. he was good at this job. he was professional and chivalrous.

hades on the other hand was more of a brute when it come to asking people to move, putting his hands on shoulders and chests if they got too close.

which, unfortunately for everyone, happened all night long.

“did you see the way he looked me?” odessa says to gill while staring at the ceiling. she had a glass of red wine in one hand and the other rested on her chest, submerged in the water of the tub. her large tail hung out on the end of the tub, dripping onto the marble tiles of the hotel bathroom.

in gills opinion, the bathroom along with the rest of the hotel, was too stark white. too pristine and clean and perfect. he felt uncomfortable opening anything or touching anything, even when running the bath he made for odessa. he thinks everything is set up in a way that is so human. so capital.

it was all designed for them, not anomalies— but why would it be inclusive? they need not make bigger beds or bigger tubs or bigger doors. nor smaller rooms and smaller amenities. it’s not like an anomalies can ever stay here, or even come at all. its all human sized. luckily for them, they fit in (somewhat) perfectly but that wasn’t enough to make gill ever stop resenting humans secretly.

despite that, he had a job to do. they all had a job to do now. it was just the way the world worked, and if he denied the presidents offer to work under them as recruiters for an uprising, they’d be exposed to the public for what they truly were. gill: a glorified fish out of water with far too many scars. the twins: outcasts with parents in a tank, and odessa: a mind controlling monster with the body and face of a goddess. and not only them, all the other undetected shapeshifters who were god knows where, lingering around in the capital city. theres no telling what the angry freak-hating humans of the capital would do if they knew.

gill often wonders what life would be like if odessa never got captured that day. the president left the great walls in search of something that’d make a subtle, secret weapon. something with a voice so hypnotic and powerful that could entrance a whole city and mesmerize them, distract them from what really went on in the labs within the government buildings.

he had her in his net of the discrete fishery boat. it was a small operation, but a necessary one. she was handpicked from the other sirens also trying to attack the boat, their serpent eyes just above the water. the president had watched odessa, naked and struggling and tangled up in the net. the sky was gloomy and murky and the water was more so. she spoke and pleaded and sang all she could to force him to let her go, but the president took precautions and wore ear protection. he was immunized to her. he promised her fame and glory for her cooperation and if she were to say no, to not accept his offer, he’d “gut her like the fish she was”.

odessa’s fame came to her just as promised. she was a one hit wonder, an overnight sensation. only, the attention never subsided and her songs and public image only garnered more and more idolatry. thus, gill, an ex militant, came along as her arm. he was young, just out of his service. many shapeshifters who were naturally hybrids of strong breeds were forced into the human militia, sought after for their brute strength and mobility, and it happens all under unsuspecting civilians noses. for all they know, their city isn’t puppeteered by the president and there are no anomalies within the walls, working here under presidential rule.

“i did notice that.” gill responded from his stool by the door. no one is allowed in or out unless they’re apart of odessa’s team and gill would make sure of that. he would protect her no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing his own time to relax— which looked like him in a tub that couldn’t possibly hold even half of his shark tail. “relaxation” was that. again, not designed for anomalies.

she took another sip of her wine and smiled. “before we know it we’ll have the harrington’s heir apart of the president’s operation. hook, line, and sinker.” odessa smiled.

gill couldn’t help but to return it, feeling his cheeks turn up at her fishing-relevant joke. she always knows how to make light of a situation. in fact, it’s easier for her to do that than ever talk about what’s really bothering her.

he looked at odessa in the tub, watching her struggle with the weight of her glossy dark teal tail in a confinement too small for it. her hair was wet, just how he was always used to, and it’s length covered her exposed breasts. though, it wasn’t in gills nature to ever look.

“but what if he doesn’t join?” odessa cocked her head to him. “what if i can’t convince him? i mean we barely talked tonight.”

gill shook his head. “they’ll be more opportunities. more events. you’ll be able to.”

he was confident in what he was saying. there hasn’t ever been a man that odesaa wasn’t able to charm (aside from the president). part of it was her voice of course— sirens had the ability to hypnotize and manipulate. but also, part of it was her as an individual. she’s charming, bold. she’s a minx.

this dean character she’s meant to recruit will be no different than all the other men.

hopefully.

in one sudden move there was a loud bang on the other side of the wall. both of their heads turned toward it and then toward each other. gill slowly rose, his concern growing with each second. his hand reached for his gun holster, resting on it so he can easily pull it out right as he opened the bathroom door.

within a swift click, he latched open the door and pointed his gun.

“goddamn it-“ he tsked at his boys who were on the floor along with a hoard of pillows. by the looks of it they were playing their stupid “crash lander” game. it’s a game they made up when they were little and it can only be played in on-land hotels (it just doesn’t work in underwater hotels. gravity and whatnot). the point of crash lander was to make a landing pad out of pillows on the floor against the foot of the bed. each would take turns jumping on the bed, and the other was on the ground in a sniper position, closing one eye and pretending to shoot the other. the one on the bed would fall like a dead man onto the pillows. hades is better at doing the fall because he doesn’t have any sense of danger and won’t flinch or hesitate when he falls off. zeus always hesitates. the game has more to it than that and there’s a complex point system but no matter how many times they repeat the rules to gill, he just doesn’t get it. even after he spent 20 minutes teaching them how to actually get into a sniper position. it was his job in the military afterall, so he knew all about it.

they are strictly not allowed to play crash lander anymore on gills orders after last time. ever since zeus broke his collarbone hitting the wall, the game was “banned”. although, the twins disregard that and now zeus is only allowed to be the sniper, and hades, the deadman.

gill looked at his buzzed haired son, who was half upside down with his ass in the air looking straight back at gill sheepishly. he drew his lips in a thin line and lowered his gun back into its holster. “what did i tell you guys about crash lander?!”

“to not play it.” zeus said, not making eye contact. hades just rolled his eyes at his brothers immediate tail tuck and unfurled from his position on the pilows. he rubbed his head a little from where he bonked it on the wall, earning a concerned glare from gill. before he could get scolded, hades beat him to it.

“gill. we’re fine, my head’s fine, you can untwist your panties.”

there was a stunned silence. a sort of “you did not just say that” vibe hung in the air. zeus’s mouth hung agape, gills eyes were wide and angry, and there was even a chuckle from the other side of the wall coming from the tub. odessa had heard him from the far side of the bathroom. she giggled as if she knew what was just about to go down.

“that’s it. you’re done. go into that room and think about what you just said.” gill pointed to the second bedroom attached to the first. it had two twin size beds it it.

“what am i? five?” hades laughed, picking up the pillows and tossing them on the king bed he took half of them from. “gill. cmon.”

gill didn’t budge, his expression stern and unmoving. “it was a joke.” hades smiled, throwing his hands around. he’s not serious, is? hades wondered.

“fine.” hades huffed, still not convinced gill was actually upset with him. he straighted out his black tank top and grey sweatpants before heading into the room, zeus following quietly.

gill hesitated on stopping him, wanting to tell him that only his brother is supposed to go in and have a time out, but they can’t be away from one another, and he knows that.

the two shut the door behind them and gill fixes his holster before coming back into the bathroom to odessa.

“you really set him straight that time,” odessa joked sarcastically. she was looking like it was about time to get out of the bath, her wine class emptied.

gill huffed and helped her out of the water to sit on edge the tub. her tail flopped in front of him and he grabbed a fluffy white towel to wipe it down.

“i didn’t know what else to do, it’s always the same routine— discipline and pushback.” he muttered, looking down. he sounded gruff but quieter than before.

odessa hummed while watching him dry her and her tail transformed back into human legs. her gaze ran up to his eyebrow scar, digging into his hairline rather offensively. gill was self conscious about it and odessa was the only person that knew that. this information came from a drunken conversation where the both of them laid on their backs, aimlessly floating on a secluded lake and night. it was when the twins were toddlers, just couple short years after he earned said scar. gill told her about his entire life on the lake, calmly.

putting a shark on its back is a known way to get them to relax. it’s then, and only then, when gill is relaxed. but it’s a blessing and a curse— it puts him in a state that is so vulnerable, emotionally and physically. he can’t easily break it either, like being on a strong sedative. his words just poured out him from a place so sensitive and raw, all with his tone being so casual.

he told her all about how he got the scar from a run in with a minotaur in the wild west. how the reason he went all the way out there to the driest place he could think of was to die. the heat would surely kill him and he wouldn’t have to think about caspian or pearl. or their two godforsaken twin boys who were only just calf’s.

he was naive, didn’t know the lay of the land. in the heat of the sun, gill was burning up as he stumbled upon a settlement. breaking and entering wasn’t his style but this oasis was his only option to survive after he changed his mind on death. he jumped the short barbed wire fence and crossed the yard, passing by a large peach tree. he plucked one and brought it up to his mouth, feeling the fuzz and sweet aroma wafting to his nose. normally, gill doesn’t like anything but meat or seafood, and fruits and vegetables were never his thing. but this peach, fuck, it was blessing. gill finished his peach in a few bites, finding a duck pond on the property and stripping down his clothes, spitting the peach pit out onto the ground.

in his naked vulnerability, gill slid into the pond and dunked his head underwater, immediately forming his fins and ears and larger than life shark tail. his near-heatstroke thirst made the dirty pond water taste like liquid gold and he drank and bathed until he was satisfied.

just before he was about to decide get out, he watched a white, plump duck waddle by. it looked like it wanted to jump in too, unaffected by the shark man that was wading in it.

gills mind was all over the place, constantly switching from don’t do it and do it. blindsided by the ferocious grumble of his belly, gills blackened eyes narrowed in on the fat duck, and he breached out of the water to grab it.

it began squawking like crazy, crazier than he had ever heard any duck sound, and he hesitated on killing it.

it was odd. normally he never had any hesitation with a kill. it was what he was trained to do, but this innocent little duck was in his grip still breathing.

there was a sudden loud noise coming from the big house on the property. the front door swung open with a slam.

gill had no idea anybody was home; much less an absolute unit of a minotaur that was now dashing his way. he had a baby in the pocket of his overalls like a bjorn and he gently took it out, setting it on the grass as a safe distance. he gave one look to the baby boy and it crawled to hide in the taller bits of grass.

once the minotaur came close enough to gill, gill noticed he wasn’t any old minotaur. he had the face of a man, and great big bull horns, along with a bull ring and cattle legs and feet.

he asked, “how did a shark find its way into my duck pond?”

gill gulped, releasing the duck. it squawked again and flapped its wings in an angry manner while running away. the bull man in front of gill was above average size. perhaps it was the angle that gill was, but even then he could tell the minotaur was over 7, maybe 8 feet tall. “i was thirsty..” was all gill could mutter out.

“thirsty? for duck shit infested water?”

gill looked around, swimming a bit farther away. he couldn’t admit to himself that he was scared but his body could. it fled.

“listen.” the man huffed, his shiny, heavy septum ring moving when he did, “if you want some water, or.. i dunno,” he scratched his head under the brim of his cowboy hat. “a beer, you can come in. but put your clothes back on, i got kids.”

gill nodded, not sensing any danger from the bull. he quickly pulled himself out of the water and dragged his heavy tail onto the ground. it collected dirt and grass, sticking to his wet scales. it’s times like this he most wished for towels. in the hot sun he dried up quickly, forming back into 100% man, and threw his dirty clothes back on.

the minotaur led him back to the house, which was even larger than gill had initially thought. it looked hand built, every log placed was intentionally stacked and intact, crafting a beautiful and grand western house. gill asked the man for his name and if he built this home himself while the minotaur leaned down to pick up the baby he put in the grass.

“beau.” he said to gill, looking at his cooing, cute baby. “and yes, everything you see on these 15 acres has been built with my own two hands.” beau gestured to his settlement before leading him into the house. they passed two big old dogs who slept on the porch.

of course it was warm and inviting— the interior vast and wooden and beautiful. his countertops were butcherblock, his floors a gorgeous, shiny oak, and handmade furniture placed everywhere.

there was a child standing at the top of the stairs, one sat at the table coloring, and another in the kitchen sorting vegetables. beau rounded them up to introduce to gill in order from oldest and tallest to smallest. gill was sat down in a chair at the table and given a beer, listening to beau proudly introduce his beloved kids.

first was adelaide, the oldest and tallest. she was 15 and had a muscular stature. “addie” they call her. she was a friesian cow hybrid, black and white spots blotting all over. she took care of a lot of the settlement along with her father.

the next was a 14 year old son, a goat hybrid. he was the same height but skinnier, and he wasn’t from the wild west. he came from a foreign country and he spoke with an accent. filipe was his name.

thirdly was rudy, a chubby bison boy with curly hair covering his eyes and the smallest, stubbiest nubs peaking through the crown of his head. he was no older than 5.

they all wore worn out and well loved clothes and had dirt on their faces that beau would probably get on their cases about later.

lastly, there was the baby at just 18 months old. “baby cole” they call him.

“and what is he?”

beau smiled and placed him into a play pen. “minotaur, just like his pop.”

“oh! where’s.. um,” gill tapped the table and looked around, not aware that he was being invasive.

“my wife? she’s um.. she’s out right now.” beau said with a complete change of tone. it was deeper and somber. almost offended. he turned around to look at gill at the table.

“outside?”

“in town. errands. she’ll be home in the evening.”

gill let it go. throughout the day and into the late evening, he stayed with beau and learned the ways of their family as a guest.

he watched them collect eggs from the chickens, water the vast garden, and harvest the fruit from the peach tree when the sun kissed the horizon goodnight, painting the sky shades of oranges and pinks. gill made sure to point out to beau that the peaches were delicious later around the fire.

it was then when the topic of the minotaur’s wife returned. it was her peach tree. she planted 16 long summers ago when the house was finished being built.

“the tree is dying.” beau said, his face illuminated against the glow of the fire. they were outside and cactus owls cooed in the distance.

“dying?”

“i knew it’d happen soon after brooke passed on. peach trees don’t live that long anyway.”

gill realized this man’s wife wasn’t in town and she wasn’t coming home.

beau held back showing any emotion in his voice, wanting to not get choked up in front of a stranger. gill could tell it was particularly tough on him, so he shared his own story.

pearl was the most beautiful woman gill had known. on the outside and the inside. interspecies love wasn’t illegal but it was looked down upon for its risk of potential child mutations. the bad kind of mutations were it affects the child’s brain. gill couldn’t do that to her, or her offspring, so he went to his best friend.

he told his friend to marry her, the two of them both being the same species and ability to form a pod. orcas. they had two children, twins, before pearl and her husband got taken by humans to be transported to their sea themed amusement park.

he never saw pearl again, apart from when he’d look into the eyes of the twins he was forced to look after.

beau thought gills pain was real. raw. new? where were his twin boys? he wondered, so he simply asked. gill was ashamed to answer that he left them with his only family, his older cousin francine. “aunt franny.”

“and you can’t live out of water. can you?” it wasn’t a question because he knew the answer, beau side eyed his duck pond. earlier the ducks swam happily in it now that the shark man wasn’t occupying it.

“not for long, no.”

“then go back. be a man.”

“excuse me?”

“they need you, gillian.” beau smiled, looking at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the fire. it was weakening, signaling that it was time for beau to come back inside and check on his kids. addie would have everything covered at this time but he still did his rounds.

“i can’t just go back.”

“you can. and you will. repurpose your energy.” he furrowed his brows. “your love. you may think losing her means you lost everything but i can tell you that isn’t true. she’s here,” beau tapped his finger on gills chest, right on his heart. “and her boys need you.”

gill stirred in his seat on the fireplace chairs, watching beau’s earnest expression. the man was too fucking large for gills comfort.

“go.”

too much silence went by. when beau noticed gill couldn’t make up his mind, he gave up. as he began to stand, gill did too in that moment, realizing that maybe he should go home and repurpose his energy into care for what was left of what he loved. what gill didn’t account for though was coming into direct contact with beaus sharp horn, cutting through his eyebrow with a sudden pierce as they bumped into one another.

gill hadn’t noticed he was that badly hurt until beaus face was cold and bled seeped into his eye. it was an accident, a mistake.

but beau would never forgive himself— not after they cleaned and bandaged him, not after gill assured him it was okay and doused him in praise and thanks for all the hospitality and insight beau offered— nothing would make up for the way he felt so bad about leaving that scar on gills head.

it’d be there forever as a reminder for how gill ran away.

gill held odessa’s calf and explained that he just doesn’t know what to do anymore with hades. zeus, it’s another story— he’s an angel. the golden child.

“why don’t you have a heart to heart?”

“he won’t listen to me,” gill turns around and hands his boss her clothes.

“have you tried?”

“well…” gill found many interesting corners of the room to occupy himself so he wouldn’t accidentally look up and see her changing in the mirror. “no, but i just know him. he won’t want to listen.”

a few moments went by while she slid on her silky nightgown. odessa never wore pants. she didn’t own a single pair and probably never will purchase any. why would a siren?

“why’s that?” she says, all dressed and looking for her bag. she walks out of the bathroom in search of her hairbrush, and gill follows.

“because that’s just how he is! i swear, that kid is trying to piss me off. everyday.”

“im sure that’s not true.”

“it is.” gill hands her the hairbrush in her bag that he got to first. it’s on her bed across from his— the one that just got mutilated from crash lander. “it’s always some new thing that he does that gets me agitated. like this,” he gestures to the mess they made while playing their game.

“i think you’re just worried. because remember what happened with zeus and that game?” she also gestured to it.

“that is exactly why i don’t want them playing it!”

odessa dropped her hands and tossed her brush into her bag again, climbing into the tucked white sheets. gill stood above her and tucked her in, telling her goodnight.

“gill.”

he shut his eyes. no.

he could feel it coming. the trance he was about to be put in. odessa uses her magic on him when he’s particularly antsy, and tonight is one of those nights. he gave her his word that it was okay to do it to him as long as it served their higher good, but the contract was so tight and binding that even if he wants to go back on his word— to not let her entrance him— he couldn’t.

“talk to them. talk to him.”

gill was lulled. he moved softly, controlling his own mind and body but feeling more at ease, more compliant. odessa could make anybody feel like this, but it worked particularly good on younger human men. gill was only one of those categories. a man.

he knocked on the boys’ door and heard zeus say come in. the twins sound identical but gill knows the difference. he could identify them no matter the circumstance; entranced or not.

he gently pushed the door open and saw zeus on his bed, his black hair down and unbraided. he changed into his plaid pj’s instead of what he had on earlier, a done up suit and tie. zeus often doesn’t like to change out of clothes like how hades does. the man goes nuts for getting into comfortable clothing as soon as he gets home.

“hey,” zeus said, looking up from his book. his little book-light illuminated his nose scar in a way that saddened gill to look at.

“hi buddy,” he whispered in response, noticing the bed to the left was occupied by a sleeping hades. or so he thought.

zeus nodded in hades direction with a certain glance that told gill everything he needed to know. with easy steps, he walked over to hades and sat on the edge of the bed, dipping them down.

hades wasn’t sleeping, just staring at the wall tiredly. he didn’t flinch when gills hand touched his arm.

“kiddo.”

“hm?”

“what’s up?”

hades rolled over even further so his face got muffled into the pillows. “nothing” he mumbled.

gill pulled his shoulder back, turning him. “talk to me.”

it was hurtful reaction, what hades did. he yanked himself away and sat up against the headboard, feeling frustrated and confused.

his feelings were not easy to talk about and he doesn’t have outlets or sources to figure them out. well, he has zeus but hades wasn’t mature enough to explain how he only wants gill to be proud of him.

“i can’t.” hades choked out, still not making eye contact.

“why not?”

the sound of zeus shutting his book was so quiet and subtle but gill caught it, knowing his other son was behind them on his own bed listening to what was about to happen.

“because you never listen.”

“i do listen.”

“no,” hades huffed, his chest showing that his heart rate rose by a few extra beats. “you don’t.”

“i am right now. tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it, kiddo.”

“we can’t fix it. you never listen to me because you don’t take me seriously.”

“i do take you seriously hades. why do you think i bring you along on missions?”

“because you can’t leave me alone?”

..it was true. hades was right— cannot and will not separate the twins.

gill sighed. it was long and full of exhaustion. as if exhaling was the solution, it opened up the floodgates of emotion. the reason was unknown and he didn’t have the means to have tears well up in his eyes until hades said something that broke him.

“why don’t you love me, dad?”

it was spoken through tears of his own. hades was wiping his face with such embarrassment and frustration that he couldn’t face anything, he turned to the wall once more.

gill was shocked, his heart beat out of his chest and escaped through his hung agape mouth. his eyebrows were so close to his eyes that his lashes brushed against them.

“how could you say that?” he whispered. “i love you more than anything.”

“then why do you treat zeus better than me? you give all your attention to him.” hades didn’t care that his brother was right there and listening. laying flat on his back and lost in heavy thought.

“hades. look at me.”

hades didn’t want to but he instinctively turned his head to listen and look at him. what he saw broke his own heart too. the two of them were just on such a different page but in this moment they were alike.

alike in the way that both of them know they’re misunderstanding one another, and that life doesn’t have to be this way.

“you remind me so much of myself when i was your age.”

for once, hades had nothing to say.

“but you also, you both,” he turned to zeus too. “remind me so much of your parents. you look just like them. you’ve got..” gill took hades’ head in his hands and smushed his cheeks, earning a giggle from him. “your mothers eyes.”

gill didn’t want to admit that giggle was like a pink bandaid on his heart, hearing his boy laugh like he was little again.

“and you, zeus, your dads nice old nose.”

zeus touched his scarred up nose, happy to know that gill sees it as beautiful when all others see is something scary.

gill dropped his hands. sighing this time but it was the inhale that gave him peace. satisfaction.

he and hades might not be on the exact same page, but they were getting close, perhaps the same chapter.

“i do love you, hades.”

[roseadleyn]

𝘙𝘢𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴;

(except these are so random)

-raymond can do ballet

-i mean, he used to pick caelia up from her ballet classes a lot, and often times he'd have to wait for her to finish class. there was a small dance floor where he would wait and he'd just.. practice there everyday because he thought ballet was super pretty. eventually caelia found out and took pity on him and taught him how.

-everytime there was a family portrait painted, raymond would stand stock still and glare disapprovingly at his fidgeting cousins and sister

-raymond has a natural sense of justice. he hates unfairness and is normally always the one to speak up in that quiet voice when everyone else is too scared to do so

-has been an addict to sword fighting ever since he was old enough to do it, and before that he used to watch his father and uncle train in absolute awe

-and he's excellent at it. everytime he trains, his expression is so intense that his life might actually be in danger, and he's eventually become better than every instructor who taught him

-loves, loves, loves green grapes. his favorite thing to do in the summers is finish his sword fighting training, grab a large bowl of green grapes, and sit underneath the big almond blossom tree and read to his younger sister. he still reads to his younger sister, even after her engagement. she whines about how it's a bit embarrassing and he denies doing it, but they both sit down together without any argument anyways

-raymond's a ride or die friend. he's super specific about what type of people he's willing to be friends with, but the group of friends he does have are never going to be forsaken. would die rather leave his friends and he's such a good friend too, if you're his friend you're never ever having a boring day ever again.

-one time xander and rosalie simultaneously forgot their notebooks and pencil cases and raymond had extras. never forgets a thing and has photographic memory.

-raymond has many talents. but one talent he does not have, however, is a green thumb. ironic when you know what his sister is like all the plants in their house are tended to by Emma or the servants 💀

-raymond is highly sensitive to smells and his own natural scent is.. you know that fresh smell right after it rains? that. he uses scents like Guerlain, because they're light and tangy and not too overwhelming. picked that up from Xander

-raymond has been in more than one war, and that is when they saw him in all his fury.

-because he might be kind, and gentle, and quiet, but he's furious at the moment, because how dare they have the audacity to attack? he doesn't just ruin the battlefield, he decimates it. he has no pity. and he tells his soldiers 'if any of you has the slightest bit of pity or mercy, i will severe his neck from his shoulders.'

-he was 16 the first time, 18 the second. and both times, the troops he led were always victorious. he's grappled with ghastly odds all his life and by God he'll get through it.

-he's very.. dry. i mean, he's super quiet because half of the time he has no idea what to say. he can come off as judgemental, too, but it's because his whole narrowed grey eyes and blank expression make him look bored 24/7 😭

-he has no social skills. if he doesn't wanna talk to you and you're bothering him he'll be extremely rude if necessary. it's why he depends on emma to introduce him to people

-raymond expects too much of himself and gets irritated with people who aren't as efficient or intelligent as he is. and by god he's really intelligent. he is the king of strategy. he's 20 steps ahead of everyone else and this is why he's such an excellent military general.

-raymond adores books like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and Anne of Green Gables because they remind him of his time in Entrinnia.

-raymond knows how to apply makeup!! he even owns things like toner and brushes. this is because a) he's very clean and takes care of his appearance, and b) he has two younger female sister and cousin so when they were all small he watched the maids apply stuff to them

-raymond is one of the only four alive who can use celestial magic and live to tell the tale. (i'll make a post detailing the magical system later)

-raymond loves all of his family to the point where he'll give his heart life soul for them. yes, they've hurt each other, there's been numerous thwarted attempts at both being forgiven and forgiving. despite that, they're trying. he's trying too. he loves them.

-raymond has a few things he inherited from his mother. he took them with an unsure heart and a monotone attitude. and whoever comments on his mother in front of him will receive the most chilling glare do not try him

-he doesn't resent her. but she died so early on in his childhood, and then he witnessed the grief of his uncle and aunt and especially his father over her. he's seen his father screaming in the grip of nightmares when he was barely 6. he won't ever get over it.

-as a child raymond had a slight stutter; he was trained out of it by the best experts yet he still feels a bit nervous when he says 'Mother'.

-the abscence of his mother left a gaping wound in his heart. granted, Althea took excellent care of both him and the others; he'll forever love her and be grateful for that, but unlike roselyn he has memories of his mother. his grief is far more profound.

-raymond is very.. distant in relationships.. unless he truly likes the other person. he wants to appear like the perfect person and sweep you off your feet, but he really can't stop the emotional longing inside of himself for a soulmate. doesn't matter what type. his sister and his best friend are great, but they both each have issues of their own, and they're healing, coping. he's never been a good actor. he's extremely honest, very truthful, straightforward and blunt.

-his only hope is that someone truly adores him for the mess he is. and who would ever do that? most people he's met couldn't stand him.

-when you see the reserved, war struck mess of a man and still choose to love him, that's when he knows he'll never let you go.

Tagging; @elychee, @loekas, @mysticmeena, @parkykwho, @d10nsaint, @that-one-pretty-bitch and @rouecentric

[ein-liebloser-wanderer]

⸸ Love is an Abnormality ( Yandere Lobotomy Corporation ) — Confess Thy Sins ⸸

Pairing: Reader x 0-03-03 (One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds)

Warnings: MC isn't a good person, religious themes involving sins (well, it's in his name), implied cannibalism. Also, I took a lot of creative liberty with this one

Description: You have just recently begun working at the newest wing, Lobotomy Corporation. As a Backstreet rat, this was everything you could have ever wanted. Finally, you could leave behind your wretched life and become someone useful to society. 'Face your fears. Build the future' is their motto, but little did you know that it would be literal. Especially when the first Abnormality you must work with is hellbent on making you face your darkest demons.

Word Count: Around 2 600

Last Proof-Read: 03/16/22

Corrected some word misspellings

Fixed Suppression and rewrote it as Repression (as it is canonically called in-game)

Hopefully easier and smoother word flow that isn't too repetitive

Grammar check

Inspired by SCP: Doki Doki Anomaly. This blog is finally going to live up to its name as a yandere eldritch blog haha.

His Redrafted Abnormality Details

~~~~~~~

'Hello, [Name]. I give you all the warmest welcomes to Lobotomy Corporation.'

When you were first hired, you were overjoyed. It was understandable, really, since you lived on the Backstreets. Though, calling it living would be implying that there was remotely any luxury to it. No. Everyday was a struggle just to see one more day, and if it weren't for the fact that you knew some trustworthy people, you wouldn't be alive.

Society itself was crumbling at the seams, corruption and cannibals were free to run amok, and those above didn't even seem to care. In fact, they even encourage it.

So how could dealing with a couple of abnormalities be worse than that?

As you will eventually realize, it can in fact get worse.

⸸ 'He was your first...' ⸸

To your surprise, you were one of the first 'agents' on the field. As it turned out, L-Corp had just recently began anew as a Wing. Even your manager, X, is new on the job.

You weren't sure if you should be grateful or afraid. On one hand, that means they will be more lenient towards your mistakes, but on the other hand, it means they might carelessly get you killed.

Despite your anxieties, X called for you specifically to work on the first Abnormality. You narrowed your eyes as you read your working tablet.

O-03-03? You gulped.

You didn't know what to expect. Nothing else was on the tablet save for its subject classification, and it's...surreal profile picture. Not that you expected to have more info on them, but seeing these numbers...it reminded you that L-Corp wasn't any safer than the doomed world outside.

For all you know, the Manager could be sending you to your death right now.

You thought so because you hadn't even entered the containment unit, yet the sensation of being watched lingered...

⸸ 'It had no eyes, yet it saw all your wretchedness...' ⸸

You were understandably terrified of entering the containment unit.

You saw the worst of the worst in the Backstreets. You saw what was hidden underneath the armors of the masked humanoids called Sweepers. You knew how lucrative human meat was, and what awfulness people were willing to commit to acquire them.

But this thing contained inside? Its mere presence sent chills down your spine.

The moment you entered, you were greeted by a man who you might have considered handsome...if he had eyes. The Abnormality was dressed ceremoniously in religious garbs; simple white robes and some sort of sash on his shoulders. He was sitting on the ground rather innocuously, but...you couldn't trust him. Even if all he had was a silver crucifix on his lap, whose to say that he can't hurt you with it?

Standing before it, you felt vulnerable. How could something without eyes feel like they were watching you?

You didn't know what L-Corp planned to do to these creatures, and frankly, that was none of your concern. The only thing you should be worrying about was that you were required to interact with the monstrosities called 'Abnormalities.' And right now, your tablet said, Attachment.

Here goes nothing, you thought before stepping closer.

He was quiet, and eerily so. You introduced yourself, trying to be as friendly as possible, yet nothing happened. The containment door was still closed, meaning the Manager truly was watching you, and you were doing something wrong.

You can't fail on the first day, but...what else were you supposed to do?

Just as you thought you were going to be trapped with this unnerving man for eternity, O-03-03 spoke for the first time.

"I see. Thou art carrying a heavy burden on thy shoulders."

Your eyes widened. What?

"Do pray tell...hath thou ever committed a sin so grave it haunts thee?"

"Doesn't everyone?" you replied, jokingly, but your eyes betrayed the wariness you were trying to hide. Even without eyes, he knew.

"So, am I right to believe thou art a sinner?"

Your eyes narrowed. Should you be honest? Or should you lie? What if this abnormality was one of those zealots? He might kill you!

Deciding against your instincts, you said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

You closed your eyes, awaiting the punishment that will inevitably come your way. But all you heard was a ping! from your tablet, and the containment door opening behind you.

"I see."

You opened one eye slowly, afraid that you might see a maniacal killer before you. But no, the man's face was just as serene as it was before, but this time, a small smile graced his lips.

"I bid you adieu, child. May we see each other again like this."

You left O-03-03's unit with a very perplexed look on your face. Why did the Manager release you only after talking about that? And most of all, why were your sins any of that man's business?

Right. He isn't a man. You thought.

You reprimanded yourself for even considering him one. There was a reason why Temperance was the skill needed for Attachment work and not charisma. It was because more than anything, Agents must never get attached to the subjects. There would be no turning back once that happens.

You heard another ping! from your tablet. You thought you were being sent in to work on O-03-03 again (since he was the only Abnormality here), but to your surprise, it was his manual being updated.

Name: 'One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds

Subject Class: ZAYIN

Well...at least you know the basic information about him now, you thought with attempted optimism.

⸸ 'To Be Willing to Bear the Pain is Only Half the Atonement...Only Through True Suffering Can Thou Be Forgiven' ⸸

The next couple of days working with One-Es (short for One Sin) have been rather easy. Too easy.

Though there was another Agent (who only introduced himself as Beta) asides from you, the Manager seemed to trust you enough to do most of the work load for the Abnormality. You could assume that much since the other Agent only came twice to do Reppression and Instinct work. After that, he was never assigned again.

Not that Beta had a problem with that. He was more than happy to never return, seeing how much he disliked One-Es.

He's too invasive, he said, looking disturbed. The dude has no concept of privacy. Like at all. And you know what's worse? He sounds like those cults from the Backstreets! He just kept spouting all this religious nonsense about sins! Like who the hell is he to force me what to believe in?

While you weren't going to disagree with him, you didn't see that as a reason to dislike the man. He was bizarre, sure, but wasn't what they warned you about before you applied here? Beta complained as if he never agreed to the Terms and Conditions of this job.

Unlike the other agent, you were largely assigned with Attachment and Insight work, which was pretty much the only two things allowed to be done on One-Es. You would often try to befriend him as ordered, but it seemed like the Abnormality had returned to his quiet disposition.

He just sits there, staring at you, his empty sockets absorbing everything it couldn't see.

Once, while doing Insight work, you tried to tend to his head injuries. You have noticed before that he had a crown of thorns tightly wrapped around his head that it pierced into his forehead, so you brought a first aid kit with you this time. After all, wasn't Insight about ensuring the Abnormalities were comfortable?

But the moment you sat down on the ground in front of him, your hands reaching up to free him of his crown, he gently grabbed your wrists and held them on your lap.

"There is no need for that, [Name]," he smiled. Somehow, that made him seem like he was radiating light, like an angel with a halo. "This is a burden I willingly carry."

Confused, you asked him why. Why would anyone willingly inflict pain upon themselves? Was he a masochist of some sort?

To that, he laughed. It was a gentle sound, one that made you feel warm on the inside. Safe.

"Cleanse thy mind of impurities, child. I wear this not to relish the pain, but to remind others and myself that pain is inevitable when one carries sins."

Ah. Right...of course.

"Thou should know. Thou art a sinner."

⸸ 'One Can Deceive Themselves to Feign Ignorance...And Thou Cannot Refuse Him' ⸸

The next time you were assigned to work on One-Es, it was for Attachment work.

Ever since the revelation about his obsession towards sins, you made it your point to always talk about it with him. Whether if it was just you sharing a general discussion or personal stances on it (without rejecting the existence or concept of it, of course), or if you were confessing about 'sins' you have committed in the past.

Doing the latter made your job end faster, but you had to sometimes do the former so you don't run out of 'sins' to confess. After all, there was only so much wrongdoing one could commit. You liar.

Not even One-Es will forgive you. He is the only one who can end your suffering.

And he didn't need to know everything. Some burdens are only yours to carry. Why must you torment yourself so much?

One-Es wasn't the confrontational type. You learned that over time, since he never once demanded you to confess. But that didn't mean he couldn't manipulate you into it.

One day, while you were confessing about that one time you stole candy from another street rat as a child, One-Es tilted his head at you. You quickly quieted.

"Come hither."

You took a step closer to him, not feeling afraid at all that he would do anything. By now, you have worked on him countless times that you are certain he was incapable of Red damage--physically harming you.

If he was truly aggressive, he should have done that to Beta a long time ago during his Reppression duty.

Besides, there was something about his presence that made you feel...safe. You didn't know what it was, but every time you talked to him, you felt lighter. You didn't even notice how good it felt to be around him until you caught yourself feeling disappointed when it was Beta sent to work on him for Attachment.

"Why doth thee stand there? I shan't harm you."

He noticed. Of course, he did. You were being unusually reserved than usual. Besides, stealing candy from a child wasn't a sin compared to the...other things you did.

At the memories flashing inside your mind, a knot formed in your throat. It was a dark, tangled mess trying to strangle you, to shut you up.

Don't tell him don't tell him--

"I'm not worried you will hurt me, One-Es."

"Then, what ails thee?" he asked with an innocent tilt. Why must he look at you like this..?

You looked down at his lap, away from his all-knowing gaze and down at the silver crucifix within his grasp. "I must confess...I have been withdrawing something away from you."

The man didn't speak. Rather, he sat there patiently, waiting for the one thing he ever wanted.

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours. At the beginning, you still held some hesitance to tell him. Fear gripped at your heart like a claw, and if he hadn't been so patient and understanding with you for the past few days, you wouldn't be talking about this at all.

What you did to those people was unforgivable. Even if your only choice was their life or yours, you still couldn't push away the guilt that gnawed at you.

The countless lives you have ended and eaten. The trust you betrayed and countless promises you had broken because you were too hungry, too starved to give a damn.

That upper-class woman whose meat you sold to the butcher out of spite. That little baby whom you boiled alive in the cauldron of your home because you were too cowardly to stain your hands with its blood. All of their flesh and fat still sits in your kitchen, abandoned, waiting for you to return home.

You had been running away from everything. That was why you came to Lobotomy Corporation. But in a twist of fate, the first Abnormality to ever come to this facility was your greatest fear.

But you never will. You have read the Terms and Conditions of this job carefully. You know you they will never let you leave this place alive.

And you preferred it that way.

"I can end thy suffering...if you desire it."

Your eyes widened. How?

"My light heals all graced by it. Nothing in this world is unworthy of forgiveness."

But you didn't need forgiveness. You didn't deserve it. How could he--

"Hush." He placed a slender finger on your lips. "Thy intentions may not be noble, but they were pure. Can I not for once forgive a single act of evil?"

You pursed your lips, pondering a response. When none came, he pulled you close, holding you lovingly in his warm embrace. Your consciousness began to drift just as bright lights flooded the room.

To your unconscious body, he vowed...

"Your sins are mine and mine alone, [Name]. Only in the ignorance I have bestowed upon thee shall thou find true happiness."

⸸ 'But If Thou Must...His Punishment Shall Rain Down Upon You' ⸸

One day, your Manager tasked you to do Reppression work on One-Es.

All this time, you had been doing everything you could to make sure he was happy, that he was getting all the social needs he needed as his only Attachment and Insight Agent.

Internally, it made you wince to act as though nothing had ever happened between you two. He might have been quiet, as you harshly pretended to disregard everything he had ever done for you, but if your previous encounters have taught you anything, it was that he was more sensitive than he lets on.

And it was that sensitive side of him that you were afraid of abusing.

You may not remember much about what happened the day One-Es engulfed the room with bright light, but if there was one thing you were certain about, it was that he healed you.

You felt so much lighter. Like you had always been carrying this heavy weight in your chest that you never noticed before. And to act ungrateful...it was just wrong.

No matter what you said, though, he would only stare at you. Occasionally, you could hear something click within him, as if he were a marionette being pieced together. That couldn't mean anything...right?

He wouldn't hurt you right?

Ping!

For the first time, you were happy to see that your job was over. Normally, you would have been upset to have to leave his containment unit, but that was when you were trying to be in the Abnormality's good graces. When you let him embrace you, and take away all your worries...

But the man before you was indifferent. Cold. Gone was the man who you could entrust all your secrets.

Now, he was the Abnormality that awaits to punish humanity's sins.

Just as you were backing away from him to the exit--because there was no way you would turn your back to him after all that--it hit you. Something had wrapped around your heart, constricting it, rubbing its gritty surface on the sensitive muscle of the beating organ.

For a moment, you genuinely thought your heart was going to stop.

But it won't, of course.

This was an emotion. One you thought you would never have to feel again. It was the one that you stopped feeling ever since that day he first embraced you.

And now, you understand why.

He took them. Literally. All your memories, your guilt, your sins. That was what he meant when he said he carries the sins of others.

Guilt was like rain. It came in fast, but at least, it was in the form of small, bearable raindrops. Eventually, you wouldn't even notice it with how soaked you are.

What One-Es did was the equivalent of dropping a thousand tons of water on you. You felt like you were going to be crushed under the weight of it all.

Kneeling on the floor, gasping for air, you tried to look up at him, pleading for the kind man he used to be.

...but all you saw was the face of an indifferent punisher. A true Abnormality.

"If thou wish to reject me, then so be it. Thou shall carry that guilt for eternity. That is thy punishment until thee hath learned to accept me."

You went insane from all the revelation...

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! <3

Don't worry, MC will be fine. One-S taking petty revenge for what the Manager made them do 'punishing her' will be the least of their problems after this.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lesson 16

Masterlist

Previous part

It’s finally here! The long awaited Lesson 16! Please enjoy, my lovelies!

MC had gone back in time, they didn’t think their year as an exchange student would end up like this, but yet, there they were. They sprinted up the stairs to the attic and burst through the door.

Their heart was in their throat as they made their way down the hallway and peaked through the door.

“MC?”

Belphegor, safe and sound, got up from the bed and rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“A lot of stuff… um…” MC tapped their foot and shifted anxiously. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

MC slammed their palm into the door and slowly wrapped their fingers around the bars as they felt the remnants of Lucifer’s spell coil its way up their arm. The spell had weakened with time, and Lucifer must have neglected to reinforce it.

They gritted their teeth and countered with their own magic, but MC could feel their strength being drained. Their vision blurred ever so slightly as something else countered Lucifer’s magic. It was warm and calming, as if someone had pressed a kiss to MC’s forehead and told them everything was going to be okay.

The door let out a metallic screech as it wrestled against the spell, begging to be opened. Until finally, blue sparks erupted from the door and slowly fizzled out. The door slowly creaked open as the warm energy faded.

Belphie took a tentative step forward, when met with no resistance, he stepped into the hallway. Free at last.

MC stood in silence, fatigue washing over them. That was… exhausting.

“You did it.” Belphie beamed at MC, who looked up and returned the smile.

“I… I did!” MC squeaked, looking at the broken attic door in wonder.

Belphie laughed at their starry eyed expression and held out his arms for a hug. “Nice job, MC.”

MC threw themselves into his arms and let out a laugh of pure joy at their achievement. They had broken a spell put down by their father. They had done it! All by themselves! He was going to be so proud of them! Well, after Belphie and him made up of course.

“You know,” Belphie whispered as he wrapped his arms around MC. “I wonder how long it’s been…”

“Hm?” MC felt Belphie shift slightly in their arms, a new material rested against their face. MC opened their eyes and looked up.

“How many thousands of years it’s been since I’ve held something so human in my arms.”

Belphegor was in his demon form, curved horns jutting out of the side of his head, a tail lazily swishing behind him. He smiled as he looked down at MC.

“What are you-”

MC was cut off by a hand wrapping around their throat as they were yanked upwards. They let out a scream as they immediately shifted into their own demon form, their wings flapping, desperately trying to push Belphegor back.

MC’s hands clawed at the hand wrapped around their neck and slammed their feet into his chest. Their escape attempts were put to a halt as Belphegor slammed MC into the hallway wall, painfully pinning MC’s frantically flapping wings.

Their vision swam as the base of their skull connected with the wall, their ears rang and tears began to prick at the corners of their eyes. Thinking fast, MC tried to sink their rapidly sharpening teeth into Belphegor’s arm but his grip on their neck was holding their head straight.

They were going to die-

They were going to die-

They didn’t want to die-

They couldn’t just die like this!

——

Belphegor almost rolled his eyes as he watched MC panic and thrash. He could feel their pulse race beneath his fingers.

A demon’s life or death adrenaline kicking in was no joke, Belphegor knew that. But this kid- this little brat wasn’t even a full demon.

Belphie’s face contorted into a scowl as he let his magic seep through his hands, he soon felt MC’s pulse slow and clarity return to their vision.

——

MC’s kicks and scratches slowed and black spots danced across their vision as their gaze settled on Belphegor.

Every ounce of energy that MC could have mustered was sapped out of them, every single breath they managed to choke out took a massive amount of effort.

“There we go,” Belphegor smiled, his head lolling to the side. “Was that so hard, MC?”

MC let out a low growl, then a whimper when the grip on their throat tightened.

“Now now,” Belphegor sighed. “You’re in no position to get snappy with me, are you?”

MC didn’t respond.

“You know, half breed? If you’re tricked by a demon, you truly have your own stupidity and naivety to blame.” Belphegor continued. “You wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re half human. Humans are notoriously easy to trick.”

MC gripped the hand holding their neck even tighter, digging their nails into his wrist.

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is. Are you even Lucifer’s child? Your wings say so, but your ability to fight back leaves something to be desired.”

The insult caused MC to slam their foot into Belphegor’s ribcage, he grimaced, but his grip held firm.

“It’s just so ridiculously pitiful, MC.” Belphie said. “Any real demon would be able to fight back from this easy peasy.”

Belphegor snickered and used his free hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. He was barely half awake and MC was still completely at his mercy.

“So sad… sad indeed.”

“Wh-why?” MC barely managed to whisper, Belphie rolled his eyes.

“I swear, does anyone in this house tell you anything?” Belphie sneered. “I. Hate. Humans. Simple as that. And look at you, the half human kid of the brother that locked me up here, you’ll have to forgive me for being a little upset, MC.”

“Let’s see now,” Belphegor cooed, bringing his face slightly closer. “Does your pride match up to your dear dad’s? Are you willing to beg for your life? If you do it well enough, I might be tempted to let you live.”

The grip around their neck relaxed slightly, MC gasped for air, taking a few deep breaths. Belphegor raised an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting.”

The silence hung in the air, the back of MC’s head throbbed in pain as they tried to focus their gaze to Belphegor’s. They’d say what they were going to say next looking him in the eyes. The child’s black and red eyes slowly narrowed into an icy glare.

“Death first.” MC snarled.

Belphegor’s hand tightened around their neck so much that MC couldn’t even scream, their hands fell to their sides and their kicks slowly subsided. As their vision began to fade, they almost laughed despite themselves.

It seemed they really were their father’s child.

——

“Death first.”

Belphegor tightened his grip and felt MC’s throat practically crumple and fall apart in his grasp.

Even when faced with death they refused to grovel. Belphegor let out a soft laugh. They really were Lucifer’s child!

That look of pure disdain, that refusal to just give up and beg, all Lucifer.

They really were… Lucifer’s…

Belphie snarled and slammed MC’s unconscious form into the wall again, trying to ignore the feeling that twisted his gut.

“I hate you…” he whispered.

“I hate you… I hate you!” Belphie repeated, not daring to look up. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

Belphie’s hand slowly slipped from MC’s neck and they crumpled to the floor. his arm fell limp at his side as he caught his breath.

There was no way the kid could have survived that, and yet, Belphie heard breathing. Quiet, shuddering breaths.

He dragged his eyes to look at MC. Their demon form really did look like his brother’s. MC’s horns hadn’t fully grown in yet, but they were just beginning to curve upwards, one a little more than the other. Everything from their wings to the diamond shaped mark on the centre of their forehead, was all Lucifer.

The brother that all of them had once looked up to, the brother that took care of them, the brother that declared war on everything he had known for their sister.

…but MC wasn’t Lucifer, were they? No. No they weren’t. They weren’t the human that Lilith had fallen in love with either, they weren’t the reason for the war.

They were the only person that reached out to help Belphie, the person who went up to visit him, they were someone who saw him as family.

“What did you do?” An all too impossibly familiar voice whispered. “Belphie, what did you do?!”

He felt his throat tighten. A DDD buzzed nearby, it was lying face down a little farther down the hallway. In an almost hypnotic state, Belphegor walked over and picked it up.

Two texts greeted him.

Father: I’ll be home in five minutes.

Father: The student council meeting ran late.

The text wasn’t what caught his attention, it was the picture on the lock screen. It was a picture of MC, Levi, Mammon, and Beel. MC was on Beel’s shoulders and Levi and Mammon were shoving each other around behind them. Mammon looked to be having more fun than Levi, who had just noticed his picture was being taken and looked completely terrified. Beel was eating a bag of chips and MC was in the middle of reaching into the bag to grab a handful, they were looking into the camera like they had just noticed the person taking the picture.

They were walking back from… something. Half of Mammon’s face was covered in RAD’s school colours, and Levi was holding a few poster boards that were also in the school’s colours. MC was wearing one of Beel’s helmets, even though it was way too big on them.

Ah, Belphie knew what they were doing. They were heading home from one of Beel’s games.

Belphie’s eyes were glued to MC and Beel. Beel was… smiling. He was happy. He didn’t notice his picture was being taken and he was looking slightly off-camera. One of his arms was holding one of MC’s legs in place so they wouldn’t topple backwards.

Belphegor felt the DDD slip out of his hands and clatter to the floor, he walked back over to MC. They were still breathing, and Belphie blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing right. The tiny cuts from his claws had completely healed over, and the swelling around MC’s neck had slightly lessened. They were being healed…

He kneeled down next to them and reached out to touch their head, he hesitated for a brief moment before letting his hand rest on their hair. A softer magic ran through his hands, MC’s breathing became less laborious and their throat slowly began to fix itself.

Belphie suppressed a yawn at the exertion, he picked MC up and carried them downstairs. They were still completely unconscious. That was good, Belphie heard that humans healed faster in their sleep anyway.

He set them down gently on one of the living room couches and walked back upstairs. Even as he lay back down in his bed, Belphie still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

——

Lucifer dragged Mammon and Levi up the stairs to the House of Lamentation by their ears, Satan, Asmo, and Beel trailing behind him.

“You both are so lucky Lord Diavolo wasn’t upset.” Lucifer growled.

Levi was in his admiral’s uniform, but it was so wrinkled and smelly that anyone could tell it had been lying at the back of his closet. Mammon was still in his school uniform and was trying to wiggle out of the ear-hold.

“C-come on Lucifer! Ya gotta understand, I can’t get hung from the ceiling today, I have a modelling gig!” Mammon pleaded.

“Y-yeah! There’s a rerun of I Can’t Believe My Girlfriend’s Secretly Been Royalty-eeeeow!” Levi screeched and tried in vain to remove Lucifer’s hand from his ear.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You two should have thought about that before you and Levi decided it would be a good idea to get into a fight in front of Diavolo and Barbatos.”

“What a functional family we have.” Satan drawled.

Mammon and Levi’s pleas for mercy quieted when everyone stepped into the house, something was… wrong. Very very wrong.

“MC?” Lucifer called out. No reply. He let go of Mammon and Levi.

“Blood…”

Lucifer turned to look at Beel, who had his nose in the air. “What was that, Beel?”

“Smells like blood.”

Everyone stood motionless for a few moments as what Beel said began to sink in. Mammon was the first to break the silence.

“Shit, MC!” He shouted, rushing towards the dining hall.

“MC? MC come on,” Asmo sped towards the bedrooms. “If this is some kind of joke it isn’t funny!”

“M-maybe they’re in the backyard! I’ll check…” Levi ran to the back door of the house.

Satan and Beel went in the direction of the library while Lucifer stalked towards the living room.

If MC was playing some kind of joke on him, he’d wring their neck.

He entered the living room and breathed an immediate sigh of relief upon seeing MC lying on one of the couches, sleeping soundly. They were just napping…

Lucifer’s lips quirked upwards into a fond smile as he ruffled his sleeping child’s hair, then paused upon seeing the rusty substance that now coated his glove. Mostly dried blood.

“MC..?” He whispered, sitting down on the couch and pulling them towards him. “MC?”

When MC didn’t respond, Lucifer’s heart began to race in his chest.

No.

No.

Not again.

Not like Lilith…

“MC, wake up,” Lucifer said in a more commanding tone. “You’re okay, wake up, right now!”

They didn’t stir, they just lay there. Their breathing and his own thundering heartbeat was all Lucifer could hear.

A shriek from Asmodeus brought him back to reality as Lucifer slowly rocked MC back and forth, muttering the names of spells as he tried to use his magic to heal them.

“What happened?!” Asmo rushed forward, hands already glowing white with magic.

Lucifer couldn’t give an answer nor could he look away from MC as Asmodeus ran a glowing hand along their head.

Asmo snapped his hand back towards him like something had burned him, he looked up at Lucifer with a look of pure confusion. “L-Lucifer… do you know whose magical signature that is..?”

“H-huh?! MC?!” Mammon, followed by Satan, Beel, and Levi rushed to MC’s side. The chorus of questions and shock were of no interest to Lucifer, he continued to cradle MC in his lap.

“Lucifer!” Asmo tried to get his attention again, he growled and whipped his head around to his other brothers. “ALL OF YOU, QUIET!”

Such a sharp snarl from Asmo of all demons immediately quieted them down as Asmo turned back to look at Lucifer. “It’s Belphie. That’s Belphie’s magical signature. I’d bet my life on it.”

Lucifer felt his blood run cold, his grip on MC tightened as he pulled them closer to him.

“Belphie is up in the human world, Asmo!” Satan snapped. “How the hell could he have done this?!”

“I don’t know!” Asmo retorted. “But I’m not lying, that’s Belphie’s magic!”

Belphegor got out of the attic.

Belphegor hurt MC.

Lucifer gently set MC back down on the couch, in a matter of seconds his true form was revealed.

“L-Lucifer…” Mammon whispered.

Watch them.” Lucifer growled. He turned and stalked down the hallway towards the attic.

When he burst through the door to the attic staircase the first thing that hit him was the residual magic energy that practically coated the room. His spell keeping his brothers from being able to enter the attic, the spell that hid Belphie from view if they somehow managed to bypass the first spell, and finally most hauntingly, was the spell that kept Belphie sealed in the attic. All of them were dispelled by a counter spell from an all too familiar magic signature.

MC broke the spells.

Lucifer stormed up the stairs and down the hall to where Belphie was supposed to be, the stench of magic and blood got even stronger as he approached the open door.

He stood in the doorway, Belphie was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, he looked over at Lucifer. The two stared each other down, Belphie’s expression held no malice or anger, it was glassy and far off, like he wasn’t even there. Belphegor wasn’t close enough to see, but Lucifer’s pupils had retracted and stretched.

“Lucifer.”

“What have you done?”

There was no triumph or glee in Belphegor’s voice, it was hollow and empty.

“I ruined the exchange program like I said I would.”

—————

MC’s eyes fluttered open, they expected to wake up to the sound of their DDD alarm buzzing and telling them to wake up for school, but the intense soreness of their neck snapped them back to reality. They were in their father’s room, lying on his bed.

“Ah!” MC rasped, a hand flying to their neck to pull off the hand that was just wrapped around it.

Their thoughts raced. Why were they here? Where was Belphegor? Why weren’t they dead?!

“MC..?”

MC lurched upwards whipped their head back and forth to find the source of the voice. They didn’t have to look very far, Lucifer was sitting next to them with a clipboard and notebook on his lap.

“D-dad?” MC felt tears prick at their eyes, the events of the day crashing down on them all at once. They let out a sob and buried their head in Lucifer’s chest.

Lucifer held MC close, If he wasn’t a demon, the grip MC had on him would have crushed him.

“Sh, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” It sounded to MC like Lucifer was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to reassure them.

It hurt to cry, every sound and heavy gulp of air made MC’s neck and ribs throb with pain, every tiny movement of their arms made them want to cry even harder. The only silver lining was that it was less of a sharp recent pain and more of a reminder of a much older injury. The sped up healing courtesy of multiple spells must have aided in that regard.

“I’m sorry…” They whimpered, choking out another sob. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

“MC, what on earth are you sorry for?”

MC sniffled before explaining. “I… I-I let him out of the attic… I didn’t listen when you said not to go up there…he said he wanted t-to fix everything… I just wanted to h-help…”

Lucifer hugged them tighter, it hurt a little, but MC didn’t care.

“I’m sorry…” MC whimpered again. “I’m so so sorry…”

“Shh,” Lucifer whispered. “It’s not your fault. I should have been there. I should have…”

Lucifer trailed off and the two fell silent, save for the occasional sniffle or hiccup from MC.

Despite all the reassurances, the guilt didn’t go away, but what was worse was the fear. Every cell in MC’s body seemed to be screaming at them for their sheer stupidity. They had let Belphegor almost kill them, and their failure to fight him off had been made known to the entire house.

MC’s shaking slowly subsided and they pulled away slightly. “H-how did I live through that? How am I okay..? He said he was going to kill me…” MC let out another sob and touched their neck. “What kind of demon am I if I can’t even protect myself?”

“MC, look at me,” Lucifer instructed, MC shakily complied. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this was your fault, this fight has been brewing for thousands of years and you just got caught in the crossfire. You’re still a child, there’s no shame in being hurt by a demon thousands of years older that caught you off guard and deceived you.”

MC nodded, wiping their tears with their sleeve. Lucifer did his best to smile comfortingly.

“Besides,” He helped wipe MC’s tears away. “I don’t think any other demon in this house has enough magical power to break all three spells I had in place at once. You’re not weak, MC, nor are you any less of a demon.”

A meow broke its way into the conversation, Bean nestled himself into MC’s lap and began to purr.

“I thought...” MC sniffled, then smiled. “I thought you didn’t want Bean in your room.”

“I’ll make an exception for today.”

“Careful, Father,” MC laughed between hiccups. “Cerberus might think his favourite demon likes the cat more than him.”

“You might be right, and we don’t want to give Cerberus another reason to want to eat the cat.”

MC giggled, then winced at the pain in their neck. Lucifer sighed and pulled them into another hug.

“Asmodeus said that you’ll be back to normal in a few days or less.” Lucifer whispered. “You’ll be okay.”

“Are… are you going to be okay?” MC asked.

Lucifer didn’t respond for a moment, then sighed.

“I will be.”

After a while of absentmindedly petting the cat and leaning on their father’s arm, MC finally asked the question that had been on their mind since they had woken up.

“What happened to Belphegor?”

“He’s with Beel right now.” Lucifer replied, MC half nodded as they stared blankly at the opposite wall.. “He’s not going to hurt you again, I can promise you that.”

“Mm…” MC mumbled, they took a deep breath and braced themselves. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot…”

“MC-”

“No, I messed up,” a lump formed in MC’s throat as they continued. “Beel, Belphie, and I ran away after Belphie escaped the attic the first time… Lord Diavolo found us and took Belphie, I-I made Beel go back to get all of you so I c-could sneak into Barbatos’ room and fix everything…”

MC hiccuped and rubbed at their already puffy eyes. “I just made everything worse…”

Lucifer sighed and absentmindedly clicked his pen. “I know. Barbatos and Diavolo came over before you woke up and explained everything.”

“What about the other future?” MC sniffed.

“According to Barbatos, he merged it with this one.” Lucifer said. “He said that we’ll be getting small batches of memories from that timeline, but that’s it.”

MC blankly nodded again. Their head was filled with emotions and questions they just didn’t have the strength to deal with. It didn’t help that every single one of their limbs felt heavy as lead and they just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Do you need anything, MC?”

“Music would be nice.”

Lucifer smiled and got up to turn on the record player. “Cursed or not?”

——

Belphie was still in the attic. He lay in the bed in the midst of the destroyed room. Nothing was keeping him locked away up there, the door hadn’t closed since MC unlocked it earlier. Despite it all, Belphie didn’t want to leave. Not after what happened earlier.

Lucifer was fully ready to kill him. It had taken Beel, Levi, and Mammon using their full strength to actually hold Lucifer back.

But the hours had passed, Beel had left, Mammon and Levi could barely even look at him, Asmo and Satan hadn’t even come to see him. The youngest had ruined everything, and all he had left to keep him company was the lingering feeling of regret.

“Belphegor.”

Belphie didn’t open his eyes at the sound of his name. He felt a sudden weight on his chest, making it harder to breathe. He was no stranger to sleep paralysis and the unexplainable horrors that often followed, but his thousands of years of experience never could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened his eyes.

Lilith.

Her face was just as he remembered it, her eyes were just as bright and full of life as they were thousands of years ago. Her downy wings were open and fluttered slightly, and to Belphie’s horror, the wound from the arrow that pierced her right wing was still fresh.

But that was all, there were no remnants of the scars that coated her arms and neck from the war, no defeated look of resigned despair…

It was Lilith, just as Belphie remembered her.

She glared at her brother with a rage he hadn’t seen in millennia. She had his shirt balled up in her fists as she asked her first question.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” The pain and agony in her voice when she asked nearly caused Belphie to cry. “Why did you do that?!”

Belphegor couldn’t respond, he just stared up at the ghostly form of his sister. Her glare hardened.

“I didn’t help MC break those spells for you to… do something like this!”

Her form flickered for the briefest of moments, instead of a halo and wings, a dragon-like tail and thin curved horns took their place, Lilith’s eyes darkened and her nails grew longer and sharper before she flickered back to the form Belphegor recognized.

“L-Lilith?” Belphie whispered, she rolled her eyes.

“Using my death as an excuse for that…” She trailed off, her grip on Belphie’s shirt tightening. “You’re terrible! You really are!”

Terrible? Lilith’s childlike way of chiding people for their misdeeds hadn’t changed a bit. Belphie half expected her to cross her arms and puff out her cheeks like a petulant kid.

“What do you mean?”

“MC!” She growled, flickering back to the unfamiliar demon form. “They weren’t involved! They had nothing to do with me! NOTHING!”

“They’re… they’re half human!”

Belphie’s pitiful attempts to justify his actions to Lilith and himself fell flat as the tight knot of guilt in his gut only grew.

“And I’m stuck like this!” Lilith cried, she flickered back and forth from her angelic and demonic forms, her wounds from the war returning and disappearing as she switched back and forth. “Stuck between being an angel and a demon! But you’d have me back in an instant, wouldn’t you?”

She was right, Belphie would have given anything to have his sister back in any form. Angel, demon, human…

“You can’t stop and think for one moment that the humans had nothing to do with my death?!”

“That human was the reason the war even started!” Belphie retorted, trying to push Lilith’s hands off of his shirt. “He’s the reason why you were in trouble in the first place!”

“No he wasn’t! It was me! I made that decision, not him!” Lilith hissed. “You know what you’ve been doing for the past how many millennia? Looking for someone to blame! Looking for someone to hate that you have actual power over! You don’t have power over the Celestial Realm, you don’t have power over father, but you do have power over humans. You hate them because it’s convenient, and MC paid the price for it!”

Belphie shook his head. “That's not true!”

“Then why?!” Lilith snarled. “Why do you hate them so much?! Why don’t you hate the angels with that much ferocity?! What did MC ever do to you other than try and help you?!”

Every accusation hit him like a hammer to the skull. His head throbbed with every single thing Lilith accused him of, no matter how much he denied it, he knew it was true. Every last word.

“Just..!” Lilith’s rage morphed into something much more quiet and fragile, she slowly curled into herself and shook her head. “Just… why? Why haven’t you been able to move on?”

Belphie felt tears prick at the corner of his vision. “You were our sister. They were just going to… just going to kill you like it was nothing. We promised we’d protect you and you died anyway…. and it was all my fault.”

“Belphie…”

“If I had never taken you to the human world this never would have happened…”

“So what?”

“H-huh?”

“So what?” Lilith repeated. “It’s over now. It’s been over and done with for thousands of years. You need to let it go.”

“But-”

“My death wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Beel’s, and it wasn’t any human’s. We tried to fight the person who was responsible and…” She trailed off, then quickly shook her head and returned her stare to her brother.

“H-how,” Belphie mumbled. “How are they all going to forgive me..?”

Lilith grimaced and shook her head. “I have no idea. Just… try. Try and fix this...”

Belphie sighed and nodded. “I will.”

Lilith finally smiled. Her new tail swished through the air behind her as she slowly faded away.

“Thank you.”

————

Author’s note:

May the muse Calliope have pity on my poor soul, this has been a WIP in my Google Docs SINCE PART 3 OF THE HALF DEMON SERIES CAME OUT.

I hope you all liked the angst… I’m not too proud of my skills in writing the big sad (tm) yet, buuuuut this is ✨ progress ✨, so I’m not going to self deprecate! I’m thinking of doing a version where it’s M!MC or A!MC instead of L!MC, because I know that Belphie and the kids would react very differently to the whole attempted murder thing…

But for now, I must bid you all adieu. I’m going to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 16 - Bloody City [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.

Word Count: 3000

Summary: Threats come closer. 

The room was so silent that you could swear even your heartbeat was audible. You tried to think through the panic running through your veins, but it was nearly impossible.

He wasn’t supposed to find out about that.  

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be one to understand how betrayed he felt at the moment. He looked completely frozen, his sharp glare giving you goosebumps.

He had never looked at you like that before, and the anger in his eyes was more than enough to pin you to your spot.

“Spencer,” you managed you say, your voice way too weak, “I can explain.”

Silence.

“I didn’t—“ you stammered, “I didn’t read it. I would never.”

He just kept his gaze on you, raising his brows as if he didn’t believe a word you said and you wetted your lips.

“Where did you find it?”

That managed to draw a reaction from him, at least. He scoffed a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s what you’re asking me right now?” he asked, “It was under the magazines on the coffee table, I thought it was one of mine.”

You cursed under your breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Of course your mother would put it there for you to take a look at it in case you wanted to.

“So?” he said, nodding at the folder lying on the kitchen island, “Do you want to tell me why you have a file on me?”

“It’s not mine.”

The bitter smile on his face was almost amused at your pathetic attempt, and it hit you right at that moment, there was no way you could talk your way out of this. This was what he did for a living, and he could tear your whole list of excuses apart, picking holes in it one by one.

“Try again.”

So people felt exactly like this when he was interrogating them. It was like his whole personality had just changed right in front of your eyes, and you weren’t even sure that you knew this person standing in front of you.

“I mean,” you swallowed thickly, “Okay, it’s technically mine. But I can explain why I have it.”

“You can?”

You pushed your hair behind your ear, your hands restless for some reason.

“The other day,” you started, “After we…. Well, when you were in Ohio, my mom dropped by. She already has a key and well, you’ve met her, she comes and goes as she pleases. I told her not to numerous times, but—“

“That’s not what I asked.”

You nodded, clearing your throat.

“Right, yeah,” you said, wringing your hands, “Um, she has this P.I.”

“You mean your family has a P.I.?” he corrected you, “Philip, you said? It’s not just your mother who uses him, you told me so yourself.”

You cussed at yourself in your head and bit on your lip, “Yeah. Yeah but he—he usually works for my mother. She’s overprotective, especially after my dad she became quite paranoid with the type of people me and Mina date. Anyways, she came here that morning, and she had this file but I didn’t read it,” you shook your head fervently, “I would never.”

He tilted his head, humoring you, “Oh you didn’t read it?”

“No, of course not—“

“Why did you keep it then?”

“I didn’t keep it,” you said, “I had to leave in a hurry so I left my mom here and I swear to you I told her to throw it away. I thought she did, I didn’t see it before just now. I wouldn’t keep it if I knew—“

“Did you know she was going to do it?” he cut you off as if he wasn’t in the mood to listen to your excuses, “Put a P.I. on me?”

You opened your mouth to say no, then the memory of her saying that at the brunch flashed in your mind, making you shut your eyes for a second before looking up at him.

That was enough of an answer for him.

“You knew?” he asked, barely controlling the fury in his voice, “You knew but you didn’t tell me?”

“She mentioned it in passing but I didn’t take her seriously,” you said quickly, “I didn’t think she would actually do it, that’s why I didn’t tell you!”

He let out a humorless laugh and walked to grab his satchel while you stood there, unable to even breathe right as your heart pounded in your ears.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” he said curtly, “I’ll break your heart if I stay here any longer.”

“Spencer please, we need to talk about it—”

“Talk about it?” he repeated, “Why? So that you can give me more bullshit excuses?”

To that, you honestly had nothing to say.

“I would’ve told you whatever you wanted to know about me,” he said through his teeth, his eyes narrowed, “Because I trust you. That’s the difference between you and me.”

You blinked back the tears, digging your fingernails into your clenched fists.

“Have fun reading that,” he motioned at the file in front of you, then walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Your hand shot up to wipe at your eyes and tugged at the roots of your hair as you slouched against the kitchen island.

“Fuck.”

                                                         ***

The next three days were an absolute disaster. You couldn’t focus on anything, you checked your phone every minute to see whether he had texted you or called you, but there was nothing. You had no idea what you could do to explain yourself, or at least convince him to hear you out, but you decided to wait until he wasn’t as angry. Maybe then, he would be more willing to listen to you and you would have gathered your thoughts together.

That was the logical thing to do and you knew that, but it didn’t help with the situation at all. You had already missed him way too much and the guilt was basically eating you alive.

You should’ve been more careful. You should’ve checked everywhere, you should’ve at least called your mother to make sure if she had thrown it away but you had done none of that because of multiple distractions. Spencer had a point, you knew it was possible, you even knew your mother had done the same thing with Kenzie and yet you had told him nothing about that.

Until it blew up on your face.

There was absolutely no way he would ever trust you again, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

Your fingers were itching to text him, but you every time the urge hit you, you tried to do anything else but that. You concentrated on work, you accepted a new client, you did anything and everything that could stop yourself from thinking about him, but all of that was in vain.

Mina and Kenzie had invited you for dinner and you had accepted it just so that you could distract yourself and feel less terrible. Around nine, Lily had insisted you to be the one to read her a bedtime story, and that kid could ask for a freaking castle and you would get her that, so of course you had said yes.

“And they lived happily ever after,” you finished the story and pressed a kiss into her hair as she snuggled closer to you. “Time to sleep, bug.”

“I have a question.”

“Hm?” you asked, “What is it?”

“Will we all live happily ever after?”

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, “Certainly.”

“Here?”

You tilted your head, “Here? What does that mean?”

“I heard mommy talking to grandma on the phone about you moving to—“ she scrunched up her nose, trying to find the right word, “Ven…?”

“Venice?” you asked and shook your head, “No sweetheart, I’m not moving anywhere.”

“It’s just that,” she looked up at you, “In the stories, they go away sometimes right? I thought since you found your prince—“

“You don’t need someone to live happily ever after Lily,” you said, “And in this case, I don’t need to move somewhere else to live happily ever after. Besides, things are complicated with my prince nowadays.”

“So you’re not moving away?”

“I’m not.”

She gave you a toothless smile, “Yay!” she said, “I would miss you.”

“I’d miss you too bug,” you kissed her hair, “So much. But now that we both know I’m staying here, you need to go to sleep, we had a deal.”

“Fine, fine…” she heaved a dramatic sight and you turned off the lamp by her bed, getting up from the bed. “Good night!”

“Sweet dreams, bug,” you closed the door behind you and made your way to the living room where Mina and Kenzie were still sitting by the table, drinking wine.

“Thank you so much,” Kenzie said and you waved a hand in the air as you sat down.

“Of course,” you said, grabbing your wine glass, “Mina, she asked me if I was moving to Venice.”

Mina frowned, “What?”

“Yeah, she heard you talk to mom on the phone,” you muttered, “Is that still going on? I thought we put that behind us, I’m not leaving.”

She heaved a sigh, “You know how mom gets, she’s just worried.”

“Have you talked to Spencer yet?” Kenzie asked and you took a huge sip of your wine, shrugging your shoulders.

“He knows where I am.”

“I take that as a no.” Kenzie said and you scoffed a bitter laugh.

“If he wants to break up with me, he can pick the time.”

Mina’s head shot up, “Y/N…”

“Come on,” you forced yourself to say and downed your wine before tilting your glass towards Kenzie, “You guys know how it goes. Experience talking.”

Kenzie filled your glass, “Listen, I can tell you right now that finding that out was a shock, yes. I felt betrayed, also yes. But after a couple of days, the anger subsided. When we broke up, it was— it was just my anger calling the shots.”

Mina nodded slowly, “Yeah, and then we talked and solved it.”

“Exactly!” Kenzie snapped her fingers, “Besides, after the first argument… I went to my apartment and after I calmed down I had to question whether I wanted to lose Mina over that.”

You shook your head, “It’s different.”

“How?”

“You weren’t there,” you lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke, “You didn’t see the way how he looked at me after that. Something inside him shifted and I don’t know how to change that, or fix that.”

Mina and Kenzie exchanged glances.

“I don’t think he will ever trust me again,” you managed to say, turning the cigarette between your fingers, “That is if he talks to me again. I think he might just call it quits over the phone to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything after this point, after what happened.”

“Y/N, I saw you two together even before you started dating,” Mina said, “This is not the end. It’s just some stupid obstacle in the way, that’s it.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes but you blinked them back.

“I’ve never-” you trailed off, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, you know? And if I lose this, lose him, I don’t know…” your voice cracked but you cleared your throat and took a sip of your wine again, “I have no idea what to do.”

Kenzie nibbled on her lip,

“You won’t have to, just—“ she started but was cut off when your phone started vibrating on the table. You lowered your glances to check the caller I.D flashing on the screen, then gasped, jumping on your feet.

Spencer.

“Excuse me,” you said and snatched the phone off the table to walk to Mina’s study, your heart slamming against your ribcage. You hoped that it was a good sign that he was calling you, instead of just ending your relationship via text and you closed the door behind you, then answered the phone.

“Hi,” your voice sounded way too squeaky even to your own ears and you shut your eyes for a moment, making a face.

“Hey,” he greeted you and you bit down on your lip, pushing your hair behind your ear as you walked in the study.

“How—um, how are you?”

“I’m good,” he said slowly, “How about you?”

“About the same,” you answered, “I was just thinking about you actually. I wanted to call you, but…”

“But you didn’t?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders,

“I figured you might need some time away from,” you thought for a moment, trying to smile, “Well, away from me, I guess.”

He fell silent for a moment before he cleared his throat,

“Listen,” he said, “I just called to let you know that we— the team and I, I mean, we’re flying to Illinois in fifteen.”

Your head shot up, “Oh? There’s a new case?”

“Might be related to this one, we will see when we get there,” he said, “I just figured you’d…I don’t know, you’d want to know where I was.”

Even when you were quite possibly in the worst terms, he still wanted to make sure you knew about what was happening and that thought alone was enough to make you smile.

“Yeah absolutely,” you said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure thing.”

There was a pause before he took a deep breath.

“Anyway, yeah. That’s why I called. I’ll see you later—“

“Spencer,” you interrupted him, “Before you hang up, I want to say that I get why you’re upset, I really do. You have every right to be, but I was hoping…” you bit at your fingernail, “Maybe we can talk after you come back? Would that be possible?”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, “Sure, that sounds good.”

“Yeah?” you let out a relieved breath, “Okay, great. Be careful out there, please?”

You could almost hear his small smile, “You too,” he said and hung up, making you let out a squeal and you sat down on the couch, pressing a hand over your chest.

You didn’t know it back then, but the next time you would see Spencer, it would be under very, very different circumstances.

And it definitely would not look like what you hoped it would.

                                              ***

Even though Mina and Kenzie insisted you to stay over for the night, you told them you had an important appointment the next morning. It wasn’t a lie either, you had been handling Vincent’s wedding’s possible venues since last week and finally you had narrowed it down to three, so you would be visiting those venues with him and his husband.

But that whole morning started very strange.

For starters, you hadn’t even heard your alarm go off, which was unusual, because that had never happened to you before. By the time you woke up, you had a terrible headache as if someone had hit your head with a baseball bat but you hadn’t even drunk that much last night. It felt way too difficult to even open your eyes, and your limbs felt like they were made of jelly as you forced yourself to sit up in the bed.

Where was your phone?

The wind coming from the open window moved the curtain and you frowned, trying to remember when you had opened the window before a shudder ran down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

Spencer would’ve had some scientific explanation for it you were sure, but for you, it went deeper than that. It was your instincts, warning you that something was wrong.

Something in here didn’t feel right.

And every single cell in your body made sure you knew that.

Trying to make as little noise as you could, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, blinking to get rid of the blurriness in your sight and looked around in the room for any potential weapons, then grabbed the nail file on the vanity before you opened the door. You peeked around the hall, but as soon as your gaze fell on the front door, you felt the goosebumps rising on your arms.

The front door wasn’t closed properly, and you were sure that you had closed it last night.

Your heart started pounding in your head but you stepped out of your room, still holding the nail file tightly just in case there was a sudden movement. You took another step, trying to fix your breathing but you happened to inhale deeply for a second, and that’s when you took the scent.

You smelt it before you could even see it, the bile climbing up your throat almost automatically.

Metallic and sweet.

Blood and jasmines.

You slowly lowered your glances to the floor connecting the hall to the living room to follow the small flowers of jasmines soaked in the red river of blood, leading behind the kitchen island. There were sirens going off in your head, screaming at you to run away but you took a deep breath, your whole body shaking as you stepped around the kitchen island, the warm blood soaking your feet before your eyes found the body lying completely still on the floor.

The nail file slipped from your closed fist as you stared at your ex-boyfriend Anthony, his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling, his hair and clothes drenched in his own blood.

The shock only lasted for one second.

Then a scream ripped itself from your throat.

Chapter 17

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 16

The Darkling x Reader

'It's work-related Baghra, I'm not here because I miss you'

'Then get to it.' She snapped and walked around you, settling in her seat by the fire.

'How is Alina getting along?'

'Like a wounded animal' You sighed. As much as you hated the woman, she had a knack for training Grisha and always succeeded so this wasn't good.

'How bad is it?'

'She can't light a doorway on her own without Aleksander clutching her wrist.'

'Surely she's not that weak. Maybe you're just losing your touch'

'Get out.' She snapped.

'The Fete is 2 weeks away, it would do you well to make sure she doesn't embarrass herself' You let a subtle threat slip into your words but in reality, you couldn't touch Baghra, Aleksander forbade it himself.

'Or else what? You'll wrap my own shadows around my neck and wring me to death?'

'Perhaps.'

'Foolish girl. You have a pretty face but deep down you are uglier than the Black Heretic himself.' Baghra always seemed to have a paramount of new insult ready to throw your way.

'Well isn't it lucky that I share a bed with him'

'You are absurd'

'Only the best of us are.' With that, you left the blistering heat and made your way back into the palace, your mind drifting back to your first ever encounter with Baghra.

----

'You'll train with Baghra' General Kirigan said as you awkwardly stood in your lavish suite, feeling the ill-fitting Tidemaker kefta weighing heavily on your shoulders.

'I can fight already there's no need' You didn't want to be here, you wanted to go back to your regiment in the First-Army and sleep on an uncomfortable cot surrounded by your friends. The Palace reminded you too much of your old family home to the point of it making you uneasy.

'Not that kind of training' As handsome as the General was, you didn't let yourself succumb to his looks or that faint smile, even if it did erupt small butterflies in your body. Don't trust him.

'Do I have to wear this coat?' It was the first time you'd put it on and although it was very well made, you didn't think it suited you.

'That's your uniform from now on I'm afraid.' He gestured to his own black kefta. It was magnificent.

At the time, you hadn't yet known you could possess more than one Grisha power, but that was about to change really soon as he led you down the narrow steps leading to a hut.

It was nestled deep in the Palace gardens, and you longed for the same privacy. It wasn't anything like the Little Palace with its dull exterior and homely interior. But the heat, oh the heat, it was scalding. You fiddled with the kefta belt and buttons, tugging the thick coat off of you as you looked around, awaiting the woman the General referred to as Baghra.

'Hello?' You folded the blue coat over the back of a chair, feeling too awkward to sit down.

'You must be the Elemental, child you stick out like a sore thumb' An old woman appeared in the doorway. Her hair was graying and her clothes looked worn.

'An- wha- elemental?' You tested the words on your tongue, were you not a Grisha?

'Sit.' You did as you were told as she sat opposite you, leaning forward and having a good look at you.

'I've only ever met one of you, you're very rare'

'What am I' The urgency in your voice was strong.

'You take powers from other Grisha. You don't have any of your own.'

'So I'm not a Grisha. Why am I here then?' You scoffed.

'Just because you can't conjure up on your own doesn't mean you are not Grisha'

'I don't want to be here.'

'You've made that quite obvious.'

The room stilled as you thought about which questions to ask next.

'Is it hereditary?'

'Most likely. One doesn't don't know they are an Elemental until they touch a Grisha who is conjuring, hence why you're so rare. There's no test for it.'

'I don't fit in'

'No. You don't.' At least the old woman agreed. 'But don't let that be the reason you flock to change. There are those out there that would kill to have you in their ranks.' She eyed you again, a hidden meaning in her words that you couldn't decipher.

'I can be more than just a Tidemaker?'

'You can be much more, but only if you know how to control it.' She gripped your wrist suddenly, and a weird feeling spread through you, much like the one when General Kirigan touched you. It was like a rush of calm and surety.

'You have potential, a lot of it.'

'How are you going to train me if you've only ever known one of me?' You didn't mean to sound as harsh as you did, but you were growing impatient.

'Grisha science is simple child, even for those who come from Merzost.'

'Merzost?'

'Maybe in due time, Y/N. Maybe then I'll explain.'

-----

She never explained it, never mentioned it to Aleksander, never taught you properly. She held you back constantly and consistently. It was only when you left and almost died did you learn the true reason behind your kind and it still made you apprehensive.

You had yet to dabble in Merzost yourself even though your whole being came from it. You had felt drawn to it sure, but you understood that there was always a price to pay. Like Aleksander with the Fold, or Ilya when he created the amplifiers. You weren't willing to satisfy that silent thirst just yet if it meant sacrificing something dear to you.

The Palace was swimming in life right now despite the brutally cold air. The children had just finished school for the day and were running around playing in the snow while the Summoners were practicing on their grounds. It was nice to hear their laughs and content conversations, a stark contrast to the life you led a mere month ago.

The Little Palace wasn't perfect, but it was the sanctuary Grisha needed and you took pride in the fact that you helped achieve that. Aleksander may have done the bulk of the work, but you put blood, sweat and tears into ensuring that all kinds of Grisha felt safe in Ravka.

You watched as the young Tidemakers used all their might to break through the thick layers of ice on the lake. They worked in unison and in silence as the water shot up and behaved as if it were their puppet and they controlled the strings.

'Reminiscing?' Aleksander appeared at your side in his dramatic black cape.

'When I first came to the Palace, I truly thought I would be stuck as a Tidemaker forever' You laughed at your childish insolence.

'What's so wrong with being a Tidemaker?'

'Hmmm, maybe the fact that East Ravka is land-locked?'

'We have a lake' He pointed out with an amused grin. 'How is Alina?' He changed the topic.

'Your mother is doubtful'

'Isn't she always' His eyebrow raised in a sign of annoyance.

'Claims Alina cannot do anything without an amplifier by her side.'

'She's holding back.'

'Alina or Baghra?'

'Both.' You turned away from him, returning your gaze to the Tidemakers.

'You think she's up to something?'

'When is she not up to something, I fear your return has made her antsy.' You couldn't help but let out a giggle.

'Baghra is unnerved by me, my life goal is complete.'

'She thinks you corrupt me.'

'Does she know it is the other way around?' You mused and took hold of his hand, the action hidden behind his cape.

'I'm offended Ms.Y/L/N. I was under the impression we are both as bad as the other.' He squeezed your hand back, the cool silver ring pressing against your skin. You shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a cape.

'I think I have to go back in' You said as you watched your breath leave in a cloud of fog.

'I think that's best.' He gave your hand one last tight squeeze and let go, leaving a brief kiss against your temple. You watched the elegant sway of the black material as he made his way to Baghra's hut.

You ran back to the warmth of the indoors and requested a food tray be brought back to your chambers while you dealt with stationing new Grisha around the camps. It was tedious and boring but once you got this done, the rest of the day was yours to do whatever you wished. The library was calling your name, but so was the banya. You had spent so much time in the Little Palace covered in mounds of work you completely forgot to enjoy yourself.

As you signed the last station order, you leaned back into your chair with a sigh and sipped the rest of the kvas in your glass. It wasn't even dinner time yet but you found yourself stifling a yawn. Your mind wandered to Aleksander for the umpteenth time that day. Why did he go to Baghra?

-------

His steps were loud as he descended the stairs into the main part of the hut. Baghra was still sitting in her chair from her previous talk with Y/N when she heard the door squeal open.

'Mother.' His voice echoed throughout the small building alongside the crackling of the fire.

'Have you come to ask about your Sun-Summoner? if so then the Witch has already beat you to it'

'Don't call her that, she's your Deputy now'

'I will call that brat whatever I please.'

'Baghra, I am warning you.' He didn't care for her petty games.

'Do you not see her for what she is Aleksander? She hasn't changed. You cannot go back from the atrocities she has committed.'

'Have you forgotten who I am, who we are?' He spat through his teeth.

'But you have a cause Aleksander, she craves power for the simple reason of it being addictive.'

Baghra had tried to reason with her son countless times about the girl. She pleaded with him when he'd first given himself to her, she's a monster, she will ruin you.

'I have shown you so much mercy Mother, am I not kind enough to you? Must you curse the woman I love?'

'Love is foolish my son and it never got you anywhere. She is trouble, let her go.'

'You would be an amazing court jester' He laughed and sat down beside her leaning in closer 'I am an arm's length away from finding the stag and when I do, the sun-summoner will be at our disposal and Ravka will be ours.'

'The stag is fictional. A myth. You are wasting your time.'

'If a Sun-Summoner walks amongst us, a magical stag isn't in the least a doubtful tale.'

'I'll believe it when I see it. Besides, your biggest worry right now is getting rid of the plague that haunts this Palace.'

'And what would that be, do enlighten me, mother.'

'The woman who came in here earlier bragging about sharing your bed.' Aleksander's heart leaped in his chest. She wasn't ashamed to admit it.

He leaned in closer to his mother, taking her worn hand into his.

'I suggest you find a way to get over your hatred for Y/N before it's too late. Nobody disrespects the Queen and gets away with it'

He got up and made his way to the door, ignoring the look of fury on his mother's face. He was too far away to hear her whisper;

'My boy, you will never get either of those things as long as I live.'

-----

Part 17

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @lifeisingrey @edithsvoice

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”  

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

��You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”  

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.  

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.  

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them." 

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me." 

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever." 

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.  

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.  

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige." 

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.  

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.  

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.  

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.  

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

[theasstour]

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟎.𝟑𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

Tuesday, 16 January 2018

When Y/N perched her glasses on her nose the next morning, about to get out of bed, she heard the door next to hers open. What had started out as a decent morning was now tainted by last night’s chat with Harry in her room. She flopped down onto her bed, looking up at her ceiling as everything dawned on her again. Harry asked her to be his fuck buddy so she could make him become more comfortable in bed, and in return she would get free tattoos. They would have sex and Harry would get better with more experience, and once he felt ready to, he would pursue others again. That was the deal.

Y/N wanted to have sex with Harry, she had admitted that to herself, but if he wasn’t any good in bed… was it even worth it? Some men just didn’t know how to please anyone in bed, what if he was a lost cause? She knew Harry, he wouldn’t have asked her if he wasn’t truly insecure about his performance in bed. It just felt like such an odd favour to be asking someone. Did he even find her attractive? Or did he just ask her because he knew she’d tell him like it is if he fucked up? Or because they had sex before and it was just easiest to ask her?

She heard something against her carpeted floor, a quiet sound she would not have heard if she hadn’t closed her windows at 4am because of a drunken gang of men making their way home from the pub. Sitting up in bed, she looked at her floor, not seeing anything until her eyes landed on the small slit between her floor and the door. A note.

She got up from her bed, reaching for the dressing gown that hung over her desk chair. She reached for it as she heard footsteps away from her door, hearing them leave down the stairs and to the kitchen. Though it had been years since she had seen or read his writing, it still felt as familiar to her as the inside of her home in Nottingham.

I’m sorry about last night, can we talk? H x

Right now, she wanted nothing less than to talk to Harry. But, taking a look at her phone, she recognised the date, saw a text from Chloe, and knew that avoiding Harry would be next to impossible. In about two hours, Chloe would come to their flat on Orsman Road so Mason and Harry could show her how to play the PlayStation. It would look stupid if Y/N wasn’t in the room with them, keeping them company. After all, she was the one that had made this meeting happen, the tie that linked Chloe to Mason and Harry in the first place. Who knew how awkward it would be if she wasn’t there.

She got her dressing gown off, put on some knickers and a bra, then rummaged through her drawers for something to wear. She settled on a black pleated mini skirt with fishnets underneath – along with shorts to keep the chafing away – and an oversized long-sleeve jumper in acid wash black and grey. The print on it was of Back to the Future, one of the only films Y/N managed to sit through. She didn’t have the attention span to sit for hours on end to watch a film, she much preferred series where she could just watch an episode and then pause. She didn’t have the attention span for films.

Tucking the front of the jumper into her skirt, Y/N studied herself in her mirror, smiling at the image. Today might bring on some very awkward moments, but at least she would look good.

She walked over to her door, putting her ear against it to listen for movements downstairs. Last thing she wanted to do was make herself some breakfast while Harry was watching her like a hawk, trying to read her mind to figure out what she was thinking. He was one of the most impatient people she knew, always eager to get on with whatever he wanted to do, always wanting an answer right away. Though she knew having sex with Harry, directing him, and giving him more confidence in the bedroom wouldn’t be a chore, it would probably be a lot of fun. What was stopping her was that, if she wanted to have sex, she expected to have good sex. Especially if she were going to have sex with this person multiple times. If this happened, she just had to hope Harry took her seriously and did what he could to better his lack of giving properly in bed.

She looked down at the note in her hand, reading it over again as she heard the front door downstairs open and then close again. Knowing that Mason would wake up five minutes before Chloe arrived and that Nathan would likely sing along to What is This Feeling? from Wicked on his way downstairs, the person that just left had to be Harry. Y/N therefore made her way downstairs and made her breakfast, quickly walking back upstairs so she could eat her breakfast in peace. While listening to Duda Beat, Y/N sat in her bed eating, wiggling her toes in her fishnets, drifting to a place far away from the flat in Hackney.

Music was a huge part of Y/N’s life, always had been. It felt weird if her room was silent or if she was walking someplace on her own without the company of an artist singing into her ears. Nathan would often get annoyed with her about how many songs she already knew when he just found them, or how she always managed to know the songs playing at all the clubs they were at. Music was one of the things she truly treasured in life, something that made her feel safe if the world around her was too quiet or too loud.

While deep in her own thoughts, Y/N didn’t hear the front door open and closing again. She thought she heard some whistling out in the corridor, but didn’t pay much attention to it until there was a knocking at someone else’s door. Just barely, she turned her music down to listen to what was going on.

“Mase?” Harry said, knocking again. “You up, mate?”

Mason must have answered somehow because Harry opened his door and walked in. She didn’t hear what happened next, just some muffled talking as Harry stood inside a still sleepy Mason’s room. Harry’s small laughter at something Mason said emanated from the room, and two seconds later, he was closing the door and walking over to the room opposite to Mason’s, knocking three times on there as well.

“Nath?”

“Come in, best friend!” Nathan sang and Harry opened the door not even a second later.

“Hiya, thought you’d need this one,” Harry said, Y/N could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, you absolute lifesaver,” Nathan said, gasping a little as he took whatever Harry was offering him.

“First week back at uni, thought it’d lighten the mood.”

“Harry, you’re a dream,” Nathan complimented, making Y/N roll her eyes. That compliment would easily get to Harry’s head and he’d be all cocky the rest of the day.

“I know, but thanks for the reminder,” Harry said, steps could be heard next.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Nathan commented, and Y/N knew they were talking about her. The door to Nathan’s room closed.

Next thing Y/N knew, three knocks sounded at her door. She stilled, mid-chew. Looking at her door, she suddenly started searching around her as if anything inside her room would help her escape the inevitable awkward moment that was about to ensue.

“Y/N?” Harry said, knocking again.

She got up from her bed, carefully putting her plate down on her desk as she continued to look around her room. Nothing could save her, so at least her room had to look somewhat presentable.

“Y/N, I know you’re up. I can hear your music.”

Running a hand over her make-up free face, Y/N walked over to her door. She opened it, seeing Harry leaned against her doorframe on the other side, the nearness of him making her take a small step backward. He was wearing a brown knitted oversized rib jumper over loose black jeans, a pair of black leather shoes with a chunky sole that he had forgotten to take off at the front door along with his black cord double breasted trench coat. The outfit was cosy and so effortlessly attractive in a soft sort of way. Admitting that to herself made Y/N infuriated. This man was only getting harder to resist by the second.

Y/N was too caught up in Harry’s outfit to see what he was holding. Once he saw her, he did the same as her, eyes scanning her entire body to take her in properly. His eyes lingered on her legs where her bare skin was exposed through her fishnets. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he cleared his throat as he stood upright again, a slight redness appearing in his cheeks.

“Thirsty?” he asked.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, but then she caught sight of what was in his hands. A cup carrier where two out of four coffees were taken, two left. One for Harry, one for Y/N. There was a normal hot-drink cup and a plastic cup for cold drinks.

“Iced latte, right?�� Harry asked, holding the carrier out for Y/N to take her coffee. “That’s what you had when you popped by Footprint, at least.”

Y/N blinked. “How’d you know?”

Harry shrugged, giving her a smile.

Y/N took the iced latte, recognising that it was a different cup to the ones you normally got at Starbucks, Costa, or Caffé Nero. No, this was from one of those smaller cafés that he liked popping by. She was sure she would like it regardless, maybe even prefer it to the chain stores.

“Thank you,” she said, taken aback by Harry’s gesture. He had really gone out of his way to buy the entire flat a morning coffee.

“I owed you one,” Harry smiled.

“Yes, you did,” Y/N said, but the both of them could tell she didn’t mean it one bit. Silence settled over them, Y/N kept her eyes on the coffee as she felt Harry glance at her, not willing her to look up but just trying to find his words as if there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to. Slowly, she glanced back up at him through her lashes, looking between his eyes as his lips parted.

“Did you get my note?”

Y/N felt her heart leap out of her chest. “Yes.”

“Can we? Talk?”

“Yes, but I’m… I need to eat my breakfast.”

“Oh, okay. Send me a text-“

“-Thank you so much for the coffee, Harry. Truly.” And then she closed her door, standing there with one hand on the doorknob and the other holding the iced latte Harry had just given her. It took a few seconds before she could hear Harry making his way back downstairs, most likely to take his coat and boots off, and maybe to make himself something to eat if he hadn’t done exactly that at the café he had just been to. The door to Mason’s room opened and Y/N heard him yawn as he started down the stairs, greeting Harry in his usual rumbling voice.

Y/N sat back down on her bed, looking down on the iced latte in her hands. It meant nothing. He had done the exact same thing for Mason and Nathan. But… something about someone going out of their way to buy you a coffee without you even needing to ask for it, was a level of intimate Y/N wasn’t sure she had reached with anyone before. This just told her that he cared for her; cared for her like he would care for Mason and Nathan. That thought warmed Y/N, and she was left just looking at the iced latte for another minute or two before she actually brought it up to her lips to drink it. She had been right before, she liked this one much better than the one she usually got at Costa.

An hour or two later, Chloe sent Y/N a text to tell her she was on her way, and 30 minutes after that, the doorbell rang. Y/N opened the door to her room and walked down the stairs just as Harry stood in the doorway of his room, watching Y/N fly past him to get to the door. As curious as she was to peek inside Harry’s room, she would have to do that another time.

“Hello?” Y/N said into the phone.

“Hiya, babe,” Chloe called on the other end, sounding as chipper as always.

“Walk up the steps, it’s the first door on the right,” Y/N explained before buzzing Chloe in. To make it easier, Y/N opened the door and waited there for her mate in the doorway, even though the cold air from the outside corridor seeped into the flat and made goosebumps appear up and down her exposed legs.

“Hi,” Chloe grinned as she walked up the steps, hugging Y/N once she reached the flat. “And hello, Harry, you alright?”

Y/N whipped around to see Harry standing there, leaning against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. His hands were shoved into his jean pockets and a wry smile came across his lips, nodding at Chloe as she made her way inside.

“Ready to play some PlayStation?” he asked.

“Oh, more than ready,” Chloe grinned, taking her jacket off and hanging it on Y/N’s hanger. “I’m so tired of everyone playing the PlayStation in my flat and when I ask if they can show me how to play, they say they can’t be asked.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I’m very thankful for you and Mason.”

“Think Mason’s gonna be the main lecturer of this one,” Harry said. “I’m not nearly as good as he is.”

“I hope he’s a good teacher, then.”

“Only time will show,” Mason said as he came downstairs, wearing a pair of rugby shorts and a zip-up hoodie. “Alright?” he asked, leading the way into the living room.

“Splendid now,” Chloe grinned, following Mason into the living room. As she walked past Harry, Harry’s eyes fell on Y/N who stood put, trying to ignore the intensity of Harry’s glance. She knew he wanted to say something so she walked straight past him and after the other’s, not wishing to take the discussion Harry so clearly wanted to take at that very moment. Y/N sat down by the round dining table, expecting Harry to take the seat next to hers. For some reason, that made her sweat. She was suddenly nervous for some reason.

“Harry,” Chloe chimed. “You need to sit beside me in case Mason confuses me.”

“I’m not gonna confuse you,” Mason said.

“No, but in case I need another explanation for things, you know,” Chloe explained, smiling over at Harry. Y/N could sense Harry’s gaze on her, and then the free chair beside her, before he met Chloe’s eyes again.

“Alright,” he said, walking over to sit down on the couch to Chloe’s right, the closest of the three to Y/N who sat alone by the dining table. Mason turned the telly on and then started getting the PlayStation going, giving Chloe a console while he brought his own as he sat down beside her. Chloe’s eyes instantly fell to Mason’s bare thigh, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a smirk before she focused on the television in front of her.

“Y/N,” Harry said, scooting a little to the side. “You can come sit here, if you’d like. You could game with us.”

“No, I’m alright.”

Harry put his hand on the sofa. “If you-“

“-Hello, whores,” Nathan said as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen in his purple kimono. The white and orange lilies on it glinted in the pale sunbeams that shone through the living room window. He took the free chair beside Y/N and brought it over to the window, plopped do in it while whipping his phone out from somewhere. Harry sat back in the spot he reserved for Y/N, looking over at her as he sat back against the couch, placing his arm on the arm rest. Y/N’s eyes instantly fell onto his hand and the veins that ran from his knuckles to his wrist, studying the way he balled his hand into a fist before he stretched his fingers. She felt herself salivate. Mentally punching herself out of her trance, Y/N swallowed and looked away from Harry. He must have noticed her staring.

“Oh, I love that, Nate,” Chloe grinned.

“Aw, thanks, darling,” he said, and Y/N could see how greatly he appreciated the compliment. After all, the people he lived with rarely gave him any of them.

“Is this just a normal morning for you lot?” Chloe asked, looking around at all of them.

“I mean,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t think we have a status quo or anything. Anything’s normal if nothing’s odd.”

“Wow,” Nathan said. “Ground-breaking.”

Chloe laughed. “Aw, I wished I lived in your flat. This seems like so much fun compared to my one in minging Dinwiddy.”

“Have you, Thian, and Hayden started looking for places?” Y/N asked.

“Thian’s found a flat, but it’s all the way in Brixton.” She grimaced. “That’s ages away, even by tube.”

“We found this place in December our first year,” Nathan said. “Harry’s mum knew someone who knew someone, and here we are. Pretty decent for London, even though it’s cramped.”

“Yeah, I want all the credit for this,” Harry grinned, looking as smug as always. “I’m the best.”

“That’s subjective,” Y/N scoffed, making Harry look over at her and Chloe laugh again. She felt Harry’s gaze linger on her, but she refused to look back at him, knowing that it would be hard to glance away.

“Alright, Chloe,” Mason started. “We’ll play GTA, is that alright? It’s what we usually play.”

“Anything’s fine by me,” Chloe said.

For some reason, Y/N’s brain forgot what she had just told herself a few seconds prior, because her eyes locked with Harry’s, and suddenly her heart was doing something funny. It halted for a second, then began back up again. Last night’s conversation played in Y/N’s head as well as the note he had left under her door before he went out for breakfast that morning. The proposal had not left her alone for a single second, she was sure she had dreamt of it but didn’t remember the exact dream just then.

Looking away, her eyes landed on the telly before she glanced over at Nathan who sat with one foot slung over the other. His gaze was already on Y/N, a slight crease between his brows as he scanned Harry for two seconds, then back at Y/N again. She quickly looked away, pretending like nothing was happening, as if she hadn’t just been sharing a little-too-long look with Harry that obviously meant something. In the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Nathan leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knee with his phone in one hand, looking between Harry and Y/N with an almost knowing look that brought Y/N’s pulse up dangerously high. Mason was too busy teaching Chloe about the PlayStation and Chloe was too distracted by both Mason and Harry to even recognise something was going on beyond the couch they were sat on.

Y/N did not spare another look at Harry even though she could feel him staring at her, chewing on his bottom lip and clearly wanting her to glance back at him. Y/N knew Nathan was staring between them, trying to piece together what was going on, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of finding out on his own. First she wanted to do that herself, to figure out what was going on and how they would go forth without Nathan putting his nose in business that was not his to meddle in. Y/N had a hard time breathing under Harry’s stare and Nathan making up conspiracy theories right across from her while Chloe and Mason were shooting and killing people on the telly. This was going to be a long morning.

Friday, 18 January 2018

The first Critical Reading 2 lecture of the semester had been slow. Their professor, Yvonne, had stood at the front of the lecture hall with her hands behind her back, walking up and down in front of her PowerPoint that was displayed on the wall behind her, and talked about The Yellow Wallpaper. In her mid-40s, her dark hair came to her shoulders and her ordinary green jumper over blue jeans, made her look like anyone else. Maybe that was why Y/N liked her lectures so much; she was just an ordinary woman. Chloe had fallen asleep during the lecture, resting her head on Annalise’s shoulder, while Hayden had been texting a bloke on Tinder, and only Thian and Y/N were paying any proper attention out of the five of them. Maybe the three others didn’t find this fascinating, but Y/N certainly did.

“Women were expected to be subordinate to their husbands and completely obedient, as well as take on strictly domestic roles inside the home,” Yvonne said at the front of the lecture hall. “Upper middle-class women, like the narrator, may go for long periods of time without even leaving the home. The story reveals that this arrangement had the effect of committing women to a state of naïveté, dependence, and ignorance.”

Y/N wrote down keywords in her notebook.

“John, the narrator’s husband, assumes he has the right to determine what’s best for his wife, and this authority is never questioned. He belittles her concerns, both concrete and the ones that arise as a result of her depression, and is said to brush her off and laugh at her when she speaks. He makes all the decisions about both of their lives.”

Y/N glanced up at Yvonne again.

“As such, she has no say in anything in her life, including her own health, and finds herself unable to even protest. The author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, like many others, clearly disagreed with this state of things, and aimed to show the detrimental effect that came to women as a result of their lack of autonomy.”

Yvonne walked over to the computer, changing the slide of her PowerPoint and taking a moment to look up at it before she turned to the lecture hall again. It was just a picture of some old, decaying yellow wallpaper.

“The yellow wallpaper,” she started, clapping her hands together. “This is, of course, the most important symbol in the story. The narrator is immediately fascinated and disgusted by the yellow wallpaper, and her understanding and interpretation fluctuates and intensifies throughout the story.”

Thian flipped through the Norton Anthology that he had brought, finger skimming over The Yellow Wallpaper that was printed out on the page he had put an orange sticky note to so he could find and come back to it.

“The narrator, because she doesn’t have anything else to think about or other mental stimulation, being kept in that attic by her husband, turns to the yellow wallpaper as something to analyse and interpret. The pattern eventually comes into focus as bars, and then she sees a woman inside the pattern. This represents feeling trapped, as you may have already figured out.” Yvonne put her hands out as she continued to speak. “At the end of the story, the narrator believes that the woman has come out of the wallpaper. This indicates that the narrator has finally merged fully into her psychosis, and become one with the house and domesticated disconnect. She has become a mad woman.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, putting her pen down as she turned all her attention on Yvonne. Something about those last three words made her ears perk up.

“In Gothic literature, the mad woman hails from the dark side of Jane Eyre. Mr Rochester’s first wife, who barely appears in the text, but pops up only to terrify sweet Jane. The first wife is violently insane, and is kept away from the world, the badge of shame in Rochester’s life,” Yvonne said. “Her irrational behaviour somehow justifies him almost becoming a polygamist when he attempts to marry Jane. Only after Bertha, his mad wife, literally burns Rochester’s estate to the ground, dying in the process, are the lovebirds free to pursue their happy ending. Mad women are so inconvenient while they’re still alive.”

After the lecture, Y/N walked to her next seminar by herself. Chloe and Annalise were in a seminar together, while Thian and Hayden were in another one. On one hand, Y/N was lucky to be part of the seminar right after the lecture, which meant she could go do whatever she pleased afterwards without waiting around to be in the second seminar group, but on another hand, she wanted to be with her friends. That was all she managed to think about as she made her way down the corridor, walking past a horde of other students that were on their way to their lectures and seminars.

The corridors were of white concrete, the walls in between doors to lecture halls, seminar rooms, or exits to the either one of the quads either decorated with paintings of previous headmasters or headmistresses, or brochures or papers about different societies or sports events. In the past, there had been pictures up on the walls of old prime ministers, but the frames had always been taken down by students, or some wrote on the glass that protected the paintings, all kinds of vile words that had, in the end, resulted in the paintings being taken down, much to the students’ delight. The paintings of Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher had been the ones to endure the worst of it, something Y/N wished she could have contributed with.

The ceiling high above was adorned with blue squares, lamps hanging down from some of them, while others were decorated in fine details that Y/N with her shitty eyesight couldn’t make out. The walks from the lecture hall 19 to seminar room 0-07 took about five minutes. She walked from seeing the North Quad out the windows to her left, to seeing the corridor that connected the two sides of the buildings together at the middle, to seeing the South Quad outside. Y/N hated summer, but she couldn’t wait for spring to arrive so she could spend her time between lectures and seminars outside in either one of the quads.

Y/N walked straight in when she arrived at seminar room 0-07. The seminar room was rather modern, with white walls, white ceiling, and grey carpeted floor, a blackboard hung on one wall, and a big round table in the middle of the room for everyone to be seated around. The chairs were a bright green, and the cushions that came with them matched, something that was supposed to brighten the room, but the chairs themselves were horrible to sit in. Especially for hours on end. Yvonne was already there, giving Y/N a broad smile and urging her to sit down with a warm, “welcome,” that made Y/N absolutely want to take a seat. However, as she made her way over to the table the ten people in the seminar group would be sitting around, Y/N’s eyes fell on a familiar face.

“Isla,” Y/N said, making the girl with the brown bushy hair who had her nose buried deep in the Norton Anthology in front of her, look up rather quickly at the sound of her name. An instant and warm feeling spread out from Y/N’s belly and all throughout her body, making her tingle with pure happiness.

“Y/N,” Isla said back, sitting up straighter.

Y/N let go of a slight chuckle before she walked over, sitting down beside her work friend. “I didn’t know you did English Lit.”

“I do.”

“I’ve never seen you in any of our lectures,” Y/N said.

“No, I’m usually in the very back or by one of the walls,” Isla explained. “I guess I just blend in with my surroundings.”

“Like a chameleon,” Y/N smiled, putting her notebook and Norton Anthology down on the table as well. “This is so bizarre. I didn’t know you even went to Helmond.”

“I’ve seen you at the front of the lectures with your friends, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh, hun, you could never disturb me,” Y/N assured, wanting to give Isla’s shoulder a squeeze but unsure if her mate would appreciate that touch or not. “This made my day. I’ve had a… week, to put it that way, and this just made my day.”

Isla smiled, looking back down at the book in front of her.

“How’d you find the lecture?” Y/N asked.

“It was interesting. I really liked The Yellow Wallpaper, so it was easy to follow along,” Isla answered as another student entered the seminar room, two others following right after.

“Right? I love anything gothic.”

“No wonder, all you wear is black.”

Y/N gasped, putting a hand to her chest as her eyes grew wide, a grin appearing on her face before she laughed. Isla’s own face broke out into a smile before her neck grew red, she must have been anxious of how Y/N would react to her taking the piss. Trying not to make too much noise so the few people who had showed up so far wouldn’t stare at them like they were mad, the two girls put their hands in front of their mouths to stifle their laughter.

“You damn near chopped my head off, right there. Oh, my word,” Y/N laughed, Isla laughing with her. “Black is a good colour to wear. It’s an anonymous colour.”

“For someone so extroverted, it’s interesting that you want to remain somewhat anonymous,” Isla noted.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s become a habit.”

Isla furrowed her brows at that.

“Hey, are you doing anything later tonight?” Y/N asked.

Isla brought her pen up to her chin, tapping it a few times against her chin dimple. “That depends.”

Y/N smiled. “Would you want to come to this Uno Society that my mate’s hosting?”

The second the words were out of Y/N’s mouth, she could see a sort of light die out in Isla’s eyes. Though she already knew the answer, she was disappointed when Isla uttered a small, “I’ve got plans, I think.”

The words hadn’t been voiced, but they both knew Isla was lying. Y/N did not mind, though. She knew that some people’s social batteries only lasted so long, and that this might be enough socialising for Isla to last her a whole week, so she did not press the issue and Isla again. If coming to the Uno Society was something outside of Isla’s comfort zone, then Y/N would not pressure her into coming.

“That’s fine,” Y/N said, giving Isla a smile. “When’re you working next?”

Isla seemed grateful for the change in conversation topic, but just before she got to answer, Yvonne sat down by the table, looking around at each one of the students that were sat in each seat. She opened her notes, clearing her throat so that all the small chatter around the table would die out completely.

“The mad woman,” Yvonne started, smiling as she made eye contact with a few of her students. “Where does the madness come from? Is it already present in the character from birth? Or does it develop, or at least intensify, due to isolation imposed by men?” she asked, looking around the table at the students surrounding it. “Anyone?”

1 Night by Charli XCX and Mura Masa played over the speakers as Y/N walked through the door and into another seminar room later that same day. She mouthed an excuse at Hayden before she glanced around, looking for someplace to sit down. Her original table was already occupied by just enough people so she would have to find another group to join this time around. The idea of disturbing someone in the middle of a game wasn’t appealing, it was frankly something that made her heart beat a little too fast. But, Y/N knew she had to do it unless she just wanted to stand around and look like a proper twit. So, after a quick sweep of the room, Y/N settled on the table in the far corner. She walked over to it, quickly realising that she knew a few of those seated around it.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled as she came over, taking the seat next to Mason.

“Oh,” he smiled back. “Alright?”

“Can I join your next round?” she asked, looking from Mason, to Kai, to the other three men seated around the table.

“Yeah, of course,” Mason said. “Just be patient, not too long since we started this one.”

“Of course,” Y/N smiled, sitting back in her chair and taking another quick look around the room. Studying each person on each table.

“Why’re you late, then?” Mason asked, nudging Y/N so she would know he was talking to her.

“Made some feijão tropeiro for dinner, had a nap, woke up ten minutes before I had to be here ‘cause my alarm didn’t go off. Phone’s dead,” Y/N explained. “Took the tube, but you know how all public transit’s always so slow when you need it to hurry along.”

Mason smiled. “Feels like that, doesn’t it?”

“Yet to see you at The Stag’s Head again, Y/N,” Kai said, grinning from ear to ear.

“She’s not as keen on a pint as I usually am,” Mason retorted.

“No, just haven’t had the time. I’ll have to pop by sometime soon.”

“Yeah, tag along with Mase, Nath, and H,” Kai continued. “H told me your fave cocktail’s Sex on the Beach. I’ll make you that if you’re not too keen on a pint. Actually,” Kai grinned, holding his hand out. “I might be the best bartender you’ll ever meet. My hands – these guys –“ He held up his other hand as well. “-Are the hands of God.”

“Pack it up, dicksplat,” Mason said, motioning for Kai to continue his round.

Kai howled, his laughter booming through the seminar room. Though deep and rumbling, Kai’s laughter was infectious and Y/N found herself smiling at him as he came down from his high, shaking his head and looking down at his cards. He dealt his round, glancing back over at Y/N.

“Did you know Mason’s funny?” Kai asked. “Mason, you can be funny sometimes.”

“You say that as if it shocks you. You literally laugh at me every single day.”

“Someone needs to laugh at you or else you’d cry yourself to sleep.”

Mason laughed at Kai, glancing down at his cards to focus on them for now. Y/N took this moment to look around her again, studying each face at each table.

“He’s not here,” Mason said, making Y/N’s head whip around in his direction.

“What?”

“Harry,” he elaborated. “He’s not here.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Mason play for another moment. “I wasn’t looking for him.”

“It’s okay if you were.”

“It’d be weird if I was.”

“What’s going on with you and Harry?” Kai asked, a slight lift to his bushy brows as his eyes darted between Y/N and Mason.

“Absolutely nothing,” Y/N answered, hoping they didn’t notice her lying in the way she refused to meet their eyes. “I simply started thinking about him and thought I’d see if he was here.”

“So, you were checking to see if he was here,” Mason smirked.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Men are so annoying.”

“Is something going on?” Kai asked again.

“You know, I could’ve just told you where he is right off the bat if you had just asked me about him,” Mason said.

“I don’t care where he is.”

“Are you and Harry a thing?” Kai asked for the millionth time.

“You’re nosier than Harry,” Y/N retorted, rolling her eyes at Kai who only laughed again. She met Mason’s eyes. “I don’t care where he is.”

Mason grinned. “He’s at work.”

Of fucking course he is, Y/N thought to herself, looking away from Mason again as his smirk widened. Y/N zoned out as the boys around the table continued to play Uno, only sometimes participating in whatever was going on when one of them shouted something or they laughed. Her thoughts were only on the proposal Harry had come with, one that intrigued Y/N more and more with each passing day. It had been four days since he asked her to help him get confident in bed and in return he would give her free tattoos.

Free tattoos. If she was getting free tattoos and good sex in the end, then the deal seemed pretty decent. After all, there were quite a few tattoos she wanted, most of them being those that Marcela had on her body, and then numerous she wanted to get herself. If she actually went through with this, then she was going to milk it for what it was worth. She was going to be proper tattooed up, looking so hot that it would be hard for her to keep her hands off herself.

It didn’t take too long until they were about to start another round, so Y/N joined in, playing until they were done a little over an hour later. When it’s time for them to pack up, Y/N walked over to her mates to apologise for coming in a bit late, something Hayden did not mind in the slightest. While that was happening, Nathan, Mase, and Kai were chatting by the exit door, waiting for Y/N to catch up so they could start on their way back to the flat and The Stag’s Head. In between talking to her friends, Y/N glanced over at them to make sure they hadn’t left yet, and at one point, she saw Nathan shake his head and raised his brows at Mason who only nodded his head in affirmation of what he had just said. Nathan looked back over at Y/N who only frowned at him, unsure what he was trying to tell her.

The walk back to the flat was slow, Mason stopping by a chippy on the way so he could get himself some dinner. He insisted on stopping if he wanted to get a proper bite in of his fish or chips, something that ultimately made Kai late for his shift at Stag’s Head. Mason was chill about it as always, reassuring Kai that his boss wouldn’t mind, he hadn’t shoved Harry’s head through a wall when he came in late while he worked there, he would surely not do that to Kai.

“Look at the size of ya,” Mason reasoned, only making Kai laugh, though Y/N could sense the muscle man was too stressed to put his entire heart into it.

The entire way back to Orsman Street, Nathan barely said a word. To Y/N, at least. He did not mind talking to Kai or Mason, but he hadn’t paid Y/N as much attention as he usually did, something that made her draw the conclusion that something was up. She didn’t try to press him about it while they were walking, not wanting to do it in front of the two others who obviously had nothing to do with this.

They said goodbye once they reached the flat, watching as Kai ran into The Stag’s Head and through the crowd of people that had already gathered in the pub. Y/N pulled her phone out of her purse, wanting to check the time, only to remember again that it had died earlier and she had forgotten to charge it afterwards. She would just have to charge it when she got to her room.

Mason opened the doors for everyone, taking his shoes off while still eating his fish and chips, strolling up to his room to finish it in there before probably having a shower. Y/N followed first after him, Nathan quick on her heels and, for some odd reason, breathing down her neck. She glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him a glare before she continued on her way up the stairs, but Nathan only glared back at her, walking just as close behind her as he had done since they got back to the flat.

Y/N opened the door to her room, sitting down by her desk and putting her phone down to charge as Nathan slammed his hands against the frames on either side of her door. Y/N jumped, looking over at Nathan whose expression looked absolutely manic.

“Right,” he started, looking over his shoulder to make sure the door to Mason’s room was closed before he glanced back at Y/N. In the meantime, she opened her laptop, keeping her eyes on Nathan. “I’ve been keeping my mouth shut about this for too long.”

She blinked. “What’s up?”

“What is going on with you and Harry?” Nathan hissed, brown eyes boring into Y/N’s soul.

She just blinked some more, staring at Nathan while she put two and two together. Mason must have snitched; he must have told Nathan while they were talking after Uno that Y/N had been looking after Harry. With that information and the staring – on Harry’s part – earlier that week, Nathan had put two and two together. That was why he was fuming and hadn’t bothered to give Y/N any sort of attention on their way back from uni.

“’Cause I can tell something’s been up. First he won’t stop staring at you when Chloe’s over, and now you go asking around about him at Uno.”

“I didn’t go asking around,” Y/N said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” Nathan retorted, raising his eyebrows at her, bobbing his head along as he spoke, something he usually did when he tried to get a point across.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She started shaking her leg.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. What’s happened between you and Harry?”

“Nothing, Nath. We’re just friends.”

Nathan scoffed. “That’s the most rubbish thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Weird when that’s the truth.”

“I know something’s up,” he said, pointing a threatening finger at her.

Y/N sighed just as something like the terrace door banging shut sounded from downstairs. “Listen, you forced me to live with him. I’m just making the best of the situation you’ve put me in. I’m just making nice.”

“By sucking his dick?”

“That’s derogatory, Nathan.”

Nathan bowed his head lower, eye almost twitching with the intensity in which he was staring her down. “Something can’t not be up. My intuition is telling me something’s going on.”

Y/N let out a dry laugh. “Your intuition is doing you dirty then.”

Footsteps up the stairs had Nathan stop just as he was about to retort back, but he glanced over his shoulder instead, Y/N peering out from between Nathan and the doorframe. His curls appeared first, and then he was looking over at them, giving them that wry smile that had his right dimple deepen against his cheek. He was wearing all black, his tee shirt tucked into his black jeans, the sleeves of his tee shirt rolled up over his shoulders. Y/N hated how nice his arms looked like that.

“Alright?” Harry asked, voice just as deep and sensual as it always was. It hit Y/N like a train coming head on each time she heard his voice after some time of not. Harry’s eyes were on Nathan for a small second before they landed on Y/N, lingering there a little too long before he approached his door.

“We’re exhausted,” Nathan groaned, slumping against the doorframe.

“Same,” Harry said, looking down at his right hand, flexing his fingers. Y/N was unable to look away. “My arm feels like it’s gonna fall off, been vibrating all night holding the tattoo gun.”

Y/N bit her lips together.

“Uno Society alright?” he asked, looking solely at Y/N now. She wanted to shout at him to stop, to pay most attention to Nathan so he would stop giving them a hard time.

“Fine,” Y/N answered quickly.

Harry smiled at her, lightly nodding his head once. “Good.”

Y/N looked away, feeling her entire face heat up as she continued to feel Harry’s stare on her. She logged into Facebook to look at the family groupchat which she knew had most likely blown up since she last checked her phone. Her papai would go absolutely mad if she didn’t at least check the chat once every few hours.

“I’ll leave you two to it then, I guess,” Harry said, opening the door into his room. “Night, Nath.”

“Night, Haz.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

It was hard to not look at Harry, but Y/N managed a, “Hm,” in response before she focused all her attention back on writing her e-mail address and password into Facebook. The door to Harry’s room closed and the second he couldn’t see them, Nathan turned to Y/N. He gawked at her while making a sound akin to dinosaurs’.

“’Goodnight, Y/N’?!” he hissed, still sounding crazed like he had done a second earlier. He rushed into Y/N’s room, closing the door behind him so quickly and soundlessly it made Y/N think of all the other times they had rushed into each other’s rooms like this growing up.

“He’s just wishing me goodnight, Nathan, why’re you making up conspiracy theories?”

“Oh, that’s all there is to it, isn’t it?!” he whisper shouted, still sounding crazy.

Y/N rolled her eyes and clicked on the ‘log in’ button on Facebook, done with listening to any more of Nathan’s stupid theories. Doing so, she was immediately brought to the home page, displaying the 99+ messages that had been sent in the family groupchat. Y/N sighed, about to open the chat when she let her eyes drift, landing on something that made her pause.

“Harry obviously wants to-“ But Nathan stopped as well, eyes falling on Y/N’s laptop screen and seeing what she was seeing. “Kit.” It sounded like he said it more to himself than anything else, reminding himself of who that was a picture of. “Kit and Finian.”

The picture in front of them was from inside a pub, two men, clearly drunk, standing in the middle of the picture while a group of others were surrounding them. Kit had his left arm wrapped around Finian’s waist, a broad smile on his face, showing off crooked teeth and a slight, dark stubble. His styled black hair was rather nicely kept considering he was under the influence, and his small forehead and pointy nose glistened with sweat. The tank top he was wearing showed off his well-defined muscles, something Y/N knew Marcela had found attractive about her boyfriend.

Finian beside Kit was a little chubbier, wearing a baby blue polo shirt while he had an arm slung over his best friend’s shoulders. His brown hair was longer than Kit and had also been ruined by numerous hair-ruffles and fixes in the mirror since he started drinking. He was singing along to a song, eyes shut and a huge smile on his face.

Finian and Kit had known each other for years, Y/N was unsure how they had become friends. Marcela had met Kit while she went to University of Manchester, and the two had been together since her first year there. He was five years older than her, so ten years older than Y/N, and she had never had any sort of particular relationship to him. He would come by their house in Nottingham every once in a while, eat dinner with the family, but would more often than not stay put in Manchester. Y/N was always positioned next to him at family gatherings, and though she didn’t mind because they rarely talked, it still made her blood boil when she thought about it now. If she had just finished him off or gotten Marcela to break up with him, maybe her older sister would still be alive.

There had been found drops of Kit’s blood in the cabin after he disappeared, but that was nothing compared to the amount of blood belonging to Marcela that had been found there. Kit’s car was gone and all of his belongings with it. The police had stated that there was no doubt about it; Kit had killed Marcela, maybe by accident, maybe intentionally, and had hidden her body somewhere before running off. Three years had passed since then, and there had not been a single trace of Kit. He remained hidden. Some tipped the police about him, stating that they had seen him someplace far away from Newport, Wales. He had been sighted in England, Scotland, France, Morocco, and in Indonesia. Still, to this day when “sightings” of Kit were getting fewer and the days went on by, Y/N thought all the sightings weren’t him. If he had planned to kill her sister, he would have planned it out, she knew it.

The police and the population of Newport along with neighbouring towns had all searched the woods around the cabin, but Marcela’s body had not been found and neither had Kit. Nothing had been found; there were no definite answers. Except for one, at least to Y/N: Kit had killed Marcela, and he was still on the run.

Not able to look at his face any longer, Y/N’s eyes landed on the caption to the photo. Someone she knew from school had commented on it, making it appear on her dashboard, because it would never have found its way to her if not. It angered Y/N that people posted pictures of Kit as if he wasn’t a deranged murderer. The date showed 8th September last year. On the anniversary of Marcela’s murder. Y/N looked at the person who had posted it, Graham Bartlett, another one of Kit’s friends.

Miss you two everyday. #FindKitAndFin.

Y/N blinked. “Find… Find Kit and Fin?” she asked, frowning at the laptop screen in front of her.

Nathan leaned on the back of her chair. “You don’t know about Finian?”

“Obvs not.”

Nathan inhaled slowly. “Just a few days after Marcela died and Kit disappeared, Finian vanished as well.”

Y/N just stared at the picture, now not able to take her eyes off of Finian. She had seen him outside her house sometimes, just barely talked to him. He seemed like a typical bloke that thought he was better looking than he actually was, someone that made girls uncomfortable. He had picked up Kit from their house in Nottingham when Kit had stayed over and Marcela and Kit had fought, or he had just picked up the both of them sometimes to drive them back to Nottingham. He always seemed to hang out by his car, always leaning against it or smirking from the driver’s seat.

“He disappeared?”

“Yeah,” Nathan answered. “No one’s seen him in three years, four now coming September.”

“There’s not a trace of him?”

“No. He lived alone, so no one noticed ‘cause he rarely answered his phone, except his boss. He always answered him. So, when he didn’t even pick up when his boss was calling, they knew something was up,” Nathan explained. “His flat looked just the same as always when the police entered, though. It looks like he just left for the shop.”

“His car was gone?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N continued to just stare at Finian on the picture in front of her. “How… How didn’t I know about this?”

“Y/N, your sister had just been killed, you had other things on your mind than Kit’s vanished mate,” Nathan assured her. “Besides, someone might have told you. After all, there are big chunks of the following year that you can’t remember.”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes for a few seconds before exiting out of Facebook. She couldn’t look at them any longer. Rage was bubbling inside her like a kettle about to boil over. What if Kit drove his car someplace and parked it where no one can find it, and then Finian came to get him? What if they drove away from the cabin because they knew that someone would eventually turn up, so it was better to be far away as fast as possible? Did they take Marcela’s body with them? Or is she still in Kit’s car, wherever that was? The thought made Y/N physically sick and she slammed her laptop shut.

Monday, 22 January 2018

Y/N put her white oversized jumper over her head, liking how the chunky knit felt against her freezing form. She had made the mistake of keeping her window open all night when she usually just opened it for a tad bit before going to bed, then closing it before she actually went to sleep, so her room was absolutely freezing when she woke up, something that resulted in her pulling out her thick jumper. Her black lace halterneck bralette showed at her neck and the open collar of the jumper, but Y/N did not care. The bralette was super cute, anyone who glimpsed it would be lucky. Running her hands over her black mum jeans, Y/N shoved her glasses further up the bridge of her nose before she walked out of her room, getting ready to walk downstairs to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast.

Y/N halted at the top of the stairs, glimpsing a very familiar, broad and muscular back where it stood on the terrace at the bottom of the stairs. Y/N could see something else black along his back, but she couldn’t make it out through the white of his tank top. She swallowed thickly as she stopped in the middle of the staircase, tightening her hold on the railing. He just looked so effortlessly… so fucking good. So good. It made her heart beat faster just looking at him. Though she had had her answer ready for a while now, she had just not found the right moment to tell him, but this seemed as good a time as any. So, taking a massive breath in through her mouth and then out through her nose, Y/N proceeded down the rest of the stairs and over to the terrace door.

She knocked on the glass twice, making Harry look over his shoulder rather abruptly to see who was there. At the sight of her, his eyes grew a little wide, but he stepped to the side, letting Y/N come out onto their small terrace. Harry held onto his tea mug bringing it up to his lips as he let his eyes travel down Y/N’s body as quickly as possible. At that, it was physically impossible for Y/N to do the same to him.

He was wearing his loose black jeans again, but this time he only wore a white tank top to go with it, tucked into his jeans. The collar went so low that Y/N could see Harry’s two dragon tattoos, the red one over the left side of his chest and the black one on his right one. It had been a while since she had seen those. The thought of Harry having more tattoos hidden under his clothes on parts of himself that other people rarely got to see-

“-Fine,” Y/N said, interrupting her own thoughts. She held her hands up, letting them fall to her sides as she met Harry’s eyes again. “I’ll do it.”

There was a slight pause as Harry’s face went from slightly smug to absolutely bewildered, blinking rapidly as if he had to check if this was all real and not some made up daydream. “You’re… You’re saying yes?”

“Are you deaf?”

“You’re going to teach me how to be good-“

“-Shush!” Y/N hissed, taking a step closer to Harry with a finger in front of her mouth, eyes wide. “Let’s keep this between us and not all of Hackney.”

Harry let a small smile show, a light chuckle leaving his lips, even though his searching eyes told her he was still in disbelief. “But you’re not just taking the piss, we’re actually gonna do this?”

“Yes.”

Y/N could see Harry’s grip on his mug tighten as he bit his bottom lip. “Yeah… alright…” he mumbled under his breath. “I wish there was a chair out here, I feel like my knees are gonna give out.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, looking around them as if a chair was just going to materialise out of thin air. “I-“

“-I’ve also been trying to get you alone to say sorry,” Harry said, leaning against the brick wall. “I feel like I put a lot of pressure on you to say yes ‘cause I was so desperate, I didn’t really think a whole lot about anything other than just getting the question out into the open and for you to at least consider it. But in retrospect, I realise I should’ve stopped after your first ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’, but I didn’t, and I understand how stupid that was of me.” He sipped his tea, eyes on the inside of his mug before he locked eyes with her again. “If you want to stop this, at any time, or if you don’t even want to start now, that’s completely fine. All I care about is that you feel comfortable doing this. I not only appreciate you considering it and also doing it, but I also really want to have sex with you. I’m… well…” His eyes fell to his tea again, then at Y/N’s feet. “You’re so pretty, and I’ve always thought that.”

A few moments pass when the two of them are silent, the distant sounds of London waking up to a new day keeping them company as they both let this moment wash over them. Y/N’s eyes did not leave Harry and she noticed the slight pink hue that appeared over his cheekbones, and something told her that wasn’t the cold temperature and the wind of the canal’s doing.

“I’ve always thought the same about you,” she said, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looked up at her.

Hundreds of memories from a life before this one in London flashed past them as they stood there, suddenly remembering everything that had brought them to this very moment right here. Y/N wondered that, if they hadn’t had sex that one time three, almost four years ago, would Harry still have suggested this? She didn’t think he ever would have, even though they were both very sexually attracted to one another.

“This can’t go past sex,” Y/N said, breaking the silence once again. “It’s never going to become something more, at least not on my end, and I expect that from you too. Promise me we’re just gonna have sex, I’m going to make you feel more confident in bed, and then we can move past this without looking at one another any differently, okay?”

“I promise.”

“And you give me as many free tattoos as I want. However big.”

Harry smiled. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, eyes resting on the bralette strap that was visible at Y/N’s neck. He quickly looked up again. “I want you to want to have sex with me, Y/N.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, giving Harry a reassuring smile. “I do. I’ve wanted to for a while. Your predicament just took me off guard.”

“If you at any point don’t want to continue, I’ll understand, and we’ll stop.”

“Naturally.”

Harry nodded, his brain working as he thought about something. “Now… Do you… Do we…”

Y/N just looked at him.

“Do you need me to buy anything?” he asked, to which Y/N continued to just look at him. “Lube? Condoms? Toys?”

She drew in a sharp breath, feeling her heartbeat quicken drastically. “You know what, buy whatever you want, whatever you need. I don’t care.” She put her hand on the doorknob, about to enter the flat.

“Oh! Also!” Harry exclaimed. “My birthday is next week, I’m celebrating with some mates and the flat at a teammates house, wanna come with? You can ask Chloe and the rest to come if you wanna.”

Y/N flashed a tight-lipped smile. “I’m flattered, but I’m working, I’m afraid.”

“Bugger.”

“Truly,” Y/N said, really meaning it. “I’ll leave a note under your door when our first… time will be.” She paused. “First session, maybe? We’ve already had our first time.”

Harry shrugged.

“Well, I’ll leave a note under your door when that first session will be.”

Harry grinned. “Can’t wait.”

“And leave that grin in your room, I don’t want to see you being all smug when we have a go that first time.”

His grin only widened. “Love, when I’m with you, fighting that grin is like fighting an oncoming tornado. I can’t win.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as Harry laughed. She walked back inside to go make herself something to eat while she felt Harry’s eyes on her the whole time, watching her through the window. Despite herself, Y/N found herself smiling as well.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 18th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic​ 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​​​ 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​ ����️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

READ TWO CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON | CHECK OUT THE OTHER FIVE EXCLUSIVE PATREON STORIES HERE!

[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 20

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of parental deaths, and mentions of abuse.

When Yoongi opened his eyes the next morning, it was to the sound of someone yelling his name. He almost thought he was going crazy as he sat up off of the ratty couch, standing up and looking out of the window. 

“I’m loosing my mind,” Yoongi muttered as he saw who he was pretty sure looked to be Taehyung and Jungkook approaching the old cabin. 

“Yoongi hyung!” Taehyung yelled again and Yoongi just sighed heavily. 

“Yep, I’ve lost it,” he huffed as he walked over to the front door and threw it open, walking down the steps and waving his hands to show that he was there. Taehyung and Jungkook walked over to him, and Taehyung instantly threw his arms around Yoongi in a tight hug. 

“Are you ok hyung?” He asked and Yoongi just nodded as he awkwardly brought his arms up and wrapped them around Taehyung as well.

“I’m fine Taehyung,” Yoongi replied and Taehyung pulled away from the hug to look him over.

“Wow, you don’t even have any bruises or anything from Joon hyung,” Taehyung marveled. 

“He’s Prime Tae,” Jungkook reminded him. 

“What are you two doing here?” Yoongi asked them. “Does Namjoon know you’re here?”

“We came to find you and no, he doesn’t know because I’m not speaking to him since he threw you out of the pack,” Taehyung explained. 

“Taehyung,” Yoongi tsked in disapproval. “Well, how did you guys know I was here?”

“We followed your scent,” Jungkook said. “You don’t smell the best when you’re sad hyung.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Yoongi chuckled. “You two shouldn’t be here, though. There’s no need in you causing more issues with Namjoon just to come and check on me.”

“But we know that you’re not who Seo-hyun painted you out to be!” Taehyung announced excitedly. “In our pack, we keep records of everything so knowing that, I decided to look through the records that we had of the Great Pack War. Why didn’t you tell us that you didn’t fight in the war at all?”

“It never came up,” Yoongi shrugged.

“In the records, it said that Seo-hyun claimed that he didn’t want any of his pack members that were under the age of 19 to fight,” Jungkook brought up. “But it seemed like he was using that as an excuse to hold some of his fighters in reserve.”

“Well, it was partly that,” Yoongi nodded in confirmation.

“Then where were you during the war hyung?” Taehyung questioned and Yoongi took a deep breath before answering, because he had never said this to anyone out loud before.

“I was locked up on our territory with my parents, under Seo-hyun’s orders, for the entire two years of the war,” Yoongi revealed and Taehyung’s face lit up. “Matter of fact, he locked us up before the war even started.”

“I knew that there was more to this!” Taehyung exclaimed as he looked at Jungkook. “Seo-hyun made up that excuse in order to not draw any attention to that the fact that he was imprisoning you!”

“Yep,” Yoongi said. 

“Why didn’t you say anything hyung?” Jungkook wondered.

“I’ve never...talked about that time period with anyone other than my parents, who were locked up with me,” Yoongi replied. “And it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to figure it out because you have to go explain this all to Y/N-ah,” Taehyung said. 

“She was really upset when she found out, I don’t think she’d be willing to listen,” Yoongi told him. 

“We’ll make her listen,” Taehyung shrugged.

“What about Namjoon?” Yoongi questioned. “I’m no longer welcome on the territory, remember?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jungkook smiled. “Just trust us.”

........................................

Yoongi deciding to trust them led to them literally sneaking Yoongi back onto their territory and right onto your front steps. 

“Just...let me do all the talking at first hyung,” Taehyung suggested and after receiving a nod from Yoongi, he reached out and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened and Yoongi’s heart almost broke as he took in the sight of you. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, you had one of the blankets that Yoongi gave you wrapped around your shoulders, and your scent was extremely sour, only further proving how upset you were. 

“What are you doing here?” You spat as you narrowed your eyes at Yoongi. “I said I never wanted to see you again and Namjoon kicked you out of the pack.”

“Y/N-ah, hear us out,” Taehyung said and you turned your head to look at him. 

“You went and found him?” You asked and Taehyung nodded.

“I looked through some of our records because I just couldn’t believe that Seo-hyun was telling the truth and I found out that Yoongi hyung never even fought in the war,” Taehyung told you and your eyes widened slightly.

“What? You never told me that,” you muttered as you looked at Yoongi. “Then what were you doing for those two years?”

“I was locked up with my parents before the war even started, under Seo-hyun’s orders,” Yoongi spoke up and you gasped softly.

“Seriously?” You wondered and Yoongi nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I could tell you now and explain everything, if you’d let me,” Yoongi offered and you nodded your head slowly.

“And that’s our cue,” Taehyung grinned as he grabbed Jungkook’s hand and lead him down the steps and away from your house. 

“Come in,” you muttered as you stepped back and Yoongi walked inside, waiting for you to shut the door before following you to the living room. You both sat down on the couch, a good amount of space in between the two of you before Yoongi spoke.

“So, first things first,” Yoongi began. “Seo-hyun wasn’t always the leader of my pack.”

“Really?” You asked. 

“My uncle had been the Pack Omega since before I was born,” he elaborated. “When I was around 16, he gathered the pack one day saying that Seo-hyun, who I knew as Seo-jun at the time, was going to be joining our pack and acting as his second in command. We all thought it was weird because our pack was never really one to take in lone wolfs and there was just something about Seo-hyun that rubbed everyone the wrong way.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “What happened after that?”

“Over the two years that Seo-hyun served under my uncle, he was always trying to convince him to fight for more land and resources,” Yoongi told you. “My uncle was the literal definition of a pacifist though, and he was never going to start a war with other packs unless absolutely necessary so Seo-hyun murdered him.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered. 

“He locked my parents and I up after that because my uncle had no mate or pups so the next Pack leader would’ve been my dad and after him, me,” he continued. “He was worried about us trying to ‘overthrow’ him so while the war went on, my parents and I were kept in a cabin with no windows, only one door, and very little food.”

“I’m so sorry Yoongi,” you spoke up and he gave you a small smile.

“It’s ok. It wasn’t that bad really, because we had each other,” he said. “But when the war began to wind down and it became clear that Seo-hyun was going to lose, he killed both of my parents right in front of me.” You reached up and clasped your hand over your mouth, hoping to stifle the sound of the gasps that were escaping you as tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“I’ve always hated myself for it because as a Prime Alpha, I’ve always felt like I should’ve been able to do something to stop it,” he confessed. 

“He would’ve killed you too,” you pointed out. 

“Sometimes I think that would’ve been better,” he replied.

“Don’t say that,” you tsked as you reached over and grabbed both of his hands in yours, scooting over to be closer to him. “It wouldn’t have been better.”

“Well, after the war ended, I should’ve been next in line to be Pack Alpha but Seo-hyun literally threatened to kill me if I took it so I didn’t,” Yoongi sighed. “Seo-hyun always resented me though.”

“Then why did you stay?” You asked gently. “I mean, your uncle was gone, your parents were gone, so you didn’t have much tying you down there.”

“True, but I wouldn’t have made it on my own,” Yoongi said. “You know the life expectancy for a wolf without a pack and I was only 20 at the time.”

“That’s understandable,” you nodded.

“I’ve always regretted not leaving though, because the things that Seo-hyun did to me over the seven years afterwards were cruel,” Yoongi huffed. “He was always purposely trying to make me weak so he would do things like starve me and pay other members of the pack to try and kick my ass. Eventually, I guess he just got sick of me so a bunch of other Prime Alphas in our pack jumped me before leaving me for dead.”

“And that’s how Tae found you,” you summed up and Yoongi nodded. Without any hesitation, you threw yourself into Yoongi’s arms and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry Yoongi.”

“Baby, it’s ok,” he assured you as he wrapped his arms around you as well, pulling you into his chest.

“No, it’s not,” you cried. “I should’ve let you explain and instead I just pushed you away.”

“You thought I had something to do with taking your parents away and it’s understandable that you reacted the way that you did,” he whispered and you pulled back a little in order to look at him. “I need you to know though Y/N, I’m nothing like Seo-hyun and I never want to be. I meant what I said when I told you that I don’t crave power.”

“I believe you,” you smiled lightly. 

“I also need you to know the other reason why I stuck around and seemingly went along with Seo-hyun’s fucked up ideology for seven years,” he said but you shook your head.

“I didn’t ask.”

“But I’m going to tell you because I don’t want you to have any doubts in your mind,” he explained. “I stayed because I thought that if I fucked enough Omegas and won enough fights against other Alphas then that would make me feel better about not being able to save my parents but it never did. It wasn’t until I joined to your pack that I realized that contributing to the pack was what finally made me feel worthy, and falling in love with you and being the only one who you let see your vulnerable side only intensified that feeling.”

“I love you,” you whimpered and Yoongi chuckled at how emotional you had gotten.

“I love you too,” he replied. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you nodded and that was all Yoongi needed before he smashed his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

“Do me a favor,” he murmured against your lips and you pulled away from him to watch as he pulled the necklace that he had given you out of his pocket. “Never take this off again?”

“Never,” you promised as you quickly turned around to allow him to clasp the necklace onto you. Once he was done, you turned back to face him with a small smile on your face.

“I missed you,” you told him honestly.

“I missed you more, and I’m sorry again for not being honest with you sooner,” he said.

“It’s all water under the bridge now,” you waved your hand dismissively. “It’s me and you now.”

“I like the sound of that,” Yoongi grinned before leaning forward and kissing you again. 

........................................

Tag List:  @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspirit @min-yus​@cheysjimin @to-the-joon-and-back​ @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #17

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

[AO3]

*In this house we stan string theory and multiple dimension theory *Also, this chapter gets a little preachy, and delves more into my interpretation of the series so to make up for it I made a lot of art.

~POV Sinbad~ "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" When Ja'far cut in he was in a rush; he didn't want to miss this chance. Sinbad had underestimated Ja'far's concerns; he had been too preoccupied with the Prophet. All the same, "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with everyone after all." Wait. He knew that look. Ja'far wasn't actually asking to have that conversation now. He was pressuring Mori so she would have to agree to tell them soon. "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." Mori was wearing the same stern expression she had the morning of the coup in Balbadd. When Ja'far had cut in with his request he could have tried to sound a little nicer but it didn't warrant the cold response Mori gave in return. There had been rising tensions between Ja'far and Mori since Balbadd, but both seemed to get along most of the time. "Wait really? You're agreeing this easily?" Ja'far's shock also spoke for the King. She obviously didn't want to talk about the Calamities even when she promised to tell them, so why now? "A promise is a promise." Mori almost felt like a completely different person compared to the coy way she was teasing them all just moments ago. "Besides, this will just continue to be a point of contention until I explain."

--- King Sinbad was finally eating with his Generals and Prophet, but this was nothing like he had planned. Mori sat straight with both hands on the table interlocked. "The 1st of the 2 calamities occurs in about 2 years. As you know, there's a few countries that currently have rising tensions." Which countries? The Kou and Riem were prime contenders since they were already Empires causing trouble for other countries. There was also Magnostadt which has been becoming increasingly hostile to other nations, and seemed to be encroaching on the Kingdom of Actia. "In 2 years, 3 of them are going to go to war. A massive amount of black Rukh will be released, and the same type of magic used to make the Dark Djinns will be used to make a humanoid monster the size of a mountain." Of course, Al Thamen would be involved. "The amount of black Rukh it will have will make it a Medium for opening a black spot and letting Ill Ilah connect to the world which is Al Thamen's ultimate goal. Once Ill Ilah connects it will destroy all of the white Rukh in the world -bringing death." It sounded just like what Falon had described as her plan all those years ago. The same thing that happened in Parthevia a decade ago is going to happen again in only 2 years? "The Medium is destroyed before that can happen thanks to all of the current Metal Vessel users and assimilated Household Members coming together to destroy it. The world is saved but in the process one of the Magi will have to commit one of the ultimate taboos of this world. That taboo is what will eventually lead to the 2nd Calamity. If King Sinbad and the Metal Vessel users of the Seven Seas Alliance, which were the last to arrive, can show up sooner then that taboo and the 2nd Calamity might be something that can be fully avoided especially since I already know the Medium's weakness." It was clear that Mori knew more. Sinbad would have to talk to her about it later; he wasn't sure how much he wanted to talk about this tonight -they were supposed to be celebrating and getting to know each other light heartedly. However, there was one question he couldn't hold back from asking. "What is this taboo?” Mori sighed like she had expected that question. She looked to the ceiling. "Honestly, I didn't want to think it was a taboo when I first learned it, but after seeing what happens I get it now." She looked back at them. "I hope you can accept me not telling what it is. I don't want to even try to explain the 2nd Calamity because I'm not sure how without explaining the taboo. You see, the taboo involves information, so if I explain it to you I will be committing the taboo myself. I can only hope that the world isn't endangered because I know it." The air in the room felt thick. All of the Generals were waiting for his decision. Sinbad tried to read the Prophet's expression. It was serious, and determined; it seemed like fear and remorse were hiding right under the surface. What information could be dangerous on its own? "Alright," he agreed. "We don't want to take any unnecessary risks. However, if we are unable to prevent the taboo from being committed you will explain the 2nd Calamity." Mori attempted a half-hearted smile. "I was already planning to do that." She glanced around at the Generals. "Are there any other questions?" Sharrkan grumbled. "This is all really complicated stuff." "Yeah. Pretty scary, huh?" Pisti agreed. Drakon and Hinahoho were sharing a look while thinking.

"You still haven't told us where this is going to happen." Ja'far decided he would ask the next question. "Are you withholding that information on purpose?" Mori's expression was blank. "I'll tell you the countries involved after King Sinbad returns from the Kou Empire. I don't want to influence how the negotiation goes by giving him too much information he wouldn't normally have. I'm doing this for Balbadd..." Mori withholding vital information was the entire cause of Ja'far's distrust of her. "You took too long to tell us what was going to happen back in Balbadd, remember? If we know what their next target is then we can stop it before it ever happens." "The 1st Calamity has nothing to do with Al Thamen." "What?” that question was asked by all except the Prophet. Mori explained, "That country has refused contact with them and been building towards this for the past 10 years all on its own. All of the Black Rukh that has been accumulated there is like a trap waiting to be set off. The people currently in charge are not people who would be willing to accept change, or to listen to the arguments of the people here." That definitely narrowed it down. Riem was already having meetings with them, and it was only a matter of time before they formed an alliance. They already had the peace treaty with the Kou, and King Sinbad was about to go negotiate with them for Balbadd. That only left Magnostadt as the center of the conflict -the country they knew had increasing disparity between it's upper and lower classes. Mori was staring at him. He wasn't the one she was actually hiding this from. Since it didn't seem to be an avoidable Fate, she was preventing Yam from learning the Fate of her home country for as long as possible. Mori was trying to be considerate. "How is that possible?” "If they aren't behind it then how could such a thing happen??” Mori gave a sad smile. "It would be so much easier if all of the bad things in this world really were all caused by that organization. I had wrongly thought that was how this world works in the heat of the moment back in Balbadd, but I know better. I've read this world's Fate after all. Even in this world it is a mistake to hold onto the hope of total altruism too strongly." It almost felt like she was calling them all naïve with that last statement. She looked down at her hands. "Sentience, experience and free will make us all imperfect. All people are shaped by their past and everyone has a vice. There will always be people who think they are above everyone else, people who think they are right because of their feelings, people who think that they deserve something just because they want it or that they can do something because it is available to them," she looked back up and made direct eye contact with her King, "people that think that their luck or privilege is a sign that they were chosen by Fate, that they are the only one who can do something because they are special and that that means they are righteous and their failings mere stepping stones when in reality they are all normal people just like the rest of us." ///She knows nothing about being a Singularity. There's no greater proof of being chosen by Fate!/// Since the Fall of First Sindria, Sinbad had been hearing a voice periodically. It was like stray thoughts -many were opinions he didn't really have. The fact that the voice felt the same as him in this made a pit form in his stomach.

Mori gestured at him and continued. "Even his Majesty being a 'Singularity' is only something rare. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last. You know I can read the waves of Fate as well, so it's obviously not the type of thing that you or Al Thamen makes it out to be. There is no 'chosen one.' No one is immune to human fault or failing. 'Fate' is the history of how all of our decisions affect each other.” It was like she was reading his thoughts. There were other Singularities? Mori could also read the waves but- The waves in the room were over flowing. This was greater than when Mori changed things in Balbadd. They were far off topic now, but this was more important. ///She doesn't understand anything. I've read Fate!/// Those stray thoughts hated Mori and how she was changing things since the beginning even though when Sinbad read the waves around her he liked the direction they were going. Her waves wouldn't stop him from reaching his dream. If that voice was this against what she was doing then he had to know more. "Mori, please tell me, what makes you so sure? You say you've read Fate; how can you say there isn't a grand plan? Can you really deny that the Rukh guide us?" Would they have to agree to disagree? Was this something he could afford for the Prophet of his own country to not see his way? She watched him and the Generals as she thought. "There is a 'plan,' but it isn't absolute. I read more than one 'Fate' for this reality. If Fate was already fully decided then in Balbadd Judar would have defeated all of you instead of being crushed by Ugo, and Cassim would have married Princess Kougyoku instead of dying, but that didn't happen, now did it? When I read Fate, I read how it was changed from it's original design by the people of this world. And as I've already said, I couldn't be here if everything was already decided.” ((these are things that are said to be in the og draft of Magi, but got changed when actually making the scenes)) They had been changing Fate's course before Mori arrived? Was that even possible? Mori wasn't the type to lie out right over something like this. Between her demeanor and the waves, he could tell she wasn't lying. He had to know where this new path was leading and asked an obvious question. "Isn't it just as likely that those 'changes' were supposed to happen?" Mori scowled at that. "Anything is true somewhere. There are infinite realities where any Fate is true. Every moment infinitely more form to account for every possibility -every decision, and unexpected change, even an asteroid coming and destroying the planet. If you can imagine it, it is reality somewhere." Sinbad had read Fate in the waves, of course he knew about there being other possibilities. Were there really other realities where he had followed one of the other paths? Mori didn't wait for him to comment. "There's no way to know which destiny or Fate we are following until it's already happened. Being able to read the waves has helped me narrow it down to 2 or so of the Fates that I read for this reality, but it can't account for everything. Since I can't read my own Fate I can't know how my presence will affect things." Mori continued, "When I read this reality's Fate, I learned how it functions on a fundamental level. Everything is made up of Rukh and is dictated by the Rukh and magoi. The Great Flow of the Rukh 'guides' the living but it is also affected by the wants and desires of the living. It sees all those wishes and creates opportunities for people to realize those dreams based on how many want that dream to become real. But it's still up to the living how they react. The Great Flow creates opportunities and makes suggestions, but it can't make your decisions for you. And" Mori paused while looking for the right words, "and the more magoi directed at a certain wish the more likely the Great Flow will try to help." Mori waited for them to absorb the meaning of her words. That meaning made Sinbad nervous. If she wasn't lying... Drakon broke the silence. "That would mean that someone with

a lot of magoi would have a greater affect on the Great Flow." "It does." Mori confirmed. Was that really how the Great Flow of the Rukh worked? How Fate worked? Mori stayed silent again, reading them as much as they were reading her. The waves were still high. Yam was the next to comment. "I know the amount of magoi a person has defines how strong of a magician they can become, but it sounds like those born with a lot of magoi also have an amazing privilege when it comes to the Great Flow." "Exactly." Mori agreed. "The people that Fate seems to favor aren't chosen by Fate or particularly special. They are born lucky just like those born rich." She paused. "All Dudgeon Capturers have an above average amount of magoi. A Djinn won't select a King that doesn't even have enough magoi to use their power. The more Djinns a person has, the more magoi they need to have. King Sinbad, you were born with a rare ability, and the equivalent magoi of a large city or small county -even before all that Rukh merged with you in Parthevia. If you didn't, there would be no reasons for the Djinns to cut you off from trying to capture more Dungeons." "What?" Sinbad's question slipped out of him in an airy gasp. He knew he had more magoi than average, but this would make him no different from those that grew up as royalty thinking that they were inherently better than their poor subjects. He wasn't sure if he could believe her, but the waves of Fate had never lied to him. The Prophet's waves were overwhelming the space, encouraging him to believe her. It was obvious how this information would change things. King Sinbad had more than the waves, he also had a sharp intuition. There was something hidden in her words. Some truth about his future that she hadn't told them yet. Even if he had been intentionally given these privileges by Fate, Mori had already stated that his decisions were his own. When Mori had said there were people that conflated their privilege with a righteous roll given by Fate it definitely included him. But if he wasn't chosen by Fate, if they had been changing Fate all along, then what was what happened in Parthevia or Riem? Mori's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Not being chosen by Fate and everyone having free will is a good thing if you ask me. It means when someone chooses to do right by others it is because they chose to, not because someone is forcing or directing them. I like to think that everyone thinks they are doing the right thing, and only act out against others because of strong emotions and ignorance. The cure for most negative emotions is a stable environment ((including medication for those who need it)) and the cure for ignorance is education. These are things that Sindria and the Seven Seas Alliance are able to provide. "All of you are using your privileges and talents to help people, and to bring peace to the world. Regardless of whatever mistakes you made in the past, this country and the current state of the world are a direct result of your choices. These choices you've all made are even more admirable because you made them on your own. Isn't that why so many have sided with Sindria already? It's also one of the main reasons I chose to become Sindria's Prophet in the first place. With your help, we can greatly reduce the disparity of this world and raise the quality of life for everyone." Her smile was soft and confident. Mori's waves overtook his own.

The King had a thought that shook him, but it was Hinahoho that asked it, "You didn't just tell us some of the taboo information, did you?" "What? No." Mori was shocked by that question. "His Majesty and others would have figured this out all on their own in about 5 years -not to mention those that already know it." He could try to deny it, return to the path he was on, but he would know deep down that she was right. And apparently, he would figure this out in the future anyway. There was no reason to hold himself back then. He could see that now -there was no going back. This was one of the changes he had felt in her waves from when he first met Mori. ///How can she say such foolishness?? This woman must die before she ruins everything!!/// A chuckle slipped out of Sinbad. That voice really did hate his Beautiful Prophet. His waves were changing. He was changing. But he still had the same dream: to create a world without war or poverty. Mori's goal was to remove disparity. Even their goals worked well together. Why had he been so sure that being a Singularity made him some special chosen one? When had that started? It was members of Al Thamen that had told him that. They were the enemy yet he still believed their manipulation so completely. Sinbad knew why deep down. If he was chosen by Fate then his actions would be righteous and the awful things he experienced were stepping stones. Like a child learning to take responsibility and step out of the shadow of their parents, in this too he would have to take ownership for his place in the world. He would be thinking about this a lot in the coming days. All of this information was invaluable. Why did Mori choose to follow him if she knew all this? There was no way she didn't know how he viewed himself and the world before this conversation or the mistakes he had made. Was it thanks to opportunities that the Great Flow gave him that he was able to seduce her to his side? No. Mori already knew what was going to happen. She knew the future more clearly than what the waves could show. She knew him and his methods as well. She knew that the Kou Fleet had been on it's way. That meant Mori would have been deciding where she wanted to go and weighing her options from the beginning. Mori made her decision, gave him a slow drip feed of what she was capable of, and made sure each request he had of her was given a price. She wasn't just withholding her help due to a lack of trust; she was leading him to make the best possible offer. She knew that he would try to bring her to his side if he knew her value. He had played into her hands not the other way around. Why didn't this realization upset him? This new information wasn't going to stop him from achieving his dream. In fact, now that he had a better idea of how the Great Flow worked he could consciously use it to his advantage. He got what he wanted and it was mutual -not simply Fate. They both wanted this. This was making him excited. The smile on her face was one he recognized. He had worn it when he was young whenever he had convinced others to his side. Mori was cut from the same cloth. She had agreed to have this conversation not just because of Ja'far's insistence; she was after the opportunity to clear up his misunderstanding about Fate. ((plz ignore that I forgot to draw my freckles in most of the shots and am too lazy to fix it.))