#it was funny the first time he ran off to a shelter rather than answering the ethics committee's questions about project olympia

[davenweenie]

Lab Rats Headcanons

Except most of them are about Chase.

-Chase is grandma Rose’s favourite step-grandchild, Leo is obviously her favourite all around.

-the Davenport-Dooley’s have never met Donald and Douglas’s parents, I don’t think they ever will for many reasons.

-Chase used to be insecure about being short but now that he’s older he sees it as an advantage during fights and battles because he’s hard to catch/can get low enough to avoid hits from taller opponents. He’s also ‘slippery’ aka fast and quick, can get out of the hold of an opponent pretty quickly.

-Chase has a search engine in his brain, like he can literally look up answers to questions in less than seconds. He’s like a human Google.

-Chase hates Spike, despises would actually be a better word. He hates that Adam, Bree and Leo trigger Spike on the occasion because they think it’s funny (*cough* their first day at school *cough*). He wakes up not knowing what happened, what Spike has done, who he’s hurt and what property he’s damaged and it’s terrifying not knowing.

-Spike made an appearance during their time in the Elite Force. Chase’s Commando App was triggered by a news station that had made awful remarks about the EF (about Skylar and Bree’s relationship more specifically, they were very homophobic to them) and Chase had just gotten so angry that it triggered Spike to come out. He ended up ripping the TV off the wall, smashing it to pieces and basically going on a rampage. Chase is glad that Spike couldn’t figure out how to get down into Mission Command. It took about an hour for him to calm down enough that the app disengaged. It was a lot of explaining to do to his teammates.

-Chase and Kaz once got chased by the paparazzi, Kaz flipped them off as he ascended to the heavens (well, the skies of Centium City) with Chase in his arms who was laughing a lot. Thank the wonderful world of being able to fly.

-the Elite Force all saved up to get tickets to see Harry Styles for Bree’s birthday, they could have quite easily got the money from Mr Davenport but they wanted it to feel more meaningful because they had to work hard to save up for it.

-Chase struggles a lot going to concerts, meet and greets, shows etc because of his super senses. He’s found ways to cope better but it’s still always a struggle.

-to follow that, everyone tries to play music at a low volume for Chase’s sake. He always feels bad about it but they all assure him that they’d rather he feel comfortable in his own home than stress him out by playing loud music.

-the Rats never had toys when they were younger, they had to figure out how to play by themselves which often ended up with Chase getting hurt somehow. Falling over because he was going chased by someone with super speed, getting thrown around by someone with super strength just to name a few.

-Tasha and Leo were distraught to find out that they never had toys or teddies/stuffed animals so they took all three of them to Build-a-Bear and they each got a teddy. Chase got a frog, only because they had ran out of Pokémon ones but he loves that thing so much, it sits on the edge of the glass in his capsule and he named it Greta after Greta Thunberg.

-Chase finds a kitten in a dumpster on the way home from the shop/store one day, he heard it crying and clawing to try and get out with his super hearing. He takes it back to the penthouse with him and cleans it up. He didn’t have any plans to keep it, he was going to take it to a shelter or give it to someone he knew would take care of it but as soon as he dried it off and wrapped it in a blanket he knew that he couldn’t let it go.

-he finds out that it is in fact a he. He names him Tesla after Nikola Tesla. It also pisses him off so much that people think he named him after the car because he hates Elon Musk.

-Tesla is a calico cat with heterochromia. Kaz keeps telling Chase that it was destiny that he found Tesla because of their matching eyes. Chase keeps telling him he thinks it’s bs though.

I have fallen in love with this cat hc. Let me know if you want more of Tesla because I love him.

[doolallymagpie]

there’s a poster of crow in every animal shelter in the world that says ‘do not trust him.’

[meliorist-midoriya]

chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum​ for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt! 

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden. 

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to. 

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward. 

A minute passed… 

Then another… 

Then five… 

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but). 

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly. 

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new. 

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past. 

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort. 

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life? 

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier. 

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him. 

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.” 

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.)  only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment. 

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.) 

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?” 

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt. 

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in. 

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once— 

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens. 

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day. 

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance. 

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.” 

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town. 

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give. 

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.” 

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.” 

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!” 

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?” 

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar. 

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—” 

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other. 

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.” 

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you. 

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do. 

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” 

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt. 

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.” 

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.” 

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape. 

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on. 

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer. 

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three… 

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three… 

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?) 

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.) 

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death.  What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building. 

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city. 

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right. 

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth. 

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?” 

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement. 

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.” 

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.” 

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you. 

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies. 

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came. 

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped. 

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms. 

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.” 

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was. 

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better. 

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load. 

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all? 

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox. 

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message. 

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you. 

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed… 

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he? 

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture). 

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping  void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind. 

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise. 

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around. 

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?” 

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront. 

A flower shop, in this secluded side street? 

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch. 

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…” 

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓮 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝓮 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓃𝓮𝒹 (𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷!𝒮𝒶𝓃) 𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐷𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛! 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐷𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝐴𝑈

"𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒂 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆...

𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝑫𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍’𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔.."

-𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆: 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒓𝒆

𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The young raven haired man strolled through the crowds of other guests, taking a glance or two whenever something seemed to catch his eyes. But those glances were only fleeting. There seemed to be nothing particularly interesting in any of them.

He took in the scene before him: long, glittering ball gowns spun around, either in tune to the orchestra playing or in a presumptuous effort to be shown off to others. The male specimen differed no greater than their female counterparts, often standing up straighter or running a hand down their expensive and delicately tailored suits, except they were willing to take it a step further and actually discuss how much they paid for it.

Foolish mortals

He scoffed as he studied each one of them. It was truly sickening to him how much humanity had reached its lowest point. More frequently than not, he noticed how humans more than ever were vain, prideful, arrogant, egotistic and disdainful of anything or anyone who wasn't them.

It wasn't entertaining anymore. He recalls a time many centuries ago when he would get a thrill out of corrupting the innocent, driving the wisest of beings into insanity, destroying picture perfect marriages and making the purest of souls fall into an abyss of sin and darkness.

What was the point of trying to do all that now when some of them are destined for destruction since the moment of their birth? It truly irritated him.

Sighing he picked up a glass of wine from one of the trays carried around by the many butlers, poor useless souls as he liked to refer to them. He sipped on the crimson liquid, it's alcoholic venom doing nothing to him even though it was probably his 13th one already.

13? Was it?

He lost count. He shrugged it off though. He could drink it as if it were pure water, his kind were immune to this substance unlike humanity.

He snorted when he'd look at certain people's masks. While most went all fancy and elegant, others decided to have fun and make sure their attire stood out, in the form of red or black masks, adorned with either fangs, horns and overall rather gruesome or grotesque visages. Clearly they were meant to represent none other than his fellow kindred. He scoffed at their personification of him.

"Damnable bastards. If only you knew we are some of the most beautiful creatures to walk next to you....."

Perhaps that's the main reason why they all, man or woman, no matter their age, education or social status, end up ensnared by them. They were irresistible.

He was about to walk out of the hall, bored out of his non-existent soul, when a small titter caught his ears. Turning his face towards the sound, his breath was caught at the sight of an ethereal looking woman. His eyes scanned her from head to toe. She was absolutely perfect: from her luscious (enter color) hair, to her satin smooth skin, all the way down the her tempting figure. Her scarlet colored dress was impeccably on her, the deep plunge in the chest decorated with sequins and rhinestones daring men to not gaze at her cleavage. The waistline was fitted and then fanned out to accentuate her captivating body. Anyone would think this lady was sin itself, she certainly looked the part.

But San knew better. He could see and feel the aura around her. She was wholly pure, absolutely nothing to signify that she'd been stained or deemed unclean. She was simply an overly sheltered girl who no doubt wanted to fit in, be regarded as a mundane person like the rest of them.

Absolutely perfect if you asked him.

He sauntered in her direction, his devilish smirk plastered on his face. Sensing a pair of eyes, she tilted her head and made contact with the demon, now unable to look away from his alluring gaze. Even through the mask covering half of his face, she knew he was the most handsome man she'd ever see, albeit she'd never seen a lot of men in her life anyway.

Inexperienced and naive as she was, she let him stand next to her and take her hand. Lifting it up to his lips, he introduced himself:

"Choi San. Pleased to make your acquaintance my fair lady."

Delicately, he placed a kiss to her fingers, before releasing them from his hold. His touch was cold, but it sent a burning sensation up her entire arm and she found herself longing for his touch again almost instantly.

"L/N Y/N..." She replied in a voice that was merely above a whisper.

"A truly befitting name for such an angelic lady."

He chuckled to himself at his use of the word. If he was successful, which he always was, by the end of the night, there'd be nothing angelic left about her.

He extended his arm out towards her.

"May I have the pleasure of requesting the next dance?"

He made it a point to flash his dimples, knowing they only added to his charm and rendered women unable to refuse him. She stood up and linked her arm in his. He felt a shiver when she touched him, a feeling he only felt when his kind were in the proximity of a pure soul. It was precisely what he'd been craving for who knows how long. Definitely more than a hundred years since the last time he felt such a presence.

He guided her to the dance floor, the other couples already in position. If there was anything San prided himself on, it was his dancing. He's had years of experience to learn almost every dance that had been created, not only because it added to his attractiveness, but because it truly was one of the few mundane things he thoroughly enjoyed.

He especially loved the waltz they were currently playing. Waltzes were so elegant, refined, polished and were perfect when seducing someone. Intense eye contact, hands intertwined and his arm pulling her close to him, he could see a glimpse of the light blush peeking out underneath her ebony mask. She was flustered, exactly how he wanted her. They were practically gliding across the dance floor, perfectly in tune with the music playing.

"Did you come alone?" San decided it was time to strike up a conversation before going for the kill.

Y/N simply nodded, looking down somewhat ashamed. Instantly he knew she was probably not supposed to be here in the first place.

Interesting detail.

"Tired of sitting at home all bored?" He raised an eyebrow at her, but already knowing the answer.

"Can you tell?" She asked, wondering if he could read her mind.

"Well..... I can tell a lot of things about you..."

Releasing his hold on her waist, he lifted his hand to spin her around before bringing her back into his embrace, now closer than before.

"Things like what?" She wanted him to elaborate.

He hummed along to the music, making her impatient for his answer.

"Like..... how you want something exciting to happen tonight. Your eyes are practically for something, anything, that contrasts the dull life you've lived so far..."

She widened her eyes when he spoke those words. Was she that easy to read? That a mere stranger could notice that about her?

"And your countenance only serves to confirm my theory." He finished.

She sighed softly and loosened her grip on him, wanting to walk away, but he only tightened his hold on her. He smirked at her and leaned in, whispering dangerously close to her lips:

"Why don't you let me open up a new world for you?"

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The girl fluttered her eyes open, soft blissful pants escaping her lips. It had been a while since they left the mansion, where San took her to what she assumed was his place. Ruby red walls with matching velvet carpet, umber brown furniture, candles in every corner being the only illuminating feature in the dark room. The only exception was the bed. It was a pitch black color with white sheets and blanket.

Her dress had long been discarded in one of the chairs in the room, the only article clothing her at the moment being her cream colored garter belt with matching thigh high stockings. San thought they looked absolutely adorable on her. The visual only heightened his need to claim her, to corrupt her, to stain her forever with his unholy mark.

He was currently in between her legs, his mouth attached to her heat. Purple blotches were already decorating her inner thighs, courtesy of his teeth. He swirled his tongue around her clit before sucking down on it. He moaned and that action alone made her thighs tremble and close around his head. But he was having none of that. His hands pushed her thighs apart again, nails digging into her petal soft skin as he continued to ravish and feast on her succulent taste.

"S-San...wait...feels f-funny...." She stuttered out after a few minutes.

He knew exactly what she was referring to: she had about to have an orgasm. As much as he'd love to see her come undone on his tongue alone, he made an effort to pull himself back before the feeling got too intense. She let out a whine of frustration and looked at him with a puzzled look, unsure of what was happening.

San ran his thumb across her lip.

"Don't worry darling. I told you I'll open up a new world for you..

And I always keep my promises."

Unzipping his pants, he pushed them down his legs and threw them onto the floor. He smirked as he took in Y/N's astonishment as she gaped at his nude form, or more specifically, at his thick and long length. She seemed to hesitate for a minute, no doubt intimidated by his size, wondering how was that supposed to fit in her.

Climbing on top of her, he placed a reassuring kiss to her temple.

"I'll take good care of you darling...trust me."

His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss. His tongue slipped inside and danced around her mouth, almost like the waltz from hours before. His hands went to the back of her thighs, lifting them up and wrapping them around his waist. He lifted his hips up slowly, the tip of his cock pressing against her folds. He began slipping inside her, going inch by inch so she could get adjusted to the feeling, not wanting to scare her.

Although it took a lot in him to not just pound into her as he wished to.

She wrapped her thighs tighter around his waist, the foreign and stinging feeling of his intrusion causing her to hiss and cry out a little. San peppered kisses across her jaw and neck in an effort to soothe the pain, while his hands drew circles around her thighs. He stayed still until he felt her relax under him. She looked back at him, her face asking what to do now.

"I'm going to start moving now ok? Just relax and let yourself go."

He pulled out of her in a speed that was torturous to him. Then he slowly pushed himself back in, watching as she took deep breaths and looked down at where their bodies connected. The more she looked at him pushing in and out, the more it helped to relax and put her at ease. San knew it too. Her at first raspy breathing turned to soft, melodious moaning.

His hips snapped up and began rolling at a faster pace, causing his cock to hit the perfect angle in her. Her breath hitched and she gasped when the overwhelming feeling in her stomach started to return, building up inside her, threatening to be released any second now.

The demon could feel it too. He's had years of experience to know what her body was doing. He watched as her face contorted, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Sa-San..." She called out, trying to warn him.

He smirked at her.

"I know, I can feel you clenching around me. You feel so good. I can't wait to feel you cum on my immense cock."

His dirty talking only served to have her whine underneath him. His hand reached down and began toying with her nipple.

"So come on babygirl, let me feel you burst. I know you can do it.....

Give it to me."

He commanded those last words to her and just like he knew would happen, she shuddered under his body, her first orgasm in her entire life taking over her, a soft pathetic whimper being the only noise she could muster. It wasn't anything too loud or over the top, as San pretty much expected. It was her first time.

Besides.....there was plenty of time to have her scream his name.

He kissed her nose and smiled.

"You did so well darling. I'm so proud of you."

She blushed at his compliments. San pulled out of her, a proud evil grin plastered on his face as he noticed the sticky trail that dripped out of her onto the sheets: a few droplets of blood signifying he had deflowered her.

Now to corrupt her even more.

He picked her body up and spun her around, making her get down on all fours as he gripped her hips once again.

"Now it's my turn to have a little fun."

She let out a loud moan when he entered her for the second time, her body still sensitive from her first orgasm. San didn't bother to go slow anymore, he knew she could take it. He thrusted in and out of her at an inhuman speed, low moans and hisses coming out of his mouth.

"Fuck! I can feel you getting close again beautiful, your pussy is so fucking tight, it's practically swallowing my cock."

He chuckled when he felt her clench even tighter around him.

"Oh you like that don't you? You like being told you're nothing but a cockslut?"

She hid her face in the pillow in front of her, trying to hide the groan that just past through her throat. San however grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face back up.

"Answer me you little whore."

She yelped when his hand landed a harsh smack to her ass.

"Y-yes San!"

He smacked her once again before pulling her even more roughly and pressing her back to his chest.

"Right now it's Master. Got it you filthy slut?" He growled into her ear.

"Yes Master!" She cried out.

"Good little whore." He praised her.

He continued his merciless pounding, one of his hands trailing down her abdomen to rub her now swollen and pink clit. Y/N now had a few tears rolling down her cheeks from the overstimulation and she hung her head low.

"Uh uh little slut. None of that."

His free hand wrapped around her neck, forcing her to look up. He tilted her slightly to the right so she could see their sinful reflection in the mirror by the wall.

"Look at you. You look so fucking desperate, wanting to cum again on my cock. Is that what you want? To cum on master's cock? Then beg for it."

Y/N let out a series of whimpers, collecting all the strength she could to cry out:

"Please master! I want to cum, let me cum on your cock!"

San was loving this. It had been so long since he had such an innocent thing begging for him.

"How bad do you want it darling? Does Master's cock make you feel that good?" He teased her.

"Please Master I want it so bad! It feels so good, please don't stop!" Her words were barely incoherent now from how overwhelmed with pleasure she was.

Having being satisfied by her answer, he squeezed her throat, causing her to gasp and writhe her body as her second orgasm took over, far more intense than the first. He never slowed down his pace therefore making her convulse even more violently and shriek out a chant of his name, further heightening his pride and ego.

Very soon after, he cursed loudly as he reached his own climax, his cock spurting out his cum inside her, filling her up with his sinful load. She collapsed on the bed, worn out by the physical intimacy that just took place. San chucked darkly when not even a minute later she was completely passed out. That always happened. Humans couldn't handle having intercourse with a demon, they were practically insatiable and always passed out after a night with them.

Pulling the blanket to cover her, San ran his fingers through her hair. He admired her features for a few minutes. She was really beautiful, an ethereal beauty that only came once every century. Even in her now corrupted and tainted state, she was still the most alluring person he'd ever seen, and he's seen even angels themselves.

Now he knew he wanted her all to himself, completely for him and for no one else to own. He wasn't going to allow anyone to take her from him. He didn't have to worry about celestial beings claiming her, they wouldn't want her now. But other demons might want her.....

Getting up he opened a drawer and took out something he'd never imagine using in any lifetime. But there was always a first time for everything. He held up the gold contraption in his hand before letting it set over one of the flames from the various candles in the room. Once he made sure it was hot enough, he approached Y/N quietly.

It's a good thing she wouldn't wake up for a couple hours....

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Y/N squinted, trying to let her eyes adjust to the lighting. She felt a dull aching in her lower abdomen and legs, reminding her of the events that took place last night. She looked around, seeing that she was still at San's place, but he was nowhere to be found. She sat up and rubbed her shoulder, feeling some sort of burning and stinging pain.

She paused when she looked at the mirror and noticed something on the back of her shoulder. Getting up and trying her hardest to walk with her limp, she went to the mirror and turned slightly to the left. She froze when there was a bright red mark on her upper back in the shape of a pentagram with the letter 'S' in the middle of it.

She started freaking out. Was this some kind of joke? Where was San?

"Well good morning my dear."

Speaking of the devil, he appeared right behind her, making her whip around and face him.

"Did you do this?" She asked, pointing to the mark.

"I did. I think it really suits you." He smiled proudly.

"Why? Why would you do this?"

"Why you ask? It's simple."

He took a few steps forward. Leaning in, he gripped her chin.

"Because you're mine now and I own you."

She scoffed at his words, repulsed that he could do this.

"You're insane." She spat out.

"I've been called worse." He sat up straight again.

Y/N marched over to the chair on the other side and began grabbing her clothes.

"And just where do you think you're doing?" San crossed his arms in front of him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving."

He let out a hearty laugh at that.

"Leaving? Oh no sweetheart. You're not leaving. You can't leave me." He told her.

"Yeah? Watch me."

She pushed him out of her way and headed for the door, but before she could reach for the handle, San appeared right in front of her out of thin air, causing her to step back in fear.

"What the-" She exclaimed.

"Let me repeat myself darling..."

San began to take steps towards her as she began to slowly retreat from him.

"I own you. You can't leave because you're mine now. I marked you so no one else takes you from me, in other words..."

He slammed his hand against the wall behind her when they reached it. She watched in horror as his dark orbs shifted into a fiery red color that burned deep in her soul.

"You're bound to me for all eternity...... and now you're a part of my world....and there's no turning back..."

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

[belleta]

The Forest - Part One

Consists: Supernatural, SKZ as different SN creatures, adventure, romance, drama, action, ......still trying to figure out all the details....lol XD

"Come on Y/N!", I was racing around the house. Trying to make sure I had everything for this trip. "Omg Y/N, let's GO~!" I swear to the universe she's going to thank me later. " I'm coming child!" I screamed back. Alrighty I just need my retainer. I bounded up the stairs and glided down the hallway with my cotton socks. Bursting into my room, I quickly scanned it for the sparkly emerald case. I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, "Boom!" I ran forward and snatched it off my windowsill. While leaping for my door, I paused and turned back to what I call my sanctuary. Call me paranoid but I'm kinda afraid of camping in the middle of the woods. Ever since I watched "The Blair Witch Project", I've been creeped.

It doesn't help that Jazzy forced us to watch the film, previous to this morning. I was drifting in the fairy floss clouds of my mind when a loud honk poured water on them. I sucked in a breath, blowing raspberries. Padding back over to my bedside, I grabbed my Ice Bear plushie. Giving it a quick squeeze and finally deciding that he's coming with me. Galloping back through the house, I made it out, locked the door and hopped in the back seat like a spring rabbit. "What took you so long?" I gazed up through my fringe at my girl bestie Jazmine. She had long beautiful honey blonde hair, and a mousy nose. Her blue eyes were alike with pebbles under a lake, with cheeks connected by a dash of light freckles. "I swear I just aged waiting for you" and Danny, our guy bestie. I've been best friends with Danny, since 3rd grade. Jazzy moved over during the 5th grade. All three of us have been with each other through thick and thin. Daniel was Hawaiian Japanese descent, had perfect colorful nails and absolutely gorgeous eye makeup. We were all dressed in casual, comfy clothes for the trip. Jazmine, or Jazzy as people call her, as the oldest. She was driving Danny's dad's truck. It was spacious and definitely was fit for the environment. Danny, second eldest was in shotgun and I, being the "baby", was in the back. "I was just making sure I have everything." The two rolled their eyes. Danny looked back at me "Girl, you need to chill. We've got everything and more" the boy stated. "I know, I know.....I'm just paranoid, you know.....being in the woods for a week" I looked down at my feet and played with my fingers to cover my embarressedness. "Awww, is the baby scared", Jazzy giggled, imitating a child. I swatted at her, "Let's just...finally go" I grumbled, reaching inside my bag to pull out my headphones. "Fine" they answered teasingly. While Jazzy was pulling out, I fastened myself and slid my headphones on. Bluetoothing them and unlocking my phone, I scrolled through my YouTube Music playlist finding the one named 'Bell Mix'. After that, I went back to the truffula trees and fairy floss. Just listening to my music and thinking about things. There were a couple times, where I thought I might get sick, but I had remembered my motion sickness bracelets. In your face! It's better to set out a little later, rather than having our vehicle reeking of my insides. 2 or 3 hours went by, or something. I'm not really sure, my brain doesn't really have a sense of time when I'm inside of it. We stopped to use the bathroom, get food and fuel at a gas station, maybe 2 hours away from the forest. "Can I, can I, can I, can I PLEASE?!?" I had been begging Jazzy to let me buy a bag of Haribo for 10 minutes now, and she was starting to break. I'm very persuasive as you find out, and I happen to be a very prominent weakness to many throughout my life. She finally gave in and I bounced away to the candy isle with glee and happily picked out a bag, promising to share. Jazzy just rolled her eyes and paid for our things. We trotted back to the car and continued our journey. It was nearing the end of 2pm when we finally arrived at the edge of the forest. It's lushes were absolutely perfectly splendid. The road continued for a hot minute, until it gave away to dirt and rocks. We didn't want to stray too far from the dirt road, so we slowly kept moving in until I suddenly exclaimed at the sight of a pretty little clearing. It had a few little bushes marking the edges, thick but soft looking grass, and a little dirt patch at one side that should be perfect for a firepit. We pulled over to take a look around, flattening a few bushes in the process. As soon as the truck came to a stop I shoved the door open and sprung down onto the flourishing forest floor. The first thing I did was take a deep breath to soak in the sweet scent of the untouched earth. I reached up, stretching and cracking a few of my bones in the process. Then I raced through the trees and undergrowth, toward the beautiful glade. It felt so nice to get away from civilization, I had always loved

getting away like this. Being able to recharge away from annoying people and sounds, my fears of the night were long forgotten. I was two steps away from the grass when I suddenly tripped over something. Tumbling forward and scratching my cheek. I landed on my face, but on the bright side it was luckily with no rocks around. The dirt however spared me at nothing, crawling into my fresh scrapes, was a sharp and quick stinging as I grabbed my face. "Seriously Y/N, we haven't even completely left the car yet and you've already managed to hurt yourself" Jazzy declared. Danny chimed in, "Did you hurt yourself at all?". Quickly inspecting myself, I responded "Yes, a tiny bit on my cheek, hands and knees", I could hear them muttering to themselves about how reckless I was sometimes. They started toward me and as I waited for them to catch up, I decided to look around and figure out where to put things for these next few days. While ogling the decently wide stretch that was conveniently shielded by a mighty sugar maple. I thought I saw something in the undergrowth a few meters away from me. I grabbed my glasses and narrowed my eyes, but right when I thought I saw whatever it was, two flashes shot in the opposite direction between the ferns and disappeared. They were kinda hidden but I could sorta make out one of the shapes was darker and slightly bigger. The other was a little bit easier but still was difficult, it was kinda brown, or maybe reddish? At that moment I felt two hands on my shoulders, "Let me see", it was Jazzy. She inspected my injury. "It'll be fine, just wash it off", "Okie-Dokie-Artichokie", she laughed and ruffled my hair. I gazed back at where I saw the two shapes but not even the bushes were still moving. "Hey!" I cocked my head back to the voice "Can you help me?" Danny was struggling to unpack from the back. "Sure thing Danny-O" I quickly stood up, maybe a little too quick. My vision went funny and I almost stumbled. "Oh my god Y/N! Be careful!" Jazzy scolded, "My bad!" I was a little all over the place at the moment. Finally we were on this trip! I mean, I waited 6 months for this and it's finally here! I'm not all childish, I'm actually very 4D. I'm just really excited okay? I more carefully walked back to the truck, where Danny was struggling to keep ahold of what appeared to be the tent. Over the course of the next hour and a half we set up everything. Goofing around and laughing. Danny had been pulling too hard on our sleeping bags, to wedge them out of the trunk. And had accidentally fallen onto the slightly wet dirt, causing a very prominent brown streak across his gray sweatpants and sky blue tie dye hoodie. I was currently on my way to find the stream that is supposably close by, with a screenshot of google maps and a compass. Service wasn't exactly a 5 star out here, but I didn't mind too much. I brought a portable WiFi router with me, so if Jason Vorhees just decided to pull one, we could call for help. Every so often I would hang a wooden heart ornament on one of the tree's branches, so if this was the correct way then we would never get lost. Also so that I didn't get lost right now. I had been making these last night, for these exact reasons. I swear only dumb people don't mark their surroundings, this is one of the main reasons why people disappear and are never found or get lost. There are no traces of where they've been, like these fruit loops really-...... After about another 20 meters I started hearing the sounds of water. It became louder and louder really quickly. Is there a waterfall here? I pondered, while quickening my pace with curiosity. 35 seconds later I came across a thinning in the trees and beyond a clear water stream. I finally broke out of the shelter provided from the thick leaves, the sun kissed my skin with it's warm touch. I looked around and sure enough, there was a small waterfall that looked straight out of a fairytale. It had multiple uneven levels, with smoothed boulders everywhere. And to top it all off, it had little water plants scattered around it. Absolutely

beautiful.... I scanned around and spotted a few giant boulders poking into the stream. I carefully picked my way over to them, clutching onto Danny's muddy clothes. Hopping onto the sunlight warmed stones, I positioned myself perfectly so that I could reach the water but wouldn't fall in. I reached into my pocket for my zip lock of natural soap, of course I didn't want to hurt this literally untouched land. I leaned down to dunk the fabric into the stream's crystal-like water and kneaded the brown smudge. It was decently cold, just perfect for a stream. I turned back to the small bag with a green bar wrapped with brown paper and a little herb decoration. I unzipped it and reached for a tiny hand towel I brought with me so that I would have a better grip on the soap, even if I got wet. After dunking the clothes in I took the bar of soap and swiped it all over. I dipped it into the water once to help the bubble come, then I started aggressively rubbing it. Once the outfit was foaming with suds, I slapped it into the brook. Holding onto the sleeve I rub it harshly all over to get the stains out. It was relatively still easy because the events of cause were only moments before. I was starting to disappear into my thoughts, getting deeper and deeper and deeper....... And just then a crash and from the trees, followed by snarls and barks. I was so lost in my thought that this jolted me into the canal. The water suddenly became ice cold, my scream had been washed away. A surge of water filled my lungs from the way my mouth was open to yelp. I could still hear the sounds of fighting every so often, when I would surface. My head was hurting, my skin was stinging and my lungs were screaming. Someone.....please help..... It was hurting so much, I was trying not to panic. So I could find the surface and get back to shore. I would break through it's crisp arctic clutches every so often and would cry out for help but then get cut off by the now frosty darkness. I was giving up to the stream and submitting to the coldness. Letting it swallow me whole. I was numb, I couldn't feel my body being thrown around anymore, Is this how my story ends? No! I don't want to! I still have things to do! I need to graduate, and find my passion! I need to find a man who will love me as much as I do! I need to birth young and care for them! I want to grow old with my partner happily! I can't die yet! I just can't! But it was just so cold. I had stopped moving violently, so I guess I had been poured into a lake or something. I didn't care anymore. My blood felt frozen, I couldn't even bend a finger. That's when I felt a force near me, it parted the waters. Moving me in a different direction with its power. Then not long after I felt something grab hold of me in an awkward way. I was starting to be pulled into another direction, as the water streamed around, parting to let me and whatever that was saving me through. Then I broke through the surface and that was the last thing I felt before slipping into a comfy unconsciousness.

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #22: Fluster

There are some people whose orbit a person struggles to escape. Like a moon that is forever trapped circling a planet. 

Sterling was such a person.

Though in Aislinn’s opinion the planet analogy was too generous. Sterling was a black hole. A crushing void that pulled a body closer and ever closer until they were inevitably swallowed whole and not even dust remained. And he did it all with a smile.

She didn’t feel it was too far an exaggeration.

Aislinn had first seen Sterling from the front step of the one room flat she and her da called home in Ul’dah. Calling it home was sarcasm on her part. A sentiment that did not go overlooked by her father. Two more aimless bodies in a wave of Ala Mhigan refugees the city hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. 

At that time, she spent most of her days fending off boredom by fixing broken mammets people had tossed in the trash. If their chassis were still in relatively good shape she could sometimes sell them back to a few peddlers and merchants in the area. If they were too badly dinged up for the shops, there were more than enough children in the low parts of Ul’dah who were more than happy to get their hands on a real, working mammet, dented or not.

That was when she first saw him, traveling down the crooked, dusty street like he belonged, which she knew he didn’t because she had sat out on this front step long enough to know the faces of everyone that lived in this broken down section of the city. But he walked with a purpose, his gait easy, boarding on lackadaisical, while the set of his shoulders made it clear he wasn’t some foolhardy mark who had taken a wrong turn and lost his way. He never stayed long and she would see him pass by again, going back the way he came. 

She first met Sterling on a miserable, raining day. The kind of day that turned the streets to mud and brought out the stench of the slums in a particularly aromatic fashion. 

Her front step having no overhang, Aislinn had escaped to a set of crates under an awning in an alley across the way. It would have been easy to simply stay inside but the walls of the small flat left her feeling closed in and suffocated. 

He came careening around the corner like Rhalgr himself was on his heels, soaked to the bone, his clothes covered in the muddy filth of the street, a bruise or two already blooming on his face. 

They both froze, she with a hand inside a broken mammet’s chest, he with a harried incredulity that she was there at all. His eyes were almost too sharp. Ice chips settled in a dirt-streaked frame. She remembered thinking eyes like that could freeze a person solid.

Aislinn heard the angry shouting and the wet slap of running footsteps drawing closer. The state of his appearance made sense now. Flustered, she wordlessly jerked her chin over her shoulder, to the small nook in the pile of crates on which she sat. He caught her meaning and hurdled behind them with seconds to spare.

When the three highlander boys rounded the corner they slowed to a stop, chests heaving with anger, momentarily flummoxed by the sight of Aislinn, sedately going about her repairs in an otherwise empty alleyway. 

“Oi! Seen anyone come through here?” One demanded. “Dark hair, milk-lander bastard?”

Aislinn looked up and blinked, as though just noticing they were there at all.

“Not really, no.”

When they scowled and stepped closer, she motioned to the run down tavern entrance, the building that ran the length of the alley side. 

“Alley’s a dead end, anyroads. He mighta ran through the Ale Pail here and out the back end. That goes on up to Pearl Lane.”

If they were the observant sort they might have noticed how she tightly held her breath as she stared back at them from under the cover of the roughshod awning. How she held the set of pliers in her hand just a fraction too tightly. Luckily, they weren’t the questioning kind. After a glance down the alley to affirm what she had said was correct, they were off like a pack of baying hounds disappearing up the steps of the tavern.

The quiet of the muffled rain reigned once more and Aislinn returned to her work. After a few minutes the dark haired boy that was the subject of so much ire pulled himself up from behind the crates. 

“Thanks for that.” He said as he sat down next to her and tried in vain to wipe the mud and grime from his clothes. 

Aislinn gave a half-shrug and kept her eyes trained on the mammet in her lap as she re-threaded a loose bit of wire. 

“What’d you do?” She asked.

“I was minding my own business -“

“No you weren’t.” She cut him off.

He stared at her until she noticed the silence and glanced up. “Well, you weren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t have been coming down here for the past moon or so doing whatever you’re doing.”

“You’ve seen me before?”

“Yes.”

“How come I’ve never seen you?”

“How is that my question to answer? Ask yourself.”

He laughed as though he didn’t know how to reply or what to make of her. “You always sit here?”

“No.” She pointed with her set of pliers to the line of hovels that slumped along the far side of the street like a staggering group of late night carousers. “Over there.” 

He peered through the rain in the direction she had pointed. He racked his brain for one scrap of a memory of the girl with the flame red hair sitting at one of those stoops. Something like that should have stuck out. But he came up empty handed. It was an odd sensation, knowing someone could blend into the background like that. An unbalancing of the scales right from the start. 

“They think I shorted them. Or rather, that my employer shorted them on the goods I was delivering.” he said, leaning back on his hands as he waited out the rain. 

“Did they?” 

“How the hells should I know. I just deliver the package. I don’t check the bloody order.” he snorted. “They never had a problem with it before. More than likely they can’t remember how much they asked for.” 

She made a conciliatory noise in her throat as she worked. He glanced over and watched her patiently straighten a length of crimped copper wire. The mammet’s chest was an explosion of frayed wires and tangled circuits but he could already see where her measured touch had been, leaving orderly pathways in its wake.

“That a mammet? Where’d you find one of those?” 

“Sometimes up in hightown people toss them out when they stop working.” she murmured, deep in concentration. “I fix them up and sell them back to the merchants.” 

He raised a brow, impressed at the ingenuity. “Good gil, is it?” 

She shrugged and motioned at their surroundings. 

That’d be a no, then. 

He eased himself off the crates and walked to the end of the alleyway, giving a cautious look around the corner of the building. “I should be heading out before they decide to come back this way.” he said before returning momentarily to the shelter of the awning. He tapped the mammet’s head as though he thought it would get her attention. As if she hadn’t been paying attention this entire time. She lifted her head, a cross look on her face. He grinned, amused by the novelty of being on the receiving end of such a response. 

“You know this area pretty well, I take it. Enough to spot someone that doesn’t belong. If you ever want to make a little more than repairing mammets pays, come up to the warehouse district and ask for U’rahna. Tell her Sterling sent you. She could use someone like you.” 

Her only reply was for her look of annoyance to morph into one of wary distance. 

“Nothing funny!” he made the sign of an oath across his chest. “No Gilded Skirt or nothing like that. Package running. That’s it. A girl that can be invisible could probably run packages all over this city.” 

She eyed him a moment longer. “Thanks for the tip.” was all she said. 

“Thanks for the save.” he nodded before turning around and making his way back to the alley entrance. “I’ll be sure to keep my eye out for you next time.”

Sterling and Aislinn continue:

Nonagenarian Avail The Train Job Snuffed Wax Muster

[fvrxdrm]

I’ll See You Again (Jake Muller x Reader)

And here is @imgayforgaystuff​ ‘s request. This was longer than intended lmao. Hope you’ll like it :)

Pairing: Jake Muller x GN!Reader

Warning(s): None

*****

“Did you take your dose?”

 You along with your partner, Sherry, ran towards where you heard the faint commotion and saw the guy you’ve been looking for standing beside a body that already seemed lifeless.

 Jake Muller. He supposedly had the antibodies for the C-virus that’s been gradually spreading across the globe and you were tasked to locate him and bring him back to the United States in order for blood samples to be taken for vaccine research. If their hypothesis was correct, this guy could save the world even without handling a gun and transporting from one country to another or something.

 “Yeah, but if you want to take your hit, you gotta sign up with the lady downstairs...” Jake replied. You took a glance at your watch before averting your short gaze towards the body as it dissipated into the fire it created until it was just nothing but an invisible ghost. “... Wouldn’t recommend it, though.”

 “No, question, you’ve got the antibodies.” You rushed towards a rusty metal door where an opening should be and pulled the handle, stepping aside to let your partner and Jake first.

 “Thank you. Wait, what?”

 “You could be the key to saving the world, Jake Muller,” you said and upon hearing this, he just smirked in amusement and laughed it off in his mind. I mean, seriously? Key to saving the whole fucking world? That’s a funny fucking joke, man. His snarky smile was soon dropped though as soon as you heard groans fill the room and you immediately let your heads focus on the matter on hand.

 “Go! I’ll follow right behind you.” They obeyed without any second thoughts and when they finally got in, you gunned down those who got too close before jumping in yourself.

 Sewers. Great! Another day, another life in shitty water.

 You looked for your footing once you’d landed on trash, and shit, and grey fucking water or something, almost getting closer to falling on your ass and swallowing all those caca that had been dumped in there by different hoomans and animals.

 I would rather die if the gods gave me an opportunity to eat shit.

 “You two okay?” You asked.

 “Yeah, you?” Sherry replied.

 “I’m gucci.”

 Not really...

 Your boots would sink into the muck below the water and the smell… UGH! It didn’t help that your stomach was full when you got to your location. But hey, agents gotta do what they gotta do, right?

 Once you found yourself stable on the ground, you pulled out your badge from your pocket and opened it to introduce yourself to Jake but he just waved it off and disregarded it saying that it wasn’t the time right now. You and Sherry exchanged glances.

 “You comin’?

 “After you”

 This is going to be interesting...

*****

“Y/N? Y/N!”

 Your eyes carefully fluttered open at the mention of your name, trying your best to force your eyelids apart but it felt like bricks were weighing them down and all you could make out were two silhouettes rushing towards your side before the world blacked out again against your will.

*****

“Hey, hey, shh... It’s okay, just rest. You got hurt pretty bad.”

 A groan crept up your throat as your head hammered in pain, feeling as if a wrecking ball with Miley Cyrus riding it just repeatedly slammed against you.

 Talk about coming in like a wrecking ball...

 Your eyes cracked open for the second time that night, your E/C optics immediately catching sight of a round head hovering above you.

 “Jake?” You muttered under your breath.

 “Yeah, it’s me.” The said man carefully helped you sit up straight before leaning you against the firm fabric of a tent you were in, checking you again for any hidden injuries that he and Sherry managed to miss while you massaged your temples to ease the aching in your head. When you’d finally calmed down and everything that had happened began to congregate in your brain, your sight spun around and you immediately panicked when you noticed Sherry’s absence.

 “Where’s Sherry?”

 “She went out to get some wood for some fire. I told her to just stay here and I’ll get them instead but she insisted and told me to stay with you.”

 “Fucking hell, Sherry,” you quietly cursed. You stood up from where you were and started walking out the tent but Jake grabbed ahold of your arm before you could even step a foot out.

 “Where are you going?”

 “I’m going to find Sherry. She could get herself killed out there!”

 “I’m sure she’s going to be fine. She’s one hell of a super girl! I mean, have you seen how her wounds just close on their own?” Your eyes widened.

 “Oh, you saw her?”

 “Yeah, front row seat even. A piece of the plane stabbed her in the back and then when I pulled it out, she told me to by the way, the wound just closed on its own. I asked her about it but she just told me that it was a long story.” You sighed and just nodded your head in response. You let him lightly tug on your arm and guide you towards where you once sat and gazed vacantly at the ground below you, silence flooding the small shelter until your voice suddenly shooed it away.

 “Sherry and I survived Raccoon City together,” you began, abruptly catching Jake’s attention and pausing his obnoxious fiddling with a coin he got out of nowhere.

 “The city that was bombed in 1998?”

 “Yeah. It wasn’t just a bomb though, an outbreak happened, like, you know, this one.” You gestured to your surroundings to emphasize what you were implying. “I shouldn’t be telling you this but it might give you some answers. Sherry and I both got infected with the virus that caused the incident but thankfully, somebody injected us with a cure and now, we got the side effects, per se. Sherry’s got the healing thing and I’m...basically...a walking cure.”

 “Huh, so then why did you look for me if you have...you...to cure whatever the hell this is?”

 “They’ve performed tests on me before and all of them were successful except for the C-virus. I don’t know why it didn’t work but um...yeah. Apparently I’m not the cure for the recent virus.”

 “Oh.” He was speechless, he couldn’t of anything to reply with so he just averted his gaze to his lap and vacantly stared at his hand where his coin laid stiffly against his palm.

Finally. All his life he thought he was alone in this one. He thought he was this monster that just submerged in a trice out of nowhere. I mean, look at him. He’s got this superpower thing since birth and it felt weird. All those people around him were normal, no X-men shit isolating them from the other and he felt like a loner…until he met you and heard your story.

Jake looked at you as the thought of you crossed his mind and he instantaneously felt his face warm up at the sight of you finger-combing your hair and tying your locks with a band.

Wait, what the hell!?

“Hey, you okay?” Jake jumped a bit at the sound of your voice, his face redder in embarrassment, and he just waved his hand in response before looking somewhere else.

*****

So…yeah… I think you know what happened throughout the nights you were firing some bullets left and right.

Basically, you found yourselves in an undersea facility of Neo-Umbrella at the bottom of an ocean and then got rescued by Chris and Piers afterwards.

While you were trapped inside the premises you and Jake couldn’t help but create a small talk where you got to know each other with Sherry just listening in the background and feeling all giddy finally finding someone new for you. After you found out your ex cheated on you with your best friend, like, a year or two ago, you shut yourself off of the dating realm and just took time for yourself. And by that I mean drowning yourself in alcohol.

“Well, we’re trapped in here and we can’t really get out of these restraints, wanna chat?” Jake began.

“I was about to dose off but sure.”

“Let’s see…um…uh… What do people say when they meet each other?” Jake scratched his head using the metal behind him when he remembered he couldn’t get the shackles off of him and you giggled in mirth at the sight.

“I don’t know. I’m not really the type to start with name exchanges. I usually start with…yanking their arms off and getting the fuck out of a place or something.”

Jake chuckled in response and swayed his head side to side. “I see you’ve seen enough.”

“You have no idea.”

It went on like that for a moment, somehow finding peace in conversing casually amidst the chaos outside and it warmed your heart. It helped piece your brain cells together again and you collected a newfound strength after all the tiny grins and small cackles.

It was just tranquility that filled you, nothing else, until an alarm went off and you were suddenly released from your restraints… And then you were back on agent mode again.

 So, here you are now, already defeating this gigantic creature that had been following you around in China and gazing into the abyss of fire where déjà vu suddenly hit you like a truck.

This was like Raccoon City, that time where the train you rode on dashed towards the daylight as flames surged the tunnel. Ustanak represented Birkin.

“You saved me,” you heard Jake whisper beside you. “You know that, right?”

You looked at the surface you had been clinging on below and sniffed at the overwhelming feeling that bursted inside of you.

“Thank you.”

You placed your hand on top of his and smiled softly at him while the three of you darted towards the end of another long escape.

*****

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.” You dusted your clothes and gripped on your bag, forcing your tears not to fall at the thought of not seeing each other again.

“No,” Jake replied firmly. Your eyebrows creased together at his odd response and couldn’t help but ask in confusion.

“What?”

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.” He brushed his palm against your cheek, his orbs burning through yours, before he placed his lips on your own ones. Boy, Sherry couldn’t be happier at the sight of you two. She’ll be sure to arrange your wedding once everything had settled down.

“I’ll see you again, I promise.”

[mochiable]

— wine drops. | chpt. 1

summary: you and Jimin meet each other for the first time.

pairing: viscount!jimin x workingclass!reader

wc: 1.7k

wd.masterlist

> next

The elegance of the baroque was present in the initiation dance. Some dances you had been told about since you were a child. They told you they were sensational, but that you would never get to see them with your own eyes.

Yet there you were, in the dress that your maid, Agnès, had embroidered especially for you. A dress with a square-necked bodice, allowing the precious gold chain hanging from your neck, which carried a ruby in the center, to stand out noticeably. It also consisted of a triangular, v-shaped bib that slightly covered your chest and stomach, adhering to the corset. The jacket was as long as a housecoat, which opened at the front as the dress came to an end, showing a skirt of the same fabric as this one. A skirt that fell freely from your waist, which was adorned with ruffles and ribbons, exaggerating the sophisticated image of the dress. It was all covered with small flowers and abstract navy blue rhinestones that contrasted with the pale beige at the base of the dress.

Something too lush and ostentatious for your taste, but what could you do. The baroque had taken over people’s minds more than a hundred years ago, turning them into pawns of a demanding and selfish lifestyle that rewarded the rich and condemned the poor.

Trust me, you knew it well. You were born into a humble family, with parents who taught you to survive rather than to spend. They always told you to use that intelligent mind that God had given you, so that no one would take advantage of you, obviously referring to them. The aristocracy.

A real poison that had settled in the rich areas of Lyon, where the workers used to live in small wooden shacks with nails. But those nobles threw them out and caused real massacres, and then enslaved other labourers on their land.

The king, together with his secret advisors, believed that, in order to maximize the economy and the most important sources of energy, they had to get rid of a large part of the population. But they didn’t take the nobles, they decided that those who stood in their way were the harmless laborers, who didn’t even have a few crumbs of bread.

That's how you were separated from your parents. You were only eight, but that didn't stop them. They pushed and shoved and spat on them, while they held you by the arms, and then threw them into filthy floats. Finally disappearing from your sight.

You were never going to forget the fear and pain that was reflected in your parents' eyes. All that suffering, that emptiness they left you haunted you even in your dreams, preventing you from sleeping peacefully at night.

That's why you decided to rise in the aristocratic ranks so that you could find those scoundrels who preferred to leave thousands of children orphaned rather than oppose the orders of the king and his presumptuous advisors.

Yes, you were aware that if they did, they would die. But when you found them they would have the same end as if they had avoided all the chaos the aristocracy caused. You were going to avenge the death of your parents and all the children who died because they had no one to shelter them.

That's why you were here today at the inaugural ball of the young women. The debutante ball, a somewhat elitist way of introducing girls to society on their coming of age.

You found yourself talking relatively boringly to the Baron of Honfleur, who had come all the way from the north of France to meet the Gangoiti's daughter. For a long time, he had been telling you about l'église Sainte-Catherine, which he was so passionate about.

“It's a real wonder, Mademoiselle Leduc. The structure resembles a large ship placed upside down, its inconceivable appearance is thanks to the local shipbuilders.”

“It must be undeniably splendid, Baronnie de Honfleur,” you laughed a little at his animated tone of voice.

“Au fait. Who are your parents, fillette? I don't know any Leduc here in Lyon. Are you related to Viscount Leduc there in Bourges?”

You had to admit that the air was stuck in your throat, preventing oxygen from reaching your lungs for a few seconds. You had to try to conceal and articulate one of your much practiced lies so that the baronnie would not discover you.

“Oh no, pas du tout,” you replied, trying to give him your best smile. “Mon parents are on a trip, they went to Austria a few weeks ago. It would be impossible for you to have crossed paths with them, maybe that's why you don't know them.”

“A verre de vin, Mademoiselle?” a tray where four glasses rested on the silver surface appeared in front of your eyes, being held by a bartender who watched you with a beautiful smile drawn on his face.

“Merci beaucoup,” you smiled back at him and took the glass of red wine in my left hand.

“I must go now, Demoiselle,” the Baron said, holding your hand and placing a soft kiss. “It has been a pleasure talking to you”

“Likewise.”

It was at that moment that one of the majordomes called you to the dance floor, where dozens of young people ran to dance with their partners. You slightly furrowed your brow, shaking your head, all they cared about was the dancing and the parties, something that really frustrated you when you thought that there were millions of families without a roof over their heads.

Music, laughter, and dresses flying by. That was all you could see and hear in that huge hall. As the people around it chatted and drank from their wine glasses.

You decided to stop paying attention to the new dance, the passepied. You peeled off the wall and set off to find the person you were looking for, the Countess of Poitiers.

You were walking around absently while you asked the other guests if they had seen the woman you were trying to locate with eagerness. When you turned around after consulting an Ècuyer, you tripped over someone, causing some of the wine that was left in your glass to fall on top of the stranger's clothes and slip out of your hands.

“Oh, mon Dieu!” you exclaimed, reaching for your handkerchief and rubbing it over his shirt. “Forgive me, Monsieur.”

“Don't worry,” he said, taking your hands off his figure. “But I would appreciate it if you would call me Viscount, Mademoiselle. Of course, as I am the son of the Duke and Duchess of Lyon.”

“Of course, Monsieur,” you mumbled a little ashamed. “Viscount!”, you corrected yourself, feeling your cheeks turn red quickly.

“Now, if you don't mind, you may accompany me to the cooking room,” he suggested, trying to get rid of the red stains that had smeared his suit.

“Do you mean la cuisine?”, you asked, wrinkling your nose slightly.

The Viscount looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as he inspected every feature of your body, as well as your virtues and defects. You felt his brown, intense gaze pass through every pore of yours, perceiving how his eyebrows rose and he licked those pink lips he possessed as he examined you.

“Allez,” he muttered, holding your hand.

“What are you doing?”, you hesitated, nailing your feet to the ground to prevent him from dragging you further.

“I said we would go to the kitchen”, he answered.

“You used a conditional”, you said, letting go of his hand. “Forgive my boldness, Viscount, but that didn't sound like an order to me.”

He laughed, looking at you again with those brown eyes, making you tremble, inevitably. “You are right,” he agreed as he brushed his rings against his lips. “Come with me to the kitchen, it’s an order.”

Leaving you speechless and with a dry mouth, he again held your hand, leading you into the kitchen, passing among all the guests and elbowing them, provoking withering glances from them. He made you move quickly as he squeezed your hands tightly. You cursed yourself mentally for not being careful and bumping into him. Right now you would be talking to the Countess de Poiters and not being dragged into a kitchen for no reason by a man you knew nothing about.

“Well,” he muttered as he reached the kitchen and handed you back your stained handkerchief. “Dip it in that bucket”

Without saying anything, to avoid further discussion, you went over to the bucket and wet the tip of the handkerchief as you listened to the sound of clothes being removed. When you’d finished, you turned cautiously with your eyes slightly closed, waiting for the undressed body of a man.

“What are you doing?”, at that moment you opened your eyes wide, finding yourself with a funny but confused smile. Your gaze shifted from his face to his body, and you frowned as you saw him in clothes, still with his shirt on, but without his blazer. Why wasn't he naked? Your cheeks quickly warmed as you realized what you had been thinking. You wanted to laugh at myself, but I held back.

“I...”, you hesitated and looked away. “I've finished wetting my handkerchief.”

“I thought so,” he said, leaning his lower back against the counter which was full of dishes and moldy food. “Approche, approche.”, he insisted gesturing with his right hand.

You decided to obey to him and approached him, clearing your throat almost inaudibly, bringing the handkerchief close to his shirt.

“Désolé, for having soiled your suit.”

“I apologize to you too,” he whispered a few inches from your face.

He was quite tall. He was about four inches taller than you, maybe. But as he had his head a little lowered so that he could watch you delicately clean his spots. Little locks of hair fell down his forehead, tickling your temples.

“I was looking for someone.”

“Moi aussi,” you smiled, although it looked more like a grimace.

“Who are you?”, he asked in a soft voice.

“Je m'appelle y/n,” you replied, finishing rubbing the stains, which were now almost invisible. “I am the daughter of the Leduc. Perhaps you don't know them, they are on a trip,” you explained, leaving the handkerchief on the counter. “How about you?”

“My name is Jimin, Park Jimin.”

copyright © 2021 @/mochiable. all rights reserved.

please, give some feedback, your opinion is important to me!

a/n: english is not my first language, so if you see any grammatical or spelling mistakes don't hesitate to tell me. any constructive criticism will be always welcome.

[blindbatalex]

Below is not my fic, but one raisin anon wrote for me and sent piecemeal in asks because they would rather not reveal their identity.  It also happens to be 1.5k of fluffy carraville perfection, featuring family, cats, and dogs! all for your enjoyment  💖

~*~

“Please, dad. Can we?” 

“Charlie”

“She was so sweet and perfect and they said probably no one will pick her and she'll stay there forever”

“Charlie” 

“You wouldn't want her to live her whole life without a family, would you?” 

“Charlie” 

“And it'll be a whole year since Dexter died next week, it'll be the perfect way to remember him.”

“With replacing him with a new dog ?” 

“The mourning period in Tonga for close family is a year” 

“If you look out the window, buddy, I think you'll find that we live in the north of England” 

“Daaad, please. You miss having a dog too.”

In fairness, his son wasn't wrong. Dexter had been with them for almost as long as the twins had, and Gary did miss the comforting warmth of their German Shepard curled up at his feet whenever he sat still for more than fifteen minutes. He looked up from where he was preparing a salad to go with their quiche for dinner to the youngest half of the set of twins he and Jamie had adopted almost thirteen years ago. 

Charlie was sat on the kitchen island swinging his legs back and forth, contently watching his father make dinner whilst advertising for a six year old Anatolian Shepard rescue, that had arrived at the shelter a few weeks back. Maybe fifteen was a bit too old to sit on the kitchen counter doing nothing, but it happened so rarely these days that the boys would sit still and just chat away like they used to do, that Gary didn't have it in him to scold him for it. 

“Pa said yes, by the way,” Charlie said, and Gary had to smile. 

“Did he now?”

“Mhm, he's all for it. He misses having a dog too.” 

“So if I go upstairs to the laundry room now I won’t find your brother trying to persuade him just like you're trying to do to me at the minute”

Charlie just made a face, but didn't answer, which gave Gary all the answer he needed really.

“We'll discuss it over dinner.”

He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a stack of plates before holding it up in front of the lad. 

“Go on, then. Help set the table if you want to heighten your chances.” 

Charlie hopped off the counter and grabbed the plates with an eagerness Gary had never seen before. The table was set in a matter of minutes, and before Gary had even had the chance to pull the quiche and the garlic bread out of the oven Charlie had gone out into the hallway and shouted dinner was ready up the stairs. 

Jamie came walking into the kitchen soon after with Joey following close at his heels. Gary saw the look the brothers shot at each other which basically confirmed his suspicions. The plan had been to butter each dad up separately so that none of them would be the too critical voice of reason when the topic was brought up with all of them present. 

“Heard you agreed to go get the dog, love,” Jamie said as he sat down, left side of the table, chair closest to the window. Charlie settled just opposite him, Joey on his right, which left Gary next to Charlie. No one had explicitly ever stated that a specific spot was theirs, but Gary had a feeling the whole universe would be thrown of its balance if they sat anywhere else.

“Funny, I heard the same about you.” 

“Oh, really. I know your hearing is starting to get bad, but I would hope mine was still fairly intact.” 

“Well, that is the only explanation. It could not possibly be that our sons lied to us.”

“No, never!” 

Joey rolled his eyes at their theatrics. Charlie shoved a piece of garlic bread in his mouth.

“Can we, though? Get the dog ?” 

“Didn't your da's ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?” Jamie asked him. 

“One of them is Scouse so it's wasn't a huge part of our childhood,” Charlie retorted. Gary huffed a laugh at that and piled some salad on Charlie plate with a pointed look. 

“But seriously – ” Joey piped up, taking over his brothers question. 

“We already know what it is like to have a dog, we know how much responsibility it is, and she's six years old already, so it's not like it'll be for a fifteen year commitment. And Dexter would be so happy looking down at us to see we got another one to use his food bowl.” 

All valid points. Gary had to give him that. Although – 

“Sarafina might not be too happy.” 

The undisputed princess of the house, a five year old Ragdoll known as Sarafina, had heard her family settling in for dinner and had thus paraded from her favourite spot in the windowsill to her food bowl in the corner. 

“‘Fina won’t care. She's the chillest cat there has ever been.” 

Gary met Jamie's eyes over the table. In fairness, had they not needed to play the role of responsible fathers who didn't jump to decisions without thinking them through first, they would've gotten a dog months ago. But as it happened the boys weren't quite ready to forget Dexter so soon, and now that they were gunning for a new one, Gary felt as though they needed to learn to think things through at least twice before making a decision.

“You promise to help walk her everyday ?” 

“Promise.” 

“No moaning when we can't go away for long holiday's without her?” 

“Never.” 

“And you can keep your rooms clean and tidy for more than ten minutes at the time?” that one came from Jamie.

“What's that got to do with getting a dog?” Charlie asked. 

“Responsibility, lad. And wishful thinking.” 

“We'll clean them every day,” Joey said seriously. 

Gary doubted it, but he hadn't been much better at fifteen to be fair so he really didn't have a leg to stand on. He shared a look with Jamie again, held a silent conversation and gave him a half smile. He did really want a dog as well, and he knew Jamie was no different. 

“We'll go to the shelter after we pick you up from school tomorrow.” 

Much later that night Gary was sat up in bed reading his book, glasses perched on his nose and listening to Jamie making the last round of the house before turning in for the night. Turning off all lights, double checking the coffee maker was off, looking in on the boys, giving a pat to Sarafina, that sort of thing. He hadn't been able to keep his mind of Dexter's old dog bed that used to be in their room ever since dinner time. Maybe he had missed having a dog more than he thought. 

“All good?” he asked Jamie when his husband entered the room and crawled under the covers.  

“Yeah. Boys sleeping, coffee machine off, all good,” he answered around a yawn and settled down under the duvet, snuggling his head close to Gary’s side. Automatically Gary's hand fell on top of his head and started to stroke his hair.

“Tired, love?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Insomnia acting up again?” 

“Just a little bit last night.” 

“Why didn't you wake me?” 

“You look cute when you're asleep.” 

“James.”

“Gareth.” 

Jamie opened his eyes and looked up at him with a teasing smile. Gary looked back, torn between scolding him for not waking him up (like they had agreed on dammit) and kissing the idiotic man. He settled on the last, in no mood to end the day on a half bad note.

“I'm really excited to get a dog” Jamie said as they parted, and instead of sitting back up and continue reading, Gary settled down on his pillow also, pulling Jamie to his chest in the process. 

“Hm, me too.” 

“Maybe the sleeping will get better.” 

“Yeah. Dexter helped didn't he?” 

“Yeah. Helped a lot.” 

Gary had no idea how a dog could help with insomnia, but Dexter had. Jamie's tendency for midnight wanderings had increased after the old dog passed away, which was sort of why Gary had demanded Jamie to wake him up, because he used to be woken by Dexter's licking his hand to say that his husband had gone downstairs, but the old dog wasn't there to do it now. 

He ran his fingers though Jamie's every greying hair and gave him a peck on the forehead. 

“Sleep now, love. I got you. And wake me up if you need to.” 

Jamie hummed in response, halfway off to dreamland apparently. Gary smiled to himself. Thought of the dog bed in the attic that would soon belong to someone again, his wonderful husband who would maybe get some more sleep soon, his perfect boys right down the hall excited for tomorrow, the fuzzball of a princess  downstairs who loved Gary the most because he was the one to brush her fur daily. 

This family had to be the best one in all of the world.

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Fourteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Talk about murder. Kidnapping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7783

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 22. Right after part thirteen.

Everyone was already on the jet and waiting for me when I stepped on. Gideon, Morgan, Emily, and Reid were all sitting at the four seats around the table, leaving me with one of the nearby single seats or the edge of the couch. I stuffed my go back in the overhead bin and took a seat on the edge of the couch. Morgan handed me an official case file for the sixty-three missing homeless people in Kansas City. I opened the file to take a look. They had transcribed everything Detective McGee gave them for the file, and Garcia had also added whatever she could, despite the fact that there wasn’t much documented in our system. They had been working on the case while I was gone, so they already had an idea of what the profile of the Unsub was.

Morgan ran me through everything they already knew. Our Unsub was what we liked to call a “housecleaner”, which meant that this kind of Unsub viewed himself as a hero who was cleaning the streets of the “filth”, which in this case was the homeless. It made sense that this was their first step in the profile since sixty-three people had gone missing, and the only link in victimology was the fact that they were all homeless. He wasn’t delusional enough to not conceptualize that murder is still bad, but he figured that his murders were excusable because he was helping the world by ridding it of “filth”. Because he has a housecleaner’s superiority complex, he was likely an unpleasant man who left everyone he met with a bad feeling about him, but they weren’t sure why. That makes him a loner, and he blames the world for that. So rather than take on a friend or partner, he likely has someone who is subservient to him to help him with these kidnappings and murders.

According to Detective McGee’s reports, he started noticing the disappearances about a year ago, which meant that the stressor likely happened around that time— no more than three months prior to the disappearances. Since he was a loner and he was a dislikable person, it was fair to assume that the stressor was losing someone who was important to him and loved him no matter who he was, which led us to believe that it was a family member who had passed away. Spencer brought up that the Unsubs likely didn’t have any jobs because of how frequent the disappearances were occurring.

“Sounds like I missed all the fun,” I laughed. They had practically done the whole case on their own while I was gone. All that was left to do was to get onto the ground and find the guy who matched the description.

When we landed in Kansas City, we headed directly to the precinct to meet up with Hotch, JJ, and the detective. Gideon was the first to ask how they managed to convince the Chief of Police to give us the case, and Hotch admitted to us that McGee had gone over their heads with this and come straight to us, so they weren’t exactly inclined to give us the case, but JJ found out that a note that was sent to McGee from the Unsub after he had been rewarded for cleaning up the streets was from Kansas City, Missouri, it became a federal case the second it crossed state lines. 

“This is Chief Wright,” Hotch introduced us to the police chief who was less than happy to see us in his precinct. “We’re going to be working closely with him. This is still his jurisdiction.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Do you have somewhere for us to set up?” he asked Wright. The police chief nodded. “Good. We’ll set up in there after we give the profile.”

“The profile?” Wright inquired.

“We’ve been working on it all morning,” Reid answered without thinking.

Hotch eyed Spencer with a stern look that said: “Some things are better unspoken.” Hotch turned back to the police chief with a faux friendly smile to throw Wright off. “We’d like to give it as soon as possible.”

Wright nodded warily, “Right… Sure… Let me gather everyone up.” He headed off.

Hotch moved closer to the team as we huddled up to talk with him. “Reid, I want you and Gideon to give the profile. We’re all going to head out afterwards to talk to the locals, see if they know anything about these disappearances. Maybe one of them can identify our Unsub or tell us where to find him. It’ll be dark by the time we get out there, so we’ll all team up. JJ, you’ll go with McGee, I’ll go with Wright, Gideon with Reid, Morgan, Emily, and Y/N will go together. Sound good?”

Everyone nodded again as the entire precinct started to gather up for our profile. We faced them as they got situated in their seats. Gideon and Reid stepped forward and began to tell every detail of the profile that they had told me on the flight. None of the department seemed to have any questions or comments of any use afterwards, so they were dismissed. Wright and McGee came over to ask if the plan was still to go downtown and question people on the streets, and Hotch nodded. Those who lived on the streets were our most likely witnesses, even if they didn’t realize it.

Hotch told everyone to change into warm clothes for the night and gear up. After the team split off, Hotch grabbed my hand and led me towards the break room in the back of the precinct. 

“Hey, how did it go with Haley? I know that you were a little worried.”

I smacked his arm playfully. He knew I was worried this whole time and he was acting like it wasn’t a big deal, and it made me feel stupid about it. “It went fine,” I admitted. “Jack’s mad at us because he wanted to spend the night at our house and he wanted to get ice cream with me, but I tried to tell him that there was nothing we could do.”

“We’ll make it up to him when we get back.”

“That’s what I said, but he kept pouting.” I smiled, “He crossed his arms and frowned like you always do. It was cute.”

“I don’t frown.”

“Yes, you do. All the time,” I laughed. “It’s okay, though, ‘cause I get to see you smile everyday, and that's a good enough reason for me to stick around.”

He raised a brow and smirked as he decided to play along, “Was that in question?”

I shook my head, “No. I’d never do that to Jack.”

Hotch finally let out a chuckle. “I see how it is.” I smiled up at him playfully. “You’ll stay with Morgan and Emily tonight, right? No wandering off on your own?”

“I’m not a baby, Hotch. I’ll be fine.”

He squinted, “You have a bad habit of doing things your way. I don’t need this Unsub taking you if he sees the chance.”

I patted his chest, “I’ll be good, big guy. Thanks for being worried, though.”

“Hey,” he caught my attention with his earnest tone. “I love you. A lot.”

He raised his brows shortly to make his words more sincere. I believed him. He never had to tell me more than once to make it stick in my head, but he always wanted to tell me. He was obsessed with saying it whenever he could because he was never sure when it would end up being the last time, considering our field of work. It was like how often I felt the urge to return the favor by telling him or telling Jack every chance I could get. I never knew when the last time I would be able to see Jack would be, so I had to make every second count. 

When everyone was ready and waiting for us outside of the break room, I managed to steal a moment to kiss him and tell him that I love him, too, before we headed out. Each pair, or in my case, group, took their own car since we were all starting on separate sides of downtown and we were going to work our way towards the middle, where we would all meet up to review what we had learned.

Morgan, Emily, and I started on the South side of downtown. where there were more homeless camps than stragglers and prostitutes. We found a few communities building shelters under bridges and outside of abandoned builds, and we asked each and every person we came across if they recognized our Unsub’s profile or if they had seen anything suspicious at all. While they all insisted that there was nothing out of the ordinary, the worrisome part was that they all said that they hadn’t heard about any disappearances. They knew of people who had moved away, but not gone missing. Those of them who told us that they knew of people who moved away were given a list of names by Emily to see if they could identify any of the victims, but to no such luck. It was like these victims didn’t even exist between the missing files and the fact that no one in the area knew of them.

While walking North, we came across an injured and alone woman, pushing a cart full of her belongings along in front of her as she limped. We were asking anybody and everybody for their help, this woman was simply no exception. Morgan approached her with a kind smile and she smiled back at him. He had an inviting, homely face that when lit up with a smile, it was contagious to everyone else.

“How are you doing this fine evening, ma’am?” he asked her as she stopped pushing her cart.

“I’m fine,” she answered.

“We’re with the FBI and we’re investigating some disappearances that have been happening in this area. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Go for it, handsome.”

Emily and I both smiled at the ground. Morgan was just that kind of guy. He was attractive, smart, funny, and embarrassingly kind. He had this playboy type attitude that he liked to flaunt around a lot, but underneath all of that was a man who just wanted to do right by everyone he ever met. This woman looked so sad and alone, yet she took an immediate liking to Morgan— not in a creepy way, but in a way that reminded me of how a grandmother would treat their grandson; and Morgan was more than willing to oblige this woman by playing along.

“What’s your name darling?”

“Mona.”

“Mona,” he smiled. “I love that name. It suits you. Well, Ms. Mona, have you seen anyone suspicious around here recently? Maybe some unfamiliar, out of place faces?”

Mona shook her head, “There’s unfamiliar faces everywhere on the streets. You see a lot of the same people all the time, but people come and go as their life takes turns going up and down.”

“Have you noticed that anyone you recognized a lot is suddenly gone?”

Mona shook her head again. “Like I said, people come and go as they please. One day they might be under the bridges, the next they’ll be working in some restaurant. Life happens.”

“Alright, well, thank you for your help. Can I maybe take you somewhere? Like a shelter, perhaps?”

Mona scoffed and scrunched up her nose in disgust, “Have you ever seen one of them shelters? I have better luck on the street than in there.”

“Okay, okay,” he pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and threw them up in surrender, “You just be careful out there, Mona. We need more beautiful faces like you out in the world.”

Mona blushed and hid her face in the collar of her shirt. She thanked him for his kind words before pushing her cart off again and continuing on her way through the streets at night. We watched her walk on and I hoped to myself that she would be alright and she wouldn’t end up as one of the next victims. She was a good woman— a kind woman. She didn’t look like she could hurt a fly. We needed more people like her in the world.

Emily chuckled. “You’re a good guy,” she complimented Morgan.

It boosted his ego tenfold and he smiled over at us, his playboy act returning just for show. “Oh, I know.”

“I think you’re just an asshole who has a thing for older women,” I bit back a laugh.

Morgan’s smile brightened at my playful jab. “Says the one dating our boss.”

“Ooh,” Emily sighed, “burn…”

“Is that for me calling you a tool earlier?” I interrogated, walking past to keep heading North.

He nodded, “It sure is.”

Both of them caught up with me and we continued on a few more blocks before we ended up finding Hotch and Wright walking towards us from the North. We regrouped with them as we waited for JJ, McGee, Gideon, and Reid to find us on their paths from the West and East. Morgan asked if Hotch and Wright found anything of use, and they shook their heads. No one had seen anything out of the ordinary and no one even knew that these people were missing. Emily admitted that we had the same luck.

“We saw JJ and McGee about a block back and they said the same thing,” Hotch told us. “It’s just weird. You’d think that if the Unsub were out here, he’d stick out like a sore thumb because of his superiority complex, but all of these people seem… quiet and humble. Most of them even seem extroverted once you start talking with them.”

“And our Unsub is definitely an introvert?” I checked.

Hotch shrugged.

“You were adamant on our guy being an introvert, but being extremely memorable… yet no one seems to have any idea of who we’re talking about,” Wright said with an accusatory tone towards Hotch.

“So, then, riddle me this, Chief Wright, what do you think happened to those sixty-three missing people?”

“I still don’t think anything happened to them, Agent Hotchner. I think that this is all a waste of my time, your time, and the people’s tax dollars.”

“Ah, right. You think that they all just got jobs and houses. Maybe they found rainbows and unicorns as well.”

“Hotch,” I hissed a warning. Their tones and conversation were incredibly rude. It wasn’t going to help anything if they were just going to keep fighting amongst each other.

Emily changed the topic first, “What we should really be asking ourselves here is how did the Unsub get sixty-three or more street smart people off the streets without being seen?”

“It would need to be someone trustworthy, under the radar. He’s here all the time, but not enough for people to know him by name or to know enough about him to think that he’s an unlikable person.”

“Then it’s definitely not someone from the streets,” Morgan added. “Someone who would go undetected by bystanders and the street community alike.” He looked down the road, towards the direction where Mona had started walking off. “Someone like… Captain Wright, does your Social Services Department patrol around at night?”

Wright furrowed his brows and shook his head, “No, they have to be called, and then—”

Morgan jumped onto his toes and started running back towards Mona’s direction. We all turned to see what he was doing while Hotch ran after him. Morgan had spotted Mona at the end of the road, just in front of an alleyway, walking with a man who had driven up in a Social Serves van. The driver was taking Mona’s cart from her calmly and helped her put it into the back of her van. It looked fairly innocent, but with what Wright had just disclosed about Social Services not being out that time of night, we realized that something was wrong. Well started chasing after Morgan and Hotch.

“Mona!” Morgan called out desperately. “Mona, wait! Do not get in that van!” He slowed his pace down as he approached her and the driver of the van. “What are you doing?” he asked curiously, putting a hand on Mona’s shoulder.

“He's gonna drive me to the park,” she answered.

The driver was already getting back in the car and trying to start the engine. Morgan walked over to the window. The rest of us slowed down now as we caught up to them. Morgan leaned against the car, peeking his head in through the window, “Hey, what’s going on, my man?”

“I should go,” the driver said nervously, turning the engine over and it started to rumble.

“Sir, do you have a city employee I.D.?” Hotch asked the driver.

“Look, I really don’t have time for this.”

“Yes, you do. I.D. Now, please,” he demanded with a gruff tone that I knew all too well.

The driver hesitated for a moment, his eyes still on the steering wheel that he had a tight grip on. Morgan kept his hands on the car and his head in the window— a tactic to try to intimidate the man. I looked at the banner on the side of the van, and realized that it was entirely fake. It didn’t look at all real if you knew what the real thing looked like. But to anyone on the streets, like Mona, it probably looked legit. Next thing I knew, the banner was speeding out of my field of view as the driver stepped on the gas. The car sped forward with Morgan still hanging on to make sure that he wouldn’t get away. I called out Morgan’s name as we all ran after the car. The driver was racing down the alleyway towards a dead end, which he soon realized, but with Morgan fighting with him for control of the van, he was unable to stop in time before they collided with the wall. 

“Morgan!” I cried his name out again as I grabbed his jacket and pulled him out of the window. He jumped onto his feet and thanked me before yanking the front car door open and pulled the driver out. “Don’t do that ever again,” I scolded Morgan while he pushed the driver up against the side of the van and arrested him. 

Morgan recited the driver’s rights as he slapped the handcuffs on him. Hotch called Gideon and JJ to let them know that their groups needed to meet us back at the precinct as soon as possible. The car that Emily, Morgan, and I brought was the closest. Hotch hopped in the car with us and the suspect since he wanted to lead the interrogation when we would arrive at the precinct. I sat up front with Morgan, as usual, while Emily and Hotch sat on either side of the handcuffed suspect.

I watched the suspect through the mirrors on the outside of the cars and the rearview one on the ceiling between Morgan and I. He didn’t look at all like a killer. He looked scared, but not innocent. We had caught him trying to take someone while posing as a city official, so he knew that he was neck deep in trouble, but he wasn’t our Unsub. Earlier, however, the team had mentioned that our Unsub could possibly have a subservient partner who was helping him, and that certainly passed through my mind as a possibility a few times. Hotch was likely going to proceed with the investigation with such an accusation to see if we were right, in turn also proving a point to Chief Wright. 

At the station, JJ and McGee were already waiting for us since they had been the closest. Morgan and Emily took the suspect into the interrogation room, meanwhile Hotch, JJ, McGee, and I stayed in the mirror room just outside of it to talk about how we were going to proceed. McGee asked us if we thought that this was our Unsub, but Hotch denied the claim, and as I suspected, he assumed that this man was the subservient Unsub who was helping the dominant by kidnapping the victims. McGee asked what that meant for our investigation— and specifically this interrogation, and we told him that this guy was going to tell us exactly where to find our real Unsub, if he really was who we thought he was. It was entirely possible that this guy was just some other random creep who had been taking people off the streets, but that was a whole other can of worms to open if it got to that point. 

“Detective, I want you to go in with me,” Hotch said to McGee.

“Wha— What… Me? Are you sure?”

Hotch nodded as a response to him just as Morgan and Emily came out of the interrogation room. “Morgan, call Garcia and see if we can find anything on this guy.” Morgan took his orders and headed out to go call her. “Y/N, if this guy ends up not responding to the good cop, bad cop routine, be ready to go in.” I nodded. “McGee, when we go in there, let me do all the talking. I’m going to ignore you— I won’t even look at you. I need to show this guy that I share the same alpha, dominant personality as the other Unsub in order to get him to tell us anything.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Y/N’s going to go in. If he doesn’t respond to a male dominant type, then he’s likely scared of the opposite. A woman. It doesn’t matter if they’re stern with him, because their physique and demeanor will throw him off. We’ll worry about one thing at a time, though.”

The door to the room opened up again and Morgan stepped back in. “Garcia couldn’t find much on this guy. His driver’s license is legit, so his name is Steven Foster. But there are no employment records, tax records, no credit cards, no bank accounts, nothing. This guy’s practically a ghost.”

“That’s likely the point,” Hotch added. “The dominant probably told him that the best way to keep both of them safe is to leave no paper trail.”

“Wait,” McGee cut in. “If this guy is so devoted to the other Unsub, then why does he look so scared?”

“He’s the only one who knows what the Unsub is truly capable of,” Emily responded. “He’s the only one alive who can tell us who the Unsub is and what horrible atrocities he has committed. He knows better than anyone what the dominant could do if he found out that he was caught by the police.”

“We can use that to our advantage,” Hotch explained.

The door opened again and Wright, Reid, Gideon, and JJ all walked in. Gideon and Hotch nodded knowingly to each other. Hotch took that as his signal and waved McGee over with him towards the other door that led into the interrogation room. The second Hotch stepped into the room, Steven leapt out of his chair and tried to power pose on Hotch, of all people.

“It’s about damn time!” Steven exclaimed with faux anger that was trying to cover up his anxiety. “What am I doing here, anyways? I didn’t do anything! I mean, what’s the charges? Hm? Do you even have any? What did I even do? Offer to help an old lady get to the park? Is that even illegal? No, I don’t think so!” He chuckled to himself, “I see, you’re going to try to charge me with the collision, even though it was the other cop’s fault! The black guy! You know!”

His incessant yelling wasn’t at all intimidating. In fact, it only showed just how fragile he was and how quick he was to unravel in front of Hotch’s glare and spine-chilling silence. I recognized Steven’s attempts to find a talking point for Hotch to respond to because it was what I would have done if Hotch was like that towards me. Even if everyone else didn’t realize it, this was more than just putting on an alpha personality for show and for the interrogation; this was Hotch’s exact dominant personality. Every time I was in Steven’s shoes, I was practically bouncing off the walls with anxiety because Hotch always got quiet when he slid into his dominant role. He liked to wait and see me squirm and dig myself into holes that I couldn’t climb out of because he would ultimately use those against me later. That was exactly what he was doing with Steven… and I pitied him for what would come next.

“He jumped into my van! He crashed the car, not me! I didn’t do anything! There were witnesses! They’ll testify!”

“Sit. Down,” Hotch commanded sternly.

Steven did as he was told immediately. God, it was so ironic to me that the rest of the team watching had no idea just how common this was for Hotch, but I knew… I knew exactly just how terrified Steven was of possibly crossing Hotch again now. Steven’s obedience also meant that Hotch was going to get through. He didn’t need me to go in, and he didn’t even need McGee there anymore to prove his dominance in the room. Hotch had already won and Steven didn’t even know it yet.

“I’ve been standing on the other side of that glass, thinking about what to do with you, Steven,” Hotch said as he sat down across from Steven. A shiver ran down my spine in response to Hotch’s low volume. “And this morning, I decided that I’m going to save your life. You’re going to tell me where my killer is. You’re going to give me an address. And you’re going to tell me how to get inside without raising an alarm. You’re going to draw me a map, if I need one. You will do whatever it takes to help me.” Steven started rocking back and forth as panic set in again. “You’re going to do all of this because he has never been nice to you. He is going to hurt you if we don’t find him and we let you go while he is still out there. He’s going to kill you unless you help us lock him away. Do you understand? He doesn’t care about you. He told you to not get caught by the authorities, and you disobeyed him, which means that there will be severe punishment. You don’t want that, do you, Steven, so don’t give him the satisfaction. Tell me where he is.”

Steven shook his head, “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.”

“No… You don’t understand… I can’t. My family has always worked for his family. It’s all I know…” He choked back a worried sob. “His father died last year, leaving him everything— the money, the place, the—” he stopped himself short before he could admit more about their operation. “He’s the last one… He’s going to hurt me so bad…”

“Not if you tell us how we can put him away.”

Steven looked down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. He gulped while thinking long and hard about what he was going to do. Like I said, Hotch had already won after he made his first command. It was only a matter of time before Steven would give in. With the truth of Steven’s possible punishment staring him in the face, he had no choice but to help us or go back to his partner and be slaughtered like the other victims likely had been.

“Holcombe,” he whispered. “His name is… Charles… Holcombe…”

Morgan was already on his phone, calling Garcia for information on the name we were given, Emily went to call the SWAT team for back up, JJ went to go handle the press conference that would come shortly after the arrest, but Gideon, Reid, and I all stayed to watch the rest of the interrogation.

“He owns the old meatpacking plant.”

Reid left to go tell Morgan that detail and to find out where the meatpacking plant was located. It was just me and Gideon now.

“He has her there.”

“Who does he have?” Hotch interrogated.

He shook his head again, “I don’t know her name. I picked her up yesterday. The sun’s coming up… If she isn’t dead yet, she will be soon. The kill room is on the third floor in the East wing. You can enter through the first floor, North side door.”

Hotch pushed his chair out and stormed out of the interrogation room with McGee following close behind. Gideon and I left the mirror room just behind them and we headed towards the boardroom where our team had set up shop. Morgan and Reid already had their vests on, and Morgan was just getting off the phone with Garcia when she gave him the address we needed to find Charles Holcombe.

Morgan tossed my vest at me and I started strapping it to my torso. I tied my hair back out of my face as the entire team— Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Emily, Reid, JJ, me, Wright, and McGee— all headed outside for the black SUVs just out in front of the precinct. All ten of us fit into two separate cars. Hotch drove one with McGee, Wright, and Gideon, Morgan drove the other with me, Emily, Reid, and JJ. We raced down the highway with the lights and sirens on. The meatpacking plant was only about ten minutes away, but with traffic moving out of our way and Morgan speeding over ninety miles per hour, we would make it in half that.

When we arrived at the building, Morgan and Hotch parked the cars on the North side of the building, since that was how Steven told us we would get into the building. The SWAT team pulled up just behind us, jumping out of their truck before it could even come to a full stop. Hotch told them to lead the way towards the third floor in the East wing. He opened the front door for them, using a crowbar in order to pry it open. They all filed into the building with their much larger weapons, compared to ours. As I ran in behind Morgan and Hotch, I nearly tripped when I trampled over a couple of pairs of shoes lined up in the hallway. I raised a brow as I caught my footing. It looked like the shoes were almost leading the way to the door… but there were so many of them… way more than sixty-three pairs… and there were kids sized ones, too… I tried to ignore the thought as I stepped around them and followed the team further into the building. We took a few interesting turns on our route to a staircase which held us to the third floor, and from there, we continued heading East.

When we found traces of blood on the floor, the SWAT team slowed down to approach each corner with caution. On the walls, I started to notice that he had painted labels— or directions, if you will— on each corner to help him keep track of where he was and where he was going, which only made it easier for us to find him, because all we had to do was follow the corners that read “KILL ROOM”. Then, when we heard movement and talking down the hall, the leader of the SWAT team called us all forward so that we could proceed with the negotiations and arrest. Our entire time moved up and waited for Hotch’s signal to run around the corner with our weapons raised. When we did, we saw Holcombe at the end of the hall, wearing a full hazmat suit, turning a stretcher into a nearby room labeled as the “KILL ROOM” with big, red letters, presumably done in blood.

“Charles Holcombe!” Hotch called out, taking careful steps forward. “FBI!”

Holcombe looked up from the girl on the stretcher in front of him to Hotch and the rest of the team who was approaching him with hostility. “No!” he cried when he realized that he had finally been caught. He let go of the stretcher and picked up a large machete knife that had been laying beside the woman. He raised it like he was going to slash it down on her neck.

“Don’t do it!” I warned him, still approaching behind Hotch and Morgan.

“Charles Holcombe, you’re under arrest for the murder of sixty-three people,” McGee quivered as he spoke with courage.

“Just let me do my job!” Holcombe yelled again.

When he started lowering his hand and knife back down towards his next victim, Hotch tried warning him again to not do anything stupid, but he couldn’t take the chance that this guy would kill the woman, so both him and Morgan started firing since they had the cleanest shots. Holcombe fell away from the stretcher, dropping the knife, and landing on his back on the floor.

I pushed past Hotch and Morgan once they were done firing, and I ran over to the woman to make sure that she was alright. Hotch followed me over, Morgan and Reid went to check on Holcombe, and Emily pulled out her phone to call an ambulance. The woman looked up at me with tears in her eyes and blood pulsing out of multiple different wounds around her body. I cooed her quietly as Hotch and I both started working on releasing her hands from the restraints keeping her on the stretcher.

“His face…” she cried.

Hotch thought she said, “My face,” so he responded with, “You’ve got some cuts, but you’re going to be okay.”

She shook her head, “No, his face. I want to see his face. Please.”

Hotch froze for a moment before telling Morgan to pull the mask off of Holcombe’s face for the woman to see. Hotch and I carefully propped her head up as Morgan did as he was told. When Holcombe’s face was revealed, she started laughing hysterically to herself, likely from the shock.

“I won,” she laughed with relief. “I won…”

I eyed Hotch through my eyelashes so as to not make it obvious that we were sharing a worried glance over this woman. He decided to take the initiative to keep talking to her to calm her down. “You’re going to be okay. There’s an ambulance outside. You’re safe. Just try not to move until the EMTs come in.”

She stopped laughing slowly and took in a painful, wheezing breath, “Can you have someone check on my baby, please? I left her with my mom for the night, but I didn’t get home on time… I just want to make sure my baby’s alright…”

“What’s your name?” I asked her. If I had her name, I could call Garcia and get an address for her mother.

“Maggie. Maggie Flores.”

“I’ll find your daughter, Maggie. She’ll meet us at the hospital, okay?”

She nodded and thanked me. I gave Hotch another look before I stepped back, grabbed my phone from my pocket, and dialed Garcia’s number at the office. I asked her to look for a Maggie Flores in Kansas City, and I needed an address for her mother. Garcia was on it faster than the speed of light. She gave me an address and a phone number to call Sarah Flores, Maggie’s mother. I hung up with Garcia and called Mrs. Flores at her home address. She picked up after the second ring as though she had been sitting next to the phone, waiting for her daughter to call. I told her my name and that I was with the FBI, and that we had just found her daughter. I told her that we were going to be taking her to the hospital, but she looked alright besides a few scrapes and bruises. Mrs. Flores, understandably, started crying on the other end of the call. I asked the EMTs running past me which hospital they would be taking her to, and I relayed that information to Mrs. Flores on the phone. She told me that she would grab her granddaughter and they would hurry to meet us there.

When I got off of the phone with Mrs. Flores, the EMTs had already put Maggie on one of their stretchers and they started pushing her towards the exit. Hotch still stood where I left him, the rest of the team gathering up with him. As I approached, I heard Wright apologizing to both McGee and Hotch for not believing them. Without McGee, those sixty-three— or more people— wouldn’t have found justice, and that mother would have been dead. McGee did the right thing by coming to us with the case.

JJ told Hotch that she was going to head back to the station with Gideon and Reid to prep for the press conference which would conclude this case, and then they would start packing up so that we could go home. I started walking backwards, toe to heel, as I headed for the stairs where they were taking Maggie. Hotch asked where I was going, and I told him that I was going to ride with Maggie to the hospital to make sure that she was alright. I spun around on my heel to start walking forward. I called back to him that he could pick me up from the hospital whenever we were ready to head back to Virginia. I knew that he was probably less than pleased with me going off on my own, but like he said himself… I had a tendency of doing things my way.

Maggie thanked me for keeping her company in the ambulance as I sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. I comforted her and told her that her family would be meeting us at the hospital. She was going to be alright.

When we arrived at the hospital, they took her to a room and locked me out while they made sure that she was okay. I sat just outside of the room, bouncing my knee as I waited for something to happen. A few minutes later, I found that an older woman and a toddler were running towards me. I stood from my seat in the hallway to greet them. Mrs. Flores looked visibly distraught while trying to see into her daughter’s hospital room, while the little girl looked so confused about why she was there. After the nurse came out of the room to tell us about Maggie’s status, Mrs. Flores took her granddaughter into the room and I stayed in the hallway to give them privacy.

I sat back down and continued to bounce my knee. All there was left to do now was wait for Hotch to pick me up when the team was ready to head home. I wasn’t entirely sure why I decided to quickly go with Maggie to the hospital. I think I attributed it towards how she asked us to check on her daughter before she even asked about herself. I wanted to find her daughter for her, and I wanted to see them reunite. I could only hope that if I were to ever be in Maggie’s position, someone would show me the same courtesies… Maybe that was why I went… 

Hotch called to tell me that he was waiting in the car outside. I told him that I would be right out, but before I went downstairs, I went back into Maggie’s room to tell her goodbye. She was curled up on her hospital bed with her daughter in her arms, both of them content and half asleep. I whispered to tell her that I needed to return to Virginia, but that I was happy that she was safe. She thanked me again for saving her life and reuniting her with her daughter. All I could do was smile and nod before quietly taking my leave. I didn’t know what else there was to say to her when I didn’t even fully understand it all myself.

In the car, Hotch asked if I was alright. I stared at his cheek for a moment while he kept his focus on the road, then I hummed a “yes” and took one of his hands from the steering wheel and intertwined my fingers with his. My mind was still lost in thought, thinking about how Maggie was holding her daughter close and how I wanted nothing more than to hold Hotch and Jack like that forever. My heart was pounding in my chest, too, and I wasn’t sure if it was left over anxiety from the events at the meatpacking plant, or if it was from Hotch’s electric touch, or the desperation I felt for getting back home to see Jack. We had only been away for a day, but that was a day longer than I wanted in the first place, and I was sure that Hotch felt the same way.

Hotch’s hand untangled itself from mine before he put his palm against my cheek. I tucked into his touch and sighed lightly as he brought me back down to Earth. “We’re going to see him soon,” he reassured me.

He knew that things weren’t okay and that I just wanted to get home to be with him and Jack more than anything else in the world. Jack wasn’t even my own, and yet my heart ached every time I was away from him… It was the oddest feeling. I knew that he wasn’t mine, and I knew that he never would be. I knew that there was always a possibility that Hotch and I wouldn’t be forever, and if that day were to ever come, I would have no right to stick around in Jack’s life. I knew that I would never be his mother even though I so desperately wanted to be. I knew that whatever pain I felt while being away from Jack was nowhere near the pain Hotch felt because they were flesh and blood. Hotch had helped bring that precious kid into this world, and he was the best father anyone could ask for. I had never seen anyone so devoted to their son like Hotch was. Therefore, I knew that despite how much I was hurting, it could never compare, yet Hotch always went the extra mile to comfort me— and maybe that was because it helped to comfort himself, too…

Before we had even gotten on the jet in Kansas City, Hotch called Haley to let her know that we were done with our case and we were flying home. She told Jack while she was still on the phone that he was going to be staying at our house for the next few days, so he needed to go get ready. I could hear him jumping with excitement in the background before running up to his room to grab his school stuff and the toys he wanted to bring to our house. He didn’t have to worry about clothes, toiletries, or anything of the sort because Hotch’s home was still his home, but Jack liked to carry his favorite toys between houses.

Back in Virginia, Hotch and I hurried from the jet to our car before anyone could stop us. Neither of us even thought to go back inside the office for our paperwork. It could wait, but seeing Jack couldn’t. As we pulled up to Haley’s house, we could see Jack peeking through the blinds in the front window to watch for us. When he spotted us, he ran from the window, and before Hotch and I could even get out of the car, Haley was already opening the door and Jack was running out towards us. Haley watched from her door as Jack jumped into Hotch’s arms and hugged his dad’s neck as tightly as he could.

Hotch winged his arms around Jack and squeezed back, “Hey, buddy.”

“Are we going to get ice cream, daddy?”

Hotch chuckled while sending me a glance that said: “This is all your fault, you know?” I smiled back and shrugged. He always liked to tell me that I was the cool one, so I wanted to give him the chance to be the cool dad for once. “Yeah. Just like we promised we would.” Hotch leaned down and set Jack back on his feet, “Go tell your mom goodbye first.” Jack spun around and hurried back to hug his mom. Hotch walked over to where I was standing on the sidewalk and he threw his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close, “You’re paying.”

I let out a chuckle, “Touche.”

He kissed my temple while he was still smiling ear to ear. “I love you.”

“I love him more,” I poked his side and escaped from under his arm. Hotch’s jaw fell agape playfully. I looked at him with wide eyes, “Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”

He nodded, “Oh, yeah.”

Shit.

I bit my lip and winked at him before helping Jack into the car. Hotch watched me with a smile as he got back into the car and turned the radio on for Jack. I asked him as I buckled him in what flavor of ice cream he was going to get, and when he told me “every flavor!”, Hotch laughed from the front seat.

“How about we just start with one flavor?” I asked Jack. He nodded reluctantly. “Attaboy.” I closed his car door and sat up front with Hotch. “Hey, you,” I poked his side again before he could put the car in drive. He looked at me and raised a brow. “I love you.”

He squinted, “I don’t easily forget, Greenaway. You’ll have to try harder than that.” He set the gearshift to drive, looked back at the road, and put his foot on the gas. I stared at him with bright, soft, admiration-filled eyes until I caught his attention again. He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head while smiling, “Stop it.”  I didn’t look away. He sighed.  “I love you, too,” he gave in.

I grinned to myself and sat back in my seat. I realized something in that moment: I was the happiest I had ever been.

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 9 - Hogsmeade Rendezvous

Summary: You and George spend the whole day together in Hogsmeade, falling for each other more and more

Warning: None, fluff

Word count: 3.4K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

“Fred cannot come with us,” said George sitting down next to you. “Teachers know we’ll get nothing done together so they send us to detention on seperate days.”

“When’s yours?” you asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“They act like after writing some lines I wouldn’t do it again,” he rolled his eyes. “Or that I‘d regret what I did.”

“Do you?”

“Hexing Slytherins on corridors? Never.”

He looked at you, waiting for you to smile. You pressed your lips together, fighting a snicker.

“C’mon, that was funny!”

“I’m trying not to encourage you too much.”

“Yeah?” he looked deeply into your eyes. “Not even a little?”

You two locked eyes. He was stubborn. He raised his eyebrows, teasing you. You were about to loose. A grin appeared on his face. The edge of your lips curled up, then you burst out laughing.

He felt quite pleased with himself.

“So, what do you want to do today?” you asked. “I have sandwiches from the kitchen so we don’t have to hurry back too early.”

Spending more time with you? For George it was an absolute win.

“I don’t know. Where would you wanna go?

“Well, Honeydukes, obviously. And Ginny said there’s a café not far from the post office, I’d like to try that.”

“Alright” he said. “I need to go to Zonko’s as well. The only problem is — never mind.”

“What?” you asked kindly. God, you were always so kind.

“I don’t really have much money in the moment,” he casted down his eyes, even though he didn’t want to.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you said, searching in your pockets. “How much do you have? I’m not very rich at the moment, either. I have…. four… seventeen… twenty — I have four galleons and twenty one sickles.”

You put the coins on the table. George searched around in his own pockets.

“It’s three galleons, one sickle and seven knuts. Brilliant,” he sad in a sad voice.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you said, reassuringly patting his hand. “We can always act like rich people.”

George snorted.

“What do you mean?”

You raised your head and your tone became rather snobbish.

“Well, darling, a bright mind always finds way to make ends according to his needs.”

George started laughing then pressed his fingers together like he was holding a tea cup.

“Indeed, indeed, my dear. Now, please let me escort you to the nearest gate. Let us enjoy this splendid day!

You laughed then stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, too.

“Alright, come on!” you let go of him and George felt his palms very empty. “Let’s go.”

You hurried down to the Entrance Hall and got dressed in your coats before stepping outside. It was unusually cold this day; the night before had been snowing, probably for the last time this school year. It was already the end of March.

Cold wind welcomed you outside as you started making your way to the village. You tied your scarf around your neck, but you still seemed to be freezing. George saw how you were shivering and stopped walking.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah a little, so let’s hurry up. I wanna drink something warm.”

“Wait,” he said, a bit nervous. Then he started rubbing your arms to make you warmer, “Better?”

“Yeah, you should do my ears instead,” you said smiling and before he could say anything you grabbed his hands and put them over your ears. You laughed and asked teasingly. “Ah, better, you think we can walk like this?”

George didn’t know how to respond, all he could focus on was his hands on your cheeks. But you were not wearing any hat for the winter and your ears were really cold.

“Do you wanna go back and get you a hat?” he asked, still holding your face. He didn’t really want to let go but he didn’t want to be awkward either. He pointed at the castle. “We’re still pretty close.”

“No, it’s alright. I don’t have a hat, maybe I should buy one.”

“Your mum doesn’t make you one for Christmas?”

He already regretted the sentence as soon as he had said it.

“I’m sorry, I mean — Y/N, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

You smiled at him and gently squeezed his arm through his coat.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it, really,” you started walking again and George followed. “So your mum’s making you all those jumpers and hats? That’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, you know it’s easier than buying everything.”

“More personal, too.”

He saw some kind of longing in your eyes. He stopped again and took his knitted hat from his head, holding it out for you.

“Here. Take it.”

You looked at him, confused.

“What?”

“Yeah, take it. I’ll get an other one. And you’re freezing, aren’t ya?”

You hesitated.

“I don’t wanna take your stuff, it’s yours.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His smile seemed to convince you. You took the hat and put it on, nicely adjusting your locks of hair.

“Thank you. How do I look?” you asked him, posing.

“Beautiful,” blurted out George.

He couldn’t say anything else. You were beautiful, with your scarf matching your eyes, with his hat on your head. You were wearing his hat. His chest was so warm, and his heart was beating really, really fast.

You were caught off guard by the comment and even though you looked a bit shy, you still gave him a warm smile in return.

“Well, thank you. Can we go?”

You sped up and reached the village in ten minutes. You decided to check out that café first that Ginny mentioned, which turned out to be Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop. After you both looked at the pink door and windows filled with pink and purple tea cups, you agreed without words that this was not a place for you.

“Zonko’s?” you said, fighting a laugh.

“Yes. Please,” said George still hallucinating from all the pink.

You went over to Zonko’s where you ran into Lee. You three had a laugh about Fred who was probably bored out of his mind at detention. Then George bought everything he wanted and the two of you headed to Honeydukes.

George was searching your face all the time, unable to look away from you for more than ten seconds. He continuosly glanced at your hat, his hat, and couldn’t help but imagining how nice it would be, you always wearing his clothes, because you wouldn’t be just friends anymore, because you would be so much more than that.

“You know if you like the hat, I can always send an owl to mum, ask her to make you one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When’s your birthday? I’ll have your present by then.”

“Well, you have time, my birthday was just in February.”

“Wait, what?” he exclaimed. “But it’s the end of March! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really care for it” you shrugged. “Ginny got me a nice perfume, though.”

George was not satisfied with the answer at all.

“I have to get you something.”

Your laugh was a bit dry.

“Oh, you don’t need to get me anything.”

“At least something from Honeydukes. Please, Y/N.”

He looked in your eyes. Your stern expression seemed to melt a little.

“We’ll see,” you said.

As you entered the store you quickly grabbed a package and went to the counter to pay for it. The lady smiled at you and said, “Three sickles, darling.” You reached for the money but George was faster. He placed the coins on the counter.

“Hey!” you said, half laughing, half scolding. “You didn’t need to do that!”

“Never mind that, I wanted to.”

“Alright, you know what? When’s your birthday?”

“It’s gonna be in April.”

“Perfect. Let’s see — Fizzing Whizbees. You like those, don’t you?”

You grabbed the package and gave it to the lady.

“This one’s also three sickles.”

“Great,” you gave the money to the lady and turned to George. “Happy Early Birthday.”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling a bit weird. When you left the store and were walking again, he looked at you and said, “Why didn’t you let me give you something?”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to owe people.”

“But you wouldn’t owe me. I’d get you something for your birthday, then you get me something for mine. Next year it starts over.”

“Yeah, we don’t know that, do we?”

Your tone was so dark it made George concerned.

“Are you saying we’re not gonna be friends next year?”

“I’ve never said that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You stopped, looking at George. It seemed like you were arguing with yourself. George felt a nervous feeling in his stomach. He was afraid he did something that he wasn’t even aware of. Or that you don’t find him trustworthy enough to tell him what’s bothering you.

You sighed and shook your head. You put a weak smile on you face and grabbed George’s hand again.

“I’m sorry. I know lately I’m a bit rough. Exams and everything. It’s nothing against you, though.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

George believed you. Your anwer seemed genuine. And you were still holding his hand which just made him dizzy.

“Are you hungry?” you said, letting go of him again. “It’s almost one o’clock. We should eat the sandwiches.”

You two found a little shelter at the end of the village that consisted of three benches under a wooden roof. It was good enough for you since it wasn’t covered in snow; you sat down and opened your bag to get the food. You had two portion each, you gave one to George and then took a bite out of yours.

George found it quite idyllic, sitting at the foot of the mountains, eating lunch, adoring you from up close, smiling to himself whenever you meet his eyes or say something nice.

“George?”

“Mm?”

“I cannot eat if you keep staring at me.”

“What?” he said dully. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure,” you laughed. George felt his ears going red alongside with his whole face.

“You just… reminded me of someone,” he lied.

“Yeah?” you said, a bit disappointed. “Who?”

Shit. George couldn’t think. You made him so nervous. So awkward. He was happy Fred couldn’t see this cause he’d never hear the end of it. He raised his head, ready to mumble something  — and then pointed next to the house in front of you.

“Bloody hell, look at that huge dog!”

You followed his glaze and your eyes grew wide.

“I’ve seen this dog before! Enormous, isn’t it?”

The dog saw the two of you and now was getting closer and closer. It stopped ten feet away from you and started wagging its tail. He looked at you with an incredibly smart expression, then sat down and held up its paws. George saw you looking at your sandwich then the dog.

“He must be hungry,” you said.

“I know. Wanna give him something?”

“Here. Come on…” you held out your sandwich to the dog.

“Careful, Y/N,” said George, but rather just to make sure. The dog didn’t seem to be wild, he looked quite friendly.

You put the food down and the dog ate it in three bites. George gave the rest of his sandwich to him as well. You reached for another.

“I wonder if someone’s missing him. I don’t see a collar, though.”

“He must’ve got used to the forest. Kids feeding him, probably.”

“Yeah. Hello — ” you wanted to pet the dog but that didn’t let you. He backed away after grabbing the sandwich out of your hands. “Hey!”

George laughed at your pouting expression then you two watched as the dog jogged away, wagging its tail happily.

“Come on, love, let’s go to the Three Broomsticks.”

You left the benches and headed to the pub. The streets were full of students now, a lot of them decided to only come down after they had lunch in the Great Hall. You were walking quite close to George, every time your hand brushed against his all he could think of is how badly he wanted to hold yours. He felt a sad smile appearing on his face. He should tell you. He should be brave. He’s a bloody Gryffindor, after all. But the idea of you rejecting him gave him bigger fear than he’d be able to handle.

You two entered the Three Broomstick and you told George to find a place while you get the drinks. George sat down and was watching you from afar. You soon returned to him with two butterbeers in your hand. George reached for the money, but you stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I lost my bet, remember?”

“What bet?”

He remembered the night you two made the bet, of course. Him winning it made him disappointed, though; he’d really wanted to have a reason to come down to the pub and buy you something. You actually remembering it, though, made him feel better than the actual drink.

“The second task. Harry didn’t come up first.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Thank you,” he switched to a formal tone, mocking Percy. “I hope this was a good lesson about gambling, dear Y/N.”

You laughed.

“Yes, absolutely. Didn’t mind loosing that much, though.”

“How come?”

“I’m having a drink with you,” you shrugged, smiling. George’s heart seemed to melt. It was like he just jumped into a large cauldron of hot butterbeer. He though he was gonna die if he didn’t kiss you in that second.

“So who do you think’s gonna win?” you asked. George needed a second to return to reality.

“Er — well, a lot of people are betting on Diggory, but he’s tied with Harry, so …”

You two were talking about the Tournament, guessing what the third task’s gonna be. When you emptied your bottles it was almost dinner time in the castle and you decided that it was time to head back.

George did everything he could think of; he helped with your coat, he opened the door for you when you left and he offered his arm on a slippery road. When you took it and gently held on to him, he felt giddy and had to force himself to hide the wide grin on his face.

By the time you two reached the gates, the sun was about to go down and the air became cooler.

“So, I imagine you’re happy winter is about to end,” said George with a suspicious smile on his face.

“Yeah… Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing…” George stopped and bent down and put his hands into the snow. “It would just be a big shame if — you know — someone — decided to use this last occasion for a snow fight.”

Your eyes grew wide. You started backing up.

“George, what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, collecting a big pile of snow. “No need to worry.”

He formed a snowball and threw it at you, it hit you on the shoulder. You shrieked and gave him a disapproving look. George’s another ball hit you on your ankle.

“George!” you said, squatting down and cleaning you shoes. “Those are new boots!”

George took a step closer to you, scared. Oh, no, he messed up again! He gently touched your shoulder, apologising.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

Before he could finish you took a handful of snow and threw it in his face. You started laughing and got up, forming a proper snowball this time.

“C’mon ginger boy, I thought you wanted to play!

“You little rascal!”

He laughed and ducked when you threw a ball at him. He quickly started making ammunition but you were fast; you hit him with two other balls by the time he had made one.

“You’re a bit slow, eh?” you laughed.

“Careful what you say to a Beater, darling!”

He hit you with a ball on the back. You hit him on the leg, then you missed the next one.

“Not aiming that good, Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up!” you laughed and you missed the other one, too.

As you were making a new ball, George used the opportunity to get closer to you. When you looked up he wrapped you in his arms, making you unable to move. You let out a squeeky sound, half shrieking half laughing and said, “Let me go, George.”

“Can’t do love, I’m about to win.”

He toppled you, still holding you safely, but only two feet away from the snow. You lost your balance and grabbed him, putting your arms around his neck.

“George, stop!” you ordered but couldn’t stop your nervous laughing. “Don’t you dare!”

“Yeah?” said George grinning, lowering you closer to the snow. “Why not?”

“You’ll pay for this! I — I’m gonna — I’m gonna figure out something!”

“Mm, dreadful threats, you have there. Anything else?”

He was holding you in his arms, your arms were around him. He could not take his eyes off your cheeks, red from the cold and from the wind. Your eyes were full of fear but also trust; trust that he would not let you go, not even if his life depended on it. George felt a nervous tickle in his stomach as he leaned closer and closer. He glanced at your lips, ready to make his move, when a snowball hit him on the back of his head.

He lost his balance and dropped you.

“Ouch” you said. “What the hell was that?”

George stood up quickly and grabbed his wand. He was furious. He saw two huge boys running towards the castle and he heard them laughing. With a sly movement of his wand, he made two huge, hard snowballs and hit Crabbe and Goyle on their backs. The Slytherins let out a painful sound and fell into the snow.

George looked at you and held out his hand.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, letting him help you up. “You?”

“I’ll kill them, I swear,” he said growling, then started picking pieces of snow out of your hair. You gave him a smile.

“I have no doubt about that. Come on, let’s go inside. I’m freezing.”

He put away his wand and followed you to the castle. He had enough. He wanted to hold your hand, he wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss you. He reached towards your hand, but just in that moment you pointed at the ground.

“Nice one, Georgie.”

He looked at Crabbe and Goyle who were still lying there, trying to spit out the snow from their mouth. Yeah, nice one. He was quite proud of himself, too.

When you entered the Entrance Hall, George motioned towards the Great Hall.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, I just run up real quick” you said. “Change my clothes. Save me a seat?”

“Sure. See you in a bit.”

You ran up the stairs and he went to the Gryffindor table where Fred was already eating a plate of stew. When he saw his brother a grin appeared on his face, and when George sat down next to him, he leaned over.

“Sooo…?”

George burried his face into his hands.

“Murder me, Fred.”

“What happened?”

George shook his head. Fred watched him, concerned.

“Did you tell her?”

“I almost kissed her.”

“What?! What do you mean almost?”

George looked up and pointed at the arriving Crabbe and Goyle. Their clothes were wet, Crabbe had a bleeding nose. Fred’s face dropped.

“I see. You want the other one to have a nosebleed, too, Georgie?”

George snorted.

“That would be nice.”

“So what now?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Tell her! Let’s end this rubbish, for crying out loud!”

George didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to explain it. It was like the universe was trying to prevent him to do what he wants.

When you came down in your fresh clothes and gave him his hat back, he put a fake smile on his face. He was frustrated. He was angry. He was sad, and he was disappointed. He had a really great day, but why on Earth did it have to end like this? Should he tell you after dinner? He felt like all his courage was left in the snow outside. In the heat of the moment he could’ve done it. In here, back in reality he was not sure he’ll be able to.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Ninety

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

May 26th, 2001

Emile watched as Remy practically crumpled into the backseat of the car. Emile risked sitting down next to him, eyeing the parking lot uncertainly. Remy’s mother had seemed to be successfully scared off by Emile’s dad threatening to fight against her over Remy. But Emile didn’t know how long that fear might stay before she’d change her mind and go back to stalking Remy.

Hesitantly, Emile grabbed Remy’s hand. Remy held it back in a death grip, eyes not seeing anything. Emile’s mother leaned into the car and said, “Your father and I can drive the cars back, honey, you just make sure Remy is all right.”

Emile nodded, eyes going back to Remy worriedly. His eyes had closed and his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, so hopefully he could sleep the shock off. He had no doubt their next conversation would be long and somewhat painful, but right now, he just needed Remy to be okay.

  August 30th, 2003

Emile walked into their house only to hear sniffling coming from the kitchen, and he was immediately on alert. “Rem?” he called out, rushing to the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Emile,” Remy said, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue before sniffling again. “How was work?”

“Are you okay?!” Emile asked, looking Remy over and finding no physical injuries. If Remy’s mother had somehow found them...

“I’m fine, Emile. Just got off a call with your parents,” Remy said.

“My parents?” Emile asked. His mind was racing. How soon he could interrogate them, establish boundaries, whether or not he needed to reevaluate their relationship, and how close they were...

“Yeah. They said they were proud of me,” Remy said with a watery laugh. “I just...started crying uncontrollably. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Emile’s heart slowed in it’s hammering, but his mind was still working at what felt like a million miles an hour. “You promise that’s all it is?” Emile asked. “Just happy tears?”

“Just happy tears,” Remy reassured Emile with a smile. “I feel a million times better than I did this morning, and I didn’t even need cheering up.”

“Well, that’s good,” Emile said, sagging a little in relief. “I was really worried. I know you’ve been having nightmares.”

Remy blew out a breath. “Yeah,” he said, glancing away from Emile. “Still sorry about waking you up so often.”

“Rem, if you’re in trouble, I’d rather know than be left oblivious,” Emile said, placing his hand over one of Remy’s.

Remy mumbled something unintelligible and Emile frowned. “What was that?”

“I was just wondering if...” Remy trailed off. “You know what? I know the answer to that already, and I don’t want to hear it coming from your mouth.”

“Oh, then it has something to do with therapy,” Emile laughed. When Remy didn’t, Emile paused. “Have you been having more nightmares than you’ve been letting on?”

Remy sighed. “You’re too good at shrinking my head, mio amore, you really need to learn how not to do that.”

“I don’t think it’s shrinking your head, I think it’s just knowing you for a long time,” Emile said with a half-hearted shrug. “But Rem...”

“No.”

“I just think—”

“—No.”

“If you’re having nightmares more often than I’m waking up, you really should talk to a th—”

“I’m not talking to a therapist, Emile!” Remy exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m perfectly healthy on my own! Do I always do everything right? No! Do I still have issues about where I came from? Sure! But that doesn’t mean I need therapy!”

“If you’re having nightmares to the point of consistent loss of sleep, I would argue otherwise,” Emile said simply.

Remy growled and grumbled into the counter. “Why is it the day that I decide to test out not going to the shop and leaving August in charge that you do this?”

“Because today’s the day I realize that you’ve been holding back on me about your mental health,” Emile said, crossing his arms. “I would argue this with you regardless of what day it was, had I known this was what was happening.”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you,” Remy said, looking up at Emile.

Emile worked at keeping his anger in check. Remy didn’t do well with anger. He knew this. He needed to go with the gentle approach. “Remy. Do you see me recommending you go to a therapist as a breach of trust? Be honest.”

Remy looked away from Emile. Paced the length of the kitchen twice. Turned and looked back at Emile, with a recognizable fire in his eyes that Emile hadn’t seen before. Remy’s gaze bore a striking resemblance to his mother’s in that instance. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because while therapy is just for help working through whatever problems someone might have, the fact remains that if they’re asking for help, they’re not strong enough to handle that problem on their own. And I can handle my parents on my own just fine. Sure, I sometimes have nightmares. And yes, that’s a little more often than I told you. But it’s nothing that I can’t handle, that I can’t get through on my own. I can function with it. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Rem, ‘fine’ would be having an occasional nightmare, but being able to go back to sleep afterward, because it was just a dream. ‘Fine’ would be getting triggered but being able to work through the trauma and avoiding a flashback, however narrowly. ‘Fine’ would be acknowledging your parents hurt you, but not being afraid that they could hurt you anymore. And you do none of those things. You stay up for hours on end after waking up from nightmares, you get stuck in flashbacks for hours or even days, and you exhibit such strong hypervigilance it’s a wonder you sleep at all at night. You are not ‘fine.’” Emile shook his head. “I understand it’s important for you to be self-sufficient, but wouldn’t you be more self-sufficient if you could handle your trauma symptoms?”

“It’s not that bad, Emile! You’re exaggerating things!” Remy exclaimed, crossing his arms with fingers digging into flesh.

Emile took a breath and said, “Are you saying that because you believe it, or are you saying it because that’s what your parents told you?”

Remy looked at him with such betrayal in his eyes, that Emile wished he could take the question back. But he knew it needed to be said. It needed to be answered. Remy needed to acknowledge where this was stemming from, and Emile needed to know whether or not he needed to press further.

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” Remy said in a soft, fragile voice, and Emile instantly understood one wrong step and Remy would lash out violently. “It wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be. I wasn’t exaggerating, but I never brought up the good sides of the relationship, as well. You only ever saw the ugly parts.”

“But the good parts don’t negate the ugly parts, Rem. If they hurt you, whether or not you can handle that on your own, whether or not they were also kind, you need to understand that they hurt you. There’s not some secret law where you have to have this amount of trauma and be short this amount of love to consider yourself abused, or traumatized, or whatever you want to call yourself,” Emile pointed out.

“I don’t need therapy, Emile!” Remy snapped and Emile held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t need it! I don’t need it!”

“I’m not saying you need it, I’m saying you could benefit from it. There’s a difference. You’re not going to die if you don’t get therapy. So you don’t necessarily need it. But it would definitely make your load a lot lighter, and while I won’t leave you if you don’t go to therapy, if this persists I’d recommend you get a second opinion, like from Toby. Because I worry about you, Rem. A lot.” Remy was seething, and Emile took a breath. “Now I don’t want a fight on this, so I’m going to be stepping away.”

“No!” Remy barked. “No, we need to talk about this!”

“Maybe so,” Emile allowed. “But you’re very worked up right now, and I don’t want us to devolve into shouting.”

“I’m ‘worked up’?! I’m ‘worked up’?! You have a funny way of saying fucking furious!” Remy exclaimed. Emile jumped and Remy froze, the flush in his face draining away as his eyes widened. “Oh, God. I’m becoming my mother.”

“Hence why I recommend therapy,” Emile weakly joked.

Remy didn’t seem to hear Emile. He was muttering to himself, unintelligible words before he dashed past Emile, grabbed his coat, and ran out the front door. Emile’s blood ran cold. “Rem?” he asked, rushing after Remy. “Rem, hold up!”

But Emile calling out to Remy only seemed to make Remy run faster. Emile slowed, quickly running out of breath but following behind Remy at a slower pace. He could wait out Remy’s running and catch up to him when Remy grew winded, or else he could call Bernie and ask him to keep an eye out for any panicked blonds muttering senselessly in the street.

Emile got all the way to the heart of the city before he lost sight of Remy. He looked around, trying to figure out which way Remy would have gone. Not Sleep Easy, they both knew Emile would check there first. Not the homeless shelter, because Remy didn’t go there this worked up. Emile ran a hand through his hair. He needed to know Remy wasn’t going to do anything drastic, but he needed to know where Remy was in order to make sure of that.

Quickly, Emile snatched his cell phone out of his pocket, dialling Remy’s number. It rang out. Emile swore and dialled again. This time he was sent to voicemail after one ring. “Rem...please. Talk to me,” Emile begged into the phone. “I’m not mad, I promise. I’m worried.”

Emile swallowed. He went to the park, knowing Remy sometimes found solitude there. He looked around in a frenzy, but couldn’t see Remy. He walked further in, heading to the bridge over the small creek. Remy was sitting on the handrail on the bridge, staring at the water. “Rem?” Emile asked, walking up to Remy.

“It should be deeper,” Remy said. “I wish it were deeper.”

Emile’s heart crawled its way into his throat. “Why?”

Remy choked on a sob, biting his knuckle. “Because then I could be swept away and never risk hurting you again.”

“Is this in a, ‘I want to die’ way or in a ‘I need to do damage control’ way?” Emile asked.

“I don’t know,” Remy said. He stared at the ring on his finger, and started twisting it off. “I don’t deserve—”

Emile’s hands darted out, and he held Remy still. “No. Rem, don’t you dare,” he hissed, a renewed anger flaring up. At who, he wasn’t entirely sure. “You don’t get to do that in the heat of the moment. If you calm down and you still want to call off the engagement, well. We’ll talk about it. But this? Is unacceptable.”

Remy shook, but when Emile let Remy go he replaced the ring. “I don’t want to hurt you, Emile,” he whispered.

“You didn’t. You startled me a little, but you didn’t hurt me,” Emile said softly.

“I don’t want to be my mother,” Remy continued. “I don’t.”

“The fact that you’re recognizing those patterns and trying to fix it, albeit in the wrong way, shows me that, Rem,” Emile said. “You’re not your mother.”

“I’m not seeing a therapist,” Remy muttered. “I can’t see a therapist.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Emile placated. “I’m not requiring you to see one. I’ll even stop recommending it for a while if that helps.”

Remy still couldn’t meet Emile in the eyes. “Sorry. I won’t remember this tomorrow,” he said. “I can already tell.”

“That’s fine,” Emile said. “Will you get down now?”

Remy nodded, doing an about-face and sliding off the bridge’s handrail. Emile wrapped Remy in a gentle but firm hug. “Don’t scare me like that again, please,” he murmured.

Again, Remy nodded. Robotic, but real enough that Emile couldn’t have known Remy wasn’t actually agreeing had they just met. Remy was completely dissociated. “Come on, honey. Let’s go home,” Emile recommended.

Remy let Emile exit the hug and wrap an arm around his shoulders. Emile led Remy on the walk home, during which Remy just stared at the roads in front of them. Emile’s heart was hammering. He needed to talk to Remy about what he had done today. The yelling, the stubbornness, the attempt to get their engagement called off. But he knew that had to wait. Remy wasn’t in a state to talk about anything for at least an hour. Emile just hoped that he would know how to bring it up sometime soon.

[spell-cleaver]

"A person becomes naïve if they're too kind. Careless if they're too bold. And no matter how hard you try to protect others, there's no gratitude. Those who can't comprehend such things aren't fit to be Leaders." - Sabe to a young Luke Palpatine

Part 0.5, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Masterpost here!

“A person becomes naive if they’re too kind. Careless if they’re too bold. And no matter how hard you try to protect others, there’s no gratitude. Those who can’t comprehend such things aren’t fit to be leaders.”

Nova ran her fingers over the years-old notebook—an actual notebook, with actual paper, the sort she’d got for Luke to draw on and he’d used for writing things he wanted to be able to burn before his father found them—and let out a tiny huff of laughter. “You wrote that down?”

“I wrote everything down,” Luke said lightly. He uncurled his legs from their position tucked into the cushions and leaned forwards to pluck the notebook from her fingers. She leaned against her arm of the futon, amused, as he flicked to the next page, cleared his throat, and read out:

“Luke, put your pencil down and actually listen to what I’m telling you.”

She snorted at that. “Very funny. I know full well that page is from the lesson I gave you about the strategic and economic strengths of Bromlarch, I caught sight of it before you interrupted.”

Luke pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m not here to have fun,” she snatched the notebook back and smacked him lightly on the head with it; he laughed, and grabbed at it again but failed to catch it, “I’m here to make you a political powerhouse the likes of which the galaxy has never seen.”

He sank back again at that, leaning his head back as far as the pillows would let it go to hide his scowl. “I’m never going to be my father.”

“I don’t want you to be your father. I patently hated your father.” She tapped him on the knee with the book. “I want you to be the best you that you can possibly be.”

“I’m never going to be my mother, either.”

Nova sighed, and laid her hand on his hand, much softer and more gentle than the book had been. “I know you’re not,” she quipped. “Padmé was a lot moodier at fourteen. At least I don’t have to worry about you panicking about the fact that a single person got a grazed knee while you were in office, or just feeling responsible for every ill that every occurred in the galaxy.”

“Am I personally responsible?” Luke said suddenly. He’d never thought about that before, and it scared him. “I’m the Emperor; all the wars that my father started and I’m allowing to continue…”

“Oh, for the love of—” Nova sighed. “No. You are not. But, if you want to exert the sort of influence you could, and start shaping the Empire in your vision instead of in the visions of warmongers like Palpatine, Vader and Tarkin—”

“Vader’s due to go after Tarkin any day now, now that you’re here.”

“—you need to focus.” She opened the notebook and flicked to the next clean page—the first page after the last lesson she’d given him, years ago, before she’d been chased from the Palace in the dead of night. “So. What allies do you already have?”

Luke thought about it for approximately half a second. “You.”

“Anyone else?”

Luke shook his head meekly.

“That’s alright,” she said encouragingly, pulling out a wickedly sharp pencil and beginning to jot something down. “You’re fourteen: most people never expected your father to die this… young,” Luke snorted, “so they didn’t think of you as an immediate heir anytime soon, so they didn’t bother to suck up to the future emperor at risk of alienating the current one. It didn’t help that you were so sheltered—”

“Sheltered?”

“I know.” Her forced, friendly façade  dropped a little as she winced. “But you weren’t exposed to the public, for your own safety, and when was the last time you left the Palace?”

Luke didn’t answer.

“So you’re essentially a non-entity right now. You were the cute face who always turned up, charming, in court, but no one ever talked to you, just over you. They don’t know anything about you, so they’d rather bet on a candidate they do know than one they don’t. We just need you to make some friends—be visible in politics, with visible opinions.”

“Vader keeps me under lock and key,” Luke said bitterly.

“Vader cannot keep you locked up forever. If he intends to use you as a puppet emperor, which I suspect he does"—Luke had to say that he was… still confused about that—"then he needs his puppet to dance on its strings. He does need you to put on a show.”

She leaned in. The emerald satin of her dress rippled with the motion. “I’ll arrange for him to have to let you into the Senate tomorrow. I have friends there—if you decide you like the people I introduce you to, and want to ally with them, like-minded people will flock to support you.”

Luke still stared at her.

She smiled encouragingly. “Just try it out. If you don’t feel comfortable allying with them, we’ll find someone else. You have agency here, Luke. Your father’s not here to control every aspect of your life anymore.”

“Vader took my bantha without even needing to ask,” Luke said. “He has guards in my apartments at all times—watching us right now,” he gestured to the Noghri in the corner, who looked like he both wanted to say something and would rather be anywhere else, “and he has command of the entire military. Even if I choose to hand it to someone else, I doubt he will concede. I—” He choked up. “I couldn’t even stop him from taking my comlink.”

With a sudden ferocity, he ripped the thin gold circlet off his head and lunged forwards. Nova jerked back, surprised, and it fell wonky. But it still looked like a halo when it landed on her, glowing against her dark hair, and her instinctually perfect posture gave her an air of regality Luke could never hope to achieve.

“You should be Empress,” he said bitterly. “You know what you’re doing, you're— you’re not a child, you have experience. And the crown actually fits you.” Despite having it made especially for Luke, Vader had wanted to make sure it would still look decent when he was older and bigger, but it meant that it looked comically large on his small head.

Nova lifted her chin. The sunlight from outside caught on her dress, her shoulders, the circlet, twinkling. She did look like an Empress, crooked crown or not.

Then she gently lifted it from her head.

“I was never born to wear a crown,” she said, cradling it in her hands. “I’ve known that since I was younger than you are now.”

Of course, it was then that Vader stormed in. The Noghri didn’t even flinch.

Luke did, though. He started so badly that his legs, twisted underneath him on the futon, cramped and he snapped his head round.

But Vader’s gaze wasn’t fixated on his face, for once. It was on the crown in Nova’s hands.

Nova raised a belligerent eyebrow at him, and lifted it back to Luke’s head. The moment that weight settled above his ears, he felt like he’d had binder re-shackled around his wrists.

“Yes, Lord Vader?” he managed to say, voice tremulous.

Vader said, “I came to report that the interrogation of the assassin who made an attempt on your life has yielded few results, Majesty. We know nothing of their intentions or connections, or how they got so far.” His frustration was audible.

Luke nodded, trying not to shake at the mere memory of… that. “Very well,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Lord Vader?” Nova asked.

Luke froze.

So did Vader.

Nova rose. “While you’re here, there’s one matter I’d like to discuss with you in my office, if it pleases you.” It was phrased like a question, but delivered as an order. “Now.”

Vader hesitated. But after a moment, he said, “As you wish,” and stepped aside to allow her to go first.

Luke gave her a panicked look. “Nova—”

“I’ll just be a second,” she promised, and squeezed his shoulder before she left the room, Vader casting Luke one more glance, then following. The Noghri returned to their positions by the door the moment it shut behind them.

Luke sank back against the pillows, picking up the notebook Nova had left behind and hugging it to his chest, wondering why he suddenly felt so cold.

Send me a sentence for a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

[kumeko]

A/N: For  @momojirou-dateszine ! I got to write about the first anniversary.

Summary: It was rare that Kyoka ever managed to surprise Momo, but for their first anniversary she was going to try.

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“We’re done.” Momo yawned as she stretched her arms above her head. The delicate crepes and chiffon of her dress rustled with each movement and she was grateful that the material didn’t irritate after a day of walking around in it. Unlike her feet, which were a little sore as she stood in her heels. “Though that didn’t go exactly as planned.”

 “We spent the whole day tailing him and we got nothing.” Kyoka frowned, gritting her teeth as she glared off at the mall next to them. The brightly lit building loomed over them. “Aside from his love for dragon fruit.”

 “I still can’t believe he spent all day shopping only to buy that.” Momo glanced at Kyoka, cocking her head. Aside from a few of their dates and get-togethers with friends, she didn’t spend much time in the mall. “Is that common?”

“Uh…sorta?” Kyoka scratched her cheek as she considered it. “I mean…sometimes you don’t find what you want or—no, no, we are not going to talk about a supervillain and his habits right now. What a waste of time.”

 Well, perhaps it was in terms of work—they had been spying on this villain for days now and still hadn’t found even a hint of his hideout. However, in terms of other things…well, Momo couldn’t complain at all. Next to her, Kyoka was in a jean jacket. To put it in crude terms, she looked hot and Momo shyly reached out to squeeze her hand. “It wasn’t that bad. We haven’t had a date in ages.”

 Kyoka stiffened, staring down at their intertwined fingers before quickly jerking her head away. A light dusting of red coloured her eyes as she coughed and cleared her throat. “Perfect timing, actually.”

 It was a sight she had seen many times but somehow the red on Kyoka’s cheeks and the warmth of her hand was more than enough to make her own heart beat fast. Despite how long they’d been together, Momo flushed as well, feeling more like a high school student than an adult. Tongue-tied, she mumbled, “It was a perfect date.”

 “That too,” Kyoka agreed, tugging on her left ear jack. It was an endearing and familiar motion, something she did whenever she was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. “I can’t actually remember the last time we had one.”

 Momo’s free hand cradled her cheek, unable to refute Kyoka. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach—no, they were fine, this wasn’t an issue. They could steer back on course from here. “As important as our jobs are, we have to make time for ourselves.” Letting go, Momo dug into her purse for her planner. It was stupid, booking a date, but if Momo didn’t at least pencil something in, they’d let work take over.

 Or maybe she would just let work take over. A small wave of guilt washed over her at the thought. Between the two of them, she had been cancelling dates more often than Kyoka. Not that her girlfriend complained—at least not seriously. Kyoka teased about it sometimes, late at night when she handed Momo a steaming cup of hot chocolate after a long day. Momo feared what Kyoka hid behind her grin. Feeling the hard edge of her agenda, she yanked it out. “I think next—”

 “It’s fine.” Kyoka grabbed her wrist, stilling her actions. There was a touch of desperation in her voice. “Let’s do this later.”

 “Later?” Momo resisted the urge to clean her ears. Normally, Kyoka would be the one encouraging her. Actually, now that she thought about it, Kyoka’s earlier words didn’t make sense. “You said that too. What were you talking about?”

 “…nothing.” A grimace flashed across Kyoka’s face before she settled for an embarrassed expression. “It was just fun to be with you.”

 Normally, that was enough for Momo to drop the whole subject. Fighting the smile that threatened to take over her face, she pressed. “What did you mean?”

 “Honestly, nothing.” Kyoka let go of her wrist and Momo missed the warmth immediately. Lacing her hands behind her head, she shrugged. “Let’s wrap up and grab dinner after.”

 It was the most obvious change of subject and Momo didn’t know if she should feel insulted that her girlfriend thought it’d work. “Kyoka.”

 Ignoring her, Kyoka slowly strolled forward. “We still hafta hand in our report, right?”

 There would be no clarifications, at least not tonight.  Giving up with a sigh, Momo followed. “You mean I’ll be handing in our report.”

 “Well, your writing is neater than mine,” Kyoka answered with an impish grin. She pecked Momo’s cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

 -x-

 “Where are we going?” Momo asked for the tenth time that night, trudging slowly behind Kyoka. “I know you’re hungry, but I don’t think there are any stalls in this park.” She paused, looking around. “Actually, I do not think there’s anyone here at all. Is it safe?”

 Considering the time, Kyoka should have expected how empty the park was. Small pools of light lit their way, their shadows growing and shrinking as they traversed each one. It felt eerie. Keeping her smile up to dispel her unease, she reassured, “We’re almost there.”

 “You said that already,” Momo refuted crossly. She stumbled on the uneven ground and reached out to steady herself against a tree. “It’s dark, it’s cold, and maybe we should have changed if you wanted a hike?”

 There was not a single hint of suspicion in her voice and Kyoka resisted the urge to laugh. It had been so hard erase all evidence of their anniversary, what with Momo’s planner, calendar, phone, and a host of sticky notes. Add in Momo’s amazing memory and need to plan things in advance, and it was a miracle that Kyoka had managed to keep this plan of hers a secret.

 Though, it helped that they had been overloaded with work for the past few months. Or rather, that Momo was. Without the monsters of their class here to steal scene, Momo’s innate talents as a strategist were being utilized for once. Overused, even. Kyoka was proud of her.

 And completely happy to take advantage of this rare chance to surprise her girlfriend. Looping her arm through Momo’s to steady her, Kyoka cocked her head. “Is that better?”

 “Y-yes.” Flustered by the close contact, she looked away. A hand played with the edges of her bangs as she tried to hide her red cheeks. “But I still don’t think this is a safe idea.”

 “The two of us are more than enough to take anyone on. But you’re right, next time I’ll do this in the day.” Spotting a weeping willow just ahead, she picked up the pace. “It’s on the other side of that tree.”

 “Really?” Momo tightened her grip on Kyoka as she tried to keep her balance; the path was gravellier now. “I don’t see any lights—is this another of those ‘dives’ that Kaminari keeps recommending? I don’t think it’s very reputable.”

 Despite her words, a vein of eagerness ran through her tone; with her sheltered upbringing, Momo was always curious about ‘commoner’ living. Sometimes, she was too easy to read. Kyoka shook her head, fighting down a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s there.”

 As they circled the tree, Momo squinted out into the gloom, trying to make out any figures. “If it is a food truck, I think it left—did someone leave a blanket out here?”

 Kyoka snickered as Momo’s eyes widened, taking in the sight before her. Spread out on the soft grass was checkered picnic blanket with a wicker basket on top, weighing it down. Small lamps circled the perimeter, giving enough light to make out the details. A wine bottle sat in a bucket of ice, two delicate glasses next to it, and Momo turned to her confused. “Did someone forget their picnic?”

 Despite Momo’s intelligence, she was surprisingly dense when it came to something personal. Kyoka raised a brow. “How does someone forget a picnic?”

 “They could…you?” Momo stared at her, then back at the picnic spread. Letting go of Kyoka, she reached down to pick one of the glasses. “That’s ours. When…how…”

 “I had a little help from our friends.” Kyoka scratched her cheek, pleased. It had been worth sneaking out the past two nights to arrange this—Momo’s expression was priceless. Catching a shiver run up Momo’s spine, Kyoka took off her jacket and gently laid it on her shoulders. “Happy anniversary.”

 Momo smiled softly in response, setting down the glass. She pulled the jacket around her tighter. “Thanks. Happy anni—” Snapping her jaw shut, her eyes widened as she hastily pulled out her phone. She paled as she read it. Looking back and forth between the screen and Kyoka, she stood up. “It’s our anniversary.”

 “It is.” Kyoka nodded, smiling softly. “Surprise!”

 Momo turned as white as a sheet. “I’m so sorry, I forgot, I just—” She looked at the phone again, as though the date would change if she just stared at it long enough. “I’m sorry.”

 Kyoka’s smile dropped. Shit. She should have realized earlier how Momo would take this. Before her girlfriend could flee any further, Kyoka took a step forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. Gently, she reached up and brushed Momo’s bangs. “You have nothing to be sorry about, silly. I wanted to surprise you.”

 “Still.” Leaning her forehead on Kyoka’s shoulder, Momo spoke with a muffled voice. “I forgot. Who forgets their anniversary?”

 “Lots of people,” Kyoka reassured, stroking her back softly. “Kaminari. Deku. Kaminari. Bakugou.”

 “You said Kaminari twice.” Momo snorted, an unrefined sound. Not at all like the lady she was raised to be and Kyoka felt a surge of happiness at the realization that they were so close that they were revealing sides of each other that no one else saw. “Amazingly, Bakugou actually remembers.”

 “You’re right.” Kyoka laughed as well. “He’s actually a decent date apparently. When he isn’t burning down restaurants.”

 “…are you really okay?” Momo asked hesitantly, her hands clutching Kyoka’s shirt.

 “Mmm…well, I didn’t think you’d actually forget,” Kyoka admitted, twirling the ends of Momo’s hair around a finger. It was funny how long it took them to get comfortable like this, after knowing each other in high school and then finally dating. Going to prom together, graduating, even joining the same hero squad.

 And more than hurt, Kyoka just felt happy. Happy that they were still together after all this time, happy that they still loved each other. She’d seen enough relationships go sour to know what they could have been.

 God, she was in love and she would never ever say any of this aloud, it was too sappy. If Kaminari could see her face right now, he’d have a field day. It was bad enough she owed him for running out here and setting everything up.

 Her heart swelled and it was impossible to put this feeling into words, to make it solid, to make it concrete. To give it form and breathe life into it. Swallowing, she settled for pressing a kiss on Momo’s head. “It’s not your fault, I did try to make you forget. You plan all of our dates, and they’re perfect, but I never get a chance to do something for you.”

  “You sure?”

 “I’m sure.” Kyoka confirmed, struggling against the urge to squeeze Momo tight.

 Momo remained silent for a moment, her breathing steadying. Finally, she looked up, determination in her eyes. “Next year, I won’t forget.”

 Next year. Kyoka fought back the smile that threatened to take over her face at those two words. Next year. They would have so many anniversaries. Dates. Breakfasts and calls and it was a good thing it was dark, Kyoka didn’t want anyone to see the expression on her face. “It’s a date.”

[raywritesthings]

Happy Accident 2/3

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Felicity Smoak, Curtis Holt, John Constantine, Barry Allen, Iris West, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Barry Allen/Iris West Summary: Felicity’s punch has consequences no one intended, driving Oliver to take drastic measures with their own unexpected result. *Can be read on AO3, link in bio*

It was difficult trying to move in all this wet leather that clung to her skin like it was stuck with glue. Being cold and uncomfortable was distracting in itself; she hadn’t had any physical discomfort in that other realm, hadn’t wanted for any material need.

But now she was here in the real world, she was pretty sure. Oliver had brought her back even though she’d thought that was impossible now. “Is that a Lazarus Pit?”

“Yeah. Turns out there were more.” He pulled a big, fluffy towel out of a pack that Laurel eagerly took when he crouched down to pass it to her. He stayed there, smiling at her in a way he hadn’t for a long time, a way that always guaranteed to turn her insides to mush. Laurel tried to find something else to distract herself with.

“Who painted my nails black?” She was really starting to worry about her dad’s mental state if this was what he’d chosen to lay her to rest in.

“...you did?” A vaguely familiar voice said in what seemed to be a question. Looking past Oliver allowed her to see Curtis Holt, the man that had helped them save Oliver’s life and rescue Thea and Felicity from Brie Larvan’s attack on Palmer Tech. Felicity was here, too, staring at Laurel with an unreadable expression on her face.

Constantine had circled around to stare at her as well. “Oliver, if something’s gone sideways, I need to know.”

“It hasn’t — it’s not bad. You were right, I couldn’t find Black Siren’s soul.”

“Oh, she didn’t have one? Color me shocked,” Felicity muttered.

To Laurel’s surprise, Oliver ignored her entirely. “But it turned out that, even though her soul had fallen out of our Earth’s vibrational frequency, Laurel’s hadn’t.”

“Wait,” said Curtis. “You’re telling us this is Laurel-Laurel? Like the good one?”

Laurel raised an eyebrow at that. Since when had she been a ‘bad one’?

“Yes,” Oliver confirmed.

Felicity’s mouth fell open. “Laurel body-snatched her own doppelganger’s body?”

“This isn’t my body?” Laurel asked, her heart — or someone’s heart — doing a funny lurch. She ran both hands down her face. Everything felt like herself, except — was there a hole in her nose? She had a nose ring now?

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Oliver promised, his hands on her shoulders helping steady her. Behind him, Curtis and Felicity seemed less convinced.

“Oh man. Oh man, this is way beyond what I signed up for.”

“Why did you grab the wrong soul? You really thought it was a good idea to just mix and match people’s souls? This could be a disaster!”

“If everyone could shut it a moment?” Constantine demanded loudly, and they did. He nudged Oliver back a couple feet and stood over her, waving his arms and murmuring what to her basically sounded like gibberish under his breath. When he at last stopped, his shoulders sagged in relief. “For better or worse, she’s stable. An exorcism shouldn’t be necessary, and it’d be damn difficult to do since she is so compatible with this body.”

Laurel leaned slightly away at the word ‘exorcism’, but felt the tension leave her upon hearing the rest. She wasn’t totally sure how she felt inhabiting what was apparently a version of her body from another Earth. And really, what had happened to the other her that had led to Laurel inhabiting this body?

“How exactly did the other me die?” She asked. She had to assume the other her had died if they’d been trying to get her back with a Lazarus Pit.

The range of reactions was something to behold; from Oliver’s wince to Curtis squeezing his eyes shut and shying away to Felicity’s stiff, “There was an accident. But that doesn’t really matter, now, because… you’re back. The real you, this time. Kind of ironic considering she pretended to be you at first.”

“She did?” Laurel really wasn’t sure what to think from the bits and pieces she was learning about the other her – though she couldn’t help thinking that real was an oversimplification of what she was in relation to her doppelganger. Her doppelganger had been real, too, had lived and died. Was it right for her now to be living in her place?

Laurel didn’t want to be dead, though. Before she had died had been some of the best months of her life; she’d finally felt like she had everything to live for. She couldn’t and didn’t want to change that she was back, as selfish as it seemed.

“It’s a long story,” Oliver said. “There’s a lot we’re gonna have to catch you up on.”

“Wish I wasn’t used to that feeling.” Laurel shifted so that she could get back onto her feet — or her doppelganger’s feet. She didn’t know if she ought to keep reminding herself of that out of respect to the other woman or if it was just going to end up driving her mad. She was a little unsteady in the heeled boots she had on considering her feet were still damp inside them, and Oliver rose to his own feet to steady her, one hand on her arm, the other supporting her back. She smiled up at him a bit timidly; that other place she had been in was beginning to fade from her mind, and Laurel couldn’t help but to focus on the last conversation she remembered having in the land of the living until now.

“I’m going to need all of you to step outside while I place the protective enchantments over this Pit,” Constantine said.

They filed out, Laurel wrapping the towel tighter around her shoulders as she was met with cold mountain air. Oliver guided her to shelter against an outcrop of rock, one hand rubbing her back to help warm her.

“So what was the plan after this, exactly?” Felicity shouted to be heard over the wind. Laurel shifted to try and make a little more room for her friend to come stand with them, yet Felicity remained where she was using Curtis as a buffer.

“I was going to call a secure ARGUS transport,” Oliver said. “But we don’t need them now.”

“We do need a way to get a legally dead woman back into the US, though,” Curtis pointed out. Laurel found herself wondering why he was here. Not that she had anything against Curtis, she just would have pictured John or Thea being the third person to accompany them on this resurrection mission. Then again, she had no way of knowing how long it had been or what might have happened to Thea or John in the meantime. That was an unpleasant thought.

Oliver nodded. “Felicity, see if you can get a hold of Cisco.”

Their friend turned away to do just that. Laurel desperately wanted to know why there was still such a coldness between the pair, and why it no longer just seemed to be on Felicity’s side of things. And why had Oliver apologized to her about Felicity? Except it hadn’t been to her, it had been to some other version of her. Something had happened that no one seemed to want to get into right now. She’d let it go for a time, but once she was warm and in comfortable clothes, Laurel wanted to know just what exactly had been going on while she was dead.

Constantine joined them outside. “Well, you lot got a way back yet?”

“Working on it, John,” Oliver told him.

“Then I suppose this is goodbye for now,” he said. “Laurel, always a pleasure.” The man leaned in and gave her a light peck on the cheek, which Laurel couldn’t help noticing had Oliver grimacing. “You take better care of these Lance girls, Oliver, or I might have to steal them from you.”

“Well, Sara speaks for herself, but I’m happy where I am,” Laurel said before Oliver could try to speak up on her behalf. He looked mollified by her answer anyway.

Constantine shrugged with a grin. “Worth a try. Right then, I’ll be off. Good luck in your new life!” He turned and sauntered down the mountain path, only the trail of cigarette smoke left in his wake after a moment.

“Cisco says he’ll make the breach and that we just step through,” Felicity shouted. “He doesn’t want to come to Siberia, apparently. Can’t imagine why.”

“Step through what?” Laurel asked, but then her answer arrived in the form of a strange, blue, rippling circle of energy opening up just a few feet ahead of them.

“Oh, thank you,” Curtis said before promptly running through it and not coming out the other side.

“Ollie?” Laurel asked.

“Just trust me,” he said, taking her hand as Felicity went through next. Laurel nodded and walked through it with him.

She could see nothing but blue all around them for a moment, and then they had somehow stepped out into some sort of command center of a room with computers and metal tables. Caitlin Snow and Cisco were there, along with a woman Laurel didn’t know.

“Thanks for the pickup,” Felicity was saying as she rubbed her hands together. “I was not looking forward to going back down that mountain.”

“So what were you all doing out there anyway?” Caitlin asked. She froze as her gaze passed over all of them and stopped on Laurel. “Oh!”

“Uh, hi,” said Laurel. “I’m back.”

Rather than surprise or even happiness meeting that statement, however, Caitlin paled, the unknown woman reached for a gun and Cisco sent some kind of blast of that blue energy at her, knocking her clean off her feet.

“We’ve got Siren!” He called out.

“Hey!” Oliver rushed to her side, but to her own amazement, Laurel was already shaking it off and getting back to her feet with her fists clenched. Figured this was the kind of welcome she got when coming back from the dead. “Just give me a minute to explain,” Oliver was saying.

Laurel saw a streak of lightning rush into the room straight toward her, her fight or flight response kicking in of its own accord. Without her even willing it, she released a scream like she used to with her choker device. Except instead of it just producing a noise this time, she felt the power of it rush out of her in waves that impacted Barry and pinned him against the opposite wall.

“Laurel, Laurel, stop!” Oliver’s hand on her arm snapped her out of her fighting stance, and the scream let up.

She backed up a couple steps, one hand going to her throat. “How did I do that?”

“It- she could do that,” he answered. “She was a metahuman.”

“Oliver, are we sure she isn’t still — that maybe some of her is still in there?” Felicity asked, eyeing Laurel warily.

“John didn’t seem to think so.”

“Okay, is someone going to actually explain what we’re talking about and why Black Siren shouldn’t go back in the pipeline?” Cisco asked, loud enough to cut through what seemed to be a brewing argument.

“Because I’m not Black Siren,” Laurel said. “I’m me. And I didn’t mean to do that just now. I didn’t even know I could. I’m sorry,” she said to Barry, who was just struggling to his feet with the unnamed woman’s help.

“Well, thanks for the apology,” he grunted. “But I’m not following. You’re not Black Siren, you just have her clothes and her powers and look just like her?”

“Well, that’s what happens when Oliver decides to drop original Laurel’s soul in Black Siren’s body on a whim,” Felicity remarked.

The Flash team all looked suitably stunned. Laurel shifted a bit uncomfortably. She really didn’t know what the process was for accepting that you were yourself, but slightly not at the same time. Somewhere else, the body she had always known was still rotting away in a grave. Somehow she kept whatever contents might have been in her other self’s stomach at the thought.

“So… she’s our Laurel instead?” Caitlin asked at last.

“Yes,” Oliver seemed glad to answer.

Cisco was the first of the group to approach, scrutinizing her for a long moment. “What was the thing I asked for in exchange for the Canary Cry?”

“What did I say I’d do if you showed anyone?” Laurel answered with her own question. The others looked, if anything, even more wary.

But Cisco’s face split into a wide beam. “Can I hug you?”

Laurel, who had not been hugged yet since coming back from the dead, opened her arms obligingly. Cisco practically flew into them.

“We missed you so much! I love how no one from Star stays dead!”

Cisco’s teammates were all relaxing now that he had given the green light of sorts, and one by one approached her for hugs as well, though in the case of the woman who came up after Barry it was accompanied with a, “I’m Iris. It’s really great to finally meet the you the others have all told me about.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’re a metahuman now? I mean, this is even more awesome,” Cisco was saying.

“Is no one really going to miss the other me?” Laurel couldn’t help asking. A part of her felt she ought to stick up for her not-self.

When her question was met with a round of shaking heads from just about everyone but Oliver, she cringed. She could only imagine the worst.

“So how exactly did her soul replace Black Siren’s? And how are you gonna explain Laurel’s being alive? I mean, is she gonna resume living in Star?” Barry was asking Oliver. They were good questions, but Laurel was honestly starting to feel a little overwhelmed to consider it all. She still didn’t even know how long she’d been dead for.

“You look like you could use a shower and maybe some of your own clothes,” Iris noted. “Come on, I can show you where to find stuff.”

“Thanks,” Laurel said, catching Oliver’s eye briefly as she made to leave the room. He nodded, indicating he understood where she was heading, then returned to speaking with Barry. “So, when did you join Barry’s team?”

“Oh, I’ve known for a couple years now,” Iris answered her. “But I’ve known Barry since we were kids. We finally decided to give dating a shot a couple months ago.”

Laurel returned Iris’ happy smile with one of her own. “Good for you. Dating your best friend… it’s really special.” It had been one of the happiest times of her life before it was over.

But why was it starting to feel like Oliver didn’t think it was? Was it his happiness to have her back that she was misreading, or had something changed in a way she’d never dared to hope?

---

Barry gestured for Oliver to follow him out into the hall since Felicity and Curtis were already talking with Caitlin and Cisco. “So how exactly did this all start?”

“That’s a long story,” Oliver said with a sigh. “But I guess it started when Black Siren really did come to town. Prometheus, another archer, had broken her out and wanted her to pass herself off as our Laurel to mess with our heads, I guess. We ended up realizing it was a trick and capturing her, only Felicity let her escape to try and follow her to Prometheus,” Oliver explained, a frown on his face as he continued, “which nearly killed a security guard and led to Siren dying when Felicity sucker-punched her.”

Barry’s eyes went wide. Felicity had killed someone? He just couldn’t picture it. “And then?”

“And then, I… I don’t know if I can explain what watching her die again was like for me, Barry. My own team doesn’t even understand it. I called John Constantine, and maybe it was rash, but when he told me there were still other Lazarus Pits out there, I couldn’t just… not when my team was responsible. Not again. I know that sounds — she wasn’t even my Laurel—”

“No, I get it. I’ve met other versions of my loved ones, too. It affects you.” He could still remember holding Earth-2’s Iris close as her Joe slipped away from them at the hospital, a lump in his throat that had made it painful to breath. “And trust me, you don’t have to explain what watching something like that does, how desperate it makes you. I know.”

And the thing was, Barry thought he was starting to get something else, too. He had heard about Oliver and Felicity’s breakup last year a month or so after it had happened. When they had all met up to combat the Dominators last month, the two had seemed on good enough terms for a working partnership, but nowhere near the level of intimacy they had had the same time last year — when they hadn’t been fighting in one timeline, Barry supposed.

So when Oliver had told him about the dream world the Dominators had stuck him and some of the others in, that it had been a perfect life with his parents still alive and him about to be married to the love of his life, Barry had wondered at the time about the lack of a name. Part of him had assumed that Felicity had been implied, yet now he was starting to think that hadn’t been correct. Especially when Oliver and Felicity hardly even seemed cordial with each other now if Felicity’s sarcastic remarks and Oliver’s clear frustration with her actions towards Black Siren were any indication.

“Thank you, Barry,” Oliver said, drawing him out of those thoughts.

“Hey, you were there for me about Flashpoint. I am always gonna be in your corner no matter what the call,” he said. “So I guess you guys went to this Pit?”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, we met John there and restored Siren’s body to life. When people are fully killed, their souls have to be restored separately. Laurel and I rescued Sara’s last year, but when I went in with John this time, there was nothing at first. He thinks that because she was on a different world to her own, her soul was lost to us.”

“Wow,” Barry said, making a mental note never to die on another Earth. “You said there was nothing at first?”

“Yeah. But then I heard a voice calling for me. It was Laurel. I don’t know how or why they were connected like that, how she knew I was there. But I am so thankful.”

It was hard to wrap his head around. Barry was a scientist first and foremost, no matter how strange the science in his life had become. He didn’t fully understand everything that went on in Star these days any more than they seemed to understand metahumans. Though who knew if that would change now that Laurel was one.

But if Laurel was alive again and Oliver was happy, then Barry supposed the rest of it didn’t matter much in the end how it had happened. Just that it had.

“What are you going to tell people? I mean, everybody knows she was the Black Canary.”

Oliver looked down. “I wish Evelyn’s actions hadn’t made me do that, now. I haven’t spoken to Laurel yet about what people know. We’ll have to figure something out.”

Barry nodded. Anything else he might have said, however, would have to wait, as footsteps announced the arrival of Iris with Laurel. His girlfriend had supplied Laurel with the full STAR Labs apparel line, it looked like, and the two were chatting away like old friends as Laurel towel-dried her hair.

“And there they are,” Iris remarked, smiling at Barry in a way that always made his stomach do funny flips. He couldn’t help but notice Laurel’s smile seemed to be having the same effect on Oliver.

“Feeling better?” He asked.

“Yeah, now that I’ve sort of taken stock of things.”

“Oh?”

“Well, other me clearly got into her fair share of fights judging by some of the scars I have,” Laurel remarked. “Kinda weird they’re in different places than mine were. Also, I have tattoos, now.”

“Really, where?” Oliver asked with a grin that had Barry’s mouth dropping open.

Laurel, for her part, just rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“C’mon, we better regroup with the others,” was all Oliver said in reply, still grinning as he offered Laurel his arm. She took it, and the two headed back into the cortex.

Iris stepped up to Barry’s side and slipped her arm around his back, her head leaning on his shoulder. “Aw, I’m glad they’re still cute. Teenage me’s kind of having a freak out right now.”

“Yeah?” Barry shook his head. Iris and her magazines. He much preferred her writing. Together, they followed their friends back into the room.

Caitlin and Cisco had abandoned their conversation with Curtis and Felicity to come see Laurel again.

“We have some data on hand about the sonic scream already, of course, but it’d be amazing to get a full, comprehensive picture now that you’re the one in control of it.”

“Also, I’m thinking suit update. I mean, what’s a back from the dead party without presents? If you let me keep Siren’s suit for the measurements, I can have it ready by the end of the week.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said. “That’s really sweet.”

“It is, but you guys might be getting ahead of yourselves,” Felicity interjected. “Let’s not forget that Oliver kind of outed Laurel as a superhero last year.”

Barry winced as the smile dropped off Laurel’s face while she backed a step away from the group, away from Oliver. “What?”

“Yeah, right over your grave,” Felicity added.

“There was a situation with an imposter,” Oliver explained. “I was going to tell you. I just wanted you to have some time.”

“Well, she did need to know, Oliver,” Felicity argued. “I mean, I don’t even know if Laurel can come home with us, at least not publicly.”

“We will figure it out,” he said, his voice taking on a harder edge that Barry knew meant it was time for the other person to stop pushing. But Barry also knew Felicity tended to struggle with those sorts of social cues.

Sure enough, his socially awkward friend continued, “How? This isn’t exactly something you can take back. I mean, you had a statue built in Laurel’s honor — even if her doppelganger just destroyed it — and Quentin even confirmed he knew Laurel’s identity which cost him getting his job back—”

“My dad gave up his job?” Laurel asked, looking distressed at the prospect.

“It wouldn’t have been good for him to take it, Laurel, he needed the time in rehab,” Felicity said, and though her tone was a soothing one, Laurel did not look any calmer, and Barry didn’t blame her. 

There was something about the smile playing around Felicity’s lips that didn’t quite seem sympathetic and raised the hairs on the backs of his arms. He had spent enough time over the last few years with men who had claimed to have his best interests at heart all the while that they schemed and acted to hurt him, and he had gotten good at spotting the feeling. But why would Felicity of all people be giving him that feeling?

“That’s another thing, actually,” Felicity was saying the same time that Barry’s mind raced with these observations. “If Quentin hears about Laurel being back, he’ll want to check himself out in the middle of his treatment. You really did not think through the ramifications of doing this, Oliver.”

“Felicity, that’s enough,” Oliver commanded, causing everyone in the room to stand just a little bit straighter. Felicity’s mouth, which had opened again to speak, snapped shut. “What is done is done, and whatever the complications that arise, we will deal with. I would much rather live in a world where Laurel is alive and have some issues to sort out rather than a simpler one where she is not here. I’d have hoped you felt the same way.”

There was a stunned moment of silence where Caitlin, Cisco and Curtis all stood there gaping. Iris watched at Barry’s side, her slightly widened eyes the only giveaway to her feelings on the matter and Barry himself had little clue how he looked on the outside, only knowing that he would never have thought he’d see Oliver take that tone with Felicity; not since the disagreement they had had all those years ago when Barry had been brought in on the secret of the older vigilante’s identity.

Laurel stood at the midpoint between them, her arms crossed in a move Barry recognized was far more about shielding herself than it was about projecting power. Her disbelieving gaze slowly swept in Felicity’s direction, who scoffed.

“I- of course I prefer it! I just think you have a bad habit of making incredibly impulsive decisions without considering all the facts or getting the rest of the team’s consensus.”

Oliver didn’t even bat an eye. “Impulsive decisions like going behind my back and giving the recruits separate parameters for a mission that ran completely counter to my stated directions? Or like releasing a dangerous prisoner in the hopes she’ll lead you to her commander?”

“You- you did that, too,” Felicity declared. “Last year, with Anarchy!”

“Yes, and I was wrong! Which Laurel pointed out to me, privately instead of bringing it up in front of the team or our friends, something that in all the years we have worked together, you never fail to do,” Oliver shouted. He then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, voice returning to a normal volume as he added, “I didn’t like doing that with you, just now. I understand why you took those risks with Siren, what you are going through. I wanted to address it later, see what you needed to let the team keep working.” His frown deepened. “But you never have afforded me the same courtesy, and I am realizing that you never will.”

“Oliver—”

“I need to ask you to take a leave of absence from the team.”

“What?”

“Oliver,” Laurel said softly. “If this is about just now, I’ll be fine. I don’t want people kicked off the team just because they disagreed about bringing me back.”

“If it was just that, I’d consider other options. But this has been an ongoing problem I’ve made excuses for in the past, and that’s only compounded things.”

“What, because I make my own decisions and don’t just follow your orders? That’s enough to get kicked off a team I helped build?” Felicity demanded.

“I recruited you,” Oliver said. “I thought it would be a good idea to have an expert on the computers, but that does not make you an expert in the field. A woman died a few nights ago because of an impulsive attack you made on her after Curtis had already taken measures to neutralize her threat. When that catches up with you, when you can see past the anger and grief you are feeling over Billy and think about what you did, you are going to need the time off.” The anger had almost entirely receded, and it struck Barry now why Oliver was doing this; he was trying to be kind. “When you’ve had that time, we can talk. And that will include laying some ground rules about how the team is going to operate.”

Felicity nodded, her eyes particularly bright behind her glasses in a way Barry knew meant she was holding onto her tears. “Well, I can save you the time, because it is going to operate without me.” She turned and marched for the exit to the cortex, turning once to call over her shoulder, “Good luck with the recruits since they basically all hate you.”

She left a very long and awkward silence in her wake.

“Um, for the record,” Curtis began in a small voice. “While I don’t exactly hate — it’s a strong word, you know — but I do, at times, find you extremely difficult to work with, and I’m not sure how I feel about what just happened.”

“Then take some time off to figure it out, Curtis,” Oliver replied. “I need a team that can function as a cohesive unit. We are never going to defeat Prometheus when we’re too busy with infighting. Decide what’s more important to you, and then stick with it.”

Curtis gulped and nodded.

Oliver turned out to face the wider room. “I’m sorry that had to happen in your space, Barry.”

“No, it — well, it’s probably best we know the situation,” he decided. “I guess I just hope things work out for the best.”

“We should probably get home. All of us,” Oliver added, with a look at Laurel.

“What are we going to tell people?” She asked.

“That’s something I’m working on, but I know you’d rather be in Star than anywhere else.”

Laurel’s lips turned up in a small smile, and she nodded.

“I can get you guys back to your base to avoid bumping into anybody who shouldn’t know yet,” Cisco offered. “And I’m still gonna get started on the suit.”

“Thanks, Cisco,” Laurel said, walking over and hugging him again. Barry thought his friend was quite happy with that development.

A new breach was made, and the remaining Team Arrow members stepped through, the somewhat tense and awkward air in the room breaking as the breach closed.

“Well, that was… something,” Iris commented. “I hadn’t realized things were so bad with their team.”

“Neither had I,” Barry admitted. He had always viewed the Arrow’s team as a well-oiled machine, something to aspire towards. It was almost comforting to know they had their issues the same as his team had had theirs. Barry hoped it never came to a head the way things just had between Oliver and Felicity, though.

He couldn’t help wondering, however, if perhaps that had needed to happen. The last couple times Barry had seen Oliver, the other man had seemed tired, run down, and missing some part of that unbeatable drive he brought to everything he did. Now it seemed he had regained it with new vigor, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what had caused it.

Barry only hoped Oliver did figure out some way for Laurel to return to Star City officially, and as a free woman. He needed her just as surely as Barry needed Iris. And like Oliver had just proven, even death could be conquered in the face of love.

[multific]

Witch of the Forest

Tom Holland x Reader

Witch AU! 17th Century AU!

Summary: You always knew that no one would accept you for who and what you are, but when you meet a strange man in the woods, everything changes.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, blood

Being all alone all the time had taken a toll on you.

It’s not like you chose this way of life anyway. You were forced to run away from your village due to the fact that people thought you are a witch.

Which you are, but that’s not the point.

You never knew who your parents were, you were an orphan, always alone, but at least in the village, you had friends. And even a crush on the blacksmith’s handsome son.

Sure, you were in possession of powers that others found scary, but you never used it to harm others, if anything, you helped a lot of people. You had a happy life.

But then, the unimaginable happened.

A group of young girls claimed to be possessed by the devil and accused several local women of witchcraft. You watched many people die, part of you felt guilty, since they were killed because they were accused of something that you are.

It didn’t matter if the women made sense or not, in the eyes of the men, all of their words were true. They believed them anyway. It felt like you were the only one who didn’t believe them. You knew they were doing this out of jealousy or boredom.

Then trials started. Every woman was suspicious, and you knew, if you won’t run, you’d die like the others. And probably even exposed.

So, you ran.

Far far away from that place with the little stuff you had.

You heard tales about a witch living in the forbidden forest. You went there and found her. Fortunately for you, she didn’t have bad intentions. She lived alone because she was afraid that she would be killed because of her powers. So, she decided to live in the woods and because people were afraid of that place, no one ever came around.

She taught everything that she knew. She had many books and she taught you how to read. She was beautiful, intelligent and nothing like what you heard from people. People talk, and they say that she baths in blood to keep her skin tight and young, that’s a lie, she uses a special cream that she made from herbs. People say that she seduces men and drowns them in the lake, but that’s a lie also, she only leaves her house for herbs and to do the washing. People say that she dances around fire and worships Satan while naked, that’s also a lie because she wears clothes while she dances.

Yes, she sold her soul to the devil, yes, she can do stuff that others cannot, yes, she can seduce all the men that’s out there. Yes, she’s a witch and so are you.

But she was like a mother to you.

One day, she said she would leave to collect herbs but she never came back.

You were never able to figure out if she was killed, kidnapped or she just simply left, because she had enough of you.

But that was two years ago.

And now, you were the Witch of the forest. The scary murderer who bathes in blood and dances around fire, or at least that’s what people thought.

Your days were rather normal actually. And selling yourself to Satan had its perks. For example, you could use magic to grow things, to heal things and to protect your home.

But, you started to get more and more bored as time went on.

You needed something to happen, something or someone to keep you entertained. Even if demons often visited your place, looking for a soul or body to take, but they weren’t lucky with you, to say the least. They always left or died, so they weren1t good companions.

You thought about going back to your old village and revenge those who were killed, but it seemed to be too much effort. Even if you could burn the whole place down with only a flick of your finger, you didn’t want to harm the innocent.

You thought that may be another pet would do it. A dog or a cat. But in the middle of the forest, it would be difficult to find such animals. All you ever saw was deer, rabbits, and boars.

And one day, you found a white rabbit sitting in front of your door. You knew that it was no ordinary animal. Your spells were too strong for the demon in bunny form, but instead of killing it, you let it go. You told it to leave and never attack you ever again. Then, the strangest thing happened, it decided to stay with you. It said that because you speared its life, it will serve you. It said that its name was Zurak.

And that’s how you got a demon as a pet. The fearful witch of the forbidden forest and it’s white fluffy demon bunny. Sounds intimidating, right?

But that was your life now.

Out of boredom on a nice sunny day, you went for a walk with Zurak. Since you put a spell on your home, even if you’d wander very far, you’d find a way back to it.

So, off you went, with your bunny friend. Although you saw his true form, you were never afraid of demon nor ghosts, she taught you how to deal with them and you got used to them rather fast.

You went to your usual spot, the river. It was a small river splitting the forest into two, with a beautiful waterfall not far from where you were.

You sat down to your spot and started reading. Meanwhile, Zurak was wandering off, making sure its master won’t get attacked.

You were reading your book when a sudden feeling overcame you. You looked up to the sky.

“Oh, it will rain soon.”

And soon enough, the sunny day turned into a storm. You always loved the rain, the smell, and the noise calmed you. The forest was usually silent, but with the rain, it finally had something going on.

Suddenly a ramble came from the other side of the river, since the bushes were thick, you couldn’t see what made the noise. But your senses were on high alert, so, it must be a human.

Zurak was also on high alert, right in front of your sitting form, but you pulled its ears and said.

“Stay here, only attack if I tell you.” it nodded and you placed your book next to it. You walked out of the shelter of the tree and into the rain, you easily walked over the water and stopped in front of the bushes.

“Who’s there?” you called out not even an ounce of fear in your voice.

“Please.” called a weak voice.

“I won’t fall for your trap, either come out, or I’ll burn you where you are.” you heard noises and you saw a figure struggling to stand.

“I have been attacked. Don’t hurt me, I’m not here to harm you.” said the figure at it stood up, well, as best as he could. You noticed that it was a male, probably a bit younger than you, and he stood funny, which indicated that his left leg was injured, or he pretended that it was.

But then the smell of blood hit you. You had to make a quick decision. Trust the person and treat his injury and you might get hurt or exposed, or leave him there.

You quickly turned to Zurak.

“Scan the area, check if he’s alone.” the man looked at the white bunny, who ran off with a strange expression.

“I’m alone. A-are you the witch?” he started to back off, obviously scared. Even if you had never hurt another human in your entire life, people just assume you did, because of the fact that you had magic.

“I am. So then you don’t need my help? I can tell just by the smell of your wound that if you leave now, you’ll either lose your leg or your life. You chose.”

“W-why would I die? It’s just a cut.”

“Hmm. Yes a deep cut. Infection, bacteria, or you can even bleed to death. Your chose boy. Do you want the help of the witch who can actually help you or stay here?”

Before he could answer Zurak came back.

“Clear.” it said.

Now, the boy was terrified. His leg hurt, he needed help and to his luck he met the witch and a rabbit that talked.

“D-did that rabbit just….”

“HEY. I don’t have much time. Either me or death chose!” you started to become impatient. Maybe he just came to the forest because he heard the rumors and wanted to see a witch for himself, maybe he was running for something, at any event you didn’t care. You were willing to help, but your patience was running out.

“P-please.” he finally said, his eyes never leaving the white rabbit.

***

One question lingered in your mind as you sat in front of the fireplace in your home while the storm outside got worse.

Why did you bring the boy home?

You could have just gave him the cream that would heal him and leave. But no, being the lonely human that you were, you brought him to your house.

You never imagined that you’d do such a thing.

But as soon as you put the treatment on his wound, he got worse. He started to have a high fever and he fainted.

The worst part was that you had to place him in your bed, and the fact that he was a heavy man didn’t help at all.

***

Tom woke up he felt a slight pain shoot across his whole body.

Where am I? was his first thought.

He remembered that his village was under attack by others. He wanted to defend his home, save his family, but he miserably failed.

After he watched his whole family getting slaughtered, he got shot by an arrow on the leg. He remembered running. As far as his legs would take him, then he fell and passed out. When he woke up, it was sunny, he heard noises behind him and out of fear he started running again, but his leg got worse, it caused him to fall which only cause further problems. He remembered all the blood that run down his leg, he remembered the cut that was caused by a rock. Then, it started raining. He remembers hiding in a bush. Then a voice. A woman. You.

His eyes shot open as he suddenly sat up on the bed. He observed the small house that he was in. He was all the different bottles and herbs and a strange symbol was on the wall. When his eyes wandered he saw that a bunny was sitting at his leg on the bed.

Tom was too afraid to move, even to look away. He was sure that the thing would kill him if he moved an inch. But the bunny stood up and walked out of the house.

I need to get out of here.

But when he moved to stand, his left leg was… missing?

WHAT? Did she?

“You are finally up, you were out for three days. Lucky you, your fever went down, but sadly, I couldn’t save your leg. Who thought that sleeping in mud with an open bleeding would cause harm, right, boy?”

“What did you do to me?” Tom was now angry. Very angry.

“Saved your life? And I would appreciate if you didn’t yell. I’m not used to others talking let alone yelling.”

“You took my leg off so I couldn’t run? What kind of sick bitch are you-“ Tom was stopped when you were at his throat with a knife, you slightly pushed the blade into his skin, making it bleed just a little.

“Listen here you little brat! No one calls me that especially not after I SAVED their life! Show some respect, I could have just left you there, but NO, I dragged you here and helped. So, I’d appreciate if you’d stop yelling, accusing and think for a minute damn it! Just because I’m a witch it doesn’t mean that I’m bad!” you were looking dead into his widened eyes.

A minute later, you pulled back and sat down at the table next to the bed. You started cutting up some vegetables and placed a pot over the fire. You started making lunch while your guest moved back, with his back against the wall, Tom watched you move, his mind blank.

“S-sorry.” he finally muttered, he knew you heard him since you stopped moving for a millisecond.

You really weren’t used to people anymore. Maybe you were a bit harsh to him.

“Zurak go find some meat for lunch.” the rabbit nodded and took off running.

You walked sat back in your chair and looked at the boy.

“My name is Y/N.” soon the boy lifted his head and looked at you.

“Tom. My name is Tom Holland. I’m sorry. I gave into the assumptions to easy and accused you when you helped me. Thank you for saving me.” he finally said.

“Y-you’re welcome. Say, how old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” so he was two years younger than you.

”Why do you speak so funny? Can’t you speak normally?”

“I-My family, we came from a place far from here. We settled down in a village near the forest. But one day the village got attacked. I tried to help and save my family, but it was no use. I watched my mother getting stabbed, my father got torn apart and my brothers… killed, all of them. And then, I got hurt, I ran, and that’s how we… met.”

“I only asked why you spoke funny, I didn’t need your life-time story, boy.”

“Right, sorry.”

“Don’t look so sad. At least you are alive, that’s something.” he looked down at his hands and moved the blanket to take a look at his missing leg, at least what was left of it.

“What did you do with it?”

“Well… Zurak ate it of course. Why? Do you need it?” you looked out the window, watching as the wind blew the leaves. “Sorry, bad joke.” you needed to work on the way you spoke with him.

“No, it’s okay. I just… How will I walk?” you looked back at him as he was asking you.

“Don’t know. Figure out something. But you can stay. I mean, I never had a guest.”

“Never? What about the bunny?”

“It doesn’t count. Demons are not humans.”

“So, it’s a… demon.”

“It’s a lot to take in, huh?”

“I think… I want to hear more, I mean it’s not like I will be able to leave, so might as well know more about you. I never imagined that I would speak to the Witch of the forest. I heard many stories about you.” Tom felt all these weird emotions. At first, he was angry but now, you were the first person besides his family to speak to him and care for him without any other intentions.

“You know. I never met a man like you. I lived in a village before, and since I moved here, I was alone after the woman who lived here before I left but, aren’t you scared?” he looked scared. And maybe he was, but Tom was curious in nature.

“A bit. But I’m more scared of your pet than of you.”

“That might be a mistake, since I’m its master, so I’m more powerful. So, what would you like to know? OH, no tell me first, what stories do they tell in the village about me?”

“O-okay. There is one that you came to the village on night and seduced ten men, and when you killed them, you drank their blood.”

“Eww.” you made a disgusted face. “First of all, I haven’t left the forest for the last five years, and drinking blood? Disgusting. Tell me another.” Tom moved a little, but he couldn’t help and notice that you were interested. You didn’t have anyone to talk to, did you?

“Umm, let’s see. I heard from a woman that she was you dancing around a fire naked while singing a song. She said that you tried to make her become a witch. But that must be a lie too right? I mean, you said that you never met anyone besides the woman who lived here.”

“Well, certain parts are true, surprisingly. I do dance around fire to honor my lord, but I’m never naked. And I do sing a song, but that’s about it.”

Silence took over in the house. You just looked at Tom as he processed everything.

“Meat.” came the voice of Zurak. Lucky for you, the demon broke the awkwardness.

***

The following month went like that. Tom asked questions, you answered and you also asked questions.

He slowly got used to the fact that he lived with someone who worshiped Satan, danced around a fire while singing a song. He got used to Zurak, but he never wanted to see the true form of it. Tom got used to the symbol on the wall, which you explained was a protector of the home. Tom got used to the fact that he lost his leg, he only had half of his thigh. He tried to think of ways to help him. A stool that had a long “leg” part was what he tried and it worked in a way, but he couldn’t take more than a few steps before collapsing. Well, at least he could walk from bed to the table. And it was all thanks to you, he got a new chance for life which he decided, he will live fully.

Tom slowly but surely got used to the fact that he was living with a powerful witch. It only took him a full year to fully settle with the loss he suffered.

“You should shave.” you told him. You were currently having dinner on a winter evening. Exactly a year and a month after you met him.

“Why? I like the beard!” he pouted.

“Well, I don’t. It makes you look old.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know how to shave.” he finally admitted after he took a spoonful of his stew and swallowed it.

“You don’t?” you looked at him confused.

“No. My father showed me once, but I always ended up cutting myself, so my mum helped me.”

“Then, after dinner, I’ll cut it for you.”

“I don’t want to trouble you. You still need to finish that spell up.”

“Right. But your hairy face is distracting. So, I’ll do it.”

After dinner, you washed the dishes and helped Tom back to his bed. Right, you ended up making another bed for him to sleep in instead of yours. You placed his bed to the foot of yours. It fitted there perfectly.

You got a bowl of water and your blade.

“Which way?”

“I know the technique.” you placed the blade in his hand and let him show you the motion in front of his face.

You took your time, making sure not to hurt him as you shaved his beard off. When you were done, you placed the bowl and blade down and grabbed a cloth to clean his face.

“There is the handsome face. I haven’t seen it in over a year.” Tom’s eyes shot up at you.

“Handsome? You think I’m handsome?” your face flushed as you blushed.

“W-well, you are not ugly that’s for sure.”

“What parts do you find handsome?” he asked, you thought that you never saw him being this serious before, only when he talked about his family.

“Maybe…Your cheeks.” you never felt like this before. As the light of the fire illuminated his face, you didn’t notice that your fingers traced his face as you spoke. It was like a spell that he used on you. “Than your eyes. So pretty. Even your eyebrows, they are masculine and your forehead, your wrinkles and your jawline, sharp.” your finger moved from his jaw to his chin up to his lips. “And you lips. Thin but they are so… inviting.” you didn’t know when the two of you got so close, you only noticed it when he kissed you. Your eyes closed as you melted into the kiss. He placed his hand on the bed to help himself sit up while the other went into your hair. You placed your on his chest. Even if his movements were limited. He somehow still found things to do, which ended up helping his muscles and he gained a rather nice body figure. The hard muscle of his chest under your palm was a proof of that.

What was this feeling?

Was it…

Love?

Suddenly you opened your eyes and pushed him back.

“Sorry.” said both of you at the same time.

***

After that, everything was awkward for the rest of the night. You went to bed, but all you could hear was the overwhelming beating of your heart and the fire crackling.

Even Zurak felt the heavy atmosphere and decided to leave for the night with your permission of course.

Both of you, pretending to be asleep.

Tom got tired of it and spoke up.

“Are you asleep, Y/N?” but you didn’t answer. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you anyway. If you are up, please listen if not…I’ll just have to tell you this again tomorrow.” you could hear him taking a long breath and he started to talk.

“I think have fallen in love with you. In the beginning, I was so so scared of you, but that was my judgmental side. Since I heard people talk about this mythical being that kills for fun, but you are not like that. Sure, you have weird habits, like the dancing and the demons that come here, but I learned to adore you for those too. I think you are caring, you can be funny even if some of your jokes are rather dark, you are the most intelligent person that I ever knew, your smile literally brightens the whole world up. I’m not asking for you to feel the same way towards me, I could never, how could I? I’m not even a whole man, I can’t do anything besides sitting and crawling, and those jumping movements don’t count. I-I just, I’m hopelessly in love.” Tom looked at your figure, he believed that you were asleep, so he moved to lay down himself, but he noticed you sitting up and you moved towards him, you sat down in front of him. And to his surprise, you slapped him in the face. All he heard was a loud slap and he was facing the wall the next second with a burning cheek.

“Don’t ever say that again!” he looked back at you with a shocked expression. You were calm. “You ARE a man. You helped me so much not just physically, but spiritually. I wasn’t alone finally. Sure, we had a bumpy beginning, but now… I never told you this, but remember that I said that the village I lived in, where I had to run from, there was a boy?” he nodded.

“You said he was your friend.”

“Which he was, but I wanted more. I thought I loved him. He was handsome, intelligent a hard worker and a kind soul. But when the girls started accusing others of witchcraft, he was the first to jump to conclusions. He never thought anything through. So, I was finally able to see his true side.”

“He was really handsome huh?” you looked into his eyes.

“That’s all you got from that? Never mind. My point is, I thought it was love, but now I know, it wasn’t because what I feel for you is so much more. Passion, affection. I want to protect you, hug you and love you. And I wanted you to love me. And now that you said it. I’m so happy.” you smiled at him which he reciprocated.

“So, can I… kiss you?” you gave him a nod and without hesitation, he captured your lips with his own.

His tongue danced with yours as you melted into his touch once again, but this time, you let yourself fully relax.

He slowly laid back on the bed with you on top of him, your lips never once broke the passionate kiss.

A few heated moments passed and Tom had to pull back to get air back into his lungs, meanwhile you started kissing his neck.

“Am I too fast?” you asked when you pulled back to look at him.

“No.” was his answer, and he started kissing your neck. When he finally found that sweet spot, you let out a moan.

It was the best sound he ever heard. So, Tom made it to be his mission to make you moan as much as you can.

And after that, on that cold winter night, you let out more and more moans as your bodies became one.

You could tell that Tom was ashamed that you had to do all the work. But once you showed him a position that would make him be the top, he really got into it, literally.

And now, after your long lovemaking session, you were sleeping on his chest, listening to his heartbeat in his ribcage.

“I love you.” you told him, his hand stopped stroking your back and pulled you close to him.

“I love you too.”

***

You were finally happy.

You had a man who loved you cared for you and accepted you the way you are. You knew, he would never leave you and would always be there for you.

After a few days he figured out a way to help him walk. He made a weird contraption using fur and wood. He ended up with a weird looking product. And people called you a witch when he just made that.

The thing helped him walk for longer distances and he was finally able to walk to the river and to the nearby field with you. He also started spending more and more time outside, helping with the plants.

The two of you started having more serious conversations. Mostly about the future. A future, together.

Tom often talked about having children. Or even just one. He often said that he always wanted a big family and a home.

Now, he had a home, and woman who he truly loved and she loved him.

But you just weren’t sure about kids. You weren’t against the idea. But the fact that you lived isolated was a big factor, a child will need friends and others to be around. It wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into this world and not let them explore.

To this, Tom said.

“I know you are scared of that, but didn’t you just said that people are building a house near here? How about we befriend them?”

“It’s a couple. And I sensed an aura coming from them, one of them is certainly a witch.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. Let’s greet them, and we will see where it takes us.”

And that you did.

The couple built a simple home for themselves on the other side of the river. They were welcoming, the female was called Amber and the male’s name was Harrison.

You quickly became friends. They moved for the same reason that you did and as you found out, the male was the witch. They were married and Amber was already pregnant, in fear of losing their baby, they moved out here. They heard about the witch that lived there but never believed in it until they met you, but one thing they did find suspicious, the bunny following you around. But you never actually explained it to them.

So now, you not only had someone you loved, but friends too.

“How about marriage?” Tom said one night as you were getting ready for bed. He was already laying down. Zurak was in front of the fireplace, watching the fire crack and burn.

“You have been around Harrison too much. Imagine this. A witch, who worships the devil, goes into a church wearing a white dress that supposedly represents her pureness, which we both know, you took. She stands in front of a huge cross that has Jesus on it and a priest comes in and makes her married in the eye of God. Yeah sounds like a party.”

“Not like that. How about we have it our own way? You can wear a dark dress all I care about is that I want to vow my life to you.” you stared at him for a minute.

“Zurak. Say, if I tell you, will you wed me to this man?”

“I can repeat meaningless words that mean something to you, if that’s what you meant, Master Y/N.”

“Then let’s do it.” you stood in front of the bed and waited for Tom to move.

“Wait, now?”

“Why not? Are you busy?”

“No, but shouldn’t we do it…like outside, in a nice place… you know romance?”

“Okay, then tomorrow?”

“That should be fine.” he said with the biggest smile on his face.

The next day came faster than ever, you found yourself wearing a simple dress as you and Tom walked into the forest and stopped under the cherry blossom tree. And since it was spring, the tree was in bloom, giving your ‘wedding’ a rather nice feeling.

Zurak made an excellent job at being a “priest”. Even if he freaked Tom out when Zurak turned into its true, dark, gloomy, shadowy, tall self. Even if it gave off a dark, depressing atmosphere, nothing could have ruined that day for the two of you.

On that day, under that pink tree, you became the happiest woman alive.

You “married” the love of your life. Shared your thoughts and vows with each other. And as you kissed under that tree, with petals falling around you, with his arms holding you to him, you knew, the Witch of the forest had found true and pure happiness.

“I love you Tom.” you told him as he hugged you.

“I love you too, my little witch.”

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Disclaimer: I’m aware of the fact that not all witches worship satan or demons or the devil. Also, I’m not a doctor so for the medical stuff, pls don’t hate me.