#id day this calls for another I’m a fool I know nothing I may sound like a silly clown disclaimer-

[golden-stag]

—

Gggahh… It’s still so sweet seeing characters support Dizzy like this and seeing more of Testaments soft side ;v;

[sealola]

A guy that ended a relationship with me because he’s had a gf all this time talking that I had no clue about (a little over a year long distance Met multiple times) keeps popping up ever since even though it ended months ago and haven’t seen him since January and contacts me for instance called me and was talking to me like “hey what’s up, I feel like you miss me I didn’t answer then I called him out asking about the girl being like don’t you have a girlfriend and he goes “yeah I have a girl, you don’t want to talk”? And then he goes “I called to say take care” then he blocks me then pops up again just this last week kept viewing my tiktok profile, following me, unfollowing me, calling me from No caller ID many times throughout the day then message me on tiktok for hours going back and forth being like “I can’t follow you sorry” (after following me, unfollowing me, calling me???) and I was like umm and he goes you know why then he kept saying how he has a girl and it would kill her if we did anything again when I didn’t say anything about that?? Then he kept asking me “what I wanted” I just don’t understand....why he’s doing this? Then he called me on the phone twice asking when I was going to Miami again because I mentioned to him I was going then he said I have a girl kept asking me what I wanted from this, then we basically ended the conversation on the phone him saying “it’s over right” kept wanting me to say it? Then he blocked me again on iMessage and tiktok. Why is he doing this?? Especially messaging and calling me at all? When I haven’t done anything to warrant this? And bringing up the girl I went off on him on the phone being like “I’m done talking to that girl I told her everything for her to do nothing but stay so I blocked her and I was so upset again. Why do you think He’s doing this?

hi there, first of all i'm so sorry to hear you're going through this :(

i know sometimes the truth may hurt, but honestly many guys are insecure about their masculinity, and something that makes them feel better about themselves is thinking that he is "desired" by other girls. this may sound like a cliche but it's real when people say "if he wanted to, he would". he may think that you're "available" for him anytime even if you aren't. my best advice is blocking HIM, and if he still finds another way to contact you, i would consider letting his girl know about it. she doesn't deserve this nor you at all.

i don't know you because it's an anonymous message, but i'm sure you are a beautiful and amazing person. don't let this mf fool you love <3

[tenthgrove]

SorLato Week- Day 1

(A/N: Unfortunately this may be my only entry for SorLato week, going for the first time NSFW prompt. I tried to write for the other days but never got around to it. I may try to get another prompt done later on in the week but no guarantees. In the meantime, enjoy this total smut)

NSFW 18+

The small French town, somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, does not have much of a night life. It’s population is old and, even at this early time of night, largely asleep.

A notable exception to this rule, is the two young men who roam the empty street of the shopping quarter hand in hand. It should be noted however, that neither of these men are aware that they are in a small French town somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, because neither of them were awake for a majority of the bus journey they picked at random to get here. Well and truly, these young men are lost.

“Sorbet, where the hell are we?” one of them asks, looking up at his companion, whose breath becomes mist in the autumn air.

“To be perfectly honest Gelato I haven’t the faintest clue. Though I will say that the French sound a lot more French-like here than they did where we were this morning, so I gather we were travelling away from the border.”

“Figures,” Gelato responds. He wavers on his feet, though how likely it is he would have fallen over entirely were it not for his boyfriend’s grip is hard to tell. “Sorbet, I’m tired,” he complains.

“I can tell,” Sorbet notes, glancing at his watch. “I suppose it is time we found a place for the night. How about we find a hotel for a change? We certainly have the money for it.”

Gelato clicks his tongue.

“Who knew handing down a beat-down would pay so well?”

“I did, Gelato,” Sorbet smirks. “It was my job for over a year, remember?”

The pair spot the flickering lights of a small, unbranded hotel at the end of the street. They start towards it eagerly.

“Think they’ll want ID?” Gelato asks.

“Probably not. The unbranded ones don’t usually.”

“Fuck yes, an actual bed!” rejoices Gelato. Sorbet squeezes his hand in acknowledgment and smiles.

It is exactly 5 minutes later that the lovers find themselves alone in a rather dire looking reception, sans even the young receptionist, who has gone into the backroom to look for a room to give them.

“I beg your pardon,” she begins, returning to the pair. “But all we have left tonight are couples’ rooms. Would-”

“We don’t mind!” Gelato interrupts her a little too eagerly. She takes a good look at Sorbet, a good look at Gelato, and it seems to click for her. She puts a key on the desk.

“Alright then, 20 euros please.”

“Thanks. We won’t be staying for breakfast,” Sorbet informs her, sliding over the money. “And if anyone calls, we’re not here.”

“Noted, enjoy your stay,” the receptionist says. Gelato waves her goodbye and the couple depart for their rooms.

It is roughly another 10 minutes after that, that Sorbet finds himself sitting alone on the bed as Gelato tries his luck with the shower. This is followed, quite predictively, with the sound of screaming.

“There’s no hot water!” Gelato screeches. Sorbet chuckles lightly.

“I did warn you this was hardly a 5 star hotel, darling.”

“Sorbet I’m cold!” Gelato whines.

“Then come back to me darling. Let me warm you up.”

Gelato wastes no time in hurrying back out the bathroom, clad in nothing but his underwear, and throwing himself at his boyfriend.

“My poor darling,” Sorbet tuts, rubbing his arm soothingly. He presses a kiss to his Sorbet’s temple and laughs, teasingly.

“You’re so mean to me,” Gelato complains. Sorbet isn’t fooled. He sees the blond’s little smile.

“Oh, I’m downright evil, aren’t I?”

Gelato’s eyes suddenly go a bit wide. He perks up, settling his hands on Sorbet’s shoulders as he straddles his lap.

“Sorbet, you evil, malicious thing? When are you going to have sex with me?” he asks.

Sorbet coughs.

“Sex?”

“I’m just wondering, is all. This isn’t the first time you’ve held me like this, and to be perfectly honest it kind of makes me sad it never goes anywhere,” Gelato teases, touching his nose against Sorbet’s.

“I suppose the opportunity never presented itself, did it?” Sorbet comments. He’s trying to play it calmly, but Gelato can see how flustered he is. “D-does this turn you on?”

“Maybe. Is this an opportunity?”

Sorbet looks at the man in his arms. The beautiful, gorgeous creature he’s crossed a country with for the last month and a half, whose life he would lay his own down for in a heartbeat. He looks at the soft, blemished skin, the bare chest he’s touched so many times but never done more with, the messy, curled hair he strokes whenever his anxieties hit him. Sorbet comes to a decision.

“I don’t see why it can’t be.”

Gelato makes a little noise of excitement and dives in, pressing merciless kisses all over Sorbet’s lips. Sorbet does his best to keep up, but deep down he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Not when his boyfriend is this eager to claim him.

“Fuck, you’re eager aren’t you?”

“How can I not be?” Gelato giggles. He pulls back with an air-headed smile. “So,” he begins. “What do we actually do?”

“We follow our instincts, I suppose,” Sorbet answers him, giving his hips a little squeeze.

“Yeah, okay. But you do actually know what to do, right?” Gelato checks.

“I know what I’ve heard, I’ll say that much.”

Gelato looks at him with shock.

“But- I’m not your first boyfriend right? There were others?”

“There were, but I never slept with any of them,” Sorbet admits. “I felt too… vulnerable, with them.”

“Oh,” Gelato enunciates. “So if you haven’t done if before, and I haven’t done it before… how do we figure this out?” he asks.

“Well, as I said before, I suppose we just go with what our instincts tell us,” Sorbet suggests, pecking him reassuringly on the nose. As Gelato watches, he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, leaning in again to kiss him once more. His hand drifts to the inner part of Gelato’s thigh. “How about I start with touching you? Down here, I mean?”

“That would be fine by me,” Gelato answers breathlessly.

Sorbet slips a hand past the elastic of Gelato’s underwear and paws gently at what he finds. Taking hold, he begins to stroke it gently.

Gelato’s sex drive didn’t suddenly jump into existence when he met Sorbet. He’s touched himself before and liked it, but that doesn’t change the fact it feels so much sweeter when Sorbet does it for him. Already, he’s biting back the urge to moan.

“Does it feel good?” Sorbet checks.

“Mm. Can I- return the favour?”

“By all means.”

Gelato eagerly fumbles with Sorbet’s zipper and undoes his pants and underwear. Sorbet isn’t quite, hard yet, but he’s getting there. Regardless, Gelato thinks he can help him along. He takes hold of the thick shaft and strokes it roughly. He knows this isn’t exactly a competition, but he wants to win regardless.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sorbet praises him. “That’s just perfect.”

“My brain is telling me to put it in my mouth, should I do it?”

“If you want to, go ahead,” Sorbet permits. “Just watch your teeth and don’t push yourself, or you will retch.”

“I know what to do,” Gelato tuts, getting down on his elbows. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit you overhear working in a bar.”

“Is that so?” Sorbet smirks. “Well, by all means enjoy yourself then.”

Gelato wastes no time. He sticks the tip into his mouth and starts to lick roughly, closing his lips around the first couple inches off the shaft as he uses his hands to keep the rest occupied. He mildly regrets that this position doesn’t allow Sorbet to get him off as well, but he’s too turned on by his current activities to care for the time being. Gelato swallows about another inch, so that the tip presses against the upper far edge of his mouth. He isn’t quite brave enough to push it any further, but Sorbet seems happy enough, so he’ll settle for this.

Gelato licks and sucks at Sorbet’s cock until his tongue starts to go numb. He starts to wonder how much longer this is meant to last, until Sorbet places a hand on his cheek to stop him.

“I don’t imagine you’d enjoy it very much if I shot down your throat just yet, so how about we save that for another time?”

Gelato pulls himself off, gulping strongly to try and return some feeling of normalcy to his mouth.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Gelato agrees. “So what next? We fuck for real?”

“I suppose so. Would you rather top of bottom?” Sorbet offers him.

“Do what now?”

“Fuck or get fucked.”

“Uhh, get fucked. Having you inside me sounds hot as hell,” Gelato decides.

“Alright, I’m good with that. I’d think I’d prefer to top, so it works well,” Sorbet accepts. He pauses. He suddenly curses as though having realised something. “We don’t have lube. We can’t have sex without lube.”

“Sure we can!” Gelato insists.

“Gel, you will bleed, and you will cry, and you will hate me. We aren’t having sex without lube.”

“Fine,” Gelato concedes. “I’ll see what’s in the bathroom.”

Gelato disappears into the side room and Sorbet hears the sound of rummaging. Something makes him pause.

"Holy fuck I found some!"

"Really?" Sorbet asks.

"Yeah, there's a bottle in the bin, they must have forgotten to change it. There's still some inside!" Gelato affirms. Sorbet chuckles.

"I would normally be concerned about the hygienic implications of that, but fortunately for you I am very horny. We'll give it a shot."

“Right, let’s try this,” Gelato mutters excitedly, returning to the bedroom. Sorbet takes the cue to wriggle out of his pants. He takes Gelato’s hand as he sits beside him.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

“Not sure. But I want to kiss you lots.”

“In my lap then?” Sorbet suggests. “It’s probably best if you control the pace anyway.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gelato says, straddling Sorbet’s hips once more. He pours the lubricant awkwardly onto them both. He grabs both of Sorbet’s hands, and pauses.

“I’ll admit… I’m kind of nervous,” he confesses.

“You’ll be fine, just don’t push yourself,” Sorbet assures him. “But if you need to stop at any time, just say so. I’ll understand.”

“Okay. ‘Love you,” Gelato mutters.

“I love you too,” Sorbet smiles. They both lean forward. They kiss, and Gelato allows himself to sink down.

There’s an immediate tension in Gelato’s body the moment Sorbet enters him. He lets out a little noise of shock, or maybe pain, before settling his head on Sorbet’s shoulder. His boyfriend pets him reassuringly.

“Gel, are you alright?” Sorbet checks. Gelato nods. “Does it hurt?” Another nod. “We can stop if you want. We can always try again another day.”

“No,” Gelato insists, meeting his eyes again. “I can do this. I want to do this,” he promises. “I just- can’t move.”

“I can take over, if you’d like,” Sorbet offers. Gelato nods. “Alright, I’m just going to lie you down gently,” Sorbet explains, before putting an arm around Gelato’s back and carefully laying him down on the mattress, positioning himself over him. “There, shall I try moving now?”

“Please.”

Sorbet begins to gently thrust the first few inches of himself back and forth inside Gelato, the blond grunting slightly as he adjusts to the stretch. After the first few movements, his body relaxes, and all other signs of pain disappear. He eyes Sorbet with a look of relief.

“How does it feel?” Sorbet asks.

“Kind of neutral, now? Doesn’t hurt any more but it doesn’t really feel strongly in any other way? If that makes sense? Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise! It’s important you’re honest with me. It might not feel good yet because I’m not very deep in. I think the spot I’m looking for is further up. Mind if I try and find it?” Sorbet offers. Gelato is quick to accept. Sorbet slowly pushes the rest of his length through Gelato’s entrance and the blond feels the difference at once. He moans, stretching his legs and rolling back his head as he grips Sorbet’s hands for dear life.

“Oh god, you’ve found it. Right there, just keep doing that,” he pleads. Sorbet just can’t help but chuckle.

“Anything you say, darling.”

The next few minutes go by in a whirlwind of bliss. Gelato quickly gives up on any hint of dignity as he moans without care, and even Sorbet feels his grip on control start to fade. They start to forget that there’s anyone else in the world except themselves, and each other.

It occurs to Sorbet he probably can’t hold it much longer without cumming. Eager not to leave Gelato unfinished, he starts to rapidly pump Gelato’s cock to spur on his climax. A moment later and they’re both spent, lying in a breathless heap on top of each other as Gelato feels his insides becoming filled.

Sorbet kisses Gelato on the forehead, then climbs off of him. Excusing himself, he heads into the bathroom for a drink. He hears his lover calling to him.

“Sorbet, my legs aren’t working!”

“Just stay there my love,” Sorbet says mirthfully. “I’ll clean you with a towel, and you can wash properly in the morning.” He returns to his side with the promised item. “Hey, you did wonderful,” he assures him. He leans in close as though to kiss him again, but Gelato gets their first and nips his lip.

“You know what you’ve done now, don’t you,” Gelato smiles.

“Oh? you’ll have to tell me.”

“I’m going to need that every night now, otherwise I’ll be unbearably needy.”

Sorbet tuts.

“However will I survive?”

Their lips meet once more.

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Female Pro-Box Fighter who is also a Ranger

Pairing: Izzy Garcia x (FemKnight!)Reader

Summary: It follows a girl: Y/N Y/L/N, who currently owns the "Pteradon Champion Zord", along with its DinoSoul Key, who is currently a Professional Box Fighter. The youngest ever to be a pro. What she doesn't know is that she is a direct descendant of the supposed Mythical "DinoSoul" Tribe. [Equivalent to the Ryusoul Tribe]. Her partner, she calls him, "buddy" as she doesn't have a proper name for him. The two of them embark on a journey to figure out who she is, finding an old flame and developing a new crush in the process.

Warnings: None(?) I hope none

A/n: So I just started watching Power Rangers Dino Fury and I'M IN LOVE WITH IZZY GARCIA!! Originally this story’s main character is my MC for Dino Fury, I think ya’ll should have the benefit to have your own character name in this story. However, the touch of MC being a “Ryusoul Tribe” Descendant/Is Ryusoul Cyan/Arctic Knight Ranger is definitely staying in there! Have fun on my first Power Rangers Imagine Series!

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

As you watch from afar, another battle with a sporix beast, you wince at your arm in pain from your weekly practice-boxing session.

"Don't you think you're over doing your job?" A voice asks you

You turn to a Cyan colored egg, "It's a consequence I'm willing to pay."

Later, you were at the recreation center to get your workout in for the day. Nothing too rigorous. As you were heading off to the treadmills you didn't realize you bumped your shoulder into someone, nearly knocking them over. Your instincts immediately kicked in and caught whoever was falling.

"You okay?" You ask the girl wearing green

"Yeah," she sighs as you let her back onto her feet, "You're-you're Y/N Y/L/N! The Best Female Pro-Boxing Fighter!"

"That's me," you smiled but let out a sigh

"I watch your matches every Friday," The girl smiles, "I'm Izzy."

"Do you now?" You ask, "I'm glad you do though. Hey, I'm just about to head over to the treadmills. You possibly want to join me Izzy?"

Before she could answer, she notices her watch going off.

"Another time?" She asks, sighing in disappointment

You could easily see the disappointment in her eyes. You felt for her. You actually looked up to the Power Rangers. The Green Ranger specifically.

"Here's my card," you smile, handing it to her

She mouths 'thanks' before heading off. You go to the treadmills to finish out your workout.

When you walk your way back to your apartment, music blaring into your ears as you don't even realize the people running past you before you see their shadows and with that, you finally look up. Although you weren't as terrified as the other civilians, you were scared. However, before you could even engage battle, the five rangers jump in front of you; the Green Ranger helping you up.

"Get somewhere safe," the green Ranger says

The green ranger sounded familiar.... Was she-? No, not possible. You don't linger on to think about it and run away.

"I thought you weren't afraid anymore!" The small voice says to you

You pull your backpack to face you and you open the zipper; the same Cyan-colored egg.

"I don't need them to know," You whisper, "Not now at least, next time for sure."

The next day, you're at the gym, practicing your punches for an upcoming match.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" A familiar voice calls

You happily stop your workout and turn to Izzy.

"Hey!" You said, "Izzy right?"

She happily nods, "Would you possibly give me some pointers on workouts? And maybe your boxing style?"

"Sure Izzy," you smile, beginning to unwrap your hands

"Green wraps?" Izzy asks, pointing to your bruised hands

"Green's my favorite color," you smile

You could see the pink flush in Izzy's cheeks as she looks at you.

"You want to get started Izz?" You ask, fanning out your hands from their sweat

She shakes herself out of her daze and walks over to you.

After the day, you two walk out of the rec center, you hear her watch beep again.

"Gotta run," Izzy sighs, "But I had fun today!! See you Friday?"

"See you Friday Izzy," you smile

You watch her run off. As soon as she rounds the corner, you look into your backpack.

"It's time buddy," you whisper, beginning to trace Izzy's footsteps

"Finally!" He says

As you round the corner to the downtown courtyard, you watch closely as the Rangers fight a sporix beast; waiting for the right opportunity to make your debut.

"What are you waiting for???" He asks

"The right opportunity to morph bud," you say, taking out a Cyan-colored key and a caliber, similar to the rangers' sabers.

As you continue watching the rangers fight, you notice how they're getting knocked back over and over.

"HieHie soul," you say, opening your caliber's 'mouth'

"HieHie Soul!" It announces as you insert it

You close the mouth of the hilt and open and close it rapidly twice. Your sword begins emitting a triumphant tune as you open and close the hilt

"Kyo!", "Ryu, Sou, Sou!!", "Kono Kanjiii!", "HieHie."

A cold steam emits from your area and is easily noticed by both the rangers and the Sporix beast. You launch yourself off the ground and fly towards the beast, slashing it twice. You land between the rangers and the sporix beast.

"You know, I've been told once," you start, "The more you bully people the harder it is to make friends."

"I'm not here to make friends I'm here to get more Dino keys for Void Knight," The sporix beast explains

"Ooooh," you sigh in disappointment, "You see, that's where We come in; The Power Rangers. This is where we stop fools like you!"

You break into a run and slash the sporix beast, however, he deflects your slash and slashes you. You almost fall back, not until the Green Ranger catches you.

"Hey, Thanks," you sigh, opening and closing your hilt rapidly once more, "Combine our final smashes?"

"You know it," the green Ranger agrees, following your movements

"Ptera-Tiger Slash!" The both of you say in unison, making an 'X' slash toward the sporix beast, defeating it

As soon as it turns into a sporix ball, you immediately catch it just as Void Knight appears. Using your 'cape' you immediately fly backwards, still holding onto the sporix.

"You-Gaisoulg!" You say, recognizing the armor

"I don't know what you're talking about kid but I'm not that person anymore!" He says, "You may have won this round but I will get you next time, Arctic Knight."

He teleports away. You hand the sporix to the red Ranger as they de-morph.

"Who are you?" Amelia asks

"Why don't we save introductions another time yeah?" You suggest, flying away

"Wait!" Izzy calls out to you, but you were long gone

Once you reached your apartment, you de-morph.

"Why didn't you tell them who you are?" He asks

"I know the green ranger and the pink ranger..." you say, "The pink ranger is my ex and the green Ranger is my trainee."

"Oh... Oh that's bad." He says

"Yeah..." you sigh, "Hey I'm going to make food what do you want to watch while you're waiting for me?"

"Cartoons!!" He screams happily

You sigh but oblige to his request and put on the first cartoon channel that was there and leave him to watch his cartoons as you begin making food for yourself; enough to last you the next couple of days.

Throwing whatever food you made into the oven, you clean your hands but hear a vibration coming off the island counter. You turn around and notice your screen lit up. You walk over to it and open your phone back up.

"Oh, it's Izzy," you say to yourself, opening the text

Hey, it's me. So my trainer is helping Mona, who has a broken leg. She told me she wouldn't be able to train me until 2pm, you wouldn't mind helping me out until she's able to come? I have a competition next week and I don't want to train by myself.

Hey, I can definitely help you! What time do you need me to be there? And is the rec center a good place to train at?

5 am, sharp. And yeah! So I'll meet you there! I owe you one Y/N!

No worries!

The following morning you wait outside of the rec center, waiting for Izzy to show. You wanted to be there early, wanting to show her that you'd be a great trainer by showing up early.

"Morning coach," Izzy calls out to you, smiling

"You ready kid?" You ask

"Listen here Coach, you have to be no older than 23," Izzy jokes

"I'm 18," you smile, "And yes, I got recruited at 16. Thus, I'm the youngest pro box-fighter. Ever."

"And I thought you were about 16-17," Izzy teases, "But that's a good thing right?"

"Oh yeah," you say, "It's fun when you give servers your ID to check if you're old enough to buy alcohol and they need to do a double-take to make sure its actually you."

You and Izzy break out into a laugh as you follow her into the rec center to train her.

"Now, what you want to do is make a 'thumbs up'," You explain, "You'd want the trajectory to line up with the tip of your thumb as it begins to land. That way, you can get a greater distance."

You watch her line up her javelin with her thumb and get a running start; throwing it when she had enough momentum to throw it. 

"Wow you were right Y/N!" Izzy says

"Why don't we call it  day?" You suggest, "We've been at this for hours. It'd be nice if we got a break. Unless you still want to keep going?"

"I was actually hoping you could get me started on your boxing style?" Izzy asks, nervously

"Okay," You break into a smile, "But, it's not an easy style to work with. So I'm only starting you with basics today."

Izzy nods, "Okay."

The both of you pack your stuff and move over to the where the punching bags were and you take a moment to rewrap your wrists. 

"Here put these on," You say, gently tossing Izzy a new pair of wrist wraps and padding, "You're gonna get bruises and almost break your skin open and we don't need that. Well, if you overdo it then it will."

As you finish wrapping your own wrists and hands, you look over and notice Izzy having trouble wrapping hers.

"Here, let me show you," You say, kneeling in front of her, gently taking her hands into yours as you thoroughly wrap her hands, “No worries, I’ve had this happen to me too when I began Professional Boxing.”

You didn't realize it as you were so focused on Izzy's wrists/hands, you didn't know she wasn't paying attention to your wrapping skills, but how you looked. You were close to her face, pretty much kissing distance, she fought the urge to pull your face to hers but she managed to win that battle.

"There," You finish, looking up at Izzy, who was just dazed looking at you, "Izzy? Were you even paying attention?"

You got no response other than the 'dazed' look on Izzy's face. You smiled, you thought she looked cute.

"Come on," You say one more time, wrapping your hand around Izzy's and dragging her up off the bench to get her started on your boxing basics.

Part 2

[motherofheckers]

Astraphobia

In which Jestro has a fear of storms.

Pairing: Claytro

Words: 1,227

⚠️There is one instance of strong language in this fic!⚠️

(Trigger warning for thunderstorms, obviously)

Loud. That was how Jestro would sum up the Lavalands. The involuntary gurgle of magma bubbling up to the surface had at first made him nauseous, as had the precarious scraping of rocks. They felt like a premonition for disaster.

However, the jester had gotten used to such noises within a week or two. Now, they simply faded into the background along with the incessant chatter of various scurriers and globlins. Did those things ever sleep? He thought they mustn't.

Tonight was different, though.

The rain felt as if it was attacking the castle from above, an attack with far more vigour than any of the knights' offensives. Static, Jestro thought, it sounds like radio static. Looking out of the window and trying to differentiate the individual drops would be an impossible task - the intensity of the shower had increased instantaneously and was only visible in chillingly cold sheets that would soak any fool who faced them to the bone.

He shuddered at the thought of being alone again during a storm like this. Being sat, huddled into himself under any scrap of shelter he could find: it was a thing of the past, he reminded himself. Hell, he hadn't been stuck like that since his Academy days.

How weird it had been, the first rainy night in that place. Jestro had been wide awake - as he was now - and he could hear the gentle pitter-patter outside. But he couldn't feel it. He wasn't shivering, he wasn't curling up to protect his body, he was... warm. Safe. He had a shelter and, though asleep, a friend nearby. He hadn't been used to that.

For as long as he remembered before, he'd been left to fend for himself. Of course, he figured there must have been someone who helped him through his first few years of life. If not, how could he have been alive? After all, infants couldn't beg or steal food. Whoever had helped him, the boy couldn't remember them. Not their face, not their voice, not their name.

A sudden flash knocked Jestro out of his thoughts. Oh, no. Brow furrowed, he approached a nearby window, however before he reached it he heard the low rumble he was praying he wouldn't.

The jester flinched at the noise. Almost as an angered response, the rain increased in ferocity. Well, he thought with wide eyes and erratic movement, this should be fun. Another flash and rumble emanated from the heavens, closer now. He sat on the floor and sank into himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. He was indoors, he wasn't going to wake up drenched and freezing.

Wait, was he shaking?

A hand brought up to his face confirmed this. Another crash, he jumped. Now his heart was beginning to beat faster. The apparent thunderstorm was surely on top of the castle now. Knowing he was indoors did nothing to soothe the boy, as his breathing hitched and his vision went blurry. He darted to his bed in the middle of the room as hot tears of panic began to drip down his face.

There was no way he could tell anyone. They'd make fun of him. He was evil, for Knighton's sake! He wasn't supposed to be afraid of something like this, he was supposed to revel in it!

And yet.

Jestro frantically crawled his way under the covers, clawing at his face in an attempt to battle the tears that were rolling freely now. He hiccuped and drew his knees to his chest as the storm continued to roar at him. God, what he would give to be able to text Clay. He always knew how to help. He had the feeling that Clay rarely, if ever, slept - he'd always text back within a minute or so.

But not now. Because Jestro had turned his back on his only real friend. He tried to believe the Book of Monsters when he was told the knights had never cared, really, he did! However, the jester's vitriol towards the blue knight was half-hearted at best, and unconvincing at worst.

He curled in further on himself. As the crashes and flashes of the storm went on, he stifled his sobs. Was anyone else even awake? If they were, did they even care? He turned over and stared at his phone on the bedside table. Dare he? Would Clay even answer?

What would Clay say?

What would he say?

...Fuck it.

He reached out an arm, shakier than ever, and grabbed his phone.

Clay's number. There it was. A short, shaky breath. And then:

「can I talk to you?」

Immediately, he cringed and let his mind wander to the worst possible way this could go. Clay would hate him. He was sure he would. God, why did he think this was a good ide-

『Are you okay?』

Well, he didn't plan this.

「no」

「it's the storm」

「there's a huge storm over here」

「i can barely breathe」

「i'm scared」

Silence for a few seconds.

『I'm going to call you, hang on』

His friend's contact flashed up on the screen. Jestro stared for a few seconds, hardly able to see the screen though the tears. Then he picked up and put the phone to his ear.

"Jestro? Jestro, are you alright?" Clay's voice was hushed and hurried, but coherent.

Jestro, on the other hand, could hardly form words.

"I-I-"

"Hey, hey, hey. You're hyperventilating, Jes. I need you to breathe, okay?"

The younger hummed shakily in response, and as the knight breathed slowly and steadily on the other end, he attempted to copy. Eventually, the jester's breathing would be back to normal, bar the occasional hiccup from crying.

"I... can't really believe I'm actually talking to you."

"...Me neither."

For a couple of seconds, only the patter of rain could be heard.

"Hey, Clay?"

"Yes?"

Jestro's tone softened. "Even if I don't know why you're doing it, thank you. For helping me, I mean. I... I really do appreciate it."

Clay's sigh whistled slightly through the phone. "You're still my friend. I do still care, Jes, even if we're on different sides.'

Jestro couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart at the nickname.

"Yeah..." he mumbled, barely audible.

He looked up and realised the raindrops had stalled to an odd little tap by now. A pang of guilt hit him suddenly. Only a few minutes had passed, right? Did he really need to interrupt Clay? Then again, Clay didn't really seem... bothered.

"Jestro, I can practically hear you overthinking over the phone." Clay said in a half-joking tone, "You really don't need to worry about calling me. Again, you're my friend. You can call on me whenever you're struggling, okay?"

He nodded before remembering he was on a phone call, and voicing his affirmation. Even though neither could see it, both boys smiled softly.

Jestro suddenly yawned - he hadn't thought tiredness would sneak up on him - and the thought occurred that it may be a good idea to sleep.

Clay picked up on this, and spoke quietly to the jester, reminding of simpler times in the Academy. As he noticed the other's breath steadying out again, he went to hang up.

But he couldn't help but feel he heard a hushed "I love you" on the other end before he did.

[percysaysfuck]

THREE OLD BITCHES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was fucking lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her shit faced friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious fucking stepfather and his shitty poker parties.

And yet. . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. Id miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little fucked up. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Fucking forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . worried about Percy, sir. "

I froze.

Shit.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking shit about you to an adult.

I inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. "

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can. "

"Sir, he saw her. . . . "

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that. "

"Sir, I . . . I can't fail in my duties again. " Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. "

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now lets just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Fuck.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice. "

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . . "

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow. "

"Don't remind me. "

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

"You look awful. " He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just. . . tired. "

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best. "

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit fucking smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir. "

"I mean . . . " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time. "

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for fucking reminding me. "

"Percy—"

But I was already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of fucking nobodies.

They asked me what Id be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool. "

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't fucking stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . . "

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . . "

"Grover, you're a really, really bad fucking liar. "

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um . . . summer address. "

My heart sank. Grover had a fucking summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion. "

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me. "

"Why the fuck would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adams apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you. "

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who fucking defended me.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really fucking good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks Id ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right fucking at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all. "

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"Were getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on. "

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there. "

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the fucking flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not fucking telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she fucking cut the yarn. "

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to fucking scare me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to fucking die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

Fuck.

[the-ss-zemyx]

PVP(umpkin Spice Lattes)

Zexion and Arpeggio are Discord friends. They chat in private messages, raid in Verum Rex together, and may or may not have feelings for each other.

Ienzo and Demyx are college roommates. They hate each other, for the most part. At least they can both agree on pumpkin spice lattes.

Happy 2nd Zemyx Day of 2020!!

Specifically for today, the S.S. Zemyx Discord Server hosted a collaborative fic-writing event! Over the course of the past five days, four of our writing members teamed up on a Google Doc in one glorious, inspirational, chaotic, frankenstein-esque fic-writing bonanza! That's right, the fic you're about to read is the product of -four- people's efforts!  Enjoy!! :D

(A HUGE thanks to my co-writers: Aliceslantern, Ennarcia, and Carbonpixel. This was a hell of a lot of fun to do and I'm immensely proud of us!! - Mod Arxsia)

Also available on AO3!

__________

      Demyx hated his roommate. Okay, no, hate was a strong word, and Demyx did his best to be a friendly, outgoing sort of guy, so ‘hate’ was definitely too strong a word. He liked to make friends. Having friends was nice. Having friends was very nice, and so, he tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But his roommate was a different story, and Demyx did not like his roommate very much at all.

At least he was easy on the eyes, because everything else about him got on Demyx’s last nerve. His name was Ienzo, but his name might as well have been "Jerk," with a capital J. When he wasn't hogging the Internet bandwidth doing God-knows-what on a chunky Alienware laptop, he was lecturing Demyx on the virtues of keeping the floor free from dirty clothes and giving empty soda cans a proper burial in the plastic wastebasket by the door. Lame. Also, he was a little condescending. That jerk . 

One day, Ienzo burst into their dorm room with the gusto of a hurricane aiming to speak to a manager about a botched coffee order. He swung his laptop bag onto his mattress. It bounced when it landed. "Out," he commanded.

Demyx looked up from his phone. He sat with his legs crossed on his own bed, his Discord app open to a private message thread on his phone. In a few minutes, one of his server friends, a guy with the display name "The Cloaked Schemer" but going by his Discord handle, Zexion#1309, would be starting a voice call with him. It was kind of a big deal--they had been chatting in their shared server for almost a year, and in private messages for almost as long, but they had yet to actually speak to each other. "I'm actually busy," Demyx said.

"I don't care. Out."

It turned into an argument, of course, neither yielding and probably disturbing their neighbors with the yelling. Yep, Demyx didn’t like his roommate one bit. 

He ended up in the lounge by the kitchen, utterly fuming, cursing his idea to “go rando” with a roommate all the while. It’s the best way to make friends, Demyx , his mother had told him. What better friend than a roommate?

Very funny.

At least he’d been able to grab his phone. Of course, Zexion was wondering where the hell he was. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you need to reschedule?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: roommate’s being a dick and kicked me out. Sorry!

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, I too am having roommate troubles. I can sympathize. I know too well what it’s like when one’s privacy is denied.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: he’s driving me NUTS! 

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you tried talking to him about it?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: He didn’t exactly uh seem receptive to talking

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s always a good idea to try for maturity first.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I did! Not my fault the guy wasn’t having it.

Anyway. Id hate to let that guy take up any more time.

Hru?

The Cloaked Schemer: Doing as well as I can, I suppose. I’m enjoying my classes so far. It seems a little easy, but then again, it is only one of the first weeks. Things should pick up more by midterms.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ure too smart zexy. And didnt you skip a grade?

The Cloaked Schemer: A year, yes. I don’t think they call them grades in college.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Considering some of the people ive met, couldve fooled me.

The Cloaked Schemer: If I’m hoping to have a grad degree within five years, I have to fast track it. I’d rather not spend much more time in undergrad than necessary.

Though I am especially resentful that, despite the fact that I am technically a sophomore, I’m considered enough of a freshman to still be required to dorm.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: That blows

But dude, ure here. Might as well try to enjoy the journey, yaknow?

The Cloaked Schemer: Oh, Arpeggio. Your naivete is too obvious sometimes. It’s sweet, I think.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: har har

The Cloaked Schemer: I am disappointed though. I was looking forward to meeting you--in a manner of speaking. You’re probably one of the most sane people from our Verum Rex server.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Issa game, bro. Some of them, idk, take it a little too seriously

The Cloaked Schemer: Well, aspects of it are worth being taken seriously, but I understand what you mean.

Though the ship wars are grating.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha! Yeah.

The Cloaked Schemer: We’ll have to find some other time, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Mann i was hoping to see if you sound as smart as you type

The Cloaked Schemer: You flatter me.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do you think if we lived near each other we would hang out?

The Cloaked Schemer: If it’s all the same, I’d prefer to keep my location anonymous.

At least for now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know. Just a hypothetical question

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d like to say yes.

But for all I know, you’re actually a forty year old serial killer who lives in his mother’s basement.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: harsh

You listen to 2 many true crime podcasts 

Anyway, I g2g. See if the roomie will let me back in. Got homework.

The Cloaked Schemer: Enjoy your night, Arpeggio.

Hopefully one of us has a good one.

Demyx closed the app and repocketed his phone. He flopped back on the lounge couch, eyes squinting at the fluorescent lights above and his limbs ragdolling in uncomfortable directions. A good night, huh? It’d be better if he could spend time in his own room without having to engage in guerilla combat whenever he wanted to exist in his own space. Wishful thinking, he thought.

__________

      Ienzo stared at the chatlog open on his computer screen. The circle next to Arpeggio’s icon turned a dull gray, and the remaining bits of Ienzo’s hope for decent conversation dulled with it. He had finally caught up enough with his classwork to have some free time to spend, finally arranged to voice chat with Arpeggio, finally gotten Demyx to leave the god-forsaken room so he could have the one conversation he’d been looking forward to for weeks , and now… nothing. All that planning, gone to waste. Another wave of irritation hit him, and suddenly he was out of bed and grabbing his keys. He needed some tea.

Ienzo didn’t get tea at the coffee shop, despite his plans. The alluring, hipster scent of pumpkin spice hit his nose instead, and he caved before he could stop himself.

The college employed students as baristas in the campus coffee shop, as part of the work-study financial aid, so it wasn’t uncommon to see one’s peers at the shop. “Hey, Ienzo,” Riku said. It was getting late; chairs were already on top of all the tables. They’d met in Ienzo’s anthropology class.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

“I can bend the rules for you.” He went back behind the counter. “What’ll it be? Your usual?”

He blushed guiltily. “Pumpkin spice. Please.” Curse that glorious, wonderful scent.

He smirked. “Coming right up.”

“I know it’s dreadfully popular.”

“Yeah, cause it’s good ,” Riku said. “As long as you’re not one of those “half-caff, no whip, vanilla and almond, five shots” type of people.”

“Why complicate coffee so much?”

Riku handed him the paper cup. “At that point, just drink coffee-flavored syrup.” There was a pleasant lull for a moment. Riku began cleaning the espresso machine. “So why are you out so late? Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

Ienzo grimaced. “My roommate and I got into a fight.”

“...Again?”

“We are not well suited for each other.” A sigh. “I went to the Residence Life office to try and apply for another room, but the period for that is over. I was told, and I quote, “unless he’s hurting you, tough it out.””

Riku chuckled. 

“He is simply-- obnoxious ,” Ienzo continued, the pressing need to vent taking over. “Slobby, loud, and always around at precisely the most inopportune times. I was supposed to have a call with a good friend of mine, and it took some doing just to get him out.”

“Right, your Discord friend.”

“You have a good memory.” Ienzo swished the coffee around a little; it was slightly too hot to drink.

“The one you have a crush on,” Riku said with a grin.

Ienzo flushed painfully. “I do not have feelings for him,” he said.

“Dunno. You managed to bring that call up in almost every conversation we’ve had. If he was really just your friend, would you be that excited? Enough to hype about it for weeks?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I do not know where he’s from, I don’t know his real name, I don’t even know what he looks like. For all I know, he only uses he/him pronouns online.”

“And?”

“I just… see no reason to desire something I cannot have.”

Riku wiped at the counter. “Oh, don’t be so doom and gloom,” he said. “If the call matters so much, it’s going to happen eventually.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Well, thanks for the tea and sympathy. Er, coffee and sympathy.” 

“Any time.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too. Play nice.” 

“Just promise to bail me out if things go awry, will you?”

“Ha, on my salary?” Riku winked.

Ienzo left the coffee shop. He didn’t want to return to the dorms yet, but the fall night was calm and quiet. He checked his phone (maybe Arpeggio was free? Though he did say he had homework…).

As a stroke of luck, he had a message waiting for him.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I have a room again! \o/ 

the jerk was gone when I got back!

The Cloaked Schemer: How fortunate for you. I assume you’re flying through your homework now?

Mel0d10us N0cturn3: nope! :p 

this science paper is kicking my ass!

Im really no good at this sort of thing

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you have any tutors available? Ordinarily I’d love to help but it might be easier and more private to go there instead.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: \o/

We actually do have one of those tutoring centers I think! Thanks for the idea!

Don't want you to waste your special brain-powers on little ol’ me lol

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d hardly call helping you a waste of my “special brain powers.”

It’s not a bad idea to check your local resources though.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7

Don’t think I’m gonna make any progress on this paper tonight tho lol

The Cloaked Schemer: Giving up already? I didn’t have you pegged for a quitter.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww, come on! Don’t guilt meeee

My poor brain!

It’s mush!

;-; will you not spare some mercy for my poor mushy brain?

The Cloaked Schemer: I suppose just this once, provided you use your resources and go to the tutoring center.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7 Yes sir !

First thing in the morning!

My mushy brain thanks you for your mercy and endless kindness!

Ienzo’s cheeks grew warm, but whether it was from the message on the screen or the sip of pumpkin spice coffee currently running down his throat, he neither knew nor was willing to explore.

Despite the late hour, there were plenty of students milling about campus, taking up their little spaces. It had taken him some time to find an empty bench to sit on, but one eventually caught his eye and he claimed it immediately, sitting down with his coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

The sky was inky black, dotted with stars, the sun long gone by now. Nights were starting to grow just a tad chilly, the beginnings of autumn seeping into the atmosphere. It was Ienzo’s favorite season and the aroma of pumpkin spice wafting past his nose was just what he needed to make up for the disappointment of having his voice call with Arpeggio abruptly cancelled.

Well, maybe not entirely. He’d been really looking forward to hearing Arpeggio’s voice for the first time, but this did nicely enough, he supposed. It was better than sitting around stewing in annoyance over his damned roommate anyway.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so what are you up to right now?

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s a lovely night out. I needed some tea. Got coffee instead.

What is it about pumpkin spice that’s so irresistible? 

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Never wouldve pictured YOU as a devotee of the PSL.

The Cloaked Schemer: Guilty pleasure. 

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: theyre so good. I can’t have that many of them cause caffeine makes me SLEEPY

The Cloaked Schemer: Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: whats that supposed to mean?

The Cloaked Schemer: Nothing derogatory, I assure you.

Though the idea of you being hopped up on caffeine amuses me.

You seem like one of those people who has energy all the time.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: i wish

The Cloaked Schemer: I should--begrudgingly--head back to my room.

You should try working on that paper.

I mean it about the tutor.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: yeah, yeah. I hear ya

Hopefully your roommates not being a dick anymore

The Cloaked Schemer: Fat chance. M3l0d10us N0cturn3: enjoy your coffee~~

__________

      Demyx sat for a long time looking at that exchange. He could’ve heard Zexion say those words. He was just so painfully smart, but Demyx could listen to him say anything. About anything. For hours.

He showered and got ready for bed, hoping that Ienzo would stay gone. But as it was, he was back. Ienzo scowled in greeting.

“Nice to see you too,” Demyx muttered. He noticed the coffee cup Ienzo had set down. Ienzo seemed to live on caffeine and spite. 

“I needed to clear my head, as I do not have the luxury of privacy.”

“Well I gotta sleep somewhere,” Demyx said. He crawled into bed. Ienzo rolled his eyes. Demyx saw him grab his own shower caddy and head out to the communal bathroom. He thought he smelled--he blinked. Slowly, ever so slowly, he got up, crossed over to the cup, and sniffed it.

Of course he likes pumpkin spice lattes, Demyx thought bitterly. Ugh.

He went back to bed and fell asleep listening to music.

__________

      The universe thought it was just so funny. Demyx had taken Zexion’s advice and the tutor he’d met with was his jerk of a roommate. At least Ienzo was unhappy too, if the scowl on his insufferably nerdy face was anything to go by.

“What are you doing here?” Demyx blurted before he could stop himself.

“I work here,” his jerk of a roommate answered in response, “as a tutor, for my work study. I take it your procrastinating finally caught up to you and you need some last-minute help?” Did he really have to be so damn condescending though?

Demyx hiked his backpack strap a bit higher on his shoulder and rapped his fingers on the tutoring center's reception desk. Ienzo could glare daggers at him all he wanted from his seat at the computer behind the desk, but the curious eyes of the other tutors and students around meant that he would have to maintain decorum. They both would, lest Ienzo lose his job and Demyx lose his tutoring privileges. He took a deep breath. "I need help with a biology paper."

Ienzo's expression tightened. "Would you like to make an appointment?"

"No? You said it yourself: this is last-minute." Demyx tapped on the desk. "I need to talk to the science tutor on duty, please."

"It seems like we're both out of luck tonight, then," Ienzo replied dryly, absently clicking at something on the computer monitor. "I'm the science tutor on duty at the moment."

"You? Gross." 

"I'm not particularly happy about it right now, either."

Demyx considered his options, and cringed at his conclusions. His paper was due in two days, and it was only half-drafted. Without a passing grade on the assignment, he would set himself up to fail the class. Petty squabbles were not worth the hit to his GPA. He sighed. "Well, can you help? I'm kind of desperate, here."

Ienzo returned the sigh. "Fine. Follow me."

Demyx followed Ienzo around the reception desk to a square table in the far corner, a plastic chair on each side. Ienzo alighted onto the seat closest to the wall. "This better not be a waste of time."

Demyx pulled his laptop out of his backpack before sitting down across from Ienzo. "Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent people skills? Because if they did, they lied to you."

Ienzo rolled his eyes. Yep , Demyx thought, amazing people skills. They were off to a great start. Getting through this paper was going to be agony. "I'm paid to tutor, not practice social niceties."

The laptop screen lit up as Demyx swiped one finger over the trackpad. A screenshot from one of his more memorable raids in Verum Rex guarded the rest of his files behind his login password. Demyx typed his password as quickly as he could, shooing the image of his and Zexion's avatars away before Ienzo could ask any unwanted questions. Evidently, he did not type fast enough. 

“Verum Rex? You're familiar with it?” 

Demyx nearly jumped, shoulders tensing. He knew Ienzo was there; that shouldn’t have startled him as badly as it had.

“Duh? It's only the best MMO on the market right now. Not that you would know, since you're so committed to the whole 'smug asshole' thing,” He snarked on reflex, feeling slightly guilty about it afterwards. Ienzo was being friendly for once, or was at least making something of an attempt at it. Yikes. Demyx wasn't usually one to make low blows like that. He opened the Biology folder on his computer and selected the draft of his paper, making an effort to get along with Ienzo while they were forced to sit together. "Please help me with this? If you would be so kind, please?" Demyx made praying-hands in Ienzo's direction in apology.

Eyebrow rising - was it just one, or both? - Ienzo shot him a look, obviously unamused in the slightest. “If you’re trying to be cute, it’s not going to work.”

Demyx pouted and opened up his biology paper, turning the laptop toward Ienzo. “Fine, fine, just help me?”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Ienzo was just about to lean in to read what Demyx had so far, when the familiar sound of a Discord ping had Demyx scrambling to turn the laptop back toward himself. Shit. He’d forgotten to close his Discord window before showing up at the tutoring center.

While Demyx closed the Discord app, Ienzo watched him carefully, contemplative. “You use Discord?”

Turning the laptop back, Demyx gave him a look, half in disbelief because surely Ienzo was too much of a nerd, but not in the cool way, to know what Discord was, and yet he did. Shit, it would be really awkward to end up in a server together. “Yeah, who doesn’t use Discord these days? I mean, especially if you play games or are into, I dunno, any fan community stuff.”

For a moment, Ienzo said nothing, slowly turning to look at Demyx’s biology paper on the screen. “Alright, let’s see what we have to work with so far, if anything.”

Demyx sighed. Asshole.

__________

      Was this some kind of joke? Ienzo was being pranked, wasn’t he? Any moment now Demyx would start laughing about wasting his time and walk out, like the lazy slacker he was. Halfway through, he half collapsed on the table.

“This is impossible,” Demyx whined. “You don’t really understand this stuff, do you? You’ve gotta be lying.”

Ienzo felt his eye twitch. “Not all of us are lazy fools who give up after 15 minutes. Why are you even here?”

“Because my friend said I should, and I trust his advice. He never leads me wrong, so even if I have to spend time with you , I’m gonna do this.” 

"Your friend sounds like he has the sense that you very much lack," Ienzo deadpanned, scrolling through Demyx's paper. He took stock of the misformatted section headings, missing in-text citations, and the off-center data table in the middle of the mess. The topic of the paper did not appear in any of Demyx's written work. "Can you tell me what this assignment is supposed to be? I can't tell from what you've given me."

"It's…" Demyx shrank back in his seat. "I don't know what it's supposed to be. My professor gave us all a table of data-results-things and told us to organize and analyze them. I don't know what he wants, exactly."

Ienzo huffed, and almost slammed Demyx's computer closed on the spot. Thankfully, his better faculties kept him from breaking Demyx's laptop. "There's your problem. You can't complete an assignment if you don't know what the assignment is . Email your professor for clarification and request an extension. If you do it early enough, they might grant you leniency."

"Really? That's your advice? Beg my way out of it?"

"Not begging. Requesting. It shows forethought, self-awareness, and emotional maturity, even if you don't actually possess any of those things. The adage of faking proficiency to gain proficiency has some truth to it." Ienzo pushed the laptop over to Demyx. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

Demyx's arms crossed, and his expression took on the quality of a betrayed toddler. "You didn't even help me with what I came in for, asshole."

Ienzo waved away Demyx's indignation with a dismissive hand. "There's only so much I, or any tutor, can do without having a good idea of what your professor expects. Emailing is the best advice I can give right now."

"So if I email my professor, you’ll help me?” 

“I give you my word.” A promise made in haste, if only to appease the barest responsibilities of his job. Hopefully Demyx wouldn’t make him live to regret it.

Not long after Demyx was gone, Ienzo checked his Discord app, surreptitiously on his phone behind the reception desk, to find a message from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy, this worst thing ever just happened!

My roommate is my tutor!

Save meeeeeee

The Cloaked Schemer: That is peculiar. Though colleges are small worlds, so I hear.

What did he have to say re: the paper?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Ugh he couldn’t even help

Because I had licherally no idea what the professor wants

I mean, the dude has an F on ratemyprofessor so

He said to email and beg for clarity and an extension

The Cloaked Schemer: ...That is sound advice, actually.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Youre taking his side???

The Cloaked Schemer: Not exactly.

But in academic situations, it always looks good on you to take the initiative and seek help when you need it.

I guarantee the professor will work with you, and perhaps be able to refine that same assignment in the future.

If he’s worth his salt, he’s seeking to improve himself the way you are.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I GUESS

You wanna do a raid tonite? 

The Cloaked Schemer: Alas, I, too, am a college student with coursework.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: RUDE

Ienzo leaned back in his chair in the campus library. How coincidental, he thought. He’d just given Demyx the same advice. Then again, college papers--especially in the sciences--were not always diverse on the gen ed level. He recalled Demyx’s paper; he should’ve asked him to see the email, or post, or handout with the assignment on it. Chances are the moron had merely misunderstood.

Demyx liked Verum Rex. Perhaps they could have this to talk about. Ienzo wondered who he mained. Probably Yozora, he thought with a sneer. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Actually, I can do one raid.

ONE. Brief. Raid.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Thats more like it! \o/

One raid turned into two, then Ienzo ended up staying in the library, at the tutoring center, until it closed.

__________

      Demyx begrudgingly took Ienzo’s advice. After his marathon raid session with Zexion, he sent a brief email--agonizing over the wording--to his professor, who responded almost instantly with an apology. Several students had already asked him about the assignment, it turned out, so he was going to extend the entire class’s deadline. But if Demyx needed a few days after that, he could have it.

“You were right,” Demyx murmured out loud, as he read the email the next morning. 

“Of course I was,” Ienzo said, not looking up from his desk. “See? All it takes is a little maturity.”

The irony. Demyx grimaced. He looked over at him. “So you’ll help me?”

“When--and only when--I am on duty,” he said. “I have a life outside of work, you know.”

Demyx wondered how true that was. Ienzo spent a lot of the time in the room if he were not in class or in the library. Did he have friends? Did he go to societies? He nearly asked. Then he looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in weeks. He had bags under his eyes, and was washed out, books spread in a circle around him. “Outside of studying, too?”

Ienzo opened his mouth, then shut it. “I am not here to socialize. I am here for a degree.”

“But don’t you… have any friends?”

“Of course I do,” Ienzo said, just a little too quickly. 

Like he would honestly tell Demyx. “Sure,” he said, shutting his laptop and tucking it into his bag. “Well. I got class. I’ll see you at the center later?”

“Much to my chagrin,” Ienzo responded evenly.

Demyx’s day was ordinary other than that. After the professor clarified what he wanted in class (and, to Demyx’s immense relief, it was much less daunting than what he’d thought), he stopped by the library to check out some books which might point him in a vague direction. Ienzo could tell him if they were any good. He stopped by the coffee shop to grab a croissant and a coffee, and, on impulse, got one for Ienzo as well. The idea of it made him nervous. Maybe I’ll say they made an extra by mistake, he thought. He already knew Ienzo drank them.

There Ienzo was, sitting in the office. “It’s you,” he said in an unreadable tone.

“It’s me.” He cleared his throat. “Um…” He thrust out the coffee without saying anything else.

“Is this for me?”

“Uh, yeah.” He felt his face heat--though why? 

Ienzo took it, looking confused, and sniffed the small hole in the lid. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked--”

“No. I do. That was kind of you.” He blinked, his expression odd, slackened; Demyx realized it was without malice. “Let’s get to work, shall we? I don’t want this to take any longer than it has to.”

Ienzo helped him structure the paper, and reviewed proper citations with him. It would take a little work, but seeing it outlined, Demyx felt a lot less overwhelmed. Something he thought was a mammoth project would maybe take an hour or two to write.

“Once you have it written, come back and I can help you with grammar and syntax,” Ienzo said.

“Awesome.” He took a deep breath. “I feel… a lot better now.”

“One typically does when one stops procrastinating,” Ienzo said. He leaned back in his seat. For a second--but just one--he sounded like Zexion, all firm and proper, genteel without being rigid.

__________

      "You got your grade back already?"

Demyx beamed as he held his laptop screen-out, his browser logged into the university's online grading system. One score was listed under BIO 101, labelled "Paper 1." The percentage displayed next to the assignment name was higher than Ienzo expected from Demyx. "I didn't completely fail!" he practically cheered.

"So you didn't," Ienzo agreed, nodding slightly at the number from his desk. "It's amazing what a bit of work will do."

Demyx dropped himself onto his bed and turned his laptop. He bounced on the mattress a few times while he looked at the number. "This is the best news I've gotten all semester and it's the best feeling. Is this what it's like to be a genius and get good grades all the time?"

Ienzo returned his attention to his own laptop, where a half-drafted essay mocked him with its blinking text cursor and nonsensical thesis statement. He clacked another line of bullshit into the document. It was for English class, he reminded himself. Any answer was correct if it could be argued well. "No, not really. You get used to it."

"I… I should thank you," Demyx said, after a beat of silence. "For your help. I wouldn't have had anything to turn in at all if you hadn't told me to email my professor."

Another line of bullshit trailed across the screen. Ienzo squinted at it, unsure of what he had typed. "Don't mention it. It's my job."

"But still. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ienzo could hear Demyx shuffling on his bed. "So… you play Verum Rex?"

"Fairly regularly, yes."

"Do you do raids or multiplayer at all?"

Ienzo shot Demyx a warning glance. "I already have a raiding group. I'm not looking for another one."

Across the room, Demyx had tucked himself into bed, his Star Wars sheets pulled all the way up to his chin. He blinked at Ienzo unceremoniously. "Jeez, forget I asked. No need to be snippy about it."

Demyx's head disappeared under the covers, and Ienzo returned his attention to his essay. At least, he tried. The Discord notifications in the corner of his screen kept distracting him.

Eventually, Ienzo admitted defeat and opened Discord. All of the messages were from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: hey, do we have an opening on our raiding party?

Zexion?

Oh nvm he said no

What are you up to?

I'm taking a victory nap after getting a good grade on that paper I had to 

write a while back

My roommate is typing something and he's so loud

What is he writing that makes him so angy

The Cloaked Schemer: I am also typing angrily at something

It is a universal collegiate experience

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: still so angy tho

Are you angy atm?

The Cloaked Schemer: I am… frustrated

I'm meant to be dissecting the themes in a short story but I feel like I'm only spewing garbage on the page

Perhaps if I present the garbage with enough conviction, I will be able to maneuver through this class

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: if youre writing it, it's definitely not garbage :P

you need to have more confidence in yourself, Zexy

The Cloaked Schemer: Ha. I think my roommate would disagree

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: well then he's a bum

Tell him that

Arpeggio says so

Ienzo looked back at Demyx, cocooned in spaceship bed sheets and doing who-knows-what under the cover of bed linens. He thought he saw the flash of a phone screen through the fabric, but the light disappeared as quickly as he caught it.

The Cloaked Schemer: I'll pass. He seems busy.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Busy doing what? Bum things?

The Cloaked Schemer: I certainly hope not. We're in the same room right now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: oh. Awkward

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ll say.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so you know ive been thinking

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you? What a concept.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha ha.

Its been a while since we tried voice chatting

Maybe we could try again?

The Cloaked Schemer: You would want that?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I want to hear your voice. To see if youre actually as smart as you write

Maybe youve got, like, a transatlantic accent, or something. Thatd be cool

Ienzo blinked, staring hard at the screen. His heart beat a little faster. It was so hard to determine tone through text. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Maybe I’m not as cool as I seem.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: highly, HIGHLY doubt it

Youve kept me sane

I really appreciate our

Ienzo saw him type “thing” and then frenetically edit to “friendship.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

The Cloaked Schemer: The feeling is mutual.

A long, long pause. Ienzo did not know what else to say. His face was burning.

The Cloaked Schemer: Normally I’d rather be caught dead than admit this.

But it does get somewhat lonely here.

It’s nice to have someone to talk to.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know what u mean

Sometimes i feel like i dont really know who i am

And like college is supposed to be about finding that

But its hard.

The Cloaked Schemer: You don’t have to tell me twice.

Part of why it’s so easy to exist in online spaces, in games. Appearance doesn’t matter. It’s like being a more concentrated version of oneself.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do u feel like a more concentrated version of yourself?

The Cloaked Schemer: When I talk to you.

Ienzo’s heart was pounding. He thought he heard Demyx sigh across the room. Was he typing too hard?

Arpeggio started and stopped typing several times, just making Ienzo more nervous. What is he going to say? Did I push it too hard? Was I too forward?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Me too, Zexion

I wish we knew each other. Like, irl

Getting to do raids in person

That would be so fun

And i dunno, maybe do other things

Go out to eat. Go to the movies. Maybe go dancing.

Do u like clubs?

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ve never been.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: it takes some getting used to

But the energy of a crowd is electric

Especially with people you know

Oh god oh god oh god , Ienzo thought. His hands were trembling. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Where would we go to eat?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: anywhere you want

Well. on a college students budget anyway

-laughs in poor

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, so, five star cuisine, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Just dont order the lobster

In all seriousness. We need to vc sometime

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes.

There’s going to be a raid event on Saturday. Perhaps then?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Depends on if i have the room :/ 

Wanna say yes so bad

The Cloaked Schemer: I know the feeling.

I suppose if I get desperate enough I can rent out a study cubicle in the library.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww you’d do that for little ol’ me?

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes, I

His finger slipped, hitting the enter key a moment too soon before he could even finish the thought in his head. His hands felt almost clammy, the inner mechanizations of his mind working on overdrive, as if trying to race against the pitter-patter beat of his heart. Shit. Perhaps… Riku was right after all? Had Ienzo, usually so level-headed, actually developed a crush on Arpeggio? It was utterly nonsensical, and yet he couldn’t deny that he felt a comfort with Arpeggio that he didn’t feel with anyone else he knew, online or offline. Was it possible to fall- ...to develop a smattering of feelings for someone based on typed text alone?

Well, wasn’t that a theme in literature? Two people falling in love over written letters? For all Ienzo knew, there could very well have been instances of it happening in real life, in the days of old, long, long before the age of technology and the internet. A pair of penpals, miles and miles of distance between them, communicating through the written word; it could happen, couldn’t it?

Hold on. When the hell did he turn into a sap ? Frowning, Ienzo ran a hand over his face, feeling like a lovestruck fool.

No. No, this couldn’t be a crush. Just because it was so easy to talk to him, just because they’d been talking for a year or so by now, it didn’t mean-

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy?

You ok?

Shit, how long had he zoned out for? 

The Cloaked Schemer: Sorry. Got distracted.

But regardless, I think we should aim for Saturday.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Great!

Hoping we don’t get interrupted by our dick roomies

The Cloaked Schemer: Quite. It’s a date, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Yes :3

Ienzo took a deep breath. Regardless as to whether or not this was practical, it seemed that Arpeggio reciprocated his flirting.

Wait. Ienzo looked at the screen, cheeks heating up as he realized he’d typed the word ‘date,’ and Arpeggio said ‘yes .’ He couldn’t deny the little flutter of his stomach in that moment.

__________

      Demyx set his phone aside, his heart beating heavily in his chest, his face bright red. He swallowed. There was no way sleep would come easily now, and it probably wouldn’t be until Saturday.

He thought about the nature of crushes. He’d never seen Zexy’s face, or heard his voice, but he was so adept at weaving words in the way Demyx wanted to be with music. He tried to imagine him, what he might be like.

He rolled onto his back. Ienzo’s frenetic, noisy typing had stopped. Demyx sat up, rubbed his eyes, and pretended he’d been napping the whole time. “You good?”

Ienzo shut his computer quickly, like he’d been doing something questionable. “Yes. Fine.” He was a little out of breath. What the hell had he been writing?

Demyx blinked. “I’m gonna go get a coffee,” he said instead. “Want me to bring you one back?”

“Sure,” Ienzo said, his face flushed.

Demyx shook his head. Well. If Ienzo needed to take care of that he had at least a few minutes now. “Cool.”

The whole time he was at the coffee shop, he kept thinking about Zexion, all their little conversations. It was evolving, and evolving fast. Demyx knew from brief experimentation with dating apps that just because a person sent you some flirty words didn’t mean anything would come of it. For all he knew, Zexion lived in New Zealand, or something.

That didn’t stop him from wanting it.

He drew a deep breath, exhaled. Well. Saturday he would find out.

Demyx wasn’t going to let Ienzo ruin his chances of meeting Zexion. He decided to strike preemptively, pausing at the door of their dorm room and sucking in a breath, steeling himself. He could do this. He could ask his roommate for the room for one night, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hey, so, I have a thing Saturday,” he said vaguely. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t coming off as strongly as he intended, but he could still try. “Mind if I hang here alone for a few hours?”

Ienzo glanced up. The flush was gone, and he seemed much more composed. “Yes, that’s fine. I was going to go study anyway.”

“Study? Don’t you ever have any fun?”

“Perhaps I find studying fun,” Ienzo said.

“Suit yourself.” As he passed on his way back to the bed, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Ienzo had Discord open.

__________

     Friday night, Demyx barely slept. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Crushes didn’t usually… hit him this hard. It’s dumb. It’s so dumb. His loneliness was getting to him. Even Saturday morning, there were some hours until the events started. He looked at his DM history with Zexion. They’d spoken briefly, only to confirm a time and place for their characters to meet and chat. He sat at his desk, his hands trembling, as the game booted up.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: You ready?

The Cloaked Schemer: Of course.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Cool.

My mic isnt like great

But you can still hear me

He was shaking. He was shaking. “Get it together,” he muttered to himself.

The Cloaked Schemer: You’re a broke college student. I’m not expecting a professional setup here.

Though I will say my booth is pleasantly soundproofed.

Let me connect.

And Demyx thought his heart might stop. I’m so gay, he thought. A second later he heard that familiar call connection. He twitched a little, and his mic clattered loudly on the floor. Shit!

“Arpeggio? Are you alright?”

“I just dropped the--”

A long, long pause.

He knew that voice.

“Zexion?” He picked up the mic and set it down.

“Arpeggio?”

“I dropped the mic.” Demyx swallowed.

“You…” Zexion fumbled for words. “Speak a little more, please.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re in a library right now.”

“And you had an event… Saturday.” 

“Ohh my god,” Demyx mumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, just that he was feeling a lot of it. “Ienzo. You’re Zexion?”

“It’s an anagram,” he said, his tone numb.

“Seriously, this whole time--”

“Evidently.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but at the same time, there was something warm in his chest.

Wait, no. No. This was Ienzo, and they hated each other--

Demyx realized he was panicking. He also, vaguely, in the back of his mind, realized the call had disconnected.

Demyx spent the next few minutes desperately trying to control his breathing, trying to not focus on how Zexion- No, Ienzo- was so disgusted it was him that he’d immediately dropped the call.

Of course. Of fucking course. The universe hated him. The universe had it out for him, surely. Why else would this have happened? He finally meets this sweet, smart, wonderful guy who takes him seriously and actually likes talking to him, on a regular basis , and then… And then… It turns out to be the very same roommate who hates him. That would just be his damned luck, wouldn’t it?

Grabbing his pillow, Demyx face-planted into it, pressing it furiously against his eyes to stop them from burning, to stop the tears that threatened to spill. Of all the people it could’ve been. Why Ienzo ? 

Demyx had been nervous enough as it was, afraid the person on the other end would think him annoying - his voice, his tone, the way he just couldn’t fucking shut up sometimes when he got excited about something. Alternatively, the filter between his brain and his mouth was immensely weaker than the filter between his brain and his fingers, and he could’ve said the wrong thing, unable to stop himself in the same way his hand can catch itself on the enter key before hitting it, or quickly delete the message before Zexion could read it.

But this was so much worse, because Ienzo already knew him, already had an impression of him, and that impression was far from good. It’s no wonder he disconnected the call so suddenly. He likely couldn’t stand hearing the truth any longer, stomach churning with disgust, head filled to bursting with regret, and not just regret over the voice call, but everything .

An almost entire year’s worth of conversations, soiled now, because Demyx was, well, Demyx . A slob. A slacker. An idiot. He wasn’t worth Ienzo’s time, and now he knew he wasn’t worth Zexion’s.

A sharp ache spread over his chest, cold and numbing, all of him tense with it. He… liked Zexion. He very genuinely liked him, so excited to get to talk to him, his bristling nerves aside. All week he’d thought about it, daydreaming, wondering what the person on the other end would sound like, if he’d love that voice as much as he loved the text on his Discord screen.

It no longer mattered, not when it was now clear that Zexion - no, Ienzo , was utterly disgusted with him.

It was over. It was all over - their friendship, a year’s worth of personal conversations, these budding feelings he was beginning to have, or that he’s been having for a while now…

On the flipside, was Demyx disappointed that it turned out to be Ienzo? He… didn’t know the answer to that, still reeling in the fact that Zexion, his dear friend and crush, hated him. The pillow was starting to suffocate him and he instinctively pulled it away from his face, eyes still burning. He sucked in some deep breaths and just when he was finally on the cusp of calming down, his door swung open so fast Demyx feared it’d break off the hinges. 

Ienzo leveled him with a determined stare. “You.”

__________

      Ienzo sat.

And sat.

And stared, and sat some more.

He was dizzy. Slowly, so slowly, all the pieces clicked together. The coffee. The references to Verum Rex. How they were always just missing each other. The whole tutoring scenario. Good god . So this person he’d been harboring feelings for this whole time was--

He pressed a hand to his forehead. And yet, a small part of him… was relieved?

It could be…

No, it couldn’t be anything! They hated each other! They’d complained to each other about each other more times than Ienzo could count. They had--

Ienzo felt the walls of the study booth begin to close in around him, pushing the breathable air out of the room. His ribcage constricted around his lungs, and his heartbeat pounded at his temples. He gathered his laptop and microphone in his arms and burst out of the room, chest heaving.

He braced himself against the outer wall of the study booth and willed himself to breathe normally, his head tilted all the way back to rest on the door. This was real life, and he was fine. He would be fine, anyway, with a bit of finessing. Okay, perhaps a little more than a bit.

Ienzo retrieved his backpack and stowed his equipment inside as he analyzed the situation. Arpeggio and Demyx were the same person. A strange revelation, but not world-ending. He could find another raiding party. He could join another server. There was more than one person with whom to play Verum Rex.

But--

Ienzo caught himself zipping and unzipping the top pocket of his backpack, more forcefully than necessary each time. A new server didn't sound appealing. A new raiding party, even less so. He would have to chat with new people, learn their idiosyncrasies and fighting styles, learn their pseudonyms and remember how they differed from their usernames. It all sounded so… hard, and boring, and unnecessary. 

He zipped his backpack closed for the last time and held it at his side by its tiny top handle. Its back straps kicked at his calves as he raced out of the study area, through the main lobby, and into the courtyard. His mind was set. His choice was clear. The only thing to do was follow through.

Ienzo made a beeline back to the room. He found Demyx sitting cross-legged on his own bed, his computer accessorized with a small budget microphone and his face awash with something that looked like guilt. His eyes widened when Ienzo crossed the threshold. 

"You." Ienzo's statement rang out like a gong.

Demyx swallowed. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk." Ienzo shut the door behind himself. It slammed closed, though Ienzo had not intended for that. 

"...yeah." Demyx turned back to his computer, fiddling at the USB port where his microphone connected to the rest of the machine. "Ienzo, I--"

"Shut up." Ienzo stalked into the room, single-minded. He stopped at the edge of Demyx's bed. "Shut up and listen, for once."

Demyx's shoulders rose to his ears. He stayed quiet.

Ienzo dropped his backpack to the floor. Though his fingers trembled, his resolve held firm. The moment of reckoning was upon him. "Did you know?"

Demyx shook his head.

"Did you want to know?"

He responded in a whisper, pained and hushed. "I wanted to meet Zexion."

Ienzo's hands trembled faster. He balled them into fists to compensate. "And now that you know," he said, "do you regret it? Wanting to know? Learning the truth?"

A tear trailed down Demyx's downcast cheek. "No."

Something deep inside Ienzo wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears that followed, while Demyx's breath caught in gasps over his laptop keyboard. Ienzo steeled himself. "I… don't regret it, either."

"You don't?" Demyx looked up and met Ienzo's gaze with caution. Aside from the red tinge at their edges, his eyes looked almost hopeful. 

Ienzo softened, relaxed his fists. "I don't want to find a new server, or a new raiding party."

Sniffling, Demyx nodded. "I don't, either."

"I don't want to stop talking to Arpeggio," Ienzo continued, his heart playing timpanis in his chest. "He is a close friend of mine."

"He's also your lazy roommate." Another tear escaped, this time going down the side of Demyx's nose. Demyx wiped at it with the heel of his hand. "Ienzo, I--"

"We've had differences. We've also had commonalities, albeit in virtual space. There's no reason we cannot bring the two together."

"Ienzo--"

"There's no reason we should be at each other's throats. We--"

"Ienzo!" 

He blinked. The drum performance in his chest missed a beat, then started from the top at full speed. "Yes?"

Demyx unplugged the microphone from his computer, sighed, and tossed it to the far edge of his bed. "I don't think that will work."

Ienzo frowned and crossed his arms. He was beginning to remember why he and Demyx didn't get along in meatspace. "Why, pray tell, is that?" he asked.

Demyx swallowed again, more conspicuously than before. "It's just… I…"

Ienzo leaned forward, his head cocked to the side. "You what?"

"I, um, I…"

"Go on. I don't have all night."

Demyx pushed his computer aside and drew his knees into his chest. "I… shit. I had a thing for Zexion." His shoulders hitched with sardonic laughter. "Shit. Fuck. This sucks." He reached behind himself for his pillow and buried his face in it. "This is so embarrassing," he whined, his voice muffled.

Ienzo's budding anger deflated. "You… you did?"

Demyx nodded into his pillow. "Uh-huh. And now you know, too."

Ienzo opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't make the words in his head form coherent phrases. His throat sputtered with half-formed consonants instead. Words. For fuck’s sake, wasn’t he good at words? Why was this suddenly so damn hard?

"This is the worst," Demyx groaned. "Just kill me now. Make it look like an accident. Tell my family I loved them. Don't let my sister take my bedroom at home."

Ienzo's faculties returned in the bumbling, clumsy way that drunkards stumbled home from dank local pubs. "I... don't think that will be necessary," Ienzo managed, through his own confusion.

"No?" Demyx put his pillow back in its place, and faced Ienzo with dried saline clumping in his eyelashes. "What, are you gonna torture me instead? Make me regret being born? Because you're a little late on that front, buddy, I already do."

Ienzo took a deep breath. His crossed arms dropped to his side, then held each other at the elbows. "I may have developed… similar feelings. For Arpeggio." Ienzo's mouth went dry. The drum performance upgraded itself to a full marching band drumline, twenty-five snare drums pounding paradiddles and rolls in synchronized sweeps. 

A silence consumed the space between them, interrupted only by Demyx's sniffling and Ienzo's heartbeat. It stretched into the abyss and the stratosphere in equal measure, and stung more acutely than the idea of never speaking to Arpeggio again.

Demyx broke the silence by clearing his throat. "So…"

Ienzo coughed. "So..."

"Are we…" Demyx unfolded his legs and swung them over the side of his bed. His hands grasped at his mattress, and his head hung from his shoulders  "Are we, y'know… do we still, like…"

"Do you want to be?" Ienzo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Friends, cohorts, party members, server mutuals? Or…"

"Or what?" 

"Or…" Ienzo trailed off. Or what, indeed? Friends with benefits? Significant others? Boyfriends? The mere thought made Ienzo's palms sweat. "Or…"

In the moment between Ienzo's efforts to name his emotions and act on them, Demyx had sprung up from the bed and slipped his hands around the sides of Ienzo's face, his thumbs resting just below the apples of Ienzo's cheeks. His breath tickled at Ienzo's nose and lips. "Or… this?"

Heat seared at every inch of Ienzo's face. If he could feel Demyx's breath, Demyx could feel his as well. "...I suppose, yes."

"In that case," Demyx murmured, somehow purring and wavering at the same time, "tell me no." He rested his forehead on Ienzo's. "Tell me no, and we won't. I promise. Things can go back to normal."

A whimper, wholly undignified and unbidden, escaped from Ienzo's higher register. "I can't," he whispered.

Demyx leaned forward, and Ienzo followed. At some point, they met in the middle, and the world's axis shifted two degrees to the left. It was a tentative press of lips, but Demyx’s hands on his face kept him anchored. It didn’t feel like Ienzo thought it would, and self-consciousness invaded. Suddenly Ienzo felt very young and immature; vulnerable .

But… after a moment or so, not so much. Demyx was so warm against him, and Ienzo realized it was a learning curve, one he was picking up with his usual speed. He was shaking a little in disbelief. It was so-- nice.

Demyx pulled away and brushed his fingers across his cheek. "You're trembling."

"Forgive me. I--" He swallowed.

"No, it's cool." Demyx pulled away and smiled, brighter than Ienzo had ever seen someone smile before. "Do you… want to go again?"

Ienzo did, very much so. "I'm not opposed, per se, but I think we should… explore our relationship a bit. Perhaps starting with our mutual interest in pumpkin spice flavors." 

“Sounds like a plan to me, Zexy,” Demyx grinned.

__________

      Riku set the pair of pumpkin spice lattes down on the little square table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, glancing at Ienzo, then Demyx, then back at Ienzo, one eyebrow shooting up into his hair. “Is the world ending? Did I miss a memo on the corkboard in the back room?”

Ienzo coughed. He was vaguely aware of the heat rising in his cheeks. Damn it all to hell. Of course Riku was here, why would it have been anyone else? Sighing, he gestured to Demyx, bracing himself for the inevitable bit of humiliation, courtesy of the one friend who knew about his very apparent crush on his Discord friend. “Riku, meet Arpeggio.”

Riku’s other eyebrow shot up into his hair. “You’re shitting me.”

Demyx looked across the table at Zexion, clearly trying to fight the incoming of a shit-eating grin. “You talked about me to people?”

"Only the unimportant ones," Ienzo said, picking up his cup and sipping loudly.

“Psh,” Riku spat with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, and every damn minute of the day. If I had a dollar for every time you made heart eyes at the ceiling while talking about him, I could quit this job and pay off my tuition.”

Ienzo balked at that, nearly choking on his latte. “It was not that often.”

Waving a hand, Riku corrected himself, looking pointedly at Demyx. “Wait, no, he’s right. I’m forgetting that half the time, he’d be complaining about his horrible room-”

“Shouldn’t you be behind the counter?” Ienzo hissed, glaring at Riku. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Demyx’s gaze flicking between him, like he was watching a game of ping-pong. “Or should I text Sora and Kairi about all those little hearts you like to draw around their names on the garbage receipts every time they come in?”

"Go ahead. I'm ninety percent sure they're both into me, anyway."

Ienzo pulled his phone from his pocket and brandished it at Riku. "Are you willing to test that theory?"

"Make sure you write it down," Demyx chirped, blowing into the hole in his drink's lid. "If you write it down, it's science. I learned that in Biology this semester."

"I'll do more than that," Ienzo said, tapping on his phone screen with both hands. After his phone played a short 'whoosh' sound, he placed it face-down on the table. "Images sent. Now we wait for our results."

Riku scoffed, then balked, then turned beet-red. "You're an asshole," he hissed through his teeth.

"Relax. I was just kidding,” Ienzo said with a glint in his eye that Demyx barely caught.

"Forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical." Riku scowled for a moment, but eventually softened into a smirk. "Whatever. Enjoy your Discord date, Casanova." He knocked on the table once before returning to the checkout counter.

"Discord date?" Demyx asked, taking a swig of his pumpkin spice latte. "I thought we were hanging out in real life."

"Let's not split hairs. We're about to see a show." Ienzo jutted his chin in the direction of the cafe's front door. As if on cue, Sora and Kairi burst through it like a duo on a mission.

“Oh Riiiiiiiiku!” they chorused in sing-song at the top of their lungs.

"Sometimes," Ienzo said, turning back to Demyx, "I like to watch the world burn."

“Yeah, I know. That’s actually kind of hot,” Demyx admitted, taking another sip of his latte. "Remind me not to piss you off again, though."

[apex-academy]

Chapter 5: Caring Is a Hazard to Your Health (#21)

The rest of the day is a blur. Some pool. Some Centipede. Some vapid conversations I barely remember as I’m having them. A cooking lesson that’s more lecture on Japanese sauces than actual cooking.

I don’t run into Aidan again. I’m not sure if I want to. Certainly I’m not going to try anything now, but... I don’t know. I don’t know.

I end up in the sauna dangerously late in the day. The only exit is to the bathhouse, which closes at nighttime... Would I be stuck in here overnight if I stayed too long? Punished? I bet I could stay awake. Wonder what happens in the restricted rooms at night. Cleanup and restocking or something. Maybe I should try staying in the kitchen. Eat some coffee beans straight up to keep from falling asleep and see how the heck Monochap sneaks in and out of there.

But for now, I’m just...

“...”

It is kind of pleasant in here. I may be bundled up a bit too much for a sauna, but it’s supposed to be hot anyway, right? As long as I swig plenty of water after this, I should be fine.

“...”

“After this” might need to be “right now,” actually. No use getting too light-headed. Or, well, I don’t mind having fewer thoughts, but I probably shouldn’t be taking health risks. I can worry about nighttime escapades later. I should... attempt to get some sleep.

After a cold shower. I don’t think I’ll be needing a warm bath after this.

...

"Um, hello! Good morning! It is now 7:00, so the off-limits areas have been reopened! I-I hope you all have a nice day…!"

I wake up again. That’s always good.

But when I make my way towards the cafeteria...

“Sounds like some kind of ruckus going on.”

I open the doors, but...

“.....”

No people, less noise. Uh.

I back up into the hallway and try next door. The gym. Sounds like maybe the hubbub is in here instead? Did I miss a summons to an early morning sports tournament?

Is someone...

“........”

No, that has too be too many voices. Right? If someone had been discovered, the jingle would have played...

“......”

It still takes me a minute to open the door.

People are still talking over each other, but I don’t see any bodies on the floor or fists flying.

Knives, maybe. But not fists.

A thud rattles the still-collapsed bleachers behind Kaichi’s shoulder. In true Kaichi fashion, he hardly flinches.

“Woooooow!”

“I’m next, right? I’m next?!”

“No way, dude!”

“That’s right! No one is going next!”

“What?! Nono I’m next!”

“Wh...”

“This is a completely unnecessary risk! Cease at once!”

“Risk? Surely you don’t mean to question my skill.”

“Seems pretty skilled t’ me.”

“.............”

I always manage to forget I should worry much less about these people dying than just being idiots.

Before anyone can notice I’ve joined them, the knife digging into the stands slowly tilts, then falls. Kaichi manages to pull his foot to one side before the blade clatters to the floor.

“Haha, whoopsie! You okay?”

“Looks like I still got—” he tilts his head down to check—”ten toes, s’. Yeah, sure.”

“That—”

“That makes it clear how dangerous this is!”

“Like, nothing happened, though?”

“That was a matter of luck!”

“Fool! You think any part of this is merely a throw of the dice? No divine weapon of mine will harm anyone unless I bid it.”

“Considering how consistently you threaten everyone, I don’t find that comforting!”

“So, anyway, it’s totally my turn, right?”

“It’s no one’s turn!!!”

I walk inside just as he’s about to blow a gasket. The door falling shut behind me is enough to get a little attention.

“I would ask what’s going on, but I think I have a good enough idea.”

“Ah, Kogamino!”

“If you understand, would you mind talking them out of it?”

“I’m afraid I’m having little luck.”

Another thud interrupts before I can say a word. Ichiriki starts laughing.

“Woooow, that one was super close! Ahahaha!”

Standing stiffly, Kaichi cranes his neck just enough to get a good glimpse of the knife now separating his face from his surfboard.

“Nice.”

“There.”

“Now the next wretch may step up.”

“I’m the next wretch!!”

It’s surprisingly hard to jump in and stop something when you can’t fathom why they started in the first place. Are we seriously that bored? Didn’t we just wake up? At least eat before you start throwing crap at each other, geez.

“Nuh-uh! I’m next!”

“How did this even start?”

“Well, like, Yuks was gonna make omelettes this morning? So we all kinda ordered ‘em or whatevs, and, like...”

“...”

“Amid the conversation as we waited, that one saw fit to issue a challenge.”

“I did?”

“And then things happened, and now we’re here!”

He finishes, as if he’s being the most helpful one here.

“I had been assisting with the cooking when I realized everyone had left, so I peeked out to see what had happened...”

“And you were met with a fun surprise, huh.”

“Yeah-huh! It’s super fun!”

“That’s great.”

“Actually, I just came over to see who got the first omelette? Because it’s finished.”

“Ah, first should have been... Riseiin, I believe?”

“Nice. ’m out, then. Later, brahs.”

“I don’t think the rest are far behind, so if you’d like your food warm, you can come back to this later.”

“I suppose that may be for the best...”

“Consider it a mercy to those of you bound to time, hmm?”

And just like that, the party dissembles to go for the door. Tsunyasha walks—like a normal human being—over to the stands to retrieve her mystical-whatever knives. Mahavir stays back, presumably to make sure she doesn’t kill me while we’re still here.

...I really hope Yuki’s almost finished. Maybe I don’t need to follow everyone over all that quickly.

Tsunyasha gets all her knives put away in quick order, but we’re still the last ones out. Mahavir, as usual, spares me from having to open the door.

As we cross into the hallway, I see Monochap opening the doors to the dorm area. Before I can wonder what he’s up to now, Aidan wheels himself out, with an uttered sound that I don’t think is actually a thanks. Upon seeing us, Monochap gives a little wave and a disturbing giggle before fleeing towards the Main Hall.

Aidan seems a little more pleased to see us.

“Good morning! I hope I haven’t missed anything?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

“...”

“Has Monochap been opening doors for you?”

The handicap buttons in this place haven’t been working since we woke up here. I hadn’t spared them a second thought, but now we actually have someone in a wheelchair. Guess that’s how it usually goes.

“When necessary.”

“Unfortunately, my student ID was reset to its original settings before they gave it back to me. But whoever did that also added an option to signal Mister Monochaperone for assistance.”

“It isn’t my favorite recourse, and I’m not sure why it’s necessary when it isn’t that difficult to summon him otherwise, but it can be useful.”

“Ah, to have a demon at your beck and call.”

“Quite fitting for a black-hearted sinner like yourself, hmm?”

“Don’t you start this again...!”

Aidan holds up a hand.

“Calm down, Mister Attenborough.”

“Miss Tsunyasha, I appreciate saving your comments for a more private discussion, but I’m afraid they are still highly inappropriate.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion of me, but I fail to see how repeating it does you any good. I cannot take back what I’ve done, so I would prefer to focus on what I can do at the moment, if possible.”

“Oh? Is this a sorely misguided plea for mercy, worm? You think I must gain something from this?”

“It is merely my job to ensure those of your corrupted ilk cannot walk away from their sins freely.”

He’s not doing much walking at the moment, in case you haven’t noticed.

“You call this walking away freely?!”

“Mister Attenborough.”

“.......”

Aidan turns back to Tsunyasha.

“Whether it’s sufficient for your tastes or not, I assure you I have most certainly been punished.”

“I can’t ask you to approve of my sins, as it were, but if you truly care about doing the right thing, your priority should be ensuring the safety of the other people here.”

I only see a flash before there’s a knife at Aidan’s neck.

“Then I should eliminate you now, yes?”

Aidan stares evenly back at her.

“Do you really consider me such a threat? I am incapable of physical combat, I am unarmed, and I would have severe difficulty engineering anything to kill another in this state. No one here has anything to gain from my death.” His gaze strains towards the knife. “This is nothing but a very rude gesture, and I would like you to stop now.”

“Oh? You still think I would follow a worm’s orders?”

“Why don’t you follow this?!”

Mahavir lunges at her. Aidan winces as the knife skirts along his jaw. Tsunyasha hops back an extra pace, and Mahavir tilts dangerously before catching himself on the wall. Huffing, he doesn’t seem able to push himself back up too quickly. I put myself between Tsunyasha and Aidan for good measure.

“So you’re relying on your little guard dogs, are you, whelp? You truly think they’re any match for a Holy Assassin?”

“I’m not a guard dog, you just need to stop?”

“I am not trying to rely on any physical enforcement here—” a pointed look at Mahavir—“nor am I giving you orders. I am merely pointing out that there is much more to being ‘righteous’ than harassing those you deem to be sinners.”

“So you question my judgment, worm?”

Your judgment is nothing if not questionable.

“More like questioning your ‘righteousness,’ or ‘holiness,’ or whatever else you’d like to call it!”

He finally shifts his weight back onto his feet.

“Regardless of who did and didn’t die, at least Doppler has done everything he can to help us!”

“What have you EVER done for anyone else here?!”

“Stir up trouble, mostly.”

“Hmph. Only just now I was providing you ungrateful whelps with entertainment, was I not?”

“And no one died, if I must remind you of that.”

“As a fluke! You easily could have injured Riseiin! It was only a matter of luck that he didn’t have any toes sliced clean off! And I shouldn’t need to tell you even foot injuries have the potential to be lethal!”

“...What did I miss here?”

“We can worry about that later.”

“The potential, certainly.”

“But a far less sure shot than firing a gun into someone’s chest, hmm?”

“But that wasn’t for amusement!”

“And yet it still happened.”

“I truly don’t understand how you could possibly favor that sinner’s actions, but I suppose your wicked ways are just that far beneath me.”

“It’s because you don’t understand that you’re the only threat here!”

“Oh, I’m quite a threat to those who would dare try taint my holy name. Would you like a demonstration, whelp?”

“No one would like any demonstrations!!”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

“We get your freaking point, okay? You could stab a serious burn victim and a wheelchair-bound child to death with ease if you really wanted to. Congratulations.”

“You want to prove you’re such a great assassin, how about you wait until practically anyone here is in decent physical condition? You’ve held out this long. I’m sure you can handle a little longer. Or is patience suddenly not one of your holy virtues?”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t think for a moment you can understand the essence of a Holy Assassin, fool.”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t.”

She spins the knife once around the gloved part of her finger and sheaths it.

“Very well. I tire of these pitiful negotiations of yours.”

“I’ve a reward waiting for me, anyway.” 

She takes a few steps towards the cafeteria.

“Use this opportunity to think about what awaits you.”

Not an omelette on my end, I’m guessing.

“Any more of this and I assure you, whatever awaits you won’t be a reward.”

“Mahavir. That’s enough.”

“........”

Mahavir stares Tsunyasha down as she walks away. Even when the doors close behind her, he doesn’t turn away.

“......”

I hear a rattle and open my eyes again. Aidan’s started to wheel himself forward.

“Miss Kogamino. Thank you for stepping in.”

“No problem.”

“...”

“I’m halfway surprised you’re not upset about being called a child.”

“Well I don’t appreciate it, but I can understand it was for emphasis.”

“Right.”

He scoots himself closer to Mahavir.

“....................”

“Mister Attenborough?”

“.........”

“...I’m sorry. But she...”

“She can’t just...!”

“I know. She has no right to be making these sorts of threats, but pushing back like that will. Not. Help with her.”

“...........”

“So take a deep breath and come on. We have a meeting to get to.”

“........”

Aidan moves as close to the doors as he can, but Mahavir doesn’t follow yet. Guess it’s not that easy to let it go.

But everyone else is already in the cafeteria, right? No harm leaving him alone to cool down a bit.

I don’t want to think about what could happen if he ran into Tsunyasha again too soon.

[BACK] [NEXT]

[artificialqueens]

don't play the fool now (multi) — chapter five - Roza

[ summary ] : detox is feeling the pressure setting in as she completes the first day of her new mission though a distraction is paving her progress and bianca simply can't catch a break between a cute detective, katya and her own issues.

[ author's note ] : literally it's been so long I CANNOT, I am so so so so sorry omg... most of this was written about november so I am sorry if it's not up to par ): — lily xx

(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) / AO3 / My Tumblr

— *.✧

"Welcome to the place you'll be spending the next few months!"

Detox dropped the two boxes she was carrying in from the minute she had stepped into the elevator with Tatianna who had been showing her around the offices and police force building: this was by far the most idiotic and yet stressful mission the blonde had to deal with thus far.

Become an entirely different person

Pretend you're a transfer from another department

Get close to the captain of the unit

Murder or get information. Or both.

The details hadn't been worked out yet but Bianca had made it clear that Detox was not there to play around and flirt, she would be doing all the undercover work.

It was nothing but peachy keen to Detox. A frustration building in her bones. She had to spend the next few days, weeks, months acting like she was up to date with whatever the detectives and police force would make her out to be. Thank god she knew her narcotics, weapons and the basics: murder, how to get rid of fingerprints, stains, bruises, the stench off a dead body, all the things that being a professional had taught her.

She couldn't possibly be that useless.

Changing her hair was the worst part. No question.

Going from royal blue to a blonde bombshell wasn't exactly her style even if it definitely would cover up the overstated hair color and make her seem at least a tiny bit less suspicious with her long, flowing hair now blonde and curled thanks to Aquaria's whimsical hairstyling techniques.

"Welcome to me…" the words leaving her lips in an immensely hushed tone as she stared right back at the detective who gave a smile, eager to see another new worker around in their new and improved NYPD unit.

"You're gonna do great Heather, no doubt's honey."

She decided last minute to use her sister's name as her own for the time being, knowing Detox was a bit of a rough risk and besides: what better way to pay respects to the person and lawyer she had been closest to before going off to prison for substance abuse, smuggling of illegal substances and all the other things she had managed to hide from her transcript.

Bianca I fucking hate you, I really have to pull strings here and by myself.

The older girl butt in to her as the blonde had begun to set up her laptop and trinkets around, praying no more people would bombarde her for today. "You should totally get settled in but I know for a fact that Trinity wants to meet any of our new recruits! She's the unit's captain and I promise you, she's a bit hard hitting but super closested sweetheart."

Trinity .

So this was the person she had to play guessing games with the next few months and woe over in one way or another, to follow and pry her fingernails under.

"I'll definitely check her out."

"Thank you!"

She pulled out first a picture frame that held a sepia filtered photo of Detox, Alaska and Roxxy at their senior graduation together: all dolled up even from the beginning, it was odd to keep such sentiments from the pure and clean days before rotting in crime but what could she say? They were all still together, still best friends even if Alaska sometimes worried more for herself than anyone else, a bit colder than she used to be.

Once she had organized her things she stepped out of the door and made her way around the office, her acrylics hugging the file she had to give to one of her new co-workers for examination. They had spent hours working over the loophole with paperwork but luckily after careful examination and some strings pulled with Katya, they had come up with a solution and now she was Heather Sanderson, born in Maryland and a former employee of the local police department.

"Are you Heather?" A voice spoke behind her gently yet firm as Detox stared at the empty chair confused before wincing and turning quickly seeing a tall blonde with about her hair length and piercing eyes staring at her with intent for a reply back, her ID placed around lanyard which was littered with Canadian flags and text that reads Toronto across the fabric.

"Yes! Are you Brooke?" Nervously extending her hand she was met with a curious recluctentance before the Canadian smiled sweetly, sitting back in her seat once she parked her iced tea on the coaster she had sitting on her desk.

"I am, I know you have the files Tatianna was telling me about if I can look at them. Just the usual medical and background things I have to handle."

Detox looked over Brooke's shoulder, ignoring whatever the detective had to say towards her even though she was sure it was the usual welcome she had become so accustomed to since this morning. She had stepped through the doors starting her new mission, angry that Bianca had to assign her to such a damn cup out: go undercover and pretend you're a decent human being for a few months so we can get a deeper insight and information on the police and detective department.

Peering over her shoulders, she noticed a police officer of average height. Sporting the signature uniform as well as long brunette hair that curled at the ends—lighter highlights cascading from her roots: she had a great upkeep and hairstylist clearly though her dark brown eyes and perfect made over face was the focal point.

Fuck, she's gorgeous.

The same girl had taken off her jacket and threw it on her chair, continuing to chat with the person right near her point of vision, blinking as her makeup shined under the dimly lit up computer screen she was staring at meticulously. Her body hugging her tight fitting blouse and her badge shining.

Brooke tapped the older woman's shoulder with a laugh, "Stop staring with your mouth open, you'll catch flies." Detox rolled her eyes, not about to take shit from her new "peers" as if she were to become close to anyone she had to work within the next few months of the missions allocation.

"That's Trinity Taylor, she's our police unit's captain."

The sirens flared off in her head instantaneously once she fit the last piece of the puzzle: this was the girl, thegirl she had to woe and become close to and get information out of for Bianca, for the team.

Trinity was why she was getting paid and doing this entire mission.

"She's very pretty."

Brooke laughed, rolling her eyes at how dense the new rookie was being. "Yes, she's also got really thick skin, a cold hearted exterior and is surprisingly hilarious as ironic as that may sound." The Canadian shook her head, "She's single but I wouldn't try it, especially since she's your squadron leader and will absolutely give you the beat down no matter the call."

This mission definitely just got interesting.

"Oh don't worry about that, just seeing what I'll have to work with is all."

The brunette caught the eye of the gaggling stares, Detox immediately snapping from it and looking away completely embarrassed though she heard a slight snicker under Brooke's breathe, wanting to slap her. Hearing the thud of the boots under the tiles she simply stood her ground and was prepared to act as casual as possible.

"Morning Trinity." The Canadian hummed aloud, typing across her floral tape covered keyboard pretending to analyze the files while not so secretly deciding to eavesdrop and see where this conversation goes.

"Good morning Brooke Lynn." Trinity crossed her arms and took a look up and down Detox who stood with a permanent paralyzed fear in her eyes, she felt so damn fearless all the time and yet one glimpse of this girl had completely tore her down piece by piece and left her distraught. It was pathetically hilarious.  

"Jesus, I'm not gonna kill you for staring, not like I can blame you." She flipped her hair as Brooke coughed to hide the obvious smirk across her lips as she took a long sip of her iced tea that Adore had brought her from Starbucks. Going vigorously through the files she had managed to find her medical records and began her less than exciting examination.

"Hey, you're the one member of our unit, right?"

Finally feeling enough willpower to respond she bit her lip and nodded, "Yeah, Heather." Trinity gave a broad handshake, firmly holding her hand as the blonde licked her lips feeling a bit out of place already and obviously.

"Trinity Taylor."

"It's nice to meet the person everyone told me to go and scout out in the first place."

Trinity tilted her head to the side and chuckled. She was definitely amused that Detox was so reluctant to smile, to breathe since it was her first day: the atmosphere was always tense but that was just the job. The Floridian could only hope she wasn't threatening in her status and by her looks alone or else the training and all that came after would be a complete and utter disaster.

Detox wanted to slap herself, every time she glanced over or they made basic, polite eye contact her entire body jolted awake and she could tell by her change in expressions that she was utterly terrified. Which was extremely odd considering how calm she felt at her actual profession which was twice was horrifying and awful in danger, stress, you name it.

"Well, your first assignment with me is just a refresher, I'm sure you know basic training coming from another unit?"

"Absolutely."

She ran her nails through her blonde hair as Trinity handed back her files with her eyes gleaming and a smile slipping through, "See you soon, my office is down the hall." A flush crept up on Detox's face as she turned and gave a goodbye to Brooke Lynn who waved back and turned with an immediate sigh, taking one more sip from her iced tea.

"You're hopeless."

— *.✧

Bianca sat aimlessly in her chair, scrolling through the constant masses of emails she had to sort and help with, the requests and the actual patrons and then those who simply knew her as their boss. She had never given most of her own girl's and team her personal phone number to the fact she knew it be taken advantage off. Only three people had her number on this damn circuit: Sharon, Jinkx & Bob.

However, despite this there was still an influx of text messages that read off requests from the other girls to which Bianca would bitterly reply with them to email her and not have Sharon, Jinkx or Bob become the scapegoat for their needs and wants or better yet: just don't bother Bianca!

Well that wasn't entirely the truth however it was close enough.

She understood the tasks she had to take on as a leader even if it meant countless requests and permissions granted.

The older woman's phone buzzed and the corner of her lips curled into a smile, hoping it be Adore whom had been quite a good company even just through the phone the past couple days. Her humour, her personality, fashion sense, job— she was everything Bianca wasn't and it made every exchange the more exciting and yet, opened twice the bigger grey area between them.

From: Katya (3 Unread Messages)

"Oh just this fucking whore."

Relieved she didn't have to think about two hours for a reply Adore sent, She slid open her phone with her fingerprint and sighed before her eyes grazed over the messages plainly.

Bianca! девушка !

I believe we should go and see Trixie since you told me you need to make some transactions...

I can tell you that I would be glad to tag along and contribute ;) xx

Her fingers slid across the keyboard as she typed up a reply.

If you're driving.

You're more than welcome to come with.

She assumed the notification she got almost immediately after her texts was an indication that Katya was already on her way and that she should get ready for her.

I'm outside whenever you're ready, you know where I park.

Blatantly staring at her phone she got up and only took a small blue clutch purse and tied her hair up feeling nothing but discontent towards wanting a development between her and a fucking detective . She could almost slap herself, she actually wanted Adore to text her back and it felt fucking disgusting to actually enjoy human interaction that wasn't the usual rundown about missions, jobs or sewing.

Though the sewing usually only applying to Aquaria who would come and see her on the rare downtime they had. The younger girl always asking about her hems, a new sewing trick or what fabric to use for what kind of silhouette.

She locked her office and gave a quick holler to Jinkx who sat in the common area, reading a book and drinking what must've been her third or fourth cup of coffee judging by the dried stains that splattered across the white cup. Bianca interrupted simply letting her know she'd be with Katya to finish some needed exchange and business.

"Have fun, tell Katya and Trixie hello from me."

Bianca didn't care too much about getting money from Trixie, she was sweet and kept a secret well enough considering her position. Though half of that underlying sweetness was probably from the paralyzing fear that if she ever told anyone she'd be blown out on the spot, no hesitation by Bianca herself.

Approaching the blue BMW Bianca's eyes wandered through her backwoods garage, undeniably pressed that she had to even go to the bank and be in public. She kept her image hidden well, no one would ever suspect Bianca Del Rio as the most known menace and wanted mafia boss in New York. All they would see is a blonde, thick Russian accent and leather jacket on with her friend; black hair, thick mascara and quite the fashionable woman.

At least that's what Bianca had hoped for as a first impression.

Katya's grin sat permanently pursed across her lips as she took the car out of park, turning out of the secluded garage and looking to Bianca for any last minute changes, any final looks of reclusiveness. The older woman cleared her throat, her fingers running through the hair that stranded from her face as she put on her sunglasses with a hard roll of the eyes.

"Let's get this shit over with."

[georgialouisea]

Don’t Tell My Wife - Part 1

Characters - Reader, Patrick Dempsey, Ellen Pompeo, Justin Chambers, Kevin McKidd, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Richard Speight Jr.

Warnings - Fluff, drinking, flirting, future affair.  Word count - 2.4k. Summary - You were happy on Grey’s Anatomy, you felt at home there but when a guest role on Supernatural is offered you’d be a fool to say no. When the guest role becomes a more permanent thing, your relationship with your co-star Jensen Ackles develops too, into something it really shouldn’t.

A/N - So ... just a quick heads up characters mentioned not from the cast of supernatural will be the cast  of Grey’s Anatomy, if you don’t watch the show it doesn’t matter at all just see them as ocs unless you’d like to google it’s completely up to you and your reading preference. 

“That won’t work Derek and you know it, it was a stupid idea and you shouldn’t have ever roped me in, if you’ll excuse me, I have to tell a woman her son will not be making it off the table.” Ripping off your scrub cap you turned on your heel walking out of the shot.

Behind you, the rest of the scene played out Patrick acting everything out perfectly.

“Cut!” The director shouted across the small room. “That was perfect! I love working with you two, always means I can go home early.” She smiled at you. “Take ten and we’ll crack on with this afternoon shall we?”

Walking back to your trailer it still hadn’t fully sunk in how lucky you are even after all these years. Acting was hard, getting a break in acting harder however you seemed to be one of the lucky ones. All your previous roles had been at home in England until you made the move to LA. Grey’s Anatomy had been one of your favourite shows for years, so when you got cast as Doctor Lily Grey a long-lost sister of the main character you felt like you’d actually made it somewhere in life.

“Y/N!” Ellen shouted running to catch up to you.

“Yeah?” Spinning around to face her.

“Meeting.”

“Since when do we have a meeting at a quarter to four?”

“Since now.” She shrugged walking back towards set next to you.

“You know you play my sister you’re not actually my sister.”

“Sometimes I feel like I am.” She stopped walking her hand on your back ushering you towards the closed door to one of the operating room setups.

“Why are we here? What’s happened to the conference room?”

“Nothing, just open it and go in.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Laughing you turned to face her.

“Just go on.” Rolling her eyes she gave you a small push.

Opening the door the room was pitch black, stepping in the room the lights flicked on, the whole cast and crew stood in front of you, party poppers went off as everyone shouted “Happy Birthday!”

“Guys!” Smiling at them you were pulled into a group hug.

The afternoon was spent eating snacks and cake with the cast and crew before rushing home to get ready for the surprise meal and drinks Ellen had planned for you.

-

Walking into the restaurant the table was covered in pink and black glitter, matching balloons floated above the table. “Happy Birthday!” Everyone shouted raising their glasses, a glass of champagne handed to you by Patrick Dempsey.

“Happy Birthday darling.” He whispered kissing your cheek. “Enjoy tonight.”

“Thanks, I will.”

Hours ticked by as you ate and drank with your friends, drinking maybe a little too much.

Staggering outside the warm LA air not doing much to warm you up, wrapping your arms around your waist you waited for the stragglers to follow you out.

“Y/N! You left your coat inside.” Justin Chambers walked toward you your leather jacket in hand.

“Thanks, babe.” Taking it from him you struggled to put it on, staggering away from Justin your back collided with something solid.

“Oof.” Someone huffed behind you.

Turning around you finally got your arm in the sleeve. “I’m so sorry.” Pulling your sleeve down, looking up you took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The man smiled down at you.

Your brain finally caught up with your eyes, you’d fallen into the chest of Jensen Ackles. “You’re Dean Winchester, oh God you’re so pretty.”

“You’re Lily Grey, you’re pretty too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Apologising again you tried to sound as sober as you could but couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Y/N.” Justin walked towards you. “You good?”

“Mhm fine.” You watched over Justin’s shoulder as the rest of the group practically fell out of the bar door. “Mr Dean, Jensen, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” He laughed, his hand reaching out grabbing your bicep he steadied you. “Have you had a good night?”

“So fun.”

“Good.” Smiling down at you his eyes crinkled as he let you go.

Kevin McKidd walked towards you plonking a tiara on your head and kissing your cheek.

“Is it your birthday?” Jensen asked. Nodding your eyes shifted to the two men who had stopped next to Jensen. “Y/N, this is Jared and Misha.”

“Hi.” You waved at them despite how close you were to them.

“Y/N! Where’s Y/N?” Ellen called from the main group of drunk tv Doctors.

“She’s here!” Jared called raising a hand giving her a wave.

“Oh my God.” She sighed walking towards you. “I’m sorry.” She took your hand properly looking at the men in front of her. “You’re the guys from Supernatural.”

“Yeah, we are.” Jensen nodded with a smile.

“Y/N, come on!” Kevin called waving you toward him.

Turning you tried to walk towards him, Ellen quickly pulled you back. “Hey, no, you’ll end up coming home at seven am again.”

“Mhm okay.”

“Cabs are here!” Someone from the group called.

“Okay, so we’re going, enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Bye Mr Dean, Castiel and Sammy!” Waving at them Justin wrapped his arm around your waist walking you towards the taxi.

-

With each blink, the pounding in your head intensified. A glass of water sat on your bedside table half drunk with a bottle of aspirin and a note.

‘I’ll explain everything you’re fuzzy on, take a few pills, drink up, I’m on the couch.’

After reading Justin’s drunkenly scrawled note you threw your arm over your eyes trying to block out the light. “Justin?” Calling out your voice cracked.

Your bedroom door opened, Justin walked in 2 cups of coffee in his hands. “How’re you feeling?” He handed you a cup of coffee.

“Like I was hit by a truck.” Sighing you rested back against the pillows.

“Give me a few.” Justin put his coffee cup on the empty bedside table leaving you alone in bed. You listened to him shuffling around in the kitchen. “Here.” He walked back in with a pizza box in his hands.

“Oh thank God!” Grabbing a slice you sat back, Derek, your Dachshund jumped up on your bed staring at you wide-eyed. Taking a picture of your coffee cup on your bed you uploaded it to Instagram, thanking your friends for last night.

“Did you feed him?” Asking him you stroked Derek’s fur as he nuzzled against your side sniffing at the pizza crust in your hand.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Thanks.” Taking another bite of the crust you gave the rest to Derek. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“I just do.”

“You seriously slept on the couch?”

“Yeah, I’m in the same state you’re in.” Justin groaned falling back next to you.

“Someone should have cut us off.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “You were funny though.”

“What?” Why? What did I do?” You sat up looking at him.

“We ran into the guys from Supernatural.”

“What?”

“You walked straight into Jensen Ackles literally, then you had a little chat with him, I think you called him pretty at one point.”

“No-”

“Yep, they didn’t seem to mind though.”

“Oh my God.”

Your phone dinged from your bedside table.

‘Jensen Ackles followed you.’

‘Jensen Ackles liked your photo.’

‘Jensen Ackles commented on your photo ‘Enjoy your pizza, Miss Lily, Y/N and happy birthday.’

“Well, he’s fine with it.”

“Who?” Justin asked gulping a mouthful of coffee.

“Jensen, he just followed me and commented about last night, can I go back to sleep yet?”

“God yes.” Taking the pizza box off the bed he put it on the table next to him. “I already need a nap.”

--

“How’s your head today?” Patrick asked a day later handing you a cup of coffee.

“It’s fine today, yesterday was the killer, there was a lot of coffee and pizza.” Fixing your scrubs you looked back up at him. “You?”

“Fine.”

Your phone rang in your pocket, not looking at the caller ID you answered. “Hello?” Patrick smiled at you taking a few steps away from you, leaving you to talk alone.

“Good morning Y/N, how was your birthday?” Dave your agent asked.

“It was great thanks, how are you?”

“I’m good, so I have some news for you.”

“Which is?”

“You’re wanted.”

“By -”

“Supernatural.”

“What?”

“There’s a guest role, a hunter and you’re perfect for it, honestly you are, they’ve reached out asking if you’d want to play a badass hunter.”

“Do you have the script?”

“Already emailed over to you.” You could hear Dave smirk down the line. “Have a read through and let me know as soon as you can.”

“Will do.”

“Bye.” Dave hung up.

Patrick smiled at you. “What are you so happy about?”

“I may have just got a guest role on Supernatural.”

“You love that show.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How are you going to work on two shows?”

“It’s only a guest role I can juggle it, I haven’t even accepted it yet.”

In the 3 years, you’d worked on Grey’s you’d quickly made friends with everyone, Patrick and Ellen were closest, they were practically your on and off screen parents, always keeping you in check.

-

“Y/N!” Jared shouted you from across the lot as you were halfway through your tour.

“Jared! Hey!” Grinning at him you gave him quick hug.

“Are you filming today?”

“Not today, we’re on a little tour.”

“Want me to take over?” Jared looked at the PA whos name you were yet to learn.

“If that’s okay, I have a load to do.” She pulled out her phone almost running off immediately.

“Lead the way, Padalecki.”

“Sure thing Y/L/N.” Crooking his arm he held it out for you, linking your arm through his he led you around the set.

Hours later you held a cup of coffee in your hands allowing the heat to warm up your hands. “It’s so cold, oh my God, I hate winter.”

“Yeah.” Jared nodded. “It is.”

“I thought you’d be used to the cold being British.” Misha smiled at you.

“Kind of, I think over the years I’ve got used to LA weather.”

“Wait how long have you lived in LA for?” Misha asked Jensen walked toward the 3 of you.

“Hi.” He smiled at you.

“Hi, erm 3 years.” You answered Misha.

“Have you been home a lot?” Jared asked.

“I go back every few months when I can.” You tried to focus on Jared as Jensen sat opposite you. “I actually want to apologise for my state in LA.”

“It was interesting.” Jensen winked at you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stick around here for long enough you’ll see us all in much worse states.” Jensen chuckled his eyes drifting to Jared. “In fact, we can tell you some stories.”

Crawling into bed 4 hours later you were still giggling at the tales the boys had told you, pulling the sheets up checking on your phone you dropped it down onto the bedside table. Falling asleep with a smile on your face you were going to enjoy spending time with this cast, they’d already made you feel at home.

-

“Morgan.” Dean ran across the parking lot as you threw your bag onto the back seat of your car.

“Yes, Winchester?” Turning to face him, you caught a glimpse of Sam disappearing into the motel room.

Dean came to a stop in front of you. “Hey, erm listen, I just wanna say thank you, I know we barged in on your hunt, took it over and in the end you were the one to save our asses.”

“Damn right.” Smirking up at him.

“So I just want to say thank you and if you ever need any help you have my number.” He took a step closer to you, closing the gap.

Smiling up at him your back was pressed up against the side of your car. “I’m sure I can cope.”

“If you need me.” Dean’s fingertips tucked hair behind your ear. “For anything.” He leaned in his lips brushed against yours waiting for you to kiss him or kick his ass.

Your hand ran up his chest, patting it you pushed him away slightly. “If I need you, Winchester, I’ll call.” Your hand moved across his chest grabbing the lapel of his suit jacket pulling him back against you, leaning up you kissed him hard. Pulling away you smiled up at him. “Like I said I’ll call.”

Dean took a step backwards.

“Goodbye Dean Winchester.”

“See ya around Wilson.” Dean grinned at you as he watched you get into your car, roaring your car to life, your eyes roaming his body.

“Need you, call, I got it, Dean.” Slamming the door shut you opened the window.

“Morgan.” Leaning down he rested his forearms on the door. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Dean, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon.” Dean took a step back from your car.

“And cut!” Speight shouted from behind the camera. “That’s a wrap on the amazing Miss Y/L/N!”

Getting out of the car Jensen’s arms wrapped around you. “It’s been great working with you.”

“You too.”

“We’re going for drinks tonight right?” Jared asked, as soon as you were out of Jensen’s arms Jared gave you a bone-crushing hug.

“Hell yeah.” Nodding, Jared let you go. “I have a few people I need to talk to before I leave set, I love you both I’ll see you tonight but I gotta run.”

“You go, we’ll pick you up at seven.” Jensen smiled down at you.

-

Leaving Vancouver was hard, sure you’d been here for a week but the friendships you’d formed were real. Arriving back in LA taking the time you were stuck in traffic to call Dave.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Dave, Hi I -”

“Y/N, I was just about to call you, the guys over on Supernatural loved you and they want to talk about making your role something more permanent.”

“What?”

“Yeah, they adored you, they want to progress her relationship with Dean.”

“Really?”

“Yes, they think there is a real connection and chemistry between Morgan and Dean.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope, they want to explore it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let them know, congratulations.” He hung up quickly, obviously wanting to get the ball rolling.

Finishing your phone call you dropped your phone into your lap slightly in shock, you’d just landed another role on a TV show you’d loved for years, this wasn’t real, this was a dream. Your phone vibrating in your lap.

‘Welcome to the family.’ Jensen’s text lit up on your screen.

Part 2

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[unsolvedrubixscube]

Midnight Retrieval

Amélie wanders around a Watchpoint searching for her husband.

Short exploration of what the relationship between a civilian ballerina (Amélie) and Overwatch’s leading strategist (Gérard) might have been like.

***

The sound of Amélie Lacroix’s footsteps echoes across the floor as her heel strike the tiles. Her dark dress flows and snaps around her calves as she marches down the hall. Normally, she wouldn’t wear such a thing out in public; one shoulders are so last season, it’s half a size too large, and a seam along her ribs needs to be re-stitched, but tonight isn’t an ordinary night. On an ordinary night, her husband would be home by now, holding her in his arm, in bed. On the bright side, Amélie’s eyes drift around the empty military base; no one is around to notice her fashion foul.

She stops at the end of the corridor cutting her metronome-like canter short. Amélie glances down one hallway and then the other. Both are frighteningly well lit and are decorated with orange and blue patterns on the walls. She purses her lips together.

She has no idea which way she needs to go.

After several minutes of fruitlessly trying to use the compass on her phone to orientate herself Amélie spots a directional sign on the wall, chuckling at her obliviousness, she puts her phone away. She squints at the words, trying to decipher which language they are in. Overwatch is an international organization after all. The letters start drifting around and blurring together.

Amélie blinks rapidly and rubs her eyes. It’s just after midnight, and she’s feeling the last three weeks of rehearsal. Eyes temporarily refreshed Amélie learns her husband should be down the left hallway. She starts off again, heels chipping away at the night’s silence.

As she walks, she takes in her husband’s workplace, an official Overwatch Watchpoint. The military base is similar to its more recognizable counterparts in Zürich but without the massive statues and wall-to-wall propaganda. The base, nicknamed “the Rabbit Hole” by its occupants is more compact in comparison to some of Overwatch’s other locations but no less slick.

Amélie isn’t a tech connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but she knows cutting-edge stuff when she sees it. And she sees it.

It’s in the signs, the pavement, the door handles, the lights, the very nuts and bolts holding the building together. She can feel it in the cameras on her back and the sensors scanning her body. They’ve even managed to make the air smell better, cleaner, somehow. Around her, the walls and floor sparkle and glimmer artificially like the better tomorrow promised by the organization.

She knows she shouldn’t be so cynical of a group that’s saved so many lives and one her husband supports (a rare occurrence). But Amélie can’t help but see the day when politics and red tape choke out the life of the organization and replace it with tour groups and tacky souvenirs. She fears Overwatch may become nothing more a trophy for the UN, proof of the good they once did.  

Envisioning mildly terrible futures has always been a hobby of hers (or a bad habit, depends on who you ask). The gift of being a realist she supposes.

Eventually she reaches the end of her route. A pair of double doors, as shiny as the day they were built, blocks her path. Amélie whips her military ID out of her purse and presses it against the scanner in the wall. There’s not even a pause before the panel beeps out:

“Access denied.”

She frowns and tries again — another error sound. Amélie pulls out her other military ID, spouses seem to accumulate these things, and presses it flat to the scanner. The machine lets out another low synthetic protest. Denied.

Five more rounds of rejection and Amélie is contemplating if she rather try to fool the digital lock or walk all over the base searching for help when she hears the sound of someone clearing their throat. She looks over to see a young man in a blue Overwatch uniform has appeared in the empty booth to her left.

“Good evening ma'am. Do you need some assistance?” he asks in English.

Amélie nods and walks over mentally shifting to the other language.

“Good evening,” she greets the guard. “There seems to be some sort of error. The lock doesn’t recognize my ID.”

Amélie flicks up her card between her two fingers, showing it to the man.

“I’m sorry to hear that ma'am; the locks have been acting up lately due to updates and all. I’ll have to look you up manually. May I have your card?”

Amélie slides her card under the window. The guard takes it and swipes it through a card reader. Absent-mindedly he taps her card on the desk waiting for the computer to come up. Amélie clasps her purse in front of her pelvis and then realizes she’s standing in sloppy first position. She drops her purse to one side and shuffles her feet, so they face forward. The guard clears his throat again and looks back to her.

“It’s a beautiful tonight,” he ventures.

Amélie gives him a polite smile; she’s not really in the mood to make small talk.

“But not anywhere as beautiful as you,” he adds on.

Internally Amélie sighs; she is far too tired to deal with bad pickup lines. Her polite smile becomes tighter. The guard shuffles uncomfortably at her lack of response.

“Thank you,” she says far too late after the compliment.

The computer beeps having finally found her in the system. The guard places her card back under the window. Amélie reaches under and takes back her card.

“Ah, would you like an escort? I can give you a tour of the base. Where did you say you were headed again?” he asks.

A frown flickers across her face. She does not want an escort. She does not want the awkward small talk and lingering glances that will come with an escort. She does not want an escort to witness her husband in whatever state he may be in when she finds him. Most of all she just wants to get her husband and go back to bed.

“I’m sure there’s no need for that,” Amélie cuts in, “I’d hate to waste an Overwatch Agent’s time.”

The guard starts to protest, but the door has already slid open.

“Thank you.” Amélie gives him a small nod and walks away.

“No problem. Um, have a good night!” he calls out.

Amélie presses on, moving deeper and deeper into the Rabbit Hole. She sees more people now. Most of them wear military uniforms or suits, all with their heads buried in datapads or paperwork. The smell of burnt coffee, ink, and politics waft through the air.

She raises her chin and walks with purpose through the mild chaos. No one looks at her twice. Amélie reaches the Vault’s entrance, the base’s highly secure, highly protected restricted area. Automated scanners and decontamination pods separate the lackeys from the experts. Just outside the screening is a wall of lockers; any devices that can store, transmit, or export data of any kind is not allowed in the Vault.

Amélie finds the locker under Lacroix and opens it on her second try (13-31-13, Gérard always funny about his superstitions). A small black purse joins a phone and leather wallet.

She closes the locker and walks over to the decontamination pods. The door closes behind her with a hiss. Servos whirl around her and a flash of red light slashes through her vision. The pod dings and announces that she is clean of all technological and biological contaminants. The pod’s exit door does not open.

“You are not allowed in this part of the facility, Mrs. Lacroix,” a synthetic voice chastises from the speakers above her.

“Hello to you too Athena,” Amélie says happy to switch back to French. “We both are very aware of this considering you are the one who invited me up here. And thank you so much for directing me through the facility and opening that door back there for me, very courteous.”

“My sensors indicate you are suffering from increased levels of cortisol, melatonin, and sarcasm,” Athena says.

The pod door opens. Amélie steps through into the Vault.

“You sound like you’re having a wonderful day yourself,” she replies.

“I am operating at full capacity, and the base’s productivity is at optimal levels.”

Athena says nothing else as Amélie makes her way down the hallway checking nameplatess.

“Has my husband been rude to you again?” she ventures having found a door labeled Lacroix.

“Strategist Lacroix has repeatedly expressed concern that my systems are so heavily intergraded into Overwatch’s mainframe. He is afraid it may become a security weakness.”

Amélie frowns, old suspicions diehard she supposes but there is no reason Gérard can’t be more subtle about it.

“I see. I promise I will speak to him. Now, if you please.” She motions to the door.

The metal retracts into the wall without a sound revealing a wall of darkness that is randomly interrupted by flickers of light.

“Have a good night Athena.”

“Take care, Mrs. Lacroix.”

Amélie steps into the War Room.

Monitors decorate the walls like luminescent tiles; screens flash with newsfeeds, statistics, charts, and maps. Thick cables peak out between the gaps of the monitors; they drip downward and collect along the edge of the floor. Hundreds of holoscreens fill the space between the ceiling and the floor. The blue displays hang in the air like frozen fireflies, blinking and glittering under someone else’s command. Balls of paper, legal notes, sandwich wrappers, and Styrofoam cups dotted with stale coffee litter the floor. Two or three cleaner-droids zip to and fro through the mess sweeping up dust and crumbs but leaving the paper untouched.

Standing at the only desk in the room, like a conductor before his orchestra is Gérard Lacroix. Accomplished polemologist, probability and statistics genius, Overwatch’s leading strategist, and her husband.

Gérard stares at a group of thirty holoscreens arranged before him. The blue light reflects off the oil in his hair and gives his skin a strange sickly appearance. Among the text documents and profiles, Amélie recognizes LumériCo’s logo, the Russian Omnium, a red stylized “T,” the failed Moon Colony, and Mercy’s Caduceus Staff.

“So close,” Gérard mutters in French squinting at the group. His eyes glint dangerously.

Amélie has seen her husband seized by a fit of genius get lost in his projects, working for hours on end, attacking them with inhuman efficiency, accomplishing in days what would have taken a team of experts weeks. When he was like that Gérard became a force of nature, a living miracle.

This is not one of those times.

“Close. I’m so close,” Gérard mumbles again.

He does not acknowledge Amélie as she walks closer. She can see the dried coffee in his pencil mustache, the ink under his nails, the smudges on his collar. His normally pristine suit is rumpled and creased from sitting or standing at odd angles. A chain of sticky notes trails from his pant leg.

“I’m so close,” Gérard says baring his teeth, digging his fingers into the documents under his hands. “The connection, the lines between them, they are there. I can almost see them. I can practically taste it!”

Amélie looks away from Gérard to his floating collage.

“Is all this saved?” she asks resuming her path across the floor.

“Yes, yes of course,” Gérard says with a little wave, not looking.

“Has it been back up?” Amélie asks circling behind him.

Gérard scoffs. “Has it been backed up? Do birds fly? Only to five different servers, the cloud, the satellite, three times by the AI, and whatever else they have hiding in the walls.”

Amélie nods and looks down at the cables and papers on the floor. Her black heels follow the thick cords away from Gérard’s desk to the wall.

“I’m so close,” Gérard repeats. Then he frowns and stands up straight. “Perhaps, too close.”

Then all the holoscreens vanish, the wall monitors cut to static, and the soft blue of his smart desk dies with a pathetic whine. Gérard freezes up. His obsidian eyes widen in shock. He stares into the space his notes just occupied; dozen upon dozens of hours of research gone in an instant.

“Amélie!” He roars spinning to face her; hands curled into fists.

Amélie stands near the wall outlet casually swinging the unplugged main power cord in her hand. She raises an eyebrow at his outburst, not impressed in the slightest.

“Amélie,” Gérard repeats the rage gone from his voice. He rubs at his face and looks at her wearily.

She drops the power cord and struts over to him.

“What, what are you doing here? You aren’t allowed in here,” he mumbles as Amélie bends down and rips the sticky notes off his pant leg. “No one is allowed in here without an invitation when I am working, not even the Commanders. You shouldn’t even be this deep in the base.” Gérard’s face pinches in confusion.

The backup light pop on bathing the room in soft white light. Amélie stands up and yanks at his shirt collar, straightening it. She brushes off the shoulder and front of his suit jacket, smoothing out the worst of the wrinkles.

“When has that ever stopped me before?” Amélie asks wiping the coffee out of his mustache with her thumb. She looks over her work and nods satisfied. Gérard looks at her with his brow furrowed, waiting for an answer.

Amélie hooks her finger into Gérard’s tie tip, throws her hand over her shoulder and starts walking forcing him to keep pace with her.

“I am here,” she says marching them out of the office, “to ensure my husband gets a solid six hours of sleep before he attends the prestigious Ballet de l'Opéra national de Parisand watches the breathtaking Amélie Lacroix debut as the leading role in Lac des Cygnes.”

The other employees wisely elect not to notice Gérard shuffling along behind her.

“I still have time,” he protests. “Your rehearsal is tomorrow afternoon. I set an alarm and everything,” he says patting at his pockets searching for his phone.

They enter the decontamination pod. Amélie drops the tie and turns around look her husband in the eye. There is barely an inch between them. She can see the stress adding lines between his brows and in the corners of his lips. He can see her fatigue in the discoloration under her eyes and the acne not hidden by makeup. Red lights flash and metal bars sweep around the couple.

“Gérard,” Amélie says flatly, “It’s Tuesday.”

The pod door opens with a happy ping. Gérard blinks while his mouth hangs open in an unspoken “oh.” Amélie turns around and struts over to the lockers. After a pause, Gérard follows.

“You have been working for almost sixty hours straight without replying to a single message, email, or voicecall, I or anyone else has sent you,” Amélie says entering in his code.

The door springs open. Gérard pulls at his face and mutters a few choice curses under his breath. Amélie collects his wallet, phone, and her purse. She closes the locker and starts walking. Gérard falls in step beside her.

“I missed your rehearsal?” he asks.

“You missed the rehearsal,” she confirms.

Amélie rummages around in her purse and produces a water bottle. She passes it to Gérard who cracks it open and guzzles it.

They make it through the rest of the base without incident. Gérard directs them to a shorter route than the one she took earlier. They reach the parking lot in record time.

Amélie presses the button on the key fob, and her black Buick Lacrosse flashes its lights and unlocks. They open their doors; the smell of Chinese takeaway drifts out and greets them. Gérard’s stomach rumbles in response. Amélie buckles herself in while he slides into the passenger seat.

Gérard put on his seatbelt and lift the takeout off the floorboards. He licks his lips as he unfolds the origami-like paper flaps. Amélie presses the ignition button. The engine roars to life while Gérard digs into the rice.

“Spicy chicken?” he asks with his mouth full, “I like the mixed noodles better.”

“Mmm, too bad,” Amélie says adjusting the rearview mirror.

Gérard swallows a large mouthful and then sets the Chinese down. He looks at his wife out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re angry,” he says.

“Brilliant deduction,” Amélie drawls.

“Very angry,” Gérard mutters to himself. “Should I be considering buying an apology gift in my future?”

“You already have.” Amélie avoids eye contact by playing with the radio.

“Oh?”

“Mm-hm. You bought me a new hunting rifle. It should be delivered in about a week.”

“Ah.”

Gérard lets the statement hang in the air. Amélie looks over the dashboard one last time, checking the fuel levels and the defense system.

“Nothing too costly I hope,” Gérard ventures. “I am the one who will be reviewing all of our purchases for tax season, after all.”

“It was on sale, a bargain really. You should be quite proud of yourself for finding such a deal.”

“That’s good, that’s good. I’m glad I’m finally picking up some of your skill.”

Amélie hums noncommittally and throws her arm behind the passenger seat, turning to look out the back window in preparation to back out.

“My dear,” Gérard say seriously taking advantage of Amélie facing him. “I am so sorry I missed your rehearsal. I promised I wouldn’t let my work interfere with our personal lives any more than necessary and I apologize I haven’t held myself to that.”

Amélie sighs and deflates a little.

“I know your work is important,” she says, “It’s just you promised, and it’s going to be my début, and I just really, really wanted my husband there supporting me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I’m still angry and tired,” Amélie warns. “Mostly tired.”

“I understand.”

Amélie eases up on the brake and the Lacrosse rolls backward.

“Amélie.”

“Yes?”

She switches her focus from the back window to the man of her. Gérard looks back at her. The shadows of the night hide his wrinkles and blend way his edges making him look like a Vermeer; older, softer. His expression is honest and open. She can see the barest bit of her reflection in his eyes.

“I love you,” Gérard says, his voice, gentle a hint of a smile on his lips.

Amélie feels the tight giddiness grab her chest the way it always does after he says it. Warmth rushes her cheeks and ears, a blush blooms across her face.

Still, after all this time.

Because he means it. He means it not in the way an infatuated school child says it but in the way that someone who understands that love is hard and love takes work and loves changes, grows. He means it in a way that none of her other suitors have.

Amélie presses her lips together and looks away. Gérard grins and returns to eating with a sort of self-satisfied swagger. She finishes backing out the Buick. Amélie sighs and stops fight the smile growing on her face.

“I love you too, idioté.”

And she means it.

***

Finally got this on to my writing tumblr.

Thanks for reading!

Athena: Your trash husband is spiralling into insanity again. Come get him.

Amélie: He’s my sexy weasel husband and I’m on my way.

/This was inspired by the thought what if Gérard didn’t work in the field. There are plenty of office jobs in the military.

All of Widowmaker’s attitude had to come from somewhere.

FYI Amélie and Gérard speak in French when they talk but I’m just not translating all that.

I’m not aboard the Jerkass!Gérard train but perfect relationships are boring and unrealistic./

[onhirel]

Contact Lost

Barbara Parker didn’t know that she could actually be this happy, she realized as she stared down at the ring that was on her left ring finger, a warm gold and set with modest gemstones, with the largest being a beautifully cut topaz, her birthstone. Hannah’s engagement ring was an almost exact copy, save for her center stone being an aquamarine, matching her birth month, as well. Barbara realized she must be smiling like a fool as she looked down at the ring, but she didn’t care. 

Hannah had asked her to marry her!

The thought still floored her. Like, she knew that their relationship was going extremely well, but to have the question popped on her so soon after she got back from France...it was amazing, and the memory of Hannah going down on one knee in once they got home, looking up at her with love and hope and adoration clear on her face...Barbara dropped her head down to her hands as she only just barely avoided the urge to squeal with delight. Honestly, only one thing could make this better, and that was...

“We should tell her.”

Hannah’s voice had Barbara looking up as the auburn-haired witch walked into the living room, a determined look on her face, holding the cups of tea that she had gone into the kitchen to get.

Barbara hummed in agreement as she accepted the teacup on a saucer that Hannah offered her. “I was just thinking that. We haven’t heard from her recently, not since it was revealed that she had accepted that endorsement deal. We really should catch up with her and let her know,” she said before she bit her lip worriedly. “But...”

“But how do we fit her in to the engagement?” Hannah asked, and when Barbara nodded, she sighed. “Well, being married to multiple partners is still considered bigamy and is thus illegal here, I don’t think we can get around that. I knew that before I asked you to marry me.” At those words, a bright grin flitted briefly across Hannah’s face, like the sun revealing itself on a dreary day, but soon the grim, thoughtful expression returned. “But, if she still in interested in continuing our unique relationship, I think there’s a way around it. Witches can register in covens. Not quite as good as marriage, but close enough, and I don’t think anyone would raise too much of a fuss. It’s rather well implied that the members of a coven are partners in all things.”

A slight flicker of disappointment at that, but one that Barbara stomped down with a vengeance. Her knee-jerk reaction that Hannah didn’t actually want to marry her was stupid, and she knew it. Still... “What if she decides she doesn’t want it to be official?” she had to ask, and Hannah sighed.

“I’d be really sad. She...she completes us. I know we never really had the chance to tell her before, but I’ve always seen the three of us together, forever, you know?”

Barbara nodded. She did know. Amanda was so many things...mischievous, loyal, brave, sassy, funny, a very generous lover. Life seemed too quiet without her in it, too boring, too mundane. She desperately missed the red-headed American a great deal. “Right, so, shall we ring her up this afternoon? Her crystal ball has been inactive for ages, but the telephone should suffice.” Even as Hannah nodded her agreement, Barbara felt a flicker of unease run through her. When Amanda accepted that endorsement deal, she had become very wealthy, very quickly, if the tabloids were correct. Paparazzi had given her some trouble, and so she had almost gone ghost. Barbara had also heard that the agency she was working through was rather draconian in their approaches to social media, having an intern or the like represent Amanda online, so that potential gaffs could be avoided, which she was sure that Amanda was very much not enjoying. But still...shouldn’t she have tried to get in contact with the two of them to let them know the good news?

No, that thought was poisonous. Amanda simply had to be incredibly busy, and simply hadn’t had the time. That had to be it. Surely she would still answer a phone call...right?

xxxXXXxxx

Caryn Elliott was typing away at the computer when the phone rang. Clearing her throat, she picked up the receiver. “Thank you for calling the Flying Star Agency, how may I help you, sir or ma’am?” she said in what she liked to call her sexy secretary voice. However, nothing but silence answered her. “Hello?” she asked, and just before she ended the call (stupid telemarketers) she was answered.

“Er...Amanda?” came the woman’s voice. English accent, if Caryn had to guess, but she was from Texas and had never left the state, and so couldn’t say for certain. She glanced at the telephone’s display. Whoa. That was definitely not a phone number from the US. The accent and the foreign phone number was making her think that this was either a prank or a spam call. 

“No, this is Caryn. How can I help you, ma’am?” she asked, trying not to let too much of her suspicion creep into her voice.

A small burst of static. “Hi, yes, this is Hannah England, I’m trying to get in touch with Amanda O’Neill, I thought this was her personal number?”

Her personal number that had been somehow leaked onto the internet and subjected to a barrage of phone calls from fans, freaks, and paparazzi, Catelyn knew, which was why the agency had stepped in and had all calls to that number be rerouted through the agency. And with a name like that, she pegged this to be either a freak or a really unimaginative paparazzi. Seriously, someone named England with and English accent? Pull the other one! Bored now, she idly twisted some of her blonde hair around her finger. “I’m sorry, but Miss O’Neill is not accepting individual phone calls at the moment, but if you’re willing to leave a message, I’ll be sure to pass it on to her,” she droned, almost robotically.

“Er, yes. Ehm, could you just let Amanda know that Hannah and Barbara are trying to get in touch with her? We’re old classmates of hers from her Luna Nova days, and we’ve something important to talk to her about.”

Catelyn only just barely managed not to snort. Hannah and Barbara? Like the cartoons? God, it’s like they weren’t even trying anymore! Still she glanced over the list of accepted names for people to get forwarded to Miss O’Neill’s new phone, the list that had been vetted by the agency. No surprise, the cartoon duo weren’t on it. “I’ll be sure to do that, ma’am,” she lied without a moment’s hesitation or guilt. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”

“Do you have our number?”

“Yes, ma’am, it’s on our caller ID, I’m writing it down right now.” She wasn’t. “Anything else?”

“...No. That will be all, thank you.”

“Thank you for calling Flying Star Agency. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

Then the phone call was over, and Catelyn pulled the legal pad she was keeping track on over to her before making a tally mark on one of the columns. “Let’s see, that makes...seven ‘former classmates’ to call today. Hmm, catching up on ‘long lost family.’ And I was really hopeful for ‘you’ve won some sort of prize’ but that just isn’t providing much today. Strange. Ah, well, there’s always tomorrow...”

xxxXXXxxx

Meanwhile, back in England, Hannah and Barbara stared at the phone for a long moment before sighing. “I think we just got blown off,” Hannah muttered, and Barbara couldn’t help but agree.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked.

Hannah shrugged. “Keep trying? Not much else we can do. Either way, until we can actually get in contact with her, all of us together, we can postpone any wedding dates. If she’s not interested, then we can get married. If she is, we’ll register as a coven. Sound good?”

Barbara bit her lip, but nodded. “I hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. This is Amanda we’re talking about. Now, what else did we have planned for today? Did you want to have dinner here, or go out? There’s a new Thai place I’ve been dying to try out, but wanted to wait until you were back before I did...”

They would try again, and again, and again, but after all those tries with no results, they soon stopped. It wouldn’t be until they were all on the Task Force arrayed against Silent Spring that they would finally be able to properly reunite, but that was some years in the future. In the here and now, the three lovers were separated by a loss of contact that was propagated by Amanda’s phone number being leaked, her agency arbitrarily deciding which of her contacts were appropriate for her without her knowledge, and a lack of opportunity for the three of them to meet face-to-face.

If anything, it would be a show of just how deeply they cared for each other that the reunion that still lay in the future would go as well as it would. But that is the story of another time...

[margarethelstone]

That Hopelessness of Mine

She was weary, she was sick, she was completely unable to focus. She, the Astrid Hofferson, the most hard-working student the University of Berk had ever taught, suddenly appeared to be perfectly indifferent to what was happening around her. Her life was an utter mess – and a ridiculously handsome, green-eyed stranger was the last person she needed to meet.” Hiccstrid modern AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

Chapter 4

“No, no, no… No!” she cried out in desperation a moment after her discovery, rummaging through her bag, frantically searching for the item she hadn’t even thought about half a minute earlier. "It has to be here! I put it inside this morning, and I had it with me at the University, it couldn’t just disappear. It must be here, somewhere!”

But it wasn’t.

Feeling herself on the verge of tears – again – Astrid grabbed her purse in both of her hands and turned it upside down, letting her belongings fall on the soft surface of the sofa, still fooling herself that it would allow her to find the wallet that was otherwise escaping her notice. She threw the empty bag on the floor right after and focused on going through its contents once more, and every next second just made her more convinced that it was indeed just another hopeless business.

“Alright, Hofferson, calm down,” she ordered herself eventually, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, hoping to at least get her own nerves under control. She wouldn’t resolve anything in a state of such panic anyway. “Did I really put it in my bag in the morning? Wasn’t that yesterday? I don’t use the bus and I didn’t visit the library today, so I really might have missed the fact that I didn’t have the wallet with me. Oh, and I haven’t eaten anything for the entire day, either -”

You did down that huge coffee in the afternoon, though, and it certainly wasn’t Ruff who paid for it.

“Oh, shut up,” she answered her own mind that apparently decided that she didn’t deserve that last resort of hope she was clinging to so fiercely, as she plopped down on a chair and slouched, hiding her face behind her trembling fingers.

She knew she was naive to think of it in this way, but it was just too much. Why did it have to happen to her? Now, when she had finally found some peace, when she had allowed herself to relax a little, this had to happen, shattering all of the prospects of spending at least a few idle hours without stressing over how pathetic she was. Now, however? No chance she would get any of that.

Her money, her tickets, her ID cards – they were gone, all because she couldn’t have crossed half kilometre long distance without losing her balance and falling on the ground like the miserable idiot she was.

She jerked up her head, eyes wide in astonishment.

Certainly, she must have left it there! Just a few hundreds metres away, where her bag strap had fallen off. Maybe she was being childish and naive again, but if she hadn’t noticed the wallet lying anywhere close to where she’d stood, it was more than possible that no one else had. It must have landed between the rotting scrubs that she knew grew next to the footpath in that particular place, and, apparently, neither she or her saviour was perceptive enough to have noticed it earlier.

Of course, her own silly agitation at the time didn’t help with that.

In a sudden rush of energy, Astrid jumped from the chair and hurried to the door, barely remembering to put on her shoes and coat before she left. Her hair was still wet and tangled, and she still didn’t have a hat to put on her head, but it didn’t matter. Right now all she cared for was her phone, her keys and this little bit of luck she needed so much.

Still, her wallet wasn’t there.

Not on the pavement, not in the bushes, not anywhere close to either of them. Like with her bag earlier this evening, she searched and searched, checking every inch of the ground twice, praying that she would at least find her ID cards if nothing else.

Screw the money she thought, pretending like she didn’t care, screw the tickets, the photos, the slim, flat flash drive I never used anyway.

Screw the green-eyed, handsome jerks that made her lose her common sense.

“What is wrong with me?” she groaned as the realisation dawned on her, making her despise herself more than ever before, clenching her fists and kicking the kerb, indifferent to the pain that spread over her foot in result. “He took it. Of course he took it. He played his role of a decent guy, gave me back all of the worthless notes and pens and kept the only thing worth keeping. And to think I was grateful to have met him today!”

Oh, she wasn’t pathetic. She was just plain, plain stupid.

“Did I really blush and stutter for this?”

Or maybe she simply was both.

She groaned for what felt like a millionth time that day and returned to massaging her temple, desperate to at least soften the pounding headache that was only growing with the passage of time. She no longer tried to fight her anger, knowing that it was the last thing that still kept her from giving up to the final frustration – frustration that meant nothing but tears and resignation, not to mention even worse physical condition. So she kicked, and she hissed, and she kept cursing the previous encounter that had undoubtedly lead to her current state.

It had taken good few minutes and a couple of snorts before Astrid calmed down enough to make any sort of decision. She looked around in the last impulse of hope. Nothing was there – and she painfully realised that it would remain in that way, no matter how much she wanted it to change.

Her sigh was almost theatrical this time.

“I really should stop that,” she muttered under her breath, tucking her lose hair behind her ear, brushing away her fringe that was getting in her eyes. She was surprised it hadn’t frozen by this time but then again, not much made sense on this sad winter evening.

Some December that was.

Refraining from scanning the area again, the girl turned around and, slouched under the heavy blasts of the howling wind, she took the first of the many steps towards her apartment.

Alright, she thought as she walked past a group of students who must have just finished the last of their classes. Alright. If that’s how it must end, then so be it. The best I can do is to get back inside and call the bank, the police, or whatever institution that could take any interest in me losing my documents. And then it’s bed, and it’s for real this time, and I am not letting anything else get in my way again -

Goodness gracious, she almost sounded as if she’d had anything to say about this.

“I do,” she drawled through her gritted teeth, gaining herself a startled look from a very surprised passer-by. She ignored him completely. “I might be talking to myself, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind, and until that happens, I’m the one deciding what and how to do about my life. And since I can’t do more than those calls, I won’t worry about it, not for a second longer. Good Lord, I really need some sleep.”

She reached to the pocket of her jeans in search of her phone, curious to see how much time this unplanned escapade had taken her, only to feel it buzz in her hand before she’d had a chance to have a good look at the screen. She frowned at the sight of her mother’s photo.

Ingrid Hofferson never called without a good reason.

"Mum? What's wrong?" she asked in lieu of a greeting, already sensing the familiar knot in her stomach that appeared every time she got nervous. Normally, a call from her mother would result in nothing but her surprise but feeling the way she did that day...

...she had already come up with the most terrifying scenarios.

"What happened?" she repeated before the woman on the other side managed to answer.

She heard her mother sigh in response. "Really, Astrid, can't a mother call her daughter without a reason?"

"You never do," was Astrid's quiet answer. She tried to sound calm but at the same time she was almost perfectly sure Ingrid already knew she was not. "We both know we're better off texting and you're always busy at this time of day. So, what's the matter?"

"Don't you be so sure, young Lady, or I'll make sure to call you every two days just to stir that confidence of yours. I may be getting old, Astrid, but it doesn't mean I don't know how to surprise my family. You should ask Dad."

"Mum," Astrid interrupted, the corners of her lips twitching. Her mother was way too cheerful - and naturally so – to be herald of any bad news and the girl felt herself relax at last.

"Fine," her mother muttered in a mock-offended voice. "There might be a reason this time. But I could still call you if there wasn't and there would be nothing special about it."

"Of course not," Astrid mumbled with a smile. "So, mum, are you going to tell me what that reason is or are you going to keep me in the dark until I burst with curiosity and beg you for details myself?"

She almost heard her mother grin. "That would not be an unwelcome change, you know. But as much as I'd love to hear you plead for anything, I don't have as much time as I wish, so I'll get straight to the point – do you or do you not recall meeting any tall, dark-haired, ridiculously handsome young man today?"

Astrid stopped in her tracks, astonished, unable to utter a word of response. Her mind was blank, except for one thought that kept ringing in it.

You've got to be kidding me.

"I – I don't" she stammered, somehow managing not to stop in her tracks as she did; again, the teasing expression that undoubtedly appeared on her mother's countenance was almost audible. "I mean, yes. What?"

"Well, well, looks like after twenty years of trying I've finally succeeded in rendering my daughter speechless," came Ingrid's merciless comment. "Even though I suppose it's mostly the man's in question doing."

"Why would you even ask me that, mum?" Astrid tried to regain some of her lost dignity. "This question itself is ridiculous, not to mention, awfully specific. So, why?"

"Because he's sitting in the other room as we speak. He came in about five minutes ago, claiming that he'd found your wallet on the pavement."

Now was the time for Astrid to halt.

"What?" was another educated exclamation of hers. "How?"

"He would not share any details except that he there when your bag fell on the ground and that even though you managed to gather most of it, you somehow missed the wallet – and that you'd left the spot before he noticed it himself. Now, I won't pester about how it's possible you didn't check for the wallet in the first place, because I know that things like that happen sometimes. What I want to know, however, is: how the heck could you run away from a man like this?"

Against herself, Astrid burst into laugh. "Mum, I swear, you're worse than Ruff sometimes."

"I suppose she already shared her thoughts on the subject?"

"Yes, and she was very straightforward about it, too."

"I knew there was a reason why I loved that girl."

Astrid chuckled again, and sighed. "Alright, your comments apart – why is he there? It doesn't make sense."

"I suppose he followed the only clue he had, which is the address on your ID. And as it happens, it's still your home address."

"Of course. But -" Astrid hesitated, feeling the sudden pang of guilt as she remembered all the accusations she had already made towards the guy who truly had done nothing but helped her. "You want to tell me he drove all that way to the suburbs just because of this?"

"Seems like it."

"Oh, brother."

She pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt so happy, and surprised, and a little lost for words, not to mention, more and more ashamed of how easily she had judged the chivalrous young man. And she still needed to decide what to do with the fact that said man was comfortably seated in her mother's living room.

"Okay mum, listen," she said eventually. "This is all wonderful news but if we don't make some decisions now, I will collapse on the ground from exhaustion in moments and nothing good will come for it anyway. I am too tired to come home today – so would you please just ask the guy to leave it with you for now and I'll come and pick it up tomorrow after classes? I'm sure he's dying to get rid of it, too."

"See, that's the problem," her mother opposed. "He seems determined to only give it back to you, personally."

Astrid felt her good mood die again. She did not feel like spending two more hours in a bus today. "Mum, it doesn't make any sense. Even if I wasn't tired, it would still take me way too much time for him to wait. I'd have to go back to the flat, get some money – I am sure he has better things to do."

"He doesn't want you to come, but to bring the wallet back to you."

"To me? Wait, you didn't actually give him my address, did you?"

"Of course not," Ingrid as well as snorted. "But he says there is no point in your coming here, since he needs to get to the centre anyway; he's pretty stubborn, you know. So... Maybe just name a place and I'll tell him to meet you there? Although honestly, he seems like the kind of guy that you could safely meet in your own flat. I wouldn't mind you seeing him like this, anyway."

"Mum!"

She heard her mother laugh openly then and only shook her head at her wonderful parent's antics. She resumed her stroll towards her block. "Okay mum, I'll tell you what: today has been horrible, and I feel like garbage, and I'm definitely not going anywhere right now – so if you could just send the guy to my flat, that would be great. And if he turns out to be a serial rapist and killer... Well, at least you'll know exactly how to describe him to the police."

[hosseocc]

The Delivery

Word count: 3736

Pairing: Reader x Mystery

Genre: Thriller, angst, Stalker!au, Non-idol!au

Warning(s): Mild violence and swearing

A/N: My first ever fic! 

(Not my gif, credits to owner!)

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Read: next

4th January

This was the first day. At first it I didn’t think anything about it, just considered it a lousy prank call by some kids. I was in the kitchen when the phone rang. Making my way over to the TV stand, I answered it.

“Hello?”

But there was no answer. I waited a couple of seconds before repeating myself.

“Anybody there?” After no answer yet again, I sighed and hung up. Making my way back to check on breakfast, I instantly forgot about the call when I realised I’d left the pan on high heat and burned my eggs.

 11th January

I’d gotten two more calls like the first one over the same week, but each one left me feeling wary and creeped out. The second one was on a Tuesday morning after I’d just gotten out of the shower, towel still wrapped around me and hair still dripping. Thinking it was my parents, I walked towards the phone with a skip in my step.

“Hello??” The same silence that I’d already forgotten about came from the other line.

“Mum? Is that you?” when the silence continued to hum, I moved the phone from my ear to check the caller ID, but it said private number. When I moved it back next to my ear, I heard the silent breaths. I should have said something at the time, but my curiosity got the better of me, so I stayed quiet. Only when the breathing got heavier and louder did I hang up suddenly feeling exposed. Reminding myself to check to see who’s calling before I pick up next time, I went to bed.

That same night however, my landline rang again and feeling annoyed as soon as I saw ‘private caller’, I answered it, already hearing the heavy breathing when I put it next to my ear. “Look, I don’t know who this is but whatever you’re trying to do isn’t funny. Stop calling me and grow up. If you’re just going to waste my time breathing down the line you can kiss my ass” I fumed, not caring about the consequences of my words. I hung up and slammed the phone down, pulling the wire out of the plug socket.

 The next day, I walked back from my classes trying not to think about the calls. Was it someone I knew? Not many people had the landline number so already my list of potential suspects was narrowed down. In fact, only to three people; my mum, dad, and landlord. There was no possible reason for them to prank call, but I had to check. So later that day, I rang my parents to ask. Sitting down on the sofa in my living room, I waited for my mum to pick up.

“Hello?” immediately feeling better upon hearing her voice, I smiled and relaxed.

“Hey mum, it's me”

“I know, y/n, I saw your caller id” she replied.

“Oh yeah, right. I forgot about that. How are you?”

“Yes, I’m fine sweetie. Is everything okay? You never usually call first” she asked, sounding concerned. Immediately feeling bad, I remembered about how I usually forget to call back my parents or give them calls just to see how they’re doing. I made a mental note to start making more of an effort.

“Yeah, I’m okay just calling to check up on you and dad. Have you guys been ringing my landline lately? I keep getting calls” I asked, whilst turning the tv on to see the latest crime show on.

“No honey, we haven’t. We’re more likely to call your mobile anyway, it might be some scam calls, just ignore them” she told me.

“Yeah, I will…I’ll call you tomorrow mum. Bye, love you” I said, hanging up after hearing her farewell. That crossed my parents off the list, and I wasn’t even going to bother asking my landlady knowing she’s too old for it and would probably kick me out for asking something so absurd. Looking up from my phone to the tv, I watched as the actress ran away from a stalker down the stairs in her home before falling to her demise. Suddenly feeling sick, I switched if off and went around the flat making sure every window and door was locked.

When I sat back down, I wrapped a blanket around me, wondering if I was being stalked. It was a silly thought, but a valid one nonetheless. I’ve only received three phone calls but that’s how most cases start, right? It’s only a matter of time before I answer another call to hear how somebody wants to kill me. It’s not like I’m a difficult target either; a young university student living by herself in a flat near campus because dorms are just too expensive. I didn’t have any relatives near me, only a few friends at uni but that was it. Thinking back to the tv show, I realised it might not be impossible for me to live out the same fate as the girl being attacked. Shivering at the thought, I decided to stop thinking about it and ordered takeout to distract myself.

When the doorbell rang half an hour later, I ran to grab money before swinging the door open.

“Pizza delivery for y/n?” The delivery man asked handing out the food to me. After looking at him for a couple of seconds, I realised how cute he was and tried not stare. I took it smiling and thanking him, whilst I fumbled around for the money I could’ve sworn I just had in my hand.

“Not trying to swindle me are you” he chuckled before crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, realising I didn’t have money.

“I swear I just had the money” I answered, feeling flustered and embarrassed. Moving the pizza box to the side I saw the note on the floor and sighed in annoyance. When did I drop that? The deliveryman must have noticed it too because we both moved to pick it up at the same time causing our hands to touch, before we both looked at each other.

He offered a smile and I couldn’t help but realise how cliché this situation was, so before I made a fool of myself, I quickly grabbed the money and stood up, wishing I was less clumsy. Following my actions, the deliveryman stood letting out a low sigh, and stood awkwardly before I handed him the money.

“Sorry about that, I tend to be clumsy sometimes” I apologised.

“No worries, it feels like the set up of an old romcom doesn’t it? This must be the part where I ask for your number and you give it to me, promising to order again the same time next week” he replied. I just stared at him taken aback by his confidence, before laughing out.

“Is this part of the job description, flirting with customers to increase sales?” I joked raising my eyebrows.

“You got me there” he laughed “I’ve also been told to invite customers into the restaurant on Saturday nights at 7pm” he slyly suggested. Feeling my mood suddenly shift and remembering about my pizza, I decided to close the conversation.

“Maybe if you give me a discount next time, I’ll think about giving you my number” I quickly rambled before saying bye and shutting and locking the door. I silently watched through the peephole as his smile fell and he began to walk away.

Sitting back down, I realised I may have come across as rude. But in my defence, I never give my number out to strangers, even if they are cute and besides, who suggests their work place for a first date? Putting those reasons aside, I also turned him down because I remembered him calling me by my name when I know for a fact I didn’t give it to the man over the phone when ordering the food.

It’s safe to say I won’t be ordering from there again.

The following day was my day off with no classes and I was supposed to be meeting my best friend for lunch. Rushing into the café, panting from having ran all the way from the bus stop, I looked at my watch to see that I was 20 minutes late. I walked over to the corner where I spotted Jennie glaring at me through her glasses, trying to ignore the stares from people who saw me run into the café as if my life depended on it. And I began to believe it did because Jennie was staring at me with such intensity I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Sitting down opposite her and sheepishly smiling I apologised for being late.

“This is the third time this week y/n, you need to learn how to get out of bed” she said, relaxing as her angry expression washed away. One of my biggest flaws was always being late due to my excessive desire to stay in bed. I was shamelessly lazy and did nothing to try and change it. Jennie should be used it by now, but because she’s a perfectionist, she gets annoyed every single time it happens, which makes me wonder how we’re still best friends.

“I know, I’m going to change I swear” I exclaimed already knowing my attempts would fail.

She rolled her eyes, “We both know that’s not going to happen. You’re lucky I love you and can tolerate it. Anybody else would have left your sorry ass by now” she remarked. I glared at her before telling her to shut up as we bickered back and forth. This was how it always goes, she tells me off for being late and I always apologise promising to be on time, but it never works, which ends up creating a cycle of sarcastic comments between us both.

We were stopped by the barrister bringing our drinks and food over before they smiled and walked away, looking like they didn’t want to get in the middle of our squabbling. Confused because I hadn’t ordered yet, I looked up at Jennie.

“I ordered five minutes before you got here because I knew you would be late. If I ordered when I got here, it would have been cold by now” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

I smiled at her and cooed “This is why I love you, you know me so well” before jokingly blowing her a kiss. She pretended to flick it away with her hand as we tucked into our lunch.

When we finished eating, she held out her phone to me and played a video. “Did you hear about this? Poor guy got beaten up and left unconscious in an alley on the way to a delivery near our area last night by some thugs. They haven’t caught them yet though, what absolute pricks” I heard her say. I looked up at her and shook my head. The video had surfaced over social media and showed a before and after picture of a young boy around our age who had a black eye and bruises covering his face. The reporter was reading out pleads of help to find the perpetrators and information about the victim. Gasping, I widened my eyes when I heard that he worked at the chain I ordered from last night.

“Hey, I ordered from here last night” I told Jennie, handing her back her phone. Who would do something like this?

She widened her eyes and adjusted her glasses, “Really?! Do you think he was delivering to you?” shaking my head, I told her I got my food delivered by a different guy. I was about to tell her about my exchange with him last night, when my phone rang. I looked at the caller id, it said private number. I hesitated but answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss y/n y/l/n?” I heard a firm voice ask.

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“This is Detective Han calling from the police station, I’d like to talk to you about an incident that occurred last night. Are you available to meet right now?” he asked. I froze and instantly figured it was something to do with the deliveryman being attacked. I told him I’d make my way over there shortly before he hung up. 

“Who was it?” Jennie asked, noticing my mood change.

“The police. They want to question me about what happened last night” I said, still shocked. Jennie’s eyes widened, and I began to gather my stuff, before leaving some money to pay for my meal. I told her it’s probably because I ordered from there and they want to rule out any possibilities. At least that’s what I hoped it was, but I had a feeling something more sinister was going on. I bid her farewell and promised to call her later before making my way to the station.

When I reached there, I was nervous for some reason as if I was the suspect being questioned. I sat in the waiting room for a couple of minutes before a man with messy hair who looked like he had run his hands through it a hundred times out of frustration called out my name. I stood up and made my way over to him, fumbling with the straps on my bag. I’d never been to the police station for questioning before and suddenly felt extremely intimidated. I greeted him, and he nodded his head at me before motioning to follow him. We walked down the hallway through the back into a room that looked a lot like the rooms I’d seen in the movies; a table in the middle with two chairs opposite each other and a big one-way window on one wall.

“Please sit, can I get you some water to drink?” he asked. I sat in the chair opposite the big window and politely asked for water before he turned around and poured water from a jug into a cup that I hadn’t seen when I walked in. I thanked him and took a big gulp before placing it on the table. I noticed him closely watching me before speaking.

“You seem nervous” he stated.

I breathed out before answering, “This is my first time in a police station, sorry” apologising, feeling like I was being told off.

“It’s okay, there’s no rush. Take your time okay?” he said, before opening a note book.  “Before we start, I’d like to ask a few questions about yourself”. Then, he began questioning me. “How old are you?”

“I just turned 20 years old” I responded, gripping my cup of water.

“What is your current occupation?”

“I’m a university student” I answered, even though I’m pretty sure he already knew this information about me.

“Okay, and can you read out your current home address and mobile number for me please?” he asked. After answering him, he turned the page and looked at me, folding his hands together. “Now, I’m going to ask you questions regarding the investigation”.

I nodded and took another sip of my water.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here today?” he asked. I shook my head even though I had an idea of what it could be, I didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong.

He pulled out documents of what looked like phone records and two pictures.

“Miss y/l/n, are you aware of the events that took place two blocks from your flat building, involving Mr Kim, who was attacked on delivery, last night at approximately 9pm?” he questioned. Mr Kim must have been the victim, I thought.

“I briefly heard about what happened earlier today, yes” I answered. He nodded in response to my answer and carried on.

“Miss y/l/n, you called Perfect Pizza last night at 8:24pm didn’t you?” He asked, showing me the phone records. I looked down and saw my phone number and time of call highlighted. I looked at Detective Han and nodded my head.

“Yes, I did” suddenly feeling worried, was I a suspect or something? “Do you suspect me for the accident?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows and sitting back in the chair. Detective Han sighed and showed me the pictures that I recognised from the video Jennie showed me earlier.

“Your number was the last one to call before Mr Kim set off for delivery. He was attacked on the way to your address” he said looking me in the eyes.

“What? You mean he was supposed to deliver to my house?” I asked, extremely confused and weirded out. “That’s impossible” I stated.

“What do you mean?” he interrogated, leaning closer to the table.

“I had my food delivered last night, by someone else. I don’t think Mr Kim was delivering to my house” I spoke. The detective looked just as confused as me at this point.

“You mean to say you got your food, by another worker from Perfect Pizza, last night after Mr Kim was attacked? Records from the restaurant show that he was the one scheduled to deliver to your home.” he added, looking through more documents.

“It must have been another worker” I answered, not knowing where this was going.

“Can you identify the worker at all?” he handed me a piece of paper with images of what looked like all the employees at the pizza place.

“Sure” I said, looking down at the pictures. Scanning the faces on both pages, I double checked before speaking. “He’s not on here” I said handing the paper back to him.

“What?” Detective Han seemed to whisper to himself. “Are you sure? Please check once more” he insisted. So, I did but to no avail. None of the workers here even slightly resembled the man I came face to face with last night.

“Miss y/l/n, do you have any proof of the delivery last night? I want you to know that you are not a suspect, but you should understand that we must go through these procedures” he explained.

“Of course, I understand detective. But I’m not sure what evidence I can give you, apart from an empty pizza box in my kitchen. I don’t have any cameras installed outside my flat either, the landlady doesn’t allow it” I spoke.

None of this was making sense to me. How on earth am I supposed to work out who delivered my food if not a delivery person? What reason would anybody have to even attack someone else over food in the first place, and why the hell am I in the middle of this?

“I see, it isn’t the best place to get evidence. I can contact your landlady about any video evidence of a delivery last night. Can you describe the person to me please?” he asked, taking out a pen and beginning to make notes.

I thought a little before answering, “Um, He was roughly about 176cm, I’m not good with heights, he had dark hair which was covered by a black cap, he was wearing a black jacket, white top and dark jeans with black boots too. Oh, and he had big hands” I quickly added at the end, but instantly regretted due to the weird look the detective gave me.

“Anything else? Did he say anything out of character that could be regarded as suspicious?” he further lead on.

“Not that I can remember, he did have a deep voice though…but one thing that I did find weird was he knew my name, but I didn’t give it to the delivery company when I ordered my food” I spoke.

“He knew your name? Are you sure this was your first time meeting him? Please think about it”

“No, I’m completely sure this was my first time meeting him. It seemed like he knew me though” I said, but it sounded more like I was thinking out loud. The fact he knew my name completely threw me off and I don’t know why I didn’t realise it straight away. It’s almost as if he was using his charms to distract me from the fact he knew more about me than he should. Cursing myself for being such an idiot, I turned back to the detective. “That’s all I remember, it was only a short encounter. Sorry I can’t be of more help” I apologised.

“No, that’s okay. I think I’ve got enough information for now” he said, closing his books. “Thank you for your cooperation” he smiled. “You’re free to leave now, I’ll see you out”. He stood up, heading to the door and I promptly followed him to the entrance of the police station before he turned around to face me.

“It was nice meeting you, Miss y/l/n, either myself or my colleagues will be in touch in the next couple of days to update you on the situation and whether or not we need you to come back in for questioning” he told me.

“You too, Detective Han, I hope I’ve provided some help. I really don’t know why Mr Kim was attacked last night, but I hope you can find and punish his attackers” I said. I truly felt horrible for the innocent worker, why was he attacked and left in the alley like that? This whole turn of events completely threw me off past the point of understanding.

“That’s what we’re here for, to catch the bad guys. Get home safely” he said before walking back into the station. I sighed and turned around, beginning to walk to the bus stop.

With thousands of questions running around my head, I felt a migraine coming along trying to think of all the possibilities. Was there something going on with Mr Kim and his attackers that nobody was aware of? Was I just caught in the middle of somebody else’s fight? How did the man who gave me my pizza know my name? That thought alone told me that this was more than being dragged into all of this. I tried to ignore the thoughts of what could have happened if the pizza was poisoned, or if I had agreed to giving him my number or going on the date.

But one question rang louder than the others in my head; what if this was all related to the phone calls I’ve been receiving?

[downeysgirl94]

Amends & Girls Ch. 10 of Not Alone Anymore

Natasha had just arrived back at the compound and wasn’t sure what she was going to walk into. She knew she had messed up in the past with the accords with Tony but she wanted to make amends even if Steve wouldn’t yet. Luckily Ross had been removed from the accords commodity that she knew of so she didn’t have to worry about him. Natasha stepped off the elevator and immediately saw some of peter’s books in the common room it made her smile, she hadn’t seen peter in so long she missed seeing him when she was here. She had to earn tony trust back first since there is no way she will be allowed to hang with peter otherwise tony loves him too much. She sighed.

“Friday where is tony?” she called

“Boss is currently in his lab would you like me to alert him of your presence Ms. Romanoff?” FRIDAY asked

“Yes let him know I’m in the common room, thank you FRIDAY” Natasha responded

“It’s was my pleasure” the AI replied

Natasha sat on the couch waiting for tony she picked up one of peter’s books to make time go by it was his math textbook it made her grin glancing through it she saw so many doodles about star wars and him do equations in his book god he was too smart for his own good. She noticed he had a picture in to book mark where his class was, when she turned to it and saw the picture she couldn’t help but smile it was a picture of peter and tony it looks like at a convention of some sort judging by peter’s shirt. They looked so happy it had to been recently since tony had what looked like the black eye he had around the time of the accords. Nat sighed thinking about that again but was slightly relived peter was there for tony. She made sure she did lose peter spot but kept glancing though his book and noticed what she guessed peter and his friend were writing back and forth to each other.

Dude are you ever going to ask MJ out?

What are you talking about?

It’s obvious you like her and I’m beginning to not doubt she has feeling for you too. go for it.

Were friends Ned nothing more!!!

Sure lol I guess I got confused with all the staring like you used to do to Liz ;)

Natasha could help but chuckle at this apparently Pete was embarrassed for liking a friend more than a friend.

“What is so funny about a high schooler’s math book?” tony asked stepping off the elevator obviously annoyed

Natasha immediately closed the book and set it on the table and stood to greet him.

“Hi tony I know your probably not thrilled to see me but before you ask I have not had any contact with rogers or any of his team since I last seen them in Germany.”

“Romanoff you expect me to believe that you tell me time again I can trust you but every time you go behind my back and break It.” tony said angrily

“Tony I’m trying to make amends that’s why I came here today, I know your mad you are right to be I don’t know what happened after Germany but I’m not going to push it” noticing tony slightly wince at the mention of it

“tony I knew how Steve gets when he puts his mind to something he won’t budge he doesn’t care what will happen as long as he got his way so I let him go so the battle would end in Germany. I didn’t want anyone else hurt” Nat said sighing

“Big lot of help your interfering did for Rhodey” tony said defeated

“Tony Vision didn’t mean to do that you know that, again I’m sorry what I was talking about was Spiderman” Nat said with a grin

“What about him?” tony said defensively

“Tony the others may be fooled but I’m not an idiot I know peter is Spiderman and I know Steve was not going easy on him for the amount of time they fought he was lucky he didn’t get hurt if Steve stayed and fought any longer whose saying he wouldn’t of really hurt him. I care for peter too.”

Tony sighed and rubbed his face and sat on the couch

“ I didn’t want him to come but he literally begged me wouldn’t leave me alone until I allowed it I told him to keep his distance to only web them up but of course him having my DNA makes him headstrong literally almost had a damn heart attack when I saw cap drop a gateway on him.”

“Tony I let him go because I didn’t want peter hurt I knew you were freaking out too.”

“Yeah Jesus I thought having a kid without powers was a cause for stress the moment he told me about his powers I could feel myself getting greyer by the minute.”

“How did he get powers?” Natasha asked

“Spider bite basically he has enhanced everything which is great for everything but my sanity.” Tony said with a chuckle

“Like I said tony I’m here to make amends I know you have made some changes to the accords and I’m willing to go along with whatever is in place I am truly sorry for breaking you trust tony. Nat said with a smile

“Well without the dick Ross things are a lot easier I can easily get you pardoned eventually ill work on the others if I decide to” tony said bitterly

“Whatever Steve did I can tell I had a huge impact on you and no I’m not going to ask it not for me to know but I can tell peter has helped you through it.”

“Yeah I guess” tony said unsurely

Natasha picked up peters book again and pulled out the photo and showed him

“This picture looks like it was taken maybe a week after it happened the old tony stark wouldn’t ever be at one of those conventions” Nat said with a grin

“Yeah the old I definitely wouldn’t but I have to admit going there with him was a fun time didn’t know he kept a picture in his math book.” Tony said laughing

“He probably likes that reminder of what a fun day when he’s bored in math.” Nat said smiling

“I guess so god id be lost without that kid” tony said putting the picture away

“I know you would so I hope you can forgive me” Nat said smiling

“Yeah you’re forgiven for now, plus I know the kid has been asking about you on occasion so I bet he like seeing you around again.” Tony said laughing

“Where is the kid now?” Nat asked

“He was hanging with his friends Ned and MJ I think movies or something, he messaged me before I came up here that he be home in a hour so probably like 15 minutes or so now” tony said glancing at his watch

Natasha grinned at the mention of MJ “Oh I can’t wait to see him again” she said grinning

Not even 15 minutes later peter walked off the elevator and saw his dad and black widow talking.

“Auntie Tasha!” peter exclaimed as he ran over and gave her a huge hug.

“Hey Pete I take it you missed me?” Nat said grinning

“Yeah but with everything I wasn’t sure” peter said quietly looking at tony

“Pete were good were friends again me and Nat are at least the others are TBD. You and your friends eat or are you hungry?”  Tony asked

“I’m starved, Tasha will you have dinner with us?”  Peter begged

“Sure bud whatever you want” Nat said laughing

“Dad order Chinese food please” peter said with a grin

“Aye, Aye Captain” tony said laughing. He stood up pulling his phone out of his pocket started walking to the kitchen to place the order.

Natasha noticed they were alone so decided to take advantage of it.

“So Pete what were you and you friends doing today?”  Nat asked

“We went to see the new star wars movie” peter answered

“I bet you enjoyed that what your friends think?” Nat asked

“Ned was over the moon he liked it more than me I think MJ I’m not really sure what she thought of it she’s not really into star wars much but she came because I invited her.” peter replied blushing slightly

Natasha grinned

“Well sounds like you had fun peter I have a question for you”

“Shoot”

“So you like your friend MJ?” Nat said grinning

Peter cheeks turned red

“What are you talking about Tasha?”

Natasha picked up Math book and turned to where Ned was writing him notes

Peter sighed

“She’s just a friend Tasha nothing more I mean it” peter pleaded obviously embarrassed

“ you sure from this he comparing her to some other girl you had a crush on apparently saying he catches you watch her, sounds like a crush to me” Nat gave a smile

Peter sighed in defeat

“Yeah I think I like her more than a friend but there’s no way she likes me and I don’t want to risk our friendship just to be turned down.” Peter said quietly

“Pete she won’t turn you down, you want to know how I know. The movie she went because you peter asked her, you said it yourself she doesn’t like star wars yet she still went because she wanted to spend time with you. So Pete if you ask I guarantee shell says yes” Nat said with a warm smile

“Thanks Tasha for the advice I’ll try asking her next time I see her” peter said smiling

“I’m always here for you Pete and another advice try to pick a first date she like you hang around her a lot you should know” Nat said smiling

“She likes reading and arts a lot” peter replied

“try asking her to go to a museum or gallery I know she’s smart like you” Nat said smiling

“That a good idea thanks Tasha” peter said pulling her into another hug

“please don’t tell dad about this he embarrass me this next century god when I told him about liking Liz he tried giving me the talk god i’ve never wished I had a different parent until then” peter said laughing.

“You secret is safe with me” Nat said smiling

Tony walked in not long later saying the food should be there within 10 minutes. He noticed peter look like he just finished saying something.

“Did I interrupt a lively discussion?” tony said smirking

“Nope peter was just telling me about his movie” Nat answered

“Oh ok I believe it kid can talk hours about star wars” tony said sitting next to peter

“I do not” peter denied

“Pete vie timed you in the past do you want to ask FRIDAY or you want to take my word for it?” tony said chuckling

Peter shrugged in defeat and glanced over at Natasha who gave him a wink.

[bgn846]

The Niflheim Experiment Chapter 11

The last thing any of them expected was Noct’s sheepish reaction at being told the news of Luna’s departure. Gladio had assumed the prince would yell and demand they go after her. Instead, Noct didn’t utter a word. He stayed glued to his seat and stared at the floor. Shit, they’d missed something in translation here; Noct should have been railing to rally the troops.

After several long minutes of terrible silence, Ignis took a guess as to what was going on. “Highness, did you help them leave?” he asked with a knowing look. Leave it to Ignis to crack the case. The look on Noct’s face spoke volumes, he still refused to make eye contact, but it was clear he’d done just as Ignis had suggested.

Groaning in frustration, Gladio wished they’d waited to have their ‘planning meeting’ so it would have included Iggy.  They’d wasted time trying to think ahead only to be thrown right back to square one. “Noct, where are they going?”

This time the prince had something to say, “I dunno,” he spat out. “Away from here and away from the empire, that’s all I know.”

The next hour was fraught with emotion as they all tried to figure out where Luna and Ravus had gone. It became obvious that Noct was telling the truth, he didn’t know and didn’t want to.  Gladio supposed Noct’s reasoning had been if he didn’t know, he couldn’t tell no matter how hard he was questioned. Stepping out of the room for a moment Gladio tried to clear his head. If they were seeking safety from the empire, where would they go? No place came to mind.  In an act of sheer frustration, he pulled out his phone and texted Ravus.

Gladiolus Amicitia 7:39pm: I’ll never forgive myself if you or Luna dies. You got me involved and now you think you can just run away.  That’s a shitty move.”

Without re-reading his message Gladio hit send in a fit of rage. He was angry at having missed the signs last night and again, not being able to do a damn thing to help.  Why was he constantly being thrust into situations where he had no control over anything? What kind of special punishment was this?

“Gladio, is everything alright?” A voice asked from behind.

Turning revealed Ignis standing just outside the doorway to the meeting room with a concerned look. “I’m just pissed, we can’t seem to catch a break,” he growled.

“Perhaps if we regrouped and --.”

“We’ve regrouped already, and it didn’t help, Iggy. Noct isn’t even on our side, which is screwed up when you think about it.”

“Now, now, there is no need to question Noct’s part in this, he was only doing what he felt was right.”

“Helping them leave? How is that a good thing, how does that help? They could get captured by the empire and be killed!” Gladio exclaimed.  He could feel his blood pumping faster just thinking about that scenario. “They tried to turn me into a daemon, what do you think they’ll do to them if they get caught?”

“Love, calm down, I know you’re frustrated but this isn’t going to solve matters,” Ignis tried as he walked closer.

“Nothing I’ve done has helped!” he bellowed. “I got captured like an idiot and set off a chain of events that has resulted in this clusterfuck.  Gods, why the hell am I so freaking useless?!” After the words left his mouth Gladio shut down. He didn’t want to talk anymore, there was nothing else left to do.  Stepping back and away from Ignis he shook his head, enough was enough.

Without any further explanation he turned and left, he needed to escape this nightmare.  Ignis called after him but he ignored it. Everyone else had been allowed to run from their problems, now it was his turn.

However, his defiant streak didn’t last long.  In the time it took Gladio to walk outside, to a quiet corner of the gardens, the guilt at having behaved like a child caught up to him. Today sucked so badly, he should’ve stayed home. Sighing in defeat at his own foolishness Gladio dug out his phone.  He could at least call Ignis and apologize for leaving.

Ignis answered but didn’t immediately talk to him, “Yes, it’s Gladio, hold on one moment.” He uttered before his voice got louder. “Please tell me you’ve not skipped town as well.” Ignis chided.

“No, sorry, I’m acting like an asshole.” Gladio supplied before slipping into silence once more.

“We are all stressed, might you be willing to come back so we can continue?”

“I can’t, I – I need some time.  It’s not like we can do anything else about Luna and Ravus.  They’re gone.”

Ignis was silent for a beat, “You make it sound as if they are already dead.”

“They might as well be! We can’t protect them now.” Gladio sputtered.  

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter at the moment.” Humming thoughtfully in response Ignis took a deep breath but remained quiet. Gladio could tell he was stressing the advisor out. “Sorry, I know you don’t need me actin’ like a fool on top of everything else right now.”

“As I said before, we are all stressed. Perhaps, I could come to sit with you?”

“I think I’d be shitty company, but I’m in our spot in the gardens.”

“Very good, I’ll be there shortly,” Ignis said before hanging up.

Left again with his own destructive thoughts, Gladio couldn’t help but worry about Luna and Ravus. After everything they’d been through, he owed it to them to secure their wellbeing.

Plopping down on the grass Gladio leaned forward cradling his head in his hands. He had to calm down and think. Being a big mope wasn’t going to solve anything. A buzzing noise caught his attention a second later, thinking it was Ignis calling Gladio pulled his phone out. The caller id was blocked. A small part of his brain desperately hoped it was either Ravus or Luna but he knew that was too good to be true.

Answering the call quickly Gladio almost fumbled the phone out of his shaking fingers and into the grass. “Hello?”

“Are you always in the habit of sending rude text messages?” Ravus clipped voice asked.

“Are you two alright?!” Gladio blurted. He knew Ravus wouldn’t tell him shit so he could at least make sure they were safe.

“Same as we were last night.”

“Thank the six,” he breathed.

“What? That’s it, you send me a nasty text and then thank the astrals we’re not in ill health?” Ravus questioned gruffly.

“Like I could say anything that would make you come back,” Gladio scoffed. “I may miss some things Ravus, but not I’m not that stupid.”

“To my knowledge you’ve not missed anything Gladiolus.”

“Damn, full name status. Guess us Lucians screwed up real bad this time.”

“Stop acting like a child,” Ravus huffed. “I’m traveling with one already,” he added in a hushed tone.

“Sorry, I shoulda tried to talk to her but I thought I had more time,” Gladio lamented.

“It’s not your job to help my sister understand my viewpoint on things. I’m not sure she’d ever believe you anyway.”

“I’m pissed at Noct cause of you,” Gladio threw in for good measure.

“Oh don’t blame me for that one; my lovely sister handled our escape.”

“Seriously?! You were okay staying?”

“I can’t say I especially liked it, but I do feel like it was a safer choice.”

Gladio was about to respond when he heard Luna shouting in the background. Well, it was more like whining but she still wasn’t happy. “Did I just get you in trouble?”

“Nonsense, I’ve always been in trouble. Don’t worry yourself about that one.”

“We’re both a right pair of idiots, aren’t we?” Gladio sighed.

“Now, I’m not following you, why are you an idiot?” Ravus questioned.

“I’ve screwed everything up since day one, I got captured, turned the empire against you, lost the oracle, should I continue?”

Ravus took a deep breath over the phone and cleared his throat before replying. “Gladiolus, you got captured because you saved your prince. The empire turned against me because I made the choice to leave them,” he paused and sighed heavily. “Luna does what she wants, so please don’t think that us leaving is any reflection on you.”  

Luna, again, made a noise in the background, but this time she came close enough to be heard clearly. “What does he think?” she asked with concern.

“He feels responsible for you running away,” Ravus explained calmly.

“No, no, no, that’s not true at all, give me the phone.” After a brief pause, Luna’s voice was crystal clear. “Gladio, you can’t think any of this is your fault. I needed to get away to protect you all.”

That wasn’t what Gladio was expecting to hear. “What do you mean protect us? We’re supposed to be watching over you.”

“No, there’s more to this than just the armies and the emperor. There is another evil at play that we’ve not accounted for.”

Distracted for a moment when Ignis suddenly appeared by his side Gladio motioned for the man to sit as he pointed to his phone. Pulling Ignis close cued him in that Gladio wanted him to listen as well.  Nervous to put the phone on speaker in case it spooked Luna, Gladio continued. “What do you mean another evil? That sounds ominous.”

“It is, I’m afraid Niflheim has discovered an ancient power.”

“What? We need to research this so we can figure out how to beat it.”

“No, you don’t understand Gladio, it’s not what it’s a who.” Luna corrected.

“One man can’t be that difficult to beat, who is it?” Gladio asked nervously.

“I have reason to believe Niflheim has discovered adagium.”

Gladio had no idea what Luna was talking about, but Ignis flinched and had gone pale. “Luna, this doesn’t sound good at all, please come back so we come up with a plan of attack.”

“Trust me, this is the best way.”

“Luna I don’t thin--.” Gladio’s words died into thin air as the phone line disconnected.  “Luna! No!” he shouted. Dammit, why was he always left trying to pick up the pieces?  “Who the hell is adagium?!” he demanded reaching out and grabbing Ignis’ arm.

Ignis still looked rattled and was trying to come up with something to say. “I believe we may need to speak with the king. What little I do know has never been told to me directly.”

That confused Gladio even more. “Come on, let’s get Noct as well.”

“Aren’t you still mad at him?”

“Yeah I’m pissed but we got a lead, this is more than we’ve had since I got back. We need to figure out who this dude is and see if we can find Luna.”

--

Gladio wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anymore. How the heck had this been forgotten? A crazy man had stormed Insomnia nearly twenty years ago and no one knew?! The ensuing calamity and minor destruction had ended up in the history books, but it’d simply been attributed to Ifrit going rogue. The truth behind the tale was shocking and hard to believe.

However, the thing that was even harder to swallow was the reason why the king had lied about the attack in the first place.  Gladio felt like his world was falling apart.  He wasn’t mad at Noct anymore, far from it. He wished he could take away his friend's pain, but there was nothing he could do.  Noct had a prophecy to fulfill, a fairly grim one from what Gladio could gather.

Though, Gladio still didn’t know the details, as he’d been asked to leave along with everyone else so Regis could talk with his son.  Remembering his father’s adamant declaration that Regis wouldn’t be happy to send Noct out of the city again, Gladio wondered if that was why. No wonder he’d gotten so upset earlier.

Now, as he sat outside the king’s office waiting for any kind of update Gladio felt truly lost. Things had gotten so out of hand.  The sound of footsteps approached caused him to look up. Aranea and Loqi were coming and they didn’t look happy.

“We heard something bad had happened, how can we help?” Aranea announced as they came to a halt in front Clarus.

“I’m not sure what you could do at this point. The prince is with his father at the moment and I’m not going to interrupt that meeting.” Clarus supplied.

“What about Ravus and Luna? Can we go get them? I’ve got my drop ship at the ready.” Aranea offered.    

“I’m afraid you’d be wasting gas, we’ve no idea where they headed off to.”

“I put a tracker in Ravus’ sword, I can find him.” Aranea supplied like it was nothing.

“When did you do that?!” Gladio growled before his father could respond.

“Ages ago, when I didn’t know where his loyalties lied.”

“And you think he’s not discovered it yet?” Clarus asked in disbelief.

“He’s smart but I’m smarter, so I’ll ask again. Do you want me to go get him?”

“Yes!” Gladio blurted, “They’re not safe and Luna’s rambling about evil people and Noct’s--,” Gladio trailed off not willing to say anything more. The news that his friend and prince had to die to save them all was not an easy pill to swallow.  There had to be something they could do to stop all of this.

Aranea looked a little shocked at the outburst but remained silent. It seemed she was looking between Clarus and him waiting for a more direct answer.

“I can’t stop you should you decide to go look for them,” Clarus added a second later.

“You can’t stop me taking Loqi with me either, can you?”

Clarus simply shook his head, but he didn’t look the least bit angry about it.

“I’m going with you!” Gladio huffed as he stood quickly. “I can’t let you two go out there alone without backup.”

“Who are we keeping an eye out for?” Loqi asked with concern.

“From what I’ve gathered, it’s a man named Ardyn Izunia or Ardyn Lucis Caelum.” Clarus announced somberly.

“I knew that idiot was bad news!” Aranea angrily spit out. “He always gave me the creeps.”

“Ardyn is the bad guy?” Loqi scoffed. “He’s just one of the emperor's puppets from what I could tell.”

“I think you may have that backward sweetie. Remember, no one ever knew where he came from. Plus, the fact that he hung out with Versteal so much was always a red flag. We gotta get a move on if he’s involved.”

Gladio moved to follow Aranea and Clarus held out his hand. “Whoa there, aren’t you forgetting your duties?”

“Rescuing me got Luna caught up in all this, I need to see this through.”

“You have an oath to uphold to Noctis if I’m not mistaken.”

“If I don’t help put a stop to this now, Noct won’t be alive for me protect, dad,” Gladio replied sadly. That comment seemed to halt Clarus in his tracks. He waivered and lowered his hand after taking a long breath.

“I need more time to think on this.”

“I’m leaving in thirty minutes, whoever shows up gets to come along,” Aranea announced before walking away with Loqi by her side.

“Dad, I have to help. If we can bring Luna and Ravus back we can talk more about how to beat this Ardyn guy.” Clarus barely imperceptible head nod was all Gladio needed to see to know he’d succeeded.

“I’ll keep watch over the king and Noctis. I have a feeling Regis isn’t going to want to part ways with his son anytime soon.”

“I’ll let you know when we’ve found them and are on our way back.” Gladio sighed in relief, thankful that he’d been given the go-ahead to proceed. Turning to his boyfriend Gladio tried to think of what he could say. He’d only just come back and now he was leaving again. “Iggy – I –I.”

“You two can talk more on the ride in the dropship.” Clarus cut in as he began to herd them down the hall together.

“What?”

“I’m not letting you go out there alone!” Clarus all but yelled. “Ignis do what you can and I expect a full report when you get back.” His father pulled him into a tight embrace. When they pulled apart Gladio was greeted with a watery smile. “I have faith you in son.” He added before turning to go back into Regis’ office.

“I need to grab some things from the training room,” Ignis cut in quietly. “We’d best hurry.”

“Yeah, for sure, uh--,” Gladio stalled out not knowing what else to say. Ignis reassuring grip on his arm was the only thing that got him moving a second later. They had a mission to do. Find Ravus and Luna and bring them back.

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