#if you somehow manage to make someone both yellow and gray at the same time idek what to say id leave to wash my eyes

[welcometoteyvat]

the brother of this pet peeve: drawing people gray

pet peeves: drawing people yellow

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 28

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. You do NOT have to read the series to understand this fic)

Warnings: slight profanity

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @thebejeweledwatercat @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @themaradwrites @kmc1989 @karimac @asirensrage @residentdormouse @fanficanatic-tw @ninjasawakenedmystar @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @ocappreciationtag @theesirenteller @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3:

My tag list is OPEN. Just ask if you'd like to be added :D

****

On day six, she forces herself out of bed. Tired of staring at the same four walls and depression and frustration setting in; feeling isolated and lonely, jealous as she listens to life as it continues around her. She misses the constant interaction and stimulation; saddened by the lack of colour, the smell of fresh air, the absence of conversation, and even the briefest and most innocent of physical contact.

The absence of tubes and wires makes it easier to slip out from under the confines of the crisp, warm sheets. The pain is dull yet manageable; centred in the ribs, sternum, and the middle of her back as she carefully sits up and gingerly swings her legs over the side of the mattress. The effort leaving her winded, but not defeated; her eyes closed as she slowly and deeply breathes through the tightness and the discomfort in her chest. Waiting until it passes before she stands; her knees initially buckling and her legs feeling impossibly weak, the room briefly spinning around her as her both body and brain try to centre and strengthen themselves. And she’s unsure of how much time passes before she makes those first movements; shuffling her way across the room and gaining confidence with each successful step. Spurred on when she finds it easier than expected to slip out of her nightgown and into fresh clothing; a simple pair of terry cloth shorts and a t-shirt pulled out of Tyler’s duffle bag.

The journey out of the room and down the hall and stairs is slow and tedious; her legs and her determination driven by a mixture of stubbornness and sheer spite. She has survived much worse; the many beatings that Mark had bestowed upon her, the times he’d put her in the hospital, the two stints in the ICU. If he couldn’t break and defeat her, she surely wasn’t giving Alessio and his family the pleasure of knowing they succeeded. And although she is forced to take several small breaks along the way and has to resort to leaning against stair railings and walls, she enjoys the feel of the smooth, cold marble under her bare feet.

The conversations on the outside patio become clearer with each small step. Yaz with his cool, calm tone laced with humour and sarcasm, Tyler’s much lower and resonating deep within his chest, each syllable dripping with his Australian accent. And Millie with that tiny yet always confident and sometimes commanding voice; high-pitched with excitement, her words occasionally making way for that infectious giggle.

Esme can imagine that sweet face; sunkissed cheeks and nose, vibrant blue eyes, a smile that spreads from ear to ear. A fierce, free-spirited little girl who routinely throws caution to the wind and lives her life one mud puddle to jump in or towering tree to climb at a time. Fearless and resilient in ways no one that young should ever be; witnessing things that someone so innocent and precious should never have to endure. Yet somehow, she hangs on to breathtaking levels of vibrance and exuberance and a love for the world and everyone and everything in it.

The patio is enormous. A central courtyard surrounded by the villa’s stucco and brick walls and countless picture windows. The flooring intricately laid mosaic tiles; a mixture of turquoise, vibrant yellow, royal blue, and smoky grey. An inground pool with outer edges lined by over a dozen loungers and chairs; simple wooden frames with crisp, white, navy blue, and gray striped cushions. An outdoor kitchen rivalling the gourmet one that resides inside the house; stone pizza ovens, wood burning stoves, top-of-the-line smart fridges, and a fully stocked bar.

The elegance is teamed with a section dedicated solely to Millie; an expansive wooden play structure with a spiral slide, saucer swings, a rope and rock climb, a teeter-totter and a sandbox. And a water table, a child-size three-story dollhouse -that had been handmade especially for her-, and a ‘battleground’ for her GI Joes. Doll-sized mud piles and trenches and caverns for them to hide in.

“Look! Look! Look!” Millie squeals from her spot at the dining table; the top covered end to end in various Lego pieces. Kneeling on her chair, she holds aloft a separate baggy of building bricks; her long, slender frame clad in a purple bathing suit, its front adorned by a lone brilliant pink flamingo. Both arms covered in multicoloured beaded bracelets. “Where do you think these go?”

“Open it up,” Tyler suggests, as he stands across the table in only a pair of camo board shorts; his hair damp and sticking up in several different directions, eyes covered by a pair of aviator shades. The lack of a shirt gives a clear view of the now-healing bruises that mar his back and shoulders and crawl down the rear of both biceps. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You can’t do that.” Yaz heaves an exasperated sigh. “That’s not how it’s done. You need to plan. Figure out where you want to start first. You can’t just jump into it and hope for the best.”

Tyler frowns. “I think you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s Lego. For kids.”

“Lego isn’t just for kids. Adults invest a lot of money in this. A lot of time. A lot…”

“Adults that don’t have sex lives, you mean. Because if they had them, they wouldn’t be so caught up in this kind of thing.”

“Adults who enjoy their hobbies. Who are into the finer things in life. Who…”

“Finer things in life? They’re plastic bricks.”

“These aren’t just any old Lego sets. These are intricate pieces of art. Some of these kits cost into the thousands. People have whole rooms dedicated to the ones they’ve put together; replicas of the Eiffel Tower, the Roman Coliseum, the Titanic.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Millie declares. “I just want to build shit!”

Tyler nods in his daughter’s direction. “What she said.”

“It’s true. The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’re both feral.”

“The best part is when you get to break the thing!” Millie enthuses. “That’s my favourite! When I get to bust it all up!”

Leaning sideways in his chair, Yaz playfully tugs at the little one’s hair. “What is wrong with you? You can’t just ‘bust it all up’”

“Why not? It’s mine to do whatever I want with. You were the one who told me to pick out a Lego set, remember? And you didn’t like the one I did pick! I wanted the Lego Friends set with the cupcake shop, but you said, ‘No Mills. That’s not good enough. ' You were the one who picked THIS one.”

“You said you liked this one.”

“I do! But I thought I was going to get to break the shit out of it after I built it! That’s the part I love the most. About Legos. I love wrecking stuff. Causing a mess.”

“You’re definitely your father’s daughter. Tell you what…” Scooping Millie out of her seat, he settles her on his lap. “...we’ll go back to the store and get you a whole bunch of those Lego Friends sets. And you can put them together and bust them up all you want. But this one? This one stays in one piece. And here at mine and Auntie Nik’s place. On display.”

“You’re going to put it in your room, aren’t you? I don’t know, Uncle Yazzie, if you should do that. I don’t know if girls like seeing that kind of thing.”

“Not like that’ll happen any time soon,” Tyler mutters. “He has to actually know girls to be able to bring one back to his room.”

Yaz scowls. “I heard that.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Millie continues. “I don’t think it’s very appealing. If you’re a grown-up and have Lego in your room. It’s kinda geeky.”

“Girls like geeks.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Do they though?”

“I’ll have you know that plenty of girls like geeks. You don’t think you’d ever like a geek?”

“How should I know? I’m only four. I don’t like ANY boys. They’re all annoying. They piss me off. They do gross stuff thinking it makes them look cool. Like burping and farting and stuff like that.”

“Hey, don’t shit talk burping and farting. How do you think your dad landed your mom?”

“Oh God, I hope not! That’s not how it happened, is it? You really didn’t…”

“I promise, there was no farting or burping involved. Not on my part anyway.”

Millie crunches her nose up in disgust. “Ewwww.”

“There was no gross stuff, I swear. From me or your mum. Do you really think your mum burps and farts?”

“I KNOW she does. Everyone burps and farts. Even girls.”

“I bet you don’t.”

“Are you kidding? If I eat too much cauliflower, my farts can clear an entire room!”

“She’s telling the truth,” Yaz confirms. “And her favourite thing to do is sit on your lap, carpet bomb you, and then take off.”

“It makes Uncle Yazzie gag,” Millie proudly announces, then giggles into the palms of her hands. “And if I eat lots of popcorn…”

“She’s a cute little thing, but she’s also smelly. And a savage.”

“I get it from my momma. Not the stinky part, but the cute, little, and savage stuff. Although I’m definitely going to be taller than her one day- probably by the time I’m ten. I have really long legs! See!” Leaning back against Yaz’ chest, she stretches out both legs. “They’re super skinny, too! And I got really big feet! I already wear a kid-size two! And I’m only four!”

“You get your skinny ass legs and your big feet from your dad,” Yaz says, and playfully tickles her stomach. “And your big ass forehead.”

“I do NOT have a big forehead!”

“Are you kidding me? Look at the size of it!” He playfully taps a fingertip against her brow. “I could land a helicopter on that thing!”

“That’s mean, Uncle Yazzie! That’s not friends.”

“I say it with love. Lots and lots of love.”

As he watches his daughter and Yaz together, Tyler notices that the anger is beginning to fade; no longer hurt or incensed over the realization that while he’d been kept in the dark about his daughter’s existence, those he’d trusted and respected had been allowed to be part of her life. But now he’s able to see things from a different standpoint; how lucky Milie is to have so many people who love and adore her and would do anything to keep her safe and sound. Protecting both her and Esme FOR him; in expectation of him and Esme reuniting and being able to raise their little girl together.

It’s obvious just how loved Millie has been; happy and healthy and thriving and one hundred percent comfortable with the people that surround her. And she’s been a positive influence on all of their lives; a bright and bubbly and rambunctious little one bringing a sense of normalcy into the rather twisted and dark world they’re immersed in. Gun runners and soldiers for hire that trade in the danger and unpredictability for giggles and smiles, kisses and hugs. He’s witnessed sides to Nik and Yaz that he never has before; a softness and patience and a compassion that he’d never been privy to.

“You even got his ears,” Esme declares as she stands behind Tyler, pushes herself up on her tiptoes, and playfully tugs on his earlobes. “Cutest elf ears ever.”

“Momma!” Millie shrieks and hurriedly slides off Yaz’s lap; bare feet slapping against the patio stones as she races towards Esme. Heeding Tyler’s reminder to ‘be ‘gentle’ as she throws her arms around her mother’s thighs and buries her face in her stomach; her entire body trembling as she openly sobs. “Momma…”

Pushing through the pain that comes from simply embracing her daughter. Esme curls an arm around Millie’s long, slender body. A hand on the back of her head as she holds as tight as she possibly can; showering her little one’s temple and cheek with kisses. “My sweet girl. My sweet sweet girl. How I love you.”

“I missed you, mommy. I missed you so much.”

“How could you miss me?” Cradling Millie’s face in her palms, she uses her thumbs to clear tears off the four-year-old’s cheeks. “You see me all the time. We always hang out. Watch movies, do crafts, take naps. And you gave me a pedi yesterday.”

“It’s not the same. It’s different. I don’t like it. I like it when things are normal. When we do our normal things together.”

“Yeah, you’re a stickler for routine at times, aren’t you? Things will go back to normal soon. And in a few days, we’ll be out of here and on our way to Australia.”

“Home, right? Our forever home?”

“Our forever and ever home. And you’ll finally get to see kangaroos and koalas and…”

“And really big spiders and snakes! I really want to see those spiders! The ones that are the size of a dinner plate!”

“Well, I know I could go without ever seeing one of those. But if you’re looking forward to it…”

“And I get to school, right? And make friends?”

“As soon as it’s safe for you to go. We just have to wait for Auntie Nik to fix the problems back in New York City. She needs time to do that; to make sure no one is going to show up and try to do bad things to us.”

“I’m not worried. I don’t care if they come to our house. Daddy won’t let them hurt us. He’ll protect us! He’ll kill the bad guys! ALL of them!”

It’s the first time hearing Millie call him that, and emotion immediately grabs hold of her. Tightening her chest and throat and bringing tears to her eyes. “Your daddy loves us very, very, VERY much. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for us. And if anyone can keep us safe and fight off the bad guys, it’s him. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I’m not worried. Not one bit.”

“Good. Because there’s no reason to be. We’re safe now. No one can hurt us. Not with your dad around. Now…” She combs her fingers through Millie’s hair “...what have you been up to? Lots of swimming? Look at all the sun you got on her cheeks and your nose. And I love your new bathing suit. Did you pick that out all on your own?”

Millie nods enthusiastically. “I picked out a whole bunch! And lots of summer clothes. For when we go home. ‘Cause it’s always hot there! And I got a new Lego set. Uncle Yazzie bought it for me! I’ll show you!”

As she excitedly scurries off, Esme smiles up at Tyler, tucking herself into his side when one of his hands settle at the small of her back. “Daddy? When did THAT happen?”

“First night here. Just came out while I was putting her to bed. Mind you she was half asleep when she said it..”

“It still counts. Half asleep or not.”

“After that, it became a regular thing. She’s been saying it ever since.”

“It must feel good, huh? Hearing it.”

“Nearly brought me to my knees when she first did it. And I won’t lie; I still want to cry every time she says it.”

“It’s been a long time; since you heard someone call you that.”

Tyler nods. “It has. And after you left, I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance. To hear someone say it.”

“She’s wanted to meet her dad for so long. She was only three when she started asking about you; wanting to know where her dad was. WHO he was. All her little friends at daycare had daddies, so why didn’t she? She’s so smart, Tyler. So, so, so smart. So intuitive. So…you.”

“I don’t know about that, Me. I see a lot of you in her. The more time I spend with her.”

“She’s got way more dad in her, trust me. She’s got your heart. She loves with everything she is and everything she has. Just like you. And it’s such a beautiful thing. How much she IS like you.”

“Must have been hard. Seeing that every day. While doing it all alone.”

“It was. But it was also amazing. Because I had that connection to you. We create this amazing little human being together. And I’m sorry it took me so long to bring her to you. I can’t make up for those years you lost. I can’t go back in time and change everything. And that’s something I’ll live with for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t want that. You holding onto that forever. You don’t need to. I forgive you, Esme. And I’m starting to accept it; you making the decisions that you did. I don’t want you carrying around that guilt forever. I know what it’s like; never letting something like that go. I speak from experience.”

“I never said a bad word about you. I may never have told her your name or what you looked like, but everything I DID tell her? It was all the truth. That you were a good man with a big heart. And that I loved you very much. That I still did and always would.”

“Even when I’m an enormous, insufferable pain in your ass?”

“Even then.”

Grinning, he moves his hand to the nape of her neck and pulls her into him, lips meeting her temple. “Speaking of being a pain in my ass, just what in the hell do you think you’re doing? Being out here?”

“I couldn’t stay in that room any longer. I was starting to go stir-crazy. I need some fresh air. And have you ever thought maybe I just miss you guys? That I just want to hang out with you and Millie?”

“Hey!” Yaz calls out, from where he returns to the painstaking task of building their Lego creation. “Am I invisible?”

“Alright…” Esme sighs; heavy and exaggerated. “I suppose I could hang out with you, too. If I have to.”

“You shouldn’t have come all the way out here by yourself. You should have texted me. I would have come and helped you.”

“I made it safe and sound. Mind you, I had to stop a dozen times along the way…”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“I’m fine,” Esme assures him. “I don’t feel nauseous or dizzy, and the pain is bearable. Way better than I expected to feel, actually. Now, I may need you to carry me when it’s time to head back…”

“I’ll just slip you in my pocket. Keep you safe and sound. Get you where you need to go.”

“Don’t start with that crap. Making fun of my height. Saying I’m pocket-sized. That’s rude.”

“I say it with love. And amazement. I’ve never seen a grown woman that never grew past the age of twelve.”

She scowls up at him.

“I’m going to call you that, you know. When we get married. Pocket wife.”

“You think so, do you?”

Running a hand over her hair, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I KNOW so.”

“Look, momma!” Millie scurries over, carrying an empty box longer than she is tall. “Look! Uncle Yazzie got it for me! It’s the Imperial Destroyer! Isn’t it cool? Do you know what movie it’s from?”

“That is very cool! And I do know where it’s from; those movies were around when I was a little girl. When did you get into Star Wars?”

“We watched the movies. Three days in a row! Daddy, me, and Uncle Yazzie.”

Esme cocks her head to the side as she grins up at Tyler. “You watched Star Wars?”

“Just the original three. You know, the only ones that matter.”

“When did YOU become a Star Wars fan?”

“I’ve always been one.”

“How come I never…”

“Hey, everyone has a secret or two. That they’re allowed to keep.”

“Well, if they’re as tame as liking Star Wars, I can live with it. I might call you a geek from time to time…”

“A geek that can kick total ass!” Millie declares. “Do you want to help us, momma? Put it together? We need all the help we can get. There’s A LOT of pieces.”

“You know what, if you give me a little bit of time to rest, I’ll definitely lend a hand. But I really need to sit and catch my breath, okay?”

“Do you want me to get you a drink? And a snack?”

“You know what? That sounds awesome. But only if you get a drink and a snack for yourself, okay?”

“Yep!” Rushing off, the four year old returns the box to the ‘lego building area’ before hurrying towards the house. Calling for the cook as she slides open the patio door and disappears inside)

“I should probably go in there,” Tyler says. “Help her. If she can’t find Carmen, I don’t want her going all Swedish Chef and burning Nik’s house down.”

“First Star Wars, now the Swedish Chef? You’re a Muppets fan, too?”

“That was the second secret I had.”

“You are just blowing my mind today. I lived with you for a YEAR and never knew ANY of this stuff How?”

“Some things I wasn’t ready to tell you. Guess I was worried you’d think I was a dag.”

“Dag meaning…”

“A geek.”

“You are a man of many, many, MANY layers, Tyler Rake. What else are you hiding?”

“That was the last of it.”

“A true enigma,” she declares, turning her face up towards him when he leans down for a kiss.

“You need my help? Getting you over there and settled?”

“I’m not a complete invalid, you know. It’s not even five feet.”

“Still…” Hand on her hip, he guides her closer to the table and pulls out a chair; using his free hand to keep a firm, protective grip on her bicep as she carefully lowers herself into the seat.. “Here…” Reaching for the hoodie and beach towel slung over a nearby chair, he drapes the garment across her shoulders and spreads the towel over her lap. Giving an almost sheepish grin when she looks up at him, lips curled in amusement. “It’s kinda chilly out. Pretty good breeze coming in off the water.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“You need to chill a bit, okay? I’m alright.”

“You know what whole worrying thing that you do? Incessantly?”

She nods.

“Must be contagious. ‘Cause I’ve done nothing but.”

“He was insufferable,” Yaz chides. “Not like that’s anything new for him, but…”

“Hey!” She grabs a hold of his hand as he turns to leave; raising to her face and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I love you.”

Standing behind her chair, he cups her chin in his palm, gently tilting her head back to press a kiss to the bridge of her nose, then her mouth. His lips a hair's breadth from hers when he returns the sentiment. “I love YOU.”

*****

Grimacing in discomfort, Esme stretches out her legs and places her bare feet in the empty chair across from her. Watching Yaz as he continues to put the Lego set together; his lips pursed and his furrowed in concentration. After minutes of silence, she uses her thumb and forefinger to flick one of the plastic bricks in his direction.

“You been keeping yourself out of trouble, young man?”

Smirking, he picks up the brick and snaps into it place, then drops into his chair. “What kind of fun would that be?”

“How come you didn’t go to Manila with Nik? It’s been years since she’s done a job without you.”

“She didn’t need me.”

“I find THAT hard to believe. You’re a jack of all trades. And while I know she’s a total badass who can more than handle herself, I also know how protective you are of her. And that you’d never let her go on ANY job alone. So…”

“Can you keep a secret?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Did I not just get finished with keeping the mother of all secrets? For almost FIVE years?”

“Touche.”

“Nik didn’t go there for work, did she?”

Yaz shakes his head.

“She found herself a new boy toy?”

“Not exactly.”

“Girl toy? She’s finally discovering the best of both worlds?”

“Not a girl, either. Sorry to disappoint you. Your raging crush on my sister will have to just stay just that.”

“So not a girl, not a boy. What…?”

“It’s a guy. Just not a boy. A man. An OLDER man.”

“How much older?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Quite a bit as in ten years? Fifteen…”

Yaz raises both brows.

“Twenty?”

“A little higher.”

“Thirty?”

“Minus five from that.”

“That’s just…” Esme grimaces. “...ewwww.”

“How do you think I feel? That’s my sister.”

“I don’t like the direction my mind is taking this in. I can understand her wanting to try her hand at guys her age or a little bit older, but someone old enough to be her father? Just…no.”

“If it makes it any better, he is a decent guy. I’ve met him a handful of times; he’s one of our biggest clients.”

“Weapons?”

Yaz nods.

“He a merc or…?”

“Runs his own business. A very lucrative one.”

“Are we talking gross and wrinkled old man? Or are we talking like Paul Newman level of hot old man? Because if it’s not the latter…”

“I’ll give him Paul Newman level.”

“Good for her. ‘Cause I would have hit old man Paul Newman in a heartbeat. Well, at least she’s not slumming. Because that last guy? The boy toy…”

“He was a complete tool.”

“That’s putting it lightly. I mean, he didn’t even appreciate her. He had this total goddess fawning all over him; giving him a fancy place to live, spoiling the shit out of him, paying all his bills, putting expensive clothes on his back. And what did he do? Cheat. The ungrateful fuck. He was nothing when she met him, and I bet he’s back to being nothing now.”

“We both warned her. That he was a piece of shit. And while I wouldn’t say ‘I told you so’ to her face…”

“She’d smack the ever-loving shit out of you.”

“...I can at least say it to you. It hasn’t been easy not having you around, you know. I got used to having someone on my side. Sticking up for me. Helping me talk the she-beast down from time to time.”

“Believe me, in hindsight, being around here would have been a lot better than where I ended up.”

“You mean with Alessio? Or Winston?”

“I think it’s safe to say that ‘both’ is an acceptable answer.”

“Speaking of ‘I told you so’....”

“Remember, I’m not completely feeble now, Yaz. I happen to have just enough strength to slap you upside the head. So tread lightly.”

“I DID tell you so. When Nik brought that job to you. I told her -right in front of you- that I didn’t have a good feeling about it. That things weren’t going to end well. And I tried talking you out of it; getting you to back off before you even got started. More than once. But did you listen…”

“You know I’m stubborn.”

“To a fault.”

“For what it’s worth, I do appreciate that you wanted to keep me safe; that you tried your best to stop me from getting caught up in all of that. But I couldn’t turn that job down. I couldn’t say ‘no’ to your sister. After everything she’s done over the past five years…”

“You don’t owe her anything. And she certainly doesn’t expect something from you.”

“It was a lot to ask. A huge secret for BOTH of you to keep. And the way you’ve continued to help take care of us and make sure we’re safe and sound and how you love Millie the way you do…”

“We’re family. That’s my niece. I don’t do the things I do because I expect something in return. And neither does Nik. That isn’t why she asked you if you wanted that job; she wasn’t preying on your guilt or your regret. She wanted the BEST. That’s it. And when it comes to what you do? The things you know? The things you can get away with? The best is YOU.”

“I felt like I DID owe you. BOTH of you. If it wasn’t for you and Nik keeping all my secrets…”

“We helped because we wanted to. Because you were scared and you were alone and you didn’t know who else to turn to. And maybe things got way out of hand and lasted way longer than they should have…”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“...but we don’t regret the decisions we made. And you don’t owe us a damn thing. So if that’s why you took that job…”

“I felt it was the least I could do. After everything that you guys do for us. All the things you STILL do. I…”

“Taking that job was a mistake. I told you it was. Before you even started it. That you had no business getting involved. Not with Millie in the picture.”

“I wouldn’t have taken it if I thought she’d get hurt. If I thought for a second she was in any danger…”

“Why wouldn’t you expect the worst? You knew who and what Alessio’s family were. The kind of things they were involved in. Those were the last people you should have gotten involved with. If you were alone, I wouldn’t have said a damn thing. I would have worried. But I wouldn’t have tried so hard to stop you. I just didn’t get it. Why you’d be so willing to drag Millie into this life.��

“Hasn’t she always been part of it? Right from conception? Hasn’t it always been in her blood? You do realize who her parents are, right? Who her father is?”

“But you stayed out of things. Or just helped from behind the scenes. She was never exposed to it. Not directly. Millie’s always been the one normal thing in all OUR lives. The only person that’s truly innocent in all of this. And we made sure to keep it that way; keep you and her safe and under the radar and…”

“I would never…EVER…do anything to hurt her. Or put her in danger. I had no idea things would go that bad. Not after months of everything going right. I…”

“The point is you never should have been involved in this person. There shouldn’t have been a chance for anything to go bad.”

Sighing heavily, she gnaws on the inside of her cheek, eyes in her lap as she considers his words.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you. Because I would never do that. Hurt you. And you know it.”

“I do. I DO know that.”

“Things could have been so much worse. And they were pretty fucking bad.”

“Oh, believe me, my body reminds me just how bad every day.”

“What if he hadn’t been able to get you out of there? What if Charon hadn’t helped out? If he’d taken Winston’s side?”

“But he didn’t.”

“He could have.”

“Isn’t playing the ‘what if’ game one of the major no-nos in this life? Isn’t it one of the things Nik preaches against? Doesn’t she always say that it only leads to trouble? Spending that much time inside your own head?”

“You can’t tell me you don’t think about it. How much worse things could have been.”

“I only think about it every day. Well, since I became lucid enough to form a coherent thought, anyway. I know how horrible things could have gone; had we not had the help that we did. But you know what? As bruised and busted up as I am, a lot of good things happened, too.”

Yaz stares at her pointedly,

“If things hadn’t gone wrong and I hadn’t gotten into trouble, I never would have had a reason to contact Tyler. It forced me to do the right thing. For both him and Millie. Because who knows how long I would have let it drag on. Before I finally did get up the guts to take her to him.”

“If it had gone on much longer, I would have told him. I would have taken one hell of an ass-kicking in the process, but…”

“Everything happens for a reason. I like to believe that, anyway. I had no choice BUT to call him. I knew he would do whatever it took to get Millie out of there. And to keep her safe. At that point, I didn’t care about me. All that mattered was her.”

“There was no way he was ever going to leave you behind. If he didn’t walk out the door when he realized you were the client, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sacrifice you. For anyone or anything.”

“If it was for her, I like to think he would.”

“Why would you even wish that on him? After everything he’s already gone through, why add that on top of it? The last five years haven’t exactly been kind to him, either. I know he puts on a good front…”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Just how bad he got? You always let on that he was doing okay. That he was keeping himself busy; he was firefighting and running his little business and doing the odd job for Nik. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? That he was a wreck? Why…?”

“I thought you would have just realized it. That you leaving destroyed him. I didn’t think you needed to be told.”

“I never meant to hurt him. I didn’t do it intentionally. Ruin his life. And I know I should have contacted him sooner. About Millie. Believe me, there are A LOT of things I wish I could go back and change.”

“Had you never left, he never would have ended up in Georgia. He wouldn’t have taken that job. Not even for his ex wife.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit. There’s no way he would have turned that job down. Even if I fought him tooth and nail about it. Mia knew exactly what she was doing; she knew that preying on his guilt and his regret would get him to do what she wanted.”

“She wanted the best. Just like you did.”

“She used him. She used his deepest and most painful secrets against him. To get what she wanted. And nothing I said would have made a difference. He would have taken that job regardless.”

“Millie would have been the difference. She was almost two. If you’d stuck around and the two of you went through it together? Having her? She would have made all the difference in the world. He wouldn’t have taken the chance. Of never getting home.”

“And then what would have happened? To the sister-in-law and the kids? If he hadn’t gone…”

“Mia would have had to find someone else.”

Esme sighs.

“There is no way he would have agreed to that job. Not if you were still in his life. And especially if Millie was. He wouldn’t have done that to her. To EITHER of you.”

“God, I really DID fuck up, didn’t I? In more ways than I ever realized.”

“There’s always a bigger picture.”

“If I’d stayed, the chances of us having Millie would have been slim to none. The High Table would have made sure of that. We wouldn’t have gotten through that. Had they come back and found us there and Tyler tried to put up a fight, they would have killed us. In the most gruesome ways possible. And he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to pay for something I did.”

“You don’t think he paid for them AFTER you left? That he didn’t pay for them for the last five years? I saw him at his worst. When he was barely hanging on. He spent an entire year looking for you. He turned down every job Nik offered him; he did nothing but travel the globe, trying to track you down. No matter how small the lead he was, he was going to check it out. And all that time, we knew where you were.”

“I never should have dragged you into it. I never…”

“We lied to him that entire time. We knew how you were doing, and where you were living. We knew about Millie. And we kept that from him. All that time.”

“Have you just been lying in wait for five years? To dump all of this on me? Just biding your time until I seemed ready to hear it?”

“Someone has to say it.”

“Oh trust me, Tyler hasn’t held back. He has said way more than you have. And not just once, either.”

“I’m not saying all of this to be an asshole. Or to hurt you. I know what you’ve been carrying around because of all this. I know it hasn’t been easy; not having him in the picture and raising Millie on your own. But I just feel for the guy, you know? He lost way more than you did. You at least HAD a part of him. You left him with NOTHING.”

“You don’t think I know all of this? That I haven’t been beating myself up since the day I left him? I don’t need you hating on me. I do enough of that for BOTH of us.”

“I’m not hating on you. I never could. I’m just saying things that need to be said. I feel bad for him, alright? Not just for you taking off and hiding out for the past five years. But for not even letting him know that you were okay. That’s the least I could have done.”

“I don’t know what it is you want from me. I’ve apologized. Over and over and over again. To you, to Nik, to Millie, to Tyler. I don’t know what more I can do. To get people to forgive me. Especially him.”

“Nik and I? We’re just as guilty for everything as you are. We could have stopped the bullshit. For his sake. But we didn’t And as far as Tyler goes? I don’t know, he doesn’t seem to be holding that big of a grudge. If he’s even holding one at all.”

“I hurt him. Badly. And not just once, either. The only person that’s ever loved me for ME. Who taught me that not all men hit and love isn’t supposed to hurt. And look what I did to him. How I repaid him. And if leaving wasn’t bad enough…”

“I think he might be further along in the ‘getting over it department’. He’s here, isn’t he? Stepping up to the plate. No matter how tired or how much he’s hurting. . He didn’t take off in New York; when he found out you were the client.”

“He very easily could have.”

“But he didn’t. He stuck around. Because it WAS you. Because he never got over you. He probably never would have. Not really. That guy held out hope for five years; that you’d just come walking back in as quickly as you walked out.”

“And I wanted to. Many, many, MANY times.”

“I know you were worried about rejection. That he’d turn you away. Not want anything to do with you or Millie. But there was never…EVER…a reason to worry about that. It wouldn’t have mattered what he was doing or who he was with, he would have dropped everything to be with you. It’s all he’s ever wanted. And then having a kid on top of that? That he didn’t know about? There’s no way he would ever turn all of that down.”

“He wanted to be a dad again. We used to talk about it every so often. I knew he was scared; he admitted he was worried about fucking things up. But he was willing to jump right into the deep end. No matter how terrified he was. He knew how much I wanted it; a chance to be a mom. And that I wanted that with HIM.”

“There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Even face his worst fears. I know he’s not invincible. No one is. But you sure as hell make him feel that way.”

She smiles wistfully. “Sometimes I think I even SEE him that way. That there’s nothing he can’t do. No one he can’t protect me from. He was the first person who ever made me feel safe. Protected. I didn’t even know I NEEDED to feel those things.”

“So what happened? Five years ago. What made you run? What…?”

“He wasn’t a hundred percent. He was still healing. From Dhaka. And he wouldn’t have stood a chance against The High Table. NO ONE stands a chance against them.” She glances away as she attempts to fight back a flood of threatening tears. “ Tyler would have fought for me. Until his very last breath. And they would have done horrible, horrible things to him. In front of me. They would have made me watch. And I couldn’t let that happen, Yaz. I couldn’t let him sacrifice himself for me. He’d already done it once. In Dhaka. I didn’t want there to be a second time. Not for a mistake I made.”

“There were other ways. Nik and I would have helped. We would have found a place; for the two of you to hide out while we took care of things.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally. I was terrified. That I’d lose him. Permanently. That they’d kill him. It would have been all my fault and I never would have been able to live with myself. The choice I made? I made it for him. Because I loved him. I wanted to keep him safe. And I didn’t know how else to do it.”

“He should have been given the chance. To help.”

“I couldn’t risk it. I just couldn’t. Everything I did that day, I did to protect him. I don’t regret the choice I made; sacrificing my happiness to make sure that he’d be okay. But believe me, I regret so many other things. So many other decisions I made. But I can’t take them back. I can never make it up to him. Not completely. I hurt the one person who made me feel human again. Who made me feel beautiful and wanted. Who made me realize I was worth something. To SOMEONE. And look what I did. Look how bad I hurt him. I can’t ever take that back.”

“That’s the unfortunate part of it. You can’t.”

“I don’t even know why he stuck around. When he found out I was the client. He had every reason to turn around and walk away. He didn’t know about Millie yet. Not at that point. Nothing was keeping him there. He didn’t know he was a dad.”

“YOU kept him there. That’s all he needed. It’s all he’s needed for five years. Did you honestly think he’d just turn around and walk away?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know how he’d react. It had been five years. It could have gone either way, I guess. He could have still been really pissed or he could have been completely over it. Over ME.”

“He never got over you. I don’t think he ever would have.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve HIM. Not after everything I’ve done. Yet here he is. Sticking around. Wanting a life with me. Why? After I hurt him so badly. Why would he still want that? Why would he still want ME?”

“He loves you. Simple as that. Does it need to be more than that? Isn’t that enough? He just LOVES you.”

“It’s enough. It’s more than enough, believe me. And it’s way more than I deserve.”

*****

Several minutes of silence pass before she speaks again; casting a glance over her shoulder, towards the house.

“How has he been? Since we got here??”

“He’s been hurtin’. Got himself pretty banged up in that accident. Wouldn’t let the doctor take a look at him, though.”

“Tyler not taking care of himself? Being stubborn as hell? Colour me surprised.”

“He’s been hanging in there though. Pushing himself through it. He’s been worried, though. About you. Can’t say I blame him. We’ve all been worried.”

“I don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces. But I know that every time I woke up, no matter how out of it I was, he was there. Ready, willing, and able to take care of me.”

“He didn’t leave your side much during the first few days. And didn’t trust many people with you. Not even the doctor and nurse were off his radar.”

“He’s always been a little…protective.”

“Just a bit.”

“What about Millie? I kind of threw them both to the wolves. Just dropped them right into the deep end without even a warning. Has she been alright? With him?”

“Are you kidding me? That kid is in her glory. They BOTH are. I mean, she’s finally got a dad. And not just any dad, HER dad. Her flesh and blood. And man, when I tell you she’s just like him…”

“Kinda scary, isn’t it? How much of him is in there? As if looking just like him isn’t enough, some of that personality just had to trickle down, too.”

“Some of it? There’s a lot of Tyler in her. And I’m still trying to figure out if that’s good or bad.”

“I like to think she got the best parts of both of us. Especially those parts of him that he doesn’t let everyone see. But, honestly, the mouth on her…”

“She’s definitely her father’s child.”

“Momma!” Millie’s bare feet slap against smooth stone as she races towards her, one of her plastic sand pails clasped tightly in both hands. Usually reserved for rock and seashell hunting on the beach, it now carries water and a selection of flowers. Vivid purple orchids, snow-white tulips, and brilliant orange roses. “Look it! Look what we got!”

“Oh my goodness…” Accepting the ‘gift’ from her daughter, she slides over in the chair, making room for the four-year-old to squeeze in beside her. Sheer pride and unbridled happiness glow in Millie’s eyes as she wraps both arms around her mom’s torso; beaming up at her as she rests her head on Esme’s chest. “...for me?”

“Just for you. Daddy helped me pick them.”

“All my favourites! They’re beautiful. I bet I can guess where you got these from. Auntie Nik’s front garden, right?”

Millie gives a sheepish smile, then giggles into her mother’s breast.

“I won’t tell her if you won’t. Thank you…” Wincing slightly as she leans forward to place the pail on the table, she takes Millie’s face in her hands; pressing kisses to her cheeks and lips. “....I love them. But not nearly as much as I love you.”

“I love you, mommy. I’m sorry I was mean. In New York City. That I said bad things to you. I was just upset.”

“I know you were. And you had every right to be. Your entire world was just turned right upside down, wasn’t it?”

Millie nods.

“But I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, other than your dad of course.”

“I’m going to ignore how casually you said that,” Tyler says ss he sets a tray of food and drinks on the table. “How big of a smart ass you sounded.”

“You love daddy.” Millie declares. “Don’tcha”

“I do. I love him very, very much. I always have. And now things are going exactly the way they should. I’m feeling better, in a few days we’ll be on our way to Australia and our new life.”

“And living in our new home. Our FOREVER home.”

“Exactly. And you’re going to love it there. I think it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. The perfect place for someone like you. All that sunshine and all that water and all those animals. Not to mention it’s in your blood; being an Aussie. Well, in HALF of it anyway.”

“And then I’ll get to go to school and meet new friends! And you and daddy will get married and have lots of babies!”

“Okay, slow your row. We’re not even home yet. And besides, I never said anything about LOTS.”

“Are you going to come, Uncle Yazzie?” Millie inquires as she tends to helping unload the various dishes from the tray. Carefully setting a mug of tea, a plate of cheese toast, and a bowl of fruit salad in front of her mom. “When mom and dad get married?”

“I hope I’m invited.”

“I get to wear a really pretty dress! Momma said I can pick it out! And I get to wear my Spiderman sandals too!”

“Because you’re not Millie if you didn’t.” Esme drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And you know what? We’ll even get you a brand-new pair. Just so you can wear them with your dress.”

“And then you and daddy will get married and start having babies and…”

“What is your obsession with me having babies?”

“I REALLY want to be a big sister. It’s just been me all this time! I want a brother or a sister. Mostly a sister. So we can do things together. We can play dolls and ride bikes and go to the beach and do each other’s hair and nails and…”

“You do realize that even IF I had a baby right away, you’d be five years older, right? By the time they’re old enough to do those things, you’re probably not going to want anything to do with them. They’ll be too young for you to want to hang out with.”

“I’ll still want to hang with them. They’re my sister. Sisters are supposed to do things together.”

“And what if you get a brother?”

“Well, I won’t be happy about it, but I’ll deal, I guess.”

“And probably beat on them. And torment them.”

“Maybe just a bit. Here, mom…” Sliding the plate of cheese toast over, she selects a piece. Blowing a steady stream of air onto it to cool it down, then holding it up to Esme’s lips.. “...eat.”

“I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, baby girl. I appreciate you wanting to help, but…”

“Daddy said that it’s up to us to take care of you. Until you’re all better. He said that we’re a team; we work together to keep an eye on you and help you out. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Whether I like it or not, huh?”

“Exactly!”

“Geez…” Esme grins at Tyler as he drops into the chair beside her, playfully nudging him with her elbow before briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “...I wonder where she gets THAT from.”

She wakes to a storm raging outside the window; lightning splitting the sky as thunder rumbles, wind rattles the windows, and rain patters against the glass. Sighing loudly, she rolls from her side to her back; any discomfort kept at bay the medication taken shortly before she’d settled in for the night. Eyes squinting into the darkness, she finds herself greeted by the glow of Millie’s iPad as it rests on Tyler’s thigh as he sits beside her; headphones on, eyes riveted on the screen. So invested that he doesn’t react when she gingerly sits up and slides closer to him; not acknowledging her until she moves the headphone off his right ear and places a kiss on his temple, then his cheek. Nuzzling it with the tip of her nose.

“Hey.”

Removing the headset, he presses pause on the iPad and turns it screen down. Giving her that soft, loving smile that creases his eyes and fills out his cheeks. “Hey.”

Laying a hand on his stomach, she presses a series of kisses along the line of his jaw, then rests her head on his shoulder. “What are you doing up?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“I had a really weird dream.”

“Weird as in bad or…?”

“Weird as in weird. It was about The Kimberley. Being back in that old shack of yours. Millie was there too; she was just a tiny baby and she was wearing this cute little bubblegum pink onesie. You were carrying her around and telling her all about the koalas and kangaroos and big spiders. And all about the ocean; about swimming and surfing and how the shark spotters call people out of the water.”

“Gotta start ‘em young.”

“It would have been hard. Raising a kid there. In the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, that was never the plan. We would have already been in Broome. When she was born.”

“We should take her there. To the old place. Let her see how things were before she was even a twinkle in my eye. I highly doubt it’s liveable now, so we couldn’t stay there, but…”

“I still own it though. We could always fix it up. Add onto it. Make it a place we can just take off to. When we just need to get away from the city.”

“The city.” Esme laughs. “Broome is hardly a city.”

“Not by your standards, maybe. Miss ‘studio apartment in Brooklyn, New York’.”

“I think she’s going to love it there. In Australia. She is HALF Aussie, after all.”

“The best half of her is, at least.”

“The best half,” she scoffs, then reaches up to flick the tip of his nose with her thumb and forefinger. “You wish! More like the half that’s an enormously stubborn pain in my ass.”

“You know you love me. That you’d be completely miserable without me.”

“I do love you.” She speaks between kisses to the underside of his chin. “Very, very, very much. And believe me, I WAS completely miserable without you. I don’t want to ever do that again. Be away from you that long.”

“Well lucky for you, I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“I might become really, really, REALLY clingy, you know. At least for a little while.”

“I can handle clingy. Especially when it has an ass like yours.”

“And needy. Extremely needy. And demanding. CRAZY demanding.”

“Are we talking in the dirty sense or…”

“As dirty as we can get, baby.”

“Then I can DEFINITELY do crazy and demanding. Figuratively and literally.”

“Look at you. Busting out the big words. Pretty impressive for a big, bad, mercenary man.”

Grinning, he gently and playfully tousles her messy hair. “And you say I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Why ARE you awake? I thought you’d be exhausted. I heard through the grapevine that Millie’s been keeping you on your toes. Wearing you out in your old age.”

“First you call me fat, now you’re calling me old. What’s next?”

“Impotent?”

“Don’t even put that out into the universe. That’s not right.”

“Considering you’re a horny high schooler trapped in the body of a forty-year-old man, I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem like THAT. Seriously though, aren’t you tired? I know what a handful she can be. She’s so much like you. Can’t sit still for too long, always wants to try new things, isn’t scared of a damn thing…”

“I’m scared of a lot, believe me. I learned just how scared I could be. Seeing you in that SUV. Thinking you were dead. Of all the things I’ve been through, the things I’ve survived, the people I’ve gone against? Nothing was as bad as that. I’ve never been that afraid of anything, but at the moment…” He takes a deep, quivering breath.. “...let’s just say I don’t ever want to go through anything like that ever again.”

“I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour from here on out. Once we’re home, that part of me is gone. I get to start a whole new life. With you and Millie. The only two people that really matter.”

“You think you’re going to be happy? Being a good little housewife? Staying home and raising kids?”

“After everything I’ve gone through in the last ten years, I’m going to be ECSTATIC to live like that. Think you’re going to be alright with you? Doing normal things? Having a normal job? A wife and a kid?”

“I was alright with it five years ago, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay with it now?”

“Baby…” She presses a handful of kisses on the side of his neck. “...you always have the best answers. You may be a man of few words, but when you DO talk…”

“I had to learn, didn’t I? When we started living together? To watch the shit I say? And how I say it? I wasn’t used to that; worrying about someone else’s feelings.”

“You learned pretty quick, though. Mostly because I’m a mouthy bitch who doesn’t hesitate when it comes to putting you in your place.”

“Small but mighty. The only person on this earth I’m legitimately terrified of. Even if I can pick you up and carry you around in my pocket.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully pinches his stomach, head on his chest as she drums her fingernails on the iPad. “So what were you watching?”

“Nothing important.”

“It wasn’t porn, was it? The least you could do is save that kind of stuff for when I’m healed a little more. So we can watch it together. And let things…you know…progress from there. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

“You are a dirty girl, Esme.”

“In the ways you love best.”

“And no, I wasn’t watching porn.”

“Good, because…”

“I watched that earlier.”

“Oh God,” she groans and attempts to move away. Laughing when he lightly tickles and pinches her side and then pulls her into him, tucking her body tightly and protectively against his, hand coming to rest on her hip.

“I wasn’t watching porn. Not now, not earlier. I was watching other stuff.”

“Stuff, huh? What kind of stuff?” Reaching for the iPad, she scowls when he lays his palm on top of it, preventing her from flipping the device over. “What’s your issue?”

“What’s yours?”

“I just want to know what you were watching. Why is it such a secret? Why are you hiding things from me?”

“It’s not a secret. And I’m not hiding anything.”

“Then why won't you tell me what it is? Don’t be so sketchy.”

“I’m not being anything. I was just watching some stuff. On youtube. It’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, you’d tell me what was. Surfing videos? Football highlights?”

“No. And no. Like I said, just…stuff.”

“You’re being very weird about this. Unless…” Her eyes narrow. “...you weren’t really watching anything. You were chatting and sexting and sending someone dirty pictures. Or they were sending YOU pics.”

“That’s exactly it. You figured it out. I was totally sexting with someone. Sending dick pics.”

She frowns.

“Are you kidding me right now? Do you honestly believe that? I just spent five years wondering where the hell you were and if you’d just show up on my doorstep one day. Do you honestly think I’m going to fuck this all up? When things are finally going the way they should have way back when? I know I’m not the smartest guy on the planet, but give me SOME credit.”

“I have never said you were stupid. Or even insinuated it. But to be this secretive over videos you’re watching on YouTube…”

“I just don’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”

“Christ, how bad are these videos?”

“They’re not bad at all. They’re just…I don’t know…kinda lame, I guess. I just don’t want you laughing at me. That happens, I might have to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try. I’ve got nine lives, Tae. And I haven’t even used up half yet. But if you’re THIS embarrassed about whatever you were doing, keep your secrets. That’s three in one day, you know. Stars Wars, The Muppet Show, sketchy videos on the internet.

“They’re not sketchy. They’re just not what you’d expect. Can’t a guy browse the ‘net in peace?”

“How do I know you’re not googling the easiest ways to kill me and dispose of my body?”

“Because that would be a waste of time. I already know those things.”

Esme scowls.

“Fine. If you wanna see, I’ll show you. But I swear, if you make even one small smart-ass remark…”

“Get a grip. I’m not going to laugh at you or make fun of you.” Turning the iPad over, she presses play; watching for several seconds before pausing it and glancing up at him. Brows arched quizzically. “A hair braiding tutorial? Why…?”

“I’m doing it for Millie.”

“She told you to watch it or…?”

“The first night here, she told me how you always braid her hair before bed. Because of how knotty it gets when she sleeps I didn’t know how to do it. And I’ve been so caught up with other things, I haven’t had the chance to get her to teach me. And you weren’t able to do it, so I just pawned her off on Nik.”

“I could have taught you. It’s honestly not that hard. Even Millie would have taught you. She was three when she learned how to do it on her Barbie dolls.”

“I just figured I’d look it up and learn on my own. I mean, I’m a girl dad now. I should know how to do these things.”

As a slow smile spreads across her face, she reaches up to playfully tug at some of the wiry hair on the underside of his chin. “Baby, you are so cute.”

Tyler frowns. “Shut up.”

“Despite what you think, being called ‘cute’ is NOT an insult.”

“To me it is.”

“Well, to ME, you’re a six foot three, two hundred and twenty-pound ball of walking cuteness.”

“Esme, fuck off.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said that it’s sexy? Watching you embrace the whole girl-dad lifestyle? Seeing you playing with her and drawing pictures and colouring. You even watch Bluey with her. That takes some real courage and balls, you know. To sit through that show.”

“I suppose being called sexy for doing all that stuff IS better. Somewhat.”

“Well, I find it incredibly sexy. You in ‘dad mode’. It’s even better than I ever daydreamed about. And that’s saying something because those daydreams were pretty damn good.”

“I just want to do right by her. Not fucks things up a second time.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re off to a really good start. From what I’ve heard AND seen.”

“Scary as hell, though. Not gonna lie.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s so unsettling? What’s scaring you so much? Is it because you’re worried about things going wrong? Like they did with Austin? Are you worried about making a mistake or making bad choices or…?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. I’m just…terrified. Maybe there’s not even a reason. Or a sound one, anyway. Maybe it’s just all in my head.”

“In all fairness, you’ve had a lot dropped on you in the past week and a half. Enough shit to last most people a lifetime. Maybe it’s all just coming to a head, you know? Having that all put in your lap at once. Seeing me again, finding out about Millie, us trying to put things together and work through our shit. Well, MY shit. All of this messiness IS my fault.”

“It’s a lot. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. But it’s not as messy as you think. Trust me, I know messy. I AM messy.”

“A hot messy, though,” she teases. “VERY hot, actually.”

“God your taste in men is fucked up.”

“Hey, it WAS. If you saw my ex-husband, you’d realize what a huge step up you are.”

“Have you ever thought of seeing a therapist? For your horrible life choices? Because if this is the type of men you’re attracted to…”

“You’re not as messy as you think you are. I wouldn’t be with you if you were. Do you honestly think I would have hooked up with you in Dhaka if you were THAT bad?”

“If you were desperate enough.”

“Listen, buddy, I’d already gone eighteen months without a hook-up. And had you not come along, I would have gone even longer. If being with Mark taught me anything, it was to be more discerning when it came to men. Do you really think I didn’t have any options? Between you and him?”

“I don’t even want to consider that. The thought of you with other people…”

“The point I’m trying to make is that you’re not nearly as messy as you think you are. I’d already been one with one extremely messy man, I sure as hell wasn’t going to hook up with another one. Look…” Removing the tablet from his lap, she gingerly moves onto her knees; his hands immediately securing her by the hips as she carefully straddles his thighs. Using gentle fingertips, she clears the longer strands of hair off his forehead before cradling his face in her hands. “...I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re scared of. I’m not even going to try and guess. Or put words in your mouth. And I know when you figure it out yourself and are ready to tell me, you will.”

“I wouldn’t keep that from you. You’re the only person who knows everything about me. Even all the ugliest, darkest of things.”

“You know what I DO know, though? I know that Millie loves you. And trusts you. That was obvious before she even found out you were her daddy. Right from day one you made her feel safe and important. She loved you for YOU. Not just because you helped make her. That just makes everything she feels even bigger and stronger. You see that, right? How much she loves you? Trusts you?”

Tyler nods. “Reminds me of you.”

“Look how messed up we both were when we met. Look at all the baggage we were carrying around. It shouldn’t have worked; two broken people barely staying afloat yet somehow trying to find something…anything…between them. Remember what Gaspar said? About how two broken people can’t fix one another? They can’t come together to be a whole? That they’d only make each other worse? Destroy one another?”

“Fuck him. He had no clue what he was talking about.”

“Exactly. Fuck him. Fuck anyone that thought that everything was wrong between us and that nothing could be right. It wasn’t the ideal situation. We agree on that. But I don’t regret it happened. Or why, how, or where. Do you?”

“I’ve never regretted it. Not even when you took off. I’ve never regretted you. Us.”

“I knew who you were. I know what you did for a living. Even before we met, I’d heard all the stories. About the people you’d gone against, about your kill sheet. I was in that life, too. I was part of it. And then you filled in all those blanks; told me your deepest and darkest secrets and regrets and everything that tried to break you but didn’t. There were other things, too. You LET me see you. The real you. Outside of that life. Yeah, you were messy. But I still fell in love with you. Just like Millie did. As soon as she heard your mint chocolate chip was also your favourite ice cream, that was it for her. That’s all she needed.”

He gives a small chuckle.

“She LOVES you. And she loves LIKE you. With everything she has. She’s a little girl, but she has a massive heart. You’ve seen it yourself. How fiercely and deeply she loves.”

“I have. Especially when it comes to her mum.”

“I’m sorry I kept her from you. I wish she could have loved you from the very start. But she has a long life ahead of her. And so do you. That’s a lot of time with her, Tyler. And she’s already attached to your hip. She’s already a daddy’s girl. Imagine what she’ll be like in a few weeks or months. Years. If you think she’s clingy now….”

“She can be as clingy as she wants. That’s my baby. My little girl.”

“I never doubted your abilities as a father. Not for a second. You were a great dad to Austin. You made some mistakes; you weren’t around as often as you should have been, sometimes you chose the military over your family, and you left him when he needed you the most. But…”

“How can there be a ‘but’? How…?”

“He loved you. With everything he had. You were his hero. He didn’t die hating you. Or thinking you hated him. He died knowing you loved him. Thinking you were brave and strong And you need to try and remember that.”

“Have you been talking to my ex-wife? Don’t tell me you’ve been friends with her all this time, too.”

“I’ve never met her. I don’t think I ever want to. That’s just…I don’t know…awkward for me. But I know what she’s told Alcott. When I sent him fishing for information. I kept an eye on you. In the only way I knew how.”

“You spied on me, you mean.”

“I was worried about you. I may have walked out, but I didn’t stop caring. I didn’t stop loving you. And I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. That you weren’t unnecessarily putting yourself at risk. I just wanted to know you were alright.”

“I was far from alright. Regardless of what people told you.”

“But you didn’t let them see that, did you? I know you, Tyler. Better than you know yourself. I’m the person that you ‘let in’. That you showed every part of yourself, too. And I know how quickly you can turn it all off. For the sake of the job. For self-perseverance.”

“I can’t do it anymore. Or at least I couldn’t do it in New York. Turn it off.”

“You did everything right in New York. You were handling both sides of things. You knew exactly what I needed WHEN I needed it; job Tyler or normal Tyler. Nothing that happened in New York was your fault. Things go wrong. You know that.”

“Seeing you like that, thinking you were dead…”

“But I’m here, right? You made sure of it. A little worse for wear, but I AM here.”

“So this what it’s like when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh? Guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine. Everything you went through…everything you did for me…after Dhaka.”

“I did it because I wanted to. Because I was already in love with you. You, you got your absolution. You deserved to live. But I had my reasons for what I did, Purely selfish ones. I liked being with you. I liked how you looked at me. How you made me feel. It was like you thought I was the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“I did think that. I still do.”

“And I wanted more of that. I still do. I’ve always wanted you. A life with you. And I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we planned. But now we can make new ones. Have new dreams. And the best part is that Millie exists. She’s here. We get to do all of that WITH her.”

“She’s amazing, Me. I don’t know what I ever did deserve her, but it must have been pretty damn good.”

“You loved her mother. Even on those days when she couldn’t love herself. ESPECIALLY on those days.”

“Falling in love with you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. And the scariest.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Knowing we proved Gaspar wrong. We DID make each other better.”

“We still do.”

“Think we can keep it up?” She trails the pad of her thumb along his lips. “For…I don’t know…the next forty, fifty years?”

“Yeah…” Smiling, he combs his fingers through her hair; settling his palm on the nape of her neck and gently pulling her into a kiss. “...I think we can.”

[blackestnight]

4: uproot

Prompt: Free day (growth)

Word count: 1416*

*I actually wrote more than that but it was getting out of hand so here’s just the first part. Or: I was like “I don’t know what to write for the free days” and then looked up and remembered that, at @aethernoise’s suggestion, I do have a literal taped-to-the-walls conspiracy board of fic ideas, so here’s the first in a set of interconnected plot thoughts. We’ll see how many I can get through this month!

Set immediately following the first Endwalker dungeon, cw for discussions of pregnancy. Or: the Warrior of Light Know-A-Guy superpower strikes again, in a way Hanami really, really wanted to avoid.

Estinien did not make for an impressive guide through Radz-at-Han—he seemed more inclined to stand back and let Hanami get herself lost than actually point out which staircase or winding alley would take them closer to Meghaduta—but that was fine; when he did speak up it was with information that was useful either as insight into what the city looked like when not under threat from the Towers, or as fodder for mockery. His detour into Ruveydah Fibers was at least amusing, and almost managed to distract her from the prickling feeling at the back of her neck.

She rubbed at the skin with one hand as they ducked out the massive doors, dodging a passing Arkasodara hauling half a dozen distaffs of silk, and he frowned at her. “Are you hurt?”

“Sore,” she admitted, which was both true and the easier explanation. G’raha’s levitation spell had made for a survivable landing, but it still hadn’t been soft, and her whole back was going to blossom into one large bruise. The tingling feeling was less painful but more worrisome, the same sort of creeping shiver she felt when the Echo was trying to warn her of something preparing for an ambush, or maybe just her paranoia acting up. She already felt uneasy in this city, between the eye motifs everywhere and the irrational thought that she would somehow see—

“Hagane-san?”

…really, her luck was so uncanny.

For a wild, shameful moment she thought about ignoring the voice—pretending not to have heard, or leaving the owner thinking she had mistaken a stranger—but Estinien, damn him, looked up, and then down at her, and there was really no avoiding it, was there.

“Fuck,” she muttered, and turned around. Down the hall, by the entrance to the warren of buildings that housed most of Thavnair’s textile merchants, was a Raen woman in bright yellow silks that set off the purple-gray cast of her skin and the even brighter purple of her eyes. The whole effect reminded Hanami a little of irises, actually, especially with the floral embroidery on her sari. She always did have an eye for fashion.

“Someone you know?” Estinien asked, low enough for his voice not to carry, and Hanami at least appreciated how immediately on-guard he was.

She took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Old friend.”

“You have friends?” he said, deadpan, and she couldn’t muster the cheer for a snort but she did stomp on his foot.

“Fuck off.” The other woman had begun to draw closer, weaving through the crush of bodies in the hallway, and something in Hanami’s somach lurched at the thought of Estinien bearing witness to—whatever was about to happen. “Go ahead,” she said, low, and hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. “I will catch up with you.”

Estinien looked down at her, and glanced back at the approaching woman, before shrugging and taking an obedient step away. “If you say so,” he said. “Don’t be late.”

“I know,” Hanami said, and ducked into the crowd before Estinien could think better of leaving her. The flash of yellow, again, and she only had time for one more steadying breath before she was face-to-face with her pursuer, who met her with a brilliant smile and outstretched hands.

“Hagane-san,” she said again—her voice was slightly different than Hanami remembered, but that could have been anything, from the intervening decade to the shift in her accent to the acoustics of Hanami’s own horn prosthesis. “I almost didn’t recognize you! By the Sisters, what are you doing in Thavnair? And at a time like this?”

Her choice of gods to invoke didn’t help the unbalanced feeling that had washed over Hanami the second she had heard that voice calling her name, and so, helplessly, she held out her own hands to be caught and squeezed, brief, firm. Like an old friend.

“Hello, Ritsuso-chan,” she said. “That is…a long story.”

—

When Hanami had been twenty summers old, her best friend had been a girl named Tsumashi.

Tsumashi was four years her junior and lived in Kusakiri, a few hours’ travel across the river from the farm her family called home. They had met through Haruki—Hanami didn’t put much stock in her siblings’ relationship drama, but Haruki had been especially obnoxious about bringing up his new girlfriend every night at dinner, and eventually Mama had said that the poor girl might as well come visit, if her name was going to be a constant presence at the table anyway. Tsumashi had been shy and sweet, painfully polite and deferent to her hosts and her elders, which made more sense after Hanami had the misfortune of meeting her mother and realizing that the Ritsuso matriarch was a raging bitch. Tsumashi had leaped at any chance to stay out of her own house, and so what time she didn’t spend playing young lovers with Haruki, she spent playing shadow to Hanami, helping with chores and brushing her hair and giggling gossip in the dark. I feel like you’re the big sister I never had, she had whispered one night after climbing back into Hanami’s room through the window, having snuck off to do kami-only-knew-what with Haruki. Is that okay? And it had been, as far as Hanami was concerned, endeared by her little brother’s little girlfriend that she knew as well as he did.

Haruki and Tsumashi’s relationship had fizzled out after just over a year, to no great shock; they were both young and flighty and stupid. Tsumashi stopped coming for dinners and sleepovers, unwilling to see Haruki more than she had to, sore with fresh separation, but Hanami made a point to stay in touch as best she could. Tsumashi’s family was unkind at best, heaping their over-ambitions on their daughter, and so Hanami had told her, if you need anything, you come to me, and she’d meant it.

Midway through Hanami’s twenty-first year—two moons after Tsumashi had stopped coming for dinners and sleepovers—she had crawled through Hanami’s window in the middle of the night, dripping tears and snot and shaking pale with nausea, and said I’m pregnant.

Tsumashi’s mother was furious. Hanami’s mothers were furious, too, mostly with Haruki, who should have known better; chastity was not a particularly treasured virtue in their clan but commitment was, and caution. Tsumashi was seventeen and terrified, faced with threats of being disowned. Hanami was no medic or midwife herself but she knew them, and merchants who could be paid for discreet delivery of herbs to end budding pregnancies. Just say the word, she had said.

Tsumashi hadn’t said anything, not for a full three days, not until she climbed back through the window with a rucksack full of clothes. I want to keep it, she’d said, and Hanami hadn’t asked again.

For the next six moons Tsumashi had been a fixture in the Hagane house even more than she had been before—in Hanami’s room, mostly, where her chances of having to face Haruki alone were minimal—sleeping on Itomi’s futon, waking up sick and sweating and clutching her stomach, chewing her lip, but she never had the nerve to voice whatever second thoughts she was having. Itomi had slept down the hall in the great room, too irritated to help play caretaker; Tsumashi’s mother was happy enough to have her daughter and the evidence of her disgrace out of the house and far enough away to pretend that the village gossips didn’t already know.

Munehise was born in the middle of a rainstorm heralding the end of winter. Tsumashi had been the one to give him the name. Hanami still remembered with sickening clarity how she’d tried to call him Ritsuso, his mother’s family name, the way Raen clans had for ages beyond memory, and Tsumashi had looked stricken, sicker than she’d been since that night she’d crawled through the window. No, she’d said—so young, and so scared. No.

Tsumashi had stayed five weeks. By the time Mune was two moons old, Tsumashi had gone, shipped off to Thavnair to live with an aunt, no longer welcome in her mother’s house and no longer willing to stay in Hanami’s. By then little Mune had already been added to the family registry as Hagane no Munehise—his father’s family name, the only one left to him, and by then all Hanami, or Haruki, or anyone could do was try to make sure it was a name he could be proud to have.

[watevermelon]

✧ Soulmate!Sakusa x Reader; You are Karasuno’s manager and, unfortunately for the both of you, very popular among those in your year.

➳  A/N: This is so fluffy and nothing like how I usually write, but it was fun!! Thanks for the ask!! (: <3

✧  Masterlist

----xXxXxXxXxXx-----

There was a strange pull to volleyball that you could not fully explain, just that you were always associated somehow with the sport. In middle school, you were the manager of Kitagawa Daiichi and tended to hang around the loud duo of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. And eventually, when you chose going to Karasuno, it was no surprise that Kiyoki had roped you into becoming a manager again.

You were the last of your year to meet your soulmate - many of your friends having met their’s already. 

Kageyama did not recount it often, but Hinata made up for it on a near daily basis. The short player described the event vividly, remembering how the setter’s intimidating face was almost enough for Hinata not to realize that suddenly his world was much more colorful.

Yamaguchi described his encounter like a breath of fresh air, a sudden rush of adrenaline that came with each and every color of the world. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and the seeing members of the team often joked that Hinata looked like a bright orange fruit.

You didn’t even know what orange looked like.

Soulmates were an interesting concept in that some people may live their whole lives never meeting them, wallowing in the black-and-white hues that they were born with. Some give up, disheartened over trying for so long to no avail. Your teammates were especially lucky to have met their soulmates, even more so to have met them at a young age.

Many of the members of the student body either didn’t care for this soulmate business or cared too much about it. Some were hunting almost constantly for any sign, while some expected the fact that they were going to have to travel far eventually when they were adults.

You tried not to think about it at all.

It was cute, hearing the stories of reunions and having someone who nearly completed you. But it was hard to imagine someone who was meant to be with you.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were quite popular among many in underclassmen. You were one of the infamous Oikawa Toru’s close friends and had the looks to rival his own. Many people had complimented the two of you in the past, asking if you were soulmates and saying that you would make a good couple based on looks alone.

It annoyed you how much fair skin and flowing locks were enough to blind people to who you really were. Your friendliness often got misconstrued for something else, many of these dumb boys digging for more than just the amicable smiles you were giving.

Tsukishima said the simplest solution was to shave your head, to which you almost killed him. And Yamaguchi said it was only natural since you were very pretty. Tanaka joked that the power of two beautiful managers would win them nationals alone.

And so, almost on a daily basis, you were rejecting boys' confession left and right. From the notes hidden in your locker, to the ones passed to you during class, to those who were brave enough to wait for you outside of the gymnasium - you rejected them all with careful smiles.

But that small amount that you gave, they reached for it hard.

Give an inch and they’ll take a mile.

Many hadn’t been deterred in the least, eager to try to make you fall in love with them despite having said you were not interested. It annoyed you to no end, being surrounded by flowery language and people who wanted to get close to you, but not for who you actually were. It was all looks and appearances, nothing more.

And you hated it.

There were times that you wondered if you should just take the lid off. 

Why stay cool and composed over people who hardly cared about how you felt?

Didn’t you just want to go batshit crazy one day?

Thankfully, your volleyball boys were also a big help in warding away others. Tanaka and Nishinoya were quite the pair in keeping people away from you during practice games, even when it wasn’t necessary.

((You remembered they first time seeing Akaashi’s cute face and begging to whatever volleyball god’s were out there that he was your soulmate. It was only a little disappointing to hear that he already had one. But seeing how cute the setter and Bokuto were, you figured they truly were meant to be.))

Tsukishima was a silent help, even if he did not admit it. His quick wit and salty words were more than enough to keep others at bay when he was around. Hinata, bless the poor boy, was much denser than you and often didn’t realize flirting until Kageyama had his tongue down his throat.

Karasuno was progressing all the way to Spring Nationals and you could not have been more proud of your boys. The team was built like pillars on-top of pillars, teamwork and hardened skill having sharpened all of them over the past year.

The first day of nationals, the team was mingling in the lobby among all the others that had progressed this far. It was almost intimidating, being surrounded by some of the strongest volleyball players your age in the entire country.

And, unfortunately, you weren’t free from leering eyes then.

Kageyama branched from the group to greet some of the friends he made during the training camp and Tanaka was off having a spiritual moment. You were scanning the room until suddenly you were just standing there alone.

It was the perfect opportunity to pounce and there was someone within your immediate personal space already asking for your name. You smiled at the sudden attention of one, two more people, attempting to back away before the group got any larger. Excusing yourself from them, you headed toward the wall to try to distance yourself and get your bearings.

Someone was already there, huddled in on himself in the corner and basically telling everyone to stay away. He had a mask covering most of his face and his hands were tucked in his zipped jacket, basically staying away from touching a single thing around him.

The moment you made eye-contact, it was almost like a flash of light.

You were looking at a bright mix of yellow and green, contrasted by his pale skin and pitch-black hair. It seemed he was just as surprised, bright eyes widened comically as he stared back at you.

It was more than just the school uniform - there was color everywhere.

From the tan of the walls to the gray tiles on the ground, you scanned the room and saw the different assortment of schools like you had never seen before. Bouncing around was a tuft of orange, Hinata eager to talk to members of other schools as he bounded around the room.

Orange.

You turned back to the reclusive young man and you realized the startling new fact.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was your soulmate.

One of the best spikers in the entire country and resident in Tokyo, hours from where you grew up, was your soulmate.

You knew all about him from the volleyball spreads to the front covers. Among the hundreds of other kids here, he was one of the top picks to watch in the entire nationals. Itachiyama was even one of the top seeds to win it all. It was crazy to think that he, this already highly decorated teen, was your destined other half.

If not for volleyball, would you have ever met?

“What’s your name?” His voice was barely above the crowd and you took a step closer to hear him proper.

You introduced yourself and thought about offering a hand for him to shake, just to realize that the germaphobe would probably never take it. And so, without a word, you rubbed a bit from your hand-sanitizer and then offered the appendage to him.

There was a hint of smirk behind the mask before he took it, muttering your name low on his lips.

He reached into one of his pockets and took out his phone, wordlessly waving it in the air for you to exchange chat ID’s. You recited the numbers back to him, adding each other to keep in contact. And while you both surely had questions, there were only a few minutes until the starting ceremonies.

“Karasuno?” He recounted, “Kageyama Tobio goes to your school.”

You wanted to groan, unsure what the setter’s reputation was like on the high-school level. You would defend your blueberry friend against his king of the court days, but with your soulmate, was that weird?

“Yes, we’re in the same year.”

“Ah.” Sakusa replied simply, his eyes still wordlessly on you.

Was he expecting a response?

“Your eyes are blue.” He commented bluntly, “They look different, nice.”

“Thanks?” You chuckled and responded lamely, “I don’t even know what blue means.”

You saw a small smile form beneath the mask, a crinkle in the corner of his eye. “I’ll show you, one day.”

“I look forward to it.”

There was something about his voice, low and throaty that had you desperately wanting to hear more for it. And while you enjoyed your little moment, there were a few alarms and shouts from the administration, it was time to line-up soon. You bowed curtly in thanks and turned to leave, waving at him as you left.

It was sort of… not what you had imagined?

Not that you were truly expecting anything. You were both still teens and at a competition, it was not like you were hoping to jump into your soulmate’s arms and get married into the sunset right away. But Sakusa was so curt, so blunt. So different from what you were used to.

It was refreshing.

Kiyoko took up the task of fetching Hinata’s shoes and, for once, you were the manager sitting alongside the coach courtside. You felt the reassurance and support from Karasuno’s cheering section, many familiar faces from your Shiratorizawa match. But, along with it, you felt the strange outpoor of pressure at having eyes on you.

More than once you were scanning the crowds to see people avert their eyes, caught in the act. How did the volleyball players deal with this? Each movement they had - receives, spikes, serves - it was heavily scrutinized by every person in the audience. Even more so on this level of competition, with commentators for live TV observing each match.

You saw some of your competition floating around, many sporting pensive looks and even notebooks as they observed Karasuno. Slapping your cheeks lightly, you steadied yourself to focus as you took your own notes on the team. Every successful jump server from Asahi, every spike from the other team’s ace, you had it all down.

And you were on the court, near jumping for joy with the rest, when Karasuno locked itself in as victorious in the first round.

Sakusa approached you after you were all done packing up, most of your team surprised at seeing the strong ace approach you so casually. Kageyama was the only one that was even his acquaintance, but he waved off an informal greeting as well.

You could tell immediately that he was not comfortable, tending to stick to himself normally. And yet here Sakusa was, approaching you when it was not expected of him at all.

“Congrats to your team.” He stated in a low voice.

“Thanks.” You said with a smile, watching as his eyes dropped to your shoulders then back up to your face. “Something wrong?”

He pursued his lips silently before moving to take off his outer jacket, “Here. Wear this during tomorrow’s game.”

Tomorrow's game with Inarizaki? You mentally wondered.

You didn’t question it, taking the jacket with a small grin and folding it in your hands. You still had your Karasuno jacket on and didn’t want to fumble around while the gorgeous ace was watching.

Of course, your team hadn’t caught on either.

“OH?!” Tanaka was immediately on the offensive, “And what claim do you have here city boy?”

You raised your palms to calm him down, an enraged Nishinoya not far behind him. Suga sighed in the corner, moving to grab them by the backs of their collars before they tried to throw hands with a nationally ranked spiker.

Before you could say anything, Sakusa explained with a flat face. “She’s my soulmate. Is it wrong for me to try to get closer to her?”

The reaction was immediate. You heard the, waaah!, from where Hinata was standing the sudden, excited gasp from Yamaguchi.

“Wow! Lucky you, (L/N)-chan.” Suga stated, a smile on his face as he regarded the both of you.

“When did this happen?” Daichi inquired after offering you both smiles.

“Before, when I got lost during the opening ceremony.”

“And you didn’t say anything!” Hinata exclaimed more than questioned.

“I didn’t want to distract you from the game.” You stated back, shrugging lightly.

Sakusa cleared his throat and you turned back to him, “I have to meet back with my team.”

“Okay, safe travels.” You said, earning a nod as he left.

“Wow, he’s so… different from you!” Hinata observed, trying not to be rude.

“He’s… nice to you.” Kagayama commented also, his head tilted and his eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to find a better word to describe it. 

“That seemed pretty normal though?” Yamaguchi asked.

Kageyama immediately countered, “No, his normal is not like that.”

“He’s cute.” You responded lamely, thinking about his dark hair and matching eyes. 

He was quiet, but not to the point where you felt like he was purposefully closing you off. It was more like, if he had nothing to say, then he would not find the need to ramble on. Blunt with a purpose - which you honestly liked.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was hoping you took his words to heart and wore the jacket the entire next day. He had thought about his soulmate once or twice before, but never really dwelled on it since he had more important things to worry about. A soulmate was something he could not physically complete on his own, and while he hated leaving the issue half-assed, it is what it is.

But now that he knew who you were? 

Sakusa wanted to know you whole.

There was no denying it right at the onset - you were beautiful. If there were any other words - immaculate? Stunning? Absolutely show-stopping?

He had no expectations and yet here you were blowing them all out of the park, your beautiful looks only enhanced by how observant and friendly you had been at the onset.

It annoyed him that he was not the only one to have noticed this, many leering eyes following you as you went. Even more so when you were on the bench in the main stadium, many people in the stands around him remarked that Karasuno’s manager was insanely attractive.

No matter, you were his soulmate.

It only get worse when the rice-field asshole showed his face, Atsumu greeting Sakusa with the usual, Omi-Omi.

It seemed they were both interested in watching Kageyama play with his team. He was good during the training camp, but another thing entirely with the small spiker that completely their freak-duo.

But of fucking course Atsumu had to make a comment about you.

“And suddenly I’m lookin’ forward to playin’ them tomorrow.” The setter stated, eyes shooting to where you were sitting.

Sakusa had half the mind to put him in his place, but it would do no good. After all, the setter was an idiot, but actually liked to get on his nerves sometimes.

And so wearing his jacket should be more than enough to stake his claim.

Sakusa had a game the next day, but the bright hues of his yellow-green school colors were easy to pick out in the crowd. You were wearing it just like he asked, the jacket looking much too big on you.

But it was the smile on your face as you cheered on your team that made him want to smile back, even though he knew for a fact that you were not looking.

Baby steps, you would get there soon enough.

[nicka-nell]

HQHQ Collab - First Choice

Pairing: Atsumu x reader, mention of Bokuto

Words: 6.822

Warning: mention of unnamed cheating ex-boyfriend, angst if you squint really hard, fluff, friends to lovers

Beta-reader: thank you for beta reading the fic @xmyshya

Summary: You’ve been living with your best friend for a few weeks, crying to him about your ex-boyfriend cheating on you. But Atsumu no longer wants to see you sad and offers himself as Wingman once more when he tries to set you up with his teammate.

This story is part of our HQHQ server collab with the prompt: When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when? You can find the other stories here. So check out all the other wonderful writers.

“Y/n now go on and get up!” Atsumu’s loud voice wakes you up. With swollen eyes you turn to him, your hair still ruffled, left and right of you lie the crumpled handkerchiefs with which you have cried yourself quietly and secretly into sleep.

You’re tired, your head hurts, and Atsumu’s loud babbling doesn’t help your headache to settle. Reluctantly you pull your blanket over your head, but in vain. Because even before you can get used to the darkness and the warmth underneath, to the calm without the voice of the dyed blond-haired man, he pulls the coat off your body with a jerk and confronts you with the cold morning air, through the open window in your room.

“Tsumu, you idiot, give me the blanket back!” You whine, but he doesn’t even think about it. “Why does your bed look like a mess again? It’s been two months, and you’re still crying after this asshole? It’s enough with moping around.” Before he can finish his sentence, you can feel his hands curling around your ankles and how your legs were jerking forward, setting your entire body in motion.

“Tsumu what are you doing?” You scream and try to hold on to the upper edge of the bed. For a few seconds you manage to resist his tug, but you soon realize that he is stronger than you.

But Atsumu has apparently forgotten to calculate that you would let go and pulls you off the bed with so much momentum that you both land on the floor.

“Ah, Tsumu you airhead! Now my ass and feet are hurting. Why did you do this?” You want to know while you’re rubbing your butt, which you landed on a few seconds ago. Sulking, you look over to your best friend, who is also sitting on the floor, supporting his weight on hands behind his back.

“Sorry, I forgot how weak you are.” He teases you with a grin. “But you seem to be awake now, eh?”

“Yeah, awake and angry…” You quickly add to his statement and look at him with a wrinkled forehead. “Don’t look so evil. That wannabe look doesn’t suit you. I told you before, if you want to talk, I’m just a room away. No need to cry yourself to sleep.”

Even if he annoyed you earlier, you realize in his words that he’s worried about you. It’s been two months since you saw your boyfriend… No Ex-boyfriend with another girl. Just “saw them” is wrong. He had kissed her, touched her, and you were sure that if you hadn’t confronted them directly, more would have happened.

Atsumu was there for you, caught you with open arms and told you that everything would be fine. Because that’s how he always was. Back then, when the kids at school had teased you, when the girls had blasphemed you because you had always gotten along better with the boys. He was also the one who comforted you at your first lovesickness.

Ironically, you had a crush on his brother, who at the time had no thought of such trifles as love. The first time you were really in love with someone, it was Atsumu who tried to set you up with that person. Because it was none other than his volleyball teammate Suna who had twisted your head.

The fake blonde had really tried everything to make you as interesting as possible for Suna, had always invited you and Suna to ‘learn’ and then left the room for hours to leave you alone. But in the end, it didn’t work out because Suna told you he had feelings for another girl.

When your heart broke into thousands of pieces for the first time, it was Atsumu who had carefully tried to pick up all the shards and cautiously glue them back to the right place. He was always there for you. And even though you know what your heart wants, you shut yourself away from it. Because Atsumu is your best friend. The man who will always stand behind you to give you a push forward so you can finally find your happiness. Without him.

“That’s enough sulking! What do you say you come to practice with me today? Get to know my teammates and friends? Maybe there’s someone in there who piques your interest, eh?” He grins mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows before he straightens up and stretches his hand forward to help you up.

“Mhm… You’re not gonna leave me alone before I say yes anyway, are you?” You mumble as he pulls your body upward.

He still grins as he nods and lets go of your hand just to bring it to your hair. “But before that… you go take a shower and make sure that this nest on your head becomes the normal beautiful hair you actually have. All right?” He laughs as he pulls a scrap of a handkerchief out of your hair.

Oh God, how embarrassing you think and at the same moment you have to laugh. No matter what you look like, even if you are wrinkled, with greasy hair, mustard stains on your top and swollen eyes, Atsumu still likes you. After all, he sees you as a buddy.

“Well, I guess… I’m gonna get ready. Can you make breakfast, Tsumu?”

“Are you nuts? There is no more time for breakfast. I can heat the last slice of pizza from last night’s movie.”

“Oh, you’ll be such a good husband someday, Tsumu.” You answer him sarcastically as you shake your head and pass Atsumu.

“Sure, and you eventually become a good wife Y/n.” He calls after you, but you already lift your middle finger and slam the door behind you with a smile on your face. “Tze… Tsumu you idiot.”

The knife slices the butter with ease as Atsumu greases the butter on a toasted slice of bread to put your favorite cold cuts on top. Because he was just joking. Your first meal shouldn’t be a piece of old pizza.

When you’re with Atsumu, you forget all the things that made you sad. You’re happy and glad to have such a good friend by your side. And even though you said it sarcastically earlier, you still meant it like this, that he would make a woman very happy. Just with the thought of him and another woman, you feel a short sting in your chest, but you are sure that deep down you have to think about your ex-boyfriend and that you still miss him.

“Ready to go! Give me that slice of pizza or I’ll eat your friends.” You shout out to Atsumu as you enter the hallway through the doorstep. Once in there, you can hear his muffled voice calling out to you while his voice comes closer and closer.

It is only a second where Atsumu stops in the doorway, looks at you before he continues his walk and pushes the slice of bread and an apple into your hand. “I can’t let you smell like tuna and garlic the first time you met my friends.”

With rolling eyes you take the bread from him, push it into your mouth before putting on your thin cardigan and place the apple in your jacket pocket. According to your phone, the weather today is anything but cool and gray.

But just as you want to pull your zipper up, you feel something heavy landing on your shoulders, looking confused from left to right before your gaze sweeps up from the yellow fabric on your shoulders to the fake blond-haired man.

You don’t need words, your gaze is filled with the question of why he gave you his jacket. But again he just lay down his arms against his hips, grins casually. “Well, you’re with me or not? Not that they’ll think you’re a paparazzo at the gym entrance and not let you in.”

With the words ‘you’re with me,’ your heart gives a beat. “Don’t you think your friends will think we’re together, Tsumu? That this is more such a friend-girlfriend thing?”

The entire car ride is quiet, but it’s not an unpleasant silence. Only the radio rattles quietly, while Atsumu complains about the careless drivers or cyclists, and that there is never a parking space in front of the gym.

“Ah, don’t talk such nonsense. You can tell we’re just friends, you dummy.” Another bang, no stab, making your chest heavier. “Sure… right.” You just mumble quietly. So quietly that Atsumu cannot understand it as you breathe in the fine fragrance of his harsh deodorizer as you walk past him and leave the flat.

You have to admit you’re a little nervous standing outside the hall with Atsumu. You can hear voices from inside. Probably his friends. As if Atsumu understood your feelings, he puts his arm over your shoulder to give you more security, and enters the room freshener smelling hall with you.

It doesn’t take long for all eyes to be on you until the first person beckons Atsumu and the next one goes on you. A boy with orange hair that you remember very well. Atsumu’s school team had a game against him. They lost and Atsumu was talking to you for weeks about how he wanted to play with this little boy sometime.

Behind him stands a dark-haired man, hands in the pockets of his jacket, while he lingers in place, watching you only from a distance. That should be Sakusa. The guy Atsumu always talks about, how clean and special he is when it comes to hygiene.

Just when you want to turn to Hinata again, as he is still waving towards you, another man runs towards you at an incredible speed, shaking your hand vigorously with sparkling eyes. Your whole body is shaking, you’re getting headaches, but somehow you find his overactive anticipation cute.

“Hey, hey, hey! I‘m Bokuto Koutarou! I’m a super ace and I’m really successful!” He grins proudly, which makes you giggle. Of course he is. After all, he plays in the same team as Atsumu.

Yet Bokuto does not remain long in his proud posture. His shoulders collapse after a few seconds, while his gaze wanders to Atsumu. “Hey, Tsum-Tsum, why didn’t you tell me you were coming with your girlfriend today?” He wants to know from the fake blonde one.

Irritated, you look over to Bokuto, wanting to clear up the misunderstanding as the voice of an older man interrupts you. “Miya, the next time you bring someone, please report this to me first. Now, warm up and let’s start training.” The man you consider to be the coach says to Atsumu, who nods in agreement before pointing at a bench where you should sit, before he goes to warm up with Bokuto and Hinata.

Although you talk little to people, you’re not bored watching them train. It pleases you to see how everyone is with full passion. From time to time the man who introduced you as Bokuto grins at you, waving a little awkwardly before Atsumu admonishes him and turns his attention away from you. He’s kind of cute.

“Oh Tsumu…” you mumble quietly while chuckling unconsciously as you watch Atsumu reprimand Bokuto for being so easily distracted, and how Bokuto lets his shoulders drop apologetically.

“You seem to have had a lot of fun today, eh?” The question is rhetorical, because of course you did. He recognized that in your face. With the rest of yesterday’s pizza and a salad with smoked tofu, he sits down next to you at the dinner table.

The training passes, and your attention on Bokuto grows. First a few glimpses you exchange, then words and sentences, up to such long dialogues that he completely forgets his break and is called back to the playing field by Atsumu to finally finish the training.

“You could have introduced me to your friends earlier. Especially Bokuto. He’s kind of cuddly.” You babble while you are in your thoughts about the cheerful man.

“So, so… Bokuto, huh? Looks like I got a new job as a wingman, eh? Give me a few days to figure something out. Operation Lovebirds begins.” His eyes are narrow and playful, while his face is only a few inches away from yours.

As Atsumu had said, a few days pass. Days in which you were always at his training, always with the yellow jacket which makes you feel much safer and more comfortable. Days when you often talk to Bokuto during breaks.

Your heart gives a quick blow as the warmth of his breath hits your lips. From the excitement? Excitement to see Bokuto again soon, right? With an unnaturally bright laugh, you slap him on the shoulder, turn to the pizza, before you both go to your own rooms and get ready for bed.

Atsumu has the idea to take Bokuto to Osamu’s store, like he’s doing almost every Saturday to eat together. Sometimes the other teammates come with him, but this time he will only ask Bokuto.

He wants to lure him to the store and write to him shortly before, so that he has no time. You would sit already in the store and then pretend after a few minutes as if you had randomly noticed Bokuto. You could eat, talk and maybe even exchange your numbers. The idea was perfect.

As agreed, you sit at a table near the kitchen, looking at the menu while watching Bokuto from the corner of your eye. How he reaches for his cell phone and how his cheerful look is slowly getting sad, because he probably reads the message from Atsumu that he will not come.

You consider going straight to him, but your vibrating phone prevents you from it. A message from Atsumu with the words ‘Mission lovebirds can begin’. An unconscious grin spreads across your face as you read the message before a voice makes you shrink.

“Has someone also dumped you?” You hear Bokuto’s sad voice and make a brief shout when you see him standing right next to you. “Bokuto!”

You laugh a lot, seem to have a lot of fun and get along great. At least that’s what Atsumu can see from his brother’s kitchen. Because of course he didn’t want to miss out on seeing if you two really come along well with each other.

“Ah! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you! Uh… mind if I sit here?” He asks clumsily, pointing to the free chair opposite of you. Nodding, you invite him to sit down before quickly putting your phone in a pocket and start talking to Bokuto.

“Why are you here, Tsumu?” His brother’s voice makes him look away from you.

“Eh? What do you mean, Samu? I want to see if I’m successful with my mission.”

“Sure, stop lying to yourself.” Osamu quietly talks to his twin while he continues to prepare the Onigiri for his guests. But his brother doesn’t answer him, just looks out of the round kitchen window at the table where you talk to Bokuto with a smile on your face.

“You know I didn’t reject Y/n back then because I had no interest in girls. So finally get some balls in your pants.” With a full plate of Onigiri, Osamu crosses his twin, passes the plate to his server at the counter, before he enters the kitchen without a word.

“If she’s happy, I’m happy for her too. Why don’t you understand, Samu?” He now turns his gaze away from you, instead looking at the unfinished rice that Osamu had prepared for the next order. It annoys him that his brother has to address this topic again and again. It’s not up to Atsumu to decide what you want. After all, it’s up to you.

“So? So you don’t mind if I invite her on a date if it doesn’t work out with Bokuto? As long as she’s happy, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to taste her lips.” He deliberately tries to provoke his brother, and for a split second he sees Atsumu twitching his eyes, his cheekbones sticking out from his clenched teeth before looking his brother in the eye.

“If that’s what makes her happy. Then make her happy, damn it, understand?”

“What the hell, what’s wrong with you, Tsumu!” His brother yells at him, furiously stomping to him and grabbing him by his collar. He expected such an answer, but not this flat, indifferent response, which is supposed to hide Atsumu’s feelings.

Atsumu also grabs his twin by the collar, pushes him away from himself and continues the scramble. Again and again he tries to explain to him it is not Osamu’s problem and he should not interfere in his things and anew Osamu tries to convince him to finally listen to his feelings. Plates fall over, knives that lay on the work surface as the voice of the server stops the two men.

“Eh… I’m sorry, but at table four, the lady was asking what was in the spring drink because of her allergies.” Both let off from each other while Atsumu’s steps carry him quickly back to the round window to look at your table. Because he’s irritated that you’re asking that question.

The fake blond man hardly notices the voices of the two men in the kitchen. His heart suddenly beats restlessly. A young girl your age sat next to you and Bokuto. Atsumu’s plan to set you up with Bokuto seems to be failing.

“Nobody ditched me, Bokuto. Actually, I just wanted to drop by and leave Osamu a nice greeting when it becomes a bit quieter here. But it always seems to be full here.” You lie because you wouldn’t even have come here without this plan from Atsumu.

He feels bad that a small part of him hopes Bokuto finds the other girl interesting, but Atsumu quickly talks himself up that he just wants you to be happy.

With a quick beating heart you hope that Bokuto does not see through your lie, but when he smiles at you, you are sure that he believes you.

“Oh sure, right! If you know one Miya brother, you automatically have the other on your back, don’t you? Especially when you’re so close.” He grins, and his words remind you of the incident in the gym. There, Bokuto said something similar. He wrongly portrayed you as girlfriend and friend, which was certainly due to Atsumu’s jacket. And just as you were about to correct him there, their trainer babbled something into the room.

You definitely need to clarify that you two are just friends, otherwise you can’t ask Bokuto for his number. Just friends…

“Uh Bokuto? I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Tsumu and I-”

“Y/n? Oh my God, is that you?”

Again, someone interrupts you. This time not Atsumu’s coach or Atsumu, but a person you haven’t seen for ages. Your old school friend, who was with you at the same club and with whom you really got along well.

Because of your ex-boyfriend, your paths somehow separated, but you’re thrilled to see her now. “Oh Mei, is it you? You’ve really changed, wow.” You smile at her before you greet her and sit down again.

“I don’t want to bother you guys, and I’m sure that’s rude, but is it okay if I join you? If I annoy you, I’ll leave!”

Mostly you’re just here to get a date with Bokuto, but sending her away now would be too suspicious. For a moment you think about how to best handle this situation, but Bokuto takes the decision off you by inviting her to join you and just stay as long as she wants.

You talk partly to Mei, partly to Bokuto for a while when you check if Atsumu has written anything to you. You’re surprised he hasn’t asked you how the date goes. Is he on a date right now himself?

“Y/n? Did you hear?” Mei’s voice gets you out of your mind again, before you look at her absent-minded. “I have to go now, but… I was really happy to see you again and I hope we can repeat that soon. And I was also pleased to meet you Bokuto.” She adds, before she smiles at you both and goes to the counter to pay her bill and leave the bar.

Just when Bokuto wants to say something, his phone rings and he apologizes to you for a moment. You take the opportunity to write to Atsumu, ask him if you should take some Onigiri with you from his brother’s shop and hope for a hint if he had a date. Because if he doesn’t want some Onigiri, he sure is having dinner with another woman.

Two minutes go by, four… Ten minutes until Bokuto comes back in, and you feel your phone vibrating at the same moment. A simple “No, I’ve already eaten.” is his answer. An answer that suddenly makes you feel so weird.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. Akaashi, my best friend, called me. I have to see him. Is it okay if we postpone our meeting for another time? So… I mean this random meeting.” He smiles embarrassed, and scratches the back of his head as he puts his jacket around his shoulders and shoves the chair back to the table.

“Oh hm? Sure. I would be happy to meet you again Bokuto!” You answer him enthusiastically, even if you’re still on Atsumu’s date in your mind. Did he really go out with a girl? Why do you not know her? Why didn’t he tell you?

“Perfect! So, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Then let’s talk about some meetings during my break. I’ll go to Samu and pay the bill for us.”

“Wa-!” You want to stop him, pay your own bill but Bokuto already stamps away from you and knocks on the kitchen door to lure Osamu out and pay.

He doesn’t know how fast he ran to be home before you. Good thing he didn’t tell you about the shortcut, or you’d have run into each other. Fully sweaty, he jumps into the shower, trying to get the smell of Osamu’s kitchen out of his hair as he hears your voice dull from the hallway in the bathroom.

Together you leave the restaurant, but then go your separate ways. Although this is not the first time you walk this path, even though you don’t need twenty minutes on the way, it seems like an eternity to you. Absorbed in your thoughts, you kick a round stone along the sidewalk, burying your hands in your trouser pockets while watching it roll. The long gray road matching gray walls on the sidewalk, no car to see. Everything is dreary and you feel odd, but also happy at the same time. After all, Bokuto seems as interested in you as you are in him. You can quickly overlook the fact that Atsumu is probably on his own date right now.

“Tsumu? Are you home airhead?”

Hissing, he shakes his head, rubs his towel through his wet hair, ties it around his hip and glances into the mirror before he goes out.

“Tsumu! Put some damn clothes on!”

“I’m also pleased to see you. Got my clothes in the bedroom. Don’t worry, I’ll put something on. But first, how was your date?” The question was unnecessary. Of course he knew, because he was there, watching you. But you don’t know that.

Atsumu studies how you dance on your tiptoes, how you swing your body forward and backward, and tap your lower lip. You always do that when you’re nervous. But before he can even give another thought to you, your body moves forward in his direction.

Just a few seconds pass when your soft skin lies on his, your arms wrap around his neck and you hug him. Atsumu stops as if petrified. Because his heart beats fast, your body so close to his triggers so much in him.

Carefully, he pushes you away from his chest, hoping you didn’t hear his raging heart. Yet, your arms remain on his neck, your warmth on him, although this on his chest slowly fades.

Lovingly you look at him, a look that gives him an unknown sting. An expression that you would probably turn to a big brother, otherwise he cannot interpret it. But he cannot look away from your warm eyes. Those bright, happy eyes that captivate him.

“The date was really great and tomorrow at the training we want to make a new one! Bokuto is such an incredibly great guy, and he is so funny. He made me laugh so many times and it’s sweet how emotional he always is and ah! He is really fine. Thank you for introducing him to me.”

Silently you look each other in the eyes, speak with your eyes instead of words. Subconsciously, your fingers move, gently stroking his neck up and down, while your sugar-sweet laugh makes Atsumu even crazier.

His body acts on its own as it bends forward, coming to a halt just in front of your face. But his mind quickly catches up with his body, for his words wander down your cheek to your ears as he whispers to you quietly that he is happy for you.

“So mission complete, eh?” With a mischievous grin, he tries to distract you from his previous action, patting on your shoulders with his hands before he walks past you and strolls towards his room door.

“I’m gonna put some clothes on. You should take a shower and get some sleep. You stink and need your beauty sleep for Bokuto tomorrow.”

“Haha, very funny! I love you too, you idiot.”

Days go by when you talk to Bokuto a lot. At training, to the detriment of everyone else, eating ice cream after training or just sitting around in the park and doing nothing. You get along well, laugh a lot, talk a lot about his buddies - Akaashi and Atsumu. After your dates you always tell Atsumu how much fun you had and are sure that you deafen his ears with your Bokuto-talk.

Words that come so easily out of your lips, for they are meant amicably. Words that are so easy to understand, but leave a bitter heavy feeling in his heart.

Today you both sit on a wall in the park again, fooling around like good friends. For a moment your shoulders brush against each other, when Bokuto twitches and stares embarrassed down at you. You too feel your body getting more restless, out of balance as you look into his golden yellow eyes. Both of you are silent, always opening your mouth to say something, but then close it again.

“So, eh… Do you… remember our first random meeting? In Osamu’s store?” Bumpy, he tries to find the right words, starts playing with the moss growing between the grooves of the stone wall.

Your chest suddenly stops moving. Out of panic you hold your breath because you are afraid that he has found out that Atsumu is behind this coupling action.

“I was wondering if… Well, there was your school friend there, and I was wondering if maybe you could… could give me her number?”

“Her number?” You realize how anger slowly boils in you, how an unpleasant feeling rages in your body and you suddenly feel so uncomfortable and stupid. With a bitter hiss you laugh up, turn your face away from Bokuto so that he cannot see your sparkling eyes. Eyes that don’t sparkle with joy, no. Eyes that sparkle with tingling tears and leave small wet spots, like those of rain, on the stone wall below you.

Of course he wanted her number, of course he did. After all, it was always like this. Whether it was Osamu or Suna, your ex boyfriend or any other man you found cute or attractive. You were always the second choice. You were always good as a friend, but not good enough as a girlfriend. There was always another who came before you, who had taken the place that you had so longingly aspired to. It was always like this.

So why did you think things should be different with Bokuto right now? Did you really think there was a man who had only you in his mind? A man who adores you as much as you do him?

“Why all the dates Bokuto? Why did you invite me to all those dates, get my hopes up if you only wanted my friend’s number, anyway? Why...? Never mind, forget it!” You sniff and jump off the wall to get out of here as soon as possible. Only Bokuto remains, sitting on the wall in confusion, trying to understand your last words.

With his cell phone in his hand, Atsumu scrolls through your messages, through your enthusiastic and joyful words about Bokuto while lying on the couch, the free hand behind his head. On the table is the last bit of a spinach-garlic pizza he ordered shortly after you went on your date with Bokuto. His thumb stops at a note in which you jokingly wrote to him that you also love him when he teased you with your crush on Bokuto. Words that hurt more every day, the longer you stay at Atsumu’s flat.

“Get your hopes up? H- Hey, Y/n wait!” He calls you, but your silhouette gets smaller and smaller. You’re not thinking of turning in his direction again.

His gaze is focused on his cell phone, the thumb still on that one message as a new message covers it. Irritated, he looks at the name of his teammate, who sends him one message after the other. Although he hasn’t read the messages yet, he has a bad feeling. He doesn’t know if it’s worry or something else, but he must think of you directly as he opens the messages with shaky fingers and straightens up on the sofa.

>> Tsumu-Tsumu! Get on your phone! I think I screwed up! I thought Y/n is your girlfriend and today something weird happened, and! I screwed up, man. Tell her I- <<

Atsumu is still reading Bokuto’s incoming messages, can hardly keep up with them when the loud banging of the front door makes him startled. As if he has just been caught in something forbidden, he throws his cell phone in panic behind the couch and looks in the direction of the living room door in which you suddenly stand.

Your eyes are red, nose runny, and your words come to him only as a loud sob. In him everything hurts at this sight of you.

“Tsumu!” You sniff and want to make a step forward to your best friend, but Atsumu is faster. He takes you in his arms as you press your head against his warm chest. His fingertips glide slowly through your hair, calming you while his grip around your waist becomes firmer.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” His words that softly kiss your ears calm you down. He knows exactly that there is no point in questioning you now, because you are still too busy collecting yourself again. So he just keeps silent, caresses your head and listens to you as your sniffing gets less and less, your fast, hasty breathing gets calmer and calmer.

“You want to tell me what happened?” His muscular arm loosens easily from your waist, his hand stroking you, now raises your head and makes you look at him. With a loving smile, he wipes away your tears, puts his arms on your shoulders and waits for your answer.

Hard you breathe out, try to pull yourself together, but your voice remains shaky.

“Bokuto… He just wanted her number… He didn’t care about me.” You notice how your voice becomes unclear again, begins to tremble more and your sniffing is again to take over your voice. But Atsumu’s thumb, which caresses your shoulders, calms you down again and you try to spell your words back into clear sentences.

“He wasn’t interested in me. At least not so… Tsumu, it’s like that every time. Men always fall in love with other women. I’m always just the third wheel. Am I that ugly? Am I so unattractive that every man sees me as a buddy? Tsumu… When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”

Your eyes glittering with tears, search for his eyes. His heart breaks with the sad look you give him. And although the answer to your question is on his lips, he would like to scream it out of himself, yet a big lump sticks to his neck and keeps him silent.

“Tsumu when?” Is the only thing that comes out of you broken, now that not even your best friend can give you an answer to that question.

It was probably his fault you’re so sad now. Because Bokuto didn’t mention that school friend of yours once. He probably only said that because he thought you were Atsumu’s girlfriend and he didn’t want to destroy the friendship of the two men.

It was Atsumu’s fault that when he introduced you to his team, he didn’t make it right that you weren’t his girlfriend. The fake blond had not done this on purpose. His words just didn’t want to come out of him back then. Only later he had understood why he had tried to make his friends believe that you are his girlfriend.

He’d have to answer his cell phone, read Bokuto’s messages to be one hundred percent sure he wasn’t serious about your school friend, but his body isn’t moving. Actually, he can’t move anyway, because you clenched your hands into fists and clutched them into his shirt.

Atsumu should set it right. But in him, Osamu’s voice pushes forward. The words Atsumu wanted to deny. ‘You’re in love with her… Stop lying to yourself… Finally, get some balls in your pants.’

Not even your best friend can answer your question. How could he if he met with others every time you were with Bokuto? But even though it hurts that Bokuto rejected you, it hurts more that Atsumu doesn’t give you an answer.

With a sad sigh, you push his hands off your shoulders and set your legs in motion to go to your bedroom and be alone. But you can’t take many steps, because Atsumu holds you to your wrist just to turn you back to him.

Slowly, without strength and without joy, you look up to him. In his face, which shows so many emotions at once, yet he tries to hide them all from you. You notice how he struggles with his words, not knowing how to begin. His grip on your arm gets tighter. It almost hurts, but you say nothing.

“You… You have always been… my first choice.” He says hesitantly, in such an uncertain tone which is unlikely for him. His words are so quiet that you don’t understand them, just look at him questioning.

“Y/n, you have always been and always will be my first choice. Shit, I know I’m gonna ruin our friendship with this, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m selfish, yes, I know. I didn’t correct the statement when Bokuto said that you were my girlfriend because I didn’t want to see you with someone else who would just hurt you again. Y/n I can’t see you sad anymore. I don’t want to see you like this anymore. It just doesn’t work anymore. Ever since you’ve began living here, swinging your sweet little ass around my apartment, eating with me, spending evenings, and almost all days, I can’t think of anything but seeing you as more than just a buddy. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Shit, you airhead, I love you.”

His words become clearer and clearer, on the contrary to his expression. Then, as his tone becomes firmer, his gaze becomes more anxious. And now you understand. You always wanted the perfect boyfriend. Wanted to have a man by your side who loves you, who Atsumu gets along with since he is your best friend and had never noticed that he was always your second choice.

You always wanted someone who liked your friends, who understood you, and that person was always at your side. You knew why Bokuto’s words didn’t hurt you as much as Atsumu’s silence a few minutes earlier. You knew why you enjoyed wearing Atsumu’s jacket, and you knew why it didn’t bother you that Atsumu had not corrected the statement, and so the rumor arose that you two were a couple. Also you knew why you wanted to convince yourself that Atsumu met other women to not feel bad about going out with one of his friends. You knew, but you never wanted to face it. Because like Atsumu, you were afraid of losing the person you needed most.

You open your mouth soundlessly. If you say nothing now, you are sure that the man in front of you will immediately lose his temper with excitement and fear.

Although you have said the words many times, your heart is racing like crazy, your belly is tingling and your chest is almost painfully contracting. You’re nervous, nervous like when you had to introduce yourself to the big class full of people.

“I love you too, you idio-” Before you can finish your sentence, the warm lips of Atsumu, which lie gently on yours silence your last words. Full of pleasure you give a quiet whimper, trying to calm your loud throbbing heart in vain. Because your body burns, trembles, is numb and awake at the same time. Your thoughts are going crazy.

Atsumu also gives a relieved sigh, almost as if a huge load has fallen from his shoulders. His arms quickly wrap around your cheeks, stroking your face while his lips open a little and you feel his wet tongue on your mouth. You have the feeling that your body has just gotten warmer, reducing the last distance between you and giving off a gasp as you also open your mouth slightly to allow him to enter. His hand, which stroked your cheek earlier, seeks its way to the back of your head to bury itself in your hair and pull your head back a bit to kiss you better.

For a moment your tongues dance together, your bodies almost link as you interrupt your kiss and look into Atsumu’s excited face. His cheeks are reddish, lips slightly puffed up from your kiss, while his breath lands warm on your body.

“What’s the matter Y/n?” He whispers hoarsely, the expression slightly playful. But you just look at him with a slightly silly grin.

“Did you eat garlic, Tsumu?”

For a moment he looks at you, as if a fuse blew through him. He’s thinking about what you meant by that, before he starts sulking while stretching his head backwards, so that he’s looking at the ceiling.

“Ah shit, if I had known I’d tell you that I love you, that we would be kissing, I would have bitten into a rose and not into a pizza with extra garlic.”

Laughing, you put your head on his chest, looking up at him while he continues to stare at you sulking. “Is there still a slice, bunny?”

“One piece, but it’s already bitten, babe.” He grins and reminds you of all the nights you two sat on the sofa watching series and arguing about who gets the last piece of food. Once Atsumu had licked the last piece and thus reserved it for himself, sometimes you were faster. You were acting like toddlers, but you were having an incredible time. You just had fun with him, always.

“Your tongue was watching if all my teeth were still in my mouth a few seconds ago. Do you think it bothers me that the pizza piece is bitten?”

“Guess not. But give your sexy boyfriend a last stinky kiss. Okay?” He smirks and sharpens his lips playfully to tease you and brings his arms around your body so that you can’t escape. Only so you press his lips away from you, laughing until Atsumu finally gives you a fleeting kiss and you act as if you faint and lean against his chest.

Your loud laughter resounds through the room and your hands do not let go of the other until you are quiet and enjoy the moment in silence.

“I love you Y/n. You, my first choice.” He whispers to you as he gives you one last kiss on your crown.

[seraphdarlimg]

wish I were (pt4)

  harry calls reader drunk to pick him up, later on finding him sat at her piano and playing a little song

masterlist

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST, swearing, fluff WORD COUNT - 4,418

_________________________________________________________

   Just fine is how I was feeling. I was lucky enough to be able to get started straight away with a new song to work on from a different artist. Practicing new instruments and talking to new clients have been what I've thrown myself into for the past 3 weeks.

Though drowning myself into work has kept me busy and given me excuses to ignore the hundreds of calls and texts from Harry, it felt like months had pass instead of only one. I seem to forget more about them and only remember the look on his face when I turn my back on him and left. Instead of memorizing chords and words, my brain can only comprehend the words we said and the last time I felt his touch or embrace. When I want to remind myself of what he did, the moment on the balcony is the first thing that comes to my mind and I curse myself for it.

I missed him, of course I did. As I sit in front of my laptop with an opened tab on a recording program, I am instead met with another creator's block and thinking about Harry again. Two points of thought that I hate being stuck in at the moment. The empty bags and containers of snacks and my dinner surround me and I'm wrapped in a blanket while a sad playlist is playing on spotify. It was a depressing sight.

But I can only image the state that Harry's in. After everything, I still miss and care about him, wondering if he's excited about the album release tomorrow or if he's hydrated and taking the fact that I've chose to walk out of his life better than I am. It's pathetic really, but it's part of it and I can only hope to learn to live without him through time. If that is something I can even think of doing in the first place.

He hasn't called or text throughout the whole day though. I didn't want it to bother me but it did, even if it was time away that I'm asking for. I glanced at the black screen of my phone, pressing the button to turn it on. 12:23 AM and no notifications.

'i do love you, i'm sorry' one day ago. This is a good sign. This should be a good sign.

I sighed, forcing myself to turn away from my phone and focus on finishing this piece. The instrumentals are there and the rhythm is set, but coming up with lyrics prove to be difficult when I feel physically and emotionally drained.

It was late anyways. I would of been asleep by now to get ready for tomorrow, but it was most likely made clear I wouldn't be celebrating with the gang. I told Jeff the excuse that I had a meeting up north for the valid reason, even though everyone already knows what happened between the two best friends. A lunch with Sara and Mitch a week ago started off normal and pleasant as always, but had ended with Mitch bringing up Harry and me leaving abruptly.

"He's a mess. Hasn't left his house and has been ignoring everyone all week. We don't know what really happened between you two, but it's obvious that you haven't been the same as well."

The mention was enough to irk me. "Can we not right now?"

"Look even though we care about you, it's still non of our business to get involved. But it's still our jobs to see that when someone we care about is bothered by something, we make sure they are aware of it. Both of you aren't happy and should simply talk about it."

"It's not that simple Sara, he's too stubborn."

"It doesn't have to be now, but eventually. You yourself know that what you two have is way too special to just walk away from."

"Yeah well what if it's not? What if it's just not what everyone expects it to be? That even if we somehow make it work throughout everything, he's just going to run off to someone else again who'll just be better in so many ways."

"He's not the type of person to do that and you know it."

"I thought I did."

With my head rested on my hand, I feel my eyes droop. The instrumental of the song played on repeat on the program as I try to come up with words. Heartbreak and insecurities are the only topics that come to mind with the upbeat sound. I close my eyes for bit, letting the first stage of sleep take it's toll while my brain works overtime producing lines of rhymes.

But my ringtone drives me out of it. I only force my eyes open when I pick up my phone and answer the call, not thinking of who could be the only possible human being to call me at this hour. I sighed, pausing the recording and saving it. "Hello?"

"Hiiiii love! Karl told me I should call someone because I've had too much apparently. Can you please tell him that I'm a grown man that can handle my alcohol?" Shit.

"Harry- wait hold on, you're drunk now? Don't you have... who are you with?" My voice was tired and already raspy. It took longer than needed to process what was actually happening.

"Oh just all by my lonesome self at first... imagined you here a few times but I know that wasn't true, but Karl the bartender is here now!" His voice was muffled and almost drowned out by the sound of a pub. His words were slurred and I can only rub my temples at the situation he's already put me in.

"Why did you call me for this."

"Well my phone's dead and you're the number I memorized." He said softly after hearing my tone. I shouldn't, but he's drunk and alone.

"I'll call Mitch-"

"Only want you. Please?" I can imagine him pouting and I was too tired to argue with him.

"I can't do this right now..."  

"Bubs, my head is starting to hurt and everyone is not being nice. Except Karl, Karl is a nice dude."

Maybe if I wasn't overworked and sleep deprived at the moment, I would of been in the righter state of mind. But the other half of me that worried about his state took the opportunity to see him once again.

"Where are you, Harry?"

***

It was easy to find a drunk Harry Styles at a pub. A small local one that we've been too once or twice in the past, enjoying each other's company over a glass after studio hours. And there he was again, sat at the stools we'd sit on and wallowing to Karl the bartender.

"Hey." I placed a hand on his shoulder after making my way through the small crowd that gathered around him that's been listening into his conversation. His eyes light up when he turns around and sees me, while I take in how disheveled he looks. His curls are messy and his bloodshot baggy eyes tells me he's been crying for a while.

"You're here." He mutters softly after he takes a moment to register that it's actually me. I only give him a small nod in confirmation, feeling that heart ache as he pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry." I hear when he nuzzles into my neck, most likely apologizing when he sees how tired and unwell i am as he does.

"It's okay, come on let's get you home." I managed to let out, pulling away, guiding him out of his seat and away from the bar. "Oh okay, bye Karl! Keep the change." I send the bartender a grateful smile to which he returns with a pity look on his face.

"Just hold my hand Harry okay?" I tell him when I remember how clingy he gets when intoxicated. He doesn't hesitate to do so as we make our way through the crowd and out of the building.

I managed to get him in the passenger's seat without much interaction, now in the driver's seat and cursing at myself when I realized I didn't have enough gas to take him to his house. I didn't have the energy to go to the gas station this late.

"Are you crying..." He asks, pouting when I placed my face in my hands, taking deep breaths. "Please don't be sad, love." I shook my head, counting in my head as I felt Harry lean over and watch me.

"How many did you have?" I asked when I built up the will not to cry and turned on the ignition.

"Didn't bother counting, didn't matter." I kept my eyes in front of me as I drove while I felt his still on me.

"I would beg to differ. Shouldn't be my responsibility anyways." I quickly countered, noting the sharp tone in my voice and the frown I could imagine on his face.

"I'm sorry...I really wanted to see you."

"Hmm, and getting wasted and being an inconvenience is the way to get my attention." There was a second of silence and I glanced at him to check if he was still conscious, only to see that frown and his head hung in shame. My eyes trailed to the pearl necklace tucked into his sweater, as well as a yellow ribbon tied where it clasps together.

The grip I had on the wheel loosened but I sighed as I hated how guilty I felt after, aware how difficult it was to be mad when he was hurt. "That was harsh..."

"Nooo, I deserve it. I really do because I was mean to you and I don't ever want to be mean to you. Because it hurts me too ya know? More than it did when you walked away...I'm sorry that I hurt you."

I didn't say anything after that, spending the rest of the car ride back to my place in silence.

***

"You don't have to be rich, to be my giiirl. You don't have to be cool to rule my wooorld..."

My annoyance conflicted with the flutters my heart was feeling as Harry was softly singing all the way from my car to my sofa, hand held and clinging to my side the whole time. He plopped down, immediately taking a pillow. "Ain't no particular sign, I'm more compatible wiiith- hey you have that record right? Can you put it on pretty please?"

"It's 2AM, I'm not putting on a record right now." I took off my shoes and coat, graciously doing the same for him when he pouts and rests his head back on the couch. "Aw, you used to not care about that before. Is it because of your neighbors terrible taste of music to blast so late at night?"

"What?" I rubbed my eyes, standing up and going to the kitchen. I couldn't hear his mumbled response, but I returned with a glass of water to see him humming with his eyes closed. He cuddled the pillow close to him and I rolled my eyes, almost laughing at how he was tapping his foot along with the song he was playing in his head.

"Here..." He holds his hand out expectantly and I gave it to him. He takes a drink while I place his coat over the coffee table and go to get him an extra pillow and blanket.

"Oh everything hurts." He whines as I place the pillow down on the end of the couch. "My heart mostly, but that's so cheesy of me isn't it? Yours probably hurts more m' sorry...wish I could take it away."

It wasn't just his naïve words that had my eyes start welling up with tears, but it was also the realization of how he can easily break me down. I couldn't last a whole month without being there when he needs someone, when I was the one who wanted to leave. It was also probably the realization that I had grabbed the same blanket we used to set that little picnic in the studio.

"Wish I didn't cause it in the first place." He added, which led to me sitting down on the chair next to the couch, holding onto the blanket a little longer as delirium was starting to set in.

"I don't think we should have this conversation now, Harry... this is so unfair." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"It is, but I'm scared I won't get another chance." My silence gave him the answer he was already aware of.

"What exactly do you want another chance of Harry, enlighten me." I closed my eyes for a minute, only to open them to see Harry looking at me in a different way. It's different, but I've noticed it before.

"Loving you." He's hesitant with his next words, most likely having sobered up a little. "I hadn't seen Heather for a few days after you left, told her later on about what happened. Took your advice though, talked to her and everything. It just wouldn't work out in the end...couldn't see myself with her in the future."

"But now you do with me?" I softly muttered, holding myself back from reaching out to him. He only nods, having that guilty look on his face because he's fully aware he doesn't deserve it. My droopy eyes are glued to his and that damn pearl necklace, too many thoughts in my head to come up with one whole response.

"Should of just called Mitch. You're an idiot for giving yourself a hangover on your release day." I finally said after a moment of silence.

"Hmm? Oh that, no that's not happening." He says casually, playing with the embroidery on the pillow he was hugging.

"What do you mean?"

"I've postponed the album thingy indefinitely or something."

"Aren't you finished with it?"

"I mean it's got 12 songs and everything but I don't know if it's really finished, I don't know." He shrugs and I'm almost annoyed by how calm nonchalant he is about it.

"You never know things Harry."

"And I hate it, I knooow! I don't know why I can't just figure it out and I hate that I'm hurting you because of it." He frowns, rubbing his eyes. "But I do know now that I love you. Really love you. Maybe if I figured that out sooner, you wouldn't hate me bubs."

I fiddle with my fingers, given up on trying to collect all my thoughts together a long time ago as I can only allow myself to take in his words and listen. He was right, in any other situation where I wasn't tired and delirious, I probably wouldn't even be in the same room as him. So here I was again, allowing myself to hurt in order to make sure he's taken care of.

Maybe it's what I deserve though. He left Heather because of me. I caved into myself at the though that I ruined the relationship of two people who loved each other simply because I didn't get the memo. She is everything in his eyes, he's proven that, so why didn't I just leave them be?

"Ugh, you probably hate me calling you that now but you know I won't stop cause you are my bubs! Like how I'm you're H. Oh... well, you stopped calling me that so...maybe not anymore but I want to be. Can I be your H again please, I miss that too." My thoughts were cut off  when he continued, finding him now lying down with his eyes closed.

"Maybe one day." I reassured him hesitantly. We would of stayed friends, we wouldn't of had to fall apart, if I had just left him alone.

"Was a weird nickname anyways, just a letter." He mumbles as I stood up, laying the blanket over him while he still holds onto the pillow.

"You sort of gave it to yourself though, get some sleep Harry."  I managed to get out, facing away from him to hide the tear that fell. He should be trying to fix his relationship with her and not me.

"Yeah, but you just started calling me it and I fell in love with it." I take one more look at him before I shut my door, seeing his face nuzzled into the pillow and the glint of a small smile on his face as he drifts off to sleep.

***

8:23. I slept around 2 and woke up 7 hours later to faint piano keys. I took in the soft melody, not recognizing it but enjoying it for a second before I forced myself to sit up and rub my eyes, realizing how dry my skin was from crying. It was definitely a sad song made up of only four chords and a fitting way to start the day as I remember the person who is most likely playing it.

I didn't want to face him, my head feeling too mushed to deal with anything else other than work. It was a weird situation to realize, the man I fell in love with and broke my heart is playing piano after I took him in when he was drunk. He tells me he officially breaks up with Heather after realizing he loves me.

He loves me?

No he doesn't. He should still love her, should be trying to get back to her now that I'm out of the picture. But he hasn't been trying too for the past month, focused on me this whole time. But why?

I snapped myself out of those thoughts quickly, knowing how terrible the following ones would be. I didn't want to think about it anymore, wanting to forget and move on. And as I quietly open my door and peaked out onto my apartment, I see his mess of curls sat on my keyboard with the blanket wrapped around him. He was considerate enough to lower the volume at least.

I took a deep breath and walked out quietly, leaning against the door frame as I continue to listen. "Part of the album, has some of your lyrics in it." He says when he notices my presence.

"Hmm. You told me that you've postponed it." I crossed my arms as he finishes the song with a long note. I see him nod, now looking down at his hands on his lap before adjusting the blanket to fully encase him.

"Yeah I did. It didn't feel right, putting something out there that I should be proud of, but you not being there to be happy with. You not wanting too in there first place, when you put your heart and soul into it, all because of me."

I frown, looking away from him when his intense eyes met mine. "It's too early Harry..."

"You told me it wasn't a good time last night too, so when is?" He huffs and I roll my eyes.

"I don't know after I have my fucking coffee?" I scoffed, uncrossing my arms and heading towards the kitchen. I hear him sigh, not saying anything else as I prepare a cup for myself, already annoyed and stressed out. I felt him staring at me while I avoided making eye contact, rubbing my temples.

"I'm sorry if I was trouble." He says, still sat down on the keyboard with the blanket wrapped around him.

"You're sorry for a lot of things." I sighed, pouring coffee into my cup.

"I am. But I don't know how to really apologize to you when you won't even let me talk to you."

I placed my cup down, suddenly forgetting about my coffee and finally looked at him. "Well what do you expect Harry? After everything you think I'm just going to trust you again? I told you I was done, I wanted to walk out of your life."

"But you picked me up. You still care, that still has to means something." He's frustrated now, desperate even and it only frustrates me more.

"Ah yes, decent morality to not leave an A list celebrity drunk in room full of strangers. That really dumb of you to do by the way, without any bodygaurds- what were you thinking?" I said, noticing how he was fiddling with the pearls that hung around his neck.

"The past month has been hell for me and all I wanted to do was see you. I feel so fucking guilty and sad and it's eating me up because I know I don't deserve any sort of reassurance from you. But at the same time, I so badly just want you back and I'm sorry for how selfish and arrogant I am." He was crying and I soften a little because of it. He tries holding it in, looking down as he quickly wipes away the tears that fall. I don't bother hiding mine anymore, having gotten used to it by now and I was tired of it.

"I've been in pain since December. Four months that you put me through so can blame me when I just want it to stop? I am so exhausted because no matter how much I throw myself into work, all I can think about is you and loving you."

"But I love you too, shouldn't that be enough to try again?" It should of been and he knows. Maybe if he realized it sooner, during his birthday, things would be different.

"You've proven that it's not." I say disappointingly, willing myself to walk over and sat down next to him, looking ahead at my piano in front of me. "I don't know what to do anymore Harry. Why can't you let me have this? Let me move on."

"Cause you and I both know we can't leave each other, too emotionally attached. I need you in my life bubs, everything sucks when you're not in it." I laugh a little at that, because it was true in a fucked up way.

"That's so unfair, why did you have to hurt me?" I hesitantly lay my head on his shoulder before he droops the other end of the blanket around me.

"I know most of my relationships don't last. Deep down I've always loved you but I couldn't let myself fall for you because I didn't want to ruin us. The thought of us breaking up and never seeing each other again just terrified me because I never wanted to lose you, ever. But I fucked up and managed to do so anyways, and I hate myself every day as much as you do." He starts playing the song again as he speaks, but it plays it down a key and slower.

"I don't hate you, can't bring myself too, but you shouldn't of been afraid to talk to me. You know who I am, we would of worked through it no matter what." He nods, followed by only the sounds of the piano melody.

"I'm in love with you." I hear him say softly after a little while out of the blue. It catches me off guard, finding it so foreign to hear those words come from him.

I let out a soft self deprecating chuckle. "No you don't. You care about me, but you don't love me. Probably saying this out of guilt or spur of the moment type thing and I can understand that, but you love Heather. She's good for you, perfect even."

"But I fell in love with you. She's not you." His brows are furrowed together as he frowns.

"Yeah, I'm not her." The small glint of my smile quickly fades and he notices it.

"What I did during my speech was very shitty. Gemma pointed it out to me right away and it's one of the biggest things I ever regret doing." He stops playing when he sees me deep in thought, slowly taking my hand to test the waters. "But I need you to understand what I said was true, that you are such an important person to me. You are beautiful, and kind, patience, and just so fucking good to me, love. I want to cherish you because it's what you deserve and I will deal with as much rejection for you to forgive me and give me another chance. It's worth every heartbreak if it means I get to love you again."

I find myself in an intimate situation, looking into his eyes at such a close proximity, our faces only inches away from each other. I was pleading to him with my eyes, begging him not to hurt me again while the look on his face was one I used to be familiar with. He was frozen while the fear that it would only just happen again held me back from moving. His eyes fluttered down to my lips, as if asking for permission and my head was refusing it. But every other part of me wanted to feel those lips again. I looked down at his, my hand taking hold of his and placing it on my chest to where my heart is before he made the move to finally press our lips together in a small kiss.

I wanted to sob because it felt right. I felt the butterflies again and the complete state of satisfaction. This time was gentle as well, but Harry put so much love into the kiss, cupping my cheek with his other hand when he feels how fast my heart was beating.

It only took a second more before I slowly pulled away, still tightly holding his hand against my heart as he could sense my doubt. "It's going to take some time okay? Probably a long time but you caused me a lot of heartbreak. But I never stopped loving you H, as much as I didn't want too anymore." I said seriously, and his eyes lits up with hope. Holding back his smile as much as he could while he nods because he heard that little nickname again.

"I'll give you as much time and space as you need, thank you. I love you so much bubs." He pulls me into a hug, nuzzling his face into my neck and I feel instantly calmer because of it. I rest my head on his shoulder while he mumbles sweet words into my skin.

"Promise I'll be good to you."

______________________________________________

A/N: :o it’s complete. I finished it yay! I’m so proud with how this series came out and I genuinely hope you guys do as well. I’ve started my semester and it’s going to be hectic so writing will take longer to come out, but there will be future stories that I’m really looking forward to writing and sharing :)

taglist: @big-galaxy-chaos​

[eligos-venator]

Legacy

[Word count: 1416]

Tap, tap, tap. The clinking of the occasional tap of metal clicking to metal could be heard throughout the white-walled room. Rather than a cluttered workshop one might have come to expect from engineers, the room itself was kept in pristine condition, almost surgically so with how little it had in it beyond the occasional soft glow of the storage tanks lining the wall, each with a different purpose. In the center of the room sat an oak stool, upon which was perched a hyur-like figure clad in a black suit. Within his left claw’s grasp was a small, oblong device, the front plate of it held in place by the black claw tip of his thumb as he screwed it into place. Each time he needed a new screw, he let his arm lower and the screwdriver dangle into the open toolbox at his side, dipping it into one of the compartments so that the magnetized tip would draw the screws to it, with just a little wriggling to ensure one would manage to fit itself onto the tip of the screwdriver and thus be secure. With a tap at the side of the box to drop any extra screws that were attached as well, the right hand would withdraw the screwdriver from the container, and the man moved on to putting in that next screw.

There was no humming of machinery to be had. No hissing or groans, or the creaking of metal. All had already been manufactured, fitted, and drilled out ahead of time, with every component tested separately. All that was left was to assemble it and put it to the test. Occasionally, the slit pupils glanced up from what was a monotonous task, the gil-hued gaze fixing on the thing beside his monitor that rested to his left, and that was the only piece in this antiseptic room that gave it any sort of character.

Hued from granite and shined to a fine polish, the statue towered over the small being, ever looming as the downcast eyes peered lifelessly, even as an eternal stone snarl set the tone as claws stretched out, as if to grasp those that dared approach it. The man’s own lips would curl up in a small, slight smile as he regarded it, and how every detail save for the actual breath of life had been taken into account. It might have been made to horrify its original owner, but to him, it stood for something else. Even as he looked up at it, it sometimes seemed as though it were real, with how the soft blue light above it would shine on it and highlight the carefully-sculpted features, painstakingly crafted to capture every last minute detail. “Right. I’ll get back to it. I owe you that much.” He hummed to himself as he would avert his eyes, forcing himself back to the ever-joyless task of assembling the small device. It was just a stone block, but the thought that he might somehow be heard gave the slightest of comforts, even if he knew it achieved nothing. It served as a constant reminder of what he had to aspire to, and just having it there brought a measure of comfort, as if there was still someone whom he could aspire to make proud of his accomplishments.

As he worked, the lights started to flicker overhead. A minor irritation, to be certain, as the man let out a low, annoyed grumble. After the third time they had done so, he set the device down on the toolbox, leaving the screwdriver beside it as he rose to his feet and crossed over to the entry of the room, to check a hidden console that displayed all relevant power information for the room. Yet he didn’t make it there. Halfway across, the lights went off completely for what felt as if a mere moment, before coming back to life with a low hum. Yet as the power returned completely, a low growl could be heard, putting the small, golden-eyed individual on immediate alert as he glanced around warily, trying to find what was out of place and had just invited itself into what should have been a secure facility. Was it in one of the tanks? No, nothing there was out of place. Nothing had seemingly changed. At least, nothing that was noticed until an unfamiliar voice spoke with a deep, dark timbre.

"Hey, kid. Been a while." White flesh, smooth as marble and with that same polished sheen flexed before as the hulking gargoyle sat down on the pedestal it had stood atop up till moments prior. Baleful silver eyes that had no pupil glared at the gold ones of the counterpart. The very corners of its ragged jaw twitched upwards in the smallest of sneers as blue fire seemingly flickered within that gaze as the creature flexed its wings, then curled them around the broad shoulders as if they were a cloak. One elongated arm hung down between its legs, claw loose and open, as the other reached to rest upon its knee as the creature stared down at the far smaller being before it. "Always so hard at work. You'd move the mountains themselves if you thought it meant you'd finally get the acknowledgement you crave from those you look up to. My acknowledgement." 

The voidsent peered around the room as it settled itself in, the index claw idly tapping away on the knee upon which it rested as the man before him blinked and stared, clearly lost and taking a moment to process what had just happened. The first instinct of that man was to back away, the second was to guess this was some mere illusion, and the third was to complain about how his statue that had cost a fortune had come to life and there would be no way anyone would believe him if he asked for a refund. Torn between these three, it took the smaller one several moments before he finally managed to speak up, his voice soft as he regarded it. “Your.. acknowledgement? Wait, so you’re-”

At this, the gargoyle cut him off, the creature lifting its claw from its knee to point at him. "You can never do it. There's too much failure for you to ever hope of doing anything more than sullying my grand name. Relinquish it before you further embarrass us both.” The accusatory claw clenched into a balled fist before relaxing as the arm dropped down to join the other in hanging between the creature’s legs as it leaned forward, eyeing the smaller of the pair. Those blank eyes contained nothing but disdain for what stood before it that stained its view, seeing the lesser as just that: truly its lesser in all aspects. “You'll never achieve anything that might earn my approval, and I tire of watching you struggle. It was only ever amusing for so long."

With that said, both wings unfurled, sweeping back to send a gust that pushed the man back, forcing him to shield his eyes for a mere moment. When he was able to lower them again to see, the pedestal was empty, the creature gone. But even as he rushed to pedestal to inspect it, the lights once again fritzed out, flickering thrice before the room plunged into pitch black once more. In the dark, the voice of the creature spoke once again. “Next we speak, you’d best have claimed another throne, wearer of false mantles.”

With that, Eligos jolted back to reality, his eyes quickly opening as he jerked upright in his chair. The lights were on, the device was still in his lap, and the screwdriver had fallen into the container of screws, which were all wrapped around it and clinging, courtesy of the magnet it contained. With a slow glance upwards, those yellow eyes were once again greeted by gray stone as the statue stared back, the same as it always had. With an annoyed sigh, the figure slowly reached down to pick up the screwdriver, tapping it particularly aggressively against the side of the container to dislodge any extra screws as he picked the device up off his lap and returned to work. It had only been a dream. Just a dream, and nothing more.

And yet upon that stand, that perch which the demon in the dream had sat, a thin layer of ash rested where it hadn’t been before, darkening the stone.

[ds-ts-smut-fics]

Lovely Boys [Chapter One]

Summary: Janus and Logan are both in love with Remus, it’s just a matter of who can convince Remus of their feelings first. 

Trigger warnings: NSFW, real hardcore insecurity, not the healthiest habits, rough sex, being caught (kind of, they’re not walked in on), mention of abusive and negligent past exes who neglected proper BDSM rules, some very rude degrading self talk, sl*t as an endearing term

Genre: Hurt/Comfort smut (Sub Remus, dom Logan, switch Janus), intruloceit 

Written by: Virgil & Claire

Edited by: Virgil 

A/N: This is completely written, so unlike Sweet On You, the whole thing should be posted relatively quickly/consistently lmao. We set out to write a quick one shot and then wrote an angsty 40 pages. ~Virgil

Remus fell in love with Janus the moment they moved in together. 

He walked through the door with his arms loaded with half-closed luggage, and when he saw the man standing in the kitchenette, he realized what a mistake he had made responding to the ad. He was thin, with vitiligo paling his otherwise tan skin. His hair was dyed yellow, with floofy bangs that hung in his gray eyes. 

Without looking back, Janus hummed softly. "Hello, you're certainly not welcome… Come in and put your things down? You would be Remus, I presume."

Remus cleared his throat and tried not to stumble over his words. “Yep!” He kicked the door shut and dropped his luggages with a loud clatter. “Yeah, that’s me, Remus. You’re, uh, you’re not Janus, are you?” Surely this was Janus’ super hot boyfriend— Not someone Remus had to converse with regularly without imagining him… Just, never mind. 

"I am… I hope you weren't expecting a female…" A frown crossed his face as he turned, showing black painted nails as he tapped his cracked lips. "That would be unfortunate indeed."

Remus coughed. He was, actually. “That’s not the problem here,” he said cheerfully, quickly averting his gaze from Janus’ nails, his mouth. “The ad sure didn’t warn me I’d have to be able to withstand sexy roommate syndrome.” 

Surprised laughter bubbled from his lips as he leaned on the counter. "Oh, my… You're quite a charmer, aren't you? At least you didn't run. I promise not to bite unless asked~?" 

Remus shuddered. “Which way’s my room?” He squeaked. Don’t pounce your new roommate. Real shitty first impression. 

Waving him to follow, he labeled the rooms, opening Remus' door for him. "I do hope you're not afraid of snakes, or the gays~?"

“Snakes?” Remus grinned and bounced after him. “You have snakes?!” 

Nodding, he smiled. "I shall introduce you after you unpack and we eat dinner?"

Remus flushed dark red. “You want me to eat with you?” His voice came out a little more subdued. 

Janus nodded with a frown. "Yes? It's rather important to me to make sure people I know are taking care of themselves— Just ask the debate team! I bring snacks and water to every practice debate."

“Well…” Remus straightened up with a grin. “Then I’ll help cook!” 

Remus rushed back to the front door and grabbed one of his overstuffed suitcases, which had bursted open upon impact, and dragged it towards his room. Dirty laundry, lewd comics, and crinkled sketchbooks trailed behind. 

Picking up after him, Janus nodded. "That sounds entirely doable…. Split the food budget and alternate dish duty then?" 

“Mhm!”

Remus got all of his shit into his room, and throughout dinner, he had somehow managed to not slobber all over everywhere staring at Janus. He wasn’t… Entirely prepared for his roommate to be so hot and so gay. So he had fallen pretty fast, and then tucked away any notion of his feelings being returned. For safety. 

That was pretty simple, until he met Logan. 

Frowning softly, Logan nearly ran over someone in the sidewalk, stumbling and holding his bag. "Terribly sorry… Do you know where 241 is?"

Remus brightened up. He’d had a pretty shitty morning, what with walking into the kitchenette to find Janus shirtless and somehow Remus spilled hot bacon grease on him, but this boy was extremely cute. Any excuse to get his mind off the embarrassment! 

“I sure do!” A predatory grin slid over Remus’ face as he squinted up at him, the sun in his eyes. “Headed there right now, why don’t I escort you and keep you safe from all the assholes headed that way?” 

"A capital idea indeed… Would that indicate that you are also taking anatomy lab at this time?" Falling into step with the smaller boy, a small smile tugged at his lips. He's too cute… That streak in his hair, the mustache. I want to know how that would feel. Oh, dear.

“Mhm!” Remus’s cheery voice, and his arm wrapping around Logan’s, broke him out of his daze. “Right now and later tonight if you’re up for it!” 

Blushing, he nodded. "Perhaps… See if you can keep up with me as a lab partner and then we can see if you're still up for more~?"

Remus looked up in surprise. His shitty pickup lines never worked! He laughed a bit. “Are you shitting me?” 

"If you are truthfully asking and can put up with my, admittedly very dominating, personality, I see no reason to not try at least a one night arrangement. Unless you were joking and are in fact straight?" He tipped his head gently with a smirk. 

Remus shivered in excitement. When was the last time he was dommed? He ruffled Logan’s hair and giggled. “I can handle you if you can handle me!” He yanked him into class, picking the seat next to Logan and glaring at anyone who tries to sit near them. 

Laughing lightly, Logan hummed, setting up his workspace carefully and nudging Remus to do the same. "Focus, show me how well you take direction. Think of it as an interview for the position you desire~?"

Remus grinned. It was the slyest, shittiest way anyone’s ever convinced him to do his classwork, and he loved it. He couldn’t help going home that day with the biggest grin, rushing around to make sure everything’s ready for Logan’s arrival. 

Logan had a bounce in his step as he collected some supplies before coming over at precisely the time they had discussed, knocking.

Remus threw the door open with a manic grin. “My roommate won’t be home for a few hours,” he said as he grabbed Logan by his shirt and yanked him inside. “Do what you will with that. Bedroom’s this way.”

Chuckling, Logan tugged Remus around to stroke his face. "Mmm, then shouldn't you kiss me, Rem~? Show me how much you want to study with me…"

“Anything you say,” he whispered, and shoved their mouths together. 

Remus hadn’t kissed anybody in a long time— Several years, in fact. He was probably sloppy, and not the best, but he enjoyed it and fully intended on making it up to Logan with his… Obedience. 

Sighing, Logan took him into his hand, guiding their kiss to press him into the nearest wall, encouraging his mouth to open and humming appreciatively at the taste of mint. Remus whimpered softly. He almost wouldn’t mind just doing this until Janus gets home. Logan was more commanding than Remus had really expected, manhandling him around exactly how he wanted, and the way he kissed is nothing short of wonderful. 

Slowly pulling back, Logan cupped his face with a soft look. "Such a good boy for me… Show me to your room, I want to see all of you, my dear. Tell me your safe words, hmm? Also, you preferred term of endearment while you are mine~"

Remus groaned and nearly buckled. “Slut,” he said instantly. “And, uh, colour system. This way.” He tugged Logan into his room with shaking hands. It was cleaner than usual, but Remus was still Remus, and there was clutter spread about that he simply hadn’t thought of until then. 

Chuckling, he hums. "Perfect… my little slut~!" Giving another deep kiss in praise, he gently spanked Remus' ass. "Put some music on and strip for me, show your dom what he's working with~"

Remus hurried to plug his phone into his speakers with an excited grin. 

Sitting on the bed, he hummed. "Make me want that ass more, my slut… "

Remus stripped for him, and it wasn’t exactly a tease so much as it was Remus impatiently tugging off his clothes and looking at Logan with wide, validation-seeking eyes. 

Sliding his legs apart, showing the erection tenting his pants, Logan crooked his fingers. "Good boy… Help me out of my pants and you can suck me as a treat, my lovely one… I'm finishing in your sexy ass, though~ "

Remus bounded over and knelt between Logan’s legs, impatiently tugging at his jeans. He got them down to Logan’s knees, yanked his boxers down as well, and ducked down to take Logan into his mouth. 

"Oh~!" Fingers tangled in the surprisingly soft hair, he moaned out. "Fuck, Remus~! Such a good little slut, aren't you~"

Remus whimpered around his cock, wanting to respond but not daring to pull off. Instead, he pushed deeper, taking all of him. 

"Yes, you are… Swallow too, Rem… Want to fuck your throat~" Tugging at his hair, he guided the motion to slowly fuck his mouth. 

Remus moaned happily and swallowed every few seconds, though mostly drool dripped down his chin. He let his mind float off, gripping Logan’s hips. Had he ever been in subspace before? He didn’t think so. 

Humming, Logan grinned as Remus relaxed, taking over completely to fuck into his throat. "Such a good little slut… Earning a treat before the main event~" 

Remus mumbled something unintelligible around Logan’s cock, eyes rolling back. 

"Tap once for yes, two for no… Your mouth is full~!" Taking him deeper, he hummed, cutting off Remus' air a little more. Remus gagged and rubbed his cock against the blankets, hips stuttering. He tapped hard, once. Logan grinned, thrusting faster. "Going to cum for master, my slut~? Only after I feed you the treat you've earned… Master cums first unless you have permission~!" 

Remus whined and tapped along Logan’s hips in two-tap intervals, hips hunching. 

"You beg so prettily… How can I refuse~? Cum for me, Remus~ " Using his mouth and throat, he moaned out, watching Remus fall apart.

Remus sobbed out as he came, nails digging into Logan’s hips. He didn’t pull off, as much as his throat spasmed and his back ached. 

Stroking the soft hair, Logan moaned, tugging to warn Remus as he came hard. "Oh, fuuuuck~"

Remus inhaled sharply and nearly choked, but forced himself to swallow it down with watery eyes, his cock already hardening back up. 

Petting him in apology, Logan moaned out, "Sorry, my slut… Couldn't hold back with the way you came apart for me~!" 

Remus leaned into his pets with a little whine. “It was good,” he rasped, “I liked it.” 

Stroking Remus' face, he wiped away the tears, encouraging him up to his lap. "I'm glad… "

Remus kissed him sloppily, hands rested on his chest. “Need you, master,” he mewled. 

Kissing back, he grinned, petting the wiggling sub. "Mmm, let me get a condom and finish stripping as you present for me, sweetie… I'll let you pick whether you see me or I take you from behind~"

Remus bounced out of his lap with an excited giggle, flopping onto his tummy and tucking his knees underneath him. It was the best position he’d ever tried— He’d never felt anyone deeper. 

Logan laughed as he saw the plug, giving Remus a squeeze. "Good boy… Do you always wear the plug or is that special for tonight~?" 

He flushed deep red. He’d honestly forgotten he had it in… “Mostly just for tonight, but, um… Sometimes, you know…” 

Nodding, he stroked the amazing ass presented to him, sliding on a condom and kneeling up. "You need to feel full, claimed? It's okay, my slut…"

Remus clenched and forced up a manic grin to push away the tightness in his chest. “Nah, I’m just a cockslut! Get going?” 

Humming, he slid his cock over Remus' crack, teasing the plug as he tugs his hair to pull him into a kiss. "Mmm, it's okay if it's both, Rem… I'm definitely down for this to be a repeatable event if you are~ "

Remus can’t help it slip out, in a pathetic little whimper: “I’ve been that good?” 

"Yes, Rem…. so good~" Removing the plug as they make out, he pressed in slowly. 

Remus whimpered and buried his face in the pillows. “Ah… Yes, master, so good!”

Kissing at Remus’ neck, he took the slim hips with a moan, slowly bottoming out and starting to thrust. "So good for me, my pretty slut~! Oh, Remus~ "

“Master!” Remus cried out, thrusting back against him. “Master, harder!” 

Growling, he nipped at Remus' neck, thrusts speeding as his fingers tighten on Remus' hips, bucking into him wildly. "Fuuuck, oh yesss… take my cock, slut~!"

Remus’s legs fell open and he sobbed into the pillow, coming without warning with a little shout. 

Nipping his ear, Logan growled, fucking him through the high without pause. "Mmm, that good, hmm~? Break for me, slut… Shout my name for the entire building to hear~!"

“Logan!” He whined, squirming and gripping onto the sheets. “Ah, Logan, please! Too- Too much!” 

Bending to press deeper, Logan chuckled in his ear. "Unless you use a color you will take it exactly as I give it to you, slut~!"

Remus let out a high whine and thrusted back into him wildly. “I’m sorry, master!” 

"That's a good boy~! Submit to your master, slut… " Working him to that edge again, he eased back when he felt those clenches. "You're mine for as long as I desire to give you my cock and attention~!"

Remus drooled on the pillow as he took Logan’s cock, whimpering. He’d lay himself out for Logan every ten minutes if he asked him to. He realized with a deep fear settling in his stomach that he would do absolutely anything for Logan, just to keep him around. 

Nuzzling his neck and shoulders, Logan spanked him. "Stay in the now even when you're floating, slut… focus~!" 

“Sorry,” he gasped, “I’m sorry, master!”

Taking a moment to kiss his ear, Logan hummed. "I know…. Just don't want to lose you to the past or bad thoughts… Stay here, feel good with me, Rem~!"

“Yes, sir! It’s so good! Can I please come again, please please?” 

Grinning, he sped his thrusts again. "Clench for me, make me cum and you can cum with me, Rem~"

Remus clenched down with a whimper, the pillow under his face soaking wet. 

Moaning out, Logan thumbed him open wider, watching him take his cock deep. "On three, pet…. One… Two…" Remus gasped and fought desperately to hold on. Pressing in deep, he slammed against Remus’ prostate, and came with a moan. "Three~"

Remus came with a sob and a shout of Logan’s name and title, pressing his face deep in the pillow. 

Janus paused with his hand on their front doorknob. Logan…? Is that Remus?!

Logan moaned out and grinned, burning the noise and feeling of Remus coming, laid out under him, into his memory as he filled the condom. He kissed and marked Remus up, hips slowly moving to ride the high. "Oh, gods! Remus, such a good boy~"

Remus moaned brokenly, his knees giving out to leave him flat on the mattress. “Master,” he managed. 

Logan stroked Remus' face and tipped it for a kiss, shifting their positions to settle him in his lap after pulling out and discarding the condom. "Good boy, such a good boy… So proud of you! Show master where the water is, sweetie?"

“Kitchen,” he mumbled, blushing bright red at the praise. “You can just leave me at the table, I can take care of it.”

Frowning, he shook his head, picking him up for more cuddles and heading for the bathroom instead. "No… You're worthy of aftercare, my dear one…" 

“What?” Remus buried his face in Logan’s shoulder. “You don’t have to. I can handle it.”

Petting him with a hum as he filled a glass, he smiled. "Remus… Look at me? I would be a terrible dom of I EVER left a sub without aftercare… and I am not that kind of person. You are worthy, and you were such an amazing boy for me!" 

Remus covered his face. “Thank you, master,” he whispered. 

Nuzzling, he smiled. "You're welcome… Show me your face, dear? You need to drink some water…"

Remus obeyed, drinking all the water Logan gave him. He didn’t realize how dry his throat was. 

Stroking his cheek, he smiled, refilling the glass and offering it again. "Good… More. Relax into me, sweetie… Enjoy the care…"

Remus had never had aftercare before. He decided he enjoyed it. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, sipping some more water. Then, as quietly as possible, “I’m hungry…”

Nuzzling, he smiled. "In a moment, dear…" Taking a cloth, he dampened it, cleaning them up a bit. "I know you said your roommate was unlikely to return, but… at least a blanket for you?”

“He’s seen me naked before. I sleep naked, and sleepwalk.”

Chuckling, he nuzzled lightly. "Mmm, for me then? Warmth and softness feels good as you come back to earth after a session, dear."

“Yes, sir.” He blushed and nuzzled back into him. “Anything you want.”

Heart clenching, he sighed. "You're so sweet…" Lifting again, he carried Remus back to retrieve a blanket, making him into a burrito. "Tell me what you're hungry for?"

“Waffles,” he said instantly. “I have frozen ones in the freezer. They’re blueberry.” 

Nodding, he scooped Remus into his arms after slipping his boxers on, missing the sound of the other bedroom door shutting carefully. "Waffles it is, then. Butter, syrup? Perhaps some time I can make you fresh ones~?"

“We don’t have a waffle maker,” Remus said sadly. 

Humming, he lifted his chin. "Ah, but I do… That was an invitation to my place, for next time~"

He lit up. “Okay!” He grinned and pecked his lips. “Sure!”

Kissing back softly, Logan laughed, and got started making the waffles. "Wonderful! You're entirely too precious to be just one night… "

Remus sniffled and forces his grin to stay up. “No… You’re probably just desperate.” He laughed. “I’m an easy fuck, you don’t have to pretend I’m not!” 

"Remus…" Cupping his face, he sighed. "Was it easy to see that we had a common interest in hooking up, yes… However, I also admire your keen mind. I was attracted right off the bat, but I would like to see more of you. As friends, or friends with benefits, or more if that's where the path leads us…"

Remus’ grin faltered as he met Logan’s eyes. It took all he has not to burst into tears— What a shitty, pathetic way that’d be to end their night. “Do you wanna… Sleep over?” 

Gathering him into a hug, he smiled. "If your roommate is okay with it, sure. How about a movie night and cuddles?"

He grinned. “I have a lot of movies! I’m sure Jan-Jan won’t mind, he’s super laid back.” 

Arching an eyebrow, he chuckled. "Must be if he lets you call him that… But I have an idea that you'd call him nicknames even if he said not to?"

Remus pouted. “Nicknames are my love language.” He hesitated, fiddling with his fingers. “Do you… Not want me to call you nicknames?”

Humming, he lifted Remus' face. "Don't magnify my fond tease to an expression of dislike, Rem… I don't mind one bit!" 

Janus listened near the door of his room, debating on going to the kitchen as his stomach twisted into knots. What is this feeling… Jealousy, but of whom?! 

“Okay,” he mumbled with a cute smile. His stomach growled loudly. 

Chuckling as the toaster sprung the waffles up, he stole a kiss. "Now… Butter, syrup, or both… And yes I will be cutting them up and feeding you while you sit on my lap, my pretty little one!" 

He blushed bright red. “Y-yes, sir… Both, please…”

Logan slathered them up, cutting them for him as he slid Remus over into his lap. "Looks good, hmm? Open up!" Remus opened, hands rested on Logan’s chest. Logan smiled as he fed him gently. "Such a good boy!"

“No,” Remus whined. “Nuh-uh.”

Kissing his cheek, he smiled sadly. "Why not?"

Remus looked away with a little shrug. “You’ve seen it.”

Tipping his chin back to feed another bite, he hummed. "Pretend I'm an idiot. Explain to me why you're not a good boy deserving of praise?"

Remus hesitated. “Do I have to?” He asked in a small voice. 

"No, you don't have to… I'm too curious for my own good sometimes." He stroked Remus’ cheek. "However, if you want to talk about things, I will listen. I’ll try to make you feel better."

For the millionth time that night, Remus could cry. “Shut up,” he mumbled with a sniffle. 

Smiling, he cuddled Remus close. "It is okay to use me as a literal shoulder to cry on, Rem… No judgement."

“I don’t need to cry,” he insisted. 

Breathing out, Janus decided to make his presence known, stepping into the kitchen as if summoned by the lie. "Whyever wouldn't you? Crying is healthy and a good release…" 

Jumping a little, Logan cleared his throat. "Indeed…" Janus is his roommate? Oh, gosh. 

Remus’ heart dropped. “Jan-Jan? When- How long have you been home?” His skin crawled in embarrassment. The dried tears still stuck to his face from earlier, wrapped in a blanket, and sat on a boy’s lap… He probably looked pathetic. 

Smiling, Janus stroked his hair lightly. "Mmm, if you're asking if I heard you two making friends… I did… I'm a tad jealous, he's cute…" 

Logan blushed softly. "Remus is adorable indeed…"

Remus’ face turned bright red. He buried his face in Logan’s shoulder. “Sorry, Janus… We wouldn’t have been so loud if we knew you were home.” 

Logan pet him softly, embarrassed, but chose to focus on Remus, helping him hide. 

Janus sighs softly, flushing lightly. "Remus… It's okay. Truly.” Then, he mumbled, “It covered up my moans nicely…"

Remus blinked. “Huh?”

Logan chuckled. "I believe we gave him, uh, motivation to touch himself, my dear…." 

Janus nodded, blush deepening. "The nerd's right… "

It didn’t quite compute in Remus’ head, until he forced it to make sense with a nod. “Logan is a really good dom, isn’t he?” He blushed and looked up at Logan. He was so handsome, and hot, and commanding… He didn’t blame Janus for wanting him, too. 

Janus resisted the urge to facepalm. "He did seem to elicit quite a reaction from you…" Damnit, you dense man! I wanted to be him, not fuck him!! 

Logan laughed softly. Oh my… Janus has a crush on Remus…

“He made me waffles,” Remus said with a delighted grin. “And he’s been really sweet afterwards… If you two hit it off, maybe he can make you feel good, too, Jan-Jan! Have you ever had aftercare before?” 

“You- You’ve never had aftercare before?! How?!” Janus tripped over his words, looking over Remus and stroking through his hair. “We can get a waffle maker… Do you want more?” 

Logan muffled a laugh, stealing a bite before offering Remus more. "I know, right? I want to find those negligent doms…" 

Together they finished with a low growl, "-and beat some sense into them!"

Remus, startled, looked between the two of them and wilted. “Is it… A common thing?” He managed. 

Cuddling Remus, Logan nodded. "It is supposed to be… As it was explained to me, a dominant partner takes the power gifted by the submissive to make their scene reality, but aftercare is the return of that power?" 

Janus nodded. "It also gives the pair time to relax, make sure that both are okay? Especially if there was a lot of degrading language or impact play, sometimes a dom needs reassurance that they didn't go too hard, and the sub is truly okay."

Remus nodded slowly. He wanted to explain that he didn’t need that, not really… But he didn’t want to. He yawned and curled into Logan’s chest, nuzzling up under his chin. 

Smiling, Logan petted his hair and offered another bite of waffle. "Even if you think that you don't need it, it's a good thing for both scene partners, Rem."

“Mm,” he mumbled. “Jan-Jan, we were gonna watch some movies, do you want to join? You don’t have any early classes tomorrow, do you?” Remus glanced at the clock. It was getting close to 11. 

Janus hummed thoughtfully. "I have a ten o'clock… But I think one movie would be alright." 

“Yay!” Remus doubted he could even stay awake for longer than one movie, so that was perfect. He nuzzled into Logan again then stood on wobbly legs, and nearly fell over. 

Logan chuckled and scooped him up with a soft kiss. "I think I broke your legs, Rem~!"

He giggled and blushed, looking over at Janus. “Whoops.” This is so embarrassing… What does Janus think of me now?

Janus snorted, reaching over to stroke Remus' cheek. "It is a good look on him…. Being cared for. Just relax, Remus… I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

If Remus could blush brighter, he would. Since moving in with Janus, he had seen every form of not-self care Remus took part in, ranging anywhere from unhealthy meals, skipping classes, and degrading comments about himself. Janus always made a fuss, but Remus didn’t think he meant it that strongly. 

Nodding, Janus grabbed a blanket and the remote, working with a blushing Logan to get them settled with Remus in the middle, draped over Logan's chest. "Indeed… you just lay on me and relax, Rem…" 

“Yes, sir,” he breathed before he could really think about it, eyes fluttering shut as he snuggled into Logan’s chest. 

Logan's heart squeezed as he kissed Remus on the head, not noticing Janus frown in jealousy. Why is it him that gets you to relax and take my advice on care… Remus, why not me?!!

Remus only lasted halfway through the movie before passing out, little snores blowing out his mouth. 

Janus inspected his nails, refusing to let his anger seep into his hushed voice as he asked, “So I assume you guys are dating now?” 

Stiffening, Logan finished tucking Remus into bed and turned, voice cold and hushed. "Shall we discuss in the living room so we won't disturb him?"

Janus rolled his eyes but obeyed, leading Logan into the kitchenette and starting on a mug of coffee. 

Following after retrieving his clothes and dressing, Logan took a mug and sipped. "We hadn't discussed anything like that… And I don't think he's ready. He was certain that this was a one night hookup and that I would leave after. I intend to work up to at least friends with benefits, but I assume you want him as well?"

Janus stiffened. “Remus is my best friend, nothing more. Wouldn’t dating him prove that he’s more than just a hookup to you? What do you mean ‘he’s not ready?’” He scoffed. “I see the way he looks at you— Hell, I see the way he looks at everyone. He’s just waiting for a boyfriend to drop into his lap. Are you sure it’s him that’s not ready, or were you just not prepared for the commitment?” 

Growling softly, Logan's fingers tightened on the mug. "He's not emotionally ready… I wouldn't want to take advantage of that raw need! Do I want him to be mine, definitely! He's a lovely submissive, but he didn't even know about aftercare! He needs friends first, an education on what it would mean for him… I want his informed consent, not a moldable puppet, Janus!"

Janus didn’t seem convinced. “And somehow you believe that’s impossible to do in a committed relationship… That’s fine. Keep dragging him along. I’ll be here when you’re not.” 

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, I'm terrified that I'm not enough for him. I saw how he looked at you, too… You can't tell me that he doesn't want both of us!"

Janus looked at him in surprise, then sighed as well. “Don’t fool yourself, Logan. He wants anybody who gives him the smallest bit of attention. He doesn’t actually want either of us.” 

He tapped the table with a deep frown. "That's a fair observation… Hence my reservation to commit and then have him run to the next person. However, if it were you, I wouldn't mind sharing, perhaps."

Janus’s face turned pink. He sipped his coffee and then turned away, busying himself with cleaning up. “You don’t have to say that. He chose you.”

Smirking, he smacked Janus’ ass lightly. "Perhaps…. I can't say I haven't looked at you, either~!"

Janus whipped around with a jump, face red. For the first time since Logan’s met him, he was flustered. “Wh- What?”

Adjusting his glasses, he hummed. "I had assumed you were far too dominant to attempt to obtain, but now I'm uncertain. Remus believed you were jealous of him…" 

Janus crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. “Remus is an idiot. He’s the most dense man I’ve ever met.”

"Is he? Or is that you?" Stepping in closer, he watched the reactions of the other man as he closed him in against the counter.

Janus’s eyes flitter around, landing on somewhere close to Remus’ room. “What does it matter? Has Remus told you he’s okay with not being exclusive?”

"We didn't discuss our relationship as yet… I know I'm poly and pan… But I need to talk with him. If he agrees, what say you, Jan-Jan~?" Reaching out, he stroked Janus' cheek softly.

Janus barely stopped himself from melting into the touch. “We’ll see,” he mumbled, looking away. 

"Agreed, but know that I'm open to the idea?" Petting softly when he doesn't get a flinch, he smiled. 

Janus brushed his hand off and stepped away. “You should get back to him,” he murmured. “He’ll freak if he wakes up.” 

Nodding, he stepped back, heading back to Remus. "Sleep well, Janus…"

“Thanks,” he muttered, and hurried to his room. 

When Logan went back into Remus’ room, Remus shot upwards and poorly tried to wipe away the tears before they could be seen. “Jan-?”

"Oh, dear…" Sliding into the bed after sliding out of his clothes, he hummed, taking Remus in his arms. "I'm sorry, Rem, I believed you to be asleep and didn't want to bother your rest."

Remus snuggled into his chest. “I’m okay,” he promised. His face was still wet. “I thought you left?”

"I promised to stay the night, dear… Janus simply wanted a chat." Stroking his hair, he encouraged Remus to cuddle, wiping the tears.

“Oh…” Remus kissed his cheek. “I hope you’re getting along. Janus is my best friend.”

Smiling, he nuzzled lightly. "I know, dear… He was very concerned about us, this, uh,  relationship… What do you want us to be, my dear?" 

Remus hesitated. “I want whatever you want.” 

He stroked Remus’ hair as he thought. "I don't want to take advantage of you… You're beautiful, and I want to take care of you, but I worry that you need more balance than a one on one relationship. Now, I am polyamoirous and pansexual, so… you simply need to communicate your needs. Do you want me to be your dominant, your boyfriend?"

Butterflies practically exploded in Remus’ stomach. “You want to be boyfriends?” He asked excitedly. 

Cupping his face, he smiled and lifted Remus’ to meet his eyes. "I would be honored to be your boyfriend, Remus,” he said firmly, “if you'll have me?" 

Remus nodded frantically, and kissed Logan messily. Kissing back with equal fervor, Logan’s fingers slid into his hair to guide the kiss. Mine~

Remus whimpered and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist. “I’m so glad I met you,” he breathed out. 

Snuggling Remus close, he nodded, kissing his forehead. "Me too, my precious."

Remus fell asleep in his arms, smiling.

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[bigskydreaming]

Okay haha I lied, whoops I do that. THIS is the last one. Again from various parts of ‘Kings of the Sky’ but since I was talking so much about Dick’s grandfather, why not some snippets of him from this series too. (For this AU I imagined what if Dick’s paternal grandparents lived into their eighties, like do we KNOW they couldn’t have? Hmm? Don’t answer that if we do, shh, let me have this. Anyway, so here Dick’s grandmother died when he was two and his grandfather when he was five.)

Dick is retelling this story about him and his grandfather to Jason and Cass.

************

“But there is no King of the Sky, Dickie,” he’d said to me then with a wink. “That’s the joke, you see? No one can claim the sky as theirs, no one can own it. Send your armies to seize it in your name and all you’d see is legions of empty-handed fools all grasping at air! There’s no way to draw your borders, no foundation on which you could build any walls. And where would you even put your throne?”

“He’d laughed then, mischievous and wheezing, as he recalled all the courts the circus had entertained back in its glory days, when Europe’s nobility would always each host some circus or troupe or performers at various festivals. All the kings and queens for whom he’d performed his signature feats, who’d show him off to their most important guests afterwards. The ones who had been invited specifically so they’d see that this court held only the grandest of celebrations, that they and their guests were entertained by only the very best of the best.”

“Oh, but they were always so eager to introduce me by title,” he’d said, rheumy eyes still somehow keeping their sparkle. “There they were, kings and crown princes, pushing me forward and telling their guests to come greet me, this commoner they were all too glad to proclaim royalty no different to them. After all, any king can present his guests with an entertaining spectacle, but how much grander is the king who hosts the spectacle of being entertained by another king? Ah, but they were always more than happy to elevate me if but for the night…in doing so, they elevated themselves as well. Up we all went, all without feet ever leaving the floor!”

“Names can be such a funny thing, don’t you think?” He’d sighed and sort of mused then, stroking his chin like he was pondering some great mystery. “Meaning nothing and everything all at the same time. That’s a powerful trick. Useful too, if you can master it.”

I know I started giggling then, just because as far back as I can remember, names were always kind of a…almost a passion of his, I guess you could say. It was just this thing he did, it was like he could never just let a name be. There was always some trick to a name, he’d insist. You just had to find it. Its why our family colors were red, yellow and green, as a matter of fact. All in only the brightest hues of each, combining to make us the complete opposite of the Gray in our name.

"The crowd comes in to see the acrobat named Grayson,” my grandfather would say, “and what do they expect from just the name? Drab, unremarkable, likely to be lost in the shadows, from just the sound of him. But then he dives off the platform in a burst of colors impossible to miss and the crowd gasps, expectations shattered in an instant���.and from there, they think, what more surprises might possibly await? And already you have them at the edge of their seat, eyes caught by the colors of a costume its impossible to lose sight of. You command their attention, you’re unencumbered by their assumptions, and they’re yours from that moment on. And all of that from just a pop of color, a warning that you are not what they thought….and a name. A Flying Grayson, up above as expected, yet unexpectedly the brightest thing in the sky. An inherent contradiction. An impossible sight you can’t help but to see.”

“Anyway, so there I was,” Dick said, straightening up and shaking his head with a slightly rueful smile, as if to physically pull himself out of the undertow of memories tugging him further away from where he’d begun. “Already giggling just from his little chin-stroking act as he started talking about names, because I knew he was bound to say something silly next, just from that. And he’d jumped a little, and turned in his chair to face me directly and with his full focus, because Grandpa thrived off of an engaged audience like nothing else.”

“Yes, a powerful thing, a name,” he’d continued after a moment that was either a dramatic pause or me thinking anything longer than ten seconds might as well be the same as an hour, at that age. “But a tricky business, naming things, as you first have to know what a thing is, before you attempt to claim it by naming it what it is not. Because being named can just as easily be a powerful trap, of course. If a man doesn’t know himself well enough to know he is not what a name claims, he can wind up stuck in a cage that’s not sized to fit him. Simply because he doesn’t know he has more than enough room to slip free of it if he tried.”

“Then he leaned down close enough to me to whisper, and looked around as if checking we were alone before dropping into a raspy whisper like we were conspiring. “But a man who knows what he wants and knows what he’s capable of, and can put the right name to both….that’s where the real magic is. Do you know what kind of power your name has?”

“Richard means lion-hearted,” I remember reporting after some thought. And that he blew a raspberry right after that like he was the five year old of the two of us, but then, Grandpa was just like that sometimes. “Yes, yes, true enough,” he said, making a face like he’d tasted something sour, “But I don’t mean the one your father picked probably to spite me for naming him John in the first place. No matter how many times I tell him I had nothing to do with that, I lost the right to name him in a card game with your Grandmother. Although for the record, I still maintain I didn’t lose, she just cheated. But I still have no idea how she did it so I have to respect that, I suppose. But no. Not that name. The one your mother gave you.”

“And of course then I knew he meant Robin, and said so, and he asked what that meant to me. And I remember thinking long and hard about that one, because as I said, I knew even by that age what Grandpa was like on the subject of names, and so I was sure there was some kind of riddle or game in what he was asking, I just wasn’t sure where. So finally I just referred back to what my Mom always used to say, about me being born on the first day of spring, and being her little Robin. And he just nodded, and then he asked: And do you remember the first time you called yourself Robin to someone else, and why? What you said then?”

*******************

And then from the very last (intended) installment, ‘Its a Long, Long Way To Tipperary,’ again with Dick telling this to Jason and Cass and finishing a conversation started earlier in the series:

“Names have power,” Grandpa said to me, on one of the last days I remember with him before he passed away. We were sitting outside in folding chairs and watching the stars, until he got too cold and we had to go in. But while we were out there, so much of what he said…I didn’t really understand most of it at the time. Honestly, even what I thought I understood, I realized years later wasn’t really right. I could follow the words but so much of what he meant, I didn’t even begin to understand until I happened to look back to that night years later.

But for months I’d heard my parents talking when they thought I couldn’t hear. I’d seen him doubled over and coughing more and more frequently, how tightly he clutched a blanket around him when it wasn’t really all that cold. I may not have fully known what was coming but I think I knew on some level that something was coming to an end.

And I remember him talking so fast that night, words spilling out so quickly in a confusing mess like he couldn’t take the time to shape them properly and just had to get them out….I remember soaking it all in, as much as I could, knowing that it was important even if I didn’t know what it even was, or why. Like I was trying to just….absorb it, make it a part of me the way it almost felt like it was bleeding out of him. I don’t know that the thought, the image of him dying that summer, of soon being without him, I can’t say whether that actually ever occurred to me. I just know that I knew urgency, and I knew Grandpa was only urgent when it mattered, so I listened without understanding and somehow managed to store most of it away. And honestly, I don’t know that he was even trying to make sure he was understood, or even caring….so much as just trying to get it out of him, like what was most important was just that he said it and it was heard. Maybe just so he knew it wouldn’t die with him.

“But however it got there, however it was I managed to remember clearly enough, there it all was, and right when I most needed to hear what he’d said to me that night. The things nobody else could have told me because nobody else knew the secret language of names that he seemed to speak, that he’d spent his whole life learning all so that maybe he could somehow in that find his own name. Not the label he’d been left with, a description or title.....but a name, the one each child is supposed to get, something to say who they are, not merely what.”

“Names have power,” he said to me that night. “They can be magic in the right hands. A man who knows who he is knows his own name. And the things you can do with that, the doors that can be unlocked…oh, Dickie, my boy. There’s a door to anywhere if you can speak the right name when asked for a key. But its not enough to just say them and throw them around, its not the sounds, the words, its what they are. You can’t pretend to know a thing, to know yourself. You have to really, truly know. But once you know….for a boy as bright as you, there’s no end to the possibilities.”

“So here’s what you must always remember, the real trick of it all…..names have power. But the power isn’t in the name. The power is in what you put in that name. You can’t claim a name and therein take its power, you see….because you have to know first what you’re trying to take from it, what you see when you look at it. What you want it to be, want it to give to you, what you want it to make you when you say this is me and I am this. Your father named you Richard, though he calls you Dickie. You were born a Flying Grayson and thus you always will be. Your mother named you her little Robin, born on the first day of spring. And all of these can be you, because no one is just one thing. And yet none of them are you unless you claim them to be.

So if you are to be Robin, as your mother named you but is only you if you choose to say yes that is me…..before you claim it fully, before you truly make it yours, you have to look at Robin and what you want the mirror to show when you look in it and say I am Robin and this is me. You have to see Robin not as even your mother sees her Robin, but as you see your Robin.

That’s the danger and that’s the trick.

You can’t claim Robin while seeing only what someone else sees, and think that by claiming it you’ve claimed its power….instead you’ve just claimed a trap, donned a self that doesn’t suit you because it is not you, only something someone else thought could be you.

Because in claiming that, you claim everything that comes with it….and then you will never be free to be more than whatever they thought you could be. There is no power in that, no potential, no freedom…..just the limitations you’ve accepted as your own, because someone thought you limited by such things, and yet you agreed that they were right when you claimed the name….but only the name as they shaped and imagined it to be.

So who is Robin? What power do you see in that name? Don’t reach out and seize it the moment someone sets it forth in front of you, assuming that is all it can be, the highest it can ever take you. Never claim a name if you haven’t first looked at it as you first see it...and then imagined it bigger, and then imagined it deeper, and then imagined it greater...and then kept going until you can’t imagine any more. And only then will you know what that name is…..when you say this name is who I truly want to be.

Robin is a bird, yes, Robin Red-Breast, a creature of spring, of the air, of new life. You can claim that and make it yours but first…..what else could Robin be?

Can not Robin just as easily be Robin Hood or Robin Goodfellow? Couldn’t you be? And why even be just one, when you can be all three?

No man is ever just one thing, and any man who thinks that he is has more dreaming to do. 

So be Robin, in as much as you imagine Robin to be. Be the bird that flies, or the champion of the poor, or the merry trickster whom even kings fear. Or be all of them in one….there’s power enough for all of that in just that one little name….so long as you put it there first.

Its that simple, and its that tricky. There is no in between. You are whatever you claim as you - but the good and the bad, for better and for worse. The space that name holds and the walls that hold it in.

So if you remember nothing more, Dickie, Richard, Robin times three or however many more Robins you might be…..if someday you say I taught you nothing else, there’s nothing else I gave you or left for you to take with you wherever you go, hear me now, and remember this:

No matter how well you might think it suits you at first, the name you claim because it fits you as you are....will never be more than a trap.

The power in names, the true power…..only comes from claiming the name that fits the you, that you would dream yourself to be.

You can always be more than you are. And any name that tells you otherwise is not truly anything but a lie.

Many kings of the earth have laughed as they introduced your family as Kings of the Sky throughout the years. But the jest they don’t get is for all their riches, they were the ones content to claim titles and deeds that leave them trapped on the ground, confined within borders of their own makings, sealed behind walls they chose to erect between them and everything that was not theirs and thus would never be. But a King of the Sky soars above all of that, needing none of that…..because the sky has no end, and is so much vaster than any of that could ever be.

So if you would someday choose a crown, my little Prince of the Sky, never seek yours on the ground. Reach for one bigger than the ground could ever hold….only that could ever fit all that you might someday be.”

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, jbsaucy!

Happy belated Birthday, @jbsaucy​! We hope you had a wonderful day back on the 16th, and that you celebrated in style! To bring your party back around, the lovely @mega-aulover​ has written a story just for you!

For this year, I am recently divorced and trying to get the nerve up to get out there. So I would like to request a 30/40s Everlark, post divorced meeting

Jbsaucy

Dear Jbsaucy I hope you had a wonderful birthday. I apologize for the lateness, and I hope you had a wonderful day. This prompt BTW was amazing and I had a great time writing it. It was a blast. Thank you to Norbertsmom for Betaing 

Rated T 

Title:  OFF THE MARKET

-kpkpkpkp-

Divorce sucks. SUCKS.

Getting divorced sucks, being divorced sucked.

But nothing, not the tedious nature of dividing unwanted movies, the fear of root canals, or getting a speeding ticket, compared to dating. Dating, ladies and gentlemen, after being married for ten years sucked royally. 

ROYALLY!

After my divorce, my attorney suggested I get a hobby or join a club. I really wasn’t a social person. Not much of a talker, and avoided any and all spotlights. It was this fear of the spotlight that originally brought me in contact to my now ex-husband, Darius.

My best friend Gale pushed me to do one of those karaoke nights. I panicked and ran straight into Darius. He thought I was cute, and I was grateful he went up with me to the karaoke microphone. He sang and I laughed. The rest is history; the marriage only lasted ten years. But I knew we weren’t right for one another, partially because Darius was a very sexual person, for me sex wasn’t important. I got more enjoyment out of getting my teeth cleaned. He found someone who revved his engine and I got the fica and dates. 

Yup Dates.

How did that happen you ask?

Well, I’ll tell you I followed my divorce attorney’s suggestion. Preface-OUTSIDE OF A COURTROOM NEVER EVER FOLLOW YOUR DIVORCE ATTORNEY’S ADVICE.

With that warning sign, I digress. Taking a deep breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Wait for it... I joined a book club. 

It was the only natural course of action. After our divorce I got all of the books. You see one of the things Darius and I loved to do was go to bookstores. We’d buy all of these books with the intention of reading them, and we never did. We had bookshelves filled with books from the 100 Must-Read Classic Books by Penguin. So after my divorce, I sat in my newly minted apartment with a box of wine and all of these books. 

I was looking at the boxes, my divorce papers jutting out. Amongst them there was a note - with the name of a book club, the real 451 book club, with an address. I called them the Squad 451 or the Squad. The women were a hodgepodge of personalities; the right blend of sweet and crazy. There is Mags, the motherly type. She has boatloads of grandchildren. Then there is her neighbor Greasy Sae  who runs a diner in town. I used to go to her diner as a kid and consume her mystery meat soups. The older woman is bawdy and half of the things she says makes me blush redder than a red bean. Next is Annie, a shy, slightly mad girl who is a librarian. Delly has the personality of the southern bell who wears pink and believes in romance. I’ve known of Delly forever; she and I went to the same high school. 

Foxface,  has one of those names with multiple consonants and vowels but prefers to go by Foxy or Foxface. She is freakishly smart and sometimes, I think she has blackmarket dealings because she’s so secretive. Then there is Effie, the middle aged, tightly wound woman whose book choices are as repressed as she is, like Jane Eyre. And last, but not least, is my divorce lawyer, yes the very same one who suggested I get a hobby, Johanna Mason who is, well, a sex fiend. 

I started meeting up with them, and six months after my divorce, that’s when the ladies conspired against me and set up my profile on one of those dating websites looking for men, for me. I had no idea, and on my birthday, they presented me with their “gift.” 

It was the gift you didn’t want, like a pimple on your wedding day or the runs before an important interview, or bad breath before a first kiss. 

Greasy said that if I didn’t use my, well, feminine - looks around - petals. That they’ll dry up and turn into ugly petunias. I announced sex wasn’t important, and even friged Effie said a lady needed to literally, figuratively, and metaphorically, occassionally let her hair down. 

 I said NO.

I demanded.

I scowled.

Nothing helped.

They created a profile based upon themselves, and yet through describing themselves they pegged me. I was nurturing. I had a sexy edge. I was introverted, and yet mysterious. I was smart, honest, loyal and a closet romantic. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll hunt you down, even after I’m dead. 

They split me up like a kid of divorced parents being schlepped from one house to the other. They set themselves up in teams and each team got to pick my dates. And everytime we met for a book club meeting, I was to dutifully report on the date. Based upon their success, a second date would be permitted. 

It was a simple proposition. 

I was naive. A stupid idiot, or as Bugs Bunny say’s, a maroon. 

Because I hadn’t really ever been out there. 

To be honest, I met Darius right out of high school, at my first college party, and we were married - okay it wasn’t a big wedding. It really wasn’t a wedding at all. It was a spur of the moment, we got drunk and ended up at one of those Elvis chapel impersonators. Annnnd bada-bing. 

I never really dated, so I agreed with the book club’s plan, because how hard could dating be?

 And thus began my nightmare.

I must state, or emphatically note, not all of my “dates,” were catastrophically bad. To be fair, most of the time I wasn’t interested. Delly said I wasn’t romantically pulled. Johnna said my engine wasn’t revved up. Greasy said if the man didn’t make me want to orgasam with a look, then he wasn’t worth my time. I posed this question to the universe: How in blazing blue inferno does a man make a woman...well you know, with a look? Was that even possible?

A hazy yellow fuzz enters my head and my mind wanders. I conjure up blue eyes and translucent lashes that never tangle.  

Sigh.

…. (my brain just short circuited at the thought of large hands)

Earth to Katniss. 

Okay sorry, I spaced out for a little bit, and their words spurred me on to continue my journey. And one year after my divorcce I had stories, no I have battle scars.  To prove my point, the following are my top three worst dates. In no particular order.  

Date Disaster # 1 was with an artsy type at a chique Italian restaurant. He arrived late, and was drunk, high, or both. Then fell asleep on his plate of bolognese. Yup, in his plate of spaghetti and meat sauce. I paid for my half, tucked my tail between my legs and left.

Date Disaster #2 was with a small man with glasses and a massive intellect who didn’t stop talking about flamingos. FLAMING PINK FLAMINGOS. My brain shut down. I didn’t hear the music in the jazz themed restaurant. I didn’t even taste the heat in the gumbo. The only factoid I remembered when we said goodnight was that flamingos were gray when they were born. I couldn’t even tell you how they became pink. The man was the human form of anesthesia for my soul. 

Date Disaster #3 was a nice man. We laughed. And everything was going well. We ordered drinks, a cranberry and soda for me, the bartender special for him while we waited for our table. Turns out he has a milk allergy and the bartender special had milk. When we sat down at the table and we were talking about our hobbies, his stomach began to grumble loudly. He became pasty and then as the waiter brought out our appetizers, he threw up all over the place. It was a good thing that throwing up didn't bother me, but it bothered our waiter who gagged. Needless to say, I burned the outfit I was wearing.  

Those were the top three...but there were more, just simmering to become the top one. And for a time I thought I wasn’t made to date.  But the ladies had faith and they were really trying to choose nice, interesting guys. However, nothing, nothing that I could ever imagine could top my latest date. 

I’m rushing along the sidewalk. I don’t want to be late, but at the same time, I don’t want to tell them how much of a calamity my latest date was, but to be completely honest, I don’t want to miss it. Tonight is also the night the group meets at Mellark’s. The friendly cafe style bakery with its rich and yummy pastries, both savory and sweet. It is my favorite place to meet. Squad 451 meets twice a month in different locations, including one of the two meeting rooms in the library, one of the community rooms in the Justice Building, and on our birthdays, we meet in a restaurant, but the bakery on Main Street is our favorite location. The Mellarks owned several locations. The flagship store was always managed by one of the original family members.  

If George Senior, or the middle son Ryan Mellark is at the helm of the bakery, they allow us to cavort in the shop until close. When his older brother George Junior or their Mother Muriel was in charge, we tended to be quiet, relegating our conversations to the books. When Peeta is in charge, there are free cheese buns and chaos. 

Please, stomach gods, let Peeta be there. I skipped lunch today because I had a deadline. I also forgot my wallet at home. Thankfully, my license was at the bottom of my backpack. I need food before my stomach eats itself. I am starving when I walk into the bakery. When I see Peeta, I stop. His blue eyes meet mine and my stomach flip flops. He gives me a slow sweet smile, before his eyes slide back to the customer who is ordering.

“Katniss,” Delly squeaks, waving frantically.

Somehow, my feet carry me over to the table and there is a plate of cheese buns and I thank every celestial being in the universe. His buns are heavenly. Sitting down, I take a napkin and snatch one.  My mouth waters and my lashes close as I bring the cheese bun to my mouth.  The smell of melted cheese, fresh bread, and the hint of dill, assuage my nose, before I bite into one of Peeta’s coveted flaky concoctions. The combination of the oozing cheese, the herbs and the buttery bread elicit a moan from deep within my being. These freaking cheese buns will be the death of me. 

“Wow.” Peeta’s voice causes my lashes to fly open. 

Peeta is standing near me with a cup of tea; his face and neck splotchy and red.  

My mouth is full of delicious food, but I forgot how to chew. 

Delly is looking between us. Her pale blue eyes quizzical, like when she’s trying to understand a concept or theme in a book.

 “Okay, bitches,” Johanna says, slamming her brief down. “Where’s the rest of the motley crew?”

“Mags and Greasy just arrived,” Delly answers absentmindedly. 

“Hey, Peeta, I need a strong black coffee.” 

“Sure,” Peeta says, all the while staring at me. I finally remember to chew. “Here Katniss, your tea.”   

Taking the paper cup, I can’t help feeling bashful. “Thank you.”

“Peet,” the girl behind the counter calls. 

Whenever Peeta is here, the business is brisk. He is charming. He was always charming, even back in high school he was the most popular guy, not only because of his looks, but because he was genuinely nice. I, like all of the other girls, had a mini crush on him. 

Looking over his shoulder he says, “I’ll be right back with your coffee, Jo.” 

Now Jo is looking between him and me, but hers is a wicked grin, like right before she nails a sleazebag who doesn’t want to pay for his children. I quirk an eyebrow, clueless as to what has Johanna showing off her predatory gleam. 

“Oh, it’s chilly outside,” Mags says.

“It’s colder than Rudolph’s balls outside,” Greasy says, her gruff voice is booming. Several patrons look at her. Greasy does not care. She’s well past her sixties and it’s her motto that she should live each day as if it was her last. 

In walks Effie, Annie, and Foxface, and they all say, “Hello,” in unison. 

The book of the month is actually a YA fiction called, The Fault in Our Stars, about teens with a terminal illness. I cried when Gus...I tear up once more...at the memory. But I know we aren’t going to discuss Hazel’s predicament with her parents. 

“So,” Delly says, bouncing in her chair.

I can’t help but grimace.

“How did it go?” Foxface says. She has an accent, but I can’t place it. 

“He looked like he belonged on one of those erotic books Johanna loves to read,” Greasy says, grabbing a cheese bun.

She’s not wrong. Gloss was a blond adonis, with slate blue eyes. And abs that have a flipping twelve pack, I ought to know, I counted them. The words are out of my mouth before I am aware of what I am saying.  “He really does with a twelve pack,” I say drinking my tea.

“Did you say twelve pack?” Johanna sat up. 

My eyes widen. 

“Wait, why are you blushing Katniss?” Foxface narrows her eyes.

“Did you and he…” Annie trails off. Her doe eyes are wide. 

“Did you have your first sleepover?” Effie leaned in. 

“Or did you dry hump him like a horny-toad dog?” Greasy’s voice bounces in the bakery.

Peeta’s pauses , wiping down the counter and looks directly at me. 

“NO!” My voice sounds half strangled.

Jo and Delly exchange a look. “Peeta,” Delly calls him over. 

Oh, no, no, no, I say to myself, eyeing how quickly I can get from the back corner to the exit. It is one thing to tell the squad, it is another to have Peeta know. I think I can sprint around the chairs and clear the table near the door like an olympic hurdle jumper. 

Peet walks over. “Hey Dells, can I get you ladies anything?”

“Katniss was going to regale us with her latest date,” Delly says.

“She’s going to tell us how she knows her date has Thor’s body.” 

“You’re dating?” Peeta asks, looking at me intently.

He doesn’t know I am dating or rather, being raked through hot coals.

“Oh,” Foxface chortles. “She’s dating.”

“Remember the guy who was texting with his mother during the entire date,” Effie said.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mags saids grinning.

“Only the part when he had Katniss talk to her, and it turned out she was psychoanalyzing her to make sure she wasn’t an ax murderer,” Annie said laughing.

“Or what about the guy who kept on mentioning his ex and cried through the crème brûlée,” Greasy slaps her knee, laughing.

I can’t help but laugh. 

“Man, those are pretty bad,” Peeta says.

I hold up my finger. “No, those are tame.”

“Tame?” His blue eyes are sparkling. “You mean there are worse dates?”

Delly snorts. “Oh there are worse. I am so glad I am out of the dating pool.”  

“Yeah, Gale just loves you,” Annie sighs. 

Delly and Gale met when I joined the book club. And while I floundered, they fell in love and now Delly was pregnant.  

My eyes shift to Annie. “It’s so much easier when you fall in love.”

“Oh?” I say.

“I met someone,” Annie says softly. “He wants to meet all of us.”

I wonder what type of guy would date quiet, shy, introverted Annie who sometimes says things that remind me of that song from those Freddy movies from the 80’s. I shake my head.  Then I narrow my eyes. “Bring him to the next session,” I hear myself say. I want to meet this man, and make sure he will take care of my friend. 

“Really.” Annie clasps her hands.

I nod, but I notice Peeta is looking at me with this strange gleam in his eyes.  “Ah...yeah.” My voice sounds breathy. I frown, wondering why the heck I sound like one of those girls. You know the ones that always appear in the music videos washing cars and dancing on super yachts. Darius was fascinated by those girls, heck, his new girlfriend looks like one of those girls.

The women are chatting with Annie about the new guy in her life.  

“We'll discuss Annie’s beau later,” Mags holds her hand in the air. “I want to hear about Katniss’ date.” Her white hair spills over her shoulder as she fixes me with a look. “So tell us, how do you know Thor has a twelve pack?”

Somehow or another I knew the scrutiny on Annie would be short lived. My time to shine would come, but when I open my mouth to speak I can see a conspiratorial glance between Mags and Annie. And it hits me that they chose this man, because he looked like Thor. I scowl at the women who set me up on this one. Mags and Annie both have a pink tinge to their faces. I would have expected this from Jo or Greasy, but Mags and Annie, well it’s INCONCEIVABLE! 

I begin to speak. “He asked me to meet him at the edge of town, near route twelve.”

“Isn't that where Ripper’s place is?” Effie questioned, and she couldn’t hide her revulsion. 

“Yup,” I said, popping the ‘P’, thinking of the bar that disguised itself as an eatery. It was a seedy diner with cracked linoleum floors, yellowing formica, booths that had patches, blinking lights, and rickety chairs. 

“That’s where he asked you to meet him?” Mag’s sounds outraged. “That place is…is-”

“- a bedhaven for unsavory characters,” Foxface finishes. 

“You're brainless,” Jo mutters darkly. "Ripper's isn't the type of place you can go to Katniss. You should have called me."

As protective as I am about my friends, so is Jo. She's tough on the outside but has a really soft center. It's what makes her a perfect shark in the courtroom. Not that Darius was a jerk during our divorce. He actually wasn't. Johanna was present at the restaurant where he announced he wanted a divorce. Johanna later said it was my face, the vulnerability I tried to hide was why she took my divorce pro-bono. 

“I drove and brought my bottle of mace.” I know what everyone was thinking. The area in town where Ripper’s is located at, made the bad side of town look like a tourist destination. I didn't mind meeting my date there. I was looking forward to a basket of fries. Ripper's had amazing beer-battered fries. 

I've been to Ripper's once. I was with Gale and Thom who needed to score fake IDs. I ordered the fries, since I wasn't there for an ill gotten identification. But let me tell you, those fries. Oh! Holy mother of fries, no other fries can compare. 

Shivers!

I love food; it's why I'm a food critic now. What's so funny is that it was those fries that began my career as Buttercup, the elusive food critic. Back then I was Buttercup, the fussy eater. I blogged about them, no, I lavished them with love. I love my job. I can go into any restaurant, order anything on the menu, blog about it and get paid handsomely. And, most importantly, I can do it anonymously. Not even Darius knew I was Buttercup. He thought I was a boring housewife. Getting back to the fries, I wasn’t deterred from getting my fries.

“So then what happened?” Annie asked.

“He was there waiting for me. He stood up and smiled. And he's massive-"

"Just like a book cover," Foxface mutters.

 "He said his name wasn't Anthony, it’s Gloss.”

“Gloss?” Everyone said at the same time.

“Yup.” I sighed. “It was a sign. I should've left." Damn those fries! 

“So Gloss…" Peeta's sparkling eyes are on mine, his are an amazing hue of blue, like the indigo milk cap mushrooms. "Looks like Thor."  He frowns. "Thor with the long hair or short?"

"Long." The women around me answered as one.

Peeta turned those gorgeous eyes back to me.

Thor isn’t my cup of tea. I shrugged to show my indifference. "Gloss was sporting the Ragnarok look, short hair with facial hair."

 I swear I watch Peeta mouth, "short hair."

"Anyway, we sat at a booth. It was packed, actually." That should've been clue number two. Men at a joint like Ripper's at 8:30 on a Friday night, it was by the highway, plausible. But packed with just as many women. "The waitress who took our drink order could barely hear me."

"Was he nice?" Annie asks.

"He was sweet." Truthfully Gloss was a sweet guy.  He talked about his mother in a positive way, even if she gave him the name that was another descriptor for shiny objects. "He was attentive too. He told me his mother worked in the makeup industry. "

"That doesn't sound too awful," Delly says.

"He sounds delightful." Mags pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose.  The gang is getting tired of the story and I hope they will move on to the reason we are  gathered, discussing the book we were reading. I begin to reach into my backpack because I really hate purses.

"If he's so delightful, why did he ask you to meet him at Ripper's?" Johanna says in her cross examination voice.

I wince as I take out my book.

"Yes, you must explain." Foxface demands.

"It's not nice to leave us dangling." Effie levels a look at me that has me squirming, feeling like I was being summoned into the principal's office. 

"I wanna know how you know Gloss has a twelve pack," Greasy says.

Peeta looks at me expectantly. 

Anndddd were back. I sigh. Will he run for the hills when I tell him? Most likely.

"We were talking about dancing.” My voice loses all it’s warmth. “I don't dance."

This causes a rumble of laughter and giggles amongst the women. Peeta looks confused. Finally Delly wipes the tears from her face and gasps, “You should never dance. Ever!” 

"That poor man’s toes,” Mags says, her shoulders shaking.

“Do I need to know?” Peeta looks between them. 

“I don’t dance!” I growl. The group erupts into another bout of laughter. 

“It was a scheme, a dirty underhanded scheme,” Effie says. 

The guy I was supposed to date was a dance instructor. He used the dating app as a way to drum up business. When the women meet him, he pairs them with guys who were there for a lesson. He paired me with a poor man named Harry. My nerves got the better of me, because I don’t like to be touched. Harry’s hands were sweaty. Harry tried to dip me as per my date’s instructions. I tripped, and in the process his toes were crushed, and I ended up with a sprained ankle. 

When I arrived in crutches to the next book club, well, that was one of those dates that simmers at the surface vying to be in the top three. 

“Gloss didn’t believe me. He said anyone can dance. I told him no, and explained that there are people who are predisposed to fly in airplanes, and some who get motion sickness in a car. “

“What happened next?” Foxface asks, moving to the edge of her chair.

“He went to the jukebox.”

“Oh no,” Johanna mutters. “Did he end up in the hospital?” 

“Is that how you know he’s got a twelve pack?” Greasy questions. The ladies, and Peeta are all staring at me. 

I shake my head. Why couldn’t there be a rush of customers right now? It is calm and I know the odds are against me. 

“Spill it!” Johanna demands. 

“Well, he queued up a song and waited a beat, and then Lenny’s Kravits’ American Woman started blaring. Gloss started sauntering and spun and did the splits on the floor. Next thing I know, the women in the place go nuts. They surround him, like a rabid pack of wild dogs.”

“Wait, what!” Delly exclaims her pale eyes bright, she grips the book in her hand. 

“That doesn’t happen,” Peeta says.

“It does to her,” Foxface said, her eyes shining with ferocity, like the eyes of those women at Rippers.

“Shut it blondie,” Johanna orders. 

“Yeah,” Annie says.

Taking a deep breath I continue. “He started dancing...hips…” my brain flashing to his hips gyrating. “...jutting out and…”

“Ohhhhh yeah,” Greasy cackles.

“Gyrating, his hips gyrating,” Foxface gasps.

With eyes closed I nod. “His hips were doing that all over the place. He then jumped on the table and proceeded to rip off his shirt. He shouted my name and told me his next move was his favorite. He spun onto his knees and slid up in my face before dropping his drawers.” I lower my eyes. 

“What,” Delly squeaked. “His pants?”

“It’s like Magic Mike,” Mags whispers.

I know the movie Mag’s is referring to. I’ve never seen it. “Yes.” 

“Was he naked-” Foxface began.

“-or was he wearing-” Annie cut Foxface off only to be cut off herself. 

“A G-String!” Greasy shouted excited.

I shook my head no. He wasn’t wearing anything, I can feel the heat burning my ears.

“Well don’t stop! What happened next!” Even Effie has lost her sense of propriety. 

“As I looked for an escape. It’s then I noticed  the poster on the wall, for the Slag Heap.” I pause and sigh, “Men’s Magic Friday Night Extravaganza, and Gloss was the headliner. I realized he’s a stripper.” 

And the place erupts in laughter. 

“What did you do?” Peeta asks.

My eyes connect with his.

“I slunk down to the floor and crawled my way out...drove to the hospital and made my sister administer a tetanus shot.”

 “Can I have his number?” Johanna says laughing but her eyes are dead serious. 

Peeta is smiling at me and I grab a cheese bun because they are as delicious as the man staring at me. 

Eventually we do get to the book, and it’s a pretty good discussion. Peeta let us stay until closing. Mags and Greasy are the last of the ladies to leave. It’s just me and Peeta since he let the staff go home. I’m loitering because I feel like I need to explain to Peeta why I let the ladies talk me into dating. 

I’m putting up the chairs on the tables when Peeta comes out. 

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah.” I look down at my feet.

“Katniss.”

“Peeta.” We both say at the same time, followed by a nervous chuckle.

“You first,” Peeta insists, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dating wasn’t my idea.”

“It wasn't?” He raised an eyebrow.

I shake my head. 

“So what happened?”

“The ladies, they got me a year long subscription for my birthday, and knowing I wouldn’t go through with it, they choose who I date...until I find someone,” I can feel the heat rising from my neck and reaching my cheeks, “I like.”

“Really?”

I nod, incapable of speaking.  I cannot stop watching the way he blinks, those darned translucent lashes that never tangle. 

“Dating is pretty brutal.”

“Yeah,” I snort because dating is horrible. 

“My family is constantly setting me up. I went out with a girl who sang through the entire meal. She chose the pasta and sang On Top of Spaghetti.”

“What?” I laugh.

“That was my dad’s doing. My mom’s choice was a lot scarier. She made me do an obstacle course and made me do it three times until I beat the time she wanted me to reach.”

“Wow.”

“I was dressed in dress slacks, a nice shirt, and a tie.” He deadpans, “I even had on dress shoes.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. 

I couldn't help but smile. 

“Dating sucks until you find someone who makes you laugh, someone who makes dancing easy.”

He approaches or maybe it’s my own feet that carry me to him. But it doesn’t matter because when his arm slides along my waist, and the other cradles my hand, I have no fears. There is something familiar with him as I dance with him. A slow shuffle, that has the room spinning but none of it matters because I feel at home.

“Will you dance with me Katniss?” His voice rumbles in my ear and my heart is pounding in my chest.

His scent is a warm heady mixture of spices, dill, vanilla, and cinnamon. 

“Would you go out with me Katniss?”

“Yes,” I answer, and just like that my dating profile goes up in flames. Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially off the market.

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Twelve): Your Demon, Never Leaving

Notes: Soooo, its been a minute, like I said, been kind of sick. And I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, I was gonna wait until I finish the next. But decided, fuck it. We're still rocking around the angst train with this and I'm sure some of you are like, when is Johnny gonna be let out of brain jail and the answer is soon, next chapter, promise. Our girl just needs some time to process and what better way to do so, then to get into a fist fight and talk to some folks.

Word Count: 11873

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and mentions, bit of blood and violence, general angst, some talks of sex but no actual in chapter sex. 

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V finds herself in Westbrook next, kicking herself for forgetting that Wakako never paid for the Dorsett job. The sun’s barely been up but an hour by the time she makes it to Jig Jig street, the merc preoccupying her time by pouring more energy drinks from a vending machine into her thermos. A quick hack used to get them for free. 

She leans against the wall of the pachinko parlor while she waits, someone passing by offers to sell her drugs and a joytoy tries to flirt with her in the meantime. Both swiftly denied and the merc jumps when she sees the parlor lighting up, Wakako likely already tucked in her back room. She slides on her mask as discreetly as she can before she walks across the blue tiled floors and past the desk clerk, who shoots her a dirty look. 

Past a beaded curtain, she sees Wakako at her back desk. A slick black and gold color scheme that seems completely at odds with the gaudy vibrancy of Jig Jig street. Wakako is one of the older fixers, V would wager to guess she’s at least Padre’s age, with long gray hair pulled back off her face and cold shrewd eyes. 

“Well, well,” the fixer greets, “who do I spy but V, in my humble parlor no less.” 

“Here in the flesh, never did answer my call,” V can’t help but sign, thankful her bitter smile is hidden behind her mask. 

“I must have been busy, I’m sure.” 

“Of course.” 

“So, what brings you here?” Wakako asks, tapping her red nails across the wood of her desk. 

“Last gig, said I had to swing by to grab my payment, remember?” 

“I don’t forget such things, V. Here is your reward, it comes with a fairly ample bonus. Go to Cassius Ryder in Watson, he’ll weave you a derma-imprint with smart-gun compatibility, a Tyger Claws special. You did good work, you and that… friend of yours.” 

“Appreciate it,” V signs, feeling her muscles tighten at the mention of Jackie. Then the money comes in, over three thousand, not bad at all. But, she could still use a bit more before she pays back Vik. If she completely drains her bank account for him, Vik will throw a fit. 

“And V,” Wakako calls out before the merc can leave, “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for your calls from now on.” 

V simply nods, unsure of how to take the comment as she leaves the pachinko parlor. Wakako is hard to read, that much she knows. Everything the woman says seems to drip with poison and sarcasm. She could wish V could morning and the merc would wonder if it’s a veiled death threat. Kindness and cruelty sound the same coming from Wakako. Meaning the statement could be a cruel taunt regarding V’s ruined reputation or it could be genuine, that somehow the merc has built back some of it. She has been going hard the past three or four days, refusing to do much else. Deciphering Wakako will only drive her crazy, V determines, leaving Jig-Jig street and climbing in her stolen MaiMai. 

The fight in Kabuki is worth at least two grand, meaning if V’s lucky enough she can finish it up and pay Vik back while still leaving around… two grand in her bank account. Not much, but she’s worked with less. If she loses, she’ll just have to make it back in more scanner jobs, she supposes. Or start selling some stuff. 

She parks near the coordinates Coach Fred sent her. V pulls off her mask, it could be considered unfair, fighting with a face cover. When she gets out of the car, she catches a flash of something in the side mirror, breath catching in her throat. Thinking it’s a flash of dark hair and a beard, think it’s him, she looks again. But only sees her reflection, granted, she looks like she’s already been fucked up in a fight. 

Her hygiene has… suffered during this ordeal. Nose bruised to hell and back, looking a little crooked she realizes. There’s blood and dirt on her face, the worse of it down her lips and chin. She smells like sweat, blood, and still vague hints of stagnant water. Wakako probably smelled V before seeing her. 

The merc first takes a deep breath, grabs her nose and cracks it back into place, setting it as pain shoots through her face and tears blur her vision. . She curses, giving herself a moment before she goes looking through her bag for wet wipes or antiseptic ones, something to give herself a quick whore’s bath. But finds nothing, her supplies needing a restock. 

In a pathetic attempt at something, she spits onto her hoodie sleeve and tries to scrub some blood off with the drool. Only managing to smear the dirt and blood into a new pattern. As far as she knows, no one she cares about will be at the fight. She’ll shower before she sees Vik. For now, she’ll just be gross. Too exhausted and overwhelmed to care about how strangers view her hygiene.  

She takes three heavy drinks of energy drink and makes her way to the feet, down a set of stairs that run next to the overpass, walking across cracked cement through patch work metal shacks. Up a little yellow ladder and climbing over air conditioning units. Even getting to the fight has to be an ordeal it seems. 

V can see the backs of people, on one of the other rooftops involved in this little parkour endeavor. A crowd gathered around and she has to assume that’s where the fight is. A little set of metal steps up to the slightly higher platform. When she walks up the stairs she can see the crowd is around a clearing on the roof; two identical men squaring off. She half expected a Tyger Claw gang member, given the area is their turf. But the men look fairly nondescript, twins who box, she supposes. 

“This is pointless, I know where I’m gonna strike before I do it,” one of the men say, fist raised to his brother, though the wording seems off. Of course, one would know where they’re going to strike. Brain damage too many blows to the head, maybe. 

“Typical, I knew I’d say that.” 

She raises an eyebrow but shakes her head, and clears her throat. The men straighten up, two pairs of brown eyes staring straight at V. They’re older than her, which isn’t saying much, with bald head and implants around their heads. Completely identical, only thing to separate them out is their clothing; one is a tee shirt and the other in a tank top. 

“Was told I have a fight here,” V signs, “so, which one of you is it?” 

“Me,” the men speak in unison and V blinks, confused. 

“Didn’t know it was a tag team fight, but alright, who’s up first?” 

“No, no,” the one in the t-shirt waves his hand, “you don’t get it. That body and his one, I’m the same person.” 

“I’m seeing shit then?” 

“I used to be twins, which you could probably guess. The twins had a close bond, but they wanted to be closer, stronger. “

“So they installed neural oscillation synchs. And now they’re… well.” 

“Me, one person, two bodies,” the twins finish in unison again. 

And here she is, two persons, one body. Whether she likes it or not. The whole tale is horrific to the merc, unable to understand why anyone would willingly undergo something like that. She has a twin, Eira, and despite everything that’s happened, V loves her sister dearly. But, she can’t imagine ever wanting to merge themselves together, to want to lose herself. Its part of why what’s happening with the chip is… horrifying. She doesn’t want to be something else, someone else. V is far from perfect, but, she’s her. As many times as she’s wished to be better, she’s always wanted to still be her. 

These two willingly signed up for the horror show, V’s enduring, just split across two bodies. They wanted to be someone else, to morph into some new amalgamation of who they once were. 

“So, I’m fighting you both at once?” She asks, trying to get out of her own head, to focus on the here and now. 

“My bodies do everything together. Everything,” the pair speak with finality and V can’t help but smirk at the implication. How far does everything go?

“Everything? Even in the bedroom?” She signs, waggling a brow and can feel the immediate annoyance. 

“I have one girlfriend for both bodies, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Shared between both.” 

And it takes everything in her not to laugh, a smile pulling at her lips and face flushed at how stupid it is. 

“So, what. she gets a daily double teaming?” 

“No. She’s with one body from Monday through Wednesday and the other Wednesday through Sunday. Bitch.” 

“You take shifts?!” V bursts, the entire ridiculous nature of it is exactly what she needed, cracking up at their whole situation. 

And maybe it’s mean to laugh, but she can’t help it, holding her stomach as she cackles. The insult more than worth it to know these two have their girlfriend on a sex schedule, that they take shifts for fucking. They have fuck shifts, how is she meant to handle that information?

“We doing this or what?” The twins yell, obviously not amused by her outburst. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she signs as she comes down, “but we’re doubling this, four grand.” 

She was already at a size disadvantage, the twins not huge, but taller than her. And now they’re outnumbering her as well, it’s already high risk, so she needs higher reward. The twins consider her deal for a moment, before nodding to each other. 

“Fine, see no problem there. So, can we get started?” 

“Show me what you got.” 

And three pairs of fist raise. The twin the tee shirt moves towards her first and she steps up to meet his charge, swinging the first punch and knocking her knuckles into his head. And then she steps back, grin on her face. Its been a long time since she’s sparred, a good clean fight with just fists and no weapons, it feels good.

She throws another punch and misses, the same twin comes back in to hit her, but she connects another punch first. He staggers back, but swings at her, a hard pain wracking her jaw when he connects. V blocks the next swing and momentum makes him twist around, letting the merc get a cheap shot against his back. Then another as he twists then she connects a right hook to his jaw; three hits in rapid succession, he stumbles back. He hits the ground. Then the other twin comes charging. 

V throws a right hook into the force of his run, catching just the right way to make his nose bleed. She swings for a left jab but the tank top wearing twin ducks and steps back, the one in the t-shirt is back on his feet.  

Tank-top comes at her again, right fist hitting her temple and she throws her own in return, knuckles catching his ear. She misses with her left and he brings a knee up, knocking it into her chin, making her teeth clang together as she bites her tongue in the force. He swings another punch and she deflects with her left forearm, punching her right into his face. He falls back. 

T-shirt comes at her next and gets punched in the eye, blackening under her fist. She connects the next punch to the opposite cheek, knocking into his nose. He stumbles back and wipes blood from his nose. 

The other twin swoops in, he acts like he’s going to knee her again, then swings a fist and catches her already injured nose. Pain cracks through her, but she laughs and throws a punch in return, connecting two more hits against him. Twins switch out again, t-shirt twin kicking her in the gut before throwing three quick hits. Then he shoves her back, only for her to push back and throw two more punches. And he’s down. One half done, she turns her attention back to the twin in the tank top. 

He tries to keep distance from her and she waits him out, fist raised. And after a quick moment of dancing around each other, he runs at her. A punch to her head, a swing to his own, and she connects one more to his chest.  And he hits his knees. V stares for a moment, unsure if she really just won a bare knuckle fist fight against two grown men? 

“Stop, stop, I give up!” One twin yells and gets up, face bloody as he walks to the railing. V looks down at the other twin. 

“You got more fight in you or had enough like your brother?” 

“That ain’t my brother,” he yells as he gets up, “that’s me. Jesus, what’s so hard to understand?” 

One leans against the railing and the other sits on a table by a couch, each with fresh blood and bruises on their faces. She finds herself standing before them, mind still revisiting the twin’s dynamic and situation. Melding yourself with someone else, even someone so close, she can’t even imagine being that close to someone. Even her own sister, she has a strained relationship with. She’s going into this situation with the chip kicking and screaming. 

“Here, your winnings,” the twins eyes glow as they transfer four grand into V’s bank account. 

“Not bad at all.” 

“Don’t worry, there’s always the next fight,” one twin tells the other. 

“Stop talking to yourself!” 

V can’t help but smile at the odd exchange, “Thanks for the fight, it was fun just sparring for once, I’m V. By the way.” 

“Certo,” the one in the tee introduced himself. 

“Esquerdo,” the other chimes in. 

“I know I kind of razzed on you earlier, just your situation is… interesting to me,” she admits, genuinely a part of her just wanting to ask a bit more about it. The twins must not have been perfectly alike, not anyone is, then they melded together. She can’t help but think of the ghost in her head, the man she’ll meld into, the fear of it. 

“If you’re here to pry more into my sex life, piss off.” 

“No, no, not that. Do you two read each other’s thoughts?” She asks, Johnny responded to her thoughts in the subway, assuming it was him and not an exhaustion induced hallucination. 

“No. Same person. Same thoughts.” 

“If that weren’t the case, I’d be on schizoid meds.” 

“Yeah, be weird having someone else's thoughts in your head… Would drive anyone crazy. Speaking of, wasn’t that, I don’t know… scary.” 

“What?” 

“Melding together like that, becoming one person. Because like… you’re no longer you, right? You’re a new combo, wasn’t that terrifying, to lose yourself?” 

“Not really, everyone’s always becoming someone new. Brothers knew each other well enough, loved each other enough, they knew they didn’t mind becoming each other.” 

“Strange… no offense.” 

“Why you so curious about it?” 

“I don’t know,” she stumbles for a response that makes sense, can’t explain she’s thinking about the ghost in her head, “I got a twin myself, actually. Love her, but life took us to different places. Can’t imagine… becoming part her, part me.” 

“You don’t though, you just become something new, the best of both of you.” 

“Interesting, uh, I won’t hold you up any longer. See you around.” 

V heads off and makes her way back home, guzzling energy drinks along the way, stinging the new bite mark in her tongue. She passes by Barry’s apartment on the way to her own, she’ll grab a shower, she decides before she talks to him either. Showing up at a former cop’s doorstep covered in blood and sweat sounds like a bad idea. 

The merc strips down as soon as she’s in the privacy of her apartment and makes a beeline for the shower, Hot water a godsend even as it stings her cuts and bruises, the heat relaxing her tightly wound muscles and the ache in her head. Her eyes drifting shut, body relaxing. A blink that lasts a second, maybe a minute, or two too long. 

Then pain shoots through her tailbone as she crashes to the wet shower floor, falling right onto her ass. She curses beneath her breath and gets back onto her feet, finishing her shower quickly before she falls asleep again.  The energy drinks are cutting it less and less, three days without any sleep, other than long blinks. 

She checks her tongue in the mirror thankful the bite didn’t tear at her piercing, and sighs as she takes a look at herself. Still bruised, but no longer bloody or dirty, dark bags have formed under her eyes and she’s paler than before. Her headache has become a constant throb she can’t get rid of, ears irritated from the rub of her hearing aids, the pain in her joints is equal parts overexertion and neglecting her immunosuppressants, the familiar burn of her disease flaring up. 

If Vik and Misty see her like this she’ll never hear the end of it. It feels like lying as she grabs up her foundation and concealer. She laves on a heavier layer of makeup than she’d usually do, applying it until she looks a little more human, a little more awake and put together. After everything she’s put them through the last thing she needs is to cause them any more worry. 

V throws on some clothes and makes up a new fresh batch of her caffeine cocktail before she leaves out again, fiddling with her bullet pendant as she makes her way down the stairs. She knocks on Barry’s door, trying to get the neighbors attention. 

“Hey, you home?” She signs, turning the volume up a little on her translator, hoping he’ll hear. 

“Who is it?!” A rough voice yells out. 

“V, your neighbor, remember? We talked about rides, You were all worked up over the newest Mizutani. I said it was for flash-posers.” 

“Heh,” he chuckles behind the door, “you don’t forget a gonk thing like that.” 

“You gave me this look, I was about to run back to the Badlands right then and there.” 

The door finally opens, showing Barry, just as she remembers the older man. Dark crew cut, over a foot taller than her, with tattoos across his biceps. He leans against the door frame, looking down at her by necessity. 

“I remember, what do ya want?” 

“To talk, I know that’s what you need right now, even if you don’t realize it. I can’t turn back time or magically make everything okay, would if I could, promise. But.. if nothing else, I’m good for a chat, hear you out as best I can,  and make sure you know you’re not alone.” 

“Now hold on a sec,” he makes her pause, the heaviness of it taking him off guard, “we barely know each other, and you just rock up here talkin’ to me about my problems? Where’d you get the idea something with me was up? You watchin’ me? Somebody send you?”

“You got me, your buds from the station asked me to drop in. I figured, why not, decent guy even if he’s got shit taste in rides,” she signs, with a teasing smile. 

“Come back just to get your ass kicked?” His grin makes her snicker, “man, you really know how to cheer a guy up. Maybe those two asshats really are worried about me… All right, come on in. You wanna talk, let's talk.” 

Barry leads her into the apartment, it’s layout a little different than her own. Most notably where her window stretches across the wall, he has none, with a couch against it instead. The apartment dark and gloomy without the sun being able to touch it, her boot knocks into an empty can, one of many. There’s trash across his floor, discarded takeout boxes, bottles, cans.  Has he left the apartment since she spoke with his friends? Has he locked himself up in here for the past three days? 

He sits down on the couch and V plops herself on the table in front of it, careful not to sit on his ashtray or nearly empty pizza box. She wants to be able to make eye contact and she knows human voices are far more comforting than AI ones, turning off her translator. 

“I lost someone, too,” she hates the scratch in her throat, the slight widening in Barry’s expression as he hears her speak for the first time, “he was my best friend, a good man.” 

“What do you mean ‘too’? Wait, this about Andrew? They… told you about him…”

“Yeah, I know it ain’t easy, losing someone like that.” 

 “Best bud I ever had… known him my whole life. Only person I could spill to without being judged.” 

“Take it Petrova and Mendez weren’t that great at listening?” She raises an eyebrow, Mendez seemed like a genuine dickhead, but Petrova was nice. Surely, she wouldn’t have minded hearing Barry out, given how worried she seemed. Barry shrugs his shoulders. 

“Petrova’s a decent gal, but she’s not good with this stuff. Mendez just doesn’t get it He thinks us blues need to be tough. Can bear the sight of a kid getting murdered? Born with pussy genes, according to him,” Barry tells her, the crestfallen expression telling her those are exact words from Mendez. 

“You told them about Andrew, though?” 

“Honestly? I thought about it a lot. Anyway… they don’t know everything. Better that way,” his soft nearly whispered tone tells her there’s more to this, something he doesn’t want them to know Or maybe he’s just like her and prefers to keep his cards close to his heart. 

“What exactly happened with Andrew? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Does it matter? Uh,” he rethinks when he looks at V’s face, “old age took him…. No wonder, seeing as he was only a few years younger than my grandma.” 

“I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less. But, Andrew had a long life with a good friend like you sticking by him through most of it. No better way to go, if you got to. And in Night City of all fuckin’ places? That alone deserves a fuckin’ monument.” 

That makes Barry smile, a soft laugh tumbling from his lips, “ashbox in a niche will have to do.” 

“So, was Andrew like a grandpa to you?” 

“Hm. Wouldn’t go that far. He was like… egh. I don’t know. A window into the past or… something. He reminded me of my gram-grams, about our little talks… time when everything had its proper place, y’know? He was the last living record of those times.” 

“He clearly meant a lot to you, it’s only natural losing him is gonna hurt. Mendez is full of shit, to be blunt. Life and loss is hard, really fuckin’ hard. And feeling that hurt doesn’t make you weak, makes you human.” 

Her throat feels tight as she speaks, each word making her feel more and more like a hypocrite. Preaching the importance of feeling out your hurt while hiding from her own. She can still taste gunmetal, feel the weight of the barrel on her tongue as she willed herself to pull the trigger. Talking a man off a ledge she tiptoed no more than a few hours before. And it’s not that she doesn’t mean what she says, but she can’t give herself the same kindness she affords him. 

“What if he’s right though?” Barry asks, eyes big with worry, “maybe my genes are soft? Don’t only the strongest survive?” 

“Losing people hurts. And that’s okay, doesn’t make you weak, and ignoring it don’t make you strong. If you felt nothing at all, then his loss wouldn’t have any meaning. You lost someone you cared about, who was there for you most of your life; anyone with a heart would be hurting right now.” 

“I guess… so. Thanks for the talk. I, uh, need time to take all this in.” 

“Alright, take care of yourself,” she stands from the table, “and if you need anything else, you know where to find me.” 

She leaves Barry’s apartment and lets out a soft sigh, rethinking what she told Barry, wondering if she handled it well. Taking in how it applies to her. The words she can easily speak to someone else, but not to herself. Feeling hurt doesn’t make her weak, just human. Painfully, disgustingly, revoltingly human.  

V shakes her head, making her way out of the apartment complex and taking the NCART down to Buran and Bradbury. Walking down the family little cluster of storefronts, pass strippers dancing in windows, where Gary the wannabe prophet sleeps on some abandoned filthy mattress, and into Misty’s store. Her heart jumping in her throat when she sees the older woman. 

“V!” Misty calls out, green eyes brightening and a breath of relief leaving her chest, “its been a minute, got worried about you.” 

“Nothing to worry about, just been, busy… Actually, wanted to see Vik, got a debt to pay back.” 

“Hmmm, c’mon then, I’ll walk you back.” 

“I think I know the way by now,” V signs with a raised eyebrow. Misty isn’t going to start babying her now, is she?  Sure, V got hurt and is in the shit right now, but that doesn’t make her any less of a grown adult. 

“You’re the first customer to walk in today and I’m bored out of my mind, just give me this,” Misty jokes and V feels bad for doubting her intentions, though there's still something in the way the older woman looks at the merc. More akin to a worrying mother than a friend. 

“Alright, whatever you want.” 

The two women leave out the back of Misty’s store and into the back alley, V searches for the bald little cat she pet last time she was here, but it’s gone now. Misty leads the way down the stairs to Vik’s clinic, the ripper doc in his usual spot at his desk. 

“Someone’s here to see you, Vik,” Misty announces as they walk through, the older man looking up to see V. A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes pulls across his face, more of pity than happiness. 

“Hey, kid, how you’ve been?” 

“Getting by,” she shrugs, “more importantly, I got the eddies to pay you back.” 

“What is this?” He asks as she starts to transfer the seventy thousand. 

“Optics, mantis blades, and the launcher; all adds up. That’s the best estimate I could ge. If they cost more than that I-” 

“Hold onto ‘em,” he waves her off, “just in case. You need ‘em more than me.” 

“Not taking them to my grave, Vik, please, it’s the least I can do.” 

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping; “twenty-five thousand, I’ll won’t take a dollar more” 

“What? That’s not even half?” V blinks incredulously, can see Misty smiling at the exchange.

“Covers the mantis blades; you didn’t ask for the optics or launcher, seems fair to me.” 

“Even if I didn’t ask for ‘em, doesn’t mean they didn’t cost you a pretty penny.” 

“Not worried ‘bout it, spend the money on yourself.” 

“Vik, seriously, there’s no point in me keeping it.” 

“Six months is longer than you think, V,” his voices rises, a hint of frustration, “I’m not letting you throw that kind of cash away just because your-” 

And he stops himself, before he can says what they all know. Just because she’s dying. Her jaw clenches and she swallows hard. Trying to search for how to respond, how to deal with that. 

“I know you wanna pay him back, but Vik’s just trying to look out for you, V. Never hurts to keep some money in your account and besides, you’ve got way more than six months left in your,” Misty says, trying to smooth over everything. Her concern and worry always softer spoken than Vik’s. 

“It’s not just because I’m dying, you’ve done a lot for me over the years, want you to have something to show for it.” 

“That’s what friends are for, V.” 

“Fine, fine, never had to beg someone to take my money,” she jokes, sending a transfer for the twenty-five thousand instead.

“Other than that, how have you been?” 

“Already told you, getting through, not much to report.” 

V shrugs her shoulders again, wondering why he’d ask the same question twice. And she can the clench in Vik’s jaw, the somber downward pull on Misty’s expression. They don’t believe her. And she can’t blame them for it, because she knows its not true. 

“And how are you really feeling?” Misty asks, softly. 

“I… is there anyway we could talk about Silverhand and the chip?” 

“I’m no expert, but fire away, I’ll see what I can do.” Vik tells her. 

“I’m seeing him, I saw him, again. And I hear him, even without my hearing aids, is that? Is that normal, I none of this is fucking normal what am I talking about…” She rakes a hand through her hair, cleaning her jaw. 

“Well, that biochip is designed for users to communicate with constructs. It's just doin' its job. As far as hearing goes… Johnny’s in your brain, not your ears. You're deaf because the autoimmune disease destroyed your inner ear, but the Relic bypasses that and stimulates the auditory processing part of your brain like he’s actually there talking to you.” 

“So, my brain treats him like he’s real, even though he’s not?” 

“I mean, he is real, he’s a person,” Misty softly corrects, “just a person in your brain.” 

“He’s data on a chip,” Vik corrects Misty in return, earning an eye roll for his troubles. V can’t say she gives too much of a shit about the philosophical aspect, more just wanting Johnny not to choke her out. 

“He… tried to kill me,” V admits, both Vik and Misty’s eyes going wide. 

“What!?” 

“Oh… V.” 

“Tried to put my head through my window. It… he… felt real as anyone else. He wants to kill me, I think, I don’t know what to do.” V can feel her eyes stinging again, tears threatening to escape, as she finally puts her anxiety out into the world.

“Well... long as you don't give him control, can't do too much harm. 'Course that won't necessarily be possible after some time.” 

“And… what then?” 

“What do you say, we don’t let things get that far? Find a way to get rid of Silverhand and fast.” 

“What about his memories, why can I see them?

“You two share a brain now,” Vik says matter of fact and she wants to scream, “he has access to your senses, perceptions, even memories. Likewise, you get a look into his. After a while, won’t even know whose is whose.” 

“Right…” 

“V…” Misty says the merc’s name in a soft voice, “if you need to talk, we’re here for you. ” 

“I need to go,” V signs and shakes her head. 

She doesn’t want to deal with this. Hasn’t wanted to deal with it for days and she has no idea where she’s even going or what she’s going to do. But she hurries through the clinic gate and up the stairs, getting ready to cut through the backdoor of Misty’s shop. 

“V!” Misty yells out and grabs V’s shoulder, all too reminiscent of the merc’s exchange with Cecelia the night before. Women who’d be better off worrying about someone else, spending their time worried about V. 

“I can’t do this right now, Misty, I’m sorry.” 

“You can’t run yourself ragged, honey, you’ll kill yourself before the chip does.” 

“And is that really such a bad idea?!”  She blurts out without truly meaning too, at her ropes end, because she can’t do this anymore. 

“You don’t mean that, V.” 

“Why not? I can’t fuckin’ live like this! I haven’t slept in three days, I’m fuckin’ terrified that I’m gonna wake up and it’s not gonna be me!  That he’s gonna take over and kill me in my sleep or, or, if it’s not him, it’s gonna be his memories, his life, that I’m gonna lose a piece of me and not even know which one! I survived, but maybe… I shouldn’t have… ”

Her voice trails off, becoming choked and pathetic as a dam threatens to burst. Tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, threatening to break lose. But she doesn’t want to break down in front of someone. A few people in the alleyway give her side eyes, looking at her like she’s already lost her last scrap of sanity. 

“C’mon, V, we can talk more up on the roof, okay?” 

Misty wraps her hand around V’s, gently tugging the merc into the elevator. And V doesn’t have the energy to fight her, holding Misty’s hand in return and following along. The warmth and kindness of the touch sinking into her bones, making her squeeze tighter just to hold on to the small gesture of affection. As the elevator starts to shake and rattle upward, V can feel her limbs getting heavier, her exhaustion pushing her to lean her weight onto Misy. 

To the merc’s surprise, Misty doesn’t seem to mind her weight, doesn’t even flinch when V lays her head onto Misty’s shoulder. Instead she lays her own head over V’s for the short moment, short wispy hair tickling the shorter woman’s cheek.  Misty’s warmth and affection feels like a lifeboat, rather than the innocuous touch V knows it to be. 

The elevator comes to a stop and Misty pulls V up the stairs up to the roof. A place V has visited so many times with Misty, Jackie, and Vik. A cool September breeze rolling through, cooling V’s skin while the sun works to warm it. The two women sit in the little plastic lawn chairs that are put around a table. V feels like she’s sinking into it. She feels heavy and like she’s dragging her own weight. Her emotional outburst just compounding her physical exhaustion. 

“I meant what I said, V. That as long as your alive there’s still hope.” 

“Misty...I-” 

“I can’t imagine how hard this is, I don’t think anyone could. But… I don’t think it has to be this terrible hell, you think it is. Fate doesn’t act without reason and there has to be a reason for this, for all of it. But if you…end it all like that, you’ll never know.”

“You think this is fate…?” 

“I do, your soul and Johnny’s were brought together for a reason, I think you owe it to yourself and Johnny to find out why.” 

“So, what, everything that happened is fate, I’m supposed to blame fate for all of this, for the heist, for Jackie, for-?” 

“Better than blaming yourself, isn’t it?” 

The question takes the winds out of her sails for a moment. She’s never put much stock into fate and the idea that things are meant to be, meant to happen. It sounds ridiculous to her. That the fates or some mystical pull in the universe put them in that hotel, an excuse to take blame off her own shoulders, a way to avoid accountability. 

“I already had a bad feeling before you and Jackie left, the heist was on the anniversary of the tower going down, and it just happened to be Johnny on the chip. And theres your tarot reading… there’s more to this, V, I know there is. There has to be,” Misty tries to implore her to understand, to accept the idea that this was meant to be. And all at once V is reminded of something she’s wanted to forget. 

“I’m sending you something,” V says softly, watching Misty’s brow furrow as she sends her the image of that SID profile, that night her door wouldn’t unlock. 

“What is… is that?” 

“His SID data.” 

“How’d you get it?” 

“Night before the heist, I tried to unlock my apartment door. Wouldn’t work, mainteance guy comes down, says my SID chip is reading as someone else’s. Sends me the data, it’s him… How the hell does that happen? We hadn’t gone near Konpeki yet, I… “ 

And she’s said it, put out that maybe there is a little something to this fate thing, that she doesn’t want to admit, doesn’t want to acknowledge. How cruel can the world be if this was all intended? But, she can’t quite come up with a logical reason for it. It could just be the mother of all coincidences, but that feels like a cheap explanation at best. 

“V... “ a small almost incredulous smile comes across her black stained lips, “this was meant to be. You and him, merging, it’s fate. There's something the world wants from you two, just got to figure out what.” 

“Its… a hell of a coincidence… “ 

“A higher power is screaming at you and you’re gonna turn a deaf ear?” 

“Only kind I got.” 

“Smartass,” Misty teases, “have you talked to him?” 

“Who? Takemura?” 

“No, Johnny.” 

“No,” V blinks in disbelief, has Misty lost her mind, “strangely enough I didn’t feel like striking up a convo while he was trying to kill me.” 

“You should.” 

“And why the absolute fuck would I do that?” 

“Like it or not, V, his fate and yours are one now. This is as much about what the world has planned for him as it does for you.” 

“He tried to kill me!” 

“And?” 

“And!?” V flails her arms out exaggeratedly, the flippant response taking her back, “I didn’t appreciate it!? I…?” 

Misty laughs at V’s shocked reaction and the merc can’t help but chuckle too, the entire thing sounding and feeling ridiculous. 

“Did you appreciate it when Jackie put a gun to your head?” 

“That’s different, Jack was just doing a job.” 

“So, it’d have been better if he was being paid to do it?” 

“Yes, least Jackie had a reason, dipshit just wanted to hurt me.” 

“Is that what you think?” Misty raises an eyebrow and tilts her head softly to the side, halo of blonde hair bouncing with the movement. 

“Is there anything else to think?” 

“Not saying it makes it okay, but, Johnny woke up fifty years in the future, in the head of a stranger. Feeling your feelings, your memories, and last thing he remembers is whatever the hell Arasaka did to him.” 

“And?” 

“And maybe, the fear you felt that night, wasn’t all yours.” 

V hums, rubbing her hands together, “I’ll think about it. Still kinda think offing myself is the easiest move, though.” 

“What would Jackie say if he heard you talking like that?” 

“He’d kill me first for even talkin’ like that. Tell me to pull myself together, that it’ll all work out in the end.” 

“And it will, don’t know how, but it will. Just need you to want to live long enough to see that happen.’ 

“Fine, fine,” V sighs, “no blowing my brains out on this fine day, happy?” 

“Wanting to live is about more than just not killing yourself, V. You need to sleep, eat, drink something other than energy drinks and booze. Take care of yourself and actually deal with your shit” 

“But that sounds hard.” 

“Is it harder than running yourself ragged and no sleeping?” 

“Maybe.” 

“V…” 

“I’m just… scared, of seeing his memories, his past. Or, him getting a hold of me in my sleep.” 

“I could watch over you, make sure nothing happens.” 

“And what if he hurts you?” 

“He’s still in your body, V.” 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t use it to hurt you, I’m not risking that,” V tells Misty, shaking her head emphatically. 

“You could sleep in Vik’s clinic, no offense, but pretty sure Vik could stop your body if Johnny uses it to do anything.” 

“Nah, this is my demon, no one else’s. I appreciate the chat, really, I think I need to be going though.” 

“V… please.” 

“I’ll sleep tonight, in my own bed, alone. Just in case, but I’ll sleep, promise,” V reassures Misty as the merc gets up out of her seat, a few ideas already fluttering around in her head. 

“C’mon, I’ll get you set up with something to help you sleep, alright?” 

V’s soul feels a little lighter as she follows Misty back into her shop. The older woman getting a little sleeping kit put together for the merc. Lavender oils, tea, and spray. Moonstones meant to relieve emotional tension and help her relax. V can’t help but smile at the kindness of it all, Her money refused for the second time when she offers to pay Misty for it. 

“Take care of yourself, please,” Misty begs again, ruffling her hand through V’s hair. 

“I’ll give it a shot, thanks again, for everything.” 

“Wait,” Misty calls out, stopping V before she can head out, “you mentioned Takemura earlier, did you and him talk?” 

“He called me, morning after I got back to my place, wanted me to meet him for a chat.”

“What about?” 

“Don’t know, not meeting up with him.” 

“V…” 

“You know you keep saying my name like that it’s going to start hurting my feelings.” 

“Why haven’t you talked to him?” 

V shrugs, “He’s a corporate rat, can’t trust him.” 

“He saved your life.” 

“He also tried to kill me, which I think balances itself out.” 

“If he wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here, V.” 

“Corpos are tricky bitches, guy probably has some scheme up his sleeves, kept me alive so the wolves would have fresh meat or some shit.” 

“V… “

“My name is starting to feel like an insult.” 

“Talk to him, what’s the worse that can happen?” 

“You really want me to answer that?” 

Misty rolls her eyes and the two part with a quick goodbye, V feeling a little more energized, despite still being sleep deprived. She still has a few things she wants to cover before she goes home and sleep. Misty brought up something important, what Jackie would tell V if he were here to tell it. He’d want her to at least try and she owes him that much. 

It's a longshot, she knows, but she pulls out her holo. Evelyn, the client, claimed she knew how to remove the chip. That was before it was damaged and V’s not entirely sure Evelyn knew half as much as she claimed too. But it’s worth a shot, prefers it to anything a corpo suit like Takemura might be offering.  She calls Evelyn’s number, but an automated message tells her it’s not avaliable at the moment, V opts to leave a message anyway. 

“Hey… this is V. Got the chip, I know the heist had a few… hiccups, but if you could call me back, that’d be cool.” 

V huffs as she hangs up, blowing hair out of her face. She still doesn’t want to risk talking to a corpo, so she opts for her next idea. Learning more about Johnny, which feels weird to even think about. She’s not sure she buys the fate angle, not sure she really wants to ever have a chat with the man who bashed her head against a window. But, if nothing else, she wants to know more of who she’s dealing with. And while she gets his memories, she doesn’t have a good grasp on accessing them.  She could look him up online and fully intends to. But, she has some other ideas in mind. 

Dino is in the rockerboy scene, would know a bit about Samurai and Johnny. And despite what his faceplate looks like, he may actually be old enough to have crossed paths once or twice with the guy. The fixer may not be offering her jobs right now, but he only knows her as a V the merc when she’s wearing her mask. Without it, she’s just the girl he fucked in a bathroom stall once. Not her proudest moment, but hey, means he may entertain a conversation with her. 

The trickier one is Rogue, who she knows was close with Johnny, was too close. V grimaces at a few choice memories that stand out to her. But Rogue’s the queen of fixers and has never so much as looked V’s way. It's doubtful the older woman would want some no-name merc asking about her ex from fifty years back. But, that’d be her best source to try to get some solid first hand info of how the beast in her brain operates. 

The Afterlife is closer, but Dino is more the sure bet as far as talking to her goes. So, she catches the NCART into City Center. She gets off at the nearest stop, making her way through the crowd as she walks to his bar; Electric Orgasm. Because the man can’t name anything without sex being involved. The humiliation of fucking a bassist who named his band Gloryhole Bandits will truly never leave. 

Her boots scuff across the black and white dirty tiles, music blaring in the bar, making her turn her hearing aid volume down. She walks past the arcade and vending machines on her left, the stage with a band playing on her right. Dino is in his usual spot, leaning against the red bar. 

The fixer is taller than her by a ways, as most men are, prominent muscled biceps, one plated with bolts in an implant. Chrome in his jaw and along the back of his head, a mohawk of teal dreads and eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. An energy that suddenly seems all too familiar, a rockerboy wearing sunglasses indoors with a smug air, the attitude of a man convinced it’s his world and everyone else is just living in it. 

“Hey, you,” Dino greets her with a smirk she’s never seen him without, the drag of his tone telling her he remembers her face. Or maybe he’s just remembering what her throat feels like. 

“Hey,” she signs and she can see his brows furrowing, thinking for a moment. ASL and translators aren’t… particularly common.  She’s the only person she knows who uses them, but Dino seems less confident in that fact. 

“You finally decide you didn’t get enough of ole Dino?” 

“Maybe I did, but turns out men speaking in third person makes me dryer than a desert,” she teases, climbing onto the stool next to him. 

“Oh, c’mon, girl,” he wraps an arm around her shoulders, leaning in close, “don’t break my heart like that.”  

“I don’t think your heart is what you’re most concerned about,” she ends her signing by tapping her finger to his chromed chin, “so any news in the music scene?” 

“Nothing too exciting, a few new baby faced wannabes. We’re planning another show here in a few weeks, if you wanna pay me another visit, that is.” 

“What, not a fan of the newer crowd, prefer the classics?” She pointedly ignores his invitation, she can’t deny she’s attracted to him, but fucking a bassist in a public bathroom needs to be a one time experience in her life. 

“‘Course, new bands ain’t got style or soul, just young pissants hoping a guitar will help them get their dick wet.” 

“Because you’re so much better than that,” she rolls her eyes and he smirks, “old school bands, like, I don’t know… Samurai, more your thing I take it?” 

“Oh fuck yeah, you wanna talk style, Johnny Silverhand had fuckin’ style.” 

“You ever meet him?” She signs, stomach drop at the mention of that name. 

“Pssh, c’mon, little young for that. Did hit one of his gigs once.” 

“So, not that young, actually,” she taunts him, because she can’t resist. 

“Only as old as you feel, but...” he seems to to drift off for a moment, remembering, “that gig was fucked up, remember that much.” 

“They play that good?” 

“Eh, played normo. But Johnny, ‘parently he had some ‘saka suit tied up backstage. Said if they didn’t get at least three encores, he’d bash the poor bastard’s faceplate in.  Like I said, he had style, kid.”

“Firstly, you don’t get to call me kid after your dick has been inside me. Secondly, that all you know about the guy?”  

“What? You a Silverhand fangirl?” 

“I would actually enjoy killing you for saying that,” she signs and forces a smile to her lips, to make it seem lighthearted. But just the notion of being that man’s fan has left her stomach churning and her skin crawling. 

“Hehe, well how about I buy you a drink to make up for it?” 

“I actually got to head out now, bye.” 

V is out the door before Dino can say another word or stop her.  Sex isn’t exactly a prority right now, dying taking precedent.  Though she’d be lying if she said a part of her didn’t want to take Dino up on his offer. Her sex drive truly knowing no bounds. 

Additionally, the merc tries to limit her amount of repeat partners; Cece and Jake the exceptions because of her own odd logic. Cece and Jake are both in their forties with kids. They’d have to be out of their mind to want anything more out of V, considering a twenty-year old merc isn’t exactly step-mom material, at least not if you give a damn about your kids.Means less worries about them wanting… more. 

While less tethered than them,  Dino is a grade A fuckboy with the same love them and leave them attitude, so he’s low risk as far as that’s concerned. Maybe another time, when there’s not a bomb in her head. 

She takes the NCART back towards Watson, feeling a little silly for pinging back and forth between the areas. But as expected, Dino was ready to spill his limited knowledge on the rockerboy with only a little bit of needling, probably just happy to oogle the merc. Rogue will be her own problem of getting information out of, given the Queen of Fixers is a little over V’s head. Maybe she can pretend she’s looking for work, granted she knows Rogue would never work with her after her reputation tanked. But, could at least get her into Rogue’s booth and a chance to have a convo. 

There’s an odd, bittersweet sense of nostalgia as she gets off a stop near the club, slides her mask on,  and reaches the little enclosed alleyway that leads there. Stuck in one spot in the alley, remembering the night she met up with Jackie here, half expecting to hear him on the phone with his mother. But there’s only chatter of other mercs. She takes a deep breath and curses beneath her breath when she sees the flashy red and blue poster pinned to the alley wall, graffitied over. But the band is clear, bright red flaming oni face and Samurai underneath it. 

Childish as it may be, she scratches her nail up under the corner of the poster and gets a hold of it, ripping it from the wall. An odd little sense of satisfaction at the way it tears half assedly, destroying the logo and oni head. Mild act of vandalism completed, she drops the piece she ripped up and continues on her way. 

Turns the corner, through the doorway, down a set of stairs, through a pair of double doors and down another set of stairs. Fellow mercs are scattered in the hallway outside of the main doors, a few stare at her, seem to be whispering. Must be her imagination, flashbacks of the other kids in The Herd mocking her start to flicker in her mind. They’re all adults here, though,way above schoolyard rumors and bullying, right?

The same bodyguard from that night is blocking the entrance to the bar, he looks down at her and scoffs. Her jaw clenches behind her mask and her stomach drops, she really is a fucking laughing stock here now, isn’t she? 

“And what do you think you’re doing here?” He mocks her and she hears some snickers, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. 

“Here to drink and talk shop like anyone else,” she signs, hoping he can’t see the nervous twitch in her fingers. 

“After the shitshow at Konpeki? Not happening, get lost.” 

Her face burns hot with shame behind her mask and it takes every ounce of self control not to kick him. She forces herself to turn around and walk out instead, trying to behave. Trying to ignore the side glances or the soft snickers as people watch her get turned away, mocking the pathetic little merc who thought she could still have a rep after that shitshow. The fuck-up they all blame for the heist gone bad; for Jackie and Bug being gone. 

When she reaches the alleyway, alone, she pulls off her mask and puts it into her bag, tugging at her hair. Her feet stomp, anger and shame hot under her skin as she walks. She wanted to prove she was strong, capable, worthy of respect, worthy of something. And all she did was prove she’s as worthless as she always thought, as her supposed clan thought. 

“Fuck!” V screams her anger out as she reaches the end of the alley, and slams her fist into the wall, feeling her knuckles split open against the wall. She follows up by kicking it, she needs another boxing match something to get the anger out. 

“Need a smoke?” A sly female voice asks and leaning against the wall around the corner is Rogue. V still recognizes the much older woman from when Jackie pointed her out. And her face is still recognizable from Johnny’s memories, just more wrinkled with time. Her teal fluffed up mohawk of hair now traded for long gray hair shaved on one side. Cyberware notches along her cheeks and chrome peeking out over the neckline of her shirt. She’s puffing away on a cigarette, eyebrow raised  as she watches the merc like a cat watches a mouse. Rogue is exceptionally tall for a woman and casually even in her older age, V can see the maintained muscle of her abs around a chrome inset. 

Dumb luck seems to be on V’s side. Rogue, if she knows V at all, knows her as the masked merc. Which means V may be able to pass as a random civilian. She double checks and casually musses with her hair, making sure her hearing aids are covered. Rubbing at her neck but turning off her choker translator. 

“Appreciate the offer, but I don’t smoke,” V tells her, shrugging her shoulders and leans against the wall, hoping her body language is as casual as she intends. Even if her own voice is grinding to the ears. 

“Sure looks like you need something to take the edge off.” 

“Eh, I’ll survive, always do.” V picks dirt from her bleeding knuckles, “you’re Rogue, right?” 

“We know each other?” 

“Boss of the Afterlife, everyone knows you,” V opts for stroking the older woman’s ego, on the off chance it makes her lips even a little looser.

“Ugh,” the older woman scoffs, V’s praise not quite hitting how she wished. 

“Not all it’s cracked up to be?” 

“You don’t know the half of it, but ain’t too keen on that label. ‘Boss’,” she roll her eyes, ''Makes it sound like I've got an army of greasy henchmen.” 

“I mean, guy inside didn’t look that greasy.” 

“Cute.” A soft sarcastic lilt colors her tone, but the slight hint of an almost smile lets V know she’s at least amused by the merc. 

“So, what’d you rather be called?” 

“Hmm,” she hums, taking a drag off her cigarettes before breathing out the smoke,  “Good question. I'd have to think about that one…”

“Mind if I shoot another question your way?” 

“Why not? But ask at your own risk.” 

There’s an almost condescending bite to her voice, making it clear if V doesn’t traverse this next question carefully, she may find herself back in the landfill. Something about it… attractive, if the merc is being honest. And she’s not sure if that’s a physical attraction to the much older woman or that Rogue is… what V wanted to be. Exudes the confidence, commands respect, and is a legend in Night City; no one questions her strength or her competence. Rogue truly made it in Night City, something V can only dream of now. 

“You use to run with Silverhand back in the day, right? What was he like?” 

“Johnny...? Where’d that come from?” 

“Seem to be as many rumors about him as there were fifty years ago. And not all of 'em gel together, figured this be one of my few chances to ask someone who actually knew the guy.” 

“You a media, now?” 

The ‘now’ hits V’s ear the wrong way, maybe just a slip of the older woman’s tongue. But, Rogue doesn’t know V, especially not without her mask, just some random stranger striking up a conversation. For all Rogue knows the stranger could be a media, maybe V’s worrying for nothing. 

“Just curious, ain’t got to answer if you don’t wanna, both know I can’t make you do shit.” 

“It's good you know that,” Rogue smirks, “Johnny was… strong, arrogant, uncompromising. He'd burn down half the city just to prove he was right. And burn the other half just for fun.” 

“Sounds like…” V trails off, not completely sure of what she wants to say. 

“Like a kid with a box o' matches and a can of CHOOH2.”

“Still stuck by him, though, didn’t you?” V can’t help but ask, more to herself than to Rogue, but the question bugs her. Even back in the day, Rogue was a certifiable badass, hot as all hell to boot. Yet she wasted her time on some greasy manchild?

“And how exactly would you know that?” 

“Lucky guess,” V quickly covers her ass, “called him a kid, but way you say it, sounds more fond than mad, ya know?” 

“Maybe, doesn’t matter, won’t speak ill of the dead, anymore burning questions or can I get on with my life?” 

“I ain’t stopping you,” V says, shrugging her shoulders as she watches Rogue stomp out her cigarette and walk back down the alley towards the club. 

V lets out a heavy sigh, she didn’t exactly get a great deal of information. She didn’t expect to get a biopic of the guy’s life. At the very least she got a bit of a better idea of his personality, but it’s done nothing to put her at ease. Anti-corp rockerboy, reckless, unpredictable, and destructive. It doesn’t give her much more of an idea of how to handle the guy. Misty is saying to give the guy a chance to at least talk, but god knows what he’d do if he had half a chance to hurt her again. V shakes her head, she knows Misty means well, but whether it’s fate or shitty luck, being stuck with this asshole can only mean bad news. She’d be better off keeping him under lock and key. It’s not worth the risk. 

She makes her way back to her apartment at that, remembering her promise to sleep. She grabs a shower as soon as she gets home, letting the hot water relax her for a moment. Ther merc changes into comfy pajama, throwing on her slightly silly but cute plush golden brown hoodie, with little bear ears. It’s ridiculous and childish, but she loves it. The softness of it making her want to burrow under the sheets and never come up. Already exhausted and ready to sleep by the time she’s placed the moonstone in the shelves at the end of her bed cubby and sprayed lavender mist over the pillows. 

Her eyes are already heavy when she lays down, half asleep already, she grabs her holo, deciding to try one more time. Evelyn hasn’t called back at all, so V sends her a quick text message. Right now, the blue haired woman is her only real lead on anything that could help. Other than speaking to Takemura and… that’s a road she’d rather not travel if she doesn’t have to. 

V: We need to talk, it’s important!

[Unable to deliver message. Recipient may be temporarily unavailable.]

The merc blinks at her phone screen, yawning as she puts it aside, what on earth is going on with Evelyn? There’s no way Arasaka could have linked the heist to her is there? They wouldn’t have had a chance to track V’s call, Jackie’s phone had no correspondence with Evelyn if they got it, the bot couldn’t be linked back to her. Maybe Evelyn changed numbers and ditched town? V hopes the fuck not, but it would have been the smartest thing to do. But if so, V’s one lead is gone. 

Thoughts and worries flicker through her mind, but exhaustion crashes down on her before they can run rampant, slipping into sleep. Darknesss flooding her vision. 

A blanket of black then neon begins to bleeds through, brighter and brighter until it blinds. 

World around her shifts and she’s no longer her but him. 

Bright lights in a dingy club, the cling of sweat on skin, the weight of a guitar. Hands of flesh and chrome strum the strings, vocal chords straining as his voice screams out his lyrics. Kerry not far off to the side, the rest of Samurai behind him as they play through Blistering Love. A decent sized crowd screaming and dancing along to every note they play. 

And its a soft thrum at first, the chaos that starts to erupt, but not because of the music. A steady murmur thats something is wrong, then chaos bursting forth as security starts running through the crowd. Trying to push through people, shouting over the music for someone to stop, unable to draw their guns in the sea of bodies without risk of hitting someone else. 

Johnny’s gaze looks over to Kerry, confirmation that his friend is seeing this too, that the attention on them is shifting elsewhere. Samurai forced to play second fiddle to the growing commotion and when he looks back to the crowd he sees her, a woman cutting her way through the audience. Sweat stuck to her brow, a split lip with a steady drip of blood, and a wild mused mohawk of teal hair. Bloody lips pulled into a smug sneer as she ducks and dodges through the crowd, away from security. 

Then that soft thrum explodes into something more, someone in the crowd throws a punch at a shoving bouncer and they throw one right back. The audience breaks out into a brawl as drunk idiots start attacking the bouncers or each other; blood spraying and teeth knocked clean out. Music stopping as they know the audience is done giving a shit about them. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Kerry curses as a beer bottle smashes at the back wall behind the band, nearly nailing him right in the head. 

“We better delta before the pigs get called.” 

“Take care of this for me, Ker,” Johnny ignores Nancy’s warning, handing Kerry his guitar. He can see her making her way towards the door, trying to slip out in the commotion with a bouncer still on her heels. He’s not letting her go without making damn sure she knows who he is. An undeniable pull of attraction to her, to the kind of woman who can turn a crowd of drunk club goers into a battle royale.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Kerry questions him, but Johnny’s already jumped off stage and into the fray, shoving and pushing his way through people. He walks surefooted, head held high and no shame as he cuts his way through. Shutting down anyone who gets in his way however he has too; a solid left hook, silver knuckles leaving their nose a cracked mess. Slamming an elbow into someone's jaw and hearing the crack of it over the noise of the crowd. All with his eyes staying focused on her, on the flash of teal hair under neon lights. 

She's nearly to the backdoor, Johnny not far behind, when a heavy wraps around her upper arm. One of the bouncers finally gaining ground and trying to wrench her backwards, though he can't manage to drag the amazon of a woman back.

"Think you'd get away with this, bitch!"

Her hand pulls back to throw a punch at the bouncer, but Johnny's hands are faster, stepping in to save the day. He slams his fist onto the bouncer's face, nose cracking and teeth gnashing under the force of the blow. The man is knocked back, the woman's green eyes glaring at Johnny, she looks pissed. Lips bloody and sneering, eyes dark with distrust. Domineering and angry in her demeanor, even while he's playing hero.

He reaches over her to wrench the door open, an excuse to be in her space, taking what advantage he can of the small height difference. She's only around an inch shorter than him, the heels of his boots extending that difference slightly. 

"C'mon, no reason to stick around," he says, hand on her back as he pushes her through the door into the alley. 

The night air cools his sweat slick skin, the woman quick to move away from his touch as the door shuts behind him. Silence enveloping them with the noise of the club is shut out. Johnny just takes her in for a moment; hot as all hell. Sweat clinging to her skin, freckles across her cheeks, split lip, and dyed hair falling into her face. A face cold and cruel in its expression, contrasted against the flush of exertion on her skin. 

"The fuck do you want?" She asks him, glaring. Tone and attitude nasty, making him smirk. Always did like the bitchy types, more fun when someone's got a bite to them. 

"Just saved your ass, wouldn't kill you to say thanks," he returns, already thinking of tasting the blood on her split lip and  grabbing a handful of her ass. 

"Don't need your help, rockerboy." She rolls her eyes at him, if he gets half a chance he could have her eating out of the palm of his hand by daybreak. Or better yet, could find himself between her legs before the sun comes up. 

Johnny's not stupid, knows damn well the effect he has. The way he can draw people in, only reason Kerry still hangs around, maybe the only reason Samurai still exists at all. 

"How 'bout a drink then?" He offers, smirk on his lips. And she groans, pissed off by the littlest thing.  

"Fuck off."

He watches her stomp off, eyes drawn to her ass and the swing of her hips. But he doesn't go after her. Not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him chase after her twice in one night, instead lighting himself a cigarette. He's seen her type before, runs with the Atlantis crowd; no doubt in his mind. They'll run into each other again. 

And as he breathes out a cloud of smoke, the world around him obscures. Gray filling his vision, flooding it, choking him on it. Until his throat itches, his stomach churns, pain cracking through her head… her head. 

A migraine wakes V up, every single cell in her body on fire, a sharp pang in the back of her skull. Her stomach clenches and twists, tighter and tighter. When she opens her eyes, the world is shifting and glitching, swimming before her, eyes unable to focus. Every muscle in her body winds itself into knots and can’t get a deep enough breath, lungs struggling to take anything in. 

Relic Malfunction Detected

The words flash across her optics as she flops out of bed onto her knees, gasping for air and retching to vomit all at once. Body unsure of what to do while everything seems to fall apart at once. She clutches at her chest, claws at her rib cage desperate to feel if her heart is even still beating, begging herself to just breathe, to just breathe. 

And it starts to pass, her stomach calming down, her breathing evening out. Her muscles starting to release some of the tension. She’s still dizzy and the world is still wobbly as she wipes spittle from her lips, forces herself to stand up. V needs to do something, speak to Vik, maybe he can give her something. Do something for it, but he’s made it clear he has no idea how to save her. 

She trips over herself on the way to her bathroom, grabbing at her sink for some balance. Looking down with her eyes closed as she breathes, steadying herself, waiting for the new fresh wave of nausea to pass before she looks up into her sink mirror. 

But it’s not her she sees. Johnny fucking Silverhand reflected back at her, leaning his hands against her sink and staring into her eyes; glare harsh with that barely contained anger he brims with. Always looking a moment away from lashing out. And when she twists her head, his follows, as natural as a reflection. Like she’s really him. 

“Jesus fuck!” 

She curses and jerks back, falling back onto her ass, not even minding so long as she doesn’t have to see him. V grabs at herself again, feeling that’s her. Soft flesh, not hard muscle, skin where his chrome is. Her blue painted nails, her dumb bear hoodie, her bleached hair, and her smooth face; that’s it her. That she’s still herself. And she is; for now, But for how long? 

V can’t keep doing this, can’t just wait until Evelyn answers her calls or texts back, she needs to do something. Anything. Even with popping the blockers like candy, she’s seeing him, living his memories. He’s bleeding into everything and she’ll lose herself to him before long. She can’t hide away, Jackie would want her to save herself, would want her to live. And she if she intends to do that she needs to move. 

The merc rises, as she’s had to so many times before. Her reflection is her own again, still woozy from the aftermath of the relic malfunction, but she pushes through to shower and change. Collecting all she needs before she leaves the apartment, marching out of the apartment building with single minded determination towards Tom’s Diner. She’s got a date with a corpo. Maybe it’s a trick and maybe he can’t help, but he’s something. As he put it so elegantly, if she intends to live, she’s got to get back in the ring and she’s been fucking around in the sidelines for too long. 

[carewyncromwell]

“Everybody's been there, everybody's been stared down By the enemy, Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing -- Bow down to the mighty... But don't run...stop holding your tongue! Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live; Maybe one of these days you can let the light in... Show me how big your brave is! Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out! Honestly...I wanna see you be brave With what you want to say and let the words fall out Honestly...I wanna see you be brave!”

~“Brave,” by Sara Bareilles

x~x~x~x

For my next installment in my Valentine’s Day series where I focus on each of my MC’s with someone that they care about, I’m going to do something different again for my MC Anastasia “Ana” Read and focus on her relationship with her beloved stepfather, Bradley Pinkstone!

After Ana’s mother Bonnie divorced her father John Read, Bonnie -- being the sort of person who’s unable to be on her own -- dated several other men in rapid succession. Unfortunately none of those men were much in the mood to “share” their new girlfriend with her daughter from a previous marriage. Not only was Ana a constant reminder of Bonnie’s relationship with “the ex,” but she also was a socially awkward, chubby little girl who would cause weird “accidents” whenever her mother’s boyfriends were over. Ana would claim she never meant to do anything wrong (and honestly, how could she have done those things anyway, one might think -- no one can make a glass shatter from the other side of the room), but she nonetheless took the blame onto her shoulders and, in response to those boyfriends’ active dislike for or avoidance of her, soon learned to hide away in her room whenever they came over. After all, none of them came to see her, and none of them wanted to -- so it was probably best that she just stay out of the way. And she thought things would be the exact same way when her mother met and fell in love with Bradley Pinkstone.

Ana had heard plenty about her mother’s new fiance before meeting him, but it was only after she received her Hogwarts letter that Bonnie -- looking oddly nervous -- told her that Bradley would be coming over to have dinner with them. Ana dreaded the prospect: she just knew something was going to go wrong. All of the weird things that had happened to her mother’s old boyfriends had to have been her fault, after all -- what if she messed everything up for her mum again, just like she always did? And sure enough, not long after the bright-eyed, curly-haired man in the obnoxious yellow-diamond-patterned pants named Bradley Pinkstone had entered their flat and walked over to Ana as if to offer her a handshake, part of the floor disappeared out from under him, making him trip right into a side table and send several knick-knacks crashing to the floor. Distraught and ashamed, Ana bolted out of the room and up the stairs, even as Bonnie tried to call her back. Ana slammed the door of her room, locking it behind her, and then huddled up in a miserable ball on her bed, dead-set on never coming out again.

You can imagine Ana’s surprise, therefore, when her bedroom door swung open, unlocked, to reveal Bradley Pinkstone standing there, a small smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted gently.

Ana flinched, but didn’t answer. What could she even say? Should she apologize? How could she, without explaining that what had happened was her fault? Witches and wizards weren’t supposed to talk about their magic, right?

Noting the girl’s nerves, Bradley entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him, and slowly migrated over toward her bed in the same manner one might approach a scared animal.

“That...wasn’t my smoothest introduction, was it?” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve fallen flat on my face plenty of times figuratively, but never literally.”

Ana hugged her knees close to her chest. She hated him standing over her -- it made her feel even smaller and more pathetic than she already did.

Bradley tilted his head to the side and considered Ana for a moment, his expression becoming more serious.

“...I know it wasn’t your fault, Anastasia.”

Ana looked up at him, startled.

“Those sorts of things happen, when you’re feeling an intense emotion,” said Bradley sympathetically, “and what you did was easily undone. The floor’s been put right, everything on the side table’s fixed...even my pride will recover eventually.”

He gave a bright white grin.

Ana stared at him, very confused, as she absently let go of her knees. The way he was talking was so matter-of-fact, so nonplussed. It was...well, bizarre.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes twinkling.

“Would you like to know a secret?” he asked.

Ana’s throat was too tight to speak, but she gave a small nod.

Bradley reached into the back pocket of his yellow-diamond-patterned pants and slid out a long stick made of ebony wood with an intricately carved, gold-encrusted hilt for her to see.

It was a wand.

Ana’s gray eyes grew very, very wide.

“You...?”

Bradley tucked his wand back into his pocket with a white smile. “Yep -- I’m one too.”

Ana was stunned. Her mother’s fiance...was a wizard? So he...he knew everything? About the Wizarding World, about Hogwarts, about...how to do magic? ...Was that what he meant, by everything being fixed? He’d been able to undo what she did with magic?!

Her posture was still slightly guarded as Bradley lowered himself down onto the bed next to her.

“This is why your mother and I decided it was time we meet, before the school year begins,” he explained. “I hadn’t known you had magic when I met your mother...I couldn’t tell her about me being a wizard, thanks to the Statute of Secrecy, so I had to act as if I was non-magical myself. Admittedly I don’t like to use magic as much as many wizards do. There are many non-magical methods that work just as well if not better than magical ones. And there are many advancements people who don’t use magic have made that witches and wizards are still woefully ignorant of.”

He gave Ana a small wry smile.

“But...well, Bonnie would talk about you sometimes on our dates, and some of the things she said...well, it reminded me of Jasper and Preston, when they first started showing signs of magic. My sons,” he added, upon seeing Ana’s confused expression. “They’re both quite a bit older than you...but they went to Hogwarts too. Preston just graduated, actually. I’m sure Jasper and he will be really happy to tell you all about Hogwarts. And after you and Bonnie move in, I can always help you with some spells over the summer. Normally you shouldn’t do magic outside of school, of course, but the Ministry won’t punish you if you’re in a house that’s already filled with magical signatures...”

Ana could hardly believe what she was hearing. Of all the people in the world her mother could’ve decided to date, she’d somehow managed to meet a wizard? Not only that...but he actually wanted to help her with her magic?

“...Why...”

Bradley raised his eyebrows. “Hm?”

“...Why do you care?”

Bradley blinked in surprise. Ana knew her question had come out more harshly than she meant, so she tried to backpedal slightly.

“I mean...thank you -- for putting right what I did, but...I’m not your kid. You don’t even know me. I mean...”

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap.Everything she said kept coming out sounding rude, despite her best efforts.

Bradley, however, didn’t look the least bit offended or hurt. Instead his eyes looked a bit sad.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t know you. But, for what it’s worth...I think I’d like to.”

Ana looked up at Bradley, whose face had grown a bit more gentle.

“Let me tell you something, Anastasia -- I’ve lost a lot of people in my life...many people I loved dearly. I even lost my mother when I was about your age. It hasn’t been easy to bounce back from any of that...but one thing I have learned is the value of loving the people in your life, as best you can. We Pinkstones...aren’t the most popular in the Wizarding World, for our stance on magical and non-magical integration...so family is very important to us. And if your mother and I are going to be married, then you will be my family. And that means I’ll do everything I can to love and protect you -- because that’s what family should be.”

He tapped his heart with his fist lightly.

“I know I’m not your father, nor do I ever want to replace him -- but I’d love to learn more about you from you, rather than just from your mother. As nice as it is to hear about how bright and imaginative you are...I’d love to see that for myself.”

Ana stared at Bradley for a long, long moment. Her gray eyes were still guarded and faintly nervous, rather like a stray cat hesitating before letting someone pet them for the first time. Then, after a very long silence, she nodded mutely. Bradley smiled.

“To start with...what are these books here you’ve got lined up on the bottom shelf?” he asked curiously. “They’re perfectly organized by number...I assume they’re volumes of something?”

Ana nodded.

“They’re manga,” she mumbled. “Japanese comic books.”

Bradley’s eyes lit up. “Really? May I?”

Ana nodded again, and he bent down to slide one of them from the shelf and look at the cover, which depicted a blond, blue-eyed girl with a blue-skirted white jumpsuit, a red-ribbon choker, and round red barrettes in her hair buns.

“‘Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon,’“ he read off the front cover.

He glanced from Ana to the book and back and his smile grew brighter and larger still.

“...Ahh, so that’s why you’re wearing a red ribbon around your neck -- you’re dressed as this character today!”

Ana looked down at her lap, her cheeks flushing as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her blue skirt self-consciously. “Mm-hmm.”

“That’s brilliant,” said Bradley brightly. “Oh, Jasper is going to be thrilled -- he’s quite a fashion icon himself. He’s into the ‘Gothic Victorian subculture’ -- from what I understand, it’s a fashion movement that celebrates both period clothing from the late 1800′s and early 1900′s, as well as the darker Gothic aesthetic. Jasper has quite a collection of top hats and waist coats.”

Ana perked up slightly. “...So your son likes to dress up too?”

“Yes,“ said Bradley. “He comes by it honestly, really -- I don’t know if your mother told you, but my sons and I work in a theater, in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Jasper’s the most ‘stage-oriented’ out of the three of us: he works as an actor and stage-combat choreographer. Meanwhile my younger son, Preston, works in our tech department -- he’s a master of special effects. Though that’s partially because he likes to cheat and make some of the stage magic a bit more literal than it probably should be.”

Despite a mild attempt at disapproval, he was smiling mischievously. Ana felt her shoulders loosening a bit.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a stage manager,” said Bradley, “so I do a little bit of everything. Casting. Marketing. Settling disputes. Putting right what goes wrong.”

Ana shifted over slightly to better face him. “I guess with magic...doing that’s a bit easier, huh?”

“Sometimes,” said Bradley. “But magic isn’t always like how people who don’t use magic depict it, in stories. There are limits to what magic can do -- just as there are limits to what people who don’t use magic can do. Magic is just like any other talent you might have, in the end...like fencing, or mechanics...”

“Or writing?” asked Ana.

Bradley grinned. “Absolutely. It’s something you have to practice at and constantly refine, in order to be good at it...but once you have mastered it, you can be capable of amazing things. Once that happens, though, you then have a responsibility to use those talents for the benefit of others.”

Ana’s gray eyes were very bright as she nodded in agreement.

“‘You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed,’” she said softly. “‘You’re responsible for your rose.’”

Bradley quirked an eyebrow in interest. “Which book is that from?”

“The Little Prince.”

“I’ve yet to read that one. Would you recommend it?”

Ana bit her lip in amusement. “Well, it’s a children’s book...but the man who wrote it ended up writing it after escaping France, when the Nazis took over. I have a biography about him.”

She got down on her hands and knees to reach into the corner of one of her other bookcases, take a white-covered paperback off the shelf, and hand it to Bradley. He took it and turned it over to read the summary on the back.

“‘From a master biographer, the life story of the daring French aviator who became one of the twentieth century's most beloved authors,’” he read aloud.

Bradley’s grin grew a bit broader. “I must say, you have quite an extensive library. Might we exchange book recommendations, once I’ve finished with this one?”

Ana’s face at long last burst into a smile too and she nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Unremembered

Switch AU

Finally, another entry in this series. I’ll admit this one was a bit difficult, but I’m happy with how it turned out. This is from Marvin’s perspective, as we learn more about what’s going on in his life. Particularly when it comes to a certain gray bastard. I don’t know what else to put in this description so I’m just gonna leave it there. Hope you guys like this one :)

More of this AU found here

Nothing could be better on a rainy day than lying in bed with a book and a cup of tea. Marvin adjusted the pillows behind him as he propped up the book. But before he could take in a sentence, he heard a faint mrrp? Glancing at the door to his room, he saw Mr. Fluffington squeeze his way through the gap in the doorway. “Hey, Mister,” he said, smiling. “You here to keep me company? I woul’ appreciate it.”

Fluffington wandered over to the bed. Marvin lowered his hand, dangling it over the side. After sniffing it for a bit, Fluffington butted his head against it and hopped up onto the mattress. Correction: nothing could be better on a rainy day than lying in bed with a book, a cup of tea, and a cat. “Normally I’d warn ye against sittin’ on me and trappin’ me on my bed,” Marvin said, idly stroking Fluffington’s back. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere today, so feel free.”

Though Marvin did have to be honest with himself: he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that he should be doing something. After all, the kids were still missing. Schneep was out almost every night looking for them, JJ was studying any spells that could help—at this very moment, in fact—and Jackie and Anti were...well, they were doing their best. The stress of having their respective kids missing for two weeks now was wearing on them both. Everyone was involved except for Marvin, and he couldn’t help but feel that he should be helping right now.

“Ridiculous feeling,” Marvin muttered to himself. “‘M doin’ all I can.” Fluffington made another mrrp sound, stretching out across Marvin’s legs. “Ah, you’re lucky, Mister. You don’ have t’do anyt’ing at all. We even take care of food for you. Maybe I shoul’ve been born a cat, t’at sounds amazing.”

He leaned back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. So tired today. Some days he woke up and could feel the fatigue dragging down at him like an anchor pulling him into the ocean. Inevitably, the guilt would come with it, telling him that he shouldn’t just be lying in bed. He should be productive! Nevermind if he physically couldn’t walk that far! Marvin did his best to ignore that part of him, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

And as he tried and failed to focus on the story in the book before him, he found that this was one of those times. That niggling feeling was growing quickly in intensity. Sighing, he picked up the bookmark from the nightstand, slid it between the pages, and slowly sat up straight, trying not to disturb Fluffington. He managed to gently nudge the cat away, pulling off the miracle of moving without making him run away. With not a small amount of effort, he walked down the hall, and with some more effort and a few breaks, he climbed the stairs to the second story.

Ever since Marvin had turned the office on the first floor into his bedroom, JJ had started using the second upstairs bedroom to practice spells. He’d moved all his spellbooks and any other materials there, and recently he’d been considering somehow padding or reinforcing the walls in case any spells backfired in an explosive way. 

Marvin stopped outside the room’s door, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall. His legs were trembling, but he only took a moment before standing up straight and knocking on the door. Only a few seconds later, JJ opened it, looking surprised.

“Hey Jems,” Marvin said, smiling. “I came to check on you.”

JJ nodded slowly, still looking surprised, and walked further back into the room. Marvin poked his head through the doorway, scanning the shelves full of books, the desk with yet more books, and the simple wooden table in the center of the room, free of books. “I see your collection is growin’ fast,” he whistled, impressed.

“Oh, are you Marvin?” There was a woman in the room, red-haired and wearing a pale yellow hoodie. She waved, friendly. “Hello. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Aoife.”

“Ah, you’re t’at other magician,” Marvin recalled. “The one who came to rescue Jems when he left the city an’ ran into—I shoul’ say thank you for t’at. Thank you. It’s a pleasure t’meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Aoife said. “JJ’s told me a lot about you. Though I seem to have underestimated your Irish accent.”

Marvin laughed. “Well, I can pick up a trace o’the same in you. Especially your name, t’at’s a strong Irish name if I’ve ever heard one.”

JJ tapped the table, drawing Marvin’s attention back to him. He held up a notepad, which had apparently been left nearby, on which he’d written, I thought you were going to rest today.

“It’s fine,” Marvin dismissed. “I jus’ wanted t’pop right in, see what you two were doin’, magic-wise.”

“Well, Jameson was just telling me about his attempts at animal transformation,” Aoife explained. “I’m impressed, in all honesty. It’s a very difficult spell.”

I still haven’t done it, JJ wrote, pouting a bit.

“But you’ve gotten close! Marvin, have you seen him?”

“Yes, apparently he’s s’posed to have someone t’ere when tryin’,” Marvin nodded. “T’ere was a lot of smoke. And feathers.” He paused, swaying on his feet for a moment. “Are you doin’ anyt’ing else? Is t’ere...t’ere anyt’ing I can do to help you?”

Yes, you can go back to bed, JJ said sternly.

“Aw, c’mon, Jems, don’ be like that.”

I’m serious. You’ve gotten much paler in the last few minutes.

“But—” Marvin wanted to protest, but saw JJ immediately writing again and stopped.

I know you want to help. But you’re always telling me to take care of myself, shouldn’t you do the same for yourself? JJ smiled. Hey, if you want something to do, are you up for practising some more sign? We still need to get the hang of it.

“I s’pose I could,” Marvin mumbled. He took a step backwards, wobbling for a moment. “Hey, when you two are done with your magic, come tell me about it, alrigh’? It's int’restin’.”

Of course!

Marvin waved goodbye awkwardly and headed back downstairs, thankfully finding it easier than heading up. He only had to stop twice: once on the stairs and once in the hallway. Entering his room again, he sighed and collapsed on the bed. Well. Looks like today was just going to be another one of those days.

A small cat face poked into his field of view and he chuckled. At least Mr. Fluffington was still here. Marvin patted him on the head, then reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a book. Not the one he had before. Instead, this one was titled: “Basics of BSL: Learn to Sign in Ten Chapters.” He opened to the spot he had marked and started to read intently.

———————

The room was freezing, bone-deep cold leeching the warmth from any exposed skin. He could see parts of the sky through the gaps in the boards across the window. It looked just as gray and cold as it was inside.

His breath rattled in his throat, and he coughed into the tattered pillowcase. Even though the door was ajar, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it off the bed and across the room. He was so...so tired. This was the sort of fatigue that left weakness in every limb, a fatigue that he was, unfortunately, all too familiar with. Sometimes when he felt like this, he couldn’t help but remember the first time: barely eight years old, lying in bed too tired to even move, terrified that it would stay that way for the rest of his life.

But at least back then, he had some family still there to stay with him. Now? He didn’t even know where he was or how he got here, and he’d much rather be alone than with this thing.

Speaking of which...he glanced over at the door again, just in time to see it start to creak open. A hand crept into the room, blackened and dead-looking. He immediately turned his head away, burying it in the pillow. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, it would go away. Doubtful, but it’s worth trying.

He didn’t hear the footsteps, but he felt the sudden weight settle down on the edge of the bed. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to keep his breathing slow and even, difficult as it was. The silence in the room weighed down on him. And then he felt the weight shift, getting closer to him. “Still sick, then?” said that voice, that eerie voice with absolutely nothing memorable about it. “Aww.”

The blanket was pulled back. It was thin, but it was a layer of warmth, and without it, he started shivering. “Hey.” A hand grabbed his shoulder and started shaking. “I know you’re not asleep. Look at me. Look at me.”

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t, so he lifted up his head and glanced over his shoulder. There it was. Black eyes dripping. Face always smiling. “Leave me alone,” he whispered, voice rasping from disuse.

“But I’m here to help you.” It sounded upset, but of course, he didn’t believe it for a second. “See?” In its hand, it held a small purplish bottle with a white cap. It held it up and waved it. “I got you medicine.” 

“N-no...” He pushed himself upward, but wasn’t able to completely get into a sitting position, so he ended up awkwardly scooting back against the bed’s headboard. “No, I-I don’ want...”

“Don’t want what?” It crawled closer, and he flinched, unable to get farther away. “You should accept help from your friends, you know.”

“You’re not my friend,” he mumbled, turning his head away. And besides, he didn’t want anything that it would give him. Past experiences have proved that it wouldn’t be anything good.

“Now that’s just mean.” He glanced toward it just in time to see it unscrewing the lid of the bottle. “I just want the best for you.” Quickly, its hand shot out and grabbed him by the chin, turning his face toward it. He tried to push it away, but in this condition it just turned into weak flailing. “Now help me help you, or I’ll have to do something drastic.”

———————

Marvin woke up with a start, still shivering from the cold. It took a solid minute for him to look around and ground himself in his surroundings. It was just his room. Everything was fine. Everything was okay. Slowly, half-expecting something to grab him from the shadows, he reached out and turned on the lamp on his nightstand.

The light was comforting. Nothing could hide in the light. But even with that, his eyes kept scanning the area for anything. After a few searches of the room, he sighed, leaning back against the pillows.

Why could he only remember things in dreams? Marvin didn’t know much about memory, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t how it worked for Jackie. He remembered every moment of the nine months he spent with Distorter. Meanwhile, Marvin didn’t even know how long he was with that...creature. But given how many dreams he’d had, it must have been quite a while.

He lay back down, but his eyes felt glued open. It was some time before sleep came again.

———————

Good Owl Books was a quiet shop. True, it received a steady stream of customers, but there was always a hush in the air, like stepping into a library. Except you could actually keep the books you got here. The shop owners were a pair of elderly women who were understanding of their employees’ needs, and always forgiving of absences. Not to mention the shop’s collection was extensive, mostly fiction but with an impressive set of nonfiction as well. They even had a small area of the shop that was taken up by a coffee stand. And it was for all these reasons that Marvin had taken a job here.

He was working the register today. A simple enough task, so he was happy to take it whenever it was available. It was much easier than moving boxes of books from storage to the shelves. The manager allowed him to read when he wasn’t busy helping anyone, provided he keep an eye on his own book so it didn’t get mixed up with the wares. Also, they had chairs for the workers behind the registers. Now that was a definite improvement since Marvin’s own time.

The sound of soft footsteps on the shop carpet was familiar enough that Marvin instantly bookmarked his place and got ready to help the approaching customer. He slid the book under the counter and looked up. “Hello, how was your shoppi—wait.” Marvin blinked. “Miss Stacy?”

“Oh, so this is where you work.” Stacy looked mildly surprised at this. It was understandable, though. After all, she’d just run into an acquaintance in a place she wasn’t expecting at all. “Well, it, um...” She glanced around, clearly feeling awkward for once in her life. “It suits you.”

“T’ank you.” Marvin cleared his throat. “I haven’ seen you in here before. Just droppin’ by?”

“Yes, I figured if I’m going to be staying in town indefinitely, then I might as well get familiar with the area.” Stacy set a small stack of books on the counter. “And pick up some reading material while I’m here.”

“Great idea.” Marvin picked up the fancy scanner and started looking for the barcodes. “Ye much of a reader, Miss Stacy?”

“Just Stacy is fine,” she said. “And no, not really. My sister was always more into books than me.”

“Sister?” Marvin raised an eyebrow, curious, but then made his face blank as he decided not to push it. He wasn’t sure if the two of them were close enough to talk about that.

But nonetheless, Stacy wanted to talk about it. “Yes, she lived here,” she explained. “Moved here for college, then decided to settle down with her boyfriend and get married. We visited each other as often as we could, but flights are expensive, unfortunately.” 

Marvin nodded, trying to look understanding. He’d scanned about three of the books, and there were about five left.

“So...you like books, right?” Stacy asked.

“Woul’ I be workin’ here if I didn’?”

She chuckled a bit. “Well, I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe it was close enough by that your partner could drive you—”

“My what?” Marvin blinked, taken aback by the phrase.

“Your...partner,” Stacy said slowly. “You know, Jameson.”

It took a moment for ‘partner’ to register as something other than ‘for business,’ and the moment it did, he dropped the scanner in shock. “No! No, Jems and I aren’—not that way.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” Stacy’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth in shock. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Well, a lot of people t’ink t’at, but no, we’re not—not together.” Marvin felt his face grow flushed.

“I shouldn’t have thought—just because you live together—”

“It’s alrigh’, don’ worry.” Marvin picked up the scanner again. “We’re close friends, t’at’s all. I’m not Jems’s type, anyway, and he’s not mine.” He coughed awkwardly, and scanned another book. “What were ye goin’ t’say? About books?”

“I was...just going to ask if you had any suggestions,” Stacy muttered. “Based on these ones here.”

“Ah.” Marvin set down the book and looked over Stacy’s choices. Two biographies, one advice book, four realistic fiction novels, and one...well, that was odd. “Sorry to ask, but...did you mean t’get t’is picture book?”

“Oh. Um...yeah.” Stacy shifted awkwardly. “It’s stupid, it just reminded me of my niece.”

“T’at’s not stupid at all.” Marvin scanned the cover of the book. A simple drawing of three rabbits took up the cover, the art style soft and watery in pastel colors. “I t’ink it’s sweet t’at you’re t’inkin’ of her. She’d like it.”

“Oh...yeah, she did. It was her favorite.”

Marvin glanced up. He wasn’t all that great at judging tone of voice, but even he could hear the deep sadness in Stacy’s last sentence. Immediately, he felt bad for unknowingly bringing up something to cause that, so he cleared his throat again and moved on, scanning the picture book. “Well, I can’ really give you suggestions, t’be honest. I’m more of a fantasy type of reader. Maybe jus’ stick wit’ the section you found these in.”

“Right.” Stacy nodded. 

Marvin finished scanning the rest of the books in silence. He hit a couple buttons on the cash register. “T’at’d be 147.25,” he said.

“Yes, yes.” Stacy took a wallet out of her purse and pulled out a debit card. As Marvin scanned it, she shifted awkwardly on her feet. As he handed her the receipt and a pen for her signature, she suddenly said, “Can I tell you something?���

Marvin looked up, surprised. “Ah...I s’pose so?”

“The reason I came to this country...wasn’t originally for a vacation,” she said slowly. “I come here every year, around the same date. Normally I don’t stay this long, but I was...I wanted to make sure everything worked out with you, after I found Jackie.”

“...Oh?” This felt deeply personal, and Marvin wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear it, but she seemed like she needed to say this.

“I come here to pay respects,” Stacy said, almost too quiet to even hear. “To...my sister. And her kids.”

“Oh.” Marvin’s stomach slowly sank. “My...my condolences, Miss Stacy.”

“It happened years ago, at this point, but I still remember them.” Stacy kept her eyes down at the counter. “They were my only family.”

“I...I’m so sorry.” Marvin shook his head slowly.

“Thank you.” Stacy took a deep breath, then picked up the pen and signed the receipt. She handed it back to Marvin, who put it into the appropriate slot in the cash register. “I’m sorry for suddenly bringing this up. I just...I’ve been thinking about them lately.”

“You had t’get it off your mind, it’s alrigh’,” Marvin nodded. “I just hope t’at you don’ do t’at wit’ every cashier.”

Stacy laughed suddenly. “No, don’t worry. I suppose that...because I recognized you, it just all came spilling out. I’m still so sorry. I promise I’m not usually like that.”

“It’s really alrigh’. Now, d’you need a bag?”

“Oh. Oh right. Yes, please.” Again, Stacy fell silent, watching as Marvin slid the books into a bag. “Thank you.” She took it from him, then cleared her throat. “Well...perhaps I’ll see you soon.”

“Perhaps. G’bye, Miss Stacy. Feel free to return anytime.”

Marvin turned to the cash register and pretended to mess with it while Stacy left. He didn’t move until he heard the bell at the store’s entrance chime merrily. Then he slumped. “Well.” It was all he could say. “Well.” That was...a very odd encounter. He wasn’t too familiar with Stacy, but he knew enough to know that was sort of out of character. It must have really been weighing on her. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had anyone she could talk to about this.

He shook his head. This wasn’t the time to think about this. He was at work, and in fact he could see another customer heading towards the till. Marvin straightened, put his best customer service smile on, and got back to work.

———————

The darkness was almost complete. Almost being the key word. There was a sliver of gray light coming from underneath the closet door. He pressed his face to the floor to peer out from under it. Why was everything in this place, even the light, tinted with gray? But gray was better than pure blackness, so he stayed close to the small bit of light.

It felt like the room was getting smaller. He knew it wasn’t, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling. And he could barely move as it was, his legs pressed against the wall. Maybe it was smaller than last time. Maybe that was why he thought it was shrinking.

Everything was cramped. His throat was dry, and his stomach clenched painfully. How long had it been? Must’ve been almost a day. A day since he...he couldn’t remember what he did, but he remembered that it got angry with him. “If you’re going to be like that, then I’ll just leave you alone!” It had shouted.

He didn’t want to be left alone anymore. Slowly, he reached up and knocked on the closet door. “Are you th...?” he asked, quieter than he wanted. He cleared his throat and hit the door again. “Are you here? Can you hear me? I...I’m sorry.” His voice broke on the last word. “Please, I’m sorry.”

There was no answer. He pushed himself into a sitting position, pausing for a moment as his head spun, and banged against the door as hard as he could. “Can you hear me?!” he yelled. “Please! I’m sorry, jus’...jus’ let me out!”

Long after his fists started to hurt, the voice came from the other side. “Did I hear you asking for me?”

He rested his forehead against the wood of the door. “Please...I-I’m sorry. Jus’ please, please let me out.”

“Oh? But didn’t you want to be alone?” Its voice was mocking him. “Didn’t you want me to go?”

“No...” he whispered, slumping downward. “No, I don’ want t’at.”

“Well, what do you want, then?”

A sob escaped his throat. He wanted to know where he was and why he was here. He wanted to get out of this twisted house. He wanted his cards back. He wanted his life back. He wanted to see his friends and family again. He wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that.”

But of course, it didn’t want to hear any of that. It only wanted to hear one thing. “I want...to be with you. Because...we’re friends.”

Silence. And then the door slowly opened. With his weight resting against it, he fell forward. Right into a pair of arms. He shuddered, but didn’t pull away. “I’m glad you remembered that,” the voice said cheerfully. “We really shouldn’t fight like this, you know. But you’re sorry, so it’s okay.”

He nodded, and closed his eyes.

———————

Marvin woke up, breathing hard. His throat hurt, like he’d been crying out without even knowing about it. Just like every other time he woke up, he turned on the light and scanned the bedroom.

“Hello again.”

He tried to cry out, but it turned into a wheezy rasp. It was him. Distorter. Standing in the corner of his bedroom and grinning. Immediately, Marvin made to get away, scrambling out of bed and falling onto the floor. He grabbed the nightstand and pulled himself up, then ran for the door.

“Ah ah ah.” Just as Marvin reached for the doorknob, a blackened hand grabbed his wrist, and then the other, pulling his arms back. “I need a favor, Marvy.”

“Don’t call me—!”

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence. Distorter yanked him backwards and threw him to the ground, slamming him hard against the floor. While Marvin was still dazed, he wrapped his hand around his neck and pressed down. Marvin choked and instinctively grabbed Distorter’s hand to try and stop him. “Now that I have your attention,” Distorter said calmly. “I want you to deliver a message. Because he probably won’t listen to me, so I’ll ask you.”

Eyes wide, Marvin shook his head. “I’d never—”

“It’s just a small favor. Calm down.” Distorter pressed his other hand against Marvin’s mouth. “You look so upset. You should smile more.” He leaned closer, the blood from his eyes dripping onto Marvin’s face. “Listen to me. Only listen to me. No room for anything else.”

Thoughts were becoming difficult. Marvin struggled to move, but he kept...kept forgetting. Forgetting...something. Did it really...did it really matter? What was happening...?

“Listen to me.”

———————

There was a door. He knew it, recognized it, but the details couldn’t pierce the thick gray fog in his brain. His hand reached out, and he watched it, as if it wasn’t his at all, but someone else’s. And the hand knocked.

When nobody answered, he knocked again.

And again. Much harder.

That one finally got a response: “Alright, I’m fucking coming, don’t break the door down!”

Footsteps from the inside, and then the door opened. A man was standing there, brown hair and green-and-blue eyes, wearing a black long-sleeved shirt with some sort of band logo on it. The man was familiar, very familiar, and he struggled to remember. But the gears of his mind were clogged up with gray cotton, and he fell back down into the fog. “Marvin?” The man asked, surprised. “What are you—your eyes!”

He took a step forward, staggered, and fell against the man, who stumbled in turn but caught him. “...hhhnntsseeeyuhh.” A garble of sounds fell out of his mouth.

“M-Marv? What...?” The man stepped backwards and awkwardly reached around to close the door. “It’s him, isn’t it? What did he do?”

He blinked, and the motion caused two streams of warm red liquid to slip from his eyes. Those eyes locked onto the man’s face. That’s him, whispered a voice. Tell him what I told you. A voice that didn’t stand out at all, yet he couldn’t stop listening to it. Give him the message. The only thing in the gray fog that gave him a purpose, so he listened. He stared at the man, looking at him so worried, and said, “He wants to see you.”

The man was silent. “He does, huh? Well, he could’ve told me himself instead of...this.”

A light appeared in the corner of his vision. A green light. He glanced in that direction. A small green sphere was floating in the air, flicking a tail. An eyeball. It came closer, and the light was...piercing. Shining through the fog. He stared at it, transfixed.

“You don’t look so good. Here, sit down.” The man pulled him toward a sofa and set him down, crouching down across from him so their eyes were level. “Did this fucker have anything else to say to me?”

The address. The return of the voice made him look away from the green light from the eyeball. Strange, it sounded quieter when he was staring at the light. “68 Aspen Street,” he said, monotone. “Three days from now, at noon.”

“68 on Aspen?” The man repeated, confused. Then his eyes widened. “That’s the—Are you sure?”

“68 Aspen Street. Three days from now, at noon.”

“Goddammit, Marvin, snap out of this!” The man grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “He’s treating you like a fucking puppet, it’s sick! You’re so much more than that. Wake up!”

He blinked again. Those words...they were echoing through the fog, but muffled. Still, he felt like he should focus on them. On this man.

“C’mon, c’mon.” The man shook him again. “How’d you get here? Jackson couldn’t have driven you. Did you walk?”

Jackson? Jackson, Jackson...J...JJ? Did he walk here without him? He’d be upset about that...about him pushing himself.

That eyeball appeared in front of him again, shining even brighter. He heard the man—he knew him he knew him—gasp, but he was too focused on the light. It hurt his eyes, hurt his head—no, it hurt the fog inside his head. It was...burning it away.

Wait, where was he? He’d been here before. It was a friend’s home, wasn’t it? A friend...who was staring at him.

Something suddenly snapped. Marvin gasped. “Anti!”

“Oh thank god,” Anti sighed, relieved. The small eyeball—Sam, it was Sam—flew forward and bopped against Marvin’s forehead. “What happened?”

“I...don’t quite remember.” Marvin shook his head. “‘T’s all...foggy.”

“Well. That’s okay.” Anti leaned back. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“I...Jems. Can you call him?” Marvin’s voice sounded very small. “I want to go home.”

“Right. I’ll text him.” Anti took his phone out of his pocket and started typing.

“Right.” Marvin felt himself slowly listing to the side, and he let it happen, lying on the sofa. Sam flew down and settled on his head, their glow slowly pulsing. He didn’t really notice.

“So...you’re alright?” Anti asked.

Marvin didn’t answer for a while. Anti waited, but eventually got up and started to walk away. It was then that Marvin spoke up. “Why...do I never do enough?”

Anti turned back to him. “You do what you can. I mean, who would be Jackson’s best friend if you weren’t here? Who’d I go to the pub with? Who’d look after Mr. Flufflington?” He paused. “If you ask me, all that sounds like enough.”

Marvin stared at him. He nodded. “Alrigh’.”

“Alright.” Anti turned away again. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“T’anks.” Marvin let his eyes fall shut.

Maybe he should just rest. He was so tired. He should let himself rest.

[daydreaming-jessi]

Day 2: Date night

Now it wasn’t supposed to be anymore than a paragraph, it was supposed to be a lil thing but then it became more... dammit. Anyways have a lil... story?? I guess?? Under the cut?? Idk, it’s beetlelands week and I am a ROLLING in the fluff.

First it started with Beetlejuice jokingly making a bet with the Maitlands, if they couldn’t scare someone in the next week, they’d have to go on a date with him. They failed, of course, and Beej laughed and was like ‘lol can’t wait for that date babes ;P’.

Two days later and they ask when they’re going to have that date. Cue Beej having a moment of ‘the number you are trying to reach no longer exists’. Then a second of ‘holy SHIT THEY WANNA HAVE A DATE WITH ME???’ he then realized they probably thought he was being serious about the bet and just wanted to get it over with. Oh. Well. That’s... fine. He doesn’t care. Why would he? They’re just a sexy couple, nothing more. He’ll get over it. So he decides to at least have fun with this date.

Cue the getting ready montage. The Maitlands have actually dressed up and..., oh wow, they look so nice, maybe he should’ve done something more than just clean up his old suit...

Barbara: Uh, Lawrence, you ok there?

Beej: IM FINE WHATS WRONG WITH YOU??

Adam: um, you look nice.

Barb: yeah! did you really clean up for lil ol’ us? ;3

Beej: 0///<///0 y-you look great

Adam and Barb: Huh?

Beej: I SAID OOOH LOOK A RAKE.

Beej takes them up to the roof and they’re like ‘oh a night of stargazing?’ Then Sandy appears and Beej is like ‘your chariot awaits, >;P’ and then... Barb and Adam are excited?? They like... can’t wait for this?? Um??? Beej opts to hold onto his long decayed sanity and ignore this, telling the couple to hold on. They proceed to hold onto him. Fuck. Beej directs Sandy to GO ALREADY DAMMIT. And off into space they go. Barb and Adam are ecstatic. ‘OH. MY. LORD WE ARE IN. SPACE.’ It’s really cute... Sandy weaves through asteroids and comets, tunneling through nebulas and orbiting moons, and Adam’s arms are around Beej’s waist while Barb holds onto Adam, and oh no Adam’s grip tightened, shitshitshit-

They finally reach their destination: Saturn! Home of sandworms! Home sweet home for Sandy! She leaves them on an asteroid making up saturn’s belt so they can safely observe saturn’s storms. Beej is like, Yup so this is it. Pretty funny, huh, I took you on a date to Saturn! Except, they love it. They think it’s beautiful. They’re one of the few humans that will probably ever see Saturn so close with their own eyes. They can actually see the sandworms flashing through the gray yellow winds whipping past them, making nests on the nearby moons, and just chilling out in the few rays of sun that manage to reach this far out.

It’s perfect. A bit chilly though, like, wow theyre dead and all, but space is cold. Way colder than expected. Well shit, now they’re shivering. Beej feels fine, but now he feels bad for the two, and they’ve been so nice about this date considering they probably never wanted to go on it in the first place... Beej heaves a sigh and takes off his jacket, and somehow he now has two jackets that he drapes over Adam and Barbara’s shoulders. ‘But you’ll be cold!’ They argue. He tries to say he can’t feel it, but then Barbara comes up with the brilliant idea that they can share and she throws an arm around Beej, and Adam does the same and now they’re holding him. Oh. Oh fuck.

Adam’s making dumb space puns, Barbara is pointing out the amazing clouds rushing before them, and Beej just knows Sandy is laughing at him somewhere, and... this is nice... this is really, really nice... this is like, a real actual date. He’s... he’s on a date, like, for the first time ever.

Beej: I.... I like this a lot. Would’ve been better if you two were actually interested in a date, but still. Thanks uh, for pitying me I guess.

Barb and Adam: what.

Beej: what?

Adam: Lawrence do you seriously think we’re not interested in this?

Barbara: we literally accepted your dumb bet so we could finally do something like this.

Adam: we asked you when this was going to happen.

Barbara: we dressed up for it too! And you know I’m a little hurt that you haven’t said anything :(

Adam: yeah, I spent all day trying to get the cobwebs off this shirt :(((

Beej: .... did you guys really think I said oooh look a rake.

Barbara: it doesn’t count if you try to take it back. >:1

Beej, seeing that this is for real, is not sure what to do, but fuck, he’s gotta do something. He sweeps them both off their feet (double arms babeeey) and is like ‘you both are literally so gorgeous that I can’t look at anything but you.’

A couple of asteroids collide nearby in a shower of fire and rocks, leaving the three in an breathtaking moment. Tensions rise, its the perfect moment for a... Sandy to come over whining because she wants to go home now. Cockblocked by a man eating space worm....

They head home. Beej is bummed because no kisses for him, but then- oh. The Maitlands are both kissing his cheeks. “Thanks for the wonderful date.” “Maybe next time you’ll actually ask?” And the couple head inside. Beej is so overwhelmed he doesn’t even notice that they kept his jacket.

[healing-winston-pratt]

The Resistance AU Part. 2

I said in Part. 1 of this AU I would tell how the Resistance works and how it started, so here we go!

There are nine sectors:

Gathering: They are in charge of going to the surface and collecting both groceries and information (newspapers, video recordings, photos, notes, gossiping, etc). Their color is brown.

Security: Both patrol units who secure the tunnels and the important sectors of the Resistance, and technicians in charge of the security system. Their color is black.

Training: The ones in charge of training the non-prodigies in physical combat and self-defense, as well as prodigies training/who are learning to control  their gifts. Their color is purple.

Education: It’s been a decade since the start of the Renegade Regime, so children were born in the Resistance or were already babies or kids, and this sector is in charge of the schooling. Their color is dark green.

Health: The medical sector, there’s no need for further explanation. Their color is soft pink.

Weaponry and Devices: They study the prodigy artifacts the gatherers bring from the surface, and they also develop their own weapons and devices.

Kitchen: They’re in charge of the cooking and it’s basically...that. They provide the entire burrow with food. Their color is white.

Cleaning: The janitorial team. Their color is orange. 

Clothing: They elaborate the jumpsuits/uniforms, and they also put together the wardrobe of the gatherers for them to go undercover to the surface in regular clothing. Their color is cream.

They all wear the same blue-gray jumpsuit uniform and a golden name tag with their alias, but each sector has its own color represented in some parts of the uniform.

The ones who are too young or too old to help in a sector, wear yellow in their uniform.

It’s not that people live by sectors: they’re only divided that way to fulfill duties, so a family can live together and each member works for a different sector.

Now, how the characters are sorted :) 

Nova and Narcissa are teammates in Gathering.

Ingrid is part of the security system technicians.

Honey is from Training.

Winston works at Education.

Leroy, Millie, Tina and Callum are part of Weaponry and Devices.

Maggie works at Cleaning.

Tala is part of Clothing.

(Bear in mind that they’re not the only ones in those sectors, though, because the Resistance is really huge).

Ace has its own color, golden, because he’s the leader of the Resistance.

There’s a (*looks up for “Council synonym”*) Committee at the Resistance, with Ace being the head and nine people representing their own sector. Honey and Leroy are their sector’s representatives, while Tala, Ingrid and Winston aren’t (bc I picture someone else in a higher position than them being in charge of their sector), but attend the meetings and their voices are heard because they have privileges™.

Nova spends time at Weaponry and Devices to develop her inventions.

Tala made Nightmare’s costume for the infiltration mission :”)

Also, her alias is Star Queen! Because even non-prodigies wear name tags with aliases in case the Resistance is discovered, so it won’t be easy for the enemy to set prodigies and non-prodigies apart (besides the obvious prodigy features, ofc).

Millie’s alias is the Historian and Narcissa is Mirror Walker (I think this one is canon but being brutally honest, I’ve never been 100% sure bc it was Ace’s nickname for her but if she were to use an alias, it would be that one).

Ingrid and Winston are roomies! I don’t think Ingrid has that bitchy personality in this AU, so she and Winston act more like siblings instead of hating each other. THEY’RE BOTH MENTALLY STABLE, OK? (there are therapists in the Health sector, this is a great community, change my mind).

The Librarian is part of the Resistance, but he lives on the surface and provides the gatherers with information when they go to the Library (he has no Resistance uniform).

I’ve already mentioned on Part 1 that Honey and Ace hosted clandestine meetings until they are discovered: that’s how they met the rest of the OG Anarchists + a lot more of prodigies and non-prodigies who supported them, but when the Renegades attacked the building because they’ve discovered them, only the OG Anarchists and Ingrid’s parents where there that night.

When the apartment exploded due to Thunderbird’s powers (you know, lightning), Tala and the girls hid beneath the debris. Tala was carrying Maggie on her back and they were like, chilling because they didn’t want to risk the Renegades finding out about their existence.

Meanwhile, the Council battles Ace and the Anarchists; Ingrid’s parents are killed, as well as some other Anarchists (*cofcofAtomicBrainandRatcofcof)

Georgie lands to inspect the building. Since the space is so limited and it’s in ruins, she lands wrong, and she cuts her calf a little, as in: There’s visible skin in her calf area.

Tala and Nova are holding their breaths, until Maggie makes a sound (this trumpeting thing babies sometimes do with their mouths) and Georgie approaches their direction (she’s hella terrifying here guys, there’s nothing but coldness in her eyes).

Nova sticks her hand out of the hideout and releases her power on Georgie, and once she falls asleep, Tala  makes it look like she was hit by debris and that’s why she fell unconscious (when Georgie wakes up, there’s dried blood on the back of her head). Then takes them out of there because neither the Anarchists nor the Council are on sight.

Tala gets a message from Honey until the next day, and that’s how she knows they’re hiding on the tunnels: During battle, Ingrid was very distraught due to her parents’ death (she does love them here :”)), so she was just...attacking people because she wanted to kill someone. ANYONE (as long as they were part of the Renegades). However, Ace was concerned about the fact that too many people were dying. 

In this AU, like it is implied in canon, Ace is the only person who can destroy Hugh, and Hugh is the only person who can destroy Ace (I’m not counting David because, well, David’s already gone). Hence, Ace KNEW that they were coming for him and that, if they killed him, there was a chance they would leave them alone. 

So, he took advantage of the fact Ingrid was going feral, and stepped in the middle pretending he was shielding someone. When Ingrid’s powers did their thing, a structure fell on top of him, but he stopped the debris using his telekinesis before it crushed him, *this* close to his body. And the Renegades were like “There’s no way he could’ve survived that lmao” (bc of course they would find that funny).

Ace had to wait another 30 minutes until they left, and when they did, he was very weak (ALMOST fainting, I think) but still he heard Honey HOWLING (And the other ones too, because bear in mind Ingrid, almost crazy with grief, was thinking she k i l l e d him) but somehow he managed to have the strength to get the debris off him on time (before he suffocated or fainted). 

So they hide in the tunnels, and once Tala and the girls join them and all of them have rested and attended their injuries, Ace builds the underground burrow while the rest of them (Nova stays and takes care of Maggie, ofc) go undercover to the surface, to take their allies (the ones that didn’t attend the meeting that night) with them.

The Resistance population eventually rises (it’s currently around 5,000 people) because they take refugees and families are created, but people on the surface don’t know about them: it’s usually the gatherers who save people who are being persecuted.

But Ace and the Anarchists know the Renegades are aware Honey, Leroy, Ingrid and Winston are still alive, so the four of them go to the tunnels every now and then and pretend to live there: they’re in sync with the security staff of the Resistance to know when a Renegade patrol unit is going to visit them.

The Council is pleased to “know” they live under such n a s t y conditions and that’s why they don’t kill them, besides, the first time they showed up after discovering them, Honey gave the performance of her life and pleaded them to at least let them stay there, and they were so amused by her suffering that they accepted, so they could watch their misery every time they pleased. 

Callum and Tina joined the Resistance as refugees (they came from separate ways, tho), while Millie and Gene were already allies who attended meetings, but Gene asked them to take care of Narcissa while he helped them from the surface so she could be safer underground.

And then she goes, with her two whole functional brain cells, and joins Gathering lmao. Also, she lives with the Artinos because Gene used to take her to the clandestine meetings so she and Nova usually played together :)

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Colors, ch.24: Vellum

(A Spicyhoney ‘The Village’ AU)

The story so far:

1. Crimson | 2. Yellow | 3. Blue | 4. Blush | 5. Sallow | 6. Russet | 7. Spice

8. Whiteout | 9. Sable | 10. Blue on Black | 11. Midnight | 12. Ebony Falling

13. Golden | 14. Magenta | 15. Marigold | 16. Coquelicot | 17. Daffodil |

18. Verdigris | 19. Honey | 20. Scarlet | 21. Alstroemeria | 22. Onyx | 

23. Gray

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Warnings: This chapter contains discussion of past spousal abuse. (Not Edge or Rus.) It is not graphic, but it is implied to be both physical and sexual in nature.

~~*~~

Read ‘Vellum’ on AO3

or

Read More Here!

~~*~~

One of Rus’s clearest memories as a child back at the Village was the first time he’d gone shopping at the general goods store with his brother. Their parents were long since gone to meet the Maker and despite his youth, Blue cared for him the very best he could, spending long days training with Healer Gestor then returning home to spend more time caring for Rus. He never complained, no matter how exhausted he was.

Blue carried through with a smile, always, though Rus was often sickly and wasn’t able to help as much as he should. Even when Rus sometimes woke from terrible dreams and interrupted his already limited sleep. Shrieking for his brother in the darkness until Blue brought him back to his own bed and they slept there clinging to each other against the night.

His brother only ever reassured him of his love and that he was there for him, no matter what might come.

The occasion of the store visit was a rare treat, Rus was only seldom allowed into the Village proper for anything but prayer meetings, and those days were only for solemn reflection and silence. That day, Blue allowed him to chatter happily, to gawk at all the buildings and people, the horses that pulled carts full of produce and his agemates who ran playing through the streets as Rus couldn’t.

The store itself was a wonder, filled with shelves that held various goods. The walls were lined with barrels of pickles, bins filled with crackers. There were gleaming jars of peaches and applesauce, bottles of vinegars and molasses lining the shelves and bars of soap wrapped in waxed paper, the smell of which made Rus want to sneeze.

And there on one of the shelves was a tea set. Blue adored tea and every Saturday, he would bring out their mother’s tea set and brew a pot. They would sit together and drink, Rus’s cup filled more with hot milk and only a splash of tea that made him feel very grown up. They ate scones and Blue would tell him about his week, funny stories and interesting tidbits of gossip. It was one of Rus’s favorite times of the week.

This tea set was nothing like their mother’s. The cups were delicate with handles that curled and twisted, the edges bright with gold leaf, unlike their own plain white cups.

Rus only meant to touch that delicate gold for a moment and somehow, he accidentally tipped it over. He watched in horror as the cup fell from the shelf and shattered, a stinging fragment grazing his leg where it poked out of his short pants.

The shopkeeper was on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shoulders and shouting angrily as he shook him. Blue was nearly as quick, hastily pulling him from the shopkeeper’s grip, though that night there would be raised bruises in the shape of his fingers on Rus’s arms. Blue paid for the cup, his expression tight as he counted out the money, and they left without any of the groceries they were supposed to be getting. It wasn’t until they were back home that either of them noticed the bloody cut on his leg, marrow seeping down to stain his sock.

Blue healed that little wound silently. He never shouted at Rus, even though that week dinners were nothing more than bread and butter. He never said a word, but the weight of his disappointment pressed heavily and Rus never forgot that day, even though the old shopkeeper had retired and these days it was his son who ran the store, the same fellow who ignored when Elder Smith harassed Rus in his shop.

Memory was a funny thing and it was that day in Rus’s thoughts as he looked at Edge’s grim, silent face. He couldn’t say whether it was the shopkeeper’s fury or Blue’s disappointment he saw in Edge. It didn’t matter, he cringed from both and for a split second he couldn’t think past his own fears.

Spilled cream couldn’t be made into butter, that shattered cup that couldn’t be put back together, and Rus could only fumble with the journal, setting that brittle vellum picture back into the pages with trembling hands before he closed the cover. It wouldn’t be enough, just as he couldn’t fix that cup, he couldn’t stuff his prying knowledge back into the journal.

“i’m so…i’m sorry…didn’t mean to…” Rus stammered. He could feel tears rising and struggled to choke them back. What right did he have to cry when he was the one breaking trust with his little betrayals?

Edge only closed his sockets, hiding the fieriness of his eye lights, and he held up a silencing hand as he said, “Shh.”

Rus fell instantly silent, biting his tongue hard enough to taste salt-sweet fluid. Yet he couldn’t help the small protesting cry that escaped him as Edge turned on his heel and walked away, leaving him there alone.

He turned back to the table, looking down at the journal with tear-blurred sight.

Edge seemed so terribly angry. What if…what if he demanded Rus leave? He had nowhere else to go, he couldn’t go back to the village, he’d never survive on his own in the woods. If Edge cast him out, he’d be truly alone and as terrifying as that was, it wasn’t a match to knowing he’d upset Edge and he couldn’t even manage to properly apologize. Edge who gave so much to him, as Blue always had, his love, his tenderness, his care, and Rus could only offer disappointment in return.

He’d declared his love, called Rus is very soul and he believed Edge, he did. Except the fear in his own soul spoke louder, cruelly castigating him for his foolishness in thinking he truly had anything to offer someone like Edge.

Panic was clawing inside his rib cage making it difficult to breath, black spots wavering in his distorted vision and his whirling thoughts were a confused tangle of teacups and books, and pleading forgiveness that didn’t make it to his mouth.

He wondered blurrily if he were going to simply pass out only to wake alone in the frigid snow. The pained thought was interrupted by strong hands suddenly on him. Rus cried out, but they didn’t hurt him, their touch solid but gentle as they firmly pushed him to sit with his head lowered between his knees.

“Easy, Rus, easy.” A soothing hand rubbed down his spine even as Rus managed to gasp in a full breath of air. The darkness swarming his vision eased and his clamoring thoughts with it. Rus blinked and looked up to see Edge sitting next to him, his concern vivid as he murmured soothing words and words came to Rus then as swiftly as they’d abandoned him.

“i’m sorry,” Rus said thickly. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

The sound Edge made in his throat was absurdly scoffing and Rus was forced to stifle an inappropriately hysterical giggle, “Upset, yes,” Edge agreed, quietly, “Not to Rus.” He took a deep breath and said very slowly in his own language, ensuring Rus could understand. “Give me a moment and I will explain.”

“all right,” Rus agreed. He leaned into Edge’s embrace, guilty absorbing the offered comfort. For once, Edge seemed to take equal comfort in him. The puff of his too-quick breath against Rus’s cervical vertebrae slowly calmed as he held Rus close.

He suddenly noticed there was a second cup on the table next to his own and he stared at it in confusion until it hit him. Edge left him alone to go make a cup of tea to calm himself, the same way Blue sometimes did after a long, frustrating day. Here Rus was, fretting that he was about to be cast out into the woods while Edge was only brewing up a pot of sweet tea. Standing in their little kitchen in his long red cloak and surely scowling ferociously at the water as it slowly heated, the vicious Monster of the Woods he’d been warned about so many times as a child as domestic as the motherly Dogaressa.

That unfortunate laughter bubbled up again, like blowing in a cup of milk with a water reed. Rus swallowed it forcibly down, snuggling gratefully into Edge’s arms. If Edge found comfort in tea and an embrace, Rus was more than willing to offer as much as he could of both.

The journal was pushed almost off the table by Rus’s panic, and after a moment, Edge reached out and drew it closer, tracing the faded gold leaf on the cover with a fingertip. His voice was hushed as he whispered, “I have not seen this in a long time. I did not know it was in the chest, else I would have hidden it away.”

“i am so sorry to have pried,” Rus burst out. He caught his breath, adding weakly, “i shouldn’t’ve. back at the village, they say curiosity killed the cat.”

Again, Edge scoffed and pressed a light kiss to Rus’s cheekbone. “You look healthy enough to me.”

It invited a watery chuckle as Edge briefly tightened his embrace. Then he opened the journal’s cover and revealed that picture again, his finger hovering overtop the fragile sketch without touching.

“you knew them.” Rus said. It wasn’t a question, it seemed as obvious as the lack of nose on his face. To his surprise, Edge shook his head.

“No,” Edge said slowly, “not them.” He turned the page, again, leafing through birth announcements and weddings invitations. There were Psalms and sayings written in between each, notions added in dark ink. The handwriting changed as he went further in, that lovely scrolling penmanship changing to spidery-thin letters, and then to bolder writing, each page carefully blotted to keep the words clear.

Not that Rus had much chance to read them. Edge kept turning the pages until he came to another sketch.

The artist was a different one, the picture a newer one. Of another young skeleton woman in a bridal dress and a flower crown, standing next to one of the Elders, though he was young enough the title hardly seemed to fit. His rounded face was one of arrogant pleasure, hers shyly smiling, and nothing about that picture explained why Edge would stare at it with such pained fury.

“edge?” Rus asked timidly. His fears were no longer for himself, but for the hurts he was beginning to suspect lay in his husband’s past.

Wordlessly, Edge reached up and roughly pulled off the medicine bag he wore around his neck, yanking it from the tangle of his other talismans. He opened it with more care, tugging at the drawstrings, and to Rus’s astonishment, from within he drew a tarnished golden locket on a chain and held it out to Rus in offering. Rus took it from Edge’s gloved palm. The chain was broken, but it was a fine one and from the weight Rus guessed the gold was no fakery. He opened it with cautious fingers to see the miniature within, of a young skeleton woman, her teeth parted in laughter.

It was the same woman, he realized. She was lovely, and drawn up over her skull was the hood from the saffron cloak of their village.

“who is she,” Rus asked, hushed.

Edge sighed heavily and offered a single word. “Mother.”

"your mother was from the village?" Rus whispered, stunned to his very core.

Edge only nodded. "Yes.”

“and she taught you village speak.” It was like finding a lost piece to an incomplete puzzle, snapping it into place to form an unexpected picture. How it was possible, Rus did not know, but the truth lay before him, undeniable.

He inspected the larger picture again. There was a certain resemblance in Edge to the young woman, he saw. Yet her eye lights were as pale as Rus’s, her teeth flat and even. Not at all like Edge’s fierce mandible or his crimson gaze, and there was no hint of the Elder in him. Doubtfully, Rus asked, “and this is your father?”

He flinched as Edge’s expression twisted into rage, directed not at Rus but at the sketch. “No! No father.” His gloved hand curling into a tight fist and the word he said wasn’t one Rus knew, spat out like a curse. Rus didn’t know what to say, what he could say, and he only wrapped his arms around Edge as he trembled, struggling for words.

“Bad,” Edge said finally, choked and low. “No father, not him, bad.” His fingers trembled as he reached out to tug a loose sheet from within the journal pages. Another sketch, this one done in a rough hand. Instead of ink, it was drawn in soft charcoal, faintly blurred before it was sealed, and showed four people; a family sitting together, two adults and two children, each dressed in long cloaks. The lines were simple and still offered much personality, the parents leaning into each other, the children appearing a mere sidestep from a childish squabble.

Edge tapped the picture of the smallest, who was drawn with an exaggerated little scowl on their tiny face. “Edge.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Rus couldn’t help a soft laugh. “that’s you? you were adorable.”

He was. Edge only shook his head, disgruntled. Rus leaned in, studying the picture closer. “and these are your parents?”

Edge nodded, sighing out a soft breath.

“i never knew my parents,” Rus confessed softly. He made a sign automatically, asking for a blessing for their souls. “they died when i was very young, it’s only ever been me and blue.” It was only a sketch, the details were so few, but it was obvious that the father was not the same Elder from the wedding picture. He was a skeleton, like them, and the resemblance to Edge was obvious. As gently as he could, Rus asked, “whatever happened to them?”

It was clear that some tragedy befell them, or Edge wouldn’t be here alone.

Edge hesitated, then began turning the pages again. Until he came to more writing in that same a bold hand as before, pages of it. The first page had a date at the top, some twenty years before. A true journal, he realized, written thoughts of someone from the past.

Edge tapped the page, “Make words.”

“you want me to read it?” Rus asked, astonished. Not ten minutes before he’d been worried Edge would cast him out for merely touching it and now he was meant to casually delve into his husband’s secrets as easily as he might another saucy novel.

“Yes, read,” Edge agreed.

“to you?”

Edge shook his head at that. “no. you read.” He switched to his own language to add, “and understand.”

With that, Edge gave him a last light kiss and left him to settle in and begin. It seemed the crassest invasion of privacy to read someone’s journal, but Rus was hardly through the first page before his reticence faded and he was absorbed, reading page after page of the writer’s, the young woman skeleton’s, daily thoughts.

The first entries were from a nervous bride-to-be, rambling on about her soon-husband.

After waiting for so long, this Sunday is finally the day, directly after the prayer meeting! Today Grandfather gave me our family album to take with me to my new home. I am the last of our line and marrying into the family of the Elders so there will no longer be a use for it, as our children and their lives will be recorded in the Elder’s family journal. Grandfather told me to write my thoughts and create a journal of my own, so that I might remember our line to our children when they come. I do wish he wasn’t so fussed about the wedding! I’ve made a good match in John. Were they here, I know my parents would be pleased. I wish Grandfather would be so as well.

Those excited thoughts gave way to other, less happy ones. From her first dissatisfying wedding night where she still offered excuses for her husband’s careless demands followed by other, worsening entries as she slowly gave in to despair. Her husband proved to be not the loving spouse of her fancies and instead a cruel one, commanding utter obedience and any small defiance was met in turn with brutality.

Rus barely noticed Edge bringing in fresh cups of tea though his husband made no attempt at being quiet. The cups sat for too long and Rus drank them cold, hardly tasting it, far too absorbed in the thoughts of a young woman trapped in an unloving marriage. Tears welled in his sockets as she described her husband denying her from seeing her own grandfather, though the old man was ill and wasn’t expected to survive the coming winter. All her many worries and hurts scribed on these fragile pages for Rus to follow these years later.

He read on, marveling silently as the story seemed to parallel his own too closely to be mere strange coincidence; it was more like fate, a brush from the divinity that Rus was no longer certain he believed in. On the night she ran into the woods to escape her husband’s brutality…and about the creature she met there.

I fear to even put these words to a page, though I must, for my world has changed in ways that I cannot properly understand. He was angry with me again last night, as he so often is. This night he claimed that his dinner was overcooked, though his true fury is that I have yet to provide him with an heir. I care not to write of the unspeakable things he did, only to say that when he was finished and snoring drunkenly in our bed, I fled from him to the woods.

I did not care if I lived nor died, only that I must be away from him!

I ran through the night and my terror was not of the trees before me but what lay behind. I know not how long I ran and I did not slow until I saw them. Him.

He was as it is said, a Monster, hooded in forbidden crimson and his face was that of a fanged beast. At once I no longer feared my husband’s drunken relations and instead feared for my very soul. I turned to flee and quickly found myself tangled in a snare. I could not run away and soon they were upon me.

I am ashamed to say I wept, pleading with the Angel herself that I might be spared. I expected to be torn apart and instead, the creature freed me and sent me on my way. I knew not the words, only that he was scolding like one might a lost child! I followed my own steps back to the village and he did not stop me.

I do not know what to think. Can the Angel make me understand why the one who made vows to me can cause me such pain and a Monster be the one to show me pity?

I have prayed for long days, but the Angel gives me no answers and I can make no sense of it on my own. It is a sin, but I must see him again. I must know.

My husband sleeps like the dead at night after his many cups of juniper tonic. Once I’ve submitted to my wifely duties, I will wait for him to sleep then slip away.

Rus sank back, absently aware he was blinking too hard, his sockets dry from forgetting to blink. He was lost in recollection, recalling his own secret meetings with Edge, his gentleness as he courted Rus, and yes, he could look back on it now and know he was being wooed with passionate tenderness. So unlike Elder Smith’s crass offerings, his cruelties when he was refused. His guise of civility as he claimed all his callous actions in the name of Angel.

At Rus’s elbow was a plate of fry cakes gone cold and congealed, and he scarfed them down in quick bites, wiping his fingers guilty on his trousers to keep from leaving greasy marks on the pages. To his dismay, there was only one entry left, she’d written nothing of her meetings with the creature, offered none of what was surely their own courtship. He read on, taking in her final words.

This will be my last entry. The journal I will bring with me along with the rest of my possessions that I can carry, but it will only be as a reminder. I waited only for my grandfather to pass into the light, for how can I possibly remain here when I know the truth of what they’ve done to us?

Gaster tells me truths, he speaks them into my very mind and exposes the lies that the Elders tell us.

Gaster has shown me the truth of our people and had I enough tears to shed, it would fill a bitter sea. Once we were one, before they came. The Elders, the Humans as they are called.

They made war on us, stole our homes, our children. Used us for their own purposes and taught us of the Angel and sin, convinced us that our magic was evil and allowed our bodies to grow sickly with its disuse.

The Elders, nay, the Humans, have filled our heads with nonsense to keep us under their control. Binding us in fear of our own people.

It was the Humans who drove so many of us away, the ones they deemed a threat, and kept those that they could use. Healers and workers were useful, the others were cast out to die alone, banishing any who might have challenged them.

Only they did not die. They flourished in the wood, dressing in the color of their magic in defiance, and so instead the Humans wove a new story, a new lie for those they enslaved. They called our own people Monsters and the color of their magic was forbidden to us. That is the falsehood they tell us to this very day.

It pains me to realize this, to know my life was built upon the lies of those who would seek to bind me. Who married me off to one of their own and allowed him to visit his cruelties upon me.

I will no longer be a vessel for his seed. I feared to leave for too long, afraid to break my vows, but no longer. My life will not be bound by their lies and with my grandfather’s passing, my only family in the village is gone. I shall join my true people in the wood, join him. My one, my true husband, my k’uhah.

He teases me, tells me that while I was the one caught in his trap, it was he that was snared. Perhaps, but I am bound as sure as he and my child will be born to his own people.

My false husband has given much to me and I shall give it back to him tenfold. Gaster has been teaching me to use my magic. I am not properly skilled, I will never be as I should, my power has atrophied from years of neglect. But there is power in possession and the land that I brought into our marriage as dowry is mine yet, a gift from my own parents. It is my will that nothing will grow upon it so long as my people are subjugated by the Elders, trapped by their lies in body and mind. No matter how it is tended, how diligent it is worked, the southern fields will offer nothing to the Elders, the ground itself soured by their deeds.

I go now to be with my true husband and when our child is born, it will be into freedom.

The journal ended there, without so much as a signature. Rus sagged, staring sightlessly at those last words written by a young woman he’d never met. And, he suspected, he never could.

“what happened to her?” Rus whispered aloud.

“He came.” Rus startled as Edge spoke. He looked up to find Edge standing at the entrance to the room, his face shadowed and unreadable. He spoke flatly, as though untouched by grief. “He and the others. They came to the woods and took them from me, left their dust behind. The Dogs found me not long after and cared for me, for a time.”

Sorrow filled Rus once again, he felt as though this day were an endless cup for grief. “how long ago was that?”

Edge held up ten fingers, then two more. Twelve seasons, then, not so very long ago. He’d heard nothing of this, not a single rumor ever came of the Elders entering the woods, not even under the guise of hunting creatures. They wouldn’t want anyone to know, Rus realized, it would invite others to do the same and might give them a chance to learn the truth.

Even the misfortune she’d spoken of leaving on her family’s land was unknown. The southern fields, the same place he’d slipped into the woods to meet Edge, were known to be fallow and there were rumors, fireplace stories of a curse, whispers from around cupped hands, but nothing came close to the truth. The Elders, it seemed, held their secrets very close.

Rus flipped back to the sketch of the wedding, staring hard at the drawing. Those arrogant features, had the artist unknowingly capture the spirit of his cruelty in their work? The was something about that wintry gaze, something familiar and Rus gasped aloud as it came to him with an unpleasant jolt, “that’s elder smith!”

Edge straightened, stepping into the room and coming swiftly to kneel before Rus. His voice was dry, stony as he demanded, “You know him?”

“he…he was the one who…who…” Rus couldn’t give voice to what Smith had done. Nausea rose in him to think of Edge’s mother enduring what he escaped. He held up a hand, showing only his empty palm, and could offer nothing.

Edge’s expression darkened, understanding without words as he so often did. He began to pull Rus into an embrace, but Rus resisted, pulling away. “edge, we need to go to the village. i must take this to my brother.”

Surely the weather was clear now, the Dogs had traveled all this way. To his confusion, Edge’s expression hardened further, closing over. “No, no, no.”

For him to lapse back into their old speech took Rus aback, “what? you must understand,” Haltingly, he said in Edge’s language, “my brother needs to know the truth, they all do.”

All their lives were a lie, all of it, and Rus was chilled to the depths of his soul to know it. He needed to share that knowledge with others in the village, to know he wasn’t alone with it.

He watched in confusion as Edge lunged to his feet, pacing restlessly. His cloak was gone, hung away, and his feet were bare, the bones slapping soundlessly against the floor rugs as he paced. Long moments passed before Edge turned back to him, both hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Did you learn nothing?” Edge snarled. His words stung like a slap. “I will not take you there! The village is filled with murderers, child stealers, monsters!" He jabbed an accusing finger at the sketch, his mother standing innocently with her soon to be husband and the one who would eventually take her life. “Him! He came here, hunted them down and others! Mathon and Britta cared for me like their own for a time, then I returned here, home, alone. You would bring them back down on us!”

Rus could only shake his head helplessly, “edge, there are good people in the village.”

“murderers, all of them!” Edge spat back. His chest heaved, rising and falling with harsh breaths. It seemed to Rus they were not alone here; the room was filled with ghosts, the death of his parents haunted Edge, the unquiet dead unable to rest as they spoke from the pages of the journal.

But the Village itself did not murder them, only a cruel few, and Blue was not one of them.

“then why didn’t you kill me when you first saw me!” Rus cried.

Those ghosts loosened their grasp enough for Edge to falter, the harsh crimson shine of his eye lights dimming to shock, “I could never—you’re my soul.”

“you didn’t know that when you first saw me!”

“I did not. But the way you felt, the way you smelled,” Edge slapping his skull with a bare hand as if he could force the words to shake loose. “My soul. I could never hurt you, Rus, never.”

“but you won’t believe me! there are good people in the village, edge, our people, yours and mine! he's my brother, you have no right to keep me from him!" Rus took a deep breath and said, softly, “edge, i'm from the village. it will always be a part of me, whether or not i wish it to be so."

“No!” Edge’s voice broke, ragged and lost. “No, you are mine!”

And that was a claim that Rus could not allow, for both their sake. “yours?” he whispered, hoarsely. “would you try to own me, then? the same as he did your mother?”

“No!” His anguish ached in Rus’s very soul. Edge reached out with a trembling hand, fingers hanging empty in the air between them. “No, Rus. No.” That hand fell, leaving Rus untouched and Edge hung his head, no longer looking at him. “I cannot take you there.”

Edge turned and walked swiftly out of the room, living Rus there alone with the journal and the ghosts that came with it.

Rus stayed in their parlor that night, wrapped up in a single blanket as he stared into the darkness. He curled up miserable and alone, and what little sleep came was made restless by terrible dreams. Haunted by a young skeleton woman and her smile, her unheard voice whispering a curse down on spoiled land. Damning those who would sin in the name of their Gods.

~~*~~

tbc