#it felt like a relief having someone else involved in a task as well i like that as a mechanic

[iridescentis]

THAT WAS SUCH A FUN EPISODE :D im so happy we got a whole episode of pearl and impulse just hanging out whoever it was that submitted that task THANK YOU

[v1smokewife]

who is this person - chapter ten

On a quest to find love on a dating website, Sanji falls head over heels for a woman with an interest in...alternative relationships that sends him down a rabbit hole of completing tasks for a seemingly sadistic mistress. But what happens when she turns out to be more than what she seems?

or

Zoro pretends to be a female on the internet to talk to Sanji and bad things happen.

Darkfic with themes of internalised homophobia, bad bdsm practices and lying about your identity to strangers on the internet. Please read with caution. This is NOT how BSDM should be practiced. Always practice Sane, Safe and Consensual practicesboarders on being considered dead dove do not eat material

read on ao3

authors note; We are nearly at a home run. The next chapter will be the final chapter! I’m sorry that it’s been such a plot heavy past two chapters. Sorry if you just came for the smut XD next chapter will be a return to form. There WILL be smut before it finishes. I’m currently plotting out the sequel. You may be wondering, sequel? So, remember how this is based off on a one piece fanfic of the same name that I wrote in 2013, well that had a sequel. However, because this one went so incredibly different, it’s likely the sequel will too (and it will be much darker as the original sequel was darker) Anyway, enjoy!

S POV

Sanji had planned to meet up with Vivi the next day at the café that he normally met up with Robin and Nami. It would be nice to see someone who wasn't involved in the messy situation that he currently found himself in. Spending the time with her would maybe make him see clearer than he had been this past week. He wasn't feeling great. Honestly, he wasn't feeling great at all, but he was better than yesterday. He was getting used to the whole idea right now. However, with Zeff's blessing, he got next two weeks off to sort his shit out, so he was feeling grateful for that.

So, Sanji was looking forward to it. It was an excuse for him not to fall into a bad routine of depression, so he got up and got dressed before going out.

He didn't think he would tell Vivi about what was going on, but it would be nice to have a conversation with someone who wasn't involved. Meeting Vivi offered a much-needed respite from the chaos that had been engulfing his life recently. The prospect of spending time with someone removed from the turmoil was like a breath of fresh air. He had appreciated Zeff's understanding and the time off to gather his thoughts and emotions. Getting ready to see Vivi, he felt a sense of normality, even if it was just for a brief moment or a quick chance at a break from all the madness that had been going on recently. When he got dressed, he continued to dress well for himself, a habit that was part of his identity, a reminder of himself before this mess.

Walking out of the apartment, he was thinking about the past couple of days. The revelation about Zoro was confusing and his emotions ran high when he thought about it and an unsettling sense of betrayal still was there. However, he wanted to forget about it just for two minutes.

He got to the usual cafe. When we went in, he saw Vivi sitting at a booth near the window. She turned to look at Sanji and smiled.

"Hi!" She said, letting the menu sit down, "How are you doing?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Sanji said trying to joke but it wasn't far from the truth. Sanji sat across from her. Vivi looked at the menu again and then settled it down.

Meeting Vivi was a relief. Her presence was comforting, and her smile was genuine. They exchanged pleasantries and ordered their drinks. Sanji found himself enjoying their conversation. She spoke about her humanitarian projects, and he spoke about cooking. It was nice. He needed a break.

He was so into the conversation that he didn't notice someone else approach their table. It was Nami. He turned his head when he noticed she was there. Nami looked at him awkwardly before looking at Vivi who looked at her sheepishly.

"Oh. I must have double booked,"

Ah. This wasn't just a casual conversation. It was a ploy to get Nami and Sanji back on good terms.

"It's okay…I'll leave," Nami seemed a little annoyed. Hurt even. Sanji didn't want to see Nami upset even if he wasn't happy with her.

"No no, it's okay," Sanji tried to protest, "I don't mind if you want to sit with us,"

Nami hesitated for a moment. She was trying to gauge Sanji's sincerity. It was clear that the situation was really uncomfortable for everyone involved so Vivi gave her girlfriend an encouraging smile. "I think it would be good for us to talk,"

Nami took a seat next to Vivi. Her expression was showing a mix of reluctancy and hope. Sanji took a deep breath. He would have liked to have given it a bit of time but…maybe this was necessary. Maybe this was what they needed.

As they settled into an awkward silence. Vivi took the lead in the conversation. She tried to keep the conversation neutral. The weather, the cafe, the food (when it arrived) and local news. The tension began to settle and there was a natural rhythm of conversation. Sanji found himself looking at Nami every now and then. He could tell that she was not happy with what had happened, and it needed to change. When their drinks and food arrived, Vivi excused herself to go to the bathroom which left Nami and Sanji alone.

It was awkward. It was silent and Sanji didn’t really know what to say to her. Nami also looked like she felt the same way too. She looked like she didn’t know what to say either to him.

“Nami.. i”

“Sanji, I’m…sorry about what happened,” And she looked like she truly meant it. Sanji watched her expression shift. “No, I’m really sorry about how things turned out. I never wanted you to get hurt like this,”

Sanji nodded, appreciating Nami’s moment of vulnerability and honesty, “I know…I…It’s just a lot to take in at the minute,”

Nami looked down at her coffee. She had been stirring it absentmindedly, “I understand. I should have been more upfront about my suspicions…I just… never thought Zoro would do something like this. I didn’t want to believe it,”

The conversation that began to unfold was delicate but much needed. There was so much going on right now and while he didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, he saw the regret and frustration in her eyes. It resonated with his own feelings. His own feelings of hurt.

"Yeah. Imagine how I feel right now," Sanji leaned back in his chair. The fact that him…of ALL people would do this.

Nami nodded, now her eyes beginning to meet his, "I wish I told you…I just… I wanted him to stop. I wanted to give him a chance to stop on his own accord,"

Sanji sighed with a mixture of understanding and lingering disbelief in his expression. "I get it. Nami. Really, I do. You were in a really tough spot. I just…this whole thing with Zoro, it's messed up. I wouldn't thought he’d do something like this,"

Nami's gaze was filled with empathy, "I know, Sanji. I'm so sorry I didn't step in when I could have…I guess, he's my friend too and I just wanted him to do the right thing,"

But he didn't. They were both aware of that, but it ended up going way too far now.

"It's just so hard to wrap my head around," Sanji admitted running his hand through his hair, "Zoro… of ALL people…HIM…I just don't get it,"

Nami reached his hand across the table, placing her hand across the table as a gesture in comfort, "It's okay…That happened wasn't fair to you. I'm here for you if you ever want to talk,"

Sanji looked up at her and met her gaze, "Thank you Nami. It means a lot to me," But things just never ever seemed to add up. Sanji sighed, "I Just…I know it sounds awful… but I wish I knew what he was thinking…I wish I could talk to him,"

Nami's expression softened as she listened to Sanji, "I understand…Closure is important. To be honest, I wish I knew too,"

Sanji nodded, at the moment his thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions and questions, "Yeah, closure. I'm not sure I'm ready to face him though. Everything is just really complicated right now,"

The conversation paused as Vivi returned and she immediately sense a change in the atmosphere. She looked between Sanji and Nami and picking up the vibe, "Everything okay here?"

"Yeah. We're talking things through," Sanji replied.

Vivi nodded, sliding in next to Sanji. "That's good to hear. I think you needed to hear each-other out," As they wrapped up their time together, Sanji felt a new sense of support from both of his friends. It was comforting to know what he wasn't alone in this. He also began to realise that facing Zoro was going to happen. It didn't have to…of course but understanding Zoro's motivations and confronting the hurt and betrayal and finding a way past it.

Leaving the cafe afterwards, Sanji felt a mixture of emotions. The weight of the situation was still there but now the road felt clearer and he felt as if he knew what direction he was going in this time. He knew what the road was the ahead of then abd it would be challenging but he knew he wasn't walking alone.

One day…maybe One day he’d face Zoro but right now, he had to wait until he was ready and he wouldn’t be ready for a long time.

A FEW WEEKS LATER.

Z POV

For the past couple of weeks, Zoro was trying to move on from what had happened. He didn't try and contact Sanji or Nami within that time. He kept mostly to Luffy at the minute for support. Luffy was still oblivious to what was going on but even then, he sensed that something happened but Luffy didn’t pry. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Robin’s conversation haunted him every day. He thought about her words all the time. As nerve hitting as they were, Robin was right. This experience had been so real for him.

However, kept going on with his life. However, one day it would all change. Zoro had just been out for a run when he came back. To be honest, after a little while, Zoro needed a little bit of space to figure things out but he thought about what he done every day.

His phone buzzed while he was in the shower but he payed no mean. It was probably just Luffy. However, when he got out the shower. He picked up his phone and looked at it and…was shocked.

Zoro never deleted Zoey's profiles or apps. He didn't look at them but he didn't delete them. So, when Sanji messaged Zoey, Zoro was absolutely shocked.

S: Meet me at the Baratie tonight. I think we should talk. I’ve told Luffy I won’t be there so it will just be us.

Zoro stood there. He was dripping wet and staring at the message on his phone. His heart began to pound in his chest as a mix of surprise and apprehension as well as a faint glimmer of hope stirred within him in hopes that Sanji was reaching out like this. His mind reeled. Why would Sanji want to meet now, after all these weeks? Was this a confrontation, a chance for closure or something.

Once the shock wore off, Zoro quickly dressed before getting on with the rest of his day. However, when the time was reaching the normal time that he normally would go to the Baratie if he was being forced to by Luffy, he made his way to the Baratie. It had recently occurred to him that he’s never been there on his own. This restaurant was where so many fights between him and Sanji would break. It was funny… those moments seemed like such a far away world right now. It seemed like a completely different memory and yet… here he was, ready to face the music.

He wasn’t nervous. Didn’t see the point in getting nervous now. He had come to terms that wit was very much possible that Sanji might not want to have anything to do with each other never again. It would be the right thing to do in this situation. There would probably be some disappointment if that were the case…

Standing at the door, he looked inside. It was dark inside and he couldn’t see Sanji. So, he shot him a text.

Z: I’m here. Waiting outside.

He waited outside, looking around the building and then…ah, he saw Sanji emerge from the back office. Sanji looked…fine. He didn’t look completely broken apart or upset or anything like that. He just looked…fine. Zoro didn’t know what he was to expect from all of this. Sanji came over and opened the door to let him in. Zoro watched him. A familiar figure in front of him and yet the circumstances were completely foreign.

“Zoro,” Sanji greeted at the door. His voice was steady but with an undercurrent of tension between them. Clearly, neither of them had forgot. “Thanks for coming,”

It felt…odd. It was only then when he was there it hadn’t occurred that him and Sanji had never even hanged out on their own. They really only ever had these interactions when Luffy made them go. He didn’t even know Sanji…until Zoey.

Sanji brought them over. There was a table set up with two beers. Zoro was silently grateful for the beer as that would probably make it better There was silence as they set down and it was a heavy mutual silence. There was a mutual understanding of the gravity of the situation. Simply, Zoro needed to give him an explanation and an apology but…

“I’ve had a little bit of time to think…” Sanji decided to break the silence, “About…what happened and about…us,” He took the glass in his hand a swirled it a little… “And I released that I can’t move on unless I get some answers,”

Zoro nodded. That was reasonable and he was prepared for this…or at least as prepared as he could be for something like this, “I understand. I owe you an explanation and an apology. I…understand that you might have questions…I’ll answer to the best of my ability then,”

“Why did you do it?”

Understandable how that would be a first question, fine. Zoro nodded and then answered, “It was a joke…at first. Luffy and Usopp made the account to mess with me. However, the more and more it went on, I got invested in our conversations,”

Sanji listened to Zoro talk. His emotions changed as he spoke. Shifting from hurt to confused. It hadn’t been serious to begin with. It had been a joke, but it turned serious. That was what stuck to Sanji.

“…it wasn’t a joke to you…after a while?” Sanji asked more for clarity as his voice was deep with intensity.

Zoro hesitated with his answer. He didn’t know what that would imply. That after all this time…his feelings right now were complex. “No. It wasn’t. I started to enjoy our conversations. The things you did…I cared more than I thought I would. I just…ended up getting carried away with the persona. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t know how to without…ruining things,”

Sanji processed his answer before talking again, “But you did ruin it, Zoro. You lied and you played with my feelings. I just…want to understand why you didn’t stop when you seen how far things were getting,”

Zoro then took a deep breath and then looked at his beer trying to think of the answer to his question, “Believe it or not…I actually enjoyed our connection. The version that existed through Zoey…It felt different from our fights and bickering. It was…real,”

“But it wasn’t real,” Sanji replied, his grip tightening on his glass, “It was built on a lie…a lie that went too far,”

Typical but not unexpected that Sanji wouldn’t except a simple explanation. Hell, Zoro would be surprised if he had. There was no justification, but Sanji deserved the truth after all.

“I ruined it. I know that” There was no sense in hiding it. There was no other way he can move beyond this, “I didn’t want to tell you. I enjoyed what we had too much, and I can’t lie about that. Even if it was based on a lie, it was meaningful,”

Sanji looked at him for a second. His face was unreadable as he took in hothouse words, “Meaningful?” He repeated back. For some reason that felt…upsetting to him, “What you did to me was humiliating. I dedicated my time for you, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me yourself?!”

There was an increasing tension growing the more and more that they look into this. There seems to be a difference of opinions here. This is…after all, an incredibly delicate matter that they are both now talking about, and they aren’t even touching on the pictures.

Sanji seemed angry at him, and he understood the need to be angry. That pain and betrayal. The humiliation of it all.

“I don’t know what more I can say other than Zoro. It..happened and I can’t go back and fix this… I got lost in the lie like you did,”

Sanji’s anger seemed to simmer. He didn’t want to blow up and he wanted to deal with this with some matter of delicacy but the fact that Zoro feels like he is in any way the victim in all of this is…insulting, “You just don’t get it…do you? It wasn’t just about the lie. It was how far you it go. The conversations…the..pictures. I sent you things I would never send anyone because i thought you were Zoey. It was very real to me, and it felt like a stab in the back when I found out it was all a game,”

It was Zoro’s turn to simmer in anger because how many times does he have to tell him this, “It wasn’t a game to me either,” He clearly felt annoyance build up in his voice. Sanji wasn’t listening to him. Why invite him over if he wasn’t going to listen to him at all? It just doesn’t make sense in the slightest, “I’ve been trying to tell you this for a while. I can’t explain why or how. I don’t think you really care for that but my feeling towards it have changed, and it was a lie that turned into something more…something i cannot control anymore,”

“And how could I possibility understand all of that?” Sanji just felt more frustrated than anything because he just simply didn’t understand his reasoning. It was selfish and quite possibly life ruining what he’s done, and Zoro cannot seem to see that, “I…I don’t want to go around in circles about this…we might never agree… I need to know something else. What happened that night? The night in the club…”

That night had been brought up and he knew it was avoidable. Zoro knew how awful it had been for Sanji. For Zoey to not show up, for Sanji to be spiked and then nearly taken advantage of in an alleyway and then to end up completely vulnerable in another man’s flat like that.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen…” Zoro said almost immediately, “I…didn’t plan for that…”

“Then what did you plan for? I was spiked by a stranger and ended up in your bed,” Sanji didn’t want to ask about it but he felt like he had to…” Did…something happen between us that night?”

Zoro paused for a moment. It was funny how he had wanted something to happen between them, but it never had…that was, in a way, one blessing about the whole thing, “Nothing happened between us…I had…wanted something to happen between us but I saw you there with that guy and I saw what was going to happen if I didn’t intervene. I don’t regret taking you back to mine, even though nothing happened,”

Sanji didn’t know what stuck to him first. The fact that nothing happened between them or the fact that all this time, he had wanted something to happen. At least it answered one question. Nothing happened between them. Zoro and Sanji hadn’t slept together and Sanji had been attacked that night and Zoro…saved him. His next question came out, it was almost by complete mistake.

“Do you…. have feelings for me?” Sanji asked, feeling tense at the question because from the conversation, he already knew the answer. Zoro met his gaze. The question hung heavily in the air between them. It was a question that went to the heart of this situation and a question that both of them were maybe dreading coming up.

“Yes,” Zoro finally admitted to him out loud and it felt…weird. Good actually, but weird.

Sanji sat back in his chair. He…had begun to think that was a possibility. Zoro had gotten such…incredibly intimate photos of Sanji during that time and it can’t have been for nothing.

“It’s a lot to take in…” Sanji admitted.

“I know that” There was a hint of relief that it was finally getting its way through to him, “I was half accepting you get get angry at me for having feelings for you,”

Sanji’s face was a mix of emotions at that, “Angry? I don’t know if that’s the word for it…confused, maybe but not angry,”

Zoro leaned back. He didn’t show it, but he actually began to relax a little bit. “I half expected you to throw something at me…”

Sanji sighed, running his hand throw his hair. He was lost in thought about this whole situation. It was…crazy to say the least, “This whole thing Zoro…it’s a mess. And you telling me that you, of all people, have feelings for me…it’s just…that’s insane,”

“Insane is one way of putting it,” He gave a wry half smile, finally acknowledging the absurdity of the situation, “I never expected this to happen. You and I…ever since Luffy introduced us, we’ve been at odds and then Zoey happens and…i never expected this to happen ever,”

Sanji shook his head as the absurdity settled for him too, “We’ve been annoying each other for years. Now, you suddenly tell me that you have feelings for me. It’s a lot to wrap my head around, honestly,”

Sanji was reflectively silence. The conversation and the weight of it settled around them. It wasn’t closure. This actually opened a lot more questions than answered them.

“I need time,” Sanji admitted because all of this was one big slap in the face right now, “I don’t really know where to go from here,”

Zoro nodded. The two of them sat there. Both of them wrapped in their own thoughts. The revelation had indeed made things difficult. Added layers to their already complex relationship. Once things were done, there was sense of a tentative understanding between them. Zoro left the restaurant shortly later. He was willing to go on with life once again. It was fine. Sanji needed time. That was fine. He could give him time. That was okay.

Time was all he had right now, after all.

[slivensays]

Trick or Treat!

A small comic or fic drabble maybe? :3

Oh, fun! Thanks for the ask!

I wrote a little something, sure hope you'll like it! It's not my usual fandom, but I tried to get it right. 😊

My mind to your mind Star Trek Voyager Tuvok and Lon Suder General audiences

Lon Suder really wishes to experience the Mind Meld once more.

¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

Tuvok visits him sometimes. The officer doesn’t see it fit to delegate such a task to anyone else, and so, Suder tries his best to behave in a way that the Vulcan will find agreeable.

Has he been meditating? Of course, it is the one tool he has access to that will help with overcoming his violent impulses, which, when supressed for too long, threaten to take over.

It was the ultimate result of one such impulse that landed him in here; lacking a proper outlet for his compulsive aggression, he beat a man to death for looking at him the wrong way. Not the way to behave in a social context, he always knew this. Which is why he tried to hide the body and deny his involvement, when it was discovered.

It would have been different, had he still been in the Maquis, where skirmishes were a regular occurrence and could always be used as an excuse to get the aggression out of his system. He didn’t always find it necessary to kill, in those days, but would readily volunteer for missions whenever possible, in order to release the tension that would inevitably have built up inside him. He didn’t always need to kill. But when he got the chance, he would; the feeling of relief an instant reward. He had made a good soldier. But a good crew member on a peaceful Starfleet ship? No, something was bound to give way.  

To the best of his knowledge, Suder will be confined to his quarters until the Voyager reaches the destination called ‘home’ in the Alpha Quadrant. Suder isn’t sure, however, that he still regards it his home. Stranded in a strange part of space, well, but he’s been adrift for most of his life. It was always hard, being the odd one out, unable to learn or understand the proper responses that everybody else knew instinctively. Betazoids are known for their ability to read and connect with the minds of others. Not so Suder; he fails to connect with anyone at all.

That is, until the Meld.

Abandoning all sense of self to the Vulcan, thinking (no, hoping) he would surely perish in the process, is the closest Suder has ever felt to another. Understood another. Surrendered to another.

The first time he has ever felt relieved without first resorting to violence.

Remembering the Meld is… well. It’s something. No. It’s everything. It’s… connecting for the first time with another person. Truly connecting. With someone who sees you, who reads you, and who allows you to see them in turn. Someone who even leaves a little bit of themselves behind for you to marvel at once they are gone.

In this case, an ability to compose himself. To store away his impulses just like putting them neatly into a box, then close the lid. And let it sit. And sit, and sit for days at a time, with Suder feeling next to no need to lift the lid or let any of those urges out. And then, when finally he did, there was the meditation to aid him.   

But the meditation is of course a poor substitute for the instant alleviation offered by the Meld. Which is why he’ll ask for it again, even though he understands that it takes a toll on Tuvok. The Vulcan doesn’t get to walk away from such an encounter feeling well at ease, since he’s at risk of receiving some unpleasant tendencies of Suder’s in turn. Still, such tendencies should be much better contained now that Suder has worked hard on his focus and his composure. Enfolding his little box in layers and layers of neat wrapping, as it were, he’d happily tie a bow on it and gift it to Tuvok so he could be rid of it forever, were it possible. Hiding it away in a dark room, then throw away the key seems to be the alternative.

He wonders sometimes what dark urge Tuvok got in exchange for sharing his interest in orchids. Or if it even works that way, but Suder assumes that it does. You share one aspect of yourself, you get another in return. It seems rational.

The orchids, when first they entered his mind, seemed random and out of place. Difficult things to grow, even given the right conditions. When given the wrong; well. It is a demanding hobby, and it takes skill and dedication to succeed. Suder feels the need to concentrate, measuring out the right amounts of water and gently pollinating the flowers in his attempts to create a hybrid. But, as he shifts his focus from the ongoings in the darker parts of his mind to the care of the orchids, Suder finds it almost as rewarding as the meditation; he feels calm.

It will not be enough, Tuvok has warned; the techniques that Suder has learned will not keep him indefinitely from repressing his inherent violence. He must keep practicing them daily, cultivate himself by adding to them in order to retain his composure. And Suder does. He closes his eyes, controls his breathing, he directs his thoughts to the orchids and how proud he’ll make Tuvok when he finally manages to produce a hybrid flower of his own.

Still, all of that will not be enough. Which is why he keeps asking for the Meld, to feel again that sweet connection with a mind that seems to understand him. And for the chance that Tuvok might leave another little piece of himself for Suder to immerse in.

This, as it turns out, is a great argument for getting Tuvok to agree, finally, to try the Mind Meld once more. By offering Suder some additional aspects of himself, Tuvok can provide him with new tools which Suder can use to improve, thus making him less of a hazard. Though Suder is hardly threatening these days, the Vulcan is in charge of security and will always keep safety one of his main priorities.

And so it is, at long last, that Suder gets to feel Tuvok’s hands on his face again. Gentler, this time; when last it happened, it was an intrusion. And although Suder did welcome it at the time, this is so much better.  

Finding the right position for his fingers, Tuvok looks into Suder’s dark eyes; searching his face for any clue that he might be in the wrong state of mind for the Meld. But no, Suder emits only anticipation, and as the Vulcan seems satisfied with his examination, he closes his eyes in concentration; “My mind to your mind.”

It is soft, this time, hardly more than a whisper, and Suder lets out a long sigh of relief as he feels Tuvok’s mind tenderly enclosing his own.  

The end

Hope you enjoyed! If you want to, I could post it as a gift for you over at Ao3?

[astaroth1357]

How Often They Worry about MC…

For those who don’t know, I have a little dog named Charlie and she is a large portion of my world. There's no need to be alarmed, my dog is fine, but there are days where I hold her and all I can think about is how much I worry about her health down the line… I suppose we often do that for the people we love, particularly the ones who may not last as long as we will. Take that as inspiration if you'd like.

Lucifer 

Near constantly. 

If you tracked his blood pressure on a grid, you'd see it start to continuously rise about when he decided they were worth having in his life.

Lucifer is the eldest sibling to a whole crew of brothers so he's no stranger to worry. He worried about his brothers when they were young, he worried about them after the Fall, and he still worries about them now (even if he's less open about it).

But a part of him knows that his brothers can handle their own, at least to varying degrees. The MC, though? He's far less sure…

They've proven rather resilient, but also headstrong and reckless. Neither of which are good things to be in a place this dangerous...

If Lucifer isn't careful, he can catch himself staring at a wall or window just wondering where they are and if they're doing alright… If he called them every time he had a passing worry, their inbox would be full by the end each week.

He holds himself back because he doesn't have the time to constantly protect them, but that doesn't stop him from sending a text once or twice a day. They better respond or he'll start (secretly) panicking.

Mammon

He forgets their mortality from time to time, but every time he remembers it hits like a ton of bricks…

Mammon is a pretty "in-the-moment" person. He doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on the future, but whenever he does the thought of losing MC always comes back to him again and again.

Like. It's gotta happen eventually, right? They're human, humans die, hell they don't even live that long to start with!

The MC can always tell when Mammon's getting worried because he'll get uncharacteristically quiet and pace around or hover by them…

Every little injury or strenuous task will suddenly seem like too much to him as well. 

If they need to carry some boxes, he'll carry them all.

If they have to jog to class, he's carrying them. 

If they so much as get a papercut, he'll have a heart attack.

It's not very hard to get Mammon out of these funks - he really does want them to reassure him that they're okay - but he's never going to get fully over it…

Not until he can steal whatever top secret immortality formula Solomon must have used anyway… He'll get it off that bastard eventually.

Leviathan

Thinks about it so often he has to actively try not to just to get any peace…

He dodges his fears for MC like a protagonist dodges lasting consequences. Every time he feels one creeping up, he's always got a distraction waiting…

"Hey where's MC at? I hope they didn't fall into the riv-OH HEY CHECK OUT THIS NEW GAME!!"

"What are they doing over there…? That looks hard, what if they bre-WAIT DIDN'T MY FAVORITE VOICE ACTOR JUST RELEASE A NEW PODCAST???"

"What if the MC dies tomorrow and they leave me all alo-DEVIL FIGHT 200! YOU CAN'T BEAT DEVIL FIGHT 200, LET’S BREAK MY HIGH SCORE!!"

Cut him some slack, his psyche cannot handle the idea of losing them on top of everything else he grapples with every day.

If, on the rare occasion, he does let himself fall down that rabbit hole he becomes extra clingy and practically begs MC not to leave his room… like ever. He'd bubble wrap them if he could.

Anytime they get really hurt or really sick he refuses to leave their side even if it means he has to awkwardly sit on the floor. He just needs to be able to glance at them every so often to be sure they're alive… Still breathing?? Phew…

Satan

He worries, preps, rationalizes, then worries again…

For Satan, knowledge is power and every scrap of information he can learn about MC is more power he can use to keep them safe and healthy.

Yes, he will want their medical history. Yes, he's going to need a list of prescriptions. Family members too. And no, you do not get a choice.

He'll read up on as many things as he can - pawn medical journals off of witches and get magical alternatives from Solomon.

The cycle usually goes: 

1. He's lying awake at night because he just heard about some terrible bacteria that makes human's skin peel off or something.

2. He does all the research he can on this bacteria, its treatment options, best prevention methods, etc.

3. Gets right about to break out the rubber booties for MC to wear around, then realizes they have a very slim chance of catching said bacteria since it's only native to incredibly remote parts of Indonesia.

4. Feels instant relief that MC will probably not catch flesh-eating bacteria and can finally sleep again…

5. Hears of some other human medical horror from Solomon and starts to worry…

It's a vicious cycle indeed… But at least he's getting a lot of medical training. Soon enough he'll be the Devildom's version of a human vet (which I guess is just a doctor, come to think of it. 🤔)

Asmodeus 

Lives so "here-and-now" that he doesn't remember often, but when he does it's always heartbreaking…

Asmo usually tries to worry about things as little as possible. It’s bad for the skin, you know? But when the MC is involved, all of that goes out the window.

Like how a delicate blossom eventually wilts in the snow, the MC is bound to leave them in time… Usually there's supposed to be something beautiful in that kind of tragedy, but perhaps he's just too close to them to find any romance in it.

The thought of their death gives him breakouts and anytime they get hurt or sick he's the first brother to offer them comfort. Every time.

Because he doesn't feel like he's as physically strong as he brothers, he tries to make up for it by minding their health in other ways. Anything to keep his MC strong and beautiful as always!

If Asmo is in a worrying mood, then he may also compensate by trying to take the MC out to a party or some fun event. Why sit around worrying by himself when he could be making memories with them now, right?

Beelzebub

It comes in waves, mostly at night.

When your thoughts throughout the day are mostly, "I wish I wasn't so hungry," it doesn't afford you a lot of time to think about much else.

In a way, it's a good thing since he experiences a lot less stress. But those worries are still there and they mostly plague his dreams…

Beel doesn’t feel hungry when he's sleeping, so a lot of his fears will make themselves known overnight. An injured or dying MC is often in his rotation of nightmares though, of course, he'd rather it not be…

After having one of these dreams, his first instinct is to always make sure the MC is okay. If they're with him, he'll hug them and check their heartbeat. If they're somewhere else, he'll go to them or shoot a text.

He has woken up without realizing his nightmare was all a dream though, and usually it's up to Belphie or MC themselves to console him while he cries… It's so heartbreaking, sweet boy just puts a lot of pressure on himself to be sure they're safe…

When he worries, it's like they're the most beautiful and expensive China set in a room full of bulls and hammers. If he could tape them to his side, he probably would. He gets scared for them that much…

Belphegor 

More scared about it than anyone else in the House.

Despite his calm demeanor, Belphie is truly afraid of losing his loved ones beneath the surface… He's already lost one of his most dear siblings before, going through that again may just break him.

Unfortunately, he's also felt just how fragile the MC is firsthand... He's not even the strongest of his brothers, yet he was able to snuff them out so easily… Who's to say someone else won't try?

Like Beel, MC's death is a recurring nightmare for him but he can usually shake off his dreams fairly well, if not change them mid-sleep. More scary is when something is actually wrong with them or they're not feeling well.

Belphie always sets his inner laziness aside for the MC when he can. If they get sick, he'll usually be right along with his family to take care of them - even if he has to skip school to do so (not that he cares about class anyway).

When he's worrying about them, he tries to play it off at first, but soon enough they'll notice him acting overly concerned and losing sleep… Best to calm him down before he starts getting cranky.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

just let me adore you || h. styles

warnings: swearing, kissing, briefly proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: a holiday in italy involves an unusual amount of shampoo and lusting...

The villa was somewhat quiet. The sound of solitary piano notes echoed through the halls. Harry’s hair was dishevelled from his heavy night’s sleep prior to the warm morning he found himself emersed in. While his fingers were busy working away at the grand piano, his eyes were preoccupied with following your form around the backyard of the villa. 

You were sat by the pool, your book long forgotten. Your sunglasses were shielding your eyes from the unrelenting Italian sun. Your hair was pinned up, your skin exposed to the heat of the morning. 

Harry’s attention was suddenly pulled away by the sound of your father emerging from the kitchen. “Morning, Haz,” he grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Any plans for today?”

He shrugged, “Might just, you know, work on some music.”

“A man committed to his career, that’s what I like to see,” your father said. 

Harry nodded awkwardly, offering the older man a quick smile. Once your father disappeared into the lounge, Harry found his eyes wandering back to you. But you’d vanished. Had there not been wet footprints staining the concrete poolside, there would be no trace you’d been there at all. 

Focusing on the lone notes the piano had no trouble emitting became an increasingly difficult task. All he could seem to focus on was you and the obnoxiously loud laughter of your mother and his own in the kitchen. He huffed loudly, pulling his jacket around himself tightly. He clambered up from the piano stool, stalking through to the kitchen to kindly ask if the two women could lower to volume slightly. However, he was soon silenced by the sight of you sat on the countertop of the island, your legs swinging beneath you, a peeled tangerine in your delicate hands. You were smiling slightly as the women couldn’t help but laugh at something Anne had said. 

A bundle of nerves unravelled itself inside of Harry’s stomach when you looked up and locked eyes with him. Your mother and Anne quickly quietened down at Harry’s sudden presence in the doorway. “Morning, darling,” Anne smiled. 

“Morning, Mum,” he replied, breaking his gaze away from your own. “Do you, uh, do you mind if you can keep it down a bit? I’m trying to work.”

“Work?” your mum asked. “Harry, dear, we’re in Italy! Why don’t you wait to work when you get home.”

“I know, but I feel most inspired when I’m away from my house,” he tried to explain. 

“Just take a break, Harry. Relax… you know, unwind,” Anne said softly. 

He sighed, “Okay. Fine. I’m going to shower.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and left the kitchen. You’d been silent throughout the entire exchange, glancing between Harry and your half-eaten tangerine. As you watched him leave, you averted your attention back to your book that was being held open by a mug you’d quickly put down so as not to lose your place.  

Harry found himself running his hands through his dark hair, which was now coated in mango-scented shampoo. He’d just grabbed it off the shelf in the shower, assuming it came as a complimentary luxury with the villa. As the hot water trickled down his body, he allowed his muscles to relax. He knew his mum was right: he needed to separate himself from his music for a few days. But he was only working away tirelessly at the grand piano because it kept his mind off you. If it wasn’t music, it was you. If it wasn’t you, it was music. 

These yearly holidays used to be enjoyable for Harry. Right up until he was fourteen and he realised he liked you. Then they became almost torturous. As soon as he began to see you in this different light, your presence and whereabouts became apparent to his senses. Before, you always seemed to swim in the pool with Gemma or play in her room. He’d occupy himself with your brother by going down to the beach or playing tag in the extensive gardens of the Italian villa. But you suddenly seemed to be everywhere. He’d go down to the beach and there you’d be with your parents or Gemma. He’d be running through the gardens trying to find your brother after an afternoon of hide and seek, and yet he’d discover you reading or gossiping with his sister. All of this, but the summer you didn’t come with your family because you were going away to Scotland with your then-boyfriend instead was utterly dreadful for him.

When he was finished in the shower, he wasted the rest of the day by the pool in hopes you’d venture out with your books and tangerines. But alas, you did not. It was only when the sun was dipping below the horizon did he next lay eyes on you. He was sat at the dining table, his plate before him. You grinned at him, sitting down opposite him. You kept quiet as your parents chatted away mindlessly with Anne, only sharing a brief and quiet conversation with your brother, who you were sat beside. 

Gemma hadn’t come this year, leaving Harry and Anne alone with your family. Anne didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all. After all, she and your mother were such good friends and always had been. You had always been content in your own company. And your brother seemed to spend all his time with your father, something about inheriting the family business. So, Harry had found a companion in the villa’s grand piano, which had now been stripped away from him courtesy of his mother. 

It wasn’t as if you were deliberately being cold to Harry. You actually quite admired him and you knew you always had. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t aware of his eyes following you everywhere you went. But you liked the attention. You wanted to know just what you could do to him. So, when your foot accidentally grazed his leg beneath the table, you didn’t even look at him. After all, it was a mere accident. 

When, at last, your father was finished with his meal, you helped Anne clear away the dishes and your mother as she washed up. While your father and brother ventured through to the lounge to watch a football game, Harry went straight to his room. 

An hour passed and he was too busy on his phone to notice you enter his room. When you cleared your throat, he finally looked up. His eyes were wide like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hurriedly shut off his phone, blackness overtaking the screen that had once presented your Instagram profile to him. “Oh, hi, Y/N,” he said as you sat yourself down at the foot of his bed. 

“Oh? Didn’t realise you were expecting someone else,” you smirked. 

“No, no, no. I, uh, I wasn’t. I was just surprised to see you,” he said quickly. 

“Right,” you grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He watched your face screw up suddenly. You leaned forward towards him, before laughing. “What?” he asked. “What’s funny?”

“Is that my shampoo?” you questioned. 

“Shit. I just thought it was a, you know, freebie. I didn’t realise it was yours. Shit. I wouldn’t have used it if I knew it was yours. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

As he rambled, he remembered that the two of you shared the same bathroom. It was between your respective bedrooms, doors leading to both. Of course it was your shampoo. You chuckled at his ramblings, “It’s okay Harry. It’s just shampoo. You can use it whenever.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought it smelt wonderful.”

You smiled, “Thanks. I have a pomegranate one in my suitcase that I think you’d love.”

“Really? Why did you bring two shampoos?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “So I have options depending on my mood. Sometimes I’m feeling like a pomegranate, sometimes I’m feeling like a mango.”

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes wandering up your bare legs that were only sporting a pair of silky shorts. Obviously, this didn’t go unnoticed by you. “The only thing is,” you started, “you’re going to smell like me now.”

He shifted slightly. You smiled to yourself. 

“What if people, you know, get the wrong idea?” you asked innocently. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I guess you’ll just have to use your pomegranate shampoo tomorrow instead, won’t you?”

You leaned back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. His cheeks were flushed and you knew your job for the evening was done. “Fair play, Styles. See you in the morning,” you made a point of touching his shoulder as you left via the shared bathroom. 

The following morning, Harry awoke, finding himself peacefully content for a moment before he recalled the prior night’s events. He was yet to decide if you were actually making a move on him or not. Or perhaps you were genuinely concerned that your families would smell your signature mango scent on Harry and get the wrong impression of the entire thing. 

He dragged himself out of the soft sheets, getting dressed. He listened silently to the running shower. He could hear you humming along to Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals. And after the shower he stopped, he gave it five minutes before going in to brush his teeth. He couldn’t help but look over to see your bottle of pomegranate shampoo making its place beside your mango one. The red bottle was the one soaked in droplets of water, while the yellow bottle remained dry. You’d done as he’d said. In a way, Harry almost wished you’d used the mango shampoo. He almost liked the thought of people thinking he and you had been so close that he’d absorbed your tropical scent. 

As he wandered into the kitchen, preparing himself some toast, he noticed the unusual silence of the villa. It was unnerving. He felt like the protagonists of those books and movies where they wake up and everyone’s gone or been evacuated. It felt apocalyptic. But, as his mind churned out immediate actions to take in this case of an unprecedented apocalypse, you walked into the kitchen just as his toast popped out of the toaster. “Morning,” you smiled, sitting down at one of the island’s stools. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, spreading butter onto the crisp toast. 

You shrugged, “It was alright. You?”

“I slept wonderfully.”

“Good,” you said. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, sitting down opposite you. 

“They left for the beach,” you explained. “I didn’t want to go and they didn’t want to wait around for you to get out of bed. Anne told me to tell you that if you want to go down, they’re the ones with the pink deckchairs.”

He nodded slowly, “I think I’ll pass. Not a fan of sand.”

“Right? Why do people enjoy playing in minuscule rocks, which end up in your clothes for the next two weeks? Sounds like hell to me,” you said. 

He smiled at your aggravated tone, “Wow, and I thought I hated sand.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pal,” you joked, smiling. 

Before a blanket of silence could fall on top of the two of you, Harry quickly said, “I saw you used the pomegranate shampoo.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him, “Yeah… I mean, you told me to, right?”

“Right,” he nodded quickly. “Of course. Well, at least we both smell nice now.”

You frowned, “If you say so. Anyway, I’m going for a swim. See you later.”

Harry watched you leave. His eyes roamed your figure with your legs exposed in a pair of shorts. You looked back at him over your shoulder, grinning to yourself at his longing look. He watched through the large kitchen windows as you rid yourself of your shorts and t-shirt, revealing your swimsuit beneath. He tried desperately to peel his gaze away from you as you settled yourself comfortably on one of the sun loungers by the pool. You placed your sunglasses over your eyes, opening your book. 

As soon as he’d finished his toast, he wandered outside. At the sound of his footsteps, you looked up. “Hi, Harry,” you smiled. 

“Hello,” he said softly, sitting down opposite you. You slid your sunglasses up over your head, settling them on your hair. You sat up, never allowing your eyes to leave his. “How can I help you?” you grinned. 

He was fiddling with his fingers, his gaze alternating between them and you. Finally, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky ones. You stood, pulling him up with you. You were so close. You could hear each other breathing. You could practically hear his heart thumping against his ribs. You reached up to whisper in his ear, “I know you adore me.”

You smirked, allowing him to revel in your confidence. Call it cockiness. Same thing, really. You slowly pulled away from his ear, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. And yet it was him who finally connected your lips to his own. He didn’t make any effort to pull away either. You smiled into the kiss, burying your fingers in his hair. And when he finally did pull away, he stared down at you, cheeks red, “Depends if you adore me too.”

You grinned, “I do.”

And, with that, he dove back in. You grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up. He lay you down gently on the sun lounger, leaning over you. As you pulled his shirt over his head, he leaned back slightly. “I thought you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he whispered. 

You shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to see what pomegranate and mango smell like together.”

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you write the sensory overload prompt with fallout new vegas companions as well (including benny)? and maybe butch deloria if thats not too much ^^

Romanced! FO3 & FONV Companions React to Autistic!Six/Lone with Sensory Overload Anxiety

Whoops, I ended up doing all of the companions from FO3 as well, my bad 🤷‍♀️

But here they are! Thank you so much for the ask, and I hope you enjoy!

This prompt with FO4 R!Companions

FONV

Arcade:

The doctor would want to help, would actually know how to help, but he may just get overwhelmed as well. He tends to focus on Six themself, rather than the situation surrounding them, that’s where the panic tends to get to him. But Six, he can deal with. If possible, he will try to remove his companion from their stressful surroundings, but whether or not he is able, Arcade tries to stay calm, using his voice, and breathing techniques and exercises he’s read about to try and deflate their rising anxieties. He tends to make sarcastic comments in the aftermath, more so to expel his own pent up anxiety than to help Six, but they don’t need to know that.

Benny:

He's scared out of his mind the first time it happens. Six is pretty much invincible in his eyes, so this… just being around loud noises and such? That's what's rustling their jimmies? Wack. For a small moment, he feels like it's his fault, and even after the courier informs him that this is just a part of who they are, that they have always been this way, he still feels another dizzying pang of regret, knowing that a couple of bullets to the brain probably couldn't have helped their preexisting condition in any way. Over time, he'd get better about helping to calm his partner down, but he starts out rather overbearing, touching them too much, talking too quickly, having a panicked reaction that tends to only escalate the sensory overload they're experiencing. At least Six wouldn't have to worry about their safety in a combat situation with the Ben-man at their side. He's one of the best shots in the Mojave (if not the best). No one is getting past him. He may be an old hat when it comes to injuring Six, but he'll be hot diggidy damned if he's gonna let someone else lay a finger on them under his watch.

Boone:

First off, the sniper would try to prevent Six from entering into any stress-filled situations at all, reminding them that he is more dangerous from a distance anyway. However, he knows that, in the Mojave, avoiding dangerous or overwhelming environments altogether is damn near impossible, so he’ll try to be prepared. He’s dealt with his own vicious bouts of PTSD long enough to have developed coping mechanisms to help him, and has actively used tools like sunglasses and ear plugs in his time with the 1st Recon, which he would recommend to them as well. Boone would approach his partner in their time of need, trying to refrain from being overbearing, but ultimately his support wouldn’t waver as he helped Six try to come down from their state of panic.

Cass:

She honestly doesn't understand how Six has been able to survive in this world with their sensory overload anxiety, and she respects them even more now that she knows they have managed to. She may not be the best at helping them handle their stress, so she usually leaves Six to their own devices while she works on removing anything that could be causing her partner's apprehension. Once the threat is gone, she'll stand nearby until Six has managed to calm themself down, just to cover them and keep an eye out. When it seems to be over, she likes to bring them somewhere to unwind; and enjoys simply sitting with them and maybe having a drink or two as they recover their strength, and bearings.

Raul:

He’ll talk them through the whole ordeal. Is he nervous about their state of panic? Probably. But his partner doesn’t need to know that. The ghoul doesn’t know a lot in terms of dealing with meltdowns, but for Six, he’ll try. Whatever sort of exercises they start to engage in to get their anxiety under control, he’ll be beside them, trying to participate, to help them through it if they seem to be struggling. He’ll get better at dealing with it over time, but it always scares him a bit to see his partner this way. Evidently, he will become more and more aware of his surroundings the more they travel together, and will try to keep them away from the situations he finds tend to set them off.

Veronica:

Whatever it was that seemed to have Six panicked, Veronica would seek to expel it in whatever way she can (but she's most enthusiastic when it involves punching). Her physical assault of the enemies responsible would be relentless, but should the episode be caused by something else, Veronica would be less comfortable dealing with it, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try. She mostly leaves Six to figure out their meltdown on their own, maybe going through breathing exercises with them and sticking by their side, but letting them calm themself of their own accord. Her involvement with the Berotherhood has taught her enough to know not to add any pressure to someone enduring this amount of stress. However, when they do eventually tell her that they are through the worst of it, she would try to give them some form of physical contact to help reassure them that she’s there for them, if they are comfortable with it.

FO3

Butch:

He’s known Lone a long time, and since they were kids, he’s been learning about the sort of situations that set them off. Now that they’re together, he’ll try his hardest to think back to all the times they were overwhelmed, and would attempt to keep them from these types of environments as best as he can. That doesn’t always work though, given the differences between the vault and the unpredictable outside world. Despite this, he also tends to remember the way their father used to help them when they became panicked like this, and will try to replicate these actions in order to best help his companion. Once he's succeeded in helping them calm down, they might have to return the favor, as their panic tends to do a number on Butch. Though he has seen them in such a state more than a few times, that doesn’t mean he likes it one bit, or will ever be truly used to it.

Charon:

Calm and collected as ever, Charon would systematically eliminate all stressful factors that could be affecting Lone. When he had seen to that task, he would turn to his partner, standing by their side and waiting for direction of how best he could help them. If they can recover on their own, he’ll be nearby to cover them, but if they are in need of his assistance, as long as they tell him what they need, he will oblige. In the aftermath of Lone’s meltdown, Charon would keep his blue eyes locked on them as his worry wears away at his stoic exterior. They will need to tell him that they are okay, or else he will refuse to carry on with their travels. Until he knows they can handle it, he won’t allow them to set off again.

Clover:

The poor thing would do everything wrong in this instance. She would try so damn hard to help her partner in their time of need, but ultimately she would prove to only add to the list of overwhelming factors surrounding Lone. As soon as she saw the panic wash over her companion, she would be by their side, speaking to them quickly, and as quietly as she could, but her own anxiety would cause a high pitch to sound from her throat as she tried to talk her companion down, running her hands over their arms as she does her best to support them, her frantic touches only serving to quicken their heartbeat further as they felt trapped by her concerned caresses. Once Lone finally does manage to settle down, Clover would be almost hurt by their lack of reciprocation when she tried to aid them; that is, until Lone explains to her that there are better ways for her to help. Now Clover just has to remember this for future instances...

Cross:

She’s been a soldier long enough to know how to deal with stress on the battlefield, but it’s somehow different when it’s her partner going through the ordeal. She’ll be uncharacteristically tender as she takes them through the motions she was taught to use in order to calm her fellow soldiers’ nerves. Her voice would remain soft, her touches gentle, her brows knitted together in concern until Lone finally showed signs of calming down. The paladin would release a long breath, as though finally expelling her own apprehension at the situation, and then would straighten herself up, returning to the seasoned soldier she was in order to face whatever was left of the situation at hand.

Fawkes:

The super mutant has a difficult time with subdelty, and would be worried about overwhelming Lone from his own loud tendencies. Should they start becoming uncomfortable while in his presence, he would actually distance himself from them, trying to turn away any additional factors that could be playing a part in their overload. Once they appear to have calmed themself, Fawkes will check in, apologize, and ask if there was anything he could do to prevent such occurrences from happening while they are in his company.

Jericho:

Fucking hell. We live in the Capital Wasteland. The whole damn place is just one big ass stressful situation. Are they serious?! He’d be confused, and a little pissed off, but if he has a soft spot for anyone, it’s Lone. Dammit. He won’t really know what to do, but he’ll try his best to cover them and keep them from harm’s way as they attempt to calm down and deal with their overload. Afterwards, he’ll gruffly ask if they’re okay, telling them that what they did could’ve gotten them killed, his expression would be a combination of sternness and annoyance, but his body would betray him as it shook in relief at the sight of his companion standing uninjured in front of him. Jericho would nod for the pair to continue on their way impatiently, but his eyes wouldn’t leave Lone as they set off in front of him, concern shining in their depths when he knew no one was there to see it.

[venushasvixens]

Let’s Stay Together - Spike Spiegel x Reader One-Shot

[A/N] Shout out to @nathaslosttheirshit for this request, EVERYBODY LOVES A LOVERS REUNITED TROPE IT WORKS EVERYTIME 🪐🌙✨

WARNING: some suggestive material (references to 18+ material BUT nothing happens)

“Hello you.”

“Long time no see.”

On your to-do list today was going to the grocery store, grabbing more supplies for your ship and weapons, and treating yourself to a little self-care. It did not involve seeing your ex for the first time since you both parted ways so long ago. Usually for the other partners in your life, the conversation following would be so awkward and stressful. You never felt this way about Spike.

“You know her?” A violet-haired woman questioned, her hand resting on her hip.

Spike nodded. “Old flame.”

“I’d say the best of them all.” You replied, your grip on your groceries loosening.

“Well I mean-“ Spike smirked, shrugging. You punched him in his shoulder playfully, giggling. Just like old times.

“I always will be, admit it. Spike and I used to have so much fun together. Didn’t we?” You said, smiling up at him.

“Her definition of fun was sleeping in all day.” Spike stated.

“Sounds like my kind of girl.” The woman joked. “I think I’m going to leave you two to it.”

As she walked away, you turned back to Spike. Catching his gaze, you can tell by the look in his eyes how much he missed you. The feeling was completely mutual. So long ago was Spike the biggest love of your life. Everyday was spent together, every second was so full of kindness and affection. Sure you guys slept in a lot, but there were other things you both did that made this relationship so special. Telling each other’s deepest fears and secrets, dreams and nightmares, the level of trust was off the charts. Above all, he was your best friend.

For the life of you, you couldn’t even remember why you went your separate ways. Carrying only happy memories and extremely positive fondness for Spike, it was only best to remember the good.

“What is it?” You asked, blushing.

He shook his head. “God, you’re still so gorgeous.”

Nodding slowly, you patted his chest. “Don’t flatter me.”

Spike felt the shockwaves of your touch revinate throughout his chest, warming his cold heart immediately. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I thought you would never ask.”

-

Spike sipped on his drink slowly as you told him about the last few years of your life. From near death experiences to the worst hardships you ever had to face, it certainly kept him interested. As you told your story, you could not help but notice how intently Spike was listening. Really paying attention and communicating with past lovers was a difficult task to keep up with on both ends, but with him was different.

Remembering the times when he would stay over at your ship, eating take-out and watching crummy television on your holo computer. Doing all of that by yourself is great, but its somehow feels better when someone is doing it with you as well.

“How about you?” You asked, facing Spike.

Setting his drink down, he smirked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Anytime he gave you that look, it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Jesus fuck, this man still did things to you that were deliciously sinful.

“Give a guess.” He said.

Smiling, you leaned back into your chair. “Still on the Bebop?”

“You guessed correctly. Have been since we split.” He replied.

“That was such a long time ago. I thought that by now you would have settled down and gave up this dangerous life we live.” You admitted. “Not with a wife and kids, but to wind down for some peace and quiet.”

“I don’t think I know any other life than this. I've played this game for so long I don’t think I know how to quit.” Spike shrugged.

He was right. When you both were together, you came to the conclusion rather quickly that Spike would never settle, even for himself. The same went for you. You loved to travel, explore new places and meet new people, but the thought was always in the back of your mind. Staying in one place, with your other half, in happiness for the remainder of your lives.

“Hmm.” You hummed. “I do have one question though.”

“And that is?”

“That girl that you were with, you like her?” You teased, taking a sip from your drink.

A scowl splayed across Spike’s face. “Faye? Please.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Evening turned to night, an hour turned into multiple. Not once was someone not talking. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a conversation so invigorating, or a conversation that lasted this long. It was like you both had never broken up. By now, you and Spike were scooted up side by side, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies. Your head laid on his shoulder, and his on your head. The one question that you both had been dreading this whole time was on the tip of your tongue, now spilling out to either break or bond this tender moment.

“What happened to us?”

Silence.

It suddenly grew very tense between you both. Thinking the distance was getting wider, your heart began to drop. That was until finally, after his moment of clarity, Spike held out his hand, motioning for you to take it. Interlocking your fingers through his, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Right person, wrong time.” Spike mumbled against your hair as he pecked a kiss on your head.

“I loved you so much.” You whispered softly into Spike’s ear.

“I still do.” He admitted, his finger lifting your chin to meet his gaze. As your eyes met, you were brought back to the night of your first date, your first kiss, the first time you both made love. That same face you saw each time was still here, the fire that was smothered in the past was now refueling back, bigger than ever before. His lips burned into yours, reminding you what you missed and needed. Your tongue slipped in his mouth against his own. He lost himself in you completely.

The sudden realization that you were in public snapped you back to reality. Pulling away, you reached for your drink. “Somehow you’re a better kisser than you were the last time I saw you.”

“It’s like when you eat something you haven’t had in a long time. You forget what it tastes like, and it's a whole new dish, just for you to try over and over again.” Spike chuckled, appreciating your soft shove.

Last call was announced in the bar, signaling that your time in heaven was almost up. You feared the parting of your ways, holding on tighter to Spike’s hand. You swallowed the last of your drink as you and Spike watched the patrons slowly exit the bar, with the last of you in tow.

“C’mon, it's time to go home.”he said, holding his hand out for you to scoot out of the booth.

You walked side by side out of the bar and into the street, making sure to take leisurely steps for more time with each other. You could feel that he was trying to do the same, physical touch becoming more common on you. As you reached the end of the block where you had both ran into each other, Spike’s arm snaked around your waist, making you face him.

“I have a suggestion.” Spike purred in your ear.

“What’s that?” You inquired, intrigued and excited by his new proposition.

“How about you come back to my ship and I can show you what else I’m better at?”

[jikookiekosmos]

Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv​​​​ for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk​ @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

[roselarkiin]

Brettsey + 2

So... this one didn't really turn out all that fluffy, but I hope it's okay!

#2 "The thought of losing you scares me."

In hindsight, running into a burning building without turnout gear or back up probably isn't the best idea she's ever had.

But she honestly doesn't see how she had any other choice.

Sylvie and Violet have just dropped their patient off at Med. Nothing crazy - a kid with an ulna fracture. A damn near routine call considering some of the things they see.

They're driving down 14th Street, on their way back to the firehouse, when they notice the smoke billowing out of the apartment building ahead of them.

Eyes fill with alarm as Sylvie slows the ambo to a stop. It's dark, and it's late, and there aren't any people around. Which in this situation is strange.

Sylvie can't make out the telltale sound of sirens approaching. There aren't any residents milling around the evacuation point either, like she would expect with a fire already this involved.

It's all so disconcerting.

Sylvie unbuckles her seatbelt, steps out of the ambulance, instructs Violet to radio main and find out which companies are on their way, see if they require sixty-one to stay on the scene.

She steps toward the building. The fire is at the other end of the complex, but the heat coming off the structure is almost unbearable.

There's smoke escaping from a few second story windows, and she can make out the flickering of orange flames from further inside the apartment.

Violet approaches at a jog, and Sylvie turns to face her partner expectantly.

"They weren't aware of a fire at this location," Violet says, the corners of her mouth turn down into a frown at the sight of the building. "They're assigning someone now."

Sylvie nods. Her brow creases, and she furrows her bottom lip into her mouth.

There's something really wrong with this scene. There should be alarms going off, alerting everyone to the danger.

She's seen her fair share of apartment fires in her time on the job, and it's usually chaos. All noise and people everywhere. This is the exact opposite. Eerily quiet with no one about.

These apartments aren't deserted. Surely someone should have made it out by now.

It could be another five, ten minutes before help arrives on the scene. She knows from experience just how much every second counts in a situation like this.

She can't just stand idly by, waiting for someone to arrive. She needs to get as many people out as she can.

"Violet," Sylvie starts and turns her head to look at her partner. "I'm not going to ask you to-"

As if she can sense what Sylvie is about to say, Violet cuts her off. "No way," she says, with an adamant shake of her head. "I'm not letting you go in there alone!"

There's a look of determination on the younger paramedic's face. One that tells Sylvie there's nothing she can say to change Violet's mind.

So she doesn't bother to try.

They enter the building, using their sleeves to cover their face as best they can.

Violet follows her orders, realizes they don't have time to argue, and goes down the hallway Sylvie tells her to. The one with less smoke. Away from the fire.

Sylvie might not be able to stop Violet from following her into the building, but she's damn well going to do everything in her power to keep her partner out of harm's way.

The hallways are dark and filled with smoke. Sylvie can barely make anything out or get her bearings.

She manages to find a door, bangs her fist against it until someone answers. It's easier after that.

Knock on the door until she wakes whoever's in the apartment, follow the wall along to the next door, and repeat.

Most can get themselves out of the building. The ones that can't, family members or neighbors are happy to escort them. It helps, means she can get to more people faster, without having to run up and down and out again and again.

By her estimation, she's able to clear about half the floor before she needs to get out. Before the cough and the ache in her chest becomes too much to bear.

She follows the last family down the stairs, meets up with Violet on her way out. They exit the building together and cough and sputter as they gasp for air.

She's hunched over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath.

"Brett!" She recognizes the voice instantly, stiffens as Matt grabs her shoulders. Her eyes are closed. She can't see him, but she can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she rasps, her voice hoarse. Tries to reassure him. She doesn't need to see him to know it hasn't worked. She coughs again.

She tries to brush him off. He should be running the initial search. Not here with her.

She's fine, really. Tries to tell him again, but she can't get the words out. Her throat burns.

An open water bottle is shoved into her hands. From Gallo, she thinks. He's an angel.

She takes a few mouthfuls, swishes the water around in her mouth, spits it onto the ground before gulping the rest of the water down. Another full bottle quickly replaces the empty one.

"Are you insane?" Matt shouts. The concern turns to anger. His hands on her shoulders tighten, shakes her a little. "What the hell were you thinking, Sylvie? Why would you do something so incredibly stupid? You could have got yourself killed!"

The relief she felt, having Matt there when she exited the building, is replaced with irritation. And she gets it. He's afraid. She scared him; she understands that. But there's no reason for him to be so patronizing.

She probably understands more about what he's feeling right now than he does.

Because the emotions he experiences in this moment are exactly what she goes through every time she stands on the sidelines while she watches him run headlong into a burning building.

Whatever he's feeling, though, she is not some child to be scolded, and she doesn't appreciate him yelling at her like she is.

She knows her limits. She would never push herself past what she knows herself to be capable of.

She's vaguely aware of the orders he barks to the other members of eighty-one, but he makes no move to leave her side.

In any other situation, she might find it sweet, but in any other situation, he'd be leading his team in the search. Not standing here with her.

His grip softens on her arm, moves to her back. It does nothing to comfort her. In fact, it just makes her feel worse. Like she's being suffocated. Though that might be the smoke inhalation.

Her eyes narrow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She's furious with him. For talking down to her the way he did, in front of their friends and colleagues. For treating her like she's some child he's been tasked to deal with and not his girlfriend. His equal.

It's embarrassing.

She doesn't yell back at him, as much as she may want to. She doesn't have the energy for that. Even if she did, she doesn't think her throat could handle it. And this is not the right place for this conversation.

Instead, she looks at him, head cocked slightly to the side, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You know, if this had been anyone else, you would not have spoken to them the way you just spoke to me," she says, with as much force as she can muster. It's not a lot, but it's surprisingly more than she thought possible at this moment. "You would have been singing their praises. Commending them for helping so many people, a job well done."

"Sylvie-"

"Go. There are still people inside. You have a job to do, Casey."

He looks confused for a split second before composing himself. She doesn't have a chance to dwell on it. She's pulled away to be looked at by the medics from ambulance ninety.

Suddenly, everything shifts back to the way it always is. Sylvie, at the ambo, watching Matt anxiously, as he runs into a burning building.

... ... ...

One of these days, Matt thinks, Sylvie Brett is going to be the death of him.

Maybe he'd lost it a little back at the scene. Spoke to her in a way that he shouldn't.

When they'd arrived and found sixty-one already on scene, he didn't think too much of it. It wasn't all that uncommon for the ambo to beat them to the scene, especially when coming straight from another call.

But when they exited the truck and neither Sylvie nor Violet were anywhere to be seen, a resident informed them the paramedics in question were inside, helping to evacuate everyone.

Sylvie was inside the burning building.

He'd just been about to run in after her when she exited the building, coughing and sputtering, covered head to toe in black soot.

All the blood rushed from his face, and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he felt it might explode.

He saw nothing but her, rushed straight to her, not entirely in control of his actions. He'd shouted at her, and he shouldn't have.

She'd looked at him with hurt in her eyes and calmly told him that if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have spoken to them that way.

He thinks that look hurt more than if she had just yelled back. Because he knows she's right. Fucking, of course, she is. She's always been able to see right through him.

Seeing her standing there, covered in ash, terrified him. He could have lost her.

He'd flashed back to a time years ago, the only other time he's seen her like that. The Arnow fire. Where they'd lost Otis. Where he'd almost lost her. Had lost her, for a time, though only temporarily.

Then she was dragged away, and he had a job to do. He needed to focus. His people could get hurt if the task at hand didn't have his total concentration.

He thinks Sylvie's been avoiding him - he doesn't blame her because the next time he sees her, it's almost the end of shift. Eighty-one had two more calls after the apartment fire. Sixty-one had five.

Sylvie and Violet refused to take Sixty-one out of service. And he had to bite his tongue. As hard as it was.

They always just seemed to be passing each other. Never in the same place at the same time. As if some invisible force was working to keep them apart. It's killing him.

He finds her by their lockers. Her shoulders tense when she senses his presence. Imperceptible to anyone else. But not to him. Never to him.

He's explored and learned every inch of her body these last three months. Even the slightest change does not go unnoticed.

He steps further into the locker room. By some miracle, they're alone.

"I'm sorry," he says, quiet and all sincere. It never should have taken him this long to say the words. This is their first fight. If he can even call it that.

He'd been an ass. He knows he's going to have to grovel to make it right again.

He sees her shoulders shift, relax slightly as the tension ebbs away. Sylvie turns, leans against the open door of her locker to look at him. She gives him that same sad smile again. Not unlike the look she gave him last night. His chest aches.

"I'm sorry," she says as well, and she means it. From the way she says it, he knows she's not apologizing for running into a burning building. No, he gives her a soft smile, she'll never apologize for that. He doesn't expect her to either. Instead, she's apologizing for the scare she gave him.

He closes the distance between them, reaches out, and pulls her to him. She lets him, allows herself to melt into him. Her head rests against his shoulder, her arms wrap around his waist.

He's got one hand on her back, pulls her as close as physically possible. The other weaves into her hair, twists the blonde locks between his fingers.

They stand there, alone, not saying anything, holding each other tight. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his as she breathes is a reminder that she's here and she's safe; nothing happened to her. It comforts him.

Sylvie is the first to break the silence. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it won't ever happen again," she murmurs against his chest.

He huffs, lets out a quiet chuckle, strokes his hand through her hair again. "I know."

Selfishly, he'd love for her to tell him that. But given the chance, he knows she wouldn't change anything that happened on the call. And if it came down to it, she'd do it all over again, without giving it a second thought.

He's watched her do this job for years. She's always given so much of herself over to the job. He's always admired that about her. He wouldn't want that to change just because of him.

"It's just," he breathes, lips pressed into her hair, "the thought of losing you scares me." His voice is rough, shakier than he intends it to be.

Sylvie leans back to look him in the eye. Moving her hand up his side to his face, she caresses his cheek. He leans into her hand, closes his eyes.

"I know," she tells him. "Because that's exactly how I feel every time I have to watch you run into a fire."

"Sylvie, that's-"

"Don't." She cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. "Don't say it's different. It's not. At least it doesn't feel like it is."

He stops, clamps his mouth shut. He's been on the job for so long now that it's really just become routine at this point. Stupidly, he's never really thought about it from Sylvie's perspective. That she might feel the same terror he did.

He takes her face between his hands, kisses her forehead, cheeks, peppers kisses everywhere until she laughs and smiles back at him. Then he stops, looks around the locker room, checking they're still alone, and captures her lips with his.

He wouldn't normally do this, not so out in the open at least. They try to keep their relationship strictly professional while they're in the common areas of the firehouse. But after the shift they've just had, he doesn't give a shit who sees.

Sylvie smiles, breathes a contented sigh against his lips, relaxes further into him. She breaks the kiss a second later.

"You're a bit needy, you know that," she says, with a teasing lilt, tries to break the tension.

It works. He laughs. A loud, genuine belly laugh. The first in hours. He plants another kiss against her lips, pulls her back against him.

"Can you blame me?"

[mca-attack21]

The Beginning of Something part III

@the-ducks-umbrella @heyrobinstuff .... it's here with three parts left to go. As for everyone else, you can catch the first two parts as well as the rest of my writing here.

Your life in Camelot was beginning to fall into a welcomed routine. You would wake up early in the morning and beat Merlin down to the kitchens to fetch breakfast for the King and Queen. Just about the time that you laid everything out on the table, Merlin would come through the door, a small sense of relief evident as his eyes met yours. Some friendly banter would soon follow, which inevitably woke both Arthur and Gwen. Gwen would get up and you would help her prepare for the day and Arthur would threaten Merlin for waking him before begrudgingly allowing him to help prepare him for the day. The two would sit down for breakfast as you and Merlin began busying yourself with some of your chores about the room. You made the bed as Merlin collected the laundry. Sometimes you would shoot glances at each other, Merlin would mock Arthur under his breath, and you would try miserably not to laugh.

Throughout the day you would see each other in passing. Sometimes Merlin would go out of his way to seek you out and check in on you. Anytime that you had free time you would check in with Gaius or some of the knights that Merlin introduced you to to see if there was anything that you could do to help. Gaius took advantage of the fact that you were far more knowledgeable than Merlin when it came to healing magic and enchantments for his poultices. Even on the slow and “uneventful” days in Camelot, you found a way to stay busy.

It was the evenings that you looked forward to the most though. After you and Merlin had both completed the daily tasks and both Arthur and Gwen dismissed you for the night, he would take you out for a while. He used the fact that you were new to the castle at first, then it was that he wanted to introduce you to some more of the knights, to show you different places in Camelot that may have changed since the last time you were there, etc. Your favorite times were when you were released early and able to go beyond the citadel. That was when both you and Merlin could be completely free with each other, not having to worry about using magic or speaking freely. Though to be completely honest any time spent with Merlin was something you would not trade for anything else.

Being around him eased your mind and made your heart swell. You loved to make him smile or laugh, to have him be so carefree if even for a moment in the face of everything that was coming. Having someone to share your burden and the dangers that fate had determined you should carry was unreal. The two of you understood each other in a way that no one else had before. If things were different, maybe the two of you… But that didn’t matter, not really, you felt lucky to even know Merlin, if friendship was all that was in the cards for you that would be enough. Though that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t let your mind wander through the possibilities.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?” Gwen asked.

“No, sorry M’lady I got caught up in my head again.”

“No need to apologize, I just asked if you wanted to accompany Arthur, Merlin, and I on a ride for lunch.”

“I would love to accompany you. Do you need me to prepare anything? I can help you change into riding clothes if you would prefer?”

“That won’t be necessary, Merlin is arranging everything and I plan to wear this. You can take the time to change if you wish, I have nothing else for you to do this morning.”

“Thank you, your highness, I will come up and accompany you to the stables when it is time,” you bowed your head before moving towards the door.

“Y/n-” she called as you neared the door.

“Yes?”

“First of all, call me Gwen, I was once in your position and the titles and formalities are not necessary, especially not in here, not between friends. And I would like to think in the past weeks that you would come to think of me as such?”

“Of course M’- Gwen, you are one of the few friends that I have in Camelot.”

“I’m glad to be your friend, and as your friend, I want to assure you that he feels the same way,” Gwen said with a smile relaxing.

“I’m sorry?” you replied confused as to who she was speaking about.

“Merlin. I see the way that the two of you look at each other when you think no one is looking. He has become more productive just to ensure that he will have spare time to spend with you. With you, he acts lighter, truly more himself than he has in a long time. Arthur says that Merlin denies it, but it is clear as day to both of us. As he played an instrumental part in Arthur and I getting together, I figured I would return the favor,” she revealed.

“Do you honestly believe that?” you said trying to hide the rising heat in your cheeks.

“I do. Now go on and get ready for our double date” she laughed before giving you a friendly shove out of the door.

As you made your way to your quarters you could not contain the smile that was lighting up your face. The thought of you and Merlin actually being together was more than you could ever have dreamt of, the fact that you were not the only one who considered it made it more real.

As you prepared for lunch you felt childish, putting different styles in your hair getting worked up the way a child would with a crush. Out of all of the men in Camelot, Merlin was the least likely to care about that sort of thing and it was not like he didn’t already see you every day. Still…

As you walked with Gwen out to the horses, you were not surprised to hear Merlin and Arthur bantering back and forth.

“Sometimes the two of them act more like a married couple than you and Arthur,” you whispered to Gwen as you rounded the corner.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she replied laughing.

Hearing this, both Merlin and Arthur turned to face the two of you.

“You look lovely as always Guinevere, may I help you on your horse?” Arthur asked, taking her hand and smiling widely.

“Why of course,” she feigned being a wooed princess.

“Merlin, would you like me to help you on your horse?” you joked earning a laugh from the group.

The ride was short and ended in one of the lesser-known parts of the woods that Merlin had taken you during your second or third week in Camelot. Merlin had you set up the blanket and food as he took care of the horses.

“Y/n - I forgot to fill up the water, would you mind-”

“Say no more,” you answered, taking the empty pouches from him.

When you made your way back you were more than surprised to see that Merlin had set up a second picnic just in earshot of Arthur and Gwen. The fact that he’d gone through all of the extra trouble just for you…

“I’m sorry, it’s too much. I just thought… and then Arthur. But it doesn’t have to be, if it's too soon I mean if you don’t feel, I can just…” he fumbled around clearly upset that he had ever thought this was a good idea.

“Merlin,” you interrupted him forcing him to meet your eyes, “it’s absolutely lovely, and I do feel the same way, so let’s have a seat, yeah?”

Any nervousness or doubt was lost as a smile overtook his face and he sat across from you. Everything there on out went pretty smoothly, the two of you talked as you always did while enjoying the food that he had prepared. Afterward, you laid side by side looking up at the clouds and soaking in the nature that was thriving around you. Merlin ventured to take your hand in his and you just relished in the togetherness. Such an innocent act, but it felt more somehow. You honestly had no idea how long you stayed like that before you heard Arthur calling out of Merlin.

As all good things must, it was time for the picnic to come to an end. You started packing up your picnic as Merlin went over to pack up Arthur and Gwen’s. Arthur was teasing him and threw one of the water canvases beyond him.

“I think that my dog can catch better than you,” he jested.

“Perhaps that’s because you treat him better,” Merlin returned.

He went and retrieved the canvas, but was distracted by a tree that was radiating dark magic. He got closer and found a sigil lying on the ground. He was going to call for you to come check it out when Arthur interrupted his thoughts,

“Come along Merlin, your King and Queen await,” he called.

Merlin looked up to see that you had packed everything up and that Arthur and Gwen were on their horses. You sent him a questioning glance, but he knew that he would be best off to explain later. So he stood up and made his way over to you and his friends.

“Did you find it?” Arthur asked.

“What?” he replied clearly confused.

“The canvas! I swear Merlin if your head wasn’t attached…”

“Oh yes, of course, here it is,” he said showing the water container to Arthur.

Arthur nodded approvingly before turning his attention back to Gwen. You and Merlin mount your horsed and the four of you head back towards the castle.

“Everything okay Merlin?” you ask.

“Yeah of course,” he said out loud before mouthing ‘I’ll tell you later’ nodding towards Arthur and Gwen.

“Or you could tell me now” you spoke through the connection in your minds.

“I didn’t even think of using telepathy,” he replied.

“So, what happened back there?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. All I know is that there was dark and powerful magic involved. I found this,” he answered showing you the sigil.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. Maybe Gaius will know something about it. We-” you were going to continue but were cut off.

“Are you two love birds okay back there? You’ve hardly said a word since we left,” Arthur observed.

“Arthur!” Gwen chastised, leaning over to punch him in the arm.

“We are doing well, just taking in the rare peace and quiet,” you answer sending Merlin a wink.

Merlin and you picked up the pace to come in closer to the king and queen and the four of you carried on a conversation until you rode into the citadel. There were villagers being helped by the knights.

“What happened?” Arthur questioned Leon.

“They have come to seek refuge from Helva.”

Arthur and Gwen immediately dismounted to help the refugees, and you and Merlin quickly took care of the horses and provisions. When you made it inside the castle, you made your way to the throne room where Arthur was learning the rest of what had happened.

“The city of Helva was attacked two days ago. Only the handful of villagers that you saw today were able to survive,” Leon explained.

“Who was responsible?” Arthur asked.

“We assumed the Saxons, but the villagers claim that magic was involved.”

“Morgana” both Merlin and I said at the same time a little too loudly causing Arthur to glance in your direction.

“Do you suspect my sister's involvement?” he returned his attention to Leon.

“The evidence would suggest so, Sire.”

“Strengthen the garrison, double the patrol at the border, and see that the refugees are well taken care of,” Arthur ordered. The knights nodded in understanding before filing out.

It was soon only you, Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin left.

“It makes no sense for Morgana to attack Helva,” Merlin spoke up.

“She must have her reasons,” Gwen replied.

“Why does it strike you as odd?” Arthur asked, his entire demeanor changed now that his knights had left.

“Helva is one of the few places where Magic is practiced freely. Why would she attack her own?”

“Perhaps she was looking for something? Maybe someone? Either way, her being this close to our borders is not good news. We should go talk to some of the villagers, come along Merlin.”

Arthur and Merlin left. And you accompanied Gwen upstairs and drew her a bath before going downstairs to arrange dinner with the kitchen staff. An uneasy feeling accompanied you for the rest of the day. And not even seeing Merlin and Arthur upon returning with the food was enough for it to subside.

After the two of you were dismissed, you went down to speak to Gaius about the sigil. He knew little more than that it was of fine workmanship that no one would part with willingly. You and Merlin decided that you would need to go back at first light to see if you could learn anything else about what happened. Knowing that you had a long day ahead of you tomorrow, you both decided to call it an early night. Merlin walked you to your quarters.

“Is everything alright? You’ve seemed off since we returned,” Merlin asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Y/n…”

“It’s nothing important Merlin, I promise.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

The two of you had made it to your door, so you decided to take the opportunity to change the subject.

“Thank you for today, the picnic was amazing,” you say trying not to blush.

“I am just glad that we finally have our feelings out in the open,” he replied venturing to take your hands in his.

“So am I,” you smiled this time completely failing to keep the heat from your cheeks.

The two of you stood like that for a moment staring at each other. You studied Merlin’s face before speaking up softly, “This is usually the part where you are supposed to say goodnight.”

He glanced down at your lips and back up to your eyes. He was trying to decide whether or not he should take the leap. A good night kiss but was it too soon. He must’ve decided that it was as he started to pull away nervously before you stepped forward and caught his lips with yours. It was short and sweet.

“Goodnight Merlin,” you said quickly before turning away and entering your quarters.

You missed the ear-to-ear grin that Merlin wore all the way from your door to his own. He was glad that Gaius was already asleep upon his return as he didn’t know if he could utter coherent words at the moment.

You laid down and stared at the ceiling, replaying the moment in your head and waiting for the butterflies in your stomach to calm down. Knowing that sleep would not be your friend for some time, you decided to be productive and sneak down to the kitchen to gather some breakfast for your early morning trip.

Your concerns of earlier began once again to plague your mind. What if the who Morgana had been searching for was Emrys? Worse yet, what if it were you? You couldn’t stand the thought of more people getting hurt because of you. The alternative was not much better, if she was looking for something it was most likely something that would soon put Merlin or Arthur in danger. Knowing that your mind was troubled was enough to lead you to check in on Arthur, so you proceeded to the lookout where you were not surprised to find him.

He was however completely taken by surprise to be disturbed and nearly took your head off.

“Woah there your majesty, it’s just me,” you said.

“Y/n? What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Merlin told me this is where you go to think when something is troubling you-”

“I should have him in the stocks for revealing my private affairs. It’s surely a form of treason,” he joked half-heartedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever is troubling you. I know I am only a servant, but my ear listens as well as any other.”

“You know you are not ‘only a servant’, I value your counsel as well as your friendship, I am just not sure that you would understand.”

“Well, if I had to guess, I would say that you are feeling torn and a bit guilty. You have your duties as a king to protect your people and Camelot. You know to do so will inevitably put you against Morgana who you want more than anything to believe is still able to be saved/redeemed. So now you are here wondering where it all went wrong, wondering if in the moment you will have what it takes if you are still the king you always promised yourself you would be. Am I close?”

By the look on Arthur's face, you could see that you were, so you continued, “Morgana made her choices and there is nothing that you can do to change that. There is nothing wrong about wanting to save the sister you grew up with and loved. You just have to find a way to come to terms with the fact that she is no longer that person. She has allowed fear and hatred to corrupt her. You are protecting Camelot and the people you love from a sorcerer who has every intention of ending life as you know it through whatever means necessary. If you have to face her, you will do the right thing without hesitation, because that is who you are, Arthur Pendragon. You are the greatest king to rule Camelot. You will bring peace to the land, and unite Albion. Your friends believe in you, your people believe in you, now it is time for you to believe in yourself.”

There was something about the way you spoke that made Arthur feel as though every word was true. It was like you had already seen everything play out and came back to give him the courage he needed. His doubts faded away and he felt more sure of himself than he had in a long time. “Thank you,” he replied at a loss for better words as he was still taking in the weight of yours.

“There is no need for thanks Sire,” you replied bowing in sincere respect before taking your leave. By the time you made it back to your quarters, you were exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

It did not feel like long before Merlin was gently shaking you awake. You retrieved the pack of food that you retrieved the night before and made your way to the horses Merlin had readied. You both rode quickly to where you had picnicked only the day before. The tree stump, the sigil, and the feeling that accompanied it, there was something to be said about it. And if that something would in any way help you in the fight against Morgana, or to protect Arthur and Camelot then you had to see it out. You didn’t know exactly what Merlin was looking for, but you were pretty sure that he was not expecting what he found.

It was just as he was beginning to search the area that the first of Morgana’s men came with his sword barrelling down at Merlin. Behind him at least seven more who managed to scare off your horses. That was not an issue, as you and Merlin were easily able to fight them off with your magic. The problem was that one of them had stayed behind and had a crossbow. You managed to take him out, but not before Merlin was shot. You immediately whipped around and took out the man behind the crossbow. Using your magic to make sure that there was no one else before turning back to Merlin whose face was already paling as he stumbled forward towards you.

“Hey there, take it easy, just lie back,” you said as you guided him to the ground. His only response was painful groaning.

“Okay Merlin, I’m going to pull this out. But we have to keep moving, those men won’t be alone, Morgana may even be nearby. But for now, we at least have the advantage of the fact that no one alive besides us knows that we were here.”

Without warning, you clasped one hand over his mouth and pulled out the arrow. Merlin’s muffled yells broke your heart but you didn’t have time, not right now, not if you were going to save him.

“I’m sorry, I really am, but we have to get going, as soon as we are far enough away I can heal you.”

“Where will we go?” Merlin asked, already noticeably weaker.

“To the watchtower just past the ridge. We can take shelter there long enough for me to heal you and for Morgana and her men to leave.”

Merlin nodded before using his sword to help him stand.

“Can you walk?” you asked as you helped him up.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, voice strained.

“Okay, here we go,” you said as you put his arm over your shoulder and helped support his weight. The walk took you nearly twice as long as it should have. You found Merlin some cover to rest in while you went ahead to make sure it was safe. You returned and hoisted him up, “We are almost there, and then everything will be okay I promise.”

When the two of you made it inside you were faced with a new problem...the winding staircase. You made it about halfway up before Merlin stumbled. You tried to help him up but he refused.

“Come on Merlin, we can’t stop here. Morgana’s men will be here shortly.”

“I just - I just need a minute,” he decided before asking, “How do you know this place anyways?”

“It is one of the places I stayed after what happened to my father.”

You could tell that Merlin was going to say something else, but the dogs heard in the distance were enough to still his tongue.

“Okay, minute over. We have to get up to the roof,” you said as you helped Merlin up.

By the time you got Merlin up to the roof, he was all but unconscious. You worried that through your journey his injury became worse, or maybe you had misjudged it initially. You wanted to heal him, but you had a bigger problem to deal with first. Morgana and her men had entered the tower. Knowing that they would see Merlin’s blood, Morgana was unlikely to leave until she searched every inch of it herself. You could try to seal her out, but you didn’t want to test whose power was stronger today. Especially when Merlin was unable to defend himself if you failed. Instead, you held a concealment spell, which took a significant amount of effort with two people.

“They were here! Emerys or Phúlax, maybe even both of them, and you let them slip away!” Morgana raged. You were beginning to get lightheaded and prayed that they would exit the roof.

“They couldn’t have gone far, maybe they saw us coming and took off again. We can search the surrounding areas, M’lady,” a brave knight suggested. That was all it took for Morgana to order all of her men back to their horses and into the woods to continue their search.

As soon as she was out of earshot you released the concealment. The sudden relief almost caused you to pass out, but you forced yourself over to Merlin. In the entirety of your life, you had never remembered feeling as drained as you did at that moment. But that didn’t matter, you were going to save him. As you said the healing enchantments, your power was leaving you. It was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, but you pushed on knowing that if you allowed yours to close before you were done that his would never open again. As the last words left your mouth, you collapsed in exhaustion praying to any and everything that it had worked.

You vaguely remembered being picked up. You were scared and preparing yourself for the worst until you heard Merlin’s voice. It was distant and muffled, but you could tell that it was his. You were brought comfort in the fact that no matter what happened to you that he was going to be okay. The next thing you remembered was feeling weightless and then another voice, one much more powerful and wise speaking. There was then a sensation, unlike anything that you’d ever felt before.

“She will be okay, though she will need time to recover fully. What she did was no small feat, something I am not even sure you could have survived young Warlock.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how I would have got her back here without your help,” Merlin replied.

You were finally able to force your eyes open only to see the most magnificent dragon standing before you.

“Ahhh, our friend is finally awake. It is a pleasure to meet you Phúlax.”

“You must be Kilgarrah,” you replied, trying to sit up before gasping in pain.

“Lie still young one, your body is weak and my magic works slowly.”

“Thank you for saving us,” you nod towards the dragon.

“You are the one I should thank for without you I would be without a dragon lord. But I should go, Courage and Strength are nearly here. Be warned young warlock the great war is nearly upon us. And Phúlax, your time is nearing,” he said before flying away.

“Wait! What does that mean?” Merlin called out, but it was to know avail.

His attention was redirected to you as you started coughing. He was by your side in an instant. “Hey, take it easy everything is going to be fine.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly, trying to ignore the fact that it was freezing. He trusted that Kilgarah was right and that his friends were on their way. And if on cue, familiar voices came into earshot.

“Merlin? Y/n?” you heard Gwaine call out.

“How many times are you going to call for them?” Arthur asked, slightly amused.

“Until they answer,” Gwaine said, his bravado attempting to hide his concern, “Merlin? Y/n?”

“We’re here,” Merlin called.

Gwaine and Arthur dismounted their horses and came down to where Merlin and you were situated, at this point you were practically unconscious again.

“What happened?” Arthur asked at once.

“Gaius sent Y/n and I out to get herbs before breakfast and we were caught by Morgana’s men. We escaped, but Y/n was hit by a direct blast from Morgana. We need to get her back to Gaius,” Merlin lied.

Luckily Arthur bought it no questions asked, any doubts he had overtaken by concern for you.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in your bed. You glanced around and decided that it had to be at least midday. You would be lying if you said that you were a little disappointed not to see Merlin first thing when you woke up. But you pushed that feeling aside and prepared yourself for the day. You made your way downstairs to see if Gaius had any idea where your favorite Warlock was, but as soon as you opened the door your question was answered.

Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, Leon, and Gaius were all there standing around the body of a knight. The skin on his face had grown over his face until he would have suffocated.

“In the old days this was a punishment known as Ragaid, it came only from the high priestess herself, an ultimate warning to her enemies,” Gaius explained.

“What does it mean?” Arthur asked.

“It means that Morgana has declared war,” you said, alerting everyone in the room of your presence for the first time.

[silversatoru]

the thin line between hope and despair

yelena x gn! reader

synopsis: you’re in love with yelena, and she feels nothing for for you. constant hook-ups and faded morals = very messy feelings

tags/warnings: nsfw, some smut?, angst, unrequited love, one-sided feelings, fuck buddies

word count: 2.5k

a/n: for my my sweet bby girl @brandmeyelena <3

Yelena knows what she’s doing with you isn’t right — on so many fucking levels. Taking advantage of your utter desperation for her over and over again when she knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about you. It wasn’t fair, especially for you, but she just couldn’t really find it in herself to feel sorry for someone so pitiful. You were so willing to devote yourself to her in exchange for mere crumbs of her affection, and it was pathetic. You left a sour taste in her mouth, a taste of sorrow and complete wretchedness, but you were also the perfect distraction. The perfect relief from all of her stress and all of her responsibilities with the volunteers. She was tired, and you were just so damn desperate to make her feel better — so how could she refuse? The answer was simple, she couldn’t.

That exact thought process is what landed her here today, with her fingers around your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. She knows you love it too, being used like this — the way your cheeks grow flushed and your eyes get foggy when she cuts off the circulation to your brain. But she doesn’t do it for you — Yelena enjoys these things just as much as you do, her power hungry ego being fervently stroked by dominating you like this. Pinning you underneath of her and giving you orders made her feel in control — and that was perfect, because god knows she isn’t in control of anything else in her life right now.

Get down, she’d hiss at you, pointing to the floor with her long, slender index finger. Your pathetic frame would sink to your knees instantly, wordlessly doting to her every command. She’d lean back on her shoulders, her hips propped on the edge of the bed, and give you an expectant look. You know what to do. Do it, her voice would snarl, her empty eyes swirling with hunger. You’d feverishly obey, launching yourself forward and graciously opening your mouth for her pussy. You were dedicated to your craft, taking your time and ensuring that your tongue consumed every inch of her. Yelena’s head would fall back and, raspy, wet noises gurgled from her throat. She was entirely consumed by this twisted bliss — and she was a horrible monster for letting you do these things to her, but she felt far too good to care.

So now here you were, your tongue buried deep inside her while you worked desperately to make her feel better. She was quieter than usual today — the only things to leave her lips were small groans and half-assed insults. Things like the occasional “faster” while she pulled your hair, or “stupid slut” when you weren’t doing things quite right. The slander only made you work harder however, and honestly anything that came out of the blonde woman’s mouth was music to your ears. You stared up at her with rose-colored glasses, living in a delusional world where you truly believed Yelena cared about you.

It was a dreadfully fucked up dynamic — this relationship the two of you had, if it could even be called that. One of you lived in a terrible fantasy of what could be and the other was practically incapable of feeling human emotions. It was truly only a matter of time before the world started burning around the two of you.

A very short matter of time.

Yelena was spasming underneath of you now, warm juices and shaky convulsions racking through her body and into your mouth. You drove your tongue deep against her contracting walls, your eyes squeezed shut. A disgustingly sticky mixture of her fluids and your own saliva dripped down your chin as you finally pulled away, a bitter taste hanging on your tongue.

And Yelena was always quick to leave, she never stuck around any longer than she had to. She came, she came, and then she’d pull shitty excuses out of her ass as to why she needed to leave so soon. Those reasons more often than not consisted of one person — Zeke Yeager. Whether or not there was something romantic between the two, or if she was just highly devoted to him, you could never tell. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know, honestly, because the answer might just break your heart.

Why don’t you stay tonight, Lena? You looked over at her as she pulled her trousers up her long, gangly legs. You craved something deeper with her, something more than just occasional casual sex — but it was really too bad that she didnt reciprocate those feelings at all. Sorry, there's a meeting tonight. I have to go. She’d respond, her voice dull as she carelessly brushed you off and slipped on her boots.

Will Zeke be there? Your voice always got low when you talked about him, but you made intentional efforts to hide the jealousy in your tone. Of course he’ll be there, he is the leader, she’d state dully as if this was obvious, and maybe it was, but it still made your chest ache.

You spend a lot of time with him lately, even outside of meetings, you’d state your observations out loud for the first time. Confrontation wasn’t something you enjoyed, and you certainly weren’t any good at explaining your feelings either. But your heart was starting to nag you lately, and you needed to voice your opinions before it was too late.

We’re preparing for a war, her eyes grew incredibly narrow, try not to make such selfish accusations right now. The words were like daggers of guilt stabbing between your ribs. Yelena had a way with words — a shiny silver tongue that always made you believe what she said without a doubt. You started to believe that you were being selfish — after all the war was very real and Yelena was very involved, that's probably all it was.

You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you were around more. Your voice was much quieter now, shame and remorse churning in your stomach -- maybe you would have been better off not saying anything at all.

We’re busy. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. It’s hard for me to make time right now, she’d continue to spew nonsense into your impressionable ears. She didn’t like that you were starting to question her, not at all. She’d say whatever you needed to hear to keep you around at this point — she didn’t plan on losing her little fuck-toy anytime soon. If you needed a little affection to keep you complacent, then she’d just need to put on a little show for you.

Come here, I’m sorry, her tone grew softer, but not at all sincere. You helplessly sunk into her spindly arms, and she pulled you tight to her chest. Just hold on until after the war, okay? Once we make the world a better place, we can do whatever you want.

More false hope, false promises, and false reassurance. The war would be brutal, you’d probably die at some point in a terrible event of collateral damage. You’d die and then Yelena would never need to fulfil her empty promises -- it was that easy, and you’d never know the difference.

That sounds nice, you’d smile, your heart warming at the idea of living in a free world with Yelena by your side. You fell ignorantly for her words, missing every single warning sign and every single red flag. Maybe if you’d noticed the subtle darkness in her eyes, the strain in her tone, or the way she hugged you a little too roughly, you could have saved yourself from the ensuing heartbreak. Or maybe if you had realized that with you being a scout and her being a follower of Zeke, it was unlikely that the two of you would ever work out. But you stupidly refused to consider any of these things, and it was going to cost you your heart.

That fateful memory was a few months ago, and now the both of you were in Marley, anxiously waiting for Eren’s plan to unfold. You were partnered with your friend Connie, his lips twisting into a thin line as the two of you hid in the shadows on top of an industrial building. You were incredibly capable with your 3dm gear, and even more capable with the new gun technology, but you were practically useless with your head in its current state. You watched the streets with fervent eyes, dashing them up and down nearby alleyways and hoping for any sign of Yelena. The attack hadn’t even started yet, but not knowing her whereabouts made you incredibly uneasy. She was probably wherever Zeke was, of course, but you liked to think that wherever she was, she was worried about you too.

Yelena was hiding in plain sight, dressed in a traditional Marleyan Army uniform with fake facial hair wrapped around her chin. She did as she was ordered, trapping two of the titan shifters in a large hole and then retreating back to her position. She was focused solely on her task, and on Zeke and how she could ensure his safety, and honestly, the thought of you hadn’t crossed her mind once tonight.

When Eren’s attack came, it came suddenly and violently -- and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before, or at least not since the colossal and armored titans attacked so many years ago. Before you could even take in the horrifying scene in front of you, Connie was grabbing your hand and ushering you to run, the two of you taking off with your 3dm gear. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering as your body swung through the air, frantically searching the streets for the tall, blonde woman who owned your heart. But maybe you should have paid less attention to finding her, and more attention to where you were going.

Connie’s shrill scream shook you to your core, and at first you didn’t even notice the array of guns pointed right at the two of you. A group of Marleyan soldiers were lined up atop a building, every single nozzle of their firearms preparing to shoot at you and Connie. Your friend shot his gear downwards, swooping underneath the scope of the guns and shouting at you to follow him. And you tried, you really did, but you were horribly distracted and accidentally shot your gear into the very edge of a building. The hook crumbled the corner of the building and was unable to secure itself, sending you hurling to the ground beneath you. Your breath was wiped clean from your chest as you smacked against the ground, dust and dirt filling your lungs. Connie was forced to swing up onto a higher building, narrowly avoiding the bullets and unable to come down after you. Your bones ached as you peeled yourself off the ground, looking up just to see pieces of rubble hurling towards you. What the FUCK, Eren? You silently cursed out that irresponsible titan boy, scrambling to avoid the giant chunks of building that were quickly getting closer.

You thought you’d made it, your heart beat gushing in your ears as you launched yourself towards another building, only to be knocked back down by a slab of broken concrete. Pained yelps squeezed out from your throat as your body fell helplessly back to the ground. This fall did a number on you, your ears ringing and your head pounding with a dull pain. The large piece of rubble had crashed into one of your legs, rendering your leg immobile and absolutely crushing your gear. Connie couldn’t help you, not when saving you guaranteed his own demise — you needed to do this on your own, unless-

“Yelena!” You called out to the towering woman who was stumbling towards you. Her arm was wrapped around an injured Zeke, and she was working hard to carry him to safety. Levi must have rocked his shit again, you’d have to thank him for that if you made it out of this alive.

Yelena stopped momentarily when she saw your mangled leg, but not even an ounce of concern crossed her determined face. She looked you up and down, and then glanced down at Zeke as if she was weighing her options.

“I’m sorry,” She shot you a horribly unsypathetic look, dragging her gaze away from you and hurrying off with the injured blonde boy.

It was so simple, so short, and there wasn't the smallest hint of remorse in her voice. Your brain couldn’t process how easy it was for her to leave you there, your mouth hanging open in a small “o”. You would give your life for Yelena, and she didn’t even blink when you were faced with certain death — and that’s when it all started to set in. The delusional facade that you’d imagined between the two of you was shattering, small pieces of glass memories crashing and crumbling around you. The cruel owner of your pitiful heart felt nothing for you, and it had taken this long for you to finally realize.

All of the days and nights the two of you spent entangled in each other's arms had meant nothing. All of the time you spent with your lips locked against hers and her large hands caressing your body had been devoid of anything more than lust for her. Terrible embarrassment washed up inside of you as you recalled all of the sinful things you did for this cold-hearted, unfeeling woman.

Your motivation to fight was gone, your eyes locked onto Yelena’s tall figure as she ran further away and out of view. She’d picked Zeke over you again, she always did, and she always would. She practically worshiped him, like he was some kind of fucked up, twisted god. You weren’t sure why you ever thought you could compete with that.

In the midst of your complete breakdown, a firm arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the air. Connie had come back for you, cold air stinging your face as the two of you shot up to the safety of a tall, nearby building.

“Fuck, y/n, stop being so careless! And I hope you’ll finally give up on that lanky bitch after she walked right past you like that,” he let out an exasperated breath, slumping behind a large brick wall.

“Sorry… thank you,” you mumbled, “You really shouldn’t have risked your life like that”.

“No, but that’s what people are supposed to do when they care about each other. Is it finally sinking in, that she's been using you for the past year? I tried to tell you so many time-,” He continued to ramble on in frustration.

Every one of his words poured salt into your already burning wounds, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. Yelena didn’t care about you, she never did — she’d never even sacrificed time for you, never mind compromising her or Zeke’s safety for you. And you were stupidly ignorant to ever think that she saw you as more than a toy she used to pass the time.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 7: Sneaky Temperature Check

Title: In Which Howl Worries About Sophie

Fandom: Howl's Moving Castle (book)

Sophie is tired and careworn and doesn't realize she has fallen ill. Howl comes to her rescue once more, and turns out to be an awfully good caretaker.

(For those who have only seen the movie: Elementary school-age "Markl" in the movie is high school-age Michael in the book. Howl, Sophie, and Calcifer are very much the same.)

Most of the time, living in a moving castle with a wizard and a fire demon made for a very interesting life, and a vastly different one than Sophie had led trimming hats for her family’s hat shop. However, there were times Sophie was grateful for her upbringing, especially when it came to helping to raise her younger sisters. After all, being able to care for someone who needs help is a skill no one should lack.

That was driven home to Sophie not long after the dramatic events involving the Witch of the Waste and her fire demon. Howl and Sophie had broken spells and contacts galore, and were well set up to live happily ever after in the moving castle, with a newly-freed Calcifer along for the ride. However, not a week after the Witch and her fire demon were defeated, Michael came down with a bad cold. Sophie chalked it up to all the stress from the weeks prior, and too much magic flying around. Howl hardly seemed to notice his apprentice sneezing all over everyone, and was much more interested in Sophie, now that she was back to her proper age and properly in love with him. 

It wasn't until Michael's cold took a turn for the worse and he was laid up in bed and not around to help that Howl paid it any mind. However, as everyone knows, there's no cure for a cold, not even with magic. In a matter of days, despite Sophie's efforts, Michael became seriously ill when his cold developed into a nasty case of pneumonia. After this, Sophie hardly left his side. She felt unreasonably guilty that she had somehow caused this, or hadn't cared for him properly in his cold's early stages. Sophie's sister Martha and Michael had plans to get married after Michael's apprenticeship, so of course Martha was beside herself as well. The sisters practically lived in Michael's room during those days, keeping watch to ensure he got no worse, as he lay in bed wheezing laboriously.

Michael finally did start to improve, with some assistance from Howl's magic, and Sophie and Martha breathed a little easier along with Michael. However, since Martha had her own apprenticeship to worry about, Sophie still felt quite obligated to sit often by Michael's bedside and keep him company, especially when Martha was working. 

Howl clearly began to feel neglected. He dealt with it admirably when Michael was most ill, but when Michael started to recover, Howl began to seek some attention as well.

"Sophie, come out and walk in the garden with me. It's a beautiful day. Perhaps we can even pick some flowers and reopen the flower shop today.

"Sophie, I just read about a very interesting spell that you might like. Come here and I'll teach you.

"Sophie, come tell me how you'd like your room laid out so I can start to modify the castle. You can't sleep under the stairs forever.

"Sophie, come here and sit by the fire with me. Calcifer is bored and wants you to talk to him.

"Sophie, the bathroom is a mess. I need your help to clean it.

The petitions quickly went from hopeful to petulant. Sophie sensed his frustration. However, she was too concerned about Michael and Martha to pay him much mind. She had an excuse every time as to why she couldn't rest.

"I don't have time for flowers right now. I need to make another pot of broth.

"My mind is too scattered to learn a new spell. Another day. 

"I couldn't think straight enough to plan a whole room. And I really don't need to move. My cubby hole is perfectly fine.

"I can't sit when I have bedding to clean, and anyway my voice is worn out from reading to Michael.

"Then clean it yourself! I'm not the only one who can scrub.

As Howl became more annoying, Sophie became angrier, until she was brushing him off before he even spoke with a look or a curt gesture, especially when he began to ask if she was coming down with something and she had to tell him she was fine multiple times a day.  At one point  there was only icy silence between them after she snapped at him for standing in front of Calcifer when she needed to cook, and he called her a nagging fishwife. When she shot back saying that must mean he was the fish, Howl stormed out to Market Chipping in high temper. She didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

A few days after their fight, Sophie again found herself in front of Calcifer cooking. Michael finally had an appetite for something other than broth, and with Calcifer gone for part or all of most days when it wasn't raining, she took the opportunity to cook on him whenever she could. However, for once she wasn't chatting with the demon, but was simply attending to her task in a haze of fatigue. After a moment, she sensed Howl standing at her side looking at her, which flared up a familiar spark of irritation.

"If you tell me to "come" do anything with you today, I'm going to scream, Howl. Don't bother me," she said, not looking at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Howl conjure up a chair and push it behind her. "I'm not asking you to come anywhere, I'm asking you to sit right where you are. Please rest for a bit, Sophie dear. You look as if you're about to collapse."

The true concern in his voice made her bite back the sharp response on her tongue. She let a small sigh escape instead, which turned into a dry, raspy cough. "I just haven't been getting much rest," she said after a moment. "I'm all right."

"You've also kept that cough for weeks now, and it's getting worse and not better. Sit, please. I insist on it. I'll watch the bacon."

"I'm just a little under the weather," she mumbled weakly. Yet she found herself sinking into the chair almost against her will. The fact that he was being so insistent intrigued her even in her tired state, since he was usually so non-confrontational. "I'll sit for just a moment to please you. But don't even think about sitting with me. I'm still mad at you, and I don't want to talk."

"Not a word to you will cross my lips," he said primly. The fact that he wasn't taking the bait to pick a fight with her was also suspicious. She watched him closely out of the corner of her eye, leaning back into the chair as she did. She really did feel much better sitting down and breathed a small sigh of relief, which became another cough. She tried to lean back and rest as she had been instructed to do. It occurred to her that she had been more lightheaded these past few days than she had been the whole time she was an old woman.

True to his word meanwhile, Howl took over the bacon, wrapping a gilded sleeve around the handle and striking up conversation with Calcifer, which Sophie didn't bother to follow. Instead she sleepily admired Howl's handsome profile, and thought for the hundredth time how much better his eyes looked now that he had his heart back. The pendant in his ear danced as he spoke, and watching it sway lulled her into a doze almost immediately.

She woke with a start when she felt something press against her face, which turned out to be Howl's hand.

"I knew it," he crowed. "You *are*feverish. Otherwise you would never be so irritable. Poor, dear Sophie, you must've caught Michael's cold. I imagine you're feeling awful."

She brushed his hand away wearily. "And so what if I am? There's too much to do. I don't have time to be ill."

Howl frowned, then without a word he effortlessly picked her up, bridal-style, and began to carry her up the stairs. 

She tried to push his arms away, but he was stronger than he appeared for how slight he was-- or else he was using magic. She wore herself out quickly fighting him, instead succumbing to a coughing fit.

He carried her directly up to his bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. She half-heartedly tried to roll off the other side to get down, but Howl stopped her with one hand. As she sunk into the obscenely comfortable mattress, the weight of her fatigue fell over her fully, and she stopped fighting, instead yawning hugely. 

"There now, you see? You're exhausted. And you're not leaving this bed for a few days until you're better, lest I have two cases of pneumonia on my hands.”

"But I can't stay in your bed. I should be in my bed," said Sophie sleepily, even as Howl tucked her in.

"I won't let you sleep on that straw mattress one more day. Before you're recovered, you shall have a proper room and bed. Be honest Sophie, the reason you're so against having a real room here is because that makes your being here and what you and I have together permanent, and that scares you. That's why you've been avoiding me too. Michael being ill was just a convenient excuse."

Sophie guiltily avoided his eyes. "I suppose that might be true. It's just such a big change, moving in permanently. And it's all so surreal still. Sometimes I think you and all of this must be a dream, because it feels too good to be true."

Howl took her hand tenderly, kneeling by the bed. "And I thought I was supposed to be the one afraid of commitment, not you. Dearest, I feel the very same way. I'm terrified to see where this road leads, as well as terribly excited. But we'll go slow and take our time and figure it out together. That's what we seem to be good at, if nothing else.

Sophie kissed his hand, a wave of emotion flooding through her. "Thank you, Howl. I needed to hear that." A nasty bout of coughing prevented her from saying anything further.

"And here I'm keeping you talking when you're ill. Hush now and rest. Here, drink some broth. It's yours so I'm sure it's wonderful. I haven't seen you eat properly in days." He conjured a bowl and spoon out of nowhere.

"I can barely swallow. My throat is too sore," she mumbled, embarrassed at how much he had been noticing, while she had been ignoring him.

"Just a little for now, to give you some strength. I'll mix a potion for your throat in a bit. You're under my care now, never fear."

"What about Michael? He needs looking after too," she croaked wearily, sipping on the broth, which was indeed delicious.

"I'll be fine with Martha's help. You need looking after more," came a weak voice from behind them. Both quickly turned to find Michael leaning in the doorway, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket, and looking as pale and weary as he did determined. 

"I knew you were getting sick too," Michael continued. "You've been so tired and subdued. I told Howl he needed to check on you."

"Not that I needed him telling me so! I already had planned to look after you," Howl said, giving Michael an injured look.

Sophie couldn't help but smile at the two men in her life, tired as she was. She knew whatever else her future would be in the moving castle, she would never want for entertainment or affection ever again. 

[iceeckos12]

Prompt: Jongerrymartin but make it noir.

HI PIT. this was probably not what you were expecting, but hope you enjoy *jazz hands* this is current jongerry, pre-jgm

please let me know if i should tag anything!

Martin stared up at the faded gold lettering painted on the door, wiping a clammy palm against the fabric of his trousers. The other gripped his manila folder tightly, refusing to loosen his grip for even a second, not after all the trouble he’d gone through to get it.

Delano & Sims, the words read. Private Detectives.

He’d talked to one of them over the phone yesterday, a man with an achingly posh accent, who’d said to come at precisely fourteen hundred hours and not a moment later. That clipped, dry tone had almost been enough to scare him off, but...no, he needed this too much to run away.

Martin took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called, and he pushed inside.

The first thing he noticed were the swirls of cigarette smoke so thick that the weak light overhead glowed a thin silver. His eyes immediately began to water at the intensity of the smell, and he desperately wanted to bury his nose in his collar.

There was an exasperated sigh from one shrouded corner of the room, and then, “Christ—Jon, open the window, would you?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” There was a clatter as the blinds lifted, and then a solid thunk, and suddenly fresh air and natural light was pouring through the open window, throwing the room in stark relief.

“Sorry about that,” the man next to the window said, leaning heavily on a handsome wooden cane. He was just a wisp of a thing, dressed in a sweater vest like he was some sort of professional academic, with salt and pepper grey hair and dark, keen eyes. “Forgot we had someone coming.”

This must be the person I talked to over the phone, Martin realized. Sims.

“Do me a favor and try not to kill our clients, Jon.” He quickly turned to look at Delano—who else could it be?—who was stepping away from the fan now juddering to life, swirling the quickly dissipating smoke. It was almost startling how different the two partners were; where Sims was thin and short, Delano was tall and wiry, with inky black hair and cool, gunmetal eyes. The weathered leather trench coat and chunky boots had obviously seen some better days.  “We need all the ones we can get.”

Martin’s face flushed as he was struck by how unfairly attractive these two people were.

“Duly noted,” Sims drawled, limping over to the heavy desk stacked high with papers. He set the cane aside and propped himself against it with a quiet sigh, then gestured toward one of the ratty looking chairs. “Take a seat, Mr. Blackwood.”

Martin shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I don’t…”

“No need to stand on decorum, not around here.” Delano pointedly plopped into the chair behind the desk, grin wide and toothy. “Jon just likes to pretend that we’re more professional than we actually are.”

“We’re professional,” Sims protested, sounding deeply offended. “Just...unorthodox.”

“Well, alright,” Martin said, and lowered into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

Delano cleared his throat. “Right. So what brings you to us, Mr. Blackwood?”

Martin thought for a moment, not wanting to speak rashly, or to give away anything too personal. “Well, I’ve heard rumors that you two are capable of...discretion, so to speak, and I would prefer that this doesn’t get spread around.”

“Ah.” Sims’ eyes quickly flicked up and down his body, one eyebrow raising. “Out of curiosity, can I ask who referred you to us?”

“Tim Stoker?” Martin shuffled. “He said that you helped him out of a similar bind not too long ago.”

Sims and Delano glanced at each other, their eyebrows doing a complicated little dance, though what information could’ve been conveyed through such a medium, Martin had no clue. They turned to look at him again in unison, expressions very serious.

“When you say similar…” Delano trailed off.

Martin immediately shook his head. “Oh, nothing to do with the Circus. I’m not stupid enough to get involved with them after what happened with Tim and his brother.”

They both relaxed immediately.

“That’s good for you,” Delano told him. “We’ve run afoul of Nikola and her merry band far too many times for comfort. If you’d said you’d gotten on her bad side, I’m afraid we would’ve had to ask you to leave.”

Martin glanced at Sims, who was staring very hard at his feet, then Delano, who was observing him calmly, patiently, the way a bird of prey sights down a mouse. “Oh.”

“Quite,” Sims murmured.

“Anyway,” Delano gave a wide, grandiose gesture. “Please. Why have you come to us?”

The manila folder suddenly felt very, very heavy, and he fiddled with one of the corners, rubbing the material between his fingers. “Well...I work for this, um, this shipping company. I mostly do busywork, administrative tasks, that sort of thing. It’s not very glamorous, but it—it pays really well, despite the company being kind of small.” Martin traced the grain of the paper with one finger. “I think it handles a lot of….specialty items.”

“And the name of this company?” Sims asked, pen poised over the little notebook he’d appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Anxiety plummeted his stomach into his toes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable giving away that information.”

Delano’s eyebrows rose. “Discretion, remember? Besides, we’ll need to know if we’re going to be able to help you.”

“If we decide to help you,” Sims muttered.

Martin took a few fortifying breaths, swallowing the nausea down. “Right,” he murmured. “Right. It’s, um...Tundra shipping company? Run by Mr. Peter Lukas.”

Sims went very, very still, pen poised above his notebook, expression fixed like it’d been molded into his face. Delano loomed forward, the gunmetal of his eyes gleaming like the sun reflecting off of a loaded barrel. “Is that so?”

Martin glanced toward Sims, wondering at his demeanor, then turned back to Delano and nodded. “Yeah. You two—you know him?”

“Do we.” Delano let out a dry chuckle. “Continue.”

“Right.” Martin shook his head. “Well, one day I was doing some bookkeeping, just...routine stuff, you know? But I noticed something off with the numbers, like...really wrong. And I double checked my math several times just to make sure, but…” he swallowed. “I think that someone may be cooking the books, or...or something. I don’t know.

“Anyway, I went back the next day but the numbers had been changed, and—and Mr. Lukas called me into his office and said some really weird stuff that I think may have been a threat? It was hard to tell.” Martin shook his head, biting his lip. “There’s been other stuff, too. Contracts with companies that I know don’t exist, visitors at odd hours. I think something really rotten is going on, but I don’t think that I can handle it myself.”

Delano and Sims shared an unhappy look. Then Sims pushed away from the desk and began to circle the perimeter of the room, his eyebrows furrowing into a thunderstorm on his brow.

“We’d love to finally be able to pin something substantial on the bastard—on Lukas,” Delano said. “But insinuating those types of claims without a shred of evidence...that’s a nonstarter. We’re going to need a little bit more than that.”

“But I do have evidence?” Martin asked, lifting the manila folder. “I took photocopies of the pages, and notated where the discrepancies were.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t about to just write on official financial records. There’s also some of the weird contracts I was talking about. I kept copies of everything.”

Sims, who’d walked out of sight while Martin had been talking, suddenly appeared behind him, reaching for the folder. “Can I see?”

“Be careful with it, that’s the only copy,” Martin said nervously, but handed it over.

Sims walked back over to the desk, hopped up on the edge, and eagerly tipped the contents of the folder on the space between him and Delano. They quickly sifted through the papers, wordlessly handing things to each other like a seamless, well-oiled machine.

“This is good.” Delano’s voice was almost hushed, almost awed. “This is...really good, actually.”

“But you see why I can’t go to the police with this, right?” Martin twisted his hands fitfully. “You see why I need your help.”

“Of course not,” Sims said dismissively, though there was an eager gleam in his eyes. “The police are so deep in Lukas’ pocket you might as well have kissed your life goodbye if you’d gone to them.”

“Oh.” Martin swallowed, trying and failing to come up with anything more intelligent than that. “Oh.”

Delano drummed his fingers against the desk pensively. “Speaking of, it wouldn’t be a good idea to pursue this recklessly. We appreciate you bringing this to us, but it does put you in a significant amount of danger. Do you have friends or family outside the country you can stay with, Mr. Blackwood?”

“Um…” He had cousins in Poland, he was pretty sure. Whether or not they would take him in was another question entirely. “Possibly.”

Sims reluctantly gathered the papers up and slid them back into the manila folder, before holding it out. “Come back when you’ve got something lined up.”

Martin lifted a quelling hand as he got to his feet. “I’d...prefer you hold onto it, honestly. It’s probably safer with you.”

Sims blinked, then shrugged and set the folder back down. “I see.”

“We’ll be seeing you later, Mr. Blackwood.” Delano’s grin was a sharp, toothy thing. Despite its grimness, Martin found himself inexplicably comforted by it.

“Please,” he corrected before he could help himself. “Call me Martin.”

-0-

“So,” Gerry said, long after Martin had left and the excitement had faded. He filled a glass with some ice, then tipped a finger of whisky over the top. “What do you think?”

“I don’t trust him,” Jon said almost before Gerry had finished talking, accepting the glass with a quiet murmur of thanks. “It’s a bit too good to be true. After years of searching, someone just...emerges with hard evidence of Peter’s wrongdoings?” An incredulous snort. “I don’t think so.”

Gerry propped himself up against the edge of the desk, staring at the dark bags under his partner’s eyes, the cynical curve of his mouth. He looked exhausted. “You never know,” he said mildly, taking a sip of his whiskey sour before continuing. “I think we’re about due for a lucky break.”

“We don’t get lucky breaks. We get fooled into thinking that we have a lucky break, only to get royally fucked later,” Jon snapped, thumping his cane against the ground for emphasis. “You should know that by now.”

Gerry frowned. “Don’t take this out on me.”

Jon metaphorical hackles went up, and for a moment it looked as though he were about to start shouting—but then he abruptly deflated and looked away. “No, you’re right, it’s just…”

Gerry sighed. It was difficult to stay angry at Jon when he bore such a striking resemblance to a kicked puppy. “I get it.”

They fell silent for a moment, sipping their drinks, lost in their respective thoughts.

“Shall we go?” Gerry asked, setting his glass aside.

Jon paused for a moment longer, before letting out a long, gusty sigh and draining what was left in his drink. “Sure.”

The elevator was still broken, so unfortunately they had to take the stairs. While Gerry knew better than to offer any assistance, his heart still clenched at how tight with pain Jon’s jaw had gone by the time they reached the bottom. They stopped for a few seconds to let Jon get his breath back, before continuing toward home.

About a block away from the office, they froze at the sound of pounding footsteps growing unmistakably closer.

“Hear that?” Jon murmured out of the corner of his mouth, the dying light of the sun glinting off the switchblade in his free hand.

“Mmhm,” Gerry hummed, slipping a hand into his pocket.

Martin was very, very lucky that Gerry recognized him as he rounded the corner; otherwise, it was very likely that Jon would’ve run him through. As it was, Martin crashed into them both, gasping frantically for air, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with abject terror.

“Martin?” Jon demanded, shoving the switchblade away. “What the hell are you—”

“They’re after me,” Martin gasped out, scrabbling at Gerry’s coat. “They—I don’t know how they found out, but they, Peter, he—”

“Shit,” Gerry muttered, suddenly becoming aware of the second set of pounding footsteps growing nearer. He took a moment to assess their surroundings, before grabbing Martin’s shoulders and hauling him into the nearby alley. “Martin, hide behind that dumpster. Jon, distraction time.”

Despite the situation, Jon’s eyes lit up with an exhilarated gleam. Gerry had just enough time to fondly think, adrenaline junkie, before Jon tucked his cane over his wrist, twisted his hands in Gerry’s lapels, and shoved him against the wall for a bruising kiss.

Gerry gasped into Jon’s mouth, his hands instinctively falling to cup Jon’s slim hips. He deepened the kiss, humming encouragingly when Jon shoved his jacket over his shoulders, exposing the thin black t-shirt beneath.

Jon was just beginning to press little kisses down the juncture of his jaw and neck when the harsh beam of a torch fell on them. Jon, who’d been a drama queen long before he’d joined am dram in uni, pulled away with a theatrical gasp, his annoyance almost startlingly genuine. Gerry tucked his face out of the way and adjusted his jacket, affecting embarrassment.

“Do you mind?” Jon asked.

“Oh,” the person on the other end of the torch said, sounding distinctly uncomfortable. Gerry tried to peek a look, but the beam was too strong for him to see into the darkness beyond it. “Sorry to disturb you sirs, um...you wouldn’t happen to have seen a person—?”

“No, we haven’t seen a person.” Keeping one hand curled in Gerry’s jacket, Jon took a step back, lifting his chin defiantly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we were busy.”

“Right,” the person muttered, and then the torchlight abruptly vanished, dropping them once more into the dying light of the sun.

They stood there for a moment, Jon breathing hard, cheeks flushed. Gerry tipped his head back against the wall, letting his eyes flutter shut as his pumping heart slowed.

Then the grip in his collar loosened, and Jon let out a pained groan and sank against the wall. “Fuck.”

“Alright, take it easy,” Gerry murmured. He pressed a kiss against Jon’s hair and rubbed a soothing hand against his back. “You did beautifully.” Then louder, “Martin, you can come out now.”

There was a brief pause, and then a shadow tentatively emerged from behind the dumpster. Martin looked far less rattled than he had when he’d first run around the corner, though there was still a healthy flush to his cheeks. He peered up the alley, wringing his hands. “Are they…”

“For now,” Jon said, grimacing as he dug his knuckles into the tight muscles. “We should leave before they get back.”

Martin’s eyes honed in on him. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jon snapped, straightening. “You should be more worried about yourself. You can’t go home, right?”

The question seemed to remind Martin of the current situation, because his eyes went a little wild again. “No, they...I left to do a bit of shopping, and then came back and, and there they were.”

They fell silent for a moment, considering that.

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” Jon said brusquely. “You’ll have to come home with us.”

“What?” Martin gaped.

Gerry was already nodding. “We don’t have much room, but we can make up the couch for you.”

That only seemed to make Martin all the more aghast. “Wait! Wait, won’t that put you in danger?”

Gerry looked up and met Jon’s gaze.

“We have...a certain degree of protection,” Gerry hazarded delicately. “It won’t do much against the likes of Peter himself, but lesser threats…”

“You’ll be fine,” Jon completed. “Now unless you want to run into them again, we had better get going.”

Martin glanced mutely between them, looking like he wanted nothing more than to argue. Then his shoulders slumped, probably realizing that he had no other choice considering how dire the situation was.

“Alright,” he murmured, defeated. “Let’s go.”

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Raising The-Boy-Who-Lived

(Part 1)

Decided to write a wolfstar raising Harry au, which may turn into a long fic, which is why I’m publishing it on tumblr so it doesn’t seem so intimidating.

~

Sirius stared blankly at the ruined house of Godric’s Hollow. The roof was half destroyed, the windows smashed right out of their frames, and the entire place was submerged in darkness.

“James... Lily... Harry...” Sirius almost couldn’t bring himself to enter, desperate to put it off for as long as possible. But something compelled him into moving. Hope compelled him.

The front door was off its hinges, one push nearly sent it crashing to the ground.

Sirius could see him. There, on the landing, lying face up and motionless.

“No...” he breathed, running up to James’s body. Maybe he was just stunned. Stupefied. Anything but...

“No no no NO!” His breaths turned to wails. There was no doubt about it. James was dead. “Please, please don’t do this, please...” He was blinded by tears and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move from his best friend’s side.

How could this have happened? Just a few hours ago he and Remus had come round for Halloween, before Remus had to return to the pack of werewolves that Dumbledore had stationed him with, a task he was not looking forward to. But they’d all had a laugh, drinking, eating, playing with Harry. They’d all expressed their disappointment at Peter not being able to join them.

Sirius held James even tighter as his breath hitched.

Peter... That bastard... That traitorous, cowardly, sneaking, lying bastard... Sirius shook in anger. That man would pay for what he did. The pain Sirius wanted to inflict upon him, more and more until he begged for death, and...

Sirius stopped. Something caught his ear. A cry. Crying.

A baby crying.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Harry!” He forced himself away from James and ran in the direction of the crying, towards the nursery...

Where he found Lily.

“Please, no...” he had to support himself on the doorframe as he stared at the second body, sinking to his knees as he held her hand tightly in his.

“Lily, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobbed under his breath.

The room had gone silent when he entered, but he suddenly heard noises from the corner of the room as Harry began crying again. Sirius immediately went to him, pure relief quickly replacing his grief as it flooded through his body at the sight of the child alive and well. He picked up the crying baby, and held him to his chest, expecting him to break at the smallest touch, a mirage shattering in front of him.

But Harry was okay. There was a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt but other than that he seemed okay.

“Sweet boy, sweet, sweet boy...” Harry began to calm down, exhausted as he was from crying. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll protect you. No one’s going to hurt you, no one will ever hurt you.” Sirius had to get Harry out of here. He didn’t know what Dumbledore was planning, but he couldn’t guarantee that Harry would be allowed to stay with him.

“No one will take you away from me,” promised Sirius firmly. “I’m your godfather. I’ll look after you.” Sirius didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to take Harry away from his parents forever. But Dumbledore would be quick to find out. Sirius had no time to lose.

He bent down towards Lily and kissed her on the forehead.

“Your son is safe...” he whispered against her ear, reluctantly standing up, Harry in his arms, and crossing the threshold underneath the doorway back into the hall.

When he returned to James, he allowed himself to sit next to him for a moment. He didn’t like James’s unseeing eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. Sirius gently shut them for him.

“Goodbye, Prongs.” His voice broke. He never imagine he’d be saying these words. “You were the best friend anyone could have asked for. Thank you.” Sirius heard a loud CRACK! from behind the house. Someone had apparated into the garden.

“Shit...” Sirius gave one last look at his friend, and turned to leave. The now sleeping Harry still tucked under his arm.

His motorcycle was stood outside. He only had around five seconds to charm the side car, in order to make it safe for Harry to lie in as they made their escape. He couldn’t risk carrying Harry himself while driving. So he slipped Harry onto the padded seat, careful not to wake him up, and placed an invisible barrier around the entire area to ensure there was no way for the baby to fall out. Sirius also made sure the inside was protected from the cold and the wind.

He could see the light of a wand within the house. He had no more time to waste, and he jumped onto the front seat of the motorbike, kicking the stand away and launching the engine into life. There was no doubt that he’d be heard immediately by whomever was in the house, but by the time they reached the front door, it would be too late.

Sirius and Harry were gone.

~ So now he was on the run. He was on the run with an orphaned baby, and nowhere to go. He couldn’t go back to his flat. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together the sound of a motorcycle engine and a disappearing baby to work out that Sirius had taken Harry. Dumbledore would be banging his door down within the hour.

Sirius’s first thought was to go to Remus.

But oh Merlin. Remus wouldn’t yet know... he’d have to tell him the news. Not only that, but he’d have to tell Remus that they’d changed secret keepers without telling him.

Remus would hate him. What if he blamed Sirius for getting James and Lily killed? If they’d never changed secret keepers this never would have happened, and it was Sirius’s idea in the first place.

No... he couldn’t think like that. It was Peter’s fault, it was all Peter’s fault.

And where the fuck was Peter right now? In hiding no doubt. Ran off as soon as the deed was done, the cowardly bastard. Sirius was so angry he almost turned the motorcycle around to go after Peter himself.

But then he glanced at the sleeping baby beside him, and he calmed down. He was angry, yes. Hurt, betrayed, furious. But Harry was his priority right now. Nothing else mattered. Everything else could wait. He just needed to get Harry to safety.

But first he had to find Remus. Which would involve entering a forest filled with feral werewolves. How would he do that? And how would he do that without putting Harry in any danger?

The forest was all the way in Wales. Dumbledore had put Remus there, knowing  that he was the perfect man for the job. He’d fit right in with all the other Welsh werewolves. Remus didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go back to his homeland to live his life as a monster. Not where he’d grown up as a little boy. But Dumbledore was adamant.

“They’re Welsh-speaking,” Dumbledore had explained. “You’re the only person who can infiltrate them.” Eventually Remus had reluctantly agreed. Sirius was rather satisfied in thinking that he was on his way to get Remus out of there. Away from the forest. Away from the other werewolves. Away from Dumbledore’s orders, and the Order of the...

The Order. Sirius couldn’t go back to the Order, not now. But shit... he couldn’t just abandon them.

‘Now’s not the time,’ he thought. He’d think through the logistics with Remus when they were all safe.

~ It took hours to reach the forest. Harry hadn’t woken up yet, which was a relief. But Sirius acted like a mother hen when they had landed. He finally had time to properly check Harry over, making sure he had no other injuries besides the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. But no. He seemed fine. He was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of how drastically his life had changed in the past few hours.

It was dark. Dark, cold... and scary. He hated the thought of Remus having to live here. Out in the open, sleeping on the ground, at the mercy of the harsh Welsh weather.

How was he going to find him? He could be anywhere in the huge forest. And how could he find him without alerting any of the other werewolves? And he couldn’t possibly take Harry with him. But he couldn’t leave him out here on his own either.

He really hadn’t thought this through.

But wait... he suddenly remembered a passing instruction that Dumbledore had given Remus.

“Make sure you wake up early. Before it gets light. Before any of the other werewolves wake up. If I need you, I shall be there at those hours and I shall send up red sparks into the sky. Meet me outside the forest when you see them, and don’t let anyone spot you.”

What time was it? Judging by the sky, it was on the verge of getting light. It couldn’t have been any more than around four or five in the morning, and the days were getting shorter.

Sirius raised his wand and send up three consecutive sparks, and waited.

It was around five minutes later that he spotted movement, and very soon he could make out the tall figure of his friend. This was it. He had to tell him everything. He took a deep breath, and readied himself.

“Sirius? What the hell are you doing here? And what... why- why do you have Harry?” At Sirius’s delayed reply, fear shot across Remus’s eyes. Sirius studied him for a second, taking in the shabby clothes he’d been wearing when he’d left Godric’s Hollow, barely a day ago now, and the pale skin which was already looking sallow. Sirius couldn’t compose himself for long though, and he felt himself breaking down.

“Moony, I’m sorry. But they’re gone. James and Lily are gone. He got to them. He got to them and it’s all my fault.” 

[thefirsthogokage]

Ok, watched Organized Crime 1.05, and I have some thoughts. Don't know if anyone else has had these thoughts as well since I was trying to be good and not look for spoilers.

Spoilers Below

(I can't do cuts on mobile, sorry)

For the EO shippers who were probably pissed about Elliot "having feelings" for Angela, don't worry too much. I mean yeah, there was that ending, so you might not be worried about their future, but...well, just, "walk" with me here for a second.

Elliot kissed her, yes, but did you notice his face when he left? There wasn't a hint of surprise or shock, meaning he knew what he was doing. He sighed in relief; he had gotten his task done (one Elliot wasn't too fond of, to be sure). If he really felt himself having feelings for her this shortly after his wife's murder, he wouldn't have been that solid, he would have been upset with himself. He definitely wasn't. Meloni is too good of an actor to not have played all that deliberately the way he did with his facial expressions (the sigh was likely scripted, though, those things tend to be).

And as @ksuew who was watching with me pointed out, the music felt indicative of not what it seemed on the surface, too. But I didn't even think about the music until she pointed it and then I asked her what her take on it was (after we already discussed that he's playing Angela):

"I think on the side of him playing her. But could also just indicate “danger”. But I feel like that trill would have been before he saw her instead of as he was leaving if it just meant danger."

I completely agree. And I that kind of music felt like the kind you would hear in other shows and movies that plays when a plan - specifically one of manipulation - is in motion.

And you know what, Elliot really does look better after that scene. Liv says so too. He's more stable, not on edge looking; I think it's because he knows he has Angela hooked. He's got an upper hand. He's got something Wheatley doesn't have. He was able to get stability back because he has his claws hooked into something close to the inside of everything going on: Angela. It's a dangerous game with how he interacts with her the rest of the episode, basically kind of trying to push her away, in a way that might have caused her to say, "you're right, we need to stop." But Elliot has placed himself in precarious positions before. And maybe he does kind of like her, does feel a connection with her because of what she's been through too, but he is still playing her. He really did get lucky though because she kept pushing. His way in could have died right there if she wasn't wanting it so bad. And you would think, he wouldn't be dumb enough to actually fully get involved with someone so close to the guy he thinks had his wife killed. And yet, he asked her out? Why? Because he was planning on playing her.

Another reason I feel strongly he could be playing her, in this video (at somepoint, I watched it yesterday so I don't remember when in the video it comes up and I'm not going to watch it again) Chris talks about how Stabler and Wheatley are mirrors of each other and are very much alike (if I'm remembering what he said correctly). And Wheatley plays people, and this interview feels like it could help foreshadow that we'll find out Elliot is capable of that too.

Aside from all the character, music, and interview analysis, you could also think about it from a writing perspective. Think about how long-form stories and mysteries are told nowadays: with twists. The more twists the better, some people think. Them saying Angela was the one who ordered the hit? That's (supposed to be*) a twist. But to make a "good" mystery nowadays, you need more than one twist. Elliot was going in to play her? Another twist. Elliot being nice, even soft to her in the teaser for next week when accusing her of his wife's murder? He's still trying to get something else from her.

*(I say "supposed to be" because I called this to @ksuew last episode after we talked about this whole romantic vibe between her and Elliot and she got suspicious and I was like, "so, you think she killed Kathy for some reason?" and then I decided that was probably the answer based on like two lines of another theory I saw on here somewhere that felt like spoilers because it made sense, and I'm not going to spoil anyone on that theory because I wouldn't have wanted the spoilers (I read those two sentences because I didn't think it would be good. Sorry to that person, I just didn't expect watchers of this show to come up with something like that.)) - On second thought, there could also be another twist here too, and maybe she wasn't the only one responsible for Kathy's, or maybe she even isn't at all, or maybe she's still more involved in everything. Not sure.

Elliot was playing her. He didn't expect her to be in on Kathy's murder though. He thought she'd help lead him to Wheatley and take him down for her murder.

Now, before anyone gets upset that this is delaying Elliot and Olivia getting together, two things:

One, they did not get Chris Meloni to come back to Law & Order just to play a love interest. Do you really think the guy who went off and explored new things in acting and the industry for the last decade would really come back after a bad parting solely to be a supporting character in someone else's story? Really? You think he'd do that? No way.

This goes hand-in-hand/overlaps with the second thing: this is Chris's show. It isn't an extension of Mariska's show, or something else to solely tell Olivia's story, this is Chris's own show. He needs his own work to do and his own story to tell, one with Stabler's own storyline. And people need to respect that. This isn't just creating drama to keep Elliot and Olivia apart, this is giving Chris his own story that, while it can connect Elliot and Olivia at times, it is his and needs to allow him to stand on his own. They are making sure to start with his separate story. Mariska and Olivia got that for 10 years. It's his turn to do things with Stabler away from Olivia for a while and in the mean time things are being kept interesting for fans via the crossovers. And as Mariska said, 'you don't usually get the chance to stay on your own show while it becomes a completely different show.' (or something very similar) This is Chris's chance to get that with Elliot.

So, yes, I think we will get EO. No, I don't think we have serious feelings to worry about between Elliot and Angela or anyone else. But yes, it could take a while because you have to remember here, this show is Chris's, not Chris and Mariska's. It's not being made solely to get Elliot and Olivia together, it's something for Chris to do as an actor. Again, let him stand on his own with his own story like Mariska got the chance to for a decade.