#in a proper knife block too with the blades resting on their sides instead of the edge

[felinesassosaurus]

What a perfect day to break out the new whetstone set and put a new edge on every knife in the house! Can't wait to slice through Caesar veggies with ease!

[tragicallytron]

So, this Cutler guy... (CHP 1)

I have made Tron fic.............  Enjoy!

There’s a small city on the grid. If you were to hop on a Light Rail system in Argon, it’d take you a couple of hours to reach it. You might be surrounded by several programs who are returning to said city--their home--who wear these scowls, these tattered clothes which they deemed their ‘best’, and cold eyes that turn to frigid glares the moment you glance at them. They give anyone more than enough information to know what sort of city they’re about to enter. If you tried to get there with a speedboat, going in a straight line to the right, you’d know when you’d be getting close. You’ll navigate through towering scraps of metal and waste that seem to get more and more hazardous the more you progress, and there’s this odor… This foul, foul odor that hangs over the sea and only gets stronger. The smell always hits you when you think you’ve finally gotten used to it. Of course, you could always drive there, but why would you do that? Does sitting through the hours of traffic, because some reckless programs leaving that terrible city couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the road and crashed head first into a truck, sound more appealing to you than the sickening sea and the terrible train?

Don’t go to that city.

It’s not worth it.

There’s no appeal.

If the smell of smoke and burnt rubber doesn’t ward you away, the programs there certainly will. They’ll corner you, scam you, threaten you, do what they can to shake you up because they know you don’t belong, and that’s the only reason they need to treat you terribly. They can’t even take care of each other. It’s not uncommon to see programs become good friends one cycle, then try to derezz each other the next. Store owners know how desperate others are to get their hands on any sort of weapon or advancement on their discs, so they charge high. If you need medical attention, expect a ridiculous fee and mediocre treatment. You’re better off making your own weapons, caring for yourself, and trudging on. Friends here aren’t worth the hassle.

The only thing keeping this town together are, strangely enough, Clu’s guards. They roam the streets in clusters, immediately putting a stop to any fights they see, or tearing apart any program who’s stupid enough to try and take them head on. Some people have learned where they patrolled at which hours to avoid them, others like to test their luck and throw chunks of metal at them from the rooftops.

However, even the guards know better than to march through the heart of the city, where the buildings cluster together, alleyways get tighter, and the programs get tougher. The inner city felt less like a ‘city’, and more like a horrible maze; a claustrophobe’s nightmare. You’d have to squeeze your way through the jagged paths between the structures, some need to suck their gut to get through, and it’s so incredibly easy to get lost, even if you’ve lived your entire life there. One thick street can branch out into tens of other thin, tangling paths that all seem to never end.

Scraps of metal hang over the ledges of these buildings, on the verge of tipping over and crushing the next unfortunate program who happens to be passing under them. The metal blocks off most of the sky, making the sparks from torn wires and the orange lights from windows the only proper source of illumination.

It’s a miracle this city’s still in one piece, it’s a miracle people still visit this city, it’s a miracle people still live in this city.

Nothing good has ever happened here. And nothing probably ever will.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Nice...” A program said as he observed a small, black, thin cylinder in his hand, which had blue light rings that stopped just before both ends. He pressed the blue button in the center and the ends shot out, creating a staff just a foot shorter than him. Two, sharp pointed tips appeared at the ends and glowed a bright blue as well; white sparks were coming from them. “Real nice.”

“Yeah, try not to trash this place with your new toy.” The other program at the desk said. He turned his chair around to face his client and brushed the thick, black hair out of his face.

“Relax, I won’t.” The customer retracted the rod and held it firmly with his long, skinny fingers. His whole figure was like that; lanky. The staff suits him.

“You really outdid yourself this time. I bet this bad boy’ll work as good as it looks! Heck, it even goes with these suckers!” The customer showed off his silver wrist gauntlets, the other program rolled his eyes. They were these thick, metal bands with blue streaks that covered up half of his forearms, leaving his hands visible.

‘They’re worth a lot, you know!’ He would always brag out loud whenever given the chance, as if it wouldn’t make him a target for mugging. He must’ve been ripped off. They looked clunky, quite frankly. It did match the silver streaks in his dark gray hair, but that’s not necessarily a compliment.

“Right, your pricey jewelry. Cool.” The other program leaned forward, “Speaking of price…”

“I gotcha, I gotcha! You know I’d never leave you hanging like that, especially when you make me some fine weapons like--”

“I’d like a portion of the payment now, Reggie.” The program shot up from his seat, glaring down at Reggie with his cold, blue eyes.

Reggie shrunk down, “Right! Gimme just a minute ‘ere--”

He dug around in his other pocket and pulled out a thin wad of cash. He handed it over to the inventor, who snatched it away, his glare remaining.

“Li--” Reggie cleared his throat, “Like I said! A quarter this cycle, then another after a few more, I’ll pay you off in no time! When’s the last time I’ve ever left you empty handed?” He gave a crooked smile. “You’ve been real close before.” The program said. Reggie couldn’t see their mouth, it was hidden by the black and orange turtleneck, but he just knew there was a scowl under there.

“Right, I know, but--I need to go!” Reggie started heading to the door of the store.

“Thanks again Harm, and don’t you worry…” He said as he opened the door, “You’ll get your money in time! Like always!”

Reggie slammed the door, leaving Harm all alone.

Harm stood there and watched Reggie through his orange tinted window until he was out of sight. He then made his way back to his desk. His workplace--just like his attire--was mostly made up of shades of grays with bits of bright orange to pop out. His clothes, however, were cooler grays, while his place was mostly warmer.

He approached his desk, one of the few pieces of furniture that was oil-black instead of that dark, warm gray; the other furnitures being tall, wide shelves placed on both sides of his desk, creating his own personal cubicle. He pulled open the thin drawer and shoved all the tools, nails, and shards of glass into there without care. Now that he finished his commission, he could finally focus on upgrading his friend’s wings, and he needed a ‘clean’ workplace.

His desk was the only thing he ever cleaned anymore. The rest of his place isn’t a ‘dump’, but it isn’t absolutely spotless either. If a program happened to be looking through the big window right beside his front door, they could easily see the wires hanging from the ceiling, missing tiles, pipes of various lengths and widths he has leaning against the corners, the piles of scraps and junk he has laying on top of counters and boxes that he uses for his creations. It’s real easy to trip over something and crack your head open, especially with all the sharp edges out in the open.

Two thin strips of orange lights outlined the bottoms of the walls, while one thin one outlined the ceiling. There were a few other strips that crawled their ways across the walls, but most of them were cut off due to chunks of his creations flying all over the place during the process. You can even see the faint orange cracks from where they hit.

The other part of his place that was lit orange was his desk. He has a few small lamps placed on and above his workspace. Sure, he could just move the shelf on his left side that’s covering his largest window, but he wasn’t too fond of the wonderfully bright, headache-inducing orange light that the city produced.

He turned on and grabbed the top of his small, black desk lamp, and adjusted it so it’d shine on the floor, where plenty of blueprints and crumbled up papers laid. He knelt down and pushed a few sheets aside until he spotted the messy sketches of a wingsuit. He picked it up, making sure not to smudge any of the graphite, and placed it on the desk’s top.

“Tape measure, utility knife, and the suit…” Harm mumbled to himself as he walked around the right shelf. On the other side were a couple of dark gray lockers he once found in an abandoned building, they were nice for extra storage. He kept repeating the three materials as he scanned the inside. He eventually spotted his utility knife with the blade uncovered and buried underneath his other tools, and the tape measure a few shelves down, still unraveled. He made sure not to prick his fingers--not that it would hurt, he was wearing long, thick, black gloves--while grabbing the knife, and cussed to himself when several spare screws fell and scattered all over the ground when he pulled out the tape measure.

Harm then turned around, facing the small storage behind him. The room was a lighter sort of warm gray compared to his main room, and it had a small window--big enough for him to crawl through--that wasn’t as obnoxiously bright since another building was placed in front of it. There were plenty of messy shelves full of tools, smaller inventions, and items Harm managed to snag, along with containers on the ground stacked on top of each other, filled with who knows what. Some of his older, bigger inventions were in here, covered haphazardly with raggedy cloaks, wires sprawled out, definitely not the safest storage in the city.

Below the small window was his friend’s wingsuit, carefully folded and placed on top of a container. Ant, his friend, asked if he could improve it, to make it faster.

“I wanna keep up with Tesler’s ship. It might be huge but it’s real fast.” Ant stated in the past.

“I just think it’d be funny to see his reaction when he sees me keeping up with him.”

Tesler is Ant’s boss, and it’s honestly a miracle she hasn’t been derezzed. She’s openly bragged about being late or skipping meetings to hang around with the enemies, she’s supposed to gather information and distribute it promptly, but she spends hours flying around the grid.

Harm once asked how she still has her job, to which Ant responded with: “I just give him a snippet of what he wants to hear seconds before he derezzes me, then it gets him all frustrated and he HAS to keep me alive to hear the rest. It’s real funny, I need to show you his angry face one day.”

Harm approached the table and unfolded the black and bright blue-lined suit before placing it on the top, letting the long flaps dangle off the edge. It looked like a regular outfit, it had long sleeves with holes at the end to stick your thumbs through, and a rather large hood to fit over Ant’s thick hair, but where the thumb-holes were, there were tiny buttons you could press that’d change the black flaps into blue wings. That’s the part he’s currently working on.

Just before he could begin his work, there was a loud banging on his door. Whoever that program was was shaking the door--and the rest of his place--with each booming, desperate knock.

That’s probably Ant.

They were supposed to meet tomorrow, but she tends to arrive unannounced to share the latest updates about her job, or to ramble about whatever. She usually likes to kick the door open and announce her presence, so this door banging was an improvement. Maybe she just really wanted her upgraded wings. Harm rolled his eyes and trudged to the door, the knocking wasn’t stopping, and it was getting hard to hear his own thoughts.

“I told you,” Harm started as he got closer to the door, “your wings won’t be ready for another six cycles at least--”

The door swung open and slammed right into Harm’s face, causing him to stumble back.

The program immediately shut the door behind themselves. Harm shook his head and scanned them quickly. This wasn’t Ant. They were tall--taller than him, definitely--and burly. The helmet covering their face was just plain black, Ant had drawn a toothy grin on her’s. They were breathing quickly.

“Hey,” Harm grit his teeth, “how about you--”

“Hide me.” The program said quickly. Their voice was deep and muffled.

That caught Harm off guard. That sounded like an order.

“So you think you can just hit me in the face with my own door and--” The program grabbed Harm by his arms, his grip was strong. This wasn’t a program he could shove out of here with ease.

“Hide me.” They said again.

“Guards are following me, if you help me lose track of them, I’ll get out of your sight.”

“Guards?!” Harm jumped. He didn’t have the cleanest record here, the only reason he hasn’t faced any consequences was because the guards hardly ever went here, and now they could arrive at his front door?!

“You can’t--I’m not gonna--!” Harm was too shocked to think straight. He grabbed the program’s hands and dragged them to the lockers.

He frantically opened all three of them--he knew one of them had enough space to fit someone in there. The middle one!

Harm didn’t know if he was getting jumpy, or if guards were getting closer to his building, but he heard more voices. He wasn’t taking any chances. He shoved the program into the locker--which was nearly impossible for this program’s size--and slammed it shut.

‘They aren’t stupid.’ Harm told himself.

Does he really expect the guards to not search this place--that the program they’re chasing after just magically disappeared? What if they took HIM instead?

Harm looked back into his storage room and at the small window. He hurried inside and picked up a heavy wrench, reached his arm back, then chucked it at the window. A loud crash came, and glass flew everywhere.

He heard his door being swung open. He only has a few more seconds.

Harm then grabbed the nearest shelf and ripped it down, leading to it--and the other shelves above it--collapsing and crashing down on him. He yelped loudly, trying to sound as pathetic as possible, and got the attention of the guards.

The large, black-armored programs with long pikes in their hands rushed over and stopped right in front of the storage room’s entrance.

Harm tried to sound as scared as he could, “Th… The scary program attacked me and… and then escaped!” He pointed towards the shattered window.

The guards looked at the scene, then at one another, muttering amongst themselves before leaving. Not even bothering to help Harm out.

They slammed the door once they left, and for the next few moments, it was silent.

Once the coast was clear, the other program opened the locker and pushed themself out, grunting.

They took off their helmet, revealing their dark skin and black crew cut. His expression seemed that of displeasure, but after he shoved the shelves off of Harm and helped him to his feet, a smirk formed on his face.

“ ‘Scary program’?” He repeated, brushing Harm off.

He’s smiling? Yeah, this is probably soooo funny for the guy that didn’t get nearly crushed by junk, had to break his own property, and nearly put themselves at risk to help some random program.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Harm growled and pulled away.

The program’s smile dropped when he raised a brow, “Thank you. Sorry for all of this. Your store was the first place I spotted, and I needed to lose them.”

Harm stared at him for a moment, looked back at the storage room, then back at the program.

“What’s your name?” Harm asked as he made his way to his desk. He grabbed the first pen he saw, clicked it, then tore out a strip of paper.

The program followed behind, “Cutler.”

“Congratulations, Cutler.” Harm replied, jotting his name down. “You owe me a new window.”

Cutler blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know if you think it’s easy to get money around these parts, but it’s not. You owe me at least 200.”

“Now hold on, you chose to break your own window.” Cutler argued.

“Yeah, and if I hadn’t done that, the guards would’ve searched this place. You’re welcome, again.” Harm said.

“I’m not even from this city, I just came here to tell others about Tr--”

Harm cut him off, “Well, if you’re not willing to pay, I’m sure the guards would give me a wonderful sum of money if I turned you in…”

“Alright.” Cutler stepped in, “I’ll find a way to get your money.”

“Great.” Harm raised his brows, “Glad we could come to an agreement. I expect my payment sometime next week.”

“Fine.” Cutler said coldly, facing away from the other program as he approached the front door. “Next week.”

Harm watched Cutler crack the door open, scan the area, then put his helmet back on before running through the streets. What a shame, not even a goodbye.

Whatever Cutler’s determined to tell others about must be important, especially if he’s trying to get word to spread in this terrible, terrible city.

[the-hotter-otter]

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see. 

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together. 

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name. 

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.” 

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.” 

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?” 

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up. 

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing. 

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing. 

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen. 

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals. 

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him. 

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it. 

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

-

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe. 

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one. 

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects. 

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far. 

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum. 

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing. 

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp. 

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot. 

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never. 

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility. 

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else. 

-

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead. 

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago. 

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere. 

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense. 

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued. 

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates. 

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon. 

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.” 

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together. 

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it. 

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it. 

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago. 

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up, 

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ. 

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound. 

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record. 

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow. 

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.” 

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile. 

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.” 

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain. 

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization. 

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

[lunariasilver]

The Virtuoso 2- Meteor City II

Masterlist

Previous / Next

My association with the Troupe only grew as time went on. I spent more time with Machi, Paku and Chrollo than the others, but I enjoyed being around all of them. They were decent company. When they asked me to help them out against a group that was testing their patience, I was more than happy to accept.

It would do me some good to have an actual battle outside of sparring.

(Actually, that fight was the first time I met Franklin. He was new. Ish.)

Looking out at the group of people standing against us, I felt remarkably calm. None of them struck me as particularly strong. None of them really seemed like slouches either, but it wasn't like I was weak.

The moment of peace was interrupted by a flurry of blows from both sides. As I cut into my first foe using a conjured version of Nobunaga's Blade, (the same blade he had give to me as a gift,) an impossibly large grin stretched across my face. It had been too long since I was in a proper fight!

A man met my blade with some sort of wooden baton which I assumed was conjured since I couldn't cut into it at all. For a brief moment, the two of us were at a standstill, both pushing at the other with all their might. Making a split second decision, I ducked down while making my katana disappear. Using the man's resulting imbalance I knocked him to the ground before finishing the job with Killua's Dagger. Trading that in for Nobunaga's Blade again I spun around to face my new foes.

I registered that the members of the Phantom Troupe seemed to be having just as much fun as I was...especially Uvo. There was no escaping his laughter. It made sense. In the short time I had known him I had learned how much he loved a brawl.

My grin grew wider as I let out a chuckle. Two more people advanced on me, one launching nen throwing knives at me as they ran. I dodged out of the way as I gleefully swung my blade in their direction. A wave of energy swept out with the arc of my swing, cutting one of the people in half while the one with the knives jumped gracefully over. I noticed that my attack had killed two other people behind my most recent attackers.

He dodged a few more of my swings, now a bit too up close and personal for my blade to be of much use to me anymore. I dodged a fistfull of knives as I swapped my blade back out for Killua's Dagger. I swiped at the man, but he dodged out of the way, immediately back on the offensive.

'I'm at a disadvantage.'

I didn't have a weapon that was good against this many individual knives. My dagger wasn't cutting it. He was gripping several of them in both hands like some kind of knifey version of brass knuckles. I never should have let him get up close. My smile slowly faded as I forced myself to focus.

'Note to self. Get stab resistant gloves.' My skin might be resistant to most cuts, but Nen affected the equation too much to simply let him get a blow in.

Medical supplies were almost impossible to get a hold of here. I couldn't afford an injury.

I deflected one of his blows with my dagger, causing sparks to fly off of our respective weapons. He threw a punch which I blocked by meeting his arm with my right arm while swiping at his shoulder with my dagger in my left. My dagger sunk into his flesh as I brought it into a downward swipe, which he responded to by headbutting my forehead.

I stumbled back slightly, taking my knife with me, giving him all the opening he needed to land a kick to my stomach. It suddenly hurt to breath, but I pushed on as he launched at me again. I dodged to the side, trying to circle behind him to get a clean hit, but he responded immediately. It was a little weird to be on the defensive as much as I was. The rhythm of the battle was now entirely in his favor. That was a dangerous thing for me to have allowed to happen. My face reddened slightly as I berated myself internally.

I had gotten a clean hit on his shoulder. I just had to run him out of energy.

I leaned back, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed in the face. This put me off balance, something that he immediately took advantage of by sweeping my legs right out from under me. I landed on my back.

I quickly went to regain my footing, but he was already going in for the kill. I had to settle for just sitting up. I swapped out my dagger for Grandfather's Violin, using it to hold his knives at bay. The violin had more surface area. I grimaced at his grin as he pushed harder against my violin. He leaned over me ominously.

My mind was going a million miles a minutes as I tried to think of what I was going to do. Blood from his shoulder wound was dripping onto me, irritating me. Right as I had made the decision to kick him in the balls, the pressure lessened. My attacker's eyes were wide with shock. I glanced down and recognized the sword through his torso as Nobunaga's. My attacker was pushed off of me, and I registered that the fight was over.

The rest of the Troupe was staring at me as I remained sitting on the ground, my eyes wide.

'What just happened? I could have handled it! I would have been fine! I was losing? Nobu saved me? I didn't need to be saved!' It had been looking dicey, but I was handling it! I was fine!

Chrollo began walking over to me.

'No, please. Don't come over here.'

I flinched and closed my eyes as he stopped in front of me, expecting the worst. I could already practically hear him.

'Don't fail again. Next time we won't help you.'

'You should be ashamed of yourself.'

'Disgraceful.'

I kept my eyes shut as I awaited the verbal and likely physical blow that would undoubtedly accompany my failure. After a few seconds of nothing, I opened one eye before my other flew open.

In front of my face was an outstretched palm.

'He's...helping me up?'

If he noticed my hand shaking a bit as I took his, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just pulled me to my feet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, staring at me.

I blinked. "You...aren't mad?" I looked around at all the members of the Troupe. None of them seemed particularly angry.

Uvo was the one who answered. "Are you kidding?! You killed plenty!"

"It looked like a bad matchup." Paku affirmed.

"Tch." Feitan just made a noise like he was annoyed with me for even asking.

I furrowed my eyebrows at them all. "I...am confused."

"Don't be. We won." Machi stated simply, walking over to me.

"Yeah! Let's celebrate!" Uvo exclaimed, slinging an arm over my shoulder as he started walking me away from all the corpses. The others quickly followed suit, all talking and laughing while I just stared at them with obvious bewilderment.

'Is this...normal?'

-

-

-

Having almost lost that fight, I started training harder than ever. I had been slacking recently. That was why I had been so unprepared for a fight. It was pathetic. Or maybe people in Meteor City were just unreasonably strong. Regardless, I couldn't afford to be weak.

Looking back, my opponent shouldn't have been strong enough to even touch me, let alone have me on the ropes. There was something wrong with me. There had to be.

I was getting soft.

It was for these reasons that I elected to ask Feitan to torture me. I was getting soft. Torture training would help, I was certain of it.

However, when I asked, Feitan just looked at me while squinting. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I've been getting soft. Slacking. It's what we do in my family when someone messes up. Makes us stronger."

He stared at me for another second. "Why?"

I blinked at him. "It's torture training." While I registered that normal people didn't really...do torture training, I didn't think the concept would be so foreign to somebody from Meteor City.

I didn't even think he was really surprised. Actually, I couldn't read him at all at the moment.

"You did that a lot?" He asked.

I bristled. "No! I never used to mess up!" It was true. I had always fought so hard for my family's approval, I almost never made a mistake. I couldn't afford to, especially after Killua was born.

"No. Tortured." He clarified.

"Oh." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Well, yes. It hardens our bodies. Makes us more resistant to pain. I've been going through torture training since I was little."

Feitan considered this before nodding. "You don't need anymore. Maybe you had too much."

"Too much?"

"They went overboard."

I squinted at him. "How?"

"You handle pain fine."

"That's true, but-"

"Better to be holding the blade."

Well. I couldn't disagree with that.

-

-

-

I was lounging on the same couch that Feitan had been on when I first met him, staring aimlessly at the shoddy ceiling. Chrollo was reading a book on a beat up loveseat across the room.

"This is dull." I commented drily.

"What do you want?" Chrollo responded. I listened to him turn a page.

"A will to live."

"Haha." Another page was turned.

"I miss electricity." I stated. I had been thinking about home more and more lately. I wanted to go back there so badly. And the food here was terrible. I missed Killua...I missed Mom and Dad...a ridiculous part of me even missed Illumi.

I didn't miss Milluki. Well, maybe a little.

Chrollo didn't respond. He had heard me complain about the lack of electricity before. He probably thought that I was a spoiled brat. He was probably right, too. I had never known hardship like these guys had.

I missed Grandpa.

I vaguely registered a bit of moisture gathering in my eyes. "I miss my books."

I heard Chrollo's book shut. I continued staring at the ceiling as I heard him approach.

"You can have this one." Chrollo said.

I turned my head to see him holding out the book he was reading. "Chrollo, that's your favorite."

"I've read it." He responded.

"I can't just-"

"It's your's."

The two of us stared at each other for a moment before I sighed and took it out of his hand. I studied the cover as he returned to his seat.

My lips twitched as I fought a smile. "Thank you, Chrollo."

"I'm excited to discuss it with you."

"I'll let you know when I finish it."

-

-

-

It was nice to have lunch that I didn't have to cook. Paku had made it. I had found the two of them, and they offered to have me join them for lunch.

I was having fun.

"This tastes surprisingly good." I commented as I ate.

"Should I be offended?" Paku asked with a bemused expression.

"She's insulting you." Machi stated.

I looked up, panicking. "Wait, I-" then I realized that from her face that she was just teasing me. "Machi!"

She responded with a laugh. "Sorry, sorry."

"But why are you surprised?" Paku asked again.

"I haven't had anything decent to eat since I got here." I told them.

"What, haven't you been cooking?" Machi asked.

I paused in my eating. "I uh...I never cooked before I got here."

Paku's eyes were wide. "Not once?"

"Never in my life." I admitted.

"...How are you still alive?!" Machi exclaimed.

"You don't know how to cook at all?" Paku verified.

I shook my head. "I've just kind of been throwing food on fire?"

The two of them looked at each other for a moment before they burst into hysterical laughter.

It was strange, 2 months ago I would have been bothered by their laughter. Instead I just kept eating my food.

Next

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

The Boy King’s Concubine - Sam x Reader

A/N: Found it! Here you go, anon! Mildly cleaned it up real quick. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Pure porn. Noncon. Knife Play. Blood Kink. Choking. Unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion! 

Word Count: Roughly 3,000

Boy King. The name he'd resisted for so long settled over the room. Demons would do anything to please him. Their blood ran through his veins. Giving his powers an added boost. Grooming him for the role he'd soon take on. Lucifer's vessel.

It should have been terrifying. But, the power was incredible. It ate at him from the inside out like a drug. He couldn't get enough. Even when it made him more primal. Dark inside.

“Your majesty,” A lower level, suited demon bowed in front of Sam at the table he was resting at. Making him drop the fork he'd been digging into the best meal he'd tasted in his life. Anyone who thought hell was simply dark and dreary had no clue just how seductive it could be on the other side.

“You may speak,” The once Winchester leaned back in his thrown-like chair, letting his chin rest on his knuckles as his ankle rested over his knee. Waiting to see what would be offered this time.

He was a bit stiff in his delivery. Sounding less like himself than usual. But, that's what unexpected royalty did to a person. He had an image to live up to now. He had to be clear. Concise. Perhaps even a little over the top.

“We thought you'd like...a present. For your newfound place, here.” At those words, his brow lifted. The demon let out a low whistle. Drawing forth his gift.

Ruby's lips curled up in the corner where she resided, arms tight against her chest. Knowing what was coming. After all? She'd taken special care in crafting the way to staying out of the so-called king's bed. At least, until the proper king took what belonged to him.

One by one, Sam watched a line of collared, naked women walk into the room. Hips swung. Breasts bounced. Hair fluttered. The deep hazel that was beginning to develop black on and off widened in unadulterated awe. His leg dropped to the ground as he straightened in his chair.

“Play toys, huh?” Instantly, he settled further back into his seat. Regaining some of the lost composure. Letting his eyes drift over each and every body. Already feeling his dick twitch to life. “Did they volunteer for the job?”

“They were...recruited.” Came the smug answer. Leaving it clear that the consent was there. Almost. To the demon it didn't really matter in the end. As long as the boy was left content. And, according to the dark haired female form resting in the back, the Winchester was very happy when there was a soft body for him to plow into.

You wanted to scream. To cry. Anything. But, instead, your face was held in the seductive mask the spell twisted your features into. Not that the man in front of you seemed to care. His dark, hungry eyes scanned over your bared flesh, and the others, with undeniable interest.

The recruitment had been simple. Women that wouldn't be missed from the selection of open contracts. It was nothing for the demons to make them choose. Hell hounds. Or to go with them. It had all seemed so simple to just go. Figuring you'd just be taken into Hell for the rest of existence without feeling the pain of that awful death. If only you'd realized what they'd really planned. You would've taken the hounds. Anything over becoming a demon's sex slave.

Your new owner had a face that could have been kind. Soft, bouncy hair that curled at the ends. Not too plush, but not too thin pink lips. Yet, there was something in those eyes. In the way he held his long, lean body beneath the almost baggy clothes. He was dangerous.

“Which one is it gonna be tonight, Sammy?” A woman's voice in the back gave up the man's name. Even that title seemed too kind for the eyes that collided with yours.

It was light enough for you to see the splashing of colors throughout his iris. Bright, friendly, and then a flicker of black danced through them. Not quite taking hold. It told you that he wasn't quite the creature you had initially thought. You didn't know if that made it all better, or that much worse.

He hummed, narrowing his gaze over his choices. Ruby had helped choose a diverse selection. Women of different colors, body shapes, and heights lined in front of him. When his gaze settled back on you, your stomach took a dive. As if it wasn't obvious enough, he licked his lips and nodded your way.

It was an odd sensation. You could feel the warm, sticky air on your skin. Smell the rich aromas of the food mixing with the sulfuric scent of demon as the table was cleared for the being in power. Everything in your sight was vividly real. Yet, as you started to move forward, there was a detachment. Lack of control. Even without him saying it, you knew. Sure, enough, the order was delivered at that first step.

“You...come here.” Your legs shook. You tried to tell yourself it was the fear you felt. But, really? It was the excitement your body had no choice but to carry. When you stood in front of him, long, strong fingers brushed over the front of you. From collar bone to clit. So gently that you could almost tell yourself you'd imagined it. If only he didn't speak. “Already wet...” He tsked out in approval as his digits pushed firmer along your slit, feeling the dampness that had collected there. “I'll take this one.” More ominous words had never been spoken.

Silently, he guided you until your ass was almost pressed against the table. Just close enough that your hands could brace on it from behind while you rested between his knees. His hot mouth was on your already hardened nipple, then. Sliding it between his teeth as his other grip reached around to nudge your lower back closer. Stretching your body a little further. A broken gasp left your lips, turning towards a moan at the rough touch.

“I'll get the other girls settled in, then,” Ruby kicked off the wall, striding up to you for only a moment. Gripping your chin in her hand as Sam released the throbbing nub from his mouth. Her dark eyes looked over your lust parted lips before moving up to the E/C eyes. You wondered if she could see your real emotions. “Break her in good, Sam.” A slap to your ass made you jump as she walked away. Hips swinging as she led the other women out. If she could see what rested beneath the surface, she didn't care.

The door shutting sealed you in, but it didn't empty the room. No, there were still other demons resting around. Watching in interest as their new master stood to his full height to begin the game.

“Where do I even start with you?” The low, deadly voice asked as he towered over you. Too tall. Deadly. Demanding your attention back on what was to come rather than the spectators. A small machete was lifted off the table, making your breathing stutter. “Here?” The tip of it danced over the collar bone. Then, it began a terrifying glide lower. Cool metal tracing down the slope of your breast. He stopped at the still wet nipple he'd nibbled on just moments before. “How about here?”

The stranger didn't hesitate to dive right in to what he wanted. A controlled flick of his wrist made you gasp. Instantly, a  large drop of blood welled up. The liquid slid down across the sensitive flesh in a crimson path. Staining your skin.

Before it could hit the ground, that warm mouth from before caught it. He lapped up the hot liquid all the way up to the damaged flesh of your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Swirling the salty tang of your skin and the irony fluid in the damp heat. A quiet groan left your lips as your treacherous body leaned into the touch. The brief pain only forgotten by your nerves. Your mind far from blank at the assault.

Low shivers passed through you when that blade of his was back on the move. Sliding down over your stomach. Earning a sharp inhale from your parted lips. He must have liked the sound of that. Sam growled in approval before biting at your tender skin.

As the cool metal slid upwards, more smaller, needle point wounds began to mar your flesh. Sharp stinging dancing across the length of you. The pain was nothing to your body, though, as that slick tongue of his followed the path he'd led. Smearing the sticky red widely before he found his way to your second areola. Tracing it with that damned tongue of his.

You closed your eyes. Silently willing yourself to be able to escape. Or, at the least, to not enjoy the sick game. But, that damned spell held you captive.

It shouldn't have been so erotic. Your wild heart beat should've come from fear. Not from your body turning into a pool of quivering lust. Yet, that's what his actions inspired. The heat of it burned through every nerve.

Then, the machete started moving lower. Ghosting down to parts of you that were too sensitive. As the sharp tip nudged near your clit, your mouth opened. Finally, you could utter something.

“Sam!” Internally you cursed at the wanton moan that had emerged. He, however, seemed awfully pleased at the sound of it. Pausing, he ripped away from your nipple with a loud, effective pop. Staring into your eyes. Demanding everything he was taking and then some.

“You like that?” Hardly. You were dying at every touch. Not that anyone would have believed it if they'd looked between your thighs. The arousal was visible. Trailing down the soft skin. Slick and inviting.

“N...Yes.” It had been so close. One simple word should have been easy enough to mutter. Your eyes watered, but no tears would come. Not unless they were tears of pleasure. The spell would accept no less.

“Then, you'll love this.” He purred out, flipping the blade around rapidly. Handle up. It was less scary that way. You could handle it. Or, so you thought.

“Fuck,” The cry left your lips as suddenly as the unforgiving, hand warmed handle penetrated your entrance.

Your nails dug into the wood behind you as a too pink tongue slid over Sam's lips. He liked the sight in front of him. That much was clear. A jerk of your hips made the stiff object push in deeper. The edge of the blade held a little too close for comfort. All part of the game. Your thighs widened after a long slice appeared on your thigh.

Sam pinched the blade better so he could fuck you with it, properly. His eyes were darkening as he watched the slick coat the dark appendage as it pushed in and out of your body. How it parted your lower, swollen lips with each brush. How the blood slid down your leg in small streams while staining edge of the blade.

“So fucking wet for your new master,” He murmured, admiring the way your body sucked at the tool. Listened to the wet suction of it.“Gonna squeeze around my dick like that?” A whimper escaped you between the broken gasps. “I can feel you trying to pull this deeper...gonna take every inch of me, aren't ya?”

God no. If only your body agreed. It was hungry for everything he'd offer. You had no doubts that when he did as he wanted, he'd be buried to the root in the end. And, you'd just take it. Like the good little girl you were forced into being. Your knees wanted to buckle at the thought, but you didn't dare let them.

The relief you gained from the knife being tugged away from you was short lived. Clattering to the floor in the sudden hurry. Sam didn't bother to undress completely. His shirt was yanked over his head and tossed to the side. Leaving the rippling muscles to your eyes. Show casing that deadly strength you'd known was there all along. The belt buckle jingled as he tore open his pants. Too excited to hold back any longer.

“Oh my god,” The only honest thought you had left your lips. He was big. Too big. Long and thick. Every man, and woman's, dream cock sat heavily arched in front of you. Leaking in eagerness. “Please...” The plea ended before you could beg him to stay away.

His grip was harsh as he pushed you up and then down flat on the table, “Hold here.” Your hands did as told. Grasping into the back of your thighs to leave your body open and waiting. “So fucking good.” You felt the flared head of him rub through your folds. Letting your body's natural lubricant coat him before he caught on the edge of your opening. He groaned at the feeling. A deep guttural sound that sent another pang of arousal through your body. The scream you'd been withholding made its way out when he slammed into you in one smooth motion. So fast your body didn't have a chance to adjust. “Fuck, baby, you're so tight.” He gritted out.

His hands dug into the meat of your ribs as you arched at the fullness inside of you. So tightly there was sure to be bruises when he was done. The deep push of his heavy dick against your cervix as he began to find his rhythm made you cry out, again, brokenly. Your eyes made contact with one of the demons behind you as your blood stained tits bounced. The smug expression paired with the black eyes turned your stomach.

The wet, slapping of his skin against yours was a mix of your life force and arousal spreading over both your body and his. When you found it in you to lift your head, you could see the deep red stain spreading across his 'v' as it met with your thigh's wound over and over again.

Sweat stuck to his brow. Forcing the hair near it to cling to his face. Sam snarled as he thrust roughly. Accepting the way your body tightened around him. Seeking his own pleasure rather than being concerned for your own.

In a swift move, he ripped out of your body's hold. Lifted you up, and then flipped you over. Your hair was yanked in his hand, forcing your head back as he slammed back in without a word of warning. Too far gone for the simple gesture.

The position only served to make it tighter. Make him fit better against your g-spot as he shoved deep. The sting at your scalp was mixed with a pleasure that you'd once again blame on the spell. The clawing of your fingers against the table got you nowhere as he rode you hard. Your ass burned from the newfound strength of his thrusts.

Tears were finally able to slide down your cheeks as you screamed his name, and the word 'master' into the air. It was enough to spur him on. His toes dug in, and he filled you somehow deeper. His teeth sank into your shoulder as he tore at the strands that were fisted tightly.

You could feel it building, then. That tight, villainous coil inside of you. Your walls fluttered around Sam. Pulling him in eagerly as your orgasm approached. As he felt it, his hand left your hair. Snaking its way around your throat over the collar that left you as his prisoner.

It started slow. A simple squeeze. Then, all air flow was cut off as his fingers pressed in. You writhed against his hold; the action throwing you back to where he was near splitting you in half.

Second by second, the feeling in your body slipped away. Black appeared around the edges of your vision. You could only think that the man behind you had decided to kill you, and would finish fucking your corpse. Instead, the grip was dropped just before you blacked out.

As the oxygen and blood rushed back to your head, the pressure inside your belly exploded. The orgasm left you wordlessly, hoarsely crying out. Your nails broke as you clawed to seek more friction. The clenching of your body caused Sam's hips to rut a little more unevenly. Setting off every warning bell inside of your head.

“Master...” The whine wasn't even close to what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him to get off. Not actually get off. Yet, what came past your dry lips was, “Cum inside of me. Please.”

The unholy growl behind you let you know what was approaching. The way you whimpered only made his bruising grip harder. His short, dull nails scratched your flesh open along your back and sides. The thick, heavy weight buried so deep inside of you throbbed. Growing closer to his own end. Instead of resisting, your body milked him.

When the hot cum filled you, you dropped onto the table in defeat. Any fight your mind had held was gone. The demons had won. Their Boy King was more than satisfied. Your contract had been fulfilled. And if they were really lucky? They'd get another vessel out of the deal. Just in case...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​​ @supernaturalginger​​​ @lilulo-12​​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​​ @michaelneedssomemilk​​​ @lemondropirwin​​​ @fanfictionismydeath​​​ @neii3n​​​ @zpandaqueen​​

[suckerforsmylex]

Twin Flame

He exited through the front of the venue, snow falling onto his face and settling into a fine powder on his shoulders.  It was odd for him. Even when he was just plain Bruce-y boy, he was inherently elusive and seeing him be bolder than usual made me clench my jaw. I wanted to break him.  The sight of him unmasked and vulnerable made me desperate to inflict torture on him even more than when he was just The Batman to me.  

He was dressed well, albeit ironically, in an inky black suit, patterned with large, assorted, muted-colored flowers. A sneer spread across my face at the thought of him dressed like that.  This was how The Bat presented himself in public. “How sweet,” I thought, smirking as I leaned further into my lap to observe him. I understood why he wanted to keep this version of himself a secret.  Bruce was intoxicating and charming, and the city’s most mysterious bachelor.  He was Gotham’s favorite dream boat.  Part of me was disheartened to have found out his identity.  I always enjoyed our mutual anonymity and how despite that, it almost seemed like we were telepathically attuned to each other.  Still, having something to taunt him with, a secret to dangle over his head the way you would with a small kitten, made me giddy.

“I know that he knows that I know,” I sang to myself, recalling his face falling the moment I discovered his true self.  He had been sloppy for a month, the constant grind of it all, coupled with an assortment of distractions, had put a sizable chink in his armor.  Isolation.  Drink.  Women.  I understood.  They plagued me too, sans having to zip on a normal demeanor for the citizens of Gotham during the day.  “After all these years, Batsy is Brucey?” I asked with a roaring cackle, as he scrambled away to hide himself.  They promptly sent the white coats to whisk me away to Arkham, but it was too late.  I got to see the entire transformation, my eyes going wide at the sight of him even as they were scooping me up at the armpits and dragging me away.  His relentless pursuit of perfection and virtuousness fell away, leaving him exposed; a naked soul before me. Nothing pleases me more than the thought of how, amid the very depravity he detested, I completely unnerved him.  It gives me a fucking hard-on. I wish I would have taken a picture of his stupid face.  I would have hung it on the fridge.  I would have framed it.  I would have made it my phone lock screen. 

Precautions were taken on his end to thwart my attempts to confront him after my break out, but I was a man, reborn with purpose.  A little bit of technology and a lot of science enabled me to track him for two weeks, culminating in the annual Wayne Charity Gala.  The anxious tycoon had been looking for me over his shoulder at Wayne Enterprises, so he put himself on a short sabbatical, only emerging from the Bat Cave on the day of the big event.  Text messages I intercepted told the story that he didn’t want to go.  He did anyway, taking the advice of his confidant and man slave, Alfred, arriving more than fashionably late for it.  He mingled only for moments before making short remarks and then shuffling quickly out of the front doors and onto the street.  I enjoyed the entire scenario from the back of my white surveillance van on multiple monitors.  He got into an Aston Martin Vanquish, surely one of his little toys, and then got out around the block and hailed a yellow cab.  I nearly doubled over with laughter as I tailed him with my goons. 

Was this the plan? Avoiding contact with me by ditching his car?

 I rolled my eyes and told the idiot driving to floor it.  I couldn’t risk losing him, now that he was almost in my grasp.  The yellow cab stopped in the middle of an alleyway, letting Bruce out and then sped away jerkily.  I smacked the back of the driver’s seat in the van hard and fast until we slowed to a halt and then I jumped out, stalking towards Bruce. I made no attempt to silence my footsteps.  I let the soles of my expensive shoes clack loudly against the pavement of the alleyway.  He stopped for a short moment and then started walking again.  “Mister Wayyyynnee. What a beautiful night for a blood bath.”  I watched as he turned around slowly, his fists balling and then resting at his sides.  The moment he lay eyes on me he closed them tightly, muttering something under his breath.  I waited until I was so close, we could touch the tips of our noses together, and broke into a full grin, inhaling the crisp, full bodied scent he was wearing. 

“Oooooh, you smell good,” I said, letting my eyes roll back into my head for a moment before swinging for his face and meeting the brick of the alley instead.  My knuckles smashed into the wall and I yanked my hand back quickly, wincing and ducking my head out of the way of his counter punch.  Not fast enough. He connected squarely with my jaw, knocking me onto the ground, into a small mountain of freshly fallen snow. My blood spattered the icy white there as I laughed up at him.  “All this time I thought it was the suit that made you punch like that, and here I am finding out it’s au naturel.”  “JOKER.” He said my name through gritted teeth.  The fury I elicited from him made his face set in a stern scowl.  “How?! How did you find me?  It was an early Christmas present seeing him this way.

Catching him by surprise made me cackle and he responded by kicking me in the chest and planting his foot upon it, pinning me in place.  “I asked you a question.” I let out a guttural sound and smiled up at him, feeling my nervous system reacting, releasing doses of adrenaline and cortisol, and turning me into a sweaty, giggly mess.  A persistent, fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach, caused by a hundred million neurons sending fight signals to my brain, made me fidgety beneath him.  I put my hands behind my head and got comfy.   

“One of my men disguised himself as a cleaning person and sprayed your office at Wayne Enterprises down with a chemical.  It left a biological signature on your body and allowed me to track your whereabouts.  I monitored you for two weeks.”  He looked down at me with furious eyes and I decided right then and there that I wanted to hurt him severely.  I wanted to make him bleed.  But I didn’t want to kill him as Bruce.  It was too mundane.  It was too run of the mill.  I wanted the full-on drama.  I wanted to kill him as Batman.  I was panting, words struggling to come out of my mouth properly as he increased the pressure on my chest and leaned in closer.  “It’s getting cold out here, Brucey.  Why don’t you take me back to the Bat Cave, so we can do this thing proper?  I’m sure you’ve got about a thousand white, wing-tipped collar shirts and an extra dinner jacket I can borrow.  What do you say?”  

My tone was manic and completely unhinged as Bruce looked down at me with a face full of annoyance, confusion and then something that looked like pity.  He rolled his head on his neck, releasing some of the pressure from the foot on my chest and then removing it all together.  He extended his hand forward and I grabbed it, pulling myself upwards.  As soon as I had leverage, I propped myself up on his shoulders and spit directly into his face.  I hadn’t even finished laughing before he was smashing me against the wall, holding me there with his forearm against my Adam’s apple and a knee sharply pressing into my thigh.  He had a tight hold on me, but I was able to shimmy a small pocket knife from the inside pocket of my blazer. 

“Joker, I’m calling GCPD.  You need help.  I’m not who you think I…”  I forced the blade into his abdomen, trying to miss vital organs so I could keep him alive for the final showdown I was plotting for a later date.  He fell back onto the dirty, snowy slush, the pile bracing his fall as the blood poured out, slowly staining his crisp white dress shirt.  I straddled him at once, grabbing his hands and placing them over the wound.  “You should apply pressure to that wound, Batsy.  We don’t want you losing too much blood.  Wait?  What was that?”  I grabbed one of his bloody hands and smeared my face with it.  “Mmmm…how did you know that I needed one of your hot hands on me to keep me warm?  I’m a bit of a freeze baby.”  I laughed, crouching over him whispering.  “Brucey, Brucey, Brucey.  This is going to be so fun.  Just me and my twin flame, waltzing in and out of each other’s lives in perpetuity until I catch you and fumigate you to death like the Bat you are.”  With that, I threw my card at him, letting it land on his chest as he struggled to dial the police, on his phone.  “Add that one to the collection, Bat Boy.  Give Commissioner Gordon my best.”   

[crewhonk]

Touch (3)

AN: I... love these two stupid idiots and i want to write more of them. give me a reason to write more of them 

Warnings: Bucky breaking and entering, idiots to lovers, happy stupid idiots, fluff

Words: 3.8K (i prOMISE ITS WORTH IT)

AO3 / TWITTER / CURRENT SERIES

______________

Bucky had woken up for the third time that night, wracked with nightmares where everyone he held dear were screaming at him and yelling— angry about nothing in particular and everything at the same time. So, instead of turning over in his sweat-soaked sheets and hoping for sleep to take over he tore those sheets off of the bed, threw them in the dryer and went down to the kitchen to heat up a glass of milk to have while he waited. He knew that the bags under his eyes were gross and that his lashes were crusted with dry tears, but he didn’t care— it was almost ten and nobody was awake. 

Or so he thought.

“Wow, Jamie.” His younger sister remarked from the bottom of the stairs. “You look like absolute shit.”

“Wow, thank you, dearest sister.” He grumbled, wiping the milk that got caught in his growing stubble— he hadn’t bothered to shave since Y/N had stopped talking to him. What was the point? He had nobody to impress. Why would he want to impress Y/N, anyway? She was his best friend, and falling for her would surely end in disaster. But damn, the way she felt pressed against him on the dance floor, her head thrown back in elated laughter as she was spun between her two best guys was one of the best things to him. Her touch had him craving more— as if he had done some new back alley drug and was unaware of how hooked he was until he couldn’t get it. He missed the way her pinky would wrap around his when they would walk through the crowds at Coney Island. He missed the feeling of her tugging his suspenders playfully and then laughing gleefully when she let go of them and it snapped against his chest. He missed her coming over to his home, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and pressing her forehead to the spot between his shoulder blades while he cooked them some stupid snack. 

He missed her— and not in a friendly way. 

So, he did what all dignified men should do when they realize they’re in love with their best friend. 

He sucks back a sip of warm milk, it does down the wrong tube, and instead of correcting itself, shoots out both nostrils. 

“Holy cow, Jamie. You okay?” Rebecca asks, trying to not fall on the floor in a heap of laughter. 

“Yeah, I just— uh. Just realized something is all.” He coughs, rushing to grab the dish towel in Rebecca’s hands and wiping his face and neck with it. Damn, he’d need to change his shirt and everything now. 

“Oh yeah, okay. Spill.” She said, pulling herself to sit on the counter. “And not milk this time, okay?”

“Haha. Has anyone told you that you’re a comedic genius?” Bucky grumbles, rubbing his chest with his hand, trying to calm his racing heart. “And no, Becks— it’s okay.”

“James Barnes,” Rebecca barked, pulling out her well-refined mother voice. Sure, he was younger than him, but Bucky knew that when she spoke like this, Rebecca Barnes meant business. “Share.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, holds it and says the words he never imagined he would say. “I might be in love with YN?”

Rebecca’s face, in that instant, had never ever looked so dead to the world. Her eyes went dead, her eyebrows lost all of their arch, and her lips parted. Bucky waited for a few seconds, before poking her knee and calling her name. 

“Beck. Are you okay?” Bucky asks once his sisters eyes focus on him once again.

“Is that it?”

“‘Is that it’? Becca this is huge.” He breathes. 

“James. You’ve been in love with her since you guys were eleven. It’s taken you ten years to realize that. You oblivion is the only huge thing that is coming out in this conversation.” Rebecca sighs, speaking to him the same way his Ma did when he was a six year old. 

“Wait, you knew?”

“Knew that you’ve been sweet on her for a decade or that the feelings are reciprocated? Because everyone has known both.”

“Wait, what?”

“Even Steve says you’re both stupid.”

“Wait— Rebecca.”

“Do what you will with this information.” She remarked, the stupidity of her brother making her exhausted once more. "I’m going to bed. If you need to talk to someone about this revelation, there’s a fire escape that leads directly to her apartment on the east side of her building. Night, dummy.”

At her sisters retreating form, Bucky placed his glass on the counter and stands fully. “Rebecca you come back here!”

“No. And change your clothes— you look like a milk-soaked hobo.”

________

Bucky walked around the block where Y/N lived three times before he got the guts to take the turn into the alley with the fire escape. God forbid he end up crawling into her bedroom while she was sleeping— she may be his best friend, but he would most certainly get an impressive black eye from that situation. Hell, it was Y/N that taught Steve how to throw a proper punch when they were kids— she had come from a rough part of Long Island, so she had shown both of her boys a few tricks. He would have to lie to his work buddies on the shooting range the next day— he got into a fight with a bunch of men to save Steve’s life or something. 

Bucky peered over the window sill, gauging which room he would be tumbling through, and sighed in relief when he saw what looked like a workroom for when Y/N had to take editorials home for editing. ‘The chair across from the desk looked like it would be a good place to take a nap’, he thought, the soft chaise lounge almost calling to him. When he went to jimmy the lock on the window, he found that it was already unlocked.  He made a mental note to chastise Y/N about leaving windows unlocked in the big city as he climbed in, only knocking a wooden chair slightly and making the lamp on the desk wobble. He cursed at the noises that seemed to be too loud for it being almost midnight. 

He walked across the darkened room, taking off his shoes under the guise of him being polite and not tracking the city dirt through her sacred space (when, in fact, he was trying to be sneaky). He opened the office door, and shut it behind him, setting the shoes on the welcome mat before heading towards the rooms which had the most light. The kitchen, he assumed, had lights on— possibly even the living room.

Socks, ever the one for company, noticed Bucky and patted towards him all the while howling at him happily. For such a small cat, Bucky thought, the thing sure did have a set of lungs on him. 

Before he could meet Socks halfway and bend down to meet the animal, he came face to face with the silver glint of a recently sharpened kitchen knife. The point was just barely touching his Adam's apple, and Bucky quickly raised his hands to the sides of his head so his best friend actually didn’t slice his throat on her expensive-looking new rug. 

It took a second for Y/N to see who he was in the darkened hallway, but when she did, she flicked a light on and Bucky was met with the most deadpan expression she had to offer— one which rivaled Rebecca’s. 

He took a second to fully drink her in. She was wearing nothing but a white nightgown, and the fabric which clung to her curves left little to the recently romantically-inclined imagination. Her hair was loose and hung around her shoulders— nothing like the intricate hairstyles which were trendy at the time. It was prettily haloed by the ugly yellow light in her hallway. Her face was bare of makeup and he finally noticed the natural redness on her cheeks and dark scars of acne. He noticed the freckles on her nose and forehead and saw the bags under her eyes which he wouldn’t find out until later were there for the same reason he had his. 

He had never seen her this undone before, and his knees were almost weak at the idea that he may be one of the only people to be able to see her like this— natural and soft and flowing. The knife which was still pointed towards his face did nothing to help cool off the sudden heat in his stomach and cheeks, and the feisty glint in her eyes was almost enough for him to pop a boner right there. 

“I um— hi.” He mumbled, scrambling for words that just wouldn’t come to him. She seemed to register that this was her James, and he wouldn’t harm her for all the money in the world, so she lowered his knife and rested a fist on one of her hips. 

“James. What’re you doing here?” She asked, her tone almost sharp but laced with exhaustion. He blinked but didn’t take offense, as he could see the blush beginning to creep over her chest and face and ears in shame of her tone. Bucky didn’t give himself time to think about the other places she may or may not be blushing before he forced more words to come out of his mouth. 

“I— uh, I wanted to talk.” He said lamely. 

“Okay— um. Do you want some tea or coffee or water or anything?” She ushered him into her home as if it was the first time he was there, grabbing a silk robe off of the back of a chair. ‘Not helping,’ Bucky thought, willing the slight tightness in his pants to just go away. 

“No, thank you.” He mumbled, fully aware of the odd tension that was suddenly too heady in the air. Neither parties seemed to be able to catch a full breath due to their hearts racing in their chests hard enough for them to almost ache. 

She nodded, instead walking to the living room where she urged him to sit. He did so, spreading his knees comfortably, and resting his elbows on them. She joined him shortly after flitting around the room and turning on a few lamps around the room. ‘They give a comfier feeling than the light, I think.’ She had said one day when he asked her about it the one other time he had been up here. It was late as well last time, and she had snuck both he and Steve past the sleeping doorwoman all the while giggling breathlessly.

Little did Bucky know that she was trying to calm her nerves, killing time and trying to not think about the fact that the last time she had company in this room, she was talking about sucking James off, tasting him like nobody else had before. 

“I— are you okay? You’re bright red.” Bucky said once she sat down to him. ‘Closer, please,’ he almost said.

“No— I mean, yeah. I just remembered something.” She hummed, pressing the backs of her cool hands to her cheeks and letting them flutter nervously to her lap. 

“Oh. okay.” Silence. 

“So, what’d you wanna talk about?” She urged, trying to keep the conversation going. They had never been like this before— conversation had always flowed easily, and when they didn’t speak, the silence was welcoming and warm and comfortable. 

“Well, I feel like you’ve been distant this week, and I wanted to see if everything was okay?” He tried to bide his time before he spoke the words he could practically see hanging in the air. 

“Yeah. Things are fine. Was that all?” She curses herself for sounding short, Bucky barely even registers the sharpness of her tone because, ‘were her lips always that soft-looking or was he just completely oblivious to everything about her?’

“No, actually. I— Jesus, my hearts in my fuckin’ throat— I just realized how much I missed you this week.” He finally confessed, his eyes glancing up at her nervously. He immediately wished he didn’t, as she had tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy, and it took almost everything in him to not jump across the couch and pepper her with kisses and words of adoration. 

“What d’you mean?”

Bucky pulled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I missed you touchin’ me.”

“I— what.” Y/N’s head whipped up from staring at her lap. She had noticed Bucky’s movements, and she ached to unfurl his fists like she usually did when the nerves and frustrations of Brooklyn and the Army got to him. Her cheeks flushed an embarrassing red when her mind immediately went back to the conversation on girls night, and the idea of touching him like that made her own hands get clammy and shaky. 

“No, not like that- well, I mean- no, just bear with me.” He rushed, eyes widening at the pictures he knew were floating in her brain— I mean, god— the conversation didn’t have innocent undertones, and both parties had been blundering messes since Bucky tripped through her office. ‘Another thing that wasn’t helping,’ Bucky thought, ‘was that nightdress— I mean come on, it clings… to everything.’

“I missed you touchin’ my hand when we walked through crowds, and you tuggin’ at my suspenders, and just your hands on me. I missed it. Missed you.” Bucky said quietly, nervously. Y/N’s lips turned upwards slightly, and her eyes shot to the place on his body that his suspenders would usually rest. She noticed then, how his button-down shirt fit his shoulders so nicely— and wow, the physical training he did at work was really, truly paying off. The idea of touching his skin made Y/N’s mouth water slightly. 

“I just— Dot, and Victoria and the other girls just brought to my attention how, um, physical I am with you, and I didn’t want to give you the idea that we were somethin’ more than best friends.” Y/N wanted to immediately take back the words that fell from her mouth— she had come to the realization that she wanted Bucky in all shapes and forms, and she most certainly wanted to give him that idea. Her main concern that maybe the girls were wrong and he didn’t feel the same way about her.

 Bucky, in response to her words, felt his heart sink to his stomach and his body run cold. He looked up at her from his slouching position through his lashes, and decided that now was the time he would take a chance.

“Would— would that be such a bad thing?”

Y/N blinked slowly, then. Once. Twice. Feeling her body run horrendously cold before filling up with molten lava. She found that suddenly her nightgown felt too tight, and the room seemed too hot and too small. It seemed to Bucky that Y/N’s brain had genuinely stopped functioning, and she stared blankly at him, trying to comprehend what exactly he meant. 

Before he could make the move to leave, she shot forward and grabbed his meaty hands in her own. They had always been large, but she had seen them do wonderful things— moving her furniture into her apartment, defending her and Steve, trailing across her face softly to wipe tears that sprung from her eyes after a bad day. God, his hands were so gentle, and strong, and just so… Bucky. 

“Geez— I guess not, huh?” She said, refusing to overthink about this situation anymore.

“I like you, YN. I like your touch and your smiles and your silly rants about silly things. I like you, a lot, actually. Enough that I can barely go a few hours without wanting to see you.” He rushed, grip squeezing her own anxiously. She squeezed back, and that moment allowed for his shoulders to relax slightly— she was in this. For him, with him. 

“I— I really like you too, Jamie. I think I have for a while, but I only just fully realized it this week. I guess that’s why I’ve been so distant?” She avoided his gaze, and instead played with the ring on his middle finger— a ring his father had given him a few years ago. It had been his grandfathers before his death, and Bucky continued to wear the ring for years. When Y/N first asked about it, he sighed and fiddled with it. He had only spoken when she wrapped his fist in her hands, unclenching it and twisted her fingers around his. He had said that it made him feel close to his Pop. ‘He had been a good man,’ Bucky said, tears flowing down his cheeks. Bucky made it a point that he would only cry in front of three people— you, Steve and his Ma. ‘I just want to have that reminder— to be good, I mean’. And Y/N had sighed and rolled her eyes and lifted his chin with one finger to look at him. ‘You are the best man I’ve ever known, James. You’re so good’ she would say, nosing his temple as he cried into her shoulder.

He leaned in closer, shuffling slightly so that their thighs were pressing against the others. When he spoke, his voice is impossibly low, and it rumbled in her chest. Their gazes were barely torn from the other's lips when Bucky found the will to speak— not out of fear, but out of pure desire.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Kiss me, James. Please.” She whimpered quietly to him as if he was the only one on this planet who needed to hear her voice. 

So, James Barnes leaned forward, and brushed the tip of his nose briefly against her own— it’s just a ghost of a touch, but the nerves in her cheeks and jaw and scalp rippled in pleasure. Their breaths were choppy, giving away that they both are feeling the exact flood of emotion. His forehead touched hers, and they both sighed at the feeling of being anchored to each other. He sucked in a brief, anxious breath, and jutted his chin forward, pressing his lips tenderly to her own. She let out a tiny sound— something between a moan and a whine that would have been barely audible if one wasn’t listening for it. 

Encouraged by the reaction, he pressed on, adding slightly more pressure. Their lips haven’t opened all that much— it’s as innocent as a first kiss can be— but Bucky already knew that he could taste her forever. She’s the taste of her buttercream lip balm, and toothpaste, and maybe even a hint of the fruit she had been cutting up for a midnight snack. There’s something underlying all that, however— a taste that’s so undeniably Y/N. 

So, he pushed forward, the tip of his tongue barely poking from his lips and brushing hers, and the forwardness of the action ignited all of the nerves on the rest of their bodies. She doesn’t realize that her hands have moved until their woven in the hair on his head— longer than it had been in a while, and she makes a note to tell him just how much she likes his hair long— maybe even show him too, one day. 

He let out a rumble of happiness at her grip on him, and pulled her into his lap. They moved clumsily together— not willing to break contact, but also needing to move in order to be closer. Finally, her knees were pressed into the couch, straddling him, and Bucky swore he was trying to ignore her heat pressing against his lower stomach, but he could feel it through his button down shirt and her (probably pretty, probably lace) panties. Her nightgown had since been pooled around her hips, his hands had ghosted over her legs the moment she straddled him, the soft skin of her thighs and calves dusted with hair which called to be touched by him. 

He was pulled from his thoughts about her thighs and heat when her tongue ghosted his top lip, craving more taste and beginning to act on its own, which Bucky rewarded her bravery with a rumbling groan. Y/N, he had realized, had become desperate, wiggling closer to him in a way that he really just wished she wouldn’t right this moment, and threading both hands in his locks, pulling him impossibly closer. She let out periodic whimpers which coaxed him to open his mouth, just enough for him to give her a kitten lick— against her tongue and lips which nearly had her purring in response. 

They could have been kissing for seconds, or minutes or years, Bucky thought. He found he could kiss her for eternity if God would let him. However, Bucky would turn blue in the face before that happened, and with a feeling that resembled Steve punching him in the chest, he pulled away, laughing lowly when Y/N’s lips chased his own. He let her peck him once, twice, three times before she brushed her nose against his neck and rested there. His hand traced the lines of her nightgown on her back, and she shivered, a plethora of goosebumps erupting across her person. 

“That was nice.” She mumbled into his neck, placing a tiny kiss over his pulse point. There was a beat of silence before the two best friends burst into loud laughter. Before Ms. Humphrey could hear a mans laugh in the women’s boarding house, Y/N covered his lips with three fingers quickly. He only smiled in response and kissed them, making her jolt and pull her hand away in surprise. He caught her wrist with his left hand and pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her wrist which was left uncovered by the elastic band sleeves of her nightgown. When he pulled away, he didn’t let go of her wrist, instead, pressed her hand flat over the left side of his chest. She could feel his racing heartbeat under her fingertips, and found that her own wasn’t far off. 

“Yours. My heart is yours, Y/N.” He whispered. Her mouth popped open, and she shuffled slightly on his lap. 

“I’d do the same, but then you’d be touching my boob and I don’t know if we’re ready for that.” She whispered, and he tried to ignore the way her nipples poked out slightly, the thin sheet of her nightgown doing nothing to hide her arousal. “But, the feeling is very much mutual.”

“I’m crazy for you, Sugar.”

And, instead of saying something equally cheesy, Y/N pressed her very swollen lips to his own and sighed, melting wholly into him, her hand still pressed to his racing heartbeat. 

[pyre-prism]

Creepypasta Story - No Adults Allowed

I’m not sure how to start this, but I suppose that might be how everyone feels when they’ve got a story to tell… well, at the very least, whenever it’s like the one I have.

Up until a few days ago, I was a teacher at the primary school in my neighbourhood; right now, I’m writing this on my laptop in my hospital room –I’m just glad that the staff here realised that I needed something to keep my mind busy… But I’m getting a little sidetracked.

I was in charge of some of the fourth-graders, and I guess my story truly begins during the morning classes when I got one of my students –a typically-shy boy by the name of Lachlan– to do his class presentation. I’d given each of them the chance to choose what they talked about, with the only requirement being that it was based from true events.

For once, Lachlan seemed happy to be standing at the front of the classroom, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he shuffled the papers held tightly in his hands. I gave him a smile, shushed the other children, and nodded at him to begin. However, my expression tightened as he spoke while I tried to keep it from falling into a confused frown, knowing quite well that such a thing would only cause the boy to stumble over his words until he fell completely silent and then force me to pull his mark down for not finishing the schoolwork.

He had launched himself into a story about a boy named Robin who he’d met on the previous Saturday, which in and of itself wasn’t the problem… the problem was that Lachlan told the class that this new friend of his was always floating in midair, that this new friend wore metal cuffs around his wrists, that this new friend could make toys appear out of nowhere…

For all of its fanciful nature, Lachlan’s story seemed to enthral the rest of the class. They stared at him with a sort of eagerness that they’d never shown the boy before, and this attention –instead of making his shyness rear its ugly head– actually had Lachlan grinning and laughing in between his sentences.

I didn’t have the heart to interrupt and remind him that the presentation was supposed to be on something that was real… In fact, I decided to let this one slide, and only talk to him about it if something similar ever came up again. When the story finished, Lachlan got an honest applause from his classmates, which seemed to snap him back to his usual self as his face became redder with each step he took back to his desk.

The rest of that day passed without any further strange incidents… but the next day, Lachlan had become the centre of attention once again. Several of his classmates crowded around his desk or followed him around the playground whenever they had the opportunity, asking him questions about his strange new friend.

By the end of the week, the sudden popularity had evolved into something much nastier, once one of the other children declared that Lachlan had made up the whole thing, and in light of the bullying they levied at him –despite my best efforts– he retreated further into his old shell than ever before. I took him to one side when classes ended that Friday, offering him a few chewy mints as a sort of bribe to keep his attention.

“Lachlan, I wanted to ask you something about your presentation.” I said, starting things with an easy opening into what I really wanted to discuss. He nodded, chewing slowly, and I smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. In fact, I think you did really well with it.”

“What did you want to talk about, then?” he asked, blinking and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

I laced my fingers together and tilted my head slightly. “I noticed that the others are harassing you over it… Are you okay?”

He started, eyes wide, and he was silent for a while before giving me a shaky smile. “I’m fine. In a way, it’s kinda nice that things are going back to normal…”

Nodding, I leaned back a bit in my chair and made a mental note to crack down even harder on the bullies under my care, offering him a bright smile at the same time while nudging the subject in a slightly different direction. “Well, if nothing else, you’ve got that new friend of yours to do things with, right? Does he go to a different school?”

“I don’t think Robin goes to school at all, actually… I’ll ask him when I see him next.” Lachlan’s smile steadied, and I couldn’t help but grin. “I need to get going, though… My mum’s picking me up, and she won’t be happy if I’m too late.”

“Alright. Have a good weekend, and tell your mother that I just wanted to congratulate you on your class presentation, okay?” I waved him out of the room and sat down to go through the day’s schoolwork.

As I worked, in the back of my mind, I ran through Lachlan’s story once again. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Shaking my head, I tried to focus on my job, and eventually the tale about a floating boy named Robin who made things appear out of thin air faded into the background.

Maybe, if I’d pushed Lachlan for more information, I wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed now. Maybe we might have avoided what happened…

It was late on Sunday night when the next thing in my story took place. I was leaning against my kitchen bench, waiting for the coffee machine to work its magic, when the knife block fell over with what seemed like an ear-splitting clatter, sending the knives skittering across the bench and to the floor. A sharp yelp left me when the meat cleaver spun to a stop with its blade just millimetres away from my bare toes.

For a couple of minutes, even after my coffee had finished brewing, I just stood there with my heart beating powerfully in my chest… only for it to stop when a noise that simply didn’t belong graced my ears.

Laughter… Musical giggling of a child, seemingly coming from all around me.

“Who… who’s there?!” My voice came out louder than I’d intended but whatever the giggles were coming from didn’t seem to mind, as the sound merely grew in volume until my head was starting to spin. Frustrated, I blurted out, “This isn’t funny!” and a sudden and very empty silence was the response I was given. Once I could think straight, I picked up all of the knives, put them beside the sink to be washed, and grabbed my much-deserved drink.

Monday morning came… and the knives were back in their proper places with the knife block standing upright, as if the previous night hadn’t even happened; at the time, I actually believed I’d imagined it all. While I got ready to head to the school for a new day of teaching, I turned on the television in my living room, letting the first news program I came to fill the silence.

I wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary, if it weren’t for the news anchor starting to talk about some ‘breaking news’…

“At 3am this morning, police found an entire family murdered in their home, after being called by neighbours multiple times over the course of several hours regarding horrific screams reportedly coming from the property. While we don’t know all of the details, we can say that the home was in an absolute shambles and while police haven’t completely ruled it out, it appears that robbery isn’t the reason behind this terrible event. Both of the parents were found strangled and half-buried under numerous household objects… but their nine-year-old son was found in such terrible shape that the authorities haven’t even released the information to the press just yet. We’ll cover this story more as more information is made available to us.”

A sinking feeling started to tie my insides into a heavy knot. Somehow, I was certain that the boy they were talking about was Lachlan… I tried to reassure myself that there wasn’t anything to say one way or another, given what I’d heard, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the feeling.

Suddenly, I jolted, one hand flying up to cover my ear; it felt like someone had stuck something cold and wet into it. Looking around and rubbing my ear to rid it of the sensation, nothing out of the ordinary met my gaze, and a deep scowl pulled at my features. The knot in my gut tightened when that same laughter from the night before sounded out from somewhere near the television.

My mobile phone rang, making me jump once again. I fumbled with it for a moment before I brought it up to my ear. “Hello?”

“You heard about it, right?” the familiar voice of the school’s principal asked, skipping any of his usual preamble or pleasantries. “The murders this morning, I mean?”

I nodded, gripping the phone tightly while my other hand reached for the TV remote to mute the speakers. “Yes, it was just on the news. Do you know who they were?”

“The kid was one of yours,” he replied curtly, following it with a muttered apology before launching into the real reason behind his call. “Look, I’m calling to tell you not to come in to work, today… there was an incident at the school, too.”

I was shocked, blurting out “What? Why, what happened?” before I even realised it.

He was quiet for a while, more than long enough for the knot to start to freeze. “…The police think that Lachlan was killed at the school –in your classroom– and they’ve rightly shut it down for the day, at least, to gather evidence… The whole room’s a mess, and whoever did it fancies themselves a damned artist…”

“…An… artist?” I pressed, my voice coming out strangled and hushed; being right had never felt so disgusting and painful.

A harsh grunt was my only answer at first, but after clearing his throat, he told me… and even now, I wish I hadn’t even asked… “They used blood to paint pictures on the walls, furniture, even the ceiling! What has the police really worried, though, is this warning they left… ‘Who needs school? All he needed was a friend… I was his friend and you made me kill him… You’re next’.”

It felt like I’d been dunked in icy water. Could it be a coincidence, or had Lachlan and his family actually been attacked by that boy who couldn’t possibly exist? “Do… do they know who it’s supposed to be for?”

“Not a cl—…” his voice was cut off and sharp static filled my ear, making me wince and quickly pull the phone away. Looking at the blank screen, I scowled… I was certain I’d charged it overnight…

Again, those giggles cut through my train of thought and I looked around wildly. The sound was closer this time, and I’m not sure if it was my panic or not, but I could see a sort of rippling effect in the air –like a mirage– at the entrance to the kitchen; large enough to be one of my students, hovering about half a foot above the floor, my mind supplied unhelpfully.

At this point, I was terrified… Logically, I knew that Robin, as Lachlan had described him, couldn’t be real. It was impossible. But, so were objects falling over for no reason, let alone sounds coming from nowhere…

I walked over to the knife block and grabbed the largest knife there. Leaving my home wouldn’t do anything to protect me in the long run, as –if there really was someone in the house with me– it would simply give them free rein to do whatever they wanted while I was away… and I’d need to return eventually. As I passed by the old fireplace that I never used, I grabbed one of the pokers as well, and then I hurried into my bedroom and closed the door.

I could recharge my phone there, and once it had enough power, I’d call the police and tell them everything –no matter whether it made me look like I’d lost my mind or not.

A strange pattern of rasps coming closer to the bedroom door caught my attention, almost like a set of light footsteps on something other than my carpeted floor, and I could swear I heard a soft humming alongside it. My hands tightened around my chosen weapons, slowly at first but clenching suddenly tighter when something knocked on my bedroom door. I didn’t move… I didn’t dare move. A few muffled thumps came next; I could swear that who or whatever it was had hit the ceiling followed by the walls, before knocking again.

“Who’s there?” I tried to keep my voice from shaking, but going by the answering laughter, I didn’t really succeed. “Answer me!”

There was complete silence for a bit; it felt like hours, though it was probably only a minute at most. For all of a few naïve seconds, I thought that this whole thing was over…

Then something slammed against the door.

Just like the night before, I yelped, and then that mocking childlike laughter came once again. I was about to say something else –perhaps demand that they leave my home– when my throat went dry. The doorknob was turning.

I stared, frozen in place, as my bedroom door opened to reveal… nothing? My door just… opened by itself? I couldn’t believe it. That’s when I noticed that strange mirage-like effect in the doorway, and I sprang to my feet, holding the knife out in front of me. I tried to ignore the shaking steadily overtaking my body, made obvious by the quivering blade in my grasp, and glared at the doorway.

Whoever –whatever– it was, giggled yet again, and slowly, the rippling in the air seemed to melt away to reveal a child… floating in midair…

He seemed to wait, letting me take in his appearance with a wide sharp-toothed grin on his face, and I took advantage of that; I hoped that, if I could survive this encounter, that I could tell others about him and even provide a clear description of the strange boy…

His hair was messy and bright red, with long pointed ears peeking out from the midst of the curls –although, it almost looked like his hair was becoming more and more frizzy the longer I stared at him. His eyes were almost fever-bright –one silver and one golden– and were ringed in deep, dark shadows that stood out against his tanned and heavily-freckled skin. The clothes he wore looked like they were almost out of another time, and could even have belonged to a farm boy two hundred years ago, complete with old heeled boots that no boy of around ten years old would be caught dead wearing, in my experience.

While my eyes travelled over his form, he started to giggle again, swinging his arms and legs as if this encounter was completely normal and we’d been playing hide-and-seek, or something. As he did so, I noticed the horrendous scars that littered his lower arms, drawing my gaze down to the manacles wrapped securely around his wrists –the chains that dangled from the cuffs jingled quietly with each movement he made…

I licked my lips, forcing myself to look back at his face. “Are you… Robin? Lachlan’s friend?”

In response, his cheery expression morphed into an animalistic snarl. “Bingo! Guess you oldies ain’t always complete morons, then! Good f’you!” He floated closer to me, stopping just short of the shaking tip of my knife, then clasped his hands together and tucked them under his chin. “Poor li’l Locky… I told ‘im you bloody adults don’ like stuff they can’t make no sense of… then, ‘e jus’ had t’go an’ tell people ‘bout me.”

A soft sizzling caught my attention, and I looked closer at his hands; when he let them fall back to his sides, there were red marks where the manacles had touched the skin there. “He told people, and you hurt him for that? You hurt his whole family over being talked about?”

Robin’s hair spontaneously frizzed up to resemble an afro and he let out an almost catlike hiss through his teeth. “Not ‘coz o’that, y’damn twat! ‘Coz he wen’ an’ talked to you! A grown-up!” Again, he floated closer, skirting the blade in my hand for a moment before slapping it out of my grasp. His face was almost right in front of my own, and he spat at me. “If Locky’d only talked ‘bout me t’other kids, I’d’a been fine with it! We could’a had even more friends an’—…!” The strange boy took a deep breath, his hair smoothed out into what seemed to be its natural curly texture, and he drew back away from me, giving me space to wipe the saliva off of my cheek.

I also moved back, only to freeze once again as he bent to pick up the knife he’d made me drop. “Look, Robin, I was only worried about him… The others were—…”

“I know. I was watchin’ ‘em. They weren’t very nice, were they…?” he interrupted me, his voice dipping lower than seemed right for someone who looked that young. The hand holding my knife waved a bit in the air, as if he was testing its weight, and my stomach dropped. “Maybe, after this, I should pay ‘em all a visit, whaddaya think?”

“No!” My own hands raised, although I’m not sure if I was trying to stop him or just trying to get him to calm down before anything went too drastically awry… Regardless, he was startled, staring back at me with his eyes wide and almost fearful. His body slowly drifted down until his feet were touching the floor, and it was only after a few seconds of tense stillness that I noticed what his stare had locked onto…

The poker in my other hand.

I’d almost forgotten that I’d even grabbed it. Without thinking, I swung it at him like it was a baseball bat and his body was a very large ball.

He shrieked loudly the moment that it started to move, but the sound that came out of him when my swing hit home… I’ll never forget it. It pierced through my entire body, and didn’t seem like it was even from our plane of existence. That sizzling I noticed earlier was much more obvious now, and his body was actually smoking…

I drew the poker back, preparing to strike again, but he rammed the knife into my leg. The pain sent me to the floor, and before I could even blink, his hands had wrapped the chains on his manacles around my throat…

That’s the last thing I remember, before waking up in this hospital bed. I suppose someone called the police, or something, and they startled Robin before he could actually kill me. Apparently, just like at the school, they found pictures and writing all over my home, though they haven’t told me what the message actually was, yet.

Since waking up, I’ve been trying to figure out what actually happened… and what Robin really was. I mean, it’s blindingly obvious that he’s not human! Unfortunately, nothing really came to mind that makes any sense… then again, maybe I need to stop thinking about what makes sense, in light of what I saw…

There’s tapping at my window, now… and something red is being painted onto the glass, with nothing there to even do it…

He’s here. Has he come to finish the job? I’ll try to keep writing for as long as I can, but…

‘Found you’.

Whoever finds this, please, don’t just dismiss it as madness.

‘I like playing, but…’

I don’t think I’ll survive his second visit… I’m not crazy!

‘…NO ADULTS ALLOWED’.

…Goodbye.

[zenonaa]

...40 ikuzono?

Ikusaba/Maizono - a kiss because the world is ending

also i believe it’s your birthday? happy birthday! this happened to be my next request and i tried to finish it for today aha.

It is Sayaka Maizono who slips in and out of the kitchen and then briskly walks to her temporary dorm, but it isn’t her at the same time. When Sayaka budges some hair from her face, it’s Sayaka who raises her hand, and when Sayaka glances at the knife that she firmly grasps, it’s her eyes that flicker, but she has to remind herself that it’s her. As she looks at the metal blade, she feels five years old again, in her living room by herself back home, but the light from the television isn’t here, it’s the glint of metal instead, and it isn’t a cheery face staring back at her but the wide eyes of her reflection.

Sayaka arrives at a door with a placard of her likeness on it. She fishes out her key from her bra, but she doesn’t have the chance to unlock the door before a voice startles her, and she turns to the source, brandishing the knife.

“Yoo-hoo!” croons Junko Enoshima, strutting over in her mid-sized boots from the other end of the corridor that Sayaka came in from, and who waves her hand from side-to-side in a stilted manner, as crooked as her smile.

Very slowly, Sayaka lowers the knife. Be professional. Best face, Sayaka.

“Hello, Enoshima-san,” says Sayaka, pitch all over the place, but she has a grin fixed on, and that’s better than nothing.

Junko looks at her face and then at the knife. According to Junko, a lot of her photographs are photoshopped, and even how her face crinkles at the sight of a large, sharp knife seems like an act, and when she speaks, she sounds like she’s trying to guess what a toddler drew, not like she is confronted by a possible murder weapon. “What’s the knife for?”

As if thinking that Sayaka might not know what is being referred to, Junko points a fake red nail at the knife in Sayaka’s possession. Sayaka tenses and holds the knife up but not out, and she flutters her lashes and squishes her eyebrows together like she hadn’t realised it was there.

She shrugs and makes eye contact.

“Oh, it’s to cut some fruit in case I get hungry after the cafeteria closes for the night,” says Sayaka, all smiles.

The knife is a bit excessive for that task, admittedly, and Sayaka hardens her features and keeps them as they are even as they ache, waiting for Junko to give her verdict. Junko narrows her eyes. Sayaka thinks she can feel her own heartbeat.

Then Junko beams. “Ah, I see. Healthy snacks, huh? That and all the jumping around you do must be why your frame is so irresistible.”

Junko laughs, and Sayaka mimes doing so, only hitting a few notes. The smile on Junko fades as her laughter comes to an end, and as she presses her knuckles against her hips and tilts her head to one side, her brow furrows, and one eye is wider than the other as she squints.

“You’re not the ball of sunshine that you usually are, Maizono,” says Junko, and she folds her arms over her chest. “Let me guess, you’re still freaked out by that video you saw earlier?”

Sayaka’s heart skips a beat. She averts her eyes and slowly rolls the handle of her knife over in her hand. Though she wants to lick her lips, she doesn’t, and gulps.

“It’s no big D.E.A.L. That you’re wigging out, I mean. Like, everyone saw something freaky, you know?” says Junko, and when Sayaka meets Junko’s gaze, she sees that the ends of Junko’s lips have curled upward, jolly, sunny and almost mocking.

Or maybe, just the fact that she could smile at a time like this was a mockery to Sayaka, whose expression could be described as someone who had just come in after a long spell in freezing torrential rain. Sayaka raises the hand not clutching the knife to chin level. Her fingers curl in, but her hand is too slack to create a proper fist.

“Aren’t you scared?” she asks Junko quietly.

Junko gawks. “Huh?”

“The videos must have been customised,” explains Sayaka, who had been the first to flee the AV room. By sacrificing volume, she gives more steadiness to her voice. “They were all labelled differently, so what must have been on your video isn’t the same as what was on mine.”

“Ooh, yeah! I’ve gotcha. That makes sense,” says Junko. “But it’s all a trick by Monobear, isn’t it? Green screen or some other kind of sci-fi stuff.”

“Maybe.”

Even though Junko didn’t solve anything, Sayaka feels a bit lighter. Tired, numb, yes, but there’s some genuine emotion in her smile, and she gives a friendly wave before saying, “Well… Good night, Enoshima-san. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She unlocks the door and pulls it ajar.

“Hey, wait!” Junko blurts.

Sayaka frowns and turns her head toward her.

Junko has reached a hand out. Her eyes dart about like flies trapped in a jar.

“Um… It was nice talking to you,” says Junko, and her hand loses height.

“Thank you,” says Sayaka, after some hesitation. “Sorry, I am glad to have spoken with you, but I’m really tired. All that…”

Her face quivers.

“… stuff, took a lot of energy out of me,” finishes Sayaka, and she opens the door wider, but as she steps in, Junko seizes her wrist.

Sayaka tries to take her hand away but Junko holds too firmly. She faces her sharply.

“What are you doing?” Sayaka cries out, and as Junko leans in, Sayaka remembers that she has a knife, and that she could kill Junko. While Junko did grab the wrist of the hand holding the knife, Sayaka reckons that she could overpower Junko or pass the knife to her other hand. The thought pulses in her brain, but though no one else is present, Junko dying in front of her door would be suspicious, and she would have to move her somewhere else. However, even in those seconds when Sayaka’s nostrils flare and her mind goes blank, she couldn’t and can’t bring herself to stab Junko, even in self-defence, even if she could.

“Remember, Maizono-san, that there are people who care about you,” says Junko. She lets go of Sayaka’s wrist and rests her hands on Sayaka’s shoulders instead.

In response, Sayaka tenses, and her legs shake, and then all of a sudden, Junko’s head springs forward and their lips press together. They stand completely still, not making any sounds. Sayaka’s heart hammers against her chest. Junko initiated the kiss out of the blue, yet for some reason, Sayaka doesn’t pull away. Sayaka lets Junko’s warmth wash over her, lets her chapped lips stay close and lets Junko’s hand hold her cheek. Seconds pass. Then Junko’s face recedes to a distance that lets Sayaka see it entirely.

“Remember people care,” says Junko, rosy pink. She squeezes Sayaka’s shoulders. “Remember that. Remember, Sayaka-chan.”

Junko’s eyes drill into her, like she expects Sayaka to say something, to react in a certain way. Her lips mouth something, probably Sayaka’s name, but Sayaka barely registers.

There’s a tremor in Sayaka’s chest. Sayaka doesn’t know how long she hasn’t been breathing for. It feels like someone is dragging their fingers across her brain.

“Um… I don’t know what to say,” replies Sayaka. The temperature of her face climbs. She shifts a foot back. If this is Junko’s way of comforting her, from one friend to another, it fell short of her intentions. In fact, it makes Sayaka feel worse. “We can talk about this in the morning, okay? I’m sorry…”

Without waiting for an answer, and refusing, no, unable to give Junko one last look, Sayaka wrenches herself free, hurries into her room, locks the door behind her and slinks down to a sitting position. She hears Junko ringing the intercom but the soundproof room otherwise blocks out the outside world. The only voices that Sayaka hears are the garbled bits of nonsense in her head.

Her hand trembles as she adjusts her grip on the knife. Half of Sayaka’s face stares back at her, and the small flecks of dirt on the blade decorate her reflection’s cheeks like freckles. That strange, unsettled feeling bubbles in her tummy again.

Sayaka hugs her legs to her chest. After tonight, she won’t have to worry about any of this. About anything.

[minister-for-femslash]

So It Turns Out You’re Not My Soulmate

Summary: When Penny-23 dies and finds himself in the Underworld, he is forced to confront his feelings about Julia-23 and her death. 

Pairings: Julia/Penny, as well as mentions of Julia/Alice, and slight Julia/Margo and Quentin/Alice

Warnings: Character death and mentions of character death

Word Count: 15,386

Authors Note: A fic for Welters Challenge, theme 3: Time Loops

Authors Note 2: This could be considered a companion piece to my previous entry Ritualistic Nature. But you don’t have to read that one to understand this one.

At first Penny feels nothing as the blade slides into his stomach. He hears his name being screamed. There's a snarl on Irene's face as she pulls the knife back out and there's a squirt of blood. His knees goes weak and he falls backwards. Julia is by his side, her hands on his shoulders and then on his neck as he collapses down. She tries to hold him up, but the blood – his blood - is pouring out of him and so is his strength. He falls against her and she cradles him in her arms.

There's a flash of blue electricity and Irene is thrown back. She slams into a nearby bookcase and it topples, the books scatter across the floor.

Dean Fogg walks into Penny’s line of sight. His arms are outstretched, his fingers move rhythmically, casting some sort of spell that Penny doesn't recognise. Whatever it is, it's enough to make Irene retreat.

“Penny,” Julia says.

There are tears in her eyes and her hands are covered in blood, and now he feels the pain. It shoots through him. His body goes rigid and his muscle tense as he grabs at Julia's elbow. His fingers grasp at the fabric of her jumper.

“Penny.” She looks down at his wound. “Oh god. Do something!”

Dean Fogg steps forward. He pulls back Julia's hand and takes a few seconds to examine the wound before he shakes his head.

“I'm sorry.”

“What? No. No!” Julia tries to grab at Dean Fogg's arm but he pulls back from her and the blood on her hands means she can't get a proper grip. “You have to do something!”

“I'm sorry,” he says again.

He mouths a word as he takes a step back but Penny's vision starts to blur and he can't see clearly.

“Julia.”

She pulls him close. She rests his head against her shoulder and strokes her hand across his face. He can feel the wetness on her fingers. She presses her lips against his forehead.

“It's okay.”

“It hurts.”

“I know. I know. Close your eyes,” she tells him.

He hands moves up from her elbow and another burst of pain shoots through him. He bites down, tries to stop the gasp but he can't. He slams his foot down against the floor and squirms in her arms. He takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and strokes it.

“Julia.” His voice is weak. He coughs. “I can't...” He can't see her face, there are clouds of grey pushing in from the sides. A dull ache settles in his chest and each breath gets harder and harder.

“Sshh.” She leans down and presses her forehead against his. “Close your eyes.”

This time he does. He can feel the warmth of her breath on his face and it steadies him, stops the pain from taking hold and dragging him under. He feels her kiss his forehead, and then his cheek, and then his lips.

“I love you.”

Her voice is barely a whisper and she sounds like her, his Julia, and of course she sounds like his Julia, but god, she sounds like his Julia.

“I love you,” he says.

She kisses his lips again and then everything goes black.

------

There's a loud ping and Penny's eyes open. He looks around, searches for Julia, but there's no sign of her. He lifts himself up onto his elbows. He still feels shaky. He blinks once and then twice, and his vision starts to clear. He's in a small, square room. He slowly climbs to his feet, stumbles for a moment as the floor moves beneath him. It's an elevator. He turns around, searches for buttons, but there aren't any.

It takes a few seconds for him to realise that there's no pain in his stomach, or the rest of his body, for that matter. He lifts up his shirt and sees pristine skin, no sign of a knife wound.

The elevator doors open and there's a cascade of noise. Voices: loud and obnoxious.

Penny steps out of the elevator. There's a crowd of people; some of them sitting down, some of them hovering around a television watching some informational video from a man with a smile too white to be natural that Penny has no interest in, and some of them are just milling around, casually chatting. But all of them are waiting.

A few of them turn to greet him, wide smiles and happy tones. Penny gives a quick nod before he brushes past them and heads towards the reception desk.

“Hello, dear,” the woman behind the desk says.

She's middle-aged. Her dark, brown hair with wisps of grey is scraped back into tight bun. There are crows feet around her eyes, lines on her forehead. There's a dent in her nose and a mole on her right cheek.

“Hi.”

“Are you checking in?”

“I'm not sure. Where am I exactly?”

“The Underworld,” she says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, but when he doesn't reply her smile falters. “You died, dear. Don't you remember?”

Penny looks down. He runs his hand across his stomach.

“No. I remember.”

“Excellent. Can I have your name?”

“Penny. William Adiyodi.”

“Okay.” She turns to the computer and types. There's a momentary pause while she waits and then Penny can see a red shine come from the computer screen. “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“It's just... There have been a few other...”

“Yeah, I know, alternate timeline bullshit. Don't worry about it.”

“Alright then. Lets get you all checked in.”

Penny's fingers tap against the desk as the woman types away at the computer. Every few seconds she smiles at him. The first couple of times he smiles back but after a few minutes of waiting he stops.

He lets out a sigh.

“How much longer is this going to take?”

“I'm sorry, when multiple timelines are involved the forms become a little more complex. Can you tell me which timeline your from?”

“Twenty three. But I... I died during timeline forty.”

“Okay, and the cause of death was blood loss after being stabbed in the stomach with a knife tipped with poison. Death occurred in the main branch of The Library and your final words were 'I love you.' Aw that's sweet. Alright, I think that's everything.” She hits a button and there's the sound of a printer. A small piece of paper is churned out. “If you'd like to take a seat, one of our guides will be along shortly to show you around.”

“Thanks.” He takes the piece of paper and feels himself deflate when he sees the number printed: 1,298,437.

He steps away from the desk, only to stop and then turn back.

“Can you find out how many other me’s have come through here?”

“Of course.” It only takes a couple of moments and then with a cheery smile. “Seventeen.”

Penny doesn't know how long he stays in the waiting room, there are no clocks on the wall. He sits for a while, reads the sixteen different magazines at least twice. A few people try to chat to him and he makes casually conversation for a short time before he eventually drops away. Mostly he just sits and waits. The introductory video plays over and over, until he can repeat it word for word, and he worries that the guy's overly cheerful voice will haunt his dreams – if he even can dream here.

Every so often someone in a bright red suit – always somebody different – will enter the lobby through a door and a golden light will shine in. A number will be called, everyone will check their ticket and then somebody will leave.

Penny stands up. He lifts his arms above his head and stretches out, he hears his shoulders pop. His legs have cramped up. There are pins and needles in his right calf, and he heads in the direction of the reception desk in order to walk it off.

“Shouldn't be much longer now,” the receptionist says when he gets there.

Penny just offers a weak smile – he's heard her say that to everybody who's asked how much longer – and turns around. The pins and needles are fading. He does one more lap and they're gone. He doesn't return to his seat. Instead he keeps walking and by the time the door opens again he's pacing up and down the lobby, attracting the attention of the other people there.

“Number one million, two hundred and ninety eight thousand, four hundred and thirty seven.”

Penny stops and turns his head. A young woman, with bright, blonde hair and a large beeming smile stands there with a clipboard in her hands. The golden light shines behind her, illuminates her. Penny doesn't even both to check his ticket, he's repeated the number to himself enough times that he knows it by heart. He walks over.

“That's me.”

“William Adiyodi?”

“Yes.”

“Timeline twenty three?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Here we are.” She takes an envelope from the clipboard and hands it to him. His name is written in block capitals with black ink is on the front.

“What's this?”

“A letter from a Miss-” she drags her pen down her clipboard -“Julia Wicker.”

Penny freezes.

“What?”

“A letter from Miss Julia Wicker,” she repeats.

Penny's heart jumps into his throat or maybe his mouth as his grip on the envelope tightens. His hands have started to shake. He stares down at it properly and now he recognises the handwriting.

“From timeline twenty three?” He has to be sure.

“Yes.”

His thumb runs across the envelope, gently traces each letter of his name. It's from Julia. His Julia.

“Are you going to open it?” The woman asks.

Penny looks at her and then down at the envelope. He folds it up and slowly slips it into his inside jacket pocket.

“Of course. Well, my name is Melinda and I'll be your guide while you're staying with us. Shall we go.” She points to the open door.

“Sure.” 

The moment her back is turned, Penny rubs at his eyes, wipes away any trace of the tears he fears are there. He places his hand over his pocket. He can feel the envelope already beginning to crumple. 

He walks through the door.

The light blinds him. Penny holds his hands out in front of him, tries to feel his way along but there's nothing infront of him. All he can feel is a gentle warmth as it caresses his skin.

“Melinda.” He edges forward slowly. “Melinda.” He feels a hand on his arm. Delicate fingers with bright, pink nail polish. He's led forward. The light starts to fade and suddenly he's surrounded by what looks like clouds. He reaches out with his free hand and touches one. It's soft, disintegrates under his fingertips and then rematerialises back in front of him. “Cool.”

He continues forward, more clouds disintegrate as he moves through them. A few more steps and he sees bright blue skies, tall trees with green leaves and rows of hedges and bushes with bright coloured flowers Penny can't identify. It's a park. The grass crunches under his feet. He feels the sun beat down on him and it would be hot, swelteringly even except for the pleasant breeze that rolls across him.

“Is this...” Penny slowly turns around, takes it all in. “Is this heaven?”

Melinda laughs. It's not harsh and mocking, but pleasant. Friendly. She reaches out to touch his arm, a casual gesture, but Penny steps back and avoids the touch. His hand goes back to his pocket.

“No. This isn't heaven. Each person who comes to the Underworld is provided with a space. Somewhere they can exist while they're waiting to move on. It's created especially for them. Somewhere they can feel comfortable and relaxed. At peace.”

“Kinda sounds like heaven.”

Melinda laughs again.

“I suppose it kind of does.”

“And this is mine?”

“Yes. This is your personal space, nobody is allowed in here without your express permission.”

“It's not quite what I was expecting.”

“And yet?”

“It feels right. Familiar.”

“It always does.”

Penny can see a bandstand in the distance, just over Melinda's shoulder. It's creamed coloured, with a red border around the bottom. There are stones steps, with a black, metal handrail. The roof, made of layered red brick is separated into eight parts that come together in middle to create a triangular shaped point. There's a flag pole on top, but no flag. From here Penny can see that the paint has faded.

His heart sinks.

“Shall I show you around the rest of the facilities or would you like a few minutes to look around, take it all in? Most people do.”

The sky suddenly turns dark, grey clouds materialise out of nowhere. Penny feels a drop of rain on his forehead.

“No.”

There's a look of surprise on her face.

“No, I'm good.”

“Alright then. If you'd like to follow me,” Melinda says. She doesn't seem to notice the rain.

She walks through the garden. Penny follows and when they walk past the band stand, he has to stop, just for a moment. He reaches out and runs his hand along the metal banister. He sees that Melinda has stopped as well, that she's staring at him expectantly and he quickly pulls his hand away.

“It's nice-” he walks towards her - “it's a nice touch.”

They reach the end of the park and Melinda pushes aside the leaves of a bush. There's a small pebble pathway that leads to the wooden door with a large gold handle.

Penny steps out. He finds himself in a long corridor with a bright red carpet that stretches further than he can see. There are doors on either side, each with a numbered gold plate next to it. It looks like a hotel.

Penny looks at his own door and sees the number; 1,298,437.

“That's a lot of people.”

“Yeah, and that's just this wing,” Melinda says. “Don't worry. You don't have to share with all of them.”

She leads him over to an elevator and pushes the button. There's a ping and the door opens immediately. They step in. The back wall is covered in buttons: 1 to 99. Melinda pushes number thirty one and the button lights up.

“Floors one to thirty contain the personal rooms, you are on floor twenty seven.”

The elevator moves and the floor numbers appear in red lights above the door: twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty. It stops at thirty one and the door opens. Penny is immediately hit by the scent of chlorine. It's overwhelming. He brings his hand up and covers his mouth.

“Floor thirty one is the aquatic centre,” Melinda says.

In front of him is a twenty inch long swimming pool. There are red and blue lane markers separating it into three lanes: slow, medium and fast. Nobody is swimming. He hears multiple splashes followed by an excited scream.

“This is our more competitive pool. Just through that door -” she points her clipboard towards a small door to her right - “we have hot tubs, sauna and steam rooms, and a plunge pool.”

There's another scream, followed by a high-pitched laugh.  

“We have our diving pools right through there and then we have our play pools, equipped with an variety of flumes, slides and a wave pool. The kids love it. We also have activities available on request including snorkling, indoor kayaking and water polo.”

“There are kids here.”

“Unfortunately yes.”

“Shit.”

There's another laugh and Penny realises just how young it sounds. He turns back to the elevator and pushes the button.

“I erm... I really should show you the facilities on this floor.”

“That's okay, I don't need to see them.” He steps onto the elevator and Melinda scurries in after him, her smile more noticably forced than before. He pushes the button for the thirty second floor.

For the next ten floors, Penny says very little and to compensate Melinda talks, and talks, and talks, explaining the facilities down to the most minute of details. From the cinema equipped with an one hundred foot screen and rows of large leather armchairs big enough to fit two people that can play any movie ever made, to the fairground where the smell of buttered popcorn and hotdogs waft through the elevator doors and the bright lights twinkle under a clear night sky, to the restaurant with a view that can change based on the mood of the person looking out and serves every meal a person has ever eaten. She talks him through all of it, but Penny just isn't interested. He passes a cursive glance over each floor and nods his head in the right places, but he isn't taking any of it in.

He keeps thinking about the envelope in his pocket. He keeps sliding his hand into his jacket and running his fingers across it just to check it's still there.

It's the forty second floor that finally catches Penny's attention. A small blank room, with cream coloured walls and a row of plastic chairs, like the one’s found in a doctor's office or at the dentist. There's another door at the other side of the room with a red light bulb above it.

“What's this?”

“This is our personal viewing experience.”

“What?”

“It's a place where people can come and view scenes from their life. We find that it can help provide closure on certain events or answer some of the questions people may have.”

It's the last part that perks Penny's interest. Questions. He has thousands of them and nobody to ask.

“Can we go inside?”

“I erm... I mean I guess. People usually like to finish the tour first before they use the facilities,” Melinda says.

Penny is already striding across the room. She runs after him, her clipboard clamped to her chest.

“If the red light is on, that means the room is occupied. If it's off, like now...”

Penny grabs the handle and pulls the door open.

“...that means it's available for use.”

The room is pitch black. Completely devoid of light, even the brightness from the waiting room seems to come to a direct and immediate halt at the frame of the door. There are no walls, no ceiling, nothing except for a single red armchair.

“If you'd like to take a seat, we can get started.”

Penny swallows. He presses his toe against a floor that he can't see, just to make sure it's there and then takes a tentative step forward. He runs his fingers across the back of the armchair. It feels soft, like fine-grain leather. Penny glances back at Melinda and looks for something, reassurance maybe, but she just closes the door and waits for him.

He slowly takes a seat.

“Would you like to start at your beginning or would you like to see something more specific?”

“February 1st 2016.”

“Time?”

“2pm.”

“Alright.”

A small white square appears in front of him. A whooshing sound fills the room and he can feels the chair under him start to shake. He grips the arms. The square flashes, a series of colours and images that are moving too fast and are far too small for him to recognise. His stomach churns and he feels a little queasy. He tries to close his eyes, but he can still see the bright light behind his eyelids.

Suddenly the flashes stop and the white square quickly expands. It shoots out in front of his face and Penny is confronted with himself standing in one of the Brakebills’ classrooms, Professor Sunderland's, with a piece of paper in his hand.

“This is too early,” Penny says. “Can we go forward?”

“Of course.”

The image starts to move. Penny watches himself move in fast forward as he screws up the piece of paper and throws it into a nearby bin before he heads outside.

“Stop.”

The image starts to play in real time...

Penny flinches. He can hear the song start to play inside his head. He looks around and sees Quentin sitting under a tree in the courtyard, a book in his hand and he knows immediate who's responsible. He marches over. The fury is all over his face. The moment Quentin sees him, he's on his feet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” Quentin says, pressing himself back against the tree. “Are we actually doing this again?”

“Do you know how to close your mind because I will show you right now!”  Penny's hands are on Quentin’s chest, pinning him to the tree.

“I.. I thought I was.”

“Hey!”

There's a hand on Penny's shoulder. He shrugs it off with ease and it immediately grabs him again, harder this time.

“Leave him alone.”

Penny turns. There's a woman, with long brown hair and a deep frown. He recognises her. He's seen her around the school, usually with Quentin, sometimes in class – when he bothers to attend. Julia Wicker. He allows her to pull him back.

“What's your problem?”

“He needs to sort out his wards,” Penny says. “I don't need to hear Taylor Swift every time I walk across the courtyard.”

“I am not singing Taylor Swift in my head.”

“You're doing it right now.”

Penny goes to take a step forward but Julia gets between them. She slams her hands against Penny's chest and this time it's not his choice to step back. She makes him step back. He stares at her, momentarily thrown.

“And that gives you the right to attack him.” She pushes at Penny's chest again, pushing him back further. Then she looks away, turns her back to him. “Are you alright?” She asks, her question directed at Quentin. Her hands cup his cheeks and then slide down to his shoulders where she squeezes gently.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Julia looks over her shoulder. Her eyes fix on Penny and he can see the storm that rages in them. “You need to stay away from him. Understand?”

Under normal circumstances Penny would laugh, but there's a hardness to her voice that he feels compelled to do nothing but slowly nods his head.

Julia picks up the book Quentin has dropped and hands it to him. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and leads him away from the tree. Penny watches as they walk away and smiles.

Penny smiles at the exact moment the Penny on the screen does.

He cuts the rest of the tour short, something that Melinda seems relieved about. When he gets back to the park, the rain is falling hard and he has to pull his jacket over his head as he runs for the band stand. He sits underneath it. His knees press against his chest and his eyes close as he listens to the sound of the rain hitting the roof.

------

There's no time in the park.

There are no days or nights. Time, just like the weather is tailored to him, which means that it's always one pm and it's always raining.

He ventures outside once in a while, usually to the restaurant where he eats nothing but egg mayonnaise sandwiches and sits with his back towards the window. He doesn't make conversation. He isn't interested in the other people and they don't seem interested in him.

Sometimes he goes to the Aquatic Centre and spends most of his time in the lane pool, swimming up and down, up and down, losing himself in the water. He tries the sauna and is surprised to find he likes it. The almost oppresive heat a welcome relieve from the relentless rain fall of the park.

He realises almost immedately that he hates the elevator. Everytime he gets in, he glances at the button for the forty second floor and reaches out. And every time he hesitates. His hand hovers there as he feels the urge to push it and then chooses not to.

The envelope remains in his pocket. Unopened.

------

He's only been in the pool for a short amount of time when he hears it. The sound of laughter. It comes from the play pool and his stomach feels heavy. He tries to ignore it, to focus on his strokes, his head firmly under the water. But the laughter seems to get louder, more excited, and then the laughter becomes screams; excited, happy screams, and Penny knows that he can't ignore it. The sound of children. Children who died well before their time.

He pulls himself out of the pool - decides to skip the sauna - dries off and gets changed. He steps into the elevator, and like always he's drawn to it. Floor forty two. This time he doesn't hesitate. He pushes the button and holds his breath until the door opens.

The red light is on. It blinks at him mockingly, the ultimate anti-climax.

He steps off the elevator, determined to take a seat and wait it out when he notices that the door is open. He can see a flash of colour coming from the crack in the door, hears the sound of muffled voices. He doesn't plan to move towards the door, but he thinks... No he's sure, that one of the voices is her’s. He peers through the crack.

He's right, it's Julia...

Julia steps out of class, wedged in next to Quentin and Alice, who are once again holding hands.

Penny waits for her. He leans back against the wall, his bag wedged between his feet as he watches the stream of students filter out of the classroom. He tugs at his shirt, tries to look casual when he sees her and smiles. She doesn't smile back.

“Hey Julia.”

She doesn't even stop to acknowledge him, just walks straight past. He quickly grabs his bag and falls into step with her. Alice and Quentin trail behind them, struggling to keep up.

“Have a good trip home?”

“No,” she says and then veers away from him, going left when he knows that she should be going right. Penny stops. He watches her disappear among the crowd of students.

“She broke up with James,” Quentin explains.

“Oh.”

There's a pause. None of them really know what to say. They aren't exactly friends.

“You should go talk to her.” Alice smiles and it seems genuine. Encouraging. “She seems pretty upset about it, so you should talk. To her.”

“Okay. Okay, I will.”

Penny finds her out in the courtyard, perched on the edge of the fountain. She stares at the water. He takes a seat next to her. She doesn't acknowledge him. He stays silent, watches as she dips her fingers into the fountain and moves them back and forth, creating ripples across the surface of the water.

“Are you okay?” He eventually asks.

“Fine.” Julia pulls her hand out of the water and dries it on her skirt. She turns away, stares down at the ground, her arms folded firmly across her chest.

“Okay.”

The two of them sit in silence. The other students move around them, nobody really pays them much attention. Every few seconds Penny glances over. Julia is hunched over. Her hair falls down around her face. Penny is sure he hears a little sob.

“Quentin told me about James.”

“Of course.” There's a harsh edge to her tone and she as wipes her hand quickly across her cheek, Penny is sure there are tears.

“Can I... Can I do anything?”

“No.”

“Julia.”

Penny goes to reach for her hand, but Julia suddenly stands up and he quickly pulls back, shoves his hand in his pocket.

“I'm sorry.” She turns to look at him and he can see the tears in her eyes. “I can't talk about this with you.” Julia grabs her bag. She rushes across the courtyard and up the library stairs.

Penny just watches.

Penny opens the door further and sees her. It's not his Julia, he realises that almost immediately. Her hair is shorter, falling just above her shoulders and when the light from the screen hits her face he can see a small scar across her lips. She sits in the armchair, tucked up in the corner. Her legs are against her chest and her arms around her knees.

“Hey Penny,” she says.

“Hey.”

“Forward.” The images on the screen speed up. The sound becomes muted and the day flies by. “Stop.” The screen starts to play again with Julia and Alice camped out in the library, a pile of books and papers in front of them.

Penny steps into the room and Julia turns slightly, rests her chin on the back of the armchair and smiles.

“What are you doing?”

“I like to watch the other timelines.” She glances at the screen as her and Alice grab the assortment of papers off the library table, while Quentin, unseen by them slips a small wooden box into his pocket.

“And which timeline are you from?”

Julia laughs. There's a lightness to it, a happy, familiar feeling and Penny can feel his heart quicken in response. He smiles. It's instinct. The sound of Julia's laugh always makes him smile.

“I'm the first.”

Penny's surprised, even though he knows that he shouldn't be. But the first timeline has always felt so distance, so separate from himself and his experience that's it's hard to think of it as real. Their original lives, untouched by interference. Free of Jane Chatwin and the choices that were made for them.

“Do you want to watch with me?” Julia shifts in the chair. She lowers her legs down and creates a space for him.

Penny hesitates. He glances at the screen.

Julia and Quentin hang back, as Alice stands by the fountain and sings. A gentle mist surrounds then. Then Charlie appears.

“Okay.” He chooses not to sit next to her. Instead he perches on the arm of the chair, deliberately leaving a space between them. If Julia notices she doesn't say anything.

They watch.

Julia charges forward, trying to cast. But Charlie turns away from Alice and faces her. With a flick of his wrist, Julia is thrown through the air. She crashes into the fountain. The side of her head slams against the stone and she drops. There's a splash. She slips down under the water. Unconscious.

“Ow,” Julia says, as she rubs at the side of her head.

“Did you feel that?”

“No,” she laughs. “I just remember how much it hurt when it happened the first time.”

“Oh.”

Quentin dives into the water and starts to drags Julia out of the fountain.

“I've seen almost all of the timelines now, and this particular moment seems to play out pretty much the same way. Alice tries to ressurrect her brother, he almost kills her and me, and Quentin makes this decision...”

Quentin scurries across the floor and quickly scoops up the wooden box. Alice is chanting. Her hands circle around each other.

“You are bound and held fast. Seni baglamak.” The wooden box glows blue and Quentin marches forward, marches past Alice. He moves towards Charlie, who stares amused and enraptured.“I bind you! Seni baglamak.”

Alice is screaming, begging him to stop. She speeds up her movements, but it's too late, the letters on the box are illuminated and Charlie's essence is slowly dragged inside.

Quentin drops the box.

“You... You brought the box.”

“Yeah. Alice, he was gonna kill you.”

“Why did you think you have to save me? Fuck you, Quentin. You had no idea what I was doing. I was so close and now he's gone.”

Alice pushes past him. She makes her away up the stone steps and disappears inside.

Julia stands up. Her legs are shaky. There's blood on her face and down her neck. She stumbles and Quentin catches her.

“She's right,” Julia says. “That wasn't your decision to make.”

“Jules. I couldn't let her die.”

“I know.” She hugs him tight. “Thank you, for saving me.” She kisses his cheek and then pulls back. She hobbles up the stairs after Alice, her hand gripping onto the handrail to steady herself.

She heads into the school and makes her way through the corridors. Water and blood drips behind her. She wipes at the neck and face with the sleeve of her shirt. She arrives at his door and knocks. At first, there's no response. She knocks again, harder this time and the door is thrown open.

Penny stands there.

He sees her; soaking wet, blood smeared across her face, her arms wrapped around herself as she shivers with cold and with something else. The anger at being woken up immediately falls from his face.

“Julia.”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Yeah -” Penny quickly grab a jacket from a nearby chair and wraps it around Julia's shoulders - “of course.”

The first tear comes before she even crosses the threshold. She throws herself into him and sobs against his chest. His arms are around her immediately. He holds her close, holds her tight. His hands rub along her arms and then her back. He doesn't say a word. He just allows her to cling to him until she's ready.

Penny dips the flannel into the bowl of luke warm water and then gently moves Julia's hair away from her face. Her eyes are still red. Her arms are wrapped around her knees as she leans back against the side of his bed. He runs the flannel across her neck and the blood wipes away easily. He dips the flannel back in the bowl. It leaves a hint of red in the water. He moves it gently long her jaw, then her cheek and finally her forehead.

“Ow.” Julia grimaces as the flannel brushes against the wound on her head.

“Sorry.” Penny pulls back. He waits until Julia's eyes open and she looks at him before he wipes at the cut.

Julia grits her teeth. Her hand comes up and she grabs at Penny's elbow. He stops for a moment and only starts again when Julia nods her head.

He continues to dip the flannel in the bowl as he cleans her wound and when he’s finished the water is completely red with her blood. He takes a bandage he found buried in one of his drawers and places it against her forehead.

“Thank you,” Julia says.

“No problem.” He picks up the bowl, opens up his window and throws the water out, along with the flannel – he has no use for it anymore. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“We tried to help Alice. We tried to resurrect her brother and...” Julia shivers. Penny's jacket is still on her shoulders and she pulls it tight around her.

“Here.” Penny sits down next to her and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“It didn't work. We tried to fix it and it didn't work. We couldn't save him.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

She leans in to him.

He places a soft kiss against the top of her head and she pulls back just slightly. She looks at him. The tears are back in her eyes. Her hands move to his chest as she leans in and kisses him. It's faint, just the brushing of her lips against his.

Penny pulls back.

He can see the surprise on her face, the slight lift of her eyebrows before her face goes blank and she nods her head.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.” She turns away from him.

“No it's... You're upset and I...”

“You don't have to explain yourself. I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry.” She stands up and his jacket falls from her shoulders.

She heads for the door and for a moment Penny just watches her, and then he's on his feet.

“Julia.”

She stops.

“Julia, I... I like you.”

“I like you too.” She steps back towards him.

“I just... I don't want to hurt you or takes advantage or something.”

“You think that's what's happening?”

“You're upset.”

“Yeah. I'm upset, but that's not... I broke up with my boyfriend because of you. I mean, yeah, we were struggling. Me being here and learning magic, and James not being a part of that, we were drifting apart and maybe it would've happened anyway, but... But when I look at you, Penny, I know what I want.”

Her hands cup his cheek, and this time when she leans in to kiss him, he doesn't pull away.

“You guys are sweet together,” Julia says.

Penny turns away from the screen. He feels like he's intruding on their moment, even though it's his moment. His moment with his Julia.

“What about you? You and the Penny from your timeline?”

She smiles at him. But it's not the warm and friendly smile from before, instead there's sympathy. At least Penny thinks it's meant to sympathy, all he sees is pity.

“We were friends.”

“Just friends.”

“I liked him. He was a good guy but we weren't that close.”

“Right.”

“That was probably my fault. I met Alice on my first day at Brakebills and that was pretty much it.”

“Alice, really?”

Julia nods her head.

“I have never seen anybody so beautiful and I have never met anybody so -” Julia sighs softly - “captivating without even realising it. I loved her, from the moment I saw her. I loved her.”

“Good. I'm sure you were, happy, I guess.”

“We were.”

Penny stands up. He doesn't look at the screen or at Julia as he heads for the door.

“You might want to turn that off soon,” he says. “It doesn't have a happy ending.”

“They never do.”

-----

Penny throws his towel down. He stands on the edge of the pool, brings his hands over his head and dives in. The water washes over him. It's cold against his skin and he starts to swim, his strokes fast and powerful. He reaches the end, flips over and kicks off. He does this again, and again. Up and down, up and down.

He comes up for air and sees a pair of feet at the side of the pool. Black boots with thin heels. He ignores them, hits the wall and turns. He swims to the other end of the pool. He expects them to be gone when he comes back, but they aren't. He slows down. Changes from the front crawl to the breast stroke. The chlorine stings his eyes.

Julia, the one from the first timeline, watches him.

He comes to a stop and she smiles.

“Hey.” She leans down.

“Alright?”

“Yeah. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“I know sometimes it can be difficult, adjusting to all of this.”

“I'm fine.”

“Okay. It's probably silly to ask, especially as all the other Pennys have said no but, do you like bowling?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She stands up, and starts to walk away, only to stop after a few steps. “It's just, we're about to have a match and I'm a player down, so if you feel like joining us, we'll be up in the bowling alley.”

“Thanks. But I'm good.”

“Okay.”

Penny doesn't know how long he stays in the pool. He just swims until his muscles begin to ache and he has to slow down. He pulls himself out, wraps the towel around his waist and heads for the steam room. He opens the door and is hit with a wave of heat. He goes to step inside only to stop. His fingers tap against the handle.

He closes the door.

He dries himself off and gets changed. When he gets in the elevator he doesn't push the button for his floor, instead he pushes floor fifty two.

The door opens and he's hit by a cascade of noise: the crash of pins, the thud of bowling balls, the excited cheer when somebody gets a strike.

He steps off and looks around.

There are at least ten lanes that Penny can see, each one of them is in use, groups of people crowded around small computer monitors used for imputting scores or sitting on the long, bright-coloured, plastic benches. Each lane has two tall, circular tables. Some of them are covered in red cups and baskets of foods.

There are bright lights. Twinkles of colours; reds and purples and blues.

There's a desk that stretches along the back wall. A young man stands behind it. Along the wall is a shelf that's covered in bowling shoes: white, with blue and red stripes.

“Penny.”

He turns and sees Julia walking towards him with two plastic cups in her hand. She quickly deposits them on a nearby table and then gently touches his shoulder.

“You came.”

There's what looks like a bar behind her, tucked into the corner of the room. There are bottles attached to the wall and a fridge full of soda on the floor. A door behind it is open and Penny can smell food – fries maybe – cooking in a fat fryer.

“Yeah, I finished my swim.”

“Okay, well you're on my team. Come on.” She picks up the drinks and leads him to the last lane. He hesitates when he sees the eight people sitting on the benches. He should've known, he really should've known but still it catches him off guard. He tries not to show it. But there's a slight raise of his eyebrow.

Margo sees him first. She jumps up from the bench and strides over, the click of her heels echoing over the noise.

“Oh no,” she says. “No, no, no.” She places her hand on her hips and stares at Julia.

Julia just shrugs her shoulders.

“He can't play.”

“Why not? I'm a player down and he wants to play.”

“Nice try.” Margo turns to Penny. “It's your first week here, right?”

“I think so. I'm not really sure.”

“You're such a cheater.”

“I'm not cheating. I'm just...” Julia takes a moment. “Exploiting the system.”

Julia smiles and after a moment, Margo laughs.

“Cheater,” she says pointedly. “Hey Penny.”

“Hey Margo.”

She walks back over to the bench and takes a seat next to Eliot. He immediately tries to hand her a flask that Penny is sure is full – or was full in the beginning – of something alcoholic but she shakes her head.

“Tenth timeline,” Julia says. “They survived the first massacre but Margo... Well The Beast killed somebody she cared about and she wanted revenge. Eliot tried to stop her. He knew it was a suicide mission, but she was on the warpath. They died together.”

“Probably the way it should be.”

Julia looks at him for a moment. He can see her eyes moving carefully over his face, studying him, and then she smiles.

“Yeah. They're definitely a package deal, in life and in death. One without the other just wouldn't work. Case in point.” She points as Eliot reaches across and hands his flask to himself.

This other Eliot seems nervy. His shirt is buttoned all the way to the top, the collar so tight around his neck Penny wonders how he can possible breath. His legs are crossed and his foot bounces manically. His eyes are unfocused. He takes the flask, brings it to his lips and takes a long drink. There are deep lines around his eyes.

“Twenty second timeline. The Beast attacked and he got sort of, blown up. The last thing he heard was Margo screaming in horror. But she survived and now he's just waiting for her. The other Margos try to take care of him but you can always feel the difference, after while.” 

“Jesus.”

Next to Eliot-22 is Josh. His legs are up on the bench, his eyes bright red with a very obvious bong in his lap.

“They let you do drugs in here?”

“Why not? This isn't heaven or hell, we're just waiting. It's completely judgement free.”

“So what happened?”

“Timeline seven. It took us longer than most of the other timelines to get to Fillory. He got tired of waiting and he tried to get himself back to earth.”

“Through the neitherlands?”

“Yeah. He got caught. The Beast closed the fountain the second he jumped in.”

“Christ.”

“It was horrible, apparently. When he got down here he was kind of traumatised. He's doing better now, with counselling.” She moves on. “Quentin and Alice from timeline thirteen.”

Alice picks a bowling ball from the rack and lifts it up. Quentin gives a little cheer as she takes a few steps forward and throws. The ball rolls down the lane slower than it needs to and catches one of the outer pins. It wobbles for a moment and then topples. Quentin cheers again, louder this time. Alice turns around, an excited smile on her face as she rushes over to him and throws her arms around his neck. They kiss.

The other's clap politely.

“The Beast killed them in Fillory.” She points to another Quentin and another Alice who are sitting on the bench next to Josh. His arm is around her shoulder. “Quentin and Alice from timeline thirty two. The Beast killed them at Brakebills.”

“Hey,”

Penny turns.

Another Julia comes towards them. This one looks so much more like his own that for a moment he thinks it is her. Her hair is the same, her smile is the same, the twinkle in her eye is the same and his heart clenches. But it's not her, he figures that out after the first second.

“Timeline ten,” Julia-1 tells him. “Here.” She hands one of the drinks to the other Julia.

“Thanks. Hi Penny.” Julia-10 hugs him, kisses his cheek and then casually strolls over to the bench. She takes a seat next to Margo. Their thighs press together. Margo takes the cup from her and steals a sip before handing it back and placing her hand on Julia's knee. She gives it a squeeze.

He feels Julia-1's hand on his shoulder.

“Lets get you some bowling shoes.”

She leads him over to the desk and the young man walks towards them.

“Name?” He asks.

“William Adiyodi.”

“Alright.” He types the name into the computer. “Just one moment, sir.”

Penny leans against the desk. He lets out a gentle sigh and then glances over his shoulder. He sees the way that Margo's hand moves from Julia-10's knee to her back and rubs gently. The two of them smile at each other when they think nobody is looking.

“When you said The Beast killed somebody Margo cared about you meant Julia.”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn't want to tell me that.” It's not a question, but a statement and when Julia doesn't answer he knows that it's true. “I thought we were soulmates. Me and you.”

“I know. But I'm not her, I'm not your Julia.”

“Shouldn't you be? If we really are soulmates then shouldn't every Julia be my Julia, and every Penny be your Penny. Shouldn't we be together in every universe, in every timeline no matter what Jane or The Beast or anybody else does? Isn't that what soulmates means?”

“I suppose so.”

“So we're not soulmates. We're just...”

“Two people who love each other.”

Penny goes quiet. He turns away from her and stares down at the desk.

“When I first got down here, I missed them. I missed my friends, I missed my family, I missed Quentin. But most of all I missed Alice. I missed her so much and when I learnt about the other timelines, about the other Julias and the other Alices, I was so happy. I thought that I was going to watch the two of us fall in love over and over again. But I've watched thirty two of them now and in every one of those timelines I have watched Alice fall in love with Quentin. Every single time.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Of course it hurt. But I came to terms with it. I mean, it wasn't easy but I realised that whatever happened in those other timelines doesn't change what happened in mine. I loved Alice and she loved me, and we were happy. That's what matters.”

“But it hurts.”

Julia looks over at the group and Penny does, as well. Quentin and Alice – Penny thinks it's the two from timeline thirteen – are kissing.

“Yeah, it hurts.”

The man comes back and places a pair of bowling shoes on the desk in front of Penny.

“Here we are, sir.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, lets bowl,” Julia says. “I have a good feeling about you.”

-----

Penny feels a little awkward. He knows these people, but he doesn't really know them and he can't help but look at the two Julia's. His stomach churns every time he sees Margo and Julia-10 together.

Then he gets his first strike and Julia-1 cheers loudly, as do the rest of the people on his team and he feels embarrassed. He gives a little nod of his head and then takes his seat on the bench. Then he gets another one and another, and Julia-1 continues to cheer loudly even as Margo starts to protest. Julia-1 just laughs and claps him on the back.

They win. Not by much, but they win and it's very clear that Penny's multiple strikes is the reason why.

“We're gonna head up to the restaurant,” Julia-1 says, as the group start to gather up their things.

Eliot-22 stumbles. His foot slams into the leg of the bench and he almost falls, Eliot-10 catches him. He places his arm around Eliot-22 and walks him towards the elevator.

“Do you want to come? Help celebrate our win.”

“Maybe next time. Right now, there's something I need to do.”

“Okay.”

Penny starts to walk away, only to stop and turn back to Julia-1.

“Thanks, for inviting me.”

“Thanks for helping me win, for once.”

She smiles, large and wide, and gleaming, and Penny finds himself smiling as well.

He stands back as the group pile into the elevator. They say goodbye to him in turn, all except Eliot-22 who doesn't seem to be in a position to say anything. Margo taps his chest and waves her finger in his face as she passes.

“Next time, you're on my team,” she says with a laugh.

When Margo takes a step back Julia-10 wraps her arm around his neck and gives him a quick hug.

“Bye Penny.”

“Bye.”

The two of them hold hands as they step into the elevator together.

Julia-1 steps onto the elevator last. She gives Penny a little wave as the doors close.

Penny watches the numbers on the elevator as it goes down. He presses the button and waits. It doesn't take long for the doors to reopen, even though the numbers are still going down and he knows there hasn't been enough time for the elevator to reach the restaurant. He steps on. He presses the button for floor forty two.

Penny isn't quite sure how it works. He looks for a computer or a control panel, something that will fire up the screen but there's nothing but blackness, nothing but the armchair. He takes a seat and he places his hands on the arms of the chair. He takes a breath, tries to focus his mind, to think about the moment that he wants to see.

But there's nothing. Just a black wall in front of him.

He sighs.

He taps his thumbs against the arm of the chair and tries again. He closes his eyes and takes another a breath. He thinks about her, about his Julia. About the tears in her eyes, the quiver of her lip. The feel of her hand on his chest, of her fingers as they rub gently against his skin. The sound of her voice, husky from crying.

He opens his eyes and expects to see the scene in front of him. But there's still a black screen.

Penny shakes his head. He starts to stand up, intent on finding Melinda or maybe another guide to help him, only to stop. He sits back down.

“April 12th 2017, 10.40pm.” 

The white square appears in front of him and he slams his hand against the chair in triumph. The flashes of lights and colours start and Penny turns his head. He doesn't want to feel queasy again. He turns back when the square gets large...

Penny reaches out and slowly brushes away the tear that creeps down Julia's cheek. His hand lingers. His thumb strokes along the side of her face. She leans down and presses a gentle kiss against his forehead. He feels what he's sure is another tear fall against his skin.

“Julia,” he says.

“I'm sorry.” She pulls back from him. She takes his hand away from her face, kisses the back of it and then slowly links their fingers. “It's going to be fine. You're going to fine.”

He's in the infirmary. His head rests deep into the pillow because he doesn't have the strength to lift it up. His face is thin and drawn. There are bags under his eyes, thick and black. There's sweat on his face, his neck, his chest. The blanket is on the floor, as is his shirt and his trousers. He's in nothing but his boxers but he's still so hot. It feels like his blood is boiling.

He's been given something to drink by Professor Lipson and his body feels heavy. So very heavy. His eyes close and it takes a moment for him to have the strength to open them again. The voices in his head are fainter now. He can still hear them, still hear him but they're fading. A temporary relief to the torment that he's been suffering for the last few weeks.

“Julia.”

“It's okay. I'm here.”

He looks up at her and the tears are back.

“Please, don't cry.” His eyes close again. He feels Julia's lips press against his. He wants to kiss her back, wants to hold her close to him, but all he can do is lie there and breath her in.

“I love you.” Julia's forehead rests against his. “I love you, Penny. I love you.”

Those words are the last thing he hears as he falls into unconsciousness.

“April 13th 2017, 11.34pm.”

Penny has been unconscious for over twenty four hours.

Professor Lipson hovers over him. She picks up a damp cloth from the bedside table and presses it against his forehead, wipes the sweat away from his face.

His eyelids flicker.

He lets out a small moan. His head turns and his lips fall open. His fingers twitch as he reaches out for Professor Lipson. He tries to grab her hand, but misses and his fingers brush against her arm instead.

“Julia,” he says.

His eyes slowly open.

Professor Lipson smiles down at him as she places the cloth back on the bedside table.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

Penny's eyes are sore and is vision slightly blurred. He blinks, once and then twice. He looks around the room. The lights are off but he can see that there's just him and Professor Lipson. Except for them, the clinic is empty.

“Where...” His mouth is dry. His words come out as a croak. He swallows, tries to get a little bit of moisture in his throat. “Where's Julia?”

“Miss Wicker?”

Penny nods his head.

“I'm afraid I don't know.

His vision has started to clear and he looks around the room again, some part of him expecting her to just appear.

“Do you need anything?” Professor Lipson asks. “Another blanket? A drink?”

“Water,” Penny says. “Water would be good.” His throat is still dry and his skin still feels hot. Water would be good. But what he wants more than anything is for her to leave.

“Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Penny listens to the sound of her footsteps. He waits until she has left the room before he tries to lift his head. There's an ache in his neck. His muscles are tight and as he places his hands on the bed and pushes himself up his arms shake.

His feet hit the floor.

He takes a moment. His chest is tight and he takes a much needed breath. His heart seems to hammer in his chest and he doesn't know why. He just wants to see Julia. Needs to see her.

His palms are sweaty. There's a throbbing in the back of his head.

Penny stands up. He sways. His hands rest back against the bed to hold himself steady. He takes a small step forward. His clothes have been tossed over the back of the chair and he grabs his trousers and his vest and pulls them on. His hands shake. It takes him longer to get dressed than it should.

He walks out of the clinic, intent on heading to the library, intent on finding Julia. But he doesn't get that far.

There's a scream.

It's loud and shrill, and horrific, and Penny can feel his heart clench again.

He turns and heads down the corridor. There's another scream, and another, and another. Each one is louder, higher and more blood-curling than the last.

He turns a corner.

There's blood. Pools of it with smeared footprints on the floor and handprints on the walls. The screams have stopped and Penny should be relieved but the sound has been replaced by a persistant, but gentle crying.

“Julia,” he says.

There's a crowd of people at the end of the corridor. The teachers – Professor Lipson among them – create a circle around somebody that Penny can't see.

“Julia,” he says, louder this time.

He rushes over.

Dean Fogg sees him and steps away from the circle. He stands in front of Penny, blocks his path and his view.

“What's happening? What's going on?”

“Penny. You should be in the infirmary.” Dean Fogg places his hands on Penny's shoulders and tries to push him back. Penny resists.

“Is it Julia? Is she okay?”

Penny tries to push his way past and he gets a glimpse of the person on the floor.

It's Alice.

She's lying there. Her arms wrapped around herself. A jacket has been placed over her but she continues to shake and Penny suspects it's not with cold. There's blood on her face, on her neck. In her hair. Not a small smear or a drop, it's like a bucket has been poured over her head.

“Penny.” Dean Fogg tries to pull him back again but Penny easily shakes him off.

“Alice.”

The circle seems to part for him and he drops down beside her. He reaches down and places his hand on her shoulder. Alice flinches.

“Alice.”

She looks up at him.

“Penny,” she says.

Alice lifts herself up and the jacket falls away. Penny can see the scars, deep and raw, and bleeding. On her chest, on her arms. She grabs at his shirt. Her fingers grasp at the fabric, pulls and tugs at it as she yanks him closer. She buries her face against his chest.

“He killed them.”

“Alice, what are you...”

“He killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” But he already knows. In his heart he knows.

“The Beast. He killed them. Quentin and Julia, he ripped them apart.”

“No.”

“He killed them. He killed them. He killed them.” Her voice is shrill, desperate and devestated.

Penny tries to push her back but she clings to him.

“No.”

“He killed them.” Alice slides away from him. It's like all the strength drains from her body and she drops to the floor.

“No. No. No. No!” He stands up.

Then he hears it.

That sick and sinister voice in the back of his head. It's as loud and booming as it ever has been before. Laughter. It echoes through his mind, drowns out the sound of anything else. He shakes his head. He tries to expel the voice, expel the realisation.

The laughter gets louder and louder.

Penny can feel his heart break.

The scene keeps playing, with Dean Fogg finally pulling him away from Alice and walking him back to the infirmary in silence. Penny doesn't watch. He doesn't want to. He can still remember the emptiness, the numbness he felt in that moment. Instead he reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out the envelope. He slowly unfolds it. He stares at the writing on the front, his name written by her.

He turns it over and runs his thumb across the sealed flap.

“June 10th 2016, 12.30pm”

He continues to stare down at the envelope as the screen goes into reverse. The scenes from his life, his time with Julia playing backwards until the screen comes to a stop on the image of a park.

Julia's cheek rests on his shoulder. Their hands are linked as they walk between the large trees, the grass crunching under their feet. There's a blanket tucked under his arm. A picnic basket in his other hand. They find a quiet spot just a few feet away from the band stand.  

It's cream coloured, with a red border around the bottom. There are stones steps, with a black, metal handrail. The roof, made of layered red brick is separated into eight parts that come together in middle to created a triangular shaped point. There's a flag pole on top, but no flag. The paint has faded.

Penny places the basket on the floor and flicks out the blanket. It floats down gently to the ground. Julia smiles at him and leans in to kiss his cheek. She sits down on the blanket. He joins her.

He leans in, brushes her hair away from her neck and gently kisses her collar bone. Her hands rest on his shoulders. She squeezes gently and then moves her hands up along his neck, threads her fingers into his hair. Penny can feel the tingles move along his spine. He kisses up her neck and along her jaw. He's about to kiss her lips when she pulls back.

“Aren't you going to show me what you've made?”

“Kiss me.”  

“Show me what you've made.”

“Kiss me.”

“Show me what you've made and I'll think about it.” Julia smiles at him.

Penny laughs. He grabs the basket and plonks it down between them. He lifts the lid. Julia tries to sneak a peak but he presses his hands over the hole and blocks her view. She laughs and lies back on the blanket. He reaches inside and pulls out a lunchbox. He's made egg mayonnaise sandwiches for Julia and a couple of ham and cheese for himself, each one cut into neat little triangles. There are no crusts because he remembers Julia saying she hated them as a kid. They're packed in tight. He opens the lunchbox and he can see the lines from the lid now pressed into the bread. He places it in front of Julia and she immediately picks one up.

Penny takes out another lunchbox. This one is filled with a variety of fruit: strawberries, grapes, blueberries, and slices of apple and banana. He places it on the blanket and looks at Julia. Her hand is over her mouth, a grimace on her face.

“Are you alright?”

Julia nods her head and then a moment later she shakes it. She leans over and spits. A piece of egg mayonnaise sandwich goes flying and disappears into the long, blades of grass. She sticks her tongue out and makes a noise that Penny can only think of as disgust.

“Not good?”

Julia points to the basket, her tongue out. Penny reaches inside and pulls out the bottle of wine he's brought and hands it to her. She yanks off the top and takes a swig. She rolls it around her mouth like mouthwash then spits it into the grass.

“Harsh,” he says.

Julia wipes the wine from her mouth and smiles at him.

“When you made the sandwiches did you check the date on the mayonnaise?” She takes another swig from the wine and this time swallows it down.

Penny looks at the box of sandwiches and mouths the word 'ah'. Julia's smile gets even wider as she reaches out and strokes his cheek.

“That’s okay.”

They end up chucking away the sandwiches, even the ham and cheese ones just in case, and settle down with the box of fruit and the bottle of wine, which they pass back and forth, foregoing the plastic cups that he's brought and just drinking straight from the bottle.

When the wine is finished and half the fruit has been eaten, Penny lies down on the blanket and Julia curls into his side just like she does when they’re together in his room. Her hand is on his chest. He thinks it's probably somewhere over his heart.

“This is nice,” Julia mutters, her lips brushing against his collar bone.

“Yeah, it is.” He presses a gentle kiss against her forehead and squeezes her tight.

He feels a drop of water on his hand. Penny opens his eyes and looks up at the sky, sees the dark clouds that hover over them.

There's another drop, and another, and another, and within a few moments it's raining, heavy and hard and thick. Julia lets out a little squeal. She pulls away from him quickly and he immediately misses her presence. She throws the lunchboxes back into the basket and then jumps to her feet. For a moment, Penny just lies back and watches her, the rain soaking through his clothes. Julia holds out her hand. He takes it and allows her to help him stand. She grabs the basket and he grabs the blanket and the two of them run towards the bandstand, their fingers linked.

Julia laughs. The rain causes her hair to stick to her forehead and she pushes it back. She rings out the bottom of her shirt and drops of water fall to the ground.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she says. She drops the basket down onto the floor and leans against the side of the bandstand. She reaches out and allows the rain to falls against her palm.

Penny flops down onto the stairs. He stares out at the rain, his arms folded across his chest.

Julia reaches out and places her hand on the back of his head. She strokes along his neck.

“What's wrong?”

Penny shrugs his shoulders.

She takes a seat next to him.

“It's just a little rain. Give it a couple of years and they'll teach us how to control the weather, and when they do, sun everyday.” She laughs again. “Not everywhere, of course. Just for me. My own personal sun that can just hover over my head.” She takes his hand and leans into him.

He looks at her and can't help but smile as a drop of water makes it way down her nose. He wipes it away.

He sighs.

“Come on,” she says. “I'll let you stand under my sun. For a fee.” Julia gives a slight quirk of her eyebrows and Penny knows she's expecting a laugh, but all he can give is a weak smile. “Penny...”

“I just wanted today to be good.”

“It was good.”

“Alright, perfect then. I wanted today to be perfect, not sandwiches you can't eat and unexpected rain.”

“Well, we could have eaten them but it might not have ended so well.”

“I tried, you know. I really tried.”

“I know.” Julia rests her cheek against his shoulder and the two of them sit there listening to the sound of the rain hitting the top of the bandstand. “Hey. There's been something I've been meaning to tell you.”

“Yeah.”

“For a while now, actually.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Her voice is soft and Penny can feel her words move across him. They leave tingles across his skin, make his heart speed up.

Julia's hand is on his cheek and she turns his face to her.

“I love you, Penny.”

“I love you too.”

“Good.”

She leans in and kisses him.

Penny can feel a tear make it's way down his cheek. He doesn't brush it away, instead he allows it to trail across his jaw and drop from his chin. It lands on the envelope. He rips opens the flap and looks inside. There's a single sheet of paper. Penny takes it out and stares down at it. There is just two words and two sets of numbers: floor 25, room 16,231,896. It's printed, official, there's no hint of her in it and his face falls.

------

Penny picks up the ball, he tosses it from hand to hand and then rolls it down the ramp. It hits the incline and bounces up, falls into the 50 point hole. That's the forth time in a row and Penny lets out a slightly bitter laugh. He shakes his head.

“Let me guess, I can't miss,” Penny says.

“Pretty much, but your first week is almost up and when it is.” Margo picks up the ball and rolls it down the ramp. She too gets 50 points.

“Nice.”

“Thanks. Do you want your tickets?”

“Nah, go ahead.” He hands them over.

“That one,” she says to the man standing by the skee ball machine. She points to a large, fluffy, purple dog that hangs from the ceiling. The man unhooks it. She hands over a combination of Penny's tickets and her own. “Thanks. Jules!”

Julia-10 has been playing on a claw grabber game for the last twenty minutes, trying to get a get a smaller but similar looking dog and failing. She looks over.

Margo holds up the dog. She lifts up it's paw and uses it to wave Julia over.

“For me?” Julia asks.

“Yeah, so don't say I never get you anything.”

“You never get me anything.”

Julia laughs and Penny joins her.

“Funny.” Margo rolls her eyes, but after a moment she relents and allows Julia to interlock their arms.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

Julia looks down at the dog and she genuinely seems happy, that in itself makes Penny smiles, but when she leans in and kisses Margo he has to turn away.

He spots Julia-1 at the back of the queue for the hot dog stand and heads over.

“Everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeah, everything's fine.”

“Sure?”

She looks at him and their eyes meet for just a moment. It's shakes him. For all of the differences if he just focuses on her eyes he can believe – no, he can pretend.

He sighs. The disappointment has settled in his chest every since he opened the envelope. He reaches into his pocket and hands it to her.

“Julia left it for me at the front desk.”

Julia opens it and takes out the piece of paper. She looks at it and then immediately put it back into the envelope and hands it back.

“It's an invitation. She's giving you official permission to come and see her.”

“Yeah. I figured that out.”

Julia smiles.

“So why haven't you gone? Why are you here with us instead of there with her?”

Penny turns away. He shoves the envelope back into his pocket and stares at the ground. He frowns. His eyebrows furrow as he struggles to find an answer. There's a pain in his chest. This dull ache, like a vice has been placed on his heart and is now tightening.

“What about Alice?” He asks. “Why aren't you with her right now?”

He tries to keep his voice soft. It's meant to be a deflection, not an attack. Julia laughs and he hopes that means she knows that.

“Because she's not dead. The Beast didn't kill my Alice, Penny. I didn't let him.”

Penny lifts his eyebrow.

“You can dissuade yourself of any romantic, Romeo and Juliet, dying in her arms stuff. I was dead in an instant. But she lived and that's what matters.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, I'm happy that she's alive. I want her have a life. I want her to go to all the places that we wanted to go, I want to do all of the things that we wanted to do. I want her to...”

“Fall in love?”

“Maybe, yeah. Yes. Yes, I want her to fall in love. I want her to be happy. I want her to have a fantastic life.”

“Fair enough.”

“Look, I can't be with my Alice but you can be with your Julia, so why aren't you?”

Penny sighs. He brings his hand up and rubs at his forehead. He can feel a slight tinge in his temples and feels a little annoyed that it's possible to get a headache in the Underworld. He feels Julia's hand on his shoulder. There's a gentle squeeze.

“It's okay,” she says. “Whatever it is, it's okay.” Her voice is soft and gentle, and understanding.

There's another squeeze of his shoulder.

“I'm afraid.” He lifts up his head and looks at her. “I don't understand why she...” He comes to a stop. He presses his lips together, shoves his hands into his pockets and then takes then back out again. “She left me.”

“Penny...”

“She just left me in that infirmary. Ran off to Fillory with Quentin and Alice, and I don't understand why. I don't understand and I guess I'm wondering...”

“Wondering what?”

“I'm wondering if it's because I wasn't enough for her. If my love for her just couldn't compete with Fillory.”

The two of them fall silent for a moment. Penny can see the way that Julia bites down on her bottom lip as she considers what he's said.

Somebody clears their throat. It's the young man at the hot dog stand. The two of them are now at the front of the queue.

“Two please. No onions.” She turns to Penny. “You know, if you want an answer the best way to get it would be to just go and ask her.”

-----

Penny sits under the bandstand and listens to the sound of the rain hitting the roof. He doesn't now how long he's spent trying to focus his mind, trying to focus on the idea of sun and heat, and brightness. But the rain just keeps on falling.

He gives up.

He takes the invitation out of his pocket and places it on the ground next to him. He turns to look at it. To stare at it as he reaches out and holds out his hand. The rain falls against his palm.

Questions, he doesn't have thousands of them. He has just one.

Why?

-----

The elevator pings and Penny quickly steps off. He spots Julia-1 almost immediately. She stands in the third lane down, typing something into the computer. He walks over.

“Hey, Penny.”

“Hey. I erm... I need a favour.”

“Okay.”

“When you were watching my timeline you were seeing it from Julia's perspective, right?”

“Yeah. They pretty much consider us one in the same down here, so I can watch any of the other Julias. Except for the current one, of course.”

“And you can show me? What happened, I mean.”

“Penny...”

“I need to know why she left.”

“What if you don't like the answer?”

“It'll still be an answer.”

“Okay.” She turns away from hm for a moment and looks over at the two Quentins who are currently sitting one of the benches waiting for the others to arrive and the match to start. “Me and Penny have to bail this time, so I'm tagging you both in.”

“Wait what?!” They say in unison.

Julia ignores them. She takes Penny's arm and leads him back to the elevator.

“No Jules. I don't bowl. You know I don't bowl.”

Julia laughs and when Penny looks at her she shrugs her shoulders.

“There was an incident when he was a kid. He got his fingers stuck and it left him a little traumatised.”

“Right. You'll have to tell me that story sometime.”

The elevator doors open and they step on.

They head to floor forty two. Julia takes a seat in the armchair. She leaves a space next to her and this time Penny sits there instead of perching on the arm. There's still a gap between them but he settles in and when Julia pulls her legs up, he allows her knee to rest on his.

“Date?”

“April 12th 2017, 10.45pm.”

“I love you.” Julia's forehead rests against Penny's. “I love you, Penny. I love you.” She gently sobs. Her hands cling onto his arms as she allow herself to cry. It takes her a few minutes to get a handle on herself, to find the emotional fortitude to press a kiss against his forehead and then pull back. She reaches down and picks up the blanket. She draps it over him, tucks it gently around his shoulders.

She turns her head and looks at the door.

Dean Fogg stands there.

“Do something,” she says.

“Julia.”

“The Beast is killing him. Having that voice inside his head is killing him.”

“We've had this conversation before. This is intrinsic to who he is, to separate him from his powers would be wr...”

“I don't care!” She shouts. “He's your student. You have a duty of care. You have to do something!”

“There's nothing I can do.”

“Then why are you here!? To watch! To watch me lose him, to watch him die! We don't need an audience for that.”

“I understand this is hard.”

“No! No, you don't understand anything. So go! Just go!”

Dean Fogg doesn't argue. He just nods his head and walks out of the room.

Julia waits until the sound of his footsteps disappears before she slips off her shoes and climbs onto the bed next to Penny. She tucks herself in beside him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. She lifts his arm and places it around her.

She closes her eyes.

“Do you want me to skip ahead?” Julia asks.

“No. No, I want to see it all.”

“Okay.”

Nothing happens for hours. They sit there watching as Julia just lies on the bed next to Penny, the two of them looking so peaceful. Penny can feel his heart clench and he knows, in his gut he knows that even though Julia doesn't die until the next day that these are their last moments together.

He wants it to last. He wills it to last.

But when the clock strikes 2am, the infirmary door opens.

Quentin slowly enters the room. He sees Julia and Penny lying in bed, the two of them asleep and he takes a moment to close the door slowly and quietly. He creeps towards them, places his hand on Julia's shoulder and gives it a gentle shake.

“Jules,” he says. He shakes her shoulder again. “Jules.”

Julia bolts up. She catches him by surprise and Quentin stumbles back to avoid her head slamming into his chest.

She looks around, momentarily confused until she sees Penny and the tension in her body dissipates.

“Are you alright?” Quentin asks.

“Yeah, fantastic.” The sarcasm is obvious and the moment she sees the slightly wounded look on his face she regrets it. “I'm sorry, Q. I'm just...” She looks down at Penny. His face still drawn and pale.

“I know.”

“This is bad, Q. It's really bad and I don't know what to do.”

“That's why I'm here, because I think I do. Fillory.”

Julia shakes her head.

“Q...”

“I know, but listen, we know that’s where The Beast is. We know that when he isn't on earth, he's in Fillory and nobody knows the Fillory and Further books better than the two of us. If we could get there, if we could find a way to get to Fillory then we could... We could do it.”

“Quentin...” There's a pause and Julia's eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?

“I'm talking about killing The Beast.”

“Is that... Is that even possible?”

“I think it is. Julia, you and Alice are the two most powerful Magicians that I've ever seen. That this school has ever seen. Everybody knows it. Even Dean Fogg knows it. If anybody could take on The Beast it's the two of you.”

Julia considers this for a moment and then shakes her head again.

“I can't, Q. I can't leave Penny, not like this. He needs me.”

“I know that you're worried about Penny and that's why you need to come to Fillory. Dean Fogg's right, nothing can be done for him. Not here. But in Fillory... If The Beast dies then the voice that’s tormenting him dies too. But we can’t do it without you. You can save him, Jules. But you need to come with us to Fillory.”

Julia looks down at Penny.

“Can you give us a few minutes?”

“Sure. I'll wait outside.” Quentin places his hand on her shoulder and then leaves the infirmatory. He pulls the door shut behind him.

“Penny.” Julia takes a breath. There's a quiver in her voice and she needs the moment to steady herself. “I don't know if you can hear me, I hope that you can hear me. I don't know what's going to happen next and I don't know if what I'm about to do is the right thing but I can't just sit here and watch you slip away. I need to do something. I need...” She sighs. “I love you. I hope that I'll get another chance to tell you, but if I don't, if this is it, then I need you to know. I love you. I will always love you.”

She kisses his forehead once again then slides away from him.

Julia steps out of the infirmary and Quentin is waiting for her.

“Okay,” Julia says. “Take me to Fillory, Martin.” She holds out her hand and forces a smile, but there are tears in her eyes.

“Yes, Jane.”

Quentin takes her hand as a tear slips down Julia's cheek.

Penny leans forward in the chair. He watches as Julia and Quentin walk down the corridor hand in hand, the uncertainty obvious on both their faces. He nods his head. Places his hands over his mouth and closes his eyes. His chest is tight and he gasps slightly. He feels tired, it's like every drop of energy has been drained from his body and he slumps over.

“Are you alright?”

“No.” His stomach is churning. There's bile in the back of his throat and it burns. “She went because of me. She died because of me.”

“Penny.”

“Turn it off. Please. I don't want to watch her die.” His voice sounds weak. Weaker than it ever has before.

“She died because of who she is. Who we are,” Julia says.

Penny shakes his head.

“She was trying to save me.” And now he's crying. “She was trying to save me from The Beast.”

Julia goes silent. Her knee still rests against his thigh, the weight of it the only thing grounding him as his sobs fill the room. She gives him time and he takes it. He places his hands over his face and pours all of the anger and grief, and despair that he feels into his palms, and when there's nothing left he just sits there, listening to the sound of both of their breathing.

“She died because of me.”

“No. She died for you.”

“It's the same thing.”

“Is it? I died for Alice not because of her. The other Julia, she died trying to save Eliot, for Margo. Second and third timeline, they died for Quentin.”

“Is this meant to helping?”

“I don't know, does the truth help? We sacrifice for the people we love and that's it. That's part of who we are. You should be able to understand that.”

“What?”

“You and the other Pennys do have a habit of throwing yourself on the proverbial grenade for the rest of us.”

To his surprise Penny hears himself laugh. He feels a slight twinge in his stomach and he remembers the feel of the knife as it slid in, as he pushed Julia-40 out of the way.

“What do I do now?”

Julia reaches into Penny's jacket pocket and takes out the invitation. She grabs Penny's hand and places it into his palm.

“We won't stay in the Underworld forever, Penny. At some point we have to move on. The fact is none of us know how long we're going to be here for and none of us know where we'll end up. So don't waste time.”

------

Penny steps onto floor twenty five. The corridor looks exactly the same as the one on his floor. There are two, gold-plated signs in front of him, one points left and the other points right. The left says: 16,000,000 to 16,500,000 and the right says: 16,500,001 to 17,000,000.

He turns left.

His hands shake as he grips tightly onto the invitation. He looks down at it as he walks and when he looks up the number on the door in front of him says: 16,231,896. He glances behind him and sees a long stretch of corridor, and no sign of the elevator. It's like over two hundred thousand doors have just flown past.

“Alright,” he says.

He slowly steps towards the door. He reaches for the door handle and he feels the metal throb against his palm. He pulls back. His heart is hammering in his chest. He's not ready to just throw it open.

He knocks. The handle turns on it's own and the door creaks as it opens slowly. He hears music, the gentle strumming of Incubus' 'Drive.' He takes a step forward, looks around and sees his room at Brakebills in front of him. His posters on the wall. His dirty clothes on the floor and his unmade bed against the wall.

It looks almost exactly as it did the day Julia finally convinced him to go to the infirmary. The only thing that's out of place is a pair of bowling shoes, white with red and blue stripes next to the bed.

“It's rude to keep a girl waiting, you know,” Julia says. She's sitting cross-legged in front of his stereo, with a bunch of his CDs in a pile in front of her. She looks at him. “Hey.”

“Hi. This is my room.”

“Yeah. Apparently this is the place where I feel the most comfortable.” She smiles and he smiles back. She stands up and walks over to him, wraps her arms around her neck and hugs him. He squeezes her tight. He buries his face into her hair and breaths her in.

“Julia,” he whispers.

“I'm sorry.”

“Why?”

“I didn't want you to die.”

“That doesn't matter now.” He pulls back. He keeps his hand on her shoulders, keeps her close enough to feel but far enough away that he can see all of her. “God. It's really you this time. It's really you.” He cups her cheeks, leans in and kisses her. “I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.”

“It's okay. You needed time, I understand that and there are things we need to talk about. There are things I need to tell you.”

“I know. But right now, I just want to be here.”

“Okay.”

He pulls her close.

They collapse onto the bed. Penny rests his head back against the pillow as Julia curls into his side. They lie there silently. She kisses his neck and then his collar bone before she rests her head on his shoulder. He runs his fingers through her hair. Penny feels still. At peace. It's a term he could never really understand until now, but in this moment he is perfectly content to just lay there, with her, forever.

“So, it turns out you're not my soulmate.”

“I always thought it was silly when you said that.” Julia rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to be with you, Penny. Not because we're soulmates, not because I have to, but because of who you are, because of how you make me feel. It's not fate or destiny. I choose you. I'll always choose you. Is that okay?”

“It's okay.”

She rests her head back against his shoulder.

“You've missed a couple of bowling matches.” He feels her laugh against his chest and he joins her. “You asked her to invite me.”

“Who else was I going to trust you with?”

He laughs harder.

“I've missed you.” She leans up and kisses him. “I've missed you so fucking much.”

“There's been something I've been meaning to tell you.”

“Yeah.”

“For a while now, actually.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Good.”

[joohoneyhoe]

Hell or High Water || One

The sound of rain mixed with tears,

the sound of your breath in my ears.

[song inspiration: EXO - El Dorado + EXO - Exodus]

|| Chapter One || Chapter Two ||

info: byun baekhyun x oc x park chanyeol genre: pirate!au, historical!au, smut, fingering, rough sex, choking, unprotected sex, angst, implied domestic abuse word count: 4.7k a/n: Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol, two of the most dangerous pirates to sail the Mediterranean. Both revered and feared by all of their kind. But, they aren’t at all what they seem, not by a long shot. 

Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol, captain and first mate of the famed ship called the Exodus. Two of the most ruthless, fearless and utterly unforgiving pirates in all of the Mediterranean. Two men who fought against each other from the young age of sixteen, up until the age of twenty-seven, when Baekhyun destroyed Chanyeol’s ship, The Lady Luck. He decided to spare Chanyeol, bringing him on as his first mate, knowing he was of better use to him alive than dead. They soon became as thick as thieves, literally and metaphorically. 

You didn’t hear one name without hearing the other anymore, it just didn’t occur. Though they were like oil and water, they worked together better than anyone either of them had ever shared an alliance with in the past. I could never quite figure out what made them so compatible as leaders, thieves and warmongers. One was the ocean waves and the other, the sand on the beach. Always crashing into each other, seemingly polar opposites, but never able to separate one from the other.

Which was unfortunate for me, Baekhyun’s wife.

“Good morning, Florence.” Baekhyun greeted me as he walked into our sleeping quarters, placing a chaste kiss to my forehead as I sat on the bed. I got up and walked away from him, ignoring his gesture and heading to my wardrobe to get dressed for the day. I could feel him staring after me, no doubt put off by my reaction.

“What is wrong, woman?” he questioned, coming up behind me, his hot breath on the back of my neck, which was already damp from the humidity. 

“Nothing, Baekhyun.” I replied coolly, removing my silken nightgown and hanging it over the wardrobe door. I felt his finger glide up my spine, tracing each vertebrae along my naked back. His lips kissed my shoulder, soft to the touch, intoxicating. Old memories of the Baekhyun I fell in love with all those years ago, coming to the surface. But, the memories didn’t linger for long, the dull ache in my side reminding me he wasn’t the same Baekhyun I once loved.

He was a monster.

“You know how I feel about dishonesty, Florence.” he whispered, making my jaw clench.

“How could I forget.” I retorted, quickly pulling on my breeches and one of his white linen undershirts, covering the bruises on my body from a previous disagreement. I brushed past him, grabbing my boots and hastily putting them on. I quickly put one of my many hidden knives into my right boot, making sure it was in it’s proper place. As I moved to leave, he blocked my path, his dark eyes boring into me.

“Florence…” 

I chewed on my bottom lip as I looked up at the face of my husband. His skin honey colored and smooth, barely looking as if he was a day over twenty. He had always been beautiful to me, even now, being the tyrant he was. I admired the hoop through his lower lip, the two silver chains hanging from it, each connecting separately to the collar of his black shirt. 

I also looked over the cut along his upper lip and the bruising beneath his left eye. I had put those there, because you did not strike me without getting struck back. Murderous pirate or not, you got back what you dealt out.

It seemed our disagreements only increased with time, becoming more violent with every argument. It didn’t matter what I did, or what I said, it only ever made him angrier. But, I had refused to just lie down and take it. That’s not who I was, nor was it who I would ever be.

“You know that I love you.” he stated, causing me to let out an exasperated sigh at him.

“Your behavior says otherwise, husband.” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. A look of shame passed over his features, but was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“You are no better.”

“No, I am not.” I responded, casting my eyes away from him as he approached me. His hands held my biceps, stepping in close and kissing my forehead for a second time that morning.

“I do not want to fight today, my love. I only want to spend time with you. We are here but a few days, lets just enjoy the city while we can, okay?” he requested with a smile, the one that made my insides feel like they were on fire.

“Okay, Baekhyun.” He held his arm out offering it to me, and I took it, letting him escort me from our quarters. 

The ship was bustling with activity, everyone doing their set duties before leaving to go out to the local tavern, drink too much, cause mischief and lay with unsavory women. No doubt, someone would come back with something they didn’t expect, or did, who knows. They were pirates, that was the least of their worries.

“Chanyeol, I am headed into town with my wife for the afternoon. Join us.”

Baekhyun more demanded than asked his first mate. Chanyeol put down the whetstone he had been using to sharpen his sword, standing up, his frame towering over Baekhyun substantially. My eyes roamed over his shirtless torso, his tanned skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his well muscled upper body on display for all eyes to see.

His obsidian eyes fell on me, that mischievous smirk crawling across his lips, as he caught me staring. I frowned, quickly averting my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. I wasn’t exactly Chanyeol’s biggest supporter. He irked me in every possible way one man could irk someone.

“Sure Captain, I need to get my feet on dry land for a bit anyway. My sea legs are tired.” he joked, winking as he brushed past me to grab his shirt, sheathing his sword in the process. I walked away from both of them, heading off the ship on my own accord, ready to be on solid ground after three long months out on the open sea.

I stepped out onto the sand, feeling the salty sea air rustling my black hair, blowing it away from my face. I took in a deep breath, enjoying the smell of land and sea mingling together. This was one of the most beautiful ports in all of the Mediterranean, and my personal favorite. The Amalfi Coast, nestled between mountains, vineyards and citrus groves, facing out to the beautiful cobalt blue of the Tyrhennian Sea. If I had to pick a place to spend the rest of my days, it would have been here. As I gazed out over the beautiful city, my thoughts were interupted by Baekhyun and Chanyeol both coming up on either side of me, laughing loudly. I let out a sigh, then continued the trek towards town.

“Florence, my love, where would you like to go first?” Baekhyun questioned, his hand touching my lower back gently. “I’d like to visit the market. I haven’t had fresh fruit in a month.” I replied quietly.

“Anything for you, my darling.” his arm came up to wrap around my shoulders, tugging me close to his side. It almost felt like it had when we first fell in love, our days filled with moments just like this.

“I wonder if there are any new wenches.” Chanyeol mused, essentially ruining the moment.

“Don’t you have a wife?” I snapped.

“Don’t we all?” he retorted with a grin, his long legs carrying him further ahead of us. Baekhyun chuckled at him, but quickly stopped when I rolled my eyes and huffed. 

“Sorry.” He apologized, removing his arm and taking my hand into his instead as we came upon the market.

“Why did you have to bring him along?” I questioned, stopping at a silk stand to look over all the beautiful fabrics and clothing. He stayed close, leaning against the table as he watched me.

“He goes everywhere I do. You know that, Florence.” he reminded me, his long fingers touching a pale pink silk nightgown, feeling it carefully. I looked over at him, his eyes unwavering from my face.

“I’m well aware of that, Baekhyun. I just–I just thought today was about us, I suppose.” I said in a defeated tone, my stomach dropping a little in disappointment. His hand touched my cheek tenderly, thumb caressing it.

“It is about us today, my love.” his lips brushed against mine, the kiss brief, but filled with desire.

“Now, lets get you that nightgown. Then I’ll have the pleasure of ripping it off of you later.” he growled into my ear, my face heating up at his unbridled advances. He picked it up, placing it into the basket I had brought along. Baekhyun handed over a few coins to the merchant without looking at him, his smile widening as he took in my flustered appearance. 

“Come on, lets look around some more.” he suggested, taking my hand and dragging me along with him. 

We wandered back and forth between merchants, talking and laughing together, just like we used to. To see him smiling, teasing and flirting with me, like he still loved me the way he had all those years ago, was refreshing and made me wish it could remain that way. Though I knew it would not. The Baekhyun I knew was gone, merely an idea, a distant memory now.

This was just a fluke.

I stopped at another table, one filled with an assortment of beautiful daggers, tracker knives and shanks, my weapons of choice. My hand came down to run over one the blades, feeling the cold steel beneath the pads of my fingers as it gleamed in the hot summer sun. It was the most beautiful knife I had ever laid my eyes on, and I wanted it. Just then, I felt a hand on my back, thinking it was Baekhyun, only to turn and find Chanyeol instead. I pulled myself away from him, looking around for my husband.

“Did you get your fruit?” he inquired, taking a bite out of a bright red apple. I watched his teeth sink into it with ease, a bit of juice dripping down his chin, making my mouth water.

“Where is Baekhyun?” 

I demanded, stepping away from him, his closeness giving me a feeling I didn’t quite care for. There was no reason to deny it, Chanyeol was a good looking man. He was charming, quick witted, deadly with a sword and even deadlier with his words. Women fawned over him for a reason, one I understood all too well.

“Oh, Baek had some business to attend to. He told me to look after you until he got back.” he replied nonchalantly, picking up the blade I had been admiring, twirling it around in his fingers with ease.

“I can look after myself, thank you.” I spat back, watching his fingers work that beautiful knife so skillfully. 

“I’ll take this one.” he told the merchant, mouth still full of apple as he tossed him his money. He threw the core over his shoulder, not caring where it landed, then took my wrist and pulled me away with him. I quickly shook him off, but continued walking beside him. 

“Here.” he held the knife by it’s blade, handle out, offering it to me. 

“What’s this?” I asked, perplexed. 

“You wanted it. So, it’s yours.” he explained with a shrug as I took the knife from his long fingers with caution. I eyed him as he pulled another apple from his satchel, offering that to me as well, making me raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t poison it or anything. Just take it, you have been complaing about being without fresh fruit for weeks.” he teased with a laugh, tossing the apple in the air for me to catch. I let out a laugh as well, catching it by some miracle as we continued walking. 

“Where did you find apples?” I questioned before I bit into it eagerly, that sweet taste filling my mouth, making me sigh happily.

“Oh, I know a guy. You’re welcome, by the way.” he said with smirk, nudging me with his elbow. I choked on a piece of apple slightly, clearing my throat before speaking.

“Thank you, Chanyeol. I’m sorry you have to follow me around. I’ve never been exceptionally kind to you.” I admitted quietly, my head down as I looked at the beautiful fruit in my hand. Suddenly the weight of his arm landed over my shoulders, his other hand plucking the apple from mine and taking a big bite, making me scowl at him for doing so.

“Eh, you’re not so bad.” he confessed, giving me back my apple.

“Wish I could say the same.” I commented with a chuckle, taking another large bite of the fruit as we walked aimlessly. I had almost completely forgotten his arm was around my shoulders, until his fingers brushed my exposed collar bone. I ducked out from under his hold, making him drop his arm at his side.

“You hungry? I think Baek might be longer than he anticipated, so we might as well get some grub.” he suggested, quickly switching gears to avoid any awkwardness between us. I nodded, watching him pick up his pace, long legs moving him faster than mine ever could. 

It was strange being with Chanyeol like this, very strange. Normally, I avoided him at all cost, especially considering how long he had been my husband’s enemy. I had never truly gotten over that, but Bakehyun had. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought he was, and maybe spending time with him today wouldn’t be so awful. But, there was one question still on my mind.

Where was Baekhyun?

I sat across from Chanyeol at one of the nicer taverns, the one Baekhyun and I usually frequented when we stopped at this port. It was probably my favorite, because it’s deck sat right at the edge of a cliff, looking out over the vast ocean. The sun was already setting, beginning to dip below the horizon, making the water glitter. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol spoke, startling me slightly as his hand nudged mine, making me look up at his smiling face. “I thought I lost you there for a second.” 

“I’m sorry. That tends to happen when I stare out at the water.” I answered, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry. The water is where people like you and I belong, so it’s understandable to long for it when you’re not in it.” I surveyed his features carefully, seeing the way his eyes almost went black as he looked out at the vast ocean. I don’t think anyone loved the sea as much as Chanyeol did. Not even Baekhyun.

“Did you get everything you needed today?” he questioned, switching the subject after pulling his gaze away from the water. I nodded, still feeling as if there was something troubling him, especially for him to behave the way he had towards me all day. We were never this civil with each other. Ever.

“Chanyeol, is your wife okay?” his eyes widened in surprise at my inquiry, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Um–actually, she died a few months back. Before we left the last port, to be exact.” he revealed, my hand coming up to cover my mouth in shock. He fiddled with his tankard, spinning it around and around, aimlessly. My hand instinctively reached out, stopping him and taking his into my own. His gaze wandered up to meet mine, his eyes showing his sadness.

“Why didn’t you tell, Baekhyun?”

“I did. I told him before we left home that she was ill, and that she probably wouldn’t make it to when we were set return. He said I was better off without her anyway, and I would thank him later.” my eyes closed slowly, my heart breaking for Chanyeol and myself. Surely if he thought that about Chanyeol’s wife, his view towards me couldn’t be too far off.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Chanyeol. I didn’t know.” he gave me weak smile, squeezing my hand that still held on to his.

“It’s okay. She had been ill for a while, and I sent for her family before we departed, knowing I wouldn’t return before she…left. She deserved a better life than anything I had given her. I had only ever caused her pain, stress, and heartache. I just wish I would have let her go sooner, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten ill at all, and could have lived a happy life with a man who truly loved her. It’s a little late for that now, I suppose.” he pulled his hand away, grabbing his tankard and swallowing down it contents in one go.

“Anyway, we should get back to the ship. I’m sure Baekhyun is waiting for you.” he pushed his chair back, standing up and throwing money down onto the table top. I followed, grabbing my basket of things from the day and following him out of the tavern towards the ship.

We didn’t speak the entire trip, just simply weaved in and out of the way of drunkards and whores, Chanyeol occasionally placing a guiding hand on my lower back. Once we were at the ship’s dock, he halted, making me turn around to face him.

“Chanyeol?”

“We’re all sleeping at the Inn tonight, this was part of the plan all along. Baekhyun left to go get everything in order, so the two of you could have the ship to yourselves.” my eyebrows raised sympathetically at the pained expression on his face. No matter what he said or did, he had loved his wife, there was no doubt in my mind about it. This whole day had just been a reminder of that for him.

“Thank you for today, Chanyeol. I–I enjoyed it.”

“Me too. Sleep well, Florence.” he shot me a wink and flashed me that big grin, then took off back towards town, leaving me on the docks alone. 

When I turned around to face the ship, Baekhyun was standing at the ship’s edge, leaning over it with a smirk on his handsome face. I couldn’t help but return it. It had been so long since I had seen a genuine smile from him, it made my insides nearly melt.

“Come to bed, my love. I think I recall a promise being made of me ripping a pink nightgown off of you.” I clicked my tongue at him, shaking my head at his shamelessness as I made my way to where he was standing. His hands reached for me, swiftly pulling me against his body, swaying us back and forth with the waves.

“I have another surprise for you.” he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

“Oh, really, another surprise? I’m one lucky woman today.” I remarked, kissing him quickly, noticing the chains connected to the ring in his lip had been removed. He flashed me a smile, lacing our fingers and pulling me towards the Captain’s quarters, or as he liked to call it, our personal lair of sin. 

“Ok, we have to be quick.” he directed, his hand on the door handle. I eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. He opened the door swiftly, yanking me inside and shutting it behind us. I set down my basket as he began crawling around, checking under every surface in our room.

“Baek, what are you doing?” 

“AH! There you are, you little scoundrel!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled from being half way under the bed. He backed out slowly, holding something fairly small in his hands.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands, my love.” he requested, his voice sweet and gentle. I did as he said, putting them out in front of me. I felt something soft being put into my hands, fluffy and squirmy too, making me flinch slightly.

“Open your eyes.” I opened them up and glanced down, finding a tiny gray kitten in my palms, making me immediately cradle it to my chest. It meowed softly, beginning to purr as I held it close.

“Baekhyun?” I choked out as he reached out to pet the feline.

“You always loved that damn cat we brought on to use to catch the rats below deck. Well, it had babies and this is the only who survived. I thought you would enjoy the companionship.” he explained, fingers caressing my cheek.

“Thank you.” I said, eyes watering at his kindness. I couldn’t remember the last time he had done something like this for me. It had been years.

“You can thank me by putting on that nightgown.” he replied, taking the small creature from my hands and setting it down onto the floor. It quickly scampered under the bed, hiding once again. I retrieved the nightgown from my basket of things, placing it on the table as Baekhyun leaned against the nearest wall.

“Turn around.” I ordered, motioning for him to do so with my index finger, making him chuckle.

“Kitty might wanna get out from under the bed…and soon.”

I took everything off, dropping it all to the floor and pulling on the garment. It felt cool against my skin, the fabric gliding across it smoothly. It was a wonderful feeling against my hot flesh, cooling it down substantially. I almost didn’t want it to come off, but at the same time, I did.

“Alright, you can turn around.” he spun quickly, ripping his shirt off in the process. His muscles reflected nicely against the candle light in the room, all those years of hard manual labor on display for me and my eyes only. My feet carried me to him of their own accord, fingers outstretched to feel him. It had been so long since I’d been able to touch him like this, feel the weight of him on top of me.

“You are beautiful.” 

His hands held my hips, fingers tightening around the silk fabric, lips kissing my collar bones. I sighed, my body beginning to tremble under his touch. I grabbed his face, bringing his lips to mine and kissing him hungrily. He began pushing me back towards our bed, the back of my knees hitting it before he pulled his mouth from mine.

“Can I rip this thing off of you yet?” he snarled, bunching it up in his hands, beginning to pull it upwards. 

“It’s so pretty though, Baekhyun.” I whined.

“Fine.” he yanked the garment over my head, throwing it behind him to land wherever it may. He grabbed my thighs, lifting me up to wrap my legs around him, then dropping me onto the bed. I heard the kittens claws scratch against the wood flooring, as it ran out from under the bed.

Baekhyun’s lips were on mine before I could even comment on it, his hips grinding into my exposed core, making me groan into his mouth. My fingers tangled into his hair, tongue prodding his lips until he opened up to me. 

“Please, Baek.” I pleaded, my hands moving down to untie his breeches, trying to push them from his hips. He swatted my hands away, hastily sliding out of them. His hands ran up my thighs, kneading them until he met my hip bones.

“I do enjoy it when you beg.” he snickered, taking a hand and cupping my heat, making me gasp loudly. 

“It’s been so long, Baekhyun. Please…don’t make me wait any longer.” 

“I won’t.” without any warning, he dipped two fingers into me slowly, my breath releasing from my chest. My hips undulated into his palm, but he pushed me back against the bed, restricting my movement. I desperately tried pushing him away, but he didn’t let me.

“Don’t fight me, Florence. You can let go, feel it.” he whispered into my ear, catching it between his teeth before bringing his lips to mine. He curled those long fingers, thumb rubbing me as he did, whimpers leaving my lips. 

“That’s my girl, be as loud as you want tonight.” his voice was smooth as the silk nightgown I had on previously. Cool, soft against my skin, like the ocean after dark.

“I want to hear you scream for me, only me. You are mine.” 

He pulled out his fingers, replacing them with his length and thrusting roughly. My nails scratched down his back, digging into his flesh as I cried out his name. His hand tangled into my hair, pulling my mouth to his, but instead of kissing me, he brought my bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.

“Baek, oh God! Harder!” my voice cracked, head tilting back as he rocked his hips into me, my stomach tensing as my core throbbed. His lips attached to my throat, smirking into it, giving me an extra hard thrust.

“Shh, you’ll get what you need, my love.” 

His hand trailed south, long fingers parting my folds further as he pumped into me. He put pressure on it, his cock brushing against his index and middle finger as he opened me up even more. It felt like my body was pulsing, every fiber of my being intertwining with Baekhyun’s.

My breath hitched in my chest as his fingers left me, but his thumb pressed down on my bundle of nerves. He grabbed my thigh, lifting it over his shoulder as he worked me over to completion. I pushed my digits into his raven hair, tugging on it harshly, a high pitched groan escaping his chest.

I couldn’t remove my eyes from him, looking at his beautiful sweat covered flesh. Every tendon in his neck strained, his pulse point pushing against his skin, every pound of his heartbeat visible. I leaned up, biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, surely leaving a mark. 

His fingers clasped around my throat, shoving me back down and away from him. His eyes darkened, hand constricting tightly, cutting off my airflow. I whined loudly, rutting into him as he bottomed out inside of me. He hit me once more, harder than ever, feeling myself let go finally.

“That’s it, come on.” he encouraged, kissing me with vigor, the cool metal from his lip ring clacking against my teeth. I pulled my other leg up and over his shoulder, the new position causing him to lose his control. He quickly pulled out, jerking himself until he released his seed all over my stomach. 

I let out a loud breath, my body relaxing into the bed as Baekhyun got up, walking towards the wash bowl to grab the rag. I rested my arms over my head as I waited, him coming back into my view moments later. His hands were gentle as he wiped away his mess, caressing my skin as he did so.

“You did well tonight, my dear.” he praised, dropping the dirtied cloth to the floor before laying down next to me. He pulled me into his side, grabbing my thigh and throwing it over his still naked waist, fingers stroking me lightly. 

We lay together in silence, listening to the waves lapping against the ship, rocking us smoothly. It was almost like we were sixteen all over again, not a care in the world.

“I wish we could stay this way.” I expressed quietly, hand resting on his chest.

“We can stay this way all night, Florence. And look,” he leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing something. “we have this guy to keep us company.” he placed the kitten on my stomach carefully. I pet the beautiful gray cat, it careening into my touch.

“What are you going to name it?” he asked me, scratching it’s chin as it purred. I cocked my head a little, eyeballing the feline closely, trying to determine a fitting name for it.

“Lucky. I think Lucky is a good name, since we don’t know if it’s a male or a female.” I told him, stroking the kitten as it snuggled into the crook of my neck. Baekhyun rolled on his side, continuing to pet Lucky.

“It’s a good name, Florence. Now, rest, you deserve it.” he kissed my temple, then moved down, so he could rest his head in the crook of my neck where the kitten wasn’t. I proceeded to stroke both of their hair, smiling to myself.

It wasn’t long before they were both asleep, leaving me alone to be with my own thoughts, enjoying the calm before the storm. Because that’s exactly what all of this was.

The calm before the storm.

[katalyna-rose]

Bread

@talesfromthefade I’m sorry it’s been so very long since I got this. I’ve been terrible about filling prompts lately. But here it is!

For @dadrunkwriting, for the first time in ages.

I thought about calling this one Bread is a Metaphor for Gender Norms, but I thought it would be a bit too on the nose.

Cullen/Solona

1,829 words

The bread was a mere lump of inedible goop again, half of it burned and half undercooked, and Solona was near tears. She'd been practicing for weeks, trying to teach herself something that all women of Ferelden were supposed to know that she'd never been taught in the Circle. She sniffled as she pondered how to hide her latest failure from her new husband. She had been trying since their wedding to become a good wife, one he could be proud of, and thus far it had been an utter failure. She could brew a tea to soothe his throat using herbs she found by the side of the road and she could hunt better than the village boys who lived outside the facility where ex-Templars recovered from their addiction. She could help those men, who sweated themselves into a puddle with fever and vomited anything solid and often begged to relapse. She could soothe their stomachs and warm their chills and cool their fevers. But for the life of her she could not figure out how to be a wife.

The burning in her eyes grew stronger as she stared at her failure, a lump on the chopping block that didn't even look like bread. It began to swim before her eyes but she just stood there, frozen in place by her shame. She was so absorbed in herself, in the damnable bread that she just couldn't get right, that she didn't even hear the door to the little cabin she shared with her husband open and then close again, didn't hear anything until he greeted her as he always did.

"There you are, love!" he called when he spotted her in the kitchen, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Panicked, with unshed tears swimming in her eyes, she picked up the inedible lump and chucked it right out the window that stood open to the summer breeze and into the bushes. The heavy footsteps of a man used to plate armor stopped at once, still halfway across the distance between where she stood and the door. "Is... everything alright?" His tone was uncertain and she felt like a fool. She hung her head and let her shoulders droop and she still wouldn't turn to him. She could feel the mucus brought on by tears beginning to tickle her nose and she was forced to sniffle or let it run down her face, and the sound betrayed her. The thumping of her husband's feet in his soft-soled boots hurried to her side and his warm, strong arms drew her close. One warm and calloused hand tilted her miserable face up to him and he brushed aside her strands of softly curling brown hair.

The concern so clear on his face made her lean into his chest and reach up a hand to touch the strong line of his jaw and the little scar on his upper lip. A hank of blond hair fell across one eye and she carefully pushed it back for him. "What's this, now? Has someone been cruel to you, my love? Did something happen in the clinic?" She shook her head mutely and he bent to kiss her brow. Tall as she was he was still a head taller and twice as wide. He could wrap her up in his body and she'd disappear completely, but she loved that about him. "Then what is it, Solona? Won't you talk to me?" His voice, so accustomed to barking orders on the battlefield or in the training ring, was soft for her, gentle. Even the mabari that was always at his heel and liked to growl at strangers was gentle with her. And suddenly it was too much, her shame too great to be hidden any longer. The stinging in her eyes became tears and her sniffles became sobs and she clutched at his chest.

"I'm so stupid," she sobbed into his tunic as he held her close. "Stupid and ignorant and incapable of the simplest-" She was cut off by a sudden yank on her shoulder and his lips descended upon hers to silence her.

When he pulled back he kept one arm around her waist and one on her cheek to make her look at him, his gaze as intense as it was when he gazed upon her writhing beneath him in their wedding bed. His words were not spoken in the gentle tones of the husband, but rather in the harsh commands of the soldier as he said, "You stop that right now, Solona Rutherford." Her new name would always make her grin, but right now she didn't feel as if she deserved it and her lips only twisted grimly. "You think I don't hear the Circle in your tone when you talk like that?" he asked her after a moment. He shook her gently with the hand on her cheek. "I know where those words come from; I hear them in my head, too. But now you listen to me, instead. You are perfect. Brilliant and kind and compassionate and strong. The work you do in the clinic is beyond anything I could dream, certainly far more than I could accomplish alone. I love you, Solona, and I won't listen to you tell yourself these lies."

Solona gazed up at him for a few moments in shocked silence. Then, "Cullen," she cried, and stood on her toes to kiss him, one hand behind his head to pull him down to meet her. He did more than that, his arms tight around her as he lifted her off her feet and sat her on the bare chopping block behind her. His hips pushed their way between her knees and she wrapped her legs around him. His hand tangled in the fall of her hair, a favored spot of his, and the other rested on her back to keep her close. When they finally broke apart for air she was smiling at him despite herself and he smiled back as his thumb traced restless circles beneath her jaw.

"Now tell me what this is really about," he requested, still gazing at her with loving concern. She hesitated, her smile faded and her eyes flicking away, and he sighed. "Or I'll go digging through the bushes to find whatever you're hiding from me." The threat made her wince because she knew he would and the last thing she wanted was for him to find the lump before the birds and mice finished with it.

"Alright, Cullen. Alright," she finally said, capitulating. She took a deep breath to gather her courage, then told him, "I've been trying to learn to bake bread. Nothing fancy, just a simple bread with simple grain, cheap so that all my failures won't be noticed. I can't get it right, no matter what I do! It's too hard or it doesn't rise or it's impossibly lumpy or I somehow manage to burn it! I'm terrible at all the things a wife should know how to do! I can't get any of it right!" Burning tears began to leak out of her eyes again, but Cullen gently wiped them away.

"Oh, sweet Solona, no," he cooed, kissing her brow again. His gentle smile tugged at that little scar and made her want to kiss it, the kindness in his golden eyes made her heart melt for him as it always had. "Just because you never learned how to cook while you were locked up in a tower for being what you are doesn't mean you're not a good wife. Maker's breath, I'm certainly not the husband you deserve." She sucked in a breath, shocked and horrified that he would ever think such a thing. Her mouth opened to protest but he laid a finger across her lips. "I wake you with my terrors in the night, sweating and screaming at my dreams and sometimes I don't even recognize you until morning comes. I spend more time in the clinic than I do in our home and I ask so much of you there."

She took his hand in hers to remove his finger from her lips. "Now you stop it," he told him with the authority of over a decade of leading a group of fifty mages through the wilderness in her voice. "You never once asked me to help in the clinic but I help there because I need to, for me. And so what if you have night terrors, I have dreams of my own. And you remind me when I'm being silly-" His narrowed eyes stopped her, made her correct herself, "-when I need to unlearn the things the Circle taught me. Growing up I knew that I would never marry, never have a home of my own or any autonomy at all. That changed when the Circle fell, and I got my autonomy, but I still never thought I'd ever marry. Then you knocked me into the mud that day and we each thought the other was a bandit." He smiled at the memory of the first time they'd seen each other in close to thirteen years and she smiled with him. "You're more husband than I ever thought I'd have, and certainly the only one I want." His smile widened and he closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against hers. For a time they were silent, just basking in their love for each other as she sat on the counter and he kept her wrapped around him.

"Who's teaching you?" he asked at last. She pulled back to look at him curiously. "The bread," he clarified. "Who's teaching you to make it?"

Sheepishly, she pulled the recipe from her sleeve and handed it to him. "I got this from a woman in town. I've been trying to learn." He unfolded the little scrap of parchment and frowned at it.

"No pictures, no diagrams, no explanations of any of it," he observed, then looked up at her with understanding. "Baking, from what I understand, is a lot like fighting. If you don't know what a pommel is or how to tell which edge of a blade is sharp, you'll never be able to win a duel. If you don't know what the dough is supposed to look like when properly kneaded or how long to let it rise, you'll never bake a proper loaf. You, my love, are the recruit who tries to win a duel without having ever seen a knife, and though I applaud your determination I think you need a little help." He handed back her recipe and kissed her brow. "Go back to the woman who gave you this and ask her to show you. There's no shame in being untutored, my love, I promise." For the first time in weeks, Solona felt hope that she could learn, and her heart swelled with love for this man she called husband.

[the-abqhauler505nm]

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Demolition: Removing Walls Follow these guidelines for a safe takedown.

Getting walls down safely and effectively rates a fair 2 to 2.5 on my Cuss-O-Meter scale, which ranges from 1 to 5, with 5 the toughest. You need to move carefully and have a plan. Follow the steps below, and start by heeding the Live Load Caveat.

Live Load Caveat

Step 1 in removing a wall is to determine if it's load-bearing. A good rule of thumb is that if the wall is toward the middle of the house and running perpendicular to the joists above, it's carrying weight—and lots of it.

Load-bearing walls rate a solid 5 on the Cuss-O-Meter because of the extra effort involved. Posts and headers (there are several variations that are beyond the scope of this article) must be installed to replace the wall. This isn't super advanced carpentry, but there are lots of details and heavy lifting that have to be approached properly or you're basically guaranteed problems.

When I remove load-bearing walls, I frame temporary support walls on either side of the wall I'm removing, adding a diagonal strut to beef them up. The "temp walls" carry the load while I remove the original wall and replace it with king studs, jack studs and a properly sized header.

I recommend pulling a permit for this project. First, you're supposed to, and second, when you submit the drawings detailing your framing, the inspector has a chance to double-check you. It may turn out that the floor system below may need more beef or blocking, or the header may need to be engineered lumber instead of solid sawn to achieve your desired span, or you may need more king studs than you'd planned on.

Prepare for Takedown – Wall Removal

Non-load-bearing walls' main function is to house mechanicals and serve as a substrate for hanging drywall that divides the rooms. If you want that division outta there, the key is to pick them apart smart. Cover the floor below the wall to be demoed (both sides) with a big piece of cardboard or 1/4-inch plywood to protect the finish. Drop-cloth the rest of the room if you're worried about dust.

Determine if you have to deal with electrical lines, plumbing or HVAC. Opening up a wall you've planned to move only to find a big honkin' HVAC chase in there will ruin your day.

Wall Takedown

The goal isn't wholesale devastation. It's to leave a substrate that's as easy as possible to build from. Here's a page from my demo playbook:

Drywall/plaster. Remove drywall or plaster to expose the studs. If only part of the wall is coming out, say for a door, cut the left- and right-side plumb lines. Punch a hole in the center of the wall and then wiggle the drywall back and forth; it's more likely to come off in large pieces than in small chunks. If you're saving the ceiling, score it where it meets the wall using a utility knife; cutting the tape minimizes damage as you separate the pieces.

Plaster comes off in what a guy I knew called "kibbles and bits." Huge clouds of fine dust happen here, too. I haul plaster in 6-mil contractor trash bags. It doesn't take much plaster in a bag to make it very heavy.

Studs. When possible, use a reciprocating saw with a demolition blade to cut nails between the bottom plate and the stud bottom. This frees the stud, which you can pry free from the nails above. If you don't have room to wrangle an 8-foot stud, cut the stud in the middle and then pry out each half.

Plates. Remove the top and bottom plates. Use a recip saw with a demo blade. Usually, you can break the seal between the wood and the nail by prying. Sometimes it's necessary to cut the nails. Tips

Here are some general pointers to help make the job easier—and safer.

When moving materials through the house, be very careful.

Double-bagging plaster isn't a bad idea.

Watch out for nails, both sticking out of plaster lath and stuck in studs and plates.

A dust mask is a nice barrier between demo dust and your respiratory system. A long-sleeve shirt and pants are also nice for your skin.

If you find wire lath under your plaster, be extra-careful. This stuff makes a scalpel look like a Twinkie.

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[pagan-raider]

Conquer You - Chapter 10

Huge thanks to everyone still reading and commenting after ten chapters. You are all the best and always keep me motivated to fight to finish this thing one day.

@tomboy-till-death @ladyvampirelove @neverlands-little-lost-girl @itharley @samantha24015 @peculiarleah @skeletoresinthebasement @thenorns-themoirai @kirah31 @ruler-of-hel @onjacks-blog @djisfantastic @kawennote09 @wantingdreamsnotreality @shondlenoodle @ducklyz@lovelynerdytraveler @stormwxthskin @readsalot73 @nothingbuthappydays @vixsyncynco

@ivartheboneme @dina-m16 

First Chapter - Previous Chapter

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The past few weeks had been surprisingly peaceful. Thyra had spent most of her time training her shieldmaidens or working on the growing defenses around the town. It was also her responsibility to ensure the queen’s safety and that task got more complex every day as more and jarls and kings arrived with their men to join the Great Army.

Ivar hadn’t promised too much, people from all over Scandinavia were gathering in Kattegat and the town was literally about to burst. It was exciting to meet all those foreign people and there were feasts and gatherings almost every other night.

Every precious minute when she wasn’t on duty she spent with Ivar. Being in his presence had become the most natural thing in the world to her, even though there were still things that stood between them, things they did not talk about. She knew that one day they would have to face those problems, but for now she was okay with pushing them away and enjoying what little time they had together. It had taken Thyra quite a while and some heated arguments to become accustomed to Ivar’s dark moments and sudden mood swings, but in between yelling and throwing things at each other, there were many happy moments, when they lay in each other’s arms and dreamt about future battles and victories. Ivar had even talked Ubbe into putting up a curtain that separated a corner of their cabin from the main area to give them some more privacy.

But times when they were really alone with each other were still rare and precious as Ivar too was busy most of the day. He had to make plans and arrangements for the growing army. Not battle plans, they were still far from that, but an army of this size required an incredible huge amount of logistic. And since it was him and his brothers who were assembling the army, he also had to be there to greet the new arrivals. Even though he left most of the talking to Ubbe, he was present every single time, watching all these kings and jarls and sizing them up without them even noticing.

There weren’t many opportunities to sneak away together and that the town was so crowded didn’t make it any better, people were basically everywhere.

Today was one of those rare opportunities. Lagertha was holding a feast and about everyone would be there tonight. Ivar had made clear that he had no intention in seeing that “usurping old whore” and had convinced Thyra to meet him at the cabin instead.  

Thyra tapped her foot on the floor. Where in Odin’s name was Ivar?

She had found the cabin deserted, no sign of Ivar or one of his brothers. At first she had been sure he would be there soon, but after waiting for what felt like hours she was beginning to doubt it. Had he forgotten? That would have been very much unlike Ivar. Maybe he was still busy. But everyone was at the feast already, the town and the many camps around it had been almost empty. She shook her head deciding that it didn’t make much sense to wait any longer. After all Ivar knew where to find her.

As soon as the great hall came into sight she knew that something was wrong. The main doors were locked and guarded by men she did not know. Thyra rounded the hall, only to find that it was the same at both back doors. Worry began to rise. Something was happening in there, and it probably wasn’t anything good. She had to find a way to get inside.

Instinctively she reached over her shoulder to pull one of her sword from its sheath, but her hand closed around nothing but thin air. She hissed a curse as she realized that all her weapons were inside the great hall, neatly hanging next to her bed. She hadn’t bothered to take her swords with her as she went to meet with Ivar. All she had on her was a hunting knife. She sighed and rubbed her face with her hand. She would have to improvise and she would have to do it fast, her mind was already running wild with various scenarios of one of the foreign kings trying to kill Lagertha to take the throne.

The back door at the eastern side of the hall led straight into the main room, so it was the one it had to be since Thyra didn’t want to be bothered with more locked doors. She walked towards the guards in a way she hoped would look casual, praying to all the gods that they would not recognize her.

“Is the feast already over? I’m dying for a horn of mead.”

That seemed to amuse them. “No, it is not over. But it will be very soon, believe me.” One of them said with an evil grin.

She gulped, feeling her worries only worsen. “Then let me in before I come too late.” She suggested, trying to sound as calm as possible.

Before the man in front of her could reply to that, the other guard nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t you see who that is? It’s her. Remember what Ivar said!”

Thyra felt her stomach turn at his words. No, that can’t be true! Ivar would never betray me like that. She tried to fight the dark premonition that was forming in her head. Desperation was threatening to overwhelm her but she couldn’t allow that now, she had to do something, they had recognized her.

She slammed her fist into the closest guard’s face and was behind him before he had fully comprehended what was happening. He held his bleeding nose, but other than that did not dare to move as he felt the cold iron of her knife against his throat.

“Drop your weapons! Both of you!” She commanded.

The two men looked at each for a moment but then their swords clattered to the ground.

Thyra used the butt of her knife to knock out her captive and hurried to pick up his sword. The second guard didn’t waste any time either and made a jump towards his sword. Thyra was faster than him and when he came back up her sword descended to the back of his neck, cleanly separating his head from the rest of his body.

Knowing that there wasn’t a second to waste, Thyra threw herself against the doors, but all she managed was to hurt her shoulder. The doors were locked from inside with a heavy wooden bar. She knew she had lost the chance of surprise but she had no other choice, she had to get inside. To her relief her sword fit into the small slit between the doors, she pressed it upwards with all her strength. For a moment nothing seemed to move, but right when she thought she had to give up, she managed to lift the bar. Her arms were trembling when she heard it slide out of it’s hold and hit the floor on the other side.

She didn’t dare to take the time to catch her breath and pushed the doors open. After having made so much noise she wasn’t really surprised to see half a dozen swords pointed at her. It occurred to her that maybe it would have been better to take the time to make a proper plan instead of running blindly into her own ruin and in the end being no help at all. But it was too late now.

She risked a quick glance at the throne and let out a relieved breath when she saw Lagertha sitting there. The queen looked unequivocally tense but seemed to be unharmed so far. She had no time to feel relieved as she had to shift her attention back to the warriors in front of her as the first started to attack. There were many of them, more than Thyra could count while fighting them. All of her shieldmaidens were held back by hostile men. Ivar’s men, she realized with a strange feeling of loss that hurt more than a sword right into her guts. She shook her head and determinedly pushed those thoughts away, they were of no help right now. All of her concentration was needed right here and now, as she had to rapidly whirl her sword around to block the blows of her many opponents. She knew that she wouldn’t last very long, she had sent three of them to the ground but for each man she killed or wounded another joined in. All she could think of was to get to Lagertha’s side, so she slowly moved sideways, step by step getting closer to the throne.

As the crowd parted a little she was able to catch a short glimpse at Ivar. Even though he must have noticed the turmoil, his eyes were locked on Lagertha. The hate and determination she saw in them made Thyra’s blood run cold. He looked like a predator that had cornered his prey and was ready to attack. Thyra wondered if he had seen her, if he knew that it was her fighting his men, either way she couldn’t tell. Her lack of concentration was quickly punished as the handle of a sword collided with her face and a split second later she felt a sharp pain in her right thigh. She stumbled but managed not to fall. Biting her teeth, she shifted her sword into her left hand, grateful that she was used to fight with both hands, and pressed the right one onto the bleeding wound.

Thyra knew that it didn’t look good for her. The wound was deep and she could feel the blood running down her leg, soaking her pants. Her arms became heavier with every passing second and it felt as if her strength was leaking out of her just like the blood.

She felt a short moment of sadness because she hadn’t gotten to achieve the fame she had always dreamed of. Had Odin even noticed her yet?

This is my last chance. I have to try harder! She thought stubbornly and with the will not to give up yet came a last flash of energy.

She spat blood at the warriors narrowing in on her. “Common you bastards!” She growled through her teeth.

What little strength she had left she put into her last attack, her blade once more whirling around mercilessly. She grinned as two more men went to the ground, only seconds after one another. Odin! Father, can you see me? Then the world began to narrow down on her. There was another sharp pain just below her ribs but she felt it only for seconds before she was drifted to far off to even notice. The last thing that entered her consciousness was someone yelling “Stop!”.

Then her surroundings turned into a black nothingness.

[dyde21]

Infiltration

This if the first time I’ve posted a serious chunk of their story. It touches on some more elements of their world, and kind of hints at what they do without revealing my hand yet. Some of you requested like, like @tinnyhi so I hope you all enjoy this! I love writing for these two so much! :D Warning, it’s kinda long.

XxXxXxXxX

Tyler did his best to ignore the rancid smell emitting from the dumpster as he huddled next to it next to Ashe. It was rank, but judging by the scrunched up expression his partner was sporting, she wasn't enjoying it much more than he was.

Tyler watched carefully as Ashe's shoulders rose and fell as she took a few deep breaths. It was starting to get later in the day, and as the sun set it got harder and harder to see her. Ashe was decked out in black cargo pants and a black sleeveless hoodie. Her right arm was covered by an archer's guard and a bow was strung over her shoulder and across her chest. Tyler also could see various tools latched across her, that Tyler could only imagine were added during her lifetime of missions. The combat knife strapped on the back of her belt particularly stood out to him, and he knew she definitely knew how to use it. Her sister was scary with a knife, and Ashe didn't seem to be that far behind her. They had recently begun teaching him to use one, but Tyler preferred a bigger blade to that. Despite the increasing amount of danger they were currently getting into, seeing Ashe's determined face set him at ease and gave him the impression that they could deal with whatever came their way.

Taking a deep breath, Ashe figured it was time they moved. It was dark enough to provide them cover and based off the tip they had gotten, it was about time. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at her partner one last time to make sure he had everything he needed. It wasn't his first mission, but he was still new enough to them that exposing him to danger had her nerves on overdrive.

Tyler was wearing, at her suggestion, black pants and a black hoodie, and his messy hair was tucked up under a black beanie. A sheath was strung across his back, holding the sword he was borrowing from Ali and he seemed to have taken her advice about bringing a knife, a coil of rope, and thankfully a bag of canisters she had prepared just in case. Honestly, she expected to see him shaking far more than he was, but instead he looked ready and determined. That focused look was in his eyes, and she had a feeling he was at the top of his game today. That helped ease her nerves, at least a little.

“Ready?” She asked quietly as she motioned above them.

Nodding, Tyler quickly climbed onto the trashcan, before linking his hands together and crouching down. Hopping up, Ashe stepped on his hands before he managed to lift her upwards so she could grab the fire escape. It seemed the ladder had been ripped off so they had to improvise. Pulling herself up, she made sure her quiver was sealed shut before she knelt down and offered a hand to Tyler.

Taking her hand, Tyler heard his partner grunt with effort before she managed to help hoist him up enough to get a hand on the metal before she gave him room to climb up as well.

Seeing him pause, Ashe quirked an eyebrow at him.

“It's... kinda hot how strong you are.” He muttered after a moment, pulling the hoodie on his sweatshirt a little tighter around his face.

Rolling her eyes, Ashe just smirked and continued to climb the fire escape. They could finish their flirting after the mission. She was just glad he was relaxed enough to joke. Tyler was too serious of a person to let his guard down in a situation like this, but staying calm meant he wouldn't jump at every little thing and was less likely to make a mistake.

Leading the way up the escape, they reached the top level. Carefully, she stepped onto the railing, and managed to reach up and grab the roof, before hoisting herself onto it. Turning around to offer a helping hand, she found her partner already pulling himself up. Grinning in approval, she instead went to scout out the windows. They just needed to find a good entrance point. Carefully examining a few of them, she found one that was rusted over enough. Pulling out her knife, she quickly jammed it against the metal a few times, digging it in behind it before she managed to pry it up enough for the busted metal to break. Removing the window, she set it down gently. Sharing one last glance with Tyler, she climbed through it and landed on the metal walkway inside. The inside of the building was a large warehouse, with a catwalk along the upper part. Inside of the warehouse was mostly empty, a few large containers scattered around. Hearing the new silent thud of Tyler landing next to her, she began to sneak around to get a better view of the one part of the building lit up with a few flood lights.

Not daring to get any closer, she hid behind the railing.

Kneeling next to Ashe, Tyler tapped her on the shoulder. “What do you see?” He tried looking over the railing at the lit up spot, but it was useless for him. They were too far away to make out any details. At least he was. Ashe had astonishingly good vision, far beyond what could be considered “normal”.

Focusing, Ashe managed to make out the details of the situation. There were three guys currently loading duffle bags with some packages of... something. If their intel was right, it was some sort of drug. “We found them.” She offered to her partner quietly. “Not really sure just how much is there, but it's a lot. Definitely what we were tipped off about. They're loading it up to transport it looks like.” She muttered, pausing. Their mission was just to scout out the place, figure out the plan, then retreat and regroup to form a new plan with the rest of them. Ami had given them very specific orders not to engage.

“So are we leaving?” Tyler asked, confused by Ashe's expression. They should just slip back out, right? They'd go back and engage later with proper reinforcements to ensure no one got hurt.

“We won't make it.” Ashe muttered to herself, her hand fiddling with her knife. “If we go back, they'll be long gone by the time we can report back. We only have a few minutes by the look of it, then they'll be no way to track them down.” She continued, frustration building. She wanted to jump down there and settle the situation, but she knew that there was too much riding on it to blow their chance. Plus it wasn't just her life in danger, Tyler was also at risk if things went south.

Biting her lip, she knew she had to play it safe. Maybe Ami could tra-

“HEY!”

In an instant Ashe had her bow drawn and an arrow notched as she aimed it at the man at the end of the catwalk. She had been careless! How could she have failed to notice him? Of course they'd have patrols while they worked.

The man at the end of the catwalk pulled out a gun, aiming it at them. “Lower your weapon. One move and you two are dead.” His voice was gruff, but serious.

Ashe paused as she looked at him, frowning. He had gotten the jump on them, she had no way to escape without activating her powers, and there was no going back from that once she started it.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Tyler staring at her with a worried, yet determined expression. It was clear what he was thinking.

“Let's do this.”

Smirking, Ashe was reminded once again why she had the best partner in the world. Even in a dangerous situation like this, Tyler knew just what she needed to hear.

“Fine.” Ashe said to he man, lowering her bow. As it was about to reach the ground, she felt the familiar rush of a battleground erupting around them.

The wave of energy rushed over the area, transporting them to an exact copy of the area they had been in a minute ago. She felt the rush of superhuman strength filling her body, as all the fetters were released and Ashe felt her fire powers returning to her control.

The man wasted no time in entering the battleground as well, but before he could properly react a massive wall of ice crept along the walkway and erupted the ceiling, providing them some cover.

Looking behind her, she saw Tyler with one hand on the walk way as the ice extended from his hand. He looked at her carefully. “Looks like we're in this now. There's no way the others wont notice this battleground, they'll be here in minutes. We just need to buy ti- LOOK OUT!” Tyler shouted as he slammed his other hand down behind him, erupting another wall of ice to block an arrow that had been fired at them from behind from someone else that snuck up to them.

Looking down over the railing, Ashe saw the guys loading up the bags started moving faster, still on the other side of the battleground. It seems they were intent on not joining in the fun and just looking to run.

“We need to pull them in.” Ashe muttered, wincing at the sound of gunfire from the first guy who was still firing at the walls of ice. She hated guns. They were just the lazy person's weapon.

Glancing over, she saw Tyler pulling out his sword as a shield of ice formed on his other hand. “I'll go low, you go high?” He asked.

After a moment Ashe nodded. “Fine, but be careful. I'll cover you from up here.”

Nodding, Tyler focused for a moment as he held his hands together. A flash of cold later and he handed five daggers made of ice to Ashe. “Ready?”

Ashe took a deep breath, before nodding. Running, she lept over the railing as she turned mid air, throwing the daggers with extreme precision.

Meanwhile Tyler had hopped the railing, landing on the ground with a soft thud in a pile of snow. He sprinted towards the distorted images of the guys loading up the bags.

Throwing her last dagger, Ashe was satisfied as she saw it connect to the arm of the guy with the gun. Letting out a whistle, she landed on roof of one of the containers.

At her cue, Tyler let the energy he had carefully stored in the daggers exploded without focusing on them too much. Judging by the surprised screams, their usual plan had worked.

The men dropped their guns to the ground as they continued to freeze solid, the explosion of ice from the daggers wreaking havoc on machinery and rendering it useless.

Tyler rushed forward as he held his hand out towards the faint forms of the guys who were rushing to finish loading the drugs into the bag.

Upstairs, Ashe hopped back onto the railing and rushed towards the man who had the gun. Not wanting to give him a chance to either use his powers or come up with another weapon, Ashe ducked a punch from him as she slid past him with her momentum, spinning around and landing a solid punch into the guy's side. Ashe heard him let out a groan as he doubled over. He tried to swing back with an elbow, but Ashe ducked him again, before grabbing his arm and slamming him over her shoulder and onto the walkway. Satisfied that he wouldn't be moving for a moment, Ashe took off back sprinting down the walkway as she pulled her gloves onto her hands properly again. Letting out a whistle, she let flames engulf her hands. Sure enough at her sign, Tyler got the message and the ice walls he had made before shattered harmlessly into dust as she rushed towards the other guard. Throwing a ball of fire, it exploded against the mans chest and knocked him back a foot. Before he could regain his balance, Ashe slammed her foot into his chest and knocked him back further.

Unfortunately the man managed to regain his balance, and pulled out a knife cause Ashe to falter for a moment. But she couldn't afford to lose momentum. As she ran, she waited for the right moment before she jumped onto the railing with one foot as the man stabbed forward with the knife. Careful with her moment, she jumped off railing, and flipped over him, landing on the other side gracefully. Without looking, she spun around and planted her foot into the man's back and sent him tumbling forward.

Standing up, she wiped some sweat from her brow. She was about to call out to Tyler when a knife whizzed past her face, she just barely leaned back in time. Narrowing her eyes, she rushed towards him again as fire slowly spread from one hand, up her arm to her shoulder, than down her other hand. It seemed there were more people who wanted to play.

Downstairs, Tyler had finally managed to get a hand on the last drug packer. Focusing his grip on the man's shoulder, he managed to pull him into the battleground and slam him into the ground. Luckily it seemed all of them had powers otherwise he would have been screwed to stop them.

Feeling a sense of danger screaming in his head, Tyler ducked right as a foot soared over his head. It seemed the guys he had pulled in from earlier were ready to fight. Letting that tight ball of ice he could always feel in his chest expand ever so slightly, he let a sword and shield form from his hands. Raising his shield, be blocked a thrown knife as he sliced out with his sword towards the other guy. The blade wasn't sharp enough to to seriously risk their life, but based off the groan the guy let out Tyler figured it would do enough damage. Backing up, Tyler tried to make sure he had a good position to face the group of them without being surrounded. Seeing them rush him, he smirked and stabbed his sword into the ground. A wave of ice erupted from it, pulsing outwards as waves of ice shot upwards and sent the group flying backwards. Pressing the opening he made, he struck out with his sword. A clean cut on one of the guy's chest left a trail of ice that quickly began to creep across it, beginning to freeze him enough to take him out of the fight.

“BEHIND YOU!” Ashe's voice cut through the sounds of combat. Trusting her, Tyler waved his shield behind him and felt a heavy blow connect to it. Grunting with effort, he turned around and kicked forward to make the guy back up. Tyler stepped forward to continue forward with a strike when the table collided into his side and sent him flying off. Sliding along the ground to a stop, he grunted and struggled to get back to his feet quickly.

Watching her partner go flying, Ashe's eyes widened. She felt her heart start to pound, and the fire deep within her was aching to be set free. Knowing she still had to keep things under control, she just narrowed her eyes. The large man currently trying to maim her swung out with another punch that seemed like it was in slow motion to her. He was far too slow to land a hit on her. Dropping down, for the briefest moment she let her control over her powers slip as she slammed her hands onto the railing below him. The metal blasted downwards and the guy dropped like a rock, collapsing into a heap on the ground as bits of the railing fell on him. Hardly sparing him a glance, Ashe figured that would knock him out of the fight for a while. Drawing her bow, she quickly grabbed two arrows before firing them off and striking two of them. One through the leg, and one grazed the guys arm. Both of them flinched and it gave Tyler the time he needed to get back to his feet.

Vaulting the railing, she landed on the ground and sprinted towards one of them. Another table was thrown at by she guessed some form of magnetism, but she vaulted over it, landing into a front hand spring as she pushed off and twisted mid air to kick the guy with perhaps more force than was needed, as he then went flying off to the side and hit one of the trucks with a satisfying thud.

Turning towards her partner, she saw him slam the hilt of his sword into the back of some guys head who dropped like a rock unconscious.

“Good j- whoa!” She jumped back as a someone lunged towards her with a sword. Ashe was a bit too slow though, and the sword left a gash on her side. Dropping to her knees, she clutched her side wincing. It wasn't as bad as it could be, but it still hurt and was bleeding. Luckily she healed abnormally fast, but the pain was blurring her vision a bit. Still, despite the pain that was burning in her side, her concern shifted towards her partner who was staring at her with a horrified expression. She could still take care of herself, but she needed him to stay cal-

“ASHE!” Tyler's horrified scream ripped from his throat. She saw his eyes widen, and ice begin to creep over his skin. Instantly she knew what was about to happen. “Tyler it's okay!” She tried to reassure him, taking a shaky step towards him.

In a matter of seconds, it felt like all the heat in the entire building had been rushed out. A chill went down her spine, and suddenly she could see her breath. It was coming.

Two large pairs of white white wings sprouted from Tyler's back as he stared at her, a furious expression on his face.

Instantly the rest of the group still standing rushed towards Tyler, knowing something bad was about to happen.

Drawing her knife, Ashe managed to throw it into the calf of one of them, but her wound was still stabilizing. If Tyler got hurt because of her...

Tyler's gaze shifted towards the rest of them, an expression that scared Ashe was etched on his face.

“EVERYONE FREEZE.” He roared out as he slammed both hands onto the ground.

Ashe closed her eyes and looked away to shield it from the sudden frosty smoke the was kicked up as she felt the temperature plummet even lower. It felt like she had been punched in the gut as she sudden sucked in a chilling breath of air. Looking back, Ashe's jaw dropped at what she saw.

The entire building had been coated in a layer of ice. All the men who had been rushing towards him were trapped in a mountain of ice that held them all in place A table which had been thrown at him was suspended in place as a pillar of ice had caught it.

Tyler was left kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath as fragments of ice coated his body. He was shivering violently as he looked up at her.

Looking down, Ashe saw the frozen carnage had avoided her. There was a clear row of ground that remained completely untouched by his outburst, just where she was.

Tyler crawled a step towards her before he gasped in pain and clutched his chest.

Feeling a renewed sense of urgency, Ashe forced herself to feet. She felt her wound at least somewhat closed already thankfully.

Before she could reach him, one last guy stepped out from behind one of the trucks he had taken shelter behind. He raised a knife, causing Ashe's heart to jump to her throat. Ignoring the protest in her side, she lunged forward as her anger got the better of her. Her glowing hand slammed into the man's chest, and there was a fiery pulse that sent him rocketing backwards. Her force had been unrestrained, so she was confident that guy wouldn't get up any time soon.

Kneeling down next to Tyler, Ashe helped him sit up. His eyes were glued to to her side, his lips slightly parted in that way he had the habit of doing when he was worried.

“Tyler, I'm fine. I'm already almost healed.” She offered, showing him her side. It was true, her wound had been reduced to a freshly healed wound. Far from fully healed, but enough that it had stopped bleeding already.

Tyler opened his mouth to say something but broke down into coughing as he shivered violently in her arms.

“Here.” Ashe cooed gently as she wrapped one arm around him to support him, and the other she placed against his chest. Focusing on the warmth she felt in her heart whenever she saw him, a gentle, more restrained heat began to flood from her palm as she focused on warming up his chest. Slowly but surely color returned to Tyler's face and his shivering slowed. Biting her lip, she took another glance at the warehouse. Tyler had just unloaded a lot of power. She knew overusing his power plummeted his body temperature, no matter how many times she warned him not to.

“Are you okay?” Was all he said once his voice was stable again.

Ashe rolled her eyes and couldn't help but laugh. “I told you I was. I heal stupidly fast, remember?”

Tyler just frowned, but nodded. “If you say so.” He said, still clearly doubting her. Not that she could blame him, there weren't many others who could heal as quickly as she did out there.

There was suddenly some protest from the large metal door that had been frozen over, before it was suddenly blown open. A large man was standing there, a massive clay more in his hands as he stomped forward.

Quickly scrambling to her feet, Ashe threw herself between Tyler and him. She knew Tyler would still be down for a few more minutes while Tyler returned back to normal, so she'd buy him time, injured or not. She drew her bow, firing off another few arrows that were all just sent off to the side by one massive gust of wind from a slice of his sword. Ashe narrowed her eyes as a dangerous level of heat started to leak from her. Her wings formed behind her, and after a flash of fire she was in her personal set of armor. This guy was a cut above the chumps they had just dealt with, and if he showed up as reinforcements, more were surely on the way. Tyler had practically sent up a danger beacon with that last attack. Letting the fire within her lose, she leaned forward as flames began to dance across her and on the floor near her. The kiddie gloves were off. This was now a fight of life and death, and to hell with the idea of anything even scratching Tyler again.

The man just stomped forward as he swung his sword ready for a fight clearly.

Ashe felt Tyler stagger to his feet next to her as she saw a sword and shield form in his hand again. Ice began to leak from him as he clearly let his limits go. His wings appeared, but he still couldn't properly form his armor yet. It looked like just forming his wings was taking all he had, but Ashe was going to destroy this guy. They had come too far to lose now.

Stomping forward, another row of ice shot up from the ground towards the guy, but with a massive swing of his sword the ice shattered.

Ashe didn't waste her chance though. Before the man could ready himself for another strike, she had already blasted forward, in a mighty round house kick. She let loose a powerful fiery blast , unrestrained. Luckily it seemed to work as the man was launched backwards a few feet. He was definitely a cut above the rest though, as he merely landed back on his feet, reading his sword again. Tyler took a defensive stance in front of Ashe, and before either of them could react, the man raised his sword.

“Here it comes.” Ashe warned, watching him intently. Danger was radiating from him, but suddenly there were two presence that dwarfed him and made him feel like a small pup. Every instinct in Ashe's body told her they were walking death, but they were familiar.

There was the distinct sound of metal striking metal, and the man's great-sword was slice cleanly near the base as it fell to the ground broken. He just looked up at it in confusion, but before he could choose a course of action, his body was suddenly lifted airborne.

The woman that was standing where he had been, her foot extended upwards just stared up at him with a murderous expression. Crouching, she literally vanished from her spot, reappearing above the large man. She brought her leg down into an ax kick, and the man spiked downwards with enough for that the ground shattered into a crater around him. The woman continued to spin downwards as she followed through with one last kick. The crater deepened, and only the woman emerged from it. As she approached them, the other woman walked up, sheathing her sword casually.

Ashe's eyes widened. “Ali! Ami!” She let out a sigh of relief, letting her wings and armor disappear. She rushed forward to great them, relieved from the bottom of her soul to see her sisters here. That meant it was over, there was no one left that could stand against them.

Ami opened her arms for a hug, before her eyes widened and she vanished from her spot.

Ashe looked around confused, until she saw Ami holding up Tyler who had passed out.

“Is he...?” Ashed asked, scanning him over as carefully as she could looking for any injury she might have missed.

Ami just hoisted him to get a better grip on him as she smiled. “It's okay. He just passed out from exhaustion again.”

“But you Missy.” Ali interrupted as she walked over, and Ashe felt the hem of her shirt being lifted as her sister examined her side.

Ali stared at it for a moment, before sighing. “You're lucky you heal like a freak. It still needs to actually heal properly though. But you should be fine for now.”

Ashe pouted, pulling her shirt back down. “I'm fine. We need to finish up here though. No one escaped, we pulled them all in here. But some might get back up soon. “

Ali just fixed her ponytail. “Don't worry about that. We took care of all the reinforcements when we felt the fight start, and called for back up. Our cops will be here soon, they'll bring them in.”

Nodding, Ashe felt a sigh of relief. This truly was finally over. She took a step towards Tyler before she felt her world spin and her sense of balance was suddenly gone. Why...?

Ali caught her sister with a sigh, brushing her bangs behind one ear to get a better look at her. “He's not the only one who overdid it.” She muttered.

Ashe was going to protest, but felt the creeping darkness being too heavy and soon she passed out.

XxXxXxXxX

The next time Ashe woke up, they had just been pulling up towards their mansion again. She was in the backseat of their van, and Tyler was resting his head on her shoulder as he breathed slowly. Regrettably she gently nudged him to wake him up. She didn't have a choice, they needed to get cleaned up after that last fight.

He just looked at her with that adorable sleepy expression Ashe was way too fond of. She smiled and kissed his forehead. “We gotta get cleaned up then we can sleep properly.

He looked around, confused to be in such a different environment. “What happened.”

Ashe just nestled her head against his. “It's okay. We did our job. It's over. We can debrief later.”

Tyler seemed to accept that before he nodded.

A little while later and Ashe found herself padding through the house towards Tyler's room. They had been welcomed back, and while she had sent Tyler off to shower and get cleaned up, Gabriel had brushed her off saying that “debriefing could surely wait till the morning, no?” Now she just needed to see one last time that Tyler was indeed safe.

Ashe found her boyfriend sitting on his bed, yawning as he ran a head through his hair sleepily. When he saw her, he grinned and held out a hand for her.

Ashe returned the smile and took his hand, letting him her towards his bed and onto his lap as they just hugged for a moment. “We did it. We're safe.”

Tyler nodded. “That was scary for a minute there.” He said, his hang ghosting up the hem of her shirt to rest over her wound gently.

Ashe just smiled and kissed his nose. “You know I heal fast, and I drank one of Jackie's healing potions. It's like it never happened.”

Tyler just grunted a mild disapproval. “Healing fast isn't a good excuse for you getting hurt.

Ashe quirked an eyebrow. “You were hit with a table.” She muttered, smirking at the defeated expression Tyler got.

“Touche.”

Ashe just laughed. “We're fine. That's all that matters.”

Tyler nodded. “Now we can sleep.”

Agreeing with her partner, Ashe went to stand up but felt his arms turn into a vice around her. She laughed gently. “I cant sleep unless I go back to my bed.” Ashe explained, still amused by the pout on her boyfriend's face. After a moment he let her go after another brief kiss with her.

“Or you could spend the night here.” Tyler offered a voice almost too quiet for her to hear.

Ashe flushed red as she turned to look at him, surprised.

Tyler's eyes widened as he waved his hands back and forth. “Not like that! I just meant... sorry... never mind. You're just... a comfy pillow.” He muttered, his face turning increasingly red as he looked like he regretted learning to talk.

Ashe tried to calm her own blush. “I know what you meant.” She muttered reassuringly. Even if they were in a relationship, they had both agreed they were waiting till marriage before they got too... physical. No matter how difficult it was at times, it was important to them to wait.

Hesitating for just a moment, weighing the chance to cuddle with Tyler with dealing with the gossip and teasing she was sure to hear tomorrow. Rolling her eyes, she closed Tyler's door before walking back towards his bed.

“Only because you are also an amazing pillow.” She offered. Tyler just grinned and scooted over, giving her plenty of space.

Ashe paused, glancing down at her clothes. She had just grabbed the first pair of clean clothes to change into when she showered meaning she was in one of Tyler's larger T-shirts she had taken a liking to and sweatpants over her underwear.

A yawn escaped her as she debated going back to her room for a comfier pair of shorts.

“I'm too tired to go back to room. Can we pretend like it wont be super awkward if I take off my sweats so I can be comfy tonight.”

Tyler flushed a deep red, but nodded after a moment. “Yeah.” He said, though his voice seemed a bit hoarser than usual.

Trying not to dwell on it, Ashe quickly pulled off her sweats and climbed under the covers quickly to save them both some embarrassment.

Tyler just pulled her close, wrapping an arm over her stomach as she nestled against him. Falling asleep in her arms, Ashe couldn't have felt safer, or happier. She knew that no mattered what was ahead of them, with Tyler at her side they could handle it. Soon she was out in a peaceful sleep.

As Tyler was drifting off with Ashe in his arms, he knew that he would continue to work to get stronger. Ashe was his partner in every way, and they could overcome any challenge together. He hugged her a little bit closer as sleep finally overtook him, dreaming of their happy future.

[suckerforsmylex]

Twin Flame

He exited through the front of the venue, snow falling onto his face and settling into a fine powder on his shoulders. It was odd for him. Even when he was just plain Bruce-y boy, he was inherently elusive and seeing him be bolder than usual made me clench my jaw. I wanted to break him. The sight of him unmasked and vulnerable made me desperate to inflict torture on him even more than when he was just Batman to me.

He was dressed well, albeit ironically, in an inky black suit, patterned with large, assorted, muted-colored flowers. A sneer spread across my face at the thought of him dressed like that. This was how the Bat presented himself in public. “How sweet,” I thought, smirking as I leaned further into my lap to observe him. I understood why he wanted to keep this version of himself a secret. Bruce was intoxicatingly charming, and the city’s most mysterious bachelor. He was Gotham’s favorite dream boat. Part of me was disheartened to have found out his identity. I always enjoyed our mutual anonymity and how despite that, it almost seemed like we were telepathically attuned to each other. Still, having something to taunt him with, a secret to dangle over his head the way you would with a small kitten, made me giddy.

“I know that he knows that I know,” I sang to myself, recalling his face falling the moment I discovered his true self. He had been sloppy for a month, the constant grind of it all, coupled with an assortment of distractions, had put a sizable chink in his armor. Isolation. Drink. Women. I understood. They plagued me too, sans having to zip on a normal demeanor for the citizens of Gotham during the day. “After all these years, Batsy is Brucey?” I asked with a roaring cackle, as he scrambled away to hide himself. They promptly sent the white coats to whisk me away to Arkham, but it was too late. I got to see the entire transformation, my eyes going wide at the sight of him even as they were scooping me up at the armpits and dragging me away. His relentless pursuit of perfection and virtuousness fell away, leaving him exposed; a naked soul before me. Nothing pleases me more than the thought of how, amid the very depravity he detested, I completely unnerved him. It gives me a fucking hard-on. I wish I would have taken a picture of his stupid face. I would have hung it on the fridge. I would have framed it. I would have made it my phone lock screen.

Precautions were taken on his end to thwart my attempts to confront him after my break out, but I was a man, reborn with purpose. A little bit of technology and a lot of science enabled me to track him for two weeks, culminating in the annual Wayne Charity Gala. The anxious tycoon had been looking for me over his shoulder at Wayne Enterprises, so he put himself on a short sabbatical, only emerging from the Bat Cave on the day of the big event. Text messages I intercepted told the story that he didn’t want to go. He did anyway, taking the advice of his confidant and man slave, Alfred, arriving more than fashionably late for it. He mingled only for moments before making short remarks and then shuffling quickly out of the front doors and onto the street. I enjoyed the entire scenario from the back of my white surveillance van on multiple monitors. He got into an Aston Martin Vanquish, surely one of his little toys, and then got out around the block and hailed a yellow cab. I nearly doubled over with laughter as I tailed him with my goons.

Was this the plan? Avoiding contact with me by ditching his car? I rolled my eyes and told the idiot driving to floor it. I couldn’t risk losing him, now that he was almost in my grasp. The yellow cab stopped in the middle of an alleyway, letting Bruce out and then sped away jerkily. I smacked the back of the driver’s seat in the van hard and fast until we slowed to a halt and then I jumped out, stalking towards Bruce. I made no attempt to silence my footsteps. I let the soles of my expensive shoes clack loudly against the pavement of the alleyway. He stopped for a short moment and then started walking again. “Mister Wayyyynnee…what a beautiful night for a blood bath.” I watched as he turned around slowly, his fists balling and then resting at his sides. The moment he lay eyes on me he closed them tightly, muttering something under his breath. I waited until I was so close, we could touch the tips of our noses together, and broke into a full grin, inhaling the crisp, full bodied scent he was wearing.

“Oooooh…you smell good,” I said, letting my eyes roll back into my head for a moment before swinging for his face and meeting the brick of the alley instead. My knuckles smashed into the wall and I yanked my hand back quickly, wincing and ducking my head out of the way of his counter punch. Not fast enough. He connected squarely with my jaw, knocking me onto the ground, into a small mountain of freshly fallen snow. My blood spattered the icy white there as I laughed up at him. “All this time I thought it was the suit that made you punch like that, and here I am finding out it’s au naturel.” “JOKER.” He said my name through gritted teeth. The fury I elicited from him made his face set in a stern scowl. “How?! How did you find me? It was an early Christmas present seeing him this way.

Catching him by surprise made me cackle and he responded by kicking me in the chest and planting his foot upon it, pinning me in place. “I asked you a question.” I let out a guttural sound and smiled up at him, feeling my nervous system reacting, releasing doses of adrenaline and cortisol, and turning me into a sweaty, giggly mess. A persistent, fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach, caused by a hundred million neurons sending fight signals to my brain, made me fidgety beneath him. I put my hands behind my head and got comfy.

“One of my men disguised himself as a cleaning person and sprayed your office at Wayne Enterprises down with a chemical. It left a biological signature on your body and allowed me to track your whereabouts. I monitored you for two weeks.” He looked down at me with furious eyes and I decided right then and there that I wanted to hurt him severely. I wanted to make him bleed. But I didn’t want to kill him as Bruce. It was too mundane. It was too run of the mill. I wanted the full-on drama. I wanted to kill him as Batman. I was panting, words struggling to come out of my mouth properly as he increased the pressure on my chest and leaned in closer. “It’s getting cold out here, Brucey. Why don’t you take me back to the Bat Cave, so we can do this thing proper? I’m sure you’ve got about a thousand white, wing-tipped collar shirts and an extra dinner jacket I can borrow. What do you say?”

My tone was manic and completely unhinged as Bruce looked down at me with a face full of annoyance, confusion and then something that looked like pity. He rolled his head on his neck, releasing some of the pressure from the foot on my chest and then removing it all together. He extended his hand forward and I grabbed it, pulling myself upwards. As soon as I had leverage, I propped myself up on his shoulders and spit directly into his face. I hadn’t even finished laughing before he was smashing me against the wall, holding me there with his forearm against my Adam’s apple and a knee sharply pressing into my thigh. He had a tight hold on me, but I was able to shimmy a small pocket knife from the inside pocket of my blazer.

“Joker, I’m calling GCPD. You need help. I’m not who you think I…” I forced the blade into his abdomen, trying to miss vital organs so I could keep him alive for the final showdown I was plotting for a later date. He fell back onto the dirty, snowy slush, the pile bracing his fall as the blood poured out, slowly staining his crisp white dress shirt. I straddled him at once, grabbing his hands and placing them over the wound. “You should apply pressure to that wound, Batsy. We don’t want you losing too much blood. Wait? What was that?” I grabbed one of his bloody hands and smeared my face with it. “Mmmm…how did you know that I needed one of your hot hands on me to keep me warm? I’m a bit of a freeze baby.” I laughed, crouching over him whispering. “Brucey, Brucey, Brucey. This is going to be so fun. Just me and my twin flame, waltzing in and out of each other’s lives in perpetuity until I catch you and fumigate you to death like the Bat you are.” With that, I threw my card at him, letting it land on his chest as he struggled to dial the police, on his phone. “Add that one to the collection, Bat boy. Give Commissioner Gordon my best.”