#it’s from far away but you can feel the rave energy so clearly

[blossoms-phan]

I haven’t been doing anything to protect myself from spoilers but I only heard little snippets of the song and absolutely no vids/pics from that part yesterday and I lowkey wanted to save that part for myself at my show bc it just sounds so insane and fun to experience for the first time but I just saw a tiktok of it lmao

[moonstruckme]

May I pleaseeee request poly!marauders x reader (gn or fem, up to you) where r and siri come home at like, 4 am from a rave (or clubing), and they are in makeup and have glitter all over them, and their exhausted and only slightly tipsy (from alchohol or drugs, up to whatever you think would be more fun to write) so they try to get cleaned up without waking up james or remus but ultimately fail?

I totally understand if you don't wanna write it 🫶

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

When Remus wakes, he doesn’t at first know why. James is asleep next to him, snuffling softly, his cheek smushed into the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Remus’ fingers are woven loosely in the curls by his forehead. 

Then there’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by some hushed cursing, and he remembers. 

“They definitely moved the couch closer to the door to fuck with us.” Then, a moment later: “I am being quiet. Doll, you’re projecting.” 

Get a drop of alcohol in Sirius, and he becomes the worst whisperer in the world. 

Remus can hear your attempts at shushing your boyfriend as he slips out of bed. James is dead to the world, but he stretches out an arm as Remus’ fingers unwind from his hair as though feeling for where he’s gone. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, Remus is gladder than ever that he and James had begged off this particular excursion. It’s past five in the morning. 

He goes toward the light they left on for you by the door, but you and Sirius have already migrated to the kitchen. Remus props himself up on the doorframe, wrapping his arms around his middle, and allows himself to just watch the two of you for a minute. 

“Water first,” you’re saying, voice hushed far more effectively than Sirius’. You grab two glasses with extreme care from the cabinet, setting them down slowly so as not to make any noise. 

“I think this makeup is going to be crusted onto me forever,” Sirius whines. “I’ll never be able to get it all off.” 

“I don’t know if I have the energy to try,” you admit. 

You do both have an awful lot of glitter on you. What was intentional and precise when you left that evening has now traveled down onto your cheeks, leaving you lustrous and disheveled-looking. When Sirius closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he leans against the countertop, the black makeup around his eyes makes them look like glittering chasms. Remus notes that your shoulder shimmers with a similar color, like he’d laid his head on it at some point in the night. 

You pass Sirius a glass and hoist yourself up onto the counter, the both of you falling quiet while you drink your water. You sigh at the end of it. 

Sirius hums in response, a tired sort of smile lifting his lips. He leans his head against the side of your arm and lets his eyes fall closed again. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks, softer now than he has been since you came inside. 

“Mhm.” You set your empty glass down, using that hand to comb strands of hair away from Sirius’ face. 

Remus' heart nearly turns to mush as he watches the two of you, each clearly exhausted and yet still trying to take care of the other. You, you’ve always been open with your tenderness, but Sirius has taken years to get to where he is now. It still surprises Remus sometimes to see it, his boyfriend’s caring out from under the shroud of insouciance and joking. 

“I have an idea,” you say. Your tone is warm and lulling, not unlike your boyfriend’s. “We could take the spicy crisps into the living room, and lay on the couch to eat them.” 

Eyes still closed, Sirius smiles. “What about bed?”

“Rem won’t let us eat them in the bed.” 

Remus suppresses a chuckle. 

“I know, sweetness. I thought you were tired.” 

You sigh, long and heavy. “I am. I think I’m so tired I almost don’t care if I go to sleep. I might die if I don’t have a spicy crisp, though.” 

Sirius seems to be contemplating this when James comes up behind Remus. His hair is askew and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, and he has the glazed-over look of someone who themselves is not quite sure if they’re awake or dreaming. 

“How wasted are they?” he asks, voice weighted with drowsiness. 

“Not very, I don't think,” Remus murmurs. 

That’s when Sirius notices them. He picks his head up, nudging your knee with his elbow so you look over. 

“Oh.” You shrink a bit, expression pinching. “Sorry.” 

You so thoroughly look it that Remus can’t even feign upset at having been woken up. “Come to bed,” he says fondly. 

Neither of you move but Sirius opens his arms, beseeching Remus to come to him instead. Remus, too tired to pretend at being any less in love than he is, goes. 

“I thought you’d be in earlier,” he says into Sirius’ hair. It smells like sweat and a little bit like smoke. 

“The cabs were busier than we expected,” Sirius replies, voice even sleepier now that his face is in Remus’ neck. “We walked a while and then caught a bus once they started running.” 

Remus makes a disgruntled sound, but it’s James who says, “You should’ve called.” His voice sounds muffled, and Remus looks over to find it’s buried in your chest. You’re smiling faintly with your face turned down into his curly mop, your hands on the back of his head and his holding your thighs. “We would’ve come and got you.” 

“I wanted to,” Sirius defends himself, removing his face from Remus’ neck to cut you a teasing look. “She wouldn’t let me.” 

James lifts his head to look up at you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say, voice soft as though still trying to accommodate the sleep he really should be getting. “You both have work in the morning.” 

James groans at the reminder, hiding his face in your chest again. Remus sets a hand on top of his head, scratching James' scalp consolingly. 

“You should always call,” he tells you, just for the record. But really he’s in no mood to argue. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, slipping off the counter. 

James wraps his arms around your shoulders, forcing the both of you to walk with small, plodding footsteps, and Sirius also refuses to be out of Remus’ hold, clinging to his arm as you all start down the hallway. The bed is no sooner in sight that you let out a low whine. 

Sirius echoes it when you say, “We still have to take off our makeup.”

“What if,” James suggests, “you sleep now, and when Remus and I get up in an hour we can take it off for you while you stay in bed?” 

James hardly has time to let you go before Sirius is hanging off him, almost teary with gratitude. “God, I love you. That’s the best idea I ever heard.” 

[towriteloveontheirarms]

hey! i wasnt sure of you were accepting requests for tyler (wednesday), but if you are, maybe some angst? like reader finding out about him being the hyde and avoiding him, or reader getting jealous about the time he's spending with wednesday. thanks

I´m definitely taking requests for Tyler too! I haven´t written some good angst in a while, so I hope you like it and it isn´t too far from your request as this is partly inspired by one of my own break ups <3

We can´t go on like this

pairing: Tyler Galpin x gn!reader

synopsis:

“I´m sorry, I just got your messages. Is everything okay with you?”, he sounds worried.

As he should be, you think. Your mind however concentrates on the voice in the background. Not just anyone’s voice. Her voice. Wednesday Addams. Of course he was with her again.

warnings: (slight) angst

word count: 0.8k

We need to talk. Can you come over?, you finally send the text. It´s important.

For the past week you had been grappling with how and when you should have this conversation with Tyler. Not that he left you much choice in that matter. He never seemed to have time anymore and this wasn´t anything you wanted to carry out at the Weathervane. As if by itself your thumb found its way to your moth only to bite on the fingernail. A habit you had thought gotten lost in the past. You are pulled from all the thoughts about an hour later, when your phone rings with his ringtone.

“I´m sorry, I just got your messages. Is everything okay with you?”, he sounds worried.

As he should be, you think. Your mind however concentrates on the voice in the background. Not just anyone’s voice. Her voice. Wednesday Addams. Of course he was with her again.

“Are you still there?”, you can hear his voice over the speaker again.

“Yeah, sorry. Can you please just come over as soon as you have time? This isn´t a phone conversation.”, the tiredness is clearly audible in your voice now.

“Sure. I can be with you in an hour. I just need to do this one thing.”

“Okay. See you then.”, you hang up before Tyler has even so much as a chance to say another thing.

By the time there is a knock on your window your tears over the coming conversation, or rather its necessity, had long since dried up. Leaving nothing but their remaining tracks on your cheeks and even neck. There is no time to get rid of them before he has opened the window and got into the dorm. And even if there was time, you barely had the energy to sit up for his arrival.

“Hey.”, his voice is quiet when he speaks.

“Hey.”, you refuse to look at him and instead just point for him to sit.

“What happened?”, he goes to cup one of your tearstained cheeks but you back farther into your pillows.

“I… I can´t do this anymore. Us. We can´t go on like this…”, a nauseating emptiness spreads in you as you speak. Your eyes trained on the blanket that’s thrown over your legs.

“What do you mean?”, the laugh that leaves his lips drips of confusion and disbelieve.

“I mean I can´t handle feeling the way you make me feel any longer.”, you force yourself to look at him. His face gives nothing that he might be thinking or feeling away.

“Tyler, how blind do you think I am? I see how you behave towards her and I see how you have treated us in return for the past weeks. And you still you want me to believe you and Wednesday are only friends? Who do you want to convince with that? Every chance you got to spent time with her it was as if I didn´t exist or as if we hadn´t made plans already. How do you think it makes me feel to not even get as much as a text or call until I do so first and even then there still is a good chance I was getting ignored until hours later or I heard her voice in the background.”

“Listen, I can explain that. I…”

“No, I don´t wanna hear any explanations. You could have done that when you showed up to Rave´N with her, after canceling on me. Like did you really think I wasn´t gonna find out about that? People talk.”, anger started to burn in the back of your throat for the thousandth time. “I´ve had enough with this. I´ll no longer watch you run after her like some lost puppy and ask myself what is wrong with me. I deserve better than that, but truly I wish you all the luck with her.”

After you finish neither of you says anything. You don´t have to anymore.

If he gets mad or sad he most definitely does a better job at hiding it than you did. You spend a minute searching for some reaction his eyes, his face, you find nothing. If you wanted to get even more mad you´d tell yourself he just looks indifferent, but neither do you want nor need the additional sentiment.

“Well, I guess I´ll see you around.”, he surprises you when he stands up and turns to leave. You don´t make the effort to hold him back and so after he is gone the room stays silent until your roommate and some of her friends enter through the door. But even with their talking and laughter ringing in your ears the only thing you feel is cold. So you pull the thick blanket over your head and eventually fall asleep from exhaustion.

[indigosabyss]

Dr Stone x Naruto: Senkuu's Side

"Hey, Shiraishi! Can you even pick up that big bag?"

"Did you get your chakra coils transplanted?"

Since the first time Senku was seven years old, he had one go-to method to dealing with bullies: science-ing them away. Preferably with electrical fields.

It was harder to get the components needed in this world - their technological advancement was very inconsistent - but after improvising a little, and making some of them from scratch, he managed it all.

With little ceremony, he set the burlap sack down, letting the contents clank loudly as he whipped the sack off.

The two snickering children leaned closer to the ugly metal box, now gaping.

"The hell is this?" One asked.

"The closest thing to a friend you have?" The other grinned.

Senku grinned, unhooking the funnel attached to a tube that led into the box. He ran one hand over the set of dials and controls on the top.

On twitch, and he pointed it straight at the two bullies. Electricity burst out, bouncing off the walls, and making the two scream and convulse.

It was only for five seconds, no time to do any damage, before Senku was turning it off. Already braced for the scolding that was sure to follow.

Maybe he shouldn't have done this in the school playground, right after it let out. But he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Except... no scolding came. The teacher was watching him. Eyes flicking between him and the electrified preschoolers lying on the ground.

---

He ended up being dragged to the Ninja Academy, while his (civilian, he was meant to be on Senku's side here!) teacher ranted excitedly about the device.

"Bottled a jutsu into a metal box! This is incredible potential!" He could hear the ravings from inside.

Senku sighed deeper and slumped down into the chair he'd been pointed towards.

"You look surprisingly upset about being given a special enrollment into the Ninja Academy." One of the passing teachers laughed, "Most people don't get that after failing to meet the enrollment requirements."

"I only did that because my 'parents' made me." Senku replied glumly, "I don't wanna be a ninja."

"Why not?"

What reason was there to enter? But he couldn't exactly say anything that could get qualified as treason, so he noncommittedly mumbled, "Chakra doesn't make sense."

"Oh?" They asked, clearly amused, "Thought a genius like you would have a handle on it already."

"No, it literally doesn't make sense." Senku cut in, feeling his scalp tighten in an almost familiar pain.

People probably thought that he got so worked about chakras because he was so obsessed with engineering. Or maybe, if they had known him before he was Gaku Shiraishi, back before the Green Light, they would say that he was bad at accepting new rules.

This wasn't true. Senku was all for new rules of the universe. Science was reliant on having open minds about possibilities. If those possibilities would be consistent.

"You all say chakra's a type of energy, but it's clearly not. When you use jutsu, what type of push or pull are you using? Ninjutsu maybe I'd give a pass, if you consider the magnetizing effect it has on some natures, but how does genjutsu factor into all of this? Don't even get me started on the Yin and Yang chakra thing. Physical chakra. What is that? Power taken from your muscles?? But how??? What energy is being stored inside?? And as far as I can tell the chakra coils aren't physical, it's all metaphysical, so-"

----

In the end, Senku gets so worked about it his five year old body started sobbing. And this random chunin instructor started crying too.

Thought he was teasing a little kid but this mf came with receipts.

Anyway yh his reincarnated name is Gaku Shiraishi aka the initial name he had before it got taken away for being "too academic".

[jungleslang]

Okay I know the show is over and I promise this is last post I will make raving about my baby Cho Yeong, but I can't stop thinking about the way her character shifted the moment she got her memories back!!! And I feel like I didn't see a lot of people talking about it!!!

One thing I really appreciated was that even though she's clearly no longer the assassin she used to be, we got to see her underlying cruel streak again when she put that empty ice stone inside Jin Mu. She lured him into Gwido with the ice stone and tricked him into thinking she was helping him, allowing him to believe that he was finally about to get the power he always wanted. But instead, she condemned him to a slow, agonizing death. The way she told him that this type of death suited him perfectly and the coldly satisfied look on her face as stared down at him while he was on his knees in pain literally had me screeching!!!! I also adore the fact that Yeong knew her soul was going to disappear soon and that the fate of the world was at stake, but she still took the time to get her revenge. She was not about to let Jin Mu get away with what he did to her without facing any consequences.

And also that whole scene with the Unanimous Assembly??? We really get to see her cunning, calculating nature front and center. I was so not expecting her to tell everyone that Jang Uk failed to perform his duties by knowingly sparing a soul-shifter. By exposing him, she forces Uk's hand and ultimately gives him no choice but to come and face her. She also knows that the only reason they left him alive with the ice stone inside him was so that he could hunt down soul shifters. By telling them that Uk still has a soul shifter left to take care of, she buys him time. Once again, we see Yeong manipulating a situation and knowing exactly what to say to get the outcome she wants. I also loved the part where they ask her about Jin Mu, and she straight up tells them that she killed him. She was just like yeah I put the ice stone in him and now he's going to wither away and die in Gwido. She gave no fucks.

And we see other characters noticing that something is off with her. You could tell the crown prince knew something was different during that scene with the Unanimous Assembly. The look on his face after she callously said that she would take the ice stone out of Uk if necessary was sooooo sus.

Even though Yeong was absolutely adorable as Jin Bu-yeon, and the dark, brooding season 2 Jang Uk was very sexy, I'm so glad we got to see their season 1 dynamic at the very end. In their last scene together, Jang Uk has his bright, playful energy back and we got to see the Mu-deok glare again from Yeong!!!

But although Yeong is no longer the Jin Bu-yeon we met at the beginning of the season and Jang Uk is no longer the brooding monster, we can still see how those three years apart changed them. Uk has a maturity that he didn't have in season 1 and Yeong's time as Bu-yeon has made her more open with her affections.

It was nice to see them bickering again during their last scene and I'm obsessed with the way Yeong told Uk that he only came this far because she was his master and he better be grateful and treat her right. Like it's very clear by the end of the show that Yeong is the boss of him. She calls the shots and he would literally do anything she asked him to, and I love that for her.

In conclusion, Cho Yeong is best girl and I'm glad she got her happy ending even if the ending of the show wasn't perfect.

[typicalangst]

I’ve typically kept my social media a more polished version of my life, like I think most people do. This feels like my only safe space to speak my thoughts. But one thing I’ve never kept secret or hidden is my passion for advocacy, for standing up for what I believe in. For fighting for others. What a lot of people may not realize is that I’ve been fighting for myself a lot too. I’ve had to advocate for myself , alone, my entire life. I ran away from my abusive home numerous times before anyone ever listened, and the foster system was just a constant battle for autonomy, I’ve been fighting to prove I can survive against all odds my entire life. I don’t think I’ve ever had a single break from this fight. It’s been one thing after another and y’all- I am tired. Even when I was a kid, people have always had just such visceral reactions to my existence. And I know that sounds dramatic, but one of my earliest memories as a child was having crosses burned in our yard so i don’t think I’m too far off. I gave up a need to be liked a long time ago, turned to books and school and figured even if people don’t like me, they can never take away my achievements. My straight A’s, my gifted classes, my degrees. I got emancipated at 16 but I was living on the streets taking care of myself a lot longer than that. I started college early, kept focused on my career and even though I dealt with the same types of people In college, i never let anyone really drag me down because I knew what my plan was. And I achieved that goal, and I moved across the state 3x now for different jobs, each one of them getting raving evaluations. Being told that I was great at what I did, that I really made a difference with my clients, that I have amazing work ethic. But none of it ever mattered. Because at each of those jobs, someone would eventually have such a visceral reaction to me that they’d make it their life’s purpose to ensure I didn’t stay there. People spending hours of their personal times obsessing over me, stalking and harassing me,

Until they could find something to fire me for or drive me to quit from exhaustion. Ever since I started college people have been trying to push me off this path, and maybe I should’ve taken that as a sign this isn’t right for me? But I am filled with spite and rage and an undying passion for what I do. And I never let them stop me. But now, after two years of this fucking bullshit I am done. I have contemplated suicide more this past year then I have in the last 5 and it’s ridiculous that these people are trying so hard to keep me from even getting a chance to prove myself in this field. I thought that mental health would be the field for me, but I’ve dealt with so much discrimination & I’ve spent so much time and effort fighting for other people that I don’t even have the energy left to fight for myself. At this point, I think it’s best I step away from counseling as much as I’ve put my heart and soul into this career and all the time and effort and money I’ve spent obtaining this training. I just can’t keep fighting to prove my worth in a field that clearly doesn’t want me to be a part of it. I saw the differences I made, and I’m so happy I was able to work with the clients I did. I hope I can make more change in peoples lives, whether through advocacy work or some other way- I’m not sure. But right now I just need to focus on surviving & I don’t know what I ever did to the individuals that have spent weeks & months of their time sabotaging my career but I’m sorry that your life is so boring and you’re achievements are so sparse that you feel threatened by a 24 year old, but Atleast that’s proof to me that I was doing something right.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

12. All About Bilbo from the POV of...Thorin

And FINALLY I’m done. Thank you guys so much for all the notes/comments/reblogs/etc. I appreciate each and every one of you. If you haven’t been keeping up and want to see all 12 POVs, you can click on the masterlist here or I may just go ahead and post them to AO3. Please enjoy the long awaited Bagginshield conclusion.  😉

***

Thorin knew after the battle, after laying in that healing camp, after finally being free to have thoughts not consumed by his treasury, there was only one edict he could make as his first one as king: the hobbit had to stay in Erebor. An advisor, a cook, a gardener, he did not care what occupation he took. He would invent a position if he needed to! He just needed Bilbo by his side if he were to be of any use to the mountain. Of course, convincing the hobbit of this was easier said than done.

 In all fairness, Thorin could have gone about it a lot better than all but demanding he stay. The hobbit ranted and raved, he seemed on the verge of lashing out physically (which Thorin would reluctantly admit he would have deserved), and he spent several long agonizing nights in Dale. Finally, Bilbo came back to inform Thorin that he would be returning to the Shire, he would be allowed six months to make his choice, and Thorin would respect it. Balin had to remind Thorin it would be within his best interest to accept. Thorin couldn’t argue with that. In fact, he needed Bilbo to know just how much he appreciated him before he left.

It was their first real conversation since the Battle. Thorin made his apologies and explained just how much the hobbit’s unconventional wisdom was needed both in his kingdom and to the king personally. In return, Bilbo expressed his fears during Thorin’s goldsickness and why exactly he turned over the Arkenstone. It was far from fixed, but it did go a long way towards regaining their former friendship. The hobbit would cite it as what finally convinced him to come back just under two years later. It should have been the happy ending Thorin had been waiting for. He never would have guessed just how wrong he was.

“I’m going to kill him.” Thorin growled.

“You’ve said that before.” Balin reminded patiently.

“This time, I’m really going to kill him. Whose idea was it to make him ambassador to the elves anyways?”

“I believe that would be...yours, Your Majesty.”

Thorin had no energy to deal with Balin’s misplaced amusement as he marched towards the hobbit’s room. He pounded on the door making sure this time that the sneaky burglar couldn’t claim not to hear him.

“I’m not answering if you’re going to be in a mood, Thorin Oakenshield.” Came the muffled response.

“You approved further negotiations after I told you I would not go to that despairing Mirkwood if my life depended on it!”

“Yes, I remember the conversation vividly.” Bilbo sighed.

“Then why…!”

“Your Majesty, if I may?” Balin interrupted. “Perhaps the hall is not the appropriate setting for this discussion.”

Thorin glared at his friend and advisor before turning that look onto the door before him.

“Let me in.” He ordered.

“Only on your word that you will quit raising your voice to me.” The hobbit conditioned.

“I will raise my voice if I please! I AM KING!”

“And with that winning attitude, who could forget?!”

“By Mahal.” Balin swore softly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Thorin silently fumed as he glared at the stone before him. Any that claimed dwarves were the most stubborn creatures on Arda clearly have not met Bilbo Baggins. Thorin took a deep breath to center himself before trying again.

“Master Baggins, will you please let me in so we can discuss this in private?” He all but hissed.

It was silent for a moment before the door swung open to reveal the curly haired hobbit who was currently sitting as the bane of Thorin’s very existence.

“There, was that so hard?” Bilbo answered snidely.

Thorin’s fists clenched at his side, and Balin rolled his eyes before turning to go the other way.

“I’m done with the two of you. Fetch me when you’ve figured it out or someone’s dead.”

Thorin gladly slammed the door on the traitor, leaving him and Bilbo alone. However, now that he had the hobbit before him, he found himself unfortunately speechless. He loathed that. As if his mere presence could steal all Thorin’s words away. His rather impromptu first words upon their meeting came to mind. Clearly, he was wrong about this burglar of senses.

“I’m not apologizing.” Bilbo began, crossing his arms. “They asked for a show of good faith from Erebor, and frankly I couldn’t see a reason to fault them.”

“You couldn’t?” Thorin raised a mocking eyebrow. “Clearly you remember our last stay in their wooded halls differently from me.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed with a scowl. “See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. If you want this alliance to work, you’re going to have to bury past slights. Goodness, I couldn’t even imagine what the Shire would be if we held onto grudges the way dwarves do.”

“And I can’t imagine the state of my kingdom if I allow flippant hobbits to not hold people accountable for their actions!”

Bilbo pointed a finger at him. “You’re shouting.”

“A'lâju Mahal (Shame of Mahal)! You are...irritating!” Thorin bit back.

“So you’re saying people shouldn’t be forgiven?”

Just like that, the fire that had been steadily building in his breast was snuffed out. Still, Thorin Oakenshield did not bend completely.

“I believe there is a difference when that forgiveness is desired.”

“And I think Thranduil fits the bill...in his own way.” Bilbo shrugged under Thorin’s disbelieving look. “He’s let his son go, he’s lost Tauriel to Dale due to his actions, he’s gotten back the gems he’s been denied. I think he’s ready to make amends. I’m not saying we have to pretend he’s not hurt us. I’m just saying, it would be a good show of...neighborly airs to meet with him and see what he has to offer.”

There was logic in the hobbit’s words, even if Thorin did not want to hear them. And that simple thought probably was the single summary of all their hard feelings as of late. He turned to leave before he had to accept any more difficult truths.

“Fine. Have it your way.” He spat. 

The long disappointed sigh that followed him cut quicker than any blade.

***

The journey to Esgaroth where they would spend the night before continuing into the dreaded woods the next day was...tense to say the least. Even Dwalin was uncomfortable, and that was saying something. The inn was a welcome sight if only to get an ale and free Thorin of the abrasive atmosphere surrounding the hobbit. The man who owned the inn was tripping over himself to welcome the King of Erebor, and when Thorin was finally allowed peace in his own room, he was reluctant to leave. However, that ale was calling his name, and he waited long enough that surely the hobbit’s final meal was complete to avoid any awkwardness.

That was too little credit to the brilliant burglar. He waited until Thorin was sat down at the bar halfway through his ale before he appeared at Thorin’s elbow as if out of thin air.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Bilbo demanded. “In fact, what possible excuse could you have to be angry at me if you are in fact angry?”

Thorin was choking on the amber liquid that had rushed down the wrong pipe. 

“Well, you see…” He edged around his persistent cough.

“Need I remind you, I’m only doing the job you gave me. Going back further than that, I’m only here in Erebor because you insisted I be.”

“If you would just let me…” Thorin growled only to be interrupted again.

“Is this some sort of punishment for taking the Arkenstone? You lure me back with words of forgiveness and then argue with every single decision I make when I’m only trying to help…”

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! You confounded creature!”

Thorin nearly sighed in relief to finally see the hobbit’s mouth had stopped moving. It was as he took in the widened eyes and nervous stance that his words were able to catch up to him. His hands shook as his eyes darted around the significantly quieter room.

“You love me?” Bilbo whispered.

Thorin didn’t want to have to deal with this in front of all these men and dwarves, especially Dwalin’s irritating smirk. Grabbing the hobbit’s hand, he led him into the hallway where it was a little more private.

“You love me?” Bilbo repeated once they were alone.

Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was one secret he had hoped to hold onto for a little while longer. Not that he was never going to act on his feelings, just he was waiting for a little more time to pass. For the chasm between them to be bridged stably once more. But they hadn’t been able to stop arguing! He certainly didn’t expect Bilbo to accept him right now, but he also would not lie to him.

“Yes.” He answered, holding steady for the ire that was sure to erupt.

Instead, the hobbit all but flung himself at the dwarf king, his mouth immediately meeting Thorin’s. It was abrupt, it was warm, it was wet, and it was wonderful. When Bilbo pulled away it was to utter a phrase he never even allowed himself to hope to hear.

“Thorin, take me to bed. Now.”

The dwarf’s jaw dropped at the invitation and the open lust dilating the hobbit’s pupils.

“Wait. Now?” Thorin repeated, his mind whirling but not connecting.

“Now.” Bilbo asserted as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck to kiss him again.

“Shouldn’t we...discuss...this?” Thorin persisted through their kissing, rather stupidly in his opinion.

One that seemed to be shared by the hobbit if his sigh and impatient glare were anything to go off.

“Discuss what?” Bilbo demanded. “I love you. You love me. I’ve bloody been waiting for you to do something about it for months. Now are we going upstairs...or would you rather we postpone until after our meeting with the elves?”

Thorin all but slung the hobbit in his arms making his way as quickly as he could to his bedroom. The sly, conniving, extremely frustrating hobbit. And finally, finally he would be his.

[dc41896]

Penny for Your Thoughts (2)

Pairing: QB!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: You definitely didn’t expect your first date to be so hectic, yet so perfect

⚠️: None just fluff💕

The weekend of a home game always seemed to have the city in more of a buzz than normal. Everyone rushing from store to store trying to get everything they’d need for watch parties and tailgating. Streets holding more cars from those who followed the visiting team to physically show their support.

And if said game resulted in a win, the energy only intensified as those invested seemed to sport brighter smiles. It even made complete strangers high-five after raving how no team could do it better. That was the current state surrounding you now after Boston College’s 24-12 comeback victory.

Since entering the dimly lit restaurant, all eyes were stuck to the two of you. Well mostly Chris, but you also received glances from those nosy enough to wonder who you were to him, and the occasional eye roll from the girls wishing they were the ones being led by his large hand to the table. He warned you ahead of time that this would probably happen and apologized in advance, but you understood it just came with the territory.

His eyes lift from scanning his menu to watch you studying yours as you toyed with the gold banded ring on your index finger. You already made his chest warm just from the slightest glimpse of you, but your face illuminated by the small lamp on the table had a soft smile spreading across his lips feeling as if you were the only two in the room.

“See anything you like?,” he asked, solid body leaning forward as his hands nervously rubbed together under the table and it’s pristine, white table cloth.

“Everything sounds so good, but I think I’ll just stick with a salad or something.”

“You sure? Get anything you want, it’s my treat. Plus I still owe you a celebration for acing your exam.”

Your face brightens at the reference to the conversation you had last month. That’s when your date was supposed to happen originally, but with you being so stressed about passing, you both agreed that it’d probably be best to try again later.

“We’ll go the next time we’re both free. That way we can celebrate.”

“Celebrate what exactly?,” you giggled, phone pressed against your ear as you scribbled more notes at your desk.

“You passing, duh.”

“Thanks for the confidence, but let’s not call it so early.”

Sure enough, he predicted right.

“You remembered,” you smiled.

“Of course I did, why would I forget?,” he asks. Fingertips finding your knee to graze against your soft skin making your cheeks warm.

“Well in that case, I’ll have the lobster, steak, and I’ll go ahead and put in my dessert order,” you joke flashing your most innocent smile.

“It’s up to you cutie.” You both laugh, but yours is a bit shorter lived at the reveal of his apparent nickname for you. From the way he carried on as if nothing happened, briefly checking his vibrating phone, you didn’t know if it was an accidental slip of the tongue or him being comfortable enough to say it in front of you.

Either way, your heart fluttered at the sentiment and how it sounded off his tongue.

“Excuse me,” a thick, Boston accent interrupts slightly startling both of you. “I hate to cut in, but I just wanted to say that game was incredible!”

“Oh um thanks man,” he politely smiles.

“I’ve been watching since I was a boy, and I can truly say you got something special kid. Like with that trick play to put us in the lead?! Phenomenal! No way you’re not going in the first round. Speaking of, you got any teams in mind? I know you gotta be eyeing the Pats!”

“I uh really appreciate the kind words, but I’m kinda in the middle of something,” Chris replies motioning between the both of you with his finger. From the look in his eyes, hoping that the middle aged man would get the hint.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he replies holding up his hands as he takes a step back. “You kids have a good time, and you keep throwing those touchdowns.” With a final wave and pat of his shoulder, Chris waits until the fan is definitely gone before apologizing to you with sympathetic eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay. They’re excited to see you.”

“This is our time though, and I want all my focus going to you.”

“Aww, that’s very-,”

“Hi! Sorry, but you’re the quarterback for BC right?!,” the excited lady asks holding the hand of her small son probably around eight or nine. Before answering, he looks to you seemingly asking you for permission, and although you knew he’d respectfully turn them away explaining how he’d be sure to find them later if you gave the right signal, you didn’t want to be the one getting in the way of him and his fans. Especially when they were little kids.

Gently nodding your head with a small smile, he quickly mouths “sorry” before turning his attention back to the mom and son, giving the awestruck boy a high five at his mentioning of how he has Chris’ jersey at home. At the mother’s asking, you took pictures of the three of them before she was heading back to the table with the little boy still smiling like the Cheshire Cat looking down at his favorite college quarterback’s autograph and small personalized message on the napkin in his hands.

“Now, where were we?,” he asks settling back in his seat, taking a drink from his glass of water. You don’t get the chance to answer, hearing a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor coming closer to your table. The head of red hair with perfect beach waves cascading down to her shoulders has a satisfied smirk on her pink, glossed lips as she finally reaches the two of you, more so focused on Chris.

“Well isn’t this a sight for sore eyes. Then again I probably shouldn’t be surprised seeing you here at our place.”

Actually, it wasn’t. They only came there once and she was solely preoccupied with making sure all her followers knew she was being spoiled at a fancy restaurant while they weren’t. Chris didn’t even remember getting a word in that night, having to listen to her boast about all the people who would be jealous of her if they already weren’t.

Finally setting her crystalline, blue eyes on you, you see right through the sweet facade as she sticks out her hand. Almond shaped nails freshly manicured a sparkly light blue color. “Where are my manners, I’m Kelly. I’m sure you’ve heard about me before.”

“Not really, no,” you answer shaking her hand and making her smirk falter. “That’s a pretty dress though.”

“Thanks,” she dryly replies pulling her hand back to her side.

“Babe, our table’s ready.”

A man built similar to Chris and around your age with black hair and hazel eyes lightly grazes her arm to get her attention, clearly not wanting to completely be shown to the table as he stayed behind her. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out he was the guy she cheated with and was too guilty to face his teammate.

Well, soon to be former from the rumblings at the game of those who were in the know with the dealings of the players.

“You two enjoy your dinner,” Chris speaks finding your hand across the table and enclosing it with his warm one. This simple movement nearly had Kelly combust seeing him moved on with someone else, while you began to wonder even more about his true intentions.

“Yea, y-you too,” the unnamed man quickly replies pulling his speechless date with him, who had yet to look away from you until he physically turned her around.

“Hey why don’t we get out of here? It’s hard to have you to myself with everyone interrupting,” Chris suggests with a gentle smile.

“Um yea, sure. Lead the way.”

———

15 or 20 minutes of driving around the city, and you ended up on campus in the more secluded part of the grounds. Then again, with it being Saturday night every part was pretty much secluded now.

The gazebo brightly adorned with bulb fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and around the pillars was a popular spot for graduation and wedding photos, as well as other couples looking for a calmer space without having to go too far. And although a beautiful and romantic scene, Chris desperately wished he could’ve found someplace better to take you.

“You okay?,” he nervously asks settling on the blanket he placed on the wooden floorboards so your clothes wouldn’t pick up any dirt or dust. “If you want to go somewhere else, I can-,”

“No no, this is perfect,” you smile, but not fully convincing Chris from how minimal you talked on the ride over.

“You’re not just sparing my feelings are you?” His suspicious expression and tilted head has you giggling as you take a sip of your water, feeling a bit more relaxed.

“No I just…after seeing your ex I guess I started wondering….”

“About what?”

“…your intentions,” you reveal, more focused on bending your straw back and forth rather than meeting his eyes that were probably peering at you like you were crazy bringing up the ‘what are we?’ conversation so early. “And where you wanted this to go?”

“Well this definitely isn’t a rebound if that’s what you’re thinking,” he answers sipping from his lemonade. Yes, you were thinking that. Had been since you guys started talking in fact. Then with him grabbing your hand at the table in front of Kelly, you didn’t know if the action was sincere or you just being a pawn in the midst of their game of who could make the other more jealous.

“So you think you’re completely moved on from her? And ready to date again?”

“I’ll be honest, when we first met I was still hurt and sulking as you could tell,” he briefly chuckles, “but the more we talked and hung out, I got over it and wanted to move on with someone who made me happy. Someone like you.”

Feeling him slide closer placing his hand on top of yours, your entire body heats up as his stubbled face feels like it’s mere inches from yours.

“So to answer your question, yes I’m ready and if it’s okay with you, I want to see how far this goes.”

Your soft smile as you close the remaining gap connecting your peach flavored lips with his makes him grin against your mouth happily accepting your answer. “I’ll take that as a yes, but if it’s not this is the greatest rejection I’ve ever gotten,” he speaks between pecks and occasional lip bites.

“You’re such a dork.”

His palm cradles the side of your face, thumb carefully gliding against your cheek and noses gently bumping each other not caring if he had to breathe. He just wanted to stay pressed to you.

A bright light shining in his eye, though, momentarily interrupts your intimate moment nearly making him groan out in annoyance how tonight just wasn’t the night for privacy.

“Alright guys I know you’re probably just enjoying your date, but if you’re gonna do that you gotta go back to your roo- oh, hey champ!,” the bulky security guard greets finally turning off his handheld light. “Insane game tonight.”

“Thanks,” Chris sighs partially shielding you as he tried to discreetly wipe around his mouth for any traces of your lip balm.

“Well you two have a nice night, but remember no extra curriculars out in the open if you catch my drift.”

“Got it. Goodnight sir.” He sends the guard off with a small wave before you’re both laughing at the night you’ve had and your forehead falls to his shoulder.

“Next date, I’m taking you out the country.”

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[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 31

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30

The Lan Sect camp is small. It is also a bit pitiful, with a distinct lack of tents, bedrolls, or any other necessary accommodations.

Still, Wei Ying is impressed by their diligence. Long before he is aware that there is a camp in the vicinity, a lookout has already spotted them and signaled their approach. The location had not been carelessly chosen either. The sight lines to the north, east, and south are clear, and to the west, a rugged hill rises sharply, hiding the camp from the Immortal Mountain watchtowers.  

He does not have to ask how the site for the camp was chosen. He is already beginning to suspect that Lan QiRen has many more layers than he lets on, aside from the unexpected sense of humor.

Three other Nie Sect disciples have caught up with them on the outskirts of YiLing, providing a small escort. According to Nie XuanYu, another dozen are following a distance behind, ensuring that the Emperor’s presence remains a secret. Lan Zhan is walking by his side, his posture dignified and reserved. He does not speak.  

Despite clearly intending to remain out of sight, the Lan Sect disciples have not gone as far as to trade in their white uniforms for something a little less obtrusive. Among them, it is easy to pick out Nie MingJue’s dark shape, which makes the figure next to him that of Lan XiChen. The two people across from them are unfamiliar. He takes one of them for a Lan Sect disciple precisely due to the color of robes, the white layers glowing brightly in the darkness. It is not until the figure turns, displaying an equally white blindfold, that Wei Ying stumbles a step.

“Uncle?”

The answering grin, visible even in the gloom, propels him forward.

“Uncle!”

Forgetting he is no longer twelve years old, he crosses the last bit of distance at a run, and nearly knocks Xiao XingChen over with his exuberance. XingChen laughs, his grip as tight as Wei Ying’s.

Oh, but when had uncle become so small?

Nearly four years have passed since their last parting. Is it possible that Wei Ying had grown so much, that he no longer has to lift his gaze to see XingChen smile? Unexpectedly, he feels his eyes prickle, and rubs his face with both hands, covering the sudden wistfulness with a laugh. He is happy to see that uncle’s faithful shadow had not grown smaller, still towering over them both.

The man attempts to bow, and Wei Ying latches on to his forearms, keeping him upright.

“Song Lan. Did I not say my uncles should never bow to me?”

A ripple of shock travels through the surrounding Lan disciples. The Empress’ brother is conspicuous enough, his sword and blindfold easily giving him away, but the man at his side had been taken for a simple bodyguard. To hear the Emperor address him as family raises more than one speculative whisper.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Song Lan says, “I had forgotten.”

“Ah, ah, now I am Your Majesty, but the last time you were at the Immortal Mountain, you called me a rotten little troublemaker. You threatened to kick my royal backside off the rooftop if I insisted on staying out past midnight. Do you remember that?”

The politely respectful expression on Song Lan’s face shifts into fond exasperation, “I am afraid my memory is especially poor lately, Your Majesty.”

Before he could think of a way to respond, Wei Ying suddenly realizes that Lan Zhan’s presence, which had been steady at his side since YiLing, is no longer there.

He turns to find him standing a few steps back with Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue, obviously attempting to remain invisible.

“Lan Zhan!”

Although he thinks he has never seen Lan Zhan look this alarmed, not even when he had mistaken Wei Ying for an assassin, he grabs the edge of the voluminous sleeve anyway, excited to introduce the man he means to marry.

“Come meet my uncle.”

Lan Zhan allows himself to be tugged forward, and offers a formal greeting, his posture rigid, his face unreadable.

Uncle is all gentle politeness, admitting that he had been the one to send the Lan Sect disciples into YiLing, unaware that his request had gone directly against the Sect Leader’s orders. He expresses regret for having placed them at risk, and from Lan XiChen’s expression, Wei Ying surmises that uncle had already apologized once.

XingChen inquires after a few of the Lan Sect members he had met on his travels, mentions that he dearly misses the excellent cuisine at CaiYi town, and compliments the Lan Sect efforts in LianYi during the drought.

In short, uncle is trying, to the best of his ability, to put Lan Zhan at ease. But although Lan Zhan is unfailingly courteous in return, his palpable discomfort does not wane.

Suddenly, Wei Ying feels guilty.

It occurs to him that he has done nothing but pull and push Lan Zhan in every possible direction for the past five days. Less than an hour ago, he had done a terrible job of confessing how he feels, managing to not give voice to any of his carefully planned out, honorable intentions. His fumbling is unlikely to have produced anything other than frustration and confusion, to which now, Lan Zhan must add a dose of casual banter with the Shan Empire’s notorious Rogue Prince.

The moment XingChen runs out of pleasantries, Wei Ying tugs on Lan Zhan’s sleeve again, but gently this time, trying to convey an apology, “Lan Zhan, we should go sit by the fire. The night is getting cold. Uncle, come sit down and tell me what brings you to YiLing.”

“Your Majesty,” Nie MingJue cuts in, “it is quite late. If you mean to enter by the Five Phoenix Gate instead of sneaking in the same way we had snuck out, I am afraid that delaying your return will only work to our disadvantage. We should start back the moment the rest of the Nie Sect arrives from YiLing.”

Wei Ying cringes. He had not even considered the mechanics of returning with the rest of the Lan Sect disciples, let alone with uncle in tow. Uncle Jiang will be upset, and Madam Yu-- he shudders. Best to not think of unpleasant things until they are upon him.

“Very well, please instruct the Lan Sect to break camp. Uncle, will you come with us?”

XingChen turns to Song Lan, and Wei Ying thinks that even after all these years, it is still eerie to see, how they seem to share a look of understanding.

“We are hunting,” XingChen says, “so our stay must be short.”

Wei Ying waves his hand, “I knew that much without being told. You are terrible uncles, both of you. I know you would not have come all the way to YiLing just for my birthday.”

The fond exasperation on their faces is now identical.  

“Tell us what you are hunting,” Wei Ying grins, “Perhaps we can help.”

“Not what,” XingChen says, “but who.”

“A person?” Wei Ying exclaims in surprise, “an ordinary person?”

“There is nothing ordinary about this person,” Song Lan says, his expression turning hard, “So far, over three hundred people have been slaughtered by him. He has obliterated four villages and two small clans, leaving no one behind.”

Wei Ying feels a chill, “Who is he?”

“We do not know,” XingChen says, his calm edged with frustration, “He leaves no witnesses. One merchant, who had happened upon a village not long after everyone in it had been killed, spoke of seeing a young man, a boy, still alive. He could have been a lone survivor, or he could have been the perpetrator, but he was long gone by the time we arrived. So far, we have been following the trail of dead bodies across the Empire, but know little more than we did months ago.”

“You think he is here,” Lan Zhan asks, his discomfort seemingly forgotten, “In YiLing?”

“The trail had gone cold in LanLing,” Song Lan says, “but there was an incident between LanLing and YiLing, a group of bodies discovered in an old barn. The method by which they were killed was similar enough to bring us here.”

“I do not understand,” Wei Ying says slowly, “There are appropriate channels in place to deal with ordinary murders, even if they are beyond gruesome. What are you not telling me?”

Song Lan glances at XingChen again, but this time, XingChen ignores him, the twist of his mouth tight and unhappy.

“You know why the murders are occurring,” Lan Zhan says coldly, “There is a purpose to them.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is hard and determined, as if he means to shake them both until the information they are holding back flows forth. He looks grim, his spine straight, his fingers tightly wrapped around the sword. He looks dangerous. He looks regal.

Wei Ying feels his face tingle. There is an uncomfortable coil of heat building in his stomach at the sight, and he bites his tongue, hoping the flash of pain will stop the heat from spreading.

“Resentful energy,” Song Lan says.

XingChen looks even more unhappy now, but he does not make a move to stop Song Lan from speaking.

“We think he has found a way to harvest and store resentful energy.”

“Impossible,” Lan Zhan breathes, “even YanLing DaoRen himself could not--“ he cuts off abruptly, mouth snapping shut.

Wei Ying is still reeling from the information, not quite able to come up with the right words. But he immediately understands why Lan Zhan has fallen silent. YanLing DaoRen could not store resentful energy, but his failed attempts are the stuff of nightmares. Raving mad, he had threatened to shift rivers and level mountains once his experiments were complete. But in the end, the only place he had ever been able to store resentful energy was his own fragile human shell, which had rotted from inside out, unable to contain the power he craved.

Wei Ying clears his throat, “How can you be sure he has found a way to store it? Perhaps he is only following in YanLing DaoRen’s footsteps.”

Song Lan shakes his head, “Over three hundred people gruesomely slaughtered by him alone? Taking in that much resentful energy would have driven him mad. He could not have passed all this time unnoticed. The signs of his deterioration would be obvious to anyone who crosses his path. No,” he shakes his head, “I am afraid we must assume that he has succeeded where YanLing DaoRen has failed.”

“The greatest threat since YanLing DaoRen,” Lan Zhan says softly, “and you did not inform anyone. You did not send a word of warning to the Emperor.”

His voice is soft, but the grip on his sword is now so tight, that Wei Ying can see his fingers turning white from strain. He has seen Lan Zhan angry before, but never like this. This fury is cold, and devastating, and magnificent to behold.  

“Did it not occur to you,” Lan Zhan says, “that he is heading towards YiLing for a reason? That the Emperor’s birthday festival in YiLing is precisely the sort of chaos in which he can be easily concealed? That hundreds of visitors are entering and exiting the Immortal Mountain City each day, being screened by ordinary guards who would never sense an object filled with resentful energy? Did it not occur to you that the Emperor is the most likely target of this creature, and that he should be warned?”

“WangJi,” XiChen’s voice comes from behind them, a gentle warning.

He moves to stand by Lan Zhan’s shoulder, a calming presence next to Lan Zhan’s cold fury.

“Please forgive my brother,” XiChen says, “he spoke in haste. He means no disrespect.”

Lan Zhan’s expression clearly states that he may have spoken in haste, but that the disrespect was meant and well deserved.

Wei Ying does not want Lan Zhan upset with uncle. He does not want Song Lan angry with Lan Zhan for disrespecting uncle. But he can do absolutely nothing about either of those things, because his mind is utterly preoccupied by the fact that Lan Zhan is dangerous, and beautiful, and incensed on his behalf.

Lan Zhan is afraid that this madman means to hurt Wei Ying. Lan Zhan is worried about him. Lan Zhan cares about him. Lan Zhan cares about him.

He feels his mouth trying to stretch into a smile, and curses himself six times over. Everyone around him is tense enough to draw swords, he should not be grinning like an idiot.

Lan Zhan cares about him!

“Your Majesty.”

XiChen is looking at him. There is something uncomfortably knowing in his gaze.

Wei Ying clears his throat, then does it again. He is afraid his voice will come out hoarse and obviously besotted.

“Lan Zhan is right,” he says, “I may be well protected, but every Sect Leader and Young Master in the Empire is currently residing at the Immortal Mountain. They may all be at risk. Why would you not send word?”

Song Lan has moved closer to XingChen, as if he means to protect him from Lan Zhan’s fierce gaze. He opens his mouth to speak, but XingChen silences him with a touch to the elbow.

“I believe the Young Master is correct,” XingChen sighs, “We were wrong to conceal it for so long. It has been a frequent subject of discord between us, this decision. But Song Lan does not understand the power dynamics at court. He does not understand the precarious balance involved in ruling all the Sects in the cultivation world. YanLing DaoRen’s name still invokes fear and mistrust. I was afraid-- I was afraid that the truth would sow panic. Worse, that it may give some of the Sects an opportunity they have long sought, to remove YanLing DaoRen’s bloodline from the seat of power, and take the throne for themselves.”

“We intended to catch him long before now,” Song Lan says roughly, “We could only be certain that he is heading in the direction of YiLing on the second day of the festival. The trail was days old by then.”

“I am sorry to have placed the Lan disciples at risk,” XingChen says softly, “but once we learned that you were wandering around YiLing on your own, unprotected, we used whatever means we had at our disposal.”

“I was not unprotected,” Wei Ying says absently, “Lan Zhan was with me.”

He spends a few moments preoccupied with the idea that the incidents at the Immortal Mountain and the man uncle is hunting must somehow be connected. But no matter how he turns the events over, he cannot see that they have anything in common. A man who had slaughtered over three hundred people in order to collect the resentful energy from their corpses does not seem like someone who would go through the trouble of coating Lan Zhan’s teacup with poison.

Still thinking so, he realizes that everyone else has fallen silent. Song Lan is frowning at Lan Zhan. Xiao XingChen is smiling softly, his head turned in the direction of the camp, as if privy to something amusing that only he can hear. XiChen is smiling softly too, his eyes trained in the opposite direction.

Lan Zhan is not smiling. He is staring at Wei Ying, his ears red, his expression somehow lost, as if Wei Ying had done something preposterous again.

Wei Ying is pretty sure he has not done anything to merit that expression.

“Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head and looks away. Behind them, Nie MingJue clears his throat.

“Your Majesty, I do not mean to interrupt, but the Nie Sect is all accounted for, and the Lan Sect is ready as well. We should head back.”

Wei Ying nods. During all the fascinating revelations, he has managed to forget what waits for him at the Immortal Mountain.

He thinks he would rather face a mass-murdering madman than Madam Yu.

[angelanimedesaray]

Through The Looking Glass Chapter 5: Flickers In Time

AN:  Okay, so there’s a lot of time skipping in here, just a lot of brief short moments as our little ones get a little older.  The time frame is honestly all over the place for what happens when.  I’m doing this before we get back on track because I realized a lot of these scenes I had planned I couldn’t string together in a cohesive linear fashion at the length I’ve been writing these chapters, so I decided just to do a time passing chapter, and here we are.

Also, congrats guys, the next chapter is our first MATURE CONTENT warning that I’m honestly a little nervous writing, but we’ll see how it goes.

Characters:  Levi, Reader, Reader’s Parents (Mentioned), Kenny (Mentioned), Occasional OCs

Pairings:  (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Angst, Family Drama/Troubles, Running Away, Mentions of Divorce, (Is Fluff really a Warning??? I mean, if you don’t want to feel warm fuzzies, I guess)

Word Count:  10464

<---Previous Part    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

Levi flickered in and out of your life in moments that could be fleeting like the pictures of an old film, or seemingly endless and frozen in time, held in your hands like precious gems.

Friends came and went as you grew older and the social cliques and popularity divided people further and further away at school.  It didn’t help that your mother followed through with her threat and pulled you out of school to homeschool you for a year, and your family moved a few times for your father’s job. But despite all the rapid change in the space of a few years, Levi continued to appear at the most unexpected of times, a constant friend despite his inconstant presence.  He grew more...distant, the older the two of you became.  Not distant like your friends at school had become, simply more...reserved, withdrawn into himself, and wary of the world around him.  But you could still get him to relax, get his guard to lower some when he was around you.  He always arrived acting far more mature than his age, but you managed to get him to be a /kid/ with you at some point during his visits…

*Levi’s POV*

The trees outside had turned, a palette of oranges, reds, yellows, and lingering remnants of green, clinging to the thinning tree branches or littering the ground like paint spatter.  Levi had stared at the colors in silent, wide-eyed fascination when he’d appeared, twirling an orange leaf between two fingers by the stem before Y/N had grabbed him by the arm with a happy exclamation of his name, dragging him deeper into the yard and insisting that he help her rake up a pile of leaves to jump into.

He’d been a little displeased when he saw all that hard work to rake up the yard disappear as she jumped into their pile and sent leaves everywhere, but the shrieked giggles and the wide grin on her face as she rolled around and continued to spread leaves everywhere helped make up for it.  Plus, she was perfectly ready and willing to rake up the pile all over again so Levi could try doing the same--apparently she’d seen his skepticism over the point of it all.

He had to admit that there was a sort of childish thrill to jump in and cause an explosion of fluttering autumn colors all around him.

Afterwards, when the leaves were raked up into their final piles and they had picked all the bits of multicolored leaves off of one another, she had dragged him inside raving about caramel apples she said were a Halloween only treat--whatever that was.  By now, he’d learned to just go with the strange things she said.  They made sense to her, and he didn’t need to understand everything she talked about to enjoy what she was trying to share with him.

This time, it was green apples on sticks with a shining brown glaze and chopped up nuts sprinkled all around it.  It was sticky at the same time it was juicy, since the apple was crisp and fresh underneath--sweeter than the things he was used to eating, but not enough to give him a stomach ache, thankfully.  They both had the caramel and apple juice all over them when they finished, having to scrub at their faces and fingers afterwards.  As with most of the foods and drinks she shared with him when he visited, it was another thing he’d been able to genuinely enjoy, part of him wishing the treat wasn’t seasonal like she’d told him it was so that he could look forward to maybe having one more often when he saw her.

*Levi’s POV*

The excitement practically oozed from Y/N when he appeared one day, and she dragged him into the house, informing him that her family bought a piano for her to practice with at home.  This was something he was more familiar with by proxy, considering all the times she’d talked about learning to play the piano, sometimes at his prompting.  As such, as soon as she said she had a piano, for once he knew what he was being dragged into, and he looked forward to it with enough curious excitement that he easily matched her pace.  Curiosity and even some excitement radiated from him as they tread into a part of the house that he hadn’t seen since his first visit.  At the foot of the stairs was the large living room, and pushed up against the wall was a light brown wooden piece of furniture with ivory white and onyx black keys, and a matching bench pushed underneath.

Y/N let go of his arm long enough to pull out the bench with a brief, frustrated grunt when it got caught on the soft rug, which did in fact cover the entire flooring now that Levi got to look at it.  She slid onto the bench with ease and got off again to adjust it, doing this several times until she had it where she wanted it and could reach the pedals at the bottom and seemed to be able to reach the keys.  At that point, she turned to look at Levi, who had walked up to the piano to investigate, hand gliding gently over the smooth wood and listening to the hollow thunk of her foot pressing on the peddles underneath as she tried to make sure she could reach everything.

“C’mon, there’s room for both of us.  You can turn the pages for me, too!” she said cheerfully as she opened up a thin book that was propped up in the center of the piano above the keys on a built-in stand.

Levi racked his brain for the names of some of the songs she’d said she was learning to play on the piano in all their conversations, dismissing the ones she’s said were really easy, the first songs she’d learned to play.  What had been the name of that one song she’d been looking forward to learning?

“Have you learned Furr A Lease yet?” Levi asked as he took a seat next to her on the bench.

Y/N lit up as he mentioned it, flipping through the pages of the book and settling on a specific one that had rows of bars and spots that made no sense to him, but clearly meant something to her.  “You remembered!  I had my teacher promise to teach me to play Fur Elise as soon as I could recognize all the notes, so I can!  You’ll have to turn the page once for me,” she rambled, fingers hovering over and finding their place on the keys as her eyes flickered up towards the pages in front of her.  A look of concentration fell across her face, and after a few moments of silence where Levi simply watched her, her fingers pressed down on the keys in semi-practiced movements, and a lovely sound started to fill the air.

Occasionally she pressed a little too hard or too soon on a key, and the sound was thrown off, but Levi was aware that she was learning.  Even though it threw him off in the moment, he was still enjoying listening to her play.  He could see she was trying hard, and the practice was paying off.  The sound was nice and beautiful, and it was gentle, like her.

He only moved when she asked him to turn the page for her.  He had to stretch with care to make sure he didn’t get in her way, but he apparently timed it right, because her playing didn’t hitch because of missing notes.

After that, whenever they were inside and she wasn’t intent on having him try something else out, he asked her if there was anything new she’d learned to play on the piano.  Every time, she would drag him into the living room like he’d hoped and they would sit down side by side on the bench while she played for him.

*Reader’s POV*

One of the great things about Levi whenever he showed up was how he was willing to listen.  He wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, he never had been.  But even though he didn’t speak, and there was a distance as time went by, it wasn’t out of indifference or coldness.  He did listen to what you talked about, and considering he was able to recall stuff even from past conversations and ask the occasional meaningful question, you knew he was, in fact, paying attention.

Considering you didn’t have anyone to talk to with some of your interests, it was a breath of fresh air.  Even with your parents, some of the things you tried to talk to them about, they started using the mechanical voice, the one that told you that they weren’t really paying attention because they were giving automatic, short responses.  And the few people your age that bothered to spend time around you didn’t understand some of the things you wanted to talk about, or gave a blank look and then switched the subject to something else entirely.

With Levi, you could go into depth about rudimentary energy conversion, or basic natural science--the basic stuff taught in elementary science classes that you were developing a stronger and stronger interest in as time passed.  Most of the people your age that you knew didn’t really care about science unless they got to see something with fire, something explode, or got to do an activity they could barely put any effort into and goof off for the rest of class.

Even if Levi didn’t understand everything you told him, he tried to.  And what you could demonstrate or explain, you did, with Levi paying attention and trying to follow what you were saying to the best of his ability.  If he seemed like he wasn’t interested, as you’d been worried a few times by wandering eyes or a general look of disinterest, he usually put those worries to rest with a well-formed question that showed he was paying attention.

When he did lose interest, or perhaps gave up on trying to follow something you were attempting to explain, he would change the subject to something else that you enjoyed.  That way the topic was still something you enjoyed and wanted to share, even if it was no longer the one you’d previously been talking about.

Which you understood.  It wasn’t for everyone, and he wasn’t going to be as enthusiastic about it as you, no matter how much you talked about or explained things to him.  He still did far more than most people you knew, and listened nonetheless.

Though you did notice that one time you talked about studying the human body and naming bones and such, he was already surprisingly knowledgeable, and even helped you study and remember some things you were struggling with.  Like remembering the names of bones and their spots in the human body.  It wasn’t that you thought he was stupid, it was just that you’d gotten so used to having to explain most of the sciencey things you talked about, it through you for a loop when he was rather knowledgeable about it.  Especially the specific parts he was knowledgeable about: arteries and the like.

But, whenever you started to get that worried, pondering look on your face and your mind started to wonder how he knew those kinds of things so well, he usually caught on and managed to direct your attention elsewhere, the touchy subject forgotten before you could dig too deep and realize something unpleasant.

*Levi’s POV*

Warmth trailed uncomfortably from Levi’s nose and down over his lips, his jacket hanging halfway down the arm that was still clutching the bloodied knife in a tight grip.  His eyes weren’t on the almost unconscious man underneath him, but on the tan coat and wide brim hat that was quickly disappearing from sight without so much as a glance back in Levi’s direction.  His lips parted, intending to call out to the man, but he disappeared entirely before he could gather the words.

Gone, just like that, without a word from either of them.

And something inside him told him he wasn’t coming back.

His grip slackened slightly on the knife, stunned and still staring in the direction Kenny had disappeared.  His smug accomplishment at winning the fight he’d picked with the adult now below him disappeared entirely in the wake of on setting abandonment as the reality of what had just happened settled in, and Levi realized he was now alone in the Underground.

He blinked, and while the lighting didn’t change much, the smell in the air did.  The man below him was gone, the ground was different beneath his feet, and the lighting, while still dark, wasn’t from the absence of light from a nonexistent sky.  There was no ceiling again, just the trees up above him, and open night sky with the moon and stars glinting around him.

The surface.

Which meant…

He didn’t have to look far.  He simply turned his head a little to the side, and there was the wooden playhouse he’d slept in several years ago.  Sitting atop it was the familiar form of Y/N, though she was a little hunched over.  At the sight of her, Levi instinctively hid his bloodied knife, taking a moment to wipe it off in the grass below him before he put it away where she wouldn’t see it.

Like the day he’d found her sitting on the steps after that incident at the school, there was shouting coming from the house, mainly a woman shouting.  There were pauses in between, and if he listened hard enough, he could faintly make out the sound of a man’s voice replying.  He couldn’t make out what either of them were saying, but whatever it was, he was sure it was the reason she was hunched over on top of the playhouse like a depressed bird.

Levi pulled out his handkerchief, and barely managed to get it to his nose to wipe away the blood when she finally noticed him.  Her posture straightened slightly upon seeing him, though she definitely hunched back over to wipe at her face first before she turned to face him more fully.

“Are you alright?  You’re bleeding,” she stated.

Of course concern for his well being was the first thing she said.  She was always worrying over him, it seemed.  Even when there was clearly something upsetting her, she asked about him, first.

“It’s nothing,” he answered, finished wiping away the blood and secretly hoping it wouldn’t continue to bleed so she wouldn’t continue to fuss over something that equated a scratch for him.  He was probably going to look a little rough no matter what he did, considering he was literally just in a fight.

As Levi walked over to the playhouse, Y/N leaned down and fixed his jacked, pulling the shoulder up from his elbow and back where it belonged before Levi could shrug her off and fix it himself.  He didn’t need her fussing over him like a mother, because she wasn’t.

Partially sulking, and nowhere near wanting to talk about his own problems right now, Levi decided to draw her attention away from him again as he leaned his back against the side of the playhouse that was now too small for both of them to fit inside.

“You’re upset.  What’s going on?” Levi asked, head inclined back towards the house for clarity since they could still hear voices from inside.

Y/N shrank again, and Levi’s gaze settled steadily on her once again.  “My dad’s going back overseas,” she said quietly.  Levi’s brow furrowed at the mention of overseas, no idea what she was talking about or what that was even supposed to mean.  Context clues told him her dad was leaving again.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around right now.

“They’re fighting about it because apparently my dad’s already done his required military service.  He doesn’t need to go back, but he is,” she clarified just as softly.  “Mom’s insisting that he doesn’t love us enough to stay, and he wouldn’t go if he did.”

Levi looked away as she got especially quiet, and he suspected she might be shedding more tears.  At the same time, Kenny’s retreating back flashed through his mind.  Sure, Kenny didn’t love him, Levi wasn’t an idiot, he knew that much.  But he’d thought, at the very least...well, he hadn’t expected to get abandoned in the street like that.  And he felt betrayed because of it.

As much as he thought this would be a good distraction from his harsh reality like it usually was, this was just echoing his own pain right now, and he hated it, a muscle twitching in his jaw as his teeth ground together, and a bit of resentful anger starting to bud inside him towards a man he hadn’t met for making Y/N feel a similar sense of abandonment.

“She’s wrong, though.”

Or maybe not.

Levi looked up in surprise at Y/N’s entire change of tone, which went from small, timid, and hurt to firm determination with a bit of fire he hadn’t seen from her before peeking through.  It wasn’t at all what he had expected from her, and she wasn’t done, either, wiping away residual tears as she continued to speak in that firm tone.  The way she spoke, it was easy to tell she was venting out frustration that her mother didn’t understand this.

“I know he loves us.  Just because he’s going away for a while doesn’t mean he hates us or anything.  He’s going because he needs to protect people, it’s what he does, and it’s the right thing to do.  It’s scary when he’s gone, and it hurts, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us.”

Levi watched her as she smoothed her hair back with both hands, taking a deep breath before she hopped off the playhouse.  He straightened up from his previous position leaning against the playhouse, but before either of them said anything, she suddenly wrapped both of her arms tightly around him.  Levi stiffened, pain flaring up in his side where he’d been hit during that fight, hands starting to rise to push her off him in an instinctual reaction, but she was attached to him like a leech, and as his hands met her sides to push her off…

“Thank you for being my friend, Levi,” she murmured into his ear, and Levi paused.

Hesitantly, Levi returned the hug, his hands finding a place on her back as she clung tightly to him.  She was warm, and it was comforting to be held like this again since…

Well...he didn’t want to think of how long it had been.  Already he felt a slight burn in his eyes, a mess of emotions trying to bubble up and out of his chest as he clung tightly to Y/N in return, wrestling with himself to keep it under control.  The hug felt good, but he could tell he was trembling, and with how tightly they were holding one another, surely she could tell as well.

Y/N’s arms loosened slightly, and she started to pull back in concern.  “Levi, are you all right?”

Cursing himself for the outward display of weakness the whole time, Levi hugged her a little tighter in response, which gave her enough of a hint that she stopped trying to pull away.  Instead, she secured her arms around him again in that comfort he suddenly realized he craved.  Every moment he wasn’t here on the surface, he craved the clean air, the warmth of the sun, the energy that oozed off of her and helped lift his spirits, as well as the security he felt while he was here.

If only he had the security of staying.  If only he wasn’t so sure that he would simply flicker away again, like every other time.  If only this existence didn’t keep slipping through his fingertips like a mirage lost in fog.

If only people stopped flickering out of his life...like Kenny just had.

“Why do people leave?”

The words slipped past his lips before he could get control of himself again, and he cursed his stupidity.  Why did people leave--it was a stupid question he already knew the answer to.  Because the world was cruel and harsh, full of death and destruction that took without a care, with people that were just as cruel and destructive.  And sometimes, when it seemed like people cared...well, he knew better now.  Already he was forming another wall to try and keep people out before they could wreak that kind of damage on him again when they left.

Y/N, while she didn’t give him an answer--maybe she didn’t have one, considering her more sheltered existence--still gave him something to hold to.  Though he wasn’t sure how concrete the promise really was, considering how they kept fluttering through each other's lives.

“I won’t leave, Levi.  Not really.  I’ll always be here when you need me most,” she promised, her words muffled since her face was still buried in his shoulder thanks to the hug.  “I’m usually here waiting and looking for you to come back, anyway.  You’re the only real friend that’s stayed with me so far.”

*Reader’s POV*

“What nonsense have you cooked up this time?”

By now you were done being surprised by Levi’s sudden appearances.  If they hadn’t started when you were so young, perhaps this wouldn’t be normal to you, and you would wonder how he got into your house and in your room on the second floor without a sound or alerting your parents, but it had never occurred to you to ask those questions in the past, and before enough time passed for you to start asking those kinds of questions, it became normal for you.  With Levi’s appearances being normal, you no longer thought it odd.

Not even looking up, you gestured to the chessboard on one side of you and the halfway finished game of solitaire on the other side.  “I got grounded for lying, so I’m trying to entertain myself.  Thought I would try to play some card games.  Or practice some chess.”

For once, Levi didn’t look completely lost as he took a seat across from you in between the two games.  It was like you had at long last spoken a language he understood, his eyes flickering between the stalemate on the chessboard and the game of solitaire you were too stubborn to admit defeat with.

It was a little difficult to play against yourself when you knew your opponent self’s every next move.

Levi’s eyes flickered around the room, probably noting the lack of...well, lots of things.  Most of the stuff you usually played with.  No video games, or movies, or music, or even books.  You’d dragged this out of the family game chest for something to do.  You weren’t even allowed friends over for a little while.  It was your mother’s way of putting the pressure on you to stop lying and tell the truth.

“It must have been a pretty big lie,” Levi commented as his eyes returned to you.  His comment earned a bitter snort from you, especially at the dark humor you found in him saying that.

“I wasn’t lying.  Just, no one believes me,” you said with a sigh, glancing up at him before you shook away the depressing thoughts.  Levi wasn’t always here, and when he was, you never knew how long he would be here.  Every time he showed up, you had to make the most of it.

“Come on, this will be much more fun if you play a few games with me.  Chess or cards?  I am ready to teach,” you said excitedly, leaning forward and planting your palms on the ground as you came closer with a wide smile, gazing at him expectantly as you waited for him to choose.

“I know a few games,” Levi said, nodding towards the cards.  You immediately brightened.  Could you get right to playing games for once?

“Which ones do you know?  War, slapjack, blackjack, rummy, go fish, poker--well, I don’t know how to actually play some of those, I just know they’re card games.”

Levi shrugged.  “Basic gambling games.  Like poker and blackjack.”  A blush started to creep up in your cheeks as you realized he knew the games you didn’t know how to play.  His sharp eyes didn’t miss the expression, and a first finally happened between you.  “I can teach you.”

You nodded sheepishly, watching as Levi gathered up the cards that had made up your solitaire game and shuffled the cards, starting to explain how to play poker to you as he handled the cards.  You never heard him talk longer than short sentences, so hearing him talk about something at length was new for you, and it was your turn to listen to him with quiet attention.  He had a rather soothing voice.  Steady and fairly low--at least for a boy his age--and occasionally he said his words like a sigh.  It gave him a general carefree feel as you listened.  If you had been tired, he probably could have lulled you off to sleep just listening to him.  It helped that you were paying avid attention to give him the same respect he gave you when you were talking about things you were interested in.

Even though poker was usually played with more people, you and Levi played a mock version of it with CheezIts you swindled from downstairs.  Needless to say, Levi was a little...too good at playing poker.  For the life of you, you couldn’t read him while playing the game, which meant he won every time.  Eventually, you got pouty.  Sure, your dad never /let/ you win when you played chess with him to teach you how to really play, but this was ridiculous.  At least you could take a few chess pieces off the board with your dad.  This was just--just--

You huffed as Levi scooped the pile of CheezIts towards himself once more, looking mildly annoyed at the orange dust he kept having to wipe off his hands as they played.  “You’re too good at this game.”

“You’re not good at hiding your expressions.  You’re an open book.  And you have lots of tells,” he returned bluntly, shuffling the deck once more.

Was he smiling?  You could have sworn he just smirked, but it was gone before you could be sure.  Dang it!  You had to do something to get back at him or this was going to drive you crazy.

“Bah, enough poker for today.  I at least know the basics of how to play now.  Maybe we could do some chess?” you asked hopefully.  Chess was something you knew but he didn’t.  You’d have the advantage again.  Hopefully you’d be able to beat him a few times and it would satiate your desire for a few victories.

Levi simply sat aside the cards after shuffling them, coming over to the chess board as you set it up.  “You’ll have to explain this one,” he said softly, gaze roaming over the starting positions of all the pieces to commit them to memory.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly,” you said cheerfully before you started explaining how each piece got to move and the goal of the game.

It was a nice respite from an undeserved punishment while it lasted.

*Levi’s POV*

For once, he found an upside to living underground, as when he appeared outside, he was almost instantly drenched in an unpleasant feeling with humid, hot air and the sun beating down on him, making him cover his eyes entirely and re-expose himself to the bright sunlight little at a time.  At the same time, he shrugged off his jacket, pushing hair out of his face and looking around with a squint for Y/N.  She had to be close, she always was.

“Levi!”

Levi turned at the sound of her voice, spotting her as she came out of her house pushing something slender with two wheels along with her, waving her hand excitedly with a fancy bag slung across her chest from shoulder to waist.  She hurried over to him, hands guiding the wheels in the proper direction as she approached.  She kicked out a metal bar and let the slender thing prop up on it when she reached him.

“I was just going to the store to get some treats--do you want to come?” she asked cheerfully.

“Might as well,” Levi mumbled, his jacket draped over his arm now, though he was considering using it to give himself some shade.

“You can put your jacket in my bike basket, and...um…”  She frowned, turning back to look at the bike with a thoughtful look.  There was only one weird looking seat, and he was certain both of them were not going to fit on it.  “Well, I haven’t done it before, but you can try riding on the handlebars.  Or I can try it, if you know how to ride a bike,” she said, looking back at Levi, who was already shaking his head no in response to the upcoming question.

“Handlebars it is,” she said with a nod, swinging her leg over the bike to get situated on the seat and kicking that bar of metal back, balancing the bike on the two tires.  Levi put his jacket in the basket at the front, and then hesitated, looking at the way she balanced on the bike and the slender bar with her hands on either end.

This was not going to end well…

“Come on, it’s not that hard.  I don’t think so, anyway.  And I’m right behind you to keep you from slipping.  It might take a few tries while I figure out how to balance with two people, but we’ll figure it out.  It would be easier if I had bike pegs, but I don’t, so…”

Here goes nothing, Levi thought, turning his back to her and putting his hands just inside hers on the handlebars before he jumped up and back, partially landing on his hands.  Y/N moved her hands to the very edge, allowing Levi to get his hands out from underneath him and move them off to the side as his ass hung over the edge of the bike.  Her chest was pressed against his back as she leaned forward, though, giving him a bit of stability like she said as she leaned forward, head peeking around his shoulder so she could see.  Levi kept a tight grip on the bike as she shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out the balance and keep them from tipping over--something Levi felt happening every time she tried to lift her feet.  She was going to make him a nervous wreck if she kept--

Instead of trying to lift her feet again, Y/N just started walking them forward slowly, getting the wheels to start moving instead of trying to balance in place.  As they started heading down the brown stone walkway, Levi wondered why she didn’t just move onto the wider black stone street that looked like it would give them more room for error than this narrow brown stone path.

As they started to pick up speed, Y/N suddenly took her feet off the ground again--which Levi knew, because the bike wobbled.  “Hold on!” she told him, which was entirely unnecessary--his knuckles were white on the bars as they started to go faster with a push he could feel, and the bike wobbled and veered from side to side as Y/N attempted to steer while Levi had the better grasp on the handlebars.  Eventually they managed to find a sort of arrangement, and they were steering mostly in tandem, Levi feeling what direction she was trying to move the handlebars and watching the narrow path in front of them to see what direction they needed to go in order to avoid crashing into something.  As they picked up speed and Y/N adjusted to what they were trying to do, the ride grew smoother, the wobbling stopped for the most part, and Levi was able to relax.  Mostly.

As they navigated the streets in their precarious arrangement, Levi had to blink sweat out of his eyes and squint against the wind, Y/N occasionally switching which of his sides she was peering around as they continued to go down the path at a speed that he occasionally wondered if she had complete control over.  He kept worrying she was going to accidentally swerve into something, or wasn’t going to be able to slow down before taking a corner and they would lose balance.

Finally, finally, she started to slow them down, and skidded to a stop in front of a red brick building with a glass and metal door.  Inside he could see bright light from a light source other than fire that he wasn’t familiar with, and a cacophony of brightly colored packages on rows of shelves.  Levi hopped off the bike and looked inside with cautious curiosity as Y/N moved the bike over to the wall and lowered that metal bar again, leaning the bike next to the wall out of the way before she approached him.

“I have enough money I’ve saved up to get us some soda and candy, or ice cream.  Since it’s hot out, I think ice cream would be better,” she mused as she pulled open the door, letting him go in first.

And she was speaking gibberish again.  Well, for the most part.  He didn’t know what the soda or ice cream was, but he of course knew what candy was, though he usually didn’t bother with it because it was such a luxury, and that money could be spent on more important things.

And here the difference between him as the Underground dweller and her as the surface dweller was glaring.

There was a man behind a counter off to their left as Y/N came in behind him, a man who immediately eyed Levi was a narrowed look as he took in his ragged appearance and (current) lack of a coin purse or a bag.  When Y/N bounded in with her clean-cut appearance and bag that obviously had money in it though, the dirty look eased, though Levi could still feel the man watching him to make sure he didn’t steal anything.

Y/N dragged him towards the back where there were more glass doors keeping certain products inside, with strangely shaped bottles and other containers with more bright colors.  “I’m thinking we can choose a drink, and an ice cream, and we can have some over at the conservation site we went to that one time!  Wait, no, the ice cream will melt by then...we can have the ice cream as soon as we get outside!” she amended as she brought him to a stop in the back in front of the wall of completely foreign foodstuffs.  Levi looked blankly at everything in front of him, completely lost on what he should get.  Hell, he’d never even seen half of the materials this place was made out of.  He was used to wooden buildings and shelves, to dirt or clay walls with the occasional stone structure, firelight or darkness.  He didn’t even seen any flames in this place, yet it was as bright in here as outside, but with more...artificial colors.  This place was different enough he was unsettled by it, and he honestly wanted to leave as soon as possible so he could be back somewhere that felt more...comfortable or familiar.

“You haven’t had soda or ice cream before, have you?” Y/N asked, deflating a little as she asked it and realization flashed in her eyes.  Levi shook his head, and she turned back to the wall of product with a slight frown, hands on her hips.  “Well...what kinds of foods or drinks do you like?  I like the really chocolatey stuff, or the fruity stuff.  Mom’s always telling me to have less because there’s so much sugar in it.”

“I don’t have a lot of sugar,” Levi said quietly.  Too much, and he might get a stomach ache, so he’d like to stay away from something packed full with sugar like she was claiming.

“You probably don’t want soda, then.  It’s super sugary and bubbly.”

Well that last part just made him curious…

“Or you can start with something lighter, like Sprite, or ginger ale...or you can have lemonade instead…”

At this point she was just talking to herself, pulling open the door in front of them to start picking up and looking at the bottles.  Levi shivered at the surprising blast of cold air, suddenly wishing he had his jacket as she held the door open, continuing to look at the bottles.  Levi’s head was on a gradual swivel, taking in the sight of all the different colored packages around him and trying to figure out what everything was.  This was nothing like the Underground, it was the exact opposite.  He didn’t even recognize anything in here--so far, anyway.  You would think they were from entirely different worlds.

“How about this--I’ll get a lemonade and a Sprite, I’ll let you try the Sprite, and if you don’t like it, I’ll just take the Sprite and you can have the lemonade,” she said, handing the two bottles to him and shutting the door, relieving him of that cold that would have been refreshing if it had been brief instead of constantly bombarding him while she held the door open.

The bottles weren’t made of glass, like he would have expected.  He had no idea what this was, and he watched the bubbling drink and the yellow drink slosh around inside as she pulled them up to the counter.  He was momentarily distracted and forgot she’d mentioned she was getting something else, but was now dragging them over to pay.

“I’d like to buy these two drinks, and two ice cream cones, please!” she said, leaning up against the counter on her tip-toes with Levi just behind her holding the drinks.  The man glanced skeptically at Levi again, who just gazed steadily back at him in silence, the two bottles held tightly in his hands.  He looked at the boxey...thing, in front of him, touched a few things that made strange noises to Levi, and then turned back to Y/N with a polite smile.

“That’ll be six seventy-four, little missy.”

Y/N dug around in her back, pulling out one faded green paper looking thing, and then another, and then reached back in to pull out a handful of coins, pushing them around in her hand and placing nine coins on the counter, pushing them over to him and dumping the rest into her bag.

“There you go,” she said as the man counted back over what she’d handed him, then put it in a drawer with a nod.

“Go ahead and get your ice cream,” he said, nodding down towards some strange thing at the end of the counter.

Y/N took the bottles from Levi and placed them in her bag, heading over to the thing at the end of the counter, grabbing yet another thing Levi didn’t recognize that was in a cone shape and dark brown, and she reached up and pulled down on a lever.  Something thick and light brown came out, with Y/N’s tongue sticking out as she tried carefully to layer it before she pulled the lever back up, stopping the flow and handing it over to Levi.

“That one’s mine, don’t eat it.  It might be too sugary for you,” she said before grabbing another cone and doing the same thing at a different spot.  This time what came out was clear white, and she managed to be a little neater with what she was doing before she handed that one to Levi and took the brown one from him.

“Have a nice day,” the man called automatically as they passed the counter for the door.

“You too!” Y/N called, and then they left, re-entering the heat of the outside world.

Levi simply stared at the treat she’d put in his hands, seeing it start to glisten in the sun and able to feel how surprisingly cold it was.  Like those red things she’d given him that one time.  Beside him, Y/N started licking hers, apparently doing so in a very specific way to try and keep it from melting past her fingers, since she had to catch a few drops that started to trickle past the edge.  Levi hesitantly followed suit, unsure if it was something he would like...

It was freezing cold, and sweet, but not so much that he pulled back.  It tasted...well...he wasn’t sure how to describe it.  It was good, though.  And once more, he found himself associating something he was experiencing on the surface with clean because oddly enough that was the best he could do for describing the ice cream, as she’d called it.

Following her lead on how to eat it and knowing better than to bite into it after his experience with the red frozen treat, the two of them leaned against the wall and ate their ice cream until all that was left was the cone.  Apparently that was an edible thing, since she crunched right through it and quickly ate it, too.  It tasted similar to a cookie, actually, as he ate it.  Not sweet like the ice cream, and a nice crunchy compliment.

When they were done with their ice cream, Y/N retrieved her bike, wheeling it around so it was facing the direction they’d come from.  “All right--to the conservation site,” she said cheerfully, finding her balance on the bike again as Levi grumbled under his breath, reluctantly resuming the position on the handlebars.

Next time she better come up with a better way to travel, because he wasn’t too keen on this arrangement.

Their wobbly trip was longer this time, and more laborious considering this time she had to bike them up a hill this time, which she gave up on not even halfway through when she almost veered and lost balance while trying to struggle up the hill.

“All right, this isn’t going to work, we’re walking up this hill,” she huffed, waiting for Levi to hop off before she got off as well, walking beside the bike and guiding it by the handlebars.

“Well, at least most of the distance was easier to cover,” she said with a sigh, reaching into her pack and handing him the Sprite bottle as they reached the crest of the hill.  It was somewhat nostalgic, coming back up here, with the memory of the long grass, the meadow and the pond with the berries and the wildlife.  The only thing that was missing was slightly more forgiving weather and her carrying him, which he wasn’t about to let her do since he was perfectly capable of walking himself this time.

“I can actually swim, now, so we could jump in the pond.  Mom wouldn’t be too happy with me getting my clothes wet, but it would be fun!” she suggested cheerfully.

“I can’t swim,” Levi returned bluntly.  He’d most likely just be watching her bob around the entire time if she went through with that.

“Dang it...well, we can just stick our feet in the water, again, then,” she said, easily brushing off the disappointment as they crested the hill and she guided her bike off to the side into the rocks.  Kicking the metal bar to lean it against again, she left it on the side of the road, pushing aside grass that wasn’t as tall as he remembered and gesturing for him to follow her once more to the pond.

Just like they had before, they dangled their feet in the water, and Levi took the chance to clean up any traces of ice cream that might have lingered on his face and wash away any dirt on his person.  Meanwhile, Y/N was simply playing with the bottle of lemonade, watching him and waiting expectantly for him to try the Sprite so she knew if they had to switch drinks or not.  Once Levi felt relatively clean, he followed the instructions of the little white arrows painted on top of the lid and twisted it open, hearing the bottle hiss at him as the air escaped and the drink inside bubbled drastically before settling down again.  He glanced at Y/N, who was still waiting for him to try it, and, based off his past experience of trying the foods and drinks she gave him, started small with a little sip.

He pulled back a bit from the bottle, unsure how he felt about it.  It was clear and sharp and refreshing, but the bubbles...well, he wasn’t used to his drinks being fizzy, and it threw him off.  Maybe he would adjust to it?  He’d probably ask for something more normal if they did this again, though.

Seeing that Levi was keeping his bottle, Y/N happily started on her own drink, taking big gulps before putting the lid back on and throwing herself back on the ground with a pleased sigh.

“I love summer,” she said, eyes closed as she soaked in the heat from the sun’s rays.  Levi stayed quiet, watching the birds across the pond hoping around and pecking at the ground in search of bugs or worms.  The water rippled occasionally from small fish coming close to the surface, and the breeze ruffled his hair and cooled him down slightly from the heat of the sun.  He felt like a little kid again, looking around at a bright and new world.

Well, technically he still was a kid, but really, he’d grown up a long time ago.  Yet every time he came up here...he felt like a kid again.  And he felt much lighter and carefree.  It just made him all the more determined to find his way to the surface.

*Reader’s POV*

It was dark and damp in the place that you were hiding, your sobbing echoing around the large metal tube and a small trickle of water at the bottom getting parts of your pants and shoes wet.  It smelled musty and terrible down here, and you’d be colder if it wasn’t for the medium sized dog that was pressed against your side and partially in your lap.  Your greyhound black lab Sabrina was attempting to comfort you, giving a few licks on your cheeks.

It was the middle of the night, and you were tucked away in a storm drain, cold night air whistling down the tunneled space.  You’d been down here for a while now, and you didn’t know what to do.  You were lost, practically alone, hungry, and scared, and it was your own doing.

Footsteps echoed down the storm drain, splashing water with each step, and you scrambled to your feet, ready to bolt from the stranger in the drain.

“Why are you down here?”

You relaxed considerably at the familiar voice, wiping the tears from your face as he drew close enough for you to make out features in the dim light provided by your flashlight.  “Levi?” you said with another sniffle.  Sabrina got on all fours and put herself between you and the stranger, starting to growl and causing Levi to pause before you pet her head and neck to calm her down and told her to sit and settle.  She calmed down and allowed Levi to draw closer, though he was much more careful now.

You were still mid distraught crying, but he’d asked what was happening, and this was your chance to ask for some help and get what was happening off of your chest.  After a few more sniffles and wiping at your tears to get yourself under control enough you could speak again, you attempted to explain what you were doing crying in a storm drain with a dog in the middle of the night.

“My parents are splitting up.  I want to stay with my dad, but I’m going with my mom cause I’m apparently too young to decide.  And I thought...I thought if I-I ran away…” God, now that you were saying it out loud, you could hear how stupid this whole idea had been.  “That they might get back together while they were looking for me,” you finished in a very small voice.

You’d done it in a distraught panic, honestly.  Clearly you didn’t have enough food smuggled into  your backpack, because you were already out of food.  You’d at least thought protection, which ended up coming in the form of Sabrina and a tiny pocket knife you got from your grandfather a year ago.  Now you were here with five bucks, a dog, a pocket knife, no food, no blankets or pillows, a stuffed animal, a book, a game, and the feeling that you were absolutely--

“Are you stupid?”

You blinked in surprise when you heard Levi say it aloud, immediately blushing and hiding your face in shame as he said the very thing you’d come to realize but hadn’t wanted to admit out loud.  This whole idea had been a stupid plan, and you’d executed it horribly, resulting in this mess.

“For someone so smart, it was stupid thinking running away was going to solve your problem,” he continued to scold you, coming to a stop just beside you and looking down on you with you could only assume to be some harsh judgment.  “All running from your problems is going to do is make things worse.  Your parents aren’t going to magically get back together because you’re missing.  They’ll likely fight more.”

You hated how right he was.  They were probably blaming each other, if you knew them well enough.  This was really something you should have thought through before bolting when you did.  You were curling into yourself with every word he said, and as much as you hated hearing him say it, you knew he was right, and he had a point.  You never should have tried running from your problems.  You should have tried to say something and made them listen.  Running was only making things worse for everyone.

You felt his foot kick you--not hard enough to be mean or painful, but enough to get you to move and look up at him, tear streaks still on your face.  “Are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to get up and head home?”

You wiped your face one more time, getting shakily to your feet.  Your dog followed suit, standing expectantly at your side as you gathered your mostly empty bag.  You didn’t have anything else, so you were ready for a walk of shame back home.  There was only one problem.

“I don’t know how to get there.  I got lost.  And...and I’ve overheard Mom and Dad talking about a white van going around taking kids, so...That’s why I’ve been down here.  Once I didn’t know where I was,” you said in a quiet voice  Suddenly very aware of the terrible situation you’d put yourself in.

Levi was staring hard at you.  His expression was blank, and he was still, but you could see him processing the information and deciding what to do next.  Suddenly, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you forward and towards the mouth of the storm drain.

“Standing around feeling sorry for yourself won’t get you anywhere,” he muttered, dragging you along with Sabrina following on her leash.  “You can recognize the area your house is in, right?”

You nodded hesitantly.  Moving to the suburbs had its drawbacks.  No more were you surrounded by diverse streets, houses, and buildings--everything here was uniform, with rows of streets and houses that looked identical to you.

But what he said about feeling sorry about yourself was also right.  So instead of thinking of what you couldn’t do, you wracked your brain for what you could do.  You knew the name of the section of houses you stayed in, and what the park looked like, and the number on your house.  You could also recognize one of the biking paths that ran along the edge of the housing area.  So you had some landmarks you could recognize.  If all else failed, there was the pool center or the school that you could recognize without hesitation, and if you waited long enough there, maybe someone could get you home.  You knew your phone number.  You had options.

Levi got you both to the mouth of the storm drain, and he stopped, staring at the sight in front of him.  The last time you’d seen Levi, you’d been living on the east coast.  Now you were in the southwest, and you’d gone from a lush green temperate climate to the desert.  It was like he’d never seen the desert and was trying to process the entire change of terrain.

“Where the hell…”

Now he was the one just standing there, and you realized that if you’d still been living where you had before, he’d be able to recognize streets and houses and the like as well.  He hadn’t been here before--this was all new to him.  He was even more lost than you were.  At least he was still making an effort.

You tugged him towards the slopes behind you.  “That’s definitely not the right way.  We have to go back to the houses,” you said, the two of you struggling up the steep slope and back onto the bike path you’d been following aimlessly before ending up here.  You hesitated there, swinging your flashlight both ways before choosing to go left.  “I’m pretty sure I came from this way.  We can follow it until I recognize one of the town names.”

*Levi’s POV*

Levi let Y/N tell him where he needed to go, considering this was an entirely new area to him.  He hadn’t even heard of barren land like this above ground, with just sand stretching out as far as the eye could see, and everything in earthen shades.  It was completely different from where she’d been living previously, yet she didn’t seem phased by the strange sights.  So, Levi tried to ignore the oddity of the landscape and let her give any signals for where they needed to go as needed.  However, he stayed in the lead, holding tightly to her wrist with one hand as she crowded close to him, her dog trailing right behind her as they walked with their sides almost pressed up against one another.

Her comment about kids being taken in the area had him even more on edge than he would have been.  Already he was keeping his head on a swivel and his eyes peeled since they were two kids traveling alone at night in a strange place, but her piece of information had his free hand consistently hovering near where he kept his knife on him.  At the first sign of trouble, he was ready to draw it to protect her, but he was keeping it concealed for now in order to keep from panicking Y/N.  She was already distraught enough over her situation, he didn’t want to upset her anymore.  Even now, he could feel her burying her face in his shoulder to try and hide a fresh wave of tears.  He didn’t say a word about it, continuing to guide them steadily forward along their path despite the tension in the air.

He still couldn’t believe she’d been foolish enough to get herself in this situation.  He’d known she was a little...naïve about the more dangerous parts of the world, but this was just…

Levi let out a soft sigh, reconsidering his stance on popping the protective bubble she seemed to be secured inside.  If naivety was going to lead to her doing something like this, maybe she needed a bit of a wake up call.  Horrible people lurked in dark places at night, and she was an easy target.  He wasn’t, but she was, and she was lucky she hadn’t been snatched in the time she’d been out by herself.

Right now wasn’t the time to disrupt that little protective bubble, though.  She was scared enough, shaking and crying as she clung to his arm, the hand he had on her wrist giving it a small squeeze of reassurance in the hopes that it might help calm her down.

They followed the path long enough Levi started to worry that she had no idea where they were still, and was simply leading them even further away from her home.  Eventually, though, she pulled on Levi’s arm to get his attention, bringing him to a stop a few paces away from a fork that they had passed that the other path had twisted into an opening in a stone fence that led to rows and rows of identical houses.

“I recognize that name,” she said, pointing towards the words scrawled on a sign just in front of the entrance.  “It’s not the area I live in, but it’s close,” she commented, looking far more attentively around the area.

“How close?”

“I think...one over from where my house is.  There should be another section that starts with C, and then it’ll be mind.  If I can find the park, I’ll know the way home,” she said.

Good, then they were heading the right way.

Levi urged her forward, surprised by how...quiet it was out here.  Besides their footsteps, he didn’t really hear any other sounds.  Maybe the occasional voice from someone outside their home late at night, or a closing door, but he wasn’t hearing much in the way of wildlife like he would where Y/N had lived before.  The loudest thing was their footsteps, which was a little disconcerting.

“You’re not going to do something stupid like this again, are you?” Levi asked as they continued to walk.  He just wanted to make sure what he’d said got through her head, and she would know better from now on.

She nodded emphatically at his side, holding a little tighter to him as they continued forward.  Well, hopefully she /would/ be a little smarter about this kind of thing in the future.  Time would tell.

They continued their trip in relative silence besides Y/N’s occasional sniffles, with Levi staying protectively in front of her the entire way until at long last, after finding their way to the park she’d mentioned, they turned onto the street she said her house was on.  There was one of those horseless carriages in front of the house she said was hers, a stark white one with blue markings and something red and blue and clear on top.  On either side of the carriage was two men in black uniforms having some solemn discussion over the top of the low carriage.  The sight made Y/N shrink beside him, and for a moment, Levi thought it might be trouble.  Before he could draw his knife, she spoke up.

“My parents must have called the police,” she mumbled, the embarrassment clear in her voice.

He was pretty sure that wasn’t the uniform of the Military Police, but she didn’t seem to be panicked over the sight of them, just embarrassed and shrinking into herself.  He still stayed on guard as they drew closer, the two men noticing them as they drew closer.

“Are you kids lost?” one of them asked while Y/N was still mostly hidden by Levi standing in front of her.  However, she stepped out enough to be seen with Sabrina trailing behind her, her cheeks burning red as she spoke in a voice so quiet Levi thought the two might not have heard her at first.

“I live here,” she mumbled.

“Y/N L/N?” the other one asked as they both straightened, getting a better look at her as they drew just a little closer.  She nodded, and her grip on Levi’s arm loosened slightly as she moved hesitantly forward, pulling the dog along with her.  The two men approached, and Levi tensed, expecting trouble.  “Your parents have been worried sick, where have you…”

Y/N pulled out of his grip, apparently perfectly fine with the two strangers in front of her house.  Maybe surface police looked different?  That didn’t make any sense to him, but she seemed pretty sure, no hesitation as she approached them.  For a moment, as Y/N pulled free of Levi’s grip and both of the officers got on either side of her to make sure she was all right and take her inside, their backs were to Levi, only for a moment.  But that moment was all it took.  In a moment that was becoming quite familiar to him, Levi blinked, and the scene disappeared, and he was standing in the middle of the street in the Underground.

This, he wasn’t okay with.  He didn’t even get to see her safely through the door to her home, didn’t even get to make sure those men really were safe.  What if they hadn’t been?  What if they had been kidnappers or something worse?  What if he’d just left her in more danger than he’d found her?  He didn’t know enough about the surface to feel confident that she was going to be all right until she walked through the door to her home, and he didn’t get that luxury.

He was going to be worried sick about her until he saw her again, which, hopefully, would be soon.  He had to know she was all right.

Levi’s gaze was drawn to one of the stairwells to the surface, and his gaze intensified, expression contemplative.

Perhaps, for once, he could find his way to the surface and look for her himself.  If he was careful, he might be able to stay out of reach of the military police above ground long enough to find where she lived.  He knew what it looked like now.

But first he had to get up that stairway...

Next Chapter---->

(Strikethroughs Couldn’t Be Tagged)

Tags:   @humanitys-hottestsoldier​ @artist-bby @kaz2y5-pie​ @tartheyes​ @super-peace-fangirl​ @huntersbunker​ @nefelimalfoy​ @soft-levi-girl-blog​ @honeygivemeachainsaw @regalillegal​ @sugas-daddy7​ @cathyannecookie @chaoticshepardplaid​

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn​ 

[schnees-and-schnugs]

another willow-whitley fic because... i love them

tw: eating disorder (implied), canon divergence

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~~Night of the election~~

  Willow had never been one to pay much attention to politics. Her father had been, for the most part, apolitical. Her mother, on the other hand, always had a deep-seated disgust with governance and bureaucracy. She could still remember what she had told her on Willow’s wedding day- at least you’re not marrying a politician... although he sure does act like one.

  What a sick sense of irony fate has.

  Half a bottle of vodka was enough to push the sound of Jacques’ victory speech to the corners of her mind. Why was she even streaming his speech live on her scroll was beyond her, but a part of Willow’s mind wanted to wallow in her own misery. There is a sort of karmic tranquility in this situation that she could appreciate in a time like this. After all, she married this man. Gave him all the resources from her father’s company to do whatever he wished- and every single time Jacques had gotten what he wanted. The company, the money, the status. The son. Willow found it harder and harder to see herself as a victim in all this, especially after Weiss ran away. 

  A simple solution: stop drowning in her victimhood and start drowning in her own stupidity. It’s worked splendidly so far.

  But try as she might, she couldn’t get Weiss’ words out of her head from the day that she left. Perpetuating a cycle. That’s all that she’s doing right? Doing unto others what she has done to them. Being selfish. Ignoring other’s needs. Only seeing herself.

  Willow sighed as Jacques’ speech came to an end. Somewhere else in the manor, far from where she sits in her room, Whitley probably stood- waiting for his father to come back so he could congratulate him. She lazily looked at the time posted on the screen of her scroll. 10 pm. Whitley should be retiring to his bedroom at a time like this, not in the dining room watching staff put out desert for Jacques’ little celebratory two-person party. 

  Three-person, if she decided she would go. Willow doubted she had much of a choice.

  Jacques had expressed his need for a ‘family celebration’. For when I win tonight, he declared. Willow had braced herself for the inevitable fallout- his chances didn’t look good in the polls. He must know that, right? There’s no way he could be so confident, not when faced with what seemed like an uphill battle. She had looked to the right at Whitley and watched his face twitch ever so slightly. He must have thought the same thing she did at that moment.

  But Jacques won, Willow bitterly reminded herself in the present. At least he’ll be in good spirits. She loathed to imagine what this little ‘celebration’ would be like if he had lost- the yelling, breaking, drinking. Jacques never wanted to admit he was as much of a drinker as she was, but he’s just an angry drunk. She felt her stomach churn at the thought. 

  Willow lifted the bottle to her mouth before deciding against it. She needed to be at least somewhat alert for the ‘party’. If she showed up stumbling and slurring her words, Jacques would make sure the rest of the night is miserable for both her and Whitley. She could at least be slightly sober for her son.

  Willow absentmindedly watched Jacques’ campaign manager end his speech before thanking the crowd and saying his farewells. The stream would be almost over and Jacques would be in the dining room any minute- ready to boast and rave about whatever he intended. She slipped on her heels, ignoring how her feet ached, and made her way down to the dining room. The manor was emptier than usual, all that is left of the staff is either gone for the night or have stayed behind to set up. Anyone who was lucky to stay on staff, of course. Jacques had laid off any worker who he had deemed ‘unessential’ to their everyday life- not that he was handing out jobs in the manor like candy before. Now Willow had to actually get her ass up and find her alcohol on her own.

  It was that or calling Whitley to get it for her, but the former is much too cruel. She had to be incredibly inebriated to resort to that. 

  Upon entering the dining room she was greeting with the smell of frosting and sugar. Willow resisted the urge to gag. The last thing she needed tonight was to stuff her face with chocolate truffles and cheesecake. The vodka she drank earlier tossed in her stomach and she swallowed. Just this one night. Then everything will be back to normal tomorrow.

  The room was empty except for the overenthusiastic amount of pastries and Whitley- sitting on his own at the dining table, to the right of Jacques’ spot at the head. He didn’t look much better than she felt. His eyes were trained on the table, not noticing Willow as she approached the opposite seat to him. She softly spoke:

  “Whitley?”

  He jumped as wavy strands of his hastily combed hair fell over his eyes. Whitley made a move to brush it away but limply dropped his hand onto the table, as if he didn’t energy left to finish the gesture. 

  “Yes?” Willow frowned at his monotone voice. He clearly was avoiding her gaze- but she could still clearly see the bags under his eyes. 

  Willow was aware she was nowhere near a contender for Mother of The Year, but she always instinctively knew when something was wrong with her children (even if she chose to ignore it 80% of the time). Whitley’s pale skin looked sickly. His normal attire slightly hung off of him, as if he had dropped a few pounds. She was wary of him losing weight, he’d always been a very skinny child, and she remembers clearly the family tailor speaking to her a few weeks ago about having to hem his clothing to accommodate this change.

  This may need to be something you have to worry about, he had said. I normally speak to Mr. Sieben about this sort of thing, is he no longer around? 

  Willow informed him that Klein was let go and to come to her with any more troubling changes. She needs to pay closer attention to Whitley. Willow had attributed his weight loss and insomnia to the stress of Klein leaving and Jacques using him as his own personal butler instead. But it has been weeks and he wasn’t getting any better. Something was eating at him, everyday.  

  Stop perpetuating the cycle, Weiss’ voice echoed in her head.

  She snapped back to the present. “You look sick darling. Do you have a fever?” She resisted the urge to reach out to feel his forehead. He had grown adverse to touch a long time ago.

  “I’m fine.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Father is going to be here any minute. Are you going to sit down?”

  Willow was just about to pull out the seat directly opposite from him before changing her mind. She was going to sit next to Whitley- perhaps that will give her a chance to inspect him closely. If she was lucky, Jacques would be in a good enough mood that he wouldn’t notice and demand that she move to the seat on his left. Everything had to be symmetrical with him. Control freak.

  Whitley watched her warily as she stepped around the table and took the seat directly to the right of him. An awkward silence settled in the room. He didn’t even look at her, just stared at the sweets- lost in thought. Willow couldn’t help but to notice a faint odor of sweat.

  “Did you take a shower this morning?” 

  Whitley blinked. “E-excuse me?”

  Willow knew she was already pushing it, but she pressed on. “It’s okay if you didn’t, I’m just asking. It’s unlike you.” 

   Whitley flushed and went quiet. He spoke softly: “No. No I didn’t.” 

  “Is it because you don’t feel well?”

  “No- I feel fine. I didn’t get out of bed in the morning. At all. Not until half an hour ago.” 

  Willow knows that experience. It worried her. “These last few months have been very stressful... But your father won, so tonight should go smoothly.”

  Whitley shook his head. “No. You don’t understand.” 

  “I don’t understand what?” She desperately wanted to understand what was affecting him so much. Some weight was pressing down on him- and she had no idea what it was. “Whitley please.”

  “Mom...” He hesitantly reached out and touched her hand. She couldn’t remember the last time he had called her that. Mom. It’s always Mother, or when he’s angry, Willow. But never Mom. Not since she had... changed. 

  “Yes?” She held his hand in between her own. “You can tell me. I’m here.”

  Whitley opened his mouth, his words about to spill out-

  “Mistress Willow? Master Whitley?” A voice rang out from the doorway behind them. 

  Whitley flinched. He quickly pulled his hand away from Willow and gave his attention to the servant at the door. Willow groaned internally.

   “Yes?” Whitley’s voice cracked.

  “Master Jacques called to say that he’s preoccupied with other matters concerning his election win,” probably getting drunk and drowning in praises from his business partners. “The celebration is cancelled tonight.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll just retire to my room.” 

  Willow desperately searched for a way to keep him here. To keep him talking to her. “Whitley, wait- if you would like to stay and eat some cake with me. It will all go to waste-”

  He stood up, briskly walking to the closest door. “I don’t have much of an appetite...” He looked back at her quickly, there was almost an apologetic look in his eyes. “I’m sorry but I’m quite tired.”

  Then, just like that, he disappeared.

  She was so close. So close. He was going to open up- tell her what had been destroying him inside these last few months. She was going to prove herself to him. And then he just ran away. 

  “Mistress Willow, what would you like me to do with the food set out?”

  Willow shook her head. “Just throw it all away.” And let it rot.

~~Night before the celebratory Cordially Invited dinner ~~

  It was harder than Willow thought it would be to keep an eye her son. If he hasn’t locked himself in his room, he’s under Jacques’ scrutiny in his office. Or wandering the manor late at night when he thinks that nobody is around. A year ago Willow would have never even considered it, but these days she finds herself watching Whitley from a distance. A familiar feeling of motherly anxiety bloomed in her stomach. She could spy on him easily using the cameras she had set up around the manor, but it wasn’t enough. She had to watch him with her own eyes to be at ease.

  Before she wouldn’t have to worry. Klein practically raised her children for her when she got too drunk to be a mother herself. She could live with the shame of having another man bring up her children for her- a good amount of wine and vodka helped with that- but now Klein was unavailable. He was here for years, and then gone just in a heartbeat. It was one of those moments where Willow genuinely wondered whom exactly she married. Wondered if Jacques even saw the people around him as human beings or stepping stones that could be tossed away at a moments notice. Even his children. Even her.

  Willow didn’t notice the toll that losing Klein took on Whitley until a few weeks after he was fired. He stopped going to figure skating practice, stopped going to sleep on time, stopped waking up on time. Stopped coming down to eat breakfast, lunch, then dinner. He could pull himself together for when his father was around- Willow once saw the boy take a shower, change into his formal clothes, apply concealer under his eyes, dry, straighten out the waviness of his hair, then style it all under 15 minutes just when Jacques came home with guests to entertain. The first time she’d seen Whitley smile in a long time, even if it was all fake. 

  Yet, here she was, waiting for Whitley to eat dinner with her. For the first time in who knows how long. She waited until he dragged himself out of bed to ask if they could eat together later in the garden that night. He was so bewildered by the question that he couldn’t say no. 

  Willow was banking on that. 

  She had to admit though, this was more for her peace of mind than anything else. Her normal routine of Drinking The Pain Away didn’t work as it used to. No matter how many shots she took of the strongest vodka she had, she would still find her brain wandering back to her son. Did he get out of bed today? Did he eat? Did he hurt himself? On accident? On purpose? She had forgone her responsibility as a mother to worry about these sort of things and let them fall on Klein’s shoulders a long time ago. But he’s gone. 

  And now these anxieties are louder than ever in her brain.

  What would have Whitley told her on the night of the election if they weren’t interrupted? Willow found herself mulling on the possibilities. Was Jacques hurting him? She didn’t notice any changes in Jacques’ behavior. If anything he’s been jovial since he won the election- and Whitley, in contrast, was only getting worse. Klein departure is also a strong contender, but Whitley is no stranger to abandonment.  Her son’s downward spiral does coincide with their butler’s firing, but she couldn’t help but to feel like she was on the wrong track. In her gut she knew Whitley was keeping something from her. A secret. A one that’s bad enough that it’s killing him and she can’t do a thing about it.

  “Mother?” Whitley spoke from behind her.

  Willow snapped back to attention and turned toward him in her seat. She assessed him before patting the only only other chair next to her. “You’re a little late, sweetheart. Did something hold you up?”

  “No...” He stood awkwardly for a few seconds before taking the seat she offered. “I just lost track of time. Preparing for the dinner tomorrow, you know? Father wants me to let the guests in and out...” Like a servant would do.

  Willow was getting really sick of her husband’s shit.

  But she was not here to be angry. She was here just to talk to her son. 

  She watched as he looked over the small dinner laid out for both of them. Willow had asked the kitchen staff to make something light and easy on the stomach. She didn’t want to scare Whitley away, she imagines he might be nauseous after barely eating in this last month or so. She had been there many times before. 

  Willow pointed to the saltines. “Do you want to start with these? You can put some cream cheese and pesto on it if you like. Or maybe you could get some pasta...” Whitley grabbed the saltines and starting munching.

  Saltines, it is. Baby steps. 

  “Weiss and Winter are going to be here tomorrow night for the dinner, is that right?” Perhaps this wasn’t the best conversation starter, but Willow had nothing else.

  Whitley paused before biting into another cracker. He swallowed. “Why should I care?”

  “Just asking. Weiss is back in Atlas.”

  “Yeah, Father wasn’t happy about it. Crashing with those friends of hers at Atlas Academy. How pathetic.” His resentment of his sisters is the only thing that keeps him lively, it seems.

  “Your father is looking to kick Ironwood off the council. I’m sure you’d like to be there when your sisters witness that,” Willow goaded him. She really couldn’t care less about what Jacques intends to do with his new position, she’s given up long ago in having a voice in what he does. She wanted to keep this conversation going, though.

  Whitley faltered. “Is he... Will he be able to do that?”

  His voice was strained, as if he hesitated to speak negatively about his father’s intentions. Willow carefully picked her next words.

  “I’m sure he’ll be able too, if he gets the other council members on his side. Isn’t that how it works?”

  “Yes, I suppose...” Whitley avoided looking her in the eyes.

  “The general will reap what he has sewn at the end of the day, I guess. Your father won the election fair and square. That’s just how politics goes.”

  Whitley muttered something under his breath.

  Willow blinked. “What was that darling? I didn’t quite hear you.”

  They sat quietly for a minute. Whitley, looking down at the table. Willow, looking straight at him.  Finally, he opened his mouth to speak:

  “He didn’t.”

  Willow froze. “Whitley...”

  “He didn’t win the election fair and square. He cheated.”

  Silence.

  Cheated. Jacques cheated. Willow shouldn’t be surprised. She really shouldn’t. All her husband cares about is winning, of course he cheated. But this was another level. He definitely would, but how could he? He could influence the election in his favor, but there was no way he could rig it. No way.

  Willow grabbed Whitley’s arm. “How do you know this?”

  He was visibly shaking. “Mom, just forget I said anything. Please-”

  “No. Whitley, tell me. How do you know this?” 

  It all came spilling out. The Jacques’ foul mood after his encounter with the general and Weiss. The suspicious visitor named Arthur who was supposed to be dead. 

  Whitley spoke in between sobs. “I knew I shouldn’t have, but I eavesdropped on their conversation. That man- he let himself into the manor. Father knew him. I just- I was concerned... Father agreed to give him the heating codes and in return that man was going to rig the election in his favor. That’s all that I heard. I ran away after that- I didn’t want to hear anything more.”

  The heating codes? There’s no way-

  Even Willow knew those were kept secret for a reason. The heating in Mantle, the artificial atmosphere in Atlas, that’s how they survived. You can’t just give those away. No moron would give something like that away just to anyone.

  Except the one she married, of course.

 Willow planted each hand firmly on the crying boy’s shoulders. “Whitley, how long did you know about this?”

  “I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry- I didn’t know who to tell- if I told anyone, Father would have killed me. He would tell everyone that I’m crazy and lock me up somewhere-”

  “Sweetie, it’s oka-”

  “- And Klein is gone- and everyone is gone- and father won’t let me leave the manor, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do-”

  Willow wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. It was the only thing she could think to do at the moment- she’s never seen him get hysterical like this. Is this what he had been agonizing over all this time?

  His sobs petered out to snivels as he buried her face in the crook of her neck. He was quiet now. Deflated, even. Willow decided to ask again:

  “Whitley... When did this happen?”

  He didn’t lift his head. “Before the election... I don’t remember exactly what day it was. Everyday is the same, anyways.”

  An plan began to form in Willow’s head. Could she...?

  “I need you to think really hard for me darling, okay? Give me a date and time.”

  Whitley lifted his head, confused. “I don’t know... maybe the 8th of last month? Or maybe a few days after that... around 7 pm at night, I think. Father got home and starting yelling about Ironwood and Weiss. He told me I shouldn’t let any visitors in. I turned everyone away and when I thought nobody else was going to come by I was going to go back to my room. And that man- he just popped up behind me and told me to take him to Father. I don’t even know how he got in.”

  Willow’s skin crawled at the thought of this stranger being alone with Whitley, even for a short time. Where was she during all of this? Drunk, probably. Maybe even sleeping in early.

  “Okay, okay,” She absentmindedly combed her fingers through his hair. “I’m going to fix this... So don’t worry anymore. Everything will be okay, I promise.”

  Whitley swallowed. “Fix this? You’re not going to...”

  “You and I both know what he did was wrong. He’s gone too far, you know that.”

  He nodded and Willow continued: “Your Father won’t be punished harshly, you know men like him can get get away with murder if they try hard enough. But he can’t get away. Not with this.”

  She watched as he wrung his fingers together. “But he’ll know it was you who turned him in. He’ll know I told you. If he’s arrested and makes bail, he’ll come back here-”

  “We’re going to leave.”

  Whitley eyes widened. “What?”

  The prospect seemed impossible as she ruminated on it- but the moment she said it, it became real. A plan. They couldn’t stay here, not anymore. Jacques will never stop. He’ll never learn his lesson. He’s already destroyed this family and molded his own sick image out of the ashes. A drunken, defeated wife and an obedient, terrified son. This has always been exactly what he wanted.

  It was too much to expect Whitley to be like his sisters- he was too much like her. Soft. They needed to get out of this together. It’s the only way either of them will escape.

  “Whitley, pay attention to me closely,” Willow grabbed he hands and pulled him to attention. “I’ll deal with your father. You act as you would normally do tomorrow, do not say a thing. Go to your room after I tell you this and pack a luggage with a few essentials, clothes you don’t normally wear in public-”

  “Mom-”

  “-Sunglasses too. And your credit card, okay? Do not bring your new scroll, he gave you it because it has spyware on it. He started tracking you after Weiss ran away, Klein told me-”

  “Excuse me, what-”

  “Keep that luggage in your closet and don’t take it out until I say so. I don’t know how long he’ll stay in jail before he’ll be able to bail himself out, and we’ll need to be ready-”

  “I don’t-”

  “- we need to max out his cards at an ATM close by and quickly use that cash to get to Mantle. We can’t stay in Atlas- there should be quite a few hotels that will take only cash there.”

  “And if Father finds us in Mantle? The borders are closed- we can’t go anywhere else.”

  Dammit. “We’ll find a way- someone who will smuggle us to Argus. Look,” She squeezed his hands, “We will be together no matter what, please tell me you’re on board.”

  She searched his face for an affirmation. He looked confused, overwhelmed. She knew this was too much, she didn’t know if either of them had the mental fortitude to go through with this. Jacques’ head is in the clouds at the moment, and he’s going to escalate when he crashes. Willow knows it for sure.

  “Whitley-”

  “Lets do it.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you sure?”

  “This is the only way,” Whitley swallowed. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion she did. “I’ll... do it.”

  “Good.” Willow planted a firm kiss on her son’s forehead. “Now go up and pack quietly. And for Brothers’ sake, get some sleep.”

   Whitley nodded and scampered away. Willow watched as he disappeared down the hall, trying to maintain an inconspicuous pace.

  Willow had all of tomorrow to pack. But tonight she has hours of camera footage to go through. She needed undeniable proof, and she knew exactly who would be coming by tomorrow to find it.

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 4402

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 1: Her Morning Takes a Turn

The sun was golden against his skin, shining on the tan color he had come to acquire after so many hours out in the light. It beat down on the flesh, warming it and relaxing him. His arms were folded behind his head as he reclined on the grass. It was soft and cool on his skin; Crete always did have the best grass for lying on. His eyes were closed against the bright light, the rays illuminating his eyelids and highlighting the veins that ran through them. His chest rose and fell with even breaths. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say he was asleep.

But he wasn’t. The young god was just lounging about, listening in on the conversation that was being held not five feet away from him.

The two voices were of young men, one angry, agitated, and fidgeting, and the other slightly exasperated and amused. 

Steve, a naiad, was talking with quick, jerky gestures. He was riled up, clearly upset, but not quite enraged. His fists were balled up tightly, almost as if he wanted to punch something. “...the bastard said I couldn’t do it,” he ranted and raved. “He thinks that because I’m a water spirit, I can’t get jewels like that.”

Sam, a dryad, was watching his friend skeptically. He tended to be the more level-headed of the three, always the mediator to calm Steve’s need to prove himself and Bucky’s somewhat erratic tendencies. He was the one to stop the two before they got themselves killed. “Steve,” he started in an attempt to reason, “it’s not worth your time. So what if you can’t get a ruby to prove him wrong? You’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Steve asked with scalding agitation in his voice. “Like guarding Bucky?”

The young god’s eyes opened at the sound of his nickname and he sat up to look over at the two.

“No offense Buck, but really, you can protect yourself most of the time.” Steve turned back to Sam, his gaze hardening once more. “I want to do more than just be a bodyguard.”

“Like what? Like getting a ruby to prove some stupid nereid wrong?”

“Exactly!”

Bucky’s eyes danced with amusement, catching the sunlight up above and shining. He was always finding humor in his friend’s need to prove himself. Steve has always wanted to be the bigger man, be the one who’s worthy, be the one who can be more than he is. Ever since they were little, when Steve was small and scrawny, he’d been taking on dangerous and daring exploits, fights, and anything else he could get his hands on to prove himself. And even now that Steve was an adult with body mass, muscle, and strength to rival the gods, nothing had changed.

Steve frowned as he began to plot. “Now where can I find a ruby?”

“At a mortal jewelry store, probably,” Sam quipped. “But you know we’re not allowed to go there. Winnifred would have our heads. Besides, we don’t have any money to buy them.”

Steve’s lips turned down in a pout. “Dammit.” He scrunched up his face as he thought. “There’s gotta be some other place we can find them.”

“I’ve heard they’re usually in caves,” Bucky chimed in.

“Caves…” Steve repeated when suddenly his eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” His whole body turned to Bucky, his eyes wide, his lips parted, his body straight and ready for action. “There’s a ton of caves down under. And the queen is literally the goddess of wealth. If anyone anywhere were to have a ruby, it’d be down there. Now, Bucky…” His voice quieted and his eyebrows knitted together, silently begging Bucky to do something.

Bucky simply chuckled, knowing full well what his best friend was asking of him. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t be giving me those puppy dog eyes. You know my mom would kill me if I went down there.”

“But Hades is dangerous and you’re a god, man,” Steve moaned. “You can’t die down there, I can. Your mother will never need to know about this. C’mon, do a brother a solid?” He tilted his head to the side. “I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t do it, Buck,” Sam piped up. “Your mom will find out some way or another and we’ll all be screwed. Steve doesn’t need to get a ruby to prove himself. He’s just asking for trouble.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be hard to sneak in and grab one small ruby,” Steve whined. 

“Or it could be extremely difficult and get Bucky in trouble.”

“He’s in, he grabs a ruby, he’s out. Easy!”

“No! Not easy. He’s gonna—”

“I’ll do it.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll do it. I’ll run down and grab Steve a ruby.”

Both Sam and Steve were shocked. Neither of them thought the young god would actually agree to this crazy plan. But Steve just beamed at him. “You are the freaking best.”

“I know.” Bucky barked a laugh and rose to his feet, the grass wedging in between his bare toes. “But how the Hades am I going to get down there? I don’t think the Underworld is on a map and has a giant sign saying ‘Congratulations, you’ve reached the Underworld.’”

“Well duh.” Steve rolled his eyes and looked around at their surroundings.

They were in a clearing on the island of Crete. It was a quaint little place separated from the mortals and their cities. Sitting at the base of Mount Ida, the clearing was directly below the Dikteon Cave where the Olympian queen had been hidden as a baby. The whole area was coated in her magic, especially that cave, and her magic did some weird things to the rift between worlds.

Steve pointed up at the cave’s mouth. “See that up there?”

Bucky had to squint, but he could see it. “Yeah.”

“When Hades was finishing up the Underworld and securing it, she wasn’t able to close the rift between the Mortal World and the Underworld in that cave. The familiar energy from her sister was too strong and it’s been open ever since. That’s your in and out. It should deposit you right next to a cave if you’re lucky.”

“Please, I was born lucky!” Bucky brushed off his jeans and started walking towards the mountain. “I’ll be back!” he called to his friends before pushing on to find a path up to the cave.

The mortals had tried to pave paths to the cave, but none of them got very far. The residue from Queen Carol’s aura kept them far away from the cave. No mortal could get within a hundred yards of the mouth of the cave. Luckily for Bucky, he was a god.

He marched right up the side of the mountain to the mouth of the cave and stepped inside. He could feel the temperature drop about ten degrees as soon as got an inch inside and the hairs on his arms bristled. A shiver ran down his spine to the tips of his toes, setting an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have been there. He was a god of spring and new life; he had no business being among the dead.

If his mother saw him now, she’d be furious. Winnifred, the goddess of the harvest and agriculture, may have seemed kind and gentle, but she was strict and her wrath was untamable and wild. If she were to be disobeyed, she would guarantee that those that opposed her direct orders would pay for it. 

Bucky loved his mother to death, but even he had to admit that she could be way too strict sometimes. She insisted that Bucky always dress properly and in a modest outfit, never permitting him nor his friends to dress in anything less than a pair of nice jeans and a pristine shirt. She required them to have limited access to the Mortal World, stating that they should only go if it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t like them frolicking among the mortals because they were Olympians, and above the humans. 

She didn’t have many rules, but she did have one that was absolute: never have any contact with the Underworld or the dead. They were too dangerous for a young god like him.

Bucky couldn’t believe that he was breaking his mother’s most important rule, but at the same time, he was exhilarated. He’d never dared to do something so bold and it was showing. His palms were sweating despite the freezing chill in the air and his heart was racing fast in his chest. He was nervous. He shouldn’t have been there, but it was too late to go back now.

He pushed on, going deeper and deeper into the cave. The air changed around him, growing cold and unforgiving. It was dark and empty and lifeless. He was not in the Mortal World anymore. Bucky took a breath and took a final step, coming out of the cave and entering a chasm.

His breath got stuck in his throat.

He’d heard stories of the Underworld before, he’d heard descriptions of it, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what it actually was. 

It was magnificent, regal, and impressive. With towering mountains in the distance on which a large mansion stood on top of, expansive fields of flowers, and hundreds of thousands of people milling about, Bucky was in awe. He couldn’t believe how organized and calm the realm was; he’d always thought that the Underworld would be savage and ugly, but here it was calm and silent.

He could’ve stood there for hours staring at everything around him and taking it all in, but he was on a mission. He had to find the ruby. 

He put his head on a swivel, looking from side to side as he searched for a cave. Rubies formed in caves; they had to be there. It wasn’t long before his eyes landed on a single cave carved into the side of a wall, a single river flowing into the mouth of it. Granted, that river was made of fire, but Bucky didn’t think anything of it. He assumed that most rivers in the Underworld had some quirk about them and that this one was that it was on fire.

He slid along the side of the Underworld, getting closer and closer to the cave. He wanted to be in and out before he could be caught. He slipped into the mouth of the cave he saw and turned to face it.

The place was colder than the main part of the Underworld. His hairs were standing on end and he had a dreadful weight sitting in the pit of his stomach. Something was not right about this place. It felt bad; it felt evil.

The young god clenched up on himself, his shoulders rolling in as he attempted to shake the feelings but they refused to disappear. Yet, he pushed on.

It was dark in there, he had to give his eyes some time to adjust to the absence of light. When he could finally see again, he scanned the walls of the cave, his eyes peeled for anything shiny and red. It couldn’t be too hard to find a red jewel, right? 

Wrong. 

Upon further inspection, he noticed that there didn’t seem to be a single sparkly object in this godforsaken cave. Every rock was bleak and dull, only clothed in greys and blacks. There was absolutely no color in the cave. Bucky was starting to wonder if he’d ever find a ruby here. Maybe they just weren’t in this cave. Maybe he was in the wrong place. But he didn’t have much time to ponder that. The sinking feeling in his gut was growing heavier and heavier with every step he took in. He shouldn’t have been there. There was something massively wrong with that place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

But it put its finger on him.

Bucky jumped when he felt something thin, hard, and bumpy touch his skin and latch onto his ankle. A scream tore out of his throat as he snapped his head down and kicked wildly.

A hand, skeletal and white, had grabbed him and was holding on for dear life. It didn’t want to let him go and it pulled him closer to the body that was attached to it.

Bucky had been too preoccupied with searching the walls to notice the mass of bodies that were starting to pile up around him. There were dozens, maybe more, of skeletons and spirits crawling their way to him. They almost seemed drawn to the life that oozed from him. And, surely, as soon as they touched him, he could feel them trying to steal the life from him. He felt listless and drained when they touched him, and he could tell that they were nothing but evil.

How had he gotten so far in without noticing? Was he that much of a fool?

Apparently so.

The spirits around him collected around his feet and reached up, clawing onto his pants and dragging him down.

He struggled in their grasps, doing his best to fight them off, but every time he shook one off, two more would take its place. They were slowly overpowering him, pulling him closer to the ground where more of them could absorb the life from him. He could feel the toll they were taking on him, and he hated himself for feeling so weak. He’d never been so powerless before, and it scared him. For the first time in his relatively young life, he was truly afraid. 

With his mother around, he’d never had anything to fear. But his mother wasn’t here now and he was alone. And this was the end.

The spirits dragged him down to the cave’s floor and swarmed him, clamoring on top of him to maximize their hold.

“I don’t want to die” was the only thought running through his head, but Bucky simply closed his eyes, too afraid to do anything else, so he could wait it out. It’d be over sooner or later, and he was too tired to do anything to stop them. His energy had been drained. Maybe a nap would be nice and when he’d wake up, this would be all over. Yes… A nap sounded delight—

“Hey!” an angry and powerful voice boomed, the sound filling the cave and drowning out everything else.

The hands-on his body stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been possible, but now Bucky felt their fear instead of his own.

“Get your hands off of him!” the woman yelled again, her voice filled with more power than Bucky could’ve ever imagined hearing. 

The spirits obeyed, at once letting go and scurrying away from something—or someone—behind him.

Footsteps slammed against the rock beneath them, growing louder and louder as the mystery woman marched to Bucky. A hand latched onto the collar of Bucky’s shirt and yanked him back away from the spirits. A two-pronged bident took his place, swinging at the spirits menacingly and driving them away. It glowed the faintest blue in the darkness, illuminating the faces of the damned.

The ghosts and skeletons shied away, curling up on themselves and scrambling to get away as they hissed. They were obviously afraid of the person it belonged to.

Said person tightened their grip on Bucky and began to drag him out of the cave, the bident staying in front of him as they aimed to protect him. 

Bucky tried to turn his head back to see his savior, but he couldn’t turn his head very far without being stopped by the hand on the back of his neck. 

She pulled him out of the cave, past the river of fire, and threw him on the dead grass outside. 

He landed flat on his ass with a satisfying “oof”. His hands shot back to catch him before he could fall on his back and he looked down at his body.

His once white shirt was now a dark shade of grey and torn and his jeans were torn nearly to shreds. There were scratches, scrapes, and bruises covering his legs. Little rivers of ichor ran down from the cuts, coating his skin with gold. He looked like a war-torn battlefield. His mother was going to kill him. If those spirits hadn’t finished the job, she sure would. He was dead meat. Steve and Sam better start planning his funer—

“Just what in the Hades were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the same voice from the cave demanded, only this time, she seemed more pissed than powerful. Her voice had lost the booming effect it had previously, but it was still sharp enough to send shivers down his spine.

Slowly Bucky lifted his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of black flats below black pleated pants. Looking further up he saw a black blazer covering a dark grey shirt, and further up still, he saw the face of a woman. She was quite beautiful in the way that something cold and hard like a statue was beautiful. He would’ve admired her features but he was too afraid of, and yet so enchanted by, her eyes. Her eyes, unlike most, weren’t a brown, blue, or green; no, they were red—a bright and fiery shade of scarlet that seemed to glow in the darkness of the Underworld. They held him trapped, hypnotized by the brilliant color.

He felt so small beneath her gaze, even though he was comparatively larger than she was. 

She radiated power as she glowered down at him, the bident by her side making her even more intimidating. Her lips curled back in a snarl. “I asked you a question; answer me!”

Bucky flinched and started to stammer out, “I-I...”

She seemed exasperated by his loss of words and bent down to him.

He shied away, afraid that she was going to attack him, but she simply grabbed onto his wrist and pulled. Her skin was shockingly cold against his flesh and he inhaled sharply.

She dragged him to his feet and began to pull him after her as she walked away from the cave. She was beyond angry and that made her scary. The only saving grace was that her bident had seemingly melted into thin air, probably stored in some magical pocket somewhere. She was trembling with rage as she began to rant and rave, her grip never once loosening. “Of all the idiocy I have seen in my life, I have never seen someone as stupid as you. What kind of imbecile walks into the pit willingly? Do you have a death wish? Gods, it is not my fucking job to save daredevils from the edge of the pit.” 

Bucky only stared at her, filled with confusion. His mind was racing a million miles an hour and he asked, “The pit?”

“Tartarus, you insolent fool!” she snapped, quickening her pace as she pulled him towards the place he’d come in. How she knew about the exit, Bucky didn’t know, but she continued speaking, “The prison of the worst souls known to man, the titans, and any monster you could dream of. How could you possibly—” She froze in her steps as if it suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t know who Bucky was. Rigidly, she looked over her shoulder, her red eyes glaring at him. “Who are you?” 

“M-Me?”

“Yes, you!”

Bucky blanked. Who was he again? He could barely remember under her intense gaze. “I’m, uh… I’m Bu— James. I’m James, god of spring, son of—”

“Demeter,” she spat out, her voice dripping heavily with venom and contempt. “Great. Just fucking great. You’re a new god. And not just a new god, the fucking son of Demeter.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and forefinger and heaved a great sigh.

He stared at her, even more confused than before. “H-Her name is Winnifred,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking.

She rolled her eyes. “Same fucking difference. It’s the same woman.”

“Well, yes, I suppose. But wait! You know my mother?”

"Of course I know your goddamn mother. She hates my guts and I'm not too fond of her either.” The woman squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall back with an even louder groan. “Gods, she's probably going to think I kidnapped you or something! Do you realize what you being down here means?" 

“I—”

“Of course you don’t! How could you? You’re just some young, stupid, idiotic god who thinks he can go anywhere he pleases. Well, news flash, you’re not allowed to roam my domain without my permission. This is not a place for the living, and you’re lucky you escaped with only minor wounds.”

“Your domain?” Bucky furrowed his brows, his steps faltering. “Wait… Then, you’re—”

“Hades,” she confirmed. “But that’s just what the mortals call me. You need not know my name, you only need know that you have to leave. You were never supposed to be here in the first place and you will never get in again.” She dragged him towards the cave he’d entered the Underworld through and yanked him in.

Crossing the threshold, he could feel the immediate change in the air. He could feel life surging back to him as they entered the Mortal World. He could also feel Hades stumble as if the sudden rush of life was startling to her.

She pulled him through the Dikteon Cave and out into the sun at the mouth of the cave. “Where did you come from?” she demanded, her voice low and cold as her hands.

Bucky pointed down towards the clearing where he could just barely make out the figures of Sam and Steve.

She let go of his wrist and grabbed his upper arm instead. “Hold on.”

He didn’t get a chance to ask her what she meant, because she leaped up into the air and off the side of the mountain, pulling him with her. The wind whistled past his ears as they fell, and he had to trap the scream that was rising in his throat.

They landed on the edge of the clearing, the ground trembling beneath them. She released Bucky, throwing him forward a bit before straightening up and glaring at Steve and Sam who had started running over.

With her shoulders rolled back and her body completely in the light, Bucky could now observe her fully. The red had faded from her eyes, revealing a wonderful shade of (e/c) that had red-rimmed around the iris. Her skin was devoid of life and she had deep, dark circles covering the skin beneath her eyes. Bucky hated to admit it, but she almost looked dead. She was unsettling but in a gorgeous, powerful kind of way.

Steve ran over to Bucky’s side, his face panicked. “Buck,” he breathed out, “are you alright? What happened?”

“He went where he had no business going,” Hades answered, her voice agitated and disgruntled. “You two are his watchers, no?”

“U-Um, yes, Ma’am?” Steve responded, thoroughly anxious.

“Then fucking watch him,” she snapped, her voice suddenly growing in volume. “The Underworld is no place for fledgling gods who have no experience in the real world.”

Sam turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with alarm. He probably wanted to say something in their defense, but the only thing he asked was, “Did you get the ruby?”

Bucky could’ve smacked him.

Hades glowered at Sam. “What ruby? Explain yourselves.”

Bucky gulped. “It’s the reason I went down. My friend wanted a ruby and I thought I could find one in the Underworld and I…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, realizing how stupid it was under her incredulous look.

“You mean to tell me you went to fucking Tartarus for a ruby? A single ruby that’s worth hardly anything to a god?”

“...Yes.”

She barked a bitter laugh, doubling over and placing her hands on her knees to steady herself. “I can��t believe this.” She held out her fingers, maintaining a small gap in between her thumb and forefinger, and a single, raw ruby, red as blood and the size of a large pebble, formed out of thin air. “Here. Take your damn ruby.” She chucked it at the ground at Bucky’s feet before narrowing her eyes at him. “You got what you came for, and now you have no reason to return. If I ever, and I mean ever, catch you in my realm again, I will teach you why the mortals call it Hell.” She spared the men one last snarl before taking a step away from them, digging something out of her pocket, and dropping the minuscule item on the ground.

At once, the ground trembled and shook and a hole opened up at her feet. The ground swallowed her, pulling her into the depths before closing up again like nothing ever happened. In her place stood a single flower with an elongated stem and a spike of white blossoms: an Asphodel.

Bucky’s gaze switched between the flower and the ruby until it finally settled on the jewel. Slowly he reached for the ruby and picked it up to examine it. It was heavy in his hand, beautiful and clear. It filtered the light that passed through it and cast odd shapes that mimicked its raw cut in red on his palm. But it wasn’t the ruby itself that mesmerized him, it was the color; the same color of her eyes. Bucky was certain that that shade of red would be burned into his memory for all eternity, and as he stood there with Sam and Steve fawning over him making sure he was okay and talking about getting him cleaned off and changed into new clothes because he “reeked of death”, he couldn’t help but think of her: Hades, the woman whose name he did not fully know, but whose face had suddenly washed over his mind and infiltrated every nook and cranny of his thoughts. His grip tightened over the ruby and he smiled to himself softly.

Next 3: Her Head Aches

[bird-in-a-cage]

#42 from the prompt list... I mean I'm sorry but... I NEED TO SEE THAT.

Wow, am I sorry this took so long! This was a tough prompt but, thanks to @cockasinthebird for being a wonderful human being, we got through it. So I hope this was worth the wait!

Prompt list is here if anyone wants to throw a prompt at me!

#42: “I didn’t say “sex party” as in orgy.  I said “hex party” as in witches.”

So far, college had been okay. It was as hard and challenging as Steve had expected, but he was getting on almost well. He had to spend a lot of time studying in the library, reading and re-reading source materials, typing, editing, deleting and starting all over again with essays and assignments sure. But it was different from high school, on a deep level he wanted to be here, amongst the old stone buildings that either held no heat at all or far too much depending on the weather outside, surrounded by people who also shared a passion for learning. It was different to focus on what he wanted to learn instead of just having to cram a little bit of everything into his brain everyday.

Turns out, if he was just allowed to go a little slower and take his time, he wasn’t as dumb as everyone back home at thought.

He’d gotten into college by the skin of his teeth, pulling far too many all nighters and living off five hour energy to drag his grades up when it was almost too late, pulling in every favour he had to retake anything below a C with nothing but a prayer and a pleading smile, somehow managing to not go completely insane in the process. Getting a 3 point grade average at graduation had been nothing short of a miracle. He wanted to say his parents had nothing to do with his acceptance into quite a nice school, but in reality Steve knew they probably greased a palm or two. Maybe helped pay for the new set of band uniforms that were recently unveiled.

The college itself was beautiful. Steve had fallen for it on his first visit. Old stone buildings, a large green campus area, a good surrounding community, regular activities and groups to go meet up with and try different things with now he was getting out of small town Hawkins and away from being stuck in what he knew. 

There was something a bit…odd about the college though. Steve would be sat in the library, for example, finishing up a comparison piece when he would hear the telltale low battery beep from his headphones. He always forgot to bring a charger. He knew it was on his nightstand back in the dorm room, wrapped around the drawer handle so he wouldn’t forget to lift it this time, so it was pointless checking his bag for it. He would go to pack his things away, open up his slouchy backpack and there it would be, his exact one because he’d wrapped a piece of green tape around it when his roommate kept stealing it and swearing blind he hadn’t, laying curled around his water bottle..

That wasn’t the only example though. Things would just appear when he was looking for them. Books he needed from a completely different section would just happen to be on the shelf he was currently looking at. If a flavour of soda was sold out at a vending machine, he would pick another, but the one he originally wanted would tumble out, ice cold and somehow impossibly refreshing. None of them were a major inconvenience by far, but it was just odd. 

The only small downside to the college of his dreams is that he forgot to investigate anything about the fraternities and sororities. Steve didn’t really have any desire to be in any frat even if offered, they were just houses for boys to pretend not to be at least a little bicurious as they bumped into each other all sweaty playing sports, using basketball as an excuse to touch each other’s muscles. Flat out no homo-ing each other. Steve was out and proud at college, didn’t need an excuse anymore other than “you’re hot, you wanna?”. The days of bi-panic and needing a thinly veiled excuse such as helping someone he thought was cute off the ground in the middle of a match were long gone.  Steve had been to a couple of frat parties, naturally, everyone did. They were kinda fun if you hung around outside away from the thick, choking air of sexual tension that was threatening to bubble over at any minute.

Everyone knew frat houses were just potential orgy dens, right?

There was one frat house though, just off campus and to the right a little, that gave off a weird vibe. The Omega House. It didn’t look that special, had dark grey panelling on the outside, windows trimmed in white, the omega symbol on the outer wall above the door painted in silver that reflected the sunlight and looked almost like real silver. Like the college itself, it was just odd. As far as Steve could tell it didn’t have many members, only four, as far as he’d counted, would walk around in blazing orange letterman jackets with that emblem stitched into the back and a smaller one on the front right breast. He didn’t know what majors they took, probably all on sports scholarships with how stacked a couple of them looked, and one liked to hang around the library. Always in sunglasses even indoors, tight jeans to combat the slightly too big jacket. Blonde hair shaved at the sides but longer on top, not wildly long but just enough for natural loose curls to develop.

Not that Steve had been looking at how handsome he was at all.

Thinking about it, he seemed to always be around when the odd things happened. When there would suddenly be a spare chair even though all the tables were packed with other students trying to do their work, a fresh stack of post it notes in Steve’s bag when he needed to write an annotation down quickly, a newly sharpened pencil just happening to be on the floor by his feet when he’d lost his before class. The rain suddenly starting as soon as Steve got into a building when he’d forgotten an umbrella like it was waiting for him to be safe and dry.

There was just something weird about the whole thing. Not enough for him to freak out and want to go home though, no way. He could deal with weird and slightly odd far better than being stuck in a town going nowhere, where his only future was getting a job in his father’s company and a wife he didn’t love, cranking out a couple kids after a year of so and slowly but surely morphing into a mirror image of the man he lowkey despised.

Even the thought of that was horrifying. It was bad enough that genetically they might look similar one day. Hopefully many, many years in the future. When plastic surgery was cheap.

The library was quiet when Steve entered. Of course it was, it was a Friday night. There were a number of parties and gatherings happening all over the place, but this week he’d promised himself to be good. Study now and party later. He’d been invited to a glow paint, totally-not-a-rave party happening just outside of town that he was pretty excited for. He’d been focusing hard on his studies so it was time to let off some steam. And maybe that steam had been building for quite some time cause ol’ Lefty wasn’t doing the trick anymore, mashing his face into a pillow in the dead of night, furiously jacking off under a blanket and praying his roommate didn’t wake up or come back soon. And, maybe sometimes, Steve thought about that cute blonde in the Omega House jacket and how good it would be to see those thick lips all slick and swollen wrapped around his cock. Really those thoughts were just between him and God, who he hoped wasn’t paying attention most of the time he was alone in his room.

Steve found the spot he liked, towards the back facing towards the window where he couldn’t be distracted by people walking in, and pulled his laptop and the well annotated copy of Dracula he was working from. His half finished essay sat on the screen, cursor blinking at him accusingly, demandingly even. He sighed at it and opened up to the page he was last working from when the chair next to him was pulled out. Not even one or two over, obeying the unspoken rule of the Personal Study Bubble. No, the very next chair. Steve could see orange reflected on his screen. He frowned slightly and turned to just give a passing glance, hoping for a the fuck? expression, when he saw staggeringly blue eyes staring back, nestled into tan freckled skin, natural curls just reaching down into the field of view. The regular sunglasses had been tucked up into the neck of a black tee. The back of Steve’s neck felt instantly hot as he looked away, hoping for a moment he hadn’t been seen, but that was impossible. He was right there.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before. Must be in the same class though.” His voice was deep and Steve felt his legs turn a little bit to jello. He chanced another glance and saw the guy was holding a copy of Dracula too. Steve wasn’t sure he’d been holding it before… 

“Well, I attend almost every lecture…”

“You must do if you’re in here by yourself on a Friday,” the guy smiled. It didn’t look cruel, neither did it sound like he was making fun. This was already confusing, and Steve wasn’t the greatest with people at the best of times, let alone he around guys he thought were kind of stupidly handsome from afar, and apparently just stunning close up.

Steve just nodded and shifted in his seat slightly since this guy clearly wasn’t going to go away any time soon. He didn’t have anything on the table in front of him, didn’t even look like he had a backpack for the potential of anything. The odd feeling was definitely strong and getting stronger. “Can I… can I help you with something?”

“That depends,” the book was quickly tossed aside and the guy nudged closer with his chair, Steve could smell his cologne. It didn’t smell like anything he’d tried before. It was floral but dark and spicy, but also fruity too. Slightly burnt lemon and vanilla loaf? His hand wrapped easily around Steve’s freer one. His skin was warm, a little rough maybe from weightlifting which he clearly did, applying a comforting amount of pressure. Steve couldn’t help the skin on his arm breaking out in goose pimples. He glanced at their hands together and his throat felt impossibly tight. “I’m Billy by the way.”

“Steve...”

“Great. So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things can be a little, strange around here-”

Steve glanced at their hands again, felt that blue steel bore into his eyes and further back. “Oh they’re strange alright…”

“You ever wondered why?” This guy, Billy, grinned something devilish and let Steve’s hand go only to put it on his knee, squeezing firm but not unpleasant. Steve was sure he was starting to sweat under the attention of all this. Yeah he had fooled around with a couple guys drunk at parties, stumbled into a dorm room or two he didn’t recognise to have some fun and wake up with carpet burns over his back and his knees, but this felt very direct. Especially when Billy’s hand started slowly drifting higher. Steve couldn’t even say he didn’t want it, he’d been staring at this guy from a distance for months now, but to have him suddenly be right in front and touching with obvious intent. It was something else.

“Uh, n-not really. Sometimes maybe?”

Billy’s eyes turned from cool to blazingly erotic in an instant, for just a moment, then back to cool again. He nudged even closer into Steve’s bubble, who was more helpless than a fish on dry land at this moment. 

“Would you like to know why?” The way Billy’s tongue licked over the L was something filthy. If Steve had been set jello before he was now quickly melting into a sweet pool of tangy cherry. “My friends and I can show you.”

Steve felt like he was drowning. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. But still BIlly’s firm hand crept ever higher until he was practically cupping Steve through his jeans, inching closer until their lips were connected in the middle of the library. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed. He was already boiling alive in his skin from all the attention and Billy’s lips weren’t helping. They were as plush as Steve had imagined. Maybe not in the right area just yet but with the way Billy was pushing his palm directly against Steve’s slowly awakening dick they just might be soon.

He was half hard when Billy pulled away, flushed bright red like he’d been sunburnt.

“Come by the house tomorrow night, you’ll see. We promise you’ll enjoy it.” 

With that, Billy winked, slipped his sunglasses back on and left. Steve blinked at nothing for a long time, trying to piece together what the hell had just happened to him.

Did… did he just get invited to an orgy?

He packed up quickly and went back to his dorm, there was no way any studying was going to happen now. It didn’t happen throughout all of Saturday either. Just the memory of the whole short incident rolling around and around in Steve’s mind, of Billy’s words dripping from those lips and the feel of his hand pressing just right.

He’d definitely gotten invited to an orgy.

He lay on his bed for a while just thinking, tapping his forefingers together as something for them to do. Steve was kind of flattered really, he knew he was nice looking, but there were far better looking guys on campus, and from the stories he’d heard they’d probably be up for it no questions asked. It also popped into his head that the guys he’d seen wearing the orange Omega jackets were a lot more jacked than he was, and Steve had seen enough porn to know what that probably meant. A part of him knew this was utterly insane. Shit like this didn’t happen without a bored camera crew and fourteen different close up angles.

But then maybe it did happen. He was from a small town after all. He was pretty sure his neighbours three doors down were swingers from all the cars that would suddenly appear once a month for just a night. Least that was the rumor that he may or may not have pushed a couple times. And, afterall, wasn’t this what college was about? Being out there and experimenting with crazy shit you wouldn’t do in the real world. He’d taken ecstasy in his first few weeks at a warehouse party, he had no desire to do that back home.

So, maybe he was warming up to the idea of being a bottom at an orgy party being held in the weird grey frat house. Who was anyone to judge? Steve just wasn’t going to tell anyone about it, that’s all.

He felt nervous standing on the front steps of the Omega House. All the blinds were drawn inside. He didn’t know what to bring, what was customary? It didn’t feel right to bring, like, snacks, so he’d just brought himself, already flushing and trying not to get hard by just the thought of Billy getting his hands on him again, how good he must look naked and sweating, finding out what those lips could really do.

The man himself answered the door after two sharp knocks. The grin he wore was sinful, eyes wild and excited, grip firm as he pulled Steve easily inside the dark room. Steve wasn’t sure what to expect, but low mood lighting, a coffee table in the middle of three couches covered in books and blank papers, and every other surface holding up thick lit candles dripping with wax wasn’t it. It also appeared to be just the two of them.

It wasn’t entirely what he had signed up for. But Steve wasn’t exactly complaining.

“Man, am I happy you actually came,” Billy started, pulling his letterman off and hanging it over the banister like a coat hook. His black tee had the sleeves ripped off, his arms were nothing short of statue worthy. He ruffled his hair a little, the curls bobbing just so. They looked delightfully soft. “The rest of the guys are at some sorority bullshit, but they’ll be here later.”

“Uh, o-okay, cool.” Steve tried to sound confident as he went to go take a seat on one of the couches. Billy sat next to him, up close and personal again and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He was radiating body heat which Steve wanted to eat up greedily. He noticed some of the books on the table. A copy of Frankenstein, a very old looking copy of Dracula, maybe second edition, a copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and copies of both Malleus Maleficarum and A Guide to Modern Witchcraft. Those titles mixed with all the candles and the mood lighting and Billy’s staring and frankly demonic grin led Steve down the path that seemed the most obvious to him.

This was a sex cult house. And it was about to get all Rosemary’s Baby up in here.

Billy’s hand was back on his thigh again, heavy and pressing, taking Steve out of his deep barrel of thoughts. The grin was back on his tanned features. “You look nervous.” He gave Steve’s thigh a squeeze. Even though he had no idea what was going on it still made his cock jump alert in his jeans.

“Well, I’ve never exactly been to… one of these before…”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed together a little, he still wore a smile though. It suited his face. “One of what?”

“You know...?” Steve rolled his hands as his face turned ever redder. He was sure it could almost be seen from space. He wasn’t a prude by any means, but growing up in quite a strict household meant he just struggled saying some things out loud. So he whispered it instead. “...an orgy?”

Billy stared at him for a moment before breaking into laughter that wasn’t at all humiliating. He must have sensed Steve’s rapidly growing discomfort and indignity because the laughter quickly died and turned more into gentle questioning. “Did you think that was what this was gonna be?”

“Well I don’t know what else this would be!” Steve spat out in frustration. He hated not knowing the whole story and here he felt he barely even knew the first line of the novel. Billy smiled warm like a summer day and cupped his cheek. He felt instantly calmed, being swallowed up by those cool blues like a gentle river on an August afternoon.  “I said I’d explain about all the odd things that happen around campus. They’re from us in this house. We’re kind of, different.”

“Different how?”

Billy took his hand back and snapped his fingers loud and piercing. All the candles extinguished themselves at once. Not a breeze to be felt. It wasn’t scary, or spooky, but it was pretty cool. “Different different. You’re the only person who’s seemed to notice. And, by house law, that means you get initiated. You get to know that we’re all witches.”

The word hung in the air and seemed ridiculous. But, at the same time, it didn’t. It did certainly explain how chargers and post its and pencils would suddenly just appear whenever Steve needed them. He still wasn’t completely convinced though.

“Witches?” He repeated back carefully, just in case he’d heard that wrong too. Billy nodded and clapped his hands. Every candle reignited themselves, flickering back to life one by one in a circle around the room. A bottle of whiskey and cans of coke appeared on the table where there had been just papers before. The books remained. There was a proud look on his face. Short of being drugged at the door and this all being a crazy fever dream, this was definitely real. Steve didn’t really have any reason to not believe his eyes and what was happening around him. Billy didn’t look like David Copperfield that was for sure. “So, not an orgy?”

“No. Not an orgy.” Billy chuckled and repeated back. He must have seen Steve’s face go from confused to understanding to a little disappointed all within the space of a few seconds because his hand was high on Steve’s thigh again. Maybe the guy just didn’t understand personal space? That seemed growingly likely. “I don’t think I’d wanna share you anyway.”

Steve felt the flush on his face again, but he grinned through it this time. Weird, spooky, otherworldly shit could be saved for later if there was even a chance of getting what he’d been thinking alone in his bed. “But you’d wanna maybe...?”

He let the question stay floating between them as Billy smirked lewd and pressed himself up against Steve’s body. “Bet you’d love to find out what I can do with my fingers pretty boy…”

Oh, Steve really would.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.6

When Keith and Shiro left, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Hunk’s father had to order parts from Platt city, leaving the two brother to spend the night at one of towns inns. Dropping them off, with Hunk, at Hunk’s family garage had been the first relief, the second was dropping Pidge and all her crap off at her house, and third returning home to Blue and a nice bag of blood. Stressed from his lack of sleep and house guests, Lance had drained a whole bag without thinking, something he had done since the time his Mami had had a fall at the home. She scolded him for fussing over her far too much, Lance not wanting to leave her all alone, despite the fact she was only in hospital overnight with a sprained wrist. All his Mami’s friends at her home had been jealous when he’d returned the next day with the biggest bouquet of roses he could buy. Taught to share, each little old lady was given a rose and a kiss on the cheek, more than one aiming for a cheeky kiss on the mouth. His mother all smiles and laughter over the attention he’d received. His Mami had such a great support network there, and he’d really lucked out on her care.

With his hunger quenched, next came cleaning through the house. Shiro and Keith had left their room neat, beds remade and everything else in order too, like they’d never been there to begin with. Not that he was looking, but Lance didn’t find a single strand of stray hair on their pillows. Almost as if he’d housed two ghosts for a evening. Letting his room dry out, and actively avoiding the mess, Lance cleaned through the whole first floor before finally admitting to himself he was procrastinating far too much. Stupid blood. His fatigue had melted away, now he had far too much energy, having already walked into the wall, kitchen table, kitchen counter, accidentally lifted the whole sofa in on go instead of just the end to sweep, and tripped face first over his coffee table. All his movements and actions were amplified by the blood coursing through his system, kind of like how he imagined popping Ecstasy. It was like some cosmic joke really. The worst he could expect was severe flu like symptoms if he accidentally drank bad blood, maybe a day or two of cramping then right back to being stupidly healthy. Bruises, grazes, cuts and scrapes all healed within a day or two, depending on how much blood he’d consumed. His dumb arse had fallen down the stairs before, broken his leg, and taken three whole bags of blood to heal the damn thing. He couldn’t win with his glasses on, and he couldn’t win with them off.

Doing a quick tidy through of the top floor, Lance finally faced his trashed bedroom. What he really needed was a maid... except he didn’t want a stranger in his house, and he didn’t want a stranger in his how’d he touching his things. All his bedding needed to be washed, his mattress needed to be stripped of its waterproof cover then aired once the rain stopped. Blue had had a few “accidents” on his bed, his mattress protector was an idea he could proudly claim as his own. Waking up to entrails between his sheets and seeping into his mattress wasn’t his idea of a good morning, no matter how happy Blue was over her caught mouse. He simply couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad at her, she was only doing what came naturally, and he definitely preferred the mice dead to running around messing up his stuff. Shit, maybe he should just join a coven and make a nuisance of at some other vampires lair... only, he didn’t get along with other vampires for the most part, and shacking up with a werewolf was asking for trouble. He was 44, it was well past time to put his big pants on and deal with things like an adult.

*

Wednesday was supposed to be a good day. He’d finished one of the family cases he was working on, his new window was installed with a nice new latch, he’d spoiled himself with a rather expensive bottle of red, and he’d assured Hunk that’d contacted Shay to confirm dinner was still on. He’d forgotten until that morning, almost spamming her to explain and apologise. Thankfully Shay was the awesome soul she was, understanding after he’d explained about his broken window.

Then it all went to shit.

Stuck on an “urgent” call, Lance had made a mistake. He’d been talking with a mother trying to get sole custody of her three children, online, offering her his business number so she could call and get some free advice. Not even five minutes in, he could already see why she was finding it difficult. No judge was grant her custody when she was more concerned about the next needle in her arm than she was about her children. On his personal phone he’d already called the police to request a wellness check after he’d explained the situation, but as he waited for a response there, he was stuck with a raving lunatic yelling in his ear about how meth didn’t make her a bad mother. She hadn’t even noticed he’d put himself on silent as he’d made the call. It wasn’t something that left him warm and fuzzy inside, he genuinely wanted to help keep families happy, with an emphasis on what was best for the children involved. This wasn’t his first making this kind of call, but it never got any easier. The mother needed help, she needed someone to reach out their hand and help her, but the system could only do what it had the budget for. He’d had a similar case nearly a decade ago where the mother had attempted to murder her children rather than share custody with the remarried father. She wound up commuting suicide, something that weighed heavily on his mind each time this kind of situation came up. It was nearly an hour later that the police showed up, Lance listening to the whole thing until it finally got too much, and he had to hang up. Snuggling up for some serious cuddles with Blue, the TV played in the background just so he didn’t feel that prang of pain... until it finally became too much. Spurring an unplanned trip over to Platt for some serious hang time with his Mami.

As always, his Mami was happy to see him. She could tell immediately something was weighing heavily on his mind, unable to even fake a smile or politeness to the other residents. Feigning exhaustion, he’d “helped” his Mami back to her room, crawling into bed with her and settling himself with his head on her chest. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t developed properly after being turned so young. He didn’t fit the stereotype for his age bracket, nor did he fit the stereotype for a typical 26 year old. His Mami didn’t push for an explanation, instead she stroked his hair and held him tightly. After being turned, he’d suffered screaming nightmares for months. His Mami would climb into bed with him, holding him just like she was now.

Whether she’d forgotten, because as much as Lance was loathe to admit she’d been doing that much more often of late, or whether his brother also felt the need for a spur of a moment visit, but when Luis entered the room, his brother wasn’t pleased at all to see him there. Luis had been the first to cut him off. Maybe because he was the oldest, he headed our first to carve out a life for him and his wife Lisa. Luis knew he had above normal hearing, mumbling about how he was a money draining blood sucker. A bit rich coming from a man who chucked a sook over his inheritance from their papi. For the sake of their mother, Lance just wanted to get along, Luis ultra polite in front of Mami as he fussed over her, making Lance feel he didn’t have a place by her side.

The drive back was depressing, not even his usual playlist managed to make it bearable. Rax was working at Balmeria’s, meaning he had to go in and ask for the pump to be turned on, the little shit further pissing him off as he mocked him for his down mood.

The goddamn cherry on his shit-tastic day was arriving home to find his front door wide open, with none of the lights left on. This was how people ended up murdered. He was going to end up murdered... but after the day he’d had, maybe a little bit of murder would be the best thing for everyone. At least his house was in order if he was to meet his demise... his only regret would be leaving Blue... and Hunk and Pidge... and his Mami. For a dead man, he harboured a lot of regrets over his imminent death. Saying a prayer, he wasn’t sure if God had time for his type, but he hoped that maybe he did. He’d been a good vampire, never drank human blood, never attacked a human, went to church and loved his Mami... now he was off to be murdered and his body dumped in a rolled up carpet somewhere in the back lands of Garrison. What a depressing thought. Fuck it, if he was going to die, his glasses weren’t going down with him.

Leaving his glasses beside the front door mat, Lance stepped into his doom.

*

“Hello?! Can you please not murder me, I’ve had a shit day!”

Someone was in his house. He could tell from the smell alone there were two somebodies. His skin has prickled with goosebumps at the first sniffs of the scent.

“Look, I already know you’re here!”

Because talking to his murderers was just how he rolled. Following the scent to the living room, he found his room trashed. Great. Just. Fucking. Great. No power to the house meant no security alarm and no security alarm meant no alarmed Pidge, meaning no forthcoming rescue. No forthcoming rescue meant at least his friends would be safe, which was one small mercy.

“We’ve got you, bloodsucker”

Lance raised an eyebrow. A fucking hunter was on his doorstep, well, not literally but he’d been good, he should have had a few more years of safety with his alias. What really made his eyebrow raise was that despite being decked head to toe in black, that voice very clearly belonged to the “Emo Edgelord” himself, sir “I’m too much of a douche to drink your coffee without protest”, Keith. Behind him clad in an equally depressing outfit was Shiro. Talk about bad fucking karma.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“You’re blood sucking scum, and we’ve come to bring your reign of terror to an end”

Holy fuck, Keith must have pop-cultured hard. The kid sounded like he was straight out the lowest budget slasher movie known to man kind. Ignorance was bliss?

“I’m not quite sure I know what you’re on about...”

“Shut up!”

“Look, dude. Take a chill pill. How about we talk? Look, the names Lance. I’m a lawyer, specialising in family law”

“You mean you rip innocent families apart! You gain access to their children and bleed them dry!”

“Um, no?”

“Don’t lie to me! I know you’re kind. What happened to your friends? What did you do to Hunk and Pidge?!”

What was he supposed to have done with them...?... right. Vampire. Dah... murderer, yep, right... pffft... He could laugh at how serious Keith was being if it wasn’t for the fact that they were indeed there to murder him

“They’re at home? I dropped Hunk off with, so maybe I should be asking what you did to him?”

“Don’t you turn this back on me, you abomination”

Lance crossed his arms in offence. He’d made them breakfast, they should be a little more appreciative

“I didn’t ask to be like this”

“So you admit it!”

Shiro obviously hadn’t trained Keith about how adults used their inside voices

“Stop yelling at me! Inside voice is just fine”

“Shiro, he knows us. He’s admitted what he is. It doesn’t deserve to walk this earth!”

“Keith...”

“Fuck this!”

Again with the yelling. Poor Blue was going to be scared with all the yelling

“So we can’t sit down and discuss this?”

“As Blades of Marmora, hunters of unwanted trash, our sworn duty is to destroy beasts like you! The holiest hunters of the Vatican, your blood will stain our blades!”

“My what now?”

“We saw your fridge of blood!”

Lance was starting to feel second hand embarrassment for Keith. He took stupid to a whole other level. He had the disadvantage when it came to the house layout, he had the disadvantage of being human, and he had the disadvantage of thinking with his anger and not his head

“Hurrah. I get blood packs from Platt”

Keith let out an angry snarl, lip raised... as if that could possibly be threatening?

“I’m going to kill you, before you take more victims!”

Keith threw himself towards Lance, twin blades sliding from his from his suit into his hands, silver glinting as Keith’s hands wrapped around the handles

“Whoa! Man, wait!”

Leaping back, Lance leapt too far, snacking his back hard against the hallway wall

“Scum sucker!”

“Time out!”

“Die!”

Lance had time to think “Oh, shit!”, as he ducked and rolled, wincing as the blades were embedded into the plasterboard wall

“Dude! My house!”

Leaping backwards into the living room, Shiro seemed pretty damn content watching Keith attempt to murder him

“Shut up!”

“Or we could talk?”

Keith snarled at him again, Lance really didn’t want to hurt the idiot. He was human... with a flick of Lance’s wrist he could snap Keith’s neck by accident. Holding his hands up, he backed up

“Would you just calm down before you destroy more of my house?”

The backs of his legs hit something, Lance tripping backwards like a moron

“Whaaaa...!”

Keith lunged forward, blades coming down at Lance’s face. With the most manliness of screams, Lance flinched at his impending death

“Keith!”

Called by the man formally known as his brother, Shiro, Keith paused. Lance laying there like a moron

“Let me do this!”

“Wait a second, he’s not fighting back”

“Because he knows it’s pointless!”

Well, if it was that pointless, Keith didn’t need his blades. Wrapping his hands around the blade, he pulled both from him Keith’s grip, throwing them blindly behind him

“Excuse me, I am right here! Why...”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

Dumb with anger, Keith swung at his face, hitting him fairly in his open mouth.

Lance didn’t know who was more horrified. Him for being punched in the mouth, or Keith who’d cut his damn hand on Lance’s fangs. As the blood on his teeth touched his tongue, Lance’s eyes widened in horror. He’d never... he’d never drank from a human before... he... it was... so fresh... and... god, what was that fucking awful after taste?

“What the fuck?! He bit me!”

“Me?! You punched me in the mouth!”

And chipped his goddamn tooth by the feel of it. Stumbling back, Keith fell back onto his arse, hand clamped around the wrist of his bleeding left hand. Shiro rushed to his brother

“Keith! Hold on, you’re going to be okay”

“He bit me! I can’t... I can’t turn... I can’t be one of those”

“You’re going to be okay...”

Panicked enough to vomit, Keith threw up next to himself

“I don’t feel too well”

“Keith!”

Keith’s eyes rolled back, Lance spitting out the blood in his mouth in disgust

“Yuck. What the hell is that?!”

God... it tasted... like metal? But not the taste of blood... it was like he’d sucked on a fishing weight, his nose firmly wrinkled in disgust

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing! He punched me in the mouth”

Tapping Keith’s face, Shiro tried to rouse his brother... that wasn’t his brother...?

“Keith? Keith, come on, it’s Shiro...”

So this wasn’t an act? Keith wasn’t faking everything to lure him close?

“Is... is he okay?”

“Does he fucking look okay?”

Shiro was panicked. Ripping his mask off, the man’s face was ashen. For fuck’s sake

“Take his mask off properly, let him get some air”

Shiro did as Lance said, Lance cautiously climbing off the ruins of his coffee table and edging closer. With the mask off, he could smell sickness on Keith

“Somethings wrong with him”

“You fucking bit him!”

It was hardly Lance’s fault that the Vatican couldn’t design a suit that withstood his teeth

“No... wait, his blood tasted strange. What breed is he?”

“What do you mean, “what breed?”, he’s human!”

“If he’s human, his blood wouldn’t have tasted like shit”

Shiro let out a groan, Lance shying back as Shiro started rifling through Keith’s pockets before drawing out a spent syringe

“That idiot!”

“What? What is it?”

“Silver concentrate... with mercury. He must have injected himself”

What a fucking tool. Normal, smart, people didn’t go around injecting themselves with silver! Let alone fucking mercury! The idiot had gone and poisoned himself

“Well do something!”

“I can’t! It’s in his bloodstream!”

Holy fucking shit. Nope. No way. He wasn’t having a damn hunter die in his living room

“Get out the way”

“Wha-...”

“Jesus Christ, fucking move”

Taking just a smidge or revenge, Lance tore Keith’s suit open, looking for the damn injection point. Shiro’s fingers moved to his own blade, at which Lance cast him a very disappointed look. He was obviously about to do something very goddamn stupid for sake of this dumbarse dead beat. Letting his eyes roam Keith’s body, he found the pinprick on his neck, able to see the slight amount of residue built up around the marking

“Go get me a bucket!”

“What?”

“Or a bowl! Just hurry up!”

Shiro scampered off, Lance closing his eyes and saying a prayer. He’d never fed off a living human before, and thanks to Keith, he was going to for the first time in 36 years. 44 years if he was being technical. Shit. He was nervous as hell. The one taboo he’d never broken. For this... Lance’s stomach clenched, he’d been nervous about plenty of things, but this was whole other level nerves. Every cruel thing ever directed at him for being what he was... but Keith had gone and poisoned himself. Cringing, Lance sank his teeth into Keith’s neck, the taste in his mouth was rancid, he wanted to throw it back up and his damn mouth felt tingly. Pulling back, cheeks bludging, Lance tried not to spit out the disgusting sludge in his mouth. When Shiro finally came running back in, Lance ended up spitting blood all over him and not the bowl

“You drank his blood?!”

Ignoring Shiro, Lance forced himself to bite back into Keith’s neck, he couldn’t take another mouthful after this, his mouth would burn and blister, opening sores. Drinking quickly, he pulled back, spitting into the bowl this time

“What are you doing?!”

Letting himself drop back onto his arse, Lance wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His body didn’t know what to do. Blood was supposed to be good... it was good. It was fresh... soooo fucking fresh... but revolting... and the way Keith’s flesh slid up his teeth... Clenching his fists, Lance forced a breath down to calm himself down, before spitting again. Yuck

“What did you do to my brother?!”

Shiro sounded like the worlds most disappointed father. No wonder Keith was such an arsehole, that tone went right through Lance’s heart. Being punched in the face would be kinder

“I sucked out what I could... I think I did it right... I’ve never... I’ve never even drunk from a human before in my life... I couldn’t... he... he could have died... why couldn’t we talk?”

Shiro’s expression shifted to something Lance couldn’t read... No, more like he didn’t want to read the surprise and pain all over Shiro’s face at his shocked babbling

“You...”

Lance was getting teary now, disgusted with himself. He was covered in Keith’s blood. Human blood...

“Take him to the bedroom, use whatever you need... I... can’t do this”

[imitheous]

Long Drive | Graves & Miranda | Part 2

After four more hours on the road that, frankly, felt like an eternity, Graves pulled into the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel, somewhere in the middle of Virginia. He cut the stereo and jostled Miranda with his elbow. "Hope you're hungry," he said as his stomach loudly growled. Quickly taking the keys out of the ignition, he threw the door open so he could get out and have a much-needed stretch. "It's lunchtime, let's go." He closed his door and after making sure Miranda was following him, headed up the steps and into the kitschy storefront that served as the entrance to the restaurant.

Since waking up from her nap, the drive over had been full of the Hermes siblings scream singing along to various playlists, as well as Graves chattering her ear off about everything he just had to show her while they were in town.  The closer they got to Myrtle beach, the more Miranda found herself getting excited to see all those things her brother was raving about, though she didn't voice it, instead opting to roll her eyes with a smile on her face.  As Loretta pulled into the parking lot, Miranda wasted no time in getting her bag and sliding her flip flops back on, hopping out of the truck before Graves finished his stretch.  "Thank gods, that breakfast sandwich was not as filling as I wanted it to be.  I need actual food, not that gross egg crap that place was selling." Following his lead, Miranda found herself distracted with all the random stuff laying around, having never been to a restaurant like this before.  Having to be practically dragged towards the dining area by Graves, she quickly looked over the smaller knick knacks, already knowing she was most likely walking out with another bracelet or two to add to her collection.  "I'm confused, I thought we were in Virginia.  Why do I feel like I'm in the deep south somewhere?"

"Gods, yeah. Rest stop food is garbage." He held up two fingers to the hostess when he was prompted, and trailed behind her after corralling Miranda from the shop. When she placed menus on the table and told them a server would be at their table shortly, Graves thanked the hostess and slid into a seat. He chuckled at his sister's question. "Because we're at Cracker Barrel, Monty. Some folks may prefer it's full name: Cracker Barrel Old Country Store. It's the gateway to the southern states, and a road trip staple. Y'never been here before?" He asked, even though he could see the answer in Miranda's face and grinned. "You're in for a treat." He shook out his hands, still stiff from clutching the steering wheel for hours; under the table, his left leg had started to bounce uncontrollably - an outlet for all the nervous energy he was feeling. He glanced at the menu, already knowing what he was going to order.

Miranda didn't even bother looking at her brother at his question, knowing the dumb grin that was on his face just by the sound of his voice.  "Oh yeah, the LA girl whose only lived in major cities? I'm a huge Cracker Barrel fan, how'd you guess?" Her own voice dripped with sarcasm, though her eyes lifted from the menu to flicker around their environment.  The rocking chairs, fireplace, and random items strewn throughout the dining area only seemed to support both their claims.  "It's a type of vibe, that's for sure." She joked, eyes going back to scan the menu.

Graves drummed his fingers on the table in time with the bouncing of his leg. "That's perfect," he joked right back with her. "Makes the Cracker Barrel gift card I got you for Christmas even better."  A waitress showed up to the table, wearing a floral apron that reminded Graves of curtains and it took all he had not to laugh as he ordered chicken and waffles with extra bacon on the side. He passed his menu to Miranda so she could stack them up. "Oh, and can I get a coffee? That'd be swell. Thank you, ma'am." He smiled brightly at the waitress, laying his accent on a little thicker than normal, already sure his sister would poke fun at him for it after she ordered.

Hearing Graves, she gave an exaggerated fist pump in response, but the waitress walked over before she could sass back.  At the sight of the atrocious apron the girl was wearing, Miranda quickly raised her menu to cover her face, a terrible attempt at trying to hide her amusement.  Her amusement only grew when she heard how heavy he was laying on the accent, rolling her eyes before collecting herself enough to lower her menu again.  "Shit, please make that two coffees." Quickly rattling off her own order, she closed the menu with a small clap as the pages slapped together, stacking it on top of Graves' for her to take.  Her eyes followed the waitress as she walked away, turning to give him a look of disbelief when she was far enough away.  "What. The fuck is she wearing? I've seen fucking lampshades that are hotter than that get up."

He had made the mistake of taking a large gulp of water as Miranda relayed her order to the waitress and now, as she compared the other woman's get-up to a lampshade, Graves immediately regretted that gulp. Sputtering, he shook his head, trying not to do a spit take. "A lampshade, " he wheezed, thumping his chest with his hand to offset the water that hand gone down the wrong pipe. Accent still heavy, he added, "That's the ugliest damn lampshade I ever did see ." Graves gestures around the room; all the servers were similarly outfitted in ugly aprons. "I think it looks like it belongs on an old lady's couch. Like, that's some good ol' couch fabric right there." Though he was laughing, his fingers continued to drum the table and he scanned the restaurant nervously.

While she had expected him to laugh at her comment, Miranda didn't account for the fact that he would take a drink right before she began to speak.  Not being able to hide the snort as he wheezed, she just watched with a raised eyebrow as he tried to get himself back to normal.  "You good?" She finally asked, but clearly he was fine as he continued speaking.  Glancing around the room, she realized that indeed everyone was wearing the same apron and shuddered.  "Gods, I've never been happier that I don't work in the food business."  Turning back around, she finally turned her full attention to her brother since they walked in.  She hadn't thought much of the tapping when it had first started, but mixed with the nerves she could see bubbling out of him, the humor drained out of her as she leaned towards him. "Everything okay? You look like you're waiting for someone to come tackle you through the table or some shit."

"Oh yeah, it's the worst. I can't picture you as a waitress. Someone would be rude to you and you'd threaten them in a beat." Graves quipped, distracted as their waitress returned to pour them cups of coffee and place down a small bowl of creamers. When she walked away, he immediately dumped several packets of sugar into his mug and began stacking the unopened creamers into a shaky pyramid. At Miranda's comment, he cracked a smile. "Yeah, no, yeah. Everythin's fine. Just a lot of bottled up energy after drivin', y'know?" He lied,  clutching his coffee mug and attempting to calm his jittery demeanor.

“Oh totally. I’m not putting up with that shit.” Miranda straightened herself when their waitress came back, flashing a charming smile of her own as she delivered their coffee. While Graves started jabbering again, she busied herself with making her own coffee, snagging a creamer from his makeshift tower. Indulging herself with a sip - which was mediocre at best, though she wasn’t expecting much, she swallowed before calling him out.  “I don’t understand why you even bother lying to me anymore. You know that I can tell easier than like...anyone else back at camp.”

"Hey!" Graves protested, both to her accusation and to the creamer theft. Adding another creamer to replace the one Miranda had taken, he shrugged one shoulder at his sister. He wrapped his fingers around his mug of coffee, focusing on the pleasant clink of his rings against the ceramic as he clutched it. He shrugged again, "Everything's fine, Monty. I don't keep secrets from you." Quick as he'd told the lie, he accidentally bit the inside of his cheek and a metallic taste filled his mouth. Instant karma, he thought as he took a sip of coffee and wrinkled his nose, not meeting Miranda's eyes.

The additional lies were met with a dead pan stare.  "Yeah, normally you don't, for this reason."  She took another slow sip from her mug.  "You fucking suck at it, Gravy."   Letting out a quiet sigh, she placed the mug back down before leaning forward again.  "Look, it's fine if you don't wanna tell me, I'm not your mom or whatever.  You're just totally killing the vibe right now, you're about to shake the entire table if you keep bouncing like that." She knew that Graves knew her just as well as she knew him, and that he would see this as her way of trying to move past the topic for his sake.

He took another sip from his mug and forced his leg to stop bouncing, before smiling sheepishly at his sister. "Nothin' food won't fix though, eh?" At her mention of 'mom,'  his eyes lit up and he pulled his phone from his pocket, texting Cass an update on their progress. While Graves was preoccupied with his message, the waitress returned with their food, placing their meals on the table. "Thank you ma'am!" He called belatedly, finishing with his phone as she walked away. His stomach was churning even as he looked at Miranda, holding his fork up in a mock salute. “C'mon, dig in."

Miranda watched him immediately get absorbed into his phone and rolled her eyes, half un-surprised and half in disbelief.  Leaning back against her chair once again, she just went back to her coffee.  When the food arrived, she put her nearly empty cup back on the table, gave the waitress another signature Hermes child smile, then turned her attention to her sandwich.  Looking back up at Graves when he spoke, she raised a fry along with him before taking a bite.

A few minute passed and the siblings dug into their respective meals; to Graves, his food was tasteless, the weight of the conversation he wanted to have with his sister taking a toll on his taste buds. It took another mouthful of syrup-covered waffle that tasted like dust for him to set his fork down and take a drink of water. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "Um, actually...I have something I've been meaning to tell you."

On the opposite, Miranda was enjoying her food, not drinking as much water as her brother. She occasionally glanced up at him, only to see him looking more and more shitty as time went on. While debating how to bring up the question of her taking over the drive, he finally spoke up. Miranda lowered her sandwich, and took a long sip of water before responding. “Oh really? I had no idea.” She said sarcastically before growing more serious to match him. “You look you’re walking into a firing squad, what’s up?”

Graves ducked his head, a sheepish smile breaking through the worried expression he had been wearing. "How do I say this..." He muttered, before finally settling on, "My family isn't really...normal?"

Miranda blinked once, slowly, then again as she processed what Graves just said to her. After minute, she snorted into her cup before taking another sip. Placing it back on the table, she shook her head, clearly amused. Her eyes glanced quickly before leaning in and lowering her voice. “We’re fucking children of a god? None of us are normal, Cabrón.”

"Okay, fair. We're a bunch of weirdo demigods," he let out a laugh, realizing how little he had thought this conversation through despite all the stressing over it he had done. "But like...so is my gran?"

Miranda’s hand paused with her cup halfway to her mouth, and her face clearly showed how much that last statement confused her. “Your grandmother...?” Her hand lowered, the cup making a loud noise as it connected to the table, but Miranda didn’t even notice thanks to her brain spinning. “But...okay.  How does that work? Like, for you I mean?” Another blink, it was clear she realized how little sense her questions made, but wasn’t sure what exactly she was trying to say.

With a pained smile on his face as her cup clattered to the table, Graves nodded slowly. He was silent for a moment, giving Miranda a moment to sort out her thoughts. "Uh," he cleared his throat, twisting one of his rings. "It's...I'm...uh, huh. Let me start again? Do you know what a legacy is?" He looked a his sister hopefully, still fidgeting with his ring. It was one half of the set he always wore, this one emblazoned with a finely etched cornucopia, while the other bore the symbol of a spoked wheel.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the word legacy, her brain trying to place it.  She vaguely registered the term, having heard it around camp in the past, though she wasn't quite sure what it meant.  "I've heard of that before? But what the fuck does it mean?" Even though she asked the question, her brain was starting to put two and two together, especially when her eyes drifted to the ring Graves couldn't stop messing with.  Miranda always assumed that Graves had received as some kind of gift or reward for something in past, not thinking too much about the symbol of Tyche that was engraved into the stone.  Her eyes began to flicker between the ring and her brother's face, starting to put two and two together.

"It's like...when you're descended from a god, but that god isn't your parent - if that makes sense?" Graves looked at Miranda hopefully, watching the gears turn in her mind as she looked at his ring. "So, like, if I had a kid," he made a face at the idea, pushing onto his explanation, "they'd be a legacy of Hermes. Not a full demigod, but, still not fully mortal. That's what my mom is...and me, I guess, but it's a little different for me? Since Hermes is also my dad...I, uh, I feel like I'm doin' a shit job explainin' this." He paused, lifting his mug to take a drink of coffee and grimacing at the now-cold liquid.

Miranda immediately shook her head when he criticized his explanation, though the words were lagging about a minute behind as her head wrapped around it a bit more. “No, I kinda get what you’re saying...I think.” Normally, her response would be way more sarcastic at her brothers expense, but her brain wasn’t functioning properly at the moment. For a moment she thought about Spencer, as the term legacy was starting to latch to a separate conversation she had with the unclaimed girl, though she never really asked for an explanation of what it meant back then. “Yeah, I think I get it.”

The coffee cup clinked as he set it down a little too close to his spoon. Graves cringed a little, looking back up at Miranda. He shrugged one shoulder and began fiddling with the creamers on the table again; his nerves, as always, manifesting into more energy than he knew what to do with. Without looking up, he blurted out, "It's Tyche." Graves cleared his throat, his expression sheepish as he looked at his sister, though at this point, he assumed she had figured it out. "I'm a legacy of Tyche."

The clanging of the cup made Miranda cringe a little, the two siblings reacting to the noise at the same time. Silence stretched between them as she watched him fiddle with the creamer cups, still sorting through the last lingering confusion in her brain. As Graves blurted out what she was already piecing together, she nodded. “Yeah, the rings make a ton of sense now. I always thought they were a reward gift or something like that.” Her eyes lifted from the creamer up to his, and hers narrowed slightly in curiosity. “What does that do for you though? Like, do you have any other abilities or...?”

"Nah, they were my gran's. She gave them to me a few years back. Before college," he explained, making a face. The monster attack that had both ended his college career and led to his arrival at camp seeped into the front of his mind; he pushed it away, putting the creamers down and picking up his fork to stab at his food instead. Slowly, a small smile worked its way across his face. Graves nodded. "I do, yeah. Y'know, I wasn't kiddin' all the times I said I was lucky. I don't fully know how it works but I've got some tychokinesis, just like the Tyche kids at camp."

Miranda thought for another minute, flipping through all the times Graves had said he was pretty lucky. The frequency of those words made her roll her eyes. “You’re such a shithead, no wonder you haven’t ended up behind bars yet.” She smirked at him, but then realized how long he’s kept this secret from her and frowned. “Does anyone else know?”

Graves let out a laugh at Miranda's eye roll. "Luck has nothing to do with it, I'm just that good," he joked. As she frowned, he chewed his lip, reluctant to answer the question. "A couple people. But I wanted to tell you first, swear. It just...didn't happen that way." He began to list them, drumming his fingers on the table again, "The first person to find out was that Athena girl I fought at Fight Night? Ramona? One of her powers is ability sensin' and that caught me off guard. So I told Blue too, since we were fightin' her together and it might've helped us win. And then...I told Tai. I was drunk and braggin' and it was stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere other than Miranda. "I think that's it? I don't know. I wanted to tell you first but...my family told me to keep it a secret because of some old history that I don't really know about but the cat's out of the bag now, I guess."

The frown on her face only deepened as the list of people to know before her started to grow.  There was a flash of something that ran through her - maybe hurt for him waiting as long as he had? She wasn't sure.  Regardless, the reasoning for Ramona and Blue finding out was sound to her, especially the prior.  As for Tai...well, she always knew her brother was dumb, double that when he was drunk.  She let out a small sigh, looking down at her plate, picking up and twirling a fry in her hand, eating it was the last thing on her mind.  "No yeah, you can't do anything against people with specific ass powers. Power sensing? Who comes up with this shit?"

He watched her fiddle with a french fry and almost sighed. Graves had hoped that spilling his secret to Miranda would have taken the weight off his shoulders but no, it was still there. He rolled his shoulders back, instinctively, the motion blending into a shrug at the question. "Honestly, that's some OP shit. You get strategy and the ability to know what fuckin' powers someone might throw at you? And we get....lock-pickin' and criminal tendencies?" He joked, flicking his eyes upward, "Thanks Dad." It was as if he couldn't bear to sit still, as Graves picked up a sugar packet and began to shake it, giving his hands something to occupy themselves with. He looked at Miranda again, "I'm sorry Monty, I wanted to tell you before anyone else found out."

Despite herself, Miranda couldn't help but laugh at his joke.  "Yeah really, what the fuck, Dad? But also, thanks for the coffee? That's pretty sweet."  Her eyes raised again when he started shaking the packet, then up to his face when he apologized. She let out a sigh of her own, dropping the fry back onto her plate.  "Why are you sorry?  It wasn't your idea to start telling people."

"Fair point, I'll take iced coffee any day." Graves exhaled a laugh through his nose. "I know, but I figured if I was going to start tellin' people, I'd start with you. And then it was a little out of my control. I think," he laughed dryly. "That I built it up in my head and it was this huge fuckin' deal. I don't know. My gran told me to be careful who I told but...it doesn't seem like it's that crazy? The more I think about it, I don't know, man."

Miranda’s features softened at his explanation attempt, and reached a hand out to grab the one still fiddling with the sugar packets. She gave his two quick squeezes, a smile growing on her face as she did. When they started speaking through hand squeezes, she couldn’t fully remember, but it was something that never failed to calm the two siblings when their minds got ahead of them too much. Hopefully it had the same effect now. “It’s okay, Cam. Thank you for wanting to tell me first though.”

The last shreds of Graves' worry faded away as Miranda squeezed his hand. He repeated the gesture, matching her smile; her reassurance had been what he needed. He nodded, "Of course, hermana. You know I tell you everything." Graves ducked his head, hiding his smile. When he looked up, his eyes glinted. "Do you want anything else to eat? Or...do you want to go raid the store for some shit? I think I have a coupon in here somewhere..." He fished his wallet out of his pocket, pretending to look through it for a minute before brandishing a scrap of paper and passing it to Miranda. "Oh here it is, see? It says children of Hermes get that good good five-finger discount."

Miranda held onto her brother's hand a little longer as he spoke, her smile becoming a bit more genuine at his words.  However as usual with their relationship, it instantly changed to one of amusement as she dropped his hand to accept the paper he handed her across the table.  "Oh, nice manito.  No expiration date, I think this ones a keeper." She joked, pretending to read the paper as she spoke.

Stuffing one last fry in her mouth, she stood up, refolding the paper and tucked it into her own pocket.  Pulling her wallet out of her bag, she dropped a random amount of 20s onto the counter - even she was above dining and dashing.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go explore whatever the fuck that gift shop is."

[nvcl347]

Пустыня Аномалия, Человек в синем

The United States has fallen, but not every man in it has. Some have knelt before the Combine, others have knelt before sickness, many have knelt before themselves. The bomb of Black Mesa detonated the entirety of the facility leaving no ounce nor piece of metal to stay underneath the dishes of sand. However, site zero brought considerable interest to the space empire. The energy of the cascade is something they have yet to replicate, rummaging for each and any essence of it left from the extraordinary impact. 

Twelve miles, no closer. It was a warning they’d always heard, furthermore heeded. Ionizing radiation levels scatter the vacancy like tumors lingering within the desert. Years passing has brought these levels down to a certainty, however, in patches they remain lethal nonetheless.

A step in dust brought small gusts of particles every pace forward. They knew their safe distance from their father’s word, and they kept to it well for their own dignity. It wasn’t enough to prevent protection, however. The demron-mask paired with the makeshift suit proved conditions to turn terribly hot in short periods of time they strayed into the desert. Nonetheless, they’d rather die of heatstroke rather than cancer.

Their metal detector was the only thing that sparked their currency. A job of substantiation weighed on the luck of findings. Days of wandering the desert could bring riches just as much as they could bring nothing. It was the only way the small family could go under the radar of nearby Combine facilities.

Swift heaves of sand raced into their face as they swayed the tool left and right in front of them. Screeching spikes and sharp rests spotted the instrument as it picked up scattered signals of material always of no noteworthiness or significant value. It was a noise engraved into their brain so often they could spot patterns in places they went.

A huff, clenching grip nearly ceased them into place as a trickle of sweat traced down the side of their forehead. The heat was already getting to them where it would best, but that didn’t hinder them from their search. They had faced worse conditions previously.

With furrowed brows, they walked forward in shuffled feet. The detector did its job without resistance, as had they. A discovery for something was dire. They had found nothing but nails made of aluminum and a few copper gears as worthful as they sound. It was barely enough to suffice a few days’ merits of harrowingly-tasting food. A meal one could consider satisfying felt like all but a fever dream to them.

Then, that high pitched tone appeared.

They stopped dead in their tracks, almost as if they made sure they weren’t hallucinating. Their gaze snapped to the depth meter on the screen, turning it slightly to angle out the sun’s beaming glare. Steel, just a few feet below. They laughed to themselves out of shock, pulling their shovel off the cross of their back. It was one of the few tools they hadn’t sold in exchange for currency to supply their family.

They gently rested the metal detector over the spiking point to get a range of their digging space, preserving whatever valuable object may have been concealed underneath. Resting the tool far off to the side, they positioned their shovel into the sand ever so slightly. They pressed their foot against one side of the metal plate, digging the spade deep within the tiny tan particles underneath with ease. The deeper in range, the denser the pockets sand became. 

Hurling winds rushed more clouds of sand into their face, their eyes protected by the mask, however hindering their progress of discovery for the object which had been found. Gritted teeth resisted their provoked sight, continuing to haul the pounds of sand away from the site.

A clash of two metals ceased them in their tracks. The clanking noise nearly made their heart stop, pausing in place. Rough, tough, and most importantly, valuable.

They tossed their shovel to the side in pure ambition in seeking what the detector had identified. Brushing thin layers of sand with their hands, they came across a streak of, red? They dug further across, finding this object to be quite long until they reached a hooked end. Gripping the object by its round curvature, they hoisted it from the ground. Sand spilled from its ends like brief gushing waterfalls.

No less than a foot and a half worth of steel, admittedly quite heavy. Panting from the daunting temperatures and draining endeavors, they studied the metal device in question. They had found plates and sprockets before, but an in-tact tool and possible weapon? In days such as then, it was precious like a pot of gold. Winds halted their rushing gusts ever so suddenly.

“That is, government property, you are holding my dear.”

They shot up with overwhelming haste, skimming the area with jumped adrenaline they had not felt for quite some time.

“W-what?” They stuttered over sheer surprise. Had they been caught? What was a unit doing out this far from the facility?

“The… crowbar, Mx. (Y/N).” The entity made himself visible meters afar from their position. Tucked in blue, he was dressed in attire in no way suitable for an environment such as this. Their mind scurried in confusion, trying to understand who it was which they were looking at.

“How do you know my name?” They gripped the crowbar with their two hands in defense, standing still and stiff in place.

“I know many names, as I know many, things.” His cryptic, strangely paced speech toyed with their head. They took a step back away from the man, breathing a long take of air through their mask.

“Are you telling me you’re supposed to be God or something?” They swallowed harshly, feeling more questions spark from the man’s replies than he had answered. The heavy effects of warm temperature from the desert swayed from their train of thought entirely as they were encapsulated by the presence of this abnormal, foreign being.

“I am not.” His head bowed into place, fixing the cuffs of his suit. Patience with talk was nothing to a man who had no bother with the tolls of time to begin with.

“Then what the hell are you?” They raised the heavy crowbar closer to their chest, hanging their head to the side.

“What I am is not of your... concern.” They nearly groaned out loud in agitation at the lack of information the man provided to them. His aura felt as if it was a mystery in and of itself.

“The mask is not necessary.” He bent the content of their discussion with haste, leaning back with relaxed shoulders. His words took them by surprise, feeling a sense of manipulation, however deciding to go along with the conversation he brought nevertheless.

“I’m sorry? Do you have any idea what will happen if I take this off?”

"You will endure no short of what you are, anticipated, to do as such.”  The man brought forth a device from nothing into the palm of his hand, raising it forth and levitating it across to where they stood. Watching in raving awe at his actions, they nearly fell at their knees towards what they viewed before themselves.

Taking the device into their own hands, they brushed at the dust formed over their mask to see clearly what they were staring at: A roentgen meter.

1.4? That’s not possible… the blast-

“You confide to your father’s word quite emph-atically.” The man cut off their internal collectivity as if he had eavesdropped into their own mind.

“However, I would... advise you to take other such sources into consideration, hm?”

Feeling a strong sense of being outsmarted, they lowered the crowbar to their side with a strong clutch as they seated the roentgen meter into the sand below . They clicked the snares away from their neck, releasing the demron mask from its tight, secure grip on their throat. The air of the desert was quick in its way to rush into the pockets which formulated the instant the mask was opened. Tearing the protective gear away from their face with one hand, they gasped slowly as the fresh oxygen around them flowed across their face. They patted away at the streams of sweat that had drained through their eyebrows and down their cheeks. The man was granted a clear view of the profile of their frizzy hair and red face, grinning only somewhat to their presentation.

Rushed with the energy of intimidation from the man’s anomalous grasp of knowledge, they strained the subject to a stronger matter that continued to linger within their mind.

“You look like a guy who has money in his pocket. What is it with you and this?” They leaned the crowbar carefully forward, presenting the bulk of metal before themselves as the mask was carelessly tossed away.

“Any man can forge a rod of alloy. Not many can forge a symbol of resistance.” The man slightly hissed at his words, trailing unusual intervals in his speech as he crossing his arms at his back in insouciance. His words took them back, staring at the metal tool for a few moments in awe.

“A symbol? I don’t understand. If this is so important I don’t see why it should be out in the middle of the desert in the first place.” Their gaze tightened together, peering back to the man in blue.

“You stand correct.” He provided himself to a tender step forward in his sleek Oxfords, to which they were quick to jump back.

“Hey! Don’t get any closer!” They shouted in a twisted toil of defense and dread, weighing the crowbar to their shoulder alike to a baseball bat preparing to swing the round of their life. Another foot back carried a major fraction of mass on their body as they held fast to their stance.

The man nearly laughed to himself at the sensitive action they displayed before him, fixing the lapels of his suit without a hint of threat coursing through him by any means. Primitive, to say the least.

“I’m afraid, you are not one to dictate such... matters.” 

They froze up in place. The man they looked to did not say that, no, not in front of them he did. Their jaw clenched into place, stiffening every muscle in their limbs. From frozen solid, they swung the round of their life towards behind themselves.

Seized short mid-swing.

The bar had made perfect contact with the man’s palm, standing presently behind them without forewarning. He held his grip sternly onto the metal without a budge sensing it could be released. Not a flinch, nor a recoil manifested in his carriage. His eyes blistered a dreadful glow straight through their own. It was a gaze so intent their guts melted away into water. Their grip on the crimson crowbar naturally released itself as they finally became self-aware to their ludicrously small frame in contrast to his overarching, slim build.

“I have already comp-ensated interest in regards to your family.” His resonance became astonishingly low in comparison to how he spoke once before.

“Run along, Mx. (Y/N). We have things to be.” From those words, an entirely distinct impression came to their head. Not from them, not from their instincts- it was something else. It was not out of fear alone; rather it was of command.

Their grip slipped from the metal handle like a knife through butter, darting across the desert in the direction of their home. Without a hint of consideration, they abandoned their metal detector and their demron mask to the possession of the wistful sands. Their heart raced faster than they could pant, paying no hindrance to the swelling heat of the air around them. From a distance, the man turned and observed their track from afar until they were all but an evident speck in the horizon of spinning dust. He would have taken them for detainment had they understood what they briefly possessed in their hands.

For a moment, he turned to study the crowbar for himself as a white gateway slid open before him. He hummed in consideration, stepping through the door to another plane of time. There was much work to be done.