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wistfulcynic · 3 years

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The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a schoolteacher, respectable and respected in the small town of Haven, Wyoming. She does her job and minds her business, but she has a secret. One that brings meaning to her dull life and excitement to her restless soul. One that she knows could end at any moment.

Killian Jones is a man with a powerful enemy and nothing to lose. He’s prepared to sacrifice every bit of that nothing for the sake of his revenge.

Or, at least, he was.

I am THRILLED to be here, kicking off the @cshistfic Historical Fics event! I’ve always loved reading romances set in the past and Westerns are a long-time favourite. Given how deeply entrenched the Western genre is in American culture, it’s funny to think about how a) most of it was made up for dime novels and, later, radio and television shows and movies, and b) the actual historical period that we call the Old West only lasted roughly thirty years—from the post-Civil War westward expansion under the Homestead Act to around the turn of the 20th century. This fic is set right around the end of that time—late 1890s to early 1900s—in the waning moments of the open range and the “lawless” frontier and the start of the modern era with its trains and barbed wire and cars and world wars. I’ve tried to capture a bit of that sense of transition in the story, mostly with the way it ends.

Huge thanks to @shireness-says for coming up with and running this event, and to @thisonesatellite for Just Being Her.

Words: 4.9k Rating: T Tags: Western AU, historical, outlaw Killian, schoolteacher Emma, all the historical detail, I did so much research for this

on AO3

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan):

The hour was late, afternoon edging into evening in the town of Haven, Wyoming. ‘Town’ as a designation flattered it, this tiny settlement tucked back against craggy and striated formations of rock and nestled amongst ragged brush, being, as it was, scarcely more than a handful of rough-hewn cabins, a church, a general store, a blacksmith and livery stable, a saloon with its attendant whorehouse, and a school.

The store and the smithy did the town’s most active business; unsurprisingly, seeing as they were the only examples of either within the radius of a good fifty miles. The residents—those who lived within the town’s scant limits—were certainly insufficient in their numbers to support either one, but the owners of those ranches that lay outside the town, they and their ranch hands, their wives, and their daughters, frequented both with pleasing regularity.

The general store doubled, as such establishments generally did, as a post office, in which capacity it served as the sole tenuous link between this stark western land and the fashionable cities of the east. The Sears and Roebuck catalogue and that of Montgomery Ward, both prominently displayed beside the till, were tattered and well-thumbed, and the monthly mail delivery never came without piles of brown-wrapped parcels containing the latest in fashion and technology from the wider world—hints at the wonders promised by the new century.

Very little of this prosperity touched the actual residents of Haven. The lives they lived were hard ones, scratched from unforgiving soil, but they were good folk, honest and hard-working. They lived simply and piously and for the most part happily. They tended their gardens and their livestock, read their Bibles, loved their children, and whenever possible sent those children to school.

The Haven school, a single room with two windows, one on either side, and a disproportionate bell-tower on the roof—both this tower and the bell it contained were gifts from a local rancher, who considered them a better use of his money than blackboards or books—was located well away from the town’s main street. It had no fireplace, only a tiny, smoky, potbellied stove, and in the warmer months no breeze blew through the unglazed windows. The pupils sat on simple benches and copied their lessons onto slates that sold at the general store for rather more than their parents could comfortably afford; lessons their teacher laid out for them on a thickly-whitewashed wall with a piece of charcoal, the dust of which stained her fingers and her clothing, and embedded itself beneath her nails so deeply there were times she felt she’d never be free of it.

This teacher’s name, the one she used, was Miss Emma Swan. A solitary and self-contained woman of about twenty-six, far too pretty for a schoolteacher most said, and if pressed these same would likely agree that teaching was not what folks might refer to as her calling. Though none could deny that she did her best and was kind to the children—a thing not always guaranteed from schoolmarms—she exuded such a restless air, an impatience with the tedium of her job and the pace of life in Haven which she did not trouble to conceal, that it was a subject of great curiosity amongst the residents why she continued to stay there.

“I have my reasons,” she would say, whenever anyone dared to broach the subject, “and those reasons are my own.” There it was and there it would remain as far as Emma was concerned, and as the townsfolk knew her to be a courteous woman but one who never minced her words when riled, they declined to press the issue.

By the time Miss Emma Swan had finished up in the schoolroom on this particular late afternoon, the floor swept and the board cleaned and lessons all prepared for the following day, the sun was already slipping behind the craggy rocks at her back and casting upon the town a peculiar sort of distended twilight—shrouded in shadows beneath a glaring blue sky. As she made her way the short distance between the schoolhouse and her own cabin—or rather, the schoolteacher’s cabin, perhaps the most compelling perk of her job—a brisk breeze ruffled the hem of her skirt and the few flyaway hairs that had escaped her tidy Gibson bun. The night would likely be another chilly one, and Emma wondered absently if she had enough wood left to leave the fire high for an extra hour or two or if she should resign herself now to another cold, dark evening spent alone.

The cabin where she lived, she and sixty years of schoolteachers before her, was small and rough like most in Haven and comprised only two rooms: a small bedroom to the rear and a larger space at the front used equally for sitting, cooking, and dining. In this front room was both a fireplace and stove, the latter surprisingly modern and another gift from a different rancher, to the previous teacher. Near this stove sat a small wooden table and two matching chairs; a soft and generous armchair had pride of place before the fire.

The bedroom was by far Emma’s preferred room. The walls in it were painted, in a pale and soothing blue, and on one of them a charming watercolour of forget-me-nots was hung. There was a white wardrobe with a mirrored door, a washstand and a vanity table, and a large bed with a sturdy iron frame. The curtains on the single window were of dotted swiss that Emma had sewn herself, and in the morning when she opened them she was greeted by the colours of the dawn.

Emma removed her buttoned boots the moment she was through the door; they pinched her toes and she disliked wearing them indoors. She replaced them with a well-worn pair of carpet slippers then headed for the bedroom, there to change out of her school clothes and into the more comfortable, loose wrap dress she preferred at home. When she entered the room she had already undone most of the buttons on her high-collared blouse and so made straight for the wardrobe, without so much as a glance at the bed.

The mirror on the wardrobe door as it swung open flashed the brief reflection of a face, just as Emma heard the sound of a chair leg scrape against the bare wood floor. She gasped and spun around, eyes wide and one hand pressed against her chest.

There could be no question that the man currently in occupation of her vanity chair, sprawled in it with an air as casual as it was deceptive, was one who had followed quite a different path of life than that afforded to the residents of Haven. His untidy hair and the thick scruff on his jaw might not be especially remarkable out in this still-wild corner of Wyoming, but the narrow cut of his coat and the embroidery on the waistcoat beneath it, the silver chain of his pocket-watch and the ostentatious knot of his tie marked him as a man who knew his way around a gambling table for both good or ill and could likely acquit himself equally well in both scenarios. A man who dealt with the hardships of life by shooting rather than working his way out of them—as the gleaming six-shooter currently pointed straight at Emma would most certainly attest.

Emma forced herself to breathe, slow and steady. Her heart was pounding. The man greeted her with a brusque nod, and cocked the hammer on his revolver.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, love,” he drawled, in an accent that suited this town less even than his clothes or his gun. “By all means, keep going.”

Emma swallowed hard and with trembling fingers undid the remainder of her buttons. Her blouse hung open to reveal the hooks of the corset underneath.

The man gave his gun a menacing wave. “All the way now, there’s a good lass.”

She shrugged off the blouse and let it fall to the floor.

“And the skirt.”

She unhooked her grey wool skirt and released it to pool around her ankles.

His voice rasped. “Take down your hair.”

Emma shivered.

Three pins and two combs held her hair in place. She removed them, dropped them into the pile of clothing at her feet; the bun tumbled down and over her shoulder.

“Shake your head.”

She did, vigorously. The bun unraveled further and strands of silky blonde fell across her face.

He swallowed audibly. “Now the rest.”

Emma hesitated, fingers hovering over the hooks on her corset. She wore nothing beneath it but a combination made of thin cotton lawn.

The man raised his gun and growled, “All of it.”

She tossed her head back, jutted her chin out high in defiance. Her belly churned with a dark thrill of anticipation as she unhooked the corset and flung it away. He chuckled, low and rough. Emma fumbled with the buttons on her combination as he uncocked his gun and set it aside, then undid the belt designed to hold it. His eyes locked with hers as he stood, pale blue and profoundly tired, eyes that had seen far too much.

She finished with the buttons but left the combination on, parted to reveal a thin strip of pale skin. Her heart thundered as he approached, her breaths short and heaving. He swaggered up and stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the dust and sweat on him, so close she had to tilt her head again to see his face. His hand slipped beneath her shift to curl around her waist, fingers rough on her soft skin.

“I—” Emma gasped as he pulled her closer, flush against him. His voice was a rumbling growl in her ear.

“You what, love?”

“I was expecting you yesterday!” she snapped, and then she kissed him.

“Gold is dead.”

Emma’s head shot up from where it had been resting on the bare and hairy chest of Killian Jones. The most notorious outlaw in three states, or so the Wanted posters would have folks believe. Train robber, bank robber, high-stakes gambler—but only the trains and banks and gambling dens controlled by one particular man. A man in whose side Killian Jones had been an exceptionally troublesome thorn for near to six years. A man whose wife Jones stood accused of murdering. A man who was, it seemed, now dead himself.

Emma stared down at his face, at the sharp definition of his cheekbones and lines of strain around his eyes. Such heavy burdens he’d been carrying for as long as she’d known him, but now, despite the exhaustion writ plain on his face he seemed lighter. Relieved, in some intangible way.

“He is?” she gasped.

“Aye.” Killian nodded, grimly satisfied. “Shot him right through the place where his heart should be. That’s why I was late.”

“Oh, Killian.” It wouldn’t do to feel happy about a murder, even that of a wicked man, but Emma found that she too was grimly satisfied. “You did it.”

“Aye, it’s done. And now I have a price on my head so high I’d turn myself in if I could, and special team of bounty hunters hired by Gold’s son to bring me to him, dead or alive.”

“Oh.” Her fingers flexed on his chest and his tightened where they curled around her hip. “What—what will you do?”

“Leave the country.” He spoke as though the answer were obvious, and Emma supposed it was. “I’ve no choice.”

“Will you go back to England?”

“No. There’s nothing left for me there.” He paused and his hand slid up her back to tangle absently in her hair. “I was thinking South America. Argentina.”

“Argentina?”

“Aye. Land’s selling down there for cheap and I’ve enough saved to buy myself a ranch. I’ve never tried ranching before so it’ll probably be an utter failure, but the idea’s crawled into my head and made itself a nest there, so I think that’s what I’ll do.”

Emma slipped from his arms and out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she took her house dress from the wardrobe and wrapped it around herself, as she tied it at her waist with jerky movements.

“You must be hungry,” she said.

“I could eat.”

“Stew?”

“Perfect.”

In the front room Emma piled wood on the embers in her stove and coaxed a fire to life beneath the pot of stew she’d left on the hob. She swept the ashes from the fireplace, arranged the logs and the kindling, then struck a flint to light it. She could hear Killian in the bedroom washing and dressing in the spare clothes she kept on hand for him, and by the time she sensed his presence behind her the larger logs were catching nicely and the hearty aroma of stew had begun to waft in from the stove.

“Shouldn’t be too long before it’s ready,” she told him without turning around. “There’s cornbread too. It’s a few days old, but—”

“Emma.”

“—it should still be good if you dunk it in the stew.”

“Emma, love.” Killian’s voice was soft, full of the tenderness he showed only to her. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known this day would come, this one or another very like it. She understood the dangers of the life he lived, out on the edges of society, pursued by an influential man with a terrible grudge, and she’d done all she could to make her peace with it. Killian could have died any number of times in the three years of their acquaintance; she had always been aware that every time she bid him farewell might be the last.

And now she knew for certain that it would be. Nothing had changed.

She heard him pull out one of the dining chairs and sit down in it, and though she kept her back to him she he knew he would be leaning his elbow on the table and running a hand over his face. She could picture the gesture in her mind’s eye with perfect clarity, so often had she seen him do it before, and her heart hurt because she knew he only did this when he was deeply troubled.

“Emma, you know—you know why I spent so long trying to kill Gold,” he said roughly.

“For Milah.” Her voice hardly broke on the name. “To avenge her.”

“Yes. That bastard hunted her like an animal, shot her right in front of me then framed me for the crime, and all because she couldn’t bear to spend another moment as his wife. He took her life rather than allow her to live it free from him, because he couldn’t countenance her finding happiness with another man. And I swore to her as she lay dying that I would make him pay for that.”

“Because you love her.”

“I did.” In the silence of the cabin, she could hear the rasp of his scruff against his palm. “I did.”

Emma had been watching the fire, now dancing merrily in the hearth, and it took a beat or two for his words to register. When they did her heart gave a shuddering thump and she spun round to gape at him. “Did?” she repeated.

Killian’s lip quirked and humour flared briefly in his eyes before they became solemn again, and heartrendingly soft. “It’s a funny thing, revenge,” he remarked. “It begins as a simple quest for justice but so easily descends into obsession—almost before a man knows what’s come over him, it’s all he’s got left to live for. That’s how it was for me, for years. Until…”

He trailed off and Emma found she was holding her breath. “Until?” she prompted.

He looked up at her. “Until I met you.”

She inhaled sharply as their eyes met, his own warm and such a brilliant blue, full of an emotion to which she didn’t dare give a name. “I kept after Gold because of my vow to Milah, yes, but also because I had to, because it was him or me. His life or mine. When that bullet pierced his chest and I saw him fall, I realised that it wasn’t about Milah for me anymore and it hadn’t been, not for a long time. I was fighting for my life, my right to have it and to live it in peace. That’s all I want, just peace and a simple life. And you.”

“Me?” gasped Emma, blankly and ungrammatically, as she attempted to grasp what he was saying.

Amusement coloured the tenderness on his face, alongside a hint of exasperation. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Why do you think I kept coming back here?”

She offered a weak smile and an abashed shrug. “My cornbread?” she ventured, and he laughed.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, darling, but your cornbread is dry. Try again.”

Emma elected to ignore this ungentlemanly slur on her culinary skills. “Well… I suppose the town is quite secluded, good for hiding out,” she observed.

“It is that. But that isn’t the reason, love.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You know it isn’t.” Killian stood and moved towards her, slowly as if she were a baby faun he was apt to startle, or possibly a sleeping mountain lion. “It’s you, Emma Swan,” he said softly. “You are what I will always come back for. You are the reason my soul is hale and unconsumed by hatred. Because it wasn’t revenge I was after, in the end. It was the future I wanted with you.”

Tears clogged Emma’s throat and pressed insistently behind her eyes. “Killian,” she choked, “I—”

“Shh.” He closed what small distance remained between them and folded her in an embrace to which she clung tightly, face pressed against his shoulder so the soft flannel of his shirt might absorb her tears. “Emma, I know I have next to nothing to offer you.” Killian stroked her hair soothingly as he spoke. “A tenuous existence in an unfamiliar country, backbreaking work that likely won’t pay off, a struggle for everything we have. I shouldn’t ask this of you. I should have the decency to walk away and let you find happiness with a better man than me.” She could hear tears in his voice now, and when she looked up she saw them glistening in his eyes. “But I won’t,” he continued gruffly. “I can’t, because I am a selfish bastard and I love you. I love you so much, Emma.” His voice broke. “So much. And if you could see your way clear to coming to Argentina with me, I would spend every day I have left on this earth working to make you happy.”

A rush of joy filled Emma Swan then, joy such as she had never known before. Her tears fell freely and unheeded as she tightened her hold on the man she loved and pressed her forehead to his own. In that stance they remained for some considerable time, until Emma became aware that the silence had drawn out far too long and she must speak. There were words he needed to hear from her, crucial words, and yet Miss Emma Swan, despite being quite a competent schoolteacher in all respects including her vocabulary, had always found words failed her when in the grip of strong emotion.

“Did I ever tell you I grew up on a ranch?” she blurted, then shook her head. That wasn’t what she’d wished to say.

Killian’s brow wrinkled. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“My daddy’s place out near Casper,” Emma pressed on. “A thousand acres of cattle, mostly, and some horses.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It was.” She snuffled and shifted until her head was resting on his shoulder and she felt cradled in his arms. This wasn’t the speech she’d planned but now she found herself determined to give it. “I was his only child, his only family after my mama died, and he reared me all my life to take over from him,” she continued. “But then when I was nineteen he got married again, and had a son. And suddenly ranching was ‘no job for a woman,’ or so he said, and I should look into teaching instead. Or better still get married and become some man’s pretty possession. Preferably the son of a neighbouring rancher, ‘for the future of our family’s land and legacy’.” She paused, remembering, and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Killian’s laugh rumbled through the both of them. “That’s my tough lass,” he said, with a pride in his voice that warmed her, and made her desperate.

“But you do know what I’m saying, don’t you Killian?” she persisted. “You hear what I’m telling you?”

“What I hear is that in addition to being beautiful and brilliant and tough as old boots, you also know how to run a ranch. Which would be bloody useful I must admit, as I haven’t got the first faint clue where to start. Is that what you wanted me to understand?”

She nodded in relief. “That’s it.”

He brushed the hair back from her face with fingers gentle as the wing of a butterfly. “And is that... all you have to say?”

She felt caught in his eyes, and like to drown in them. “There may be one more thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s that I—I—” Emma drew a steadying breath. “I love you too, Killian, and of course I’ll go to Argentina with you.” A smile broke across his face, that rare and brilliant smile of his that set her heart to soaring and broke the dam that held her words in check. “I’d go anywhere with you,” she declared, laughing as he squeezed her tight. “To the moon. To hell itself, and then back out again.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

He leaned down to her and she swayed up to him and their lips met in a kiss that sang of love and of hope and of a most solemn promise, if something of a dramatic one. He dipped her back and kissed her until she was dizzy and overcome with laughter, and then swung her up again and into a dance.

Emma put her head on his shoulder and leaned into him as they danced to music they alone could hear, all around the cabin with the aroma of stew in the air and hope for the future in their hearts.

The disappearance of Miss Emma Swan, schoolteacher and respected resident, shook the town of Haven, Wyoming as nothing had before. Even the escape and subsequent stampede down Main Street of Mr Murchison’s pigs had caused less consternation, since, as the residents all agreed, for that at least there was an explanation. A rusty gate hinge, investigation later revealed, had been the culprit behind the Spectacular Pig Hullabaloo of 1893, whereas Miss Swan had simply vanished, with no explanation given or obvious method of egress. She owned no horse and had not boarded the stage; no one matching her description had been observed at the train station in Casper or anywhere else that a woman alone on foot might reasonably have been expected to turn up. She had taken nothing with her save some clothes and a few books and left nothing behind but a brief letter hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper—her resignation from her position as schoolteacher effective immediately, and a recommendation for her replacement.

Haven residents were thoroughly baffled, and for many months afterwards the Fantastical Vanishing of Miss Emma Swan was the number one topic of conversation amongst them. Theories were dismantled nearly as quickly as they had been constructed, replaced by newer and ever more fanciful speculations, and each resident had his or her own pet notion as to how and why the trick was done. Rarely had they felt so stimulated or enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, however time, as it inevitably does, soon began quite noticeably to pass, and the town’s attention moved on to other happenings. For although new events in such a quiet place may never again be as deliciously sensational as the mystery of the vanished schoolmarm, they do possess the not insignificant advantage of being new.

And thus Emma Swan passed into Haven legend.

Some years later, on the eve of her wedding, Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard—soon to be Mrs David Nolan—sat at the very table where Miss Swan’s letter had been left and composed a letter of her own, to an old friend she’d first met at the State Normal School of Colorado. In her letter Miss Blanchard informed her friend of the imminent blessed day and thanked her for the recommendation that had not only brought Miss Blanchard many years of enjoyable work as schoolteacher to Haven’s children but also led, in that roundabout way life sometimes takes, to her current state of blissful happiness.

This letter travelled by mail coach from the Haven general store—where Miss Blanchard posted it to the care of a P.O. Box in San Francisco—to the main post office in Casper. From there it went via train to Cheyenne, where it was loaded onto the mail car of the Union Pacific Railway and thence made its journey to the west coast. In San Francisco its fortunes underwent a curious change, for it was redirected by a clerk there, in accordance with instructions, and placed back on the Union Pacific, headed this time for Denver. From Denver it voyaged onwards to Kansas City, then Chicago, and finally to New York, where it abandoned train travel forever in favour of a steam ship bound for Buenos Aires.

Upon arrival at port it was placed in the charge of a courier who carried it along with a scant handful of others over the rough roads of the Argentinian coast to Puerto Santa Cruz and then inland, where it finally, many months after its departure, came to rest at a tiny, dusty outpost in southern Patagonia. And it was from this inauspicious locale that the letter was collected, at long last, by its intended recipient—a woman none of the residents of Haven nor indeed the erstwhile Miss Blanchard herself would be likely to recognise as Emma Swan.

The clothes she wore were utilitarian in design and plain in colour, liberally coated in fine brown dust. Her pale hair hung loose and wavy down her back, and her face beneath her wide-brimmed hat was tanned and marked around the eyes with the fine lines characteristic of those who spend a good deal of time squinting into bright sunlight. But these were superficial changes. The woman who collected the well-travelled letter and rode with it back to her ranch, who sat at the table in her kitchen and read it with a wide smile and sincere pleasure at the news from her friend—this woman was happy, as Emma Swan had surely never been. It was a happiness born of deep contentment and the satisfaction of a life lived on one’s own terms. And it was the happiness of a woman who is loved.

Emma was reading the letter a fourth time when the sound of boots on the porch alerted her to Killian’s arrival; she looked up just as he came through the door with a smile on her lips the like of which neither Mrs Nolan nor any other in Haven could ever imagine her smiling.

Killian hung his hat on a hook and met its brilliance with a smile of his own. “What are you thinking about, love, that has you so radiant?” he inquired.

“A letter from Mary Margaret.” Emma indicated the sheet of paper in her hand. “She’s getting married. Is married now, I suppose.”

“To a fellow worthy of her, I hope?”

“A rancher, but not one of the arrogant ones,” Emma replied. “I think he is. Worthy of her, I mean. I think they’ll be happy.”

“That’s good news indeed.”

“It is.” She set the letter aside and went over to him, tucked her head beneath his chin as he enfolded her in his arms. “But that’s not why I’m radiant, as you say.”

“I say it only because it’s true, darling.”

“It’s because I’m happy,” said Emma softly. She nuzzled her nose against his neck; he smelled of sweat and dust and horses. “For Mary Margaret, of course, but also for me. It struck me just now, reading her letter, how happy I am. I’m so happy, Killian.”

His arms around her tightened and she felt him stroke her hair, and when he spoke his voice was gruff. “No regrets then, about abandoning everything you’ve ever known to live out your days on the lam with me?”

“Nope.” Emma pulled back just enough to look up at him, to caress his cheek with her fingertips and press her forehead to his. “No regrets at all.”

Historical Note: Emma in this fic is based loosely on a woman named Etta Place. Very little is known about her, but she is thought to have been romantically involved with Harry Longabaugh, a.k.a. the Sundance Kid, and to have accompanied him and Butch Cassidy to South America. However, verifiable details about her are scarce—even her real name is uncertain—and only one photograph of her remains. Some believe she may have been a prostitute but in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the writer chose to make her a teacher instead, and honestly I have always found that such a compelling tale. A “proper” schoolteacher having a secret affair with an outlaw, then running away with him to another continent? The romance, am I right?

And thus the inspiration for this story.

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @killianjones-twopointoh @mariakov81 @stahlop @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @snowbellewells

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #cshistfic #captain swan #western au #historical fic #historical romance #Emma is a teacher #killian is an outlaw #many many historical details #like so many #i make no apologies for this #it's more of a warning #the outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)#profdanglaisstuff

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talpup · 3 years

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Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

IMPORTANT NOTE: Also, there’s a very small part in this chapter that turned out a bit more spicy than planned. It’s not explicit and definitely not enough to change the fics tags, clothes stay on and nothing happens under them. But since it’s a bit more steamy than I had planned I decided to mark where the spice starts and ends for anyone wanting to skip it.

Chapter 97

Teris stepped into the great room surprised to see Yami there. “I thought you were going to tend to the wolves.”

“Is that why you chose now to leave?” Yami asked, closing a book and getting to his feet.

“And just where do you think I’m going?” Teris tossed back.

“So you are leaving.” Yami said, both aggravated that she had attempted to sneaking off and proud at how well he knew her. “I’ll go with you.”

“You will?” Teris questioned.

“What? I helped save them.” Yami said.

“I didn’t claim otherwise.”

“Then?”

“It’s just--” Teris released a breath with a slight shake of her head. “Never mind. You’re more then welcomed to come.”

“Good we can talk about what you did down there on the way.” Yami said.

“What did I do?” Teris asked.

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

Teris sighed. “I knew what you would say and made a choice.”

“You’re damned right I would have stopped you. Alowishus said it was trying to decide if you were you, what with him having given you some of his mana.” Yami’s fist clenched at the memory of it.

It wasn’t so much that Alowishus had pressed his lips to Teris’. Though Yami certainly hadn’t likedthat. It was the fact that the man had forced his mana upon her. According to Julius, Alowishus forcing his mana into Teris’system had born sizable risk to Teris’ life if her system hadn’t accepted it but was too weak to expel or assimilate it. The fact that Teris had gone along with Alowishus’ plans for them to open the vault doors without fully explaining the risks involved,made Yami cross with her. Sure he understood why she’d done it. But even so, Yami never would have allowed her to take such a chance with her life. The fact that Nozel and Fuegoleon would have agreed with him, even knowing what it would mean for the them, made Yami all the more adherent to his stance.

Yami stepped in front of her, grasping her arms. “Teris, look at me.”

Teris stared back at Yami, impatient and annoyed by the continuation of the topic. Sorry as she was that she had in essence deceived Yami, she wasn’t sorry about what she did. Mana only knows what Alowishus would have done to them if she refused. Nozel and Fuegoleon certainly would have been put to death.

Seeing her petulant expression, Yami snapped. “I need you to listen. This is important.”

“Fine.” Teris snipped back.

Yami ground his teeth, the two staring at each other. Finally he told. “Don’t you ever take a chance like that with your life again. You hear me? I need you to promise me, Teris.”

“I can’t promise you that. I’m a Magic Knight, same as you. Could you promise me such a thing?”

Yami was silent.

“Well?” Teris pressed.

“That’s different.” Yami rumbled.

“Why? Cause you’re a man?”

Yami scoffed. “No.”

“Then why?”

“Cause I’m not half as important as you.”

Teris frowned. “Yes you are.”

Yami gave a mirthless smirk. “I’m a poor, foul mouthed, ill tempered, irreverent foreigner.”

Teris cupped his cheek, other hand resting on his chest. “Yami. You are so much more than that. You are… You’re everything to me.”

Yami clasped her neck, palm lifting her chin. He pressed his forehead to hers, her dark eyes filling his vision. “That’s why you can’t ever chance your life like that again, Ikigai. You’re my everything. The reason I get up and do what I do, and go on. I can’t lose you. I refuse to lose--” He stopped and swallowed, remembering how he had lost her for a few seconds that had felt more like an eternity the morning of the Summer Solstice.

Finger tracing his stubbled jaw, Teris looked sadly at him. “Yami, I love you. But even in a world without crazies interested in us,I can’t promise you that.” Her hand lowered, joining the other one on his chest. Pulling her forehead from his, she went on. “But I promise I’ll try never to take such chances. Will that work for you?”

“Hardly.” Yami huffed. His thumb tenderly caressed her cheek. “But I’ll take it.”

Teris gripped his wrist, pulling his hand down from her face. “Will you promise me the same?”

“Are we exchanging vows here? Can I make you mine, Princess?” Yami grabbed her waist, pulling her against his solid frame.

Teris knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to get out of making the same promise she’d made. Annoyed, she tried to come up with a response but was too flustered by his words and desirous gaze.

Yami smirked crookedly. “I got all sorts of promises I’ll be making you the day you fully give yourself to me. Fair warning, most aren’t be for public ears.”

Teris’ own ears warmed, blush deepening. Swallowing her nerves, she met his gaze and tried to match his toying, lustfulsmile with one of her own. “I hope you plan on giving more than words if such a day ever comes to pass.”

Yami pressed closer his hands sliding down to her hips and around to her ass. Pulling her into him, his large hands squeezed and lifted her to her toes. “Just you wait, Princess. I got all sorts of things planned.”

Teris shivered at the low rumble of his voice. Though the lady she had been taught to be told her to shrink away and scold him, she instead listened to her inner wanting, reveling in the trusted freedom she had with Yami.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Teris pulled him down and kissed him.

Yami’s hands panned up her butt to wrap around her waist. Leaning over her, he returned her kiss with hungry excitement.

Teris sighed into his mouth, hands tugging at his hair.

It wasn’t long before Yami had to pull away. Breaking the kiss, he turned his hip to her. It was his own fault. His thoughts and words, coupled with the feel of her had excited him enough to make things stir.

“Done already?” Teris asked, looking disappointed. She gave a playful pout. “You’re not giving me much hope for these so called plans of yours.”

Yami gave a throaty growl. Taking her words as a challenge, he told himself would surpass his limits of self control and deny his wanting till he left her dizzy and breathless. Leering over her, he backed her up, large hands on her hips.

Teris lowered her hands, reaching back to feel for the wall that she knew was there.

“Why do you suddenly look nervous?” Yami teased with a predatory smile.

“I—I’m not--”

Yami swooped down and kissed her,cutting off her words. His bodypressed into hers as hedeepenedthe kiss, tongue dancing with hers.

Teris’ lips became delightfully sore from the pressure. Her face raw from his sandpaper like stubble. Still, she kissed him back. Heady relief that she, Yami, Nozel, and Fuegoleon had made it out alive two days ago mixed with her love and desire for Yami.

**** extra spicy bit starts ****

She pressed back against Yami as he pressed her against the wall. Just when she thought she would faint from lack of air, Yami pulled away only to dive to the curve of her neck. He kissed and nipped as he slowly made his way up to the tender point just below her ear. His tongue leaked out to trace its way up to her earlobe which he flicked and nibbled.

“Yami...” Teris’ hands ran up his arms, trimmed finger nails pricking his skin ever so lightly.

Yami gave a low hum in reply. He nuzzled deeper into her neck when she tried to turn and return the favor. His hand lifted, clasping her just beneath the jaw. Gently, he turned and tilted her head, better exposing her neck.

Taking his hand, Teris kissed it. Her teeth plucked at the calloused skin of his fingers. Yami laced his fingers with hers, knowing that if she took one of his fingers between her lips he would be finished. Just the thought of it made things below his belt twitch. At that he gave another throaty hum which turned into a soft, low growl of frustrated wanting when Teris arched her back her breasts pressing into him.

He took her other hand and pinned both her arms to her side. Teris strained against his hold wanting to touch him.

Yami lifted from her neck wearing a grin. “Let’s see how long you can keep your hands off me.”

He slowly releasing his hold. Teris reached for him, but Yami gripped her wrists pressing them back against the wall.

“You’re not even trying.”

“Where’s my incentive?” Teris questioned, hips swaying. There was that familiar pulsing warmth in her core that Yami often caused, her legs squeezed together trying and satiate the need.

Yami slowly looked her over. Seeing the slight dance of her hips, his lips curled upward. The year and a half till her twentieth birthday seemed painfully far away. But he was set on waiting until they were wed. Even if he thought he had a chance of convincing her otherwise, which he didn’t, they were faced with so much as it was.

Seeing her like that. Realizing that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It should’ve been enough to make him step back and let them both calm. But he didn’t.

Smirking, Yami told. “You keep your hands to yourself till I’m done with you, and you can have anything you want.”

“Elaborate what you mean by anything.”

Yami’s eyes pulled over her form. “Anything.”

“That certain you’ll win this little game of yours?” Teris grinned, warming to the idea.

Yami didn’t reply. In all honesty, her tone only heightened his wanting and made things all the harder on him. But he didn’t caring about winning in this case. He simply didn’t want to stop yet and thought this tactic might help his cause.

Teris’ arms relaxed in his hands. “Fine. Have at me.”

Yami groaned. Her words. The huskiness of her voice. The look in her eye. She wasn’t playing fair.

Teris gave a surprised squeak and bliss filled laugh when Yami pounced.

Yami’s lips latched onto her collarbone. Arm snaking around her waist, his other hand gripped the back of her thigh lifting it his side. His hip pressed against her core.

Teris’ laughter ceased with a hitched in take of breath. Her head fell back against the wall further exposing her neck to him. Yami gladly took the invitation, lower lip pulling up her bared throat. Her hands moved to touch him; but she wasn’t about to lose this game so easily. Pressing her arms against the wall, her fingers curled into fists.

Yami tugged at her raised, held thigh. A soft, short moan escaped her. Lashes fluttering against her cheeks, Teris pressed her kiss swollen lips between her teeth trying to stifle any further noise.

Yami began to gently pull at her thigh and hip in time with every forward thrustof his hip.

Teris’ hands lifted, grasping her wrists above head. Breath uneven, she trembled with desire.

“Yami...” Teris exhaled in a needy moan.

Nipping along the line of her jaw, Yami made his way to her lips. He kissed her just as she released another moan. His chest reverberated in a responding groan. He released her thigh, his hand lifting to cup the back of her neck. Deepening the kiss, his other hand trailed up from her hip and curved around her ribs. His thumb came to rest just beneath her breast. He felt the tension within her change slightly. But when his hand didn’t move any further she relaxed and melted back into him, giving herself over to the heady feelings and sensations he caused.

His hip ceased thrusting and began to grind against her. Teris rewarded him with a long throaty moan, her body both tensing and easing at the same time. Yami’s hand pivoted, fingers sweeping up from her side to cup her breast. He followed her as she tried to break the kiss. His other hand, still cupping her neck, holding her in place.

Teris’ hands had dropped to Yami’s chest. But all thought of pushing at him to stop, fell away when Yami’s thumb swiped across the perk sensitive bud covered by her top and bra. Her body thrummed at the pleasurable jolt. She tired to suck in a breath, but with Yami’s mouth still attached to hers, was unable to.

Teris’ fingers clawed at Yami’s bicep. She wanted more. Needed more. And Yami gave her exactly that. His thumb traced around the pebbled peak as his hip moved in tandem against her core. Though she clearly enjoyed it. It wasn’t the response he had been hoping for. Experimentally, he ran the pad of his thumb back and forth over her excited flesh. Teris’ chest heaved, giving another mewling moan.

Changing his dance, Yami’s hip and thumb swiped in opposite directions as they pressed into her. He felt Teris’ body shudder, her muscle clenching and releasing only to tighten and release again and again. Not wanting to drown out the perfect sounds she was making, his lips moved onto her neck.

Teris whined, breath coming in starts and stops. “Yami.”

There was a growing tightness in her abdomen. The wetness in her underwear so that, if she weren’t lost in the throws of the moment, she would’ve worried it had seeped through and showed on her pants.

Teris pulled at Yami’s shoulder, other hand running up the back of his neck. All that existed was Yami, and the feeling his movements caused within her.

Her head rolled forward to rest on his shoulder. “Yami...”

The coil in her center tightened further. Yami’s strong body pressed harder against her as if trying to become one. What was left of Teris’ thinking mind wondered if this was what was meant when they said man and wife would become one flesh. The thought brought on a completely different kind of jolt. They had said they were going to wait. Yami had said he wanted to wait just as much as she did. They had to stop.

“Yami.” Teris said, voice more sober but still heady.

Her eyes fluttered open, mind caught between the unthinking tide of pleasure and wanting to tell him to stop. Only she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to continue until the coil within her snapped.

“Oh, Yami.” Teris mewled, melting back into him.

**** extra spicy bit end****

A burst of light from over Yami’ shoulder pulled at her attention. Teris blinked, seeing a darkened silhouette. Her muscles tensed for a completely different reason. Her hand dropped from Yami’s neck to push at his chest, other hand patting at his shoulder. They were no longer alone.

“Yami.” Teris whispered.

Still, Yami continued.

Eyes adjusting to the brightest of the incoming light, Teris recognized the figure. “Nozel!”

Nothing could have brought Yami out of the moment quicker. His head pulled back, movements instantly ceasing. “Nozel?”

Yami saw Teris’ wide eyes trained over his shoulder. A short, angry growl rumbled from his chest. Now that his focus wasn’t drawn to better things, he could sense the other mans raging Ki. For mana sake, why couldn’t he and Teris get a moments peace? What was the damned Ball of Pride doing here anyway? Wasn’t he suppose to be recovering at Healers Hall or something?

Yami let Teris push him back a step. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he balled them into fists to better hide the tent in his pants.

His eyes trailed over Teris wondering again how much she knew about sex or a mans body. Even if her mother had lived, Yami didn’t know what the ranking class taught their young unwed daughters. It wasn’t as if he could ask Julius about it. He considered just asking Teris. But even with them both wanting a relationship of free and open communication, some topics would have to wait until they were wed.

Nozel stood as still as a statue. Boiling inside, he wanted to lash out and end Yami Sukehiro. He wanted to demand to know what the hell Teris, his Intended, thought she was doing. But he couldn’t find the words. He was so shocked he couldn’t even move enough to tear his eyes away from the scandalous disarray of Teris’ hair.

Jax entered the great room from the back hallway. He lifted Teris’ report, squinting. Mana he swore her scrawl was worse than Yami’s. It was almost as messy as Julius’. He shook his head. Julius better get use to writing in a neater hand. The Magic Knights would find themselves in a bad way with a Wizard King whose penmanship no one could decipher.

“Yami. Can you read— Nozel?” Jax stopped.

The Black Bulls Captain blinked in surprise. They had said Fuegoleon’s injuries were worse; but still, even after two days of constant healing spells he would've figured the Silver Eagles Vice Captain would still be at Healer’s Hall or at least convalescing at home.

Nozel didn’t even turn to acknowledge the Black Bulls Captain.

Jax followed Nozel’s gaze. First he saw Yami and wondered what the man had said or done to antagonize the royal this time. Then he caught sight of Teris, who he had thought had already left to visit the Crimson Lion and Silver Eagle Vice Captain's. Taking in Teris’ somewhat disheveled state, Jax instantly pieced together what Nozel had walked in on.

Sighing, Jax muttered to himself. He felt annoyed on Yami and Teris’ behalf. Given all of Julius’ rules, meant to keep Yami safe from further attempts by Nathyn Silva, this was the only place the young couple could truly be a couple. And now Nozel had walked in making them, well at least Teris, feel uncomfortable at even that. Granted it wasn’t Nozel’s fault; but it didn’t change how aggravating the situation was.

“Yami. I need your help with this.” Jax called, lifting Teris’ report.

Yami turned to the Captain. It would probably be best for all of them if he left Teris to handle this anyway. He gave Jax a nod. Still facing Teris, back to Nozel, he lowered his head and uttered. “Go ahead and visit the Lion Cub without me. See you later, yeah?”

Teris nodded, mutely. Yami ran his hand down her arm as he took another step back and followed Jax down the hall.

Nozel watched Yami’s fingers trail across Teris’ stomach as the man walked away. Saw Teris’ slight tremble at the contact. He told himself it was because she found Yami’s touch revolting., but knew better.

As badly as he would rather turn away and leave, Nozel stepped fully inside. His hand slapped the front door closed, flinty blue eyes never leaving Teris’.

Teris jumped slightly at the slamming door. She shouldn’t feel guilty; but she did. Frowning at the feeling, her kiss swollen lips pressed together. She wondered if her mouth and neck looked as hot and red they felt, tender from the pressure of Yami’s kisses and scrapped by his stubble.

The awkward discomfort grew turning seconds into minutes.

A small wicked part in Teris heartlessly thought that maybe Nozel would finally believe that she wouldn't obey Fyntch and marry him. She hated herself for the thought. Nozel was her friend. She didn’t want to hurt him. If only he didn’t care about her that way.

“I’m glad to see you’re up and released. We,” she glanced over her shoulder down the hall where Yami had long since disappeared with Jax, “were just going to visit you and Leon.”

Nozel stared at her without word.

Teris cleared her throat. “Are you alright?”

“I wouldn’t have been released if I wasn’t.” Nozel clipped, coolly.

“And Leon?” Teris asked.

“Likely released tomorrow.” Nozel answered, shortly. He began to turn back to the door.

Teris took another step toward him, hand reaching out.

Nozel eyes lowered to her hovering hand. Unlike usual, there was little inclination to bridge the gap and connect with her. He had known, had imagined the things she and Yami did. Having seen the marks Yami once left on her neck, it was all too easy to picture the allowances Teris let the foreigner have. Even so, Nozel had scolded himself. Told himself that his imaginings were so much worse than what actually went on. He had been wrong. So very wrong.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I was so worried.” Teris said. The unwelcome memory of him and Fuegoleon hanging from the tree, blood dripping from them, filled her mind. Nozel’s stifled screams followed by his cry of pain echoed in her ears. She shook the image and remembered sound away, unable to bear it.

“Fine.” Nozel’s voice caught. He coughed lighted and stepped away, turning. “I should go.”

Teris stepped after him. “Nozel. But—you just got here. Don’t you want to--” Want to what, she wondered feeling foolish. Stay here and draw out this clear discomfort between them? She wasn’t going to apologize for what Nozel had walked in on. Sure she and Yami had once again gone too far; but that had nothing to do with Nozel. Guilty as she felt for whatever hurt it may have caused him, she wasn’t ashamed. She wished Nozel didn’t like her. Why did he have to like her?

Nozel stopped but didn’t turn back to face her. He couldn’t bare to look at her anymore. Couldn’t bare the sight of her kiss swollen lips. Couldn't stand the sight of her reddened mouth and neck which had been scratched raw by Yami’s few days growth; because the ill bred peasant foreigner refused to regularly shave like a civilized person.

“I was just released from the healers.” Nozel said, not mentioning that this was the first place he had come. He had needed to see Teris. Needed to know she was alright. Well now he knew, she was more than alright. He swallowed the bitter bile that rose in his throat. “Several Crimson Lions were visiting Fuegoleon when I left. If you’re truly interested seeing him, I’d wait a couple hours for him to rest and recoup some energy.”

Teris fidgeted, plucking at her fingers. “Of course I truly want to see him. I wanted to see the both of you. To see for myself that you were truly okay.”

Nozel’s eyes closed. He hated how her words both soothed and stung. Why did he have to love her? How had he even fallen for her? They were so different. It wasn’t as if she had led him on or given him hope. Was he really that in need of affection that what little she had given him as a friend had sparked an interest that grew into this love that was now his doom? If so, how did he get over it? How did he get over her?

“Nozel. I’m so sorry about what happened. You and Leon being taken by the Agents of Chaos because of--”

“Stop.” Nozel silenced. He couldn’t say what upset him more; the fact that he first thought her apology was for the allowances she afforded Yami, or that she was blaming herself for what those lunatics had done. He turned on his heel, blue eyes piercing her dark ones as he avoid looking anywhere else on her. “What the Agents of Chaos did wasn’t your fault.”

Teris’ mouth clamped shut. She wanted to argue; but her guilt would only make him feel worse, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Nozel’s head lowered in shame. He was the reason Fuegoleon was still at Healer’s Hall recovering. They had tortured the Vermillion until Nozel had broke and answered their questions. His shame built at having broken and answered their questions. But Fuegoleon would have died if he hadn’t. But he had told them things about Teris… It was a spiraling cycle that would bury him and seeing Teris made it that much worse. Why had he come? Why couldn't he have just trusted the reports that said she was alright? Why did he love her so much? Why couldn’t she love him?

As if reading some of his thoughts, Teris told. “It makes no difference what you told them, so long as you and Leon are safe and alive.” Unbidden images from two nights ago flicked through her mind once again. Overcome with relief, she rushed the rest of the way to him and hugged him. “I’m just so thankful that you’re alright. I was so worried.”

Nozel stood there trying to resist the urge to hug her back. He lasted all of a second before his arms lifted and returned her embrace. “You’re not the only one who was concerned. Promise me you’ll never bargain your life and safety like that again.” Though his tone was stern he silently pleaded, even if you never promise me another thing again, promise me that.

Teris exhaled, annoyed and amused. “You sound like Yami.”

Nozel bristled. He pulled away from her, voice rising in temper and volume. “I beg your pardon!”

“No Magic Knight could make such a promise.” Teris said.

Nozel wanted to argue that she wasn’t just a Magic Knight. That she was his Intended. His beloved. His friend. But he held his tongue. “I need to check in with Captain Kess and work on my report. I have a full debriefing tomorrow morning and would like my report ready to hand over by then, if not sent in later today.”

“Please don’t over do it. You were only just released from the healers.” Teris said.

Nozel gave a curt nod but didn’t make any promises.

97.2

Without invitation Yami plopped down in one of the chairs in front of Jax’s desk. Jax closed the office door and made his way around the desk easing into his seat.

“Did you really need me, or were you just trying to get me out of there to spare the Royal Bird?” Yami asked.

“It’s unlike you to sound so petty and jealous.” Jax commented.

Yami scoffed. “What do I have to be jealous about?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not jealous. Just pent up and aggravated.”

“I noticed.” Jax’s eyes darted down to the bulge in Yami’s pants, quickly lifting back to meet the mans gaze.

Yami growled and crossed his arms. “I just want a moment of undisturbed peace. Is that too much to ask?”

“Until you can better control yourself, I don’t think you and Teris should be spending a sizable length of time alone. That is unless you changed your mind about wanting to wait for certain things.” The Captain’s brows rose in silent query.

“No. I mean, yeah. I was in control of myself.”

Jax sat back sighing. This would be so much easier if Teris wasn’t Julius’ sister. Sure he looked out for every member of his squad no matter their rank or age; but Julius being his closest living friend added a whole other level of responsibility.

“Nozel’s scheduled to be debriefed tomorrow morning. I want you there with me.” Jax told.

Yami sat forward, remembering Alowishus had said he had tortured the Silver Eagle and Crimson Lion into answering his questions. Given the state Fuegoleon and Nozel had been in, Yami figured neither had been all that forthcoming. But Alowishus had said they eventually broke. “What kind of questions were they asked?”

“I don’t know. But considering who was doing the asking, is there any doubt it was about you and Teris?”

Yami’s teeth pressed together. He was tempted to march back out to the great room and demanded answers from Nozel now.

“Ellara will be there. So I need you to do whatever it is you do to relax and calm that temper yours.”

“I’m fine.” Yami rumbled.

“No. You’re not. You’re clearly angry, and rightly so. But on top of that you’ve been more easily annoyed than usual.”

“You’re annoying me.” Yami stared across the desk telling himself that he couldn’t hit the Captain. That Jax had a point, and if he was thinking clearly he wouldn’t even want to hit him.

“That’s exactly what I mean. You have a short enough fuse as it is. But for the passed month or so that fuse has been near nonexistent.” Jax said.

I’ve been struggling with this heightened temper for well more than a month, Yami thought, anger bubbling near the surface. It’s just that he had begun to lose his battle with controlling the shortened temper this passed month.

“Either you get a handle on whatever’s been bugging you by tomorrow morning or I’m not taking you.” Jax went on.

“You’re not taking Teris!” Yami stormed, feeling an overwhelming swell of protective possessiveness that wasn’t like his usual self.

The only reason Jax didn’t say he was the Captain and could do whatever he wanted was because he could see Yami’s inner struggle to control himself. “Of course not. The last thing Teris or Nozel need is for her to be there while he relays what he likely feels is a betrayal.”

“Any answer he gave them was a betrayal.” Yami said.

Jax almost spoke in Nozel’s defense; but realized that in the state Yami was in, it wouldn’t make a difference. Shaking his head, he told. “Just get this extra aggression out of your system and be ready to go before breakfast.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me?” Yami asked.

Jax’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tell you what?”

Yami shrugged. “Don’t know. But there’s something you’ve been hiding for a couple weeks now.”

Jax thought of the journal sitting in his desk drawer that he had found thanks to Iban’s very belated confession about his family’s past. The journal Marx had used his magic to copy; and Julius had asked him not to tell Yami and Teris about just yet. Even Greywright had agreed with the Azure Deers Captain; though the Knights Commander hadn’t ordered him to keep quiet. After the Agent of Chaos, Flic, had turned himself in, Jax had decided he was going to tell his Vice Captain's about the journal. But that was before Fuegoleon and Nozel, and Yami and Teris had been taken. Even with it over and the four Vice Captain's safely returned, Jax had changed his mind and decided to wait for at least a few days.

“That Ki of yours tell you that?” Jax asked.

Yami shrugged a shoulder. “Ki, knowing how things work, and a tiny bit of guessing.”

Jax huffed. Thanks to Yami’s sense of Ki, he was able to read him almost as well as Bronn had. “I’ll tell you--”

“Jax.” Commander Greywright’s voice sounded from the communication orb sitting on the bureau behind him.

“I’m in a meeting with one of my Vice Captain's.” Jax said, so the Knights Commander knew he wasn’t alone should anything be confidential.

“Good. Bring whoever it is too.” Greywright responded.

“Bring where--” Jax’s question died on his lips as Cob stepped through a portal and into his office.

“Hidy ho.” Cob waved.

Yami and Jax shared a look.

Pushing out of his chair, Jax exhaled. “You heard the Commander. Let’s go.”

97.3

Disappointed that Fuegoleon had still been asleep but glad to see he had been resting peacefully, Teris turned the corner and nearly bumped into Mereoleona.

“Leaving Leon’s?” The Crimson Lion Captain asked.

Teris nodded. “He was resting but it was good to see him just the same.”

“Then maybe I should wait before going in. I’d likely tell him to wake up and get to work, and we both know he needs the rest.” Mereoleona took in her cousin’s downcast face. “Hey. You’re not being stupid and thinking this is all your fault are you? I’ll knock some sense into you if you are.”

Even though she was, Teris shook her head. “I just wish Leon and I hadn’t argued at Nebra’s party.”

Mereoleona’s eyes narrowed. “I thought I told you to enjoy things while you could.”

“Yeah, well that’s easier said then done.” Teris snapped.

The Captain arched an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Teris apologized. Looking down at her feet, she mumbled. “But it is.”

Mereoleona sighed. “I could use a drink. You look like you need one too. Come on.”

“What kind of drink?”

Mereoleona looked at Teris out of the corner of her eye. “I know you’re not that stupid or innocent.”

“There is something I would like to ask you about.” Teris said, more to herself.

Hearing, Mereoleona smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble, again.”

Teris bristled. “What do you mean, again?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself, but I’ll say it again, you’re not that stupid.” Mereoleona threw her arm around Teris’ shoulder and led her down the hall. “You can ask all you like at the pub. I’ll even let you pay first round.”

97.3.2

Seated in a corner table at the Boiling Brew, Teris looked about in interest. She might not have been a perfect royal lady; but she was upstanding enough to stay away from pubs in Black Magic Alley. Taking the place in she didn’t see the difference. Was it just the pubs location that carried a stigma? Because it looked like any other bar she had been in.

Mereoleona clearly came here quite often as the waitress asked her cousin if she wanted the usual. Even though it was a bit early in the day and there was no occasion for it, Teris ordered a stout thinking the drink would help settle her nerves.

Teris tried to pay for the drinks after they arrived. Mereoleona laughed and waved her off.

“I was joking about you paying first round.” Mereoleona turned to the waitress. “Put it on my tab, Lisbet.” Looking back at Teris, she teased. “Unless you’re wanting to open up a monthly tab of your own.”

Teris’ eyes widened. “No, no.” She gave the waitress a polite smile. “Not at this time. Thank you.”

“You can be so cruel, Leona.” Lisbet chuckled, shaking her head at the Magic Knights Captain. She patted Teris’ forearm. “No worries, lass. We’ll be happy to serve you if you ever come again.”

Back straight, Teris watched the waitress turn and go.

“Ease up. It’s just us. There’s no older brothers, stuffed up royals, or Silva’s here to judge you.” Mereoleona told, sitting back in her seat.

The tension in Teris’ shoulders eased.

“Take a drink and tell me what’s going on.” Mereoleona ordered.

Teris took a small sip. Looking at her cousin over the rim of the mug, she took another, longer draw of alcohol.

Mereoleona chuckled when Teris took a third quaff. Picking up her own mug, the Vermillion took a swig. “Better?”

“A bit.” Teris took one more sip before placing her half empty mug on the table.

Mereoleona sobered. If half a pint of beer wasn’t enough to fully relax the her then what Teris wanted to talk about must really be troubling. “What’s going on?”

“I—I wanted to ask— I want to ask about...” Teris stopped and fidgeted.

“Spit it out.” Mereoleona commanded, impatient nature getting the best of her.

“It’s only—with my mother gone I never learned such things.” Teris said. Sighing, she muttered. “That’s if mother would have told me about them at all.”

Mereoleona frowned. Teris wasn’t looking for sympathy. Even if she were, she had come to the wrong person and they both knew it. “What things?”

Teris lowered her gaze trying to summon her nerve.

“Teris. What things?” Mereoleona asked, impatience growing.

Taking in a breath, Teris lifted her eyes and questioned with more volume than intended.. “What happens when a man and woman are married? What makes them one flesh?”

Caught off guard by the question for a moment, Mereoleona grinned. “Ask the whole pub why don’t you.”

Teris blushed beet red seeing that her unintentionally raised voice had garnered a number of looks.

“I’d be happy to show you, lass!” A patron called to her.

Mereoleona looked over her shoulder ready to tear the man apart. Seeing he was an old man who wore a humored expression that bore no hint lewd intent, she chuckled along with him.

“Leave the ladies alone, Merv.” Lisbet told the man.

Mereoleona looked back at Teris seeing her color. “You sure you should be asking such things if you can barely make yourself voice them, and redden so once you do?”

“I— It—it’s only—just— It’s not like we’re doing anything.” Teris finally managed to get out. “We both want to wait. It’s just--”

Teris might feel like a fool; but she wasn’t completely innocent. She had touched herself. Doing so while thinking about Yami until the coil in her belly snapped and left her floating on a wave of mindless ecstasy. But there was a difference between her creating those sensations and Yami doing so. Wasn’t there? She had to make sure that what she and Yami had been doing wasn’t what was meant for marriage. Yes, it was still more than what they should be doing. But she had to know that she hadn’t been about to give herself and become one with Yami if they hadn’t been interrupted.

Mereoleona sighed when Teris didn’t go on. Thinking about a long ago Captain's meeting, she said. “Well, I already told everyone you and I had this talk so I guess it’s only right we have it in truth.”

Teris stared wide eyed, the color draining from her face. “What do you mean ‘told everyone’? Who did you tell?”

Mereoleona waved her off. “Never mind that. Lisbet!” She yelled, signaling to the waitress for another round.

The waitress gave a nod.

Looking back at Teris, Mereoleona asked. “How much do you know? Our should I just assume you know nothing?” Before Teris could answer the Crimson Lion downed her drink and went on. “Well I guess you know the basics. I saw the marks on your neck the morning after the Lava Springs party last year.”

Mereoleona sighed thinking it fitting that she hadn’t hosted one this year. Since Bronn had been the one who gave her the idea in the first place, it wouldn’t have felt right having it without him. Or maybe it would've been a way to honor the bastard...

“Stop your blushing.” Mereoleona snapped at Teris.

“Leave the girl alone.” Lisbet scolded, setting the drinks on the table. Smiling at Teris kindly, she asked. “Are you aware of the male form, lass?”

Maybe it was a mistake to ask Mereoleona instead of Venice. Teris had thought her cousin would be up front and straight to the point without all the teasing Venice would likely do. But now…

“I—I just don’t want to—you know. Have sex.” Teris mumbled.

“Ever?” Lisbet blinked.

“She and her beau want to wait till they’re wed.” Mereoleona told her friend. Looking at Teris, she thought that it didn’t matter whether Yami and Teris wanted to wait or not, they had to and sure as hell better.

Lisabet huffed and rolled her eyes. “Sure he does.”

“He does.” Teris said.

“Actually, I think he does.” Mereoleona told Lisbet. “At least as much as any young, excitable man is able.”

“Well isn’t that sweet.” Lisbet cooed.

“So you know next to nothing of the way of things and are afraid of unintentionally having sex.” Mereoleona stated, wanting to be sure she understood.

Lisbet sputtered, both at how preposterous such a worry sounded and Mereoleona’s bluntness. Mereoleona gave the waitress a look.

“It might sound silly and completely stupid to you; but yes.” Teris said, a bite to her voice.

Lisbet sobered, sorry she had laughed. “It’s alright, lass. Innocence is nothing to be ashamed of. We all gotta learn sometime.”

“What brought this on?” Mereoleona asked.

“Ah...” Teris drew out unsure how to respond. If she and Yami had truly come as close as she worried they had she wasn’t sure what Mereoleona would say or do.

Mereoleona felt herself becoming truly concerned. “Have you done anything below the waist?”

Teris thought of Yami’s hip pressed against her and how the coil within her would’ve snapped from his rutting if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“Beneath your clothes. Skin on skin. Things going in places.” Mereoleona clarified, growing worry when Teris didn’t answer, making her bluntness turn crass.

Teris’ eyes widened. “Certainly not!”

“Don’t be crude, Leona.” Lisabet chastised.

Teris wiggled in her seat, distressed and uncomfortable. Things going in places? What was that about? Sure she had once taken Yami’s finger into her mouth...

Mereoleona exhaled, relief making her smiled. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Lisbet swallowed a smile. “I’ll leave you ladies to it. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“A piece of lead and scrape of paper.” Mereoleona told.

“What?” Lisabet scoffed. “You gonna drawn her a diagram?”

Mereoleona shrugged a shoulder. “Should be the easiest way. Unless you wanna give her the talk.”

Lisabet shook her head. “Even if the lass didn’t want to wait. You’ll probably scare her off sex by the time you’re through. Just… Try to draw things to scale. Wouldn’t want her being too afraid. Or worse, disappointed when the time comes.”

97.4

It was just happenstance that Jax and Yami came across Julius in the large courtyard that connected the headquarters of the four divisions.

Walking up to the fellow Captain, Jax stormed. “Where the hell have you been? Where’s your communication crystal?”

Julius patted his pockets.

Standing beside him, Jon told his Captain. “You left it in your office saying we’d only be out a moment, Sir.”

“That’s right.” Julius nodded.

“Though it’s been far longer than a moment.” Jon muttered.

“How was I to know I’d get caught up?” Julius asked.

“Cause you always do.” Marx said, though in this case it was partially his fault.

“You look upset. What’s wrong?” Julius asked Jax.

“The Agents of Chaos traitor, Flic.” Jax said.

Julius tensed. “What about him?”

“He’s ill.” Jax said.

“How ill?” Marx asked.

“Deathly.” Yami rumbled.

“The Healers can’t do anything for him. They can’t even say what’s wrong with him.” Jax said.

“Ellara?” Julius questioned, softly.

“Hasn’t been anywhere near him, according to Greywright.” Jax said.

“But if she used her magic to tamper with the guards memories.” Julius pressed.

Marx shook his head. “The day Mister Flic arrived I recommended to Commander Greywright that he only assign guards he knew to have a memory block. Though the number was few, he readily agreed.”

“Could the Agents of Chaos have another follower in place at Headquarters?” Jon wondered.

“Let’s not go there.” Julius told his Vice Captain. Looking back at Jax and Yami, he said. “If Alowishus’ magic truly is death magic, then that combined with the fact that he obviously uses Black Magic would be enough for him to kill Flic from afar if he had some piece of the man on hand.”

“That would explain why the healers can’t figure out what’s wrong or how to help him.” Jax said, finding it as good an explanation as any. He certainly liked it better than the option Jon had put forward.

Yami scowled thinking about the pieces of him and Teris the Agents of Chaos had taken during the first time they were attacked. Voicing the concern, he asked. “What about the bits they took from Teris and me our first year as Magic Knights?”

Jax’s eyes widened. He stared at Julius in silent query.

Julius made a face, considering a moment. “Most, if not all of what they took would’ve been used to make the personalized mana blocked cell they held you in during the Summer Solstice.”

“You said most.” Yami grumbled.

“It’s difficult to say without knowing exactly how much of each piece they took from each of you.” Julius said, not liking it any better than Yami did.

“It’s doubtful they would even bother with such attempts.” Marx said.

“Why? Because they still need Yami and Teris for their plans.” Jax said, finding small comfort in that.

“Also because of the way the pieces were taken and their age.” Marx said. When everyone looked at him expectantly, he explained. “Such spells are not only determinate on the skill of the Mage; but the freshness, as it were, of such items.” He cleared his throat in distaste. “Then there’s the fact that you and Teris didn’t give the pieces of yourself willingly.”

“Damn right we didn’t.” Yami growled.

“Though not impossible, it’s always easier when the item for the spell was freely given. Just like it is with my memory absolute spell. I can force my way in. But it’s far easier and requires less time and mana if the person willingly accepts. Those factors, coupled with what Captain Jax said, and the likely limited ingredients that Julius mentioned make it highly unlikely that such a thing will ever happen to you or Teris. Especially when they have proven on several occasions that they can reach you by far simpler means.”

Though true, Yami and Jax glared at the Investigations Mage.

Trying to draw the two Black Bulls heated attention away from Marx, Julius said. “Suffice it to say, there’s no cause to worry they’ll do such a thing to Teris and Yami.”

Jax turned away from the group. “I need a drink.”

“Same.” Yami turned, following his Captain.

“Yami, wait.” Julius called, walking after him.

Jon trailed behind. Marx turned back and made his way to Magic Investigations. He would see the men tomorrow morning during Nozel Silva’s debriefing, and then later tomorrow night for a planned meeting at the Black Bulls base. Given all that had happened, that secret meeting couldn’t come soon enough.

Julius fell into step beside Yami. “Has Teris talked to Nozel or Fuegoleon? Has she said anything to you about what they said? What questions the Agents of Chaos might've asked?”

“No.” Yami told his mentor, wondering if Teris was still in the great room visiting with Nozel.

“I’m bringing him to Nozel’s debriefing.” Jax said.

“Is--” Julius lengthened his steps to walk beside Jax. He looked over his shoulder at Yami and lowered his voice. “Is that wise?”

Jax looked at Julius out of the corner of his eye. “When has wise ever been an apt description of me?”

“But…” Julius cast another backwards glance at Yami.

“If they haven’t killed each other yet, especially after this afternoon, it’s safe to say they’ll be fine in the same room debriefing room tomorrow.” Jax said, still surprised Nozel hadn’t attacked Yami then and there in the great room. So long as Yami followed his command to get rid of his pent up aggression, Jax figured everything would be fine at tomorrows debriefing.

Julius’ brow furrowed. “Why? What happened this afternoon?”

“What were you doing at Investigations?” Jax asked, dodging the query.

“You’re not taking Teris to Nozel’s debriefing are you?” Julius asked.

“Mana, no.” Jax said.

“Then why are you taking Yami? What are you thinking?” Julius questioned, suspiciously.

“Nothing. You should know me well enough by now. I rarely think.” Jax said.

Julius’ eyes narrowed. “That’s why I’m asking. Cause I do know you well enough. You may pretend not to have schemes and ideas but are full of them.”

“Those bastards killed my Vice Captain nearly six months ago. If they think they can continue messing with my two new ones, they got another thing coming..” Jax said.

It wasn’t an answer; but he clearly wasn’t going to get one, so Julius let it be. The four walked the rest of the way to the Boiling Brew without word.

Upon entering, Yami’s eyes skimmed the pub. Seeing Teris, he blinked in surprise. There was a man standing over her, his hand on the back of her chair, other on the table, boxing her in. Leaving Julius, Jax, and Jon; Yami made his way to the table.

Stopping behind the man, Yami told him. “Walk away.”

“Yami!” Teris looked up at him in surprise and relief.

“Find another woman. I saw this one first.” The man called over his shoulder. He smiled drunkenly at Teris. “Pretty, innocent little thing. What do you say I take you out back and I give you the answers to all those questions of yours with a hands on lesson, eh?”

Yami reached for the mans shoulder to spin him around, fist already primed, when a fiery lion paw gripped the top of his head and pulled him back a pace.

“We’re you really gonna start a fight? The man is clearly drunk.” Mereoleona glared.

“I wasn’t gonna start anything. I was gonna end it.” Yami said, glancing spitefully up at the magical paw that still held him.

Mereoleona didn’t doubt that Yami could knock the man out cold. And she might've liked to see it, if not be a part of it, if it wouldn’t have caused Lisbet any trouble. “You and I both know Teris can fend for herself.”

The man reached out to touched Teris. Both Yami and Mereoleona made for him. Teris grabbed the mans arm before he could touch her.

Twisting his wrist in on itself, Teris told him. “I said, no.”

Though she wasn’t putting much pressure, the man tried to turn his body to lessen the painful wrenching of his wrist.

“You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off.” Teris told.

The man nodded vigorously.

“Make sure to leave your waitress a good tip.” Teris said, releasing him with a push.

The man took a couple unsteady steps back. Turning he looked for his table, but couldn’t find it with the way everything spun around him. Instead he merely tossed several coins in the air and stumbled to the door.

The fiery paw on Yami’s head disappeared. Smiling proudly at her cousin, Mereoleona told Yami. “See. Told you she could take care of herself.”

“Never said she couldn’t.” Yami said.

Mereoleona plopped back in her seat across from Teris. “I leave you alone for a couple minutes and you get yourself into trouble.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Teris argued.

“You’re right. That was unfair. It isn’t always you who finds trouble. Half the time it’s trouble that finds you.” Mereoleona teased.

Teris was too annoyed at the truth of it to find her cousin’s words amusing.

Stopping behind his sister, Julius demanded. “What are you doing here?”

Teris spun in her seat, eyes wide and anxious. “Julius!”

“Leave the girl alone, Julius. I brought her.” Mereoleona told, leaning back in her seat.

Julius’ eyes leveled on the Crimson Lions Captain. “Have you no care for my sister’s or family’s image? The women that come to bars in Black Magic Ally are--”

“What?” Mereoleona sat forward, forearms on the table. “What kind of woman am I, Julius? You are referring to women like me, aren’t you? Given that I frequent this place.”

Julius swallowed thickly, reevaluating the wisdom of his argument.

“You come here quite often too. Don’t you, Julius?” Mereoleona pressed when he didn’t answer.

“Let it go.” Jax told the fellow Captain's, taking the seat to Teris’ left.

Yami pulled out the chair to Teris’ right, sliding it closer to hers as he did so. Sitting down he gave her an appraising look.

Teris blushed, feeling self conscious after everything Mereoleona had told her.

Yami smirked thinking her blush was from remembering what they had gotten up to earlier today. “How was the Lion Cub?”

“Sleeping when I got there. He looked good though. No lingering sign of outward injury.” Thinking about everything Mereoleona had told her, Teris tentatively touched Yami’s arm, eyes darting over him.

Yami quirked a brow, wondering at the way Teris was looking at him.

Knowing what she now knew, Teris felt silly for her earlier worry. Making love was so much more than she had imagined. Her eyes fell lower. Though rudimentary, Mereoleona’s drawings had given her an idea of what Yami was concealing. The thought of seeing him naked. Of him seeing her naked. Of Yami touching her where no other but she had seen or touched before. It both made her nervous and excited. No wonder it was customary for such an act to be put off until marriage. It was just so personal. So private. So meaningful and intimate. To share such a thing with someone you hadn’t yet promised your life and love to seemed nigh to impossible to her. Not that she judged Venice or anyone else who didn’t wait or had more than one partner in their lifetime; she just couldn’t see herself doing so.

Julius clasped his sister’s shoulder.

Teris jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Her hand jerked back from Yami’s arm, blushing at where her mind had gone. She ducked her head wondering if Julius had been able to tell and that’s why he was frowning at her.

Julius shook his head. He wondered if there was a set number of times he had to tell them before they listened. Though not an excuse, at least Teris didn’t know the full reasoning behind it all. Yami on the other had faced two attempts on his life because of Nathyn Silva, and yet he still tempted fate being close and alone with Teris when out in public.

Looking down at Yami, Julius ordered. “Scoot.”

Yami growled under his breath and moved his chair a couple inches away from Teris’.

“Scoot over a seat.” Julius clipped, irritated. Had Yami forgotten about the two attempts on his life? Or did he just not care?

“Let the man sit next to his girlfriend.” Mereoleona said.

“Not so loud.” Julius hushed, eyes darting to the surrounding patrons.

Teris stood up. “It’s alright. I’m leaving.”

Julius looked after her, expression pained. Why were they making him out to be the bad guy? He was just trying to protect them.

Getting to his feet, Yami told Julius. “There you can have your choice of seats. Happy?”

“Sit down.” Jax ordered.

Yami stared at his Captain. “After what we learned about the crazies traitor. Are you really fine with her going off alone?”

“I’ll see her home. Shall I, sir?” Jon asked his Captain.

“Thank you, Jon.” Julius nodded.

Jon turned and made after his Captain's sister.

Sinking into the chair Teris had vacated, Julius told Yami. “This was your doing. When are you going to learn? Unlike Teris, you are all too aware of the full reasoning for such discretion.”

Mereoleona’s lip twitched, remembering the threat to Yami’s life that she had spoken to her father about. Looking at Yami, she told. “Much as I hate to admit it, Julius has a point. You should have more care; for both of your sake's. If you truly are interested in marrying, you’ll have the rest of your life to be as free as you want after. Well,” she lifted a shoulder and grinned, “as free as Teris will let you be.”

“Is this the fine young man that’s willing to wait?” Lisbet asked Mereoleona, glancing at Yami.

Jax turned to the waitress. “Why would we have to wait? It’s not like you’re full up with patrons.”

Mereoleona smirked and nodded at Lisbet.

Lisbet’s smile widened. “What can I get you gentlemen?”

“Ale.” Jax and Julius ordered.

“Same.” Yami said.

“Yours is on the house.” Lisbet told Yami.

Yami took in the woman’s curious expression. He wondered at her generosity but wasn’t going to question the good luck.

“This one drink.” Mereoleona told before Yami could get any ideas. She had seen the man drink and didn’t want Lisbet’s pay going to cover Yami’s tab.

“How’s Leon?” Julius asked as the waitress went to fill their orders.

“They say he’ll be released tomorrow morning.” Mereoleona said. She looked at Yami giving him a nod of thanks for going along with the Agents of Chaos’ sick game. No doubt they would've killed Nozel and her brother if Yami and Teris hadn’t obeyed.

Yami looked away from the Crimson Lions Captain. He had nothing against being praised and recognized. But in that case he hadn’t even have a choice.

“I’m just glad that the Future of Chaos wasn’t there. Who knows what ill a man like Alowishus could do with such knowledge.” Jax said.

“I’m just glad it’s not cluttering up my or Teris’ grimoire.” Yami said.

Despite the thing likely being a single magical page like the History of Chaos, Jax understood Yami’s meaning. The Black Bulls Captain was also grateful that Teris didn’t have such a thing to focus and fuss over.

Lisbet returned with four ales. Sliding one to Mereoleona, she gave her friend a wink.

“Thank you, Bet.” Julius said as the waitress set a mug in front of him.

Jax noted that Lisbet didn’t give the Azure Deers Captain her usual flirty smile. As soon as she left, he quietly asked. “She still have a thing for Julius, Leona?”

“Who’s that?” Julius questioned.

Jax gave his friend a look. “Don’t play dumb.”

“That ended long ago. Though I’m sure she’d change her mind right back if Julius ever offered.” Mereoleona said.

Julius’ ears heated. “Can you two please stop.”

While Lisbet was good company and certainly attractive enough, she struck Julius as the type that was looking for a relationship. With his work as Captain, all that was going on with Yami and Teris, and his endeavors to become the next Wizard King. Relationships were something Julius didn’t have the time or inclination for. Even if Lisbet wasn’t Mereoleona’s friend, he wouldn’t have wanted to chance hurting the waitress.

“You and Marx come up with any ideas on who, where, and when the Future of Chaos was moved?” Jax asked Julius.

“Too many and none worthy of mentioning.” Julius sighed, aggravated disappointment showing.

Yami set his drink down. “That labyrinth really was two hundred thousand whatever--”

“297,353.” Julius nodded. “Yes. It was.”

“Crazy Happy Killer Voice said the Future of Chaos would be found there.” Yami said, thinking. “So if Crazy Happy Killer Voice was this Yurist guy and Yurist wrote that the ones who found the History of Chaos would find the Future, does that mean he’s wrong? That the chances of Teris and I finding the Future of Chaos are the same as anyone elses? I mean the damned thing could be destroyed for all we know. Right?”

“Such a magical item would be near impossible to destroy.” Julius said.

“Even so, the thing could be anywhere.” Yami pressed. He didn’t know if he believed in Yurist’s prophecies; but he had hoped Julius would tell him that the Future of Chaos missing from the labyrinth meant that he and Teris were off the hook.

Julius shook his head. “I simply can’t say.”

“Well if you and Marx ever do find out where the thing was moved, be sure to tell me so I can keep Yami and Teris well away from it.” Jax said.

97.5

Calen rose from the chair before Alowishus’ desk. Straightening the orders his Master had given him to pass on to the others, Calen took in a fortifying breath.

Alowishus had been murderous since the night of the labyrinth, but the matter was too important to put off any longer. While Flic hadn’t had any pertinent information about their plans and Sanctuary was magically moved by Alowishus on the night of every new moon, meaning Flic could no longer tell the Magic Knights where they were. The man still had to be dealt with. His crimes of betrayal could not go unpunished.

“Master, if I may. We’ve yet to receive word from Lady Ellara about the traitor, Flic.”

“Nor will we.” Alowishus told. His dual colored eyes lifted from the book he’d just open. “Ellara cannot be anywhere near Flic. It would only give those already suspicious of her what they so desperately want.”

“Then--”

“Iam handling it. Have you learned why Flic abandoned us yet?” Alowishus asked.

“It would be easier if we could bring Ellara to search the lesser members memories.” Calen said.

“Ellara will not be of help with this.” Alowishus said, irritation growing.

“Then if you would allow me to question them more openly.” Calen said.

“No.” Alowishus said, shortly.

Calen inclined his head. “As you wish, Master. I will continue my endeavors.”

“Do more than endeavor.” Alowishus told.

“Yes, Master.” Calen bowed.

Alowishus watched the man exit, closing the door behind him. Left alone, he pushed to his feet and turned to the bookshelf behind his desk. Placing a hand on the now quiet skull, he slid it to the side revealing a small saucer-like dish made of obsidian.

He smiled, seeing the fingernail in the dish was almost fully dissolved. Flic would be dead before the night was through. Pushing the skull back in place, he returned to the desk.

After Captain Shadow Banashe had killed his sixth iteration, Everard Spade, Alowishus had taken the first hundred or so years of his seventh life to work alone. When he had finally decided to rejoin the group he had started in his third life, he took his time to win over the members that called Alric Halvor Master before challenging him for the right to be Master of the Agents of Chaos.

After seeing the dead Alric Halvor’s family expelled, graciously allowing them to seek refuge in the Clover Kingdom, Alowishus had made all the existing members go through a ritual of cleansing and loyalty. Though all of those members were now long dead, Alowishus had made the ritual a prerequisite for joining the Agents of Chaos. It wasn’t the pomp that he was interested in; but the right thumb nail that each person willingly gave during the ritual. Such a thing was hardly necessary for a cleansing and promise of loyalty to him, Chaos, and their cause; but it was a simple way to get what he wanted without anyone asking questions.

This was hardly the first time he had needed to use a followers given nail to find, or kill them from afar. At least Flic’s treason had come at a time when their Sanctuary was routinely moved so Alowishus had not needed to expend any excess energy in moving their base should Flic have told the Magic Knights were to look for them.

With a sigh he looked over his grandfathers final journal. Many said Yurist had gone mad well before the journal was written. And given how jumbled and lacking of sense most of the phrases and sentences were, Alowishus would agree. But that didn’t mean the writings didn’t contain helpful truths.

Considering how many times Alowishus had read the journal that was nothing but snippets about Chaos, Death, Light, and Darkness; he doubted he had missed anything. Still, he hoped Yurist had written something in there that would tell him where his father had moved the Future of Chaos. Surely Yurist’s prophecy magic had shown him that the page would be moved from the labyrinth he had placed it in. And if Yurist's magic had shown him that, then surely he had made some note about it.

Alowishus refused to believe he would never find the Future of Chaos again. Not when having it would guarantee the success of his aims.

Unlike the History of Chaos which was a set spelled page that could only show Chaos’ passed; the Future of Chaos was a volatile, changeable page that could answer questions. It wasn’t alive but imbued with some of Yurist's prophecy magic. And since the future of Chaos wasn’t yet set, like Yurist's prophecy magic, the answers given could often be unclear or altered depending on events and how close those events were to fruition.

Alowishus had had the Future of Chaos for all but half a day before his father stole it; and most of that time with the page had been trying to get somewhere secure so his father couldn’t take it back. As such he had only been able to ask the page how to awaken Chaos and end existence. While such an answer wouldn’t or shouldn't change, it would have been extremely helpful to have the page in hand.

As troublesome as the Spade Kingdom Magical Scientist Rayla had been. Her taking Yami and Teris had ultimately been a help. With his having taken a portion of the overflow of Yami’s mana, Alowishus had been able to track him. It meant Ellara hadn’t needed to use her magic to affect Jorah to assign Yami and Teris to a set area to search for the royal princes.

With two Magic Knights Captain's suspicious of Ellara, her not adding to their suspicious by affecting the Wizard King for something that had ended in failure was the one good thing to come out of all this. And it hadn’t been a complete failure either. While the questions he asked the royal Prince’s had been purposefully all over the place, he now knew what type of mage the Black Bulls were sure to want come the next Magic Knights Entrance Exams in three months.

A spatial mage, Alowishus thought with a smile. Was poor dead Vice Captain Bronn that missed yet so easily replaced? Well if giving up one of his spatial mages would make Yami happy, and get one of his Agents of Chaos welcomed into the Black Bulls, Alowishus would gladly do so.

97.6

“Commander Greywright?”

Seated at the desk in his office, Greywright looked up and blinked in surprise. “Vice Captain Nozel.”

Standing outside the open office door, Nozel glanced at the empty assistants desk in the anteroom. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Sir, but there’s no one here to check-in with.”

“Unless there’s something going on, I insist Luca calls it a day by six at the latest. I see no sense why at least one of us can’t have a life and rest outside work.” The Knights Commander lowered his quill. “Speaking of getting rest. You were just released from Healer’s Hall this afternoon, you should you be at your home or base recuperating.”

“I will, Sir. But I wanted to hand in my report.” Nozel said, lifting the paper.

Greywright beckoned him in with a wave. “One. This report didn’t have to be done until your debriefing tomorrow. Two. You didn’t have to personally hand it in. You could have sent it through secure magical carrier. But having been a Magic Knight for nearly four years, you know that. Take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Nozel sat in one of the two chairs in front of the Commander’s desk.

Greywright noted Nozel’s stiff movements and slight grimace as he sat. The royal really should be at home or the Silver Eagles base convalescing. So why wasn’t he? “What can I do for you, Vice Captain?”

Nozel noticed the untouched touched dinner, pushed aside on Greywright’s desk and felt a margin of guilt. The Magic Knights Commander was clearly busy if he had ignored his supper. But the matter he wanted to discuss was important, and after he and Fuegoleon had been taken and tortured by the Agents of Chaos, he felt that he had a right to some answers.

A knock sounded before Nozel could speak.

Greywright looked to the door. Without waiting for leave, one of the guards who worked at Magic Knights Headquarters entered.

“Commander.” The stony faced man greeted, handing Greywright a slip of paper.

Greywright read the short note and sighed. “Sir Jorah has been informed?”

“Yes, sir. And someone was sent to inform Advisor Ellara as well.” The Guard said.

Greywright nodded. “Dismissed.”

“Sir.” The Guard saluted and exited the office.

Folding the missive and setting it aside, Greywright told Nozel. “Your time just got considerably shorter, Vice Captain. I’d hurry up and speak if I were you.”

“Sir?” Nozel’s brow furrowed, not understanding.

“Flic has died.” Greywright said.

“The Agents of Chaos traitor!” Nozel blinked.

“Yes. And the Wizard King will likely be sending for me shortly, so speak.” Greywright said.

He would’ve gone to the Wizard King’s office immediately; but Greywright couldn’t see what harm Ellara could do in this instance. Ellara had been strangely uninterested in the traitor Flic after that first day. And they had already known Flic would likely die sometime before tomorrow morning. Greywright couldn’t help a dead man; but he could listen to and hopefully help one of his Magic Knights.

That would be nice, Greywright thought. To be of actual help again, instead of just trying to stave off and mitigate disasters.

Nozel stared, wondering why the Knights Commander wasn’t rushing to the prisoners body or Sir Jorah now.

Seeing his wondering pause, Greywright told. “Flic’s death was sadly expected, Vice Captain. He had grown considerably ill at a rather alarming rate and there was nothing the Healer’s could do for him. But that isn’t why you came, so why have you?”

“I--” Nozel faltered when the Knights Commander held out a hand. Mind still whirling from the news he just heard, it took him a second realize Greywright was asking for the report he still held. He passed it over. “I was hoping for answers, sir.”

“Answers? To what?” Greywright asked, looking over the report.

“The Agents of Chaos.”

Greywright’s eyes lifted, all hope of being of help to someone crumbling to dust. “The Magic Knights Captain’s were told what information they were allowed to give their squads. Seeing as Kess seems like a fairly open Captain and you’re her Vice Captain, I would imagine she told you all she could.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you were there when Vice Captain's Yami Sukehiro and Teris Nova convinced the now dead Mister Flic to yield to my interrogation.” Greywright said, lowering Nozel’s report.

“Yes, sir.”

“So what else is there for you to know?” Greywright asked, disappointment making his tone stern.

“With all respect. Everything, sir. What did Mister Flic say during your interrogation of him? What has Magic Investigations learned of the Agents of Chaos and how the group plans to go about their aims? What are we doing to find and combat them and those plans? What exactly happened during the Summer Solstice that lit up the sky almost a year ago? Why is Alowishus Spade seemingly fixated on Lady Teris and Yami Sukehiro?”

Greywright didn’t miss the bite to Nozel’s tone when he said Yami’s name, but didn’t comment on it. “Those are a lot of serious questions, Vice Captain.”

“Being taken and tortured is a serious matter, sir.”

“Is that why you think you deserve answers when you have the same information we are willing to allow any other Magic Knights Vice Captain?”

“Lady Teris and… he have more information.” Nozel said, unable to say Yami’s name again when the image of Yami pressing Teris against the wall refused to leave his mind no matter how far back he tried to bury it.

“Sir Jorah has only allowed them more information relatively recently, and that is only because the matter involves them.” Greywright said.

Nozel lifted his chin slightly. “Fuegoleon and I were taken and tortured. It involves us now too.”

Greywright lifted and skimmed Nozel’s report as he spoke. “Yami and Teris’ report stated that Alowishus Spade said you and Fuegoleon were taken as means to force them to do his bidding; and from what I see here, you say pretty much the same.” He lowered the paper and sighed. “I understand you’re upset and want answers. None of us here are happy you and Fuegoleon were abducted and used as pawns.”

Nozel’s eye twitched at being called a pawn. Yes, that’s what he and Fuegoleon had been to Alowishus and the Agents of Chaos; but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“But, upsetting as it is, being taken and tortured does not equate to being involved in this.” Greywright continued, thinking that he would seriously consider quitting, his promise to Sir Jorah be damned, if any more of his Magic Knights became the focus of these crazies.

“Teris is my Intended.” Nozel stated.

Greywright paused briefly at that. “I am aware. But I do not understand what you think you’ll gain by saying that.”

Nozel’s eyes shifted down and away from the Knights Commander. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he had hoped to gain from saying it either. He knew full well it meant nothing in this instance. It was just that after seeing Yami and Teris this afternoon a part of him had needed to say it. Had needed to hear someone in authority acknowledge it. As if saying and hearing it would somehow fix everything and erase what he had seen.

“I’m sorry, Vice Captain.”

Nozel’s gaze lifted. For a moment he thought the Knights Commander was apologizing for what he had witnessed between Yami and Teris.

“I know this can’t be easy. But until Sir Jorah says otherwise, I cannot tell you any more. You will have to be satisfied with the answers that you have.” Greywright straightened at the sudden appearance of Cob outside his door. “Ah, Cob. I was wondering when you would show.”

“Good evening, Commander. The Wizard King wishing to meet with you immediately.” Cob said, jovially.

“Yes.” Greywright stood, taking up his transportation charm. “Please do me a favor and see Vice Captain Nozel either home or to the Silver Eagles base. He has a long morning ahead, and needs to rest and recuperate.” Greywright looked at Nozel. “If you must. Consider that an order, Vice Captain.”

Nozel’s hand twitched at the twinge of his still tender side as he slowly got to his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“See you tomorrow morning.” Greywright said andactivated the transportation charm.

97.7

Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Teris got to her feet and told Yami. “I’ll meet you out by the picnic table.”

“You barely touched your plate.” Yami commented.

“Can blame her.” Tobin muttered, chewing around the overly dry food.

“Hey.” Gendry scowled, offended on Abril’s behalf.

“Then tell your girl to learn how to cook.” Tobin shot back.

Ignoring the two men, Jax looked between his Vice Captain's. “Where you two going?”

“Taking Pilfer and No Name out for a run.” Yami said. It was actually a date; but that wasn’t anyone’s business.

Jax shook his head. “No.”

Yami glowered. “What do you mean, no?”

“Exactly that.” Jax said.

“You’re the one who told me to get this aggression outta my system.” Yami stormed.

“Find another way to do it. You’re not going out. And if you can’t you’re staying tomorrow.” Jax warned.

Still standing at the table, Teris looked between the two. “Why? What’s going on tomorrow?”

“Nothing.” Jax and Yami said. A sure sign that it was definitely something.

“What’s the harm in taking a ride?” Yami asked. The anger building in him might've been a bit out of proportion for the circumstance, but Jax’s order was just as overdone.

“I. Said. No.” Jax clipped.

Muttering a curse, Yami grabbed and lifted the tables edge, slamming it back down.

Teris stared wide eyed.

Tobin’s drink fell over onto his plate. He cursed then shrugged; it couldn’t have made the meal any worse.

The rest of the Black Bulls sat silently, watching out of the corner of their eye.

“Are you finished?” Jax questioned, calmly.

Though the outburst had helped his growing temper, Yami snarled. “It’s just a damned ride.”

Jax threw his napkin down. “It’s never just anything when it’s the two of you. Damn it, Yami! Why must you tempt fate? I swear, Julius is right. You never learn!”

“If fate has plans for me and Teris, I’ll kill the bastard along with the Agents of Chaos.” Yami growled. He looked at the Captain, sudden temper further diminishing. He needed space to breath. The base and people making him feel as if he’d been caged in for far too long in a too small enclosure. “I just want a moments peace. That’s all. Just an hour out and away. Two at most.”

Jax’s expression softened. He felt for Yami; but that didn’t change the fact that his squads safety was far more important than their wants or needs. Mereoleona had been right when she told Yami he had the rest of his life to be as free with Teris as Teris would allow once the mess of Nozel being her Intended was over with. Then again, the loss of his love Belinda, and Bronn’s death had proved that fate was cruel and laughed at such hope filled plans.

Jax shook his head clear of the depressing thoughts. “With you and Teris being taken only a couple days ago and the Summer Solstice so near--”

“They have no plans for us for the Summer Solstice. Alowishus said so himself.” Yami argued.

“Which could be a lie.” Jax said.

“That sick lunatic has done a lot to us, but he’s yet to lie.” Yami said.

“Yet.” Jax stressed. “He hasn’t lied yet. Come on, Yami. With what’s going on with Flic you should’ve seen this coming.”

“Tch.” Yami turned away, making a face.

Teris looked between the two. “Why? What’s going on with Flic?”

Jax glanced at Teris, then back at Yami. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Teris questioned.

Jax explained about Flic’s unknown illness and the likelihood he would be dead by morning.

Not sure which Vice Captain he was apologizing to, Jax apologized. “Sorry. I thought Yami would've told you.”

“One would've thought.” Teris frowned down at Yami.

“I was going to.” Yami said.

“Sure you were.” Teris spun on a heel and stormed away, leaving her dirty plate.

“Teris, come on. Teris!” Yami called, watching her disappear through the dining room door. Getting to his feet, he cursed and grabbed the table lifting and slamming it back down.

Jax lifted his hands watching his drink tip over. Maybe taking Yami tomorrow really wasn’t the smartest thing.

97.7.2

Climbing the stairs two at a time Yami caught up to Teris as she reached the second floor landing. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from continuing on up to the third level girls wing.

Pulling her back down the two steps she had climbed, Yami griped. “Will you just wait a dang second and listen.”

Teris tried to pull free, her voice angry and wounded. “Why? So you can explain away why you’re still not telling me stuff? I thought we had moved passed this after— Iban.”

Yami opened his mouth to say that they had, but followed Teris’ gaze to see the Blood Mage watching them from the ground floor. “Go away before I kill you, Creepy.” He turned back to Teris, not waiting to see if Iban complied. “Come here.”

Teris’ eyes widened when Yami tugged her down the hall toward the boys wing. “No. Yami. I can’t go down there!”

Growling, Yami bent and lifted her over his shoulder.

Teris yelped. Squealing, she kicked out. “Yami! It’s not proper!”

Yami gave another rumbling growl, feet staggering slightly from Teris’ squirming and kicks. Shifting the balance of her weight, he continued down the hall, giving her butt a sharp smack. “Settle down.”

He kicked his bedroom door open and stepped inside. Setting Teris down on her feet, he closed the door and leaned against it.

Teris blew her hair out of her face, wide eyes darting around the space.

Yami crossed his arms and smirked. She looked like a trapped hare. As cute as he found it, he didn’t want her to be nervous or afraid. “Calm down. It’s not like I haven’t been in your bedroom before.”

Teris stepped backwards. “That’s different.”

Yami quirked a brow. “How so?”

She bumped something and gasped, spinning around.

Yami chuckled. “That’s my bed. You can have a seat if you want.”

“No. Thank you.” Teris took a sideways step.

Yami’s smile grew. It was cute how the royal politeness of her upbringing so quickly and easily came forward despite her clear ire and nervousness. He pushed away from the door and stepped to the bed. Falling back into the mattress, he pillowed his head with his hands and stretched out with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take it then.”

Teris watched Yami kick out his legs, crossing his ankles. “Why didn’t you tell me about Flic?”

“I was going to.”

Teris huffed.

Yami lifted his head, looking at her. “You doubt me?”

“Just when were you planning on telling me? After he was dead?”

Yami laid his head back down. “I was gonna tell you after our ride tonight. Didn’t wanna ruin it with the news. Instead, Jax ruined it all anyway.”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, but he’s just worried about us. Besides, he has a point.”

Yami sighed. The dark, brooding feeling within him that was constantly simmering wanted to bubble up in anger at Teris for agreeing with Jax’s point. But he knew that wasn’t really him. It was the thing inside him. The thing he had been battling since the sun set on the night of the Winter Solstice. He wondered if Teris had struggled with the same when the supposed primordial force inside her was on the rise, but didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to worry her if it hadn’t been the same. Surely she would've said something if it had been like this for her.

He sat up and pushed back in bed leaning against the headboard. “Sorry. I should've told you sooner.”

“You wanted us to enjoy ourselves without all that mess. I’m sorry I got angry. I never should have doubted you.”

“Jax wants to take me to Nozel’s debriefing tomorrow.” Yami said.

Teris sighed. It was an easy enough thing to figure given the way Yami and Jax had responded to her questioning in the dining hall. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already known about Nozel’s scheduled debriefing. She wondered if and when Yami had originally planned on telling her that. Possibly after their date this evening too. She’d never know for sure now, she sullenly thought. She was just as frustrated by all the rules and restrictions as Yami was. Would they still have to face house arrest and escorts? They were Vice Captain's for mana sake.

She turned away, her disgust at the situation switching to curiosity as she took in Yami’s bedroom. Yami smirked and watched her look about in interest.

“Is it was you imagine?” He asked.

Teris looked back at him, the slight tint in her cheeks belying the surety of her tone. “I thought it’d be messier.”

Yami smiled crookedly. “Yeah well, I haven’t been spending much time in here and the clothes were just sent out for washing so...”

Teris gestured to a box on top of a chest of drawers. “May I?”

“Look through whatever you want.” Yami said.

Teris tentatively opened the long, thin box. It contained instruments used for detailing his katana.

“Don’t stop there.” Yami told.

She could hear the taunting smile in his voice and took it as a challenge to continue, knowing he thought she wouldn’t.

Yami lazily sat back watching her open and close various drawers and cupboards. “Looking for your bra?”

Teris’ eyes slid to him without amusement.

“You’re nowhere close.” Yami taunted.

She closed a drawer overly hard.

Yami watched her walk around the bed to his desk and smiled. “You’re getting closer.”

“Shut— I’m not looking for it. So just—stop.”

Yami chuckled at her temper. “Fine. Forget I mentioned it.” He swung his legs off the bed closing the nightstand drawer she had just opened. “Not that one.”

“What happened to, look through whatever you want?” Teris teased.

“Whatever you want but this one drawer.”

Teris shook her head. “That’s not what you said. You said--”

“I know what I said.” Yami interrupted, hand lifting off of the drawer as he stood.

“Then?” Teris stared up at him, fingers wrapping around the knob and slowly pulling the drawer open.

The side of Yami’s leg pressed against it, closing the drawer back up. “So I misspoke. What of it? You don’t see me going up to your room looking through everything.”

“No. Just stealing undergarments.” Teris humored brow raised.

Yami smiled proudly at that. “If I remember correctly you threw them at me.”

“And if I remember correctly, I never gave you leave to go looking about my things, where as you gave me permission to look.”

Yami grabbed her wrist, arm wrapping around her to pin it to her back. “You’re a greedy little brat, you know that.”

He looked her over, eyes lingering on the rise and fall of her chest. His other hand skimmed up her free arm to cup her face.

Teris’ teasing smile faltered. “Yami. I—we--”

“Shh.” Yami’s thumb brushed lightly across her lips. “Leave what’s in that drawer alone. You’ll find out was in there soon enough. Think of it like sex.”

Teris’ eyes widened, heart quickening.

Yami smirked at her expression. “Something to wait for.”

“You still do, right?”

“Still do what?” Yami asked.

“Want to wait.”

Yami’s brows furrowed. He had told her as much. Why was she... “Are you asking cause of what we did earlier today?”

Teris became defensive. “I know it wasn’t sex.”

“Who would think that was sex?” Yami chuckled.

Blushing at her naivety, Teris pushed him back. “Shut up.”

Yami laughed louder. When she tried to pull away from him, he grew serious. He stared a moment, confused at how upset she had become. “What’d I say?”

“Nothing.” Teris shook her head, crossing her arms when Yami released her.

“If I don’t know, how am I to not do it again?” Yami asked.

“It’s nothing.” Teris said, temper in her tone lessening.

“You can tell me anything, you know.”

“And you can show me anything.” Teris said, eyes flicking to the nightstand drawer with interest.

“Alright then.” Yami grinned, mischievously.

Teris’ eyes brightened then closed tightly shut when his hands went to his belt buckle. “Yami!”

Yami laughed, looking freely over her.

“Is it safe?” Teris timidly asked.

“Hardly.” Yami’s deep voice rumbled, eyes raking over her form.

Teris’ eyes opened.

“What?” Yami asked, innocently.

“What?” Teris echoed. Her eyes darted down, both glad and slightly disappointed his buckle and pants were still done.

Yami smiled crookedly. “You’re too easy, Princess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Teris asked, a hint of temper in her tone.

Sitting in bed, Yami gripped her hips and pulled her closer, his legs spread to either side of her. Teris stopped, unable to get any closer without falling into bed with him.

“Don’t worry, Ikigai. I’m far too easy when it comes to you too.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” Teris asked.

She saw a bit of color peeking out from under Yami’s pillow. With a blink she realized it was her bra. And here she had been certain it had been hidden in the nightstand drawer he wouldn’t let her open. Now she really wanted to know what was in the drawer.

Yami’s eyes lowered to the front of her upper left thigh. “Let me kiss that birthmark of yours and I’ll consider telling you want it means.”

Teris’ eyes shot back to him. “Yami!”

“Alright then, just let me see it.”

“Yami.”

“What? It’s not like I haven’t seen it once before.” And a million other times in my head, Yami thought.

“No.”

“Fine. Then can I touch it?” Yami asked, hand already sliding down from her hip to do so.

“Yami! No.” Teris squeaked and laughed, slapping away his hand.

Yami bent, lowering his head. “You sure I can’t kiss it?”

“Yami!” Teris put her hands on his shoulders holding him at bay.

There was a quick knock followed by the bedroom door opening.

Olsen poked his head in. Seeing Yami sitting on the bed. Teris standing between his legs. Yami’s head bent, face so near Teris. And Teris gripping the mans powerful shoulders. The Water Mage quickly ducked his head back out. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“No. No.” Teris called. She stepped back, Yami’s hands falling to his knees.

Olsen peeked back in, apologizing once more. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“There was nothing to interrupt.” Teris said.

“Says you.” Yami grumbled. Turning to Olsen, he demanded. “What do you want?”

Olsen continued as if neither Vice Captain had spoken. “It’s only Iban said I could find you up here. But, he said nothing about Teris being with you.”

“Of course he didn’t.” Yami muttered and asked again. “What do you want?”

Teris made of the door. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Teris, wait.” Yami reached, but she was too quick in her steps.

Olsen inclined his head as Teris passed.

Yami listened to her footfalls as they hurried down the hall and up the stairs. He eyed Olsen murderously. “What have I told you about entering without leave?”

Olsen held up his hands in a placating surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But whatever was going on would've come to a halt whether I waited for a response or not.”

“Nothing was going on.” Yami said.

Looking back over his shoulder, Tobin pushed his way passed Olsen and entered Yami’s room. “Was that Teris I saw rushing from this way?”

“Shut up.” Yami snapped.

Olsen gave Tobin a nod.

“What happened to wanting to wait?” Bran asked from the doorway.

Tobin smirked lewdly. “I knew you couldn’t wait. You--”

“If you want to keep your tongue, stop using.” Yami growled. He got to his feet and frog-stepped Tobin and Olsen out of his room. “Bran! Go feed the wolves.”

“Gendry took them out for a run.” Bran said.

“Then go do something else useful.” Yami said.

“Like stepping in here and stopping what you and Teris were up to?” Olsen asked.

Yami glowered. “I told you, nothing was going on.”

“You should take more care.” Olsen said. “That is if you truly wish to wait. A year and a half may not seem like much. But it can be a very long time indeed.”

Tell me about it, Yami thought.

“A word of advice. Holding out for such a time would greatly be aided if you didn’t enter each others bedrooms.” Olsen went on.

“What he said.” Tobin said, backing into Bran as he was backed out of Yami’s room.

“Didn’t ask for your advice.” Yami told the two men, slamming the door in their faces.

Exhaling, Yami ran a hand through his hair. He turned around and leaned back against the door. He saw Teris in every area she had been, and several places she hadn’t. Namely his bed. Closing his eyes, his head banged back against the door.

Unwanted advice or not, Olsen was right about one thing. A year and a half seemed like a very long time indeed.

***Important question***

So I have what would be some longer chapters like this one. Currently, they have been cut in half to cut down on length and give me a buffer between what I’m writing and posting. The question I have for you all is, do you like these weekly updates, which would mean those longer chapters would stay cut in half? Our would you prefer longer chapters like this one, which would mean switching from weekly to every other week updates?

Also I got a couple asks this past week that might interest some readers. One is a reader theory and the other is about the fic length and how I section it. There's links on ao3, or you can just go to my tumblr's honepage.

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

“If all the History of Chaos covered was strictly just the history of Chaos why would it even make an attempt at showing you the image of Alowishus Spade or the Master of Master's? No matter how old Alowishus Spade is, I seriously doubt he’s old enough to have been alive and around during the time of Chaos’ reign and defeat which brought about Order.”

Teris frowned, having never thought of that. Her eyes lifted to Marx realization dawning. “You think the portrait is of Yurist.”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #julius novachrono #marx francois #mereoleona vermillion #black clover #light in the darkness

17 notes · View notes

melbee · 4 years

Text

Melancholy Blues

David Lee Roth x Reader

Summary: The Highs were high... the Lows were low.. When dating a rockstar who is on the road a lot, there’s only one rule. Don’t cry. That means you’ve fallen too deep, and unfortunately you lost the shovel to dig yourself out a long time ago..

Notes: I love writing for DLR there’s not a whole lot of fics with him which sucks.. Hope you enjoy X

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, a little sad :(

Word Count: 1,934 words

I wish I knew when this was going to end. I sat so still behind my desk, staring at the crisp white wall, listening to the faint tick of the nearby clock as it counts down the minutes.. the seconds.. wasted time no.. important time..

I was stuck in a dingy office surrounded by a mass of nearby cubicles and desks wondering how in the hell I got stuck with a job like this, and how I managed dating a rockstar at the same time.

While I sat filing papers, setting appointments for my boss, writing up reports in hope I’d be the lucky girl picked for a star promotion- my boyfriend toured the world, singing to 50,000 fans every night- partying till the sun comes up definitely surrounded by the excesses of pleasure including girls.

I didn’t know how luck could be in my favor so much, that it managed to drown me at the same time. I scribbled aimlessly trying to muster up the strength to get this assignment done. I worked as a reporter, but I really wanted was a step-up... a position to manage my own fashion company. It was lost hope.

Somehow I managed to get through toward the end of the day, as I turned my head to see nearby coworkers at their desks begin to pack up, the sun beginning to prepare a descent onto California’s glimmering hills.

I sighed and stood up a crack within my legs sounded out, telling me I had sat for too long- as I gave my best attempt effort at a long stretch. I gathered my work and shoved it into my cabinet, fishing for my purse and keys and making my way toward the elevator.

Exhausted was an understatement. I couldn’t help however, to think of David... as often as I do. I thought about what he was doing at this very moment. Where he was, who was with him.. Jealousy reared it’s ugly head- or started to- but I shut it up quickly as the doors opened and I made my exit out of the building.

The drive home was short but my mind was swamped, I couldn’t get out of it, and I knew there was a simple solution for that. Wine.

As I opened my door I was greeted by my little cattle dog that Dave had gotten me for my birthday a year prior, Minnie. I smiled as I patted her affectionately, as a wave of emotions crossed me. I missed him, a lot.

I set my purse down as I made a bee-line to my kitchen- grabbing a bottle of the finest-cheapest wine I had and a glass as I poured generously. I traveled my way to my living room where I drew the curtains to the view so wonderful, of other apartment buildings, and the peek of the hills and the sun if you strained your head far enough. It wasn’t much..but it was home.

It reminded me of how David has wanted me to move in right before tour; I told him I was fine living here, and the adjustment of a big house just wasn’t what I wanted to feel at the moment. The truth was I didn’t want to be there alone, without him. Waking up to the smell of his sheets and his clothes that he left..

I had already found myself doing that while he was away from the various jackets, shirts and underwear he had left behind here. It was creepy. It made me sick to my stomach as I sipped my wine in a daze. I knew the feeling all too well, but I just didn’t want to admit it. I never fell quick, but with David... good god he made it so easy.

I checked the time on the clock nearest to me. He said I could call any time, but I always like to align it so I would get a sure answer from him- he should be somewhere in the U.K. right now..

I made my way over to the side table and set my wine down and my body down onto the couch, and grabbed the phone.

Oh shit, what was the number to the offices..? They always knew the numbers to call wherever the band was. Usually I would wait for David to call, but I needed to hear his voice desperately. God, aren’t I lovesick fool?

I dialed the offices and they redirected me to the number where the venue was, who then directed me to the phone in the dressing room. As I waited for someone else to pick up the phone I wondered if my girlfriends ever have to deal with this incessant worry with their boyfriends. Maybe so, but as prissy as it sounds, their boyfriends aren’t international rock stars.

“Hello?” I heard the sound of an unfamiliar woman pick up the phone, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart begin to pick up and race a mile a minute. Who was she? Did she know David? Were they having an affair?

It took me a time to realize I still had not said a word but simply breathed into the phone like some scary psycho stalker. “Er-Yes. Hi.. uh is this.. David Lee Roth’s dressing room?”

I heard a mumbled sigh from the female on the phone, “Look girl, I don’t know how to break it to you.. he isn’t interested as I’ve told the other girls. He has someone right now..”

My heart stopped beating, “What? Who? I.. who are you?” I asked as my worst thoughts and fears seemed to come before me, I felt my mind go light-headed.

“I’m the designers assistant? I don’t know who you are-but..” she began to ramble on, as I felt my emotions turn red hot.

“Look designer.. whatever the hell you are.. I’m y/n.. his girlfriend. I don’t care if he has somebody I need to talk to him NOW. Do you got that-“ before I could even finish my rant I heard a squeak and a jumbling that sounded like the phone was being tossed around before I heard a scruff voice.

“Y/n? This you?” I heard the familiar voice of David’s manager over the phone, and I lept with joy.

“Hey Noel! It’s me!” I said into the phone.

“Oh hey!” He chuckled a bit, “I’m guessing you wanted to talk to DLR huh?”

“Yes..” I laughed, but I soon realized that now I needed to address the elephant in the room. “Uh..Noel. Would you be honest, and tell me if he was.. with someone right now..?”

I heard a laugh, “I wondered the same thing for a while, as far as i’m concerned the man has had blue balls the entire trip. He’s as clear as a whistle.”

I blushed, “Well okay.. can I talk to him?”

“He’s coming in right now actually-” I heard a shuffle and the conversion between two people, before I heard a loud slam, and the phone being picked up again.

“Dollface?” I heard the beautiful, gruff sound of my boyfriend’s voice, and I couldn’t help but smile brightly.

“Yes Blondie, it’s me..” I laughed. There it was again, that heart pounding. It scared me shit-less because I knew I was a puddle of mess whenever he talked to me; even if it was a thousand miles away.

“Oh Baby.. you don’t know how much I miss you..” He purred. “How’s my little Min Pin doing?”

I looked over to Minnie, to see her gazing at me, her tail wagging, “Missing her Daddy..”

I could hear the smile in his voice, “Baby, is everything alright? Not that this isn’t unpleasant but.. why’d you call?”

I frowned as the details from earlier flooded my brain, as I crosses my legs, beginning to chew my lip for a whole other reason entirely. “David..who is your designer’s assistant, with you on the road?”

“Sherrie.. I think is her name.. why?” He asked

“She told me you-” my voice suddenly cracked and I felt my emotions edging the surface of my eyes. Don’t break the only rule...

“Doll.. what’s wrong? Did she say something nasty to you? I swear ill sack her, and you’ll never have to see her-”

“David, she said you are with someone right now. She mentioned other girls calling.. David..please be honest with me.. Did you-” I began to say but I didn’t finish before he cut me off.

“Y/n I’d never in a million do that. Why would you believe her?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I’ve just been having a really hard time since you’ve been away David, I can’t even think about normal stuff, without thinking of you.” I said into the phone as my voice ended to a whisper as if I had shared my innermost feelings to a stranger.

“You don’t know what you do to me..seriously.” He said to my utter confusion. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Doll. It scares me shitless. Don’t think I don’t feel the same way you’re feeling.”

I smiled, “The aches?”

“Chills down the inches of my spine, I feel as if I’m an addict who can’t ever get a fix. Y/n, it makes me mad.. because every-time I try and take my mind off you, everything begins to settle in that I’m terrified because I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“David I’m sorry, I just. I know I’ve been so hesitant.. It’s just..” That was it for me. I felt the years worth of heartache, messed up feelings, love, desire, laughter all explode down my face as I sobbed. “I’m in love with David Lee Roth and I don’t think I can ever stop.”

I heard a pause, before he spoke again, “Then don’t.”

I paused as my heart seemed to stop beating that very moment. “W-What..?”

“Lets be in love forever. Quit your job. You wanted a job to build your own company? Well I need a CEO for my new business, and baby you’re at the top of my ‘for hire’ list. Come with me, let’s go around the world.”

“David..do you know how crazy you sound right now? Like crazier then normal?” I said as I took in his scheme that seemed off the hook, and way out of my comfort zone.

“Baby, I’ll take care of all of it. If you want a pay roll to feel secure I’ll give you one. how does 300,000 a year sound? You can buy you a nice apartment.” He said as he laughed.

“Holy shit.. David I could never buy anything expensive like your apartment.” I laughed as I twirled the cord.

“You’re right.. you’d be so sick in love, in-bed with me to even buy one.” He laughed loudly at his own joke, and I just rolled my eyes a blush forming my cheeks.

“I’ll be coming home soon, love. We can talk more about it then, hmm?” He asked over the phone.

I simply smiled, as I felt tiny tears come down to signal to me how much I truly cared for this man. “Okay. I love you..”

“I love you more.. Au revoir! We’re heading to Paris tomorrow..” He said as I heard a door opening and noises of people rushing in.

“Bye David..” I hung up the phone as I set it down, and I looked at the abandoned wine, and looked toward the windows to see the sun had finally set, and the night had begun.

I had broken my one rule. I wish I regretted it, but the high of it all just felt so good that I wished I would be too sick, too un-well so I would be able to feel the impending crash and burn...

#david lee roth x reader #david lee roth #van halen #80s #classic rock #rock #80srock #fanfiction #tour #travel

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starkercrossedlovers · 6 years

Text

Call Me, Maybe? 📞

This is part two of the sex line fic Hotline Bling and I hope you all enjoy!!

————————

Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe

Peter’s had the song stuck in his head for days, humming it under his breath in class, as he patrols, singing off key and loud in the shower...it’s silly, but he can’t stop.

It doesn’t help that he’s made it the ringtone for Tony, and when he’s not in class, it blares every time the older man calls or texts.

Which is a lot.

Because they sext and text and call each other...all. The. Time.

He swerves and dodges a blast from a robot seemingly intent on homicide and hisses when one of its lasers slices through his suit and into his ribs.

He should be getting ready to meet Tony, but no, some maniacal asshole had to go and ruin his date. He’s already sent Tony a text that he’s not going to make it—last minute paper to finish!—but he’s hoping that if he can just—

The robot tangles in the webs he shoots and then blasts it with an EMP, grinning in delight when it collapses to the pavement below.

He webs it down more securely until SHIELD arrives and then swings away, back to the apartment. It’s only when he’s in the shower that the wound on his side makes itself known again and he hisses as blood streams down the drain. His fingers shake as he wraps a bandage around his torso after the shower, wincing at the ache in his side.

He can’t go meet Tony like this...

Sighing, he pulls on soft sweatpants and a T-shirt, toweling off his hair as he heads for his desk.

He does actually have a paper to work on...even if he’d much rather be somewhere else...with someone else.

Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe

He grins when he sees his phone light up with a new text from Tony.

Tony: hey baby, I know you gotta paper to write, just wanted to say I miss that pretty face

He melts.

Snaps a pic of him, post shower, pink cheeked and shirt slipping off one shoulder and sends it.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Tony: oh baby...ur so pretty...wish I was there to mess you up, get you all dirty

Peter: me too...I’ll call you when I’m done?

Tony: yes plz baby 😘😘😘

Peter grins and sets the phone aside, determined to focus and get this paper done.

Then he can play.

——————————

When he’d first met Tony at the coffee shop two weeks ago he’d kinda expected to be taken somewhere private and fucked senseless. Instead, Tony had bought them coffee and guided him to a corner table and they had talked...for hours.

He’d found out the older man is a mechanic and former race car driver, with a penchant for sex line work on the side. He’d explained that he likes the work; he’s always enjoyed making his partners cum and being a sort of blank canvas for other’s needs is something he finds enjoyable.

Clad in a flannel button down with a Black Sabbath T-shirt underneath, jeans that clung to his thighs, and combat boots, he was...entirely unexpected.

They talked mechanics and engineering, biochemistry and history, social justice and morality and before Peter had realized it, his stomach was demanding food. When he tried to apologize, Tony just laughed and guided him out to his car—a 75 Aston Martin Vantage, cherry red with gold accents—and took him to dinner.

He finds out that Tony’s 45, single, divorced with no kids, and co-owner of Stark Industries with his ex wife, Pepper Potts. Peter can barely believe he’s sitting with a man named in the top 100 wealthiest people in the world eating burgers from some hole in the wall diner, but yea, it’s real.

When he dropped him off after that first date he asked if he could kiss him and then proceeded to do so until Peter was hard and aching, clinging to the older man and gasping his name, whispering a plea that Tony had struggled to refuse. He sent Peter inside and called him minutes after he got home, listened to him jerk off and beg for Tony, cuming alongside him just a few short minutes later.

They’ve seen each other nearly every day since then, talked just about every night, texted constantly, and still, Tony hasn’t fucked him yet. This weekend though, he’s going to make it happen. Aunt May is going to Chicago for a conference and he’s assured her he’ll be fine, nudged her out the door and then waited ten minutes to text Tony.

Peter: home alone this weekend, come over?

He bites his lip, pacing as he waits for a response and then jolts when his phone starts playing that familiar ring tone.

Tony: have a few more meetings at SI 8 ok?

Peter: yes!

Tony: see you later sweetheart 😘

Peter sighs, it’s noon, which means he has to wait all day for Tony. It’s an in service day so he’s home alone, with nothing to do. A grin creeps over his face and he runs to his room, shedding clothing until he’s in his boxers.

Screw homework, he’s going to tease Tony till he comes over early and fucks him.

He plays with his nipples until they’re sore and achy, chest flushed pink with desire and hair messy from writhing on his bed. He snaps a pic and sends it—missing you—he captions it.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Tony: baby...Jesus...u look so good

Peter shoves a hand into his boxers and takes another pic so Tony can see. Wish you were here he sends along with it.

Tony: Christ kid...trying to focus on this budget mtg and that’s not helping

Peter grins and records a small video of his hand stroking his cock inside his boxers, loops it into a gif and sends it.

Tony: fuck...baby boy, ur making daddy hard. Gonna get in trouble if u can’t behave

Peter records another short video and allows himself to gasp and moan, need you daddy he whispers, grinning as he sends it.

There’s a long few minutes of nothing and then—oh...Tony’s sent him a video of him, in the bathroom presumably, stroking his cock and murmuring.

Look what you did to daddy baby, look how hard you made me...daddy can’t even get through a meeting without his baby needing him, huh? Gotta leave work early and come take care of you?

Tony groans as he cums, and Peter moans with him, spilling over his own hand, grinning as Tony huffs and murmurs—be good baby, I’ll be there soon.

——————

Soon, it turns out is three more hours. Which is still much earlier than he’d originally said he’d be there, but still, it feels like an eternity to Peter. He’s actually done his chores; laundry, cleaned his bathroom, completed his bio homework, and he’s thinking of going out for a patrol when there’s a knock at the front door.

He tugs on a T-shirt and hurries out, beaming when he sees it’s Tony through the peephole. He manages to get out a surprised gasp at the sight of him in a suit before the older man pushes him inside and kicks the door shut. Tony’s on him all at once, hands cupping his ass as he lifts him, mouth hungry on his as he presses Peter against the wall, devouring him.

Peter whines as Tony’s mouth trails over his throat, marking it deeply before he fists a hand in Peter’s hair and pulls, tilting his head so he can kiss all along his collarbones and lick at the soft space in the hollow of his throat.

Tony rolls his hips into Peter’s so he can feel the hard line of his cock as he growls in his ear.

“Can’t even get through a few hours alone, huh baby? You that desperate? Hmm?”

Peter’s breath hitches and he nods, gasping when Tony’s fingers tighten in his hair to hold him still.

“Gonna have to teach you how to wait baby. Gotta learn patience.”

Tony backs away from the wall and carries Peter to his room, lays him down and strips him bare, and then just sits back, looking at him. Peter makes a soft noise, needy and pitchy, slides a hand down to wrap around his cock, only for Tony to bat it away and then capture the other, pinning them above his head in one easy move.

“No touching baby. That’s for daddy,” Tony tells him, smiling dark and dangerously. Peter whines but nods, arches his hips up as though he thinks it’ll get Tony’s attention to his cock, but the older man just backs away, keeps his hips high so Peter can’t make contact.

“Keep your hands there baby,” Tony instructs before sitting back, his weight on Peter’s thighs so he can’t move. Peter watches as he strips off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves so the bronzed skin of his forearms is exposed. He’s so densely muscular, years of working on cars honing his body into a solid weight that feels perfect on top of Peter.

Tony grabs the lube Peter had out earlier and slicks his palm before wrapping his hand around Peter’s cock, smirking when he gasps and tries to arch into it. He strokes him slow and steady, eyes dark and hungry as Peter moans and writhes, gasping Tony’s name as he gets closer, heat building in his stomach.

I’m gonna... he manages to gasp out...and Tony’s hand is gone. Peter sobs at the loss of sensation, whining as his orgasm fades away, tossing his head on the pillow unhappily.

When Tony resumes stroking him he moans and shudders, but it’s only a few minutes later that Tony removes his hand again. “I told you baby, you gotta learn to wait,” Tony croons, hand rubbing Peter’s thigh soothingly as he keens and writhes.

Peter’s not sure how long it goes on for like that—hours, days? All he knows is Tony’s hand on him and the ache in him growing each time it isn’t allowed to break free. He’s sobbing for each breath, tears wetting his lashes as he begs and begs, every nerve in his body like a live wire.

“Want you...in me,” he manages to gasp, begging please please please, and it seems like Tony softens for moment, considering his plea. He nods slowly and grabs Peter’s hips, rolls him into his stomach and then pulls him to his knees, gently pushes his head back down when he tries to lift it.

“Okay baby,” Tony murmurs, “just hold on.”

Peter expects his fingers, lube maybe, but he doesn’t expect—Tony’s tongue, hot and wet over his hole, licking fervently into him. He cries out shrilly, gasping and clutching at the sheets as Tony devours him; licking and sucking at his rim until it feels puffy and loose, tongue thrusting in and moving inside him.

It’s joined by a finger and then another, thick and calloused, firm inside him, stretching as Tony continues to attack his rim. Peter keens when Tony nips at him, the sensation nearly overwhelming as a third finger joins the other two.

He can feel Tony searching, and when his fingers find it, Peter lets out a strangled scream and thrusts back, eyes rolling back as Tony fucks into him. He’s loose and wet and it’s loud, the sound of Tony’s fingers inside him—sloppy in a way that should be disgusting but makes his gut burn with pleasure.

He can feel it rising within him, hot and desperate and he tries, but he can’t form words, just strangled moans of Tony and daddy as he drools info the mattress and then everything goes white; soundless, sightless, senseless.

As sound and sensation creep back in around the edges he’s aware of how hard he’s cum, and the fact that he’s still hard. Tony’s fingers are still in him, and the older man is murming softly.

“Look at you sweetheart, look at the mess you made. That pretty little cock is still hard, huh? Well, you don’t get to cum again till daddy does,” he warns. Peter can hear a belt being undone and a zipper sliding down and then Tony’s fingers slip out of him and he moans at the loss, rocking back to chase them.

Tony laughs softly and turns him around, pulls him into his lap where he’s still dressed, but his cock is out, hard and red and throbbing. He guides Peter up and holds his hips as he pulls him down, eyes hooded and dark as they watch him.

Peter sobs at the sensation; Tony’s cock is thick and long, and it’s, it’s breaking him apart as he sinks down onto it, breath hitching as the head slips past his rim, a sobbing moan sliding from his throat as Tony pushes into him slowly.

It’s too much, too thick, pressing into his soft insides, and it hurts, but not real pain, pain like when he makes himself cum too many times in a row or pokes a bruise—heavy, throbbing sensation that makes him ache for more.

Tears blur his vision as Tony fills him, hard and heavy in his gut, the head of his cock pushing into his prostate like a punch to the gut. He shudders and curls inward, tucks himself into Tony’s chest panting and whining as Tony pushes the rest of the way into him.

He’s so full...it feels like he could split apart at the seams from how Tony’s cock is seated inside him, pressing into him, the weight of it taking his breath away. He’s shivering and breathing unsteadily, and when Tony’s hand makes slow circles over his back and his lips press into his hair, he whines and nuzzles into him further.

“You okay baby? We don’t have to keep going,” Tony murmurs, lips against his ear, voice warm with concern.

Peter shakes his head and sniffles, “S’really full,” he slurs, “s’alot.”

Tony nods and kisses his temple, “I know baby, just breathe, mmkay?”

Peter manages a weak nod and turns his chin so his nose is in the crook of Tony’s neck and his scent floods his nose; warm and spicy with undertones of grease and metal. Tony keeps making slow circles over his back and eventually he realizes he’s rocking his hips, making slow circles of his own on Tony’s cock.

“You ready baby? You gonna ride daddy’s cock?” Tony asks, voice a low hum in his ear.

Peter nods and wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders as he sits straighter, a little bleary eyed as he stares into Tony’s eyes. The older man smiles and lifts a hand to cup his cheek, a tender expression on his face as Peter gains his rhythm.

“You’re so beautiful baby, all pink and flushed and fucked out from daddy cock. Love those little noises you make,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into Peter’s lower lip and then into his mouth as the boy moans and rolls his hips faster.

Peter is dazed and a little light headed, need swelling within him once more as he rides Tony, gasping and moaning around the fingers in his mouth. His ass burns, stretched open and throbbing at the weight of Tony’s cock thrusting into him, the heat of it filling him till he’s like a ripe fruit, swollen and ready to burst.

He sobs a little as he thrusts faster onto Tony, arching his back as he finds that spot within himself, pleasure like white lightning up his spine every time Tony’s cock drags over it. He’s not even coherent as he lifts himself and slams back down, cries loud and wrecked, chest heaving with every breath.

P-pleaseeeee...daddy! Uhn Uhn Uhn

Tony’s grip tightens on him as he watches his boy, flushed and crying, cock bouncing as he rides him, loud desperate moans filling the small apartment.

He wishes he had the foresight to record this, so he could watch it over and over again when they’re apart—next time, he promises himself. Pleasure burns in his gut as Peter bounces on his cock, tears on his cheeks as he begs to cum, cock drooling heavily on his stomach.

He’s close himself now, and decides to take mercy on his sweet boy. Wrapping his hand around his cock he strokes, twisting at the head and thumbing at the sensitive tip, groaning as Peter wails and jerks, sounds strangling as he bounces harder, faster.

Peter can’t tell where pain ends and pleasure begins; he’s too stretched out and Tony’s touch on his cock hurts, but he needs it, needs to cum, and the thrust of his cock inside him is hard against the bruised walls of his body, but it’s good, so so good and he can’t, he can’t—

Tony sucks a mark to his neck, “Cum for me baby,” he gasps, pressing his nail into the tip of Peter’s cock just as he slams down on Tony’s length. A wail rips from his boy’s throat and then his cum is splattering over his stomach and Tony’s hand and on his suit and he’s shuddering and following after him, spilling hot inside Peter with a groan of his name.

Peter sobs, rocking down on Tony as his cum fills him, hot against his tender insides, slipping out around his puffy, raw rim and he cries, shuddering through each spurt of his own cock into Tony’s hand until he’s got nothing left to give and he’s limp in Tony’s arms.

The older man hushes him as he cries, holds him tight and presses kisses to his face and throat and hair, crooning praise. “So good baby, you were so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Tony gently guides him back against his pillows, pulls out slowly and hushes Peter’s whine at the loss. Peter buries his face in Tony’s shoulder and breathes unsteadily as the older man runs his hands over him, shudders when his thick calloused fingers slide into his hole where he’s wet and open.

“God baby, look at you,” Tony rasps out, voice low and gravelly. “You’re a mess sweetheart. All open and wet with daddy’s cum.”

Peter whines and pushes his face against Tony’s throat, embarrassed but pleased.

“C’mon baby, look” Tony encourages and he finally pulls away, leans up and peers down, flushes when he sees the way his thighs are coated in sticky white, his and Tony’s cum staining his skin.

He collapses back and throws an arm over his eyes, entirely exhausted and wrung out. A dull ache throbs inside him where Tony was, and he can feel his hole trying to tighten, but he’s still loose and dripping cum and he shivers, enjoying the slick sensation of it.

Tony kisses his cheek and pushes his arm off his eyes, gaze worried and soft. “Are you okay Peter? Anything hurt?”

Peter laughs softly and slings his arm around Tony’s neck, draws him down for a kiss that’s uncoordinated and sweet. “I’m ok, promise,” he breathes against Tony’s lips. The older man studies him with a hint of suspicion and then nods, smiling softly.

“Mmkay sweetheart. We’re gonna shower and then you’re gonna eat and watch a movie with me.”

Peter stares at him for a long moment, throat working to produce the words he wants desperately to ask.

“You’re staying?”

Tony’s gaze softens and he nods, leans in for a kiss, “Baby, of course I’m staying—you’re never getting rid of me now,” he promises with a wry little smirk Peter can feel against his mouth.

He grins and pulls him closer, “Good. I don’t want you going anywhere...except inside me.”

Tony laughs and drops his head to Peter’s shoulder, body shaking with laughter and Peter grins; he’s so glad he called that line and found Tony.

Found this.

Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe

———————

@sluttystarker @starkerchemistryy @pantastic-peach @thebadthingshappen @ciel-mio @hpspazz @starker-4ever @w1nters-stark @foof-a-loof @confused-trash-kitten @panicdotexe @stqrker @honey-honey-darling @mariketa12 @itsmeryshipper @dramione90 @starker-flame @pretzelpoetry @seriouslystarker @starkerthanreality @ikneelbeforemygod @professional-fangirl75 @virgilismypoorshadowling @godlovesstarker @sapphicfreak @veronicashipsit @the-dark-obsidian-princess @ikneelbeforemygod @laughing-oreo @sensei-sans-sugoi @ruelukas22 @tom-starker @yourlittlemelody

#starker #starcrossedtalks #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #daddy stark

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leedrop-angel · 5 years

Text

Fight and make up

This is a story I was thinking of before I made this blog, and was completely comfortable writing, but now that I have this blog, and am super comfortable to write, I'll do this story, and someone else I gave the prompt to, and they said they're gonna do it so watch for @ticklish-sides for when they do it as well :D ( and read there other stuff, there really talented)

Lamp( Roman, Virgil, Logan, Patton)

Logan and Virgil fight, and won't make up, so Roman and Patton step in and do their thing (YES ITS A TICKLE FIC) but it starts off sad just so yall know

~~~~~~~~~

"I DIDNT MAKE HIM HAVE A FUCKING MENTAL HEALTH DAY LOGAN" Virgil screamed, Logan came to him fuming cause the video was late for everyone cause Thomas had taken a mental health day, Patton and Roman didn't mind, but Logan was now off schedule and that pissed him off. Roman heard them arguing, and Patton went next to him, worried.

"YOUR HIS MENTAL HEALTH, YOU MADE HIM MISS THIS IMPORTANT FUCKING VIDEO, MAYBE IF YOU NEEDED THE DAY YOU SHOULD HAVE DUCKED OUT LIKE BEFORE" Logan shouted, both were fuming at this point. And Patton and Roman seen it was getting worse and had to step in, "guys calm down" Patton spoke up, but was ignored "WHY, SO YOU CAN BEG ME BACK, IF I LEAVE YOUR WORDS WON'T WORK TO GET MY ASS BACK" Virgil now had tears in his eyes, but Logan wasn't gonna lose this was, "NOBODY NEEDS ANXIETY. MAYBE YOU AND YOUR MENTAL HEALTH SHOULD GO BACK TO THE FUCKING DARK SIDES WHERE YOU BELONG!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH"

Roman shouted, seeing how that one broke Virgil, but all Virgil did was throw his new hoodie at Logan and ran off to his room, both angry and sad, Logan took the hoodie and threw it away, stomping to his room, feeling the same. "This isn't good Roman, they have never fought like that, what do we do!?!?" Patton said, scared they won't make up. " Don't worry Padre, I'll talk to Logan, you talk to Virgil, let's try to get them back before a duel starts" and with that, they went to help there person

~~virgil+ patton~~

Virgil was trembling with rage, he had tears down his eyes, and something he didn't ever wanna bring back, his old black hoodie, and a black shirt, soon while deep in thought about Logan's words, Patton came in " hey kiddo, how you doing" Virgil looked up, then at his wall mirror, " this is how" was all Virgil said, before he punched his mirror, shattering it, and getting glass in his hand, but he didn't care, Patton though screamed at that and goes into his bathroom, getting the first aid kit and tweezers. "Virgil you didn't need to do that!" Patton slightly yelled and took his hand, getting the glass out " that's how I feel Patton, I showed you instead of tell you. Why are you here anyway?" Virgil spoke, sadness in his voice. And Patton finished at his hand before speaking again. "You need to come with me, you and Logan need to-"

"DONT SAY THAT NAME IN MY ROOM AGAIN" Virgil yelled before Patton could finish. "I have nothing to say to it, if it wants to apologize to me, then I'll talk, but till then, I don't want its name spoken in this room" Patton could tell Virgil was extremely unhappy, they always knew cause if he was mad at you, you where a it to him. And Patton sighs, "my shadowling, please. He made a mistake, you both need to talk it out" Patton begged, but Virgil stayed strong, "keep it away from me, it doesn't deserve to speak around me, now please leave Patton, I Wanna be alone..." And with that Patton sighed and walked out hoping Roman got farther than him

~~~~~~

~~roman and Logan ~~~~

" Logan?" Roman walked in as if walking on eggshells, but logan was stress cleaning with his own room, “I'm not talking to him roman, so don't even try to talk me into it”. was all logan said as he fixed his bed, but roman refused to listen,” I will not leave till I get you to apologize to our resident emo!” but logan just rolled his eyes, “he should apologize to me, he messed up our schedule, and now everyone is mad at Thomas for missing the video” but before roman could say anything, logan snapped, and a robot came over and pushed roman out of the room.

~~~~~~~~

Patton and roman met back up, both obviously upset, “any luck padre?” roman started already guessing on that answer, “no, and I guess the same for you princy?” and all roman did was shake his head, “please just give me time to think of a way to get them together, ok pops,” and Patton nodded listening to roman.

a week went by, and logan and Virgil refused to be in the same room, hell, Virgil hasn't even left his room to eat or anything, but before Patton could try to go to the room and fail at talking to Virgil again.roman took him aside with a huge grin. “ Patton I got a great idea, ill get Virgil, you get logan. take them to the imagination, but don't tell them that the other is coming. ok?” and Patton just smiles and nods and takes there plan into action.

~~time skip~~

roman and Virgil where the last to walk in, but when logan and Virgil saw each other, they both stared at each other. both wanted to talk, but both wanted the other to start. but before anyone could leave, roman and Patton snapped, and soon vines came from the ground and grabbed both Virgil and logan legs and arms, the arms pinned to the ground as the vines turned into stocks, and the vines kept their arms above there head. “ Patton, what is the meaning of this”

“ROMAN GET ME OUT OF THESE” was all that came from both boys said, as they struggle to get free, but both of them realized they were trapped. “ you guys are not getting free till you make up,” Patton said, and roman nodded

“I have nothing to say to it” Virgil started and suddenly bit his lip, feeling a vine graze his side as it took his hoodie off. “ and I can't talk to someone who cant help Thomas” logan stated and squeaked as he was stripped of his socks, feeling the vines slither up his feet. “ the longer you don't apologize to each other, the longer this will be, but you both won't last long, so start talking” roman said, but no words where said. but soon both boys squeaked, feeling vines slither under there sleaves and wiggled under there arms, Virgil bit his lip, and logan puffed his cheeks up to stop the giggles, but it was true, the longer they stayed quiet, the worse it got. roman and Patton just watched, waiting for them to make up.

“tick-tock boys, roman said and the vines went down to there ribs, and logan was the first to break, giggles started to come from him “ nohohoho this ihihihis worse!!!” logan giggled, struggling more, but Virgil didn't giggle yet, “ihihihi won't stahahahart” but soon Virgil started to tremble, but soon he broke into laughter, as his belly was attacked next, but logan laughed as well as the vines attacked his feet, “guys come one of you start, it will just get worse” Patton squeaked and Virgil was the first to start. “IHIHIHI DIDNT STAHAHAHAHAHRT IHIHIHIT”

It stayed like that for 5 minutes but soon both of them where cackling as there feet, bellies, belly buttons, ribs and pits where attacked, and both said this a the same time, “IHIHIHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHOHOHO SOHOHOHOHRHRHRHY” and suddenly it was all over, they where both let go, and soon in such a tickly daze hugged each other as it was over. “would you guys wanna go to your rooms, or st-” before Patton could say anything, Virgil and logan fell asleep, hugging each other, and roman just made a king-sized bed appear under them, and him and Patton just went on the bed, and just started there cuddle pile, everyone happy that they where back together. no more fights.

#tickle blog #tickle #lee!virgil #lee!logan #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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fabulouslyphan · 6 years

Text

Happy Meals and Happy Days

"Could I get a chicken nugget happy meal please?" A deep voice asked as Dan tapped at the register. He glanced up at the customer, analysing him with a deep but quick stare. Tapping out the order methodically, he took in the strangers porcelain white skin and striking blue eyes, which seemed even brighter when framed by the black strands of hair falling gently to one side of them.

"What drink would you like?" Dan asked, finger hovering over the bright tabs on the screen. He stood up straighter as the other man considered his options, trying to judge who was taller. It was a close call, but Dan reckoned he had an inch or two more. This made him weirdly happy, considering his above average height had him taller than most people anyway.

"Just a coke, I think, please." The stranger finally decided, pulling Dan out of his trance and a card out of his peculiar looking phone case. A closer glance revealed it was patterned with Shiba Inus, which pulled a grin from Dan's sleep deprived state as he passed over the card reader.

"It'll be five minutes if that's okay?" Dan said, refreshing the till and flicking his eyes up to meet the blue tinted gaze of the man across from him.

"Yeah of course, that's fine!" A smile lit up his face like a firework on New year's Eve, and Dan could've sworn his heart stopped for a second.

"Much thank." Dan quipped, no filter on his mouth as he appreciated the customers face. "Wait no!" He corrected himself, face palming violently. A laugh broke him from his embarrassment, and he peeked between his fingers to see the man clutching his chest as he laughed, his tounge poking out minutely between his teeth.

"You just made my day ... Daniel." A quick glance at the badge pinned carefully to Dan's chest helped finish his sentence. "Thanks for that." He turned to walk away before spinning on his heel suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Or should I say much thank?" He winked, finally moving to stand in the waiting area.

Dan put together the meal, cheeks a vibrant red from his embarrassment. PJ sidled up to him, an obvious grin on his oddly stunning face.

"Channeling your inner memelord, I see? Is he cute? Scratch that, he must be if you're willing to make a meal, I know you prefer to work at the till." At this point, Dan was sure if he got any hotter he'd spontaneously combust. Resolutely ignoring PJ, he put some nuggets into a bag, pausing before placing an extra two in when PJ wasn't looking. He grabbed a pen, drawing a Lenny face onto the box, where it would be obvious to the intended audience. He finally went back to the counter, handing over the box to the customer, a peachy glow and red patch on his cheeks the only reminder of the bright colour that had graced them before.

"Thanks, Daniel." The raven haired man said, hugging the box to his chest.

"Call me Dan." He grinned, winking before he watched the man leave. Once he was out of the door, Dan sighed deeply, going back to watching the hands on the clock ticking by. The early hour of the morning had never felt so obvious.

~~~~~~~

"Voldemort, nine o'clock!" PJ called over to Dan, moving away from the till.

"What are you on about?" Dan laughed, taking his place at the till before realising what he was talking about.

"You know who!" PJ's disembodied voice carried through the almost empty kitchen easily, quickly bringing a blush to Dan's cheeks.

"Hello again." A smile made its way across his face as he made eye contact with the guy he'd dubbed 'Mystery Man' in his head.

"Hi." He replied, grinning back at him. "Could I get a chicken nugget happy meal please?" Dan nodded, tapping the respective buttons on the screen.

"Which drink would you like? A coke again?" He asked, flushing a deeper colour as he realised he'd revealed that he remembered the order. Mystery Man smirked, his eyes twinkling as he nodded, pulling his card out of a Shrek wallet this time. Dan almost laughed out loud, instead muffling it by clearing his throat as he passed over the card machine.

He went through the same process as yesterday, adding the extra nuggets and a reference to a meme in permanent marker. This happened the next day, and the next, until it had been a good three weeks of Mystery Man turning up and ordering a chicken nugget happy meal at 3am, before having a short conversation with Dan, usually referencing memes. Other than the few days when he'd been ill (or so he said when he came back) the almost-stranger, who's name Dan still hadn't managed to catch, was in there every night, 3am on the dot.

Until one fateful day, in late October. It was early evening, and for some godforsaken reason, Dan wanted chicken nuggets. It was ridiculous! He worked at MacDonalds for hours every night, living off the food there during his shift, and yet here he was, craving those bloody mcnuggets. Tugging on a black hoodie, he trudged through the streets to the other MacDonalds, having had his fill of PJ for the day that morning.

Walking up to the counter, Dan barely glanced at the bespectacled man with a quiff who stood at the counter, instead focusing on the nametag attached to his chest. Phil. A good name, he thought, before he was pulled from his thoughts by an audible gasp. His head snapped up and he visibly jumped when he realised who was stood there.

"Dan?"

"Mystery Man?" The two names spilled from their lips simultaneously, a matching look of shock plastering their faces.

"Wait, mystery man?" Phil asked, crooking his head to one side slightly.

"I forgot to ask your name, " Dan admitted shyly. " So I made it up. I was going to go with Mo, but it felt wrong." He grinned slightly as he searched Phil's familiar features.

"Well, Dan, what would you like?" Phil smiled a teasing look at Dan as he waited for his answer.

"Could I get a...chicken nugget happy meal with coke please?" Dan asked, the picture of innocence as he gazed at Phil, who had to bite his lip to prevent a laugh from bursting out. He went to pull out his card, but Phil touched his arm, stopping him.

"It's on the house." He winked, pointing Dan to the waiting area as he went to prepare the meal. Dan buzzed with excitement, his foot tapping rhythmically on the floor as he played a silent piano piece on his leg with his fingertips.

When Phil came back, he was missing his apron but had two happy meals and drinks instead. "Shall we?" He guestured to a table, bumping Dan with his hip slightly.

It was the best 'date' (or whatever you would call it) Dan had ever been on. They talked about anything and everything, laughing over bad puns and jokes with their hands just touching on the table, sipping at their drinks in between giggles. Once they were finished, Phil pulled Dan up, linking their fingers. "Mario Kart?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Dan laughed, and they walked the short distance to Phil's flat. Ironically, it was only a few minutes from Dan's, which brought an eruption of giggled from both of them when he pointed it out, the two of them feeling drunk on life.

Once in the apartment, they began to play. Dan won all of the games, his competitive nature clearly shining through. Phil found himself determined to distract him somehow, so when the moment was right, he leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. Dan dropped his controller, his character swerving off the road just moments before he would've won. Phil's sailed past, winning first place.

"No fair! That is cheating, straight up cheating." Dan complained, pouting at Phil. Phil leaned back over, pulling Dan's face towards his and kissing the pout away.

"Still complaining?" He asked, gazing into Dan's eyes when they pulled away to breathe.

"Not even a little." Dan said, yanking him over to connect their lips again. Soon, the Xbox went into sleep mode, abandoned as its owner found something much more enjoyable to do with his time. Or should he say, someone.

*****************************

Aaaaah thanks for reading! This is one I wrote a few months ago, and I had to redo bits but I'm quite happy with it I think. My personal life has been a bit full on recently, but there will be another fic out sometime in the next week, a prompt this time, so hopefully you can look forward to that. Once again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Belle xoxo

[Don't forget, if you send in a prompt, I can write you a fanfic! Anything'll do!]

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #macdonalds au #fluff #mild reference to sex #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #dnp #dip n pip #dip and pip #pj liguori #kickthepj

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galileosunshine · 7 years

Text

Blossoming Love

Written for Day 4 of ChikaRiko Week Prompt: Wishes/Flowers

Rating: General Words: ~2300 Fandom: Love Live!/Love Live! Sunshine!! Pairing: ChikaRiko Summary: When Riko's confession to Chika is unreturned, flowers begin to grow in her throat (A hanahaki byou fic)

Read on AO3

“I love you.”

Looking back, that’s probably where it started. On the beach that day, with the sun just beginning to rise from the horizon, holding Chika’s hand.

Riko had poured her heart and soul out to Chika in those three words. It was all she could think of, to show her gratitude and appreciation. Chika had allowed her, wanted her to be selfish, to put herself above Aqours if it meant facing the piano again, finding her love for it again…smiling again. In that moment, all her feelings welled up inside her and burst like a dam. How could she not have confessed?

And yet, Chika said nothing in return. Perhaps she had misunderstood.

Her silence made Riko flush, and she suddenly wished she had never said those words in the first place. She wished she could recapture those white puffs of air that escaped from her mouth, and swallow them back down.

Riko returned home from the beach that day with a lump in her throat. At first, she brushed it off as just her emotions roiling inside of her. That’s how all those romance novels she bought always described it, right? A lump in your throat.

And yet, the feeling didn’t go away. Not the next day, nor even the day after that. Riko could ignore it, like a smell that disappeared after spending enough time in a room. But whenever Riko thought about it, the sensation returned.

It remained, and it became a constant companion, like a mole or a birthmark. It stayed in her throat well past their second Love Live, and the closing of their school, until one day, Riko felt it shift, and grow, tickling her throat.

It grew well past uncomfortable, scratching at her inside as though she had swallowed sandpaper, pins and needles dragged along tender flesh. And when she tried to cough it away…

White and pink flower petals sputtered out of her.

She watched in amazement as they floated in the wind, before slowly drifting to the ground.

“Whoa, are there cherry blossom trees still blooming?” Yoshiko said.

“Um…I don’t–” Riko tried to explain, but another cough racked her body, and she blew out petals again.

Yoshiko gaped with her mouth open. “Are those coming out of you!?”

“Y-you’re seeing things, Yocchan!” Riko stuttered out, and quickly swept away the petals on the floor. “I think you’re staying up too late playing games.”

Riko quickly ran away, leaving the dumbfounded Yoshiko to think what she may. Riko became much warier of her those around her when she coughed after that.

Riko also slowly came to realize that the petals had something to do with Chika. It happened whenever they were together, the sharp, stinging sensation in her, and the coughs that led to petals streaming out of her.

It happened whenever she felt Chika’s eyes on her, admiring her as she wrote compositions or played the piano. She felt the scratching and had to excuse herself to cough out petals. It happened each time Chika smiled her dazzling smile, and Riko’s heart would race and her breaths would catch in her throat, only to be let out later in a flurry of white and pink. Each time Chika excitedly hugged her, her warmth enveloping her and the smell of tangerines on her, Riko would flush and run away to sneeze out pollen and cough cherry blossoms.

“Are you okay?” Chika would ask her with that cute, curious face. “You seem kinda sick lately.”

Chika’s concern for her set Riko’s heart aflutter, but at the same time, it made her throat burn like fire.

“I’m ok,” she responded, trying to sound confident, but her voice came out raspy. Even speaking made her want to scratch her throat out. “Don’t worry about me, Chika-chan.”

“…If you say so,” Chika would say, hesitantly, and put it out of her mind.

She learned the name of her condition from Hanamaru, telling stories to the Aqours members in the library about unnatural illnesses that she had read. It was called hanahaki byou, a disease where flowers grow inside you, making you cough up petals, and it grew out of a severe one-sided love.

It made sense then. Her unanswered confession to Chika on the beach was the epitome of unrequited love.

And supposedly, it could only be cured when the person’s feelings were returned.

Riko left the library that day depressed. Would she be coughing out flowers forever?

If Chika didn’t understand the meaning of her words that day, should she try confessing again? But how could she? On the beach with Chika, it had been spontaneous, a flood of emotions that she couldn’t hold back. She’d have to work up the courage on her own this time.

And if Chika did understand what she meant, but she didn’t return her confession, why would confessing a second time make a difference? And what if Chika rejected her outright this time? The thought alone was enough to make her want to cry.

Riko laid in bed that entire evening, in the dark and in her own melancholy, doing nothing save coughing out flower petals until she rested on a bed not made of cotton and foam, but of cherry blossom petals. Meanwhile, her phone buzzed with messages from Chika.

I’m out on the balcony! Are you coming out?

…hey, are you ok? Your lights are off.

It’s ok if you don’t feel like talking today! Have a good night!

Riko turned off her phone. What was the point anyways? She buried her face in the sea of petals around her.

Chika probably didn’t feel the same way toward her at all. Riko thought she knew Chika better than anyone, save maybe You. They spent every possible second together at school, they talked for hours on end over the phone and across their balconies. They’ve spent nights staying up till 3 am coming up with lyrics and writing songs. They practiced and danced and sang and performed together.

In all that time, Chika has never looked at her the same way she looked at Chika. She’s never sighed with longing at Riko. She hasn’t shed one blush of red for her. In fact, Chika hugged her far too easily, held her hands too readily, to consider her anything more than just a friend.

And she’ll have to be fine with that.

“Sorry for the other day,” Riko said from the balcony, some nights later. Chika shook her head.

“It’s fine! We all have bad days.”

“Chika-chan, we’re…good friends, right?” Riko wasn’t sure where wanted to go with the question. But she was tired, and in search of something to hold on to, something to comfort her.

“Of course we are! What kind of question is that, silly?” Chika responded and laughed. That tinkling laugh that was like water and sunshine to the buds in Riko’s throat, and Riko knew she’d be coughing out the blossomed petals after their conversation.

“Are we anything more?” she asked breathlessly, unsure if Chika heard her.

“Hmm, I guess it’s a bit different than my friendship with the first years, or the third years.” Chika grinned at her, smiling all the way up to her eyes. “We’re best friends!”

Riko tried to smile as well. Their conversation ended soon afterwards.

Riko laid in bed that night, trying to content herself with just being Chika’s friend. A relationship as close as theirs, even if was merely platonic, was more than she could have ever asked for after moving to Uchiura. Riko told herself, over and over in her head, that she can be happy just spending every day with Chika as usual, never telling her the truth, and letting her feelings of love wither away unnoticed.

But Riko knew it wasn’t true. Just as the flowers in her throat grew and grew, her love for Chika only continued to grow. The flowers spewing out of her, more and more each day, was a constant reminder of her feelings.

And Riko knew the sickness was getting worse.

She woke up one morning with a pain in her throat sharper than ever before, as though something was clawing its way out. She clutched her throat tight as she rolled and fell out of bed. Barely able to breathe, she curled into a ball and heaved out an entire vine of cherry blossoms. Their white petals were stained with flecks of red.

Riko stayed home that day.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Chika asked her later, worried because Riko had skipped a day of school. Of course she would come. She always came. “You’ve been worrying me for a while now.”

“I told you I’m fine,” Riko said, but her pale face and tired smile said otherwise. Riko hoped Chika wouldn’t pry any further. And she didn’t. Chika did something far worse. She opened herself up.

“I care about you Riko-chan, and if there’s anything bothering you lately, I want to help! There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

Chika flashed her a gentle and warm smile, and Riko swallowed down the vines scrambling up her throat. “I…”

Chika took her hands. “You know you can tell me anything, Riko-chan,” she said, her voice soft and so very, very kind that it made Riko’s heart ache that she’s been lying to her.

And suddenly, Riko couldn’t hold it back anymore. She doubled over and coughed violently into her hand, a shower of cherry blossoms and blood scattering across her palm and over the floor.

“Riko-chan!?” Chika’s voice was full of panic. Riko was unable to answer, her body jerking forward with each cough, and each cough sending showers of petals and pollen into the air.

Trying to help as best she could, Chika fell on her knees and tried to hold Riko steady, as she retched over and over. The floor became littered with petals and crimson blots. The sight of blood made Chika’s stomach churn, but she never looked away from Riko.

Riko finally finished, and collapsed in exhaustion against Chika, leaning her head into her shoulders. And Chika hugged Riko tight, rocking her ever so slightly, rubbing circles into her back to comfort her.

“Hey, Riko-chan, do you have someone you like?”

Riko’s breath hitched.

“That’s hanahaki byou, isn’t it? The thing Hanamaru-chan was talking about?”

Riko was afraid to answer, but after all that’s happened, Chika deserved to know. “Yes, I…like someone,” she confessed with shaky breaths.

“Tell me about her,” Chika whispered. Riko thought for a moment.

“She’s dazzling and radiant and warm, like the sun,” Riko began, but then stopped just as quickly, as her confidence failed her. “But you don’t expect a star to admire you back.”

“…Who is it?”

Riko shook her head. Saying she liked someone was one thing, but saying who was another. Especially when that person was right next to her.

“Riko-chan, look,” Chika pulled away just a bit and put her hand to her mouth. She forced a cough, and orange petals sputtered out of her. They were fragrant, Riko noted. Osmanthus flowers.

Then the realization hit her, and she gasped. “Chika-chan, you…”

“I have someone I like too,” she said, and smiled nervously.

Riko felt her heart beat like a drum, reverberating all the way up to her skull.

“If I tell you who I like, will you tell me who you like?”

Riko bit her lip, anxiety flooding her entire body. Did she want to know? Was that why Chika didn’t return her confession the first time?

What were the chances that it was her?

And then she noticed Chika, her brows furrowed, the light in her eyes quivering, she was biting her own lips. She looked scared, and hopeful. Hoping Riko would say yes. But why? Because she hoped for a certain answer? Was it because…she suspected that they liked each other?

Riko felt a surge of hope within her, and she grasped for it, like light in the darkness, light that Chika always brought with her, because she was sunshine itself.

“Okay,” Riko agreed.

Chika took a long breath. “The girl I like came into my life like a miracle. She helped me find my radiance. She’s always right by my side, and she's so beautiful and talented. Actually, she already confessed to me once.”

Riko’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself holding her breath. The spark of hope lit into a flame.

“That time, I was scared of what she meant. I couldn't believe a girl like her could like a girl like me. So I didn't say anything back. And I kept on as though we were friends. But now...I think I'm ready to believe her, and...I want to give her an answer.”

Riko felt tears welling up, and the sobs rising up prevented her from speaking. She only nodded.

“I love you, Riko-chan.”

It happened slowly, then all at once, her tears welling up, then springing loose, and she couldn’t stop them running down her cheeks. She wrapped Chika in a fierce hug, and cried into her shoulders and her neck. “I love you too, Chika-chan! I love you so much!”

She wasn't sure if Chika could understand her over her sobs and her hiccups. In the back of her mind she noticed that her hiccups weren't accompanied by flower petals, and her throat felt clearer than it ever had.

But in that moment, all that mattered in Riko's mind was Chika in her arms, and her in Chika's arms, and the happiness she felt of having her loved returned.

#Love Live!#Love Live! Sunshine!!#ChikaRiko #ChikaRikoWeek #fanfic #my writing #HHHHGH SO NERVOUS ABOUT THIS ONE #im....not good with angst #and it also has lots of internal monologuing which im also not used to #but I hope y'all enjoy!!!! ;A;

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sonofhistory · 7 years

Link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

American Revolution RPF, American History RPF, 18th Century CE RPF

Nathan Hale (1755-1776)/Benjamin Tallmadge

Tags: Young Love, Last Kiss, Brief Smut, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Roller Coaster, Cuddling & Snuggling, This is the last time they ever see each other, Foreshadowing Death, Fight Scene, Tags will be updated

Part 2 of the Early American History | Stories They Won’t Tell series (fics places in the series get rearranged by date in happens in)

Words so far: 5,538

____________________

September 14th, 1776 || 8:02 p.m.

6 days, 14 hours, 48 minutes till Nathan Hale’s death

“My thoughts had once convey’d you home,

In safety to your wonted dome;

But gladly went a second time,

Attended by your muse and rhyme.”

_______________________

Guilt waded over him violently. Nathan had to say it. If he waited any longer, who knows if he would ever conjure up enough courage to say it? He cannot keep it from him any longer. Down below in the grass, Nathan traced the Ben’s silhouette against the dramatic sky above him as he stood buckling back up the strap of his breeches, tugging on his boots again and buttoning up his shirt.

“There’s a wrinkle in your collar”.

Ben shifted, revolving around to raise a sarcastic brow, following the pointed digit to his neck and he smoothed the fabric with two fingers, flattening the crinkled area.

“Thanks”, he rolled his eyes and tucked the ends flaps of his waistcoat into his belt area.

Nathan seemed rather pleased, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head, clothed again and the horned buttermilk grass tickled the sensitive spots of his nape and his bare wrists. Finished, Ben strided over, no longer blocking the sunset as Nathan cupped his face to the streaming light. The Setauket boy stood over him, catching in the blaze, glaring down with a smirk piercing his full lips in a rather menacing manner with the flare of peach that seemed to line the undercoat of his bones; flustered and gazing down in an amused presence of pride. Nathan swallowed, sitting up and brushing the fern off of his legs and the suspicious grass stains on his knees that he bemoaned silently over.

Nathan had to tell him.

Ben scratched his chin, clasping the other’s hand and gathering their fingers together, lacing them. The taller’s mouth went dry, gulping as his tongue turned to sand; he wanted to say so many things to him but he just couldn’t. He choked on the words caught like a searing lump in his throat, he struggled to set them free. It would ever be floating in space, the death of him from beginning and to the end.

“General Washington has assigned me to a mission”.

There, they were out and swimming in the breeze and he could never take them back for as long as he lived.

Ben didn’t stop, kicking a stone in his path with the toe of his boot, and it skipped away, raising the dirt into the air where it bounced. He kept his survey on the ground as if searching for better rocks, rocking his head back and forth and he kept towing Nathan’s hand along back through the trees where they'd come from. “Washington himself?”, he tuned to improvement, moving the corners of his mouth to a frown, nodding his head as they crossed the wall of ivy, “What sort of mission?”

Nathan brought a hand to rub the back of his neck tentatively, “I-in New York.”

At this finally something settled a seed in Ben’s cranium and it began to bloom. Palm growing sweaty as he trekked over a snarling, raspberry bush with dead jagged thorns that attempted to tear through his clothing. A thorn caught on the pad of his thumb and he winced, zipping it between his front teeth, a dot of blood rising above the surface. The meadow darkened with the setting evening sun across the plain and it slipped behind the sloping hills, glazing the heavens in amethyst, cerulean tinctures magnificently. They stepped back among the trunks, side by side with their palms still connected but both were too in thought to think of the danger were they to be spotted. The parting of trees fell less dry than before, and the crimson leaves danced around his ankles.

Ben was still blinking several times with a thumb in his mouth, “What type of mission?”, he inquired again, letters a little more stern on the syllables, muffled by the pressed thumb, flaunting to his lateral with set brows.

“Intelligence.”

“Spying?"

“Intelligence, Ben."

“So you’re a spy now.”, his tone changed and he discontinued his walk on the makeshift path, he peeled a fox-tail off of his thigh and tossed it to the brush, releasing Nathan’s hand; he still limply held it out as if he might rejoin him and take it back up once again. He didn’t and the blonde began to feel naked. Ben’s lips pursed firmly together, a tiny blade forming, jutting out a hip and shewing his braid over his shoulder, flaring the man--the boy--in the face, his arms crossed over his chest. The buckle on his sash gleamed, catching perfectly in the releasing glimmer.

Nathan’s glimpse declined to the turf and he rubbed his bicep, looking for some sort of reassurance in anything and found nothing. “Washington needs men in New York, men who can supply him troop numbers, boats, forces. Washington--”

“To hell with Washington!”, Ben shouted, throwing his hands above his head. At this, Nathan’s eyes flew up, seeing that rage that collapsed like a universe in his eyes. Everything seemed to glow in the obscurity and it was painful how beautiful Ben resembled; he just willed to rush forward, gather him in his arms and smooth those two wrinkles in between his brow until they ceased existence like a stain and he saw that childish face he’d once witnessed. It was complicated discovering how lovely he looked right now, with his usual cheeky half-smile and the way his delicate fingers touched his hair and those sooty, pooling eyes drawing him in as slowly let go. Ben’s cheeks flushed roseate, lips screwed tight, widened and venomous and he worried he’d become paralyzed. “Washington is sending you to the slaughter house.”

“I volunteered.”

“You what ”

Nathan became flustered once again and shifted his footing, nails itching at the fraying threads on his sleeves, “I volunteered to go.”

Ben inhaled deeply, attempting to compose himself, “You are still ill, you were dangerously ill, you need your health.”

Nathan gripped his fist, setting his jaw, and his shoulders rose to his ears before he reposed, “I must do it, Ben. For the war, for Washington, for our futures, for us.”

Ben surged a lip, leering, a hint of disgust plastering the corners of his face, “That’s it?”

“I leave tomorrow”. Nathan endeavor to steal a step forward, gather his lover up, quench all of his fears that clearly fostered below the outrage, wrapping himself up in just their thoughts. Ben faltered, stepping backwards, heel sliding on loose brambles beneath his footing, racing a hand back to catch his fall. Their eye contact relinquished and Ben rose to his feet again, shaking the twigs from his wild curls and clenching his teeth. A subtle wind rushed it and rustled those strands until they fell in his eyes once again.

He angrily slapped them back, “I’m not going to stop you,” Ben declared.

“Then why do you care?”

There was no answer and Nathan printed away, turning his back on perhaps one of the longest things he’d ever loved. The chaos and the grace and everything that came with it and not a single thing that he’d ever regret; there was nothing to. That was how the light managed to escape through the broken cracks.

“You thought you’d just use me?”

Nathan understood everything he meant and his anger subsided, revolving back and shuffling through the brushes, getting closer, “No, Ben---”

“---You thought you’d get good ol’ Benjamin Tallmadge to get you off once last time.”, his eyes narrowed, like a predator.

Nathan snapped, gasping profoundly and jamming a finger into the very core of their chest and hovering over him as scarlet, blank vehemence shrouded the edges of his vision, rushing forward and his hand balled the anterior of Ben’s shirt, ripping him close. Their was a scuffle as the shorter man attempted to stifle himself away, shoving on the other’s shoulders. The fist released off the front of his shirt and a loud groan took the place and Ben tumbled, uprooting Nathan into the dirt, to where Nathan rolled on top of him and wrestling him into the soil, rising a fist and striking Ben right in the nose. He moaned and blood trickled down onto his lips like wine after the sickening crunch settled underneath his knuckles. He shoved Nathan’s chest, capitulates rapping against the base of his ribs and Nathan lost his breath, regaining it quickly, fumbling and pinning down Ben’s shoulder.

“You came onto me first!”

Ben awaited another strike to the face as Nathan rose a fist again.

“And you let me."

It was soft, a quiet voice with every sense of vulnerability.

Nathan faltered, blinking in surprise, and stopping his clutch mid air, pausing and lowering it back down to his side. He leaped off of Ben’s abdomen and tumbled into the ground, covered in dirt and a bruise scarping its way to the surface of his cheek, underneath his heavy, protruding eyelids. There was quietude between them as Ben sat up, wincing, filth caking his countenance and blemishing his elbows. Coughing, a seep of blood streamed from his nose, advancing the surface of his hand to wipe his upper lip, ruby lining the cracks of his white teeth. Nathan covered his forehead with his hand, shrouding his face as his heart drummed in his ears.

And you let me.

Those few words, hanging thick in the draft like sin, caping their letters around them, drawing each other closer together. Ben simpered, lightly tapping the bridge of his nose. Neither of them had noticed how shadowy it had grown and how they could barely see around the separate trees, for of the somber illusion that brimming the earth. A breeze blowed across his fair skin, eyes closing slowly, breathing in depth, filtering the air into the lungs. There was the scent of firewood, a little salt on those tides with ashy smoke and crisp, sun burnt leaves. He opened them again, the serene atmosphere flooding relief across his bones like sparks, rotating his cranium to his side expecting to find Ben glimpsing back.

Ben was balancing his elbows on his knees, his own hands interlocked at the wrists, hanging his head in between the space, following the ground, the arch of his spine shuddering up and down, crimson from his nostrils dripping to the soil below his feet and crossed ankles. Nathan made no advances, knowing he was a second and Ben seemed to intertwine himself around eternity. As if he was just a hand on the clock, and the other was swirling around the stars. In that moment, he did not deserve to place a hand on his shoulder and suggest they forget all of their fears until day breaks and dawn surges forth, toxic, golden and the spy miles away without a single word said. They just sat there in the eclipse of the woods, hung in shame away from the galaxy.

There was no need for Ben to declare everything thing he was frightened of because Nathan already knew. He pictured himself up on a gibbet with a noose around his life, scraping the mole on his neck and rumors it told. He would be hung. It was the pain of remorse, not for his own life but for the one seated across from him. What would he care? He would swing from the gallows to death without a recognition in place, but Benjamin Tallmadge and his five syllable name would carry the speck, the weight of this on his soul for the remained of his life. How does one go on believing they were responsible for the downfall of another they loved?

“Ben…”

He was cut off immediately, “Nathan, please, don’t”, pain lingered in his voice, emotional, wavering unsteadily, sticking in chord in his spirit.

Nathan scooted forward on his knees, fetching himself nearer but Ben did not look up from where he had dangled his visage. “Ben--”

“Stop.”

“Ben...”

“No."

“Damon?”

“No!”, he barked, his head flying up from where it was laid at the song of such innocence, facing Nathan in the eyes where they unlocked bolted doors to his rather secure soul. There was the contamination of tears scattering on the pitter-patter of his cheeks, streaking the dirt on his cheeks, a tear gathering down his jaw; fierce, desperate where his eyebrows arched and that dangerous little wrinkle impregnated his face so pregnantly. Rouge underlining his eyelids, he rubbed his nose, faltering away and leaning his chin on his hand. His sorrow seemed like rain; everyone adored the idea of the sun but he was always in love with the belief that the universe too, felt pain. Ben’s tired orbs bowed, pressing them shut, tears leaking from the edges with memories swinging trapped in their skulls.

Nathan’s stomach tied in knots, as if palms made of things he did not quite understand were twisting his gut underneath the layers of externity. His hand hesitated, rising and landing on Ben’s shoulder, “Please…”

Ben rolled his shoulder in the joint, brushing, throwing off interaction, rubbing the heel of his hand into his forehead, hair tumbling in his eyes rather messily as another sob rippled through his chest, lips parting, holding it back as it grew, climbing out his throat. His chest shook and Nathan couldn’t help but imagine the heart and everything wrapping around the lungs and ribs rattling together.

“Please, leave. I cannot have you here.”

It felt like a slap to the face, “No.”, it still stung, a pulsating hand print formed.

Ben seemed rather displaced, leaning up his head and following with dignity, grinding his teeth and the blood that soaked them, “Can’t you fucking listen?”

Nathan tipped his head, buckling, “Only to the truth.” He had found such a place in between those arms, in between kisses and soft whispers. Between the warmth of embrace, the scent of him, that fierceness in his touch; he found a place lost wandering in another’s soul. Watching his lover shake, and tremble before his very eyes with tears flooding down his cheeks along with wounds he’d created. He could sense contractions in his stomach and the suppression of his beating and the emotions hidden his lung's in the empty rooms. He wish he just saw a person and not poetry, because he didn’t know if he would ever run out of rhymes.

Maybe it was the attraction to every way he’d pushed away his advances, and how he’d done the same at Yale years ago; turning away the best thing he'd ever seen. But he knew Ben better than anything, read him like an open book and he’d memorized all complex pages of text. He traced the outline of Ben’s lips, catching in the moonlight, a reflection. He could walk away now and only regret every moment after. Nathan ran his fingers through his scalp and curled a lock back behind his ear. Ben still didn’t look him in the eye, their thighs were now connected, hip to hip with leaves down the back of their shirts, still adjusting to the milky obscurity around them.

The firmament was glistening that night as he tipped his chin back, attending to the stars scattering in the sky, blinking down at him with reassurance. The stardust gleamed across his own eyes they night, soaking them in like desperate inspiration, scintillating and ushering back. “I’ll throw my voice in the stars, if you will not listen”, this caught Ben’s attention, perking his head up, clearly he was listening with the way that his ears twitched against the tips of his hair, “Perhaps, the echo of my words will be written for you in the clouds by sunrise.” Their fingers brushed, tinging Ben’s shadow and his aimless eyes that was defeated to the interaction,“A brief summary, Damon, is that I will cherish you through the darkness.”

Ben sighed, leaning his head back, opening his throat, bare and clear and Nathan fought the temptation to plant a kiss on the clear skin, trailing up to his jaw. He fell in the grip of those verses, “As always, your words are said as if they are only so, dear Pythias, while they have always been planets swirling around dim stars.”, his vocals were somewhat smothered by the currant blotch widening on the bridge of his nose

“But, there are so many more stars than planets.”

“Ah, but planets make homes among the stars and yours, do indeed live inside me.”

The corner of Nathan’s mouth moved, matching Ben’s growing smile and their eyes met when he twisted his neck to the side, sincerity there in the softness of his glance and the creases softened.

“Pythias--”

“Damon--”

They began at the same time, Ben grasping the attention.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I forgive you,” Nathan flashed a ballsy grin, and Ben slugged him in the shoulder. Ben fell back, leaning into Nathan’s longing arms and soaking in the warmth of his neck. There was calm before the quivering began once again, and the blonde’s hands tugged him tighter, roaming over the curves his back and his vibrating shoulder blades. The wind had paused, and he inclined his jowl down to lay against the top of Ben’s head and where his warm hair frayed.

“I can’t lose you,” warm breath on the shell of his ear. That tepid exhalation seemed to remind him how delightfully chaotic he had remembered, with a passing glance and a handshake across the space at Yale the first time they ever met. The first time he witnessed beauty, grace and forests where they both could get venture in and never get lost because of such the memorization. A beautiful mess, loving him, his most splendid adventure. “I’ve heard you never fully feel another until you’ve lost them. I am worried it will take me a lifetime to truly know you.”, fingers declined to his knee, knowing the ghost of those fingertips will forever wander across his skin, “You’ve filled up so many pieces inside me, who will I be then?”

Nathan Hale bit his lip, gripping his embrace along the cross of Ben’s hips where he sat, coiling their legs together and ankles knocked together through boots with the most intimacy. In this time, the man he held in the circle of his arms was thunder, that smile rattled his bones, and his heart was the best piece, it would always calm the storm when he was afraid of a little rain. “You’ll be Benjamin Tallmadge; rugged soldier, talented scholar. You’ll be the man who graduated early, the one who tossed rocks through the windows at Yale and passed me notes in our lessons. You’ll be just the same because I’ll always be here, I am not going anywhere.”

Ben beamed, fluttering his eyelashes up, “Maybe one day we’ll find that place where you and I can simply be together.”

Nathan reached his touch to cup Ben’s jaw, leading those auburn optics up to meet his face, staring down at the bruise on his jaw and those wrinkles in the center of his forehead that seemed all consuming, his nails eased those growing wounds. “Believe that we shall meet again, until then, I am already missing you.”

Their worlds had color the moment the sky witnessed a pair of woods. Drowning and teaching each other to feel things above the trees. Nathan stood up, extended down a hand and carving out his own silhouette against the eventide with the moon in his hair and the faded stardust sprinkling off those strands whenever he shifted against the heavens. Ben took his awaiting hand, not bothering to brush off his clothing of dirt but picking a twig off of his forearm, tossing it away.

“We should head back to camp,” suggested and the shorter nodded in agreement, glowing in the tangled and perplexing darkness.

Nathan switched away slowly, tracking his way through the thorns on his calf, he started to walk when a pair of arms pulled him back, looping around his waist and a cheek digging in his spine. His arms stayed arisen, taken aback before he let them down, shifting around and grabbing Ben by the waist, connecting their lips when their bodies met, filling in the space and coves as made molds. Fingers circuiting across his scalp, kissing that boy underneath the looming luminescence and the ardent night that altered around them as if the whole atmosphere was peering through the gaps of the top tree branches, glancing their lips switch, revolving and moving over each others with closed eyes and only loving intent. Nathan felt tears on his cheeks and did not know whose they were, but that it did not matter.

They fell apart, still holding their arms together. Nathan swore that every time eyes flickered up to him, they were saying everything his lips failed moving to say.

#I hope you all enjoy #I cant wait for the next chapters #they are the best #benjamin tallmadge #nathan hale #american history #us history #history #halemadge #pressles musing

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