#i’m aware i sound like a lunatic and am the only person who cares about this okay

[spamalie]

just in general the way some people will bring up their dislike for shipping completely unprompted and talk about how they Actually headcanon they’re related and would just NEVER like ok bitch do u want an award or something

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 18

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For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 18

It was half a day’s journey from the port in Le Havre to the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré. They stayed one night in a tavern before arranging a coach to take them to the abbey. Though the impulse to head straight for Paris to Jared’s home was strong, the abbey was another consideration they couldn’t rule out ��� and the closest location upon arriving in France.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the abbey and the three of them stepped out into the bright sunshine. They approached the abbey with only the faintest flicker of hope. Months on this trail had left them anxious enough not to get their hopes up too soon.

The exterior and grounds of the abbey were lovely ‒ a 12th century Romanesque structure with a large garden that was carefully tended to. Claire’s gaze was inexorably drawn to it as they walked up the path leading to the abbey.

And then she glimpsed a flash of red-gold hair in the sunshine from up ahead in the gardens.

Her breath caught in her throat as her feet refused to move any further. Absently, she registered that Murtagh and Fergus had stilled beside her, puzzled.

Ahead of them, a small red-headed toddler registered the presence of three new visitors and boldly went out to greet them.

Claire’s vision burned with tears. She won’t remember, she reminded herself. And just the same, it didn’t matter. After all those months, Faith was right there in front of her, and she didn’t care if she had her work cut out for her still in winning her child’s heart back.

Her feet moved then of their own volition, unsteady at first and then picking up the pace to close the distance. Claire dropped to her knees as gracefully as she could in her condition and pulled Faith abruptly into her arms as soon as she was within reach.

“Oh, my baby. Oh God. I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out of her in a rush and then it was like a dam breaking open. She clung to Faith and wept.

Claire had her. At last. Faith was alive and real and heavy in Claire’s lap.

She felt the girl squirming in her grasp, her little hands pushing against Claire’s chest, and reluctantly, she let her go. Fergus was at her side, she realized, and he gripped her by the elbow to try and help her to her feet. They managed, a bit awkwardly.

It was only then that she noticed who Faith was with ‒ and who Murtagh was helping ease onto a stone bench after she looked about ready to faint.

“Y-y-y-you’re dead…”

Claire’s gaze flicked over to Murtagh briefly. In all their time searching, they hadn’t given much thought to how they would explain this to Mary ‒ or anyone else who wasn’t Jamie for that matter.

“Whoa, lass!”

The sight of Mary beginning to hyperventilate snapped Claire out of her thoughts. “Easy now. You’re alright.”

She was aware of Faith trying to burrow behind Mary’s skirts, but couldn’t give that her full attention just then. Murtagh stepped aside to let Claire in next to her. “Easy now. Cup your hands together over your mouth and nose and breathe into them. There you go. Try and breathe slowly.”

Faith moved to lean against Mary’s knees, watching anxiously. Claire stifled the impulse to reach for her. God, this was all going so poorly…

“I d-don’t… understand,” Mary said between labored breaths. But she was calming down and a little color was returning to her cheeks, Claire noted.

“I can imagine it’s quite a shock, and I’m sorry for that.” She rubbed Mary’s back lightly. It helped her own nervous state to be able to focus on helping someone else. “It’s a long story, but we’ll tell you it all later. Where’s Jamie? Is he inside?”

“Oh God,” Mary uttered suddenly and she looked as though she might be sick. “Oh I wish you had been here even a day earlier.”

She felt her stomach lurch at Mary’s words and wondered if she would be sick. “What do you mean? Where is Jamie?”

Mary began to tremble. “Th-th-there was an a-accident…”

They had started towards the abbey with Mary leading them, but in their panicked haste, Claire and Murtagh quickly overtook her. Mary shouted directions at them, but it didn’t matter. Once inside, it only took one frantic request to the first monk they ran into before they were brought to Jamie’s room.

Seeing her husband bruised and bandaged, unconscious, Claire didn’t realize at first that she was physically leaning on Murtagh for support, holding tightly to his arm. It was a different time, a different abbey, and yet her mind made the connection to just after Wentworth, when she almost lost him. She felt dizzy and weak.

“What‒” Her gaze took in the leg wrapped in splints and soaked through with dried blood. Whatever had happened, his leg seemed to bear the brunt of it, though the rest of him was covered in scrapes and bruises as well.

One of the brothers had followed them in and was explaining softly in French what had happened and how Jamie was faring. In all the commotion, they attracted a few more residents of the abbey, who filtered into the small room.

She caught enough to understand Jamie had developed an infection, most likely from his leg. Her stomach roiled and her hand came to press high on her pregnant belly out of habit, though it did nothing to help.

It was then her eyes fell to a cut on the inside of his forearm, too perfectly placed and neatly cut to be a coincidence. Still, her mind rebelled against the idea. No, they couldn’t have…

“You bled him!”

Stillness descended on the room following her outburst. She finally tore her gaze away from Jamie to look at the monks for explanation, to Mary who was trembling in the back.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL HIM?”

Just as quickly as the room had fallen silent, it roared back to life with voices raised and overlapping ‒ each person trying to explain or justify or placate. Above them all was Claire, unable to contain her horror. “--already weakened from the accident and trying to fight off an infection and you bled him!”

She was vaguely aware of Murtagh’s tug on her arm, but it wasn’t until he screamed for the rest of them to be quiet that she paid him any attention. Her gaze flew to him, but he wasn’t watching her. And that’s when she heard the hushed, gravely voice of her husband, straining to be heard above the noise.

She caught his fevered gaze and felt her heart tumble in her chest.

“Sassenach?”

Murtagh quietly cleared the room, though in the moment, Claire hardly noticed this kind act.

Claire’s words clogged in her throat but she moved closer to the bed and sat carefully on the edge, taking Jamie’s hand carefully in her own. His skin felt hot to the touch.

“Am I‒ I…” He struggled between labored breaths and his eyes fluttered shut but he seemed to muster the energy to force them open again and find her. “Am I dying then?”

The implication of his words hit her hard, and she shook her head vehemently, feeling silent tears spill down her cheeks. “This isn’t a hallucination. I’m real. I’m here.”

He smiled weakly, his eyes drifting shut again.

God, to find him after all this time and to find him like this…

Murtagh cleared his throat as he re-entered the room. “Ye can save him, Claire.”

It wasn’t a question, but she heard the need for reassurance.

“I’m damn well going to try,” she said as much for her own benefit as for Murtagh’s, but her voice wobbled even as she tried to sound confident. She squeezed Jamie’s hand and brought it to her lips. “I can make a poultice for his infection,” she said with a bit more authority. “And maybe a tea.”

She brushed the hair back from his forehead ‒ faded dark locks with his natural red coming in at the roots. They’d caught on that he had dyed his hair through some of the descriptions they’d heard of him along the way. He must’ve stopped worrying about it once they reached France. He looked ridiculous and she wanted to be able to tease him about it, to see the way his ears turned pink when she did and hear his laugh. Later, she told herself. Get him well.

She pushed herself to her feet and went to examine his leg. Whoever had tended to it had done well ‒ the gash across his thigh had been stitched by a steady hand, and though the wound had become infected, that might not have been avoided even under Claire’s care.

But the bloodletting…

Indignation still fizzled in her veins. He’d already lost some blood from the accident, from the looks of it. And of all the things they could’ve tried to help him once infection set in, this was the worst.

“Where are the children?” she asked suddenly.

“Mary has them.”

“Did Faith see me‒”

Scream like a lunatic at everyone within earshot?

“Nay,” Murtagh said quickly. “She wasna in the room.”

Claire nodded at that. She knew the ground she was on with Faith was shaky at best. And the last thing she wanted was to give Faith any reason to fear her.

“Madame?”

She followed the sound to its source ‒ a frail, kindly-looking monk in the doorway that Claire got the distinct impression was sent in as an intermediary. But behind him stood a stocky figure with black hair and familiar slanted eyes. Jamie’s uncle, Alexander Fraser. Though she’d heard about him, they’d never met even during her time in France two years ago.

“You must be Claire,” he said. His voice had a strange dialect that Claire knew at once to be the result of a born and bred Highlander living so many of his adult years in France. “I must admit it is a shock to meet you at last, given that Jamie told us you were dead.”

“A misunderstanding,” she supplied lamely.

“Un miracle,” said the quiet monk with a kind smile, and Claire decided that she liked him very much, even if he was sent in to placate her.

Abbot Alexander nodded to the man. “This is Brother Thomas. He can assist you with Jamie and bring you anything you need.” His eyes darkened as he added, “It was a terrible shock, what happened. We all want Jamie to be well again.”

She knew this was as close to an apology for the bloodletting as she would get. And that whoever’s call it had been would never be revealed to her. “Thank you, Abbot. I shall be very happy to have Brother Thomas’s assistance.”

  Jamie heard her voice again, and felt his whole body orient toward the sound. Softer this time. Hushed. Bleary-eyed, he looked about and found her right there within reach, though he dared not try to touch her in case doing so would somehow banish the vision of her. No matter ‒ he hardly felt strong enough to turn his head let alone lift his hand.

“Am I dying?” he asked again.

“Not if I have anything to say about that,” she shot back at him, eyes snapping up at his in challenge. He smirked at this, weakly. Even as he neared the end, this part of his soul that Claire occupied and materialized before him was just as fierce and unrelenting as the real woman.

“Do you hear me, James Fraser?” she spoke again, gripping him by the chin as he fought to stay awake. “You do not have my permission to die.”

“Aye, lass…” He couldn’t manage more than that before darkness crept in once more.

  Some time in the evening, Brother Thomas came around with supper for Claire and made her sit and eat. When he tried to encourage her to leave the room for a break and go see the others though, she resisted the idea.

After how she’d found Jamie, she sure as hell wasn’t leaving him unattended.

But at the moment, he was resting and there was nothing immediate that she could do for him ‒ and Brother Thomas swore he wouldn’t leave Jamie until she came back.

With enough prodding and reassurance, Claire left Jamie’s bedside in search of the rest of her family.

She found them in a small library and stood in the doorway watching them. Mary was sitting with them, one hand resting on her rounded belly. She still looked pale and drawn with worry, the poor thing.

And Murtagh had Faith on his knee, bouncing her slightly and talking in a low voice to her. Claire felt her throat clog with emotion, watching the two of them. She knew what that moment meant for Murtagh, having been the one to bring Faith to Culloden three months ago, to hold her again and see Faith’s family restored to her.

Claire stayed frozen in the doorway, a voyeur to this moment, never fully part of it. She had a visceral desire to walk right over to Murtagh and pluck Faith from his lap, to hold her close in her own arms again ‒ oh god, even to look at her and know she was real ‒ and yet that desire was overpowered by one thought that kept Claire in check. That whisper of doubt in her ear telling her that she’d already screwed up. She’d startled Faith out in the gardens and now what did the girl think of her?

She felt the baby kick and her hand went automatically to the spot. Hadn’t been that long ago that Faith was just a little nudge felt from within and now they were nearly strangers to each other.

Fergus noticed her first and raced to her side. “How is Milord?” he asked in a whisper, and she realized her hesitation to join them had come off as being the bearer of bad news.

“He’s alright.” She pulled him to her side and gave him a squeeze. “He’s still fighting.”

“Can I see him?”

She drew in a steep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Well, he’s resting right now, darling. Maybe tomorrow, alright?”

He gave her a half-hearted smile, but she knew she had crushed him. Of course he wanted to see Jamie, but if… if he saw him while he was fevered and weak, heard Jamie’s talk of dying… no, she didn’t want that for Fergus.

He slipped away from her and went to join the others. Claire watched as he bent down to talk to Faith and then as she jumped down from Murtagh’s knee to take Fergus’s hand. Claire’s hand came up to press just below her collarbone where it felt like her heart was splitting open at the seams. To see them together again and slipping easily back into a rapport with each other, as children often did without much difficulty… Her children ‒ Hers and Jamie’s ‒ together again.

The ache was still there for the time that was lost with Faith, the guilt over any unintended pain she’d caused her wee girl. But there was something tender and hopeful in knowing she’d returned Murtagh and Fergus to Faith’s life. They both loved her so, and Faith would know that soon enough. Claire held both things, the hurt and the hope, as she watched Fergus and Faith.

Murtagh saw her then, still standing in the doorway. “Come sit down,” he called out.

She pushed away from the doorway and went in.

  It was later in the night when Murtagh came to check on her and Jamie. With Brother Thomas’s help, she’d made a poultice for Jamie’s leg and also managed a few times to get Jamie to drink some tea for his fever and pain. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning, and the fever hadn’t broken. Every time he spoke to her, it never felt like she was speaking to the real Jamie.

“Take another break,” Murtagh insisted gruffly. “I’m no’ sure all this pacing is good for the bairn.”

Her hand smoothed over the bump. She’d forgotten how everyone treated her as though she was made of glass as soon as the baby was visible. “Baby’s fine. I’m fine.”

Murtagh pulled a face at that and grunted, which she ignored.

“Ye’ve hardly gone near the lass since we’ve been here.” He said this bluntly, and Claire blinked quickly against the burn of oncoming tears. She’d hoped no one had noticed. “She’s awake still, wi’ Mary. Go an’ put the lass tae bed, Claire. I’ll sit wi’ Jamie.”

She chewed the inside of her lip, considering. With Jamie, she knew how to care for him ‒ a little too well, the damn fool. But Faith…

“And if anyone tries tae bleed him, it’ll be the last thing they ever do.”

She chuckled softly at this and her heart swelled with affection for the old grump that loved them all better than they deserved. “Thank you, Murtagh.”

He grunted and dropped into the chair at Jamie’s bedside.

“And where’s Fergus?”

“They gave him a room and he’s gone tae bed.”

“Thank you,” she said again, patting his shoulder as she moved past him, “for everything today. I didn’t expect… well, it’s been a shock, with Jamie. I couldn’t have managed without you.”

Without looking at her, he reached up and squeezed her hand where it rested on his shoulder. “Get some rest, a nighean.”

“I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Alright,” Murtagh said with a resigned sigh. “Go and see Faith then and dinna hurry back. I’ll find ye if anything happens.”

She slipped quietly out into the hall and turned a corner leading to more sleeping quarters. She knew where Mary’s room was, but she went first in search of Fergus. He was still awake when she found him.

“Your own room, hmm?” She sat on the other small bed across from his, looking about the room. “Haven’t had that luxury in a while.”

Fergus’s mouth twitched slightly, like he was trying not to smile. “If you’re scared, just say so and you can stay in here, Milady. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

She grabbed the pillow on the spare bed and flung it at his head, relishing the sound of his laugh as he ducked and covered his head. Cheeky little arse…

But when his head poked back up, the moment of teasing had passed. She stood and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “Just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. Have sweet dreams, love.”

“Goodnight, Milady.”

He caught her hand as she was turning away, and gave it a tight squeeze.

“I love you, my boy,” she murmured.

“I know. je t'aime aussi.”

Mary’s door was open and there they were by the fireplace, Mary sitting in one chair and Faith leaning against the other one. She had something small in her hand, some kind of toy, and alternated between moving it along the seat of the chair and turning to talk to Mary.

Faith glanced up and noticed her. Claire forced a smile and took that opportunity to enter the room.

“Claire! Oh, come sit. Here, Faith, let’s make room.”

Faith shuffled backwards until she bumped into Mary’s knees, staring curiously up at Claire as she took the other seat.

Mary asked about Jamie and she gave her the same update she’d given Murtagh and Fergus and any one of the monks who had poked their head into Jamie’s room to ask about him.

“I am sorry for startling you earlier,” Claire added. “I hope it wasn’t… well, I hope you’re feeling alright now.”

Mary exhaled a smile. “You’re actually the second person I’ve thought was dead to show up out of the blue, and both of those instances happened in the last few months…” Mary shook her head at that, and Claire realized with sinking dread that it had been Jack Randall she referred to. She’d all but forgotten… but no, she could see now that Mary didn’t want to discuss that. “Come to that, both times the message came from Jamie that you and‒ and‒”

“It was a terrible misunderstanding,” she said quickly. Firmly. “Jamie had no idea I was… alive.” Still had no idea, really.

Claire took a deep breath, unsure what Jamie might’ve told Mary already. “We knew that we couldn’t win. We knew if we fought the Redcoats in our current state, there was no way the Jacobites would be victorious. So we had Murtagh bring Faith to us and we were going to run. But there was… some confusion on that day. It was chaotic and we were desperate to get out of there. But I got separated from Jamie and Faith. And I think Jamie thought I was taken by the Redcoats and killed. He didn’t lie to you intentionally. He just didn’t know the truth.”

Mary’s gaze drifted towards the fire, still shaking her head slightly, though Claire got the impression it was more to do with the improbability of all that had occurred than any sort of ill feelings. And Claire didn’t blame her one bit.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Mary added shyly. “And that you’re here.” Her hand dropped gently to Faith’s head, stroking her soft red curls in a familiar way. Her gaze flew to Claire suddenly, eyes wide. “Oh I’m so stupid! You’re here for Faith! Of course you are. And here I am chattering away with you.”

“No, no it’s alright,” Claire said swiftly. She had come here for Faith, but… “I did want the chance to speak with you, too. To explain.”

Mary breathed a sigh of relief but she still smiled politely and moved to stand. “She’s slept in here since the accident. You’re welcome to stay in here as well. But I’ll‒ well, I’ll make myself scarce for a bit. Give you two some time together.”

She moved a bit slowly, her much smaller frame balancing a larger belly than Claire, but Mary extricated herself from the room as swiftly as possible, closing the door behind her.

And then it was only Claire and Faith.

With the sound of the door closing, Faith seemed to realize then that no one she knew was with her. Just Claire. Just this odd woman who had wept hysterically at the sight of her earlier today. Claire had already been preparing herself for this ‒ No more tears. Not from herself, at least. She wouldn’t scare Faith again.

Faith stood stock still by the chair Mary had vacated, no longer wide-eyed with curiosity. Instead, she seemed to search the room for something familiar. She made a beeline for the door, which she wasn’t tall enough to open.

“Lovey, it’s alright…” Claire moved to her feet, but hesitated to take a step further. But when she stood, she drew Faith’s gaze and felt something wrench in her chest. The panic in the tiny girl was palpable. “I know you’re frightened and you don’t remember me, but I’m‒”

Faith’s expression pinched with worry and she breathed in deep, and it made Claire pause.

“Want my da,” Faith croaked in her little voice, and then her face scrunched up and she began to howl.

Claire moved in an instant to scoop the girl up. She held Faith close while she cried, the small girl’s body resting above the swell of the baby.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered so quietly that she knew Faith couldn’t hear it over her own wailing. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” She slowly paced the small room and rubbed circles on Faith’s back, just as she used to when Faith was a baby.

Faith’s howling didn’t let up, that stubborn streak making itself known. But the longer it went on, Faith crying in her arms and allowing Claire to comfort her, the less her tiny girl felt like a stranger to Claire. How many nights in Faith’s life had been spent just like this?

And eventually, her cries became more of a whimper and then ceased altogether.

Her head popped up from Claire’s shoulder with a red face still streaked with tears and her brows still creased together. “Want da,” she tried again, her lips forming a pout.

Claire’s fingers caressed the sweet face, wiping at the tears. It broke her heart that she couldn’t just bring her to him. “He’s still here, but he’s sleeping. You’ll see him as soon as he’s better, I promise.”

“No,” Faith whined half-heartedly. Claire swayed in place with Faith and watched her yawn and then shiver slightly and burrow into Claire’s warmth.

“Shall we sit by the fire?”

“Aye.” Faith murmured, succumbing to another yawn.

“Here,” Claire grabbed a woolen shawl and draped around them both, and sat in one of the chairs by the fire. Faith sat up straight once she was in Claire’s lap, glancing about again. Her gaze turned back to Claire.

“Wha’s yer name?” Faith asked in her sweet little voice. Her head cocked to the side in a familiar way and Claire felt the sting of tears but blinked them away swiftly.

“I’m your mama,” Claire said, feeling her heart clench at saying those words. She delicately traced the sweet face that she longed to smother with kisses, wiping at the last of Faith’s tears and brushing curls off her sweaty forehead. Faith’s brows furrowed together again and Claire wondered what she made of that, what she could understand of the word at the tender age of two.

“My mam?”

Claire made a slight sound, caught between a laugh and a cry. “Yes. Yours. I carried you inside me for several months while you grew. And when you were born, I held you close and I couldn’t believe that you were mine. My baby.”

“Baby.” Faith pointed to her rounded belly and Claire exhaled a soft, surprised laugh at this.

“Well, yes, there is one in there, but I meant you. You were a baby in my belly once, too.” She brushed Faith’s curls back out of her face again and cupped the back of her head to pull her forward, meeting no resistance from the girl. Faith’s head rested on her mother’s chest, a little awkwardly draped over the baby bump. Claire sighed. She was already running out of room in her lap and a desperate feeling gripped her, that she needed to rebuild her relationship with Faith before the next one arrived. “I would hold you here and let you hear my heartbeat as a newborn baby, the same sound you heard from within when I carried you. And you knew who I was from that sound.” Faith stayed quiet and relaxed under Claire’s hands as they cradled her head and slowly rubbed her back. “My baby.”

She wasn’t sure at what point Faith drifted off to sleep, but she stayed in that chair with her girl curled up on her chest much longer than she needed to. She felt Faith’s exhales of breath caressing her skin once more, no longer the quick little puffs from when she was first born, but deeper now. This was how they had started out, the two of them, and this was how they were finding their way back. Claire’s arms went about Faith’s still form, anchoring her there, and she pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, lingering there to breathe her in and know she was real. The tears did come then, spilling fast down her face. She shook slightly with choked-back sobs but didn’t make a sound.

Barely three months ago, Claire had been in 1948 with Frank. It seemed like another lifetime ago ‒ and Culloden with Jamie and Faith, another lifetime before that. She’d searched for months and now that she had this girl back in her arms again, she’d never let her go.

“Faith Elizabeth Janet Beauchamp Fraser,” she addressed her sleeping child slowly, pronouncing each name distinctly as Jamie had done with his own name when he first told her. “I don’t know what your future holds, but I promise to do everything in my power to see you living a long and happy life. And I know you don’t know me anymore, but you will. You’ll always have me from this moment on. I traveled 200 years just to find you… I’m not likely to let anything else stand in the way. And you won’t ever lose me.” Her lower lip trembled and a few rogue tears spilled onto Faith’s head. “You and me, Faith,” Claire rasped, resting her cheek on top of Faith’s head. “We’ll be alright. I’m here. I love you.”

She didn’t want to move for fear of waking Faith ‒ and in doing so, of ruining the moment of being able to hold her baby to her chest ‒ but she couldn’t stay there all night. She needed to check in on Jamie.

So she stood slowly, carefully, and readjusted Faith to rest her head high up on Claire’s shoulder. The girl breathed in sharply during the move, but turned her head into Claire’s neck and let out a sleepy sigh, settling back in.

Faith’s bottom rested just above the swell of the baby, which was almost protruding far enough to sit Faith on top of it, but not quite. “I really will have my hands full in a few months, won’t I?”

Claire sauntered quietly down the hall with Faith and turned into Jamie’s room to find not only Murtagh where she had left him, but Fergus, who had joined him too.

He must’ve snuck in as soon as she went to see Faith, since he was already sound asleep in a chair near the foot of the bed. Murtagh caught her eye as she entered and merely shrugged. “Didna see any harm in letting him stay. Jamie’s been out since ye left.”

“It’s alright.”

She reached over and brushed Fergus’s curls back from his forehead before shifting Faith’s weight higher in her arms. Despite wanting to keep the children from seeing Jamie in a distressing state, she felt strengthened by their presence and by Murtagh’s. They were whole, finally. And as long as Jamie stayed strong, they would remain so.

“Jamie?”

Claire’s voice called to him, and he whined. What punishment was this? He had fought so hard these last few months to give Faith the best life he could, to accept his future as just a father but no longer a husband. And while he was torn between fighting to stay for Faith or give in and be at peace... be with Claire… it felt as though the spirit of Claire was urging him to stay put. Stay with Faith.

“Jamie, don’t give up on me.” Her voice was pinched with worry. “Not now that I’ve got you back.”

But he didn’t know that he was strong enough to keep fighting.

Oh, lass, dinna be pained on my account, he wanted to say, i’ll be wi’ ye soon. But no words came out.

  The gardens provided an escape during the day as well as allowing for Fergus and Faith to run off some of their energy. Even though she’d been slow to walk at first for her age, Faith was quite steady on her feet now and Fergus made a game of chase with her, running at a slow pace to keep her after him. Every now and then, he’d slow down enough to let her catch him and flop dramatically onto the grass, which never failed to make Faith burst into laughter.

It was a short-lived escape from their worry, and inevitably for Claire, something would happen between Fergus and Faith that made her wish Jamie were present to witness it. They’d already lost so much time…

“Want my da!” Faith declared as she sped ahead to Jamie’s room before anyone could stop her. Claire huffed and picked up her pace as best she could.

“See? Da’s sleeping. We have to be quiet.”

Faith stood beside the bed, and her tiny frame shook. She was close to tears, Claire could tell. Nothing about the situation made sense to Faith, and she didn’t need to verbalize her distress for everyone else to know it was deeply upsetting to not have Jamie awake and alert.

“How about some cuddles for Da? You have to be careful of his leg but you can go up here by his shoulder and cuddle with him, if you want.”

It was nearing Faith’s nap time anyway, from what Mary had said. Faith didn’t need further invitation and started to scramble up the side of the bed.

“Easy, love,” Claire laughed, jumping in to help situate Faith to the other side of the bed where there was more room. She moved Jamie’s arm away from his body, creating space for Faith to curl against his side. “There we go. Rest your eyes, sweet girl.”

Jamie muttered softly and shifted in his sleep. Claire reached over and felt his forehead. He was sweaty and didn’t feel too terribly warm, which was promising. Claire tried to keep her hope tempered.

“Fergus, do you know where they keep the herbs for making tea? Could you run and grab me some more?”

Fergus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I do not know, Milady,” he said regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

She sighed. Brother Thomas wasn’t around and neither was Mary, but she wanted to make Jamie a fresh cup of tea and see if he would drink some of it the next time he roused.

Faith was still knocked out against Jamie’s shoulder and it was only Claire and Fergus awake in the room. “Come with me. I’ll show you so you know for next time. It won’t take long.”

  Jamie opened his eyes and felt like he was waking for the first time after a very strange dream. Tired and still weak, but his head felt clear. No more chills or aches through his whole body. No, just a dull pain in his thigh when he twitched his leg. He felt too warm and tried to kick his uninjured leg free from the blankets.

The fever was gone and he let out a sigh that was only partly relief. If the fever had left him… then so had Claire.

He became slowly aware of a small, warm weight on his right shoulder and looked to see a head full of wispy, red curls that could only belong to Faith. His arm tightened around her as best as he could and he turned to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Deo gratias…” He whispered hoarsely into her hair, holding the only remaining testament that he had of his and Claire’s love. I’m sae sorry I almost left ye, a nighean...

She slumbered on, undisturbed by this even as Jamie’s hand came to rest on her head in supplication and he offered up a plea for this child’s safety and a humble request that if he should have to live the rest of his years on this earth without his wife, that he might still live to see this child of theirs grow up…

“Oh thank god!”

He stiffened at the sound of his wife’s voice, knowing it meant he was not as well as he thought, if he was still hearing her. But even as he wouldn’t turn his head to look towards her voice, he was aware that he and Faith were not alone. Out of the corner of his eye, a figure filled the entryway and in his peripheral vision, his sight told him it was Claire. But his head knew better. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her.

Then she drew near and her hands framed his face. His eyelids slammed shut in disbelief, pushing tears down his cheeks. “Thank god!” she said again in a tight whisper.

“Claire?” His voice came out ragged. Her hands gently held his face and turned him towards her. His eyes fluttered open and there she was, smiling down at him through her own tears. He breathed in sharply and could only stare because she would always be the most beautiful sight to his eyes ‒ And a sight he thought he would never see again. “How‒”

She leaned down and kissed him, tentatively at first but feeling him respond, she let the kiss unfold, lingering for what seemed like a blissful eternity until she pulled away, leaving them both panting softly. He reached up and touched her, tracing the outline of her face.

She was trembling terribly, almost on the verge of crying, as her eyes slid shut at his touch, and she let out a shuddering sigh. “I thought you were going to die on me.”

His heart felt as though it were trying to march right through his ribcage, it was hammering so fiercely. “I thought… I thought you were a dream. I canna believe ye’re real.”

He shook his head then as the truth set in. “Ye came all the way to France?” He was aghast, still shaken by the very presence of her. She smiled through a fresh wave of tears.

“I came two hundred years and all the way to France,” her hand reached tentatively for Faith, hovering just above the girl’s head before gently making contact, “Just to find you two.”

There was a soft scuffle of feet and Claire glanced over her shoulder, smiling brilliantly. “And I didn’t come alone, Jamie.”

“Milord!”

He’d hardly processed her words before Fergus was there, flinging himself haphazardly at Jamie. Fergus’s head buried itself in Jamie’s chest, and Jamie clutched him close, feeling a sudden, sharp sob tear from his throat. Oh God, his son.

His vision clouded over, but not before he’d noticed his godfather standing in the doorway. One arm tightened around Faith while the other held Fergus to him, and his resolve not to openly weep like a baby finally crumbled.

He had believed for so long now that his family as he once knew it was lost for good… and to have them returned to him in one instant, he felt a brief flicker of doubt. That this was nothing more than a fevered dream, to have everything his heart desired.

But he could feel the weight still of Faith leaning on his shoulder, awake now and sitting up from the sudden bursts of noise around her. He could feel where Fergus held a fistful of his shirt in a clenched fist, refusing to let go, and where the boy's tears were soaking through the fabric to Jamie’s chest. And he could feel Claire’s delicate hand brushing his hair back from his face, the softest touch but unmistakably real, before she framed his face again and kissed him, first on his lips and then peppering soft kisses across his face like she needed to cover every inch of him with her love.

And it was everything and all too much.

His family was here. And they were real. Deo gratias.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 17

Jason was having the time of his life.

Dick was sure of it. He might grump and sulk a lot more than before, but Dick was sure that he was having fun. Sure, guarding Damian might be a little more than tasking, after a while - especially since Damian was so certain that he could face Bane alone if it comes down to it, conveniently ignoring the fact that: a. he's ten and practically one-tenth of Bane's size; b. the Waynes most likely would detest having to clear intestines off the marble floor if Damian were to be let near a katana and/or Bane, and c. Alfred definitely would detest cleaning intestines or parts of Damian off the floor or walls.

And d. Bruce Wayne seemed to actually enjoy having Damian around and has no qualm in talking to Damian as if he was twice his age. Bruce's age, that is. Not Damian's. Dick suspected that Bruce has spent a lot of time talking to 60-year-olds.

But there were numerous forms of excitement that were offered by the Wayne Manor. First and foremost were the cars. Dick has never learned to drive - being a Talon kind of impeded the learning process of 'common human things'. Jason, however, was an excellent driver. He had mentioned something about being a getaway driver in warzones, and Dick couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth or joking. Either way, he rather enjoyed it whenever he and Jason had to take Damian somewhere in town.

Except for today, as somebody seemed to have tampered with the car.

It wouldn't brake, and they were cruising really, really fast.

Hence Dick's belief that Jason was having fun. He did not look perturbed at the slightest as he controlled the car, swerving crazily over the backroads, making sharp u-turns instead of going into the city roads and went back where they came from. Within a mile from the Drake House's gate, Jason finally managed to cut down the speed to the point where the car's engines died and it rolled to a stop. On the Drake House's gate.

"Seriously, people," Tim remarked dryly as they walked in - leaving the car at the gate and settling their respective adrenaline back down. "I've heard of visiting the neighbors, but must you be like, dying and/or damaging people's property before you come here to say hi?"

"The car was tampered with," Damian reported. "Must be the brute. And I shall replace your gate, Drake."

"I think I'm down to like, eight lives. No-- seven." Dick admitted, "my heart's still beating a hundred miles per minute. Good thing, though, at least that way I know I'm quite alive."

"Dick, you're a bird. Not a cat." Tim deadpanned. His eyes never leaving Jason, who had lit up a cigarette as he walked through the house. "Since when do you smoke?"

"Since I was eleven," Jason replied. "And since I walked into a house that has laser triggers that were set up by a lunatic. Smoke worked to reveal them all."

"I'm... partially scowling because smoking kills. But I suppose laser triggers would kill faster..." Tim replied.

"The lasers are used to trigger booby traps just about Damian's height. If he were to be a common kid and run around the house, he'd be decapitated within the first few days." Jason continued bitterly. "What the fuck is wrong with that giant lump of steroids, anyway? He was ready to kill a child!"

"The nutshell version is that the child would prevent his usurping the Waynes' wealth." Tim pointed out. "The long version is that I don't think he's really the child of Dr Wayne, the Waynes know of it, and they're literally being held hostage in their own home. Also, you people are being watched, too, by drones. I've asked Harper to kill those drones for entering my property."

Tim then explained Bruce's visit and the USB. "Oracle has contacted him and told him we... the Birds, that is - are investigating the evidence."

"How long until we can punch the asshole out of the house for good?" Jason demanded, accepting a bottle of water Tim handed him. Slowly and gently. Making sure his fingers brushed Tim's. And Dick had to swallow a grin.

"That, unfortunately, would be up to the GCPD. Did you guys saw the news? Vicky Vale's article on Damian?" Tim... preened a little, waving his hair as he walked away from Jason. Dick's lips itched, he wondered if Barbara or the other girls -- if Selina or Dinah have noticed this. The two were definitely flirting.

"I have seen it. It had good pictures of my mother and grandfather, and quite... adequate descriptions of both of them." Damian replied. "Evidently father has made a comment to the writer about me looking like him when he was my age."

"Well, you kind of do look like him, except for the green eyes." Dick pointed out. Bruce's eyes were blue - like both his parents. But from the photos of little Brucie around the house, Dick could see a little of Martha Wayne in Damian's still-round face. "When did Bruce make the comment?"

"Oh, Vale called him." Tim snickered. "She still has his personal number, and she commented something about hearing a - quote: 'constipated buffalo sounds in the background' - unquote. She was also wondering if Bruce was in a bullfighting ring somewhere."

"Seriously?" Dick laughed.

"Seriously. Even Barbara couldn't stop laughing hearing that." Tim assured him. Jason rolled his eyes but looking amused, anyway.

"Sooo... a possible off-road accident for the apparent heir is in the books?" Jason suggested.

"I won't put it past Bane. Damian...?" Tim started. But Damian already nodded in acknowledgment.

"I shan't eat anything that is not presented by Todd or Grayson, nor will I frolic the manor on my own. This shall be more to bear witness to your insinuation of my 'child-like' behavior than to take care of me, Drake, as I am quite capable of sustaining my own life." Damian scoffed.

Tim paused visibly for a good two seconds, before nodding, "of course. Furthermore, I can assure you that Alfred is safe, mainly because as a butler, his focal interest would be the actual Waynes. That's in his training - unless an offspring is publicly announced, they are not to be cared for by the Butler. In Wayne Manor, the proverbial child would solely be Bruce - for obvious reasons, and Damian, whom Bruce has publicly acknowledged." Tim explained.

"He was in MI6," Jason remarked. "Alfred, that is. Not Bane. It would be safe to say he's loyal. He told me of the booby traps and that Bane has a daily dose of injection of the steroid-like substance. But I-- we shall prepare you emergency rations - just in case, anyway."

"You guys can always drop by here. And don't think that Damian would be Bane's only target." Tim reminded. "If I was him, I'd take out the big guns - that is you two - first; and then Bruce, because he'll want to be protective of his son; and then Dr and Mrs Wayne last."

"Then I'm afraid you are forgetting one of the members of the household that is most dangerous, Master Tim," a voice spoke; Jason pulled out his gun, Damian automatically hid behind him while pulling out a small dagger.

Dick wanted to lunge right toward the source of the voice until he realized that it was Alfred Pennyworth, both hands raised up to show that he was unarmed.

"How...?" Jason growled, "I didn't hear the front door open."

"Apologies, gentlemen. I should have informed you that there is an underground passageway between the two houses that were once used frequently, but now has all been forgotten." Alfred explained. "You were right that I was in MI6, Jason; as you were right that my focus will and forever shall remain the true Wayne blood, Master Tim. Not ones who claimed as such and refused to provide irrefutable evidence."

"Does Bane know of this passageway?" Tim asked.

"It is located in the staff's wing, and as he is not permitted to be there, I sincerely doubt it," Alfred replied. "I have my own... booby traps and surveillance that should tell me if anyone has been there." he smiled. "I am aware that both of you have prowled the entire house at one point or the other in the past few weeks." he nodded toward Jason and Dick. "You were stealthy, indeed."

"But not stealthy enough?" Dick quipped. "I gotta go back to training... Anyway, why are you here?"

"I saw your vehicle's mishap and its stop here. If anything, Bane is not... stealthy enough." Alfred pulled out a small memory card. "To get to the garage, one must pass the servants' hall. And the garage is my province."

Tim accepted the memory card, plugged it into his cellphone; and then projected its content to a wall. "Huh... this should be enough evidence of tampering..." Tim commented. The memory card showed a clear date stamp - that morning, a few hours before Bane and the Waynes left the house. It also showed Bane himself, jacking the car that was now resting with a dented bumper at Tim's gate, while holding a plier.

"Anyone watching our car now?" Dick commented. "Won't be cool to have it suddenly fixed, will it?"

"Harper should be. Plus, y'all are on my property. If he trespasses, I'll have his ass arrested." Tim huffed. "So... if anyone has ideas--" Jason and Damian's eyes lit up; Tim glared at them and continued "--that do not include sharp and/or exploding objects of how to remove Bane from the Manor..."

"I'm fresh out," Jason replied mournfully. "No sharp objects, no exploding objects... what do you expect me to do? Poison him?"

"But Todd, did my mother not teach you the arts of food as medicine?" Damian piped up.

The sudden silence as all eyes landed on Alfred was quite ominous.

"I will not conduct a crime, young masters," Alfred remarked dryly.

"Oh nooo... not a crime," Jason grinned mischievously. "It's just... you know that Damian was born in the Middle East, yeah?"

"I may have quite a culinary skill, but I fear that my Middle Eastern cuisine knowledge is rather limited," Alfred said demurely.

"Well, mine isn't." Jason grinned. "Besides, what else should one do to celebrate one's entrance into such a distinguished family; but hold a family dinner?"

"You're going to poison him." Dick groaned.

"Not to death!" Jason protested. Dick gave him an unimpressed glare. "Just... to the point where he would realize that he and I have opposing objectives."

"Do let me know of the ingredients you require, Jason." Alfred intoned. "Or perhaps you prefer to shop on your own? I shall fetch a new, un-tampered-with vehicle."

"Oh, please do, Alfred. I doubt we can make a single trip. But they will be fun." Jason replied, grinning.

Dick knew that the sense of foreboding was not in him only. Tim looked like he was contemplating moving away to Alaska.

"For the records, I don't know anything about cooking," Dick said defensively.

"I'm... truly and fully reconsidering my life choices," Tim admitted.

"Oh, don't worry, Drake. Todd was trained by the best," Damian grinned mischievously. "I pity the fools who think him as a brute. I pity the brute who think that small equals weak."

[knight-queen]

Lunatic Parade Ruki Mukami – (Chapter 1)

Place: Bernstein Castle 一 Castle town Residential area 

Yui: (I must have to get back my heart as soon as I can…!)

 Ah…

*Wolves howling*

(I can see the castle…! As Ruki kun said, that's Earl Walter’s….)

Ruki: Oi, stop here.

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: before getting into the town, I shall talk about something.

I had collected information regarding Walter as much as I could.

Yui: Earl’s…?

Ruki: Yes, However….

There seems to be no one to know the details about the guy called Earl Walter to begin with.

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: Only things I’ve heard... he’s unidentified, appears in many places and he has very sharp ears.

But, it may not be sufficient enough…

But it’s said that there’s merely a Butler who’s served Earl for a long time in the Bernstein castle.

It’s still unclear whether he’s in the castle or not however…

He’s the only one to know about the truths about that castle or the Ear.

Yui: ………

(We come to this demon world but…)

(Getting back my heart looks unexpectedly hard…)

Ruki: I thought there’s no way to get to the castle but…

It looks like Bernstein castle is not only on the ground surface, but it’s also extended along the sky and underground.

It looks impossible to enter the castle if we use those ways.

Yui: (Such...I think we have to face difficult circumstances if we want to get back the stolen thing at once…)

(Then it’s impossible to take back my…)

Ruki: Oi, livestock. Don’t make that face. It’s too early to give up.

Yui: But…

Ruki: Only few exist who were able to get back the treasure from Earl at once.

If you search those people and talk with them about getting back stolen things from him, we may get a hint.

...More importantly, I am with you. I’ll ofcourse find a way to get back your heart.

So, you can be relieved.

Yui: nh...Ruki kun…!

(That’s right. Ruki kun’s with me…)

(Because like this, he made me aware of Earl by informing me about him.

(In these times, there’s no person who’s reliable like Ruki kun…)

Yui: Thank you, Ruki kun.

Ruki: You don’t have to thank me. You’re my livestock at any rate. So, it’s my responsibility.

...You know it, don't you?

Yui: ...Fufu, that’s right…

(I only believe in him…)

Ruki: Let’s go then. We’re close to the castle town.

Yui: Yes.

Place:  Glimmer Street  Main street / グリンマーストリート 表通り

Yui: (There's a huge bunch of people everywhere….is that for the parade?)

Ruki: It’s a crowd so don’t go away from me.

Yui: Ye- yes….

(Nevertheless...does he have any guess of where to go)

(All we’re doing is going ahead for a while….)

(...Anyway, let’s follow him)

Place: Mornstein Hotel, Entrance

Yui: (kh...This place…)

(Hotel, right…?)

Mornstein Hoten Clerk: Welcome. Are you here for reserving?

Ruki: Yeah, that’s right. I am Mukami.

Mornstein Hoten Clerk: So, you have made a reservation of two people. Thank you for waiting.

Please sign here…

Ruki: Gotcha.

Yui: ...Re- reservation…? *Blushing*

Ruki: For doing anything, we’ll need to live in a specific place right?

Plus there will be so many customers for the parade. That’s why I have reserved just in case.

Yui: I- I see….you’re right…

(Looks like he’s not a hesitant person at all….)

(I am somehow unexpectedly aware of this situation…)

Place: Mornstein Hotel, Guest Room

Yui: (...This….!)

(Wa- wait a sec...we’ll share a single room…!?)

(Wha- what should I do…!)

Ruki: …? Is there anything wrong?

Yui: Eh...because, that’s….

I thought we’re gonna have separate rooms…

(I’ll spend all the time staying in the same room with him, what kind of face can I make at this rate…!?)

Ruki: Fufu...what’s up with that face? Are you dissatisfied with having the same room?

Yui: ...I- it’s not true though…

Ruki: Then, what could it be? ...Oh, I see now…

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: Are you expecting something else?

Yui: Eeeh!?

Ruki: Say it without holding back. What are you actually expecting?

Yui: E- expecting…!?

Ruki: ...Don’t lie. You’re making an upset face, you know?

Come on, sit here. I’ll listen to you.

Yui: Ah…!

*Ruki undresses her*

Yui: Ru- ruki kun…!

Ruki: Fufu…

Yui: (...I- It’s almost like he’s hugging me…!)

Ruki: ...Tell me what were you expecting? Say.

Yui: Th- there’s nothing….I was expecting…

Ruki: ...I won’t let you go until you say it.

Yui: ….Even if you say it…

Ruki: ….Is that so. It can’t be helped. I’ll punish you if you just hide...this this...nh…*kiss*

Yui: Kyaa…!

Ruki: ...How was it? Have you intended to say it now?

Yui: ………

(What can I do...I don’t know how to explain…!)

Ruki: Hm...seriously. You’re a tough one. Then I’ll …

*Ruki kisses Yui*

Yui: ….nh…!

Ruki: ...nn…

Yui: (Ruki kun…!)

(What now...I am facing these conditions, that’s even just after coming to the demon world…)

(We just started searching my heart but, it’s already at his pace….!)

(Then I won’t be able to possess my own body…)

Ruki: ...Hmph, you’re very calm today.

The people who lack concentration need to be punished even more, no? Nh…nh...

*He kisses*

Yui: Nnnh…!

(No...my face’s become really red…)

*After a while*

Ruki: It’s tea, you drink too.

Yui: Th- thank you…

Ruki: For today’s conversation 一

Yui: (...Talking about Ruki kun, he’s surprisingly normal…)

(About that thing he did while ago too…) *blushes*

(kh...What am I thinking…! No, I just can’t!)

(As I thought, it’s weird that I am the only one to think this way…)

Ruki: ...Oi, are you listening?

Yui: Eh? Ye- yes...Of course, I am listening!

Ruki: Haa...as I thought, today you’re unexpectedly losing concentration.

If that's the case then I shall discipline you by giving that punishment once again?

Yui: kh….!

(Th- that’s….!)

Ruki: Hmph, if you don’t want then, listen to my conversation. I am talking about something important.

Yui: Mhm, Got it…

Ruki: I told you before coming here though,

The very first decision will be to talk with the people who have experience getting back stolen things before. 

Yui: ….You’re right.

Ruki: I’ve already left the familiars there to collect the information.

Yui: (kh...Ruki kun, as expected of him…!)

Ruki: Their reports also contained useless ones, but there are also numerous worthy informations I received.

Let’s try to use the advantages at once.

Yui: Yes, understood.

Ruki: According to the familiars, there’s a man among qualified people, who lives near this place.

We should immediately visit him I think.

Yui: That’s right.

(I hope he will give us some hints…)

Place: Rubean Lake

Yui: (The reflected light on the canal water looks really amazing…)

This town uses gondolas for traveling, right?

Ruki: Yeah, as you can see. The waterways are developing.

The man that we have business with is the owner of a certain shop. We’ll can have clear concepts if we meet him in the shop but…

Well, all you have to do is to just follow me.

Yui: Yes, got it.

(Exactly, I can be at ease if I leave everything up to him.)

Place: Glimmer Street, front of Wagon Main street

Ruki: Right ahead of this road. 

Yui: (Uwaa...I am getting overflowed with these crowds…)

(Even so…)

(I am smelling something really good for a while)

(....Crepes' pretzels...and there’s different kinds of stalls...all are specially for the parade, I guess.)

(Somehow, I am feeling hungry out of nowhere….)

Ruki: ……..

Yui: Hm? What’s wrong?

Oh, so the store of that man we’re searching is around here…?

Ruki: No, it’s not like that. Something really smells good. If I guess, it’s crepes huh…

...It’s rare so, wanna eat some?

Yui: Eh? Crepe?

Ruki: Yeah.

→ Selection

But / でも... (+correct)

I’ll eat! / 食べる!

Yui: ………

Ruki: ….? What’s wrong? If you like something other then, I’ll go with that…

Yui: Oh, nope. It’s not what I meant. Shall I eat, the creep…

(But...it’s very rare for him to offer me like this…)

(Could it be... 一)

Ruki: Which flavour?

Yui: Umm...I’ll go with the strawberry one….

Ruki: Got it. Wait a little here.

*Walks away*

Yui: (He’s gone…)

Place: Diamante Fountain

Yui: Mn…

(This crepe is really delicious….!)

Ruki: ….Delicious? It’s somehow understandable by looking at your expression though….

Yui: Fufu, it’s super yummy. What about having some?

Ruki: I am….

Well, then I will have just one bite.

Yui: Mhm, here you go.

Ruki: ….

...Good taste.

Yui: Fufuh

This expression is likely you.

(Nevertheless, I was a little surprised when he ate the crepe suddenly)

(If it would be the usual Ruki kun, then he would prefer to search for something to hold the food…)

(As expected, it means that he’s taking care of me…?)

Ruki: ...Anyway, let’s hurry. Our aimed store is right ahead.

Yui: Yes.

Place: Glimmer Street, Aizen back street

Ruki: ……….

Yui: (Somehow, it’s a place of no sign of people…)

(But, he’s just going ahead…)

(I must not lose the sight of him)

*After a moment*

Ruki: ...I think it should be right ahead…

But, it’s the end point... Let’s go back.

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: ...What? Hurry and come.

Yui: Neh, Ruki kun...could it be…

Ruki: ...Yeah. We’ve gotten lost.

Yui: (Kh….Ruki kun is….!?) *Blushing*

Ruki: What’s, that face….

...Is it bad for me to get lost?

Yui: N- not bad...but…

 Normally, getting lost like this for the Ruki kun who’s very reliable...fufuh

(...It’s a little cute, I think…)

Ruki: ...So, what’s wrong with that? Doesn’t make sense.

*Grabs her*

Yui: (H- he just dragged me towards the wall…)

Ruki: Oi, stop laughing and say the rest. If you don’t, then again…

Yui: N- no...I didn’t really laugh to make a fool of you…

I am feeling like you’re showing your sides that you don’t show often, it made me happy…

….I also like that side of yours...I thought…

Ruki: ngh…..

...For livestock making fun like this, you’re really a cheeky one…

I knew, you still have many ways to go to be disciplined. Nh…*kiss*

Yui: ...nh…

Ruki: ….nh...this amount isn’t enough yet. I’ll do this….

*Undresses*

Ruki: Haah...nnnh...mnnn….*sucking*

Yui: kh…!

Ruki: ...mnn….mmmn….!

Yui: Ru...Ruki kun…! In such a place…

Ruki: I don’t care about such things. More than it, right now...haa...nh…

Yui: (No way….my strength is fading…)

*Sound*

Ruki: kh…!?

Yui: (....! The wall just moved…!?)

*Screen shakes*

*BG black*

Yui: Kya…!

(There was a hole in this place….!)

(No! I’ll fall…!)

Ruki: Yui…!

Yui: (Eh…?)

Place: Underground corridor / 地下回廊

Yui: (...I’m floating, in the air…?)

Ruki: Haa...I managed to make it in time. That was a close one.

Yui: (I see, he held me by flying…)

Thank you. You saved me…

(I thought we were gonna fall together for that crumbled brick…)

By the way, this place…?

Yui: (Water is also flowing in this place…)

(I didn’t think that there’s such a place in the underground…)

*Let down Yui*

Ruki: I get it. With the underground corridor, he meant this place huh.

Yui: Underground corridor…?

Ruki: Actually, I have been searching this entrance for a while.

That proposed boy’s shop seemed to be in this underground corridor.

Yui: A shop in such a place…?

Ruki: Yeah. However, I can’t say this place has good walls.

And also I can’t say what kind of guy we’ll meet on hereafter. Don’t let your guard down for the sake of our goal.

Yui: Mhm, understood…

Ruki: Aight, then let’s go. It’s this way.

Yui: This place?

Ruki: Yeah, no mistake I believe.

Yui: (Not a shop if it looks like a mere basement room to me...what it could be that he’s selling…?)

(Oh, before meeting the shopkeeper, I should fix my clothes.)

*They’re going to inter*

Yui: (Alright…!)

*Knock*

Ruki: Oi, is the shopkeeper here? I sent the familiars before…

Shopkeeper Man: Yeah, it’s open. Come inside.

Ruki: Then, excuse us.

Place: Underground, Shopkeepers Shop /  地下道内店主の部屋

Shopkeeper Man: Oh, you’re that….

Ruki: Mukami Ruki. She is ...一

Yui: Ah, umm…

Komori Yui. Nice to meet you.

Shopkeeper Man: You’re here to discuss the time when Earl stole my thing right?

Ruki: Exactly.

Shopkeeper Man: Well, talking while standing is weird so have a seat. I’ll also have you some tea…

Yui: Th- thank you so much…

*After a while*

Ruki: ...I see. So you can’t say the time about how to get back that thing huh?

Shopkeeper Man: Yeah, that’s right…

Ruki: Why? If you don’t mind, then I want to hear the reasons…

Shopkeeper Man: ...Sorry. My bad, but I can’t say everything about that…

Following that, Earl forbade me to speak about it...and also...一

………..

Yui: ….?

Ruki: …….

Shopkeeper Man: You came here with troubles but I am not able to cooperate with you, really sorry for that…

Yui: That’s...it’s okay. Same here, sorry for raising such questions…

Ruki: If you have circumstances that we have no choice. We’ll try to find another way.

Sorry for pushing you. ….Then excuse me.

Shopkeeper Man: Yeah.

Place: Diamante Fountain

Yui: (At the end, we could get any useful information...what should we do…)

Ruki: Haah...don’t make such a face. That was just the first one, right?

Let’s try out the next. This right ahead.

Yui: Yes...that’s true.

(Exactly. It’s just he said.)

(It’s useless to feel down in the first place…)

Place: Diamante Fountain

Ruki: Haah….

Yui: ……..

Monologue 一

After that, we visited the people who were able to get back the stolen things…

That person made a mistake, he wasn’t able to get back the stolen thing.

I wonder how that shopkeeper was able to succeed by taking back the stolen thing?

Anyway, we returned back to the same place when we couldn’t get any information.

For these, we just sighed.

End of the Monologue

Ruki: Hah…

I thought we'd be able to get some information, but we failed…

I also made you visit there for a wasteful reason….sorry.

Yui: Such...you don’t have to apologize….

If I was to be all alone, then I wouldn’t even know where to get started…

Ruki: Certainly, it seems to be hard to find another way...what can we do…

Yui: That’s…

(...Ruki kun really did his best this far…)

(He was also concerned about me all the time…)

(I wonder if something I can do….for him….)

(kh….that’s right!)

Neh, Ruki kun, it’s a time waste if you just keep thinking about that right?

Won’t you like to change the place? Look, there’s an amusement park…

It’s a good time, so let’s ride there! No?

Ruki: Roller coaster….?

Yui: Yes! Talking about the amusement park, there’s also…

(It occasionally caught my eyes but…)

Ruki: But, right now, your heart….

Yui: I am fine. Kleinod hasn’t done something strange so….

No danger is coming right away….am I wrong?

Ruki: Good grief...saying these stuffs out of nowhere….

Yui: (He won't….huh…?)

Ruki: Haa….I have no choice. Roller coaster will do right…?

Yui: Yeah! Then….!

Ruki: It’s fine, I’ll accompany you.

Yui: (That’s good…!)

Place: Roller Coaster Boarding Gate

Attendant for rides: Well then everyone, please hold firmly the bar in front of you, okay!

Yui: (It’s gonna depart soon...I am somehow scared to get into it like this…)

(Hands are trembling…)

Ruki: Oi….

Yui: Eh? Wh- what….?

Ruki: What's wrong huh...you’re the one to invite me to ride it….

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: ...No, it’s nothing. More importantly, move on?

Yui: kh...Ye- yes….

*After a while*

Ruki: Riding this in a while is making me feel refreshed.

Yui: Th- that’s right…

(I- I was scared…)

Ruki: …..Fufu...Ahahah!

Yui: Wh- what…?

(He’s smiling though….!)

Ruki: It means you’ve weakness in roller coasters don’t you?

Yui: Eh, it’s not the case….?

(...It’s not like I am very confident but…)

Ruki: Fuh, your manner of walking was doubtful, plus you’re very lacking in strength.

Your hands were trembling during the ride…

Yui: kh...You noticed…?

Ruki: ….Ofcourse! But, that’s fine.

Anyway, I know that you stressed your body to change my sorry feelings and company me.

Honestly, doing this I was able to change my mood.

Yui: Ruki kun…

Ruki: Plus... you also had a point.

It doesn’t mean that things will improve if I just fill myself with determination.

….For all of these, let’s search for a clue from tomorrow.

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: I said just a little before, but I’ve changed my mood. I’ll date you for the whole day today.

It’s the parade after all, it’s okay to enjoy ourselves.

Yui: Yes…!

(Thank you so much, Ruki kun…!)

*Yui hugs Ruki*

Ruki: ...What? It’s unusual for you to wrap your arms around.

Yui: Ah...it’s for….that’s….

(I was so happy that I approa….!)

Ruki: It’s fine. Stay like this, since it’s a trouble if you stray away.

Here, come closer.

*Ruki hugs Yui closer*

Yui: Ah…!

(...He just hugged me…)

Ruki: Then, what’s next? I don’t mind your choice.

Yui: Let’s see….well….

Place: Glimmer Street, park

Yui: The view from the ferris wheel looks really great.

Ruki: Yeah, you’re right.

Yui: (Mirror house, then coffee cup and ferris wheel...we rode different kinds of rides.)

(....What’s the next?)

Ruki: Hey, livestock. What about having a match with me?

Yui: With you? I’m fine with but what is that….?

Ruki: ...That one.

Yui: (That one…)

Place: Game Center

Yui: Slot machine….?

(But having a match….choosing slot out of nowhere….)

Ruki: Do you think luck is everything?

Yui: Eh? Yes, that’s….well….

Ruki: Fufu, it’s true that I can’t ask until someone gets the hang of it, however it’s not something like one can perform well in this match just by getting skilled in observasions.

Yui: I- is that so…?

(But, it’s Ruki kun so I may not….)

Ruki: Hmph, what’ll you do? Will you not accept?

….I thought I will reward you depending on the result. How unfortunate.

Yui: kh…..Reward….?

Ruki: Well, if you don’t like it then don’t force it. Let’s move on somewhere…

Yui: Wa- wait! I’ll accept!

Ruki: ...Ho?

Yui: (It’s the Ruki kun after all to invite me afterall…)

(More than that, I am a little excited about the prize….)

Ruki: Fuh, Alright then. Let’s start right away.

→ Game

Words he said in the game 一

“Let’s start the game.”

“That’s the key to do that”

“Focus on”

“With this, it’s over. You did well, livestock.”

*If you win + (CG)*

Yui: kh….it means I am….

Ruki: Looks like it’s your victory. You know that game pretty well.

Yui: (I don’t believe that I will win against him…)

(I am happy….!)

Ruki: Then, let’s give you the prize as I promised.

It’s a prize for you.

I’ll specially permit you to touch your master’s body.

Yui: Eh…?

Ruki: Come on, you can touch as much as you want.

Yui: (kh….even if he says that….!)

Ruki: ….hm? What’s wrong? You don’t have to hesitate.

Yui: D-don't hesitate you say….

(....He’s just teasing me, right?)

Yui: Ruki kun, Umm...一kyaa!?

*He gets closer*

Ruki: It’s no good to deny your master's affection.

...I’ll punish you now. Nnh…*kiss*

*Fades to CG*

Yui: nnh….!

(Ruki kun…!)

Place: Rubean Lake

Yui: Haah….it’s enough for me to walk here and there around. I’ll just sleep when I’ll go back to the hotel.

...But, it was a lot of fun.

Ruki: Is that so? Then, it’s good.

...It’s a beautiful Moon.

Yui: Eh…?

*Looks at the sky*

Yui: ...It’s true.

Ruki: Ayway, from tomorrow, we have to get prepared and find a way to get back your heart.

Yui: Yes…

(He’s right. At the end, we don’t have any clue after all…)

(We have to do our best from tomorrow…)

*BG back again to Rubean lake*

Yui: ………

Ruki: ...Hah, don’t worry that much. I’ll of course manage a way.

Yui: ….Ruki kun…

Ruki: So, you can relax...一

*Yui holds Ruki’s hand*

Yui: I’m not worried at all, I’m fine. Because you’re with me like this…

I believe in you…

(Even though I can’t do nothing but holding his hand,)

(At least, I hope I can pass my true feelings towards him…)

Ruki: Yui…

You are holding my hands from yourself…

You also embraced me before, you’re very positive aren’t you.

Yui: M- may be…?

Ruki: But...this kind of you isn’t bad either.

Yui: Fufu…

(I’m glad…)

一 End of Chapter O 1

[girlmeetsliv3]

Head Over Heels II (Finale)

Killing Me Softly Sequel!

Yandere Hoseok x Reader ; BTS Member x Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,626

Release Date: December 21st, 2019 @ 12 am (GMT-4)

Three years. It took three years for some semblance of normality to return to your life. It took three years for you to begin to see the world, not by it’s bad but it’s good. Three years and you were finally moving on. Three years wasn’t enough to stop his obsession. After three years, he was tired of waiting - you would finally be his.

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, harassment, and child k*dnapping. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

The last person you expected to see standing at the foot of your bed was Park Jimin. His hair had grown, but the blonde locks didn’t roughen him up, if anything they made him even more beautiful. A maniacal grin had spread his cheekbones wide apart and crinkled his eyes, it was as if the past three years had never occurred. You were beginning to wonder if prison had been nothing more than a temporary home for the men - and not the terrible punishment for actions you assumed it would be. “What? Didn’t you miss me?” He pouted, lips stretched out sensually. Park Jimin had always been aware of his allure. Even now when you were absolutely terrified of him, a part of you longed to kiss those lips. At your lack of response, Jimin rolled his eyes and walked to the side of your bed where he had better access to you. The closer he got the more you tried to wriggle away, but your attempts were useless Jimin grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him with ease. Not noticing, or caring, how unwilling you were to be touched by him.

“Now now. It’s best you behave. Wouldn’t want someone to be punished by your recklessness, would you?” He tilted his head pointing towards your nightstand, and your eyes dragged to the framed picture of Sun-Hi and you at the beach. That was all it took to set you off. You desperately tried to push against him and tried to hit him with your bound hands, exhaustion had worn away, as had fear. All you were concerned about now was about getting your daughter away from the lunatics that had ruined your life. “I swear to god if you touch a hair on her head -” Jimin laughed. A boisterous ‘ha ha ha’ sort of laugh. “Calm down momma bear. I won’t hurt our little girl, what kind of man do you think I am?” You hadn’t missed the ‘our.’ None of them knew whose daughter it was, that meant none of them would hurt Sun-Hi...for now. Jimin bent down to meet your eyes, “God how I missed you.” It was whispered so quietly, almost as if he was speaking to himself. His hand caressed your cheek softly, “I almost went mad when I thought we’d lost you and then we did.” He sounded so broken. You thought for a second you could see tears brimming in his eyes, but assumed it was a trick of the light.

“When you left, the first time, I didn’t know what to do with myself. But then we got you back just like Hoseok-Hyung said we would, only to lose you again.” He had stopped caressing your cheek. The hand now beginning to tighten on your jaw. “Do you know what it was like all those years? Without you? Without them?” All the sadness in his eyes had quickly disappeared and was suddenly filled with an intense rage. “Jimin - ” You tried to speak, but his hand only kept tightening on your jaw, forcing you to remain quiet. “I had to stand trial and listen to them call me a pimp, a kidnapper,” By now he had abandoned your jaw and instead had grabbed your clothes, hoisting you up in front of him. “A fucking rapist, Y/n. That’s what they said. They said we raped you.”Jimin yelled, his face mere centimeters from yours. Tears were now flowing freely down his face. Park Jimin had never been more broken or terrifying than he was to you at that moment. “You know what the worst part was? You never showed up. Not even once.” His voice had lowered significantly until he was whispering again. “You see that’s what really killed me. You didn’t even care enough to show up.”

Jimin threw you back onto the bed as if you weighed nothing. As if you were nothing. “I’m sorry Jimin. I was scared. I was so scared.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, as you sought a way to console him. “I- I-” You wracked your brain trying to find something, anything, that would help you get out of this situation. That would help your daughter get out of this situation. “I was afraid for Sun-Hi.” Jimin who had been pacing back and forth trying to control his anger came to a halt. His brows furrowed and confusion flashed in his eyes, “What?” This was it. “When I found out I was pregnant I freaked out.” Your hands began to tremble and you tried to interlace them together to make it less noticeable. “I wanted to tell you, but then I heard about the fighting. About how all of you were pinning the blame on each other and I was nervous.” Your eyes danced around the floor, as you tried to come up with something else. One more detail to make the lie seem believable. By now Jimin had begun to approach you, time was running out.

“I thought that if you found out I was pregnant by one of you. Then the rest would be mad and…” Jimin sighed, a small smile on his face. “You don’t have to be worried about that Y/n. After all, you can always have more kids.” Whatever little hope you had to reason with the madman died then and there. It appeared absence did make the heart grow fonder, for all of the men seemed more obsessed with you than ever before. “Jimin, where is Sun-Hi?” He shrugged before turning around and walking around your room, taking in his surroundings. “With her dad. Making up for lost time.” You jumped at his statement, “How do you know Hoseok is her dad?” Jimin chuckled though it lacked warmth, “Of course she would be his. You love him the most, it only makes sense.” No, that wasn’t it. It couldn’t be. “We also had a paternity test done this morning.” He casually added, as if it was a comment on the weather. “What?!” How had Hoseok even had the resources to do something like that? How had the rest of them when they were in prison? As if Jimin could read your mind, he answered all your questions.

“You’d be surprised what money can buy. Honestly, it wasn’t too bad. We all had our private cells, had food delivered, could read or watch television. Shit, the guards even looked the other way when one of us felt lonely and sought the other out.” It was a harsh slap of reality, but it was one that you needed. The system had failed you. They were supposed to keep you safe, but now you were tied on your bed with your daughter missing and the men who claimed to love you bringing havoc upon your life once more. Maybe things would be different if you had chosen a different path?

A phone went off startling you out of your thoughts, a smile broke out onto Jimin’s face. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you?” Immediately you tried to lunge at him but remembered that your feet were bound once your face hit the floor. Jimin tried to stifle his laughter, “I’m just here with Mommy. She’s talking about how much she misses you, maybe if she’s good you’ll see her soon.” You glared at Jimin with all the willpower you could muster, but it seemed to affect him very little. “You want to tell her goodnight? Um, I’m not sure Mommys' awfully busy. She’s all tied up now.” He giggled at his own little joke. “Jimin, please. Please let me speak to her.” You begged and even tried to crawl your way towards him, you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you looked groveling at his feet. “Hm…” His finger tapped against his chin, simulating deep thought. “You know what Sun-Hi, it seems Mommy can speak with you now.” Jimin crouched down and pressed the speaker button.

Nothing could be heard until a shy sleepy “Mommy?” was mumbled. You almost burst out into tears again. “Hi sunshine.” You tried to keep your tone light, but it took what little strength you had to do it. “Momma when are you coming? I miss you.” She extended the last part in a whine. Sun-Hi had a habit of becoming grouchy when she was tired. You tried to blink the tears away before Jimin could see them, but his eyes were glued to your face. Gauging you for any sudden movements or decisions, you decided to test your luck. “Mommy’s on her way. You’ll see me the second you wake up tomorrow morning.” Jimin’s tsked. “Really? I can’t wait. I miss you so much Mommy and so does Daddy.” You didn’t know how to respond to that. “Good night, baby. Sweet dreams.” Sun-Hi responded back enthusiastically, though you could still hear the sleep in her voice. “Goodnight Sunshine. Uncle Jimin will see you soon.” Then he hung up.

 “Why sunshine?” Hoseok turned towards you, a confused yet intrigued smile on his face. You, on the other hand, were desperately trying to hide your reddened cheeks in his chest, whilst also making a grab for your phone. “I don’t know. It’s just a nickname.” You once again tried to reach for your phone but Hoseok easily outmaneuvered you. Your phone was being held above his head and his other hand had crept towards the back of your neck. “Nope. Baby or Babe would be a nickname.” He slightly pulled away, so that he could see your face. “But sunshine. That has to have meaning behind it.” If possible your cheeks became even redder. Hoseok laughed and tenderly kissed your lips, you melted into him like butter. You always wondered how he managed to do that to you - make you forget everything but him. Refusing to let the playful air die he continued, “Is it because I light up every room I walk into?” His eyebrow cocked and a teasing smile made its way onto his lips. “Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “Or could it be because your world revolves around me?” Hoseok's smile only grew wider as you scoffed, “As if.” His hands trailed down towards your ass, where they rested before giving a firm squeeze. You jumped in surprise. “Is it because I’m hot?” He whispered into your ear, trying to be seductive.

You shoved him back softly, “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a nickname.” You tried to play it cool, refusing to let him know the effect he had on you even if it was far too late already. “Oh, so what, you call all your boyfriends Sunshine?” He was still trying to tease you, keep the mood light. But of course, you were far too worried about your feelings being exposed, especially when Hoseok wasn’t interested in you that way. “You aren’t even my boyfriend.” It had slipped out before you could even register what you had said. “What?” His voice had dropped several octaves, the way it usually did when he was angry. Immediately you turned around, holding your hands up. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that you’re special and - ” Hoseok was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Cut the crap, sweetheart. I know what you meant.” It was moments like these that you wondered exactly what you were doing. Moments like these when you were afraid of him but didn’t know why. “I’m sorry Hobi. I really am. I made a mistake, it won’t happen again.” You reached out to touch him, but he recoiled as if disgusted by your touch. “Don’t ever say that again. You have no idea how special you are to me. I would do anything for you.” You nodded at his words and kept apologizing. Too naive to understand the weight behind what he said until it was far too late.

 Jimin hadn’t trusted you enough to tell you where you were going. After, the call ended he merely threw you over his shoulders and back onto the bed, before disappearing into your closet. He emerged a few minutes later with your emergency suitcase, then he went out of the room into the one across. Coming back in with a small bag and Sun-Hi’s favorite stuffed animal a blue-ish horse with its nose in the shape of a heart. It worried you, the ease with which he had been able to know which toy to take, Sun-Hi’s bed was littered with them. Yet, he had known. “One more thing before we go.” Jimin had your phone in the palm of his hand, he flashed it in your face before the screen unlocked for him. “You’re going to call the police officer and say Sun-Hi has been returned and that the search can be called off. You’re also going to say that you’ve decided to take a break from the city given everything, but that you’ll be back in his office Monday morning to discuss everything.” He didn’t even give you a chance to agree, before dialing the number and holding it up to your ear.

After three rings, the gruffy voice of Officer Park answered, “Hello, Park speaking.” You repeated everything Jimin had told you to say, never straying from the script as his eyes bore mercilessly into yours. A part of you prayed that the officer would notice how strange all of this was, how calm your tone was compared to hours before. “Well alright child. I’ll see you Monday then.” The click signifying the end of the call was almost mocking. A scream threatened to claw its way out of your throat, but you swallowed it back. “Now that’s done.” Jimin turned off your phone before slamming it to the ground and stepping on it. There was so much force and aggression in every one of his movements you forgot the man in front of you was capable of being sweet, had been sweet, until he lost you. An uncomfortable feeling set in as you finally became aware of something: this isn’t like the last time. There’s no escape now.

Kim Namjoon toyed with the device in his hand, he wasn’t supposed to have it. Not really. But the guards had looked the other way whenever he and his lovers came into possession of certain items, as long as their pockets were lined with money they didn’t really give a damn. They hadn’t even been aggressive to them the first day, a little rough but that was nothing more than a scare tactic. The device vibrated in his hand and Namjoon unlocked it, reading the singular text.

Unknown: It’s been dealt with.

Namjoon smirked, he placed the phone under his pillow - if it could be called that - and laid on his side as images of what might happen next played in his head. Jungkook had been ecstatic during dinner today, barely able to contain himself until he saw his Hyungs. He’d spilled all the juicy details about how you’d finally come to visit him and how you hadn’t denied that Sun-Hi was theirs. Jungkook was practically bouncing with joy, and it would be a lie to say the youngest’s enthusiasm wasn’t contagious. It had been rough in the beginning, the idiotic lawyers they hired suggested that it would be better if they put the blame on each other rather than be tried as a group. Coming up with varying statements that clashed made it difficult for the prosecution to convince the jury, not to mention the lack of evidence. Namjoon had always been a cautious man, but even he made mistakes - he let his guard down around you. That wouldn’t happen again.

The device vibrated again, Namjoon frowned before his hand slipped under his pillow to drag the device out. This time it was two texts, each which sent him over the moon in different ways. Namjoon went to bed that night entirely anxious for the good news the morning might bring. Positive that for the first time in three years things would go his way.

Lawyer Lee: The committee has agreed to a hearing. If all goes well, you’ll be out of there in no time.

Jiminie: I’ve got her. We’re on our way now.

 You could distantly pick up on the rhythmic sound of waves crashing, the roar of the ocean and wind arousing you from a deep slumber you didn’t even know you’d fallen into. As you stretch out your limbs, only to not feel them bound, another more quiet sound could be heard in the distance. It was giggling, the small bell-like laughter that could only come from a child, you tore your eyes open and tried to leap off of wherever you were only to be stopped by a hand wrapping around your forearm. There he stood, the man of your dreams, father of your child, and tormentor of your dreams. A pregnant silence hung between the two of you, as one waited for the other to speak. It was Sun-Hi’s giggles that broke the tension, your eyes darting past him towards the window. Outside in the gloomy weather, you could see Sun-Hi running around the beach smiling and laughing, whilst Jimin tried to catch her. Sun-Hi was always a bright child, but she seemed to radiate like never before. Hoseok cleared his throat drawing your attention back to him. Unconsciously you flinched, prepared for anything he might throw at you.

Instead, Hoseok only sighed, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. “I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re home.” You would always wonder how he managed to disarm you in less than ten words. A moan of pain escaped you, as he continued his assault. “I’ve longed for so long to hold you in my arms, Y/n. I nearly went mad.” His hand skimmed all over your body, but his touch was soft - as if you were made of glass. Of paper. “Seeing Sun-Hi grow up without knowing her dad and how much he loved her…you can’t imagine how much that hurt me.” It was as if every time he opened his mouth, he plunged even more daggers into your heart. He wouldn’t stop until you admitted your guilt, so you finally decided to spare your pride. “I love you Hoseok. I always have, I just…” don’t love them. Not the way you want me too. Tears streamed down your face and sobs violently shook your body.

“I can’t be with them, Hoseok. I’m sorry I can’t.”

He shook his head, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “But you love me, don’t you? Wouldn’t you do anything for me?” Yes. Yes. Yes. “But not that.” Any sympathy Hoseok may have felt for you or shown you, dissipated. “We’re a package deal, Y/n.” His voice lacked any warmth. Your time was running out and you found yourself at a fork in the road: one decision would damn your soul, but the other your heart. So you tried to reason with him, not for you but for the only other thing you could find, “What about Sun-Hi? She won’t understand. She has friends, classmates,” You desperately pleaded, “She might not understand why she suddenly can’t go back to that life anymore.” Hoseok only laughed at your worries, “She’s three Y/n. The only thing she needs is her parents, a roof over her head, food, and love and affection. She has plenty of that to go around.”

Alright, so option two then. You let out a long sigh and sat back on the bed seemingly resigned. “Please let me see her.” Hoseok raised an eyebrow as he folded his arms across his chest. “She’s my daughter, dammit. Let me see her.” You yelled at him, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion causing more tears to flow. He crouched in front of you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Not like this, you’ll scare her. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” The Hoseok you knew was back: your sweet, loving, affectionate sunshine. You melted like putty in his hands as he escorted you to the bathroom, giving you your privacy but making sure you knew not to take too long. On the way there you passed another window, one that displayed a narrow road shrouded with long trees on either side. Deja-vu welled up in you. You’d been here before.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Sun-Hi ran straight into your arms, her short stature and low-weight making it easy for you to pick her up with ease. “Oh, my baby. How I’ve missed you.” You kissed her face all over, as she tried to push you away softly. “Look, Mommy. I found a seashell.” The shell in her hand was white with a bold stripe of grey running through it. “It’s beautiful, Sun-Hi.” Her cheeks reddened at the compliment before her eyes caught onto someone else. “Look, Daddy. I found a seashell.” Sun-Hi was desperate to be free of your arms, so she could run into her father’s, so you set her down with much reluctance. Immediately Hoseok scooped her up, congratulating her and blowing raspberries on her stomach until your child was hollering with laughter. “Aw aren’t they the cutest.” Immediately, you stilled as Jimin wrapped his arms around your waist. “I can’t wait until that’s us.” He murmured in your ear, lightly nipping at the lobe until it became red and you lightly hissed. Satisfied with your response, Jimin chuckled before making his way over to Hoseok before whispering something in his ear and kissing Sun-Hi on the cheek.

“Uncle Minnie will be back soon, okay?” He spoke, the toddler nodding before returning her attention to her father. Hoseok nodded at Jimin before both of the men’s eyes landed on you. Jimin walked towards you, gripping the back of your neck and harshly planting his lips on yours. “See you later, Darling.” With that he walked out the door, leaving the three of you all alone as you planned your escape.

             A children’s movie played on the television which took up much of the wall. You recognized the bright colors and cheery music, it was your daughter’s favorite - it seems he knew even that too. Sun-Hi was between the two of you, eyes glued to the screen, with you on her left and Hoseok on the other side. His arm was thrown over the back of the couch, whenever you shifted too suddenly for his liking he would grip your shoulder. Other than that, it was a nice normal evening. You had to act fast. “Are you hungry, Sun-Hi?” She briefly turned towards you, nodding before gluing her eyes back to the screen. “Hoseok,” you whispered trying to draw his attention, not that it wasn’t already on you. “She has to eat.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond and made your way towards the kitchen, opening the fridge as you pretended to search for food. When you didn’t find anything useful, you opened the drawers and cabinets.

           “I told Jimin to bring food.” His voice startled you. Of course, he wouldn’t leave you alone, you had counted on as much. “She needs to eat real food, not takeout. I can cook.” You began to rummage again, this time finding some beef, pasta, and tomato sauce. “See look. I’ll have it done in no time.” You crouched down to search for a pot or pans and were beyond relieved when you found them. Fingers danced along your sides, as Hoseok came to rest his head above your shoulder. “Y/n. Don’t treat me like a fool.” Your hand tightly gripped the metal handle on the black pan. You would wait patiently and then hit him over the head with it. One blow, maybe two, and you would be able to escape. Hoseok sighed, “I think there are several things you’ve left unaccounted: for one, Jimin might be on his way. Two, Sun-Hi might not react in a positive way of seeing mommy bash daddy’s head in.” Your grip wavered.  Focus Y/n. This is what he wants.

           You refused to reply, to play his games. You should’ve known better. “Turn around.” It was an order, something not to be disobeyed. Yet, you stood your ground. His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning it. “Please, darling. Please~” He all but whined, but it was obviously a farce. You swallowed thickly and tightened your grip on the steel pan. It seems Hoseok had enough, “There are other ways for me to punish you now…” His voice trailed off, clearly implying something. That was only confirmed when his head moved from your shoulder to glance back at your daughter. Immediately you turned around. Just one strike and he’s out. Hoseok saw the fire glowing in your eyes and smirked, clearly enjoying this game. “I’ll tell you what, you can go.” What?! “What?” You spoke, shock evident on your features. For a brief moment, you forgot what you were planning to do and that was all he needed. Just a brief moment, to completely trap you in the intricate web they’d sewn together.

           “You can leave. I know that’s what you want. To run far away from here with Sun-Hi and never see each other again. If that’s what you truly want Y/n. I’ll give that to you.” Hoseok leaned back against the countertop, “Go do it now before Jimin comes back. He’s only ten minutes out, but if you head east you’ll find the main street and I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out from there.” There was nothing in his voice or eyes to indicate that he was toying with you. Nothing in his beautiful hazel eyes that displayed anything other than honestly. “Why?” You should’ve known better than to question things, you should’ve just taken Sun-Hi and runaway. Unbeknownst to you, a step was taken to close the gap between the two of you. You were still reaching for him - longing for him. You still loved him.

           Hoseok rolled his eyes, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because my love for you will never die. No matter what.” The distance between the two of you, which was short, to begin with, kept decreasing. “I know you better than anyone else does Y/n. When the going gets tough you run; from responsibility, affection, love. But I also know that you are one of the most selfless people I know.” Hoseok took another step forward, this time your chests were touching and your faces mere centimeters apart. “You would never sacrifice someone else’s happiness for your own well-being.” You should’ve known better than to believe he’d show you mercy. No. This is what he’d been waiting for all along, the moment he could use your biggest weakness against you. “You can run away, but we’ll always chase. You’ll never have a normal life… and neither will your daughter.” The frying pan slipped from your hand, the loud ‘clang’ it made echoing loudly against the room. Sun-Hi was clearly frightened, she jumped off the couch and ran towards you. “Mommy, are you okay?” Her soft chubby hands wrapped around yours as she gazed up at Hoseok. He smiled reassuringly, “The pan was just too heavy so it fell.”

           Sun-Hi looked up at Hoseok, her brow furrowed in confusion before she looked at you again. It took all your strength not to break under her innocent gaze, you had experienced so much growing up you couldn’t bear to have her live through even a quarter of it. Aren’t parents supposed to provide a better life for their kids? You owed her that much. Slowly, you crouched in front of her a forced smile on your face. “That’s right it was just too heavy. Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m alright.” After a couple of seconds, the toddler nodded seemingly accepting what she had been told at face value. She was barely a child and couldn’t understand that not everything was as it seems, you didn’t want her to lose that innocence just yet. “Go back and finish watching the movie. Mommy and Daddy will be there shortly.” You gently guided her out of the kitchen, content when she returned to her previous spot and focused on the graphics in front of her.

           All you could do was stare at her from the threshold, wishing things were different. Wanting to have made better choices. Regretting certain decisions. Your time had passed, things were no longer about you - nor could they ever be any more. Hoseok stood beside you observing Sun-Hi with a tender smile on his cheek, “No harm will ever come to her. She’ll grow up loved and cared for, just like you should’ve been.” Cautiously he pecked your cheek, pleased when you didn’t recoil away. Not that you could, you had become numb to it. The decision you made settling deep into your core. Hoseok’s fingers hooked under your chin and forced you to look at him, “Come on now, sunshine. Don’t you love me?” Once again, he managed to disarm you with so little effort. You practically melted into his arms.

           Lights suddenly shone from outside, before they suddenly disappeared. The door opened a couple of minutes later and in strolled Park Jimin with two bags of takeout and a new stuffed toy for his favorite niece. Jimin would make it a habit to always bring something home for Sun-Hi, until the day when he brought something for his own child. For now, he settled on the current situation though hope did bloom in his chest at the sight of your pouty lips pressed against Hoseok’s even if it was just for a second or two.  

             Monday morning rolled around and Officer Byunghoo Park sipped on his coffee as he waited for his next appointment to roll around. The Sun-Hi case had been an absolute disaster, but his commissioner didn’t seem the least bit concerned in a child disappearing only to be returned the same day. Nor did he seem to care that the child’s elusive mother had all but disappeared. To be fair, Park had his fair share of drinks that night and when his phone had rung at such a strange hour he picked up more out of a sense of duty than want. It should be of surprise to no one that he barely picked up on what the women said, it wasn’t until the next morning that he entered his office and saw the file that he recalled the strange conversation.

           Immediately he attempted to contact you but had no luck. His partner was completely useless as always, but any questions he had would be answered today, in about ten minutes or so. A quick knock on the door, disturbed his train of thought before he grumbled a ‘come in.’ A well-dressed man in a tailored suit with a black briefcase entered the room, he gave a curt bow and introduced himself as Mr. Lee. “I’m here in place of Ms. Y/l/n. She didn’t feel safe coming in, I hope you understand.” Park furrowed his brows, “Why wouldn’t she feel comfortable? Her daughter’s back isn’t she?” The lawyer chuckled humorlessly, “Oh yes, especially after the kidnappers were caught. But still -” Park jumped out of his seat almost comically, “What do you mean the kidnappers were caught? I’m in charge of the investigation and have never heard about any of this?!” Lawyer Lee attempted to hide his disdain for the man, but his patience when dealing with cretins could only extend so far.

           “Oh were you not aware that the Gangnam police were also running their own investigation? See the day-care from which the child was taken happens to lie right at the border between your jurisdiction and theirs, so they took up the case.” The words flowed so smoothly out of Lee’s mouth as if it were the most obvious thing. “I’m supposed to be notified when another sector wants to undergo the same investigation. Why wasn’t I notified?” Park scattered through his notes, searching for a map of the city and Gangnam’s contact information. “Now Mr. Park, I believe that is something you should take up with them. I’m nothing, but the messenger.” There was something Park didn’t like about Lee’s tone - the sardonic nature of it. As if he were speaking down to him. “The perpetrators turned themselves into Gangnam police and the child was returned.” Before anymore question could stumble out of Park’s mouth, Lee stood up and opened his briefcase taking out a manila envelope and placing it on the officer’s desk.

           “I am sorry, but I do have a very important meeting with another client across town. Ms. Y/l/n only sent me here to say thank you for everything you’ve done. After all, because of your skills, her family is now reunited.” Lee bowed before quickly excusing himself. Park had wanted to question the man over the contents inside the bag but recalled encountering a similar situation on his past. He didn’t need to know what was inside the envelope, all he knew was what he needed to do. Rather quickly Park found Sun-Hi Y/l/n file and typed in whatever information he deemed fit, before moving his mouse over to a red button at the top corner. There was no hesitation in his clicking of ‘close.’ Nor in the depositing of the case file into the resolved folder. After all, your family was reunited once more - wasn’t that what you wanted in the first place? Who was he to question it?

[overclockedroulette]

anyone say vega mochizuki content? no? i literally haven't mentioned him on this blog once? i do not care one bit i love him

for context, he worked with avarice and fabrica when they drugged redglass and him and avarice have this? sortof rivalry?

he's from a separate (slightly more normal, but not at all less inhumane) research facility, and is fully aware that aubilon essentially raises their workers from a Very young age. he makes fun of avarice RELENTLESSLY for that. (see, his choice of insults: show animal, trained dog, circus lion, etc)

also, he was born in a cult and his sister is basically jesus. so you can imagine the kind of stress he is under.

(also, he's very scared of thunderstorms. although that might be an understatement.)

~

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“Stupid? It’s completely logical. Just because your halfwit mind can’t comprehend anything on a scale larger than one person-”

“At least my ‘halfwit mind’ works properly, psycho.”

“For the last time, I’m not crazy you piece of-”

“Can you two shut up?” Both scientists turned their heads to Fabrica, resting her head in one hand and rolling her eyes. “You’re both being ridiculously antagonistic. At least have the decency to put up a pretence of goodwill, for my sake. You’re acting like children.”

There was a short, surprised pause. Avarice was the first to respond: a curt nod in the royal’s direction. “Of course. My apologies.”

Vega bowed slightly, in a similar fashion, not pausing once before looking to his side and smirking. “So, the dog does know how to behave.”

“I will end your fucking bloodline, Mochizuki.”

Vega gasped falsely. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he mocked, devolving into laughter. “Least I have a family. Say, were you bred for your work, too?”

“Were you bred for your little ocean cult?” Avarice snapped, taking great satisfaction in watching Vega freeze up.

“You shouldn’t know that,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Avarice laughed.

“Oh, please. The name ‘Delta Mochizuki’ isn’t exactly underground, if you know where to look,” he teased, as if he hadn’t spent an unreasonable amount of time in Aubilon’s library trying to find something to hold over the pompous ass. “Plus, you smell of salt water all the time. I just put two and two together, but thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

He had to say, watching Vega panic internally was incredibly satisfying. Of course, Fabrica was less than amused, but he couldn’t help himself; the bastard deserved a little panic, even if the queen was now glaring daggers at the both of them.

“Did you- did you research my family? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Interesting that you assume I didn’t already know about your little cult. Why, are you supposed to be all subtle because you’re related to their messiah?”

“Shut your thrice-damned mouth before I-”

“Shh,” Avarice quieted him with a finger to his lips- which, surprisingly, actually shut him up. “Is that why you insist on acting like you’re better than me? Because your little sister was chosen by your god? Because all you’ll ever be is the saviour’s big brother?”

Vega wrenched himself away fairly quickly after that statement, slapping away Avarice’s hand and scoffing. “Oh, so now the guy who never had a family is lecturing me on mine? How the fuck would you know?”

“I’m just saying what I see,” he shrugged.

“Well, you’re seeing wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Gods, you’re a prick.”

“The sentiment is shared.”

“Asshole.”

“Insect.”

“Lunatic.”

“Coward.”

“This isn’t going to stop, is it?” Fabrica murmured to herself, drumming her fingers on the arm of her throne. “Fine, whatever,” she sighed and stood up, grabbing the side of a curtain. She was sure the others hadn’t noticed, but it was raining fairly heavily outside, interspersed with flashes of lightning or thunderclaps. It also just so happened to be a full moon.

And Avarice wasn’t the only one who had done his research.

She cleared her throat, just enough to get both of their attention for a moment, before yanking the curtain open. It took less than a second for both scientists to be brought to their knees on the tiled floor of her throne room.

It really was interesting, how such a strong-willed, stubborn pair could be reduced to the pitiful state she was witnessing in such a short amount of time. Delirious and trembling, such a juxtaposition to the contentious way they had been speaking just a moment before. Vega was barely recognisable, his hands brought together in some fearful parody of a prayer, pleading in some primordial language she didn’t recognise; the words didn’t have the same rhythm as if he were praying - she was sure she could recognise it - but instead sounded more like he was begging. For what, she didn’t know. She could guess, of course, but her information on how to break the unruly scientists didn’t extend to why they could be broken down so easily.

Avarice, on the other hand, could be understood without much extrapolation. After all, Fabrica spoke Celestial, and she recognised the old prayer that sounded as if it was being dragged forcefully from his lips. She didn’t need to know why a fallen aasimar who knew that prayer had such a fervent reaction to the full moon. She did, briefly, wonder about the bloody scratch marks on his ears, but she quickly put that thought aside. For some reason, he was uncomfortable to look at like this. The same sort of discomfort she had so thoroughly hidden with smug vindication when sending her brother to be burnt alive.

Maybe it was because they looked alike. That was probably it.

After a good while (she wasn’t sure exactly how long - she had gone to make tea after a couple minutes), Fabrica decided that this was probably enough to discourage them from fighting - at least, in front of her - and slid the curtain and window shut, muffling the sound of the rain and obscuring the moon from view, before settling herself back down to drink tea and wait for them to recover.

Vega came to his senses first - or, at least, he was the first to show it. He didn’t bother to stand up. Just stared weakly at nothing, waiting to be addressed first. He made some attempt at a muttered apology, not exactly stable enough to form coherent sentences. Fabrica sipped her tea and waited, and, sure enough, Avarice soon managed to bring himself back to a state of coherency. Well. ‘Coherency’ was probably the wrong word, all things considered. Sure, he wasn’t completely enveloped in nonstop feverish muttering as he had been for a while now, but the image of genuine fear in his eyes as he forced himself to even out his breathing and choke back the visible waves of nausea was just as off-putting, coming from him.

“Stand up,” she commanded. They both complied immediately, albeit a little shaky. “You’re going to get along now, I presume?”

She was met with unquestioning affirmation, as she had expected - both of them left unsettled and desperate to please as they were, like scared children. She didn’t expect it to last - of course not - but she was fairly sure they wouldn’t act up in front of her again, which was a relief. Their incessant bickering was starting to hurt her ears.

“Good,” she smiled, standing up to leave. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

As she left the throne room, she couldn’t help but notice that neither could meet the other’s eyes. She supposed that was to be expected, but they’d get over it. She’d talk to them tomorrow.

[drawlfoy]

2019 Draco x Reader Secret Santa Gift Exchange - - Inevitable

masterlist request guidelines i know, i know...it’s been a bit. this is for @eltanin-malfoy​ ‘s secret santa gift exchange.

pairing: draco x reader

requested: kind of! this is part of the xmas gift exchange :)) also i hate to say this but i kind of deviated from the request...i wanted to make it a bit longer and didn’t like how it specified how they were the only two students left at hogwarts...wanted to mix it up some :)))))))))

summary: ravenclaw y/n is remaining at hogwarts over the holidays to study for N.E.W.T.S while her family is away on business. despite never really having been close to him before, y/n begins to form an unlikely connection.

warnings: just swearing and underage drinking and a mention of a sexual relationship between snape and a student (don’t worry...NOT the central focus and just an anecdote provided).  

a/n: damn....it’s really been like....almost two months. i’ve been logging on and off occasionally to see what’s been going on. i know that there were a lot of requests over the summer that kind of sunk that i never got to, and to that i’m very sorry. maybe one day i’ll be able to get back to them (i’m thinking of doing so over the next summer!!). i’m so so so thankful for the fact that you guys are still here, reading my content and enjoying draco malfoy as much as i am. i love this community and feel very blessed to be a part of it.

music recs: any christmas music!!

word count: 3,859

“And you’re sure that you’re alright with staying behind?” 

Y/N sighed, twisted her hair into a knot behind her neck in a nervous gesture. “Yes, Mum. It’s really okay. I hope you and Dad have a good time in Paris.”

“You know we won’t,” her mother said. “I can’t believe we have to work through the holidays.”

“I’m sorry Mum.” Y/N took a glance out the window, watching the rest of her friends leave the grounds with the intention of catching the train back to London. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m one of the only students staying here this winter. I’ll just be working too.”

“Be sure to write often.” There was a brief pause before Y/N could hear some commotion in the background, and her mother’s face, which had previously been gazing at her from the common room coals turned. “I’ve got to go, dearie. Love you!”

With that, the fire was extinguished, and Y/N was left to sit alone in the empty Ravenclaw common room. It was rather dark now that the sun was hanging lower in the sky, and every sound she made echoed. She had never noticed just how much space her housemates took up until they had gone home.

Once Y/N had gotten over her miniature pity party, she gathered up her robes and headed down to the dining hall. There was one particular Slytherin girl, Daphne, who she knew was staying behind for sure. There was something about the Slytherin house staying over the holiday break to study for N.E.W.T.S...or perhaps all their parents had gotten sick of them and their snooty attitudes by this point.

Y/N snorted ungraciously at this notion as she entered the dining hall, pushing open the two large doors. The eerie hum of quiet chatter hit her ears instead of the familiar roar of 4 houses, and her footsteps echoed--actually echoed--as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. She quickly changed her mind when she saw Daphne waving at her from the sparsely populated Slytherin table. 

“Over here, Y/L/N,” she called, shoving someone who was sitting next to her to the side. Y/N couldn’t get a good look at who it was, but the long, flowing dark locks suggested that it was Pansy. “Move, Pans. We have special company.”

Y/N gratefully accepted the offer, ditching her completely empty table and sliding in next to her Potions partner.

“Thanks, Greengrass.” Y/N never understood the Slytherin obsession with calling acquaintances by their last name, but on Merlin was she going to follow that rule whilst she was the only friend she had. 

“Of course,” Daphne responded, daintily picking at the food on her plate while Y/N grabbed a roll and spooned stew into her bowl. “Just don’t embarrass us too much, you know. Blue and green just don’t really...vibe well. We’ll have to get you a Slytherin tie for the holidays if you don’t want to be harassed in the common room.”

“In the...what?” 

“In the common room,” Pansy said, barely looking up from her own plate. “You don’t seriously think we’re going to leave you to go up to an empty dorm every night, right?”

“Does...that....huh?” Y/N knew that her mouth was gaped unceremoniously open, but she didn’t know how else to act. The Slytherins were...inviting her to live with them?

“Yeah, Pans and I have an extra bed now that Millicent is off in Peru on holiday,” Daphne said nonchalantly. 

“Does that mean I get to call you Daphne now, or...” 

She laughed, her perfectly straight white teeth glinting in the light. “If it makes you happy. Only me though. Or Pansy. Anyone else will have a bit of an attitude.”

Y/N smiled nervously, pushing her stew around with a spoon. “I really wasn’t expecting this, Thanks for not making me spend the holidays completely alone.”

“Honestly,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t get why people give Slytherins such a selfish rap. Look at how empathetic and caring we are.”

Y/N laughed, casting her eyes up from her food and taking in the table. The 6th year Slytherins were well-represented, with Zabini, Nott, and....Malfoy? She frowned at him. Malfoy had blabbed the entire year to all of his croonies about how well-regarded he was in family and how he was such an integral part of his father’s work. It was surprising to see him at Hogwarts and not home, where he would’ve been much more useful to his family. The extra line in his scowl suggested to Y/N that he was well aware of the fact and was staying against his will. Then again, she could’ve been wrong. She’d had some classes with him, but they’d never personally spoken, but it didn’t take much for her to draw the conclusion that he was a spoiled prat.

She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t think to pull her eyes away when Malfoy turned away from his conversation with Zabini, his head tilting in her direction. His grey eyes snapped up from the table to meet hers, and she jerked away the moment they made contact. Y/N stared at the table as nonchalantly as she could, counting 7 cracks in the wood before she felt confident enough to peek back up again. Malfoy was turned back around, talking a bit more animatedly to his friends. 

That was weird she thought, putting her energy back into her stew. I’m never looking that direction again.

<^>

The Slytherin bunk beds felt slightly more comfortable than the Ravenclaw ones. “Daddy’s money always makes for a thicker cushion,” Pansy said to this observation as she rifled through her drawers, trying to find a few acceptable pieces for Y/N to borrow. “I don’t have an extra jumper, but I’ll be right back. I know someone who does.”

“Isn’t this kind of extra?” Y/N asked Daphne as Pansy dashed off through the open dorm door. “I’ll just avoid wearing blue stuff. I swear.”

She laughed at this, tossing an extra Slytherin tie on Y/N’s bed. “It’s weird. I think it’s kind of a Slytherin thing. It’s fun to indoctrinate you or something like that.”

“Kind of kinky.”

The two snickered as Y/N continued to unpack her things into Millicent’s now empty drawer, shoving her sweats and unmarked sweaters to fit as much as she could. 

“I wouldn’t go that far, but if it floats your boat.”

“You’re gonna love me for this,” a prim voice sang from the doorway. Y/N turned to see Pansy holding a bundle of clothes. “Full set of Slytherin robes. I say that you try and convince everyone that you’ve been in this house the whole time.”

Y/N cackled at this. “I feel like I’m rooming with absolute lunatics.”

“Because you are, darling.” Pansy flounced forward, pinching Y/N’s cheek. “Anyways. I say you get changed into something a little less...blue...and we go to the first Christmas party of the year. I hear it starts at 11.”

With that, the girls descended into a flurry of motion. Y/N slipped into one of Daphne’s deep emerald dresses, which felt more expensive than her family’s home, and prayed that it would stay intact for the rest of the night. She was never a wild partier, but she would never forgive herself if a rogue glass of mulled firewhiskey found its way onto the expensive velvet fabric. It felt uncomfortably tight and revealing, so she snatched the first Slytherin article of clothing she could find--what appeared to be a black cape with a snake emblem on it--and draped it over her shoulders.

“Let’s talk about girl things,” Pansy announced as she took out her makeup bag and sat herself in front of the mirror. Daphne smiled in exasperation. “I know all about Daphne’s vast experiences with Blaise, but I know nothing about you, Y/N. Got any horrid men messing up your educational experience?”

Y/N laughed as she finished trying to spell her hair smooth. “No. Not really. I wish. I was into this one guy in my Charms class this September, but he turned out to be a whole clown.”

“Oh, ick.” Pansy paused just long enough to make eye contact in the mirror and send her a disgusted expression. “I hate men. Except for mine, of course. “

“And that is...?” prodded Y/N.

“If I told you, it’d ruin all the fun,” Pansy teased. “He does look good in red, though. I’ll let you know that. Do with that information what you will.”

“A Gryffindor?! Aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna kill himself cliff-jumping over the holidays or something?”

“Oh, hush little Y/N. He’s here for a good time, not a long time.”

Daphne snorted from her corner of the room, sending Y/N a look that said “see what I have to deal with?”. 

11 came around sooner than expected. Y/N’s dress was feeling tighter with each breath she took, her anxiety brewing within her. Despite being on friendly terms with Daphne for a season, she had never been invited to a Slytherin party, but she had heard plenty of morning after stories that left her wondering what really went on. 

Now I’m going to find out she mused, running her fingerpads over her ring. 

“Are you going to just stand here or are you going to open the door, kiddo?” Pansy’s voice sounded behind her, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“Don’t be fucking rude, Pans,” Daphne chided. “This is a monumental moment for Ravenclawkind.”

<^> 

Y/N never thought that she’d see people getting absolutely trashed to Frank Sinatra’s christmas album, but her first Slytherin party shook this preconceived notion. The moment she stepped into the common room, Daphne pressed a hot goblet into her hand that was full of something that smelled suspiciously like fire. 

“It’s a Slytherin specialty,” she explained. “Firewhiskey, but with more fire.”

Whatever it was, it tasted good. Really, really good. If Y/N hadn’t been so nervous, she would’ve downed the goblet in one go, but she knew better and only took small sips. Daphne and Pansy were a little less conservative, pouring themselves a third go before she had even finished her first. 

“So proper,” Daphne managed to get out as she looked at Y/N, an amused expression on her face. “Come on and be festive.”

Y/N managed to hold off on heavy drinking and instead retired to a dark green leather armchair, choosing to people watch. The Slytherins were stumbling about in a fashion that was very unSlytherin-esque but oddly charming. Pansy was chatting up Nott and Malfoy, and when she saw Y/N sitting alone, she grabbed the two boys by the tie and dragged them over. 

Malfoy didn’t look nearly as hammered as his companions as he stared daggers at Pansy’s hand, clutched at the emerald fabric encircling his neck. They were standing in front of her in moments with Pansy smiling goofily. 

“Y/N, doll,” she began, dropping the ties and reaching out to grab Y/N’s hands. “Have you met my friends? Draco and Theo?”

“Why are you wearing my cape?” Draco’s voice cut past Pansy’s easily with his posh accent. 

“Your...what? Are you talking to me?” Y/N asked, her mind clouded with confusion.

“Er, yeah,” Malfoy said, motioning towards the cloak settled over her shoulders. “That’s mine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/N shifted awkwardly, working it off her shoulders and holding it out to him. “You can have it back, if you want. Pansy just said that I could borrow it.”

Malfoy stared at her, his silver eyes flickering in the dim light. He seemed very out of place--the Malfoy energy didn’t exactly match with the classic Christmas love songs that were echoing through the room.His pale hair reflected the festive green lights strung up around the dungeon ceiling and walls, making it look much colder than she thought it normally did. 

It took him clearing his throat for her to realize that she’d been staring again and that no, he hadn’t reached out his arm to take the cape.

“It’s yours now,” he said stiffly. 

“Ooooookaaaaay,” Pansy sang, slipping her arm through Nott’s and shoving Malfoy towards the couch. “Looks like you two need to talk this out! I’ll be going!”

With that, she darted off, leaving a very awkward looking Malfoy standing substantially closer to her.

“You can sit down if you want,” Y/N said, a wave a boldness washing over her. So what, he was cute, and there was nothing stopping her from talking to him now. “I don’t bite.”

He seemed receptive to this, settling down onto the couch and leaving a healthy distance between them. “Your name is Y/N, right?” 

She was surprised by this. There was no point in time where she was referred to anything but Y/LN in front of him, but it appeared as if he somehow knew her first name anyways. “And you’re Draco?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to call you Draco or Malfoy?” she pushed, curling her legs up under her and turning to look at him better. Now that he was just about a foot away from her, she could see that his hair was slightly ruffled. 

“Whichever you fancy,” he answered. 

“Do we have Potions together?” 

Before Draco could fully answer, there was an explosion of motion behind them and an infectious spread of laughter.

“Mistletoe!” Pansy gleefully shrieked from somewhere out of Y/N’s line of sight as a floating patch of greenery made its way through the common room air.

“The fuck is that?” Y/N cast a questioning look at Draco. “What’s the point of mistletoe if it doesn’t stay still?”

“It’ll stop in a moment. It goes to the pair with the most chemistry in the room.”

“That sounds kind of dangerous.”

“Oh, believe me.” Draco’s face broke into a rare smile, revealing dimples that Y/N had never seen before. “I heard that one time Snape walked in while that thing was floating about. It stopped over the heads of him and one of the 8th years. The cruelest thing is that it won’t leave the pair alone until they kiss.”

Y/N closed her gaping jaw and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could return to the point in my life where I didn’t know that information.”

He smiled a little wider, his eyes seeming to be a little warmer now. Their was a strange fluttering inside of Y/N’s stomach, but she chalked it up to the firewhiskey. The distance between them had shrunk significantly since they had first begun to talk, and now they were so close that Y/N could smell his cologne--a tasteful mix of pine and mint.

Her throat dried up as she saw Draco blink slowly, resting his chin in his hand and looking at her in a way that made her feel...not right. Wasn’t he supposed to be a prick? Her attention was caught by a flash of green leaves in her peripheral vision, speeding towards their direction.

“I should go,” she hastened, grabbing the cape and pulling it snug over her shoulders. His eyebrows raised the slightest bit in interest, but he didn’t seem to move at all. “I’ll....er....see you around, okay?”

With that, she booked it to her room.

<^>

“I’m never drinking again!” Pansy’s shrill voice awoke Y/N from a rather deep slumber. “I swear to Merlin, Daph! Never let me do that again!”

Y/N leaned over the side of the bunk, glaring down at the two girls. “Can you be a bit quieter? Some of us are trying to get some sleep here.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “And some of us are trying to get up in time to get a good study spot in the library. Care to join us, princess?”

While it pained Y/N to admit, Daphne was probably right--every single student staying at Hogwarts over the break was there with the purpose of studying for N.E.W.T.S, meaning that the library was going to be overflowing. A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed her suspicions--most spots were probably already taken at 11 in the morning, and they’d be lucky to even find a table open at this time.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N moaned, sliding down from the bunk to get dressed. They all readied quickly--after all, studying wasn’t the most glamorous event--and made their way down to the library.

“Damn, there’s only a few spots left open.” Daphne frowned as she surveyed the room. Sure enough, there were no empty tables, just scattered empty seats throughout the library. 

“Guess we’re splitting up then,” Pansy said. “We can all meet up in an hour for lunch. Until then, good luck! I have some Wide-eye potion if either of your hangovers get too bad.”

Y/N snorted at this, turning away to find her own spot. If she was lucky, there’d be an empty seat by the windows that overlooked the forest. It was snowing, and she wanted nothing more than to watch snow fall as she revised.

Thankfully, there was exactly one empty seat, but unthankfully, this seat was next to a certain someone.

“Hi Draco,” she greeted, immediately wishing that she had just kept her mouth shut. Her tone of voice was way too cringy. 

He looked up from his Charms essay, his face lighting up when he saw who it was. “Hello.”

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She motioned towards the empty chair, and he shook his head, even going as far as pulling out the chair for her. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded but turned his attention back to his essay, dipping his quill back into his inkwell and continuing to write. Y/N rested her chin in her hand as she watched the snow swirl outside the window and paint the trees white. 

After a bit, she unpacked her books and began to read up on outlawed hexes. Every once and a while, Draco’s elbow would bump her arm as he immersed himself in his essay. 

“Isn’t that my tie?” Draco asked, his voice breaking the silence. 

“What?” Y/N’s eyes cast down to the Slytherin tie she had haphazardly thrown on that morning and caught something she hadn’t noticed before--the Malfoy crest.

“Oh,” she said. “Pansy gave me a whole bundle of things. I’m assuming all of it was yours. I don’t plan on keeping this stuff, by the way. Once I go back to Ravenclaw, I’m never wearing green again.”

“Shh!” A random student looked up from their work to glare at Y/N. She whispered a quick apology before turning back to admire Draco’s amused expression.

“Those are fighting words,” he told her simply, quirking an eyebrow and tapping his lip with his quill like he was thinking.

“Can I see your quill?” she asked suddenly, holding her palm out. The feather was something she had never seen before--it shimmered with some kind of charm that projected silver light. Without a word in response, he passed it to her, his hand dragging across her palm for a second as he placed it in her hand. She shivered--his hand was surprisingly warm considering his fairly cool demeanor.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Very wintery.”

“That’s not a word,” he said matter-of-factly, but one glance at him was enough to tell that he wasn’t being serious. 

“You’re insufferable,” Y/N told him. “But you must know that.”

His face broke into another smile, lines forming around his silver eyes. “Insufferably wonderful.”

“Seriously, can you guys shut up?” the same Slytherin asked from the other end of the table. “Some of us are actually trying to work.”

“Yeah, take a walk if you guys can’t be quiet,” another Slytherin added. 

Draco sent them both a death glare that made them turn back around and get back to their work without another word of caution. 

“Maybe I should leave,” Y/N offered, motioning to the blizzard outside. “I like the snow anyways. You can come with me if you’d like.”

His dimples pressed into his cheeks again at this as he packed up his things, a bit haphazardly and carelessly. “I think a walk sounds great.”

The two made their way out of the library, passing by Pansy who sent them a curious look. The library doors were obnoxiously loud to open, and it took both of them throwing all of their weight into them to get out.

“I hear they’re harder to open the more students are inside,” said Y/N absentmindedly. 

“And where did you read that?”

“Hogwarts: a History, I think.”

“Of course.” Draco seemed amused at this--which was admittedly a great look on him. Today he had worn a white collared shirt, the collars barely peeking out of the dark green jumper he wore over it. That color always looked absolutely stunning next to his near-white hair...something made Y/N feel warm for noticing.

“So....er....” Y/N struggled to stay upright on a particularly slick patch of ice. Draco’s arm shot out to steady her. “Oh, er, thanks. Are you enjoying the holidays?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Yes, I guess so. You?”

“They could be better.” One of his eyebrows arched. “Er, no, I mean, not because of you, because of all the studying I have to get done.”

“I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw,” he teased. A few snowflakes had nestled themselves into his eyelashes, and he looked indescribable to Y/N. 

He cleared his throat, and Y/N stopped staring. 

They walked in silence around the grounds for a bit, and Y/N cursed herself for not wearing any gloves. The winter air swirled with snowflakes that stuck to her bare skin, and Y/N shivered a little more with every step she took. 

“D’you want my--”

Draco’s proposition was cut short by the sound of something whizzing through the air.

“How did that get out of the common room?” Draco said instead, motioning with his head to the flying patch of greenery that was coming their way.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s out now.”

The two waited awkwardly for a few seconds, and Y/N was sure that they were both praying that the mistletoe would change its course and veer back in the direction of the castle, but it didn’t. It made its way straight for them, hardly stopped at all through the battering of the blizzard.

It stopped only when it was directly above the two of them. When Y/N tried to lean away, it was like she hit a forcefield that forced her back in, even closer to Draco. He seemed concerned at this, running his fingers through his hair once and sighing.

“I guess this was inevitable,” he said, offering further explanation when he saw Y/N’s confused expression. “I saw it heading towards us last night. If we had gone to another Christmas party, I’m sure it would’ve found us anyways.”

“Maybe it’s better that it’s here than in public,” Y/N mused. Before she could add anything else, Draco took his gloves off and took her hands in his.

“Another reason why this was inevitable,” he began, dropping her right hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, “Was that I was planning on doing this anyways.”

final a/n: sorry i really really didn’t feel like writing a kiss scene and also i procrastinated and started this yesterday and that was NOT the move i’m so so sorry kings and queens and nonbinary royalty--i hope you can enjoy the lead-up and use your imagination to fill in the blanks that i have left (please please please don’t kill me). alright love u all and merry xmas. wonders of ohio is coming out soon and is in progress

[rainyraiyne]

Thought: PT. I

« If you’ve fallen in a forest, and there’s nobody around, do you ever really crash? Do you even make a sound? »

That line from the song ‘Waving Through a Window’, from the Dear Evan Hanson musical, has always resonated with me, for one reason or another. I find it hard to put into words, but your imagination, your brain really, is the strongest muscle you posses, I like to say. It’s so strong, that it’s capable of altering memories, mixing in elements which are a product of your thought, so much so that you may not be able to tell them from daydream or not. Amazing shit, really. The fragment ‘do you ever really crash’, I think, highlights that. Your brain may have just poofed it out of nowhere.

Nobody was there with you who experienced it with you.

Nobody who could say that you’re not a lunatic.

Because there was nobody around.

Being with people is a marvellous thing. You can learn with them, laugh with them, scare yourself shitless with them, even! Though others scare us and are like unsolved puzzles, maybe the source of our anxieties, I’m not sure if humans could be human without others of it’s kind to converse with. Now, don’t get me wrong, loneliness is wonderful, but a person could never fully develop themselves without the help of interaction with others of their kind. If you don’t get it, think about it like this:

Though language, and expressing themselves, is something that each human fundamentally has, but it’s your primary caregivers who teach you that. Your first relationships as a little kid change how you see others to come, and your elementary school teachers make or break your love of learning. Your friends introduce you to new topics and ideas that you may not have found yourself wanting to explore without their help to learn.

That’s the first way humans develop themselves.

However, I believe loneliness has its merits. When you’re without the aid of the people you care about, you have time to think. To really think, to explore what you already have in your head. Some of my best thoughts (like this one you’re reading right now!) were born from that. You have time to explore your memories, and learn from your mistakes, and to evaluate yourself. Every person I know has at least touched on the subject of how creepily aware I am of my flaws, and of my strengths, and all the other things that are just fine about me, and how confident I am in myself and my ability to get better, just because I evaluated my thoughts. It’s important to sort ‘em out from time to time, no?

Now everybody’s different and I am by no means well educated on the subject of... any of this to be honest. It’s just my observations. But, from what I can tell, well, it’s important to have a mix of both time just thinking, and time enjoying yourself and busying up that amazing brain of yours. And also, maybe to cut out the people that you don’t enjoy being around, or aren’t healthy to be around. It’ll only bring suffering, and your relationship will negatively effect you in the long run. You’ll thank yourself I promise.

But ah,, fuck i went off topic wheeeeeeeeee! Don’t mistake me for a well put-together person because i’m not at all, haha

But anyways, yadda yadda, it’s important to balance people time and you time. It might be hard, especially if you’re more introverted or extroverted, but there’s some time that you need to take care of yourself, and time to enjoy your time with others, because the time you have right now is really all the time you have forever. Nobody’s immortal.

Anyways, it’s 9 minutes shy of 11pm on a school night as I write these lines, so I’m off to bed before my mom will have my sorry ass grounded. Stay healthy, and don’t forget you’re always loved. That’s it for tonight folks!

*this was posted about 15 hours after it was written

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.28

Fortress of Ismere. Present. Morgana's Bedchamber. (A raven arrives with a message for Morgana. As it lands on the window sill, Morgana rises from her bed and walks over to the window. Unfurling the message, she reads the hastily written note. 'They're coming, you must leave.' Morgana allows herself a small smile before turning on her heel and rushing from the room.) Storybrooke. Dr. Hopper's Office. (Reaching into his filing cabinet, Archie pulls out a patient file and turns to speak with his guests.)

Archie: "So, Maria has magic and you're worried about what that may mean for her future?" Regina: (Nods:) "We know our daughter is being targeted." Archie: "Well I must say I'm surprised you're seeking my advice as you've had no problem defending yourselves and others from the evils of this world before now?" Emma: "That's just it, this time we believe it's different. We think that maybe Morgana has plans to kidnap Maria and take her power somehow?" Archie: "I see." Regina: "The truth is we don't know what she wants and the thought of our child being in danger..." Archie: "Have either of you spoken with David and Snow about this? They know better than anyone what it's like to have their child... oh." (Archie stops talking as he realises what he was about to say.) Regina: "It's okay, Archie. You’re right, Snow and David do know what it's like to have their child be in danger, because of both me and Zelena. (Looks to Emma:) Maybe this is my past finally catching up with me?" Emma: "No, don't think like that. This is not some karmic justice we're talking about here. Morgana is just some crazed lunatic intent on fulfilling her so-called destiny and thinks our daughter might be the key to that." Archie: "Actually, from the little I know about Morgana, it sounds as though her childhood, while far from uncomfortable, was spent seeking acceptance from those around her. Particularly her father, Uther." Regina: "So, what are you saying?" Archie: "This is merely a theory of course but, maybe Morgana doesn't wish to harm Maria but rather raise her as her own?" Emma: "Kinda like the Black Fairy did with Gideon?" Regina: "That sounds like a bit of a stretch to me. Even if that were true, that's far from reassuring. (Stands and begins pacing the room:) All we know for sure is that Morgana vanished without a trace over ten years ago. If her plan is to take Maria and disappear, we may never see her again." Emma: "But, like you said, we don't know that's what she wants." Archie: "Well, I'm sorry I can't be of more help to you both." Emma: (Nods:) "We're just looking for as many different opinions as we can get." Regina: "I guess we're not used to feeling so vulnerable." Archie: "That's completely understandable. A child changes everything." Regina: (Gives a small smile:) "Yes, they do." Emma: "And, er... I also wanted to thank you for looking out for Regina while I was away. She told me you two talked and I appreciate it." Regina: "Me too." Archie: (Smiles:) "That's what I'm here for." Fortress of Ismere. (Mordred and Morgana share a meal before they depart.) Mordred: "And you're sure the one who sent you the message can be trusted?" Morgana: "What does it matter? Whether Lancelot and his soldiers are coming or not, our time here must come to an end." Mordred: "It matters because at least here we are safe. It is a fortress after all." Morgana: "I've made my decision." Mordred: "I can see that." Morgana: (Suddenly cold:) "And what is that supposed to mean?" Mordred: "Only that when there are two clear choices in front of us, you sometimes choose the wrong path." Morgana: "I see. So this is about the child again?" Mordred: "That child is the key to unlocking untold power-" Morgana: (Yelling:) “I am a High Priestess!” Mordred: (Rolls his eyes:) “Morgana.” Morgana: “I have the power of the heavens in my hand and yet Merlin continues to defy me! He is the one we should be focusing our combined efforts towards, not some innocent child.” Mordred: “Calm yourself.” Morgana: “I want his annihilation, Mordred. I want to put his head on a spike and watch as the crows feast on his eyes.” Mordred: “And I believe if we had the child we could accomplish that and much, much more. If we took her to the place Morgause brought you all those years ago, maybe-” Morgana: “Maybe what?” Mordred: “Well, there are rumours that Morgause had a hand in turning you against your former friends and allies in Camelot. Be it through torture or-” Morgana: “My sister cared more for me during my years in exile than almost anyone else in my life ever has.” Mordred: “And yet it was not she who taught you that ‘the love that binds us is more important than the power we wield’, was it? (Smirks:) You forget, Morgana, I know your secrets.” Mordred: “Hm. And here I thought you were the one who had forgotten. Forgotten that I am the one who saved your life all those years ago. Whatever you may think you know about me, Mordred, don’t make the mistake of believing you hold power over me.” Mordred: “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Morgana: (Glares at him and then slowly, a smile crosses her lips, a plan forming in her mind:) “Oh, my dear Mordred, I believe you’ve just given me a wonderful idea.”

King Richard's Former Kingdom. (In an attempt to demonstrate his credentials for Mayor of Storybrooke, King Richard accompanies David and Snow White while they visit the kingdom he used to rule before Valencia.) King Richard: "Finally, I return home to my old kingdom. Now I realise they’ve long moved on, but I still hold some star power around here and I can't wait to just let my people adore me. (Letting him walk on ahead, Snow and David exchange wearisome looks:) Ah, here we are.” Snow White: “What are we looking at?” King Richard: “This... (Turns in a slow circle in what is now merely an open field:) Is where my castle used to be. (David and Snow follow as Richard marches across the field, pointing in all directions:) This was a hallway! Hallway, hallway, hallway, my room, fireplace! This is where I kept my formal crowns, my casual crowns, my ‘just for fun’ crowns.” David: “Okay, are we done? Because we really do need to get back and start interviewing other candidates.” King Richard: “Oh, relax, Chiseled Chin. We haven’t even met the villagers yet.” Village. (Richard and the Charmings enter the village looking for people to talk with.) King Richard: “You know, it’s the strangest thing... This place always seems oddly familiar to me.” David: (Mutters to Snow:) “That’ll be because they built the village from sections of the castle.” King Richard: (Calling out to a passerby:) “I say, peasant, we have a few questions, and please don't get all star-struck because I'm speaking to you directly.” Peasant John: “No way! It's you!” King Richard: “I know. You're flustered.” Peasant John: “Guys, look, it's Snow White and Prince Charming!” (A small crowd gathers.) Snow White: (Smiles and waves:) “Hello.” David: (Awkwardly:) “Hi.” Peasant John: “What a thrill!” King Richard: “Is there perhaps someone else here you recognize? Maybe... Your former king?” Peasant John: “Oh, yeah. (Nonplussed:) Hiya.” King Richard: (Undeterred, addresses the crowd:) “Greetings, lowly ones! It is I, King Richard! I have returned! Good to see you again.” A Short Time Later. (Snow and David are now speaking with Peasant John.) Snow White: “So, perhaps you could tell us what lead to your decision to-” Peasant John: “Tear down the castle to make homes and shops for everybody? (Snow and David nod as Richard rejoins them:) Oh, well, here's the thing. (Leaning casually on Richard:) When you left us to go in search of the Jewel of Valencia, we didn't hear anything for a really long time.” King Richard: “All right, as I’ve said before, that was on me. (Lifts John’s arm gently off his shoulder:) I should've sent word.” Peasant John: “Yeah, but while you were away, we realized that a king is only a king if the people say he is.” (Richard turns to Snow and David and chuckles.) Peasant John: (Continues:) “And if they don't, well, he's just a man with a metal hat who's only in charge because his father wore a metal hat before him, which is pretty crazy if you think about it.” (The crowd laugh.) David: (Considers this:) “You know, he's... He's got a point. It is pretty crazy.” Snow White: “So are you calling my father crazy? Hmm?” David: “Er... please continue with your story, John.” Peasant John: “So, then we came together and asked ourselves ‘what if there was a different way of doing things? A better way? A fairer way?’” King Richard: “Oh, no. I know what's coming.” Peasant John: ♪ We've been trying something new in the dominion ♪ ♪ Since you went away ♪ ♪ With no king upon the throne ♪ ♪ We've all been left alone ♪ ♪ To build a new tomorrow here today ♪ King Richard: (Sighs:) “Right.” Peasant John: ♪ What if every single soul with an opinion ♪ ♪ Got to have their say? ♪ ♪ If on every point of note, we simply took a vote ♪ ♪ We'd build a new tomorrow here today ♪ David: “So, the butcher gets a vote?” Peasant John: “Yep!” Snow White: “The baker gets a vote?” Peasant John: “Yep!” ♪ And everyone who couldn't vote before ♪ Butcher: ♪ Except, of course, the women ♪ Baker: ♪ And we won't let him or him in ♪ (Points to two men behind him:) Peasant John: ♪ We mean everybody else ♪ Merchant: ♪ Except the poor ♪ Peasant John: ♪ Then we vote on every pressing public question ♪ ♪ Either ♪ Crowd: “Yay!” Peasant John: ♪ Or ♪ Crowd: “Nay!” David: “Nice.” Peasant John: ♪ Everybody gets to choose ♪ ♪ Except the you-know-whos ♪ ♪ As we build a new tomorrow here today ♪ Crowd: ♪ Every person counts the same ♪ ♪ Except, of course, the lame ♪ ♪ And the lepers ♪ ♪ And the gingers ♪ ♪ And the witches ♪ ♪ And the Heathens ♪ ♪ And the bastards ♪ ♪ And the Gypsies ♪ ♪ And the commies ♪ ♪ And the hippies ♪ ♪ As we build a new tomorrow ♪ Peasant John: ♪ A fair and square tomorrow ♪ Crowd: ♪ A more aware tomorrow here today ♪ ♪ So, we all will march together towards the future ♪ Peasant John: ♪ Well, not all per se ♪ ♪ Just the ones who look like me ♪ Crowd: ♪ It's called democracy-y-y-y-y ♪ ♪ The landed ♪ ♪ And the wealthy ♪ ♪ And the pious ♪ ♪ And the healthy ♪ ♪ And the straight ones ♪ ♪ and the pale ones ♪ ♪ And we only mean the male ones ♪ Peasant John: ♪ If you're all of the above, then you're ok-a-a-a-ay ♪ Crowd: ♪ As we build a new tomorrow ♪ ♪ Here tod-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ay ♪ David: “Well, that is intriguing... you know if the curse hadn’t happened and Regina didn’t destroy our castle, do you think what happened to Richard would’ve happened with us?” Snow White: (Not wishing to think about it:) “Oh be quiet, David!” David: (Watching her walk away:) “Touchy.”

Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Stopping by the diner for some takeout, Regina goes to place their order of two grilled cheese sandwiches while Emma spots Rumplestiltskin sitting alone in a booth.) Emma: "How many times have you glued that thing together over the years?" Rumplestiltskin: "More than I can remember. Certainly much more often now that Gideon's discovered his new favourite game of throwing his dinner across the room." Emma: "Hm. I shouldn't worry, he'll probably grow out of it in say ten or twelve years." Rumplestiltskin: (Chuckles, holding up the cup:) "I'll take this over raising a child with magical powers any day." Emma: "So you've heard." Rumplestiltskin: "It's a small town, Emma, and I make it my business to know what's going on with my granddaughter." Emma: (Sliding into the booth across from him:) "All right, Grandpa, what would you do about it?" Rumplestiltskin: "I'm not sure someone who spent centuries in pursuit of power would be your best choice for advice." Emma: "Oh I don't know. Despite what you claim, when you orchestrated the curse, you made me the Savior. Both Regina and I have our magic because of you." Rumplestiltskin: "That magic was inside each of you all along, I merely stoked the embers and fanned the flames." Emma: "Whatever. My point is you know how it feels to have your magic taken from you. Both as a child and an adult." Rumplestiltskin: (Nods:) "When my Savior powers were taken from me it lead me to the Darkness." Emma: "So, if it were Gideon, what would you do?" Rumplestiltskin: "Ah, well fortunately as you know, Belle and I have firsthand experience dealing with Gideon's magic. If you're looking for my honest opinion..." Emma: (Scoffs:) "No, lie to me." Rumplestiltskin: "Raise the child, not the problem. Even if you were foolish enough to strip Maria of her powers now, that doesn't mean she can't become an all powerful sorceress later. Just ask Morgana." Emma: "Yeah, I'll get right on that. Just as soon as she stops trying to kidnap my daughter." Rumplestiltskin: "All right, bad example, but you do have someone else in this ever-expanding family of ours who knows exactly what it's like to have their magic stamped out of them." (While waiting for Emma with their takeout order, Regina stands by another booth, this one occupied by the Blue Fairy.) Blue Fairy: "You know I couldn't help but overhear." Regina: "I'm sure you could if you tried." Blue Fairy: (Continues regardless:) "If you're worried about Maria's magical powers, you could always consider the convent? My sisters and I are-" Regina: "You seriously expect me to entrust the safety of my daughter to you? Disregarding the fact that you have never once helped or acknowledged my journey back from evil, I dread to think what you would do if Maria's magic turned out to be dark." Emma: (Taking Regina by the arm and guiding her from the diner:) "All right, time for us to go." Regina: (Over her shoulder to Blue:) "You'd no doubt send her to another realm like you did to the Black Fairy!" (They leave. Rumplestiltskin allows himself a chuckle while the Blue Fairy attempts to appear unaffected by Regina's words.)

Forest. (Morgana walks along a path towards a hut that is situated the middle of some trees. Inside, there is a man sitting at a desk. Morgana opens the door and enters. The man looks up to see who it is.) Sindri: “Who are you?” Morgana: “It matters not who I am, but what I want and whether you can give it to me.” Sindri: “And what is it that you want? (Morgana walks over and places a scrap of paper on the desk in front of him. Reading it:) Very particular, what you seek.” Morgana: “It has a very particular purpose. (Sindri looks up at her from a paper that he’s been looking over:) Well? Do you possess such a thing?” Sindri: “I do. (He stands up and walks over to a shelf that is next to Morgana. He pulls two vials off the shelf:) Here.” Morgana: “What are they?” Sindri: “Valerian and Henbane. (Morgana goes to reach for them:) Ah, these are…uncommon things. Hard to come by, hard to prepare… (Morgana hands him some gold and takes the vials. He counts the gold as she walks away:) Very generous, my lady, more than enough to buy my wares. But not my silence... Morgana.” (Morgana turns and tosses more coins on the floor. Sindri bends down and picks up the coins as Morgana exits.) Storybrooke. Main Street. (Walking back from the marina where they ate their lunch, Emma and Regina pass by Mr. Gold's Pawnbrokers. Peering through the window, Regina notes that the shop is almost empty.) Regina: "It looks abandoned in there. Belle and Rumplestiltskin must have done a good job returning items to their original owners." Emma: "I realise she's shady as hell, but Blue doesn't really deserve the blame for what happened in the past.” Regina: (Smiles, turns to her:) "I know. I'm pretty sure both Snow and Rumplestiltskin were factors in Blue's decisions back then. To be honest I'm more annoyed by Rumple still thinking he can manipulate me into doing his bidding." Emma: "Well he did, right? I mean, we ended up releasing Merlin partly because of him." Regina: "Yeah, and it pisses me off. (With a naughty glint in her eye:) So I say it's high time we got back at him." (Regina waves her hand over the handle and magically unlocks the door.) Emma: (When Regina gives her a knowing look:) "Oh no... you wanna fool around in the pawnshop?" Regina: (Smiles:) "It's not like anyone's gonna drop by anytime soon." Emma: "Yeah but still. Don't you think this is a bit of a stretch, even for us?" Regina: (Considers:) "Hm. I'll tell you what. You can either come inside here with me and we'll have some fun, or..." Emma: "Or?" Regina: "We can go cause a scandal at the convent. Your choice." Emma: (Looks at her then opens the door to the shop:) "After you, milady." Regina: (Smirks:) "Why thank you." (Looking around to make sure no one is around, Emma shakes her head before following Regina inside.)

Elsewhere In Storybrooke. (Marco sits down to talk with the Reporter.) Reporter: "So, Marco, as the town's handyman, you must have some stories to tell?" Marco: (Chuckles:) "You can say that again. Although, when I first arrived here during the curse, my days were very much the same. Filled with tasks that really anybody with a screwdriver could perform, from tightening hinges inside a cabinet to re-affixing letters to shop front displays." Reporter: "That sounds like it wasn't exactly taxing for a man of your abilities." Marco: "Oh, I was always happy to do it of course, but I craved something more." Reporter: "You were cursed to be miserable after all." Marco: "This is true. Then, after the curse was broken, there would be plenty more interesting repair work for me to sink my teeth into. Replacing smashed park benches from various car chases, rehanging street signs and of course, my most frequent job seems to be maintaining the clock tower, particularly the intricate glass work." Reporter: "Sounds like that kept you busy." Marco: "It was certainly a time consuming job. (Chuckles:) Pun intended. Ever since the realms were united, I've been busier than ever, travelling with my son August to places that need the services of a good carpenter." Reporter: "Would you say most of your business comes from other realms lately?" Marco: (Nods:) "That's fair to say, yes. Thankfully, most of the time I can return home to Storybrooke and enjoy my days when I'm not working. It seems the sort of property damage that used to happen isn't commonplace anymore."   Storybrooke. Mr. Gold's Pawnshop. Night. (Carrying a flashlight, Rumplestiltskin steps cautiously through the remains of his shop. Pointing the light in various directions, Rumple turns around quickly at the sound of footsteps.)

Regina: "Rumple, what the hell happened here?" Rumplestiltskin: "Precisely what I'd like to know." (He turns back around and continues searching the shop while Emma leans over to speak with Regina.) Emma: (Whispered:) "Did we do this?" Regina: "No, of course not." Rumplestiltskin: "What are you two whispering about?" Regina & Emma: (Innocently:) "Nothing!" Rumplestiltskin: (Giving them a curious look:) "Yeah well whoever did this wasn't playing around. They were definitely after something." Regina: (While Rumple ducks behind the shattered counter:) "But what? There was hardly anything in here left to take." Emma: "Least of all a comfortable mattress." Regina: "Shh!" Rumplestiltskin: "Damnit!" Regina: "Rumple? (Emma and Regina walk closer to him:) What is it?" Rumplestiltskin: (Groans and gets to his feet:) "It’s gone. (Slams his fist on the counter:) You see this is why I wanted you both to deal with Morgana when I asked you to. Now this has happened and we're screwed." Emma: "All right, enough with the blame game. Clearly you still had something gnarly here in your shop that you shouldn't have and someone's stolen it. So why don't you use your words and tell us what's missing?" Rumplestiltskin: "Something the likes of which is the precise reason I stayed out of Camelot all those years. Something that will shift the tide in Morgana's favour and put us all in danger."

[melon-kiss]

Screaming, Pt 3

Part 1

Part 2

Link to the part three on AO3

__________

“Molly, I’d like you to talk to me.”

And I’d like to be not-post-LSD traumatised. We all want something, don’t we, Mark?

I flash him an irritated look. He was the one who stabbed me with the freaking syringe two weeks ago. I’m still not over it. He surely thinks he did the right thing but I beg to differ. Although... well, it looked like I was capable of killing Sherlock Holmes, who, apparently, is a London celebrity.

Since I’ve opened my mouth (only to scream, but who cares, right?), they bring me newspapers here. It’s nice to get my hands and brain busy but I’m sure they have an ulterior motive for this. Like, I don’t know, a topic for a conversation?

“I know you can do it.”

I sit with my legs pulled up again. I want to hide in the tight space between my thighs and my chest, so I place my forehead against my knees and let out a sigh.

I’ve made it easier for them. Apparently, the connection between my brain and my body has been restored. I swallow my meds all by myself. I eat more. I especially love toasts for breakfast. Sometimes it takes me two hours to chew out two, but I make myself do it because I want this nightmare to be over.

I really start feeling it - the heaviness of my damages. I’ve come to the realisation that I am truly alone and have no idea about myself. I know only a couple of things: my name, my sister’s name and address, my own address, my workplace. My scientific knowledge is intact, so that’s a relief. But I don’t remember who I was for the last seven years (at least!). I don’t know who to trust, who to refer as a friend. I am really lost. I don’t remember feeling so lost ever in my life. I’m like a time traveller - I’m suddenly moved from one place to another and no one gave me an instruction manual. I suspect the Three Horseman of Madness used to be my friends. Though, I can’t help but wonder - how come did I manage to make friends with detectives?

And there’s still the matter of Sherlock himself. I can’t figure him out. He said, he clearly said he was now the one who’d said ‘I love you’ and would get nothing in return. Does it mean he wants to receive something in return? And does saying ‘I love you’ equal loving someone for real? What were the circumstances? And have I said it first?

The number of mysteries here is too much for me.

I’ve gathered more pieces of my memory puzzle. When the content of the syringe begun to work, I remembered myself standing in a kitchen, wearing a colourful sweater, holding a phone in my hand. Every time I try to retrieve more, a wave of anxiety forces me to back out.

“Molly, you’ve managed to break the catatonic state,” the doctor resumed. “Please, don’t let it go to waste.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Fine,” I reply.

Mark’s eyebrows go way up as he smiles and almost chuckles at the sound of my voice. I sound a bit hoarse. Last time I ‘spoke’, I screamed like in a torture seat. But they must definitely change my meds. They make me feel numb and sleepy but I assume it’s way too soon for such a request.

“What would you like to know?” I ask.

“Well... how are you feeling today?”

I sigh in exasperation.

“Seriously, Mark?”

He shrugs.

“You know what they say - if you want to know how someone feels, ask them.”

I rub my eyes before I respond.

“Sleepy and lazy. These sweeties do much more damage to my brain than LSD has done.” I point at the pills in a small plastic cup on my nightstand.

“If you don’t feel good, we’ll think about finding something better.”

“Thanks.”

We both fall silent. A guilt manages to resurface over the fog of numbness. I look at my palms. They’re normal. My fingers are appallingly bony but they look all right. No injuries. I think about the moment when they were tightly clenched around his neck. I was so close. I would kill him, no doubt.

I thank doctor Mark in my mind. He would be right to say he did the right thing.

“What... wh-what...” I stammer, my breath getting shallow and irregular. “What- what about-“

“He’s all right,” doctor Mark answers, smiling gently. “No permanent damage. A bruise on the neck and bloodshot eyes for a week. I’m convinced he looks good as new now.”

My fingers around his pale neck. His eyes filled with sorrow and guilt. He tried to say sorry.

I try to even out my breath but I fail. Tears burst out of my eyes and I utter a sound that resembles a howl. I press my hand clenched into fist against my forehead. My crying is so intense something inside me cramps and hurts. I catch every breath with a great effort, greedily but barely successful. I feel shrunken. I notice there’s a stream of drool coming out of my mouth. I let it soak up in the sheet.

This is how broken I am. This is how broken I’ll always be.

Broken beyond repair.

“I didn’t want to...” I shriek, rocking a little bit forwards and backwards. “I don’t know...”

“I know you didn’t want to hurt him, Molly,” says the doctor calmly. “You were disoriented.”

Disoriented?

“I’m not fucking disoriented!” I yell, looking at him. I don’t see him too well, my vision is blurry from the tears. I wipe my mouth into my arm. “I am messed up! Hell, I’m fucked up! And this-“ I point my finger at my temple, “This is now fucking useless. If I killed myself, no one would care.”

I let out a sigh. Inhale, exhale. I try to stop the increasing frustration. The tears stop falling down my face. My heart slows down. My breathing finds its rhythm.

“Did you think about killing yourself?”

I shrug, avoiding his eyes.

“No,” I reply sincerely. “But I wouldn’t mind if I died.”

Doctor Mark remains quiet. He stands next to my bed, holding my patient chart and observes as I slowly pull myself together. So this is what’s been hiding behind this catatonia?, I think, analysing my behaviour in last two weeks.

“You’re wrong,” he says eventually. “There is one person who would bring hell on this world if you died.”

I look up at him. He smiles.

“Don’t worry. It’ll come to you.”

He walks out of the room, leaving me clueless.

 * * *

 My reading is being interrupted by a shut of the door in my room. I raise my head up to see him glued to the wall as if he played a spy. He pants heavily and looks at me suspiciously. I frown.

“Erm... hello?”

His body relaxes and he bounces off the wall, slowly striding closer to my bed.

“Hello, Molly Hooper.”

I watch him carefully but it’s difficult since my heart pumps my blood so loudly I can barely hear my thoughts. Not that I have a lot of them. The drugs take care of that. He goes around the bed and stops at my left side. He looks down at me with a sincere interest.

There is a barely visible remain of a bruising (the author being me) on his neck. His eyes look perfectly white, his (lovely) curls don’t seem so floppy. He grins, which, I suppose, is a bit unusual of him, since this is the first time I see him smiling and he’s been visiting me for about two months. Well, excluding the last three weeks. He wears one of his suits with a plum shirt. He looks good. I have to swallow hard to distract myself from the thoughts which begin to cloud my judgment. I pretend to be interested in my book again.

“How did they let you in?” I ask flippantly.

“I’m not exactly following orders by being here,” he replies.

I look up at him.

“What do you mean?”

His gaze freaks me out but I manage not to flinch.

“I’m not allowed to be with you alone. Apparently, you’re a danger to me.”

I put away the book and stand on my bed. We’re face to face. Our heights are equal now and the distance between us is not bigger than ten inches.

“Are you afraid of me?” I ask and I start noticing I’m unable to refuse the urge of looking at him.

“No,” he responds. “Unpredictability is my forte.”

We gaze at each other for a while and the moment’s suddenly gone. But I could swear I saw a spark in his eyes - a spark ready to light a fire.

“What are you doing here, then?” I ask, crossing my arms on my chest.

“I came here to see you,” he replies, following my every move. “I heard the good news about you breaking the catatonia, so I thought it would be a wise idea to talk to you, now that you do talk.”

“You do realise that you’ve made me angry enough to wake me up, right?”

He smirks and I don’t like it. I mean... I like it, but I don’t. I have a bad feeling about this.

“I’m well aware of the fact, yes. Mainly because I’ve done it on purpose.”

My eyes widen and the urge of choking him again suddenly doesn’t feel so distant.

“WHAT?!”

He hushes me, looking at the door behind me.

“Oh, come on, we’re in a lunatics’ house. Talking to oneself isn’t unusual.”

He chuckles, visibly beaming. Did I just... make him laugh?, I think watching his face wrinkle in a pure happiness. I almost forget I was mad at him. Almost.

“So?”

“I’ve been observing your eye movements and microexpressions for weeks. You’ve been slowly opening and I knew you needed a trigger. And I know what triggers you easily, so...”

I think about the time we must have spent together. How well does he know me? Apparently, very well. Papers write a lot about his observing skills and deduction, so I assume he doesn’t need much to get to know somebody. I flash him a smile.

“Thank you.”

Instead of returning the gesture, he does something completely different. His cheerful mood fades away as he locks, almost stubbornly, his eyes with mine. I can count his eyelashes and see every speck in his blue irises. His pupils are wildly dilated. I’m close to forgetting about breathing.

He glances at my lips every now and then.

He leans forward a little bit but backs out in a second. My heart races so fast I’m sure it doesn’t go less than two hundreds beats per minute. And trust me, it’s a lot.

“So...” I whisper, not letting go of the gaze even for a microsecond. “What was the nature of our relationship before?”

“Not sexual,” he replies quickly.

I open my lips a little bit more.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His voice is weak.

Something new and forgotten wakes up in my body. I feel a pleasant tingling in my lower back and a heat radiating from his skin. My hands are surprisingly hot as I move one of them upwards the left side of his chest. He glances at my palm but gets back to my eyes immediately. My head is so loud with wild visions.

I surrender to the urge and lock my lips with his. They’re soft and it feels like I haven’t done this in ages. He’s tense, not a muscle in his body moves. I throw my hands around his neck but his hands are stiff. I feel like an assailant. I don’t want to force him into anything but he definitely returns the kisses. It looks like he restrains himself.

I tangle my fingers into his dark curls. He closes his eyes a bit tighter and exhales softly. He definitely represses his emotions.

“Oh, come on, just give in already.”

He’s still tense for another three seconds and he finally gives up. His hands land on my waist. His embrace tightens and his mouth opens wider. He lets out a soft moan when one of my legs clenches around his hip. His touch wanders across my back, my hair, my face. He grabs my buttocks and lifts me up, so I can clench the second leg around him. When I feel his hands on my bottom, I utter a pretty loud groan. I am out of control of my body again but this time it’s different. I feel the pleasure of being taken over by it and I voluntarily surrender. I let the heat control me. I like the wild person I am right now.

His kisses slide down on my neck and turns dangerously further, into my neckline. I lean back my head, savouring the moment, the life that has woken up in my body. I definitely have troubles breathing evenly.

He lets go of me and I stand on my bed again, but the kissing doesn’t stop. I take the opportunity and slide my hand down his belly and into his trousers. He stops, looking at me questioningly.

“You really aren’t yourself,” he murmurs.

I let out a quiet giggle.

The door suddenly creaks and my hand find its way out of his pants.

“Mr Holmes, what do you think you’re doing?!” An older nurse looks at us, disgusted.

“Getting physically intimate with the patient, I’d say,” he replies and I try to hide my chuckle.

“This is a hospital, not a dirty motel! It’s inappropriate!” she yells as she comes closer. “And you shouldn’t even be here!”

He steps back from my bed and I sit on it. The nurse flashes me a disapproving look while taking my blood pressure. Not a great timing for this particular measurement, though. He goes in circles around the room; I suppose he has something to walk off. The nurse writes down the result on my patient’s chart and shakes her head but leaves without a word.

But the mood is gone. Once the nurse gets out, he locks his eyes with me but I sense a different kind of tension. I guess he regrets getting carried away. I’m not saddened by this. It seems logical to me, although it really doesn’t.

I think back to the moment when he said not sexual. How can he love me and claim it’s not sexual?, the question pops into my head. Maybe I misunderstood it and he let me kiss him out of pity?

“You once said I loved you,” I speak up. “And that you loved me.”

He nods his head, standing opposite to the end of my bed.

“Yes. But we weren’t a couple,” he replies.

I frown.

“Why?”

He stares. Unpleasantly.

“It’s a long story.” His reply is almost hissed through his gritted teeth.

“I’ve got all the time in the universe.”

He gazes at me expressionlessly. I think he’s calculating the risk or tries to introduce the story the shortest way possible. Somehow, it also seems obvious to me. He comes one step closer.

“I have a sister named Eurus. She’s highly intelligent and even more dangerous. She’s locked up in a institution built for people like her but she’d managed to turn the entire staff there to be her slaves once. She lured me, my brother Mycroft and John Watson there to execute her very cruel plan. Long story short, I had to go through a series of tests, each one of them requiring my emotional engagement. And I’m not really an affectionate person.” It sounds weird since he’s obviously very emotional. “One of my tests was you.”

I raise my eyebrows and he pauses for a minute.

“I’d been convinced that your flat was filled with explosives. Eurus said that she would blow you up if I didn’t make you say ‘I love you’.”

I love you. My heartbeat races, my vision gets a little unstable. I feel a little bit dizzy.

“But you asked me to say it first. To say it like I meant it-“

“Stop it.”

I’m unable to look in one direction for longer than a second. The room dances around me. I clench my fingers on the both sides of my bed. I feel sick and I’m pretty sure I’m going to vomit any minute. My breathing gets heavy.

“What’s going on?”

It feels like I’m going to faint. I lean forward and press my forehead against the mattress. Oh, God, I’m going to throw up, I think in a complete panic.

Say it like you mean it. The colourful sweater, the telephone, the kitchen. I love you. My not-so-impressive stomach content gets closer to my throat.

“I said it then,” he resumes as if nothing happened. “I said and I meant it: I love you.”

I have to force myself into thinking about breathing, otherwise I would be long unconscious. I struggle with the vomit and his voice, his exact voice wanders around my head.

“I tried to make amends because you’re important to me,” I hear him from over my head. “You thought you weren’t important but you do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you-“

“Get out.”

I lean over the edge of the bed, ready to get rid of my stomach content but this is not the moment. I sense his presence and therefore I raise my eyes to look at him. The view of him doesn’t make things better.

“I said: get out.”

His presence irritates me out of sudden. Every inch of his body I was touching a couple of minutes ago seems repellent to me, his voice is like the worst music possible. The scent of his cologne makes me even more sick. I look up at him, fury in my eyes again.

“I’ve choked you once before. What makes you think I’m incapable of doing it again?” I snap at him.

He flashes me an enigmatic glance and walks out of the room.

I throw up extensively and after that, I plop onto my bed, drifting away into unconsciousness.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Arranged marriage prompt #3 (sniperscout. Duh)

arin if you weren’t basically my little brother i would be super bitter at the amount of bending over backwards i did to try and make this specific request work and also the fact that i wrote like 7k words for this Bit but as it is just know that i do this because i appreciate you very much

(also at some point I'm gonna cross-post this on ao3 for readability but for now, here ya go)

“—which is why we all need to escape from the planet at once before it is covered entirely by magma!”

The room was mostly silent, the only sound the very quiet voices of the translators speaking to their respective world leaders for a few moments. There was then a moment of full silence, which all at once transformed into laughter.

A few people weren’t laughing at all. One diplomat leaned to his translator and began to speak, and the translator started in as well. “I beg your pardon, Mister—“

“King,” he corrected without a beat.

The translator sighed, then repeated the correction to his dignitary and started again. “King Bill-Bel, would you mind clarifying. Are you being entirely serious with us?”

“Of course! My calculations—“

“So you, the elected leader of the lost country of New Zealand,” the translator continued, speaking very slowly, “decided it was time to break almost forty years of complete silence and isolation, and attend this particular gathering of the UN, because you, both the elected leader and head scientific expert for your entire country, allegedly discovered that the world would be covered by magma in the near future? Am I correct in all of this?”

“Yes!”

More laughter from the room at large, several attempts at questions. The laughter and chatter died down as the man who had been sitting next to the king with the queen, whose head had been in his hands for the large majority of the time that the king was speaking, moved forward and shoved the king aside bodily to instead stand in front of the microphone, needing to tilt it down just a bit to speak into it.

“I’m his son,” he said firmly to the security personnel that tried to step forward. He then looked forward and addressed the larger room. “I’m... I’m the prince. My name is Mun-Dee, and I’m the king’s only son. And this man here—“ he pointed at the king, “—is a liar.”

Gasps across the room, muttering. The king tried to move forward again, but was stopped by his wife.

“He was not elected king, it’s a title he took by force and decided on by himself,” Mun-Dee said, voice firm. “Because ten years after our country went underwater, there was some kind of accident. We three, as far as we’re aware, are the only survivors.”

More alarm from the room at large, several dignitaries rising from their seats.

“I’m revoking the earlier request for a motion to collectively leave the earth and submitting a different one instead,” he said, giving a pointed glare to his father. “I’m requesting humanitarian aid and disaster relief funding to search the ruins for any other survivors and to recover any of the art or cultural treasures we can find.”

“You’re not the king!” Bill-Bel tried to interrupt, only to come across as more than a little bit whiny. “You don’t get to do that!”

Mun-Dee glared at him again. “Good luck getting any other funding now that they all know you’re a liar,” he said.

“Prince Mun-Dee,” called one translator. “Is this a sincere request?”

“Yes,” he replied, turning back to the room again. “It is. We need help. Please.”

The cacophony within the room had risen to the point where there was a larger call for a temporary recess. Mun-Dee found himself being escorted along with his mother and father forcefully from the room.

“Good on you, Mun-Dee,” his mom drawled as they were finally brought to a stop a little while away from the conference area, in one of the many large, ornate hallways of the building the UN conference was being held in. “Telling this idiot what’s what.”

“Well, you weren’t going to,” he replied, a little bitterly.

“Why did you do that?!” his dad all but shouted, shaking Mun-Dee by the shoulders forcefully. “Now the human race is doomed, son, doomed!”

His arms were batted away with no small amount of disgust. “You’re a lunatic,” he snapped. “Why should they believe you, and why would they listen anyways even if you were right, which you aren’t, because you’re a lunatic?”

“What gives you the right to stand up and say anything?” the king snapped right back. “First you didn’t want to wear the robes, next you’re shoving me! Right in front of all the other world leaders!”

“I already told you, I’m not wearing the robes. I’d look like an idiot.”

“Everyone loves the robes! They’re fashionable!” Bill-Bel protested, picking at his own robe to demonstrate and gesturing at his wife’s.

“They’re ridiculous. Do you know how much everyone stared at me when I was wearing a robe in public? They were the second thing I bought once I got topside, right after food and before clean drinking water.”

“What about the sunglasses?”

“We live in a lab underwater, I’m still having trouble adjusting to sunlight and whatnot. Can you please go one day without grilling me over every little thing?”

“I’m the king, you’re the prince. That means I’m in charge, not you! What I say goes!”

“Is that right?” Mun-Dee asked, voice dry. “Until when? Until you die? Because if it’s just you dying, we can go ahead and switch rulers as soon as I find a sharp object. Nobody would be able to put me in prison, what with you being the judge jury and executioner as well as king. Since everyone else in our country is dead.”

Bill-Bel looked appropriately scared of the threat, but blustered anyways. “You—until it—until you get married or engaged!” he blurted. “And have someone to rule with you!”

Mun-Dee narrowed his eyes. “Any world leader in their right mind would marry into the “royal family” if it meant inheriting New Zealand and all the cultural treasures in the ruins,” he said, lowering his voice as several other dignitaries were escorted into the hallway as well. “We haven’t given away our territory yet. Nobody would pass that up.”

“Except it can’t be a world leader!” Bill-Bel said quickly, getting desperate now. “Because it... keeps the bloodline clean!”

Mun-Dee dropped his head into his hands, sighing bodily. “Is that right?”

“And your mother’s the advisor to the king, so she gets to pick who it is!”

“Oh, for the love of—now why that one?!” he snapped.

Bill-Bel fidgeted with his sleeve. “Well, we... we just worry about you!”

“You can’t just make up any rule you want, Dad!”

“Yes I can, I’m the fucking king!”

Mun-Dee kneaded at his temples, sighing again, frustration mounting further. “Fine. Fine! Not that I have a choice anyways!” he muttered, tone sarcastic. “Mum, any ideas? Anyone who you’re just dying to marry me off to?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What, off the top of my head? I’ll need a minute, here.”

“Lar-Nah,” the king stage-whispered. “You’re meant to not pick anyone so we get to stay king and queen forever.”

“I’ve been queen for exactly two days and I already hate it, Bill-Bel. It’s either this or double regi-suicide.” She glanced around their immediate vicinity, eyes landing on the bodyguard standing nearby them. “Hey, you. Are you married?”

The guard had clearly been listening to the conversation, because he looked absolutely scandalized. “Uh. Yes, I have a wife and one daughter, your Majesty.”

“Damn.” She looked down the hall at the other people gathered, and her eyes landed on one of the translators, the person stood nearest to them. “Hey! You!”

The translator looked up, a bit surprised and visibly distasteful of them. “Yes? Can I help you?” he asked, voice tinted in a way that was immediately identifiable as French.

“Get over here, I have a question.”


“Mum, you’re not serious,” Mun-Dee said, horror rising in his chest as he realized what was going on.”

“Shut up, I’m a queen.” She turned her attention to the translator, looked him up and down. “Are you married?”

“Yes,” the translator said after a second, frowning at the question.

“Hmm. Do you have kids?”

“...Yes, several.”

“Are any of them married?”

“Mum, you can’t just—“ Mun-Dee tried to cut in, but she raised a hand to stop him, still looking at the translator.

“Most of them,” was the reply. “Might I ask where this is going?”

“No,” she said. “Are any of the single ones...” She glanced at Mun-Dee. “...roughly between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-two?”

“Mum,” Mun-Dee tried to protest again, head in his hands.

“Below the age of thirty, please,” Bill-Bel chimed.

“Yes, one of them is.” The translator seemed to sense where this was going and his eyebrows rose for a moment. “My youngest son.”

“A son? Perfect, that was my next question,” Lar-Nah said, thumping her own son on the back, who looked very much like he was about to commit some form of treason. “Can you bring him here?”

“He and my wife are both in the city as well while I am on call for this conference, yes,” was the answer.

“Perfect. Do that.” She then waved the man off, who walked away, looking both confused and exasperated. “There you go. Found him a husband,” she said calmly. “Are we done? I want to go see what the bar is like.”

“I can’t believe you,” Mun-Dee said.

“Lar-Nah, now he’ll get to be in charge!” Bill-Bel whined, clearly upset.

“And you won’t. He can’t be any worse than you. And maybe he can actually get something done. Not like you’re smart enough or I care enough to do anything.”

Mun-Dee was quiet for a second before he forced himself to take a breath. “You know what? If that’s what this takes, then fine.”

-

“Excuse me,” one of the security guards said, standing at attention and stopping Mun-Dee as he entered the hotel that he and his family were meant to stay at along with many of the other officials. “You’re Prince Mun-Dee?”

“Yeah,” he replied, straightening up a little bit. “Uh... at ease?”

The guard shifted into parade rest. “Your Highness, the civilian you requested a meeting with has been searched and brought to your rooms. The guards who did the search reported finding a standard Swiss Army knife in his back left pocket, but otherwise nothing immediately dangerous.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s—“ He stopped for a minute. “Wait, my room? He’s in my room?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Mun-Dee blinked a few times in shock, mouth moving soundlessly, and the guard started to look nervous.

“I’m sorry, your Highness, but Queen Lar-Nah gave us orders to take him to—“

“Mum,” Mun-Dee groaned, head in his hands again. “God, okay. How freaked out was he?”


The guard’s confusion was only mounting. “Um. The civilian was relatively calm, your Highness.”

“No, be honest with me,” Mun-Dee said, giving the guard a look.

The guard shifted. “He was apparently extremely nervous and somewhat jumpy, your Highness,” he admitted.

“God. Do you remember what they told him?”

“Apparently his father gave him a briefing on the way to the conference hall itself, your Highness. He was already nervous before he was frisked.”

Mun-Dee pushed his sunglasses up to knead the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning. “Okay. Okay, I, okay. Thank you.”

“We have a guard on staff ready to escort you to—“

“No, I, I have a room key already. Thank you.”

The guard shifted uneasily. “Of course, your Highness,” he said, voice trailing off as Mun-Dee walked away.

-

He stood outside his room for several long moments, key in hand, taking deep breaths, before he moved to open the door and enter.

“Alright, I’m going to preface by saying I’m really sorry and I absolutely wasn’t the one to suggest you go into my literal room and all,” he started in the moment he was through the threshold, working hard to keep his voice level. “I know this probably seems like some sort of, some sort of extremely creepy thing, but I swear I just meant to meet you in some sort of extremely public area so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable—“

“Woah, woah, it’s okay,” he heard, halfway laughed, and managed to get the courage to look up at whoever the hell his mother had decided he was apparently going to get married to. And he was glad that the man kept talking, because his voice got stuck in his throat for a few moments. “Uh, your Majesty. Or—no, shit, your Highness. That’s what I’m supposed to call you, right? Or, wait, I’m not supposed to swear, fuck—shit—uh, frick.”

The man looking at him was, to put it frankly, very cute. His clothes fit him in a way that suggested some workable amount of muscle but probably not bodybuilding, and his hair was a little tousled on one side, and he had freckles on his face and on the visible parts of his arms, and he had a dimple when he smiled, and most notably he had these big cute front teeth that made him want to smile right back. He was sat on the little couch next to the dining table, cross-legged and vaguely casual while still clearly being some amount of nervous.

“It‘s alright,” he managed to say, waving off his apologizing quickly. “Uh.”

Silence for a second.

“I’m so sorry,” Mun-Dee said again. “This is probably bizarre.”

“I mean, yeah,” the guy shrugged. “But, y’know. It happens. Uh, your Highness.”

“You don’t need to call me that,” he said, waving it off again and instead holding out his hand. “You can just call me Mun-Dee. That’s my name.”

“Cool! You can call me Jeremy,” he said, standing and accepting the handshake, then looking Mun-Dee up and down once in a very obvious way. “Woah. You’re, uh, you’re really tall. Is everyone from New Zealand like that?”

“Yeah, actually, all three of us,” Mun-Dee said, a bit of sarcasm in his voice, and Jeremy frowned.

“Huh?”

Mun-Dee sighed heavily, sitting down on the couch and resting his elbows on his knees. He saw Jeremy sit as well in his periphery. “Well, you might’ve heard. New Zealand sunk itself into the ocean to make itself an isolated little utopia something like forty years ago. But what you probably didn’t hear is that ten years after that, a bit less than thirty years ago, there was some sort of accident. The dome broke, the entire place flooded. Everywhere except for one tiny little water-sealed laboratory. As far as we know now, there were only three survivors. My dad, my mum, and me.”

Jeremy gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He took a breath, pulled his sunglasses off to rub at his eye. “That was when I was just a baby, not quite a year old. Learning to crawl and all. Lucky I wasn’t outside of the lab when it happened.” He put his sunglasses on. “Regardless, that’s where I grew up, locked in a laboratory a few miles below the sea. Learned how to talk, learned to read—mostly taught myself with the books we had. Figured out how to access old archives and whatnot with some of the technology we had when I got bored of the old reading material. New Zealand and Australia apparently swapped technology for art back before the dome, before relations turned sour and we got somewhere near a nuclear war, we got some digital archives of old literature on tablets and the like, I ended up reading plenty of those.”

Jeremy was giving him a blank look at some of the terms he used, so he moved on, putting the sunglasses back onto his face.

“Anyways. My dad is an absolute lunatic, every few weeks he’d “discover” some new apocalypse that was about to happen,” he said, doing air quotes for emphasis. “And mum was just a drunkard and barely cared to correct him half the time, so most of my learning was self-taught and from finding videos and movies in the archives to get a grasp of what the world must be like. Then when I was about fourteen I figured out that there was something fishy about what my dad was always ranting about, and I found out that the world hadn’t actually ended up on the surface like he always said it had, and what happened to New Zealand, everything. By the time I was sixteen I was working on getting my dad to try and build a submarine, by the time I was eighteen I figured out that he’s also an idiot and that I’d be better off figuring out how to do it myself so we wouldn’t all die the second we got in the water because he forgot... I dunno, air or something.”

“Woah, you made a submarine?” Jeremy asked, eyes wide now. “On your own?”

“Only took me a few years once I found some blueprints,” he agreed. “And it didn’t need to be much, just enough to get me topside, and to some sort of landmass. Then, when I was about twenty-three, I managed it, and ended up in Australia. There was a bit of an issue for a day or so before they figured out what to do with me. New Zealander shows up from the bottom of the ocean and all on a public beach, it... it caused some problems. Eventually the deal was made that I could stay for a little while as long as it was kept secret where I was from, and didn’t leave the town I was in, and as long as I left once they had a good submarine to send me back with. Spent six months there, then when I went back, spent years pestering my dad into letting us all leave for real. It took that long for my dad to figure out that he could just go ahead and call himself the Crowned King of New Zealand since there wasn’t anyone else alive who could contest him on it.”

Silence for a moment. “That’s it? He just—“

“Yeah.” Mun-Dee ran a hand through his own hair fretfully. “And I guess I just... I just wanted to tell you. So you’d know what you were getting into if you agreed to any of this.”

Silence again. He didn’t dare look up at Jeremy.

“I’m sorry, I should never had tried to bring anyone else into this—“ he hurried to say.

“No, no you’re fine, I just—“ Jeremy laughed, a little nervously. “I just, okay. So that wasn’t some kind of joke.”

He couldn’t help but laugh too, the sound oddly infectious. “What kind of joke would that be?” he asked.

“I dunno, you tell me, what sounds more like a thing that happens to people, right? Either a prince from a goddamn fairytale lost city shows up and asks for your hand in marriage, or your asshole dad is playing a weird fucked up prank on you. Wouldn’t be the first time he tried to mess with me like that, he’s the worst.”

“The, er, translator?” Mun-Dee asked, just for confirmation’s sake.

“He’s not even a translator, that’s not even his job, he just got asked to come work as a translator because he knows a bunch of languages and stuff like that. He does some sorta other... whatever. International somethin’. I dunno. Good excuse to drive up to New York and all, though.”

“You’re American, then? You have an odd accent, don’t quite sound like it,” Mun-Dee said.

“Yeah, Boston, Massachusetts, it’s just sorta east from here. It’s in America, it—there’s a lot of American accents, big country and all. You’ve never heard an East Coast accent?”

“I live at the bottom of the ocean, there’s a lot of things that I don’t know,” Mun-Dee replied, a little bitterly, looking off at one of the decorations in the room. A pause. “Really, though. I… I know this will probably be a series of conversations and all, but… I, the offer is genuine. This—I’m serious. About…”

Silence. “About the whole marriage thing.”

His expression tightened. “Right. That.”

“Y’know, you’re gonna have to say it out loud at some point.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I know.”

“...And you’re gonna have to look at me at some point.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.”

“Hey,” Jeremy said, and hesitated for a moment before putting a hand on his arm, and Mun-Dee’s eyes instantly were whipping around to look at the point of contact, more incredulous than startled. “Look, I, I’m just as confused as you are, here. Just… let’s talk about this, okay?”

He swallowed hard. “I just, I really am sorry to drag you into all this, and… full disclosure, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I’ve spent my entire life around exactly two other people and… and watching videos on screens, and reading, and trying to get a handle on what humanity is supposed to be like. First half of my life was spent…” He scratched idly below one ear, searching hard for his words. “...I spent years and years thinking we were the last people alive on the planet, and that meant that humans were absolutely done for, and… I’m no good at this. Any of this.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jeremy said, moving to squeeze his shoulder, and it sent a wave of comfort through him unlike anything else. “Look, if anything this is just… real flattering, huh? And, y’know, at least my Ma will like you, you’re… tall, and real polite, and, can read. And this’ll, I dunno, really set me apart from all my brothers, showin’ up back home from a weekend trip with fuckin’... Prince Charming.”

He scoffed, felt himself starting to smile. “Hardly very charming.”

“Nah, you are, just in your own sorta… weird nerd way,” Jeremy assured, and thumped him on the shoulder. “Like, uh, like in movies when there’s… wait, you know movies, right?”

Mun-Dee made a see-saw motion with his hand. “If they came out about fifty years ago, sure,” he said.

“Hey, that can be a start!” Jeremy chimed, thumping him again. “We can go out and see some movies. That’s some classic first date material.”

“That’s real, then? Not… one of those things that gets made up for films and books and the like?” Mun-Dee asked hesitantly.

“Yeah! Movies kick ass. And comics and stuff, I’m big into comics.”

Quiet for a second. “So we’ll go on a date, then?”

“Yeah. What, you think I’m gonna marry a guy without taking him on a date first?” Jeremy joked.

Mun-Dee shifted. “That’s… reasonable,” he acquiesced without fanfare. “Could you, er… is it off the table to… for you to just say we’re engaged?”

Jeremy’s eyebrows rose.

“It’s just—one reason I’m doing this—“ and since when did it become just one reason, not the reason? “—I’m not allowed to take on the power to make official orders and the like until I’m engaged and “have someone to rule with”,” he said, doing air quotes.

Jeremy’s face screwed up as he tried not to laugh. Mun-Dee frowned. “No, no, just… that’s not how you do air quotes,” he said at the look.

Mun-Dee frowned further. “What?”

“You don’t fuckin’ wave your hands all over the place like that. You just sorta,” he said, and demonstrated a much more subdued version of the movement, hands just bobbing in front of him. “Like that.”

“Oh.” He felt his face heating up. “I’ve only ever seen my dad do them. And he does them like,” and he waved his arms around again.

“Yeah, well, he’s also totally batshit,” Jeremy laughed. His expression fell a little. “So I guess it’s probably a good idea for him to sorta… not be king anymore.”

Quiet for a second. “But you’re taking the idea seriously? You really are considering…” Mun-Dee trailed.

“I guess I am.”

“I—“ he started, and had to take a breath to find the right words. “I just wanted to reiterate, you… there’s not much to gain from all this. You’d be marrying into a kingdom of absolutely nothing. This doesn’t come with… with political power, or financial stability, it would mostly just come with a good bit of media attention and… and teaching me how the world works, and traveling, and… talking to all sorts of people.”

“Hey, I like attention and I love to talk,” he shrugged.

“How much do you know about world politics, exactly?” Mun-Dee asked.

“Not a lot,” Jeremy admitted. “But my dad knows all sorts of shit. He could probably tag in, help with some of that stuff.”

A pause. “And I don’t know how much you’ll be seeing of me, I imagine this might have… a lot of work involved, a lot of sleepless nights. Research and the like. And I’m not terribly interesting.”

“You live at the bottom of the ocean,” Jeremy deadpanned.

“That’s not a good thing!” he protested, a little weakly.

“C’mon,” Jeremy laughed, and leaned in, cupped his cheek, and it stole the breath directly out of Mun-Dee’s lungs. “Quit trying to talk me out of this before I’ve even agreed to it all the way. I’m tellin’ you, first date. If we figure out that we hate each other on the date then, hell, I’ll just be on the books as the guy you’re engaged to long enough for your dad to go fuck off, and you can find somebody else.”

“Right,” he said, exhaled. “Right.”

A pause, Jeremy’s hand dropping from his cheek to instead thread their fingers together idly. “Hey, what’s the deal with titles, anyways? If you’re gonna be king, would that just make me… other king? King Two?”

“Technically I wouldn’t be king until my mum and dad both die,” he corrected lightly.

“Prince Two?”

“I think the title would be Consort, Prince Consort then King Consort,” he replied. “You’d probably start going by Prince Jeremy.”

“And, uh, if we figure out like months down the line that… I dunno, you’re like, allergic to all the shit I like and we can’t put up with each other anymore, what’s the plan there?”

Mun-Dee considered the question. “I suppose you’d be the Prince Consort at that point. You could make up whatever rules you please in terms of divorce and the like. I won’t fight you on it, I, I know this is already… a lot to be agreeing to in the first place.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I mean, it was this or go out to dinner with my mom and shitty dad for more “family bonding” bullshit,” he said, only using one hand for air quotes to leave the other one tangled with Mun-Dee’s. “Prince Charming sounds like a way better deal to me.”

“You’re,” he started to say, and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled forth to interrupt him. “I, I suppose that’s fair.”

A pause. “Hey, if stuff goes well, you’re gonna need to actually propose, by the way,” he added. “With a ring and stuff.”

“Right. Also fair.”

“And—“ he started to say, paused, “—and I already sorta promised one of my brothers that he gets to be best man at my wedding eventually, so, we’ll have to figure that out. Whether we both have best men, or what the deal is.”

“As of right now I know exactly two blokes and one of them is you and the other is my dad,” Mun-Dee deadpanned.

“Right. Bottom of the ocean.” A pause. “Y’know, I never thought about the best man thing being an issue until just now.”

“Never thought about weddings much?”

Jeremy laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “More like… the liking guys thing being kinda… new.”

A pause. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Just—only just started figuring that out a few months ago.” Another pause. “So what I’m saying is that I don’t really know what I’m doing here either. We’re both kinda rookies.”

“Well,” he tried to say, but he didn’t exactly have much experience comforting people, so it took a little while to find the right words. He took a moment to squeeze Jeremy’s hand. “Well, first date first.”

Jeremy exhaled, not quite a sigh. “Yeah.”

“Then whatever comes after that… after that.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “Sorry.”

He laughed. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m… a mess at this. I’ve… bottom of the ocean, I’ve never… dated. Or had friends. Or talked to anyone besides my mum and dad. This’ll take some getting used to.”

Jeremy leaned his elbow up on the back of the couch, propping his head on his hand. “Man. I, I really just can’t fuckin’ imagine. I think I would’ve just thrown myself out into the ocean. I would’ve lost my mind.”

Mun-Dee shrugged. “Well, I never exactly knew anything else. If anything… this, all this,” he said, gesturing around them, “this was far too much for me for a while. Too bright, too loud, too… the first time I saw the sky, it scared the hell out of me. Something so big. I didn’t have any concept of what big was until I saw the sky that first time.”

Jeremy had an expression on his face that he didn’t really know how to read, but there was an amount of smile there, so he figured it wasn’t something to get worried about.

“I think… assuming I don’t spent the whole rest of my life working on trying to unearth the ruins and fix whatever I can, assuming I have a break,” he immediately self-corrected. “If I ever get the chance, I think I want to travel. Not much variety down under the ocean, I think I want to go different places and… eat different sorts of food and the like. See what forests are like. And animals, I’d like to meet all sorts of animals. Not fish. I’ve decided I hate fish.”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I—I’ve decided I like dogs a lot. When I went topside the first time, I got to see a dog. It was so friendly. Soft, too.”

“Y’know, I’m, this is a real trip,” Jeremy said, still wearing that odd expression. “Because you go from these big philosophical things and all about like, responsibility, to like… getting really hyped about dogs. It’s, you’re, you know you’re adorable, right? You know you’re the best?”

Mun-Dee felt a smile pulling at his face. “Am I?”

“Yeah. What kind of dog was it?” he asked, going back to the topic at hand.

He frowned. “...Grey? And white?” he said slowly.

Jeremy’s smile widened. “Oh my god. Okay. So, hey, Prince Charming, did you know that there’s different kinds of dogs? Big ones, small ones, fluffy ones…?”

“How big?” Mun-Dee asked, frowning further.

He thought for a second before he held his hands apart. “Like, maybe this big, longways?” he said, as if he wasn’t holding his hands a good meter apart.

“And how small?” he asked next, taken aback.

“Oh, like,” Jeremy said, now holding his hands less than a foot apart. “Like, tiny.”

“So horse-sized to cat-sized?” he tried, entire world shaken by this new information.

Another pause. “How big do you think a horse is?”

He held his hands about a meter apart.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not it,” Jeremy said, visibly trying very hard not to laugh. “Okay. So date number two, I’m taking you to a zoo to see some animals.”

“Already on the second date?” Mun-Dee asked, starting to smile again despite the embarrassment clouding in his chest.

“I get the feeling that the first one’s gonna go well. You’re pretty cute,” he shrugged, smiled.

“How do dates work, exactly?” he asked, already feeling ridiculous for having to ask.

A laugh. “Man, I dunno. You go do somethin’ together, and talk about all sorts of stuff, and hold hands and maybe kiss at the end. And… I mean, maybe more than that, but I’m, y’know. When it comes to real dating, that’s not really a first date sorta deal. I was gonna say I’m classier than that, but… I mean, y’know. Stuff happens.”

Mun-Dee laughed, only a tiny bit nervously. “Right?”

“Hey, look, you’re super new at this,” he was quick to assure, “I’ll try and take stuff slow. Show you the ropes on everything. As slow as you need to. I, I know I’ve got kind of an issue with rushing stuff and fucking things up, so, I’m gonna need you to tell me if I’m being… I dunno, too much? Too quick?”

“Right.”

“If... I’m serious, if you start getting overwhelmed or start feeling weird about stuff, you gotta say somethin’. I’m pretty great and all, but I’m not the brightest sometimes. And, you’ve never done any of this stuff before, and I don’t wanna freak you out.”

He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. “Right, I, I’ll try my best. I… but I also don’t really have… any concept of how fast things are meant to be? I’d hate to be far too slow and bore you to death.”

“Hey, that’s fine. I’d rather you be chill and take things slow than freak yourself out.”

“And if I take things too fast?” he asked slowly.

Jeremy looked at him. He started to grin. “You think that’s gonna be an issue?” he asked.

He shrugged aimlessly, glancing away again. “I just… I can’t be sure,” he said. “Not sure how much of this is meant to be… something I want, but should wait for.”

“What‘ve you got in mind?” he grinned.

He had to really fight to get the words unstuck from his throat. “Well, I guess it’s just that I’ve spent my whole life under the ocean and I’ve been wondering for a long time what kissing must be like,” he murmured to the carpet, “I’d really like to try that, but you just said you don’t feel like rushing things and all—“

He was cut off by a hand on his cheek, turning his face up and over, and then he was being kissed, just like that.

It…

The word he would use to describe kissing when he thought back on it later was “good”. At the time, he didn’t call it much of anything, because his entire brain felt like it was shutting down.

Now, Mun-Dee didn’t exactly have a lot of life experiences. On the way to the UN meeting a car had suddenly honked nearby where he was walking and it had been literally the scariest thing to happen to him in his entire life. The best meal he’d ever had was picked up from a tiny eatery in the town he’d been confined to during the very short amount of time he’d spent topside in Australia. The best joke he’d ever heard was told to him by a particularly brave child in the airport who’d wandered over to talk to him about the strange old people in the robes that he was clearly traveling with. He had practically no real context for anything going on in the world around him, and he was well aware of that. So it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy kissing Jeremy—or being kissed by Jeremy, more like, because he was scared to death of making any mistakes and let Jeremy take the lead for the most part—it was just that he literally didn’t have the vocabulary to express how much he liked it.

It was overwhelming. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Well, there you go,” Jeremy said simply once he’d pulled back, and when had he closed his eyes? He blinked them open. Jeremy was smiling. “Now you know.”

Quiet for a few moments. “Can you do that again?” Mun-Dee asked, a little weakly.

Jeremy smiled and leaned back in.

He’d read enough books and seen enough films to be aware that this wasn’t even particularly… impassioned kissing. It was rather chaste, overall. Subtle presses of lips, a hand on his cheek, the other on his shoulder for balance. Eventually, between kisses, he tangled the hand on his shoulder with his own, and laid a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder to help keep him steady instead. At some point Jeremy started fiddling with his hair, and that felt very extremely nice. He enjoyed that a lot. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if he ever had to combine the feeling of kissing with some other second sensory input. He was fairly sure his entire brain would shut down and he would drop dead.

Mun-Dee felt a little disappointed when Jeremy pulled away a bit more, a slight pressure to the push pack just to indicate that he was pulling back for a little while now. “Y’know, for someone so new at this, you’re really not terrible,” he said, a little surprised, but his tone largely humorous.

He took a moment to get the breath back in his chest. “Well… lots of… reading romance stories and the like, watching films,” he managed, brain in a fog.

Jeremy was still playing with his hair.

“One more?” Mun-Dee asked, tone weak.

A little laugh. “Fine, one more,” he said, and leaned back in again.

When he started pulling back, he couldn’t help but murmur it again, “One more?”, as earnest as he could manage with his mind muddled. And that got him quite a few more, easy minutes, world falling into a haze, narrowed down to the feeling of fingers entwined with his own, and carding through his hair, and the fabric of Jeremy’s shirt under his hand, and warmth, and pressure.

“Okay, okay, take it easy there Tiger,” Jeremy laughed finally, and put a hand on his chest to guide him to sit back again. At some point, he’d wound up leaned forward considerably. He wasn’t sure when. “Save it for the date.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but it took a second for words to catch back up with him. “Sorry,” he managed. “I just… like this a lot. Like you a lot.”

A laugh again. He was really starting to like how laughs sounded. Not his dad’s laugh when he was off on some insane tangent, or his mom giggling drunkenly, just this kind. The kind that meant he’d made Jeremy feel happy for a little bit. “Good.”

“Do… I’m sorry, I’m sure you probably have other things to do today,” he said. That was once concept that he’d picked up on pretty quickly, that people generally had things that they needed to do.

“I mean, I’m sure my Ma’s gonna start worrying about me at some point,” he said, leaned to get a look of the clock hanging on the wall. “But I’ve got a little more time.”

“You could… tell me more about yourself,” Mun-Dee offered hopefully. “What sort of things you like.”

“Well… yeah, okay. How much do you know about baseball?”

It would be a good few hours before Jeremy finally ended up leaving. Mun-Dee was fascinated with everything that he had to talk about, with what the world was apparently like, with how sports really worked, with movies, with actors, with music. And, according to Jeremy, it turned out that Mun-Dee was a good person to talk to. A good listener. Mostly he found himself hanging off of every detail he was told, distantly fascinated by the feeling of a hand in his own. At one point Jeremy had an arm up around his shoulder, and that was its own situation for a little while, him just attempting to push down the flurry of emotions that rose in his chest.

He was smart enough not to say anything about it, though. He was aware that it would be extremely sad if he admitted that he couldn’t remember the last time somebody held him, if ever. Surely it had to have happened when he was a small child, but he really, truly couldn’t remember. It was far nicer than he could put into words.

But despite what he wanted deep down in his heart, he knew he couldn’t just trap the man here to use as a teddy-bear, and he didn’t argue the matter when Jeremy eventually glanced at the clock again and realized, shit, he really needed to get going before his Ma started freaking out.

He was walking Jeremy to the door when it occurred to him. “When—when would you like to go on that date?” he asked, almost abruptly.

“Well, there’s a couple more days left in the conference and stuff,” he said, tugging at his own jacket idly as he thought. “But I’m in New York until next weekend. How about, uh, Monday? Then we can figure out the next one at the end of that. Here—“ He leaned over to the table by the door, picked up the pen and pad of paper there, wrote something down. “That’s, uh, that’s the hotel I’m at, and room number. You can call and we’ll figure out what time and stuff, and I’ll find out what movies they’ve got playing.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll—I’ll call you.”

“Cool,” Jeremy nodded. A pause, then he was kicking up onto his toes and planting a kiss on his cheek. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

And then Jeremy was off down the hallway, and he was closing the door, and he was alone.

He breathed in, breathed out. Walked over to his bed—it was massive, bigger than any bed he’d ever seen in his life, not that that was saying much. He picked up a pillow, and buried his face in it, and yelled.

He could not believe that this was happening.

Did he have to be good-looking? Did he have to have such a nice laugh? Did he have to be funny, and sweet, and concerned about taking things too fast and making him uncomfortable even though they’d literally just met? Mun-Dee had spent a good portion of the time that he was getting baseball explained to him half-preoccupied by thinking about how cute Jeremy’s teeth were. And he had freckles—freckles! He’d half thought that they weren’t real, or were something fake that people put on, like makeup, but they were all over his arms and hadn’t smudged when Mun-Dee had smoothed them under his hand. And he had callouses on his hands, and promised to introduce Mun-Dee to his mum’s cat, whose name was apparently Meatball and who was allegedly bright orange and dumb as all hell. No, his mum just had to randomly pick a very attractive young man with a good sense of humor and opinions on just about everything under the sun.

And he had an argument with himself for a little while, because he was well aware that he probably wasn’t in love with the man already. It was just the first time he’d ever spoken to someone besides his parents for a length of time, and Jeremy just also happened to be attractive and willing to go on a number of dates with him. They’d only just met, he was being ridiculous.

But if this was just a crush, just an infatuation or a fascination, then how was he meant to handle it when he fell in love someday? This was already almost too much for him to handle.

He took a deep breath. It didn’t work very well, so he took the pillow off of his face and tried again. It worked much better.

Just… just try the first date, he told himself. And then whatever happens next, happens.

He couldn’t get the feeling of a hand in his own out of his head.

God, he was a dead man.

[fluffyvillain]

The Bond

Chapter: 2/?

Summary: Mila finally finds her soulmate, but not everything is as she expected it to be.

Chapter 1

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: None

A/N: No one:

        Absolutely no one:

        Me: Okay, Henry is going to be asshole-ish in the beginning

AO3 link

A tray with champagne was shaking slightly in Mila's hand, she really was incapable for this job and now she was sure of it. But, she did her time, full 6 months. She's been looking forward to this day since before she even started. Being careful not to trip, she walked through the crowd with a wide smile plastered across her face, trying to hide her insecurity. When the last glass was off the tray, she went to fill it up again.

"Did you see freaking Tom Hanks?" Martha passed her on the way to kitchen.

"I did, I did." Mila was trying to get rid of the wrinkles on her skirt by pulling it down.

"How come you never get excited with having celebrities around you? I get all giddy every time, like a teenage girl."

"Well, you were a teenage girl up until a couple of months ago. I don't know, it's because I've been in this situation many times before, I guess." She wasn't lying, she has, but not in this position. She was usually the one wearing gowns, not a white shirt and a back skirt. "I have to get back to work."

Her tray was full again and she was back among the crowd when she saw him entering, he was finally there and everything around her stopped, he was the only one she could see in the crowd. It was like every cell in her body started pulsating and she was frozen in space and time, even though she felt like he was a magnet pulling her to himself. She wanted, no, she needed to run to him, to hug him, but something was wrong and she knew it. She felt like a whole new dimension opened inside of her, creating space for his emotions, but here were no fireworks there. He was feeling content, peaceful and she felt he felt profound love at that moment.

"Excuse me, miss, may I get a glass?" An elder lady stood next to her, rolling her eyes.

"Of course, my apology." Mila turned to her, lowering the tray so the lady could help herself. Then her eyes were back on Henry, she didn't know what to expect of her soulmate, but she never really expected him to be famous. To be honest, she wasn't really a fan, but she knew who he was. She watched "Superman" and even if she didn't, it was impossible to miss Henry Cavill, especially after "The Witcher," its content was all over the internet.

With timid steps, she started moving towards him, but he wasn't alone. The girl who held hands with him was one of the most beautiful women Mila has ever seen, compared to her, she felt like a bag of potatoes. On her heels, she was a bit taller than Henry, slim, with incredibly shiny long black hair, and a face of an angel with large eyes and full lips. Definitely a model, Mila thought to herself. She stood in front of them, feeling so tiny and scared before them.

"May I offer you a glass of champagne?" The tray was before the woman, but Mila's eyes were on Henry, expecting some kind of a reaction, but he only thanked her when he took the glass. What is going on? Maybe it's not the time, maybe if I get to be alone with him he will figure it out.

Her family always said that she was great at finding quick solutions to problems that came at of the blue and that exactly what she was trying to do now. A lot of round tables were scattered all around the room and the only one that stood out was a rectangular one, in the back of the room where 4 people were seated, bidders who place bids they get over the phone. That's it. From a young age, she was aware that her family was well off, but she never felt the need to splurge, well, except when it came to traveling, and he never had a feeling that her life was much different than most other people's but she was beyond glad she was rich in this moment. She walked over to the bidding table, still holding a half filled tray. "Good evening," she spoke to the man who was closest to her. "I need you to represent me tonight, if dinner with Mr. Cavill is on auction."

"It is and I don't mean to be offensive, but we are talking big numbers here." He said he meant no offense, but his voice was full of sneer. Two women sitting next to him both had the same mocking expression on their faces.

Mila slammed the tray on their table. "Does the name Robert Radcliffe mean anything to you?"

"Isn't he the owner of this hotel?" The man's sinister smile slowly disappeared from his face, realizing where this might take him.

"Among many others and I am Mila Radcliffe, so what does that tell you?"

There were two options in his head, she was either a lunatic, or she was a part of one of the richest families in New York and he didn't want to take any risk. "I'm sorry, Miss Radcliffe." He gave her a business card. "You should call this number, but they will request an ID validation and a credit card number."

"You shouldn't worry about that. How will things work after that?"

"You will receive Mr. Cavill's e-mail address and the rest is up to you. If you want to, you will also be introduced to him tonight."

"That won't be necessary. Since I will be in no position to be on the phone, you should know that I have no limit, but I guess your colleagues will inform you about that once I'm done talking to them. You need to outbid everyone, no matter the cost. In the end, it is a charitable auction."

"Of course."

She took a break so she could sort thing out with the auction company and it surprisingly didn't take long and she was soon back at her work. Henry didn't even acknowledge her existence, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. She couldn't deny that he was handsome, no one could, but this wasn't about his blue eyes, shape, height or his incredible smile. He was the last one in line to get up on a podium, showing what the person who wins the bid will get. Mila leaned on a side wall, waiting for the bidding to end, even though she already knew the final result.

"10.000$ first time, 10.000$ second time, 10.000$ third time. Sold to a telephone bidder!"

Dear Mr. Cavill,

  Hope this e-mail finds you well.

I'm contacting you regarding the charity auction from yesterday evening.

If you are free, I would like to have dinner with you within the next 7 days, if you are unable to do it then, please, suggest a different period.

  Kind regards,

Mila Radcliffe

 Mila shut down her laptop right away, pushing it away from her, she didn't expect any answer soon as it was 8AM, so she fell back on the bed. Her other side was feeling peaceful and she came to conclusion that he was asleep.

TV was her choice of entertainment for this morning, she found some morning show and she tucked herself in under a duvet. Just when she was about fall asleep again, she jerked, feeling waves of pleasure washing over her. Jealousy kicked in when she realized what was happening, Henry was being pleasured, but obviously not by her. She took a few deep breaths, trying to somehow block what he was feeling, but it didn't help. Then she tried to reason herself. He hasn't realized it yet, you can't be jealous. It's not like he's cheating on you. Get your shit together, Mila. She plumped up a pillow, only to put it over her face.

During the day, she felt different emotions coming from him and the only constant was pure love he felt and for Mila, that was like a pang in her heart, way worse than when he was sleeping with someone else. She tried everything she could think of to try to block his feelings starting from cooking lunch, cleaning the house, plucking weeds in her garden to taking a swim in the pool - which usually helped relieve stress, but it didn't help at all this time.

Defeated, she sat on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, warm June sun shone over her, heating droplets of water enough to evaporate from her skin. Just when she finally acquired some peace, but it was soon disturbed by the sound of e-mail notification coming from her phone. She stretched her arm to reach the phone from a deck chair behind her and she held her breath from the moment she saw who sent the e-mail until she read it at least 5 times.

  Dear Mrs. Radcliffe,

  Thank you for sending me this e-mail and for being a part of the charity program.

I am free tomorrow night and I will gladly meet you then, just tell me when and where you'd like us to meet, please.

  Best regards,

Henry Cavill

 She did a happy dance before replying. Everything will be fine tomorrow.

  Dear Mr. Cavill,

  Tomorrow at 7PM, then. "Molière" restaurant, reservation will be under my name. Looking forward to meeting you.

  Best regards,

Mila Radcliffe

 She got an almost instant reply.

  Dear Mrs. Radcliffe,

  It's a deal. See you tomorrow.

  Regards,

Henry Cavill

 She ran to her wardrobe, not caring that her hair was still dripping wet. After going through her whole wardrobe multiple times, she chose to go for the classic - little black sheath dress, short sleeves, knee length and black stilettos with high heels which she put on right away to practice walking with them on since she never got a chance to wear them before. Her legs were a bit wobbly at first, but soon she got used to them. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number, continuing with her practice walk.

"Hello, Arthur, what are you doing?"

"Nothing much, I'm about to leave work, you?"

"I'm not really doing anything. Listen, I'm going to need a table for 2 tomorrow at 7." She got down the stairs, only to climb back up.

"You have finally decided to grace us with your presence, your majesty." Arthur gave her a little sarcastic clap.

"Oh, come on. When I agreed to make this investment, I said that I didn't want to have any part in managing the restaurant, it was just a business venture and a mighty good one, if I may add." She didn't really like the restaurant business, but when her friend suggested a joined venture, she agreed. The location was good and the whole concept of traditional service with high quality food was even better.

"With me involved, you couldn't fail even if you try."

"I won't defy you. Anyhow, give me the best table, somewhere secluded."

"Oooh, someone's got a date."

"Oooh, someone has to shut up."

 Mila spent the whole day on the edge of a breakdown, Henry's emotions were definitely too much to handle, the only thing that kept her sane was the fact that she was meeting him tonight. She went to a hair stylist and a makeup artist, she usually did her hair and makeup by herself, but this was a special occasion, she has waited her whole life for this. In her loneliest night, she imagined her soulmate, how he will give the comfort she desperately needed.

Instead of getting more nervous as the meeting time was getting closer, she was feeling more and more comfortable, she will get to talk to him, to see him up close. So, when she entered "Molière," she was fairly relaxed. All of the staff greeted her and she was instantly reminded why she didn't come here often, all of the staff seemed a little distracted when they saw her, not treating her like a regular guest. She made her way to the kitchen, just peering inside, waving at everyone, then a waiter took her to her table and brought her a glass of wine. "Please, put everything on my name tonight."

"My queen, you look stunning tonight." She received a kiss on the template.

Mila kissed Arthur's cheek. "I thought you left. How are you, how's Anna?"

"I stayed longer so I could see you. I'm fine,  Anna sends her regards and she told you to call her soon or she'll get mad."

"I will, I promise. I'm going to start worki... I... Um..." Mila lost her train of though when Henry came just a few tables away from her, walking behind a hostess.

"What?" Arthur turned to see what she was looking at. "Henry freaking Cavill is your date?" He tried to be as quite as possible.

"Yeah." Mila couldn't take her eyes off him, he was in a suit and he looked divine. Goosebumps rose on skin all over her body.

"I know that look, that's how you look at... Oh, ooooh. I'm just going to disappear." So he did, he retreated to his office.

"Mrs. Mila, I assume." Henry shook her hand. "I'm Henry."

Mila could swear she felt a small electric shock when she came in physical contact with him. "Miss, but it's okay."

"I apologize, it's because I expected you to be a middle aged woman." He flashed her a smile and she reciprocated.

"It's alright, thank you for meeting me."

"To be honest, I've never done something like this for charity, but I though - why not?"

"Me neither, I've always done it the conventional way until now."

A waiter approached them and Henry ordered whiskey. "Here are your menus, I will be right back."

"It's okay, I don't need one."

"Of course." He took back hers and left to get the whiskey.

"So, you already know what you want?" Henry went through the menu.

"I do and I can tell you that their meat is pretty good."

"So, you've been her before?"

"I have."

The waiter came back, bringing the drink.

"We have decided what we want. Mila, please, go ahead."

"I'll have a Mediterranean chicken salad, thank you."

"I'll have a steak, medium rare, thanks." He gave back the menu and then continued the conversation with Mila. "You seem kind of familiar, have we met before by any chance."

"Well, I served you champagne last night."

"That's it! But, that means that you gave like three monthly paychecks for this." Suddenly, the atmosphere has changed and Mila started feeling unease coming from his side.

She tried to change the subject, diverting the conversation to his work. "Are you currently filming something?"

"I actually am. I'm on a break now, but I am filming a movie in Atlanta."

Mila continued with asking further about the movie and how he prepares for roles, but his unease never went away, it even grew stronger. When the waiter brought their food, their conversation stopped and there was only awkward silence for a whole minute and Mila couldn't hide what was going on with her anymore. "I have to be honest with you. I'm not really here because of charity."

Henry dropped his fork and knife. "I figured. Let me tell you something, I don't know what you are thinking, but it's not going to happen. I have someone whom I love very much and I would never put my relationship in jeopardy for someone I just met." His pupils widened and Mila felt pure rage coming from him.

"It's nothing like that. Please, let me explain. Last night when you walked in, I felt something, I felt that you are my..." Mila bit her tongue, sadness, anger, feeling of dedication, attraction, need, everything boiled inside her, like in a melting pot.

"Your what?"

"My soulmate and I don't know why you don't feel the same way."

"You are delusional. Listen, we are going to finish what we ordered and that's it, we'll part our ways. Okay?"

Mila out her hand over his, which was clenched in a fist. "I'm not lying. I can feel you, your anger right now, your love for the woman you are dating, your happiness."

He jerked his hand away. "You really are a psycho. You just gave your three month income only to have dinner with me, hoping it would lead somewhere further. Let me repeat, I have someone I love very much and even if what you were saying was true, I wouldn't care. She is the only one for me. I'm going to write you a check for 10.000$ and pay for this dinner, because I don't want to feel like I owe you something. I can't believe this."

Mila stood up, grabbing her purse, her heart shattering in pieces. "You have no idea how I wish it wasn't you. Keep your check and dinner has already been paid for." Mila hurried out, not wanting to allow herself for her staff to see her crying.

Henry gestured for the waiter to come bring him a check.

"Everything is settled, sir."

"I guess she left the tab open, just cancel that and I will pay."

"I'm afraid I can't go against my owner's wishes." Henry turned towards exit, but Mila was already gone.

[thepurplebutterflythings]

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird (Part 9) - Jason Todd

Gif: Unknown on Tenor

Word Count: 3.7K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: While looking for Y/N, Harley feels responsible for The Joker kidnapping her beloved niece. As Joker and Y/N are face to face, The Joker wonders why he didn’t know about Y/N beforehand, especially considering he and Bruce are ‘connected’.

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse.

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterizations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget   @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36​ @loxbbg​

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 8  | Masterlist |

________________________________________________________________

“Well, well, well.”

Y/N stirred with discomfort at the voice, low and gravely and gave the same effect of nails being dragged down a chalkboard with teeth on edge and bones wanting to escape the flesh prison as the noise drilled through them. It sounded as though they always had something in their throat they were trying to cough up, but could never rid themselves of. When she opened her eyes, Y/N looked around her and realised that she was tied up and being hung from the ceiling above her by chains. She was still dazed and so wasn’t fully aware, but when she looked below, she snapped out of it, for she was being hung carelessly above a vat of green, bubbling chemicals that glowed in the darkened room. The voice from before laughed manically, and Y/N looked around to see where the sound came from. As she looked, she gathered more about her surroundings, realising she was in Ace Chemicals. Footsteps echoed as the owner walked on the gantry above the chemicals, and Y/N saw her capture. The Joker.

Despite her Aunt Harley once being in a relationship (if you could even call it that) with the mad man, Y/N had never met him. He wasn’t even supposed to know she existed as Harley was frightened the man would harm her.

“You!” Y/N seethed.

“Ah! So you’ve heard of me,” Joker crouched down. There was still a distance between them, perhaps three or four metres. “That’s… interesting, for you see it wasn’t until earlier that I heard of you, Miss Wayne! You’re daddy and I… we’re connected so you would have thought I should know about you, but alas I did not.”

“You’re supposed to be in Arkham,” Y/N said, “how’d you get out? Why isn’t any news you’re out?”

“Smart little Bat Pup, aren’t you, Y/N,” Joker wagged his finger as he pulled a pocket watch out of his purple coat pocket and looked at it, “They should be finding out right about… now!” Just as the Joker said ‘Now,’ the siren from Arkham that signified a break out rang loudly through the air. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll catch me.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she shifted in the chains, trying to loosen herself.

“Because,” Joker just shrugged, “To get at Bruce, I need to get to the one thing he loves and cares about more than anything – family.”

________________________________________________________________

The group, upon realizing that Joker had kidnapped Y/N, all suited up and went to search Gotham to find where he was holding her, reluctantly revealing to Harley and Ivy who it was beneath the mask of Batman. Neither were totally surprised, to be honest, and there were bigger things to worry about than Bruce Wayne being Batman. After Harley and Ivy got their protective gear on, they stopped at Wayne Manor were Jason and Bruce suited up, and then they went to Selina’s who pulled her Catwoman suit on. Alfred monitored their search for Y/N from the Batcave while Ivy and Selina went one way, Harley and Bruce went another and Jason went separately.

As Harley and Bruce finished searching yet another warehouse in Joker’s name, Harley fell against the wall and slowly ended up on the ground, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. Bruce turned around and saw the woman curled in upon herself and frowned, walking up to her.

“Harleen?” Bruce said gently, “What’s wrong?”

“I kinda feel like all ‘a this is my fault,” she muttered as she ran her fingers over her knee.

“What makes you think that?” Bruce asked, sitting next to her to comfort her. Harley sniffed a little and turned her head to look at Bruce. She was holding back tears and her bottom lip, painted a brilliant shade of red that reflected the lights back from its gloss, quivered like a leaf.

“I had a chance to kill him,” Harley explained, “I coulda killed Joker, but I didn’t, and now he’s kidnapped a girl that I love and care for like me own.”

“What?”

“I left Joker when Y/N was ten,” She began, “Not many people know this, only Y/N, Selina and Ivy, but Joker… he used ta hurt me, hurt me bad, physically and mentally,” Harley confessed, “I know, I know, that’s what I get for dating a villain like Joker,” she sighed.

“God no,” Bruce said, “no, no, no, you never deserve anything that he did to you, ever, regardless of him being a villain, regardless of what you’ve done. You should never have been abused by him.”

“Thank you, Bruce,” Harley smiled tightly, “The night I decided I was gonna leave, he hurt me worse than he ever had before and I ran to Selina’s. She patched me up, and Y/N came out her bedroom, all in her jammies and everything – they were Batman one – and she saw me bleeding on the sofa and asked what happened. Well, at this point, Y/N/N just found out her mama was a thief, and her aunties were a criminal lunatic and an eco-terrorist, so there wasn’t much we could hide from her. She pretty much put two and two together , and that’s when she started wanting to be a vigilante, to take people like Joker and Penguin down. I decided then I had ta leave” Harley sighed and pushed her hair back. “Selina and I went back to Jokers, Selina as Catwoman, obviously, and we got my things, and Joker tried and stopped me, said he could be without me, he threw Selina off the stairs and tried ta grab me, so I grabbed my mallet and I started hitting him again and again and again. Selina stopped me cause Joker had called his henchmen and we didn’t have a chance to finish the job cause we didn’t have a gun, so we had to go. I shoulda stayed, I shoulda finished the fucking job, but then Selina said how upset Y/N would be if I did go through with it, saying 'Babes will be heartbroken'. She said it like that so Joker wouldn't know. And she was right, just thinking about Y/N finding out about what I was bout to do – it killed me. Y/N/N… she knows we were villains, that we’ve done bad things, that we have killed before, but this was different, cause me killing him would mean Joker’s men would kill me. That would break her heart, so I didn’t, and we left, went back to Selina’s. But I shoulda done it, I shoulda killed the bastard, gone down in fucking flames with him, cause if I did then he wouldn’t have taken Y/N.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Harley’s shoulders, “you aren’t to blame here. The only one responsible for Joker’s actions is Joker. And Y/N had a much better and happier life with Selina, Ivy and you raising her.”

“Really?” Harley looked at Bruce and wiped her eyes.

“She’s incredible, and that’s partly because of you.”

“Thank you, Brucie,” Harley said kissing Bruce’s cheek, “you’re a doll, now, let’s go kick my ex’s ass!”

________________________________________________________________

Y/N watched from her spot above the chemical tank as Joker paced up and down the gantry. He seemed befuddled, gnawing on his thumb and occasionally huffing and pointing at Y/N before carrying on pacing.

“Explain to me, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker finally said, “why your father kept you from me, me, me of all people,” he gestured to himself and threw his arms in the air, seething and spitting as he worked himself up.

“I’m not the person to talk to about this, Joker,” Y/N huffed and turned her head away.

“Well, who else is there to ask?”

“My parents come to mind.”

“Do you know what it feels like?” Joker asked, “the chemicals?”

“No, and don’t really want to – let’s go back to bitching about my dad, can we?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Joker tutted, “let’s go and talk about the chemicals, cause if dear old daddy can’t rescue you, then you’ll be plopped into a nice green bath of acid, how’s that sound?”

“Like dinner with The Mad Hatter sounds a lot more pleasant.”

“Oh, he’s a nightmare to spend ten minutes with really, Ms Y/N Wayne.”

“Please stop calling me that,” she sighed.

“It is your name though, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker said, “Anyway, back to the chemicals. It crawls under your skin and makes it feel as though every vein is on fire, that your skin is pulling itself from your bone and even when cleaned, you feel as though you are still coated in the substance, it’s… horrendous, never-ending torture. How does that sound, Ms Y/N Wayne?”

“Like high school, really.”

“And what kinda high school did your mama send you to?”

________________________________________________________________

Jason adjusted his Robin mask as he landed on the car roof. This was the last place on his list, Ace Chemicals. Bruce wasn’t sure if Joker would ever return there after the previous two times he was there and how bad those turned out, but Joker was a creature of habit, so it made sense to check. If Y/N wasn’t there, he had no idea where else she could be. Slowly, Jason crept up the ladder outside the building to the top, peering through the window. There she was, Y/N, tied up in chains and dangling over the vat of chemicals like a fish on a hook while Joker paced up and down and ranted as he did. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jason called Bruce.

“Jason? You found her?”

“Yeah, Ace Chemicals, come quick,” Jason said.

“On my way, I’ll contact Selina. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not planning on doing anything that would put Y/N in danger, Bruce,” Jason said before hanging up. He climbed back down and walked around the perimeter of the building, finding a door and opening it quietly. There was no one down there. It appears that Joker got so caught up in his plan to kidnap Y/N that he didn’t contact any of his men to watch the surroundings. Jason quickly walked away from the door and back to the car, opening it and checking, seeing the keys were still in there. He took the bag he had on his shoulder off and put it in the car, on the passenger side, then he walked into the building and slowly walked up the stairs, listening as he did.

“And here is the thing that bothers me the most, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker ranted on and on, “that I didn’t sense you,” he said, “after all your father and I have gone through, I should have sensed you – the daughter of Bruce Wayne, of Batman – but I didn’t, why?”

“Cause you’re not a fucking psychic,” Y/N groaned, “cause you’re a delusional lunatic.”

Jason bit back a chuckle. Only Y/N would be tied up over chemicals, her life in danger, kidnapped by The Joker, and still remain level headed and calm if a little irritated and bored. Jason tried to step forward, but something creaked beneath him.

“Wait,” Joker lifted a finger, “we aren’t alone here. Come out then, our unknown audience.” Jason gulped and walked out from his hiding place. His eyes moved from Joker to Y/N. Y/N was biting back her smile of relief of seeing Jason as Robin. Thank god someone was there to rescue her. “And Bruce didn’t even come himself to rescue his beloved offspring?” Joker tutted as he wagged his finger in disappointment. “But his pet bird instead? What does that say about the man?”

“We’ve all been out searching for her,” Jason said, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“We?” Joker frowned, “Not just The Bat?”

“No,” Jason shook his head, “me, her father, her mother, and her aunts.”

“Mother? Aunts?”

“Oh, please tell me you aren’t that stupid,” Y/N said, moving her eyes to Joker. “You know it takes two people to make a child?”

“Of course I do,” Joker snapped, “her mother?”

“Oh my god,” Jason said, “you idiot. You don’t know who her mother is, do you?”

“Who is her mother?” The Joker asked, “and aunts? She has aunts?”

“Wow,” Y/N started laughing from her trapped place, “this is brilliant, oh my god, you have no idea what’s going to happen next. Fucking hell. Talk about karma being a bitch.”

“Someone explain to me what is going on!”

“Not only is Batman her father,” Jason said, almost laughing, while Y/N was howling with glee as she realised Joker had just trapped himself in his own trap. How brilliant. “Her mother is Catwoman, and her aunts are Catwoman’s friends – The Gotham City Sirens.”

Y/N and Jason didn’t let their faces reveal that behind the Joker the window had opened, and Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had both snuck and were quietly behind the Joker, waiting for the right moment.

“What?” The smile on Joker’s face dropped for a second, “The Sirens?”

“Which means, dumbass, that your ex-girlfriend, and her new beau, both helped in raise Y/N,” Jason said, “meaning not only Batman is on the way, but Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn are also coming here.”

“Seriously, mate,” Y/N laughed, “if there was an Olympics for bad luck, you’ve got Gold, not only that, but you fucking smashed the world record.”

“Uh oh,” Joker said.

“Uh oh is right there, puddin’,” Harley said from behind Joker, baseball bat in hand. She swung it hard and hit Joker in the side of the head. Joker yelped loudly and stumbled back. Bruce and Selina, still in costume, appeared from where Jason walked out of. Ivy then punched Joker in the gut while Bruce went for his face. Selina kicked the Joker in the chest. All the adults started beating the Joker as Brue turned to Jason and yelled.

“Robin, get Y/N and get out of here.”

“On it,” Jason yelled back with a nod as he climbed onto the railing and carefully, quickly, moved past the fight and to the other side where the chain holding Y/N was linked up. Jason grabbed it and looked at Y/N, “Ready?”

“Fuck yes,” she nodded as Jason unhooked the chain and started pulling, lifting Y/N higher and higher. As she started moving, she shifted to loosen herself, and once her hands were free from the chain, she grabbed it and shifted her, so her body was then free, still keeping a firm grip. When Jason pulled Y/N high enough, she started swinging, throwing herself forward and flying into Jason’s arms. They crashed onto the floor. Y/N pulled back and looked into Jason’s eyes.

“Didn’t know felines could fly, Kitty Cat,” Jason chuckled.

“Learnt from the best, Tweety Bird.”

They got to their feet, and Jason grabbed her hand, throwing a look at the group before running. He dragged her down the stairs and out of the building. They both ran so fast that they were nearly tripping over their feet, looking over their shoulders constantly as they did. When they had finally reached the car, they stopped, but Y/N pulled away from Jason for a moment, gasping for air and looking behind her as she did.

“What is it?” Jason asked as he opened the door.

“We can’t just leave,” Y/N said, “we can’t leave them, we have to go back, we have to help. Did you bring my suit?”

“Bruce told me to get you out of here,” Jason said, “I’m doing what he told me to.”

“Jason, I know you,” Y/N folded her arms, “where’s my Lynx suit?”

“No, we’re going back to Wayne Manor, and they’ll meet us back there.”

“Jason, where is my suit?”

“No.”

Y/N sighed and walked forward, arms still folded. She leant against the car, next to Jason, and lifted her eyebrows.

“Where is my suit, Jason?”

Jason sighed and groaned, rolling his head back before ducking into the car and grabbing the bag he put on the passenger seat, pulling it out and handing it into Y/N.

“You’re explaining this to your father.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes as she climbed into the backseat and started changing, “now, no looking.”

“Now all I wanna do is look,” Jason huffed.

“Tell you what,” Y/N teased, “you can watch me get undressed after all, this is over.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

________________________________________________________________

It was as though the adults were all taking turns in beating the Joker, but he was fighting back, not going down easy. If Batman wasn’t there, then the Sirens would have easily killed him by then, but Bruce was adamant to return the lunatic to Arkham.

“My daughter is not a pawn for your fucking games,” Selina hissed as she scratched his cheek, nearly reaching his eye but just missing, “come after her again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“I shoulda killed ya way back when, ya cunt,” Harley kicked him in the back, causing him to fall to the floor.

“You’re lucky I let you breath clean air,” Ivy yelled as she slapped him.

“My child,” Bruce picked Joker up by the collar of his jacket and leaned into his face, “has nothing to do with me and you. Leave her be.”

“Or what? MMM? Throw me into the acid? We both know you won’t. We’re connected, you and I, you know it too.”

“You delusional fuck,” Selina pulled Joker from Bruce and kneed him in the stomach.

“What did I ever see in ya?” Harley threw her arms up, “seriously? How’d I ever think you were a good match for me?”

Joker took this moment and grabbed Selina and dangled her over the edge near the acid where the broken railing was.

“Come any closer, and the cat gets it.”

“Like hell she does,” said a voice. Y/N ran in as Lynx with Robin close behind her. She launched herself at Joker, who pulled Selina from the edge and fell backwards. Y/N punched him in the face. Joker got to his feet and started trying to fight Y/N. Y/N was quick, dodging his slower movements. Jason quickly came to Y/N’s side, and they started to fight against the Joker in sync, when Y/N kicked him towards Jason, Jason would punch him in the face back towards Y/N, falling to the ground, and Y/N would lift her knee, clocking him in the chin, pushing him towards Jason, who would shove him to knock him off balance. The adults all watched them in awe as Jason and Y/N moved in sync with each other, beating the Joker relentlessly. They didn’t even need to intervene, Jason and Y/N had it all under control. Eventually, Y/N grabbed the chains previously used to hold her over the acid and wrap them around Joker’s wrists, letting him balance on the edge over the acid, holding him carelessly by the chain.

“Y/N!” Bruce said out of instinct.

“No one goes after my family,” Y/N growled, “no one.”

“Well, talk about a punch line,” Joker whistled with a laugh, throwing his head back. He recognised the Lynx costume. They still got newspapers in Arkham. “That Bat’s Pup is a Cat after all!”

Y/N looked The Joker dead in the eye. She looked at him coldly as he laughed on a loop. Jason stood behind Y/N, ready to support Y/N in whatever she did, and the adults just watched.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop you into the acid and let it finish the job.”

“It didn’t work the first time,” Joker said, “what makes you think it’ll work the second?”

“Cause half the job is already done.”

“Ooo, low blow, Pup-Cat.”

“Y/N, don’t,” Bruce said, “You’re better than this.”

“Am I really, though?” She asked, “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it yourself, of letting the bastard die. The world will be a far better place without him.” The Joker pulled a hurt facial expression before laughing again.

“I mean,” Jason coughed, “she’s not wrong. The world would be better without him.”

“Think of how many people he’s killed. This is his retribution.”

“He ain’t got any humanity in him,” Harley said quietly, “it’s something I shoulda done a long time ago, but,” Harley sighed, “Y/N, I don’t want ya to become a killer. Ya Daddy’s right, you’re better than this, than me.”

“And me,” said Selina.

“And I,” Ivy nodded.

“Don’t become a killer like us,” Harley said, “cause it’s a line you can never go back from.”

“Trust me, if I could,” Selina sighed, “I would never have pushed that guy from the window,” she whispered, “even though I had a good reason and was protecting someone else,” her eyes flickered to Bruce, who lowered his eyes as the image of Young Selina shoving Alfred’s army buddy out the window came into his mind.

“Y/N,” Jason put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “let’s take him to Arkham.”

Y/N looked Joker in the eye. Everything he did to Harley, nearly killing Selina, dangling herself over the chemicals, the torture he inflicted on her father over the years (it wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about The Joker Versus Batman), and he was going to live. It wasn’t fair, but they were all right, Y/N didn’t want to be a killer, didn’t want to cross that line.

“Fine,” she sighed, but instead of being gentle, Y/N yanked the chain quickly, pulling Joker forward and kneed him in the head with such force it knocked him unconscious.

As The Joker laid unconscious on the floor, Y/N took her mask off and looked at her family.

“You did the right thing,” her mother told her softly.

“I hope so,” Y/N sighed.

“Hey,” Bruce said, brushing the hair from Y/N’s eyes, “I’m proud of you,” he told her with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Dad.”

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 3

Since we were meeting leaders, we headed to the one next door first. The Disciples called the maintenance area under Fizztop Mountain home, so we headed around to the employee entrance. The guard didn’t have any trouble seeing us, despite her face being completely covered. “Watch yourself, ‘boss,’” she threatened, “cuz we sure will.” Holmes did not deign to comment.

The inside of the mountain was the typical sort of decor I expect from raiders, but the Disciples took their fondness for dismembered body parts on pikes to an extreme level. It was one of the more unsettling locations I’ve been in, and I once followed Holmes through a serial killer’s art studio. The person we were here to see wasn’t going to ease that sensation.

A woman with a bit of a drawl to her voice was talking to another woman wearing a bladed helmet, like an apocalyptic valkyrie, while a man in a spiked helmet stood to the side. All the Disciples kept their faces hidden at all times, and these three were no exceptions, the helmets doing the job instead of hoods and masks.

The gist of the conversation was that the Disciples weren’t too pleased with Gage’s plan and choice of new leader. The lady in the bladed helmet said they were giving Gage one last chance, and if this scheme of his didn’t work out, she’d kill him. No wonder the guy was eager for Holmes to be on board, his life was counting on it.

Holmes approached the valkyrie after she dismissed the other two. “So,” she said. “You’re Gage’s little pet project.”

Great start.

“If you mean I’m the one he tricked into becoming your Overboss,” Holmes said with a warning tone, “then yes.”

She shook her head, “The Overboss title doesn’t mean anything. Hasn’t for some time. Everyone knows Gage wanted Colter dead. Of course, if I’d had my way, it would have been a slow and painful process. But whatever.” She sighed, “Let’s get this meet and greet over with. I’m Nisha. I lead the Disciples.”

Holmes introduced himself, last name only, and decided not to mention the synth standing just behind his shoulder. That was fine with me; I wasn’t in any mood to chat, and the more mystery we could keep around us, the better. At least until we had something resembling a plan.

Nisha was calm and smooth, with an edge. Seems the Disciples only had one rule, to keep the peace of this little alliance between the gangs, which really just meant “don’t get caught.” Nisha was smart enough to know that her odds weren’t great if her people had to fight two rival gangs at once. Otherwise, she figured rules went out the window when the bombs dropped.

Holmes disagreed, “The world needs rules. Otherwise, we’ll never recover.”

“Rules are dangerous,” Nisha countered, “because people start to trust them. Colter thought some sort of rule or code would make him untouchable, but he found out he was wrong—the hard way.” That sounded like a problem of ego instead of rules to me, but I doubted she’d appreciate the difference. "Although I could give him a little credit,” she continued. “He built the Gauntlet after all. Of course it was total shit at first, no imagination, but we spiced it up a bit.”

She was pleased with herself. Holmes was not amused. “How many lives has the Gauntlet claimed?”

She shrugged, “Who’s counting? At least enough to keep the traders busy. We like to send them in to clean out the bodies whenever things get ripe in there.” She smiled, savoring the fact. “They don’t always make it out alive, of course. The Gauntlet never sleeps.”

She was trying to get under Holmes’s skin. Hell, she got under mine. But Holmes is nothing if not practiced at keeping his emotions in check. “Impressive,” he said flatly.

Nisha seemed amused. “I may let you keep that pretty head of yours on your shoulders after all. I just hope Gage is right about you. He made a lot of promises to get us here and never followed through.” Her voice sharpened, “So you better not screw this up, because I’m not about to tolerate another round of bullshit.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “I assure you, I am the very best at what I do.”

“Disciples don’t make idle threats,” she warned. Maybe sensing she was alienating a potential enemy, she backed off a little, made the case for why Holmes should help the Disciples take over the park instead. The Operators are spoiled brats, the Pack are a bunch of animals, the stuff you’d expect rival leaders to say about each other. Finished her speech with a gem; “Do right by us and everyone in the Commonwealth will know your name.”

Holmes almost laughed. “They already do. However, I will consider your proposal.”

That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Aren’t you sure of yourself,” she huffed. “Well, consider this; how much do you value your life?”

“You’ve made your threats perfectly clear,” Holmes didn’t quite roll his eyes but he obviously wanted to. “I’ve yet to meet the other leaders, but you’ve given me a great deal to think about. Do you mind if I look around?”

“Of course not,” she said, back to quietly pleasant. “See what we do here. If you decide you want to help out, come find me.” She headed up the ramps winding up to the top of the mountain.

“Charming woman,” I muttered. We had a look around, scoping out the place. Didn’t find much except confirmation of the Disciples’ sadism. I ain’t the kind to ever wish harm on another person, but I was getting pretty damn close to making an exception for those people. We made our way out, back into the welcome sunlight.

Heading south through the park brought us to the Parlor next, a former dinner theater turned headquarters for the Operators. We’d overheard a couple Disciples ridiculing the Operators for caring about things like personal hygiene, which was a mark in their favor in my book. Add the fact that according to Gage the Operators cared most about caps, and I had the idea that a couple centuries ago these people would have been right at home in the mafia. Or the stock market.

A guard wearing armor over a suit stood outside the door, “You can head on inside, Overboss.”

We found a handful of Operators idling in the theater’s lobby, chatting or smoking a cigarette. They all eyed us curiously, but kept to themselves for now. Holmes stopped us just outside the open doors to the main hall. Just out of sight, someone was talking, and it didn’t take long to figure who the gossip was about.

“Sorry, boss. All that’s turned up is that he’s got that Pip-Boy on his arm.”

“So,” a woman spoke, “our new Overboss is a vault dweller.”

A different man from before added, “Or an iced vault dweller.”

Holmes and I shared a look. Had they heard of Holmes? Gage had made the Minutemen connection, but Holmes being on ice wasn’t always a detail folks were aware of. The woman considered this, and dismissed the messenger. We took our cue to make our entrance.

A platinum blonde with armor over a plaid suit stood by the stage, a bearded man next to her in the same sort of armor over a fancy suit of his own. “Well,” the woman said as we approached, “I guess we all owe you for taking down Colter.” She looked straight at me, kept her face neutral (which isn’t something most people can do the first time we meet), and ignored me. After some further critique of the former Overboss, she asked Holmes what it felt like when he killed the guy.

"How did it feel when I killed a madman in an electrified suit of armor trying to kill me?" Holmes responded. "I suppose the same adrenaline rush and ensuing relief that comes with any fight for my life."

It wasn't the answer they were looking for exactly, but the lady moved on and finally got around to introducing herself. "I'm Mags. This is my brother, William."

"Pleasure," he said like this was anything but. The feeling was mutual. Something about these two bugged me, a fragment of a memory just a bit too hazy to make out.

“Along with our co-conspirator Lizzie,” Mags continued, “we run this crew. We call ourselves the Operators.”

Mags’s big pitch was that the Operators were interested in one thing; money. Their methods were a touch more bloodthirsty than what the founders of Nuka-World had in mind, but what better place to make all the caps you can want? No lunatic bloodlust or animal instinct, just cold rationality and a willingness to do literally anything to make a cap.

“Then let me assure you,” Holmes said, “that enabling trade is my primary concern here in Nuka-World.”

That answer pleased William, but Mags was still skeptical, and rightfully so. Still, she said she was looking forward to it and told us to feel free to look around and speak to her if we were interested in lending a helping hand. So we looked around. Holmes wanted to meet their co-conspirator. Me, I was still wondering where the hell I’d heard the names Mags and William Black before.

The old dinner theater wasn’t in the best shape, but it could have been a heck of a lot worse. We found Lizzie in the kitchen with a chemistry setup. A quick glance through her terminal revealed a series of disturbing experiments on some sort of “persuasion formula.” Get settlers to do anything you tell them to, and I mean anything. Also made the connection of where I’d heard of them before.

“Valentine, these people lived in Diamond City,” Holmes looked at me like I’d been hiding this fact.

“Yeah, I see that.”

“You don’t remember them?”

“The names seemed familiar, but I haven’t been able to place them. Would have to have been decades ago, I’d think.”

Holmes’s curiosity had been piqued, so he set about trying to find more information. In typical Holmes fashion, he decided the most efficient way to do that was to break into the only locked door in the place.

It was Mags and William’s room. I wasted no time looking at the terminal while the nosy “Overboss” made sure no one gave us any trouble. Mags had a handy list of players in the park, details on all the gang leaders and people to be aware of. More interesting to us at the moment was the holotape from her mother on the desk.

“Now I remember!” I said. “The Blacks were an Upper Stands family, twenty years or more ago. Maggy and Bill were rowdy terrors, ran around with their friend Lizzie causing trouble. They were exiled when one of their classmates was found… well, it wasn’t pleasant.”

“Come now, Valentine—”

“Let’s just say I’m not surprised they turned raider, alright? Mr. and Mrs. Black left town soon after their kids were exiled, scared for their lives. My guess is they could see their children’s vengeance coming. Lizzie Wyeth… don’t remember much about her folks, if she had them, but she always seemed like a real smart kid. Guess she put that to use.”

“Then they must know who you are, surely?”

“That’d be my guess. Wonder what they make of the old synth from back home they used to make fun of, running around with a vault dweller.”

“I’m not in a particular rush to find out,” Holmes said and we made a quick exit back to the park.

“I’d like to talk to some of the traders next, if possible,” Holmes said as we walked. “I don’t think I can take interviewing the leader of the Pack just at the moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” I chuckled, “but I doubt the traders are going to make for cheerful conversation either.”

We headed to an enclosed space in the courtyard, which graffiti informed us was the market. Inside we saw stalls set up all along the walls, the familiar shouts of traders a little bit like home. Or they would have been, if it weren’t for the red light on the collar of every single one of them. Their customers were a handful of travellers who had somehow managed to make it here and pay whatever price necessary to not get killed. Raiders watched from scaffolding in the middle of the market, making sure business went smoothly. We made our way around, more to see the state of the traders than any interest in their goods. Came across a handyman named Chip who’d been in Nuka-World so long he wouldn’t know where to go even if he did get free. He talked about restoring power to the old park. After being here for twenty years, he hoped to get her running again somehow. It was kind of inspiring and damn depressing all at the same time.

Then we found the clinic. Dr. Mackenzie Bridgeman used to live in a settlement west of the amusement park. When Overboss Colter offered her a deal—work for him and he’d leave her settlement in peace—she agreed. The doc was naturally curious about the new guy in charge, and took a leap of faith when Holmes let slip he wasn’t too pleased with his new position. “Then this might be your chance to make some changes around here.”

“Such as?” Holmes asked.

“The gangs that call this place home are already at each other's throats.” She leaned closer. She couldn’t have looked more conspiratorial if she tried, but none of the raiders on watch seemed to care. “Now, you could risk your own neck and try to keep them from tearing each other apart, or you could do the right thing and put them in the ground. When it's all said and done, you're still running this place from your fancy house on the mountain over there. Except now, you won't have to sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

Holmes regarded her quietly for a moment. “I think you have the wrong idea about me, Dr. Bridgeman.”

Poor lady nearly had a heart attack, “Okay, okay, I get it boss…”

“Holmes, could you not terrorize the locals?” I scolded.

Drawing attention to myself had the intended effect; she was too startled to be scared. Holmes, for his part, was doing that sigh he does when he realizes he’s been a jerk. “I wasn’t trying to. Dr. Bridgeman, I fully intend to make the ‘changes’ you suggest, however it will not be for the purpose of ruling unchallenged from on high.” He waited for a raider to pass, and whispered, “I simply want to help if I can, and go home. Any advice you can give to help me do that would be appreciated.”

The doc breathed in relief, “Oh. Good. Well, if you're serious about this, then you'll have to take down the leaders of the gangs. That means putting a bullet into Nisha, Mason, Mags and Mags's brother, William. Once you do that, the gangs will collapse and Nuka-Town goes back to being a free trading post.” She looked around nervously, “I should uh, probably stop talking about this out here.”

Holmes smiled a little, “I think that would be wise, doctor. I make no promises, except that I will see what I can do.”

"Kill the raider leaders, restore power to the park for the traders," I muttered as we left the market, "sounds like a plan."

Holmes scoffed, "Not much of one.

“Heck of a lot better than what we had before.”

He smirked, “A fair point. It is progress, at least.”

Up next was the Amphitheatre, where the Pack was based. The guard informed us that “Mason’s been waiting for you,” and in we went. At this point, we felt ready for just about any variation on raider the park could throw at us.

We were not ready for a zoo.

Shouldn’t have been a surprise, really, with the Pack’s penchant for animal masks and costumes, but I definitely did not expect to see a caged ghoulish gorilla, a two-headed gazelle… and people. Dogs, mongrels, and mole rats walked around free, apparently tame, while a cage fight went on to spectator cheers between a dog and a mole rat. Watching over all this spectacle from his throne on the amphitheatre’s stage was the man that had to be Mason.

“Now that I get a good look at you, not sure I’m buying this new Overboss thing,” the mustachioed raider said. It was kind of hard to take him seriously in his furry pants and vibrant facepaint, until you remembered that there was a cage full of humans just across the way.

“I’ll send you my resume and references,” Holmes drawled, tired.

“The fuck’s a resume?” Mason demanded, then changed his mind, “Don’t matter. Name’s Mason, The Pack’s Alpha. This here is our side of town. You might be Overboss, for now, but I’m the boss of the Pack, and it’s gonna stay that way. Long as you don’t go forgetting that, we’re gonna be fine.”

Mason at least didn’t sound like he was giving us a sales pitch right off the bat, just questioning the new guy and a little show of bravado. He was also willing to talk a little about Gage and Colter, and made pretty clear that everyone knows Gage is the power behind the throne, and no one is happy about it. Holmes did ask eventually what exactly the Pack had that the others didn’t, apart from their fashion sense. Mason’s answer? “The Pack are the meanest sons of bitches you'll ever meet. We do whatever it takes. And we're fiercely loyal. The Operators will cut your throat as soon as they get what they want out of you. And the Disciples? Who the fuck knows what those crazy bitches want. There's something wrong with them. And you just can't trust someone who ain't willing to show you their face.”

I thought his opinion was probably on the mark, which was a surreal feeling. Always good to keep in mind that folks are often a lot smarter than they look. The last meeting of the day finished, we scoped out the backstage area of the amphitheater for the sake of thoroughness. The Pack’s living area was decorated with colored lights and animal trophies, a fine alternative to human body parts. Apart from the yao guai in a cage with three dead people around it.

By now the sun was setting, so we headed back to our, uh, quarters. Gage was waiting in the Overboss’s bar, and headed straight over to the lift when he heard us coming up. “You’re back, good. So—”

“Mr. Gage,” Holmes was in no mood, “I have just endured a day of kidnapping, fighting for my life through an obstacle course of deadly traps, and spending the entire day engaging in conversation with people I would rather see eaten by a deathclaw. I am going to sleep. We will discuss your plans in the morning.”

Gage didn’t like it, but he didn’t protest. I followed Holmes into Colter’s former quarters, and wondered if the man had been suffering from some sort of hallucinations when he decorated.

“You’ll stand watch?” Holmes asked as he removed the bulkiest pieces of armor.

“You have to ask?”

He smiled a little, “No. But I do anyway.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, let him come to me. Behind closed doors, he could let it all go. Fell against me, held me as close as I held him. I still have to fight back the fear that I’m gonna hurt him, metal isn’t made for cuddling, but it gets easier every time. “We’re gonna get out of this, partner,” I whispered.

“Of course we are,” he said with a hell of a lot more confidence than I think he felt. “It’s simply far more exhausting than I expected.”

“The hard part’s still to come.”

He sighed, “We’ll see what Gage expects from me next tomorrow morning, and make our plan from there.”

I kissed him lightly, and nudged him toward the bed, “Rest up. I’m watching over you all night, just like always.”

He managed to fall asleep eventually. I did exactly as I promised.

[lamiralami]

TMA Retro 4: Page Turner

I was touched to see some tag commentary on yesterday’s post! Honestly, it gave me an emotion - I am traditionally very anxious about engaging online, it speaks to my immense love of TMA that it brought me to Make A Post At Last. It’s very affirming and reassuring to get some response to my lunatic treatises. Y’all are all right. 💜

Anyway, grab some lighter fluid and a sturdy wastepaper basket, time to torch your haunted novel in MAG 4: Page Turner

It’s ironic that this statement is about the Vast when it is one dense motherfucker. so many dangling plot threads are introduced here, each ready to hook you and start reeling. we’ve been into the meta plot since episode one but this episode is the first time the audience is made aware of such.

seriously: Jurgen Leitner and his library, Gerard Keay and Mary Keay, Michael Crew. the figures introduced in this one thirty-minute installment loom large over the rest of the entire run

you could, your first time through, even file this away as a one-off scary story if not for the fact that Jon knows what’s going on (enjoy it while it lasts, my son). He’s heard of Jurgen Leitner. He alludes to an incident with his library in 1994. Deeper than that, he immediately takes the statement at face value and treats the claims within it as authentic, which is a complete 180° on the first three episodes

and this is such a smart story choice? Jon shapes our perspective into this universe and up until now he’s been utterly dismissive of the validity of the stories he’s telling. To go from practically rolling his eyes to scheduling a meeting with his boss about tracking down more haunted books - that tells us that Jon takes this seriously as a threat. And that makes us take it seriously too, makes us take note that strange books are dangerous things in this world. Any offhand mention of books in future statements will be enough to make us sweat

And! It starts winding the narrative tension on a character level. Why and what does Jon know about Jurgen Leitner and his library? Why does he say his name with such venom? And if he’s so sure about the supernatural nature of these books, why is he so loath to believe the other statements?

(and then it takes 80 + episodes to fully answer these initial questions. Jonny enjoys a slow roasted torment)

love that the statement giver presents, as proof of his iron-clad sanity, the fact that he works as a theatre technician. speaking as someone with an unfinished theatre degree: theatre people are feral my good buddy, try again. I mean, we refuse to say the name of one of the most famous plays in the English language because we think a ghost will trip us for the indiscretion. this is not the trump card you think it is.

a quick sidebar for the Red String Brigade: The Trojan Women is an ancient Greek tragedy that involves a baby being thrown off a city wall. The Seagull’s first published English translation was done by Marian Fell, and also a seagull is a bird and birds can fly. Much Ado About Nothing is very good and you should all watch the version from 2011 with David Tennant and Catherine Tate.

it’s interesting that these early episodes seem to take a cue from urban legends in some respects. Nathan Watts gets extremely drunk at a party and then is almost skinned by a monster while having a smoke. Joshua Gillespie is approached while engaging in a whirlwind of debauchery and has to take care of a cursed coffin after accepting money for what he thinks is a drug trafficking gig. Amy Patel regularly spies on her neighbour for her own entertainment and then has to watch him be replaced by a malevolent entity only she can perceive. and now Dominic Swain pushes past his guilty conscience to score a valuable book off an unknowing charity shop and...gets a bit dizzy and haunted by a phantom stink for a few days then gets ‎£5,000, well anyway, the point is he got spooked! spooked after doing something kind of iffy! that is pure urban legend procedure; modern day fairy tales imparting dire  consequences onto societal transgressions. in a horror story this structure offers a false sense of safety - if you’re a good person, the monster won’t come for you. I can’t recall which upcoming statement yanks the rug out from under us with the first completely random victim.

cannot comprehend how this guy didn’t start plugging the book into google translate the second he got home. that probably saved him from being taken by the book but I am still judging him for not even trying it. yeah you’d be sucked into some sort of sky hell but at least you’d know what’s in the book!! could never be me

(yes I am aware in this universe I would have been eaten years ago. I’ve made my peace with that)

grbookworm1818 slays me. I don’t know which is better, the idea of Gertude carefully curating the most sixty-five-year-old-on-goodreads username she could as a cover for her cursed purchase history, or her actual sixty-five-year-old brain just expressing itself naturally because Gertrude is a very busy woman who doesn’t have time to immerse herself in the ins and outs of internet culture, she just wants to buy the demonic tomes she’s selected for destruction and get on with her day thanks.

did Gertrude know what a meme was? which Archivist could convincingly pose as a millennial best, Gertrude Robinson or Jonathan Sims?

The Key of Solomon and its former keeper, Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers, are both real historical figures. the book is basically Renaissance-era magical au fanfic of the Bible, and the man was a 19th century British occultist (and likely drinking buddy of Jonah Magnus) who founded a Very Serious Secret Society. this is a picture of him whiiiiiich rather dispels any sense of menace he’s meant to invoke. what kind of cosplaying nonsense

Mary Keay is such a striking figure. “She was very old and painfully thin, but her head was completely clean shaven, and every square inch of skin I could see was tattooed over with closely-written words in a script I didn’t recognise.” a Look, a vision!

I’m guessing that Our Gerard was blasting heavy metal at 2 am to try to drown out his undead mother while waiting for her manifestation to dissipate. I like to imagine him frequenting Reddit advice posts about dealing with toxic family members, poor lad

oh my gosh Mary refers to Gerard as “her Gerard” is that where Jon got “our Gerard” from?? I feel betrayed??

whatever, I’m reclaiming it. Our Gerard is meant with affection now babey! 

the eye portrait is a bit puzzling. the inscription - ‘“Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grant us the sound that we may not call.”’ - could almost be read as an invocation against the Eye? But in general Gerry is fairly Eye-aligned, so...shrug emoji

(honestly my main takeaway from the eye portrait is that it’s finely detailed and near photorealistic so we can add “tortured artist” to our list of Gerard Keay traits and is it any wonder that he’s so Fandom Beloved?)

Mary is Not Good at negotiating sales. her main technique involves terrible tea, bringing up repressed childhood trauma, and getting her magic book to drop animal bones onto customer’s shoes. I’m guessing Pinhole Books was in bad shape even before the police investigation and murder charges.

hahaha, the Vast pushes Dominic down the stairs. classic. you gotta grab what opportunities are available

so did Gerard have to follow Dominic back to his flat and wait awkwardly on the doorstep at like 3 in the morning, hoping none of his neighbours would notice and call the cops

the revelation that Mary’s been dead the whole time! this episode may be more intent on world building and plot set-up but damn if it isn’t still a good little ghost story.

kind of rude of Gerry to just burn a book in this guy’s flat without asking and then steal his wastepaper basket.

Jon may not call the statement giver a liar for once, but never fear, he’s still our petty bastard man. accuses Gertrude of filing statements without reading them, has Sasha double-check Martin’s research, grumps about his general misfortune . he’s stressed from the Archives’ disorder and having flashbacks to a certain picture book but by Jove, that won’t stop him making snide comments on what’s supposed to be an official audio transcription!

[wee-miss-noone]

C’est la Vie, C’est la Mort (or an Odd Encounter in a Bar)

Warning: the following content includes foul language AKA swearing, mentions of violence and death. Nothing explicit though.

It’s also not so well written but hey, everyone has their hobby. And this is mine. Pseudomacarbe stories.

Read at your own risk.

I curse thee, I curse thee for eternity...

I was walking, not sure how long. Maybe hours, maybe years. Stumbling through the streets and roads, from nowhere to nowhere, without purpose or goal. Just keep moving, do not stay in one place too long. I was a leaf in the wind, never free to rest. Welcome nowhere and never satisfied. How it went? Unyielding. Restless. Yeah, that old chestnut. I cracked up at the cruelty of that joke and paused for a moment. I looked around. I arrived in a city. Or so I assumed. It looked like a ghost town, empty, dirty and forgotten. Windows shattered, glass shards glimmering on the pavement that’s cracked and filled with holes. Walls covered with graffiti and stains of questionable origin. Signs with names of streets missing, fences torn down, most of them having already succumbed to wildlife and weather.

Only one place was still open in here. It was a small shabby-looking bar right in front of me, not very well kept at that, though far from falling apart. The neon sign blinked weakly, only half of it lit, so I couldn't even figure out the name of the place. A bar at the end of the world. An absolute shithole for a complete loser. How did the old master put it? The smelliest shit attracts the most flies. Yeah.

I stared at the bar for a long while, the neon sign blinking back at me.

A drink does sound nice…

I entered. 

The inside had only slightly more charm than the outside. The bar consists of only one room, the furniture - an odd mixture of long wooden tables and small metal ones, ordinary wooden chairs, an old piano, three or five tall leather chairs next to the bar. The black and white wallpaper although lacking vulgar drawings had yellowed with time and smoke and was coming off at the corners, revealing grey concrete walls underneath. There were no decorations, no pictures on the walls, no flowers aside from some withered weeds standing on every other table along with a cheap yellow candle. A low hanging dusty chandelier in the middle of the room was giving out weak light, not enough to cast aside the shadows lurking in every corner. Some of them even looked alive. More than some of the customers anyways. 

I shivered as I made my way to the last free table at the back of the bar. 

Luckily, none of the customers seemed to as much as lift their head to acknowledge my existence, sketchy figures looming over their drinks.

The barman glared at me like I was an intruder. Must not be used to strangers coming by. Or maybe I just looked that bad.

I murmured something incoherent to him - a half-apology, half-order - and his frown deepened as he vanished behind the curtain separating the bar from the back. 

Firstly, I fought he was going to call some sort of security, a bouncer or a neighbour to kick me out. However, as soon as I sat down he appeared at my table with a surprisingly clean glass and a bottle of what I presumed was whisky. No questions asked.

That was an hour ago. 

I blink at the bar through an almost empty glass. Not even alcohol makes this place look better. Who would have thought that an attention seeker like me would end up hiding his face from the rest of the world? And in such a dump nonetheless. But then again, shit and flies...

“For your pride, for your crime against heavens as great and grave as it was, you shall be punished...”

“Can I sit here?”

A sweet voice interrupts the unpleasant memories. 

I look up. 

In front of me stands a woman in a long red dress, her luxurious manicured fingers already set possessively on the table. She perfectly contradicts her surroundings. It must have taken hours (and more than one person) to make her hair and make-up. Although she wears no accessories her dress looks expensive too. Her figure stands out in this yellowish shabby bar more than a diamond in the mud. She's too fancy for this place, too elegant. Too alive. What happened to her to come to a place like this? Better not ask. She might ask back. 

“Until now you have only sewn without once thinking about consequences - from now on you shall only reap.”

She leans over the table in the most provocative way, revealing the full depth of her cleavage. 

“Can, I sit here? Pretty, please?” she tilts her head with anticipation. 

Then I realize I must have been staring at her for too long.

“I...ugh, sure,” I mumble at last like a total imbecile. 

She smiles and sits down.

“Are you new here?” she purrs seductively. 

"I've never seen you around."

This woman's a regular? 

“I’ve never been to this bar before,” I admit choking down the last bits of my drink. She bites her bottom lip.

“Is that so? So what about I show you around, stranger?”

I look into her eyes, dark and deep like an endless night. I can see them asking for my name. 

“Thine name shall be fear, thine friends shall be worms. The grave shall be thine home, funeral thine party.”

“You better let it be, “ I breath out. 

“Why such a grave expression now?” she jokes, not aware of the irony of her words.

“Nothing, ” I growl as I raise my glass, but then I realize it’s empty. 

She laughs. A nice hearty laugh so at odds with what I have been hearing for the last few days.

“Where are my manners, darling!? ” she snaps her fingers at the barman. “Joe, whisky and white martini!” 

The barman growls something back and starts messing with bottles behind the bar. 

“Drinks are on me,” the woman winks at me. 

“Well, at least this round.”

“Thanks, but you really shouldn’t get involved with someone like me,” I protest, but I don't sound too convincing. 

“You have no idea how dangerous I am.”

She leans in, my words only seem to attract her more. 

“Oh, stranger danger?"

Her gaze slips down to my lips. Oh, gods those eyes… 

Just when I think she’s about to kiss me, she leans back on her chair, with a mischievous expression.

“We are just two lost souls getting a drink, nothing more. So what’s the problem?”

Her eyes study me. I shiver but don’t look away. She seems to enjoy this little game.

“You shall spread only death whenever you go, whoever you meet. No matter whether you wish to, no matter whether a child, a mother, a king a peasant, your scythe shan’t stop.”

The barman brings the drinks. I turn my attention to the glass with gratitude.

“Nothing,” I dodge the question as I take a sip.

“I Nothing a drink wouldn’t fix.”

Total lie, but I like the idea.

“It seems that you had a hard day, huh?” she asks playing with her glass.

“No love, no mercy, no justice. Life will spit on you, the living will despise your very existence.”

I turn the glass bottoms up. 

“You have no idea.”

“I take it that you don’t want to talk about it,” she notes playing with the withered rose in the centre of the table for a change. 

I nod. 

“Give it a minute. Or eternity, “ I add. 

“You have all the time in the world, “ she replies. She starts pulling on the petals of the wilted rose in the vase in the middle of the table. 

I pull out a cigarette and light it with the candle in the centre of the table. The burst of flame for a moment illuminates our scene. The bare wooden table, her, me, the cigarette, two empty glasses, the small red rose in her hands, as dry as the drink of my companion.

Or as dead as me.

I watch her hands, mainly because I don't dare to look at her face again. 

They never seem to stay still, always doing something. Now, they stop pulling on the petals of the rose and take the flower and put it behind the woman's ear. She notices me looking at her and winks. I'm looking at her face again. Damnit. 

“What are you doing?” I ask trying to cover up how uncomfortable I am. 

She tilts her head with feigned naivete. 

“Flirting. Obviously.”

She motions towards my cigarette. 

“Just as you are.”

I cough on the cigarette smoke. 

Flirting? I did not intend to do that. But… She looks damn sexy in this light. 

A lazy smile - an old long-forgotten friend of mine - spreads across my face. 

Maybe, a one-night stand would be such a bad idea.

A few drinks, then go to her place and vanish before she wakes up. Or maybe a heated moment behind the bar would be enough. Clothes off but shoes still on, she captured between me and the wall, whispering my name …

“Thou shall become a dark angel, the king of the underworld, the servant of the fate, master of eternal sleep...”

The smile vanishes from my lips. Or, maybe not. Shit.

I gulp and shook my head.

“We really shouldn't do this.”

“Why not?”

I should stand up and leave. I should tell her I have a girlfriend or something. Instead, I look at her and tell the ugly truth. 

“I’m cursed."

Her smile doesn’t wither - only grows brighter. She must think I’m joking. 

“Oh, no!” she exclaims, clapping her hands and turns to the barman. 

“Joe! Two glasses of Rosarita and leave the bottle here, when you’re at it!”

“Alright! And stop putting the table decorations into your hair, got it?!”

The woman rolls her eyes on him and then pats my hand understandingly. This is even better, she thinks I’m a lunatic. 

“How did it happen?” she asks. Her voice was no longer that flirtatious undertone. 

Now, it’s caring… but also curious. Too curious.

“I should be going!” I pull my hand away and stand up quickly, maybe away too quickly.

My head starts spinning and I grab the table to regain balance. 

”You shall see people die, but thee thyself shan’t rest - you became immortal.”

Of all the things that could have remained from my humanity, it’s alcohol intoxication.

A grin appears on my face, bitter like the bile rising in my throat. I make a step forward and almost fall. 

“Ho-ho, young fella,” the barman grabs me by the shoulder and helps me sit down.

"You no abrupt movements.”

Strange, now I understand his mumbling completely. Must be the drinks.

He pours me a glass and forces it into my hand.

The drink is red like blood.

Twenty-nine of the people I saw dying today, were bleeding. Fifteen stab wounds, twelve bullet wounds and two child labours. I didn’t help one. I was not supposed to. I was not able to. 

“It’s fine,” I hear the woman’s calm voice.

“You can tell me. I won’t judge you. It’s not in my nature.“

She sounds convincing as if she honestly believed me. The best goddamn actress I had ever seen. 

I drink. The red liquid is cold but soothing.

“I messed some shit up,” I confess and pour another one. The drink untangle my tongue and now everything up

“I thought myself to be a god. I was an aristocrat and a spoiled kid. And I enjoyed life a bit too much. Hunting, girls. Then the war came. It was the same for me. Killing, girls - though they were dirtier and less welcoming than before. Then the peace came, they celebrated me as a hero. I was a hero. And I had everything. Hunting, killing and one girl.”

“Oh,” the woman sounds like she regrets asking and I - in need to clear my name - shout.

“We were happy!” I close my eyes and Mia’s face appears in front of me. “We were happy. But she was the only child of the highest priest, and she was betrothed to heavens. They took her. I thought I can get her back. I had power, I had an army…”

“You didn’t have a brain,” the woman concludes.

I chuckle at my own pitifulness. 

“And so I became.. this. A cursed fool, not dead, not alive. Doing nothing but taking lives."

The ultimate curse.

“So, he’s the guy Q’s been bitching about?” an unknown voice wonders.

I open my eyes and look up. 

There are at least three human faces, one dog-like face, two skulls and three shapeless chunks of darkness, all watching me intently.

“Yeah,” replies one of those darknesses - the one with one bloody red eye in the middle.

“Where is he from?” another customer asks.

“From Q’s world, duh!” 

“Do I look like I know which world is Q’s?”

“You know that world with that giant sexy goddess,” the barman mixes in.

“I know at least a thousand… two hundred and thirty-four goddesses like that.”

“I think her name is-”

“Myo-,” I fill in automatically still in shock. Is this the alcohol’s doing? No, my companion looks like before.

Then what am I seeing? Demons? Or worse? No, that’s not it...

One of the skeletons - the one with a large gold bow tie - laughs victoriously. His bones rattle against each other.

“Yes, Myo!”

“Isn’t that the world Q works in?” intrigues eye-less darkness floating above the barman’s head. 

“Fired.”

“We were just talking about that. Are you sitting on your ears or what?”

“I don’t have ears.”

“Oh, apologies.”

“Poor Q, wonder where’s he gonna end up?”

“I heard there’s a free spot in the Rabbit world now.”

I look up all the sudden sober. 

“Who is Q?” I ask.

And who are you? I want to add, but I don’t to my surprise more because of embarrassment than fear.

“Oh, Q?” replies the head of a dog - attached to a completely healthy human body as I notice.

“That was the guy who was the Grim Reaper before you. He’s sitting right there.”

He points to a corner of the room. I follow his hand and look behind me.

In the corner of the bar, sits a man in a long dark robe, a pint of black beer in hand. It wasn’t hard to understand where he got his nickname from. His face was a perfect white oval framed with black hair and goat beard sticking out to the side in one slick tail. A literal Q. 

He glances in my direction and our eyes meet. He growls, then looks away.

“I wouldn’t go after him if I were you,” the bow tie skeleton advises me.

“Especially if I were you. He’s still bitter over losing his job. He really liked the place.”

I stand up.

“Well, he can have it back. I don’t want it,” I say, hopefully, loud enough for him to hear me. However, the man with the dog’s head stops me and puts a and on my shoulder.

“Sorry, mate, that’s not how it works.”

“Anu is right,” my original companion joins in.

“Myo won’t allow it. As a matter of fact, I do believe that the only reason you got "punished" this way, was so she would get rid of him. She hated the guy.”

“Yes, Writers know why,” the bow-tie skeleton notes and pats me on the shoulder.

“That’s a Grim Reaper’s life for ya,” he says with a sigh.

I clench my fists. Then let go when it clicks.

All of it. 

I look over all the faces and not-so-faces around me.

It’s so clear no, so much so I want to beat myself over the head for not getting it sooner..

“You are Grim Reapers,” I mumble under my breath.

“You are deaths. All you.”

The dog man and my original companion (Gods I should ask for her name finally) both nod. The one-eyed darkness rolls its one eye and scoffs.

“Hardly all of us,” they reply, “though this was originally supposed to be a Death bar for Deaths!”

Their last loud remark is obviously aimed at the table a few feet to the right. Behind it sits a skeletal woman and a gorgeous muscled well-tanned man in a toga. 

"Life and Death," springs to my mind immediately.

The woman perks up at the remark and turns to our table. Her watery eyes narrow as she stands up and wavers only ever so slightly. (Two empty bottles of wine on the table are a clear indicator of the cause.)

“You have a problem with me, wench?” she hisses.

The one-eyed darkness floats up. They seem to grow in size - both the eye and the darkness.

“I have many problems, but you seem to have one more,” their voice comes in an otherworldly rumble.

“And that is not knowing when to stop showing off your plaything.”

The place woman steps closer. She also grows in size, her figure becoming more and more skeletal with each step. A sword appears in her hand. It’s made of bones. 

“I just wanted to have one. ONE! Nice Valentine’s day with my boy,” she shouts, her voice howling like a storm. "But some bitter bitches just can’t seem to my their business.”

“Better bitch than a slut,” the darkness spats out. The big eye is blood red and more small eyes ope around it yellow and red and burning. The pale woman’s sword emulates cold, freezing everything around it.

“This is bad,” I think, but I also hear soft chanting.

Catfight, catfight!

A small part of me wants to join in.

“Hey, cut it out!” the barman’s voice resonates through burning and freezing air.

“Just because this weekend’s theme night is ‘A Shitty Pub From a Noir Detective Story’ doesn’t mean I will tolerate this sort of behaviour!”

Two opponents look at him with murder in their eyes, but the darkness turns smaller and the cold subsides a bit.

“ Really, you two," the barman shakes his head.

"Either get along or get out."

“They started it!” the pale woman shrieks. Fortunately, her masculine partner is next to her now putting his hands on her shoulders to calm her down.

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers to her and throws an apologetic smile at the barman and the darkness.

“Sorry, she had a bit too much to drink. I left the check at the table, you can keep the tip. Now, common darling...”

“B-but, they were mean about youuuu,” the pale Death vails, “and I was defending your Honouuuuur.”

“I know, darling and you did great,” the Life smiles at her soothingly, as he pushes her towards the exit.

“But now let’s get you sobered up. Your brother needs a little break from subbing from you all night."

The darkness finally shrinks to their previous size, all eyes but the central one disappearing.

“I really can’t stand her,” they grumble.

“You can't stand anyone who has a better relationship with their personification of life than you,” the bow tie skeleton notes.

The darkness glares at him like they wanted to hurt him, but then just scoffs and floats away.

“Sorry, about that, darling,” the bow tie skeleton looks at me apologetically.

“The Destroyer of Life and Bringer of Death can be quite crabby. You get used to it.”

Used to it. Those words send a shiver running down my spine.

“I rather not,” I mumble and my gaze wanders back to Q’s seat. He’s not there anymore. Maybe went for the toilet or whatever the reapers needed to go to.

The woman in the red dress notices my look and sighs.

“I know the beginnings can be hard,” she says, “especially if you haven’t been.. born for the business.”

I look into her eyes. They are still so ridiculously full of life it makes me want to laugh. Or scream.

“Well, I would prefer to leave this whole thing at the beginning. Is there perhaps a chance for you taking my place seeing you are all experienced?” I quip but I know what the answer will be.

She shakes her head again.

“I have my own domain darling. We all do. Our own responsibilities. And our own paperwork. But we will try to help you as much as we can,” she adds.

I want to scoff at such a cheap offer, but honestly, I hope she means it.

“Thanks” I croak.

“That’s the spirit!” the bow tie skeleton pats my back.

“Oh, too soon?”

For some reason his concerned expression makes me laugh.

“It’s fine,” I reply and sit down again.

I look around the bar once more.

A giant monster with skin black as ink, flaming red hair and skull necklace around each of its three necks walks in. When it notices the dog-headed man, it waves at him. The dog-headed man waves back and goes to greet it. The others leave as well. The one-eyed angry one goes to a box, accompanied by another skeleton and the bald man. The other two darknesses leave together to the bar to greet a tall woman with long hair tied with a white ribbon. One half of the face is beautiful and the other lacking any skin or muscle. She snacks on peanuts.

The bow tie skeleton orders some too and brings a chair to my table.

He pulls out a packet of cards.

We still have time for one round before the bar closes (which is at three a.m., I have no idea how I know that, but I do).

He mixes the cards and starts distributing them among the three of us. I still don’t know the name of either of them.

So I ask.

Her name is pretty, he is impossible for me to pronounce without losing my vocal cords. We settle on Monty. 

The barman brings more drinks. A martini for the lady, Rosarita for the newbie, angel dust for the gentleman.

And then we play.